#i really looked at this little lizard boy and went 'how far can i bend you before you snap'

[possumkingluca]

So I've realized something... Because my party's kind of base of operations right now is my character's house (because where else are we supposed to keep all these fucking people when the DM STEALS OUR AIRSHIP ☹), my character's parents have had to watch their only son come home many times after months of being away... with wounds that vary in levels of severeness, with scars that he's probably pretty reluctant to elaborate on how he got them, and also watch as he just progressively appears more and more upset and angry and tired all of the time. Hell it seems like if he's called that old childhood nickname one more time he might just break down into tears. And it's not like he's going to talk about it. Azazel would frankly rather drink until he's blacked out then even think about the possibility of him considering telling someone he might be unhappy... Despite it being pretty obvious he is, and despite him constantly very clearly losing it, or at least being on the verge of losing it. He'd rather claim everything's perfectly fine and get away from the conversation as fast as possible. And yeah, he's never been one to really open up, but this seems extreme, even for him. And I mean yeah, his friends have had to watch this take place too, multiple of which witnessing the fights in which he gains those scars and wounds... but also you have to consider that they went to Strixhaven with him. These people have witnessed Azazel at some of his lowest and highest points, this isn't really that new. "Oh Azazel's losing it again? Yeah no shit." I mean of course it doesn't mean they don't worry about him. I think Rubina is damn near ready to shove the little fucker in a psych ward, but, y'know....

[adventuresloane]

The Wanted (Revised Hurloane Fic) - Chapter 1

Summary:

"They had nearly as many names as they had stories told about them. Ram. Raven. Red. Devil. Deputy. Outlaw. Short 'n Long. Ghosts of the Rapids."

Hurley's a bounty hunter, the Raven is an outlaw, and the desert is a lonely place.

(The 50k+ Old West Hurloane AU Where Hurley Becomes A Thief Too that no one asked for. Updates every Friday. Edited and reposted from an old version of the story--more significant changes to come in later chapters. T for non-graphic violence and discussions of death/injury/trauma.)

Read on AO3

They had nearly as many names as they had stories told about them. 

Ram. Raven. Red. Devil. Deputy. Outlaw. Short 'n Long. Ghosts of the Rapids. 

What happened to them depends on who you ask. Some say the Raven twisted the Ram, but then again, the Ram might have been born with badness in the marrow of their bones. They say the outlaw was a thief, that her glittering horde still lies somewhere out in the desert among the canyons. They say the deputy was a sharpshooter with twenty notches on their pistol, one for every man who tried to take them. They say they were very much in love.

Maybe they still are. People who camp alone by the river say at night, they hear too-loud whispers over the rush. 

If you ask the only man who was there that day, he'll tell you the same thing every time, and nothing more: "They went over the cliff and into the river. Never found the bodies."

He won't tell you whether they were dead before they hit the water. He won't even tell you whether they were shot at all. Maybe, as some say, the two of them just tipped, hand-in-hand, falling backwards over the edge together as children let themselves fall into soft grass.

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

"I don't give a rat's ass what Bane said. She so much as looks at me wrong, I'm shooting."

Hurley heard the murmuring and looked over their shoulder. The two men were lagging, their mounts clopping along at a lackadaisical pace. Barbra and Lil' Jerry rode side-by-side and leaned toward each other in their saddles as they spoke in what could charitably be called a whisper. Hurley slowed their own horse a bit to get closer and listen.

"Yeah, as if you'd live long enough to press the trigger," Lil' Jerry snickered in response. "You couldn't outdraw a tin can."

"Oh, fuck off! I take care of myself fine."

"Ah, whatever."

"Besides, I'll have my gun drawn the whole time we're giving chase. I'm not taking chances on this one. You've heard the stories. Even saw the blood in one of those train cars that one time, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Lil' Jerry muttered.

"Everyone's quicker on the trigger when they know their gun's the only thing between them and the Big Sleep," Barbra declared. "That's just survival instinct."

"That poor Abernathy fuck wasn't. Quicker, that is."

"That doesn't mean you just wave a gun around if there's nothing in sight to shoot," Hurley piped up. They took more than a little satisfaction in how the two men looked at them, first with surprise and then with frustration, as if they'd really thought they were getting away with something. 

"We weren't talking to you."

"You might as well have been. You were loud enough. Bane told us we have to start moving quietly. The Raven's probably in this area."

"Trust you to do whatever he tells you." Hurley bristled as Lil' Jerry went on, "This is only your first time out, so we don't need you telling us what to do with our mouths or our guns."

"I know my way around a gun just fine, and you know tha--"

"All of you," said a deep voice, causing Hurley to stop instantly, "would be better off if you paid more attention to what's around you instead of whatever bullshit you're going on about."

Hurley said, "Sorry" while the boys behind them mumbled the word vaguely. At once, they prompted their horse to pick up speed and catch up with Bane as he led the way. 

When they had been riding alongside him for a few minutes, he leaned their way a little. "Though I would say," he started conspiratorially, "having seen both of you at target practice, I trust you to point a pistol the right way quite a bit more than I trust Barbra."

They snickered a little. "I'd hope so, Sheriff."

"You've got a head on your shoulders, even if you've got to be reminded to use it now and again." They looked down and smiled a little sheepishly, though the way he said it made it sound more compliment than critique. "The problem is that anyone can take a look at a thousand-dollar 'wanted' poster and suddenly decide they're a bounty hunter. They try to be heroes.”

"I don't suppose a lot of bravado does you much good out here."

"Oh, no, it can. You need to be tougher in the face of some damn tough criminals. Another reason I think you'll be good to have around." He was grinning. "But the people who come in guns blazing are also the ones who turn tail the quickest when things get to be too much for them."

"You won't have that problem with me, sir."

"No, I don't think I will. I've known you long enough to know you're here because you want to put things right. I think you and I could do that back at home, too."

"It needs it. Goldcliff's broken, if you ask me."

"Hey, now, that's my town you're talking about."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean it that way. It's just I've seen so many people there try to cheat and hustle and steal ever since I came there, and now this...murdering a man on his own doorstep in the middle of the afternoon." They shook their head. "I can't stand it."

"You don't have to. You can help stop it if you want."

"I do. And I think I'll have a much better chance of doing it with you and the law. No more of me challenging cheaters to tavern fights to sort them out," they said with a small laugh. "Thank you again, by the way, for letting me come out here with you."

He nodded before turning to address the whole group. "We're about to enter the canyon. Be careful how you go, now. It echoes in there."

Their heart began to bounce inside their chest as they thought of facing their quarry. Their horse sped up to a trot. 

“Hurley.” 

They looked behind them to find a stern-faced Bane and a posse that had stopped moving altogether. Trying to swallow down the blush working up their face, they got back in line behind Bane. 

The four moved single-file as they made their way downward. By the time they reached the bottom, there was still no activity, not so much as a lizard skittering through the grit on the ground. Quiet filled up the gaps between the stone walls, washed over them like the long-dead rivers that had once carved out these canyons. All they could hear was the clacking of the horses' footfalls, thrown back at them louder.

At various points, Bane sometimes whispered, more often simply signalled with his hands for one of them to break off and explore another path. They would return empty-handed.

Now, Bane held up a hand for them all to stop. Hurley heard, then, just for a moment, the sound of hoofbeats that belonged to none of their rides. With the way sound played off the stone, they couldn’t determine how far it was. 

It kept coming as none of them moved, noise bouncing and skipping off the walls like a mockery. Sometimes distant, sometimes nearer, sometimes seemingly next to their ears. The canyon was sinuous and full of unexpected branches and side-paths. They tried to pinpoint the source of the noises that seemed to come from everywhere, from out of the ether. 

Or they did until a resounding bang interrupted. It made a couple of the horses spook and rear as it blasted apart the near-silence. This time, it wasn't hard to tell that it came directly from behind.

Everyone else turned to see Barbra holding the smoking gun, looking more shocked than anyone.

"For fuck's sake, Barb," Lil' Jerry muttered.

And then a flash of dark around a corner. 

Their galloping set the whole place rumbling as they all shot off. Hurley’s horse nearly skittered on the sand several times as they whipped the reins sharply to the side. It was what was necessary to wind through the narrow passages that curled deeper and deeper into the canyon.

Whenever there was a widening of the path that might allow more than one horse through at a time, Hurley tried to shove past the others. They had to be up front. They could barely see anything past Bane, leading at the front and shouting things they couldn’t hear.

He grabbed his lasso as they came around one bend. There was nothing on his face except the same solid determination as usual, only sharpened. 

The posse pulled around the corner and came to an instant halt, scraping hooves stirring sand. Hurley craned their neck to see the dead end at the end of this passage, a sheer wall of redstone. But no Raven.

Not until there was sound well behind the whole group as the dark form reappeared and shot off in the other direction.

"Dammit," he spat as he yanked the reins back hard and turned his horse around. "Stay together!"

Hurley kept pace with the rest of the group, until they didn't. By degrees, they drew their horse back into a canter, then a slow trot. As expected, the others were too fixated on their path to notice that they were losing Hurley, as they leaned low over the manes of their galloping animals. The posse twisted around a sharp corner and out of their sight.

You're thinking with your belly again, they heard their mother say, while she poked the round ball of their seven-year-old tummy.

None of them were about to outpace the Raven while she stayed three turns ahead of them. She knew the canyon, maybe so well that she knew where her pursuers were just by hearing the echo of them along the red stone walls. But if just one of them could out-maneuver...

They bid their horse to turn around and move at a quiet walk. This was not a betrayal of Bane's orders, they convinced themself. Not really, anyway. Maybe he had told them to keep up with the group, but surely the higher order was to find the thief. If they did that, he could forgive the unconventional methods.

And they would do it.

They started to pick their way through the tangle of paths. The Raven had traveled back this way, running in front of the posse, only to disappear around a bend and re-emerge behind them all. This, perhaps, was where a number of the narrow natural trails converged. They might part only to circle back and rejoin each other elsewhere. If that were true, she would be likely to stay near the place where she had a number of exit routes. This was where she expected she'd be safe. 

They chose their directions nearly at random, only knowing that they wanted to roughly parallel the path that their team had been taking before. They could meet up with them and maybe head the Raven off, if they could only keep track of where the others might be. They went left, left again, right. When they reached a slot-like passage in the rock face too narrow for a horse, they bit their lip, then dismounted and left the gelding behind as they sidled sideways through.

Occasionally, the others' calls and the pounding of their horses' hooves would come to Hurley, and they would stop to hear more. By then, though, the echoes would have already receded. They still had no way of knowing where the source of the sounds could be found--they got bounced around and lost in the network of paths until they seemed entirely disembodied. They might as well have been the chattering of specters wafting their way through the cavernous, lonely canyon. Right, left. No route here was distinct from the rest. For all they knew, they were wearing circles into the sand. 

Right, right again, and then, suddenly, no further. They pulled themself back behind a boulder and instinctively clapped a hand over their mouth. It was some time before they were able to make themself crane their neck back around, to determine whether they had seen what they'd thought they'd seen.

From behind, they saw a figure sitting atop her steed. Long black duster turned sepia by the caked-on dust of the desert and a wide-brimmed, jet bolero with a sharp feather sticking up straight from the hatband. She was still. Just waiting.

Their mouth felt dry. At some point, they realized that it was gaping open, and they snapped it shut. The clack of their teeth sounded far too loud in their mouth. 

They took a single step around the large stone that they hid behind. The half-elf's ears swiveled around and moved to pick up on sound. They seemed to fixate on nothing, though. Certainly, she didn't look Hurley's way as they gripped the long rope and positioned it in their hands. Their every movement was measured now. With every scrape of the rough hemp coil against their fingers, they felt certain that she would turn around, but she didn't. Another step, placed on the ground deliberately. The sand did not crunch beneath them. 

From where they stood behind the boulder, they did not have a clear shot at her, but they did not dare step out fully into the open. They could still get her, though. They would still get her. It probably should have been fear that sent the eager blood blazing through them--the fear that she would see them and be gone in an instant, the fear that they would be gone in an instant when she spun to blow them away--but that wasn't it. This was the familiar thrill of the final blow and the bullseye. It ran through them whenever they knew they were about to prove what they could do. They clenched their lasso as the world shrunk to what was right in front of them. What was right in front of them was an opportunity.

They threw. The Raven had a half-second to look at the loop that had snapped tight around her ankle before Hurley pulled with all they could, and down she went to the ground. When she impacted, it was with a choked noise that might have been a yell, had the wind not been punched out of her lungs. 

They almost wanted to cheer as her horse spooked and ran off.

But then they turned to look at just what it was they had caught. The figure at the end of their tether lay on her back for several moments, unmoving. For a moment, they wondered if she had been stunned by a blow to the head. They saw that, certainly, she was still hurting from the way her spine had slammed into the baked-hard earth. Low, creaking groans came from the back of her throat along with her exhales.

Suddenly, as though startled awake, her eyes snapped wide open to the sky. She scrambled to push herself onto her elbows and look at the place where her ride had been, then spun her whole body around to face Hurley.

There was a bandana tied around her face, black and patterned with feathers, puffing out slightly with every breath. It covered up everything except her eyes, but the eyes were enough. Now unshielded by the hat that had fallen from her head, they snatched Hurley's gaze and held it tight. They were big, for one thing, and youthful, with the cool-toned brown skin around them unlined. What hit them, though, was how they went wide and got wider, caught bare and off-guard. Like they took in everything and understood none of it. Disbelief at being brought down so far and so fast.

They matched her gaze. They might have been smiling. Hurley liked making people believe they could do things previously thought impossible.

The Raven's eyes flitted down to the rope around her foot twice, the first time almost as an afterthought, the second with a look of mounting rage, and it occurred to Hurley just then that they had not really restrained her much at all. They tightened their grip on the lasso just as she went to stand and yanked so that she could not get her footing. She fell back onto her butt with an indignant grunt and tried again. They pulled again, becoming more aware all the while that they were just bringing her closer to them. 

That was when the sound returned to them like rocks tumbling over each other. Both they and the Raven turned just in time to see Barbra and Jerry come riding up, and for possibly the first time ever, Hurley was relieved to see them both. It was just seconds before each of them tossed a rope around her torso and pinned her arms to her sides. She squirmed against the bonds for a few moments and then went still, glaring between the three of them there. That was that. 

A fine thread of blood had begun to trickle out from beneath her hairline, barely skirting her eye, where she could not wipe it away. It ran all the way down to her neck. Hurley's doing. They were about to step forward when they felt a large hand press down on their shoulder.

"So you lost us a horse, it seems."

Hurley looked up in surprise, but Bane had a warm grin for them, the kind that let a person in on a joke. They smiled back, probably more broadly than they strictly needed to. "Still glad you brought me along?"

"Well, had you been a little worse at this job than I thought you'd be, you would've gone off and done something stupid and not gotten anywhere." He gave them a couple of firm pats. "But turns out, you're just as good as I thought you'd be. Better, considering you got the Raven on your first try."

"I wasn't expecting it either," they laughed.

He chuckled lightly, and then they watched him turn his attention to the captive in front of him. Barbra had her by the back of her collar and had already pulled her up to her knees. A bit of her hair was caught in his fist.

"She's younger than I thought," Hurley commented. 

He gave the thief an assessing look. "Not more than a year or two younger than you, I'd say. I don't see outlaws too much older than this, quite frankly. They tend to live fast and die faster."

"I guess so," they mumbled mostly to themself as they watched Bane walk over to her. The boys weren't easing up on the lassos, and already her breathing was shallower as her chest tried to expand against the rope.

He didn't tell them off for it, though. Instead he stepped close to her so that the tips of his boots nearly touched her knees. He cast her into shadow as he stood over her, making her lean back in order to match his gaze. Then, with a forefinger and thumb, he gripped the mask around her face and pulled it down in one motion. They saw all of her hard countenance now. A pale scar ran over the bridge of her nose, another down across her lips in a perfect vertical.

With the same hand that had felt warm and strong on Hurley's shoulder a moment ago, he suddenly grabbed her jaw. His fingers pressed into the skin of her cheek, his thumb dug into the bone beneath her ear. They released a minute gasp. They could see it from where they stood, how he kept squeezing as though to wring something out of her, which perhaps he did when her mouth was forced open a bit. 

"So that's what you look like," he said coolly. "You'll really get your picture in all the papers now, isn't that right?"

Her expression stayed hard and solid as stone. Her lower jaw was gritted and jutted. Hurley didn't know how she wasn't even trying to pull away. How she stood it rather than trying to whip her head out of his grasp. That was what they would have done, they thought.

"Bind her hands and arms both." He dropped his hand, finally. "And make sure those knots are damn tight. She's been known to try sneaking off."

This was the only time she fought, really. Jerry came up behind her, and she glanced backwards, gritted her teeth, got one of her feet underneath her and tried to stand before being shoved back to the ground. Bane was over there and assisting before it even occurred to Hurley that they might help their posse. A hand on her bent back, right at the vertebra where the neck met the spine. She kept struggling as her arms were crossed behind her, with each wrist bound against the opposite elbow. It was only when Barbra pulled back on the rope hard enough to make her wince that she stopped. That left her leaning over a little. Her chest and the muscles of her belly worked hard on every rasping inhale. Her breathing stayed heavy and open-mouthed when she was half-pulled and half-kicked to her feet and started walking behind the horses as they moved in the direction of their base camp.

Hurley walked too, though Bane offered more than once to let them ride on his horse while he walked awhile. On the way, they kept turning back to look. The Raven just went and went. She drove her gaze into the ground like a plough and hardly moved or lifted it, except to glare when she felt an extra tug on the ropes around her torso. Other than that, she looked almost listless. Concussed, maybe, they thought. But she wasn't uncoordinated or struggling to focus. She simply didn't react.

It wasn't until they got back to their base camp that she showed some resistance. Hurley saw as she finally picked her head up and watched while Barbra opened the padlocked back door to the wagon, with its couple of small, square, barred windows. She hesitated before the wide dark opening, tried to take a couple steps back even as she was pulled forward. But it didn't matter. Barbra yanked and Lil' Jerry shoved and Hurley saw her look backward over the boys' heads, at something far away, before the door closed and locked on her again.

They stared for a bit longer before shaking their head. "I can go untie her for you while she's in there, Sheriff--"

"No," he said even as they started stepping forward. "It'll be good for tiring her out a bit if she stays like that for awhile."

"But that's dangerous," they responded without waiting a beat.

"It's only for a few hours, Hurley. It won't hurt anything."

They tried to keep from gaping at him. "It'll definitely hurt. It probably hurts now."

There was a force and urgency in their voice that they heard too late. He half-turned his head towards them, just enough that they could see the widening of his eye and the raising of his brow. "Hurley, you caught an outlaw on your first go, and that's to be commended, but you're still new to all of this. I've been here plenty of times. Trust me when I say I know what to do here." He nodded towards said outlaw, now unseen behind the door. "You suppose we were too rough?"

"I..." They bit the inside of their cheek. Hurley was included in that "we." Only one of them among the group, after all, had made the Raven bleed. "I just think we shouldn't do anything unnecessary."

"And I agree," he said almost somberly. "I try not to, unlike some people. If another group of bounty hunters had gotten her, she likely would've been beaten by now. That's if they bothered trying to bring her back alive at all."

They shivered a little. The cold here came on fast in the evenings.

"I call them one-person juries, people that just go out to kill or punish. It's a sorry state of affairs. She's lucky." He said it as though the sentence were a conversation ender.

It wasn't, in their mind. They weren't convinced that this got a pass just because other posses were far worse, and they were about to tell him as much, but only got as far as saying, "But, Sheriff--" before he brought them to a halt again.

"Hurley," he said. The word was a quiet warning. "Let yourself learn first."

They stared at him even after he turned around to walk away. For a long time, they stood dumbly and watched his back as he strode back towards the fire pit.

Again, this was not disobedience, they told themself as they covertly unlocked the wagon door while the others ate dinner a ways off. Bane said he wanted to bring his prisoners back alive? Then they were going to make sure this one stayed alive, whether he liked it or not.

The late amber light struggled in through the tiny windows, getting caught up in the smoky dust that rose from the floor. It was just bright enough to see the way the Raven lifted her hanging head, letting the long black hair fall away from where it covered her cheek. Without turning their way, she let her gaze slice across them.

After far too long of a pause, they opened with, "Hello," since it seemed like as good an introduction as any.

Behind the airtight line of her mouth, they could tell, her teeth were gritted. They could almost hear the scrape of them.

"That looks uncomfortable," they continued, stepping forward, because the alternative was going backwards, which they never did. "I'll get those ropes off of you if you'll let me."

They kept coming towards her until they saw her pulling her leg back slowly, winding up for a kick. "Hey. Easy." They took another small step forward, still out of her strike range. Their voice did not rise above a murmur. "Easy. There's no catch here, I promise. I'm still going to have to chain your ankles, but I'll untie you so you can move around. You just have to let me, please."

When they kept walking forward, nothing in her changed, including the intensity of her glare. But she didn't seem primed to kick them anymore either, which was good enough for them. 

She tracked their every motion, twisting her neck around to look at them over her shoulder as they went to undo the knots at her wrists. When their fingers brushed hers, she flinched, curled her hands up into fists. But they didn't miss the long sigh and slumping of her shoulders when the bonds fell away, the way her eyes shut slowly.

They moved so that they were back in front of her and saw, without a moment to spare, the way she eyed the key to the cuffs that had just been locked around her legs. They pulled back the hand that held it just as she swiped at it, catching only the air. Well, that escape attempt had taken all of thirty seconds for her to concoct. The three-day journey back to Goldcliff would be exciting.

"Nice try," they commented. They dropped the key into their breast pocket and reached for their canteen. "Do you want water?"

She looked at it like it was the first she had ever seen. When they held it out a little further to her, though, she brought her gaze back to them and kept it there. It didn't move away even as she took the metal container from them and unscrewed the cap. They thought, finally, that they saw something else other than the bitterness in her, even if it wasn't gone. Her head was angled curiously, to eye them as though she were looking through a keyhole.

"I'm Hurley, by the way. I know you didn't ask, which was a bit rude, but I thought if you needed--"

"It's not going to work."

They stopped. In an instant, her lips had become stretched thin into a tight smile. It stayed unchanged on her face even as Hurley searched it for answers. She didn't open her mouth, but still she laughed a low, heavy laugh, dredged up like phlegm. 

"What's not going to wo--"

She held up a finger to halt them as she brought up their canteen to her mouth and tipped her entire head back. They lost count of how many swallows she took, but they did wonder whether she was remembering to breathe. Finally, she pulled it away with a loud, refreshed exhale and tossed it back into their lap, half as heavy. "You," she began, casually wiping her mouth, "are trying to make this easier on yourself. You think if you throw me a bone or two I'll be docile and not give you any trouble while you're dragging me off to prison. Well, go fuck yourself, little Red." She dragged out the last sentence like she had all day to say it. Her voice had a sing-song tilt like a head rocking from side to side, slathered in mock sweetness.

They stayed sitting on their butt in front of her. Well. In all fairness, they didn't really know what else they should have expected. They ran a hand through the short puff of almost-auburn curls on the top of their head, of which they were suddenly quite conscious. "Fine, I'll go fuck myself," they mumbled. There was no truth to what she said, but they doubted there was any way to convince her of that. "Can I at least have your name, since I gave you mine? Though it seems like you forgot it already."

"My name is whatever you think it is, Red."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What have you heard me called? The Raven, I'm sure." She gave them a curl of her lips that was a smirk and a sneer and a snarl all at once. "What else?"

They matched her hard stare. "They call you Black Devil," they answered quietly.

She looked amused, but not surprised. 

"You seem pretty nonchalant about all this."

"What? Getting harassed by people like you? Yeah, you could say I'm used to it."

They had to almost chuckle at that. "Harassment seems like a stretch. What did you expect anyway? You think people will just ignore the murder of an innocent man and an unbroken streak of robberies stretching from one end of the territory clear to the other? That's not the kind of thing you get away with forever. If not us, some other posse would've--"

"What did you say?" 

For the second time, she brought them to a stop. While they had been speaking, the Raven had been staring at the spot of floor between her chained feet with slowly widening eyes. Her expression had gradually eroded into perplexion, her furrowed brow loosening into surprise. Now she turned to face Hurley directly. 

They found their voice again. "What do you mean?"

"About the murder."

Her bewilderment was genuine. Hurley could not see how it could have been otherwise, with the way that she blinked fast, as though trying to clear her vision of sleep in the morning. But she should have known, at least, that the murder conviction was a possibility. "I said we can't just ignore it." 

"Who..." The word came out cracked as her parched lips. She cleared her throat, then. She swallowed her spit and seemed to pull something back inside herself along with it, something that she had let spill out by accident. Her eyes didn't look quite so wild, even as she breathed more quickly. "So who do they say I killed?" 

She hadn't a goddamn clue.

"Bank teller. A Mr. Miles Abernathy, from the First Bank of Goldcliff. He was killed during the burglary. A whole bunch of witnesses spotted someone with your description running from the place." They weren't sure if the last sentence was to inform the Raven or to give themself a reminder. "You don't remem--you didn't know?"

"Didn't hear that, no." She had been nodding along as they spoke, as though she were still learning how to nod.

"So you didn't do it?"

She acted as if she hadn't heard.

"Well..." They grasped at anything. "Well, if you didn't do it, that'll come out in the trial."

That brought her back, seemingly, to herself. Her eyes went cold and narrow again, squinting at more than seeing what was before her. "Get out," she muttered, not looking their way.

[ganglylimbs]

That Sweet Spring Heat

Fandom: My Hero Academia 

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou/Eijirou Kirishima

Summary: Spring had just begun to fully bloom, the air warming and flowers just starting to bud, when Kirishima Eijirou loses his goddamn mind and Bakugou Katsuki is not having it.

Warnings: Hybrid au, smut, breeding kink, no mpreg, dirty talk, cat hybrid Bakugou, dog hybrid Kirishima, lingerie, strength kink, slight feminization, bottom Bakugou, top Kirishima

Notes: A little more information than you need but the breeds of hybrids are:

Kirishima- A mutt (German Shepard/Rottweiler mixed with some lab blood) Bakugou- Purebred Dragon Li Cat (seriously, read the description for them. It fits him perfectly. Just more blond)

They don't show up a lot but I thought about this au for a bit so for the others: Urakara- A Shiba Inu (because they are round bois) Momo- Japanese Crane (her family seems very elegant and traditional and cranes seem very traditionally Japanese to me) Sero- Spider (because him shooting out tape reminds me about spiders shooting out silk) Ashido- Komodo Dragon (Basically my brain went, she has horns, they remind me of lizards, Komodo dragons are dangerous, she's dangerous, we have a match) Midoriya- Fuzzy Lop Rabbits (listen, I love all the fan art I see of rabbit Deku and his mask really does look like rabbit ears) Kaminari- Field Mouse (listen, I will not give up this headcanon) The two random OCs- Black Horn Sheep

Spring had just begun to fully bloom, the air warming and flowers just starting to bud, when Kirishima Eijirou loses his goddamn mind and Bakugou Katsuki is not having it.

Bakugou's blond fluffy ears lay flat on his hair, a vein popping along his forehead, his sleek tail flicking back and forth. His arms are crossed over his chest, staring down at his stupid ass boyfriend.

Kirishima stares back with bright eyes, a clueless grin on his lips as his large red tail thumps against the bed, ears perked. His full attention is on Bakugou.

They continue their staring contest for a full minute, in which Bakugou's scowl deepens and deepens.

Finally, he snaps. "Alright, you fuck, what’s up?"

Kirishima raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Bakugou throws his hands out, gesturing at all of him. "You! What's going on in that fucking brain of yours?"

Kirishima's tail slows down in its wagging, just a bit. "Ah, Bakugou, don’t be rude, man. I thought we were having fun." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"That’s not the point mutt-for-brains. You’ve been acting weird and I want to know why.”Bakugou's hands crackle and spark, a clear warning sign.

The effect is slightly weakened by the fact that they are both naked, Bakugou straddling Kirishima's hips, and Bakugou's thighs stained in Kirishima's cum.

Kirishima, because he's a goddamn idiot, ignores the warning explosions, his lightly hardened hands scratching at the skin of Bakugou's waist. He just tilts his head. "Babe, I really don't know what you mean."

Bakugou snarls. "Fine. Keep being weird." Then he climbs off that thick waist, stomping out of the room, Kirishima calling after him.

                                                ~

If Bakugou thinks about it, this whatever the hell is wrong with Kirishima started about a month ago, after one of the charity events their agency had set up.

Bakugou hadn't really been that interested in any of the interviews or journalists trying to catch his attention, no doubt most of them hoping that Ground Zero will give them some drama to report on. Instead, he had left that for the heroes like Red Riot and Deku and Alien Queen to handle.

He had chosen to focus more on why they are here. Children had been laughing and screaming and playing all around him, other heroes had been chasing after them or sitting to draw. He had seen Uravity throwing kids up in the air, letting them float for a bit before releasing and catching them. Creati had been making toys, laughing at the increasingly extravagant demands, her large white wings spreading out behind her in excitement. Cellophane had allowed himself to be strung up by his own tape, kids dancing around him.

A hand had yanked on one of his black sleeves, making him look down. A little girl, with wild curly black hair and narrowed brown eyes had frowned back at him. Two small horns peek through her mane and a small tail swished behind her, betraying her nerves.

He had knelt down, coming face to face with her, ears turning straight forward to show she had his full attention. "What do you need, squirt?"

Her eyes had narrowed even more. "My names not squirt ."

"Sure it isn't, squirt. Now, what are you bothering me for?"

She huffed and held up two wooden swords. "I want to play Pirates but none of the other kids want to play with me. They say I'm too rough."

Bakugou had given her a rueful grin. "Yeah? Well fu-frick them. I'll take you on."

She had gaped at him. "Really?"

Bakugou had snatched one of the wooden swords and stood to his full height. "Do you think you can take Ground Zero?"

She stared for a moment and then she had grinned, showing off her teeth. "Yeah!" Then she striked forward.

His sword had swept down to meet hers, making a wooden clack sound, and the two are off. They go back and forth, running all around the field, gaining and losing ground in waves.

When the girl is left panting, her dress covered in dirt and grass stains, Bakugou had finally allowed himself to be knocked to the ground.

She had taken the chance and had stabbed him in the stomach.

Bakugou had hissed and then his body relaxed against the ground. "Damn, ok, you got me, you got me. I give."

She giggled, before pointing her sword in the air, the other hand on her hip. "I did it! I defeated Ground Zero."

Bakugou chuckled, before grabbing her and bringing her close to lick at the dirt on her face, grooming her. "Yeah, yeah, squirt."

She smacks him with the sword, squirming. "Hey," he had said, letting her go.

She frowned down at him, putting her hands on her hips. "My name's not squirt . I won didn't I?"

He gave her a small smile. "Yeah, you did. You deserve more respect don't ya? So, do I get the honor of knowing who has beaten me?"

Her chest puffed out. "My name is-"

" Doi ."

Both of them had turned to see a harried-looking man jogging up to them. Kirishima right behind him a small frown on his face.

The girl, Doi Bakugou assumed, dropped her sword and had bite the bottom of her lip. Bakugou sat up, warily watching as the two approaches.

The man came to a stop right before them, huffing. "What did I tell you about being so forceful?" He turned to Bakuoug, bowing so low his curly horns almost touch his knees. "I'm sorry if she hurt you, sometimes she forgets her own strength-"

"It's fine," Bakugou interrupted, standing up and brushing the dirt off his costume. His tail lazily swayed behind him. "We were just having some fun."

The man had still looked unsure. Doi had been quiet, but she's had looked up at Bakugou now. "Are you really ok? I know she can-"

Bakugou waved off his apologies. "Yeah, of course. I'm a hero, aren't I? I can handle a little roughness. Besides, you have a great sword handler here." He made sure to catch Doi's eyes. "I hope you continue to work on them. You would make a good hero one day."

Her eyes had gone wide. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course," Bakugou had sniffed. "I never say anything I don't mean." Then he gave her a sharp smirk, hand ruffling through her hair. "Squirt."

"Hey!" She had gone to kick him, her father panicking again.

Bakugou had just laughed, ruffling her hair again. "Come back next year and show me how much you've improved."

"I will," she had promised. Then she had puffed out her chest. "And when I win again, you have to use my name."

"Promise."

Bakugou had watched the two of them go, Doi excitedly replaying all of their fight for her dad, who nervously smiled at her but a lot more relaxed than when he had first appeared.

He had turned to say something to Kirishima but is stopped short. Kirishima had been staring at him, eyes heavy and lidded with something that made Bakugou's throat go dry.

Then Kirishima blinked and he's back to normal, big goofy grin in place, his floppy ears bouncing as he walked forward to throw an arm over Bakugou's shoulder, bringing him closer. "Did you have fun, babe?"

Bakugou had grunt, side-eyeing him, not sure what that had been all about but not willing to let it ruin his good mood. "Sure."

Kirishima had just laughed and then they were swarmed by reporters and didn't have much of a chance to talk after that.

                                                         ~

It's not that Bakugou is exactly bothered by what is happening. Kirishima has always been touchy, even before they started dating. He has wandering hands, that love to grope and grab at Bakugou and it's often Bakugou that has to remind him that they're in public, you idiot.

So he isn't bothered by the fact that, for the past month, Kirishima has been manhandling him more often, pushing and pulling him into positions or trying to bend him over their furniture. He isn't bothered by the fact that Kirishima will come up behind him, arms around his waist, as he presses kisses into his sensitive neck.

What is unusual is that Kirishima has taken to curving his large hands around Bakugou's stomach, his eyes unable to look away as he fucks his way inside Bakugou's willing body. He's a bit confused why Kirishima has become extra invested in his nipples, why he keeps calling them "tits", or why he sucks at them as if hoping milk will come out.

It's also pretty fucking weird that Kirishima has become insatiable these past few weeks.

Kirishima has always had a higher sex drive than Bakugou. It's worked for them so far. If Bakugou isn't up to it, Kirishima is more than fine with his hand.

But lately, Kirishima has become really, really insistent, grinding against Bakugou's ass or surprising him in the shower to finger him open. Bakugou has sat on Kirishima's knot more times than he can count, has milked Kirishima for all he's worth as the dog hybrid pinches his nipples and leaves bite marks on his shoulder.

In essence, Kirishima has become a bit sex-crazy and Bakugou just wants to know why. It can't be because it's mating season. Kirishima has never acted like this before. Something had to have set him off and Bakugou is going to get to the bottom of it.

                                                        ~

By this point, Bakugou is ready when Kirishima comes sniffing around, his big bulky frame covering Bakugou's as he starts kissing at his neck, hand already gripping his hips.

Bakugou allows him for a few seconds, before turning his head, dislodging Kirishima's lips.

Kirishima whines, low in his throat, but Bakugou ignores him. "You can have what you want when you explain what's got you so riled up."

Kirishima huffs, giving him a squeeze. "Not this again. There isn't anything wrong."

Bakugou hums, before dislodging himself. His hips sway as he leaves the room, tail curling invitingly, and he throws a look over his shoulder. "Then I guess you'll just have to do without."

Kirishima watches him leave.

                                                  ~

Kirishima tries two more times, only to be brushed off. Bakugou wakes up later that night to Kirishima panting in his ear and grinding against his ass.

Kirishima goes to sleep on the couch.

                                                 ~

Honestly, Bakugou thought that it would just take two days before Kirishima gave in. The horny idiot could never hold out whenever they play this game, often too impatient to get to the good stuff.

So he's a bit surprised when, a week later, and Kirishima is still tight-lipped.

He's even more surprised when Kirishima begins to ramp up his deviant behavior.

They're on patrol, just finishing up their rounds on the 4th district when a call comes over the radio. They pause, listening to a description of suspicious activity before being told to stay put as the situation unfolds.

Bakugou had just started to grunt his agreement when he cuts off into a groan.

"I know you hate not being in on the action, Ground Zero, but this is the best plan," Ingenium says over the radio.

Bakugou can't tell him to shut up because he's too busy holding back moans.

"Yeah, Katsuki," Kirishima says, a smirk curling along his lips. "Just be a good boy and stay still."

Bakugou turns to glare at him, ears flat against his hair, face flushed. But before he can get anything out, Kirishima moves his hand again, stroking from the base of Bakugou's tail up to the tip.

Bakugou can't stop the sound that is ripped from his throat.

Kirishima's eyes dilate and then he's pushing Bakugou against the wall. He crowds in close, fingers still playing with Bakugou's tail. He leans in to whisper in Bakugou's twitching ear.

"Fuck, your mouth. It's so pretty, whether moaning for me or wrapped around my dick."

Eijirou," Bakugou stutters out, heat curling in his stomach. There was no way in hell he could stop the way his hips grind back against Kirishima.

"That's it, baby," Kirishima whispers. "Who's my pretty kitty?"

Bakugou closes his eyes and shivers. His head feels fuzzy, the sudden heat and want and the damn way Kirishima is playing with his tail makes it hard to think straight.

Kirishima leans down and nibbles on his ear, sharp teeth scraping against the soft skin, and Bakugou is gone. All thoughts of punishing Kirishima till he fesses up disappears, he just needs the mutt now and-

"Ground Zero, Red Riot, the situation has escalated. We need you."

The two jerk apart. They stare at each other, breathing hard.

Bakugou grits his teeth.

Kirishima raises his hand. "Katsuki, wait-"

He gets a face full of explosion, barely hardening in time.

"Die," Bakugou screams, face completely red and fur standing on end.

"I'm sorry!"

"Oh, you're about to be."

"Ground Zero and Red Riot, we need you! Do you copy?"

Bakugou bares his fangs, before pressing his comm. "We hear you, Four Eyes-"

"Ingenium!"

"Whatever. We're on our way."

Making sure his comm is off, Bakugou points at Kirishima. "You stay the fuck away from me."

Kirishima pouts, bringing out his literal puppy eyes. "Babe, please-"

"When we're done with this villian, I'm going to throw you through a goddamn wall." And then Bakugou points his hands down, blasting off into the sky.

The villain ends up being quickly brought down and slightly burnt thanks to an angry Ground Zero.

                                                       ~

Bakugou is steadily ignoring Kirishima, resting up at the agency after their fight, but he does hear the way Kaminari comes up to the red giant and slaps his shoulder, no sense of self-preservation in sight.

"So, I see that you landed yourself in the dog house again, huh?"

Kirishima sighs. "Come on, man. I don't need this today."

"What? Have you been collared? Bakugou got you on a leash?"

"Kaminari, not cool, I don't make mouse puns about you."

"Um, because there are no mouse puns that aren't cool," Kaminari says. "So what has King Explosion Murder neutering you this time?"

Kirishima growls and even from where Bakugou is standing, he shivers at the threat there. "Make one more pun, I dare you."

Kaminari is silent for a minute. And then…

"You were being a horndog, weren't yo-"

Kaminari cries out as he is knocked to the ground, Kirishima standing over him with a hardened fist.

Bakugou hides a snort in his fist.

                                                       ~

Bakugou's anger is at a shimmer the next day when Kirishima, the bastard, tries again.

They don't have any hero work for that day, just some paperwork they need to fill out about the incident they were involved in, and then they get the rest of the day off.

They decide to head to the gym afterward, splitting up for a bit as they get their individual workouts in.

Bakugou always finishes his up early, hitting the showers, before going out to spot for his boyfriend.

The cat hybrid would rather die than admit that this is actually his favorite part of their shared workouts. To be able to stare at his boyfriend unabashedly, watch those muscles bulge and work, watch his broad shoulders strain under the weights, watch as sweat glides down his body.

He might have initiated a sex ban, but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate the view.

Kirishima has moved on to the big weights, curling them as he counts, the sweat along his body letting Bakugou know that he's been there a while. He nods at Bakugou to show that he sees him before going back to lifting.

Bakugou stands a few feet away, next to the benches where he knows Kirishima will head next. He takes a long drink of water, eyes drifting up and down Kirishimia’s body and can’t help but smirk when Kirishima squats to drop the weights.

Then his eyes drift up to meet Kirishima’s in the mirror.

Kirishima’s eyes are dark and Bakugou finds himself caught in them. Kirishima licks his lips, drawing Bakugou’s eyes, before he stands back up, slowly. Bakugou gulps, but it’s too late to take back his mistake.

Kirishima has him caught, like prey.

Kirishima makes his way towards the bench, putting on his preferred weights, before beckoning Bakugou over. “You’re going to help me, aren’t you?” His voice has the start of rough edge and Bakugou holds in his shiver.

“Sure. Think you can actually beat that weak record of yours?”

Kirishima gives him a sharp smirk. “Of course.”

Then he starts to get to work. His arms are impressive as they bend and stretch, the heavyweights going up and down as if they were nothing. Bakugou’s eyes can’t help drifting to them or to the way Kirishima’s shirt scrunches up, showing off that toned stomach, and Bakugou watches for a brief second as it contracts and expands.

Kirishima clears his throat and Bakugou’s eyes jerk up to his. “You have a job to do, Katsuki. Don’t go slacking now.”

Bakugou tenses, tail twitching in agitation. “And you should be lifting. Whose slacking now?”

Kirishima grins, but continues his work out. Bakugou huffs, but focuses more on spotting. Wouldn’t want the idiot to hurt himself.

Kirishima finishes up and heads for the showers, Bakugou waiting just outside the locker room for him on his phone.

He is not at all prepared for when a hand grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him into the locker room. He twists his body around, hands sparking as they come into contact with someone.

Someone with hardened arms.

Bakugou barely has time to blink, eyes landing on red hair, before he’s being lifted up and slammed into the wall. Bakugou’s teeth clink together, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching out to grab at Kirishima’s throat.

They stop for a second, breathing hard, red eyes meeting red. Then their lips are clashing together, teeth biting at lips. Bakugou’s hands tangle in Kirishima’s hair, pulling hard. Kirishima’s hands are under his ass, squeezing, before pulling at Bakugou’s legs, helping them to wrap around his waist. Kirishima grinds down at him and Bakugou fucking groans.

“Shit, Katsuki, do you know what it does to me to see you drooling over my muscles?” Kirishima growls. “How hard it gets me that you love the fact that I could manhandle you into any position I want? I could slam you against these lockers, fuck you into your slutty body, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

They both know that’s not completely true, that Bakugou would find a way to break free if he really wanted to, but right now, all Bakugou does is moan, yanking harder at Kirishima’s hair, lost to the images Kirishima paints.

Kirishima squeezes his ass, kneading the flesh there. “My second favorite part of your body, right behind your sweet tits. I especially love when it’s bouncing on my knot.”

Bakugou whimpers. He uses Kirishima’s hair to guide his mouth up into another kiss, no less desperate or hot. He tilts his head, drawing Kirishima deeper into the kiss, before pulling back to whisper against Kirishima’s lips. “I love your knot, love when it’s plugging me up, all your cum stuffed deep inside of me-”

Kirishima groans, eyes fluttering.

“You know what I love even more?” Bakugou asks.

“What?” Kirishima responds, body leaning even closer against Bakugou, eyes drifting down to Bakugou’s throat and chest.

“If you would just tell me what has gotten into you.”

Kirishima stiffens, before slowly looking up to meet Bakugou's eyes. Bakugou raises an eyebrow. Kirishima sighs. “I’m not getting any today am I?”

Bakugou raises his palm, his hand glowing. “Nope,” he says, popping the p.

                                                  ~

After about another week and a half of this, Bakugou is done waiting. If the usual game isn’t going to get the job done, then he’s going to have to force Kirishima to tell him.

He is going to fucking break Eijirou if it kills him.

                                                  ~

Bakugou stretches out, humming to himself. He has two meetings he needs to go to later today, but he rarely has this time to just sit back and relax.

Of course, relaxing for him means he’s still doing something. That something being yoga out in the living room.

He slowly moves his body from position to position, enjoying the slight burn. His ears perk up at the sound of the door opening, but besides that, he ignores his boyfriend, instead focusing on shifting his legs into the next position.

“Hey, babe, I brought lunch home,” Kirishima calls from the front door, where Bakugou knows he’s taking off his shoes before moving deeper into the house. “I thought we could eat together before you have to go- ach .”

Bakugou hides his smirk, shoulders shifting as he stands up. “Hey mutt, what’d you get?” He looks over his shoulder, showing his teeth at the sight of Kirishima standing frozen in the living room doorway, bags of food dangling in his hands.

Kirishima audibly swallows. “Uh, what are you doing?”

Bakugou snorts, turning away and moving to the next position. “What does it fucking look like? Yoga.”

“Yeah, but, um-”

“What? Does the cat have your tongue?”

“You’re naked,” Kirishima moans.

Bakugou looks down, as if this is his first time noticing his lack of clothes. “Huh. So I am.”

“ Why? ”

Bakugou shrugs. “Why not?” He bends down, his forehead touching his knees. He can practically feel the burn of Kirishima’s stare on his ass. “The sun is shining pretty bright today and you know how much I love to spread myself along the window sills to soak it up.”

His voice is practically a purr and he knows exactly what he’s doing, reminding the mutt of what happened the last time he was spread in front of the window, when Kirishima had been curled up behind him, both slowly rocking as the sun had warmed their skin.

Bakugou curls his tail, beckoning Kirishima’s eyes to follow along as he works his way through his routine. He can hear the other huff and panting, the mutt probably drooling.

“You’re torturing me here, Kat,” Kirishima says, sounding strangled.

“You know what you have to do if you want a piece of this,” Bakugou says. His hands, which had been wrapped around his ankle, slowly start to slide up his leg, gliding along the smooth skin.

“There’s nothing to-”

Bakugou shrugs, before turning around, coming face to face with Kirishima. He stalks his way forward, eyes half-lidded.

Kirishima might be holding his breath. Bakugou is pretty sure he’s not breathing.

And then Bakugou passes by him, brushing his shoulder, before heading up to their room. “Then I guess we’re done here. Let’s have lunch.”

The sound of Kirishima hitting his head on the wall echoes around the house.

                                                        ~

Bakugou doesn’t do this often-

Ok, that’s a lie. He does do this quite often, but always in the privacy of their home. Rarely does he do it in public.

But by this point, he’s willing to pull out all the stops.

They’re back on patrol, walking around the 5th and 6th district, with the hot sun beating down on them. Bakugou curses. His gauntlets are already half-filled by this point, and he hasn't even done anything.

Kirishima taps on his shoulder, pointing to a stand selling water. They go over to buy some, only to have the vendor wave off their attempts to pay, thanking them instead for the jobs they do.

They go to stand to the side, in the shade, drinking their free water. Side-eyeing Kirishima, Bakugou casually leans against the wall and then pulls on the strap of his hero suit, as if he were trying to fan himself.

Kirishima glances over.

Then he does a double-take.

“Katsuki, no,” he says, almost in horror.

Bakugou innocently blinks at him. “What? I’m just drinking.”

But Kirishima is too focused on his bared shoulder to respond.  

Bakugou looks down. “Oh, you mean the bra strap, huh? Yeah, I don’t know why, but I felt like dressing up a little today.” His fingers play with the baby blue strap, snapping it against his skin.

“Did-Is it a complete set?” Kirishima asks, tail wagging behind him, ears perking up.  

Bakugou smiles, wide and all teeth. “Wouldn’t you like to find out.”  

“You-you’re a monster,” Kirishima says.

Bakugou chuckles, pushing off the building. He rubs his head against Kirishima’s shoulder before pulling him back on patrol. “I know.”

                                                        ~

It continues like that for the rest of the day, with Bakugou giving Kirishima little hints and peeks of the lingerie he wears underneath.

Kirishima follows after him, like a mutt on a leash, and more than once, walks into a civilian or doorway. Bakugou sits back and laughs at the way he goes red and sputters out excuses.

When they reach the agency, they both head back to the locker rooms to get changed out of their costumes. Bakugou barely passes the threshold, before he’s being grabbed, flipped, and pressed face first against the wall.

He sends a smirk at Kirishima. “What’s with you and manhandling me in locker rooms lately?”

Kirishima growls, low in his throat. “As if you don’t deserve it. You’ve been winding me up all fucking week.”

Bakugou bares his fangs. “And you haven’t been doing the same? I told you, Eijirou, all you have to do is tell me what’s been on your mind and then you can do whatever you want to me.”

Kirishima growls again, pressing close. He noses his way through Bakugou’s hair, huffing. “...I’m afraid you’ll think I’m weird or something.”

Bakugou pauses, before turning his head to rub it against Kirishima’s. “Eijirou, you never have to be afraid to talk to me about stuff. You know that, right?”

Kirishima drops his head against Bakugou’s shoulder, large arms wrapping around his waist. “I know but it’s...thoughts getting to me. Will you think it’s too weird, will you look at me differently, that sort of stuff.”

Bakugou reaches back to start to play with his hair. “You know I love you. You could say the weirdest shit to me and, maybe I might say the wrong thing at first, but nothing could ever make me stop loving you or thinking you’re too much for me.”

Kirishima is silent for a moment, squeezing tighter and inhaling Bakugou’s scent. Bakugou continues to play with his hair, fingers brushing against his ears, scratching right behind them in that secret spot that makes Kirishima melt.

“...M’ wanna breed you,” Kirishima finally mumbles.

Bakugou furrows his eyebrows. He feels Kirishima tense behind him and is quick to scratch that spot again, forcing him to relax. “Not that I’m saying it’s bad, but you know I can’t get pregnant right?”

“I know,” Kirishima says, still muttering into his shoulder. “I just...you know that girl, Doi? That you were playing with at last month’s charity function?”

“Yeah?”

“I saw you being all sweet with her and it was like I was suddenly hit with the image of you doing that to our daughter. And then other thoughts kept rolling in my head. You, holding our child. You, feeding out child. You, round with our child. And that eventually devolved into-”

“You trying to stuff as much of your cum into me as possible?” Bakugou asks.

Kirishima’s breath hitches. He digs his claws into Bakugou’s waist. “ Yessss . It’s consumed my thoughts. At this point, I don’t really care that you can’t have children, it’s all about the trying you know? I just want you to constantly sit on my knot, warm my cock, be a tight hot little cocksleeve.”

Bakugou bites his bottom lips, face flushing. “Damn, Eijirou. And you’ve been keeping this to yourself all this time?”

Kirishima lifts his head, catching Bakugou’s eyes. “You...you like that?”

Bakugou sniffs, looking away. “I mean, you’re the one whose saying all these dirty things. Of course I’m going to find that hot.”

Kirishima grins, pressing a kiss against Bakugou’s shoulder. Then he goes to whisper directly in Bakugou’s ear. “Yeah? You like the thought of you all fucked out on our bed, spread out, your hole wet and sloppy as I force my knot back in?”

Bakugou moans, low and heated. “You going to put a liter in me, mutt? Huh, you think you can?”

Kirishima rumbles, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, and Bakugou doesn’t have time to react before Kirishima bits into his neck, leaving a large mark. Bakugou whimpers, grinding his hips back. Kirishima takes advantage of that, moving Bakugou’s waist back so he can grind on his ass.

“I know I can. Going to keep you stuffed, make your tits all fat with milk.” One of his hands reaches up to cup one of Bakugou’s pecs.

“With that weak knot of yours?” Bakugou grits out, trying hard not to fall apart as Kirishima gropes him. “Good fucking luck.”

“You challenging me?” Kirishima asks.

“What do you think?”

Their eyes meet, sparks flying between them, both of their mouths pulling back to show off their fangs.

The door opens and they jerk apart. An intern peeks their head in, whistling before coming to a halt. They stop and stare at Bakugou and Kirishima, both of their costumes wrinkled and messed up, their hair wild.

“Um,” they say.

“Get the fuck out,” Bakugou screams, hands sparking.

The intern eeps, scrambling back and out the door.

Kirishima sighs. “Bakugou-”

“Don’t you fucking start,” Bakugou snarls. He runs a hand through his hair, huffing, before catching Kirishima’s eyes again. “You want to take a half-day and get the fuck home?”

“Gods, yes.”

                                                            ~

They burst through the bedroom door, wrapped around each other, Bakugou climbing Kirishima like a tree. They’re not really kissing, more like they’re trying to eat each other’s mouths.

Bakugou groans, pulling back. "Fuck, Eijirou." His claws dig into the skin on Kirishima's shoulder, making the other hiss.

Kirishima practically throws Bakugou down on the bed, red eyes blazing. He's quick to get himself undressed, tripping on his costume in his hurry to throw it on the ground.

Bakugou is right behind him, shimmering out of his pants, trying to peel himself out of his top too, when Kirishima grabs his ankles and yanks him down. Bakugou lets out a little sound of surprise as he slides along the bed.

Kirishima crawls over him, slow and predatory, eyes glued to the panties Bakugou is wearing. Bakugou tilts his head, spreading his legs and fingering the lacy edges. “Do you like what you see? Want to unwrap me like the present I am?”

Kirishima licks his lips, grinning. “Fuck yeah, babe. I want to see the entire picture.” He lifts one of Bakugou’s legs, kissing the side of his knee. He slowly kisses his way up Bakugou’s thigh, keeping eye contact, before biting into the meaty flesh. Bakugou’s breath catches and then Kirishima’s soothing the sting with a kiss.

He repeats the pattern a few more times, leaving marks along the way, before reaching the bulge in his panties. He spreads Bakugou’s legs wider, nuzzling the covered dick, before biting on the edge of the panties, pulling down just enough for the tip of Bakugou’s cock to slip out. Kirishima gives the tip a lick, cleaning up the precum there.

Bakugou can’t tear his eyes away, little moans being ripped from his throat. Kirishima gives him grin before backing off. “Let me open my pretty present.” His large hands wrap around Bakugou’s waist, lifting the tight fabric of his shirt up to reveal Bakugou’s abs, then even higher. Inch by inch, blue fabric is exposed for Kirishima to drink in. It’s lacy and sheer, doing nothing to hide the way Bakugou’s nipples stand erect and waiting.

Kirishima, because he can’t help himself, pinches one of the pink buds. Bakugou arches into the touch, silently begging for more. Kirishima manages to get the rest of the shirt off, also throwing it to the side, his hand never leaving Bakugou’s chest.

Bakugou throws an arm across his face, face flushed and eyes narrowed. Kirishima’s tail is wagging a mile a minute, dick hard and heavy. “Come on, you mutt, I thought you were going to breed me? Are you going to break your promise?”

That gets him another pinch, making him hiss. “So impatient, my pretty kitty. Let me enjoy the way you look before we get to the fun stuff.”

Bakugou snarls. “That’s funny coming from yo- ah fuck .”

Kirishima hums, still twisting Bakugou’s nipple before twisting it to the other side. “That’s a little better. Keep making those pretty noises for me and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“Fuck- ah -you,” Bakugou hisses. He withers against the bed as Kirishima continues to play with his body, his other hand reaching down to give Bakugou’s cock light little stokes.

“My perfect cat, you’re going to look so good, all-round with my liter.” Kirishima leans down to give Bakugou’s stomach a chaste kiss. Bakugou wiggles.

“Eijirou, come on.”

“Someone’s needy. I haven’t even fingered you open and you’re already begging for me,” Kirishima says.

Bakugou flushes. "We've haven't had sex for nearly two damn months."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours."

"Hmmm, is that so?" Kirishima asks, fingers dancing along Bakugou’s inner thighs as he slowly pulls Bakugou’s panties down his legs. “I wasn’t the one who started the sex ban.”

Bakugou sneers. “Really? Who was it that kept their dirty little fantasies to themselves- fuck .” Bakguou’s body jerks as Kirishima’s fingers tap against his hole, wet with lube.

Kirishima chuckles. “You’re always so loud, babe.” He slowly pushes one finger in, wiggling it.

“Maybe, uh, maybe you’re just too fucking quiet,” Bakugou says, fingers digging into the mattress.

“Now we both know that’s a lie.” Kirishima adds another finger, scissoring. He licks his lips. “You look so delicious, spread out on my fingers. I can’t wait till it’s my knot that you’re splitting on.”

Bakugou moans, thrusting his hips down. “God damn, you’re fingers are so fucking big, Eijirou. Come on, fuck me already.”

Kirishima clicks his tongue. “Patience, Katsuki. I want you open for me, so my knot can just slide right in." He adds another finger, croaking them, pressing against that special place, and smirks as Bakugou's eyes widen.

And then he mewls.

They both still, Bakugou slapping a hand over his mouth, face twisted in horror.

"Did you just-"

"No!" Bakugou instantly denies, face going cherry red.

Kirishima can feel Bakugou's hands heating up. He moves fast, grabbing those tiny wrists in his hardened hands and slamming them on the mattress, right above Bakugou's head.

"You did," Kirishima breathes. "Do it again."

"What- no. Fuck no." Bakugou tries to thrash, but Kirishima straddles his hips, hardening his skin to make it heavier.

Kirishima leans in close, till their noses are almost touching. "I'm going to make you make that sound again, Katsuki."

Bakugou shudders, but he refuses to back down. "Is that a challenge?"

Before he can blink, he's being flipped over, arms pulled behind his back, chest and face pressed into the mattress, ass raised up. Kirishima palms his ass, a light touch, before giving it an echoing smack. Bakugou gasps, going still.

"That's a promise," Kirishima whispers directly into his ear.  He gives the fluffy appendage a bite, two fingers shoving their way back inside, searching for Bakugou's prostate.

He knows he finds it when Bakugou's body jerks, Bakugou moaning low and long. But it's not the sound Kirishima wants. So he continues to press his fingers against it, milking Bakugou.

Bakugou is squirming, but with Kirishima's large body covering his and those hardened hands keeping his wrists pinned, there's nowhere for Bakugou to go.  

Every time he moves, it just forces his hips back down on those thick fingers. It makes his cock throb, precum dripping freely. He whines, throwing his head back. "Eijirou."

Kirishima kisses his sweaty forehead. "Come on, Katsuki. You know what I want."

Bakugou shakes his head, ears twitching, tail curling and unfurling around Kirishima's wrist. "N-No."

Kirishima tisks, squeezing a third finger in, jabbing it against his prostate. Bakugou's eyes widen, mouth falling open. He pants, hole twitching.

"My pretty kitty, won't you make your sweet noises for me?" Kirishima continues to whisper in his ear.

"It's embarrassing," Bakugou practically yowls, hiding his face in his arms.

"Not if it's with me," Kirishima says, stopping momentarily. He nuzzles Bakugou's hair. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about if it's just me here, right?"

Bakugou bites his bottom lip. Kirishima doesn't move, allowing Bakugou time to think.

Finally, Bakugou sighs. Then, almost too soft to hear, he mewls.

Kirishima's grin splits his face. He kisses Bakugou again and starts moving his fingers. "Good boy, that's so lovely, yes please keep making those noises." He spreads his fingers. "Louder, kitty cat, louder."

Bakugou is shuddering, body beyond hot, as Kirishima fucks him open. His sounds of pleasure increase in volume, Kirishima encouraging him along the way.

It doesn't take long at all before he's coming against the bed, Kirishima's fingers still moving. He pants, little shivers of aftershock rocking through him.

When he comes back to himself, it's to the feeling of Kirishima rubbing his cock against his ass. He lazily grinds back. "Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?" He mumbles. "I thought you were going to breed me?"

Kirishima bites into his shoulder, making Bakugou hiss. "If you can talk again, then I guess that means you're ready to be fucked."

Bakugou lifts his hips up, moving his tail out of the way to show off his stretched hole. "Come on Eijirou, fuck a litter into me."

Kirishima growls, low and heated. His cock presses against Bakugou's hole, sheathing himself inside that hot, wet heat. Bakugou cries out, the sound almost lost in the howl Kirishima let's out.

Kirishima wastes no time as he starts to thrust, hard and fast into Bakugou, hips slapping against his ass.

Bakugou whines, his moans being punched out of him with each thrust. Kirishima let's go of his wrists, his hand trailing down Bakugou's body to curl around his stomach.

"Can't wait to see you all fat with my seed. I'm going to make you sit on my knot all through your pregnancy."

"I want it, please Eijirou, please. Knot me, knot me."

"You're going to get your knot, patience." Kirishima brings Bakugou's hips up higher, so he can fuck into him deeper, his cock now slamming against Bakugou's prostate.

Bakugou is back to mewling, his cock growing hard again. He tears up the sheets, thrusting back against Kirishima. He can feel that fat knot bumping up against him, desperately trying to slip inside.

With every slam, Kirishima's knot spreads Bakugou open just a bit further, goes in just a bit deeper. Bakugou mewls and yowls through it, begging Kirishima with every other breath. His cock is fully hard by now, almost painfully so.

With one last, hard thrust, Kirishima pushes his knot fully in, locking them together. He snarls, biting into Bakugou's shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. One hand moves from his grip on Bakugou's waist to his cock, stroking him rough and fast.

Bakugou's eyes roll into his head, body going stiff. His orgasm is ripped out of him, joining his other release on the bed. He can feel warmth rushing into him as Kirishima cums, still slightly rolling his hips as Bakugou's hole milks him.

They stay like that for a minute or two, and then they collapse into the bed, boneless.

Kirishima turns them to the side, wiggling till they were in a more comfortable position as they wait for Kirishima's knot to deflate. Kirishima continues to pet and stroke Bakugou, singing him praises.

Bakugou shifts back slightly, settling into Kirishima's chest, hands drifting down to rest on his stomach. "So," he says after a moment. "Should we start looking at adoption agencies?"

Kirishima chokes.

[cd-stories]

A Year with Aunt Rose

I was about to graduate from grade school, 14 years old and ready to conquer the world. Mom and Dad said I had an attitude problem. I saw it as more of an expression of independence. Well, they were going to Europe for a year because of Dad’s job and I was to stay with Aunt Rose. She was my father’s sister and had bankrolled his import business. He pretty much did things her way or not at all even though he was president of the company. I rather saw that as whimping out on his part but he was my dad and I had to respect that and all the money he made anyway.

As soon as I was free the 5th of June, Mom and Dad were off to New York and London and who knows where else. Well, that was fine with me. I could use a break from parental supervision. I was a dyed in the wool slob and enjoyed it immensely. You know, sneakers, hole in the knee jeans, tee shirt, long, dirty hair, the hoop earring in the left ear, the usual. Aunt Rose was pretty bossy though and I admit that I was a little afraid of her too. She was sufficiently larger than I was so she could probably put a hurt on me. She seemed kind enough when I was dropped off at her place though. I think that may have just been to fake me out though.

The first clue that I got that things were going to be different for me with Aunt Rose was that she was a neat freak. Everything had to be just so. Everything in it’s place and a place for everything. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t follow that rule very well. I mean, after all, just look at me. It seems I just couldn’t leave anything alone or put it back where it came from and that bugged Aunt Rose something awful. She said, “I’m afraid we are going to have to teach you how to be a little neater about things Keenan.” “Whatever! Give it your best shot Aunt Rose.” Not that I was flippant or anything!

July 4th: She said since I was so messy that I would have to learn to clean up around the house and gain an appreciation for what ‘clean’ and ‘orderly’ meant. OK. I cleaned. I didn’t like it but I did it. I learned with corrections at every turn how to dust and run the vacuum and wash windows without streaking them. The worst part was the bathrooms. I hated getting down and cleaning the bowls but Aunt Rose was one of those ‘spotless’ people and there was only one right way to do things, HER way. I admit there was a certain degree of pride to be taken in a job well done. The reason I noticed was that I guess I never really did anything really well before, especially school, but I learned how to clean house really well. The only problem with that was that she made me wear a frilly pinafore apron while I was doing all my housework and any time I had my hands in water, she made me wear rubber gloves “so you won’t ruin your pretty nails” she said. What did I care about my nails anyway? Besides, they weren’t very pretty, at least not at first.

And she was somewhat of a health nut too. She had some herbal concoction that she made me take every day along with some others she got at the store. She said it would help me adjust and boost my immune system. What did I have to adjust to besides her infernal neatness? You wouldn’t believe the ingredients. She ground them all up and put them in big capsules and I had to take 8 a day. They had, let me see, anise, black cohosh, castleberry, fenugreek and licorice root and eye of newt and lizard tongues for all I knew. Can you believe it? She said the fenugreek would help keep me regular, which I must admit, it did. The rest of them? Who knows? All I noticed was that my skin seemed to be a little smoother and clearer and after a few weeks I did feel a bit mellower about dressing decent and staying clean. She made me begin putting some kind of stuff on my face before I went to bed at night. It was creamy and smelled nice and sank into my skin and lo and behold, soon my teen aged acne was gone. My complexion took on a new, soft, glowing appearance. It was kind of nice not having a pimply face for a change. That part I enjoyed.

It was pretty wild at the dinner table too. She corrected me at every turn. I thought Mom and Dad were something, but Aunt Rose told me how to bite and chew and how to sit and how to place and use my napkin and everything. Talk about nit picking!! Of course, I also learned how to set a proper table in the process, clear it and load the dishwasher. That was when I learned how to stoop from my knees rather than from my waist when I spilled something on the kitchen floor. It WAS so much more convenient for loading the washer too. I was really grateful for her teaching me that little trick because I had hurt my back riding my bike and sometimes it bothered me. You can’t bend over from the waist for very long without your back hurting at least not MY back. The only problem with bending down like that was I had to pick things up sideways but being so close to whatever it was, it was rather easier and she was right, it was easier on my back. I thought I was supposed to be on vacation and here I was employed for no wages as apprentice housekeeper and laundress. Well, I felt like a laundress with that apron on, especially over my shorts. Made me look like I was wearing a damn skirt and yes, I did laundry too, learning what went with what and about temperatures and delicates and all! I had never handled women’s underwear before. It was very nice and silky. I had no idea how nice it was until then. No wonder girls like it so much. It IS very nice to the touch. I tried to touch it a few times when I had a date but only got slapped for my efforts.

Well, she kept me at the cleaning until I actually got pretty good at it and it took me hardly any time at all compared to when I started. But gee, was I going to spend my whole summer in the house? I’d even gotten used to the apron. It wasn’t so bad I guess and it did accomplish the impossible. It kept me clean. Not that she insisted that I stay inside all the time. She offered on numerous occasions to take me shopping with her but if her shopping was anything like my Mom’s, I’d never survive it. I mean, in a shop, try on this and that and out again over and over. Boy, women sure do like to shop and buy clothes and shoes and jewelry and all that stuff. My idea of shopping is see it, go in and buy it and get the heck out of there.

August 2nd: Aunt Rose has been on me about my hair. She said to either have it cut or keep it clean and style it. Well, I like my hair and I like it long and wasn’t about to have it cut so I agreed to keep it clean, grudgingly. I should have known when she said ‘clean,’ she meant shiny, sparkly, squeaky clean. What she meant by ‘style it,’ I didn’t know. Aunt Rose had long hair herself and offered to show me how to take proper care of it so what the heck, it was her time and shampoo. She taught me all about taking care for long hair and how to shampoo and condition it and made me give it a hot oil soak once a week. I’ll have to admit it really looked great, nice and shiny and had a lot of body too, a lot too much for a boy, I think. I could have done an ad for one of those women’s hair shampoos as pretty as my hair had gotten. I could swing it around like they do in those shampoo ads too, downright fluffy it was.

It made me feel a little sexy sometimes as it swung across my shoulders if I wore a tank top. Every night I’d have to sit there and brush it to bring out the oils, she said. Long hair takes time, she said. Do it right or not at all was her motto. No wonder I never wanted to keep it nice before but then, I had all summer, only school would be starting soon and I knew she wasn’t going to let up on the hair or anything else. She seemed absolutely relentless about my grooming and deportment. I suppose it wasn’t too bad but I was beginning to have some doubts about myself lately. I felt, I don’t know, different somehow but just couldn’t put my finger on it. I think I was acting differently too, I don’t quite understand it!

She seemed pleased with my efforts and gave me some nice ties to keep my hair back and so I began having a pretty ribbon with a bow in it around my pony tails and sometimes I wore them up instead of down. I know that’s how girls wear them but I liked the way it bounced and swung around that way and I knew that European men wore ribbons in their hair. It was so clean and shiny and bouncy. I don’t know. I just liked it up sometimes. Aunt Rose said it looked real cute up in a pony tail. One night she had me come into her room and sat me down at her vanity table and proceeded to play with it. She brushed it forward and back combed it and parted it in the middle. Then she brought some forward and cut it straight across my brow and let the rest fall to the sides. “Doesn’t that look nice, Keenan?” “Well, yes Aunt Rose, it looks great but wow, bangs and everything and parted in the middle. I almost look like a girl with this nice top on.” “Oh, you just look very well groomed. Don’t be silly, she said.” ‘Ok, so I DON’T look like a girl. Whatever!’ I sure looked ‘different’ somehow. It was hard to put my finger on it or for that matter, how I felt about it.

As far as I was concerned, I was beginning to look darned feminine to go along with all my girlish chores. I didn’t mind helping Aunt Rose out but these feelings I was having were most peculiar. I believe I was becoming accustomed to the gentler side of life and continued handling of Aunt Rose’s lingerie was having a peculiar effect on me, like, I actually caught myself wondering what it felt like to wear something so soft and silky. I noticed I wasn’t complaining about stuff any more like I did when I first came there. I just sort of accepted things now as they were.

It was about this time that I seemed to be having a reaction to the herbs. I felt a little light headed and my chest was sore. I hadn’t taken much notice of it before but it had been going on for a while so subtly that I hadn’t taken any notice except for the itching. Aunt Rose suggested maybe I should quit the herbs and get my vitamins from the pharmacy. She was giving me other stuff too like vitamin C and Algae, Calmag and some other things. She said that whatever she did, she was not having my parents coming back and finding me sick. I really didn’t like taking that stuff with the weird names that she concocted, and so was just as happy when she came home with something else from the drug store and began giving me vitamin shots once a week and I had to only take some of the previous pills and two little brown pills a day from then on. What a relief, and they didn’t taste bad at all. They were coated with some stuff. I think something in that mix made me a little sick too for a few days. Every morning I wanted to heave but after about five days, it went away and I felt fine and my hair and skin never looked better. I was amazed to find myself liking to take care of my hair now. Gee, I never thought I’d like having pretty hair.

Aunt Rose was not one for sloppy dress either. I had come to her in torn blue jeans and a tee shirt. That situation rapidly evolved and she had me wearing dressier clothes around the house like she did and certainly whenever we went out. By the end of July, she had me in nice slacks in various colors and fabrics some of which felt very nice next to my softer skin, some I’m afraid with no zipper or one in the back and even one pair with the zipper on the side, tailored shirts in soft, silky fabrics and really neat, amazingly lightweight loafers with a low cut top down near my toes and low wedge or built up heels. I really think they looked a little girlish but they felt really good and made my feet look smaller, not that they were really big or anything. I really think I was walking a little differently, especially in the slightly built up heels but I found I really liked the higher ones better for some reason. They seemed to feel ‘natural’ and I rather enjoyed the way they fit and felt on my feet although the thought did cross my mind that these shoes made my feet look ‘pretty’. Everything was rather form fitting though and accentuated my small waist and my hips. I didn’t even know I HAD hips. You know what I mean. We all have them but mine were getting sort of roundish and filled my slacks rather well and it wasn’t just that. I was putting on fat all over except my waist. My pelvis seemed like it was actually growing wider, the bones even felt very different. I realized I was going through puberty and all but had no idea a boy’s hips got wider then. Well, you know what I mean. I came to appreciate my pretty aprons as I didn’t want to get my nicer clothes dirty. I guess better shirts button differently too but I learned to love how they looked and felt so silky next to my skin and seemed to flow with my movements, graceful, you know? I got so I didn’t like wearing undershirts with them even though the silky fabric made my nipples stand out.

My bummy old blue jeans became history. She threw them out. Aunt Rose would help me with the housework but I did the washing too. Since I did the washing, I had apparently gotten an appreciation for keeping myself clean too. She taught me how to separate things and how to treat various fabrics, how to fold and what to fold and what to iron. Oh yes, she taught me how to iron too. I found that once I understood how to flatten things and maneuver sleeves and what temperatures to use, it wasn’t so bad but that was a painful experience nonetheless.

I scorched one of her blouses and she punished me. She put these two little hoops on my ears to remind me to be more careful in the future and they hurt like blazes until the next morning. Then, I couldn’t get them out. I couldn’t figure out how to do it and Aunt Rose refused to help and just complimented me on how nice I looked in my navy blue slacks, sky blue short sleeved top with a low vee neck and navy blue stripy wedge heeled sandals and the matching blue scrunchy in my hair. They were leather shoes, and with all kinds of padding in them. They were very comfortable to work in though and they made my feet look really tiny and cute. They were nice enough sandals. I’ll bet a girl would never have worn them without painting her toenails though and I had a flash of what mine might look like painted. Gee, what made me entertain painting my toenails? Well, let’s face it, they WERE tiny but the size inside said seven.

I didn’t think I took that large a shoe. At 13, I was only 5'4" tall and could have sworn my size was smaller. Aunt Rose was a good three inches taller and her feet were just a little bigger, I think. She got me a new pair of loafers too. They weren’t so well padded but they were comfortable even though they did have a built up heel on them. It must have been about 2 or 2 ½ inches but it was a blocky heel and I had no problem walking in them. They were almost as heavy as my hiking boots and the heel height was just about the same as cowboy boots. She told me I should have them because it was good for my calf muscles to vary my heel height during the day since I was on my feet so much. That made perfect sense to me although I could have sworn I had seen the same shoe on a few girls around town. Then it occurred to me that girl’s legs always looked nicer in high heels. I wondered if mine did too but then, nobody could see them with pants on and two inches wasn’t that high anyway. Cowboy boots were every bit that high. I wondered what my legs looked like from someone else’s point of view. Now, why in the world did I even care about that? I never had before!

Aunt Rose was rather attractive and she did have a way with clothes and cosmetics. She knew how to look her best. Apparently, she wanted me to look my best too. Well, that was OK I guess, as long as she was paying for the clothes. I was almost beginning to LIKE looking nice. It did give me a little sense of pride to know I looked nice. It was a far cry from jeans and tee shirts and I began to take a certain pride in my neat and orderly appearance and I must have spent at least a half hour on my hair every day. She said I was really lucky that is wasn’t dead straight like most boys. It fell in soft waves down to my shoulders and turned under a little bit. It seemed to be getting very full and thick lately but maybe that was just because of the conditioners.

September 1st: I start back to school next week. Aunt Rose has gotten me a whole new wardrobe both for school and home. The school clothes are very nice but they make me look a little odd, I think. Some of the older boys looked at me strangely for a awhile but after a couple weeks they got over it. Maybe it was that they had never seen a boy with manners before who knew how to dress and look nice for school. She certainly had drilled all of that into me about how to conduct myself and how to dress and move and everything. Most of them certainly didn’t bother with themselves. A couple of them asked me if I had gone to a Catholic grade school because of my dressing and hair style. I just told them my aunt was very fashion conscious and strict. She certainly had taught me how to be a gentleman and I do mean with the accent on ‘gentle.’ My movements seemed different to me, somehow smoother, less abrupt and jerky, more fluid I guess you’d say like a dancer maybe. Perhaps even a little feminine but somehow, even thought that should have bothered me, it didn’t. This was a new school for me and the kids didn’t know the old, sloppy me. Those two inch heels made me walk a little differently too as I noticed that I had to sway my hips a little more although they were hard to notice as my slacks were just the right length. I liked the way my friend Janice walked in hers and I think I copied her walk.

Mostly my school clothing consisted of nice slacks in various patterns, fabrics and colors, a silk shirt in various colors and maybe a gold chain or two and a pair of loafers over thin, knee high hose. She never let me wear sneakers anymore. Maybe it was the earrings and long hair that put them off at first along with the gold bracelet and the smallish wrist watch. Well, they were earrings and even though they were a punishment, I had come to like them. Now I had two in the left ear and one in the right. I liked to see that little glint of light on them when I tossed my head or looked in the mirror. They had little diamonds that slid around on them as they moved. Aunt Rose had gotten me a few other styles and showed me how to put them in and take them out, even some pretty dangle ones. She told me the ones she put on me were self piercing and that’s why they hurt so much. And the wrist watch, well, a full sized men’s would look ridiculous on my tiny wrist anyway. I wasn’t any bigger than most of the girls in my class.

I had some really pretty studs now that I wore to school and several pairs of dangles that I wore at home. I don’t know why I let her talk me into those but they were very pretty and I loved the feel of them as they brushed my neck as they swung and I had seen dangles on some men on TV but I was a little afraid to wear them to school. It was really odd how my feelings about my appearance had changed since Aunt Rose had shown me the difference between slob and well groomed. Sometimes I’d even put my hair up so I could see them better although Aunt Rose preferred it down, cascading about my shoulders. I’m glad she cut in those bangs. I wouldn’t be able to see otherwise I think. One time, she saw me with my hair up in a pony tail and asked if I would like to try something else, a different way of putting it up. “Sure, why not?” I said. So she proceeded to teach me how to do a braid from my crown back. She told me I could tie it off with a scrunchy or a ribbon but to be honest the ribbon looked nicer. I remember that’s how the men used to do it in colonial days. So I started tying it up in all colors of ribbons to match what I was wearing on top. I had to admit, I did have pretty hair now. It was odd to think how I had come to think of my hair and feet as pretty. I did love the way that braid looked on me and had gotten used to wearing the dressier shoes.

A lot of the ‘at home’ clothes consisted of handsome tops that had a sort of self attached neck tie that was tied in a bow or that I could tie like a regular necktie. Auntie said they were the kind of top that 19th century poets used to wear. I’d wear slacks and a couple of them were designed so full that they actually looked like skirts I’m afraid. I think she called them Palatzo Pants or something. And unless I wore a somewhat higher built up heel, they dragged on the carpet. They sure had a lot of material in them and flowed all over the place when I walked. My newest sandals had a higher wedge heel with a single wide strap across my toes. I guess they must have been at least 3" high. They were cute. I felt a little guilty when I thought about painting my toes. I guess that was what wearing a long skirt felt like although I’d never had a skirt on in my life. Then that thought about what my legs would look like in a skirt crossed my mind. What is the matter with me? First I’m thinking lingerie and now a skirt and I’m enjoying 3" heels?

She got me some new night wear too, mostly nightshirt types, very silky and they came just below my knees except one that came all the way to my ankles and had long sleeves. It seemed to be a heavy satin. I thought that would come in handy in the winter. The fit was grand and loose and they hung somewhat from my chest as well as my shoulders. How strange. I thought my chest was flat but it seemed I was poking out some there along with my wider pelvis that seemed to force me to walk differently than I used to. No matter. At least they didn’t have pockets for breasts in them so I knew they couldn’t be girl’s nighties. Oh, they did have some pretty lace on them but Auntie pointed out that 19th century men wore a great deal of lace, a fact I knew to be true as I’d seen many pictures of them. They were very nice and I thanked her profusely because they felt so neat. She got me a nice quilted robe too.

October 1: Aunt Rose has been at me every day about how I sit and stand and walk and talk. It feels like she’s training me to become King or something, you know, Regal? I’m sure she only wants the best for me but she is at me about every nuance of my disposition lately. She wants me to sit down and rise slowly, gracefully, and not just plop into a chair and she wants me to stand with my feet together and cross my legs slowly at the knee when I sit or at worst, my ankles and to keep my knees together when I sit and arise. She won’t let me sit with my one ankle resting on my knee any more. Whatever could that matter when I was wearing pants? I could understand that if I wore skirts but I don’t.

She even made me carry a book around on my head for a whole week at home until my walk smoothed out with my high heels on. She said I was too ‘bouncy’, whatever that means. Said I’d never be able to be a waiter and carry a tray if I didn’t smooth out my walk. I really didn’t fancy becoming a waiter but I smoothed out the walk nonetheless as I realized that we may have guests and I might be the one serving them. Just to prove her point, she’d have me load up a complete service for one person on large platter with a drink and everything and take it to the table and back to the kitchen when we were done eating. You know, she was right. I had to learn to take a little smaller steps to but if I hadn’t smoothed out the walk and learned to move my hips gracefully, I’d have spilled the drinks every time. The trick was learning to keep my upper body quiet while I let my hips take up the balancing. This also caused me to learn to walk in smaller steps with my feet close together and more in a straight line.

She taught me the proper way to get in and out of a car too, placing my rump in first and swinging my legs in afterwards and then reversing it on exit. I never even knew there WAS a right or wrong way but that made it so easy, I wondered why I’d never thought of it myself. I suppose Mom and Dad would have shown me all this but they weren’t’ around now. She showed me how to take small bites instead of a mouthful, said it was bad etiquette to take such big bites as though I were a wolf devouring a carcass, and chew slowly and with my mouth shut. Now there’s something I never heard of before. I used to gulp everything down and just began to realize that I never really enjoyed my meals before. They were just necessary evils to be gotten over with as quickly as possible. But eating slowly and politely gave me time to really enjoy the meal and taste the food. Eating wasn’t such a bore anymore. It was time for small bites and conversation. She was teaching me how to socialize during a meal. It was rather fun not to just sit down to gobble and go.

I’ve been here six months now and I must be doing too much at home because my body is sore and despite all the work, I seem to be getting soft. My chest is tender and my slacks are getting pretty tight, so tight in fact that I’m a little uncomfortable in them, my underwear included. I really didn’t eat all that much and couldn’t understand why I’d be putting on weight, especially on my bum. I mentioned this to Aunt Rose and she came up with a solution.

She got me special underpants to wear that kept my boy things up and out of the way, not that it amounted to much lately, didn’t even seem to want to rise to the occasion but that garment certainly has made it easier for me to cross my legs at the knee and it gives me a nice smooth line in front. There’s no more bulge there to get in the way of crossing my legs and it’s ever so much more comfortable and looks nicer in all my slacks now too. The only problem with them is that I have to sit to pee since there’s no placket even if the slacks have a front zipper.

Well, I can get used to it I suppose except now I have to wipe in front as well as back as I was never well developed and now I appeared to be losing ground. My slacks are a size nine and when she got them for me, they were nice and loose. Now I more or less fill them completely although my waistline didn’t seem to expand along with everything else. If anything, it’s getting smaller. Well, what the heck. I’m not through growing yet, I’m sure.

October 31: Aunt Rose lives in a rather posh neighborhood and the young girl about my age a few houses up was having a Halloween party. She invited me either out of courtesy to Aunt Rose or because I was in her class, I don’t know which. I didn’t really have a costume but Aunt Rose came to the rescue again.

She borrowed an evening gown, did up my hair in a chignon and made my hair really pretty with beads wound into it and I wore matching long dangle earrings and full dramatic evening makeup too. She got me a pair of matching white pumps with 3 inch slender heels and taught me how to walk and dance in them for a few days before the party. I had always thought that slender high heels must be difficult to manage but was pleasantly surprised to find that these were quite comfortable and I really didn’t mind wearing them for an evening at all. I thought they made my feet look really sexy. My real problem was that I seemed to be rather enjoying these lovely garments and the way they made me feel. By the time the party came around, I suppose I had become rather expert at walking in them so as to not give myself away too soon. My new sandals were that high of course but they didn’t have so small a landing zone. I suppose it was just that the heel was so slender and feminine that worried me but my ankles soon adapted and the little soreness in my calves left too.

The day of the party, she gave me a manicure, shaping my now longer nails with very red polish and also a pedicure with matching polish. I couldn’t wait to see how my toes looked in my sandals now. It had been quite a while since I had cut my nails and wearing the rubber gloves had certainly kept them nice and strong, not to mention long. She shaped them just like a girl’s at least a ¼" beyond my finger tips and I can’t tell you how it felt to have such pretty hands and feet. It was weird how I reacted to this. It was just part of the costume of course, but it did give me a little thrill. Well, I want to tell you I was scared to death but turned out to be the belle of the ball. It was a blast.

I’d never really been popular and I’d never danced with a boy before and they didn’t have a clue as to who the fox in the gown was until the unmasking and then, they didn’t believe it. Let me rephrase that. They didn’t WANT to believe it! The boys were so embarrassed by some things they said to me in front of witnesses that I just knew I was going to be quite safe in school in spite of this little deception. They had lined up to dance with me and their reputations would be ruined if I spilled the beans on them. The attention was quite flattering and I’m afraid I rather enjoyed it. Naturally, I did my best pretense at being a real girl so as to pull off the masquerade successfully and was very apologetic to the boys for fooling them. I really played it to the hilt with the gentle voice and all. The girls were amazed at not only who I was but that I did such a wonderful job of fooling everybody. I had to admit that I really did make a passably pretty girl and the girls seemed to warm to me after the unmasking. I had never been popular but I was that night.

Auntie Rose and I had quite a discussion when I got home about how I had enjoyed myself and about all the boys I danced with. She seemed very pleased that I had such a good time. It was a great deal of fun although I must admit my emotions were somewhat on a roller coaster, feeling giggly and elated on one hand and a bit embarrassed on the other, first for having such a wonderful time being a girl for the evening and secondly, especially when in the arms of a big, strong, handsome, he-man type and feeling very submissive, like a real girl I suppose. It was rather easy to forget I was a boy when a big handsome guy was twirling me around the dance floor.

November 30: Now that Aunt Rose has my manners corrected and my mannerisms straightened out, she’s decided to work on my grooming again. I must admit my hair has become quite long and full bodied and she said she just couldn’t resist doing something with it. It’s down to my shoulder blades now. I had no idea what she meant but she hadn’t hurt me so far, except for the self piercers and that was my fault. Since Halloween, the kids at school have gotten used to the new me. I’ve caught some of the boys looking at me like they do the girls. Have my nice clothes and new manners given me the flavor of a girl? That’s a little unnerving. Could that be lust I see? Heaven forbid. Some of them are really cute though.

She sat me down and wet and wound, clipped and otherwise messed with my hair until she had it all up on curlers. I must have been a sight. I protested, “Auntie, boys don’t put their hair up like this!” “Maybe so, but yours is so very pretty, I just can’t keep my hands off it. I’m sorry if it upsets you but I think you will like the way it looks when it’s done.” While it dried, there were other things to attend to. My manicure never quite resumed it’s boyish charm and my nails remained rather rounded although just a little longer and then longer until they protruded a good 3/8 of an inch and they always now had a coat or two of hardener on them to ‘protect’ them, she said. They were quite pretty even with only the clear polish I now wore daily.

I had gotten used to wearing white hose to school. Actually, I’d always worn white hose to school. I remember when men wore knee high hose and attached it to garters about their knees. My grand dad wore those. And I remember that in the 1940s boys wore knickers with high socks too. Apparently someone had a better idea. The ones I wore now were rather more sheer, I think, and were held up just by elastic below the knee. Some even had pretty patterns in them. I could see my toenails through them and had thought how much nicer they would look if they were in a pair of open toed sandals with sheer, tan hose at school like the girls wore. Aunt Rose had let me keep them painted ever since the party. The scruffy lad who had landed on her doorstep never would have allowed her to paint his toes but I was no longer that scruffy lad. I was much more gentile.

While in the midst of that thought, Auntie interrupted by telling me that she had gotten me a few pairs of casual shoes for at home and school and placed four boxes in front of me while we waited for my hair to dry. I kicked off my shoes and gleefully opened the first. They were a nice, soft loafer with about a two inch blocky wedge heel and a woven vamp in a little lighter color, just perfect for around the house, maybe even out shopping or school. I tried them on and walked around a bit. They were very comfortable. The second was a pair of summer sandals. They were very nice in white leather with several ½" straps across the vamp with a large opening for my pretty painted toes and then an ankle strap and buckle attached to the sling back. They had a crepe sole and a wedge heel also although not quite as high. The name on the inside said ‘Cobbie Cuddlers.’

The third pair was a pair of pumps like men used to wear to the opera. I’ve seen them in older movies. I guess that’s where the expression ‘opera pump’ came from. They were simply an open slip on like a girl’s skimmer flat but with about a ¾" shaped heel. They were very handsome in patent leather and, considering what was to come, may indeed have been girl’s skimmers but I really don’t think I cared at this point. The vamp was cut very low, so low that they actually showed a little of the cleavage between my big toe and the next one. They would look good with either my black or my light green slacks with sheer hose and were very cute though. I loved how they made my feet look.

And then it hit me: these ARE girl’s skimmer flats and I LIKE them. I think I’m really in trouble! The last box I’m afraid, was a bit more disturbing, more of a shock, really. I had tried on all the others and liked them. I did not know if I should try these on nor whether I should be prepared to like them and wondered what Auntie must have been thinking when she bought them. They were also pumps, very fashionably cut, with about a 3" contemporary women’s heel like the ones I had worn to the party. They were obviously lovely women’s pumps and even though I had loved my evening as a girl for the Halloween party, I didn’t know what to say or do. These were for wearing with dresses and skirts. They were downright sexy. “Auntie!”, I cried. “I can’t. These are far too pretty for a boy. They belong with a skirt or a pretty dress and I have nothing to wear them with.” She just smiled. That was certainly a lame comment on my part, I thought. I simply loved them. I just had a hard time admitting it. Oh, I felt my boy self slipping away. Keenan was in trouble.

On the other hand, the thought of wearing such pretty shoes as a natural part of my everyday costume excited me beyond reason. I blushed and my pert and swollen nipples got very hard and I had a series of strange pulsating contracting sensations between my legs. It was really difficult to describe. I felt flushed, very flushed. Seeing my hesitancy, Auntie suggested, “please, won’t you try those on too? They are quite lovely aren’t they?” I slowly put them on my feet. The fit was perfect. I stood up, saying nothing. Oh my gawd, I thought, I’m reveling in real femininity, my very own first pair of high heels. What is happening to me? I love them! “Oh, Auntie, they are adorable. Thank you” I heard myself say in much too girlish a tone and inflection. There went that pulsating again. That feels nice!

I walked confidently to the other side of the room and back with no difficulty at all, having had plenty of practice on Halloween, gliding and undulating my hips as was appropriate in such foot wear as she had taught me before and I’m afraid I had been doing ever since no matter what shoes I had on. It was at that moment that I realized that my gait had developed into that of a young lady and I had little, if any, control over it. I had truly copied Janice’s walk. I now walked just like my girlfriends. I talked like my girlfriends. No wonder the boys were looking at me and small wonder I had found so much acceptance among the girls. I traced it back in my mind to all my practice with the trays of food. I no longer strode. I walked…gracefully, shamefully for a boy, I suppose.

I confess, I did love my new high heels and decided then and there that I should keep them and enjoy them even though they made me feel terribly fragile and feminine. It was a divine, sensual feeling like none I’d had in my young life. I wasn’t so young anymore that I didn’t know what erotic meant and these shoes made me feel erotic. I confess I was having great difficulty feeling like a real boy anymore. I was so much more emotional and expressive than I used to be. Perhaps I had become a sissy, but then, boys wouldn’t be looking at me like they were if they just saw me as a sissy. They were not leering in disgust. It was a feeling far superior to the masturbating that I had recently discovered but that did not produce near the excitement the pumps or my softening chest did. But yet, in the back of my mind, I felt that I was doing wrong, something that was not considered ‘normal’. Perhaps I wasn’t ‘normal’ anymore. Perhaps I didn’t care.

I decided to keep them on though, much to Auntie’s delight. I spent the rest of the evening in that costume and confess that I must have spent more time than usual passing a full length mirror, primping with my new hairdo, straightening my blouse or admiring my new pumps. I was terribly aware of my girlishness that night and confess that it gave me a sense of freedom and power to be able to express myself openly this way. All that was missing was the lovely makeup that I wore to the party and that pretty girl would be back.

Auntie seemed to be smiling a lot that night. She was also very cordial although she continued to point out the flaws in my deportment when they occurred, which were far less to the point she rarely criticized me anymore. I loved the view I got of my pumps when I crossed my legs and crossed and uncrossed them a lot that night. What was going on in my mind that I should be so fond of feminine foot wear or clothing? I hadn’t a clue. Perhaps it was the wonderful feel of the clothing she had gotten me or perhaps it was that I was now less opposed to what might be called ‘feminine’ clothing as I surely loved the pumps and they were surely the ultimate in feminine clothing. But then, I was reasonably sure that everything that Auntie bought me was girl’s clothing. Did she know something I didn’t about how my puberty was going to turn out? Were there options I hadn’t heard about? Why was I so curvy? Why was I excited about the fat accumulating on my chest and bottom? None of the other boys had bodies like mine.

I told her about my sore chest and she suggested that I take off my cotton tee shirt and put on a satin one. Apparently she had foreseen the problem and had gotten me some really nice new silky undershirts. They were ever so much softer and gentler to my chest but instead of the wide straps of some, they had little rope type straps or stretch lacy ones or cap sleeves that held them up. I’d never seen anything like them before. She got them for me in an array of pretty colors and styles and I admit that just looking at myself in my control panties and new Tee shirts, I still looked very girlish and it gave me a certain giddiness. They were very light and I hardly knew I had them on but they did accentuate the bumps on my chest.

“What are these called, Auntie?” “They are a ‘camisole’ dear. It’s an old English word for a silk undershirt.” “Oh, I see.” “There are a couple other styles you may want to try called ‘chemise’ and ‘teddy’. I got you a couple of those too. I’m afraid they have a good bit of lace on them though and chemises are really to be worn with a dress. They are like a very short slip.” “Thank you Auntie.” The camisoles were rather plain but the chemise and teddies were resplendent with lovely lace as well as pockets for my ‘breasts’. And I was getting flushed again as there now seemed to be a little bit of something to put into those pockets and suddenly and without warning the thought ran through my head how nice they would look if I WERE truly filled out like a GIRL! What a terrifying and delightful thought! Talk about mixed emotions! Why was I thinking about dresses and high heels and boys and breasts?

I told Aunt Rose she could get rid of my cotton tee shirts and, in fact, anything I had that was cotton. These were so much nicer and they felt wonderful under my silky tops, shirts, blouses, whatever they were. But not only were the new undershirts softer, I myself was softer, not only in my body but in my speech and in my manner. Perhaps I was also ‘softer’ in my mind, not that I was losing it or was weaker in spirit, but that I was becoming a much gentler person under the care of my Aunt.

I was no longer, if I had ever been, what my peers would call ‘masculine’ at all or anything resembling the rough and boyish slob that arrived on her doorstep. My top and bottom both seemed to have a mind of their own and my arms, well, if they ever had any defined muscles, they didn’t now. They had become slender and unmuscular. I remember that I used to have little maybe 5/8" pink areola (I had to ask Aunt Rose what they were called) on my flat little chest but now they were at least an inch and ½ “ across and turning from pink to brown and becoming awfully fleshy in the bargain. My chest was no longer flat. I protruded noticeably and my pretty nighties hung down from those protrusions rather than my shoulders now!

I’m not so sure it would be fair to even call it a chest any more. I guess that was why I looked so nice in my new underwear. In fact, I swear there were girls in my class who were not so well endowed as I seemed to be and they were careful to be wearing a bra to uplift their tender young bosoms. It flashed through my mind that a bra might not even look at all out of place on my own chest. It was almost like I was growing a lovely feminine bosom to go along with my widening hips and heavier fanny. What a strange thought, a thought that made me tingle with a strange, forbidden delight. Was I growing tits? Apparently, I WAS and the appropriate desires that went with them too I’m afraid! No wonder I thought some of those boys were cute!

When Aunt Rose saw this, she wrote a note to the school and I was excused from gym class permanently. It WAS a bit embarrassing having my chest bounce around up and down and back and forth while I played basketball. It also hurt a bit every time I came down on the floor hard and the other boys in the locker room were having a great deal of fun at my expense.

They made remarks and they stared but they didn’t abuse me.

A few of them were teasing me in a very odd way, almost like they tease with a girl they are flirting with. I would have to cover my nipples with my hands then to cover my obvious excited embarrassment, small is it was. You might think that my reaction would have been an erection. Not so. Indeed, not possible. If I had to give you a size for comparison, I would have to say that my ‘chest’ had grown to about the size of two half navel oranges plus, of course, my distended nipples that now responded every time I became excited. Lately, all I had to do was touch them and washing my ‘chest’ in the tub had lately become arousing.

She finished with the curlers and took them out and brushed my hair again back combing it some but now it fell in soft and tighter waves instead of just gentle ones. It looked very nice and full, I thought, and I thanked her for putting in the time and effort to make me look nice. “It’s my pleasure,” she said. “It gives me pleasure to see you looking so ‘handsome.” We had a pleasant Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings and she let me help her prepare it. I forgot to tell you that she was letting me help her with the cooking now too. I was never one to volunteer for work before coming to live with her but now I seemed to want to know just everything about running a home.

She said I had become quite ‘handy’ around the house. I suppose I had at that. I found I rather liked cooking and I just LOVED to bake! Since it was a special occasion, before dinner was served, I went to my room and put on my Palazzo pants with a lacy blouse and some flesh colored hose and my new high heeled dress pumps. As I slipped them onto my feet and stood up, I at once became excited again as it was just like having a long skirt on with my heels. Suddenly, the thought of wearing a real skirt or a dress and makeup again was tantalizing and provoked another round of giddy excitement but after a few seconds I was able to return to the table in my pants and white blouse without arousing suspicion in Aunt Rose about the way I was feeling. I just felt so terribly girlish and grown up in hose and high heels. If I were honest with myself, I would admit that I had indeed become quite girlish and was unashamedly loving it although I certainly couldn’t explain it. Puberty was really a strange time, I guess.

I had always been rather a layabout at home but here I was more useful and actually enjoying it. Imagine that! I did, of course, realize by this time that absolutely everything that I had learned would ordinarily be considered to be strictly in a young girl’s domain but I didn’t mind. I was much more serene now and I was enjoying all the lovely things that Aunt Rose had taught me and the soft and pleasant clothing that she had gotten me. It seemed that the wearing of all this pretty clothing was having quite an effect on my mind. I truly now enjoyed it and wondered if I could give it up when Mom and Dad came home.

I just loved my new pumps. They made me feel so much more grown up.

December 5th: Pearl Harbor Day. It was an infamous day in history. As young as I was I could not understand why the Japanese had done that to us. I was glad we were friends again though. It’s silly to hold a grudge forever. Well, Christmas was coming and I had already gotten Aunt Rose a gift that I thought she’d like. It was a matching set of ceramic necklace and earrings. She had similar ones so I hoped she would like them.

I had no idea how lavish my Christmas was to be. I came downstairs in my satin nightie with the bow on the left shoulder and mules and house coat on Christmas morning but pretty soon Aunt Rose had me trying all sorts of things on. She told me to go back upstairs and get myself into a matching pair of panties and a chemise and come back down. I think she got me a little of everything: slacks and shoes and hose and underwear and shirts and earrings, chains and bracelets. That was the first pile.

I noticed that the shirts buttoned the same way hers did and asked her if they were really shirts. “Well, no honey, they are blouses but your chest isn’t really built for shirts anymore. You certainly must have noticed how nice your ‘chest’ is beginning to look in your nighties and underwear. You’re still growing. You need more room in there and blouses are made with extra roomy chests. You DO seem to have done some lovely growing there honey.” “Boy, have I ever Aunt Rose. I just can’t understand it. I’m so flabby it’s like I actually have breasts or something. The night you gave me the pretty shoes, I had a flash of how this chest would look in a pretty satin and lace bra. Isn’t that wild?” “Not so wild dear.”

“Perhaps you should treat them like breasts then and see how you like it,” she said. “Open that blue box over there.” “Oh, my! Matching panties and bras. How sweet. My heavens, what am I saying. I’m a boy and I just said, ‘how sweet’ and am excited about wearing matching panties and a bra!” “Are you really excited? Didn’t you just love the Halloween party and dancing with all those boys in your pretty gown and high heels?” “Oh, yes Aunt Rose. It was a divine, wonderful evening. I had a great time and I loved the gown and everything and the boys treated me so nicely. It was a really neat costume Aunt Rose and so resourceful of you to think of something so simple and effective as a disguise.” “And don’t you enjoy wearing your new pumps with the higher heels?” (Blushing) “Yes, Auntie, very much I’m afraid, even though I can’t move or even think of myself as a boy when I wear them.”

“Well, then, if you liked it so much, why not try some other pretty things. Would you like to?” “Oh, Aunt Rose, I don’t know! I really shouldn’t be liking these things but I confess, I do. I love them. I love the soft, silky things you’ve given me but I don’t think I should be feeling this way. I’m supposed to be a boy, not a girl, and these are all girl things but yet I don’t think I feel like a boy anymore. And I look in the mirror even naked and I don’t see Keenan. I see some kind of hybrid girl staring back at me. My hips look like I should be looking forward to motherhood. I’m not sure what a boy should feel like at my age and I’m not even sure I’m a real boy anymore or whether I even care.”

“Here dear, slip on these panties and tuck your little self away and then slip your arms though the straps of this bra. There now, I’m going to fasten it for you and then I want you reach in and to take your breasts in your hands and arrange them in the cups so they look nice and your nipples are about where the seams are.” “Like this Aunt Rose? I’ve never worn a bra. Oh my! They do look much better don’t they? And they ARE breasts, aren’t they?” “Why, of course dear. You’re developing the figure of a lovely young lady and that’s what bras are for, uplifting and enhancing a lady’s figure. Now slip your chemise back over them.”

“I’m so confused. You’ve taught me so much since I’ve been here and I’ve changed so much too. I hardly recognize myself. I had no idea a boy could become a girl during puberty! Look how soft I’ve become and my nails and hair and the way I move and talk and…! My whole body is so smooth and soft and round.” All of a sudden it was like a hand grenade going off in my mind, I realized that it was ALRIGHT to feel the way I did.

And no, I was no longer a real boy in the usual sense and as such had every right to enjoy my girlish things. If I had girl feelings, and I could look like a real girl, as it seemed I most certainly did, then it should be alright to wear girl clothes! Then I thought of that silly expression, ‘if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…” What a revelation! “Alright. I’ll start opening the other boxes.”

“Well, if you want to see a new you, begin with that small package with the white ribbon.” “Oh, hose and garters. And so pretty too. My Mom wears these. I think they are much prettier than those dumb pantyhose.” “Me too, honey. Do you know how to put them on?” “I’ve seen her do it a lot. I think so.” “Remember, they have the potential to be rather risque if you don’t sit properly. You mustn’t let boys look up your skirts and see your panties.” “But Auntie, I’ve never worn a skirt.” “Oh, I think that is about to change dear.” I proceeded to put on the garter belt and then the hose, hooking it up to it’s six garters. “Now the pink box,” she said. Obediently I opened it and found several full and half slips and two teddies. They were all satin. I took off the chemise and I slid a full slip over my head and adjusted the straps so the cups fell around my bosom. Nestled in the cups of my totally unpadded A cup bra, I now had to admit that I did indeed have a bosom. Not much, but a very real bosom, the bosom of a GIRL, sensitive, genuine breasts, a tiny waist and flaring hips.

“All right, now any one of those hanging packages.” The first one was a beautiful wine colored crepe dress with a full skirt, long sleeves and a high collar. It had a slender self belt and a back zipper. It looked very conservative but it was sexy nonetheless because of the material and it clung to every curve. I slid it over my head and actually managed to get the zipper almost all the way up before she had to help me. It seemed I was much more limber than I used to be. “Stand still dear. You’re almost adept at dressing as a girl but we need to get a little makeup on you again before you see yourself. These are girl’s clothes after all, and you already know you make a pretty girl. I really blushed at that remark but nonetheless said a sincere ‘thank you.’ After all, I knew that I DID make a pretty girl after all the ‘flies’ buzzing around me at the party. “Now the little package over there and that oblong one.” I opened the little one first and there was a pair of lovely crystal dangle earrings in it. I took my others out and put them on.

The next box was a pair of party pumps with 3 ½" heels. They matched the dress perfectly. I slid them on my feet and the fit was perfect also. Having danced all night in heels, I now had no problem with these that were just a little higher even though they feminized my gait even more as I strived to put one foot directly in front of the other like a model. I felt deliciously grown up all of a sudden and then realized that it was a grown up GIRL I was feeling like. I looked down at my feet and realized I had to lean over just a bit to see them. My tits were in the way of my view. The shoes were beautiful and so was my bosom. I just knew I was in trouble thinking about my breasts in those terms as I had visions of them becoming large, full, round mounds to be enjoyed to the eye and in sexual pleasure. I got a flash of that hunk Ron Melany caressing them with those big hands of his. “Alright darling, go look at yourself and tell me if you really think you are still a boy.”

I walked gracefully, swinging my hips as I’d been taught and which now was so natural, keeping my upper body quiet and swinging my arms with the elbows turned in a little, to the mirror in the hall. The click of my heels on the hardwood floor sent a thrill through me that I won’t soon forget. I really can���t describe it to you. I knew I was too young to be having such sensual feelings. Or WAS I?

I just KNEW I shouldn’t be having the feelings I was having, wonderful, girlish, sensual, sexual feelings and yet I realized that these were MY clothes. I could keep them and wear and enjoy them at home, if not in school. There before me stood the reason I was so popular at the party. I was really pretty, not just cute. In that dress, it was obvious that I no longer possessed the body or face of a boy and apparently I no longer possessed the mind of one either because I was simply thrilled at my reflection. And my pert little bosom looked lovely in it’s new surroundings with my tiny waist and widening hips in that full skirted dress. This vision should have given me a raging erection but in fact, I had TWO, but both on my chest. Again that tantalizing twitching invaded my groin. It felt wonderful but threatened to turn my knees to jelly. I’m afraid Aunt Rose recognized the expression on my face and the feelings I was having. I refused to be ashamed. I was too much in a state of bliss. Apparently, she had experienced the same feelings on different occasions.

They were MY breasts and they were at full attention, poking naughtily out against the silky fabric of my new dress, visual evidence of my new excitement. Nothing happened in my previous pleasure center except for those lovely little pulsing contractions that felt so good. It was asleep, perhaps never to awaken again. I reached up and touching them, almost swooned. The way I felt right now, I didn’t even care. I turned this way and that and curtsied. “Oh, Aunt Rose, I’m really pretty, aren’t I?” “Yes darling. You are really pretty. You make a truly lovely girl. Now why would a pretty little thing like you want to be a boy and for heavens sake, why would you want to be called Keenan?

“I see your point Auntie. It doesn’t fit at all, does it? How about Alecia. I think that is such a pretty name.” “Good choice. You shall be Alecia from now on I think, even when you have slacks on because you will want to be wearing your bra and a blouse over it now and perhaps some pretty shoes, won’t you?”. “I’m afraid I will, Auntie.” “Alecia is a very pretty name and you are a very pretty girl. Now, model your other new things for me dear.” “Auntie, this is a little embarrassing but I’m having such a divine time like this, do you think maybe that my new vitamins might have something to do with what has happened to my mind and body?” “Well, dear, I suppose that may be true. Why?” “I just love the way I’m feeling so much. Could we maybe…double up on those things and see?” “Why, of course dear. It won’t hurt you at all. We’ll begin tomorrow. What a splendid idea! We’ll give you two shots a week from now on.” I then knew for sure that Auntie was behind my unusual changes but as the saying goes, I couldn’t have cared less. I was actually grateful. I didn’t understand WHY she had done it though.

And so, I worked my way though five more outfits and accessories and a new pair of pretty shoes with each one, both flat and high heeled opera pumps and wedge heeled sandals too. They were all lovely as were the other gifts. She had gotten me all kinds of lovely rings and bracelets and earrings and hair accessories. There were skirts and blouses too but no slacks in this pile. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting to be Alecia at home so you may wear what ever you wish. I’ve gotten you some cute flats, sandals, high heeled slippers and even a bathing suit.” I was, I think quite understandably, on cloud 9. I spent the rest of the day in a new dress with a full skirt, reveling in how it caressed my smooth, nylon clad legs and how my pumps made me take such tiny, feminine steps and how they made my calves and ankles look.

I knew I was going to have to pretend to be Keenan at school and the thought was not a pleasant one at all. I couldn’t walk or act like him anymore. I had become rather flamboyantly feminine always. I had no friends that were boys anymore except for Gil and he was rather girlish too, I’m afraid. He was an orphan who lived with his aging grandmother. We both hung out with the girls now and I felt sorry for him that he hadn’t turned into a girl too as I was so fortunate to be doing. I felt sorry for him. He was such a dweeb.

Of course, being my best friend, he had been over to the house and had come to know the real me and no longer called me Keenan either. I was Alecia to him too and I’m afraid the poor dear slipped up a couple times in front of the girls when he addressed me at school. Now THAT got quite a reaction, I must tell you and they began to call me Alecia too as there was little left to contradict that name. I didn’t know if my heart could stand all this wondrous excitement.

I’m afraid the mirrors in the house got quite a workout that day. I felt like I was trapped…trapped in Paradise and never wanted to be rescued. For the rest of Christmas vacation, I wore only dresses and skirts and pretty shoes, doing my hair up and wearing light makeup. Gil dropped by to see what I had gotten for Christmas and was completely blown away. I’m so totally sure he was jealous that I felt even more sorry for him.

Each day after that, when Christmas vacation ended, I couldn’t wait until I could get home and into my totally pretty things again and be me. What was ever to become of me? I was beginning to HATE being a boy named Alecia. Sometimes when the teacher would call for Keenan, I didn’t answer. That wasn’t my name. It failed to register. It wasn’t that I was daydreaming or defiant. That just wasn’t my name anymore, in MY mind at least.

Auntie had begun calling me Alecia ALL the time now both in and out of the house. I’m afraid it was a little embarrassing when I didn’t have any makeup or a dress on but it must have been only in MY mind. Apparently, the rest of the world only saw Alecia. Strangers always called me ‘miss’ no matter how I was dressed. My voice was changing but into that of a mature girl.

And then I realized that I had become so pretty and feminine over the summer and so far this school year, that it didn’t matter if I wore a flour sack, I would still be taken for an Alecia. It was a wonderful feeling. People in the shops called me ‘Miss’ or Alecia if they knew me no matter what I wore. Men and boys held doors open for me. I didn’t have to worry about being found out as Keenan anymore. I WAS Alecia now. Oh, my goodness! What has happened to me? Of course, this didn’t escape Gil either and he stopped treating me like just another effeminate boy too. He held doors open for me too poor dear. I really wished that I could do something for him, something wonderful like Auntie had done for me.

January 20: the shock of Christmas was waning and Alecia was growing both in size, although not in height, and in femininity.

She was beginning to have decided , make that EXTREME, difficulties pretending to be a boy at school. She absolutely had to wear a bra all the time and she wore blouses to school with her slacks and androgynous leaning toward feminine shoes and she was not passing as Keenan well at all. It was a cruel joke. Her new true nature was showing all over the place and others responded to it and to her beauty, so out of place in an alleged male package. She was going through a perfectly normal female puberty, only she wasn’t female.

A few of the boys who had danced with her at the party began to come around and talk with her, relating to her as the girl she was becoming and using her now well known feminine name. They were big and strong and she was small and weak, a fragile, feminine creature. It was quite an experience for her to be pursued by boys, flirted with, to be shown the courtesies a woman likes to receive, doors opened, packages and books carried, rides home from school. She didn’t really wear makeup to school although she did start to wear a little colored lip gloss that gave a sexy shine to her young lips. Whether she knew it or not, she had ‘come out’ as surely as if she had taken an ad in the school paper saying, “Keenan is dead. Long live Alecia. I’m a girl now” and had been accepted by both the boys and the girls. She now had two good girlfriends she pal’d around with. She walked like a girl. She talked and giggled like a girl. Her manner screamed girl at every turn and every step of her well turned ankles and she was no longer ashamed. She sang like a girl and she looked like a girl no matter what she did or didn’t wear. Her voice was pure soprano.

February 28: Keenan was a distant memory. It had only been two months since she had gotten all the pretty things but there was only room for one person in that little body now and Alecia wanted the space to grow and she literally evicted Keenan. And grow she did. She grew in knowledge as Aunt Rose taught her all the womanly crafts she knew including sewing and knitting and all about the thinking patterns of a female and how to cope with boys, although her ‘vitamins’ were complimenting that rather nicely too.

Her boy equipment became minuscule as she was chemically castrated and mentally converted. There was no area of femininity that was left out of Alecia’s education. She was no longer a size nine. She was a ten and her bosom has blossomed to a very full B cup by her 15th birthday on March 31 and she began to delight in wearing pretty, feminine blouses to school that showed off her charms with a little pendant nestling between them and pretty lingerie that showed through her tops and blouses. There was no longer any way that Keenan could go to school or that Alecia could go back to being Keenan. “Auntie, I can’t be Keenan any more. When I’m trying to be him, it’s like I’m wearing an outsized trench coat covering up the real me. It feels horrible. I HATE it.” “All right dear. Calm down. Perhaps I can do something to help.”

Aunt Rose had to intercede in behalf of Alecia with the school board. Of course, Alecia’s teachers weren’t blind either. Aunt Rose was a powerful woman in the community and by the middle of April, Alecia was in full bloom. Her records had been changed. She attended girl’s gym and feminine hygiene classes with the rest of the girls. Alecia went to school. Alecia was on the honor roll. Alecia was in the Glee Club and got a solo part with her clear and beautiful soprano voice. Alecia wore pretty skirts and blouses and dresses and flats and pumps and was every bit the young lady she had become through Aunt Roses careful coaching and nourishment of both spirit and body. Every stitch of Keenan’s wardrobe was given to charity. “Aunt Rose, why have I become a girl instead of a boy?” she innocently asked one day. Do some boys just turn into girls when they begin puberty?” I was SO naive! I thought all of this just “happened” like sometimes boys just turned into girls at puberty. What did I know? I didn’t really believe the vitamins could be the cause.” “Why, darling? Don’t you like being a girl?”

“Well, of course I like it. I LOVE it. I adore it. It’s wonderful. It’s more fun than I’ve ever had in all my life but how did it happen? I know I was just starting my puberty but I’m having girl puberty instead of boy.” “I’m sure it has something to do with your hormone balance dear. As long as you are happy and healthy, why worry?” “You’re right of course Auntie but do Mom and Dad know?” “It would be difficult for them NOT to know dear. If I didn’t tell them, another one of their friends certainly would.” “Then they don’t mind?” “It doesn’t seem so Alecia. They are the ones who gave me permission to apply for a name change for you as well as a change to female on your birth certificate. I think that pretty well sums it up.” “ I suppose SO! My heavens! Did you send them any pictures?” “Of course. They wrote back and said you were absolutely adorable, just like your mother was at your age.”

April 10: “Auntie, you’ll never believe it. Carl Simmons has asked me to the junior Prom next month. Can you believe it?” “Of course I can believe it dear. What boy wouldn’t want to date a lovely young thing like you. You’d have to check his pulse if he didn’t fancy you.” “May I go, PLEASE? He’s SO handsome and tall and everything. The other girls are just going to die when they see me on his arm.” “Yes, dear. You may go but you have to be in by midnight. Have you decided what style of gown you want to wear?” “No. I was hoping you’d go shopping with me. I’m not very good at it yet. I need more practice and I’m definitely not ready for a strapless, am I.” “Yes, you are dear and I’ll be happy to help. I’m sure we won’t find your dream dress right away so we can begin shopping any time you like. With a little padding underneath, you’ll look like a movie star.”

“Alecia, sweety, before the prom, I think we should have a little ‘girl’ talk.” “About what Auntie?” “Well, it’s quite obvious that you want to be a girl now and you have something on your body that is trying to prevent that.” “What?” “Those little jelly beans between your legs. Not only do they get in the way but they make chemicals that make your being a girl harder.” “Well, can’t we just get rid of them, you know, like tonsils?” “As a matter of fact dear, yes, and that is exactly how we can get rid of them. It will only take ten or fifteen minutes. Would you like that?” “Oh YES, Auntie. That’s where my boy juice comes from isn’t it?” “Yes, dear, a lot of it.” “Well, please help me lose them then Auntie. I don’t want anything interfering with my life as a girl.” “Alright dear. This Wednesday after school I’ll pick you up and we’ll spend just a little time at the doctor’s office, OK?” “Swell, Auntie. I love you. You’ve been so good to me I’m going to hate to have to leave you.”

Auntie took me to her gynecologist and she was right, just a little snip and a few painless stitches and it was all over. “Rose, I had no idea this niece of yours was really a nephew. She’s gorgeous.” There they went again, adults talking like we kids are not even in the room. “I was a bit hesitant about this but after seeing her, well…it would be a shame NOT to do this and that little penis is ridiculous too. Whatever are you going to do about THAT?”

“A bridge for crossing later Betty, unless, of course, you have connections in that area!. I just might Rosie. By the time she graduates, she’ll have lived over three years this way and passed the real life test. It may cost 10 or 15 thousand but I’m sure you can afford that.” “Of course.” “I’ll look into it. What have you got her on now?” “Well, she was on a blocker but now she’ll just be getting Estradiol and Premarin 1.25 twice a day.”

“How often for the shots?” “Twice a week.” “Cut it down to once for right now. At this age, she needs all those hormones rushing around but with the extra baggage, she won’t need as much. Her mind has turned completely, hasn’t it?” “Yes, she’s all girl and loves it.” “Amazing what can be done if we get them soon enough, isn’t it? I can’t wait to see how she matures. She’s pretty enough now for a fashion model. That can only get better. Well, we’re all done here young lady.” “Treat yourself kindly down there until you feel all healed up Alecia, and then just enjoy your new life.” “Come back and see me in a month for a checkup.” “Thank you doctor. I do enjoy it. I just LOVE it” I squealed.”

I was a bit sore on Thursday but wore a control panty and a pad and nobody ever knew it. I had to wear a napkin for a few days just in case I bled a little. Now there was a new experience. It was kind of neat having to wear a pad though, just like my other girlfriends. I didn’t tell any of my girlfriends either because I wasn’t ready for them to know that Keenan was really dead.

For some time I had been sitting to pee and it was just business as usual now. NOW I might even get away with a bikini. That really WOULD be fun this summer. I day dreamt of this hunk I had danced with, one who was still pursuing me. I could just see me lying face down on the beach. He would be undoing my straps and putting suntan lotion all over me, slowly, sensuously. Ooh, I just tingled thinking about him and that bikini. Well, it would have to wait. It was still cold outside. I could still have warm dreams though, couldn’t I?’

It was now APRIL and was beginning to warm up. Auntie took me on another wonderful shopping spree for summer things. It took DAYS to find and carry it all home and we did find the perfect prom gown. It was chiffon and lace and had a full skirt and showed off my charms deliciously with the built in shelf in the bra and in a light mint green too, one of my favorite colors. I was lucky to have such a generous Auntie and such a large walk in closet. Now that I was 15, she got me some more pretty 3 and 3 ½" heels in white and beige and cranberry to go with a new sheath mini dress. I’m afraid it was rather sexy, especially in heels. We got a white bikini that was very tantalizing and lacy satin lingerie and lightweight skirts, dresses, blouses and sun dresses and rompers.

I was so happy, I just wheeled around in my sandals and stood on my tip toes and kissed her full on the mouth. “You’re welcome darling,” she said. She knew what the kiss was for, the depth of what it really meant by the way it was delivered of course. It went far beyond that shopping trip. I never saw it coming because it was so subtle and yet, somehow, Aunt Rose had taken this ragamuffin boy and turned him into a princess. And, in the back of my mind, I just KNEW that SHE had done it on purpose. It was amazing how effortless it all seemed and now I couldn’t even think like a boy anymore. It was totally impossible. My thoughts were focused on school, shopping and boys, hair, nails and clothes and more boys. I knew that I still had that little vestige of maleness about me but it seemed so insignificant and was very easy to hide now. It would be less than two months until my parents were home from Europe to collect me and take me back to a neighborhood and a school where I wasn’t even known. At least, that’s what I thought.

Keenan was gone and I was legally Alecia now. I could go anywhere, but did I want to? I was quite comfortable at this school and was being pursued by handsome young men. It was one night when Aunt Rose and I were sitting quietly knitting when the phone rang. It was Daddy calling from Amsterdam.

“Alecia, is that you?” “Yes Daddy. I guess you didn’t recognize my voice.” “Well, no sweetheart. You sound like you are growing up, different, but you certainly sound happy too. I’m sure you are having a wonderful time there but I want you to think about something honey. Your mother and I would like you to come over here to Holland and spend the summer with us and we’ll all come back next August. Holland is a very special place honey and I’m sure you would love it.” “That sounds wonderful Daddy. Of course I’ll come. You work out the details with Aunt Rose, all right?” “Sure honey. Well take care of everything. Let me talk to her please.”

“Well, Rosie, I see you’ve done quite a job on Keenan. How long did it take?” “You know we can’t get into that now.” “Just tell me.” “About eight months.” “Well, her mother is going to be delighted. I take it she’s almost complete?” “Yes.” “Well, when she comes to stay with us, we’ll take care of the rest. Holland is a very gender friendly place and they do nice work here too. I knew you could do it. You always were a master at subtlety. I’ll make all the travel arrangements but you will have to take care of the passport and when she is out of school, you just have her ready for the trip, alright? You’ll see she has a nice wardrobe?” “Of course. She does already.” “Thank you Rosie. You’ve been a big help and Janice will be very grateful. We’ll make it up to you.” “No need. I’ve enjoyed having her here immensely. Quite an unusual challenge but an adventure too. I’m going to rather miss watching it all happen. It was a lovely, perverse kind of fun.”

The prom in May was everything it should have been and, as a freshman girl, Alecia was on top of the world. Her dance card was full and her date was attentive and actually got her home on time although they did spend a little time getting to know one another in the back seat of his buddy’s car where, let us say, that she was made to feel like a real girl as Carl’s tongue sought hers in a deep and passionate kiss before she was politely escorted to the front door and properly kissed goodnight. And then came final exams, always a joy, which she passed with very acceptable grades.

A few days later, she was as the airport with Aunt Rose immersed in a teary fair well. They had to pay extra for her baggage as there were four large suitcases. She was only 15 but the way she was dressed and made up, she looked at least 18. She wore a dark blue skirt suit with an above knee skirt showing off her full thighs, smooth knees and calves and a plunging neckline on both her blouse and the suit jacket combined with her push up bra served to advertise that she was all girl and proud of it. The young gentleman seated beside her was most appreciative of both her company for the trip and her attire. Too bad it was the Concord and would be such a short trip to London.

Alecia’s connecting flight got her into Amsterdam at 5:40PM and had it not been for the pictures Aunt Rose had sent, they wouldn’t have recognized her. To her parents, she was a vision they had hoped for 14 years ago when they adopted her/him.

Janice had wanted a girl so badly and that was understandable enough, considering that she had missed most of her own childhood.

There were hugs and kisses and tears of reunion and they had the porter carry her luggage out to the waiting limousine. “Well, Mommy, what do you think?” “I’m simply speechless Alecia. Your mom must have been gorgeous.” “But you ARE gorgeous Mom!” “I think it’s time you were told honey. We adopted you when you were a year old. Your real mom died in childbirth and we wanted a baby and I couldn’t have one so, here you are. Of course, I really wanted a little girl to dress and spoil but a boy was all that was available, so we took him. So tell us, how do you feel about all that’s happened to you in the last year and where do we go from here?”

“Mom, I don’t know how to even begin to explain it. Aunt Rose began to sand off the rough edges on me and it just seemed like one thing led to another and then there was a Halloween party and I was the belle of the ball and it was so much fun I didn’t want to stop even though I felt it was wrong of me to feel like that but after I asked Aunt Rose to double up on my vitamins, things were easier for me and I just sort of…evolved into Alecia.” “Well, darling, we have a confession to make. We like you better as our daughter anyway and speaking of that, have you thought about what you want to do with well, you know, the uh, leftovers…?” “Don’t be bashful Daddy.”

“I’d like to pour sulfuric acid on it but I’m sure that would hurt too much. Why?” “Well, here in Amsterdam there is a very famous doctor named Hans Bruckner and he can take that away and leave you complete, undetectable from your girlfriends. We were thinking that if that is what you would like, we can get it done and you will be all well and ready to go back to school in September complete in every way.” “Oh, COULD I DADDY?”

“Honey, you’re choking me. Yes, we can arrange it. Now, why don’t we just relax and tomorrow we’ll take you around and show you all the beautiful sights there are to see here. More tulips are shipped from here than anywhere in the world. We’ll take a boat trip through the canals. You’re going to love it.”

“Mom, you said you couldn’t have a baby. I don’t understand. How come?” “May I tell her?” “I think so darling.” “Alecia honey, when I was growing up, I was a lot like you and I was very lucky too.” “What do you mean Mom?” “ I mean honey, that I was a boy orphan too and taken home by someone else who had wanted a girl. We put you in Aunt Rose’s hands for that reason. She is responsible for how lovely you are. She is the one who helped you become a girl. Aren’t we lucky, the both of us to have been cared for by such talented and devoted people?” “I love you Mom and Daddy.” “We love you too sweetheart. We’ll call Dr. Bruckner tomorrow.” “Daddy, I have a really sweet friend who is sort of a boy and he’s an orphan too. Do you think maybe Aunt Rose would be willing to…?” “She seemed to have a wonderful time converting YOU honey. Do you really think your friend would like being a girl?” “Oh, I’m sure he would Daddy. When I showed him what I got for Christmas, he almost cried.” “Well, we’ll ask her when we get home, alright?” “Great! I think Gil would make a really cute Gillian. He even looks a little like that X-Files star.”

The end…for Alecia, but perhaps not for Gil!

[universal-kitty]

   So I’m thinking about Borderlands again... Listening to music used in Borderlands... So I thought, why not go for it again? Explain my SI in one, comprehensive post, make another tag-series out of it (to go with my BnHA Edition one), and make it easier on us all, huh?

   So here we go! Borderlands, the Self-Insert Edition! Featuring my SI, Rena “Gremlin” Marlow...and co.

Rena Marlow, a daughter of a brilliant scientist of their galaxy and a mother known- if lesser- by her photography of various planets and stars.

Brown hair parted down the middle with strands of brown hair that fall next to her face, in later years; in childhood, she just has fringe. Dark green eyes and wears glasses.

A happy, oblivious kid growing up. Liked to believe in fairytales, love at first sight, superstitions... A whole bunch of things. Very imaginative, in that sense.

Idolized her father. People seemed to adore him and knew him wherever he went. He spent long hours in his lab, making Rena daydream of all the cool things he was inventing back there. She was never allowed back there, usually, so she stuck to waiting around and staring at his lab door.

Eventually, he did invite her in, one day. Wanted help. The idea was so cool! Helping her dad with a project?! Wow!!! What cool thing would she get to work with?

...It wasn’t at all as pleasant as she’d hoped.

What he needed help with is all she’d ever know as “The Machine”. A smooth, pure white, helmet-looking contraption with lots of cords going into it, during the early days of her father hammering out the details of it.

It hurt then, too. Not being fully worked out, it tended to shock her a lot. Strapped down to a chair, she couldn’t go anywhere... Her father would carry her back to her room and- at some point- the process would begin again.

Carried on for a few months until it didn’t hurt anymore; it started...teaching her things. Suddenly, she knew all about oceanic life and could speak of it at a college level. Write her own studies on plant life. Her father was proud of her, The Machine didn’t hurt anymore, and even her often space-case mother praised her. It felt...amazing!!

Eventually the testing stopped, though. Her father brought in a guy to help and Rena was growing up, as the years passed.

In about junior high, she met a guy. Absolutely starstruck by him and settled on them being “soulmates” within a month or two... Not that it was just her saying this, mind you; her boyfriend certainly encouraged it.

Her friends were cautious, but supportive. Be chill, girl. Still a lot more in life, you know? Besides, considering who her dad is...?

Rena didn’t pay it much heed. Instead, more plans for the future! More dreams and secrets and quiet moments...

Well, until another few years later. Wandering the town at night, heading home...and spying that- just down the street- her supposed “boyfriend” was being sweet to some other girl, said he loved her, and kissed her.

It destroyed her. Her home life had never been stellar and she’d been hoping that with him...she’d be able to get out. They’d be a “happily ever after”.....

Rena instead decided to run away. That night. Get as far away from here as possible. Pack her bags, slip as much money and a little more as seemed necessary...and as a final knife to the back, steal The Machine.

It’s no secret it’s been killing other people, anyways. They can’t handle their minds being fed so much information, so it tends to backfire and rapidly destroy their mind... Rena’s never had that issue, though. Likely for growing with it as it evolved...so hers now.

Books it off-planet that night and goes as far as she dares within the next solar cycle or two.

Stays on another planet for a few months. Fakes an ID and goes to a local college... Who calls her out for being a daughter of Dr. Marlow anyways and practically sweeps her in with excitement.

Ends up acing everything far too easily, thanks to The Machine. But it all gives her a good starting point into the world ahead and a fancy piece of paper that basically says, “congrats, you understand what a Science is.”

At this point, understands: biological science (biology, zoology, oceanology), botany, geology, chemistry, ecology, and physics. And she’s just getting started!!!

Keeps running once more ‘til the funds are running low...and that’s when she finds Hyperion.

Initially joins under Tassiter, still recruiting people for Hyperion. He’s...doubtful of her true age, but accepts upon seeing what she can do when he allows her a trial run of things he wants to see done. Fast and experienced despite her face, he lets her join.

Enters R&D from that point on, at first as an on-hand assistant...before rising up to earn her own private lab and assisting with bigger and better projects. Rena proves herself worthy of it, and Hyperion bends a little to allow her, when possible.

It’s around this time, as they move into Helios and continue to set up, that an old crew hunts down Rena. They force her to accept their black-market deals or they report her back to her father... After all, they work for him, too, but are always lookin’ to cut a deal with the better side. Rena gives in.

The events of the Pre-Sequel go down. Rena largely keeps herself locked inside her dark laboratory, hiding away in one of her cabinets. It’s a terrifying, defining moment for her...and one that also helps survive the inevitable Jack takeover.

Honestly, that goes over like day to night for her. One minute, it’s still a “Tassiter” owned company, then before she knows it, Helios is complete and “Handsome Jack” owns the place. Well, okay then. Let her have her coffee as usual, oh Jack sir, and we’re all good.

Honestly, barely leaves her lab. Too much work going on. If not a Hyperion-issued project, then one of her own designs. She’s got a lot of room to work with and she’s gonna make the best of it, dammit!

Still manages to make a friend or two; meets Leah around this time. A very cheerful young woman who’s somehow dug ABBA out of their grave and is fond of “Dancing Queen.” Helps Rena keep in touch with her “feminine side” not that she sees much point to it...

They hang out a bit, anyways. It’s the only time Rena is guaranteed to sleep. Especially in a proper bed.

(Doesn’t sleep in the employee-issued rooms. Gives her paranoia of being alone; she’d rather be close to her work than stuck in a near-permanent panic attack.)

Her first pet project? Lizards. With a whole process of breaking down other key DNA sequences from other species. Why? Lizards....into dragons.

Silverstreak is her “main” partner. Silver dragon, with blue eyes. Incredibly bossy and sassy to the others; easy to assume their leadership position.

Other dragons include:

Apophis: Big male dragon, slightly bigger than Silver. Purple and gold scales, with four eyes total. An absolute jerk who tries to harass Silver, but they have none of it. Would kill a family for a cornchip, probably. And he doesn’t even like them!!

Dymri: Forest green dragon, with brown horns and a streak of fur down his back, with tufts on the bend of his forelegs and hind legs. Is now missing his left wing, due to Apophis ripping it nearly entirely off. (It ended up being amputated.)

Munda: Dymri’s mate. Ended up sprouting a lot more fur than he did, but in a more unusual color: green. Looks like a dappled forest with blue eyes and an attitude.

Poseidon: Blue, serpent dragon. Fairly big, though not as much as Apophis. Likes hanging out in water... That with his scale color, thus, the name.

Firestorm: A red, wyvern dragon. No arms, just wings, only hind legs. Red scales with bright green eyes. Truly a charmer.

Smokey: Firestorm’s mate. Dark scales that give off a black-grey color, which inspired her name. Red eyes. Has a tuft of fur at the end of her tail.

Sugar: Another female dragon named for her brown and cream-colored scales. Also a wyvern, with her hand-wings. Very sweet and friendly to anyone she meets. Small streaks of feathers from head to her tail.

Little Angel: One of the G2 dragons, along with three others of her nest. Has a broken horn on her right side. Black and white-splotched scales. A little trooper and totally not named after a certain siren...

.....Along with many more who are still unnamed to this date. From the first set (G1s) to the babies some pairs have had (G2s).

Cue the events of Borderlands, as Rena continues to raise dragons and serve Hyperion. Depending on who-what-where, this may be where some romances start their growth...but we’ll get to that later.

People continue to bother her. A nickname surfaces... “Gremlin.” Because she’s pretty short (at 5′2″ without her trademark heels), tends to be more active when most people would feel the need to sleep, and creeps around with a hunched back, more often than not. Truly, a gremlin among them.

Nothing really happens in this time period up ‘til BLands 2, in which Rena decides to perfectly time a trip to Pandora with a small group of scientists. Nobody’s really gotten personal with studying the Pandoran landscape, have they? So... Guess Rena will do it, then!

Only to find out why nobody has ever done that; raiders and bandits. Infiltrating the camp barely a week in.

Everyone is murdered. Rena escapes with the briefcase that holds The Machine, but is otherwise alone and stuck on Pandora.

Ends up trying to blend in, after a few weeks. There’s only so much an intelligent woman could do here...but how about one who acts like your typical psycho? Worth the shot, at least.

Slowly, the good scientist slips away into a woman masquerading madness while seeping into it, at the same time.

Pops is one of her first friends on Pandora. Someone she trusts...and a father figure to her. He’s a big man who knows hacking and coding, so she learns a bunch from him. They build robots together! It’s awesome.

From there, she gets introduced to this eye-guy waaaaaaayyyyy across the way over a call from Pops to that other guy. Rena ends up making him “Fly Boy” to do deliveries without leaving home.

Said guy looks out for Rena now, getting her new glasses whenever she breaks hers.

Made a few other bots in her time. One that only screamed “fuck” at the top of their lil’ volume, a fixed Claptrap unit with no sense of direction, and a bot named Sparky. But bandits destroyed him a few days into life. RIP, Sparky....

That nickname Helios gave her? Gremlin? Others call her that, now. All know of Gremlin!! ....Well, not all, but a lot.

Including Pyrotech and Meowzer. They run a small gang of bandits and are probably dating...? Gremlin still doesn’t know, either way, but she survived meeting them, so that’s cool.

Met another person who calls himself Scabbs. Largely because he’s got CIP (can’t feel pain; a marvel that he’s still alive when Pandora is your home planet) and so has a fair amount of scars and scratches... Ever since meeting up with Rena, she’s essentially adopted him and makes sure he’s got no life-threatening injuries.

Which is lowkey hilarious, considering Scabbs has made it 17 years without dying, so he’s not exactly in need of a parent, but... He likes Rena, so it’s cool.

Stocks up on weapons, clothes, and masks. All looted from dead bodies and washed up a little. Rena herself as taken to wearing a black tank top, torn up into a crop-top look, a Marauder jacket, and altered, brown pants. Has boots for shoes. Where she got ‘em, nobody knows.

Is stuck on Pandora all the way ‘til Tales... In which she tends to join up in an attempt to get back to Helios and get all of her shit back.

With that covering the basics... Let’s get down to the AUs, then the shipping verses after that, ey...?

AU 1- AI Rena: There’s two verses for this AU. (As long as this post already is.)

Verse 1: Rena owns the Wildlife Exploration Preserve shortly before the events of Tales. However, she didn’t realize one of her pet projects wasn’t bonding to her properly. While going in for feeding and check-ups, the beast killed her and activated a failsafe that resulted in an AI version of herself being activated.

Rhys, having no concept of safety, jabs a port into his head to try and get information on more pieces for Gortys. Just like a time before with Nakayama, Rhys instead downloads a whole ‘nother AI into his noggin.

Now he’s got an Asshole and a Know-It-All Scientist taking root in his skull. The good news is Rena is much nicer to him than HJack is. The bad news is the two bicker a lot because of it.

Where Jack is blue with yellow eyes, Rena is a green holo with- at first- light, green-yellow eyes. Over time, her eyes shift to yellow, however. Nobody is sure why, but Rhys and Rena agree to blame Jack for it. (Who is proud at her matching him, but less thrilled to be blamed for something he didn’t do... Intentionally.)

Lots of Rena snarking Jack. He can touch her, being another hologram like he is, but he can’t hurt her. Turns out her processing power comes from The Machine itself, so she can easily overpower his cruddy design from Nakayama.

Has a side path where she can enter a basic, non-perfect android body to reboot the systems at the Preserve, but later needs to transfer in another, more humanlike model to function better.

....HJack is not pleased with her upgrades, considering she’s getting the better end of the deal than he’s got. Rhys isn’t impressed with that tone, either. >:/

Verse 2: The Machine takes it’s toll on Rena. Her mind could better withstand it’s power, having being an unwilling subject in the early days of it’s development, but... Even her mind can’t keep this up forever.

It starts with forgetting her name. Won’t answer to Rena, but Gremlin works.

Forgetting her nickname.

Slowly, everything she’s ever learned starts going away. Bit by bit, losing what memories The Machine gave her. Rage sets in around here, recognizing her memory is no longer perfect and putting her into a panic of self-awareness.

Memories of people slip away now. Often cries for her ex or where her parents are.

Eventually is confined to bed, where her brain is failing to the point it can’t remember to continue to make the organs function. It’s around this point that she finally dies.

Her personality and memories were embedded into The Machine; her final goodbyes to friends and loved ones. Her AI keeps people from using it after her and requests that it be destroyed soon.

Just like in the first verse, her eyes start out a yellow-green. Then a yellow... If not destroyed, AI Rena’s eyes will sometimes flicker to red, showing how deeply the corruption has started effecting her.

Either way, The Machine will be unusable. Just as how Rena believed it should’ve been.

Siren AU: An AU in which Rena was instead born a Siren. She sports green tattoos on her right side and often made them glow when she was younger, for her amusement and not understanding who she was...or her powers.

Not that her parents helped any. Her mother was just completely confused and arguments over what to do with her were had a lot. Rena’s mother wanted to get her checked out at a hospital. Her father believed she truly was a Siren and wanted to experiment on her.

The arguments eventually drove Rena away and- living on Elpis at the time- Rena began the first dip into her powers: summoning her Siren wings (in a light green tinge) and flying away...off Elpis! Taking a trip to Pandora in order to hide from her fighting parents.

Phasecommand- Her main Siren ability. When executing, her eyes roll back and it summons Pandoran beasts/animals to her side to control and fight her enemies. However, any creatures that don’t disperse afterwards can be considered enemies to her allies or her, if she accidentally hurts one.

When using Eridium, her tattoos will change into more of a teal color and glow more.

Likes the idea of people, but prefers the animals and Guardians. People are too much for her to handle...

Somehow still summoned little dragons...? Is only ever seen with ones the size of cats or lizards, but it’s presumed that- like her main verse- they’ll one day mutate to full, dragon-of-legend glorious sizing.

Dragon AU: In one of two paths, with either Rena being one of the dragons of Eridian times OR having accidentally turned into one of her own dragons.

Either way, her dragon form typically looks a little something like this.

The first verse has her being more curious and prone to friendliness...but ready to snap if she senses ill intent. Still, tries to be optimistic, at least. Rests within a cave near one of the vaults.

About the size of a two-story home, if not a little bigger.

Rena speaks Eridian, but has the capacity to learn present day English, if given the time to learn.

The runes on her body allow her to safely use Eridium. By using it, her systems can filter it properly into a variety of uses, from specialized fire to shape-shifting!!

Verse two is just...Rena being done with this bullshit. All these years of science, for what? To be stuck as a dragon?!? The only useful thing that comes of this is not only does she now understand the world through a dragon’s eyes, but their language, as well.

Turns out, the language of the dragons is actually original Eridian and not whatever mumbo-jumbo you hear most present day speakers go for. It’s an interesting bit to learn, however it’s debatable if the cost was worth it.

(Will eventually return to normal with an understanding of Eridian, but I like just putting my SIs through nonsense, too.)

otp; Science and Violence (Rena/Jack): As literally pulled out of the RP @punk-opossum and I did a few months ago!! Cause I basically consider that “canon” for this ship, now.     (Okay, with a few bits I’ve added in, but LARGELY pulled from our RP.)

They’ve been around each other since the beginning, really. Rena oblivious and never noticing Jack, but he’s seen her around. Quiet, nerdy gal who bothers nobody and does her job. Is kinda cool, but no other opinions.

Then, we truck over to the events during Borderlands 2...and things get tossed around like pizza dough. [Note: Nisha and Angel are dead at this point.]

Starting with Jack bothering her workspace. Shooting her head of department and declaring her in charge of Literally Everything R&D now. Rena is just trying to fucking work, ohhhh my god.

Not only that, but Jack casually shoves the Destroyer project from Nakayama right into her hands, as well. Rena has never been more overwhelmed in her life....!

And that’s BEFORE all of the innuendos and Jack’s husky voice getting way too close to her ears!!

...So yeah, it definitely starts as what should’ve been a fling, but attachments get all sorts of muddled. Rena’s the sort of balance Jack finds himself craving and, well... He’s fucked, but giving her the little things she thought she lost when her ex cheated on her. So maybe...it’s okay?

Lots of Jack being thirsty while Rena’s trying to work. Or him being clingy when she wants to go back to work... Far as Jack’s concerned, his job is full of free time and is so boring without her around. However, Rena can actually prioritize her work and keep this company’s science division flowing, soooo.... Hmm.

Rena has the struggle of a lifetime, but she still ends up getting her trip to Pandora to do on-planet research...much to Jack’s paranoia and displeasure. (Which ends up being right on the money, despite his best efforts.)

Can’t believe Rena would be dead. They can’t find her body either, so like... Far as Jack’s concerned, she isn’t dead. Doesn’t mean he’s any more pleased or sane about the whole situation, though.

Jack goes full-tilt into madness, sending people hunting through Pandora to try and find Rena. Hilariously, they’re always close, but either she just left her camp or they pass right by her hiding spot.

They don’t find each other until a few years later, when Handsome Jack himself is personally tearing a town apart on Pandora, still engulfed in his hatred for the planet and presumably taking Rena from him.

He aims his gun at a kid, but freezes. Something about her little tanned face, dark brown hair, and...hetrochromatic eyes....has him frozen in his tracks. Then her mother comes running up, their eyes meet, and Jack nearly roars in realization.

She’s dirty as hell, hair messed up and toting new scars from Pandoran life, but that’s Rena...!! Who’s... Who’s the kid, though?

He nearly has another freakout at her assurance this little girl- Carina- is his daughter?????

He’d want to not believe it, but Rena consistently swears off having messed around with anyone else. Oh, and the fact Carina happens to have eyes like her papa. (But unlike his heterochromia, hers is central; a different color surrounding the pupil.)

With this, they kicked off most of Jack’s thoughts for the Warrior, instead Jack now focusing a large chunk of time for the fact Rena’s back, not dead, and was badass enough to raise and protect a baby on Pandora. Mother of the Year award?? Y’all know who it’s going to.

Carina ends up being Jack’s lil’ princess. The only reason she’s not a spoiled brat is cause Pandora does shit to ya and also Rena knows the limits of taking care of kids; so really, she’s mothering both Carina and Jack.

THOUGH BEFORE I FORGET!!! There is a subset of this verse where also Angel is alive, didn’t have to keep being treated like she was, and- while it was a bit late- still managed to get a better mother figure. Oh, and Carina still happens later in this same verse, so her mood improves even more to have a little sister.

...Jack is totally a little salty that Rena and Angel get on so well. He’s an ass, but does love his daughter, so he’s like a sulky cat, knocking stuff over and hovering around, hoping for attention and acknowledgement.

Rena keeps Jack in line those days, so...eventually Angel and her father get on a better foot than before and he’s very okay with everything and clingy to his family.

otp; Rulers of Pandora (Jack/Rena/Nisha): In which Jack and Nisha take in one of the local Hyperion nerds to spice things up... Only to decide, “naaahh, she’s a keeper.”

Took her into their fray around the early events of Borderlands. Where things are fun, but could be more fun... You know?

Jack’s seen Rena around before, but never gave her much thought... His mind is simply too here-and-there to keep notice for long when he’s trying to pick at more shallow aspects to bring in.

Nisha catches her eye, though, and decides she’s curious when Rena immediately looks away, blushing up a storm.

Turns out, Rena can’t handle Nisha. At all. Immediately turns into a klutz around her. Nisha finds it fucking hilarious and proceeds to drag her off to show Jack...who also realizes how hilariously awkward Rena is. They’ve taken her in, since.

Primarily still spends a lot of time up on Helios, but on occasion, will go down to Pandora to spend time with Nisha once HJack gives her Lynchwood.

Is definitely the little “pet” of the trio and is mercilessly teased by them for it, but anyone else messes with Rena? You’ve now got two of the six galaxies most lethal minds on your ass. Start running.

Nisha: I don’t like cute things. I kill cute things. Rena: cooing over some baby skag bc she’s an idiot Nisha: .........For fuck’s sake--

In other words, both Nish and Jack both soften up a bit for Rena. Which is a mistake for anyone else to see, cause while they’ll let their favorite nerd frolic in a field of baby animals, they’d still sooner shoot an annoying pest.

Nisha and Rena are the only ones to know about Jack’s true face under the mask. Nisha doesn’t really care, but Rena? Loves it.

Two Murderers and the Embodiment of Sunshine. That’s how you sum them up.

otp; love like fools (Rena/Rhys): I don’t know what Imma do with this anymore, but it exists as a verse, so I’m gonna heckin’ include it.

Met around the events of BLands/BLands 2. Rena had overworked herself on a project and was hiding in a break room. Cup of orange juice in hand and staring at it. Rhys couldn’t sleep, so he came in... They had an awkward conversation, but not much else.

Curious, Rhys starts stopping by the R&D department more and starts realizing the issue: she never takes a break or seems to get much rest. Work, work, work, day and night. Isn’t that exhausting??

So Rhys takes it on himself to get her food and drink. Mostly snacks, but whatever works. He also tries to ask about her projects, but it largely goes over his head when she starts doing her usual round of science talk.

He tries, though. So that’s nice.

His crush is obvious as shit as time keeps going on. Even his friends notice. Leah notices. Rena? Does not. She is oblivious as heck. Rest in pieces, Rhys.

Literally nothing happens there. Just Rhys doing his best to get Rena’s full attention with no luck. Right up to her eventual trip-and-trap to Pandora.

They don’t meet again ‘til the events of Tales! While wandering around the landscape, Rhys bumps into “Gremlin”, realizes she looks familiar and...

Rhys: ...Are you Rena? Dr. Marlow? Gremlin: Who...? WAIT A MINUTE!!! YOU?!? Rhys: Y-YEAH!!! YOU’RE ALIVE?!?

Everyone else is confused, but Rhys and Rena proceed to catch up. Meanwhile, HJack is making comments that are making Rhys’ face pink and trying to mentally shut the AI up before he says something embarrassing to Rena.

Which basically happens anyways, cause he excuses himself to walk away, thud his head into the caravan, then walk back trying to act like nothing happened. Where were we? #Concern from Rena.

She joins the troupe for fun times, being surprisingly okay when Rhys admits that HJack’s AI is like...inside his head. Just chillin’ there. Well, when not being usual Jack, but you know.

(In some variations of this, AI Jack was programmed to know Rena, so he’s twice as insufferable as usual. However, this isn’t often the case.)

It takes Rhys forever and plenty of nagging from HJack before he even tries to smooch Rena. And even when he does, it was still a terrible idea, cause Jack wouldn’t shut up. Thankfully, Rena’s still pretty chill about the whole thing.

Fiona and Sasha warm up to Rena over time, Vaughn’s heard about her from before, so they all pal up while Rhys has a crisis over HJack ruining his romantic life. It’s a nice break from freaking out around other people, at least.

Joins them on the trip to Helios. She needs to check up on her babies... It’s been so long....

An expert at sneak, a duck around cameras and back up to the old employee living quarters... It’s amazing what a brush, hot water, and a change of clothes can do for a person. (Gotta readjust to heels again, though.)

While Rhys and Fiona are taking over Helios to get the next piece for Gortys, Rena makes her way back to her lab. Not everyone is gone, but... A lot of the G1s have passed away and even a few G2s. Silver and Apophis stay strong, but have been slowly getting bigger in Rena’s absence.

Encourage the trope into an old, cleaned out nesting box and start figuring out her escape plan from there, trying to get in contact with Rhys and Fiona. Only for an eerily familiar voice to pour out around Helios...and announce Rhys the new leader of Hyperion?!

Shit. Shit, shit, shitshit- Now what? She didn’t think Rhys was gonna be in cahoots with Jack! I mean, yeah, he idolized the guy.... Jack embarrassed him a lot, but he still seem to think it was pretty neat...... Awh, hell. Still! Gotta get outta here!!

Ends up smoothly making her escape in a ship with some of her more friendly co-workers: Dan [the Man] (a pilot who used to fly HJack’s private ship; trans, demisexual with a preference for men who is a coffee addict) and Leah.

...And then Helios crashes not too long later. Dan is...less than impressed (internally freaking out, however) and Leah is basically having a panic attack.

Rena tries giving them advice for surviving on Pandora, but Dan later finds Atlas (now being rebooted by Rhys) and decides with Leah that they’ll join up.

SURPRISE, SURPRISE, Rhys owns the place. Dan is brought on as his personal pilot (”Sweet. So, where’s the coffee machines around here?”), Leah is hired for PR, Cassie (a blonde lesbian who’s only ever done secretary jobs most of her life) joins later as his secretary...and Rena? .....Shit, Atlas doesn’t really...have an R&D department, do they...?

Rena nervously points out that- if he finds the muscle, they could retake the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve. Take over, do some rebuilding and remodeling... Make it not only into Atlas’ new R&D, but also a way for Rena to continue her penchant of creating dubious creatures. Also because the dragons are only getting bigger as their generations continue.

Pyrotech and Meowzer decide to join in, along with Pops calling in a few favors. Bandits v. bandits to clean out the place and serve as muscle while WEP is getting remodeled. (Also, they’re getting paid, so other bandits looking for a handy buck hop on for the more beneficial side.)

Rena gets a new look to symbolize her Atlas change (a black, long cloak with a hexagon pattern on the inside, black tights, black heels, and an ombre, orange-red-to-yellow, turtleneck dress; hair is also pinned up)! Power couple of Atlas, basically everyone agrees. And kind of like in another verse, Rena keeps him in line....when he’s not having to do the same for her!!

Rhys: I’m not sure....making a monstrous, three-headed dog is a good idea, babe. Rena: I didn’t come here to make wimpy science, Rhys!! I came here to kick ass, take names, and do SCIENCE! But thank you for your opinion~ Rhys: ......oh no.

6-legged to 8-legged cats are realized under Rena’s flourishing arms. A three-headed dog. The dragons prosper and return to Pandora, honoring Rena as their Mother, as Silver- and later Apophis himself!!- have done.

She even creates an android in secret. Names them Aria and they have learning software. Everything about life, they must learn on their own. Starting with the Preserve, and then one day... Leaving home to formulate their own experiences.

Later in life, Rhys and Rena have a daughter, naming her Vela. (A reference to the trio of constellations that Carina is also a part of.)

Has about as much common sense for safety as her mother does. Rhys is terrified for her safety on the daily. Because of their lack of fear, Rhys tries to keep Vela with him at Atlas HQ more than at the preserve with Rena.

otp; nerdperion (Rhys/Rena/Vaughn): ...I mentioned it once. Then the idea snowballed from the initial idea and the “what ifs”.

Look, I can’t deny it. It’s the nerd trio that most only dream of. In their Hyperion days, you had the money man, middle manager, and the top scientist.

By the time of Tales, you have a bandit leader in his own right, an Altas CEO, and woman who is held back by only her set-in-stone morals.

Vaughn and Rena going on raids out on Pandora, protecting people and the Children of Helios. Perhaps even with the dragons as backup...?

Rhys constantly has to worry for these two dorks, but that’s why he has a steady wing in Atlas for healing stuff. A fair bit of research passed on from Rena, to be fair, but still.

Vaughn takes lessons from Rena how to ride beasts. Like dragons! Was it a good idea? Not really. But nobody got hurt, at least!!! And Rena also solidified the saddle designs for them, so that’s pretty cool, too.

Rhys is a little more boring on that side of the coin in the regard he’s mostly just running a company, but still. Vaughn helps out from time to time and Rena’s running the entire R&D division of Atlas, so.....

otp; scientific haikus (Rena/Zer0): In which my first crush from Tales lives on...and it’s a rather unlikely couple, honestly.

Starting right off the bat with the fact she never really knew about them until one of her Pandoran raids? They showed up to kill some people and then just kinda...disappeared.

That first meeting bothered Gremlin for weeks. Who?? Who????

Meeting them again...and again..... Never getting the courage to confront them out of fear. (What if they slice and dice her up, too?? She’s lived too long to get struck down now...) But despite that, she eagerly daydreams about the oddity...

Also, isn’t as sly as she thinks; Zer0′s been knowing, they’ve just been waiting for Gremlin to go first. Though, she hasn’t been...so that’s a bit of an issue.

Eventually, they make sure that their next target will be in an area they know Gremlin frequents. When she shows up...Zer0 finally gets the chance to introduce themselves.

Zer0: Finally, we meet / Finding you was difficult / My name is Zer0; pleased. Gremlin: .....Did... Are you speaking in haiku?! Zer0:  :) Gremlin: ...holy shit; nice.

They strike up an odd sort of friendship from there. Meetings become random again, though Zer0 takes time to listen. They actually are able to call her Rena in private which is...nice. Kinda easy to forget that was her name before the whole “stranded on Pandora” bit.

Zer0 ends up enabling her collecting habits, too; brings back not-too-bloody clothes and trinkets they find while out and about on jobs. She gains quite the collection, thanks to that!!

Actually wanted to offer assistance when Zer0 took on the Gortys hunt, but joined up only later on and... HOLY SHIT, HYPERION EMPLOYEES!!!

It’s wild, seeing familiar faces and talking about the past. Zer0 has...some concerns, but otherwise trusts the group with Rena.

This includes their plan to invade Helios, in order to get the final piece Gortys needs to access the Vault of the Traveler. They’re not thrilled about her involvement in the plan, but Rena still knows a lot about Helios and the Hyperion system. Her going with ensures things will go even more smoothly, so... Who are they to deny their crush friend from helping others?

....And then they hear it all went to shit. Though they showed up, trying to find Rena among the wreckage... There was no luck. They get upset over this for quite some time, but without a body... Zer0 keeps a metaphorical ear out. Won’t believe she’s dead yet. Not yet.

Eventually, when Rhys gets in contact with Zer0 for help with the vault, they meet up again. Rena is ecstatic to see him again- having since become the head of Atlas’ R&D and gone hunting to assist with this, too- and Zer0 is just happy to be right; she didn’t die back then after all...

Is surprisingly handsy from there on out, flashing the smile or heart emoticons, a hand on Rena’s waist, etc.

Everyone else catches on to Zer0′s affections far faster than Rena herself does, that’s for sure.

Rena: It’s nice... I’ve never really had a lot of platonic affection, you know? Fiona, sighing: N-No, that’s not... How do you not see what’s going on, here?? Rena: .........what? Everyone: s i g h s Rena: ????????

They do eventually ask her out when nearly everyone on the team has them to spare them the oblivious misery, cause- once again- Rena sure ain’t gonna do it.

Also cause Gortys has been trying to ask about them dating anyways, so-?? Just do it???

Zer0 still takes a while longer to get the right words to say that fit their haiku format, but the actual confession...? Well, at least it feels like the right note to end an adventure on; seeing her eyes light up, smile breaking free, and hugging the other tight around the waist was good. Great, even!

...Though with Fiona and Rhys temporarily disappeared...who runs Atlas?

Thankfully, Rena knows Cassie personally and has her and another person- Dan, a pilot for Rhys’ personal ship (and once worked under Handsome Jack, as well)- back her up on heading Atlas for a temporary period of time.

Zer0 sticks around for a time, just to make sure a mutiny doesn’t rise up and try to take Rena down. They only back off once her guard-friends from R&D make their way over... Again, just in case.

Zer0 goes back to work not long after that, though makes sure to visit more often. It not only makes them anxious to not know how Rena is doing (if she’s still alive), but also because they’ve started getting used to her touch. Touch starved? Zer0? ....A little.

Starts even exposing her face around her, Rena admits. What they look like? Well, pffftt, she’d never tell~!

otp; i ruv you (Rena/Timothy Lawrence): Oh, it started as a joke...then I was in too deep and now it’s never been better~

Thanks to both of them being workers under the Hyperion brand, they end up meeting sooner rather than later.

Much like Jack, Tim noticed Rena around: sitting in the Hub and people-watching, walking by her lab... Things like that. Didn’t pay too much mind, but then...he got hurt. On his face.

Rena, being the oldest lasting employee not killed off yet by Handsome Jack, is given the old papers for the build of Jack doubles and given some people to work with by HJack himself in order to fix up Tim right.

It’s love at first appointment; she’s gentle, knows what she’s doing, and eventually he’s looking back to the usual. The little smile she gives as he left? ...His heart was racing for an hour after, he swears by it.

He starts visiting her more, after that. Whether because he allowed himself to get hurt or it’s after a mission and he’s got some extra free time before his next one... He hurries to that lab of hers in order to chat.

Befriends the dragons she creates happily. Silver doesn’t bond to him in the same way, but they tolerate him and will let Tim hold them. It’s so cool!!!

Then Rena admitted to him one of her other projects...wanting to create multi-legged cats. Tim was thrilled at the trust, nervous over the project, but Rena assured all would be well. The dragons have done wonderfully, so that will go well, too!

He got the chance to kiss her when she was patching him up again. He’d tried to lean forward, but she stopped him a moment to finish up...then, shyly, asked if he wanted to try that again...? He lit up and they both got into a hasty, messy kiss that had them giggling in delight.

...With that, their unofficial dating started! (Which HJack quickly knew about and considered doing something to one of them to end it, but overall decided if any news got out, he’d actually take Rena as his own and make his doppelganger regret getting into a relationship behind Jack’s back; capiche? Tim nervously agreed.)

Still... Her move to Pandora made him nervous. Especially since his next assignment was on Elpis, so if anything happened...!

Rena kissed his cheek and assured him she’d be fine. It would be very in and out; no need for worry!

When even Jack was troubled by the report that came in later, Timothy was up in arms ready to shoot down some psychos.

HJack: Like, nobody reported her body. Which could be a sign she’s not dead? But it’s Pandora; who knows? Tim, sweating and shaking: Please...just fucking shut. Up.

Backtalking the boss is bold, but Tim is all kinds of done with this news and needs to ditch for Pandora in order to find Rena. HJack allows this more out of interest for the “game” than anything else.

Timothy ends up- more or less- a sort of permanent presence on Pandora while trying to find Rena. Doesn’t much notice or care when Jack’s insanity summons the Warrior...or when he’s taken down. Besides, people spook more easily to hear Handsome Jack died, but see his masked face even still on Timothy’s own.

Not getting answers on where Rena is...stresses him out, though. Makes him bitter, that maybe someone did kill her... He expresses his anger in a bit of murder and then sulks more over how this is turning him into a lesser Jack after all... Makes the guy almost sympathetic.

But with a few years passing, Atlas suddenly rises up out of the crashed ashes of Helios...and if Tim has any hope left for the lost Rena, might as well go there, right?

He scares the shit out of Rhys, walking in looking like Handsome Jack in the flesh. (Not even his secretary tried to stop him, looking like he did; dirty and murderous.)

...Though it’s actually just some resting bitch face and determination. Tim ends up explaining everything and Rhys even more hurriedly explains that she’s not dead!!! In fact, he just sent her over with a group of hired bandits to the WEP! She’s going...to be heading his new R&D department, you know...

Tim almost doesn’t want to hope, but he jolts out of there faster than Rhys or Cassie can stop him and is rushing to the Preserve in hopes to catch her there and maybe help out in the firefight.

Ends up finding her in a car just outside, all tanked up and safe as she directs everyone to where they need to go...but oh shit, handle that on your own for a bit; there’s a guy outside the car. She walks a little closer...and screeches, stumbling back.

Tim: No, no!! Rena!!! It’s me, it’s Ti- Jimothy!!!! It’s me, not Jack! Rena: ......Timothy?

She hesitantly lets him in and Tim at least proves that- despite his appearance- he is definitely not Jack by patting her over, realizing she’s alive, and then kissing her breathless.

Rena explains her situation having gone by “Gremlin” up to this point and pretending to be a psycho on occasion in order to live. The new friends she’s made up until that point. Tim tells her about the years he spent trying to find her, hoping she wasn’t dead.

As self-promised, he cuddles her in his lap for a little while longer, then kisses her again and joins the firefight outside to clear out the preserve.

Hyperion’s fallen, Atlas is a rising venture... Why not? Student loans sure don’t matter anymore.

He largely stays with Rena at R&D; her personal bodyguard and more-official-than-in-the-past boyfriend.

She also makes good on the multi-legged cats, as mentioned in the past. Tim decidedly loves them just as much- if not more- as regular cats.

ot3; ??? (Maya/Rena/Krieg): So hear me out... I will never learn. This will be neverending. I’m just as disappointed in me as you are. Also, Tumblr removing line breaks is the bane of my existence. Fuck this website. ANYWAYS!

Rena...met Krieg, first. In passing. He was a part of the slag experiments, Rena works R&D.... You hear about this sort of thing. She did, with her sharp ears and too-caring-attitude, despite working for the most monstrous corporation in the six galaxies.

Still, she was never able to help him or anyone else... Despite desperately wanting to. Despite catching his eyes once, guilt eating her up from the inside. (A pity-look from another one of them, Krieg used to think.)

They didn’t meet again until much later, during the events of Borderlands 2: Gremlin stuck on Pandora while Maya and Krieg were deadset on dethroning Handsome Jack. Y’know. Her old boss?

Krieg almost doesn’t recognize her when he’s out wandering, but it’s seeing her dirty face that strikes a chord in his sensible side. He remembers her! One of Hyperion’s own... What’s she doing out here? Alone and without company...?

Not that Krieg cares; seeing someone who was in any way involved with hurting him sends him into a fit of rage, trying to attack her with all he’s got! Rena dodges, not understanding...until she realizes who this psycho is...

It’s the worst first meeting- putting his first interaction with Maya in the dirt- as she eventually bursts into tears trying to apologize to him. It startles Krieg to stop, listening to her as she’s pitifully curled up in the dirt, hands up in a show of surrender, apologizing to...him.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you back then!! I wanted to, I really did, but I... I couldn’t! I’m sorry, Krieg, I’m so, so sorry!!!!”

Maya returns to this scene unimpressed, giving a Look to Krieg before helping the still-sobbing Rena. They both take her back to her shambling little base...and Krieg stares at the coat on the wall. The last reminder of who she was...

It occurs to him, then, that they’re in a similar spot. He lost his mind to slag, becoming a psycho, his mind barely together...and Rena is losing her sense of self, too. Going by Gremlin to blend in, faking insanity to blend in...but how long of that before it all becomes too real? Before she changes for good, even without influences like he’d gotten...?

Maya is more than content to help and leave, but Krieg...feels guilty. It’s a rare show of clarity and kindness from the big guy...and that’s when Maya realizes she’s lost the battle before it’s even begun.

They do take down HJack eventually, but frequently stop by to check in on Rena from there on out. Krieg likes poking around and laying on the stolen mattress she has. Maya finds out she’s actually super smart...and it’s fun. It’s nice.

You grow to like- even love- Krieg for his lucid moments. Appreciating his more violent ones for the defense they provide, as well as the enemy-sweeping he can do. Her powers work well with his might.

Add Rena into the mix, it’s brains, balance, and brawn. It works out even better than Maya could’ve predicted....and yeah, she kinda ends up falling for the scientist, too. Would’ve never pegged herself as the polyamrous type, but... She and Krieg share the sentiments.

Rena and Krieg keep each other balanced. Maya doesn’t have time to baby anyone; she keeps going at her own pace. Anyone who wants to keep up has to pull their weight...but Rena is a natural nurturer. When she’s a little loopy, they use a language only they can really understand. (It takes Maya some time to adjust to.) When Krieg gets frustrated, she helps him through it. To get back in touch with his old self. It’s comforting. Very comforting.

Maya and Rena, on the other hand, share a lot of conversation about....anything and everything. Maya talks about her Siren powers and pieces of her life. Rena talks about her own life- a lot more openly- and the science she used to do on Hyperion. How proud she still is of those times. Maya’s endeared to those moments.

It also later comes in handy... When Maya needs to depart from Pandora to go back to Athenas some time later, wanting to further underside her Siren lineage. Pandora only answered so much, after all...

Won’t let Rena or Krieg join, but the two keep each other company in the meantime. Waiting for Maya to come back home.

[sylvieusedhyperbeam]

annnd hacking away in my own little corner

just.  casually hammering away on my own Villainous AU don’t mind me folks.

AU isn’t really titled yet so for now i’m’a just call it ‘Virtuous’.  idk i’ll think of something better.  if there’s an AU out there called Virtuous already then i’ll work faster to think of something better and change it.  for now i’ll... just have to ask you to be patient.  :I;;

White Hat

Not much different from other White Hats of various other AUs, though the backstory/origin is different.  As a youngling incarnation, he was an embodiment of good that went about the multiverse to keep things in balance against the Chaos, which his fuckhead ‘bro’ Black Hat embodies, respectively. 

Used to be a lot more erratic and somewhat violent in this purpose, since in those first few early millions/billions of years, he operated a lot more around instinct than reason or logic.  He was a force that didn’t really have a chance to... think about what he was doing.  In other words, yeah, in those early ages of the multiverse he saw things in very black-and-white terms and he and Black Hat caused some shit for some worlds.

Of course, he does know better now and has developed a much more refined, intelligent response to evil and malevolence.  And nowadays, rather than a mansion of splendor and indulgence, he lives in what some might describe as a white and turquoise airship that comes down to base to settle every now and then, lending it the appearance of a mansion. 

He runs a business similar to Black Hat’s, where he gives heroes that serve the Light shields, cures, elixirs, all the stuff they need to help balance the multiverse and drive back the Chaos.  He doesn’t do it for money, of course, though heroes ARE inclined to give him some generous donations because ‘eeeey, airships that sail the multiverse don’t keep themselves in repair, not without White Hat seriously taxing his reserves, anyway.

These days he’s very polite, as well as far kinder, more compassionate than he was in his early days.  He’s also a huge dork with a soft spot for antiques who loves learning about the cultures and shit of other worlds, since even as old as he is, new worlds emerge in the multiverse all the time and so he feels very humbled by it all and seeks to always learn more!  Loves gardening, loves cooking, loves art, loves anything involving the act of creation or bringing harmony, really.  Also really loves singing, and his singing voice is very soothing, pleasant, with the inherent ability to help ease away sadness or anxiety. 

Standard design for him might be like any standard White Hat, though I’m contemplating teal on him instead of blue.  :|a  HMMM.

Doctor Trug

To answer potential questions, roughly translated, trug can mean a lot of things.  One of which includes ‘deception, swindle, elusiveness’, meaning yeah, Trug was basically a conman alchemist who worked his way up to a professional thief of many talents.  Being well versed in both dark magic and evil sciences as well as being manipulative as shit, he served the Chaos and sought to undermine the Light as a more direct agent.  How he managed to get the direct attention of the eviler Embodiments, well slap my ass and call me Betty, that’s anyone’s guess.

Buuuut a mission gone wrong with an attempt on the life of an early Embodiment kinda found him facing some hard-ass time in a multiversal prison.  Which... yeah, a questionably normal human facing time in THIS particular prison, it was bound to be a preeeeetty bad time.  Because you don’t wanna end up at in a multiversal prison.  You really don’t.

Until of course White Hat intervened and opted to ‘rehabilitate’ him, and seeing a chance out of serving time at Holy Shit Eldritch Horror Sing-Sing, Trug of course ‘jumped’ on the chance and played it up all ‘OH THANK YOU SIR WOW SIR SUCH MERCY SIR’ thinking ‘wow what a fucking sucker’.  He assumed that working for White Hat would be simple enough if he just played on White Hat’s kindness but... yeah, it’s a hell of a lot more taxing than he originally thought it would be.  TEEHEE.

Anyway, Trug is rude as shit and looks out for number one.  He’s an ambitious motherfucker though, with a really solid work ethic based mostly around prideful standards he holds himself to whenever he’s researching a cure or a counteraction to a villain’s bullshit.  He thinks nothing of experimenting on human beings or using dark magic for his own means, but White Hat forbids it on all counts, and well... talented as he might be, Trug isn’t stupid and knows better than to try going toe to toe with an Embodiment. 

He can also be very manipulative when he wants to be, and often is for either something he wants or just for the hell of it.  He’s the kind of asshole who will literally argue that the sky is green just for the sake of arguing, if he’s bored enough.  He hates people, for the most part, though he does enjoy people-watching to an extent and making up bullshit backstories about them (if you’ve ever seen Always Sunny in Philadelphia, you get my meaning here). 

Don’t really have a design in mind for him yet.  LMAO i act is if though i’ll actually draw them, or that i actually CAN draw for that matter.

Gemencia    

A very peppy young girl with a few magical abilities, in lieu of the more physical/likely genetically mutated abilities of her respective counterpart.  Gemencia is a girl who can utilize telekinesis, as well as low-grade stasis fields that can freeze people or objects in place for a short time, about ten or fifteen seconds or so.  How she does this, well, she can’t say even she knows.  She doesn’t really remember much about her own backstory, just that she kinda-sorta raised herself in the more nature/magic based world she came from before she decided to become a treasure hunter.

And BOY HOWDY does she love treasure hunting.  Like, the girl is GOOD GOD unafraid of anything on so many levels, so she often tends to do crazy parkour shit on the face of rocky mountains, pick fights with people ten times her size, annnnd maybe do a whole mess of shit without really thinking.  She tries to do RIGHT by people, don’t get me wrong, but if the rules look like they need bending or broken?  She’ll bend ‘em a little.  Or a break ‘em.  A lot.  And not give any shits.

Her impulsive love for adventure and helping people in her own crazy way eventually led her to hear tales of the Embodiments, super eldritch beings that maintained the balance of a neat nifty thing called the multiverse, and instantly became determined to see it all for herself.  Loving to do things for people and help people, of course she wanted to seek out the Light Embodiments and become the most awesome treasure-hunting hero the multiverse had ever seen.

SO!  Seeking out White Hat to be her teacher seemed as logical an action as any!

With the help of some magic users who showed her how to travel to other worlds, she kinda world-hopped and bummed around for a while in search of White Hat until she finally found him, when his airship settled in the same world she was in by pure chance. 

She just... kinda started following him around.  And when he got back to his airship one day he just sorta found her there, where she was all ‘HEY ‘SUP I’M STAYING HERE NOW LOOK I BROUGHT CHIPS :D’ and White Hat just kinda... sighed and rolled with it.

Gemencia loves, loves, LOVES spontaneity.  She’s a wanderer at heart, and loves seeing what entire worlds have to offer.  She loves a good brawl every now and then, cartoons, hard hitting punk rock music, collecting artifacts and treasures, and has a refined interest in mythology and lore that might surprise people who don’t know her very well.  As a treasure hunter, she’s been inside old temples, ruins, torn palaces, catacombs, all things that have exciting stories of old war and battles and ancient evils falling at the hands of ‘super TOTALLY badass’ heroes, and it’s from these legends that she became inspired to strike out on her own and become ‘THE MOST SUPER BADASS HERO’ that ever hero’d. 

Not above swearing, indulging (be it huge meals or drinking), or pulling dangerous/impulsive stunts though when White Hat doesn’t keep her in line.  If you befriend her, you have a fiercely loyal buddy for life who will fuck others UP if they try to mess with you, but be warned that you’ll be getting dragged along for a few... adventures when the mood strikes her.   

Her design includes light blue hair, and rather than a lizard hat, she has a big-ass fox hat with long fox-styled hair.  :U  I chose this because foxes are natural foragers, known for leaping to literally pounce into the ground to find their prey.  Gemencia is about the same as a treasure hunter, known to leap right into things in search of the various rare jewels and treasures and ‘OOOH NEAT’ artifacts that she kinda hoards away even if she doesn’t know WTF they even do.  Also tends to wear orange and black stripes, in lieu of Dementia’s magenta.  :T 

EDIT you all thought i forgot 505′s counterpart didn’t you?  ....well you’re half right.  i half-forgot, half-okay-what-the-hell-am-i-doing.  but anyway, here we go!

404

404 was originally an animatronic for a family restaurant - no not THAT one this ain’t a FNAF crossover get that shit outta here.  He was a regular animatronic up until Trug decided it would be super funny and edgelordy to reprogram it to not only frighten kids, but hell, rob the restaurant’s safe during closing hours and bring him the loot.  The restaurant owners kinda pitched him, Trug took him, and installed a few more fun TRICKS on him while he was at it to make him a better partner-in-crime.  Because why not, it would be a waste of perfectly good machinery otherwise.

Of course, it began smoothly enough at first... until 404′s AI kiiinda-sorta gained sentience.  After that point, he became lazy, grouchy, and at times outright refused to obey Trug’s orders on the grounds of ‘I don’t feel like it fuck you’. 

Trug deactivated him and decided to use him for spare parts, but kinda never got around to disassembling him.  When White Hat took on commuting Trug’s sentence, the two traveled to Trug’s hideout so that Trug could pack in order to feel as comfortable as possible while out traveling the multiverse with White Hat.  White Hat took notice of the big cuddly looking bear and whoops reactivated him, and then promptly forbade Trug from deactivating him again because LOOK AT HIM ALL HE NEEDS IS LOVE.

Trug wishes 404 would rip White Hat’s leg off and beat the shit out of him with it.

404 won’t do it out of pure spite.

Anyway, 404 contrasts 505 by way of being pessimistic, coldly logical, seeing no point in frivolities and only wishing to lie around all day and eat.  Thanks to Trug’s alterations, he does have nifty things like heat sensors, night vision, and even a vehicular mode where he can turn into a small car for quick escapes, but good luck getting him to actually use a single one of these things without bribing him with honey. 

He also contrasts 505 by being... well, mechanical, instead of organic. 

404′s design consists of purple fur, and atop his head is a little satellite dish instead of a flower.  His eyes are big red iris shutters, the kind you see on camera app logos, with a yellow center.

[galacticbugman]

My Nature Vest

A few years back my late grandmother got me a nature vest for Christmas one year. I wanted one to hold all of my nature gear when I went out on hikes and to show off the places I have gone. It has turned out to be one of my most cherished items that I wear on my outings. I wear it not only as a reminder of my grandmother but as a conversation starter. I must say it has turned many heads. Now these photos I have to show are older but all my patches have been added that I got back on the winter trek to the coast and all around Texas. I started to collect patches for it back when I got it. I wanted to have it like a billboard for all the cool places I have been. Every time I go out to a new place that has a gift shop I am always looking for patches. I have a lot so far but I am going back out to Colorado soon so I am going to be looking for some great keepsakes and patches on this next exciting adventure here in a couple of weeks. 

Here is the front left side of the vest. The top very top patch is one that I got my first time out to the Fort Worth Nature Center and Refuge a place I didn’t know I would be volunteering for at the time. This is one of the coolest patches for it is a place that I volunteer at and often visit to do some nature hikes. It is also the place where I did the Texas Master Naturalist training class. People often get this thing mixed up for a boy scout thing but I am quick to correct them. I was never in the scouts even though it is popular belief that I was among my friends. I do lead scout hikes and things when I am volunteering but I am not a boy scout. No I am just an wildlife fanatic and a naturalist. The next patch I want to point out is the Caldwell Zoo Patch. That is by far one of my favorite Zoos here in Texas. I had this patch for years and finally put it on something so it wouldn’t be collecting dust. I love this one because of the many fond memories of that Zoo when I was a child up to adulthood. That place is so amazing; I love going out there from time to time even though I don’t visit many zoos anymore. I spend a lot of time out in nature. The Star one is for an historical area known as Washington on the Brazos; I went out there during my horrific time in junior high. I say horrific because I was not very appreciated and was constantly bullied and made fun of by a lot of people who didn’t understand me at all. I got this patch when I was doing a project with places that had historical markers. I took a bunch of weekend trips to get pictures of me in front of historical markers. This place is kind of cool for it was where the Declaration of Texas was signed. They have a lot there on site even a small living farm with people who tell how life back in the 1800s was. I don’t just have nature areas on this vest but some areas of Texas cultural importance. The last one on this section was an old Cave badge I got from who knows where. I was really young so I don’t remember where I got this one but it is on my vest because I love caves and caving. I don’t go to a lot of caves but there are some really neat ones I like to go to. I am going to see if there are any good caves in Colorado to visit that will be very fun. 

The next side will be the right side of my vest: 

I have a ton of patches on the back; if you are familiar with my blog posts you may remember my trip to the coast. The top middle then the middle row’s first and third patches are my most recent ones from my whirlwind trip across Texas last winter. Here in Texas we have a bunch of cool areas to visit. the ones shown here are all from Texas. The first one is from a beautiful place called Ink’s Lake which is really close to a favorite place of called Enchanted Rock. Hill Country Texas is full of granite and a lot of it. Ink’s Lake and more importantly the formation known as Devil’s Waterhole is right in a valley of Granite. I saw my first Earless Lizard right in that valley and also saw some cool plants and things. I even saw my first Black-throated Sparrow and my first Ladder-backed Woodpecker at this park. The one after the Waco Mammoth Site is from Texas’ only National Seashore in Padre Island. It is one of my favorite place to go birding in the early morning. I also went to one of their famous Sea Turtle Releases there for their Kemp Ridley Sea Turtles. That place is so cool there are birds of plenty and I went there over the course of my winter trek to the coast last winter right before Christmas. The next patch I want to draw your attention is the middle patch. This one is from the USS Lexington Museum by the Bay in Corpus Christi. I have a deep respect for history and WWII History has always interested us. We had a few veterans in our family line and we really respect the sacrifices the military men and women make each day to keep our country safe. I for one may be a naturalist but the way I see it you can’t be a naturalist without knowing a little history. It all goes hand in hand. I have said it many times; learn nature and you history because some times your natural areas have a rich history behind them. It is not boring it is really good to know what went on in history to edify you and to not make the same mistakes again. I love boats and ships and ship wrecks have always been of interest to me. This cool museum is a must for a trip to the Texas Coast. It maybe a little cramped in places but this place has it all. You can explore most decks of the ship and learn about the design and the history of the USS Lexington which was originally supposed to be called the USS Cabot but when the first Lexington went down in the battle of the Coral Sea this ship became it successor and was given the nickname of the “Blue Ghost”. This is just one of my favorite places and it is a big part of the coast life near the JFK Cause way for it is a facet in the bay’s architecture and landscape now. 

Now for three bottom ones; I didn’t go over the three from Waco Mammoth, Aransas National Monument, or the Inner Space Caverns for I already have a blog post about how I obtained those. The next one I wanted to talk about is the one with the Pelicans. That one is from the John Bunker Sands wetland Center. I went there for the first time back in 2016. It was during the time I was just starting to get really serious about birding. There was a birding festival and fun walk which was part of the 5th Anniversary celebration. It is not open all the time and they say a lot of the best birding spots are now closed off from the public so I have not been out there since but it was a really cool area. They have a nesting pair of Bald Eagles out there who have an amazing story to their nest. The place is so cool and many birds gather there year after year to feed and stop over on their migration routes during the winter and spring. The next patch is the green one across from the previous one. That was obtained when I went to Colorado Bend State Park. One of the most beautiful areas to visit in Texas in my book. This place has a really nice trail called Gorman Falls. It is a fairly easy trail until you get to the end of it. There are a bunch of slippery rocks and things and is kind of hard to navigate but they have support ropes to help ease you up and down. I still have yet to get back and go on the other trails but it is so neat to explore there. I got a bunch of neat cactus and some really nice bird photos there. The last one on my vest’s back as of now is the Dogwood Canyon Audubon Center patch. It has turned into one of my favorite parks; I have volunteered out there a couple of time and I am going again in a few weeks for an Orchid Walk on June 22nd. It is a nice place with a huge hill and in some areas you can get a nice view of Joe Pool Lake. Ahhh... this place is such a pretty place. I saw my first Brown Recluse Spider here and many other Arachnids and insects on my last Moth night out there. Such fun memories do these patches conjure up with good friends and good family moments. Each one is more than just a piece of fabric stitched on a vest; it is a reminder to me of some of the best wild lands of Texas and the world. Some are even reminders of hard work and achievement as you will see now. 

The first one I want to share with you is the patch that stands for what I am in the naturalist community. I got this Texas Master Naturalist patch when I graduated from the State Class of 2016 for the Cross Timbers Eco Region. This was the most proudest moment of my life to date. Being a Texas Master Naturalist may sound daunting but we are known as Masters not for us personally but for we uphold the lessons of the naturalists who came before us and continue their practices. It is very meaningful to be part of this group for in it I have found my voice to speak about nature and I help kids and the rest of community learn about animals and the environment and to make that connection and inspire future generations to care about our planet and to give back to their communities. This is something that I will always remember till the day I die. This is how I became the naturalist I am today. We are hard working volunteers who help make communities have a strong connection with nature. It is an honor to be working with some of the top minds and people in the naturalist field. It is nice to be among them and be one of them. The patch above this one is the one I got out in Arkansas at Pinnacle Mountain State Park. This place is not only a great place to look for wildlife but the river system that runs through it was the water way of the Trail of Tears. This place was also the place where I went on my very first night hike to look for owls and creatures of the night. I found my very first Eastern Hercules Beetle there which was really neat. But there is another patch here that is of both a memorable place and an achievement.

 Here is the last patch on my vest that I have so far. This one was when I became a Junior Park Ranger for the Garden of the Gods area. This place is one of the coolest places to go in Colorado. It was also a popular meeting place for when we would meet my aunt after she got out of class when we were there. We are all from Texas but my aunt teaches and takes classes out of state sometimes so on the week of my thirteenth year of live we went up there and did a lot there. It was a nice trip and I remember it like it was yesterday. I had to add this one for it is a nice patch and reminds me of one of my favorite achievements in life to better understand an area. Becoming a Junior Park Ranger is nothing to sneeze at. It is a great way for your kids to learn and explore nature and history. It is a nice way to learn and you receive really neat patches and swag sometimes. It is a really neat program that the National Parks and State Parks Service have to get kids fired up about their favorite parks. I for one think that the Garden of the Gods area is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to. The big sandstone monuments are so beautiful and if you go look up and you might actually see two kissing camels sitting on top of one of the huge columns. They are not real camels but the way that nature made the rock it looks like two camels kissing. Naturalist get creative with some of their formations. So there you have it all the patches I have from my travels across Texas, Arkansas, and Colorado. I will be going to Colorado very soon and I have a feeling I will be buying some more cool patches from some new areas. I will be making a blog post all about the adventure to Colorado in a few weeks time. We won’t leave until the end of June or so but there is much to plan for there is a lot to see in that wonderful state. So until we meet again; I am Zachary Chapman AKA Galactic_Bug_Man and I will see you on the trail! 

[indirispeaks]

Dragon RP?  Dragon RP.

Reading a copious amount of fanfic over the past couple of days has woken up my dragon OCs.  I only had one, really, now I have two.  I guess they can be adapted to just about any universe really, as long as it supports them.  Open call for RP if anyone’s interested.

Khan

Old as dirt....literally.  Used to spend most of his time sleeping, because he’s a lazy wyrm who doesn’t get out much.  In dragon form, he’s about the size of a widebody Airbus....or a little bigger.  Biiiiiiiiiig boy, jet black with a golden underbelly and pale horns in a frill around his skull.  Yellow-to-orange eyes, crocodile-like teeth, four legged, spikes on the tail.  Still has to roll in gold once every other month or so to keep his scales lubricated....when he bothers to.  Again with the lazy.  Has encyclopedic knowledge on a number of subjects and will pontificate about any one of them at length if anyone is foolish enough to get him going about the subject.  Like any dragon, he does love the sound of his own voice, and is convinced he knows best.  He’s only really gotten concerned with world events in the past fifty years or so, and it’s made him more active.  Which leads to his human form....about 6′4 (yeah YOU try compressing all that lizard into a human body, it ain’t that easy) black hair about shoulder length with a few silver streaks.  Middle Eastern complexion, sharp eyes/nose, wide mouth, easy grin with VERY sharp teeth.  He can’t really change his eye color, so he tends to wear sunglasses with a blue or violet tint.  He passes himself off as royalty....which of course, he is...and has collected a loyal following of humans and dragonkin (those who have interbred with humans over the years and lost their purebred status)

When I was creating him I wanted to incorporate the old cliche of sacrificing virgins to the dragon without it being a sex thing.  So....in my version of things, since Khan is a Dragon of the Earth, humans and their collective fates are part of his responsibility.  If they are Ungiven (i.e. virgins) then they belong to him because they are still more closely tied to the Earth than they are to other humans.  In the very dawn of humankind, that usually meant that he would look out for children that had been abandoned or become lost.  Since the abandoned infants were girls 90 percent of the time, he tended to have at least a dozen or so in his creche at any given time, and then they would re-enter society (with a mysterious-yet-sizeable fortune of their own) when they wanted to or were old enough.  Ergo, by the time the Dark Ages shuddered to a halt it was a firmly established fact that if you wanted to appease the dragon that may or may not live in the hills, you had to tie a virgin to a stake and leave her outside the cave.  I added to my own lore by deciding that unhappy maidens (and a few unhappy youths) who wanted to avoid marriage or conscription would usually find their way into his creche on their own after running away, and after a while began to simply call themselves the Daughters or Sons of Khan. They were/are considered to be just as much his as the dragons hatched from natural eggs.

In modern times, the creche has shrunk, and the Daughters of Khan have dwindled down to maybe two....one of which is a young man who was kidnapped by a bonkers late 90′s cult and tied to a stake outside a cave because someone found out a dragon was actually living there (it did not end well for the cult)....and a girl fleeing an abusive situation. 

So yeah, Khan is a bit more complex now than he used to be.  He can and has burned down villages and eaten his share of people (usually bad people) but these days he would much rather lounge on his hugeass pile of gold and listen to rock-opera and play card games with visitors. 

Tip:  Do not play card games with Khan.  He cheats.  This is true of pretty much any dragon, but Khan is terrible about it and he tends to launch into lengthy explanations about how the rules are only intended for humans and thus do not apply to him and anyway he makes the rules and blah blah blah blah blah.....really it’s just not worth the aggravation. 

Pros: Smart, cunning, good looking, extremely wealthy, caring, protective, can fly long distances in relatively short amount of time, a snappy dresser, no heating bill needed when you can breathe fire.

Cons: Conceited, jealous, possessive, egotistical to a fault, talkative, and that one time he grounded his kid by locking them in a tower and he WILL do it again if he has to, dammit. 

Best approximation of appearance in a direct link to artist’s DA, because I don’t repost art I did not create: https://x-celebril-x.deviantart.com/art/Black-Dragon-607756580

That Red Fucker

I gotta be honest, this guy does not have a name yet.  He showed up only a couple of days ago and all I know about him so far is that he appears to be more WoW based than anything else, only he’s not part of the Red Flight so his name does not have a -straz on the end of it.  But he has potential so I’m including him in this very short list.  His dragon form is closest to a Pandarian Cloud Serpent....if you don’t play WoW, it’s a long serpent form with no wings and four legs, red scales and some crackly lightning over it.  Very pretty.  Naturally not NEARLY as big as Khan, as he can still fit inside most buildings.  In human form, about 5′11, with waist length red hair and pale skin, blue eyes and...holy crap he’s covered in freckles.  Completely spotty!  Has a ready grin and a quick sense of humor.  That’s about all I know about him, other than he’s got a GREAT singing voice and does aerial silks as a side hobby.  (No, I don’t know why) So anyone who wanted to play/write with this one would get a fairly blank slate to work with.

Pros: Smart, good looking, relatively well off, caring, suave, sensual, can fix your broken electronics by fiddling with them, can make a decent omelette. 

Cons: Still loves the sound of his own voice, doesn’t have a name, practical joker, sarcastic, tends to break electronics by fiddling with them, has annoying habit of wandering around in ratty jeans and one sock and nothing else. 

Best approximation of appearance:

Sakai

Short for Alexander Sakai, one of Khan’s natural sons.  In dragon form, about the size of a horse, as he’s only 25.  Black scales, golden underbelly, pale horns, though because of his young age, there are only four instead of Khan’s eight.  In human form, about 5′8, short black hair and yellow eyes (again with glasses) darker skin and a wide grin.  He’s working as a junior partner in the law firm that represents Khan, so he’s a pretty snappy dresser himself.  Has taught himself Thai cooking and likes to sing along loudly to Bon Jovi.  I don’t know whether that’s a pro or a con.  Don’t play cards with him either, he’s got his father’s sense of superiority about rule-bending.  And he’s also a passable magician (in addition to a dragon’s natural magic) and doesn’t hesitate to use card tricks to get his way. 

Pros: Gainfully employed, has his own car, went to college, can cook, is the romantic sort, has a dad who can smash a fairly large city.  Can breathe fire!

Cons: Does not play Monopoly well, has the draconic mindset that everything belongs to him and he’s always right, once caught his ex cheating and totaled his car by clawing/biting/burning the hell out of it, spends way too long in the bathroom fiddling with his hair.

So yeah, long post, but looking for RP, if anyone is interested in scaley friends.  PM me!  Reblog if you’ve got friends who play dragons, play a dragon, or really like playing cards with cheaters.

[readbookywooks]

As the shower of gold stopped, at the very moment when Mo closed the book, Meggie saw there was a little sand among all the gleaming, glittering money. A few iridescent blue beetles scuttled away, and the head of an emerald-green lizard emerged from a heap of tiny coins. It stared around with fixed eyes, tongue flicking out of its sharp little mouth. Basta threw his knife at it, as if he could skewer not just the lizard but the cowardice that had seized them all. However, Meggie gave a warning cry, and the lizard darted away so fast that the tip of the blade struck the stones. Basta ran over to his knife, picked it up, and pointed it threateningly in Meggie’s direction. Capricorn rose from his chair, his face still as cold and blank as if nothing worth getting excited about had happened, and clapped his ringed hands graciously. ‘Not bad for a start, Silvertongue!’ he said. ‘See that, Darius? That’s what gold looks like – not the rusty, dented metal you’ve read out of books for me. But now you’ve heard how the thing is done I hope you’ll have learnt from it. Just in case I ever require your services again.’ Darius did not reply. His eyes were fixed on Mo with such admiration in them that it wouldn’t have surprised Meggie had he flung himself at her father’s feet. When Mo straightened up, Darius approached him hesitantly. Capricorn’s men were still gazing at the gold as if they didn’t know what to do next. ‘What are you standing there for, gaping like a lot of sheep?’ cried Capricorn. ‘Pick it up. Go on.’ ‘That was wonderful!’ Darius whispered to Mo, while Capricorn’s men cautiously began shovelling the coins into bags and boxes. His eyes were gleaming behind his glasses like the eyes of a child who has just been given a much-wanted present. ‘I’ve read that book many times,’ he said, in a voice that shook, ‘but I never saw it all as vividly as I did today. And I didn’t just see it … I smelled it, the salt and the tar and the musty odour of the whole accursed island …’ ‘Treasure Island! Heavens above, I was petrified!’ Elinor appeared behind Darius, pushing him impatiently aside. Flatnose had obviously forgotten her for the moment. ‘He’ll be here any minute, that’s what I kept thinking. Long John Silver will be here, lashing out at us with his crutch.’ Mo just nodded, but Meggie could see the relief on his face. ‘Here, take it!’ he told Darius, handing him the book. ‘I hope I never have to read out of it again. One shouldn’t push one’s luck.’ ‘You said his name not quite right every time,’ Meggie whispered. Mo tenderly stroked the bridge of her nose. ‘Ah, so you noticed,’ he whispered back. ‘Yes, I thought that might help. Perhaps the savage old pirate won’t feel we’re calling to him then, I told myself, and he’ll stay where he belongs. Why are you looking at me like that?’ ‘Why do you think?’ said Elinor, answering instead of Meggie. ‘Why is she looking so admiringly at her father? Because no one ever read aloud like that – even apart from the money. I saw it all, the sea and the island, as clear as if I could touch it, and I don’t expect it was any different for your daughter.’ Mo had to smile. He kicked aside a few of the coins on the floor in front of him. One of Capricorn’s men picked them up and surreptitiously pocketed them. As he did so, he looked at Mo as uneasily as if he feared a word from him might turn him into a frog, or one of the beetles still crawling around among the coins. ‘They’re afraid of you, Mo!’ whispered Meggie. She could see the trepidation even on Basta’s face, although he was doing his best to hide it by assuming a particularly bored expression. Only Capricorn seemed to be left cold by what had happened. Arms folded, he stood there watching his men pick up the last of the coins. ‘How much longer is this going to take?’ he asked finally. ‘Leave the small change where it is and sit down again. And you, Silvertongue, open the next book!’ ‘The next book!’ Elinor’s voice almost cracked with indignation. ‘What on earth’s the idea of that? The gold your men are shovelling up there is enough to last you at least two lifetimes. We’re going home now!’ She was about to turn round, but Flatnose, who had finally remembered he was meant to be guarding Elinor, seized her arm roughly. Mo looked up at Capricorn. Basta, smiling unpleasantly, laid his hand on Meggie’s shoulder. ‘Get on with it, Silvertongue!’ he said. ‘You heard. There are still plenty of books here.’ Mo looked at Meggie for a long time before bending to pick up the book he had chosen first: Tales From the Thousand and One Nights. ‘The book that goes on and on forever,’ he murmured, opening it. ‘Did you know the Arabs say no one can read it right through to the end, Meggie?’ She shook her head as she sat down beside him on the cold flagstones. Basta let her, but he planted himself right behind her. Meggie didn’t know much about The Thousand and One Nights, except that it was really a book in many volumes. The copy that Darius had given Mo could only be a small selection. Were Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves in it, and Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp? Which story would Mo read? Meggie thought she saw contradictory feelings on the faces of Capricorn’s men: fear of what Mo might bring to life and, at the same time, a wish, a yearning almost, to be carried away by his voice once more, transported far away to a place where they could forget everything, even themselves. There was no smell of salt and rum when Mo began reading this time. The air in Capricorn’s church grew hot. Meggie’s eyes began to burn, and when she rubbed them she found sand sticking to her knuckles. Once again, Capricorn’s men listened to Mo’s voice with bated breath, as if they were turned to stone. Capricorn alone seemed to feel nothing of the magic. But his eyes showed that even he was spellbound. They were fixed on Mo’s face, as unmoving as the eyes of a snake. His red suit made his pupils look even more washed out, and his body seemed tense, like a dog scenting its prey. But this time Mo disappointed him. The words offered up no riches, none of the treasure chests, pearls and swords set with precious stones that Mo’s voice conjured up, shining and sparkling, until Capricorn’s men felt as if they could pluck them from the air. Something else slipped out of the pages, though, something breathing, a creature made of flesh and blood. A boy was suddenly standing between the still smouldering braziers where Capricorn had burned the books. Meggie was the only one to notice him. All the others were too absorbed in the story. Even Mo didn’t see him, far away as he was, somewhere in the sand and the wind as his eyes made their way through the labyrinth of letters. The boy was some three or four years older than Meggie. The turban round his head was dirty, his eyes dark with fear in his brown face. He blinked and rubbed them as if he could wipe it all away – the wrong picture, the wrong place. He looked round the church as if he had never seen such a building before, and how could he? There wouldn’t be any churches with spires in his story, or green hills like those he would see outside. The robe he wore went down to his brown feet, and in the dim light of the church it shone blue as a patch of the sky. Meggie wondered: what will happen when they see him? He’s certainly not what Capricorn was hoping for.