#i was so fascinated by this guys work flow he had one hand on the keyboard and another on the tablet pen

[queseraphita]

i was watching the work flow process for some pixel artists and now that im like actually pulling up my tablet i was so caught up in the joy of learning about a new medium that forgot i lived in a world that is right-handed centric

[danieyells]

One of the Vagastromers had eagerly come back with some fascinating winnings from Sinostra--some Frostheimer had bet their new car and lost. While the gambling was certainly to be gently chided over, the minor victory over Frostheim was of more value to the Vagastrom general students. There was, however, a small problem that the whole house couldn't figure out--the electronic key hadn't come with the car, and they couldn't turn it on in the first place.

Alan, after examining the vehicle, went to the only person he knew could help.

"Oooh, not a bad ride." Leo circled the car, dainty fingers running over the smooth, shiny exterior. "These things aren't even a year old. You really screwed that guy, I bet his daddy'd whip his ass if he were here."

He sat atop the car's hood, enjoying the eager eyes on him. "Yeah, I could crack one of these. Shouldn't be too hard."

He resisted the urge to wince as the bunch whooped and high fived with the secured victory. Always so loud at the littlest things. Alan gave him a nod and Sho sighed, going to fetch Leo's 'work' laptop for him.

A few hours(and a non-insignificant payment) later, and Leo handed the Vagastrom student's phone back to him. "There. Bluetooth car key. Make sure your phone's charged or no getting in the car without me."

The general student eagerly thanked him, promising to return the favor later despite already paying him, then turned to his friends as he opened the doors, telling them to get in for a ride. Another little chorus of cheers went through them and they made their way into the vehicle for a drive that hopefully wouldn't get the car confiscated by Darkwick.

"Good job." Alan grunted from where he'd been looming above Leo quietly, having finished maintenance on some of the vehicles in the garage shortly before. Leo predicted his next move, carefully catching his arm with both hands.

"Nope!!!" Leo yelped, tilting his head away to glare up at the Captain. Alan flinched a little, uncertain what was wrong. "Do not pat my head with those oily hands, Cap! We are not getting that shit in my hair today."

"Ah." Alan pulled his hand away to examine it. Although he's been wearing his gloves while working it was, in fact, blackened with motor oil and grime. Leo examined his own hands and clicked his tongue in irritation. He'd saved his hair, but not his skin. "Sorry."

"C'mere." Leo sighed, shutting his laptop with his elbow. He stood and shuffled and scooched it under his arm without using his hands, then grabbed Alan's large wrist and began to guide him to the stairs. Alan, having had gotten closer to Leo and Sho than he'd intended, was oddly becoming used to being led by the little influencer and followed him up the stairs.

When they reached Leo's door he paused and glanced at his hand again before grimacing. He reached over and wiped the oil on Alan's shirt(which hardly bothered Alan himself, as it was already somewhat oily) to the best of his ability before opening it and bringing Alan inside. He'd just wipe it down later.

Finally, Leo led him into his spacious bathroom and the broad vanity top, turning the hot water on high in the sink. Immediately he thrust Alan's hands under the flow of water.

"I know how to wash my own hands. . . ." Alan grumbled as Leo helped to spread the hot water over Alan's large hands with his small ones. "The water's too hot."

"Hot water gets oil off. Suck it up." Leo pulled Alan's hands from under the stream and grabbed the bar of soap he used for washing his hands before placing it into Alan's hands. He rubbed and lathered it into a frothy, sweet-selling lather all over his fingers. Leo grabbed the soap and rubbed it a over Alan's wrists and an inch or two further up before he could wash it off, then grabbed a small brush with hard bristles and furiously worked the dirt out from under Alan's nails. "Your nails are disgusting. I don't just mean from the dirt--why are they so chipped. And your cuticles--I'll be here all day if I keep this up."

Stopped himself from forcefully manicuring the nails of someone who wouldn't appreciate it, Leo shoved Alan's soapy hands back under the steaming hot water and let him rinse them clean. "Dry them with the blue striped towel. Don't touch anything else!"

While Alan dried his hands, Leo washed his own, grabbing a paper towel to dry them with and shut the water off. Alan resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck, sure he would somehow end up being made to wash his hands again if he did so. "Thanks. They're just gonna get dirty again, though."

Leo hummed in acknowledgement and watched Alan impatiently, arms crossed. Alan, confused, looked towards the exit behind Leo. Leo cleared his throat in exaggeration and glared up at him.

". . .What is it?"

"You can pat me now."

Alan blinked and took a moment to process this. "Ah. Got it."

Alan sat his large hand on top of Leo's head, and pat him a few times. Leo smiled, proud of himself, and lifted his head into it, even standing on his toes a little. He tilted his head so Alan's hand would land against his cheek, then grabbed his wrist to hold him still again, rubbing his face into Alan's freshly cleaned hands like a cat. Uncertain what to do, Alan held his hand still until Leo released him.

"Alright! I'm satisfied! Get out." Leo chirped with a smile, moving past him to fix his slightly disheveled hair.

"Oh. Alright." Alan dropped his arm back to his side and made his way out the bathroom and back to the main part of the garage. "Thanks for helping that guy."

"I made money off of it, he gets to ride his fancy car, some nobody in Frostheim lost, everyone was happy. It's whatever! Don't touch anything but the doorknob on your way out. I already have to clean the floor after your filthy boots were in here. . . ."

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday (Second, sillier part to follow Friday)

Poll Results: Trespasser Jak

Picking up from HERE, Jak and Daxter have been taken back to Spargus

The drive back to the city was not quiet. Every couple seconds, the kid with the amulet he shouldn't have had was pointing to something else, talking a mile a minute to the fuzzy orange thing. The red rock bluffs fascinated him. The crocadeer on the clifftops fascinated him. The frith-rotted cactus was interesting to this stranger.

Jak started to lean out of the seat again, trying to take in every speck of the horizon.

"Will you stop that?" Damas asked irritably, "You're going to fall out, and I'm not turning this car around to go get you. What are you so entranced by, huh?"

Jak's enthusiasm wasn't dimmed in the slightest. "After they took us to Haven- I thought there was nothing left out there but wasteland!"

"You're in the Wasteland," Damas reminded him.

"Nah."

Jak stood up despite the driver's protests and clung to the turret gun to watch a flock of birds.

"This place isn't wasted. It's alive."

"And you won't be if you don't sit down right now-!"

Damas’s headache only multiplied -- exponentially. once they had actually returned Spargus.

The stranger gawked at everything, sometimes lagging as many as ten behind to look at the most mundane things. Forges. The communication hub/post office. Leapers. A stray chickalope he tried to pick up-!

Getting him into the Gate District garrison building took five minutes longer than it should've, by which time Damas’s patience was almost completely gone. It was all he could do to keep some modicum of professionalism as he herded the boy and the talking spirit thing into a clean, well-lit room for interrogation. He left them with a stern warning to wait there until someone came to figure out who they were.

Then he left to make a very strong pot of coffee. He wasn't going back in there without it.

He quickly decided that needed another kind of drink when he returned ten minutes later only to find Jak, barefoot, sitting on top of the table like a moody teenaged gargoyle. That ratty blue winter tunic was tied around his waist now, and the loose scarf and oversized undershirt didn't quite cover a surprising amount of scars for someone his age -- or maybe not so surprising if he was an Heir, given the proclivity of Haven to put those through the wringer-

No. No jumping to conclusions.

Old burns on the soles of his feet that looked roughly six to seven years old -- a childhood accident or stubborn adventure, most likely -- were the most benign of them. Damas saw old, healed clawmarks, and strange fractal-like patterns not unlike those struck by lightning, crossing his upper arms, shoulders and chest. Here and there he saw raised lines -- the telltale sutures of do-it-yourself shrapnel removal. Regardless of whose blood flowed in his veins, this kid was a soldier. And it looked like he'd been a soldier for a depressingly long time.

Damas pushed the thoughts from his mind and took a seat in the chair the trespasser had ignored.

"Alright. Let's get this over with as quickly as we can, shall we? I have a lot of work to do today."

"Oh...kay...?" Jak gave him a puzzled, wary look and scooted back across the table to rest his back against the wall. "I mean, I can't answer everything, and half of what I do tell you won't sound believable, but that's honestly not my problem."

Patience, Damas. Inhale, slowly. You're just stressed. You can't kill him if he's related to you.

Damas took an exaggerated breath and folded his hands on the top of the table. "I don't much care about your activities in Haven. My agents deliver news regularly enough. No, I want to know how you opened a locked door with a Seal of Mar on it."

The kid looked surprised, and then intrigued.

"Mar? Wait, really? He made it out here too?" Jak looked almost impressed. "Huh! Guy got around!"

"Answer the question."

The orange one answered in the kid's stead.

"Jak here's got the distinct misfortune of being descended from the guy-"

*Allegedly," Jak interrupted. His voice was distinctly harder than before.

"What "allegedly"? Dragging me into the frickin nightmare tomb wasn't enough for ya?"

"Everything we know about that guy we got from Krew, or Samos," his companion argued, "And most of the Oracles didn't bother to warn us that Samos was lying to us our whole lives. So no, I'm not taking that on faith."

Clearly this was a sore spot for the young man.

It just so happened to also be a very sore spot for Damas.

They were just going to act like they so happened to "conveniently" let slip that this boy was supposed to be related to him? Did they think he was a fool?

"What are you playing at?" he snapped, startling them both. "Do you think I am so easily taken in?"

"What-?"

"Tell me, boy," Damas said, much more quietly, "What makes you either brave enough or stupid enough to try to pull that story with me?"

And Jak blinked at him with eyes that were a little too familiar. Wide. Full of shadows and pain and anger but still clinging to the vestiges of innocence. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

"Um. Who? Are you?"

If this was a con, the kid was a decent actor, Damas had to give him that.

"You're telling me you're a survivor of the House of Mar."

"No? I said other people told me I was related to that guy. People with a vested interest in controlling me."

Jak scoffed bitterly and spread his arms wide.

"Little "abandoned" orphan boy kept isolated to train as a soldier, so he wouldn't know what they planned for him. Wouldn't run. And then magically suddenly he's heir to the worst city on the planet? Give me a break. The guards in Praxis's lab came up with better lies than that."

Damas wanted to agree with the kid. He wanted so much to agree with him. Whatever else he might be, clearly Jak was not the kind of person who bought into delusions of grandeur. In fact, he sounded like he actively resented the thought. Damas could appreciate that. Rot, he could even sympathize with the kid.

But.

He had opened a sealed door.

And the river-weasel had just said something about a Tomb.

He really really didn't want to be right, but if they could give an accurate description of the Tomb at some point, that information would be pretty hard to fake.

"Why did they think they could pass you off as Haven's heir?" Damas asked bluntly.

"Because I can make old Precursor crap work, I guess? And the Oracles like me." Jak folded his arms and shrugged. "They're useless when it comes to actually protecting anyone, but at least they tried to help after the fact. More than most hu'mens did."

Oh. Alright, okay. Maybe he's a sage prodigy and he's never been trained. That would make sense-

"Pal, the Oracle called you a "chosen one". That's gotta mean something."

"Chosen for what? Time looped torture?" Jak's entire posture had become rigid. He was beyond agitated, but Damas couldn't quite pin down if it was anger or fear or something closer to grief.

"....I...sorry." The orange one looked down, clearly ashamed. "That's- fair point. I won't bring it up anymore."

Damas didn't want to hear another word of this. Not one. Without stopping to think lest he talk himself out of it, he drew a knife from the back of his belt. The boy tensed even further, looking like he might snap as he watched Damas pull a sheet of paper haphazardly from the notepad that came standard in all the interrogation rooms. Damas ignored him and placed the tip of the blade to the pad of his thumb, pushing until two large drops of blood dripped onto the paper. The boy's tension eased slightly, but he still looked vaguely alarmed.

Damas wiped the blade and, steeling himself, held it out hilt-first to Jak.

"Your turn."

Jak glared at him.

"Are you nuts?"

Damas remained stonefaced. "You want to prove those people wrong? Blood comparison. Computer will be able to identify if it matches old records or not."

"Then why'd you cut yourself?" Jak challenged.

"Control sample," Damas answered shortly, staring until the boy gave in and set the blade against the tip of his little finger.

He declined to specify whether he meant for or against.

Jak twisted his pinkie between his fingers and let a single drop of blood fall onto the paper. He narrowed his eyes at Damas.

"And this is supposed to take...how long?"

"Two months if they're not busy."

Jak unfolded his legs and slid off the tabletop. "Months?! What good does that do me? They'll probably have found a way to guilt me into going back to Haven by then!"

Hm.

Damas leaned back in his chair and studied the boy with a new perspective.

"You're a runaway. Aren't you?"

Jak scowled and folded his arms.

"I'm not! I'm just...there's something I have to do out here. And I can't go back yet."

Suspicion trickled in cold at the back of Damas’s mind. He folded the edge down over the bloodied paper and tucked it into his belt.

"And what," he asked warily, "is this "something" you intend to do?"

The boy's ears dropped, broadcasting uncertainty despite his belligerent posture.

"I...don't know yet. There's just...something was calling me. And I can't leave until I know what it is."

This boy was going to be a walking migraine trigger, wasn't he? But unfortunately there was a reasonably high probability that he was Damas’s kinsman, which meant that under no circumstances could he just toss the kid back to Haven and say "not my circus, not my moncaws".

Just get through this until the blood tests come back. Who knows, maybe the guy will find a place here in the meantime. Or he might decide to fight the squid and die horribly. One step at a time.

Damas opened the door and beckoned to one of the district guards down the hall. Commander Shui left her subordinates immediately to respond.

"Sir?"

Damas nodded back towards the trespasser.

"Have someone show him to the showers. Once he's cleaned up, see if you can't determine his age."

Shui glanced at Jak, but never lost her stoic expression. "Understood. Is he a candidate for the trials?"

Damas ignored the harsh whispering between the boy and the...okay that was called an ottsel apparently. Didn't have those out in the desert.

"I doubt even he knows. For the moment, we will proceed as though he is a refugee."

He sighed.

"I have matters to attend to. Inform me if he causes any problems."

Jak wasn't sure how to feel about this turn of events. Six days of maddening dreams of eco comets and a broken string of beads. Five days of something pulling on his eco core, or his soul, the way the Precursor Stone had.

He wasn't sorry for leaving Haven in the middle of the night. The Grand Council had been getting more and more vocal with their more...Praxian...views on his right to life and liberty, and Samos just kept telling him to focus on what was "more important", fighting metalheads and new Krimzon Deathbots.

When the Call took him down that ancient eco mine, it had felt like an escape. He'd told himself he'd go back after he found what was at the end of the tunnel. And he'd meant to, if only because he thought he had nowhere else to go. After all, Daxter had built a life in Haven. He had a mentor. A girlfriend. A whole business!

But regardless of all the pretty lies Samos and Onin and Ashelin filled his ears with, Haven was not Jak's home. He would not take responsibility for their evil. And even if he was descended from their founder, they all let Praxis kill whatever blood relatives he might've had! They decided the line of Mar had no say in government, so who was Jak to contradict them?

It was strange -- almost unfathomable -- how his perspective could have changed with a rebalancing of eco. The Oracle down in that desert temple, it had pushed through old scars, given him access to light eco, when he'd thought the substance didn't exist anymore. The constant aches that ruled his every waking moment when it was even slightly cold out, the irritability, the burning in his core, it was gone.

How had he become so accustomed to at least low levels of pain as a daily companion? Jak hadn't realized how bad his condition had been until it was gone. And his mind felt clearer than it had in months. Maybe even years. Home was far behind them now. Sandover was forever lost to them, along with all remains of Jak's innocence. Because of Onin. And because of Samos.

Without his thoughts dulled by pain and lack of sleep, Jak thought of his heartfelt thanks to the manipulative old sage and wanted to be sick.

And now he was on an island, eighty nautical miles from Haven. A wild, living, sanctuary of Wastelanders and open wilderness. They called it "wasteland", but Jak couldn't understand why when it was so beautiful.

That Call still pulled at his heart, told him he wasn't done here yet. And he was relieved, because the longer he spent under clear, blue, sky, the more he hated the thought of returning to that corrupted city.

Just because he'd told Ashelin it was worth saving didn't mean he belonged to it.

Damas -- the angry man he'd startled when they came up out of the catacombs -- left, and a well-built woman about his height entered the interrogation room.

"Holy crap, a lady Sig!" Daxter hissed in his ear.

The Wastelander did have a prosthetic eye -- her left, not her right -- of the same make, but that was really the only similarity. She carried herself like Ashelin -- someone in command, used to cooperation if not obedience -- and that alone put Jak on-edge. He met her searching gaze with a hard stare, determined not to be the first to flinch.

"Hm." The woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"I see what he means. When's the last time you washed?"

"Do pools of water count?" Jak asked. If there was sarcasm in the tone, so what? "Expendables don't get time to wash."

"Eesh." The woman curled her lip. "Well that's not going to fly in my garrison."

She turned to shout down the hall, "Strom! Get the rookie to the showers before the flies move in!"

"Oh rot you!"

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 12: Lessons in nature

First chapter | Previous

Sorry for not posting last week. I'm out on vacation at the moment. Enjoy the chapter!

“Alright,” Virgil stated as he summoned a few twigs, stones and dried out flowers to lay between them.

“From a seed or some pollen we can grow the plants they belong to. If you want to get fancy you can combine pollen from different plants and with some focus you’ll create a hybrid that would be impossible to grow naturally. You saw Patton apply this quick growing in combat already,” Virgil surmised as he picked up a twig.

“Now, what I want you to do, is see how you can command this twig. It works best if you start with things you are familiar with. Now. Impress me,” Virgil instructed. Sitting back expectantly.

Roman held the twig in his hands and studied it for a long moment. Hoping for a spark of inspiration… Oh.

He smiled and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath and letting his magic flow like with the flower… He could feel the wood shift under his fingers…

“Well done. Not bad for a first time. Usually it takes a few tries to make something recognizable,” Virgil said, feeling impressed and even a little proud.

Roman opened his eyes and smiled as he found himself holding a flute. He brought it to his lips and played a little melody.

“It even sounds right,” Virgil noted. “Good, now try with this,” he instructed as he handed him a flower. “Try to push yourself a little more this time. Use a little imagination,” he probed.

Roman considered that for a moment. Thought of what Virgil said. Commanding the forces of nature. He looked at the flower, then his flute... and got an idea. He picked up a second flower and made them both healthy again before willing them to change shape to his will like he did with the twig.

"Cute," Virgil allowed as roman put the two now humanoid looking flowers down. They had roots for legs, leaves for arms and their buds were their faces though they also wore cute flower petal dresses. It wasn’t very detailed, but recognizable enough.

Roman knew Virgil wasn’t too impressed. The flowers had been more malleable than the twig and these dolls weren't that much more complex.

But Roman wasn't done. He picked up his flute and played a tune. Making the dolls come to life and dance with one another. That did get Virgil's approval.

"Great work. Using Music as a commanding medium, an excellent choice," he praised.

"You are a fast learner," he added.

"Well. I'm not an apprentice anymore," Roman countered.

"No. But it seems a lot of this goes against your previous training. And it's never easy to unlearn a way of thinking," Virgil pointed out.

Roman shrugged. "Not that hard when you have spent time in the memory of a high mage..." he mused.

Virgil nodded. "That's actually a good point," he allowed. Then he gestured to the stones.

"Last one before I take Star out of the house for some fresh air. Stone is harder to command but it will be more sturdy. Let’s see what you come up with," Virgil stated.

Roman glanced to Patton. Recalling Virgil's instructions on how to control the light. Patton had struggled. But Patton was not Roman. Patton was cautious with his magic, scared to accidentally hurt someone. Roman was bold. Patton was insecure about being scary, Roman was confident in his knowledge and control over his inner fire. On top of all that: Roman knew in his heart of hearts that Virgil had no doubt that he could do this and he was not going to argue against the judgement of a well experienced teacher.

He picked up a stone and poured himself into it. Changing it inside and out. Gifting it a piece of his own will. He opened his palm and he felt the stone move. He opened his eyes to see the little guy get up on his feet and look at its creator... wow.

“A little golem. That is interesting. I’ve never seen one so small. Try and make it do something,” Virgil suggested feeling fascinating and endeared by the small, stone creature.

Roman thought on that for a moment. Do something… "Um. Go get me that book please," he instructed. Pointing to a book on the third shelf.

Might as well see how it would fare. Virgil’s surprised reaction gave him the feeling that he might have aimed a bit higher than he’d expected, but he was not going to lose faith that the little guy could do it. He was imbued with Roman’s will after all, not to mention it was a literal creature of Earth. He would figure it out.

The stone puppet made a salute and jumped of his hand before Roman had fully lowered him to the ground. And on he marched. Much to Virgil’s amusement and admiration. He must have done it right then.

"Okay. Now, as for the upcoming fight," Virgil started, pulling Roman’s full attention back to their conversation.

"Using these kind of spells in a combat situation will require quick thinking and a lot of improvisation. Understanding the materials you'll be working with ahead of time will be a big advantage. Having a few tricks in mind is also going to be useful. But it is going to be hectic. So don't work anything out too detailed. Have basic ideas ready that can be adapted depending on what situation you find yourself in," Virgil stated. He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill.

"Based on where we are going, research these plants and minerals. Working with their existing properties rather than forcing them to fit your goal will work a lot better." Virgil instructed handing him the finished list.

"Oh... hello little guy."

Patton's voice pulled them out of the lecture.

Little stone dude had reached Patton and had gotten his attention.

"You want up?" Patton asked as he picked him up and followed signed instructions towards the book it needed. Patton pulled it from the bookshelf for him and then brought it over to Roman. "Um... here?" He said holding out the book and the little stone dude.

"Thank you Patton," Roman smiled as he accepted both. "Have a nap, you earned it," Roman said as he tucked the stone dude in his infinity bag along with his flute.

He looked at the book he'd gotten. "Lake based vegetation and minerals huh? A good start," he smirked, looking at Virgil challengingly. There was no way he'd just gotten that lucky.

Virgil simply smiled and got up. "Star, walk!" He called. In an instant star went from his napping spot in the corner to Virgil's side.

"Good boy." He praised before turning to them. "I'll be back soon. Then we'll sleep, eat, and leave. Until then study up. Pack anything you need another look at on the road," he instructed. They nodded. And he left.

"Desk," Logan stated firmly. Roman got off the ground and joined his friends at the desk. They all laid their books down and started reading.

When they studied together they noticed that, under the right conditions they could study and also hold a conversation about something else. Which was handy now, when they had only a little time alone and a lot had come at them in the past few days.

"This house is so much fun! And so polite!!!" Patton gushed.

"Which does speak to its owner's character," Logan allowed.

Roman wrote down some basic information on a plant and some ideas what it could be used for before putting in his two cents. "I think it is safe to say you trust Virgil now. Great wizard mage Logan of the forgotten path?" Roman pointed out. "I never thought you'd be the first to cave and use a forbidden spell," he added.

"Two words. Moon Flower. Do not think I didn't see you use it on the farmlands," Logan pointed out. "Okay, but that's an ingredient, not a spell." Roman argued as he picked up the map Logan had laid on the table and unfolded it to study the area where the lake was supposed to be, making some educated guesses on the sort of stones the cult would have access to to build their temple. "And the circumstances were entirely different. I used it to save a village. You did it to kiss up to the teacher," Roman insisted when he was satisfied with his list.

He knew a lot about many minerals by heart. Plants that grew at the bottom of a lake, not so much.

"Hypocrite says what." Logan huffed.

"Excuse me?!" Roman gasped offended.

"You are excused. And don't think I haven't noticed you two flirting in silence it’s-"

"So cuuute! Are you two dating!!!?"

Roman felt suddenly very concerned about his penmanship and looked closer at his notes.

"No. No he doesn’t want to split his attention too much between saving his friend and dating me... though the signals are a little mixed," Roman admitted.

"You probably should talk to him about that then," Logan pointed out.

"So you no longer object to me dating Virgil?" Roman concluded.

"I was apprehensive at first," Logan nodded. "Not just because of possible feelings between the arch mage and the night flame. But because on the night flame’s end those might have been negative and I was not sure which side we'd end up on. But after seeing his last memory of him, and considering you didn't seem to have caught onto any preexisting negative feelings, I feel fairly confident we will side with Virgil should we be forced to take a side at some point," Logan stated. That made them all go quiet. None of them had really voiced the possibility that Gustav might turn out to be evil yet. But now it was out in the open and they couldn't take it back.

“Yeah. I think we can trust Virgil to have a good eye on the situation,” Patton agreed.

“Yes, me too,” Roman added, though he didn’t think either of them doubted where he stood on the matter. It just felt good to have it all said out loud.

Then they heard a door open and a bark. Virgil and Star were back.

Next thing Roman knew he was tackled to the ground and showered in doggy greetings.

“Star! Hi!” he gasped. A whistle sounded through the room and Stardust rushed back to his master’s side.

“Stardust is quite fond of Roman,” Logan observed.

“Well, we have a connection so he knows I must be fond of him. And… well, I just told him that Roman set me free, so he’s very fond of him for his own reasons now too,” Virgil chuckled.

“Told… Through animal speak or does he understand us?” Logan wondered.

“A bit of both,” Virgil shrugged. “Now, enough chit chat. There are two guest rooms so Roman, you’ll be coming with me. See you guys in an hour,” he announced.

Roman shot up from the floor. He couldn’t mean…?

“Roman!” Virgil called, already halfway through one of the side doors.

Flustered but not wanting to be left behind with his friends, who’d have their thoughts on the matter, he rushed behind him, following him through the dressing room into… A void? No he could feel the floor. But it was all black. Except for Virgil and Star somehow. Star floating around the room in their blorb form.

Roman turned to Virgil at a total loss for words. And Virgil looked at him like he had no idea what could possibly be wrong with this scenario.

This man was going to be the death of him.

“What’s the matter?” Virgil asked. “You seem flustered all of a sudden,” he observed.

“Well… Don’t you think that was a little forward?” Roman asked a bit nervous. “You said we should take things slow. But then you… You sit me on your lap, and you give me a flower and now you want us to share your bed…” Roman surmised.

“But… You enjoyed being close while we rode the horse…” Virgil pointed out.

Okay… He couldn’t deny that.

“And we slept next to each other before,” Virgil added.

“Not in the same bed!” Roman protested.

“And we won’t be sleeping. We’ll be meditating,” Virgil corrected. “We won’t be any closer than we were the other nights. And if you are worried about propriety,” Virgil stepped closer to him and ran a finger down his sternum. “Maybe you should stop touching me like that?” he suggested.

Roman’s face went hot… He forgot… When Virgil was in his guide form… He’d forgotten…

Virgil’s steel gaze gave way for mirth and he chuckled. “Teasing, it’s not quite as intimate as when I’m human, but still. Perhaps I’ve been more casual about physical closeness due to those things,” he allowed.

“Even so. It’ll be easier to share a dream if we lay next to one another and are truly comfortable,” he insisted. And then he snapped his fingers and there was now a large round bed in the middle of the void, covered in silky black sheets that seemed to have actual stars sewn into them. And when Roman looked back to the darkness it was like looking at the most dazzling night sky.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“Come on,” Virgil chuckled as he laid down on his back on the bed, arms folded behind his head.

After a moment of nervous hesitation Roman mimicked his position.

“In sharing a dream, we could get to know one another better. Or I could teach you some things that might help you become a high mage if that is something that interests you.

Once you’ve become a great mage, if you decide to ascend, it isn’t that difficult. Most mages just need some time to truly accept the power, if they ever feel ready for it,” Virgil explained. The power… The knowledge his guide had offered him when he first meditated… So it wasn’t a shortcoming of his that had made him step back. It was normal not to accept it right away…

“Did it take you long?” Roman wondered.

“Me and my friends had made a pact… But it took me a year to really feel ready, though my guide was pretty insistent I just make the jump after a month or two,” he admitted.

Well, that was alright then…

“I could also teach you other things, in our shared dream. Anything you feel comfortable with. So. What do you say?” he offered.

Roman blushed. “Well… Um… I feel like I should learn as much as I can that can help in the mission,” he said dutifully. Though he really, really wanted to learn more about Virgil as a person…

Virgil hummed in understanding. “Start the meditation ritual, but remember what it felt like to be carried off into my memories. Open your mind to me as I do to you…” he instructed.

Roman closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Letting his magic flow with the in and outflow or air in his lungs.

[animelga]

I watched the first eight episodes of the BLEACH anime!!! Originally I wanted to do some sort of thing where I do a post per each episode and highlight my favorite screengrab from it, but then I realized I'd rather watch the episodes relaxed without stressing over rewinding to specific frames and all that...so you'll just get some scattered images instead!

Its a really interesting adaptation if only because it adds so many small little things seemingly for no reason - and now that I've already read the manga those little creative liberties just stick out as fascinating more than they do annoying. Like, they technically let us see inside Hueco Mundo several times by following the perspective of Hollows, and that'll make the eventual trip there a lot more satisfying!

But then there's some dumb stuff like how they add a complete no-name Soul Reaper to hunt down Rukia before even Renji and Byakuya are sent out. Like on the one hand - it helps solve a weird logic issue as to why a CAPTAIN would leave their post to do this pretty basic basic by implying that they tried someone lesser before and it didnt work....buuuuut at the same time there's something undeniably powerful about Ichigo realizing just how far above him the rest of Soul Society is when he encounters Renji and Byakuya for the first time

I was initially kind of put off by how brightly colored the anime is, as I often am with anime adaptations - I feel like there's an understated beauty in black-and-white Manga like One Piece that its own anime adaptation kind of ruins. But I'm surprised by how quickly I warmed up to it here, they play with color in a lot of really interesting ways given the weekly-anime-in-the-2000s context of ir all, be it clouding the world around the characters in darkness to convey they're in spirit form or by making backgrounds super abstract and bubbly like in the Orihime Leek Spin scene to convey when its sillytime

Last thing - I REALLY like the dub acting. Yeah it sometimes has that stilted delivery from trying to cram everything into a small timeframe, but it makes a lot of really natural flowing changes to dialogue (That guy vouldn't tell a stethoscope from a telephone!) althewhile being...actually funny??? This is the only clip I have on hand because it genuinely made me laugh so hard I had to save it for later

Overall - SUPER excited to see what'll happen when fights start ramping up once the Soul Society arc starts. The first eight episodes have been surprisingly breezily paced (possibly thanks to the new content they added helping it from feeling arbitrarily stretched out?) and I'm lookin forward to hearing my favs' voices for the first time heheheee

[glowingbadger]

Okay sexy outfit time we're DOIN IT because I COULD NOT get this out of my brain and I've learned to just carpe diem that shit

I will... Probably do a Genshin version of this too tbh... And/or like any other fandom I can justify lmao

What they love to see you wearing in bed

FE3H guys x GN/AFAB reader

NSFW 18+

Lorenz - Oh, it's intricately laced corsets, thigh-high stockings and elaborate silken lingerie all the way for this man. Lorenz relishes in buying you a wide assortment of the highest quality lingerie (all in coordinated matching sets, of course), dressing you up and then carefully and lovingly removing each piece from you, clasp by clasp and strap by strap, kissing every inch of you as he works.

Claude - as an open minded sort, he's of course impressed by anything you wear for him, more than able to appreciate the way your choice of attire (or lack thereof...) accents everything he adores about your body. That said, he gets a special sort of worked-up to see you in the richly patterned, flowing fabrics of Almyra. That you would go through the trouble of procuring such clothes to please him makes him all the more determined to spoil you in turn.

Raphael - Doesn't care so much about what you wear (if anything, complicated hooks and straps can be frustrating when he just wants your body so desperately), but boy, he does love the look of you with nothing on but some honey or sweet cream drizzled over your nipples or down the center of your torso, just ready for him to lick it all off of you.

Ignatz - a huge fan of maid outfits; having come from a merchant family, while he may have had a nanny or tutor, a traditional maid is something exotic and luxurious to him. He's fascinated by all the little details of how the frills accent every part of you that he admires, his hand warm as it slides up your stocking-clad thigh beneath your skirt.

Hubert - also can definitely appreciate a maid outfit, though for him it's more about those delightful power dynamics he loves to play with. Even better though is to have you in a collar, preferably one he hand selected for you, one with a little ring on the front that he can use to direct and guide you. Really though, anything you choose to wear specifically because you think he'd like it will have him devouring you with his eyes and hands.

Ferdinand - in the bedroom, he's quite open minded, and would love to select some luxurious lingerie for you; however, it's far more fun to tease him by wearing something out in public that's just a little too tempting for comfort- a dress with just-too-low of a neckline, tantalizing him with the curve of your breasts. Breeches that hug your ass far too perfectly. It makes his pulse race and his face redden at the very sight.

Linhardt - Lin is a man who deeply focuses on whatever's caught his attention, so he's more than happy to take his time with you in bed. As such, while he'll grumble at first about the extra effort, he actually quite likes complicated, strappy sets of lingerie so he can savor removing it from you piece by piece. The slow and meticulous way he obsesses over each inch of you as it's revealed to him almost becomes unbearably sensual and intimate.

Caspar - whatever you're wearing, he just loves to watch it come off. It's not that he's rushing (okay, sometimes he's rushing), but more than it's just so sexy to see you tug your shirt over your head and reveal your beautiful breasts, or bend over so he can watch your ass and hips as you tug down your pants. It just drives him wild with anticipation, he can't wait to carry you into his bed.

Seteth - listen, I feel like the Nabateans had to have some kind of erotic wedding-night attire. Something pseudo-ceremonial in draping white fabric that's paradoxically sinful to behold. So when you find an illustration in a dusty old book in the Abyss and commission a similar garment to wear to surprise Seteth after a long day of work? Goddess, he's lost. It's going to be a long night.

Jeritza - he never knew it until you, but he's actually weak to all sorts of outfits and aesthetics. Sweet cream or syrup down your body for him to lick up? Obsessed. Frilly, feminine underthings for him to literally tear off of you? Divine. But his favorite is to have you panting and whimpering beneath him in your normal every-day attire that's been pulled open, tugged out of the way, a wrinkled mess from the frenzy of him just needing to touch and taste you.

Yuri - while he certainly thinks you look stunning in anything, he's actually not much one for elaborate outfits or costumes. With you, he wants to be able to just see you and adore you. So his absolute favorite is to see you in nothing but a beautiful necklace that he'd selected just for you. In a strange way, being almost naked seems so much more erotic than actually wearing nothing.

Dedue - he absolutely adores seeing you wearing nothing but one of his casual tunics or undershirts, seeing how it dwarfs you by comparison regardless of body type. It's so domestic and sweet and makes him want to pull you close and run his hands under the fabric- and then savor the way his clothes still smell like you the next day.

Felix - He won't say it aloud, but it's obvious from how he stares and how handsy he gets that he's deeply aroused by seeing you in training/workout gear with the fabric of your shirt clinging to your sweat-dewed skin. Sometimes, you look just tempting enough to cut training a bit short to get back to his room together- you're just too distracting.

Dimitri - interestingly, regardless of his state of mind, a feminine and 'princess-y' gown or frilly white bridal lingerie really do it for him. On better days, it feels traditionally romantic in a way that makes him feel so intimately close to you. During his more 'chaotic' stage, he wants to tear the flimsy fabric off of you and ravage you.

Ashe - he's big into the sorts of things he would stumble into lavish descriptions of in romantic novels, blushing but still guiltily reading with rapt attention- decorative corsets and especially clingy thigh-high stockings with garters. It's so romantic and impractical in a way that only enhances the fantasy for him.

Sylvain - it's tempting to just leave it at "any and everything" with a guy like him, and that is more or less true. Sylvain is a man of broad and varied tastes. That said, he's particularly fond of seeing you in the Garreg Mach uniform, the skirt rolled short and shirt buttoned low. Having you like this fulfills all sorts of fantasies he'd had during his school days, and he just loves teasing you about being such a naughty student.

[kiljoius-writes]

Love - Distinction - Fascination

Pairing: Hinata Hyūga/Sasuke Uchiha

Summary: Hinata sometimes wonders if everything bothers Sasuke.

Word Count: 5k

Rating: General

Happy birthday to @nagareboshi-sh !!! Here is some fluffy SasuHina for you my dear. This is meant to be the start of their relationship in the same storyline as "Cooler Than Me", meaning it is a Uchiha!Survive and Neji!Survives AU :) I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful birthday, lovely!

When they were 19, Hinata and Sasuke crossed paths on their respective walks with Tenten and Naruto.

“Oh! Hey Tenten! Hey Hinata!” Naruto calls brightly, waving his hands above his head. Tenten calls back a greeting while Hinata waves shyly. Sasuke gives a simple nod of acknowledgment, which makes Tenten snort.

“It’s a nice evening for a stroll, isn’t it?” Hinata attempts conversation as they meet face to face, eyes bouncing from Naruto to Sasuke.

“Sure is!” Naruto gestures forward. “Walk together?”

“Sure, why not?” Tenten responds, nudging Hinata with her while Naruto repeats the action on Sasuke.

The four fall into step together and engage in idle chatter, though now most of the conversation is flowing between Naruto and Tenten. Prior, Naruto had been lamenting Tsunade’s recent bet losses to Sasuke, and Hinata had been telling Tenten about working in the Yamanaka flower shop. The natural course of conversation was taken over by the two extroverts, Tenten boasting her promotion to jōnin and Naruto asking Hinata if her byakugan could tell what number and symbol, say, a poker card had from the other side.

“Hey, Hinata, that’s the river with those flowers you like, isn’t it?” Tenten asks, craning her neck down to look at Hinata. Hinata looks up, curious.

“Oh, yes.” She nods with a smile, impressed with Tenten’s thoughtfulness. “I don’t think they’re in bloom yet, though.”

“They are.”

Naruto, Tenten, and Hinata all look up at Sasuke adding to the conversation.

Naruto’s the first to pipe up. “Ah, looks like you’re an expert, buddy!” He swings an arm around Sasuke’s shoulders, who looks away in annoyance. “You guys should go check ‘em out, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah! That’d be nice!” Tenten nudges Hinata’s elbow encouragingly with a sweet smile. Hinata looks up at Sasuke to find him still avoiding anyone else’s eyes, and she swallows harshly. “Go on, since Sasuke knows all about ‘em. You’ll have lots to talk about!”

With that, Naruto and Tenten shove them near each other and begin strolling away, oblivious.

“Erm,” Hinata mumbles, rubbing her upper arm nervously, “w-we don’t have to—”

“Let’s go,” Sasuke interrupts, nodding toward the direction of the river. He’s already making strides toward it and Hinata’s eyes go a little wider, finding herself left behind by…everyone, now.

“O-okay!” she calls after him in vain, jogging to catch up. Once she’s next to him, she tries to fall into step next to him, elongating her strides to match his. “Do you also enjoy flowers, Sasuke?”

“No.”

Hinata stiffens at his tart reply, bringing her hands together in front of her. Doesn’t look up to see his expression morph from one of stoicism to one that looks ever so slightly regretful.

“I mean…” Sasuke sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “They’re fine. My mom gardens.”

“Oh.” She nods her response, wondering if this is an invitation for conversation. She bites her lip before going on. “My mother gardened, too. She taught me how to press flowers.”

“…Cool.”

It’s a small win, but it makes Hinata smile. Once the river comes into view, he looks at her to see her smile widen and something turns in his brain. She gestures outwards. “You were right, they are in bloom.”

“Were you questioning me?” he asks, his tone a little softer now. She shakes her head quickly, pushes her hair behind her ears.

“I wasn’t. I was just surprised because it’s earlier than normal,” she clarifies, stopping at the bed of the river to crouch next to a patch of wildflowers. Reaching out, she cups a tall cardinal in her palm, running her thumb over the petals.

Sasuke watches her quietly, still standing back with his hands in his pockets. Honestly, he almost expects her to question how he knew they were in bloom but isn’t surprised when she doesn’t. Hinata’s always been quieter than the other girls in their class, one of the few that never bothered him. When he was younger, he wondered if she thought she was too good for him.

It was almost comical that he was maybe even a little annoyed she didn’t pay him just mind. Now that they’re adults and he knows her a little better, he’s come to appreciate that it’s just who she is. Someone who doesn’t pry, stays in their lane, and just seems genuinely authentic. So, she remains one of the few people he tolerates being around, even rather enjoys it on occasion.

Hinata, on the other hand, has always felt a little stiff around Sasuke. That’s probably normal, she figures. Most people are a little anxious to be around Uchiha’s in general, Sasuke being nowhere near the exception. It doesn’t help much that he’s not really a boy anymore, now, but a full-blown man who stands quite a bit taller and grew out of all that baby fat she used to think was cute.

In the last year, he’s softened a bit. A little less rough around the edges, easier to approach. One time, she told Ino she assumes it means he was finally exiting his teenage angst phase and Ino laughed so hard her side started cramping. Either way, she finds it easier to be around him now.

Without looking back, Hinata settles on her knees and begins humming, quietly. When she doesn’t hear him protest or snicker, she hums a little louder, smiling at her reflection in the water. She reaches down for the satchel on her thigh and tugs out a kunai. She slides it and her thumb over the stalk of one of the taller cardinals, then slices through it.

She holds the cardinal in front of her face, twirling it slowly. Her eyes drift a bit when she sees his reflection in the water now, too, over her shoulder. It’s a little unnerving that his footsteps are so impeccably light that she hadn’t even heard him crunch through the leaves, but it doesn’t take her aback. She feels his body crouch next to hers and she smiles at his reflection, holding the flower a little higher. His eyes are cast off to the side, looking at her own.

“You’re always humming something.”

Suddenly, silence fills the space between them and Hinata’s smile falls. She lowers the flower and drops her gaze. “I apologize. Perhaps we should find the others.”

Sasuke’s eyes go a little wide at her sudden attitude shift, watching her immediately come to her feet. He looks at the cardinal in her hand and sees her tuck it away in a satchel. Before he gets up to catch up with her, he leans down to pluck one of the cardinals and discreetly tucks it away in his own satchel.

And that’s how it began. At least for Sasuke, it had begun. Now Hinata Hyūga had sufficiently piqued his interest, and he went home that night and immediately asked his mom about the song he’d heard her hum.

His mother was the first and only person to ever hear Sasuke hum, and he only did it to see if she recognized the song Hinata had hummed.

Hinata would become the second and last person (as far as he was concerned) to hear it.

He sought her out the next day because he didn’t want the flower to wilt. His mom suggested keeping it in a bath of water, which did indeed keep it nice and perky, and now Sasuke Uchiha was swiftly making his way across the village to the Hyūga compound with a glass full of water and one bright, red cardinal in it.

Without so much as a glance, he brushes past the guards at the gates of the compound and makes his way straight for where he knows Hinata’s room is, knowledge of it just sort of lingering in his head until now. He knocks briskly on her door and sucks in a deep breath, wondering why his chest feels tight in this specific moment. It feels similar to the team part of the chūnin exams in the Forest of Death, when he was evading enemy attack. But this is no enemy attack.

When Hinata opens her door, she feels her jaw clench and breathing stop, all involuntarily. She immediately pulls a sheet of paper behind her and stutters out a greeting. “H-Hello, Sasuke!”

“Can I come in?” he asks, eyes immediately darting to the arm that’s curled around her back.

Her demeanor goes from panicked to calm in the blink of an eye and he tilts his head at the abrupt change. So similar to yesterday. Her thin lips go from a simple straight line to showcasing pearly teeth as she ushers him in. He watches her carefully, taking in her movements. She’s not as sneaky as she might like and he catches her pushing away a book with her foot. He doesn’t comment on it as he makes his way in, her closing the door behind him.

“What can I do for you?” she asks, airy and light as usual, and he stops in front of her for a moment to take her in. She’s in sweatpants and a tank top, clearly threw a cardigan on top for modesty sake, and has her arms crossed, looking up at him with a pouty lip.

And then it strikes Sasuke that he’d really like to know just how soft that lip is.

He pushes the thought back and holds the glass of water with a flower in it up to her, doing his best to look nonchalant. “I want to press this flower.”

“Hm?”

He lets a little chuckle go at her questioning tone, not because it’s cute, but because it’s dumb. Of course. Nothing a Hyūga does can possibly be cute. “You press flowers, don’t you?”

“Oh…I…”

“What is it? You don’t want to help me?”

Hinata carefully folds the paper in half behind her back, creasing it, and sliding it on top of her dresser. She watches his eyes carefully, and when she sees them wander to the paper, she reaches out for his shoulders. He recoils briefly, but she puts a firm hand on one and spins him around towards the door, then begins guiding him out. Ignoring the little grunt that he gives, she responds to his request, “of course, I would be happy to help you, Sasuke.”

“Then what are you—”

“I don’t have the things to press flowers in here!” she exclaims a little louder than she intends, and pulls the door shut behind her. Just as he turns to her, she plasters that smile back on her face and gestures forward. “This way.”

It now occurs to Hinata that she hasn’t had enough time to properly process what was happening. Sasuke Uchiha is inside of the Hyūga compound, came to her room, and asked her to show him how to press a flower. How bizarre…maybe it’s for his mother.

Right around the corner is a greenhouse that she leads him into, then motions for him to set the glass cup down on a little wooden table. He tilts his head at the contraption on top, setting the glass next to it as she reaches in to grasp the flower. She smiles at his curious expression, the way his eyebrows pull together, and he brings his index knuckle to his chin. She rubs her thumb against the stem of the flower and says, softly, “it’s a wooden flower press.”

“A whole contraption for pressing flowers,” he comments, experimentally twisting the handle on top. He recoils when her fingers touch his wrist, and he looks up questioningly.

She pales a little bit and clears her throat. “Sorry—just, be gentle. It’s very old.”

Sasuke grunts at that and tucks his hand away in his pocket, then watches her get it set up with parchment paper. He pays special attention to her fingers, noting the smoothness of them, the way they seem so light and precise in their movements. They gently pull the flower apart, and dab at it with a cloth, wicking away the moisture from the bath.

“Next time, you don’t have to try to preserve it,” she tells him, looking up to find his eyes locked on her hands. She curls her fingers around the petals, stopping her movements until his eyes drift up to hers. She notices the way his lips thin, and his eyes go a little wider when she speaks. She decides she likes the way his face looks when he’s not entirely sure of himself. “It’s actually better to let them dry just a bit beforehand.”

“So, we have to wait?”

She shakes her head. “No, with a press it’s still okay.” She smiles at the way he nods, blinking rapidly. Curious to see how he might respond; she outstretches a hand and curls it inward to beckon him. “Here, you can sit while you do it.”

“Me?” he questions dumbly, and she giggles. Then, something she thought she’d never see: the slightest hint of pink coming over the apples of his cheeks. He coughs into his fist and without receiving a response, he sits on the bench in front of the press. Glad he’s taking direction well enough, she leans over his shoulder and holds the flower in front of his face. He reaches up to grab it and she points at a stack of paper.

Methodically, she begins guiding him in how to open the flower, lay it properly, what type of paper is best, and of course, carefully operating the press. She holds her breath when he starts to turn the handle, pressing back the nagging urge to reach out and guide his hand to ensure he does it gently enough. She directs him in locking it up so it’ll stay in place, and they both gaze at it in silence.

She’s careful not to accidentally brush her hand against his, and Sasuke feels strange about that. He can’t quite pinpoint why, but his hands move a little more erratically when hers become closer to his. Is this how the idiot feels whenever Sakura’s around?

Broken from his thoughts by the sound of her clearing her throat, he straightens his shoulders and slides off the bench. He asks, “how long does it take?”

“Three weeks.”

“Three?” he repeats back, frowning.

“Are you in a rush?” she questions with a head tilt, crossing her arms behind her back.

He huffs, scratches the back of his neck then shakes his head. “No, I guess not.”

Sasuke leaves and Hinata feels uncertain about what just happened. But days pass without further contact, and she almost forgets the interaction even occurred.

It marks two weeks when he comes knocking on her door again, and she politely informs him that he needs to wait at least one more week. The flash of dejection on his face makes her curious as to what was so important about this flower, but she chooses not to press him about it. It’s after this that Hanabi begins teasing her about her ‘new best friend’ in the form of one Sasuke Uchiha. The day after the third week comes to an end, she expects him and chooses to clean up around the area of her unit so she can sense him coming.

Right on time, at 12:30 p.m., just like the other two days, she sees him walking up with his hands stuffed in his pockets. She sets aside the broom she had been using and offers him a wave and a smile, and he gives her that little nod upward back. They don’t even exchange a proper greeting before he starts walking down the path to the greenhouse she had taken him through. This doesn’t really surprise Hinata, because Sasuke’s always been like that, but she still finds it a little funny. People don’t normally exude so much confidence in the confines of the Hyūga compound, but Uchiha were different that way.

She stands back and decides to try not to be pushy while watching him attempt to operate the press himself.

And then it happens: one of the few times Sasuke feels complete and utter guilt.

The handle of the wooden press cracks as he tries to open it too soon.

“I—”

It’s too late, Hinata’s gasp already reaches his ears before he can try to cover it up, and she’s at his side, reaching for the broken handle. He backs away and lets her pick it up and hold it up to her face. His heart sinks when he sees tears pool at the bottoms of her eyes.

“I can – I can fix that—“ he tries, reaching for it, but she turns her back to him.

“Don’t worry about it, Sasuke,” she whispers, and the way her voice trembles sends his heart further in his gut. “Come back tomorrow, okay?”

Without another word, he takes off and does something he never thought he’d do.

Hinata feels guilty when Sasuke doesn’t return the next day. She’d been able to repair the handle fine herself and did feel bad about her reaction. It wasn’t intentional: she wasn’t trying to make him feel so horrible about it. She knew it was an accident and not a big deal, it was just an item that could be repaired. But her instinct was panic that something unrepairable had been done to her mother’s old press, which was irreplaceable. Some wood glue got the handle back on, and she decided after a few days without seeing him, she’d seek him out.

She enters the Uchiha district and briefly considers using her byakugan to look for him but decides against it. She politely asks someone in passing where she can find him, and she follows their directions with the pressed flower in hand. With a polite knock, she waits outside of his family home that she had only been to once before with her father.

“Hinata?” She’s immediately greeted by Sasuke’s dark-haired mother, who excitedly waves her in. “Come in, dear!”

“Ms. Mikoto.” She bows respectfully and toes off her sandals.

“I know what you’re here for.” Hinata’s surprised when Mikoto winks at her slyly and nudges her head for her to follow. “He’s been working hard on it. I think he’s almost done!”

Hinata processes these words but can’t for the life of her figure out what they mean, until she’s greeted with the sight of Sasuke and…Kiba.

“Hey, Hinata!” Kiba greets her, and just as he does, Sasuke, who had been crouched underneath a table, jerks up and smacks his head right into it. He groans and Kiba laughs.

“Shit – what are you doing here?”

“Sasuke!” Mikoto scolds with a frown. He steps in front of the table, holding his arms out his sides to shield it away from their sight.

Hinata cranes her head a bit to try to see what it is he’s covering but gives up when Kiba rounds the table to stand next to him. Reluctantly, she holds up the pressed flower. “I was bringing you the flower…I fixed the press myself – there’s no long-term damage.” She tries to soften the declaration when she sees him grimace, slightly. She steps forward and holds it towards him.

Kiba snickers, “welcome to the club, bud.”

“Club?” Sasuke grunts out, slowly taking the flower.

“Mhm, Hinata only presses flowers for people she likes.” Kiba swipes at his nose and Sasuke glares at the flower now.

“Well, it was Sasuke who pressed it,” Hinata interjects, and Sasuke scoffs.

“Yeah, and broke the damn thing,” Kiba laughs. “That’s why he came crawling to me, begging, pleading—”

“Inuzuka,” Sasuke growls, and Kiba waves his hand in front of him.

“Whatever, I’ll give you two some space or whatever.”

Hinata watches in confusion when Kiba ever so casually gestures for Mikoto to follow him, who offers him tea and the door shuts behind them. She whirls back around to face Sasuke, who is clutching the paper a little harsher than he should be, and she tilts her head. “Are you okay, Sasuke?”

“I didn’t want you to…” he trails off, sucking in a harsh breath through his nose as his lips purse. “I was just…trying to make up for breaking the other one.”

Slowly, he steps aside, and her eyes grow as they set on a homemade wooden press.

Immediately, warmth spreads within Hinata’s chest and it feels like pleasant bubbling in her tummy. She steps forward, quickly, breezing past him to bend over it to inspect it further. “You made this?”

“Not really,” Sasuke admits, stepping further away, eyes fixated on the way her hair gracefully spills over her shoulder. “Your dog teammate did most of it.”

Hinata pauses, scrunching her nose slightly. She pushes her hair behind her ear and looks over her shoulder at him, pulls the corners of her lips up higher. “Please don’t call him that.”

Sasuke blinks twice, then nods. Something about the way she asks so kindly, without any snippiness to her tone like Sakura or Ino might have, makes him want to listen to her. And suddenly, he wonders what kind of hole he’s just dug himself into. He sucks in his cheek when she turns back to the flower press, satisfied with his agreement, and begins prodding and pulling at its levers.  He decides now is the time to ask, for whatever reason.

“Can you tell me what it was you were hiding from me?”

He sees her visibly lock up and he swallows harshly, wondering why. Slowly, she stands back up, hands clasped behind her back, then turns to look at him. Her lips twist to one side as she bounces on the balls of her feet. Eventually, she nods and gestures for him to follow her. She holds up a hand when he reaches out to pick up the newly built press and he stops, questioning look. “Leave it here.”

“I knew it,” Sasuke huffs, bringing his hands to his face to drag them down across it. “I knew you would have wanted something nicer, like mahogany, not pine like that idiot dog – I mean—” Hinata’s surprised at how he catches himself.

“Sasuke.” Her hand finds his shoulder and she feels him tense under her touch. She squeezes, gently, and is pleased to feel him relax under her. “Like I said, I was able to fix mine just fine…now you can have one, here.”

“You’re keeping it?” He frowns and something about the way his eyes get bigger and doughier immediately makes her feel soft inside. “Even though it’s old? And I broke it.”

“It was my mother’s,” she says, softly, without any malice in her voice, because she knows the question is innocent and doesn’t expect him to know.

“I feel like a dick now,” he whispers, his face falling further.

“Please don’t,” she insists, stepping closer, resting the other hand on his other shoulder. “Besides, this way I have a reason to come here…when I want to press flowers, and I don’t want to put stress on my mother’s…I can use this one, right?”

Silence sits as they both turn those words over.

Then she steps back, hands leaving his shoulders, and she waves him towards her. “Come with me? I’ll show you what I was hiding.”

Sasuke’s never been one to just let his feet guide him without input from his brain, but today, he is.

They breeze through the home, Hinata bidding a kind farewell to the odd scene of Mikoto and Kiba having tea, and she takes him back to the Hyūga compound.

It will be the fourth time Sasuke’s been in her room.

He stands awkwardly to the side as she pulls open her top dresser drawer, but his eyes never leave her. Every action, he etches into his memory, and he’s not even entirely sure why he’s doing it. All he knows is that the way she moves is so fluid, like water, or silica maybe, stuff that just feels smooth on your fingertips. That’s how he envisions Hinata, and now he really wants to know what the edges of her fingers feel like. They’re probably really, really soft.

He wills himself not to instinctively step away when she comes next to him holding a large binder. She opens it to the first page.

“Cosmos,” he breathes out on instinct and instantly her mouth splits into a beaming smile. When his eyes catch it, he feels heat in his cheeks. It burns in a good way.

“You’re well-versed in flowers,” she says, quietly, not expecting him to respond. “This was the first flower I pressed, with my mother. I was three, and she did almost all of the work, but I did spin the handle.”

“Okay…” he says, slowly, squinting at the page. He watches her grab a few pages all at once to flip. He recognizes the next flower as an Iris, and this time, she doesn’t speak. She lets him read the words below the flower in silence. In some of the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen, he reads:

Hanabi Heiress to the Hyūga

“You did this one when she took the title?” he asks, glancing at her. Though her smile isn’t as big, it’s still there and she nods. A few more pages, and another purple flower appears. A violet, and below it:

Neji Chūnin, true to himself

Sasuke doesn’t ask about this one, this time. He knows this must have been the day Neji had defeated her in battle during the chūnin exams. How she thought of this fondly, he wasn’t sure.

Finally, she pulls the rest of the pages back and reveals the red carnation she had picked with him a few weeks ago.

Sasuke Quiet, pensive

Hinata stares at the page alongside Sasuke, not daring to look up to see his reaction. He’ll think I hate him.

“Come with me.”

She blinks up in surprise when he leaves her side so suddenly. Nervous that she has indeed upset him, she quickly folds the binder closed and tucks it away before taking off after him.

Because silence between the two seemed to just be a more comfortable state of being, they walk alongside each other quietly.

Hinata’s never been uncomfortable around Sasuke. She knows he makes lots of people uneasy, and if he’s not making them uneasy, they’re falling at his feet. There never seemed to be any in-between when it came to him, except with maybe Naruto. She’s always been on the peripheral when it came to him, friends with his team but never quite friends with him. There had seemingly been some mutual respect and understanding between them. Or at least, that’s what she thought.

As far as Sasuke’s concerned, that’s accurate. His favorite kind of people were those that were on his peripheral. Not bothering him, but also not actively making him feel like a jerk. Hinata was one of those few people whose company really didn’t bother him, and right now, he was even welcoming it.

At some point in the last few weeks, he realized it didn’t just not bother him to have her around, he enjoyed it. His lips twitching into a smile at the way she giggled, his ears feeling warm when she smiled at him, her thoughtful words that made him want to actually listen and respond.

They reach the same spot in the forest where the carnations stand a little taller than last time, and Hinata stands back as Sasuke approaches the edge of the river and sits on one of the larger rocks. She waits to see if he’ll motion her over, but instead, she hears…light humming.

Her head turns to hear it better as if she can’t believe a soft sound like that could come from Sasuke. But no one else is here, and it’s coming directly from him. So, she’s compelled to step forward to listen, realizing it was similar to what her mother used to hum. What she hums now.

Sasuke keeps his eyes locked on the water in front of him, not on his own reflection, but on hers. Even with the way the water ripples, twisting the image as it does, he can see her big, pearlescent eyes get even bigger, and he continues forcing air through his nose. Her reflection gets bigger as she comes closer until he feels her next to him, and she takes a seat on the rock next to him.

Little crescent patterns of light hit Hinata’s hand as the high sun peaks through the canopy of trees, and now, that hand is covering the top of Sasuke’s, hanging loosely off his knees. The hum stops.

“That sounds like my mother’s hum,” Hinata tells him, quietly.

Sasuke stares at her hand, responding, “my mom hums it.” Then, mindlessly, he continues, “but I like it more when you hum it.”

Like statues, they freeze in place.

It’s Hinata who moves first, but Sasuke moves quicker. Their eyes close, their noses bump and their lips brush against one another.

Hinata feels her heart race and fingers tingle. Sasuke’s hand turns and his fingers lace with hers.

She pulls away first, eyes popping open to find his face flushed. Her free hand flies up to her cheek to cup it, feeling the heat burn through her skin to her palm.

They stay like that for a little bit, Sasuke’s eyes slowly peeling open. His nostrils flare and he questions what exactly pushed him to do it. The moment she started to lean in, it was like some sort of instinct. Almost like he wanted to…

“I won.”

Again, he’s not sure why he says it.

“You won? Won what?”

But the way it brings pink to her cheeks and smile lines next to her lips…

“I was quicker.”

Really, she’s not sure how those words can sound so adorably ridiculous.

“You won…being quicker to kiss?”

But she does, and she likes the way her cheeks feel when they’re sore from smiling.

“Yeah…I won.”

They both know one thing.

“And…what is it, that you win, Sasuke?”

They both really like that hum.

[voraciousvore]

The Origins of Martin Maneater (1/3)

Author's Note: Martin Maneater is a character from my story Big Corp Inc. I never gave him a backstory or explained his family lineage, so this story seeks to fill that gap. This is intended to be a standalone piece, and can be read even if you haven't read any of my other works. Enjoy! 

Word Count: 4.1k for part 1, 9k overall

Content Warning: Soft fatal unwilling vore (the vore is more for plot/ lore in this story so I tried to keep the descriptions to a minimum)

Today was an exciting day for Martin Maneater. He was turning eight years old. Though the young giant lad didn’t understand the intricacies of adult life or money, he did know that his dad had recently gotten a new job, a job that was much higher paying than his old one. His father had splurged on a fancy new car for himself and lavish clothes and jewelry for his wife. He had promised his son something special for his birthday, so Martin was chomping at the bit all day as he waited for school to end. 

When he got home from school, he was ecstatic to see a big stack of presents wrapped up in bright colorful paper, along with a magnificent cake smothered in sweet layers of frosting. With the permission of his parents, he tore into his presents with glee. His dad had bought him a set of toy sports cars, including a miniature version of the real car he bought for himself, and a model airplane kit. Martin loved his new toys. He was also given money to buy whatever he desired later.  

“Wow, thank you so much guys!” Martin exclaimed with a wide smile. “This is the best birthday ever!” 

“Hold on, son, we still haven’t given you the best part,” his father said as he wrapped his arm around his son. Martin looked up at him questioningly. His father was a tall, strong giant, with dark eyes, neatly groomed, mid-length black hair, and graying stubble on his square chin. Even though he was family, he had a feral intensity to him that always made Martin a bit nervous. 

His mother came over and cupped Martin’s chin in her elegant hands, planting a light kiss on his cheek. “I prepared you a special birthday dinner, sweetie,” she clarified in her tranquil voice. His mother was softer around the edges, with silvery eyes and fine silky hair of a lighter shade that flowed down past her shoulders. She guided her son over to the dinner table and sat him down, then left to serve up the meal. His dad sat down with a knowing smile as he placed his cloth napkin in his lap. 

Martin bobbed with excitement. He was hungry. He ate well enough, but before his dad got his new job, his family hadn’t been able to afford the best food. Like any other giant, and especially one from the Maneater bloodline, Martin craved meat above all else, as much as he loved sweets and other delicacies. He hoped his mom had prepared a delicious steak, or something equivalent. His mouth watered at the thought. 

His mom returned from the kitchen carrying two plates, one for Martin and one for Mr. Maneater. Martin licked his lips when he saw a big slab of meat on the plate with a baked potato and green beans. However, his grin faded when she set the plate down in front of him. He glanced up at his father, who was grinning wolfishly at his own meal. His plate was screaming at him, tiny man screams. 

Martin had never seen a human before in real life. He knew they existed, of course. He’d read about them and seen pictures. He’d overheard his parents talking about how delicious they were, but also how hard it was to get ahold of one. They were expensive, and buying and selling humans wasn’t exactly legal. Humans lived in a separate society, away from giants. Yet, here was a human, on his dinner plate. 

Martin stared at the human with fascination. She was a tiny girl, about his own age, sitting in his baked potato with a dollop of sour cream. She looked like she could be a classmate of his, if she wasn’t so small. She looked up at Martin with terror, her hazel eyes wide enough for the whites to be visible despite her diminutive size. Her arms and legs were wrapped up in thin twine so that she couldn’t run away. Her mouth gasped open and closed, but unlike the man on his father’s plate, she didn’t make a sound. She frantically gestured complicated signals with her hands that Martin didn’t comprehend. 

Martin’s mother walked in holding her own meal, with the squeaky screams of a human woman. The giantess sat down and smiled sweetly at her son. Martin pointed at his plate and asked shakily, “W-what’s this about?” 

“Why, Martin! Don’t you know? That’s a human!” She shook her head and sighed. “We haven’t been able to afford any humans to eat until now, so we thought it would be a special surprise for your birthday!” 

“Yes, son. Today you’ll finally live up to your famous bloodline as a Maneater,” his father interjected, flashing his teeth. Martin was speechless. He looked back down at the girl, who’d been fixated on him the entire time. His stomach twisted up with revulsion at the thought of eating an innocent little girl like her. He could clearly see that she was a person, just like any other, only smaller. He couldn’t possibly do it. He shook his head slightly in disbelief. 

“I know your first time can be a little tricky. Here, let me demonstrate,” Mr. Maneater said. He picked the miniature man off his plate and grabbed his steak knife with his free hand. The man paled, struggling for his life against his bonds. 

“No, please!” he cried out. “Don’t eat me! I’ll do anything!” The giant ignored him and cut through the twine with the knife to free his arms and legs. 

“I’d recommend removing the thread first, so the limbs are free. That way, you can enjoy the feeling of the human thrashing around in your gut after you swallow it. You can, of course, chew your food if you prefer, but generally the joy of live prey is that… well… it’s alive. It moves. If you bite down, you’ll kill it. So I like to savor on the tongue for a while before swallowing whole.” 

Martin gaped in horror as he watched his father put the little screaming man on his tongue and close his mouth around him, muffling his cries. The girl in his potato shed silent tears. The woman on his mom’s plate screeched, “Let him go! Please! Don’t eat him, that’s my husband! No!” 

Mrs. Maneater, unbothered by the woman’s pleas, took her own knife and slashed through the threads with the jagged edge. The woman flinched and fought back but failed to deter the giantess from sliding her between her plump red lips with satisfaction. She sucked the residual flavor off her finger with a dreamy gaze. The faces of Martin’s parents smoothed into expressions of sublime ecstasy as they tasted their prey. Martin felt like he would vomit as he observed his father tilt his head back and swallow. He caressed his Adam’s apple as the lump pulsed in his neck and the man plunged down his throat, gone forever. His mother, too, indulged in a luxurious swallow, sighing with pleasure and patting her stomach. 

Their eyes turned to Martin expectantly and he gulped, agitated. To do such a thing as devour an innocent little human was unthinkable to him. He gazed down at his meal. She stared back at him with pleading, watery eyes. Martin’s heart bled with sorrow. He couldn’t do it. He considered refusing, but then he thought of the images, now burned into his psyche, of his parents heartlessly consuming the other humans like they were nothing more than snacks. If he refused to eat his human, one of his parents undoubtedly would. Martin repressed a shudder. 

He knew what he needed to do, but he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to do it. His throat tightened as he hesitantly picked up his knife. The girl recoiled and attempted to squirm away like a worm, but Martin coiled his fingers around her, lifting her off his plate. Carefully, so as not to harm her, he removed the twine from her wrists and ankles. Her mouth moved but she made no sound. She signed with her hands desperately. Martin could only assume she was begging for her life. 

He swallowed and licked his lips nervously. He had to do this. He realized, if the tiny man and woman had been married, this girl might be their child. She probably just witnessed her parents getting eaten by giants, burdened with the knowledge that he would eat her next. He couldn’t fathom how heart-wrenching and terrifying that must’ve been for her. He must look like a beastly ogre from her perspective.  

With this accursed knowledge weighing heavily on his heart, Martin slowly opened his mouth and forced the small girl inside. He closed his jaws and felt her squirming on his tongue. He tried to block out how good she tasted, how hungry he was, how his mouth filled up with saliva in response to her presence. With his parents watching, he pretended to swallow, pushing the girl gently against his teeth with his tongue. 

“Mmmmm,” he hummed, feeling like a monster. He made a show of rubbing his stomach. His parents grinned with pride. 

“You’re a true Maneater now, Martin,” his father proclaimed. “I’m proud of you, son.” Martin hid his revulsion with an anemic smile. As soon as his parents looked away, he pretended to wipe off his lips and spat the girl out into his napkin. She thrashed with pure survival instinct, forcing Martin to close his hand around her in a fist. He was shaking. If she wormed her way out of his hand and made a run for it, his parents might spot her and catch her. He couldn’t let that happen. He transferred her to his pants pocket. She tried to climb out, but he covered the pocket with his hand so she couldn’t escape. 

Martin was grateful that the girl was mute; otherwise, she’d probably be screaming her lungs out and give herself away. He could hardly blame her for being frightened, considering the circumstances. Martin outwardly gave no indication that anything was amiss, as he ate his dinner and birthday cake, but the food seemed to have lost its flavor. He felt like a stone was weighing down his stomach with dread. His birthday was ruined; all the joy was sapped out of him. 

The girl in his pocket eventually gave up on trying to escape and stopped fighting. However, he could still feel her trembling with fear against his leg. He did the only thing he could think to do and gingerly cupped his fingers around her through the fabric of his garments. She tensed up. He realized that he was probably just scaring her more and released his hold with a quiet sigh. 

“What’s the matter, sweetie? You’ve hardly touched your cake,” Mrs. Maneater remarked. Martin jumped slightly. 

“Oh, I’m, uh, just full from my dinner,” Martin stammered, stumbling clumsily over his excuse. He placed a hand over his belly self-consciously, as if his mom could see through his body and tell he was lying. She saw the action and smiled. She assumed he must be appreciating the feeling of the human moving around inside his stomach. 

“Can I be excused? I wanna go play with my new cars,” Martin asked. 

“Of course,” his mother replied, playfully shooing him away with her hand. Martin jumped out of his seat with the typical energy of an eight year-old boy, but then remembered he needed to be less rowdy with the delicate human in his pocket and walked with deliberate steps to his bedroom, grabbing his toys on the way. He went in his room, closed the door behind him, and dropped his cars on the floor. 

His heart was beating hard as he climbed up on his bed and reached his hand into his pocket. The tiny girl jerked away at his touch, but she couldn’t elude his grasp as he pulled her out. She bit his finger, but her microscopic teeth weren’t enough to hurt the giant. Even so, Martin could plainly see she didn’t want to be held, so he placed her on his bed. She sprinted with wild adrenaline, but Martin corralled her away from the edge with his hands so she wouldn’t fall off and hurt herself.  

Martin cornered her against the headboard and the wall, in the hopes that she would calm down. He didn’t want to scare her, but he couldn’t avoid it, with the vast size difference. He examined her as she pressed herself into the corner, her tiny chest heaving with panicked breaths. She had shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes. He felt guilty as he noticed how damp her hair and clothes were from his saliva. He couldn’t imagine how frightening and disgusting it must’ve been for her, to be inside a giant mouth. He wanted to clean her up and assure her that she was safe, but he doubted she would even let him touch her at this point. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he cooed in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “I’m not going to eat you or hurt you.” No change in demeanor from the girl. “I’m a friendly giant. Um… I’m sorry I had to put you in my mouth and pretend to swallow you. I just did that so my parents wouldn’t eat you instead.”  

He wasn’t sure if she was comprehending anything he was saying to her. Her face didn’t change at all, beyond her tormented eyes looking up at his mouth fearfully as he spoke. Martin sighed. “Here, let me just-” He offered his hand to her. She cowered, turning her head against the wall and squeezing her eyes shut as if he were about to smash her. Tears leaked down her cheeks. Martin retracted his hand with a disappointed frown.  

He wasn’t sure what to do. Clearly, nothing he said or did would calm her down. He couldn’t just release her; she might get captured by his parents or some other hungry giant. He didn’t know where she lived, and she wouldn’t be able to answer any of his questions. He was stumped. He finally decided to just leave her on the bed. He’d catch her if she tried to jump off, but otherwise would allow her to move around freely as she pleased. He lifted his hands in a placating gesture and climbed off his bed, watching the girl the entire time. She felt his massive movements through the mattress and eyed him warily, trembling. 

Martin sat on the floor, waiting to see what would happen. The girl didn’t try to run, nor did she budge from her corner. Martin got bored and eventually started playing with his cars, making car noises as he had them drive around and crash into each other. The human still didn’t make a move. Eventually, the giant child got so engrossed in his imaginary world he forgot about observing her, and focused on his toys instead.  

He really liked his new birthday toys. The cars were incredibly realistic, and even had little doors that would open and close on the sides. His favorite was the sporty silver one that looked just like his daddy’s real car. He created a makeshift track for them and had them race around. He grabbed some of his toy soldiers and action figures and had them join in on the fun too. Martin was an imaginative child who loved to play. 

The little girl cautiously crept over to the edge of the bed and watched him. The giant bed was too high for her to get down on her own, so she couldn’t get away. At first, since she was so small, Martin didn’t notice her. He pretended to run over a few of his little green soldiers with one of the cars, making epic squishy death noises and motor sounds. He looked up with a stupid smile on his face and froze. His expression dropped when he saw the tiny girl observing him. She tensed up and stared back at him. 

For a long, painful moment, neither of them moved. Martin felt his mouth go dry. He bit his lip and let go of the car he was holding, but otherwise didn’t twitch a single muscle. Finally, the little girl signed rapidly with her hands. Martin stared at her blankly. She signed again, the same movements, and then again, slower. Martin frowned, his stormy gray eyes clouding with dejection. 

“I’m sorry…” he apologized. “I don’t understand.” The girl looked sad, but nodded with resigned acknowledgement. She tried a different tactic, pointing down at his toys. Martin traced the invisible line down to his cars, looking at them. He puzzled over what she might be trying to convey. “Um…” 

His eyes lit up. “You want to play with me?” The girl considered his question, then gave a hesitant nod. Martin nearly leapt to his feet with excitement, but he knew he had to restrain himself. He slowly crawled forward on his hands and knees toward the bed in an effort to look smaller and not frighten the little human. Despite her show of bravery, the tiny human couldn’t stop herself from scooting back in fear as the giant approached her. Martin stopped with a frown, then backed up slightly, straightening into a sitting position. 

The girl gulped. Martin could see her little chest pulsing as she breathed hard. He imagined her heart must be palpitating as fast as his right now. He gave her time to collect herself before inching closer again. She stiffened, but didn’t back down this time. Martin came up to the bed with his face level with her, looking over her with wonder as he drank in the finer details that he was able to distinguish up close. She folded her arms around herself self-consciously, shaking as she gazed into the stormy depths of the giant’s gray eyes. 

Martin raised his hand, palm up, level with the edge of the bed and gave the girl a kind smile, trying not to show off his teeth. The girl curled her hands against her chest with anxiety as she stared down at his palm. Martin held perfectly still, hardly daring to even breathe. The girl, after fighting an internal battle with her fear, took a timid step forward. Then another. She stepped into Martin’s warm hand. Her tiny feet sank into his pliant skin, making his heart jump. She sat down in his hand, gazing at her surroundings with undisguised amazement. 

Martin, too, was amazed, to be holding a miniature person in his palm, her entire being encapsulated by his huge hand. She was fragile and precious, smaller than one of his action figures and far more delicate. He almost forgot about his toys as he examined her, but her clear discomfort with the situation convinced him to set her down on the carpet among his assorted playthings. 

The girl resisted the urge to run as her legs quivered beneath her. Martin watched her as she examined the gigantic toys, touching them with her teeny hands and marveling at their size. He held still, so his movements wouldn’t startle her, and tried to speak to her, but she didn’t seem to notice he was talking. He thought it odd that she didn’t respond to his voice at all, regardless of what he said. He subtly moved his hand, outside of her range of vision, and loudly snapped his fingers. No reaction. She didn’t even flinch. 

Martin realized she couldn’t hear. She was both deaf and mute. Martin supposed, if she wasn’t, she’d be dead, since her lack of a voice had saved her. He watched quietly as she ran her hand over one of his shiny new cars. He shifted a bit to get her attention and she reflexively recoiled, looking up at him. 

“You want to ride in the car?” Martin asked. He reached down to open one of the doors and she jolted away at the giant hand descending towards her. Martin paused. The tiny human placed her hand on her chest to steady herself before creeping forward again. He could tell she was struggling to overcome her instinctive fear. He tried to curb his enthusiasm as he pulled open the little door on the car. The girl leaned in and surveyed the plastic interior before sitting in one of the seats, placing her hands on the diminutive plastic steering wheel. Like a gentleman, Martin closed the door behind her, patting it with his hand. 

Martin made sure the girl was settled in before he started to roll the car forward with his hand. The girl’s eyes widened in alarm briefly before she smiled with glee and pretended to drive with the steering wheel. Once he could see she wasn’t afraid, he moved the car faster, making it swoop around corners on an imaginary racetrack. He was having even more fun than before, especially when he could see how happy his new friend was in the driver’s seat. Martin made zooming car noises as he made the toy car go faster and faster. 

Unfortunately, as careful as Martin was with the human, he was still a young child. He didn’t know how to handle humans properly, nor was he very gentle with his toys when he played with them. Although it wasn’t his intention to harm his miniature friend, he tended to play roughly by nature. He made the car race in tight circles, laughing and having fun, oblivious that the tiny girl inside was being jostled and bumped around in the hard, unyielding plastic. Even worse, the girl had no way to tell him to stop, since she couldn’t make a sound. 

Finally, Martin peered into the car’s windshield and noticed something was amiss, so he stopped. He couldn’t see the girl, since she’d been knocked over. He opened the car door with his finger and she crawled out in a heap. She tried to stand up but stumbled over her feet with dizziness and fell to her knees. Before Martin could react, she retched and vomited on the floor. He leaned down over her and noticed she had purple spots on her arms and legs: bruises. She was injured from the car ride. The giant boy felt a terrible stab of guilt when he realized what he’d done. 

Martin gingerly scooped the girl up with his hands and made sure she was facing him before speaking, so she could read his lips. “I’m so, so sorry!” he cried. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you okay?” 

The girl gave him a weak smile and flashed him a thumbs-up. Martin sighed in relief, rustling her hair with his breath. He noticed she was still wet from being inside his mouth earlier, and he felt even worse. “Why don’t we go get you cleaned up?” he said awkwardly. 

The girl nodded. Martin cautiously opened his bedroom door and peeked out, to make sure the coast was clear, before hurrying across the hall to the bathroom, keeping the human hidden in his cupped hands. He closed the door behind him and did his best to wash the girl off in the sink, fully clothed. He regretted not having any human-sized things such as a change of clothes for her comfort. He dried her off the best he could and returned to his own bedroom. 

Martin prepared the girl a place to sleep out of a tissue box and some folded cloth, placing the makeshift bed on his nightstand. When his parents entered his room to wish him goodnight, he hid the girl under his pillow so they wouldn’t discover her. After they left, he put her in the box bed and laid down in his own bed. He stared up at the ceiling, thinking hard.  

He didn’t know what he was going to do with the girl. He hoped she wouldn’t try to run away during the night, but he doubted she would. Even if she could somehow climb down to the floor from the nightstand, she had nowhere to go, when she was vulnerable and alone in a giant world. Martin realized he needed to find a way to communicate with her, so he could understand what she was saying. He had a few ideas that he could try to implement at school tomorrow. Eventually, Martin fell asleep, unaware that the human was silently crying herself to sleep next to him. 

Part 2

[ennoshitas-princess]

Elegant Angel

A/n: hey guys!! So I decided to write something completely different. So this is my own thing short story, and I hope you guys like it!!

Synopsis: She falls in love with him without knowing she did, until she touches his hand.

Word Count: 816

Genre: fluff + strangers ⇒ lovers

She danced for a living. She always felt the music flow up in her veins like a river uphill. Her frilly tutu swayed as she gracefully twirled and leaped.

He went to every show, but not for the reasons as the rich people did. His face covered in debri, hands with calluses with all the work he did on the stage. Bubbles erupted around as he scrubbed the spotlight clean for the next show.

In the back of the silky scarlet fabric, he would gaze at the angel, flying freely with elegance through the stage. The beam of warmth made a halo around her, skin glittering with a luminous glimmer.

Fascination plastered in his poor face. How could he fall for an angel like her?

She glanced backstage, her soft brown eyes meeting up to dark one. Her heart danced along with her in its cage. Her delicate feet landed softly like a pillow.

He stared more, with a hint of adoration in his glowing eyes. He couldn't resist how beautiful she was.

Thump, thump, thump.

Her heart thudded around her ribs. Sweat running down like honey, dripping away to patter on the stage ground she loved to dance on.

Thump, thump, thump.

He glance once more into her milk chocolate eyes, melting away his thundering drum.

She took her bow to the audience, appreciating her performance once more.

Walking behind the silk curtains, her shoulder accidentally brushed against his. The delicateness of the bump tickled goosebumps up their necks.

The darkness once felt, left the moment they grazed each other's shoulders.

As they bumped into each other, some of the cleaning supplies he carried along for after the show, splatted on the ground.

"I am so sorry." Her sugary voice ringed in his ear drum.

He stared into the angel's glittering eyes, waiting to be taken into heaven safely.

"Umm, hello?" Her cheeks turned rosy, following his.

Immediately the enchantment she had cast him broke, earning a clumsy grin in return to the girl.

"Oh, umm, yes. Sorry about that. It is my fault. I was busy mesmerized by your beauty- I mean by the beauty of your dancing."

He just stuttered along. A giggle escaped from her glimmering soft lips.

Bending over to the cold wooden floor, they picked up his things. His callous hands grazed against the softness of her palm.

"I am sorry, mademoiselle. I shouldn't have touch your hand like that." His voice shaky at the thought of the delicate touch.

"You are fine."

Her lips curved up to a soft smile. A hue creeped up onto her cheeks.

"Beautiful."

After the encounter, her heart boomed like thunder. Her feet wobbled like learning how to walk for the first time, making her look as if she didn't dance so gracefully just a few minutes ago.

"I guess I am in love with a simple man, even if my parents wish for me to marry a man I never met."

The following day, she woke up in her soft bed, welcomed by the sunlight shining in her room. Some dust floated around like a light snowfall.

She stretched in the comfort of her bed, yawning softly as she rubbed her chocolate eyes.

Getting up, she walked in the closet to change into her attire to get ready for a new opportunity given to her from the universe.

She headed to the stage to practice once more, glancing towards the brunet boy over and over again. A few strands of her chocolate locks kept coming back onto her face as she delicately kept on tucking them behind her ears.

"Hey there, mademoiselle. 'Tis I, again. The one that bumped into you last night." He grinned at her.

"Yes, I remember." Her cheeks grew warm.

"So, came to perform to your audience once more?" His smile turned flirtatious.

"Why, yes. I did so, if you are my audience?" She looked at the wooden floor of the stage.

"Well, m'lady I shall look at your spectacle, but first I must complete my job." He pointed at the huge theater, showing how much of a mess it was from last night.

"Ah, yes. I feel bad for you."

"No, no, 'tis fine." He bowed.

"Oh, tell me more." She told him with a giggle.

"Well, I am just an ordinary guy with an ordinary life like I said. I worked here for several years now. I can't afford much, but I want to be able to afford your love."

He quickly cover his mouth with his calloused hands, earning a snort from her.

"I actually feel the same. I have realized how much you mean to me, even if I didn't talk to you until now." Her glittering eyes met his.

"And I want to be your everything, angel." He whispered in her ear, sending a shiver.

"And I will make your dream come true."

A/n: thank you sm for reading this!! I didn't wanna include any names with this story bc I want all of you to pretend to be them with your s/o or crush. Change pronouns if you like, just like you can on my other works. Master List

Thank you for stopping by, darling!!

All rights reserved copyright © 2024

ennoshitas-princess

Please DO NOT repost on any other platform!!

Reblogs are acceptable

[chronurgy]

hiiiiiii im going to need a director’s commentary on this passage from (departure from the vulgar crowd) please…i loved their connection over gortash’s bling:

It was always nice to have one’s work appreciated, especially by someone intelligent enough to truly comprehend the craft. “It uses a miniaturized system of springs and counterweights to generate energy from my natural arm movements. A system of my own design, naturally. In fact, all the pieces are of my own design and construction.”

When they had looked up at him, it was with hunger in those dark eyes. “Fascinating,” they breathed. He wasn’t sure if the intensity in their eyes and words came from a desire to learn more about him or to dissect him. Possibly both. One could never be sure with their lot.

So interestingly this scene was not actually present in the first draft - it went straight from Vesper telling Gortash to leave them alone and let them read into him thinking about their abilities in combat. I added this scene in when I was about halfway through the fic. So where did this scene come from? Several different places. First, my headcanon that Gortash had the gauntlets before the netherstone and that they would have held something else then - in this case a set of magi-tech capacitors that could deliver an electric shock or extra force damage and that this tech was unique enough that he had to have designed it himself. Second, from my rewrites to the scene where they first meet in the sewers. I'd considered having him show off the gauntlets in an attempt to threaten or impress Vesper, but I realized that they're basically one of the most noticeable things about him (especially if he's dressed down compared to his archduke outfit) and that Vesper would immediately clock them as magical and be interested without him particularly having to do anything. Third, that Vesper would desperately want to get their hands on those things.

With all of that, this seemed like the perfect place to put the scene because Vesper and gortash are alone, so Vesper doesn't need to be as "on" as they would be in front of their cultists. I was also happy to come up with this because I felt like I needed a scene where Vesper demonstrated some interest in Gortash which this did well. Vesper starts to respect gortash here because he's just shown them this incredibly cool and well designed magical mechanism that he designed and made himself which makes it clear that this guy isn't just some braggadocious weirdo - he's very clever. It's part of why they're so confident that he didn't fuck up the guard counts and were testing them - they know that he's on their level and that's probably what they would have done in his position. They're still wary of him but there's a sort of game recognize game moment here.

It's also where gortash starts to put together his "in" with Vesper, which is that they are very smart and very lonely (which is a state he would know something about). I originally had him comment on that (I believe he thought something like "got you" when he caught them staring) but I pulled it because it just didn't flow right with the rest of the scene. But it did come back at the end there when he mentions other projects he's working on to further entice them to come to his estate.

Also, though it wasn't intentional, it's very funny that Gortash is out here going on about how you can never tell if "their lot" want to get to know him or dissect him when later that night he's going to say he wants to take them apart in his lab in a way that's very ambiguous about whether he means dissecting them or fucking them (or both). They really are perfect for each other, the freaks.

Finally, I based the mechanisms in the gauntlets on self winding watches. They use a semicircular weight that pivots with natural wrist movements to wind the mainspring of the watch. That's the idea here - the weights tighten the springs which pull on (here's where magic comes in) crystals that can convert that kinetic energy to arcane potential, and gortash has built something akin to a capacitor bank to then store that energy. So that's where that concept came from!

[aceontheline]

Helluva Good Time (Maybe) (Part 3)

Tonight was the night. I didn't know if it was my nerves convincing me that I'd make a fool of myself, or one glaring experience that happened to me long ago. Regardless, I put on a cute outfit and waited for Blitz at the restaurant we agreed to meet up at. It was a nice little place in Imp City, so it was quite the drive. Once I sat down at my table, I saw Blitz walk in through the doors. I don't know how we didn't manage to see each other in the parking lot, but I wasn't really questioning that at the moment. No, rather, I was feeling my heart sink to my stomach. Blitz sat down across from me, looking rather handsome in a nice leather jacket and dark jeans. I wore a cute blouse and skirt with some light makeup. He smiled upon seeing me, holding my hand.

"Well, don't you clean up nice?" Blitz said jokingly. "You really do look nice though, Ames" he finished, kissing my hand.

"Thanks" I reply, blushing. "You do too" I smile, finishing my train of thought.

Blitz and I chat for a while before finally seeing a waiter. We order some simple drinks and strike up conversation. He asks me about work and I tell him about a client I saw today who was arranging an anniversary party for his company. It was some rich guy that wanted every little detail to be perfect. Blitz rolls his eyes, commenting that the guy sounds like a real "tool". I nod, emphasizing that he's an older, rich fuck. Blitz laughs and tells me about the time that some older gentleman ordered a "hit" on his former friend/work associate. The details of which, were rather grim. But oddly fascinating.

After that conversation, the waiter returns to us and asks if we'd like to order our food now. Blitz nods and asks me if I'm ready. I nod in return, letting him go first. He orders a fancy looking burger with fries, and I get an equally fancy looking sandwich with mashed potatoes. We exchange the menus and keep on talking about Blitz' business. He insisted that he wanted to get into it for the "Fun" of it, implying that I.M.P was really a passion project. I smile, congratulating him for having the know-how to start up a business. He blushes and smiles, playing with my hand a bit as he went back to hold it.

Conversation never really stopped between us two and it all flowed so naturally, up until we had to say our goodbyes for the evening. Blitz and I walked to the parking lot, and before we got in our cars...

WHAM. I felt him kiss me.

It was... Surprisingly soft. And almost delicate. I could tell that he got a little into it, as his arms were wrapped around my waist. After the kiss was said and done, we, first, set up another date for Saturday night. Then we got into our respective cars. I saw him excitedly pump his fist with a grin on his face. It made me giggle, to see him so happy like that. I drove back home and put on some music to dance around to for a bit. I was happy too and I actually felt a sort of warmth that I hadn't felt in a while. Like.. I was loved.

The next day at work felt rather slow, and I had to work with that rich fuck again. Whatever, money is money. He told me that he wanted his party to be at a particular hotel and at a specific time.

"Certainly, Sir. Where and when will this party be?" I ask, taking out a pad of paper and a pen to write down details.

"The Cheriton. At 8:00 pm on Saturday. From 8:00 pm to 11:00 pm. A plus one is allowed" he states matter of factly.

Ah yes, I remember that detail. I had already booked the hotel but needed a definite time frame for them and to know if catering would be provided. The gentleman told me that he already hired a catering company and to inform the hotel of all that. I confirmed that the hotel would be updated as soon as possible.

After the gentleman left, I placed a call to the hotel and relayed all the known information, including the catering. The hotel manager wrote all of it down and thanked me for acquiring the necessary information. After that phone call came in a few more clients. I wasn't really all that busy for today, so the main boss let me go home early today. I thanked him in a polite tone then went home shortly after. I texted Blitz to see if he wanted to come over for a little while tonight. He asked me if I was out of work already. "Yep!" I reply with a little smiley emoji. Blitz stated that he was coming over now, so I cleaned up a little bit. Appearance wise and general house cleanliness as well.

The night went on with us watching T.V and enjoying each other's company. We were cuddled up on the couch after a little while, with me as the "little spoon". Blitz kept petting me so my ears would naturally go down, meaning I was satisfied. My tail also wagged slightly, making him giggle.

"Damn it, you really ARE part cat, huh?" Blitz teased, making me blush.

"And you're just all asshole, huh?" I joked, making him playfully hit me.

The two of us laughed and went back to just cuddling up and watching whatever weirdness was on T.V at the moment. A little while later, and Blitz & I got tired. I blushed, asking him if he wanted to stay the night with me. He smirked and I insisted nothing of THAT nature was happening tonight. I didn't fuck after the first date. Ever. Blitz understood my firmness on it and just agreed to cuddle with me to sleep that night which was... Nice. The white noise of my fan, the soft glow of the dimmed lights in the hallway, and Blitz wrapped around me. It felt like, for once in a long while, I was wanted.

The next morning, Blitz wasn't there in the bed with me, but I saw a nicely written note for me. His poor spelling and grammar aside, he was basically telling me that he was super excited to go out with me again on Saturday night. I felt my heart skip a beat when I read that he wanted to take me to a beautiful spot up in the Lust ring. I was excited as ever, and already planning my outfit for it.

Previous: ( Here )

Masterpost: ( Here )

[zangyo]

@tenkoseiensei said (inbox):

ah-ah. how did this happen? nanami pinned and trapped by a putrid curse, a hard thorn-appendage hovering over the space of his human beating heart, the man's strong back held helpless against a wall. it would have been easy to finish the sorcerer off here and now, yet footsteps' approach makes the malefactor's head turn, a gasp of recognition escaping it in an instant.

' --- you! '

yan qing, steadily approaching.

' the one who told me how to ambush him! look, it all went exactly like you said! all that's left is to finish him off! let's do it, let's do it, let's do it together! ' there's no shortage of thrill or excitement in the giddy curse's behavior, yan qing's expression comparatively listless and foreboding as he grimly steps closer and closer.

' don't do anything,' he calmly warns--- as his voice and physique changes to match the trapped sorcerer's before him. ' not just yet. i was the one that plotted it out, so i should be the one who gets to kill him. unless you want to die first? '

the impression that follows is one of animals squabbling over a large piece of meat, at least until the curse's head, mid-disagreement-and-dissuasion, finds itself severed and flying by the clean cut of a single hand. the rest of its limbs too burst into flash-annihilated pieces, until exorcised, there was nothing left but sorcerer and doppelganger sorcerer.

fast to return to himself, flicking the lingering sensation of detritus on his hand, yan qing looks plaintively up at the other, hesitant to speak.

' ... nanami? you're alright, right? ' a complete and total shift in demeanor. surely the other had figured out his ploys and lies by now? he frowns. ' i'm sorry. i didn't want to do it. the last thing i wanted to do was put your life in danger, especially without telling you. but that curse just now was a real piece of work. i couldn't think of any way for us to get a good shot without earning its trust a little, and there wasn't enough time for anything else. ' even if it was exhausting have to play the villain.

' that guy too , had said ... that only humans betrayed one another. it'd never trust a human, but since i was another curse --- ' briefly, yan qing falls silent. ' ... well, in any case, i'm tired. and you must be even more so, after an experience like that. what matters is we can go home now, right? '

     IT WAS SHAMEFUL THAT he was caught in a situation like this. How meticulously he had kept track of this curse. How meticulously he had studied and prepared, and yet that didn’t matter in the heat of combat. Didn’t matter when one’s life was on the line and they were pressed against a corner. Curses fought their hardest when they felt they were going to be destroyed, but was that not the same for everything? He hadn’t realized their ferocity would pick up to greater heights, and that was a fault of his own. Nanami had underestimated his enemy by assuming victory before the battle was over. The putrid scent of this curse filled his nose; it’s gigantic hand crushing him against the wall and cutting off air flow as it watched him with the same cold fascination a cat would have with a small rodent caught between its paws. He just…needed to gather his cursed energy. Just a bit more, and---

     The Curse’s voice brought him back to the moment, weary eyes turning to glance in the direction of that approaching figure. Yan Qing? What were they doing here? And what was this Curse going on about? During the distraction, its hold on him had relaxed, however. Nanami was able to attempt to regain his breath, careful not to take in too much at one time despite how his body desperately wanted him to. Thoughts towards his survival kicked in once more, Nanami’s hands balling into fists as he prepared to throw his all into tearing off the other’s wrist and creating an opening to grab his discarded weapon once more to finish the deed. However…he paused, gaze, instead, glued on Yan Qing’s figure. The two scabbled over him, although not once did he ponder that his comrade had betrayed him.

     They wouldn’t.

     Nanami was not someone to blindly trust another, especially in this line of work. He just knew that Yan Qing was plotting as well. As soon as they turned into him, a small hint of relief ran through him. The other curse was not aware of what was about to transpire, their greed and hunger outweighting any thought…right before they were exorcised with such a quickness, that one would almost think that they had imagined the entire interaction. Falling onto his knees, he lifted his hand to wipe away the sweat that had collected on his brow, lens pulled from his head soon after. Weapon collected, he pushed himself back up, a little unsteady, but overall not too worse for wear. ❝I’m fine,❞ he replied calmly, not the least bit shaken as green eyes shifted to linger upon Yan Qing’s form. They no longer looked like him, their usual appearance back in place…and just as he had surmised from looking into their own eyes, it had been a ruse all along.

     ❝No, no, you don’t need to explain. The moment I saw you approach, I knew that you had an idea in mind. Still…I was not aware that you had been watching me for that long.❞ Or following him at all, really. ❝I do admit that what surprised me the most was how you were able to patiently stand by until the right moment…though if you had taken any longer…❞ Nanami saw no reason to continue that sentence. Things, had, after all, looked rather bleak for a moment. Quiet at the mention of only humans betraying one another, a question had come to mind: ‘How do you feel?’ Did that curse’s words affect them at all? Even a little? His mouth opened to ask that question, to dig into Yan Qing’s psyche…but he stopped himself. Later. He would ask later. ❝Yes…let us head back. I need to wash this…stench…off.❞ Stepping closer and snapping his blade back onto its holster on his back, he reached out and placed his hand upon the other’s shoulder as he made his way by.

[gabenvrhappened]

TheOldGabeOr… The First Time

Imagine the light entering your room at four in the afternoon. It’s warm because it's sunny, and the rays of light are making their way calmly to your beige carpet, simply and smoothly, exactly how things are supposed to be. Flowing naturally, exercising the simple nature of what they were born to do. There's no question why, it just is. And everything feels fine because it’s just you, the sun, and your private world.

What I just described is a scene from a movie that I rewatched yesterday called The First Time — a movie that shaped most of my aesthetic goals in life now, such as having a wave collage on my room and a record collection. My day had been shitty and unproductive, so I just wanted to watch something safe. I had remembered this film a few days ago and meant to come back to it, so it felt like the right choice for a comfort movie. It starts with Dave meeting Aubrey (Dylan O'Brien and Britt Robertson) on a dark alley near a house that was having a party that their friends were invited to, but that they didn't feel like going for their own personal reasons, so there they were, in an alley, ready to be surprised by life.

That reminded me of a concept I've been trying to absorb since a bus ride to work that I'll never forget, from years and years ago: of how things happen when you’re not expecting them to. Of course, it’s a cliché idea from a cliché movie, but it holds some truth. Nowadays, you have an app for everything: making friends, meeting your future love, having meaningless sex. It’s all too controlled by a piece of metal, plastic, and glass in your tiny hands. The whole world and all its possibilities just laying there, for you to decide what's good and worth it. Life is so much bigger than that. For me, having control was always the most important thing, even if I didn't notice because it was my subconscious that was pulling the strings. As you grow old, you realize that the best things happen out of the blue. The most special, too.

Honestly, I don’t feel like telling my kids I met their father on an app. Imagine how cool it would be to say that we met each other in a coffee shop and he asked me about the book I was reading? Or that we met on the underground when he noticed that I was mad and asked me why (“Tesco closes at 11 pm on a Saturday night. Can you believe that? I just wanted to be drunk!”). Maybe I’m too old-fashioned, and the time for that has come and gone, but still, wouldn’t it feel romantic? Wouldn't it feel right?

Piece by piece, I’m trying to open up more and more. For me, that means taking my earphones in public. That’s a huge deal for me. You know, just sit on the underground train reading a Dostoevsky book or walking down the streets hearing the city noises, not my music (trying to get drunk but being sabotaged by Tesco). That’s a concept I’m trying to put into a song also, but I’m still trying to find the right words for it. Especially because I also feel like it could be something like that “on his own world” kind of guy that someone tries to come into the bubble and show him that he can be loved and cherished even if he's broken inside (specially if he's broken inside). If in movies, we have the lonely lost boy being found, why can’t we have it in the real world, too? Is it too far-fetched to hope for that? Who has the answer?

Maybe I’m too busy trying my best to not fantasize things and daydream anymore. But recently it feels like that’s not a bad thing and, if done right, it won’t stop you from getting what you want. Call it manifestation? My new friend here, she's the one who likes to stay quiet in the underground train daydreaming. Or visualizing herself as the characters of a movie she had just watched. I found that so fascinating to hear. So unique, carefree, and free of anxious thoughts, but if it was coming from me, the words I would use to describe would probably be all in the "weird" semantic.

If there's a first time for everything, how does one find a way to have a first time in something that was already lost in time? Redefining can be done for everything, or is there a rule to that? I don't have the answers, but every great discovery started with a question. I just find it hard to remember myself to keep asking these types of questions, but I'm glad that I can be reminded of that with movies like this one. Especially with a young shirtless Dylan O'Brien.

[nutteu]

kiss me with your lies (and baby i’ll love you even then) [Chapter II]

-

[AO3 Chapter I] [AO3 Chapter II] [AO3 Chapter III] [AO3 Chapter IV] [AO3 Chapter V] [AO3 Chapter VI]

-

They started out slow. With Sykkuno holding onto his bare hand, even throughout dinner. The guy seemed nervous and self-conscious when Toast told him that they were eating together with the rest of the house occupants.

“Do you think they’ll be annoyed at me?” Sykkuno asked, fidgeting with Toast’s fingers.

Toast ignored the flutters of warmth that seeped into his skin from the gesture, and said, “They will if you keep asking that question. Or at the very least, I will.”

That got him a quirk of smile from the man. He had showered, changed into Toast’s clothes, hair fussed out by Poki who sternly told him to sit on the couch so she could blow-dry it. Sykkuno kept glancing at Toast hesitantly as his hair flopped this way and that. He looked ridiculous, sitting so rigid in Toast’s shirt that stretched tight across his shoulder, before it went completely loose downwards. The pants were met with the same fate; Toast watched in fascination just how slender his waist was, as he pulled the strings tighter than Toast would usually have.

Yvonne was still at her family’s house, Michael still busy in his lab, and Scarra hadn’t come back yet from work. So Toast introduced Sykkuno to Lily and Brodin instead.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” Sykkuno said, earnest smile in place. He seemed a bit stiff when he shook hands with them. As if he wasn’t used to it, which was kind weird considering he held Toast’s hands just fine. He chalked it up to the man being shy. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“It’s no problem,” Lily said cheerily. She seemed to have taken to this hesitantly unfurled flower. Probably because she was sick living with a bunch of crazy people in this house. “You’re also helping Toast, we can’t be more grateful for it.”

The girls were busy cooing and deciding which hair pin to put onto Sykkuno’s head, poking his cheeks and arms and thighs while throwing brazen remarks about his pretty face and soft flesh. It was kinda disturbing, not to mention how overwhelmed Sykkuno looked. He looked at Toast with wide eyes, pleading for help to get out of the grasp of these hyenas. He sneered and smirked instead. Let him be, he needed to get used to this kind of behavior as soon as possible.

It was Brodin, who was leaning on another couch, deceptively relaxed, that broke the disgustingly soft atmosphere. He had been looking at Sykkuno, tilting his head a little. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere. Not just the face. Your name sounds familiar.”

Toast could see the moment Sykkuno’s body went absolutely rigid. He glanced up at Brodin, licked his lip, and offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m a- I’m a game streamer. You might have seen me once or twice on social media.”

“Could be,” Brodin nodded, opening the arms that he had folded in front of his chest. It made Sykkuno relax slightly, but not completely. Even he knew that this wasn’t over. He was terribly perceptive of the things around him, and easily adapted to unpredictable situations. Toast watched the movements of his lips, his eyes, the way he tried to not fidget. He knew that Sykkuno hid things, which was understandable, but he didn’t seem like someone who ran away from home; he seemed like someone who was chased, hunted.

“You’re very good at concealing yourself,” Brodin continued. “Doesn’t it drain down your reserve quickly?”

“It’s only a simple concealment magic,” Sykkuno said, voice smooth despite how uncomfortable he was. “It doesn’t take much.”

“If you say so,” the other man said, shrugging. He flowed with the conversation easily, knowing that he had pushed Sykkuno’s buttons far enough to make him clam up. “What games do you usually play? I’m familiar with several streamers, but those are only the ones that I work with.”

This time, the smile finally reached the crinkle of Sykkuno’s eyes as he explained the general overview of his streaming career. When Lily checked his phone, she let out a screech. Toast scooted over to see what the commotion was about. “Holy fuck,” he said when he saw the numbers.

“You can literally buy this house with us in it with that amount of money,” Lily exclaimed. “Maybe I should start streaming too? I only uploaded my videos to YouTube.”

“You should,” Sykkuno said, content to let the sunflower perch on his fringe. He looked terribly ridiculous and terribly cute like that. Toast understood why millions of people were enraptured by this person. He had this sort of calm, easy-going charisma with some willingness for daring things. His acceptance of Toast’s curse and him readily helping was already a testament to that. “I used to do the same thing too, before I started streaming. My parents don’t really approve of it, but I’m not hurting anyone and I’m sick of not doing anything at home. So, eh.”

“Eh, indeed,” Poki laughed. “I don’t have that kind of parents, but I’ve heard enough stories from Lily and Toast to know how stressful expectations from Asian parents can be.”

“Yeah,” replied Sykkuno. There was a frown marring his little sunflower. “They have my future mapped out, things planned without my consent, and full expectations of doing that regardless of my feelings on the matter.”

“Why don’t you move out then?” Poki asked. “You can even move in with us permanently. I mean, you’re an adult already. You’re- what? Twenty-four, twenty-five?”

“I’m twenty-eight,” came the small voice, accompanied with a wry smile.

“Holy shit,” Poki said, a laughter trailing behind. “You and your blessed genes, I swear to God. But, yeah. You’re old enough to take care of yourself. And you evidently have your own income to support yourself financially. You’re allowed to be a little rebellious, you know?”

“I can’t,” Sykkuno said, faint like a wisp. There was such profound sadness and resignation in his voice that made even Brodin fall silent. “This is as rebellious as I can get. I need to be back soon, but I- I guess I can allow myself to be selfish sometimes.”

“You can,” Toast said, surprising himself. He had spoken before he thought better of it. But now that Sykkuno was looking at him, he couldn’t possibly just stop at that. He looked like he needed to hear it from someone else, a confirmation that it was okay to prioritize his desires. He remembered that instead of reverting into himself in order to not hurt people, Sykkuno did that to avoid getting hurt. “You think it’s selfish because you’ve been raised to think that your life is nothing but fulfilling responsibilities that aren’t even yours to begin with. You are your own person, you can do things that you actually wanted to. It’s not being selfish—it’s you knowing your limits and what you need.”

Poki and Lily looked at him with dramatic bats of their eyelashes, looking disturbingly like their problem child was finally maturing. The fuck. Brodin just nodded, acknowledging the bits Toast slipped in because of their previous conversation.

“It actually is my responsibility,” Sykkuno said, smiling softly. “But, thank you for telling me that.”

There was something that looked like tears in his eyes, but none of them fell down. Toast figured that he wasn’t the only one getting desperate and hopeless here. Someone as polite and obedient as Sykkuno wouldn’t just run away a few cities over just for the heck of it. He must have been pushed too many times, and decided to save himself before he broke apart completely.

“There are three more people who aren’t here,” Toast said in lieu of an answer. He didn’t quite know to handle gratitude, when there was nothing as a trade off. “Yvonne is with her family, but Michael and Scarra will be back soon. We’ll meet them over dinner.”

“Okay,” Sykkuno said, smile pulling his cheekbones up. He smiled so much. Was it a habit? Or was he genuinely this positive? Toast couldn’t relate to any of the possibility. “Can we rest before that? I’m still a little bit exhausted.”

He nodded, reaching out a hand, marveling at how he could do that. By the look on his friend’s faces, they might be thinking the same thing too. He grasped at Sykkuno, pulling him up from the couch, and led him back to the room.

“Remember, Toast!” Poki called out. “A cuddle a day, keeps the touch starvation away!”

“Shut your damned mouth, Imane,” he hissed through his teeth. “There is no cuddle going on. Keep your nose out of my business.”

“Uhuh, sure,” Poki called out, teasing evident in her voice even after the door was shut.

“There could be though,” Sykkuno said then, smiling that sweet little smile that Toast now realized held a certain edge of it.

“You spend five minutes with them and you’re already like this,” Toast lamented, sighing as they lay on the bed. “Don’t talk to Michael, or Brodin, or anyone for that matter. They’ll just give negative influences on you.”

Sykkuno laughed. “I can handle negative influences just fine,” he assured, patting the back of Toast’s hand. “I’m not teasing, though.”

He looked at him, searching for any kind of mockery or tease. But Sykkuno’s eyes were clear, and he leaning far too close than Toast was used to from other people. “You want to?”

“Yeah, sure,” the man said, biting his lower lip when he whispered, “I’ve never cuddled someone before. Aside from my sisters, but it was only for a short moment. My family made sure that my time was spent pouring over lessons and practices.”

“Not even with a partner?” Toast asked. Sykkuno was only a year younger than him, and going by his words and the way he looked when Toast told him about the curse, he might find the reason why he was drawn to this person in the first place. Sykkuno might be as deprived of touches as he was, though in a different situation. Maybe something in him just found the same loneliness in this man. Maybe even his curse realized it, too.

“I’m not allowed to have one,” Sykkuno said, “aside from marriage. But my responsibilities come first before any demand for heirs. As long as I stay home, and fulfill them, then it’s enough. But it’s easier said than done, as all things are.”

He frowned a little. “That severe?”

“Kind of,” the man said, not really answering his questions. He would make a good politician; with the way he was dancing around his words. “My sisters are allowed to have partners, even going out of town to pursue their career. I envy them, sometimes.”

“Why does it have to be you?” Toast asked. “Is it because you’re the oldest child?”

“No, I’m the second child, actually. It’s just—“ he stopped, then sighed, giving Toast a bland smile instead.

He hummed, slipping a hand under Sykkuno’s head to wrap around his back, pulling him closer. “Is it about your lineage?”

“It’s something along those lines, but not quite,” he said, hands flailing in his confusion of where to put them.

“Will you ever answer my questions with definite explanation?” he laughed, guiding Sykkuno’s hands to curl between their chests, to drape over his waist. “You can put them anywhere you’re comfortable with. It’s like sleeping on your sides, but with more hands.”

“Okay, I’ll try not to accidentally slap you on the face,” Sykkuno replied, scooting closer to close the gap between their legs. He ignored Toast’s question entirely, but he didn’t really mind. It was only a day, with a handful of interactions between them, but even from that he could garner that Sykkuno was a difficult book to interpret. He was open, honest, welcoming, but he was standing too far away for Toast to properly come to him. Someone so physically close yet so distant, wallowing in his own world.

He had forgotten, how it felt to have someone in his arms like this. How the hands and legs could be awkward, how the tension would melt over the time, the cramp on his arms and sides from holding a position for a long time, the tufts of hair that tickled his nose, the warm breath that hit his skin. He tightened his hold on Sykkuno’s waist, and the man went willingly when he pulled them flush together.

There was a hand patting his back as he buried his face in Sykkuno’s hair, recognizing the kiddie shampoo that for some reason Michael liked to use. It smelled like artificial strawberry scent on candies and ice cream. He liked it on Sykkuno. Slowly, as if he was afraid of scaring Sykkuno away, as if he was afraid of being startled himself, he wrapped his arms completely around the slender body; feeling the warmth and texture of muscles and fabric beneath his fingertips, the tangle of legs as he pressed one of Sykkuno’s between his own.

“Why do you like kneading fabrics so much?” Toast finally asked when he felt Sykkuno doing it again on the back of his shirt and his chest. It occurred to him that it nearly felt like groping, but the fingers were gentle and never quite closing in before pulling away, and then grasping again.

“I can’t help it,” Sykkuno said, voice small. “It comforts me.”

“You’re like a cat,” he said, voicing out what he had been thinking the whole day.

“Is that so?” There was thing again, in his voice. Toast bit away his climbing frustration, and sighed.

“You can do it all you want, rub your face or just bask in a sun for all I care,” he said, then grinned lightly when he said, “claw some people’s faces if they tried to touch you. As long as you stop groping my nipples.”

Sykkuno let go of his chest, squeaking like a dying mouse on the verge of a grisly death. “S-sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“I’m joking,” he chuckled. He was feeling tired himself from his constant thoughts and anxiety, and the smidge of hope that he kept close to his heart. He bunched the front of his shirt, and hooked Sykkuno’s hand with his little finger. “Knead your shirts and rest.”

“Okay, Toast,” Sykkuno sighed happily, rubbing the side of his face on Toast’s arm underneath his head.

Toast fell asleep to the soft lull of breathing, the constant gentle tugs on his shirt, and the warmth that penetrated through his walls in trickles.

-

He was woken up to Sykkuno snuffling in his sleep, arms too lethargic to reach for something to grasp. Toast blinked sleepily, slowly registering Brodin’s voice calling for their names. He mumbled as loud as he could manage, before turning to Sykkuno and grabbed his reached out hand, interlinking their fingers. “Sykkuno, wake up,” he croaked out. “Dinner.”

The man sniffed a little before opening his eyes. In the dim light, his brown eyes were shining with an unnatural sheen to them. Toast blinked, and the glow was gone when he looked at him again. It was akin to cat’s eyes in the darkness. Maybe it wasn’t that there weren’t people with cats in them, but they just existed sparsely in America. Who knew? The world was gigantic anyway. He knew the foxes and cats were rumored to still roam around in Japan and China, but they were never confirmed nor proven.

The world had changed too much, especially for sentient, shapeshifting yōkai cats and foxes in Japan—that had been nearly eradicated because of superstition and folklore. Cats in America were either ghosts, gods, familiars, or just plain menace. Supernatural creatures or not, cats would always give him a headache. This one curled up on his bed, grasping his hand, was no exception.

He forcibly pulled Sykkuno up, laughing hoarsely when the man yelped and clung onto him for dear life. His hair was a mess, his little sunflower hairpin had migrated in his sleep and was on the verge of slipping off completely. He looked bedraggled when he pulled away to scowl at Toast. Yeah, a menace indeed.

“Dinner,” he said, feigning innocence.

Sykkuno groaned softly. “I know,” he said pitifully. “I was hoping we can skip it altogether if we sleep long enough.”

“They’re not gonna eat you,” he reassured, then hummed. “Probably.”

“Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, Toast,” Sykkuno deadpanned, losing a little of inhibition and politeness from his sleepiness. Now, he behaved more like a cat that Toast was familiar with.

“It’s the best you can find in town,” he drawled, getting out of the bed and pulling Sykkuno’s prone figure along with him. Toast had considerable strength now, but Sykkuno was gripping the sheets with sheer stubbornness alone. Curious how someone so slender could be this much of a deadweight when he wanted to. “Fine,” he said, pushing Sykkuno to the mattress roughly and unceremoniously lay on top of him.

He heard the small gasp when he sunk his entire weight onto the man, smirking as Sykkuno tried to struggle almost immediately. Serve him right. But it was also a source of contact that he didn’t know he had missed—being pressed from head to toe like this, completely. He gripped both of Sykkuno’s wrist, using a little bit of force to keep him still. When he lifted his head, Sykkuno looked pissed enough to actually claw his eyes out.

“I know there must be something under that pretty smile,” he laughed, low and teasing when Sykkuno’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to go to dinner, do you? Then we’ll stay like this until breakfast.”

“You’re joking,” the man said, eyes widening when Toast let his torso went lax, pressing even more weight and unnatural strength into him. “It’s not fair that you use your curse to keep me in place like this, Toast.”

“Why not?” he said, eyes twinkling with mirth. Gods, it had been so long, huh? To be able to play around like this, with anyone. Though certainly not with the same kind of intensity. “It’s given me enough shits to last a lifetime. I should use it to have fun sometimes.”

“I don’t think being suffocated by your weight is fun,” Sykkuno whined, using his legs to struggle now. Toast easily kept them in place by trapping them between his.

“It’s not fun for you,” he pointed out. “I’m feeling pretty good right now.”

“You’re a poop, Toast,” Sykkuno said scathingly, though it was considerably dampened by his choice of words.

“Forget cuddling, you don’t know jackshit about cursing too, Sykkuno,” he taunted, humming low in his throat as he watched Sykkuno pathetically try to set himself free. “Cease your futile attempts. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes—“ Sykkuno started, then stopped suddenly as his eyes darted out to the door. There was a click, and then the flush spread like a thousand vermillion on his skin.

“I see,” Toast heard Poki’s voice tease. Even without looking at her he could tell there was a shit-eating grin stretching across her lips. “It’s not cuddling. It’s way, way worse. Well, dinner’s ready, lovebirds. Come over as soon as you’re done with whatever it is you’re doing.”

He groaned. His grip loosening as he dropped his head next to Sykkuno’s on the pillow. “I thought I told you to stop using the spare key as you pleased.”

“I recall no such thing,” she said with conviction in her voice, then walked away with ringing laughter and most possibly a gossip to spread at the dinner table.

“Um,” Sykkuno said hesitantly. Funny how he wasn’t complaining now that Toast was completely leaning into him. “Are- are we in trouble?”

“Why would we—“ oh, right. Sykkuno was not used to having this kind of thing without being reprimanded in his home. He sighed out for a thousandth time, and propped himself up on his elbows. “No,” he said, “she’s just nosy. You see that perfectly sculpted nose of hers? It’s not just for aesthetic, it is also to be placed into business that isn’t hers.”

“All I can imagine is Miss Poki with a detachable nose,” Sykkuno said, honest and earnest.

Toast let out a short bark of laughter. “You’re ridiculous,” he told him, but the ghost of a grin stayed on his lips anyway. “Up, or she’s going to bring in the camera.”

“Does she use it often?” he heard the man ask as Toast easily pulled him to his feet this time around.

“She has a wall in her room exclusively for embarrassing pictures she's taken of us. She wakes up to it every morning to feel refreshed and superior,” he stated flatly, even if that was true. Her work was tedious and people kept underestimating her because they only saw her as this eye-candy. He figured that he didn’t really mind; a woman needed her vices at times.

“She’s really dedicated,” Sykkuno said, eyes crinkling. His hand was tugging at the hem of Toast’s shirt again. He let him. As long as he actually walked to the kitchen.

And thus, they were back to the predicament of ‘will they/won’t they’. Sykkuno shut his mouth when they were nearing the kitchen, trailing after him almost shyly in the way that he tried his best to hide behind Toast, despite being taller than him. It really wasn’t a good tactic, who the hell taught this kid of playing hide and seek anyway? He was terrible in choosing a hiding place.

When he pulled out a chair and had to bodily maneuvered Sykkuno’s body onto it, the dining table was already in a state of chaos. Lily was gripping her head with both hands as Michael kept throwing bits of boiled vegetables into her hair; Brodin was pouring himself a cup of blood—yes in a fancy tea cup complete with ornaments; Scarra and Poki was no doubt gossiping about Toast judging by the way she was giggling conspiratorially in his ears. Thank God Yvonne wasn’t here. She might be another human, but the humans in this house were even worse than the creatures.

He took a seat himself, and pulled the mashed potato to Sykkuno, telling him to start scooping with a glare. The man wilted with a soft sigh, before he started to pile up food onto his plate.

“Don’t,” he warned when Poki was about to open her mouth. She just giggled at him instead of being offended. Lily didn’t even bother to look up from her state of despair. “This is Sykkuno. That’s Michael, that’s Scarra, introduction done. Eat now.”

Michael, as always, disregard his thinly veiled threat completely. He had developed a selective hearing for everything that he considered as rules. He was intent on breaking every single one with the stubbornness of a bull. “Why do your eyes look like that?”

“Uh,” Sykkuno paused in scooping the salmon. It hung sadly between the fork. “Like- like what?”

“Like that,” he insisted, gesticulating with his hands to the general direction of the newcomer’s face. “What are you? Where do you come from? You don’t smell like the magic in America. What are you?”

“Michael,” Lily sighed, then put her hand to lower down Michael’s accusing finger. “Stop bothering Sykkuno, eat your food, please.”

“Fuck you,” Michael replied, though he did go back to his dinner.

“Um?” Sykkuno asked, eyes wide and so, so confused with what he had just witnessed. “Are- are you sure Michael is a human?”

Toast shrugged. “I did warn you beforehand.”

“So, Sykkuno,” Scarra started, faux cheer in his voice as his eyes glinted with delight. Toast suddenly had a flashback on their drunken nights and the fear he had felt in his bones looking at Scarra chugging bottle after bottle of alcoholic beverages. If he wasn’t a supernatural creature, then surely his liver was supernatural, okay. “I heard you’re helping Toast with his, ah, ‘little problem’.”

“Stop making it sounds like I’m having a genital dysfunction,” he groused, brandishing his fork towards the man.

“Stop making people think that you have something to make up for your genital dysfunction then,” Brodin quipped from the end of the table, sipping his cup of blood and hummed in satisfaction. Toast was so used to the sight of him dipping biscuits into his blood that he no longer felt the churn in his gut. Sykkuno didn’t even bat an eyelash, thankfully. He didn’t need to cater to the guy throwing up half of his dinner.

“I’m going to disown all of you,” Toast said slowly. “Rest assured that I’m going to contact each one of your favorite shops to blacklist your names. They’ll listen to me. I won’t open the goddamned door even if you’re begging at my feet.”

“Point taken,” Brodin said decisively and chugged the rest of the blood.

Sykkuno watched in amazement when the table suddenly went into an amiably chatter, orderly for once. He glanced at Toast. “What do you do?”

“A media consultant,” he answered. “Their favorite shops have worked with me before.”

“That’s amazing,” the man breathed out. “I can barely handle the stress of media exposure from my job, and you’re even managing it for other people.”

He smirked. “There are idiots in this world who have the right tools and chance, but too little knowledge of what they’re supposed to do with them.”

He watched as Sykkuno’s attention turned to Michael as he mouthed, ‘he’s a pompous ass motherfucker’. Sykkuno held back a laugh, and was intensely focused on his dinner all of the sudden. It really was inevitable, the corruption of these freaks.

“What do you do, Sykkuno?” asked Scarra, looking at Sykkuno like he was trying to figure out a particularly intriguing puzzle.

“Oh, um, I stream,” he answered with a small smile.

“Huh,” Toast heard the older man said. He looked up from his dinner. Sure, it was surprising enough that someone was able to touch him, but the contemplative expression on Scarra’s face spoke of another thing entirely. “Maybe that’s why I feel like I’ve seen you before. It’s not quite that, though. Have we met before? In person? Like maybe a supernatural community gathering?”

“Um, I-I don’t think so? I don’t remember ever meeting you, I’m sorry,” Sykkuno said, stammering as he let go of his fork and reached out to grasp Toast’s shirt. With the way he was clenching so tightly, this conversation wasn’t going to end well.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Scarra reassured. “There were a lot of people, and a lot of communities. I think I remember that one particular festival a few years ago, in Vegas. There were a lot of celebration, and announcement for the successor of chief priest for Nikko Tosho-gu? Yeah, yeah, I think that’s the one.”

This time, when he spoke again, there was a confidence and determination in Sykkuno’s eyes. The little lilt in his voice that kept bothering Toast was apparent, stronger than before. He smiled; sweet, gentle. Toast didn’t like, somehow. It felt terrifying, artificial; like the smell of strawberry from his shampoo. “No, I don’t think I attended that one. I do live in Vegas, but I don’t really go out much, and big festivals tire me out quickly. I’m sure it was really exciting, though. Can you tell me more about it? My parents rarely let me come to such gatherings.”

Toast frowned a little, hand unconsciously seeking out Sykkuno’s as his tight grip was unrelenting. The whole table was listening to Sykkuno, eyes on him, as if entranced. Even Brodin, who notably only watched something with detached interest. He looked at Sykkuno, dinner long forgotten. It was another one of his evasion tactic, he knew. But this one worked so well, too well, even. He kept talking pleasantly, and Scarra was already in his long tangent of retelling the story.

They quipped and joked between the story, and before long the conversation about it had dispersed into thin air, replaced by some mundane thing Michael did in his lab. He was testing an automatic operation machine on dolls, baby dolls to be specific. He let the table got wrapped up in Michael excitedly telling them how he just threw the dolls against the wall when he was frustrated.

“What did you do?” he whispered, voice so faint to avoid Brodin’s and, strangely enough, Michael’s sensitive hearing. Their walls were barricaded with magic to protect their privacy, and to protect Brodin’s ears from being overwhelmed by too many sounds. They had to renew it annually, and it was more expensive than he thought, but it was worth it for their comfort. This one, he just had to ask, immediately.

“It’s a secret trade,” Sykkuno whispered back, eyes alight with mischief that only now Toast could see so very clearly. “Works wonder every time.”

He grinned, despite himself. He shouldn’t have forgotten that Sykkuno was still a supernatural being despite him not wanting to disclose of his lineage. “Is it the cat?”

“What makes you so sure it’s a cat?”

“That’s the only thing I can feel when I saw you,” he admitted. “I’m not really good with sensing other creatures.”

“Ooh, because you’re not one to begin with,” Sykkuno nodded. “The curse just grants you the ability to sense them. Either to prey or to recognize a threat.”

Toast was about to reply to that, when he heard an exaggerated cough from across the table. Michael looked at him gleefully. “Whatchu guys talking about? Share with the class, now.”

“Yeah, Toast,” Poki joined in. “Don’t deprive us of your romantic endeavor.”

“You,” he said, throwing a pea at Poki’s aforementioned detachable nose with quick precision, “are a menace. Stop scaring the new kid. I haven’t experimented on him yet.”

“I like the sound of it,” Michael said, as Lily sighed and tried to get the vegetables out of her hair.

“W-what?” Sykkuno squeaked out, eyes wide as he clenched and unclenched at Toast’s shirt.

He grinned; they ought to start early to train Sykkuno’s adaptability for their daily life. But he looked so lost and actually afraid, so Toast put a hand to cover his, telling him without words that it was all only a jest. Sykkuno let out a breath of relief, and went back to his dinner happily as the conversation started anew, kneading at Toast’s thigh now.

The rest of them wanted to watch something as they pretended to do their work, but Sykkuno was nodding off not even twenty minutes into the movie. He leaned his head on Toast’s shoulder, tugging at his shirt insistently that Toast lifted up his hand that had hindered it from being gripped to death in Sykkuno’s hands. “Go back to the room if you’re tired.”

“No,” the man mumbled. “I’ll wait for you.”

Toast thought that he heard the faint retch that sounded suspiciously like Michael, and this hybrid of squeaky hamster and hummingbird from Poki. He elected to ignore both, and focused on the subtitle even if the movie was in English.

Scarra retired first; Poki eventually got roped into her reports; Lily was already two parallel universes ahead of them in her own head as she plucked the string on the guitar absentmindedly. Michael was gone, Toast didn’t particularly care about it. When Sykkuno startled awake for the third time, he pressed the remote and heaved him up. It was late enough that it was only Poki talking sternly into whoever poor sap that had called her first. She remembered all the terms and conditions of her contract, had found the loopholes, and was unabashed in reciting a whole paragraph about contacting employees directly after their shift had long since ended to her superior. That woman was fearless.

But Brodin sidled up to them, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, and stopped in front of Sykkuno’s sleepy, soft face. When the man was alerted of Brodin’s presence, he sobered up pretty quickly. “Did you lie about not going to that festival?” the man asked without preamble.

“I didn’t lie about not meeting Scarra,” Sykkuno said instead, a polite smile adorning his face. “Good night, Brodin.”

He almost expected Brodin to push. It was rare that the man was this intrigued about something. He was consistent and passionate about his work, sure. But never about things like this. And yet, instead of pushing further, Brodin just shrugged easily and waved at them. “Good night,” he said, and strolled away into his room.

Sykkuno sighed against his neck when they finally retired to bed, wrapping his arm around Toast and gripping the comforter with the other. “Brodin is a weird one.”

“Says you,” he replied absentmindedly. Then, he asked, “Did you? Lie about it?”

Sykkuno was already kneading away at the comforter, scooting closer to press against Toast. “I lied about things I should only lie about,” he said as an answer.

When he felt the rhythmic breathing, Toast stared at his ceiling. In his haste to grab the chance that he had been deprived of, he had willingly ignored all the possible sketchy things about Sykkuno. Was it possible that it wasn’t a cat that he was bringing home, but another kind of monster entirely? He really wasn’t sure about it. Would he be willing to let this chance go to find out about who Sykkuno was?

No—no, he wouldn’t. Sykkuno hadn’t killed any of them yet despite having numerous chances to do so. He ran away from home because he was crushed under the responsibilities his family had put on him. He was reluctant to talk about his lineage because those responsibilities were closely tied to it. It was a chip on his shoulders, his own baggage. Toast was not responsible in finding out about his identity. If he wanted to tell him, then that was good. He didn’t need to be snooping around. He could hardly help the way he took in the cues and overthought about them over and over again. But he didn’t have to.

He wasn’t about to let this go, not when he knew that Sykkuno was in the same boat, in his own ways. They both could benefit from this. And wasn’t that the point? Mutual benefit? They were strangers who lay in bed together by the night, and he had to admit that he had never felt this settled and at ease for years. Whoever this man was, Toast was willing to cling onto this chance with nails and teeth.

This was a stray cat that he picked up from a bench in front of a convenience store, lost and desperate to run away from home. And to Toast, nothing mattered beyond that.

-

It started out easy enough.

All of them were used to Sykkuno holding onto his hand, or his shirt, or anything soft on Toast that he could grip and knead. They even got used to Sykkuno rubbing his face on Toast’s shoulders. They knew that they slept in the same bed, and that Toast would randomly reach out to the other man just because he could now. Sykkuno helped with the house chores, got the Disappointed Stare™ from everyone when he tried to cook anything beyond spaghetti and anything that wasn’t microwaved or fried. He did the grocery trip because he was the most agile out of them, and the clerks on the shops seemed to like him enough to give him extra vegetables or milligrams of meat.

Whenever Toast needed to go out, he stared at his gloves with dismay. He left Sykkuno to entertain himself, and got used to the sight of him practically sleeping everywhere around the house when he went back. No, really, it was everywhere. The kitchen, the couch, on the carpet in the living room, his bed, the floor, the grass on the backyard—Toast had panicked and sighed out in part annoyance and relief when he found that Sykkuno was sleeping in the tub, or on the hallway of the second floor. There was one time that he just conked out on the stairs, and whined pitifully to Toast afterwards about his cramped muscles.

“You sleep so much,” Toast said, caressing Sykkuno’s newly washed hair. It was soft, and no longer smelled like strawberry. It smelled faintly of jasmine now. He had bought Sykkuno his own toiletries and clothes the first chance he got. The man was reluctant on using his credit card even through online means because he was afraid it could be tracked. So he just promised Toast he’d pay for everything after he went back home. Toast honestly hoped that he wouldn’t repay it for a long time.

“I got sleepy,” Sykkuno said, already halfway asleep even as they were talking. “Honestly, every surface is comfortable when you have enough will.”

“And still you have the gall to complain to me,” Toast teased, jostling Sykkuno’s head on his shoulder to disturb his sleepiness. He laughed when the man grumbled and moved to lay his head on his chest instead. Sykkuno had gotten the hang of cuddling, in any place, after a few weeks of living with them.

“Well, who else can I complain to?” the man muttered, digging his nails through the shirt to get back at Toast. “Scarra is busy and scary, Michael is busy and crazy, Lily seems to have her hands full with Michael, Brodin is nice but he keeps looking at me like he can read my mind, Yvonne will just take me to Starbucks, and you’re right. Poki will smother me with her cleavage.”

He grinned. Glad to know that Sykkuno had adapted well to the house and its occupants. They had also taken to Sykkuno like he was this exotic penguin pet that they marveled, prod at, and fed as much as they could, in any chance. Sykkuno smiled and brightened up at their attention, but there were times when he literally ran away when he sensed that any of them wanted to talk or coo at or be in close proximity with him. He would run to the other end of the room, squinted at them with this little glare that wasn’t really effective, and then curled up on whatever spot he was standing at, looking at them warily all the while. And then he fell asleep, again.

They had learned to just let him be, slipped a pillow under his head or covered him with a blanket if they got close enough. The rest of it was just a variation of Toast hauling him to the couch or their bed. It was weird to know that he had spent so many nights here with this not-so-much-of-a-stranger-anymore in this bed, enough to call it as theirs.

He was almost tempted to call Janet, see how she had been doing, and talk about Sykkuno. But Janet was a bright witch despite her soft-spoken front. She would know how to ask the right question, and though it would be good in discovering about Sykkuno’s capabilities and his possible help with the curse even more, Toast really didn’t want Sykkuno to run away from him to the other end of the bedroom. So he just settled with asking about how she was doing. They still talked, sometimes. As in, about five to six times a year.

There was one time after Sykkuno had warmed up to Brodin enough after nearly two months, that Toast looked out to the backyard to see them laying side by side on the grass. Brodin had his sunglasses on, and Sykkuno was sniffing curiously the handful of grass that he had roughly pulled out from its patch. Toast raised an eyebrow when he licked it, content to just watch from the doorway, knowing that they both knew he was there.

“It really isn’t as good as it looks,” Sykkuno complained, throwing away the grass. He looked hateful for a second, before his hand found another patch to grab onto.

“Try it with milk next time,” Brodin suggested.

“Huh,” the other man said, pulling out the patch and looking at it as if it contained the secrets of the universe. “I’ll bring milk next time. You can go out in the sun? Which part that you inherited from the human, and which part is the vampire?”

Toast edged closer to them, sitting on the patio as he listened to Brodin. He had found out, that once Sykkuno was curious, he would keep at it with terrifying focus and efficiency. He was brazen, and wasn’t afraid of being insensitive with his questions. Basically, he was a worse version of Michael, mainly because he got more charm. It really was hard to say no when Sykkuno had looked at someone like they were his entire world, like it was the most interesting things for him to hear them speak, like he would be so, so grateful if they just told him about this one thing, please?

“Still need to drink blood, can only be killed with stakes and decapitation, I like garlic, I can go out in the sun just fine but my eyes are sensitive to lights,” the man said, listing things off of his fingers. “I don’t need to be invited, but there are certain wards and places that I do need to be. Sensitive hearing, elongated fangs when preying, I can’t shapeshift, don’t have the allure, can’t read mind either.”

“I’m not so sure about the last one,” Sykkuno said brightly, though there was a note of annoyance hidden between the tilt of his lips. “What else?”

“I don’t shimmer in the sun,” Brodin said flatly. Out of everyone, he was the one who could withstand Sykkuno’s charm the most. Probably because he had very good awareness of himself, and because the half of his kind had a lethal allure once the prey allowed it to be let free.

It startled a laugh out of Sykkuno. “I like the actors and actresses just fine, but that movie is awful.”

“It’s essentially a complete mockery and racism for certain lineages,” Brodin agreed. “It’s fun to watch, though. If only to point out where they got it wrong.”

“Isn’t that the whole movie?” Sykkuno said, sniffing his handful of grass again. He looked about to lick it again, but seemed to remember the trauma. So he just scattered it on the front of his chest. “What does blood taste like to you?”

Toast sighed, finally getting out into the sun and lifted Sykkuno’s head to put it on his lap. This was the personal questions that he had mentioned before. Brodin didn’t seem to mind however, despite the fact that Sykkuno himself absolutely refused in sharing his own lineage.

“Different each person,” he said. “With supernatural creatures it’s also tied to the taste of their magic.”

“Is it true that blood can be likened to aphrodisiacs to you?” Sykkuno inquired, squirming to get more comfortable on Toast’s lap. “Have you killed someone by draining their blood?”

“No, and yes,” Brodin answered patiently. “Have you?”

“Almost, but not quite,” Sykkuno said with a ghost of smile on his lips. Toast took away the grass from his hand when he stuck out his tongue. He looked up at Toast with a more genuine smile, before ripping away another patch. By the time Sykkuno was gone from here, their entire lawn would also be gone.

“That doesn’t really answer the question,” Toast told him, despite being used to these kind of answers from Sykkuno.

“I’m not lying, though,” he replied, blinking his long lashes away. Sykkuno’s eyes were bright under the sun, the brown lightening to the point of almost reddish-yellow. It wasn’t quite the right way of turning, as far as color went. But this wasn’t exactly a human. Toast wouldn’t fret, even if he kept that information away for later thoughts. “Here,” he said to Brodin, offering the underside of his wrist. “How do I taste like?”

Toast stiffened. Okay, this had been going too far. He was about to snatch the wrist away, but Brodin was already moving, taking Sykkuno’s offered hand and nosing softly around the faintly visible veins. He had to admit, he was curious, too. There was a lot that could be told about someone by the taste of their blood. When it came to supernatural creatures, it could tell about their power and intimate things about them. There wasn’t any way to accurately analyze someone’s personality through blood, he remembered Brodin saying. But there were a lot of way to find out about their environment, and the essence of themselves.

Sykkuno didn’t flinch when Brodin’s fangs pierced his skin, watching with rapt attention as blood trailed down his skin and fell down onto the patch of grass. Toast was gripping a patch himself from the tension. There was a myriad of emotions on Brodin’s face, before he let go of the wrist. Toast watched in fascination as Sykkuno brought it to his own mouth and licked the wound clean. There wasn’t even a trace of where the fangs had sunken into flesh when he was done.

“You taste horrible and amazing at the same time,” Brodin said. Even with his eyes hidden by his sunglasses, Toast could see that he was struck with confusion and wonder. “You blood taste like despair, pines, and something bitter and disgusting—like a curse.”

Toast’s heart stopped at that. Sykkuno did say that he had dealt with a lot of curses, though he wasn’t a curse breaker. Had it really been that many, to the point of them seeping into the very blood that coursed through his veins—he had inexplicable feelings about his own curse as one of them.

“That’s pretty accurate,” Sykkuno said with a deprecating smile. “Incredibly accurate, even. It’s interesting how you can tell from my blood alone. Do you need to find a specific taste of blood to be satiated or is any blood okay as the source?”

“Any blood without sickness,” Brodin clarified. “Be it human disease or magical ones, I’d rather not. I can’t stand the taste, and it will leave bad aftertaste for weeks, too.”

“How much blood do you need to feel full enough?”

“Two human’s worth of blood, and I can go on without it for three months. Three, if the quality is not too good. I need a lot more from animals. By the rate I’m going now, I drink a cup of blood everyday, because, you know, modern access to blood banks and all.”

Toast wasn’t really listening to the conversation anymore as Sykkuno asked about how much blood Brodin would need from a supernatural creature. His mind was stuck on a specific part: as a supernatural being, Sykkuno’s blood would also tell about his magic, but he glossed over that with his barrage of questions. Brodin said that he tasted both awful and wonderful. He never really got to the second part. He swallowed, put a hand on Sykkuno’s chest to draw his attention.

“Can you get my phone in my room for a second?” he asked, voice belying nothing of his emotions. “I think it’s on the nightstand.”

Sykkuno looked at him for a moment, with his bright reddish-yellow eyes, as if he was searching something on his face. Toast forced himself to breathe naturally, didn’t smile even when he wanted to, just to soothe his own nerves. It’d just tell his lies. After a moment, though, Sykkuno just smiled and nodded. He got up slowly, almost lethargic, stretching for a moment before he waddled himself inside the house in the search of a phone that Toast knew he had left in the space under the table for magazines.

“His magic,” he said directly to Brodin. “What about it?”

He nearly squirmed in discomfort when Brodin contemplated at him with the same intensity that Sykkuno had. “Why didn’t you ask when he was still here?”

“You notice it too,” he said. “He knows you’re not going to say it if he keeps up your attention with enough questions.”

Brodin nodded, looked at the direction of the house as if waiting, then turned back to Toast. “His magic is potent, but it doesn’t quite feel like his own. It tastes like lightning and rain, something else that tastes like nothing but feels fulfilling to me. There are different kind of magic in Sykkuno. The one I’m describing right now is the bigger one that resides in him.”

“What about the other one,” Toast said, voice nearly shaking. It really wasn’t his responsibilities, and he wouldn’t mind having Sykkuno here regardless of who he was. But these… little coincidences that just kept piling up since the start, he couldn’t just ignore it. “The one that feels like his own.”

Brodin was silent for a moment, and Toast anxiously wondered if Sykkuno had finally realized that the phone wasn’t in the room in the first place. Brodin pulled down his sunglasses a little, enough to properly look at Toast. He squinted his eyes a little from the glare of the sun, but his they were solemn when he said, “It tastes like death and deceit.”

Toast swallowed around the sudden lump of truth in his throat. He nodded at Brodin, and the man pulled back his sunglasses. There was a faint connection that he had made. He really wasn’t that familiar with other supernatural creatures from other places than America, and even those were only based on what he had heard about and ones that he had actually met. It was up to him whether he wanted to pursue this or not. He had enough basis of information, he just really had to dig up a little further.

But Sykkuno’s voice calling for him from inside made the decision for him. He straightened up and left the backyard, with Brodin just humming to a song while he basked in the sun. He walked like he was a man to the rows of gallows. He would keep these little clues and coincidences to himself. He would ask when he was curious, but he would let them unfurl by themselves when the time came.

Right now, all he really needed to pursue was to calm Sykkuno down when he grappled at the front of Toast’s shirt, a guilty look in his eyes that Toast thought cut a little deeper than just his inability to find a phone that he had lied about. He shushed him gently, patting at his back as Sykkuno pawed at his chest.

“Let’s try to search for it again, then,” he said, smiling a little when Sykkuno nodded furiously. “Maybe I forgot and put it somewhere else.”

Like the truth about Sykkuno, that he had scattered all over the place, but truly wasn’t there; hidden somewhere else that he had never told to anyone. If Sykkuno was willing to overlook his obvious lie, then Toast was willing to overlook the truth that had been bared to him, and glance somewhere else instead.

When Sykkuno finally found it under the table, Toast gave him a sincere smile that made him stutter and flushing vermillion all over again. He followed even as Toast sat on the couch, thoroughly exhausted mentally. He didn’t sit next to him, didn’t go back to sleeping with his head on his thighs. Instead, he carefully lowered himself down on Toast’s lap, arms slung around his neck, looking at Toast with soft eyes when he said, “I’m sorry.”

It felt too much, too intimate for such a small mistake that wasn’t really his fault to begin with. But it also felt like Sykkuno knew what he was thinking, that he was apologizing more than about the matter at hand. He let out a soft breath, and nodded, pulling Sykkuno closer by the waist. “It’s okay,” he said, then debated with himself about his next words. “I’m sorry, too,” he finally decided to say. “For making you worry. You don’t have to think about it anymore.”

“Okay, Toast,” Sykkuno whispered, and laid his head on the crook of his neck.

Toast inhaled the faint scent of jasmine, thinking how mundane and generic it was compared to the man who was wearing the scent like a sharp karambit. One that pulled Toast closer and closer by the second, with each smile and hand that touched him like a massive shadow wasn’t engulfing him whole, with each unreadable look in those bright, red-yellow eyes.

When the truth had unfurled, blossoming completely in the harsh winter, he wondered what color Sykkuno’s eyes would be; whether he would taste the electric shock of lightning in the air, or tasting the inevitable pull of death instead.

-

[h0-seok]

"Can't switch that off randomly", he explained in a just as cool way as he had spoken before. "It's how I am." With this he even shrugged. Fuji definitely was full of himself, vain and at times quite arrogant even. Especially when he wanted to keep someone at distance. In this case Hoseok. Although he already saw himself faltering and failing when it came to this. This guy could perhaps become dangerous to him in a completely different way than his enemies were able to. Fuji didn't even /want/ to think about love and relationships. And there were various reasons for it. "Guess that's something I can live with", he said and smiled a little at the bite as he had told himself that he was in control of his feelings and would be in the future, too, just as always. "But in that case you better be good in bed." Well, he didn't have any doubt about this to be the case. The only question was if they would be able to agree on their positions… Though for now Fuji would perhaps go with the flow and enjoy Hoseok's confident attitude which was it that drew him in the most in fact. Usually he would have objected against the claim that he wanted this as much as the other, but not right now. Because he didn't even feel like lying and denying in this very moment. And shit, he liked the way Hoseok touched his hair. More than he wanted it to be the case. Just like everything else that happened. Surprise glinted in his eyes when the other made him touch his butt, but of course he made use of the opportunity right away, groping it, giving it a light slap even. "Interesting where you want me to touch you", he whispered while his other hand wandered into Hoseok's hair and gripped it just as well suddenly in a demanding way. And waited. Maybe not to appear too greedy? But this hesitation was forgotten when Hoseok initiated the kiss. He instantly was into it, bringing his tongue to the one of the other and had it circle it hungrily - all this while the hand that had laid onto Hoseok's butt slided underneath his shirt now, Fuji's nails raking over this broad back and leaving their claw marks as he lifted the piece of clothing more and more.

Hoseok was fascinated by that man straight from the moment when he saw him sitting on that railing, the cigarette in his mouth. It was strange because nobody did ever capture his interest this easily. He honestly wondered what it was that drew him to Fuji. Sure, that man was hella attractive with his long hair, tattoos and face but there was something else that got him addicted. Was it his cool personality and the fact that he seemed so unfazed? Was it his blood? Or was it the bond they shared from now on?

"Pfft-- and I do hope that you won't be a disappointment.", Hoseok snorted in response to his bosses cocky words. If he wasn't so confident, he'd have probably been hurt by the older vampire's answer. Something he could live with? He'd make sure that Fuji won't be able to live without his presence in his bed.. and life.

He gave his precious hair a light tug, warning him to better not be so cheeky. "Also, what's wrong with touching my ass? Have you seen it?" They were on the same level of dominance so they'd definitely end up in a fight of who is going to fuck who. Fuji was way more tough than all the other guys he usually hooked up with but that actually didn't mean anything. "Or would you prefer if it was me touching you, hm?" A test. The younger wanted to see his reaction. He knew that the elder liked to get spoiled. Hell, he was probably one of those dudes who enjoyed to just lean back and let the bottom do all the work like riding his dick or sucking him off but Hoseok wasn't in for that. He wanted to have fun with Fuji and not be his good boy who was there for his entertainment. He wanted that man to crave him, to get addicted even and there was no better way to achieve this than kissing. Hoseok was very short tempered and very impatient. As soon as Fuji's tongue met his, he pushed his own against it and forced the soft muscle back into his mouth. The kiss was a passionate one that reflected both their needs. His boss tasted absolutely amazing, the hint of smoke, alcohol and iron still visible on his lips. "Lemme take it off for you..", Hoseok breathed and tugged his black shirt over his head. The action left his hair quite dishevelled but he had other, more important things to worry about. Having to break the kiss annoyed the younger but he could feel Fuji's impatience grow--and he wanted to have his hands all over his bare upper body. "Can I touch you, too?"

[speechlessxx]

broken canvas. [dark!mob!Robert Pronge x Reader]

i'm fucked in the head, sorry. pt?

summary -> you pay the price after Ransom crosses another mob boss.

MINORS DNI

warnings -> NONCON. NONCON. NONCON. (p in v, RAPE, unprepared reader, photos are taken). poorly written smut. blood (reader bleeds). slight degradation. pet names (sweets). in all honesty, this was shit, oops.

word count -> ~1.4

You clung onto the wall like a work of art as he admired you like so with a maniacal grin and a menacing glare from his glasses.

He took a step, and you shook a leaf. “So pretty.” His voice permeated through the silence, and the slight growl in his baritone voice did little to ease your nerves as it only proved that this being – this monster – who snuffed out the life of your two guards and swept you away to this horrid prison was no monster at all. He was a man with cruel intentions.

Another step.

“Do you know who I am, sweets?”

You responded with a stiff shake of your head. You didn’t want to let your captor know that his face was, indeed, familiar though you couldn’t quite place it – in fear that he’d take it as if he were just a forgettable face to you.

If he knew you were lying, he didn’t let on.

The man just nodded in contemplation as he stared at you through his spectacles. He took another step, invading your personal space. “So pretty,” he reached out and his ice-cold hand came up to your face. A freezing finger stroking your cheek softly as if he were afraid to damage you – the priceless work of art he just stole.

Unsure of why he repeated it, you let out a shaky breath, “th-thank you.”

“I can see why Drysdale keeps you locked up.”

Upon mention of Ransom, your brows furrowed, and you leaned away from the man. “Ran-Ransom?” You said aloud, your voice and your body trembling still. “Do-do you know him?”

The man nodded and grinned. His teeth baring at you like a predator does its prey. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I know him.”

His tone alone told you that this man, who has now crowded you into the wall with little chance of escape, did not think of Ransom as fondly as you did. Had Ransom wronged him? How much danger were you really in?

“Sour little priss that boy of yours is,” the man continued. “Killed one of my men, saying I crossed his territory, can you believe that, sweets?” His hand slammed against the wall – mere inches away from your face. You flinched away, but he didn’t mind. “Told him Rogers was a good guy, even worked for his grandfather decades ago. Now, poof, he’s ashes and I gotta tell his wife, Sharon, that Ransom fucking Drysdale killed her husband.”

You were too afraid to interject. He had to have the wrong Ransom – Hugh, your Hugh – worked for Harlan’s publishing company. He wasn’t entangled with the mob – let alone a murderer.

“He took one of my good guys. And mob tradition is,” he grinned, “eye for an eye.”

“P-please d-don’t hurt me,” you cried, tears rolling down your cheeks, which sent blood flowing through his cock. “R-Ran wouldn’t have – “

“You ain’t know about all this, sweets?”

You shook your head. His tongue ran across the bottoms of his front teeth as he took you in – a beauty trembling against his body, pressed up against the wall.

Initially, yes, Robert Pronge did have the intention of killing you – sending you back in a body bag to Hugh Drysdale. But when he first saw you in the photos Jensen had taken from the Thrombey’s charity gala, he knew that killing such a pretty face would be a crime.

“How innocent,” he chuckled.

A strike against another mob family was not to be taken lightly – taking a mafioso’s best girl was grounds for a crime war. But Robert couldn’t help himself. You were just so damn gorgeous – he had to have you for himself.

“P-please don’t hurt me,” you repeated. Your knees buckled and Robert let you fall to the ground. He watched with fascination as your face planted into his slacks, tears staining the fabric. He couldn’t help his hand pressing you into his leg, sliding you over to his aching dick.

You wept as you tried to push yourself off the man, but his sheer strength kept your face pressed against his hardened cock. “An eye for an eye, gorgeous.”

You shrieked as his hand fisted your hair and pulled you to your feet. He shoved you forward onto the mattress on the floor you’ve inhabited for the past day and a half. You tried to crawl away with your head pounding from both your hair being pulled so hard and your incessant crying.

Robert grabbed your two ankles, forcing your body to lay flat against the mattress as he pinned you down with all his weight. You flailed your limbs in attempt to thwart him but to no avail.

Fabric was ripping all around you, but you didn’t know what it was until you felt his could hands against your bare hips. You cried out as he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you like the monster he truly was.

“You’re so gorgeous, sweets.” He said as his hands flew to the neckline of your blouse and ripped it down along with the front of your bra.

You were bared to him like a new toy on Christmas morning and he smirked down at you, eager to play.

In a last effort to fight back, your hands flew to his face, scratching like a wild animal. It lasted only a few moments until he grabbed both your wrists and pinned you down. His glasses had flown away, cracked against the concrete floor somewhere. His brow displayed a cut, a thin trickle of blood weeping from the broken skin.

His brows furrowed at you and he tsked. “Dumb bitch.”

You begged, “please, please don’t.”

Robert didn’t heed to your cries and pleas as he cuffed both your wrists into one large hand and undid his pants. He pushed them down along with his underwear to reveal his enormous, throbbing cock, the tip angry and glistening with pre-cum. Your hips began to shift, trying to buck him off, but his free hand pressed against your stomach, hard to keep you in place before he pumped his cock a few times and thrust it into your unprepared cunt.

You screamed, body convulsing in pain as he fed your poor pussy his cock. “Take it,” he spat, “take it you stupid bitch.” He bottomed out with one single, slow, and agonizing thrust, swaying his hips as if to taunt you. He released your wrists as he pumped into you slowly before digging through his pants to retrieve his phone.

“N-no,” you murmured as you heard the shutter of the camera. “S-sto-stop.”

He continued to take photos of your cunt filled with his cock. Unbeknownst to you, blood had begun to trickle from your hole, your body unprepared for such an intrusion. The photos highlighted the crimson ring gathered around his cock.

Robert chased his release, despite your cries. To add reprieve from the onslaught of torture, his fingers found its way onto your clit, drawing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, and to your dismay, it sparked pleasure.

Intense pleasure. One that had you arching your back into this monster’s chest and moaning with guilt. He watched as you shivered beneath him, biting your lip as you tried to stifle the cries of pleasure, only to fail when he pressed against your stomach again and the tip of his cock grazed your G-spot. You were no longer fighting him, your body giving into the confusing pleasure and the pain – even your hips began to thrust back.

Your body arched again as his cock tapped against your G-spot a few times and a pleasured scream escaped your lips. Your walls clenched tightly around his cock, fluttering as you came. He groaned, watching you, as he found his release. The cum spraying against your aching walls a strange comfort. He continued to thrust into you just to watch your body convulse with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Robert basked in the way you trembled and cried. Yes, Ransom kept you pristine and protected in your frame, but Robert Pronge would argue that he created art.