#its like the only guys i will draw with blue eyes are the gavins but theyre fake blue eyes hfdgfghjfgf

[woolydemon]

"wright has a brown eye and a blue eye" no I don't listen to u lalalalalalala la

[ygreczed-3]

Connor, Nines, Hank and Gavin - Reference sheets

Part 1 - Part 2

The thing is I intended to make a comic out of it, but I finally won’t be able to do it, because it’s weeell too long and complicated. I don’t feel ready for something like this…. This little part is the only one I’ll draw.

So, this is going to be a series of posts with concept arts, reference sheets, and a lazy descriptions of the plot I was planning to draw (scripts and notes mostly). I’m sorry and I just hope it’s not gonna disappoint you !

Anyway, thank you so much for your interest in this AU ! I’d never had imagined you’d like it that much !

Connor : I’m looking for Kamski. Hank : The magician? He disappeared after the Night of the cold blooded…. Connor : I know. I made my own investigation… and I may have found him. The problem is that… I can’t go alone. I resist cold weather very well but I know I won’t make it through Summer falls on my own. Hank : So what ? Connor : You’re a Red Guard warrior, right ? Come with me. We both have interests in finding Kamski. Hank : You think I'mma follow ya nicely into your trap ? Fucking Golems… Connor : Listen. My people are dying. With the Serfs War, we’re not much more than 100 units. Given our nature, we can’t give birth to sustain our own folk… but you’re not doing any better. Without snow magic, you can’t cultivate your lands, and your people are hungry. Kamski is our last hope.

After that, Hank goes back to his camp, where he lives with other humans from the hunting party. He takes his catch to one of them :

Hank : Here, that’s all I got today. I need an expedition pack… Can you do that for me ? Ben : Why ? You’re going on a trip ? We’re all getting ready to get back to Detroit. Hank : Yeah, I still have a few traps to check… Just go ahead, I’ll join you. Gavin : Hey, Bear Paw ! Hank turns around to see Gavin. Hank : What do you want ? Gavin : Seriously, that’s all ya got ? Hank : You know, if Fowler wants me to go on the hunt, that must be because I’m a better hunter. What did you do today hm ? Gathering wood? Wild carrots? Gavin : Fuck you Anderson. You know I’d be Fowler’s wing man without you around. Ben : Here Hank, your supplies. Hank : Thanks, Ben. Gavin : What… You going on a trip, old man ? Hank : It’s none of your business. Gavin : …

Gavin watches carefully as Hank takes the supplies and sits Sumo’s back again. As soon as Hank is out of sight, Gavin gets up on his horse and follows him.

Connor : You’re finally back. What’s your decision ? Hank : I just want to protect my people. If there is the slightest chance of saving them, I’ll take it. So, what’s the plan ? Connor : We have to go through the Pinewood, towards Braverive. It’s the southernmost village, the last step before entering the Stormy lands. Hank : I’ve never been so far. Braverive is a human outpost we created during the golden age, but lately nobody from Detroit made it to this place. The forest has become too dangerous. Connor : You mean, it’s dangerous now you don’t have Golems to escort you through it? Hank : Ohh, I wouldn’t go this way, if I was you. I have plenty of things to blame on you too. Connor : … Hank : … Connor : What’s its name ? The… the giant dog. Hank : … Sumo. His name’s Sumo. Connor : … I like it. I like dogs. Hank : … Whatever.

Connor and Hank have started their trip, they stop every night to let Hank rest. One night, while Hank sleeps, the Golem watches him, silently. Hank grumbles as he opens his sleepy eyes.

Hank : What the fuck you looking at, golem? Connor : It's… fascinating. Humans’ lifespan is so short and yet, you still sleep a full third of the time. Hank : You looking for a fist in your face ? Cause I have one that would match perfectly. Connor : Most human basic experiences are a luxury we, golems, don’t have. I wasn’t expecting you to understand. Hank : Yeah, and you’re immortal and young and strong, poor blue blood demon. Connor : You don’t understand. I’ll never know what it feels like to be a son, or to be a father. I don’t sleep, I don’t dream, I can’t appreciate the dry warmth of a cozy fire, or the soft touch of sunlight. I think… I would like to. Hank : … Connor : Human… What’s your name? Hank : Anderson. Hank Anderson. You ? Connor : Just… Connor.

Jericho, capital city of the Crystal Cove, free Lands of Winter. Marcus is in a huge room, in front of a crystal table showing a defense plan. Nines enter the room, straight back and princely look.

Markus : No. I told him his plan was suicidal, but he went anyway. He must be dead or captive now… I can’t take the risk to lose you too. Nines : You’re letting him down ? Markus : Look, Nines. Our defensive forces are weak. If the humans attack, they’ll largely outnumber us, and I don’t know if we can fight them off. I need you here. Nines : They won’t attack in winter, the snow isn’t at their advantage.  Markus : … No matter what I say, you’re gonna go. You’re just like him. Nines : He’s our brother. We grew up together, Markus… I know you’re worried too. Our people are counting on you, brother. Let me take Connor back here.

Connor and Hank are in the forest.

Connor : What are we stopping for again ? Hank : Shhhhh. This part of the wood is full of game. I didn’t take more than 6 daily rations, I’ll need food soon. Connor : You should have prepared your travel more carefully. We’re not on a touristic trip.  Hank : Shut up and build a fire. We’re stopping here. Connor : At this rate we’re never gonna get to Kamski before the end of the season. Hank : Who cares. Kamski’s not going anywhere as far as I know.  Connor : … I don’t want your people to attack my city when I’m not there to defend it. The sooner we find Kamski, the better it is. Hank : What, we’re the bad guys ? Please ! You were created to serve humanity. We needed your magic to cultivate our lands… we didn’t ask for this war, you made us do it. Connor : No one should be treated as you treated my people. You deserve all of this. Hank gets mad and charges Connor. He grabs his collar and pushes him against a tree. Hank : Yeah sure… all those people… men, women, children… they deserved to die, huh ? I should kill you for saying things like this. Hank lets go of Connor. Hank : Build a fire.

To be continued ! And see you tonight for the comic’s update ;)

[imma-fucking-nerd]

Canine Conundrum (Part 2)

(Connor x Reader x Nines)

A/N: Ask and yee shall receive! heres part 2! (Electric boogaloo)

———————————————

Loud knocks at your door jolted you awake from your slumber. The sudden sound also alerting the two dogs who layed either side of you. It seemed like you must have fallen asleep in the same position on the couch you had been the night before. You glanced from the husky on your right to the shepard on you left in confusion before memories of the previous day came back to you. A grin made its way to your face.

"Morning boys," you said, stifling a yawn.

Another couple of heavy knocks sounded at the door and you pulled yourself from off the couch. As you trudged over to the door your two canine companions followed close behind, eyeing the door cautiously. The sight made you smirk slightly.

Upon opening the door you were faced with none other than Hank.

"Hey Hank, what brings you here? And so early?" you glanced over to your clock on the wall that read 4:36am as you spoke.

"Got a call about a lead that might have info on where their bodies are," he grumbled, motioning to the two who sat by your feet.

"Oh, okay. Let me just go get dressed real quick," you opened your door wider for the older man to step inside however he just gave you a funny look.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked, really hoping you weren't about to say what he thought you were going to say.

"I'm coming with you," you stated as if it were obvious.

"Like hell you are. You're not even a detective, you aren't trained to be out in the field," he argued.

"I can handle myself thank you very much. Plus I've got you and these guys to protect me," you retorted with a grin, pointing to the basically guard dogs.

"Besides, would you rather go ask Gavin for help instead?" you added, knowing full well that won the argument.

Just as you thought, Hank just sighed and stepped inside your humble abode.

"Fine. But you do exactly as I say and never leave my sight, got it?" he ordered.

"Got it. Thanks dad," you gave him a little wink and shot him with finger guns before hurrying to your room to change.

Although he wouldn't admit it, he kinda did think of you as a daughter/son figure. Hence why he was so reluctant to let you accompany him. He was already worrying about the possibility of Connor being (and even Conan) being stuck as dogs, he didn't want to have to worry about you too. But Hank rarely got his way. Poor man.

A soft whine drew Hank's attention down to Connor, who he guessed disapproved of hom giving into you so easily.

"How about you tell her/him to stay then?" he said with a little smirk, crossing his arms.

Connor gave a short bark to which Hank just rolled his eyes.

"That's what I thought."

After about roughly five minutes you came back out from your room dressed and ready to go. You just needed to throw on a jacket and boots.

"Alright. Let's get going shall we?" you grinned as you opened your door for the three.

Quickly, you locked your door after you all before heading over to Hanks car. Hank was already in the drivers seat and just as you opened the passenger side for yourself, Conan took the opportunity to steal your spot.

"Hey!" you whined with a small pout.

Even in this dog form you could almost see him smirking. You rolled your eyes at him but leaned in to buckle in his seatbelt, because safety is important. An action which earned a weird look from Hank. However you got your revenge by pecking canine Conan's furry cheek before quickly leaning away and closing the door. He just huffed in response.

"Welp, guess were backseat buds," you say looking down to Connor.

You opened the back door, he jumped in first and you followed suit. As Hank started the car you fastened Connor's seatbelt before doing your own. When you looked up to meet his expectant big chocolatey brown eyes you gave a chuckle, bringing up your hand to pat his head. This earned the best smile a dog was able to muster. Oh you were so going to tease him about this later.

"So, where are we going?" you asked, leaning forward to look at Hank.

"Activity was reported at an abandoned house on the more secluded side of town," Hank replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Cool cool cool," you nodded, leaning back into your seat.

The drive didn't take more than a half hour at most and when Hank pulled up to the old run down looking house you immediately got bad vibes. It screamed 'someone definitely got murdered here and their ghost still hangs around'. Before getting out of the car you unbuckled yours and Connor's seatbelts. Then you had to go undo Conan's as well because Hank couldn't be bothered. After the four of you were out you headed towards the building. Once you reached the entrance Hank stopped and turned to you.

"You stick with me and stay quiet, got it?" his tone was serious.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you waved him off .

Upon entering the house it was seemed as if it had been abandoned for years. The paint was chipping off the walls, the hardwood floors looked like they were rotting, and you could practically see the dust particles in the air. But you knew better than to take its rundown state for face value.

"Alright, you two search the ground floor and me and (Y/n) will search upstairs," Hank spoke up, keeping his voice down.

You watched the two dogs share a look before going their separate ways to search the house. You had to stifle a laugh when you saw them starting to sniff around. It wasn't like they had their cool detective scans anymore so you guessed they had to make due with what they had. It was still adorable though.

Just like Hank said, you followed him up the stairs cautiously. The gravity of the situation finally hitting you that this might have been dangerous. Who knows what kind of weirdo was squaring here. If they were able to fuck with the two most advanced androids around who knows what else they were capable of?

As you followed Hank down a corridor with a couple doors on each side you suddenly stopped when you saw a faint blue glow coming from one of the rooms. Hank didn't seem to notice you stoping and kept on ahead. You opened you mouth to call for him but shut it, deciding it best to just investigate yourself. Sure you weren't a detective per say, and sure you had no training in combat or self defense, but you knew where to land a mean kick and that was good enough for you. So you broke one of Hank's only rules to go investigate on your own.

Slowly walking into the room you felt your heartrate start to pick up. Okay maybe this wasn't the best idea, but you were here now and apparently there was no turning back for you. When you entered the room fully your eyes were immediately draw to a set of monitors on the right wall. You also noticed a slew of wires, and when you followed them with your eyes you lifted your gaze to see none other than the bodies of your best friends/kinda crushes. You grinned at the discovery and felt pride well up inside you. This would show Hank you could totally be a detective if you wanted to.

You opened your mouth to call out to Hank and co when suddenly a hand harshly clamped over your mouth and a cool metal object was pressed into your temple.

"Don't you make a fucking sound," a low voice hissed in your ear.

Well, shit.

Your heart was beating so fast you weren't sure if it was just going to stop right then and there. Slowly you brought your hands up in surrender, not really sure what the hell else you could do. So much for being able to take care of yourself. You could feel tears stinging your eyes as a million thoughts flooded your mind. This was it. This was how you were going to die.

However your existential thoughts were cut short by the sound of Hanks voice coming from the entrance of the room.

"Detroit police, put the gun down asahole," he spoke firmly, his own gun trained on the assailant who had turned you around to face Hank and was now using you as a meat shield.

The man who was holding you hostage pressed the barrel of the gun further into your temple and you couldn't help but let out a whimper.

Hearing the commotion upstairs, Connor and Conan met up with each other in the livingroom. They exchanged a look before racing up the stairs, making their way to Hank's side in less than a minute. As soon as their eyes landed on the sight of the man that put them in the body of a dog, holding a gun to your head, they immediately started growling.

Now that there were three threats, the assailant didn't know who to pint the gun at. He kept shifting it from Hank, to Connor, to Conan, and back onto you.

"S-Stay back!" the man demanded.

You could tell he was scared by the way his voice shook, and the sound of the gun rattling as his hand trembled. However you made no move to get out of his grip because you knew that would lead to you getting shot.

"Put the gun down and let the girl/boy go and maybe you'll live," Hank said, not backing down.

The two dog detectives on either side of him snarled and growled, their stances ready to attack at any moment. It was weird how they managed to go from adorable to terrifying in no time flat. But then again the same could be said in their regular human bodies.

The gun that moved away from your head and pointed in the same pattern as before frantically. However before he had the chance to point it back to you, Conan suddenly took the opportunity to lunge at the attacker. The gun went off and Connor didn't give him the chance to fire again, sinking his teeth into the man's arm making him drop the gun, and you. When you looked over to Conan you immediately saw the blue blood dripping from his shoulder.

You ignored the pained screams of the man, Connor's angry growls as he kept him down, and Hank reading out the bastards rights as he cuffed him. Your attention was solely on your injured android friend who was trapped in the body of an equally android dog. The combination made your heart break twice as much.

"Conan! Hold on okay, I'm going to get you out of there okay?" you spoke, your voice showing obvious panic.

While you had you were on your mission of getting Conan back to his body before it was too late, Hank had taken the assailant who had passed out downstairs to his car. But Connor didn't leave the room. He hated how helpless he felt as all he could really do was watch you struggle.

As carefully as you could you picked up Conan and carried him over to lay him down in front of his regular body. As you laid him down he let out a pained whine and you had to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there. Moving over to the monitor you realized you had no clue what you were looking at. Time was running as you searched through files upon files and you felt like you were about to have a breakdown. If you failed to save Conan after he just tried to save you, you'd never forgive yourself.

When your eyes spotted a file called 'Memory Upload' you clicked it immediately, and when you did a message popped up that read 'Please Connect Device'. You assumed that meant an android, or at least you hoped that's what it meant. So naturally you dropped to your knees to find what wire to plug into the android dog. But once you saw the mess of wires your hope started to dwindle.

"You've got to be shitting me," you muttered to yourself as you started sifting though the wires.

Suddenly you noticed Connor come up to your side and nudged a yellow wire in your direction. You grabbed it immediately, assuming it was the right one, and crawled over to Conan who seemed to be just barely holding on. You gave him a quick reassuring pet through his fur, whilst also trying to simultaneously trying to find a way to plug in the damned wire. It felt like forever before you finally plugged the damned thing in, when reality it was only a couple seconds, and you practically flew up to monitor.

You barely read the words 'CN300 Canine Model Connected' before smashing the 'Transfer Memory' button. Once you saw the 1% you moved back to Conan's side to whisper reassuring words, trusting the upload process wod work quickly.

"Please, please don't die on me," you pleaded, resting your forehead on his side.

When you looked up to his doggy eyes next, they were lifeless. Your eyes widened and you felt like your whole world was coming down on you.

"Conan? No....nonononono," your voice cracked as you spoke and the tears that had threaten to spill the entire time finally spilled.

However what failed to notice in your grief struck state was the big 'Memory Transfer Complete' on one of the monitors. It was only when you heard someone clear their throat you looked to see Conan, staring down at you with his steel grey eyes, that were very much alive.

"Conan?" you said in disbelief, your glossy eyes widening.

"Hello (Y/n)," he replied simply, as if nothing had happened.

You immediately hopped up to your feet, your arms flying up to wrap around his torso in a tight hug. If he was anyone else he would have probably been tackled to the ground by the sheer force. He didn't reciprocate the hug immediately, but eventually he gave in and gave your head a little pat.

"I thought you died you asshole," your words came out muffled as your face was currently buried in his chest, but he heard you clear as day.

"Yes well, it was the only way to ensure you'd never make me go into that body ever again," he said as a smirk tugged at his lips.

"Wait are you serious!? You risked your life just to destroy the dog android?" you pulled away from him and looked up at him in utter disbelief.

"Correct," he said, his smirk widening at your reaction.

"Oh haha very funny," you huffed, punching him in the chest weakly.

"I don't understand why you think I'm joking," he tilted his head slightly, lifting an eyebrow as he feigned confusion.

"Yeah, suuuuuure. It totally wasn't to save my life or anything," you said rolling your eyes, not buying his bs for one second.

"Believe whatever you would like (Y/n)," he shot back.

You were about to reply back when a whine from your right cut you off. Looking down you saw Connor sitting next to you, who must have been waiting patiently for you and Conan to finish your little reunion.

"Oh shit, sorry Connor. Let's get you back to your body now that your asshole brother is fine," you gave him a little apology pet as you spoke.

Conan rolled his eyes at your little insult but didn't take any offense by it. He knew you loved him, and he loved you. Though he'd obviously would rather die than admit it. The stubborn bastard.

Thankfully when you had to redo the steps to transfer Connor's memory back to his body, you could do it calmly not that there wasn't so much pressure. Just as the transfer was almost 100% complete Hank returned to the scene. When he saw that Conan had been restored to his body, and now Connor as well, he looked over to you with a proud smile.

"Glad to see you didn't manage to fuck anything up," he said just as Connor opened his eyes.

"Gee thanks for the vote of confidence," you said sarcastically.

"You did good kid," he said sincerely.

"Thanks dad," you looked over to him with a smile.

"Hello Lieutenant, and (Y/n)," Connor greeted you both.

You looked over to him and offered him a wide grin before walking up to him, engulfing him in a hug. Unlike your hug with Conan, you wrapped your arms around Connor's neck since you could actually reach. Also unlike Conan, he almost immediately wrapped his arms around your waist. This boy always loved your hugs.

"Good to have you back Concon," you said as you pulled away.

"But I didn't go anywhere. I was just a dog," he said in confusion with one of his classic head tilts.

"Yeah I know Con," you chuckled.

God how you missed his adorable cluelessness.

"By the way, you were a very good boy," you added with a sly smirk.

"O-Oh um, thank you," he said with a timid smile, a light tint of blue dusting his cheeks.

You heard Conan scoff from your left and you glanced over to him, your smirk widening.

"Oh Conan, you were a very good boy too. No need to get jealous," you teased.

He rolled his eyes and turned his back to leave the room, however you noticed how his cheeks were turning a lovely shade of baby blue as well.

"Alright you weirdos let's get the fuck outta here," Hank said as he followed Conan out.

You were about to follow the two but stopped when you didn't hear Connor behind you. Looking back at him you saw he was picking up his dog equivalent. When he met your eyes he smiled sheepishly.

"I was wondering if I could keep this, for the future. If you'd ever like a dog. Me specifically," he tried to explain himself.

"Yes. That would be amazing Connor," you grinned.

At least one of them would be willing to explore the world through the eyes of a dog once again. However either way you were never going to let either of the two androids live this down. Ever.

——————————————

A/N: As alwayssss I did not mean for this to be this long wooooopss. I kinda have no clue where tf this went and I'm so sorry if its terrible lmaooo. Anyways I hope y'all enjoyed anyways 💙

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Traveling with you - Kiro

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an event, 与你同游, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

This is an event for Chinese New Year, where you get to visit a Spring Festival Temple Fair with the love interests :>

Players are able to select the order in which they visit various locations, so they aren’t meant to be in chronological order!

Prologue: here

More: Gavin l Lucien l Shaw l Victor

🌟 TEXT 🌟

MC: Ding dong--

MC: You’ve received a new invitation. Do you wish to open it immediately?

Kiro: Nope.

MC: Why can’t you cooperate with me?

Kiro: I’m waiting for Miss Chips to invite me personally, and not some automated system. 

Kiro: However, since Miss Chips has appeared, where are you inviting me out to?

MC: Will you be really busy these days?

MC: I just saw a pamphlet for this year’s Loveland Temple Fair, so I immediately wanted to ask if you wanted to go.

Kiro: A temple fair! What a lively place!

Kiro: Yes yes yes, we’ll go tomorrow.

MC: But you’re still quite eye-catching... will anyone notice you?

Kiro: The temple fair will be really crowded, so no one will pay me any mind.

Kiro: Also, I can put on a disguise. With a wig, hat, and spectacles, I can guarantee that no one will recognise me!

MC: Along with your excellent acting skills, mm... perfect!

MC: In that case, let’s rest early tonight, and rush there together tomorrow.

Kiro: Sure. Goodnight, Miss Chips. I’ll look for you in my dreams~

-

🌟 Location: Traditional Snacks Stall 🌟

MC: I notified Savin beforehand. Today, you’re allowed to have food that’s “not so healthy”.

Kiro: Yay, long live Miss Chips!

MC: Don’t celebrate too early. Next week, he’s going to supervise your workout sessions.

Kiro: Things belonging to next week shall be left to next week. Let’s hurry and see what delicious foods there are.

Standing next to the snacks stall, the both of us involuntarily glance at the same spot-

Golden-bright tornado potatoes are lined up neatly behind the glistening glass shelf. The strong scent of fried potatoes awaken the hungry bug in my belly.

Three minutes later, we carry three sticks of tornado potatoes, walking along the street of the temple fair.

Kiro: It’s horrible that there aren’t smaller versions of this. Otherwise, we’d be able to try all sixteen flavours!

MC: Exactly! If we weren’t leaving room for snacks later, we’d have definitely gotten them all!

We nibble on the carefully selected spicy river snail noodles, smoked salmon and honey flavoured tornado potatoes. Fragrance and crispiness mark the start of the Spring Festival’s delicacy journey.

-

🌟 Location: Game Stall 🌟

Kiro: Scissors, paper...

MC: Stone!

Kiro: I also did ‘paper’!

At a tie yet again, the level of chemistry we have is really pretty high.

MC: Why don’t we state the game we want to try at the same time? Three, two, one!

Kiro: Pitch-pot!

MC: Pitch-pot!

Kiro: Great minds think alike.

[Note] Pitch-pot is a traditional East Asian game that requires players to throw sticks, arrows, darts, etc. from a distance into a large canister!

Without another word, I quickly pull him over to the destination.

When we arrive at the pitch-pot stall, there aren’t many people there. A few participants even wear Hanfu while playing.

Kiro: So cool. Next time, we've got to dress like that too.

MC: It’s more practical for you to think about how to throw the arrows into the canister first.

Kiro: No problem. Leave it to me!

The so-called “leave it to me” is basically Kiro borrowing the flexibility from years of dancing experience, and leaning forward.

Instead of saying that he’s “throwing” the arrows, it’s more accurate to say that he’s “dropping” the arrows. But it’s actually really effective.

Fan A: Look at that guy over there. His profile resembles Kiro.

Fan B: Yes, yes, the way he stretched his arm out - doesn’t it look like the signature move from his recent title track?

Kiro stiffens. Hand trembling, the final arrow falls outside the canister.

Our eyes meet, and we hurriedly take the prize from the store owner, fleeing the scene quickly.

-

🌟 Location: Firecracker Stall 🌟

Kiro: “Tiny Magic Firecrackers”? Why does that sound like a secret weapon belonging to a superhero?

Kiro and I are squatting in front of a stall selling firecrackers, and he’s looking at the rope-like firecrackers in my hand.

MC: In that case, I’ll give you a proper look at the broad and profound world of firecrackers. Here. Hold this end, then light the other end.

Kiro follows what I say, and my words are drowned out amid the loud sounds of the firecrackers.

Even though it’s daytime, the flames from the tiny firecrackers remain spectacular.

The fireworks extinguish very quickly, and Kiro’s blue eyes sparkle.

Kiro: Turns out there are firecrackers I can hold in my hand! It reminds me of a French cartoon with a mystical dragon with the ability to produce fireworks! I wonder if I’d look dashing in pictures if I were to swing them around at night?

Despite my repeated reminders telling him to take care of his safety, he continues setting off a box of tiny firecrackers.

Seeing his face blackening from the smoke, I chuckle while buying him another stick.

-

🌟 Location: Auspicious Stall 🌟

Kiro: So? Can you see it?

MC: Mm... I think I see the word “Middle”.

This year’s Auspicious Stall involves pulling slips of paper which have been tied onto red strings at quite a height, and they aren’t easy to retrieve.

We’re currently looking through two binoculars that Kiro conjured out of nowhere, carefully inspecting the thin slips of paper to see if we can spot the words on them.

MC: I think I see one with the word “Great” - it’s over there.

Kiro quickly brings over a ladder and steps onto it. With my guidance, he selects a slip.

Unfolding it, the red “Small Blessings” rests on the paper quietly. At the bottom, there’s a random line written it: “Men of great wisdom often seem slow-witted”.

I can’t help but burst into laughter.

Kiro: Ooh, why do I feel as though the words are implying something about me?

MC: So why were you so determined to draw “Great Blessings”?

Kiro: It’s all because I want everything in life to go smoothly for you...

Kiro sighs, and it seems he’s genuinely upset about this. My heart grows warm.

MC: With Kiro by my side, I’m already lucky enough!

-

🌟 Location: New Year Handmade Items Stall 🌟

Next to the table, Kiro is facing the sample “ushering in wealth and prosperity” ideogram.

Kiro: You know that I’m not really good at drawing. This is far too difficult to write.

MC: But earlier, you very clearly promised that you’d write a word for me.

Kiro looks aggrieved.

Kiro: Could you pick an easier word? I can’t write it if it’s too difficult. If it looks ugly, the blessings won’t come true.

MC: I’ll lower the difficulty for you then. Just write the word “blessing”.

Kiro nods happily, copying the word incredibly earnestly.

Since he isn’t used to writing with a brush, every stroke is extremely meticulous.

Even after he’s done with the final stroke, Kiro’s brush doesn’t stop.

Kiro: In order to make up for the strokes I couldn’t write, I’ve specially drawn a few more...

Two teddy bears are leaning their heads against each other. The teddy bear on the right even has an adorable tiny flower on its head.

Kiro: This is a out-of-print, limited-edition Kiro calligraphy, and it’s given to the only Miss Chips in the world. Don’t worry, I’ll continue creating things for you wholeheartedly in the year ahead.

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part III: Near & Far

Description: Promising beginnings and a premature end throw you into a tailspin Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: depictions of mild PTSD symptoms, mentions of death of a close family member, disappearances, “breakups,” angst, profanity Word Count: 1882 words (~9 mins of falling in love and wallowing in angst 😱😂) Author’s Notes: If you’re still following this story, please accept a giant (virtual) hug from me to you!  Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart for supporting me and this piece of work! 💖 Without further ado, I present to you part 3 of my slow-burn Shaw fic, written for the lovely @op-peccatori​ as part of my follower milestone celebration.

As always, dear reader, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, and happy reading! 😊

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Four

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“You can relax, you know.  I won’t try anything funny while you sleep, not my style.  Besides, isn’t this much better than camping out on the floor?”

Nodding your head before you realize that Shaw probably couldn’t see you in the dark, your “Yes” comes out in a mewl so pathetic you wished you could immediately take it back.

His snicker shakes the bed, reverberating across squeaky springs to where you lay beside him, right at the edge of the twin mattress as you tried not to let your hands touch.

No matter how much you wished for them to.

Beyond the window, a neon signboard paints electric shadows on your walls in splashes of pink, flashing in time to a rhythm Shaw tapped out with one foot beneath the covers.

“Is it cool if…if we didn’t draw the blinds tonight?  I can’t sleep in complete darkness.” He had asked you earlier that evening, towelling off his hair as he emerged from your bathroom wearing a shirt your ex had left behind along with your broken heart a year and a half ago.

Snoopy looked much better riding his skateboard across Shaw’s broad chest anyways.

And there, in the midst of an awkward arrangement where sleep would surely prove fleeting, the sounds of the night: the low hum of the refrigerator, the pawn shop’s sign buzzing just on the other side of the windowpane…the tick-tock of the clock on the wall, steady like Shaw’s breath beside you as it counts down precious time—

“I’ll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow morning.”  

Ba-bump.

“No, there’s…there’s no rush.  Honestly.”

“Can you really afford to miss more work because of me?”

Silence.  You couldn’t refute the truth.

“Tell you what, in exchange for putting up with me, you can ask me anything you want.  I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes; surely you must be curious about some things.  Might as well find out before I go.”

Your stomach knotted, clenching tight.  He was right.  For all you know, it was now or never.  “Why did you join?  The triad, that is.”

He is silent for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to piece together.

“I’m looking for my brother.”

Out of all possible answers, this wasn’t one you were expecting.  Turning onto your side, you study the handsome profile of his face — watching as pink mixed with lavender in the most ethereal way until you were overcome with the sense that in this vast ocean of life, you and him stood on very different shores.  Eyes still fixed on your ceiling, Shaw continues.

“He was an undercover cop, working to infiltrate the ranks of the group I’m currently a part of.  I only found out by accident, and he made me swear up and down not to breathe a word of it to mom.  Then one day…he was gone.  Just...disappeared off the face of the earth.  Mom and I went down to the station every day for months, knew the names and faces of everyone who worked in that building, but it was like Gavin never even existed.

“It was too much for her.  I came home late from school one day — found her on the floor, barely breathing.  It was dark in the apartment…so dark.  She had probably just drawn the curtains.  By the time the paramedics arrived, she was already gone.  Heart attack, they said.  

“I lie awake at night sometimes, wonder how I’m going to tell him that mom’s no longer here — go through the motions in my head, rehearsing every line.  ‘Cus I know that sooner or later, that day will come.  There’s no way he’s dead.  I know my brother.”

A glimmer at the corner of his eye catches yours.  Beneath the covers, your fingers inch towards his, finding courage in the darkness to brush against his pinky as if the sliver of warmth could express what words simply couldn’t convey.

“With mom gone, there was nothing to lose.  I joined the group, worked hard…did what they needed me to do to gain their trust, all while collecting scraps of info here and there — whatever I could get my hands on in the hopes that it’ll lead me to Gav.”

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.

Tiny drops of rain speckle your windowpane.  And when Shaw’s finger hooks around yours as if in a solemn pinky swear, the tears burning your eyes finally fall.  You don’t ask him how many years it’s been, the dirty deeds he’s had to sully his hands with.  You don’t question him about the father he doesn’t mention.  All you can do is watch as a solitary drop rolls down the side of his face before soaking into lavender strands fanned out on the pillow, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows back bitterness only he knew.

In spite of it all, he is the one who chuckles when he turns towards you, eyes red rimmed even as his brows rise in feigned exasperation when he says, “Why are you crying?!  I’m the one with the tragic past here!”

And when you start to cry even harder, his soft hushes of “Shh, shh…I’m sorry, that last part was a joke.  It’s all right, everything will be okay, I promise,” burrows deep into your heart and you believe him.

Because when he reaches towards you — the thumb wiping the tears from your eyes calloused yet gentle — you are struck by a sense of overwhelming tenderness:

In the carefulness of his touch.

In the way he regards you with the sincerity of some unspoken emotion.

In the entirety of this man whom the rest of the world has already written off.

And that is when you know…

“I didn’t mean to make you cry by telling you all this, I’m sorry.”

…that you are in love with him.

“I’ll make it up to you.  Ask me another question.  Maybe something less depressing this time.”  

A smile spreads across his face.  You wished there was a way for you to keep the warmth of his hand on your cheek forever.  Sniffling, you try again.

“Wh-why did you keep coming in to my store everyday?  There’s a lot of other convenience stores in the area—”

A flash of panic in those amber eyes, and Shaw is turning over with lightning speed until all you can see is the smooth expanse of his back.

“Changed my mind.  A guy’s gotta keep some secrets!  Goodnight!”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

Wrap your arms around the pillow.

“Good girls shouldn’t concern themselves with bad boys.”

Bury your face into its cushiony fill.

“Or have you forgotten that I’m wanted by the police?”

And inhale deeply.

Shaw’s scent on your sheets is faint now, so much so that you can’t be entirely sure you’re not imagining it, having gone through this ritual countless times since the day Shaw left your apartment…

…and stepped out of your life.

                   *                                         *                                          *

“Is there…any way I could stay in touch with you?  I-I just…just want to make sure you’re okay…”

Voice trailing off, you watch as Shaw gingerly shrugs one arm then another through the sleeves of his leather jacket, still wearing the Snoopy t-shirt he had slept in the night before after you told him he could keep it.  His own was torn beyond repair, stubbornly dyed in blood regardless of how much you scrubbed at it.  And when he hesitated still, you said he would just be doing you the favour of taking out the trash.  

Smoothing down the front of his jacket, Shaw glances at the phone in your hands — eyes tracing along your eager fingers, poised to type.  The expression on his face is unreadable, as if the man you had spent the night sharing secrets with was nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

“It’s better if we don’t.  I’ll be fine, just laying low for the next while — boss’s orders.  And I don’t want the cops coming around to your place again.  Detective Whatshisname looks like he could be really good at hounding pretty girls like you.”

That smirk again, so familiar to you by now.  And in the compliment that would’ve made you blush bright red before, nothing but a smokescreen.

“Shaw, I don’t mind—”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?" The force in his voice cuts, and you barely breathe to feel his finger curl beneath your chin, tilting up your face until you have no choice but to meet his gaze.  Those eyes are dull, like molten gold frozen beneath a layer of impenetrable ice.  “Good girls shouldn’t concern themselves with bad boys.  Or have you forgotten that I’m wanted by the police?”

The shiver that runs electric down your spine makes the hairs on your skin stand on end.  It was like looking at a stranger.  Heart racing, your palms grow clammy with sweat, unsure of exactly when your phone had dropped from your hands, slipping away like…

“I don’t care about the cops!  I’ll deal with them—”

“DEAL WITH WHAT?!  You think that just because you managed to turn them away at the door that it makes you a hardened criminal?!  WE are not the same, okay?  My life is worthless.  I’ve already signed it away a long time ago, I’m ready to give it up without a second thought.  But you…you’re different. Y-you’re kind, innocent.  You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.  One day, you’ll make someone the luckiest person in the world, be a beautiful mother to beautiful children.  Don’t sell yourself short…not for someone like me.”

The silence that descends is thick, suffocating.  You don’t speak, afraid to open your mouth because it takes all your concentration just to keep the tears from spilling from your eyes.

Finally letting go of your chin, Shaw reaches behind his neck to undo the clasp on the thin gold chain he wore, the jade disc pendant that hung from it still warm from the heat of his skin when he places it in the palm of your hand.

“It’s not much, but it was a gift from my mom and the most valuable thing I own.  You saved my life, so it’s yours now.  Maybe…maybe one day, you can give it to your own child.”

Lump in your throat, you can barely breathe, let alone tell him there was no way you could accept something that precious, something that priceless.  That you didn’t drag him home that night, broken and bleeding, in the hopes of gain; not for money, not for love.

He curls your fingers around the heirloom, gentle thumb pressing on index, middle, ring then pinky in turn before your fist finds itself held tightly within the press of his much larger hand for one…two…three seconds…

…before those purple Chuck Taylors take him to your door…

Slam.

…and just like that, the man with the lavender hair is gone.

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Forgive me for trolling, but there really was only one bed LOL!  Hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter, and please stay tuned for what may be the final instalment in this Shaw saga! - XOXO

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Four

Thanks so much for reading! 💕 Check out more of my work here! 📚(Please do not repost/copy/alter my work.  Reblogs, on the other hand, are a-ok and much appreciated! 👍🏼💖)

[whump-tr0pes]

HB4-29/Whumptober day 7

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3.

AO3

Masterlist

~

Sam burrito with forehead kisses requested by @endless-whump and @butwhatifyouwrite

Content warning: permanent injury, nerve damage, past torture, mild dissoci@tion, flashbacks, pain medication mention, self-blame

~

Sam groaned and rolled onto their back. Finally – finally, after almost two weeks, how did Isaac cope with this? – they could lie on their back without pain shooting through them. The whip marks were healing. The wound in their arm was healing.

The nerve they were almost certain was severed, was not.

An afternoon breeze rustled the curtains in their room, making the room waver light-dark-light-dark as they billowed in and out. Their gaze moved slowly over the ceiling, the thirteen dark wood beams that stood out against the white. Thirteen, from one end of the room to the other. They’d counted them so many times in the time they’d spent holed up there.

It was… exhausting, sometimes, to be around the others. Not that the others were doing anything wrong; it was just so hard to look at each of them and seen pain tighten in their eyes every time they looked at Sam. Watching the guilt drag at them all, especially Isaac, with his own wounds healing to scars, was like trying to tear a bullet out of their chest with their bare hands. Never fully sure if they would tear something vital as they did. Wondering if maybe the guilt was something that would stay buried in this family forever. Something they should just get used to, learn to breathe past.

They couldn’t take the guilt. Couldn’t take the way everyone’s hands would jerk towards them when they went to stand, as if they needed something to help them balance every time. They couldn’t take how the others would trail off in the middle of a sentence, their gaze fixed on Sam, as if stunned into silence by the magnitude of Sam’s pain. It was more than frustrating, it was maddening.

Edrissa treated them the same as she always did.

Sam’s stomach growled. I wonder when dinner is?

Their stomach growled again, and louder, as if protesting the notion of waiting until dinner to eat. Sam groaned and pushed themself upright.

They were getting better at it, now, moving with only one hand. Their right arm was still slinged, and the surgical cut Finn had made was nearly closed. The infection was gone. Finn was encouraging them to do small, simple exercises, more just letting their arm hang and slowly using their left hand to move the arm in its socket. Finn said it would make healing progress better.

I don’t think it’s going to get much better than this.

Slowly, they stood, savoring the feeling of the rug beneath their feet. They’d slept on concrete for three weeks, the only respite being when Colleen had forced them to kneel on the soft plush rugs wherever she chose to chain them down. Chain them down and strangle them or beat them or drown them or whip them or—

They shuddered and shook their head. No. No. Can’t fall in. They adjusted their arm in its sling – made of very nice, light fabric, and blue, Edrissa made it for them herself – and walked to the door. They pulled it open and were greeted by the soft brrp? of the black cat sitting right outside.

Sam smiled and bent to pet him. “Hey, Nata,” they said softly. Nata pushed with fierce adoration into Sam’s hand. “Hey, sweet boy.” They straightened, and steadied themself against the wall as the hallway went black for a moment. They breathed slowly through their mouth as their vision returned.

They wandered down the hall towards the kitchen, shivering slightly in their thin shirt and shorts. The house stayed so cool during the day, even though summer was around the corner. They didn’t mind, though. It made it easier to sleep. The heat made Sam’s wounds itchy. They rounded the corner into the living room and stopped.

Isaac and Gavin sat on the couch, their heads together as they looked at the puzzle on the coffee table. A new one – Finn and Ellis had been finishing a puzzle about every three or four days since they’d arrived north, and Gray had an entire closet filled with more. This one was of a seascape, the sun glinting off the water in a thousand different colors if you looked closely at the brushstrokes of the painting that had been printed onto the pieces. It was the hardest one yet, mostly blues and greens, with only a single sailboat to break the design of the ocean waves.

“Ellis will kill you if you mess with that puzzle,” Sam said with a gentle smile.

Isaac’s head snapped up, and his look of shock and near-terror at being caught near the puzzle made Sam burst into a snort of laughter. The laughter drew out into a groan as their cracked ribs throbbed in pain.

Isaac shot to his feet and took a step towards Sam before they could even draw a breath.

“I’m okay,” they gasped, holding their hand out in front of them. Isaac hesitated and fell back a step. “Wh-what are you guys up to? Other than taking your lives into your hands breathing on Ellis’s puzzle?” Sam’s lips quirked into an unsteady smile.

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… no, pretty much just that. Just finished up sparring practice with Vera and Edrissa, and I just… kinda zoned out looking at the puzzle. It’s nice. I don’t know if it looks like the actual ocean, but…” He shrugged. “What’re you up to?”

“Um… I was gonna get some food,” Sam said, glancing behind Isaac and meeting Gavin’s gaze for a moment. For once… for the first time since they reached the north again… Gavin didn’t look down and away. Warmth and relief spread faintly through Sam’s chest, like bracing for pain and receiving none.

“I was getting kinda hungry, too,” Isaac said, and glanced at Gavin behind him. “Gav, you want—” Isaac’s mouth snapped shut and he flushed a brilliant shade of red. Gavin’s cheeks flushed to match, and Sam could feel heat on their face, too.

Gav? How did we get here? They bit their lip as for a moment, a memory swept through them, Gavin grinning as he forced their head back where they sat in a chair, their hands tied behind them, holding a knife to their throat as they sobbed and pleaded…

Sam shook their head to clear it. It was a slippery day today, and Sam kept sliding back into their memories.

But I don’t hurt as much today. Please let me stay here…

Gavin got to his feet, his cheeks still pink, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “I could, um… V-Vera showed me how to make eggs benedict last weekend. I could… um…”

Sam’s stomach grumbled loudly in the quiet room. The three of them burst out laughing. Sam winced and bit down hard on their lip.

“Eggs benedict for lunch,” Sam said tightly, counting their heartbeats and waiting for the pain to fade. It was all they could do anymore, now that Finn was slowly weaning them off the morphine and Vicodin. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six… Slowly, the pain in their ribs eased. On the next breath, it would hurt again, but in this precise moment…

Appreciating precise moments free of pain was the only thing that had kept Sam going for almost two weeks.

They looked up at Gavin and Isaac. They were both looking at Sam with almost identical expressions: worry, grief… guilt. Both of them, blaming themselves for the pain Sam felt every day. Both of them, the reason Sam was alive.

Sam couldn’t push that little voice down forever, though: the voice that said that if Gavin had never hurt them in the first place… and if Isaac had killed Gavin in his warehouse, when he was unconscious and bloody…

They gritted their teeth. They hated those thoughts that had crept through their mind more and more, ever since they’d been shot. The pain was poisoning them, and twisted, bitter thoughts had crawled out of that festering place inside them that never felt any relief. Maybe if they had just a day without pain, an hour, a minute, they could push those thoughts away, sweep them out of their mind completely. But they hurt, they hurt, and the only thing that made them feel better were the pills that were slowly, slowly being taken away.

The pills, and Nata. And seeing everyone safe. Seeing Tori when she was herself, tucked under Vera’s arm with a fragile smile. And feeling the wind on their face after three weeks of chilly, stagnant air in their cell. And tasting real food again, Gray’s cookies and Vera’s spicy beef stew and Edrissa’s fresh-baked bread. And looking out over the lake, bigger even than the lake at their first foster home, where they’d chased frogs and swam after spring melted the thin crust of ice over the surface…

All those things made them feel better, too.

Sam blinked, and realized none of them had said a word. They smiled, and the expression felt… tight, but like something they’d been good at, a very long time ago, and were just now trying again. The smile felt comfortable.

“Eggs b-benedict for lunch,” they said again, their tone softer. “Sounds good.”

Gavin let out a gusty breath. “Good,” he huffed. “Because it’s one of the only things I know to make on my own.” He turned and headed for the kitchen. Isaac took a step towards the kitchen as well, then paused, as if realizing he’d moved.

“Gavin,” Isaac said. “Do you want… do you need help, or…?”

“No!” Gavin said, and nudged him back towards the living room. “I can do it. I can… I can do it, Isaac. Stay with Sam.” He blushed and turned away again, and disappeared into the kitchen. He was visible again a moment later over the counter that made a sort of window between the kitchen and the living room, lined with barstools looking in.

Isaac turned back to Sam, a hint of pink still on his cheeks. He flushed darker when he saw them staring at him. “What?” he said weakly, and sat down on the couch near the puzzle.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “‘Gav’?” they said with a grin as they made their way to the couch and slowly eased themself down.

Isaac rolled his eyes, smiling back. He sat down on the couch beside them. “It just slipped out, okay? I didn’t… I haven’t been—”

“What, you haven’t been calling him Gav-Gav when you’re alone?” Sam said with a laugh.

“Oh my god, Sam,” Isaac whispered, his face turning an almost painful-looking red. He buried his face in his hands. “No.”

“Thank god,” Sam said, and nudged Isaac with their left shoulder – their good shoulder. “Because I don’t think I could have tolerated that.”

Isaac snorted and looked up towards the kitchen. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Neither could I.”

Gavin was visible over the half-wall of the counter. He was bustling about the kitchen, wearing a look of intense concentration as he gathered the ingredients, wearing… an apron. Edrissa’s baking apron. Sam tried to suppress another snort of laughter.

Isaac nudged them back, gently. “What?” he said softly, his cheeks burning.

Sam grinned and shook their head. “Nothing,” they said, returning their gaze to Isaac. “He’s just…” Sam shrugged, gently, careful with their arm. “He’s… different.”

“He is,” Isaac said, and sat back against the cushions. Sam shivered slightly. Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together. “You cold?”

“A little,” Sam admitted. Something inside them bristled, just the slightest bit, at Isaac’s concern.

He was like this with me before I got hurt like this. He’s always been like this, with everyone. He can’t turn it off.

“Me, too,” Isaac said, and reached for the thinner blanket draped over the back of the couch. “It’s just been so hard to get… warm since…” He trailed off as he shook the blanket open and laid it over both their laps.

Sam pulled the blanket up around their shoulders and leaned against Isaac. Isaac automatically opened his arm to them and they cuddled against his side.

Just like before.

“S-so,” Isaac said softly, and Sam’s heart ached at the familiar sound of his guilt. “How’s the arm?”

“Um.” They squeezed their right hand into a fist – or tried to. Their thumb and first two fingers twitched, and their thumb shook as they forced it to bend. They bit their lip and grimaced, straining with all their might to just make a fist. Something they could do without even thinking with their left hand. But their right… Maybe there had been a little bit of improvement over the past few days. Or maybe there hadn’t. They couldn’t tell, not with the pain that drilled into their arm every minute…

But the pain was fading. Every day. Some days were worse than others, but every day there was a moment that hurt less than all the other moments. And every day, that moment was better than the day before.

They looked up and saw Isaac looking warily at them. They cleared their throat. “Oh. Um. Honestly, it’s… it’s better.”

Isaac’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s… that’s great. What’s been different? Has the feeling come back yet? Have you—”

“N-no,” Sam said, and stared at the pattern of the blanket over them. “Not like that. It just… doesn’t hurt so much all the time.”

Isaac blinked and sat back. “That’s still great, Sam.”

Sam chewed their lip. Tears formed in their eyes. They didn’t know why, they were just there. They sniffed and wiped their eyes with the blanket.

“Hey,” Isaac said gently, and he… god, he really was starting to sound like himself more and more. More of the kind person Sam knew before… all this. Not that Isaac wasn’t kind now, but there was… a desperation to him. There was a sense of terror under his every movement, like he was one wrong touch or loud sound away from losing himself and hurting… anyone that got too close. That had been going away, too, though.

Sam glanced up at Isaac, just to catch him gesturing with his chin at Gavin. Sam hadn’t even realized the kitchen had gone silent until they looked over at Gavin, who was standing stock-still in the opening of the half-wall, his apron and the English muffin in his hand seemingly forgotten, looking at Sam with grief written plainly over his face. He jumped and hurried over to the stove, where Sam could hear the eggs poaching in water.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Sam said, swiping at their eyes.

Isaac snorted. “Whether I give you the list chronologically or from best to worst, it would take too long.” He wrapped his arm around their shoulders again, but didn’t squeeze. Sam was grateful. Although, out of everyone Isaac probably knew best how to avoid whip marks… except possibly Vera.

“No, it’s just… nothing’s going on now…” Embarrassed, Sam pressed their face into the blanket, the more they tried to hold back, the more their eyes seemed to leak tears.

“Doesn’t have to be,” Isaac said evenly, and Sam relaxed slightly with his even tone.

“It’s stupid,” Sam mumbled, and blushed with their voice broke.

“Sam. Hey.” They lifted their head and forced themself to meet Isaac’s eyes. He smiled and gently ruffled their hair. “You’re fine.”

Sam shrugged as they wiped their nose. They could smell the butter, could hear the ham sizzling in the pan as Gavin worked.

Isaac laughed weakly. “It’s… good to see you, Sam,” he said, sadness lacing the edges of his voice.

Sam grimaced. “I’ve been around.”

Isaac dipped his head. “You have. But… in your room a lot of the time. Which…” He held out his free hand in a supplicating gesture. “…if that’s where you need to be, you be there. Okay? It’s just…” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to their forehead. “It’s just good to see you out.”

Sam picked at the seam of their sling. “Yeah. I… I’ve been… hurting, and—”

“I know. And you aren’t obligated to see us. Ever.” Isaac leveled his gaze at them.

“I… I know. It’s just…” Sam bit their lip and pulled their knees in to their chest under the blanket, tucking their arm against their chest. “It’s just…” They shot a glance at Gavin, whisking something now, and back at Isaac. “So much of… I mean, you guys…” Sam huffed out a breath. “You all just look so… guilty. When you see me.”

Guilt crossed Isaac’s face. Sam braced for their own guilt, and disappointment, and… then Isaac’s face changed. He smiled ruefully. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sam gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Which, you know… I… It’s hard. And… and I feel guilty, too.”

Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together. “For… what, Sam?”

Sam tilted their head back against the couch cushions, tears brimming in their eyes again. “Same old, I guess,” they murmured. “I just… so many of you have been, um, hurt. Because of me. And I… I know that… last bit, with C-Colleen, when she…” They winced as the healing whip marks on their back suddenly burned. “…when she, um, made you say those things. And when I, um, got shot. I…” Sam gulped, and they were helpless against the tears that rolled back into their hair. “If it weren’t for me, you… would never have gotten hurt in the first place. With, um, Gavin. And I… I wanted to come on that mission. I know you didn’t want me to, and I went. And I… when we got taken, all I could, um, think was…” Their eyes slid closed, sending a stream of tears down their cheeks. “Um… all I could think was… ‘please let it just be me this time.’”

Isaac blew out a forceful breath. Sam blinked their eyes open and looked at him. “Oh,” he croaked, his own eyes faraway. “That’s um… exactly what, what I thought, um… too.”

“Well, um…” Sam swallowed the ache in their throat. “Yeah. That’s… that’s why I’ve been, um, in my room a lot. Because, uh… I hate seeing your guilt. And it makes me a hypocrite because I, ah, hate feeling, um, guilty.” They shrugged. “When I see your scars.”

Isaac turned his free arm over, and his gaze moved over the scars there: flat, silver marks from the heated blade of Gavin’s knife, and dozens of thin, pink slashes from his shoulder to his wrist, where Gavin had cut him at Colleen’s house. Those were healed, now, along with the fading ring of pink scars around his wrists where he’d been handcuffed, and fought against the restraints, every single day. Fighting to get to Sam.

“There are a lot more, now,” Isaac said softly, his voice trembling.

“We all have a lot more, now,” Sam said.

Isaac looked at them. “Sam, I… I know, I’m, I’m sorry…”

Sam glared lightly at Isaac. “You’re doing it again.”

Isaac blinked. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I don’t… I swear to god I don’t even… notice…”

“I know, Isaac,” Sam said sadly. They reached out and gently took Isaac’s wrist in their hand, moving their thumb over the scars on his wrists. “It’s just… what you do.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Isaac whispered, his eyes unfocused, like he wasn’t aware he was saying it out loud.

Sam’s lips pulled into a smile. More tears rolled down their cheeks, but they didn’t try to force them down, now. They leaned forward and pulled Isaac into a one-armed embrace. He held them gently, his breath huffing warmly against their hair.

“Um…”

They both glanced up to see Gavin standing over them, his eyes shifted down, one plate in each hand. The smell of Hollandaise and English muffins and ham and eggs washed over them. Their stomach grumbled again, and louder than before. Sam grinned and sat forward.

“We should probably eat at the table so we don’t, um, disturb the puzzle,” Gavin said, eyeing it. “I guess I…” He wandered over to the table and set the plates down. “I guess I could have, um, set that there, and…” He hurried back into the kitchen to grab one more plate and a handful of silverware.

Sam pushed off the blanket and got to their feet. “Smells good,” they said quietly.

Gavin’s head shot up as he set the third plate on the table. “Thank you,” he breathed, wide-eyed.

Sam sat in their seat, watching the curls of steam rise from the plate. Their mouth watered. Almost without thinking, it seemed, Isaac reached for their plate to cut up the food.

“Isaac,” Sam protested weakly. “Yours will get cold. I can, um, I can wait.”

Isaac froze, Sam’s knife and fork already cutting into the eggs benedict. Bright yellow yolk oozed across the plate.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry. I can…” He glanced up at Sam. His lips slowly pulled into a smile. “How ‘bout I alternate? Cut a bite for me, cut a bite for you?”

“That sounds okay,” Sam said quietly.

Isaac cut a bite, carefully spearing the English muffin, ham, and egg, and sauce. He pushed the plate and fork towards Sam and cut a bite for himself.

Gavin had a bite almost all the way to his mouth when he shot to his feet. “You guys eat this with hot sauce,” he gasped, and sprinted to the kitchen. He was back in seconds with the bottle of hot sauce Gray had bought from a woman who grew the best peppers in Crayton – she said so.

Sam took up the fork in their left hand. Even that had gotten easier in the past two weeks. They lifted the fork to their mouth and took a bite, their eyes sliding shut at the hot food. It was delicious.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @justplainwhump, @moose-teeth, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @insanitywishes, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @inaridriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump

[ghostpeblewrite]

Paradoxical - Chapter 5

~~~~~~

Ghost knew deep down that walking out on Toast right then was a bad idea. However, he didn’t know how bad of an idea it actually was.

Only now he realizes that, his head pounding and his wrists tied behind his back. As he comes to his senses more, he realizes he has a blindfold over his eyes. He’s also tied to a chair.

And he can also hear sound in the room he’s in. Quiet whispering to his left. The voices almost sound familiar to him. Hey, maybe if he knows them, they won’t kill him!

“Hello?” he groans. Maybe he can talk his way out of this.

He can hear a gasp followed by a quick, shrill, “He’s awake!!” Two sets of footsteps approach him. One stops to his left, the other directly in front of him.

“Oh, please let me take his blindfold off!!” the shrill voice says, sounding almost like a begging kid.

“I’m not letting you do it,” a deep voice says. It has a weird accent, almost like a mix of southern and British- Wait a fucking minute.

“Oh, you mother FUCKER!” Ghost exclaims. He’d know that fucking voice anywhere. “Gavin you piece of shit!”

The man, correctly identified as Gavin, chuckles. The shrill voice laughs as well, a disturbing cackle that chills Ghost to his bones. “Long time no see, Ghostie.”

Ghost’s blindfold is taken off his head, and he’s face to face with the twin brother of his best friend.

Despite being identical twins, many things help differentiate the two brothers. First of all, Gavin doesn’t have the same baby blue eyes as Toast. His eyes are instead an abnormally vibrant green colour.

Another thing is the scar on the left side of Gavin’s face, stretching from his jaw up to the corner of his eyebrow. Gavin also has a few face piercings, one of them being on his eyebrow, another on his lip. He also does his hair differently than his brother’s.

The easiest way to tell though, is Gavin is a total dickhead, and Toast isn’t.

“What was even the point of the blindfold??” Ghost huffs, glaring at him.

“So you didn’t see him,” Gavin says, backing away from Ghost as he motions to the other guy in the room, presumably the owner of the shrill voice. Ghost freezes when he sees him.

The man looks a lot like Ghost, like he could be his brother or something. However, the man has shaggy nearly black hair that hangs into his face, red eyes, and more scars than a tortured war hostage. The guy’s face splits into an eerie smile, his cracked and scarred lips twisting, forming into something almost inhuman. He has sharp canines.

Everything about the man unsettles Ghost, and he hates to say he knows exactly why.

“We meet again, Ghost!!” The guy says, then lets out a chilling cackle, the effort from it shaking his entire body.

Ghost squeezes his eyes shut. He thought he was finally rid of this parasite, but his cackle drives its way deep into his brain again. He hasn’t seen him since the incident. He never wanted to see him again.

Yet there he stood, in front of him. His parasite. The thing he got ripped from his skull.

Jimmy Casket.

---

“Good morning,” Toast greets. His voice is tense, and he looks like a complete mess.

Spooker, who had just woken up after staying the night at the HQ by accident, blinks in surprise at Toast’s appearance. Toast never looks like this.

“Hi…” Spooker says slowly, “did you sleep?”

“Er, no,” Toast admits, seeming to shake a bit as he goes to grab his mug off the table. “But it’s fine. Have you seen Ghost?”

“Not since yesterday morning. Why?” Spooker raises an eyebrow. “Is he not here?”

“No. He’s not. And he didn’t bring his phone with him. And this isn’t like him,” Toast says quickly, shaking a bit as he takes a sip of whatever’s in his mug.

“Well, I’m sure he’s alright!” Spooker says, putting a hand on Toast’s shoulder. Toast just sighs.

“I don’t know. What with all this … Paranormal stuff going on, I’m worried. This isn’t like him! He always comes back- It’s been 24 hours maybe I should report him as missing?”

“Cmon, Toast! He’s a 30-year-old man, he can spend 24 hours on his own, right?” Spooker says, smiling at him. Toast thinks about that.

“I… I suppose you’re right,” Toast sighs, looking down.

“Yeah!” Spooker nods. “Anyway, Colon and I are gonna go somewhere today. You’ll be okay alone, right?”

Toast looks at him, in such a state that he is most definitely not good to be alone. He nods. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. You two have fun.”

“We will!!” Spooker says as the two head out the door.

Toast watches them go quietly. As soon as the door closes, he feels the weight of being alone settle on him. He can’t stand being alone. It reminds him too much of that dark time of his life.

He can barely remember any of it, really. Just the feelings he had. He remembered the apartment he and … she used to share, once a bright place full of laughter and love, turned to a dark blur in Toast’s memory. He still hasn’t quite forgiven himself for it, but he’s moved past it with Ghost’s help.

Ghost.

His childhood best friend. The memory of Ghost is the only thing that pulled him out of that place. Lead him all the way back to America. All the way to Ghost’s front door. He barely even remembers the first few weeks with Ghost. Ghost doesn’t bring them up either. All Toast can remember is a few blurs of the bottom of the bottle, an overall feeling of shit, and Ghost’s face when he found Toast unconscious on the floor of the kitchen. He had slapped Toast awake, and the face Toast saw when coming to consciousness was one of fear. Sure, he’d seen Ghost afraid before, but nothing like that. It was pure panic, fear from worry. It hurts Toast’s heart to think about.

He remembers Ghost yelling, but none of what he said. He was too captivated by him. Ghost was his own guardian angel back then, always there for Toast whenever he needed him. Toast was there for Ghost too. They sort of relied on each other, both coming out of dark times in their lives.

But now, remembering Ghost’s face the last time he saw him, the anger there. Toast sighs, looking down at his mug of coffee. He hates coffee, he could never understand how Ghost drinks it. He thinks he can understand now.

Part of him thinks he is overreacting. Ghost is a grown man. He can do what he wants, he doesn’t have to stay with Toast. It’s just odd. They’ve always been there for each other, always right nearby. It’s not like Ghost to be gone for so long.

Toast thinks about Ghost’s incident next. It’s barely been a month since it happened, and it’s been a relatively smooth road. Sure there are moments like these where Ghost would get irritable for no reason, but Toast just brushed it off as him adjusting. Maybe he shouldn’t have.

He can still remember the day he found Ghost. He’d been missing for a whole day before Toast finally tracked him down. He had found him in an old warehouse where Gavin resided, a place off the grid and abandoned, but big enough for all of Gavin’s needs. Gavin had stopped him near the entrance, trying to hold him back, saying how Ghost needed time to adjust. Toast had no idea what had happened, or how Gavin was involved. He just knew he needed to get Ghost out of there.

Toast had pushed past Gavin, into a room where there were two cots laid out, a body on each. Both looked similar to the other, with similar body types and faces. However, Ghost had redder hair. That’s how Toast recognized him.

Not to mention, the other guy had way too many scars to be Ghost.

Ghost later explained to Toast what had happened. How Gavin had contacted him, told him he had a way to solve his problem. Toast knew his brother could use magic, but he still does not know to what extent. Apparently, it was enough to extract Jimmy from Ghost’s head though.

Toast shudders at the memory. Knowing that the body on the other cot was Jimmy. He’s done his best to memorize that face, in case he ever sees him again. But he hasn’t seen him since. What’s shocking though is the fact that despite keeping an eye on murders in the area, Toast’s seen no change. Knowing Gavin, he’s probably got Jimmy locked up somewhere so he can’t draw attention to himself.

Toast goes to take a sip of his coffee, gagging a bit when he realizes it’s cold. How long has he been sitting there?

He sighs, standing up to go pour the coffee out. He’s probably had too much anyway.

~~~

haha evil men

[radramblog]

AFR Precon Commanders

Look I literally did this last week, but also, I haven’t really thought about Magic since then, so I don’t have any particular ideas about what to write other than just another long list of cards. I had an idea for an Ebondeath dech tech, but I’m going to put that on the backburner for a day where I have a bit more time.

Besides, there’s a reason Set Reviews and the like are so popular among players. They’re fun to make, and they’re fun to read/listen/watch. And for whatever reason, WoTC has opted to give us effectively two full Commander sets this year, with AFC having just as many precons and almost as many new Commanders as the 2016 precon offering. So there’s a lot going on, and a lot to talk about.

With only 12 new cards to talk about this time, and them being actually designed for the format, I’ll try to spend a bit longer on each one. And the first one is….

Catti-brie of Mithral Hall

There’s a lot going on here for two mana. Catti-brie is Selesnya’s second Equipment Commander, with her compatriot Nazahn being a bunch more impact, but also triple the mana cost. This is besides the part where Nazahn is not that good outside of finding his absolutely bonkers hammer.

I think Catti-brie has a lot of potential. With the right build, she can get very large very quickly, and considering she costs two whole mana, that’s fairly impressive. With no ramp and just Grafted Wargear, she’s swinging for 6 commander damage turn 3, and only getting bigger from there- literally a 3-swing clock with the extra counters.

I literally cannot envision you ever using that last ability unless someone snipes her mid-combat. But you probably don’t need it? I like her either way. Bit awkward she releases the same day as fellow two mana Selesnya Commander that gets bigger for (deckbuild mechanic), Trelassara.

 Galea, Kindler of Hope

…eh?

Okay, so it Future Sights, but only for Auras/Equips, and it gets the Sigarda’s Aid ability for Equipment, which is kind of gross- you get the card and mana advantage at the same time there. As someone with a Gruul topdeck deck, I know that Green doesn’t really offer much to that pie, but I know Blue absolutely does- not gonna be super hard to manipulate and chuck the swords you want on top of the deck.

But like…eh? This commander doesn’t excite me. They’re obviously powerful, but I just don’t care that much. There’s nothing they do that other things don’t, you know? Bant already has topdeck in Amareth, Auras in the three commanders from the Bant Enchantress deck, and arguably Voltron in Rafiq. I guess this is Bant equipment, but…Rafiq………..

 Karazikar, Eye Tyrant

Goad is such a fun mechanic, and I’m so happy to see it every time. Not only does this basically Edric in Rakdos, it also helps you force the issue? Yeah okay, that’s a solid commander. 5 mana is awkward, especially since they can’t really swing in safely themselves that often. With that in mind, the tap ability is deceptively strong, especially combined with, say, Menace.

There are currently 372 Kardur, Doomscourge decks, which is way, WAY more than I expected. I’d imagine a lot of those are switching to Karazikar, considering it’s basically the same but better. Not that I ever really care for “just better” cards, but not everyone sees things the same way I do.

 Klauth, Unrivaled Ancient

What if we made Savage Ventmaw a legend? Okay, cool, but also we fixed it so you can’t go infinite. Wait no stop don’t put Ventmaw in the deck anyway noooooo-

Whoever decided this should have Haste deserves a raise, as the card would be nigh-unusable without it. As it is, this is going to basically let you doublespell constantly, especially if that first one has Haste. Ramp, Beaters, and X-Spells are going to abound. It’s hardly the most unique Gruul commander- Radha 2 exists, after all- but it’s still a solid one.

 Lorcan, Warlock Collector

I think I’ve played D&D with this guy before.

Lorcan is basically Grave Betrayal in the zone. Upside: Grave Betrayal is a bonkers card, and this doesn’t have the end step clause. Downside: 7 mana in the zone is huge, and the life cost will add up very quickly. Upside: Unironically the exile clause is good, since it means you get to effectively grave-hate with this guy. Downside: some good cards, like Marshland Bloodcaster, are Warlocks, and you don’t want to be exiling your own things.

Lorcan is probably a very fun commander, because Grave Betrayal is fun and cool. It’s probably not actually a very good one. I like it in the 99, though? Might pick one up for Gonti.

 Minn, Wily Illusionist

Okay I don’t care if this card is good it’s so fucking cool. Finally, Illusion Tribal! Get out your Krovikan Mists and Lords of the Unreal! Blue has no trouble drawing extra cards, even on your opponent’s turns, so she’s going to be pumping out a bunch of these tokens.

Oh, also that second ability is bonkers. It doesn’t say nonland, you can ramp with this! Very solid for a more permanent-based Blue deck. There are also just a bunch of random Illusions that this greatly benefits- Murmuring Mystic and Mordenkainen and Meloku all make tokens, and Draining Whelk and Fathom Seer have the type. Not a huge number of sacrifice outlets, but Drowned Rusalka is probably the best it has ever been here. Very interesting card.

 Nihiloor

Mx steal-yo-girl here is certainly a unique effect, but not the most interesting one. The second effect benefits Theft tribal, but not, like, well? Though I suppose ganking creatures is a strong enough effect already.

And yet, on this one it’s really awkward? Esper isn’t known for bigboy creatures, but that’s something this deck wants, apparently. It has a lot of potential, but also, there’s a huge amount of setup and a huge potential to get blown out, since blowing them up gives all opponents their guys back immediately. I like what they were trying to do here, but it’s a tad naff.

Prosper, Tome-Bound

Ah yes, the one everyone’s hyped about. And for fair reason, this card is cool as fuck. It’s a unique effect in the colour, and it’s both card advantage and ramp in one card, and it’s in Rakdos of all combinations? Also, it’s a Tiefling, so surely people are horny for him. There’s a good reason this is the most popular commander from the set, including the main set cards.

This is not the only cast-from-exile matters commander in existence- Laelia came out this year too, but she’s weaker and also not black. The extra colour adds a bunch more to this- theft effects mostly, but also more Cascade cards like Bituminous Blast, things like Dream Devourer, and fucking Valki babyyyy. Add in the black Artifact synergy and you’ve got a both flexible and powerful general.

 Sefris of the Hidden Ways

This is probably the only commander that’s going to see any play with the Venture mechanic, so get it while it’s hot. “From anywhere” is a huge line of text, and I suspect Syr Konrad is going to find his way into a lot of Sefris decks.

I’m sure there’s a combo this can do or something, but at the end of the day: Do you like the dungeon mechanic? If so, you’ll probably like this card. If not, you probably won’t. Also, since they are surely not going to make more Dungeon cards any time soon, and maybe never again, this deck is going to look very the same for a very long time.

 Stormvald, Frost Giant Jarl

Sheesh, Bant kinda lost out on this one. Storvald is so incredibly eh.

Ward 3 is, like, juuust on the edge of not really doing that much, where it makes removal cost 4-5, so it’s awkward, but you’re still going to do it if the target is threatening enough. What I’m saying is that it isn’t actually an especially good protective ability on your 7-drop, even if you are in Green.

Making creatures big is decent enough- I’m of the opinion that Gigantomancer is an underrated card, and this gives more colours for things to embiggen. Making things small is slightly less relevant, especially since your 7/7 commander and beater are likely to be crunching through most things anyway. The card is fine, but unexciting.

I like Bant well enough as a colour combination, but like, none of the commanders are my jam. Maybe one day.

 Vrondiss, Rage of Ancients

Iiinteresting. Look, let’s not beat around the bush, dice-rolling isn’t really a thing unless you’re silver bordered- yeah you could get a few of the better things in there, but you’re probably better off just playing ping effects. Pyrohemia this fucker up.

Enrage was a funky mechanic that didn’t actually get a commander, aside from just the Dino tribal ones. But now we have a proper one, and they’re a Dragon to boot. Also, this is probably the easiest its ever been to generate a bunch of Dragon tokens, so getting triggers from them is real easy, even if they are one-shot-pops. Keep in mind that doesn’t say Combat Damage, so Scourge of Valkas and Dragon Tempest are kind of a nonbo.

Gruul obviously already has Dragon Tribal options, but this is still a good thing to have around.

 Wulfgar of Icewind Dale

WoTC apparently decided to throw everyone a curveball on this one. Because from my recollection, everyone on r/custommagic assumed we’d get this effect at some point, now that technology like Panharmonicon exists, but they and I assumed it would be, you know, Boros. The colour combo that probably needs it more. Gruul, really? Come on Gavin, you’re a great dude but what the fuck is this.

Sigh. That’s not especially fair.

This combos with like half a dozen things to make mana and probably triple that to make damage. And there’s surely ways to draw cards, and blow things up, et cetera, et cetera. I’m just salty. This isn’t the note I wanted to go out on!

Fuck it, at least you can still double a Drakuseth trigger. But my Aurelia……..

[10boys]

MLQC:Kissing/make-out

♡ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

*how they like their mouth action

Victor Kissing:

-Victor doesnt do “small pecks”, if your lips are on his he simply cannot just take a “peck”

-Even short kisses are deep and invading, his lips know exactly how to manipulate against yours

-He’ll kiss you where and when he wants and only where and when he wants

-He of course won’t oblige to a request from you

-But you rarely want to give him that satisfaction, he knows if he teases you with almost kisses you’ll start to whine which is what he wants

-His urge usually arises from admiring your face (canon bc of like...all his cards lol), the sunlight hits your eyes perfectly making them a glistening shade lighter, a sunkissed glow making your features appear softer. Your bright eyes accompanied by your long lashes shoot his way , catching him in his trance. He grins as a small blush creeps to his cheeks , knowing he’s seemingly been caught.

-Your tongue quickly made a lap over your lips, drawing his attention downward. Before you had time to wittily joke on him like he does you, his lips are pressed to yours.

-His kisses are deep. they’re possessive. they’re full of all the words he doesn’t say and all emotions he doesn’t show

-Saucy victor loves making you stick your tongue out so he can slowly lick and suck it ;)

-He doesnt think much about it, he just goes in.

- Favorite place to kiss is your lips and ear. He lovesss when you hug him with your head snuggled in his chest, it makes it easy for him nuzzle into your hair and leave small kisses and nibs on ur ear tips

-Loves being kissed on his chest (as tall as you can reach) and back on his shoulder mussels

-Keeps his hand in your hair for his comfort

-Definitely holds your jaw while he sucks

Lucien:

-Lucien loves to give you surprise kisses!

-You two are having one of your guys’ usual library dates

-You’ve been aimlessly wondering through the shelves for a while, collecting interesting finds as you go. After retrieving around 3 or 4 books you venture back to find lucien whos proudly holding down the fort (your guys’ fav spot)

-He leans aginst his seat leasurly holding a wide book infront of him, covering his face from view

-You set down your books and pull out the seat near him, beginning to pry the book away from his face

-“ You can’t see that badly? Did you bring your gla-“

-Suddenly he tugged your face closer to share his behind the book, creating a sensual secret space only occupied by the two of you

-His lavender eyes shares hypnotizing relaxation through with you, his soft smile sent your cheeks a blaze after realizing how near they were to your own. He took a moment sending suductive messages with his eyes, always so full of passion and interest. You watched his delicate eye lashes lower as his lips puckered.

-You instinctively copy his actions, closing the gap.

-Luciens favorite place to kiss is either your fingers or peppered kisses across your face

-Opposite of Victor, sultry lucien likes sticking his tongue out for you to lick and suck ;)

-He’s not afraid of pda, loves leaving kissing on your neck and ears when queued up for a new restaurant or in the line to get coffee

-He loves to build the moment up for your kisses too, sometimes he’ll just stare at your lips bluntly while caressing your face. Being under this intense analyzation brings heat to your cheeks as you try not to grin bashfully, he can’t help to lick his lips, you can only imagine what he’s thinking...

Gavin:

-Gavin gives u uwu kisses

-Usually kisses you when he thinks you’re doing something cute to hide his blushing face

-So yeah you get alottt of kisses

-Its usually a “grabs your whole face and mushes his agaisnt yours” type kiss. Butterfly kisses mixed with full-face

-Loves kissing your hand cause it makes him feel like your gentleman

-Loves getting kisses on his forhead and scars

-Sultry gavin loves getting kisses on his chest and nipples ;)

-He also likes to suck fingers ;)

- You were on your bed taking some last-minute notes off your laptop. Gavins head would usually be laying on your thigh at times like this, making it a bit difficult to focus and write

-Which is exactly why he’s across the room on the couch watching TV until you’re finished. He likes looking through the silly things you watch on Hulu and Youtube. You turn your head and catch a glimps of him, body leasurly laid across your sofa with one airm raised to support his head. The odd position causes his shirt to lift, showing his extremely toned V line.

-The view causes you to bite your lip as a malicious thought arises

-“Wahh~ Officer Gavin~ theirs a bug ~ come kill it ~ save me ~”

-He rolls from his previous position on the couch to foot of your bed.

-“Where? I dont see it”

-“Right there!!” you excitedly point to a corner across you, seemingly containing nothing

-He turns inspecting the area, beginning to confront you about its location

-“It just went under that box !! ewww get it”

-You watch as he bends over, searching between and under for said “spider” , but all you’re seatching for is the heart to stop him

-His shirt swings sways and rises as he bends and straightens out, his muscles tighten everytime he reaches while his thighs thicken with every squat

-“Baby im really not seeing it-” he begins before catching you in the middle of your daze. Your eyes are fixed on him but not his face, nor the so-called spider he was looking for

“You think you’re funny” he replies with a smile as he makes his way to the bed crawling on from the foot

-You playfully tease and squeeze his face, admiring his obedience

-He cups his hand over yours, eyes dazzling over a tinge of pink as you two share this loving and intimate moment. You poke a few silly kissy faces making him laugh, inching closer to close the gap. Your smiling faces press against each other, happiness is all you are with him.

Kiro:

-Wants the most kisses

-Or more properly, verbally and physically requests them the most

-Wake up kiss , good night kiss, ily kiss, you’re cute kiss, thank you kiss, I’ve just been stairing at you for 5 minutes kiss, convincing you not to leave kiss, jealous kiss, and many more

-He doesnt necessarily build up a moment every time either

-Ofc he stares lovingly into ur eyes with a sweet grin and blushy cheeks before he dives in intimately

-But most the time he just dives in wheneverr, He likes seeing you suprised and blushy over him. While you’re preparing a meal or finishing documents he’ll just run up to plant one on u, accompanied by a super hero kiro squeeze

-Loves to give cheek and face-mush kisses

-Loves to receive lip, face and eye kisses

-Loves kisses down his spine, when your attention is on him

-Honestly, sultry kiro will kiss and suck along the way to any and every area

-Give him a surprise lip kiss to unlock ‘weird’ kiro

-You sat across him watching as the food 10x bigger than his mouth goes down with ease, goku is that you?

-It seems he’s caught onto your intrigue, his bubbly blue eyes meet yours as a cheeky grin appears

-“Mmm this is so good! Here, try some!” He extends a cream puff twords you encouraging a bite

-You lower his hand as a respectable “no thank you” guesture, his half aten puff sadly falls back go the plate

-Although he’s easily the cutest boy in the world with squirrel stuffed cheeks, his messy left over just didn’t seem apatizing enough

-You reach out for a fresh puff and get swatted away just as quickly , you raise your gaze to kiros brows in a mighty furrow

-“And what was wrong with my puff?!?!” he exclaims pretending to be overwhelmed with offense. You giggle at his child-like energy and pettyness as you use the swatted hand to squeeze his puff-full cheeks.

-“Nothings wrong ! You were just enjoying them so well i wanted my own” you lie. He’s cute, but he’s no fool. His eyes pour into you, somehow letting you know he’s not biting that foney excuse. He smiles to himself although a lightbulb went off that only shined on him.

-“Of course not chip princess! Whats mine-” he begins placing a puff in his mouth

-“Is yours”. He closes his eyes and leans across the table, his lips wet and pink around the pale colored puff are inviting. His eyelashes cast a soft shadow on his cheeks , which seem to always have the slightest ting of pink when infront of you. His blonde locks shine like diamonds in the corner of the dimely-lit restaurant , you swear there are no circumstances that could make this man anything but beautiful.

-His eyes open, wet and dark as he pleads silently for you to finish the minastration. He knows how to charm you , and his cute ass is making it work, but not this time.

-You lean over the table taking the puff from his mouth, swiflty replacing it with a bold, blunt, but gentle kiss.

-A faint noise escapes his mouth at the sudden gesture, his now wide eyes find yours only inches away. The tips of his ears blush red before he pulls away.

“You’re bold miss chips ! If you thought i tasted better, why didn’t you just say so?”

.....x

Hi its been so long i missed writing :,) I have more shorter blurbs in the drafts so i should have more out soon !! Also requests are open ! Ty - myk

[vagrantblvrd]

maybe some more superhero content where matt is the tech guy but his super power is actually really great for super villains (he can force apathy on people or something). he is never cleared for field duty because hes really good at computers and look at all the donuts he eats, no way hes going in the field. shit happens and he is and he just wipes the floor with the villan of the week. and everyones like "fluke!" and he keeps doing it. "like its hard" and everyone is :(((( because its matt

Oooh, yes, but also, also. Whilst wandering the wilds of Superpower Wiki I came across Fear Manifestation?

Matt who can see both his and other people’s fears and bring them to life.

Just.

Imagine a wee little Matt Bragg discovering that’s his power?

This sweet little kid, all adorable and the whatnot and idk, maybe he saw a scary movie he was way too damn young to watch.

Or maybe a family member’s watching a horror flick thinking Matt’s asleep. Maybe he’s at a friend’s for a sleepover and one of their family members is watching the horror movie, whatever it is, Matt gets up in the middle of the night for a drink of water and sees this horrible, slavering thing on the screen and he has nightmares about it for ages, right?

Knows it’s not real, tells himself over and over again the way his parents did when they realized what was going on with him. Reminds himself it’s just a movie monster and can’t hurt him. Rubber and plastic and fake fur and fake blood and an actor in a suit, you know?

Same as some of his favorite characters in other movies and shows and nothing to worry about.

Except for that time it was?

Matt at a relative’s house for the weekend/summer and strange place – let’s make a farm with lots of trees and other things to cast strange, spooky shadows at night. Skeletal branches scraping against the glass of the spare room he’s sleeping in and owls and other night birds and animals going about their business and strange and unsettling to a city kid like him.

Has a nightmare about the monster, running, and running and running in the dark woods like in the movie. Stupid kid legs too short, slow, and it’s gaining on him and the last thing he sees before he snaps awake is the monster leaping on him, jaws opened wide and blood on its fangs from its last kill and where are his parents????

Poor, wee little Matt Bragg freaking right the fuck out and stumbling out of bed, steps slowing, faltering when he remembers where he is.

At his grandparent’s farm, miles and miles away from home and the closest city.

Dark spooky woods just beyond the farmyard on one side, cornfields on another. Big old barn behind a vegetable patch, and chickens and so on. Long winding dirt driveway leading to a small road and a couple of miles from the next farm over.

The farmhouse is unfamiliar to him, but he thinks he remembers the way to his grandparent’s bedroom. Knows they won’t be mad at him for waking him even at this late an hour, and even if they were he wouldn’t mind because it’s mean they’re safe, he’s safe.

Only.

The hallway doesn’t look, feel, right when he steps outside his room?

Ceiling too tall  and he’s small still, a kid, but it’s not right.

The wallpaper’s different, not the pastel blue with pink roses his grandmother told him his grandfather picked because she loves roses. The light fixtures are different too? Not the polished brass and frosted glass but something colder, harder.

And -

There’s no window overlooking the vegetable patch at the end of the hallway, nothing he recognizes from his grandparent’s farmhouse.

“Oh,” he says, small little voice in a big, dark hallway, “oh, no.”

He does recognize it, because it’s from that movie he knows he wasn’t old enough to see any part of.

The one with the creaky floorboards under his feet and that light further down that flickers like a dying heartbeat.

Glowing red eyes that take form between one and the next.

Red and mean and this low snarl that rolls into a growl.

Click of the monster’s claws on smooth hardwood as it moves toward him, that slow, slow stalk of a predator that’s seen prey and poor, wee little Mat Bragg is frozen to the spot because this can’t be real.

But it is.

Or at least real enough that when the monster snarls again and launches itself down the hall at him he screams bloody murder and runs.

All the way back to the spare room he’s staying in where he slams the door shut and hides in the closet.

Hears it collide with the door, snapping and snarling and clawing at the wood while he curls down into corner of the closet and squeezes his eyes shut hoping it will give up, go away, that it’ll stop.

Claps his hands over his hears and recites the rules to the last game he learned to himself, card game his grandparents taught him before dinner.

He can hear yelling, so he presses his hands to his ears harder, but he can still hear the yelling. And then a gunshot, big, booming thing he recognizes, knows.

And his fear for his grandparents, his grandfather and that shotgun of his, has Matt uncurling, getting to  his feet.

Worried about them, and he’s reaching for the doorknob to the closet door when the door to the bedroom slams open. Draws a yelp out of Matt and has him ck backpedaling as footsteps come his way and the closet door is ripped open -

“Matt?”

It’s his grandfather, looking as scared as Matt’s ever seen him, shotgun in his hands and staring at Matt like he can’t believe he’s okay.

And then, okay, and then.

Matt’s grandfather coaxes him out of the closet, promises him it’s safe and Matt believes him because his grandfather’s one of the strongest, toughest people he knows next to his grandmother and mom, and  when he steps into the bedroom -

“…”

Because the room is untouched, sure, but the door?

Almost broken in two, clawed in two, huge gaping wounds in the wood where the monster tried to claw its way in.

The hallway beyond is the same Matt remembers from before, pastel blue and pink with touches of yellow and green, and the same light fixtures.

Seems the way he remembers it, normal farmhouse in rural South Carolina, and just.

Yes.

So, that’s how Matt discovers his powers and it’s not something he ever forgets, you know?

Gets worse as he gets older, realizes he can do that but with other people’s fears?

Like.

Slightly older Matt Bragg at school and bullies and this menacing figure with ham-sized fists and a rough voice and angry words and Matt’s bullies look so small next to them?

Things like that, and it’s.

He collects them, too.

Each new one slotting itself into his head, making a new home for themselves and sometimes he wakes up screaming because he’s dreaming someone else’s nightmare, fear.

(If he’s lucky, it stays a dream. Sometimes, though, sometimes they crawl out of his head into the real world and things, people, get hurt.)

Matt’s grandparents talk to his mom, his dad, the take him to specialists who teach him how to control it, because it’s that or lose his damn mind.

So he learns to control it.

Slips up from time to time, because he’s still a kid and feelings are hard, but eventually he learns to adapt.

Gets weird looks from people for being as easy-going as he is, weirdly apathetic sometimes?

But it is what it is.

He ends up working with small superhero teams here and there, a knack for computers and tech and people like him are always in demand, you know?

Superhero teams would be lost with out their techies and support staff and Matt gains a reputation as one of the better ones out there.

Catches the eye of a team in one of them big cities people are always talking about?

“Matt, what the fuck?”

Because Jeremy and old friends from way back. One of the minor league teams Matt worked for and this asshole with the impenetrable skin and bullheaded stubbornness to match. Jeremy’s new team needs another techie seeing as how they’re getting to be a little too much for one poor bastard to look after?

So Matt packs up his belongs and moves to the big city – “You’re impossible,” - and gets a tour from Gavin who’s far too relieved to meet him.

“Oh, thank God, you have no idea what it’s like,” like he really believes that.

(Matt’s known Jeremy for years, if what the asshole’s been telling Matt about his new team is even a little bit true, if they’re all like him in the worst possible ways then yeah, Matt fucking well knows.)

Anyway.

Matt starts working for this new team, big league players as these things go. Fight top-tier supervillains and a whole slew of lesser ones jockeying for position among the worst of the worst.

Have a whole city under their protection and a shiny space station all their own that should be fully repaired by the end of the year.

(Platform for an orbital death-ray in a past life, and Ryan and Trevor are quick to reassure everyone the death-ray is no more. Really, guys. :D?)

Anyway, anyway.

New team and all these new fears taking up residence in Matt’s head, you know?

Hi, hello, and I’ll just be living here now, right next to that monster that still gives you nightmares even now, don’t mind me.

Aside from all that, fears and nightmares living inside his head and all, Matt’s pretty easygoing? Affable.

Learns to put up with Gavin’s shit and loves giving it right back to him, the two of them kindred spirits in the way they sometimes want to throttle their fucking teammates?

Like.

Maybe don’t automatically resort to Heroic Sacrifice when there’s still time to come up with alternatives? Don’t be that asshole, okay? It’s a goddamned downer, and that’s before the funeral.

Should be a little worried (horrified?) at the fact that Gavin has secretly had the entire team and support staff microchipped, but when someone gets abducted or goes MIA it cuts down on the Drama and techie-side dramatically.

(Legal? Probably not, but everyone turns a blind eye to it seeing as how useful it is, and really, if Gavin went supervillain on them? The fact he could pinpoint their exact location whenever he wanted would be the least of their worries, so. Yes.)

Anyway, anyway.

Matt settles into the team incredibly quickly, realizes he likes it there?

Like.

Before all this he was just working a job, no real attachment or sentiment to go along with it. Dealt with some real assholes, all ego and no substance and all that over the years. Good people who stayed silent when they should have used their voices to do good and all that, just about everything you could think of, he’s seen it, dealt with it.

But these assholes?

He’s personally invested in them.

To the point he makes an effort to address their fears, see what he can do because some of them -

It’s not fixing them, not whatever horrifically simplified way of talking about it you’d think, just.

Stuff.

Things.

Something?

Something.

Little pushes here, a pointed question there. Outside perspective, non-judgment and that space their fears have made for themselves in his head...shift.

Go from something truly awful, something that could break a person who never deserved it into something smaller, more manageable.

And then, okay, and then???

All those lesser villains and supervillains, well sometimes one of them has real potential, you know? The makings of greatness, and everyone knows being great doesn’t always equate to being good.

Comes in and picks members of the team off one by one, clever and patient about it. So much so no one realizes it’s a concerted effort until it’s almost too late?

Incidents and accidents and seeming bad luck that takes out their heavy hitters at the start, has them calling on reserve members, has Gavin in the field which is a rare fucking occurrence, and not something the others like to see?

But, again, heavy hitters down for the count or missing altogether and their ranks thinned down to near nothing.

Gavin’s a little like Matt – not the same category regarding their powers, God no, just.

Gets underestimated far too often.

Doesn’t look intimidating like some of the others, isn’t some musclebound brute of a figure or anything, but he’s smart.

Clever.

Enough to know there were things Matt wasn’t saying, those long nights in the base nerve center worrying about the others where they’d talk about powers and such.

Little hypotheticals Matt would propose to counter Gavin’s and just.

Something to what he didn’t say, and anyway, anyway.

There’s a call, trouble in the city their team is sworn to protect and they’re the only two in the base who aren’t badly injured, off on what they all know is another wild goose chase searching for the asshole behind all this hurt.

Just the two of them and Gavin takes out a coin he carries around for some reason.

Ryan knows, though, doesn’t he. Gets this little half-smile when he sees Gavin rolling it across his knuckles and a story Matt’s only heard bits and pieces of from the others.

Trevor’s laugh and a glance up, up, up at wherever that shiny space station is in orbit at the time.

Michael’s heavy sigh and put upon scowl, thumbnail rubbing at at scar on his eyebrow in unconscious habit.

Lindsay fucking losing her shit, wheezing something about fucking idiots and...catsuits?

(Either literal catsuits, which, uh, no thanks? Or the kind that Gavin has hanging up in his closet, puts on when the team goes all-out in training and drag Gavin out even though he’s better suited for shadows and stealth rather than head-on tactics.)

And on and on, and one day, one day Matt will get the whole story out of these assholes.

Gavin takes out that coin of his and gives Matt this little grin, smirk.

Just the two of them in the base’s nerve center, lights down low and dread weighing heavy over all of them.

(Sometimes good doesn’t triumph over evil, sometimes the bad guys win. It’s happened in other cities before, will again because that’s how these things go, isn’t it.)

Gavin flips his coin, hand coming down to cover it before Matt can make out if it’s heads or tails and laughs as he heads to his quarters to suit up.

It’s a thing of theirs, that coin flip.

Loser grabs the coffee, or delivers bad news to an overworked and understandably cranky team. Goes and does the thing no one else wants to, can.

Something shifts in Matt’s head, big and mean and angry. Slavering jaws and glowing red eyes and claws that can tear through steel. (Matt’s seen it.)

“Back in a jiff!” Gavin says, suited up and ready to head into the city (their city) with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he’s a goddamned liar because he doesn’t come back, does he?

No he does not, the asshole.

Leaves behind in the dark, all these fears and nightmares in his head.

That monster from his nightmares as a kid? First one he remembers and with him all this time later, less a nightmare and something like a constant...constant.

Something help ground himself when he loses control and can’t tell nightmare from reality and the other way around.

Movie monster made real, and something he’s lived with for a long damn time, learned to make his peace with and all that.

Besides.

He has all these new fears now, doesn’t he? Less fantastical in some ways but no less horrifying to contemplate, because.

This, his team? (Family?) They play a big part of his newest ones.

Still.

No time to think about that, not with some asshole broadcasting some stupid diabolical scheme to the entire city. Cruel and smug and gloating, and Matt’s missing teammates strung up behind him awaiting death by public execution or whatever it is he’s babbling about.

And Matt, okay, Matt.

Doesn’t have a suit or mask to call his own, never really needed one, you know?

Techie like him?

Yeah, no.

No suit, no armor.

Just Matt and a head full of fears and nightmares, and people don’t give him a second glance between good old Matt making his way to the asshole’s lair and the whole city in peril deal.

The ones who do? Hired goons and personal henchmen in matching uniforms? Well, wouldn’t you know what interesting fear they all have?

There are a few you’d expect, dying old and alone and heartbreaking in that respect, but others?

They’re things that step out of the shadows, slither in some cases, with big teeth and claws and the screaming just gets them more excited.

Matt doesn’t kill them, those hired goons and personal henchmen, God no, but they won’t be getting up anytime soon.

(Fear will do that to people, sometimes.)

Works his way up, up, up to a building rooftop and why, Matt wonders, why do they all have to be so goddamned theatrical about this shit?

Anyway, though.

There’s Matt in his hoodie and jeans and worn sneakers he swears he’ll replace soon, really.

There’s Matt, and then there are more hired goons, personal henchmen, and his team, all strung up. The asshole behind this bullshit.

And then, you know, and then.

That nightmare monster that’s been with Matt all these years?

Stalks out of the shadows with its glowing red eyes and sharp fangs and sharp claws.

Stands at Matt’s shoulder, rumbling growl and -

There’s screaming, because there always is, you know?

Big fucking thing like that appearing out of nowhere?

Yeah.

Matt looks up at it, and he knows, he knows, mercy, but in all honesty he’s not really feeling it after all the bullshit this asshole’s put his family through, and yet?

“Try not to kill them,” Matt tells his nightmare monster, and turns his attention to the asshole in the dumb suit.

Smiles when he hears it snarl, rush of displaced air as it races towards the line of stunned hired goons and personal henchmen and then he’s got other things to worry about.

It’s not graceful, not dignified what happens next because Matt doesn’t have the training, skills, the rest of his team does, you know?

At best he’s picked up enough to defend himself if some dick tried to mug him when he’s out and about, but he’s no hand-to-hand specialist. No martial arts master. Nothing fancy like that.

Gets knocked around a little, which, ha, part of his genius plan because fist to cheek and bingo.

“Oh,” Matt says, smiles up at the asshole through bloody teeth. “That’s a nasty fear you have, huh?”

Something about an aching, yawning void, and anger? Voices that claw at the mind, unravel sanity and the poor, stupid bastard who thought he was clever enough to outwit whatever dwells at its heart.

A deal struck out of arrogance and something close to ignorance, and a debt long owed and it shouldn’t exist in their dimension, you know? Impossible, because there are rules, and yet -

It’s the poor stupid bastard’s worst nightmare come to life, and Matt’s powers and there they are.

A furious scream, and clumsy rush like the asshole thinks he can put a stop to his fate if he just kills Matt, but he doesn’t.

Trips, a spot of bad luck or something else, and Matt sidesteps and there’s that aching, yawning void and all that anger.

Swallows him right up before it vanishes, space where it is rippling and warping and Matt has to look away because it isn’t right, how the world works and then it’s gone and it’s just.

Matt and his asshole team scattered about and groaning and unconscious hired goons and personal henchmen and -

“Hey,” Matt says, woozy, exhausted. “Good job.”

Matt’s nightmare monster snorts, tosses its head and fades away.

He feels it settling in the back of his mind as he passes out, familiar weight in the back of his head.

AND THEN.

Everyone collectively loses their shit because what the actual fuck, Matt Bragg?

Matt being like, “So, uh, hey, there’s a thing I forgot to mention?”

And the whole story about his powers comes out and, uh.

The thing where Matt saves the day again and again with his nightmare monster buddy/using some baddie’s fears against them and the others are like “We had that, Matt Bragg” which is a blatant lie as they were about to be lasered in half or whatever, idk.

Yes???

This totally got away from me and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but yes???

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[aiimaginesbts]

Beautiful Resemblance

A/N: A short fic written for Lucien’s birthday :)

Reader x Gavin

Genres: Fluff (PG-13?)

Word count: 3,539 words

Disclaimer/Copyright. Photo from Mr Love: Dream Date.

There’s a growing chill in the air with each passing day that keeps me on my toes. By the time I flip at the calendar on my desk and see the word ‘November’, anxiousness and excitement that have been building up for the past few weeks had hit me all at once. I can’t wait for that day to come. However, if I don’t finish the task I’ve set for myself in time, it will all be for naught.

Just a little over a week earlier, Lucien had unwittingly solved the problem that had been plaguing me since the end of autumn while we were walking down a shopping street together. “Look, isn’t that a figurine of that idol you’re friends with?”

“Huh?” Stopping in my tracks, I’d turned my attention towards the display in the store window that Lucien was pointing at. A small figurine, not much bigger than my hand, stood out amongst other dolls lined up to its right and left. “Oh, wow.” Wanting to take a closer look, I’d unthinkingly released Lucien’s hand to step closer to the glass window. It might have been small, but the details were all there – Kiro’s attention-grabbing blue eyes, the highlights in his blond hair, his bright smile, even his lean muscles – heat had crept up to my face as I’d remembered what a perfect physical specimen he was. It was like a mini-Kiro was right there in front of me. The thought of owning a tiny Kiro amused me to no end, and I’d giggled. “It really is the spitting image of Kiro!”

“Hmm.” Stepping beside me, Lucien had peered into the window, trying to see what I was seeing. “Does that mean you know his features well?”

“Huh? Oh…” Lucien’s sudden question had surprised me. I hadn’t thought of it that way. “I guess… We have worked together several times. Plus, he’s famous. You see him everywhere nowadays.”

“Really? But, if I’m not mistaken, we’ve worked together more, haven’t we?” Pressing further, Lucien had forced me to call forth the number of times he’d appeared on my show; Miracle Finder, and all the times we’d spent together working on planning it. “I’m quite sure that I’ve appeared on your show far more frequently than he has.”

“Yes, of course you have. You’re our guest expert, after all.” My gratitude for all his help had automatically brought a brilliant smile to my face.

“Then…” With one step forward, Lucien had brought himself mere inches away from me. As if that wasn’t enough to leave me all flustered, he’d taken back the hand that I’d let go earlier. “Do you remember my features as well as you know your idol friend’s?”

“Uh-huh,” I’d said stupidly, blinking up dazedly as he’d stared down at me. How was I supposed to think when his gorgeous face was so close to mine that I could feel his warm breath fanning over me? Summoning all my willpower to focus, I came up with an answer; “I can’t really say for sure when you’re right in front of me, Lucien. It’s only when I don’t see you that I can try to recall what I remember.”

“Fair enough.” It’d felt like I’d been released from a spell when Lucien had straightened back up, putting a bit of distance between us. He’d still held on to my hand, though. Not that I was complaining – the heat radiating from our point of contact was welcome in this cold weather. Yet I’d found myself thinking that I wouldn’t have minded it even if he’d held onto me on a hot, sunny day in summer. “Shall we go now?”

“Okay,” I’d given in to his gentle tugging, but as we’d walked off, I’d found myself glancing back towards the store for a final look at mini-Kiro. Even though I’d known all along how popular Kiro was, seeing such a merchandise still came as a nice surprise. Being friends with such an amazing star felt like a dream.

“Do you want to buy it?” Lucien had misinterpreted my attraction to the figurine, and his expression had fallen a little. It was almost as if he was pouting. My attention was drawn back to him instantly. This wasn’t an expression that I saw very often, if at all.

“No,” I’d clarified with a shake of my head. “It’s just mind-boggling that the person I personally know is a toy.”

Chuckling, Lucien had mused, “I wonder if collectors would agree to such a simple term as ‘toy’. But,” he’d smiled teasingly at me, all sulking gone now, “if there was a toy of you, I’d buy it immediately.”

Even though I’d laughed it off then, the thought had stayed with me long enough until I’d found the time to visit an arts and crafts shop two days after that. After explaining what I intended to make, one of the shop assistants had kindly taught me the basics that I’d need. Although I’d managed to buy all the things for the present that I want to make, I’d been so busy with work since that it’s only about half-finished now. The panic is starting to begin in earnest.

Looking at my phone as I hurry up to my apartment, I calculate that I only have less than a week to finish the present before Lucien’s birthday. The unfinished doll sitting on my coffee table is still rough in its development, with only the basic shape of a human, but without any discerning features. I suppose this is where I need to call on my powers of recollection, huh? Lucien’s question the other day about me remembering his features are called to mind, and I can’t help grinning to myself as I work on sewing the doll.

Fortuitously, Lucien is coming on set to shoot an episode of Miracle Finder the very next day. As he talks to the cameras, I find myself watching him intently, paying more attention to his fine features than I normally would. It’s no secret that Lucien is incredibly good-looking, but I’ve never given much thought to his defining attributes. His black hair is kept short and well-trimmed, in line with the rest of his appearance – Lucien has a very neat look. Without his loose, white lab coat, his sturdy build is more apparent underneath his crisp, black dress shirt and slacks. The dark colours contrast sharply with his fair skin, making him look far more noble than the average guy.

However, the feature that draws my attention immediately every time is, without a doubt, his perplexingly beautiful violet eyes. It’s not just the colour, though. There’s wisdom beyond his age hidden behind those vivid irises, so mysterious and intriguing that I can’t help wanting to stare into them for hours just to see if I can uncover what’s hidden within those depths. And yet whenever he smiles as he teases me, a little weight seems lifted from the heavy sadness that always lurks there. I’ve always wished that I can make him smile. Always. So that one day there will be no trace of that sorrow left behind.

Before I know it, shooting is wrapped up, and those eyes I’ve been watching for so long flick in my direction. Oops. Afraid that I’ve been caught in the act, I hurriedly look down at my notebook, although I have completely forgotten why it’s lying open in my lap.

“Is there something on my face?” A soft voice so close to my right ear that his breath ruffles my hair makes me jump in my seat. From the silence that follows – even my co-worker, Kiki’s excited, non-stop chattering comes to a pause – I know that the whole studio heard my startled yelp. Blood rushes to my cheeks immediately. Looking up at the source of my shock, the heat gathered in my face intensifies when I find myself almost nose to nose with Lucien, who’d bent down to whisper in my ear.

Seeing my astonished reaction elicits a low chuckle from him. It’s infuriatingly charming, because that’s what Lucien does to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologises, although his sincerity isn’t all that convincing when he’s literally laughing in my face. I start to pull my face into an indignant pout, then stop when he continues, “It serves you right for staring at me all through the recording session. I could barely concentrate.”

That soft, beguiling grin of his is as nonchalant as ever, making me wonder if his words are really honest or just meant to tease me. On the other hand, regardless of my doubt, just the thought of him being distracted by me is enough to make me flustered. Oh, but I can’t tell him that I really was looking at him! “I was not staring at you!” Panic causes my denial to come out as an unconvincing, embarrassing shriek.

“Really?” Drawing up to his full height, Lucien rubs his chin thoughtfully. Knowing full well that he doesn’t believe me at all, I can’t look up at him. Instead, I give my attention to the notebook in my hand, even though I can’t make sense of anything that’s written on the white pages. “I could have sworn that I have holes from your eyes boring into me.”

“Even if that’s true, which it isn’t,” I ground out, aware of my imminent defeat but refusing to surrender, “You scared me out of my wits, so I’d say we’re even.”

“Indeed. Well, I suppose I’ll have to let you go this time,” he raises his arms in mock surrender, then stoops back down to whisper, “but I won’t go so easy on you next time.”

That titillating threat, blown into my ear like a delicious promise, sends shivers down my spine. Even though I’m at a loss for a comeback, I instinctively turn to face him, but Lucien is already walking away. Remembering that he’d said he still has some work to finish, I refrain from going after him. It’s already very gracious of him to spend his precious time recording my show. I shouldn’t bother him any further.

Fortunately, getting the recording for the next episode done gives me the time and motivation I need for the last spur of effort in finishing Lucien’s present. With the last stitching done to keep a purple button in place, I cut the thread and lean back to examine my handiwork. As far as homemade crafts go, it’s pretty good, even if I do say so myself. I’ve spent some time today to go pick up a small cake at the bakery after work, but I knew I’d have time to finish before midnight. Any weariness I may be feeling dissipates when I look at the doll and think about the man it represents.

And just in time, too. The clock hung on the wall opposite me shows that it’s ten minutes to midnight as I wrap the present with a soft, thin cloth and tie a ribbon at the top. That’s when it hits me; I’d completely forgotten to do the most important thing – ask Lucien if he’s free tonight!

Cursing my own carelessness, I jump off the sofa to get my phone. I was so absorbed in finishing the doll that I didn’t notice if there was that muted noise of the front door of the apartment next to mine closing or not, which would tell me that Lucien’s come home. Even my phone is still in my bag where it has been since I got back. Fishing the device out of my bag, I see that I have one missed call and two messages from the man himself.

“Are you home? I saw your lights are on.”

“Too busy to answer my call?”

Trying to calm myself down so I don’t give anything away, I call Lucien. “Hello?” After three rings, the familiar, comforting voice greets my ear.

“Hi. Sorry for the later response. I was a little distracted,” I say a little breathlessly. My eyes stray towards the clock again. Six minutes to midnight. “Is it okay for me to come over?”

“Now?” He asks, mild curiosity colouring his tone.

“Yes, if you don’t mind. If you’re busy, I won’t stay for very long.” I wished that he isn’t but I quickly add the last sentence anyway, afraid of being turned down.

There’s a short pause on the other end. “… Sure.” The answer prompts me to let out a breath I’m not aware I was holding. “You can stay as long as you want.”

Normally his last statement would be enough to send me into a tizzy, but I’m too pressed for time to put much thought into it. “Be there soon.” As soon as I hang up, I hurry to take the cake out of the fridge, already placed on a nice white plate. All that’s left is to light the candles. A few minutes later, I’m standing before Lucien’s door, wondering how to press his doorbell when I’m struggling to balance the cake and the present in my hands.

Just then, the door opens, revealing Lucien on the other side. “Oh! How did you know I’m here?”

“It’s easy to notice, since I’ve been waiting for you,” Lucien gives me another one of his easy smiles before he looks down at my offerings. “And what is this?”

Internally scolding myself for getting distracted, I burst into a Happy Birthday song. The corners of Lucien’s lips spread out further as he waits for me to finish. “Thank you. Would you like to come inside now?”

“Uh, yes.” Belatedly feeling foolish for singing in the corridor, I hurriedly follow him into his apartment. He closes the door behind me, but doesn’t go further into the house. Feeling awkward standing in the narrow entranceway, I ask, “Shouldn’t we go in?”

“We should,” Lucien agrees. “But before that…” Suddenly, he steps closer to me, prompting me to step back reflexively. There isn’t much space left behind me, so my back immediately hits the wall. Even though he rests a hand on the wall next to me so casually, the effect it has on me is world-shaking. Lifting my chin up, my heartbeat thunders in my ears as he leans down, moving closer and closer to me. “Perhaps I should blow the candles out before they go out on their own.”

“Oh. Right.” Stupid me and my overactive imagination! Trying to will the heat away from my face, I lift up the cake so Lucien can blow out the candles. The light in the entranceway isn’t on, and in the dimness of the small space lit only by the light from his living room, the flickering light from the candles bathes his face almost magically as he moves closer to them. With part of his face shielded by his falling bangs, what I can see of his face glows like an ethereal being. Then he takes a deep breath and releases it over the candles, extinguishing them all in a single exhale, and the moment is over, finally returning my senses to me.

Unaware of how captivated I was by him, Lucien moves away and invites me in. The desk he works at in the corner is littered with papers, but his coffee table remains neat and clear, giving me space to set down the cake and my gift. “Are you still working?”

“I just finished when you came,” he assures me. Although not entirely convinced that he’s telling me the truth, I don’t want to contest his statement. Just give me a chance to give this to him properly. I won’t disturb him for too long, I vow to myself.

“You shouldn’t be working on your birthday, you know.”

“Well, my birthday just started, so technically, I wasn’t.” Informing me of this so matter-of-factly is meant to rile me up, so I fight the urge to pout like I know he’s expecting. Sensing my infuriation anyway, Lucien’s lips perk up as he takes a seat next to me on the sofa. “Besides, now I have the best excuse to stop working and unwind. I can’t think of a better way to start my birthday and end my night than spending it with you.”

Sweet words like thick honey leaves me at a loss for words, and I turn away before he can see how affected I am by them. Correctly assuming that he can’t get a response from me – not anytime soon, anyway – he reaches out for the small bundle next to the cake. “Is this for me?”

“It’s a gift for your birthday,” I confirm with a nod. “It isn’t much, though.”

“No gift from you is too little.” Holding the present in his hands carefully as if it’s precious china, his eyes shine with something that I don’t remember ever seeing before. He looks… happy. Just seeing it lifts my spirits up to new heights. “Can I open it?”

“Go ahead.” As his long, elegant fingers tug at the purple ribbon, my heart starts racing again. For a different reason this time. Is it really good enough to be a present? Would such a clumsy, hand-made knick-knack be a good fit for someone as classy as Lucien? Will he hate it? Questions fly through my mind like a tornado as he unveils the present.

Once he pulls the ribbon, the white cloth that has been wrapping the gift falls away, revealing the doll. Lucien’s eyes widen as he takes it in. Well, at the very least, it seems like I’ve managed to surprise him. It isn’t very big – just about as tall as the tablet he uses at work – but in his large hands, it looks really tiny. Said hands pick it up and turn it over, observing my handiwork from every angle. I feel like my work is being put under careful inspection, and it’s making me really nervous. “It’s nothing special, it’s just a hand-made thing after all. Nowhere as detailed or impressive like the figurine we saw the other day…”

“Yet to me, it is the more precious and amazing than anything you can buy at a store,” Lucien finishes for me, cutting my self-depreciating babbling short. My spirits perk back up with his words. Does that mean he likes it, after all?

“I do. Judging from this, I suppose we can conclude that you do remember my features well,” he answers happily when I’ve mustered enough courage to ask. Then he sobers. “Although, there is just one problem.”

“What is it??” Once again, I start to panic, holding myself back just enough so that I don’t snatch the gift away from him to see what’s wrong with it. Is there a loose thread? Are the violet-button eyes lopsided? Is the pristine white lab coat it’s wearing stained?

Watching my barely-contained anxiousness, Lucien lets out a light, mirthful laugh. “If you remember our conversation from the other day, I said I’d like a doll of you, not of myself.”

“Oh.” For a moment, relief washes over me, before his words sinks in and draws out shyness instead. How could I make a doll of myself?! And especially as a present for him! I’m nowhere near that self-confident enough for that. Trying to wiggle my way out, I giggle nervously. “What would you want something like that for? So you can stick pins in it?”

“I would never do something so horrible to anything that looks as cute as you are,” he titters at the thought. “It’s simply so that I can bring you with me everywhere I go, and look at you all that I want. But since you wouldn’t make me one, you’ll just have to stay by my side. Always.” He shifts closer to me on the couch, until our knees are bumping into each other. My heart drums an erratic beat as he moves closer and closer, until our lips are just about to touch. Then he stops.

Having him stare at me with barely any space between us is making me squirm with anticipation and longing. After a few seconds, I can no longer bear it. “Um, Lucien…?”

“Hmm?” He’s so close that I can feel his very lips vibrating from the sound that he makes.

“Wha– what are you doing?” I whisper. It feels inappropriate to speak above the softest volume imaginable. At this distance, he can hear me breathe anyhow.

“Why, looking at you all I want, of course.” I can hear the trill of laughter in his answer, but I can’t think rationally enough to get mad at him for teasing me, much less come up with a witty retort. “Although… there is no way I can stop myself when you’re this close to me.”

Before I can ask him what he means, Lucien closes the infinitesimal gap between us, and anything I might have to say is lost in our kiss. Wrapped in his tender embrace, drowning in his gentle kisses, I don’t think I mind him looking at me all that much, after all. If this is how it’s going to be, I wish Lucien’s birthday would never end.

Thank you for reading! All feedback is welcome.

[ambereyesandwine]

We’ve Got Soul: Chapter 3

WC: 2450

Warnings: Sass, cursing, ya know, the usual

Beta’d By: @teaspacebar

Notes: This chapter is mostly relationship building between Fantasia and the boys, and to show the change in their relationships in the year-ish since the last chapter.

Chapter 3:

October 8, 2037

8:04 A.M.

           “Hey,” Fantasia called out around the hair-tie bit between her teeth. “Gavin, get up.” She shoved his shoulder before putting her hair up the rest of the way.

           “Nooo,” He groaned.

           “Seriously, you have to go to work today.”

           “I shouldn’t have to, it’s my birthday.”

           “Yesterday was your birthday, today is Thursday. Get up.”

           Gavin propped himself up on his elbows so he could face her. “What time is it?”

           “Eight. I let you sleep for as long as I could before I came in to get you, but I have to go, and you need to leave for work soon.” She was walking around Gavin’s apartment, finishing putting herself together as she spoke. “My blanket is folded on the couch, and I made you breakfast, it’s in the fridge. Take a shower before you go, you stink.”

           “You’re an asshole.” He called through his bedroom door.

           She grabbed her keys, “That’s what friends are for, I’ll see you later!” And the door was shut behind her. Fantasia boarded the next bus to get to Carl’s and rang the doorbell right on time.

           Markus answered the door, “Good morning Fantasia.”

           A smile plastered across her face. “Good morning,” Fantasia said as she walked through the house to the studio. When she entered the room, Carl turned in his chair to face her.

           “You’re late.”

           “I am not,” She dropped her bag under the desk by the door, “You just get bored when I’m not here.”

           “I’m an artist, I’m never bored.”

           “I’m an artist and I get bored regularly.”

           Carl chuckled lightly, “That’d be why you’re an apprentice with lots of work still to do. Today you’re working on texture. You get one color, and you’re going to tell me a story with just the paint thickness and brush stroke.”

           “That’s it?”

           “That’s it. Have fun.” Carl left the studio without another word.

           For a few moments, Fantasia just stood in front of the canvas with a blank stare. “How the hell am I supposed to do this?” She quirked her head a little. “What if I…” Fantasia collected a palette and the paint she’d need to make her color and got started. It was almost three hours later that Carl re-entered the studio to find her standing in front of a dull blue canvas with no visible concept, other failed attempts scattered on the floor.

           As Fantasia continued to add paint to the piece as she spoke, “I’m almost done.”

           “There’s nothing there. I told you to make a story, not a mess on a canvas.”

           “Just give me a minute.” Fantasia looked over her project one more time before turning to face Carl. “It’s done.”

           Carl sighed. “My dear, I sincerely hope you are about to surprise me.”

           “Don’t I always?” Fantasia turned on the lamp she had set up to shine over the painting from the upper-right corner of the canvas. The shadows cast by the ridges in the paint formed a city block, crowded with silhouettes.

           Carl nodded. “Pleasantly surprised, indeed. It’s an interesting idea to use the light, I may have to use that at some point.”

           “Thank you,” Fantasia’s smile grew as she looked between Carl and her painting.

           “I figured this would take you a larger portion of the day. You’re more than welcome to stay if you’d like to continue working.” Carl wheeled over to his lift and continued a large piece he had in progress.

           Fantasia grabbed her bag and found a place to sit on a table across the studio from Carl’s lift. She sat cross-legged and hunched over her sketchbook as she drew her mentor at work.

           Markus entered the room and approached Fantasia. “What are you drawing?”

           “Carl,” Fantasia replied lightly and showed Markus the page. “It’s fun to draw him when he’s too busy with other things to stop me.”

           “I can still hear you.”

           “But you won’t stop me cause you’re already in the lift.” Upon receiving no reply, Fantasia continued to sketch.

           “Do you need anything while I’m here?” Markus asked politely.

           “Just your company, if you have some time.” Fantasia looked up from her work to smile at him.

           Markus smiled back. “Of course.”

           Fantasia scooted over and moved her bag to the floor to make room for him. She patted the newly opened space, which Markus gladly filled. When he was seated on the table comfortably, Markus switched between watching Fantasia draw and watching Carl paint, almost as though he was studying.

           “What do you think?” Fantasia tilted her sketchbook Markus’s way to show him her semi-finished drawing.

           “I think it’s very life-like.”

           She hummed, “Mm, an easy answer. I’ll get an opinion out of you one day.”

           “Were you looking for another response?” Markus questioned lightly.

           A small huff left Fantasia’s chest. “No, Markus. It’s okay.” She smiled at him. “I think I’m gonna get some lunch. Carl?” She called across the studio, “I’m gonna make lunch, do you want anything?”

           Carl continued to paint as he replied, “No, I’m fine, help yourself.”

           “Awesome,” Fantasia hopped off the table and held her hand out toward Markus. “Do you want to come?”

           “If you’d like.” Markus took Fantasia’s hand and neatly slid off the table before following her into the kitchen.

           When Fantasia got to the kitchen, she immediately turned to Markus and asked, “What do you think Carl would like to eat?”

           “He said he didn’t want anything.”

           “Yes,” she huffed, “But he always says he doesn’t want anything and then as soon as I bring food into the studio, he asks you to make him something. I’m just trying to take out the middle step.”

           “He does seem to have a pattern.” Markus replied. “What about a salad?”

           “That sounds great, Carl could use some vegetables in his life.” Fantasia went to the fridge and collected lettuce, peppers, a cucumber, and some other vegetables. “Do you have any chicken breast?”

           “Yes, second shelf from the top.”

           “Awesome,” Fantasia grabbed the package and handed it to Markus. “Will you cook a couple up while I cut veggies?”

           “Of course.”

           The two had lunch put together in 20 minutes, and Fantasia put it out on the table while Markus went to collect Carl.

           “I said I wasn’t hungry,” He said, rolling up to the table. “But that does smell pretty good.”

           Fantasia smiled. “I figured you’d say that, that’s why we made enough for two to begin with. Here.” She placed his salad in front of him on the table.

           “Aww,” Carl said with disdain. “I smelled chicken, I thought it was all chicken. This is not real person food, it’s for herbivores.”

           “Good thing you’re an omnivore and can eat both.” Fantasia picked up her utensils and stared at Carl from across the table. “Eat.”

October 13, 2037

12:27 P.M.

           As Fantasia walked into the station, she was greeted by the call of her name.

           “Tasia!” Gavin jogged over to her and snatched the paper bag from her hands and kissed her on the cheek before plopping down at his desk. “Finally, I’m starving.”

           She sat down in her usual chair. “You’re super affectionate today, are you dying?” Fantasia said it between bites of fries.

           “Fuck you, I’m in a good mood.”

           She nodded, “Ah, there you are. What’s up?”

           “I made a big arrest today, for your information,” He laced the second half of his statement with attitude. “We’ve been looking for this guy for months,” Gavin continued to talk around mouthfuls of food, “And I got him today, cause I’m the fucking best.”

           “Uh huh.” Fantasia gestured with sarcastic curiosity, “So were you the only police officer at the scene, or did you have other people there?”

           “There were others.”

           “Uh huh, and did you do all the work by yourself while they just stood around, or were they all involved?”

           Gavin narrowed his eyes. “The second one…”

           “Uh huh, so did Gavin Reed get him or did the DPD get him. Together.”

           The pleasant expression on Gavin’s face melted. “You’re a soul-sucking terrorist. You know that?”

           “Chris, I fixed him!” Fantasia called out across the station.

           “Thank you!” Came back from the general direction of the break room.

           Gavin’s eyes went wide, “What was that?”

           Fantasia replied nonchalantly, “Chris texted me while I was on my way over. He said you were being scary. I fixed it.”

           “I hate you.”

           “I am the only person you don’t genuinely despise on some level or another, and I brought you food, so you have to be nice to me.”

           He grumbled to himself and silently ate his food with his normal, grumpy disposition until Fantasia got out her sketchbook.

           “What are you drawing.”

           “You’re talking with your mouth full, and it’s disgusting.”

           “Sorry m’lady.” Gavin dramatically attempted to swallow the entire mouthful of food and almost choked before trying to pretend nothing happened and asked again, “What’re you drawing.”

           She looked at him, perplexed. “Do you regret that? Do you regret what you just did, or do you stand by that?”

           “Yes.” His voice was strained as he coughed and reached for his drink.

           Fantasia nodded slowly with an affirmative hum before answering Gavin’s question. “I’m drawing you with a smile on your face. It’s so rare, I figured I’d capture it forever. Ya know, ‘make a picture, it’ll last longer’ and all that.”

           “That is not how the saying goes.”

           “Do I look like I give a fuck?”

           “Ouch, the Clever Comeback Queen has struck again, let’s hear it folks.”

           Fantasia rolled her eyes. “What else do you have going on today?”

           “Paperwork.”

           “Ah yes, saving the world and filling out paperwork. Real heroes don’t wear capes, they wear dirty leather jackets and listen to shitty music.”

           “Hey,” Gavin pointed accusingly at her, “You stay off my music. Carry on My Wayward Son is a classic.”

           She scoffed, “Yeah maybe, but its but its older than Hank and you act like it’s the last good song ever released.”

           “Cause it is.”

           “No. Look me in the eyes,” She pointed at her own face with two fingers. “I listen to you blast all kinds of terrible music from when you were in middle school and high school that is way different than Kansas, and I am willing to put money down that the only reason you’ve ever even heard of that song is cause of that show you used to watch cause you thought it would make you cool.”

           Gavin’s face crunched, trying to formulate a response, but he caved, “I got nothin.”

           “Yeah.”

           “You free this weekend, or do you have super special painting practice?”

           “I’m free, I think,” Fantasia stated as she started cleaning up their lunch. “Carl has some fancy charity auction thingy that I’m not allowed to go to.” She shrugged.

           “Why not?”

           “Oh, ya know, big names only, they have a reputation to keep up.”

           “So, you’re not even allowed to go?”

           “Nope.”

           “That’s dumb.”

           “Agreed. You wanna go out instead?”

           “Depends,” Gavin considered.

           “On?”

           “Are you gonna be pissy the whole time about how you didn’t get to go to the auction thing?”

           “What? No. It’s literally a bunch of old dudes in a room talking about ‘strokes’ all night and pretending they aren’t talking about their dicks. I am totally fine not being the only female in that room.”

           “Awesome, then I’ll see you later? I gotta get back to work.” Gavin gestured widely to his mostly empty desk.

           “Yeah, you have fun with all that. I’ll shoot you a text when I pick a place.”

           “It better not be some shitty line-dancing bar again.” He called out as Fantasia started to walk away.

           “If you actually cared you wouldn’t make me choose every time.” She shot finger guns at him before she turned to leave.

November 2, 2037

6:09 P.M.

           “So, dad, what’s for dinner?” Leo walked into the dining room where Fantasia and Markus were serving dinner.

           Fantasia’s smile dropped as soon as she saw Leo’s face.

           “Oh, hey Tay, wasn’t expecting to see you here. Are you on the menu tonight?”

           The resulting scowl and glare that Fantasia produced could have pierced most people’s skin, but Leo didn’t back down. “Nobody calls me Tay,” She seethed.

           “Exactly! So, I’m unique!” He smiled a shit-eating grin.

           “So, you can call me Fantasia. Nothing else.”

           “Oh ouch,” He turned to Markus, “That bitch is almost as cold as your insides tonight, huh?”

           “Leo,” Carl interrupted, “That’s enough. What do you want?”

           “Well food for starters, if you’re offering.”

           Carl made no gesture to offer the things his son demanded. “Why did you come here, Leo?”

           “What, I can’t just come over to hang out with my pops?”

           “You never have before,” Fantasia spat.

           Leo turned on her, “I’m sorry, who were you again? This is my dad, not yours, little orphan girl.”

           “I said enough,” Carl restated sternly. “No more games, Leo. Why are you here?”

           “I need money.”

           Carl looked confused, “I thought you said you got a job.”

           “Yeah, well it fell through and now I need money for rent.”

           “What do you mean it ‘fell through?’”

           “They found out about the ice, does it matter?” Leo’s agitation covered his face.

           A sigh left Carl’s chest, “How much do you need?”

           “A thousand dollars.”

           “Fine.”

           “Thanks, dad, I knew I could count on you.” Leo made a pointed glance toward Fantasia before he spoke again. “I’m glad the help is keeping you good company while I’m away.”

           “I’m not-” Fantasia started but dropped it when she saw Carl’s face. He was already upset, and she didn’t want to make it worse for him.

           “Was that all you needed?” Carl asked hopefully.

           “Yeah,” Leo started back out toward the door. “I can’t stick around. I got places to be.”

           “Oh.”

           “I’ll see you around pops,” Were Leo’s last words before the door closed behind him.

           Fantasia immediately turned to Carl and asked, “Are you okay?”

           He took a deep breath before replying, “I’m fine. What did you two make for dinner?” The smile on his face was forced.

           Markus chimed in, “Alfredo that Fantasia insisted we ‘wing.’”

           “I just didn’t want it to be something from a cookbook you have memorized! I wanted it to be fun!”

           Markus smiled. “It was fun.”

           “Then the mission was accomplished, can I eat now?” Carl reached for his plate.

           “Yeah, sorry.” Fantasia set the table the rest of the way and sat down across from Carl to dig into her food.

           The two ate in relative quiet with only the sounds of the dishes being washed as background noise.

[blackleatherjacketz]

My Brother’s Keeper: Chapter 7

Negan x Reader

Summary: Your brother runs away from the Sanctuary and you pay the price. This Chapter: Negan gives you a dress and brings you to The Kingdom to help look for him.

Warnings: Citrus, Nipple Play, Danger, Fear, Negan’s Mouth, Lucille, Wonderment

Featuring: The Kingdom, Richard, Jerry, King Ezekiel and Shiva

Word Count: 2172

Read the rest of the story HERE!

The Kingdom was farther away than you’d expected; the bumpy car ride in Negan’s Charger lulling you to sleep as you rested your head against the sleek leather door. The previous night’s refusal had kept you awake as you did your best to keep your hands to yourself, burying yourself in medical books until the sun finally crept over the horizon. You were exhausted, welcoming this brief moment of rest as you let your eyelids fall to images of trees and abandoned buildings that sped past the car and into your dreams.

“Your brother is gonna lose his SHIT when he sees you in that!” Negan’s voice drew you from slumber, humming a tune as he glanced over at you from the driver’s seat. “I mean, goddamn, I shoulda put you in that thing a long time ago.”

“It’s only temporary, though, right?” You cut him off, pulling the fabric down to your knees.

Negan bit his lip and looked back at the road, sucking in the hot summer air through his teeth as he pondered your question. “Probably,” he smirked, exhaling slowly. “It’s just for show, baby, but if you like it so much I just might let you keep it,” he chuckled, slowing the car down to half speed as he approached a small ghost town.

“I don’t,” you reassured him. “This thing isn’t very functional.”

“Functional?” Negan rose his eyebrows, taking one hand off the wheel before tracing the hem of your collar. “Sure it is.” His fingers sent butterflies into your stomach as they slid underneath the fabric, tickling your skin and rubbing your nipple between his fingertips. “It’s all kinds of functional.” He kept his eyes on the road as he twisted and pulled, sending little bolts of lightning into your chest as your skin played victim to his grasp.

You leaned forward and rubbed your thighs together, providing friction for yourself as you leaned into him. Your heart skipped a beat as he pinched even harder, those bolts of lightning making your moisture more apparent in your short black dress. Maybe he’d put you out of your lustful misery and pull this car over, after all. If only you could just slide your hand over the top of his pants to get him hard...

He laughed and licked his lips, taking his hand out of your dress before slowing the car down to a complete stop. “Nice try baby, but you know the rules.” He winked at you and opened his car door, grasping Lucille by the handle. “We’re going to have a lot of fun with that later, but for now, it’s showtime!”

He walked you up to a group of people who looked like they were ready for the most intense laser tag game of their lives. If you had come across them under any other circumstances you would have greeted them with a smile and a wave, but today you were with Negan. Today you were in a dress. Today you were bait.

“Negan, we weren’t expecting you in person.” A middle-aged man straightened his posture at the sight of him, walking toward you with a machine gun clutched close to his chest. He spoke firmly and without trepidation, keeping his gun pointed at the ground as he got closer. He must be their leader.

“Richie Rich!” Negan bellowed, sauntering toward him. “Don’t get your panties in a twist just yet! Gavin’s still coming for your weekly offering, and I hope for your sake it’s up to par.” He patted the man’s arm. “He’s just a few minutes behind us, but that’s not why I’m here.” He leaned back so far you thought he might fall backward.

“What can we do for you, Negan?” The man’s icy blue irises expanded as he looked at your lover, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints as the grip on his weapon tightened.

“I’m glad you asked, Little Richard!” Negan stood up straight, pulling him in close. “I’m looking for some of my men. Men and women, to be exact, and Good Old Gregory over at Hilltop hasn’t seen them.” He took a breath and pointed at you. “Her brother took himself and two good workers away from the Sanctuary, and you guys are next on my list for where they might be hiding out.” He brought his lips to the man’s ear, his grin barely brushing its cartilage as he smiled into him. “Now, have you or anyone else in this group seen anyone new around these parts?”

Richard turned his head to face him, their lips almost touching. “No, I haven’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind escorting me and my little lady friend here through the Kingdom just to make sure, now would you?” He turned and winked at you as he clamped down hard on Richard’s shoulder.

“That’s up to the King.” His voice began to falter, the fear taking over his vocal cords as they vibrated in his throat.

“Well then, take us to the King.” ————————

Richard led you through rows of plentiful gardens, the air fresh with the aroma of lilacs as you passed by leaves of green and juicy fruits. Women and children sat outside freely, learning skills from painting to archery as smiles painted their young and jubilant faces. The Kingdom was made up of bricks and mortar just like the Sanctuary, but something here was drastically different. The air was clearer, the sun shone brighter, the colors more vibrant as you made your way through this Utopian community.

“The king’s not expecting you.” A large Samoan man cautioned, a medieval battle axe in his hands.

“I know, Ben and Jerry, that’s the whole point.” Negan smirked and tilted his head, sizing up the giant man who stood guard to the king’s residence. “It’s kind of a surprise!” He leaned back with his last word, glancing over at you before pointing toward the double doors. “Jerry’s not too bright,” he whispered to you.

“I heard that,” Jerry muttered, turning around and opening the doors. “Come on,” he sighed. Jerry motioned for you to follow him, the metal of his axe reflecting the warm sunlight before disappearing into the cool darkness of what you soon discovered to be a theater.

A rush of cool air hit you, the smell of moth balls and patchouli reaching your nostrils as a few stray hairs fanned away from your forehead. The doors shut loudly behind you, encasing the four of you in the pleasant scent as the very bricks smelled far more pleasant than those of the Sanctuary. Another scent hit you as you stepped down the slanted aisle of the auditorium, bypassing Negan’s cologne that usually took over your senses completely. Was it wet dog, or a barn smell, or….

A thunderous roar echoed against the walls of the theater, answering your unspoken question before you even had time to ask. A tiger. A tiger?! A tiger was in the room! What was a tiger doing in here?!

“Jerry! To what do I owe the pleasure?” A theatrical voice broke your concentration and brought your eyes forward, the bouquet of fragrances taking a backseat to the visual masterpiece in front of you.

Rows and rows of worn-down seats led you to a stage at the opposite end of the room, a medieval backdrop reminding you of your early days in community theater. Judging by the cityscape, it had to have been from an old production of Camelot, complete with a throne and pedestal for it to set on. The man occupying the throne lounged on it nonchalantly, his chestnut skin glowing in the stage light as his dreadlocks cascaded down his shoulders. He smiled unapologetically, his dimples and crow’s feet exuding genuine joy as he looked over at the wild animal at the end of his chain. He was beautiful, in every essence of the word.

“Zeke!” Negan bellowed, his voice drawing a defensive growl from the tiger as it paced in front of its owner.

“Negan of the Sanctuary.” The man’s tone changed from theatrical to worried, his posture straightening in his seat. “I thought we had an agreement inside the Kingdom walls.” He leaned forward and glanced over at you, taking note of the bruises on your neck and wrists as his kind eyes warmed you. Maybe you looked more like your brother than you gave yourself credit for. Maybe Alex was actually here, after all.

“What, you don’t want to bring me home to mom and dad? Let them know you’re in bed with a white guy who takes half your shit?” He paused and looked over at you, grinning wide before looking back up at the King. “I mean, I know we have kind of a... friends with benefits situation going on here, but I’d like to think we’ve always been honest with each other.”

The King sighed, his eyes all but rolling back in his head as Negan continued with his graphic analogy. “We have,” was all he said in return.

“Good, your majesty. See, three of my people ran off in the middle of the night, and Gregory over at Hilltop hasn’t seen hide nor tail of ‘em. Now, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would ya?”

You stepped forward without even realizing it, your feet carrying you toward the man whose next few words held your family’s fate along with them. What he said next would determine if your brother lived or died, if your relationship with Negan continued, and if your father and sister had to keep worrying back at the Sanctuary. Had he seen them? Was he hiding them? Did he know anything about them at all? You squinted to watch his face as he answered the most important question of your life.

“If my scouts found travelers, they would have brought them to me for review.” The King told your leader.

Dammit. You’d hoped Alex wouldn’t be here, but a part of you wanted to see his face again.

“I want to believe that, Zeke, I really do.” Negan stepped closer to the stage, gripping Lucille tightly on his shoulder as the tiger began to square up. “You’ve never lied to me, at least I THINK you haven’t, but if for some reason I think you are, well…” He placed his free hand on a walkie talkie you didn’t even know was there. “All I gotta do is give my men the word and we’ll be all up in your shit like white on rice, ransacking this place until we find them.” He paused and unlatched the device from his belt loop, pressing the button to speak. “Dwighty Boy, you in position?” The static scratched over his last word, disappearing as soon as it had appeared.

“Yeah, boss,” Dwight’s nasally voice came over the radio. “You good?”

Negan’s smile brightened the room like a blinding red light. “I’m good.” He paused. “For now.” He nodded as if his lieutenant could see him, keeping his eyes on the King as he lowered the handheld back onto his hip. “I got my best cook, seamstress and strategist out there just walking around as bait for the dead while we sit here and talk. I know you don’t want to change our relationship status, and that makes two of us, but if I…”

“I wish I could help you, Negan,” the King began.

Without letting him finish, Negan grabbed the handle of Lucille with both hands and smashed it down onto the lacquered wood of the stage. “Then help me!”

The tiger roared so loudly it echoed throughout the theater, putting a pressure on your eardrums you’d never felt before. It was deep and loud, shaking the lights above the King as it jiggled the very screws that held them together.

“Shiva!” The King yelled, standing up and pulling the chain back towards him. “Shiva,” he whispered, walking up to the tiger to pet its head.

“I was nice enough to come in here without the rest of my men to follow YOUR rules, now, I didn’t have to do that. The least you could do is work with me.” Negan followed up, stepping away from the jungle cat.

“Your actions are beyond generous, Negan the Red. Feel free to search the premises if it offers you peace of mind. Take what you need for sustenance, but I must ask you to be discrete.” He glanced over at you again. “We have great doctors if she needs medical attention.”

“She doesn’t need shit.” Negan stepped in front of you, blocking the King’s line of vision. “What she needs is her brother back, and I need my people back at the Sanctuary providing for me. If I’m not back before sunset, my people are gonna get real familiar with your people. Now I know you don’t want that to happen.”

“Of course not.” The King took a breath and pondered his options for a split second. “Richard and Jerry will be happy to show you around.”

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

Tags: @genevievedarcygranger @annablack1102 @negans-network @negansdirtygirl22 @letsby @sherrybaby14 @ptite-shit @inappropriatecabbage @irrelevantwriter @collette04 @mblaqgi @namelesslosers @bishsposts @chamberofsloths @rasa1945 @haleyea @bodhi-black 

[frost-feathers]

a huntress’ lament

“Hey, Endymion?”

“Hmph?”

“What was it like when you completed your Hunt?”

“Fantastic. Like a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders. Now I don’t have to worry about anything ever again. Why? You getting close to completing yours?”

“Caithe told me about a stag that has been seen close by recently... She thinks it’s the same one from my Dream.”

“That’s perfect. We’ll be known as the fastest podtwins to complete their Wyld Hunts!”

“Yeah but... what do I do once it’s complete? Where do I go from there?”

“Who knows. But I don’t think it’s as scary as others make it out to be. Relax, we’ll be fine as long as we’re together.”

---

Her feet barely make a sound against the soft earth as she runs. She moves like a gazelle, weaving through the underbrush like she has known these trails all her life. She is only a week old, but she is already one of the best hunters in the Grove. She leaves no tracks, runs so fast one can blink and miss her. During the night when she is most alive, she appears more as a mint-colored mist than a sylvari. 

Her prey is here; she knows it. The stag’s footprints stand out against the rich mud. Into the cave. That’s where he went.

She tracks it swiftly, stopping every so often to check for hoof prints or signs of the stag again. Born only a week ago and she is already this close to completing her Wyld Hunt. Find the white stag, the Dream had whispered to her, protect it. It is in danger. She knows this animal is something magical, something connected to the Dream. For it to fall in the wrong hands would mean disaster.

Risen block her path; she slips by them with ease. No undead can catch up to her speed. They are minor, insignificant obstacles on her hunt. The air hums with magic. the stag must be close-

“Is someone there? Please help me!”

Her ears flick as the voice interrupts her concentration. It sounded to the left. Another sylvari, in pain. The stag can wait a little longer.

The Risen that also heard the cry for help trudge toward the sound, ready to silence whatever is still living. The huntress spurs into action. She readies her shot with her bow, one eye closed and arrow right up against her cheek. She lets it fly, and the explosive fire reduces all the Risen to ash. The wounded sylvari stares in shock at the damage done by a single arrow, and then looks up as she hurries to him.

“Well done, sapling!” He exclaims in awe. “Well done, indeed!”

“Be at ease,” she reassures as she kneels next to him, “You’re safe now. Are you wounded?”

It’s then she notices him clutching his side, which oozes bright golden sap between his fingers. She tuts and asks him to move his hands. Placing her own over the wound, she closes her eyes and meditates. Soft light begins to glow, and then a flash. The wound is sealed and healthy again. 

“Thank you, sapling. I’ve never seen someone so skilled in battle and healing at such a young age.” He takes her hand when she offers to help him up. “But I must hurry. There is a white stag I am pursuing and if I let it escape, the consequences will be...dire.”

Her head tilts to the side. “Curious, I too am pursuing the white stag I saw in my Dream.” 

“Then we should hunt it together. It may mean more luck. I am Gavin, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bows to her, tilting his head up to give her a charming, charismatic smile.

Her cheeks burn with bashfulness, glow flaring for just a moment. She dips into a curtsy. “I am Crescentia. The pleasure is all mine.”

---

“You found it already?”

“Yes, and a kind friend is going to help me because he wants the stag too!”

“That... Gavin fellow?”

“Yes, that’s him. He’s very nice, and he really admires my skill as a guardian. He thinks I could be a magnificent Warden if I train with him after-”

“Cress, I don’t really trust that guy...”

“Wh... What do you mean?”

“Yeah, he’s sweet and all, but he also seems really... shady. Giving you all those compliments and advice, it feels weird...”

“You don’t know him as well as I do, though. He isn’t-”

“I’m just saying be careful around him, alright? I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I think I can decide who I like and hang out with for myself, thank you.”

“Oh c’mon, Cress- Cress? Crescentia!!”

---

A quick look at the top of the watchtower points them in the direction of the white stag. It feels good to finally have someone who matches her pace, who moves just as swiftly through the vines and brambles. Panther and jaguar they are, chasing down their prey as it races along ahead of them. They just need to tire it out; once it’s too weak to run any longer, they can bring it back to the Grove and its power will help strengthen the Dream.

Their breathing is synced as they cut down Risen that dare try to challenge them. A perfect pair, able to communicate without words, the strongest of equals. Together, they’re unstoppable in their quest.

Crescentia thinks about how well Gavin mirrors her compared to Endymion. Almost like he was her podtwin instead of that lazy fern back in the Grove.

The stag is cornered, too weary to continue on. Gavin marches up to it proudly. It rears back away from his hand, and looks to Crescentia as if pleading to keep him away from it. 

“Excellent work, Valiant,” Gavin praises, stroking its neck even as it shudders, “But now I must leave. And I will be taking the white stag with me.” There’s a new look in his eyes that causes Crescentia to back up a few feet. A new... evil. “You're welcome to come, of course. Your skills as a hunter would be an asset to the court.”

“The court?” Crescentia gasps. “All this time... you’ve been working with them They almost killed my brother! I could never-”

He moves toward her and she moves back. There’s a brief flash of pain across his features but he smothers it under hope. A flash of movement and suddenly he’s holding both her hands in his own. “Your skills are wasted following Ventari’s Tablet. Come with me, Crescentia, and you can realize your full potential! You said it yourself earlier. Your brother only holds you back, just like the teachings of an old dead centaur and a human.”

“No, Gavin, I will not go with you!” She shouts and yanks her hands out of his grip. “The Nightmare Court is evil and I will not join it!”

It takes a moment for her words to register. His eyes flicker down, the smile slowly dying on his face to be replace with a frown. He looks like he wants to reach for her again, hand clenching and unclenching before he forces it to his side. His brows draw together and he turns his back to her, shoulders hunched. “Ah, that's a pity. A loyal friend, and now a debased death... It grieves me greatly to turn predatory into prey, Valiant, but I cannot have you interfere.”

She feels the sting before she even registers what’s going on. The nightmare hound’s claws cleave right through the armor she wears and rake bright gold gashes into her back. She screams and falls forward, face first into shallow waters. Her vision blurs but she can still make out Gavin’s boots slowly approaching her. Kneeling down, he takes her chin in between his fingers and forces her to look up at him. She wants to spit in his face but her head keeps spinning like a top. 

“Such a waste of talent... Farewell, dear Crescentia.”

Her eyes flutter closed as he and his nightmare hounds lead the stag away.

---

“I’m gonna rip that stupid excuse of a beard off his stupid face!!”

“Endymion- Valiant Endymion, stop right now!”

“No, Firstborn, that crusty bastard tried to kill my sister! I should’ve taken him out when I had the chance-”

“You can’t just barge into a Nightmare Court camp all by yourself. You know this!”

“Watch me!”

“Endymion, please, we need to go about this carefully. I know a place where we can get disguises, find out the location of Crescentia’s stag. Then we can bring it back and she will complete her Wyld Hunt.”

“Ughhhhhh, fine! But I get to rub it in Gavin’s face when we do.”

---

She awakens to the sounds of a fight in the Grove. The Grove. That shouldn’t be possible, courtiers could never-

Pulling the sheet off her torso, she sits up and swings her legs over the side. Her back stings but she ignores the pain as she sneaks closer to the entrance. 

Sure enough, courtiers battle against the wardens as the citizens run screaming. Caithe stands in front of the stag protectively as it bleats and jumps back on its hind legs. Endymion charges at the sylvari that looks to be the leader. A pale blue woman who fights viciously, using every dirty trick in the book to win. Luckily, Endymion has had his fair share of cheating courtiers.

“So nice to see you again, Sariel! Love the hair, by the way- I think the asymmetry of the pine cone scales really compliments your ghastliness. I really did a good job on that!” He taunts as their blades interlock. “Terribly sorry about stealing back the stag but you know, my sister saw it first. And finders keepers as the humans say!”

“Without that disguise, you look very familiar...” Sariel growls. “You’re that obnoxious sapling that took out Bercilak, aren’t you?”

“Wow! I’m that famous in the Court already! Do you have a bounty on my head? How does my headshot look on the wanted poster? I really hope you didn’t mess up my hair!” He shoves against her blade with the last word, causing her to stumble back.

“After all, it’s so much better than yours.” He adds with a wink that causes her to shriek with rage. 

Crescentia has to get out there and fight; she can’t just stand by and watch. Her eyes dart around the courtyard until she spies a scepter scepter and focus on top of a mushroom table. Weaving through enemy and ally alike, she grasps the scepter in one hand and the focus in the other. It’s not a bow, but she did practice with these the first week she was born.

Just as she turns to join the fight, there’s a shrill shriek she’d recognize anywhere behind her.

Endymion is on his back. Sariel must have pulled some dirty trick because there’s no way he’d end up on the ground that fast. He looks dazed, holding his head in his hand before looking up at the figure that shadows him. Crescentia shouts her brother’s name and rushes to intervene, but another voice booms over the fight.

“Sariel, enough!”

The courtier freezes just before she brings her sword down on the fallen Endymion. It hangs suspended in the air, like she’s still debating on whether or not to defy the higher-up’s orders and just do away with the nuisance. Eventually she sighs, letting the sword drop and all but dragging herself back to where the one who shouted is.

Gavin looks furious as Sariel strides up to him. “Where's your honor? We aren't cutthroats or animals. We kill when needed, when we can use that bloodshed to grow a garden.”

Sariel locks her fingers behind her head and snorts. His glow flares indignantly.

“Leave, now. Meditate on this, and should you fail to learn, I'll kill you myself!”

The younger courtier rolls her eyes, sauntering her way out of the courtyard with her lackeys following closely behind. Before she fully leaves, she tosses one last hateful glance at Caithe and yells, “This isn't over, Caithe! One day I'll kill you, no matter what the Grand Duchess says!”

Caithe does not respond. Once she is a safe distance away, Gavin walks forward. He’s wearing new armor, plant-based like Crescentia’s own instead of the plain chain-mail from before. Cress hates how sincerely apologetic he looks. “I’m so glad you’re safe, my friend. I apologize for Sariel's behavior. She's young. She hasn't learned to temper power with wisdom.”

“Obviously,” Cress mutters as Endymion moves protectively to her side. “But what does it matter? The Nightmare Court is evil regardless of power or wisdom. You two are the same.”

He looks genuinely hurt at her statement. “You wound me, Crescentia. I am nothing like Sariel. She is an honorless craven, ready to strike down your brother without remorse, and I have been your friend. We were a perfect pair when we hunted the stag. An unstoppable force when working together.

“The court doesn't seek to destroy either the sylvari or the Pale Tree. We're trying to free you from the influence of Ventari's Tablet. Think of how much more you could do-”

“That’s enough, Gavin,” Caithe says. “You’ll get nowhere spouting your propaganda in the center of the Grove.”

His jaw clenches but he says no more. The air is tense around the four individuals. Crescentia glares hotly at Gavin, knuckles white gripping the scepter. Endymion stands protectively in front of her, waiting for Gavin to try something. Caithe holds the anxious stag back, one knife drawn. And Gavin glances between each of them, assessing the best course of action.

“Let me prove it to you.” He says. “Duel me, sapling. I’ll show you that what the Nightmare Court is trying to do is for the greater good.”

“Good? Good?” Endymion cackles as he crosses his arms. “You’re called the Nightmare Court, for Ventari’s sake, not the Sunshine and Rainbows Court! Nothing you lot do will ever be GOOD.”

“What are the terms?” Cress asks, and her brother looks back at her in shock.

Gavin grins. “If you win, I will accept whatever punishment you choose. But if I win, I’ll take both the stag and you back to the Court.”

“Deal.”

“Cress, are you insane?!” Endymion shrieks, “You’re still injured. He’s gonna mop the floor with you!”

“For once, I agree with your brother.” Caithe says. “This won’t end in your favor, Valiant.”

Crescentia does not reply as she walks forward. The group of onlookers that had gathered form a line as their barriers, and whispers fly in the air. There’s a sudden hush as both duelists ready their weapons. A scuff of the foot, a roll of the shoulders. Confidence radiates off of Gavin. Crescentia just grits her teeth and holds the scepter tighter.

He rushes at her with surprising speed. Cress throws her hands up and summons a shield that his mace clatters uselessly against. In a blur of movement, she lobs a glowing orb at his chest as he stumbles back. He deflects it with his shield and presses the attack again.

“Excellent, Crescentia -- but I am not yet overthrown.” He grunts when he swipes at her again. 

She backs up onto the spiral walkway, taunting him to follow her. The two sylvari are locked into a dangerous dance, equally matched on the battlefield like they are on the hunt. Dodging and weaving through attacks, it seems like neither can hit the other. Bystanders watch with baited breath as they climb further and further up the spiral.

“Your skills are as keen as your honor, Valiant.” he compliments. Cress ignores it and throws an orb at him again. Her wounds scream in protest as she ducks away from his mace, and he notices the flicker of pain in her eyes. His shield slams into her chest and it knocks the wind out of her. Gasping for breath, she messily draws a symbol on the ground that summons misty strikes from above. Gavin raises the shield above his head but the attacks still bring him to his kneels. Once she regains her breath, she attacks again. Yet she’s starting to wear down, and that little bit of information doesn’t escape Gavin’s notice.

He attacks with renewed vigor, leaving no room for Crescentia to block. A scrape on her arm, a knee into her stomach. She’s barely holding up by the time they reach the top of the spiral. Gavin manages to kick her legs out from her after a quick shield bash. She lands on her back hard, a wheeze of pain escaping her lips. Pain, so much pain throbs down her spine. She can’t get up.

Gavin stands over her, victorious. He sheathes his mace and reaches out to grab Crescentia’s wrist. “Now I can finally show you the true nature of the court. Don’t worry. I think you’ll like-”

A figure leaps in front of Crescentia and slices through Gavin’s outstretched hand. Through blackened vision, Crescentia recognizes the unmistakable green of her brother’s armor. 

“You’re cheating!” Gavin shouts in anger, clutching the hand that now bleeds golden sap.

“Really? Because I seem to recall you saying “Duel me, sapling.” And Crescentia isn’t the only sapling here at the moment.” Endymion shifts in his stance. “So put up your weapon and fight ME.”

Gavin lets out a battle cry and rams into him with his shield. He tanks the hit and retaliates with a flurry of swipes. The courtier has no time to react before he slams the greatsword down on his shield, shattering it in two. He dodges around him as he fumbles for the mace he had sheathed, and Endymion takes his time walking to him.

The Valiant laughs watching him stumble and panic. But the sound ignites a deep anger in Gavin’s chest. One symbol will cripple that Valiant for good. One symbol, just draw it then I can take Crescentia and the stag back, just DRAW-

White hot pain bursts along his spine and he screams. Endymion’s eyes widen as he falls forward, the armor on his back charred and smoking. Behind him, Crescentia still holds the scepter up. Her petals are askew and she’s breathing heavily, but the fear on her face turns to relief as she lowers her weapon again.

Gavin coughs, the wound far too deep to be repairable. Sap bubbles from the places where the armor has been burned down to the skin. He manages to look back at Crescentia, and although she expects hatred, there is only pride in his eyes. “Well done, valiant Crescentia.” A wheeze. “I am beaten. I will be remembered...in the Dream.”

With one last exhale, the life leaves Gavin.

Tears begin to form in Crescentia’s eyes, and she covers her mouth to stifle the sobs. Endymion is immediately by her side, pulling her to him so that she can cry on his shoulder. Why? Why is she crying for a man who tried to turn a beautiful creature of hope into one of despair? Who tried to drag her down with him?

“I’m sorry...” She blubbers. “I’m so sorry, Endy, I should’ve listen-”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he hushes. “I was making assumptions and you had every right to be mad at me. It’s not your fault he actually turned out to be a dick.”

She just continues to sob, clinging to her podtwin. Wardens begin putting the body on a stretcher, to be buried beneath the Pale Tree’s boughs. She watches them take him away through one eye, but something brushing against her hair draws her attention away.

The stag gently nuzzles the side of her head, and she laughs softly. Pulling away from Endymion, she holds the stag’s muzzle in her hands and scratches under his chin. His deep brown eyes glimmer with gratitude, and he sniffs around her face. Something brushes against her mind, a quiet whisper entering her thoughts.

“Thank you.”

She looks up at the stag in shock, and she can see in his eyes that it was him. He bows his head deeply, nose almost touching the ground. Joy warming her chest, she stands up and curtsies back to him. The stag trots away without another word, no doubt heading to the the Omphalos Chamber.

Crescentia turns back to Endymion. But it isn’t just Endymion behind her. Caithe stands a little behind him, arms crossed but Cress swears that is a genuine smile on her face. The onlookers from before are clamoring to thank her, dozens of voices cheering her name. Every face is alight with joy, and it’s almost enough to bring her to tears again.

Even though she had to sacrifice a dear friend, she still has this. A growing community of Valiants and Wardens, just waiting to get to know the White Stag’s hero. A quiet but admirable mentor, who now has aided both twins in their time of need. And a brother who loved her, who threw himself in harm’s way to help her the first moment she looked like she was losing.

There is no fear of the unknown, terror of the future ahead now that she has completed her Wyld Hunt. Just the happiness and warmth of this moment, of the sight of her growing family.

[enkisstories]

Just like them (part 5)

Still November 16, 2038 Android Zone store at Capitol Park

Daniel looked around. He noticed another lone figure looking into the store, a male human dressed in a casual grey suit. When the android walked up closer to him, the man turned towards the arrival. The first thing Daniel noticed was the human’s t-shirt under the open jacket. It sported the print of a Japanese garden landscape that changed its lighting with the time of day – a reasonably expensive gimmick that had been within the means of the Phillips family, but was no longer in Daniel’s. Now that the deviant was able to wear whatever he wanted, no longer confined to his PL600 polo, he was walking around in a used sweater that had cost much less than his old uniform shirt.

Why does that matter to me all of a sudden? Was Raj right? Do I really take after the materialistic bastards?

Then Daniel beheld the man’s face and he gasped in surprise:

“A Kamski-lookalike! How cool is that?!”

Maybe the encounter with the singer had bolstered the deviant’s spirit, or perhaps there was only so much hatred and anger one could feel in any given period of time. Whatever the case, for a moment the old Daniel, the one who had been able to keep up with an enterprising nine-year old and win her admiration, was very much alive again. Daniel took out his phone and waved it around in front of the man, who was the spitting image of his creator.

“Selfie, please?”

The human looked him up and down. “What do you mean, “lookalike”?” he stammered.

“Hahaha!” Daniel laughed. Androids weren’t built to do that, but deviants stubbornly did it without consciously planning to, therefore the result was a lowkey frightening industrial sound. “Don’t tell me people never point out the likeness? No way! You could totally perform as Kamski at Comic Con!”

And thus, before the man knew what was happening to him, he already found himself grabbed by an outdated, slightly oozing PL600, pulled into a hug and subjected to the selfie-taking process. Daniel repeated the procedure a few times, then held his phone for Kamski to see the pictures that had resulted from the assault.

“Looooook at that! The likeness is stunning! You’d really think I was standing shoulder to shoulder with Elijah Kamski.”

“Of course if the real Mr. Kamski was here, you’d…”

“Lol, right, I’d shove that phone down the bastard’s throat ‘till he choked on it!”

The effect was profound. Kamski looked from Daniel’s phone to the android’s hands, into its eyes and back to the smartphone. There was some doubt as to how the device would fit into a human gullet, but then again, this deviant seemed to mean what it was saying. If there wasn’t room inside a body to begin with, it would see to it that there would be.

“Actually, Kamski would choke not on the phone, but on the blood emerging from his ruptured throat”, Elijah said.

“Ugh… you just HAD to draw me a picture, had you? Thing is, I hate that man so much… like everything else I hate combined!”

That, the human concluded, amounted to a pretty substantial hatred. Enough to condense and walk around on its own, in fact. And wasn’t that was he was looking at anyway? Thinly veiled loathing and anger walking on two legs…

“But why?” the man asked Daniel. “I mean, Elijah Kamski was only the founder of CyberLife. He didn’t exactly pull the levers in the production plants himself. So what has he done to you and how did he manage to do it without ever having met you?”

“You know Jericho? Yes? Well, the motherfucker knew about it, too, but didn’t so much as leave a single blood bag at their doorstep!”

“But neither did he sell the deviants’ location out to the authorities”, the human replied. “I mean, that’s what I’d reply if I was Kamski.”

“Yeah, sounds like something the sucker would say”, Daniel agreed. “Feeling all enlightened about taking a “neutral” stance.“

The android was about to put away his phone, but Kamski grabbed him by the wrist.

“Wait! I have an idea! You’ll like it, it’s fun for me, too…”

With these words the man led Daniel away from the square into the row of stores. Between a coffee shop and a travel agency there was a multimedia terminal welded to the wall.

“Print out one of the selfies we took and I’ll sign it!” he suggested. “As Kamski! - There, done! A genuine… almost genuine autograph of Elijah Kamski, man of the century. Could be worth a small fortune.”

“Heh”, Daniel grinned. “You practiced to fake Kamski’s signature? Figured you weren’t as innocent as you were pretending to be!”

The photograph then wandered into the sweater’s pocket, right next to the picture for Emma.

“I’ll hang on to it for the time being”, Daniel said. “The last thing I need at the moment is a nasty surprise when I try to sell that pic.”

Kamski nodded.

“I daresay there could be one…”

There was a certain amount of awkward standing next to each other. By right everything had been said and done and the android and the man should part now. But each was too fascinating to the other. Daniel saw an outcast in the man whom he took for a con artist, a human not fitting in and thus maybe, just maybe, someone bonding with at the same level was possible. As for Elijah, despite being the species’ creator, his experience with androids was limited. There were the Chloes, of course, he knew more about Markus’ digital childhood than the RK200 would be comfortable learning, and he had met the weapon CyberLife had created from his masterpiece, the RK800 unit named Connor. This deviant, however… what was it even? Sporting a face that the firm re-used over and over and having deviated from its original code Daniel wasn’t easily identifiable as a PL600. Elijah couldn’t even rule out that he was dealing with Simon, Jericho’s presumed covert ops operative.

 “Thank you”, Daniel eventually broke the silence. “I expected to spend the evening brooding. But so far it has been… enjoyable, actually.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Daniel. Just Daniel. There used to be… But it doesn’t matter anymore. You?”

“Neil. Neil Newbon. Say, Daniel, would you accompany me into the coffee shop? If I’m with you, there’ll be less chance of people mistaking me for the real Kamski.”

And indeed, the moment the duo entered the café, a photographer rose from a seat near the door, brandishing her camera. It was blocked immediately by an android hand of unknown origin, currently attached to the PL600 model name of Daniel.

“That’s not Kamski”, the android said, while pushing the camera away. “That’s a lookalike.”

“Oh, really? Bummer!”

Daniel grinned. “You don’t believe Kamski would come into a public space, where he has to interact with real people? That man is afraid a sack of rice will drop in China, if he sneezes in Detroit!”

Elijah adjusted his posture a little, trying for an impression more like his half-brother. He hadn’t seen the lout in a long time, but some images stuck with you for a lifetime.

“Fuck, yeah”, Kamski said, waving his hand around. “What he said!”

He was standing slightly slouched now, but still radiating confidence. What exactly had fueled that confidence in Gavin, the android inventor wondered? That man was a Nobody! Was it the fact that Gavin had been conceived naturally, while Elijah was a sperm donation baby? The Reeds had sold him… like cattle… and the other students at university had never let Elijah forget that little fact. Obviously, the older adolescents had argued, someone had seriously messed with the sperm to create the out of the world kid genius they were sharing their benches with…

“Yeah, you’re probably right”, the paparazzo agreed with Daniel after a good look at “Neil”. “Should have figured that out myself.”

Neither Daniel nor Elijah particularly like the expression the journalist displayed after the realization. It was reminiscent of a tiger that had lost the goat, but still heard a chicken scratch the ground somewhere near. She adjusted the grip on her camera, raised it again, but this time aimed the lenses at both of the arrivals.

“Don’t just stand there, guys! Give the patrons a show!” With these words the woman pointed towards a karaoke podium. “Two guys who look like the spitting image of Kamski and Simon are simply obligated to!”

“There’ll be free coffee and croissant for my mate if we do this?” Daniel prodded.

“’course!”

“Then we have a deal!”

“What were you thinking? I’ve never in my life sang karaoke in public!” Elijah hissed, while Daniel dragged him towards the pedestal. “I’ve never in my life sang karaoke! I’ve never in my life sang in public!”

“For my part I’ve never in my life shot a man, before I did”, the deviant replied.

“That’s far less embarrassing!!!”

Blue-grey eyes were piercing into Kamski’s, as if to dissect him alive. Elijah knew exactly what was really staring at him: just a textureless blue embedded into a light grey chassis that had a serial number etched into it and the occasional advertisement sticker attached. Everything else, the skin, hair, even the sweat android bodies could produce under duress, was just glamour. But now that Daniel’s eyes bore into him, the human had a hard time differentiating the illusion from a living being.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Neil!” Daniel growled.

“Oh, come, “killer”! Everyone would shoot back when the enemy storms their base!”

“You mean Jericho? I TOLD you, you had no idea!” Daniel insisted.

He ripped the microphones out of their holders and tossed one Elijah’s way.

“You choose a song!”

Elijah scrolled all the way down the list of available songs, until he reached the titles that started with numbers and special characters. When he didn’t find there, what he had been looking for, the man considered, and scrolled back to the letter “O” instead of the digit “1”. It was giving Daniel the impression that his human acquaintance was an indecisive one, while in truth it was just testament to Elijah’s unique way of thinking.

Is it getting better, Elijah sang, Or do you feel the same? Will it make it easier on you / Now you’ve got someone to blame?

There was a telltale pause that communicated Daniel to take over at this point.

Really, Neil? After just two verses? Coward!

The deviant sang:

You said One love / One life When it’s one need in the night / One love, we get to share it It leaves you, baby, if you don’t care for it

Elijah picked up again and it made sense, in a warped way:

Did I disappoint you / Or leave a bad taste in your mouth? You act like you never had love / And you want me to go without.

This time Daniel needed no nudge to take over. It came naturally:

Well it’s Too late / Tonight / To drag the past out / Into the light We’re one, but we’re not the same / We get to carry each other Carry each other…

On and on duel went, all the while the paparazzo’s camera flashed.

“Why is she still taking pictures of us?” Daniel whispered. “Now that she knows you are not the real Kamski?”

“People need their dreams and illusions. Do you have any dreams, Daniel? Other than plotting Kamski’s death, I mean?” “Nah, I’m doing nothing of that sort. That little piece of shit isn’t worth wasting mental capacity on.”

“But if you met him by chance?“

“Well, you know how some call us androids toasters? Kamski would be toast!”

Song used:

One: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftjEcrrf7r0 I imagine Kamski doing the covered version with Johnny Cash’s gravitas while Daniel is singing the more desperate original version.

[dmbower95]

Chapter 1: Eesten in Flames

“I just ran right between his legs and was gone before he even knew what happened. The look on his face when he realized I was going to get away was priceless,” Netta said, slapping her knee and laughing deeply.

“So not only did you steal an entire tray of pastries, but you also embarrassed the captain of the guard and got away with it,” Gnyx summarized. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“Gnyx, you are a cleric of Digon. You are supposed to be a shining beacon and lead by example,” the paladin said, exasperated.

The gnome and the halfling shared a look before laughing.

Origen stormed off and hurried up to Eldingar. “How much longer until we get to Eesten?”

“Not long. Probably a few hours. We’ll get there a little after sunset,” the dragonborn explained.

“That’s fine. Then you’ll get paid and I never have to see that woman again.”

“She’s not so bad once you get used to her. Plus, she is great to have in a fight. I have seen her melt a man’s face off from over twenty yards away,” Eldingar said.

Origen sighed and rubbed his neck awkwardly. “I’m sorry. She is very frustrating though. I think she is doing it on purpose.” Eldingar looked at the paladin like he was surprised he was just figuring it out now. “…Right.”

 ———————————————————————————————————–

 Eldingar was right about the time of their arrival. However, as they crested the final hill and the town came into view, they were greeted by a terrible sight. Buildings were burning, painting the night sky with oranges and reds. “…Digon protects us,” Gnyx whispered, horror spreading across her face.

“We have to help them!” Netta said taking a step forward.

Just then an ear-splitting roar echoed through the valley as a giant blue dragon descended on the town from the inky black sky. Lightning crackled as a beam of pure energy shot out and cut a deep trench in the road.

“A relative of yours?” the halfling said, looking over her shoulder at her companion.

“I don’t think so,” Eldingar deadpanned.

Origen spun to face the warriors beside him. “I know we only hired you to take us here, but there are people who need our help. I can’t promise you anything, but still, I ask. Will you stand with us?”

Eldingar hefted his battleax onto his shoulder and settled his shield securely on his arm. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Netta held up her hands, fire sparking to life between them. “Just because we aren’t paladins doesn’t mean we are going to turn our backs on people who need us.”

Gnyx smiled and patted Sterling on the head. “Couldn’t have said it better.”

“Well then, we better get going.” Origen pulled his longswords out and started making his way down the hill. The others falling in step behind him.

The closer the party got to Eesten the more screaming they could hear. They also could hear orders being shouted and the pounding of boots carrying them out.

“Gather everything!”

“Leave no stone unturned!”

As the party reached the edge of the town, the sound of fighting spilled out from an alleyway. A broad-shouldered man limping heavily and bleeding from his side, came running out. Being dragged behind him were two young children.

The man led the children across the street, his eyes wide with fear and terror. When he got to the other side, he looked back over his shoulder. “Christine!”

At the mouth of the alley, a dark-haired woman bravely stood her ground, naked sword in hand. Her night clothes were covered in blood and as she stared down the approaching robed figures, it was hard to tell whose blood it was.

Springing into action the party raced forward to intercept the figures. Gnyx stopped by the woman for a moment. “Get back, we’ll handle this!”

The first of the charging enemies threw himself at Eldingar, his sword held high. Murder and death in his eyes. “For the Queen!”

The sound of metal on metal screeched as the dragonborn brought up his shield to deflect the blow. Before the man could recover, the fighter took his battleax and buried it deep in the man’s side. The man howled out in pain, but before he could retaliate, soft golden flames erupted from his body. Looking back Eldingar threw a thank you back at the gnome. Gnyx smiled back as her eyes faded back to their normal green.

Origen was locked in a pitched battle with two of the robed figures, his two swords flashing out in quick deft movements. Both blades were coated in blood, but when another cultist joined the fight, he was forced back a step.

“Watch out paladin!”

Without thinking, Origen ducked as a burst of fire shot over his head and began eating away at one of his attackers. Netta cackled as she turned to the other enemies. “You’re next!”

Eldingar buried his battleax in the back of one of them and turned to smile at the last one standing. The bandit took a moment to take in the warriors in front of him, before turning and running away. He only got a few steps before the heavy body of Sterling slammed into him, forcing him to the ground. The man cried out and tried to get away, but he was no match for the young dragon.

Sterling jumped off the man when she was sure he was dead, prancing over to her mother. “Good girl,” Gnyx cooed. She pulled out a rag and quickly wiped the blood from the gleaming silver scales.

Origen picked himself up off the ground and stomped over to Netta. “You could have killed me! Are you crazy?”

“I told you to duck, didn’t I?” Netta said, rolling her eyes.

“Guys, I think we have more pressing matters,” Eldingar said, crossing his arms and motioning toward Christine. The woman was making her way to them.

“Thank you! I thought I was done for.”

Gnyx smiled. “Not while I’m around. Are you hurt?”

“No, but my husband, Corrin, he was attacked. Please, you have to help him.” Christine ushered the party across the street and behind a tall building. The broad-shouldered man was sitting in the grass, wheezing and clutching his side. The woman dropped to her knees and brushed his hair from his face. “You stupid fool. I told you to get back.”

Corrin grinned weakly. “I couldn’t let you have all the glory.”

“Let me help,” the gnome said. She began pulling bandages from her pack. As she moved forward, Sterling moved as well, drawing the attention of the children. Both gasped and ducked behind their father.

Sterling let out a sad trill and lowered her head. Gnyx shook her head. “Don’t worry. She won’t hurt you. She is a good dragon. She is going to help protect your home.”

The older of the two children, a young girl, searched the cleric’s face. She must have found what she was looking for because she took a hesitant step forward. She slowly brought up her hand and placed it on Sterling’s head. The dragon bumped against her and licked her fingers. The little girl laughed and called out to her brother. “Gavin, she’s so cold.” Gavin, emboldened by his sister’s bravery, also reached out to touch the dragon.

“You should be more afraid of Netta,” Eldingar joked.

Netta glared at her friend and slapped his heavily armored leg. She winced in pain and shook her hand. “Shut up, Eldingar.”

Origen rolled his eyes and turned to face Christine. “We are from the Dragonwing Sanctuary. We were sent to investigate rumors of a group calling themselves the Dark Dragon Cult. Can you tell us what happened here?”

“I don’t know much. We were getting ready for bed when they showed up. At first, we thought a fire had started, but then the dragon attacked. We were on our way to the keep when we were attacked. Corrin jumped in front and they cut him down. We’ve been running since. If you hadn’t intervened…” Christine trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes.

“We are here now. We will escort you to the keep. Is that where Lord Glin will be?”

“He should be. Someone sounded the horns calling us inside. He would the one to give that order.”

Eldingar stuck his head out of the alley and cursed under his breath. “We need to move. There are more those robed men coming.”

Gnyx helped Corrin to his feet, his color already looking better. Christine gathered her children and lent her shoulder to her husband. “Lead the way.”

Origen and Eldingar took the lead with Gnyx and Netta behind them. “Keep your heads down and stay as quiet as possible.”

They made slow progress through Eesten, following Christine’s directions and trying to stay out of view of the bandits running around. It was readily obvious that they were severally outnumbered. Dozens of the robed cultists littered the streets, but they weren’t alone. Small scaled kobolds and doglike lizards followed them around.

While they were moving between buildings, the sound of crying caught Netta’s attention. “Wait! I hear something.”

“What is it?” Origen said, his pointed ears perking up slightly.

“Someone is crying.” Netta closed her eyes, focusing on blocking out the sound of fighting. “This way!” She took off without waiting, Eldingar right on her heels.

Origen threw up his hands and motioned for Gnyx to go. He turned to look at Christine. “Stay here. We’ll be right back. Scream if you need us.”

The sound of crying was coming from a building that was partially on fire. The front door was wide open, barely hanging onto its hinges. Netta poked her head inside. “Hello?”

The crying was immediately cut off an eerie silence descended inside. Netta took another step inside, fully ignoring Origen’s frantic head shaking. “We aren’t here to hurt you. We’re here to help you. We’re going to the keep, to see Lord Glin. You’ll be safe with us.”

Slowly an elderly man stepped forward a long branch tight in his hand. “Who are you?”

Origen pushed forward, his bright armor flashing in the dim firelight. “We are followers of Digon. We’ve already rescued some of your friends, but we are not safe here. We have to keep moving.”

The old man studied the paladin’s face before nodding. “Okay.” He turned and motioned behind him. Several figures stepped forward, eight in total. There was a young mother, clutching her baby to her chest.

“We need to move quickly. Before anyone notices us.”

“Too late,” Gnyx said readying her mace. Sterling let out a low growl and dropped down into a crouch.

Kobolds came bounding into the space in front of the building, cackling, and yipping. “They have shines! Get the shines!” One of the large drakes stepped out of the shadows behind them.

Eldingar turned and in one fluid motion threw one of his hand axes, sending one of the kobolds falling end over end in the grass before it laid still. Another burst into flames as Netta joined the fight.

“Get the ones at the back, girl!” Gnyx ordered before racing toward the closest of the kobolds.

Origen pulled out his blades and rushed the drake. His first blade scattered harmlessly across the creatures scaled hide, but his second sword sunk deep into its shoulder. The drake hissed out in pain before striking forward and snapping down on the paladin’s arm.

With a grunt of pain, Origen ripped his arm free and brought the sword down once more. This one also found purchase on the beast’s side, but it stayed standing. It turned to follow the half-elf’s movements, turning it’s back to the combat around it.

It turned out to the beast’s downfall. With a loud scream, Gnyx came seemingly out of nowhere and smashed her mace down on the back of the drake’s head. It crumpled to the ground and didn’t get back up.

She smiled at her friend, but when she saw the blood running down his arm she panicked. “How bad is it?” Her hands started to glow slightly, but Origen pulled away from her.

“I’m fine. You need to preserve your energy, there may be others who need it more.” He closed his eyes for a second, his hands flashing brightly for a moment. “Besides, I can help myself a little bit.”

“Come on! We need to move!” Eldingar shouted, cutting the last kobold clean in two.

They raced back to Christine with the new group following behind them. After a brief greeting, they started on their way once more.

 ———————————————————————————————————–

 By the time they reached the bottom of the hill the keep sat on, their group of villagers had grown to over twenty. They were close to the keep, but everyone was starting to feel the drain. They had fought off several patrols, but the enemies seemed endless.

The keep loomed above them, but as they peeked out from behind the last set of buildings, they all sighed. They would have to cross open space and standing at the bottom of the hill was a small group of robed bandits. They were arguing and trying to pull a large chest behind them. Each of them also had a large sack filled to the brim with valuables.

Origen sighed and rolled his shoulders, his arm was still throbbing, but he pushed the pain aside. “Ideas?”

Gnyx looked at the ragtag group and knew they were pushing to the ends of their strength. They needed an edge. Something to make this fight easy. That’s when a crazy idea jumped into her head. “I’ve got it. I can distract them and then we can get the jump on them. They won’t know what hit them.”

When no one spoke up, Origen nodded. “Okay. Get into place. Leave one of them alive though. We need some answers.”

Once they were in position, Gnyx muttered some arcane words under breath and pointed at the group of cultists. The sound of falling coins echoed in the night. They all turned, fear clear in their eyes. “Don’t drop any! Hulan Doth will kill us!”

While they were distracted by looking for the coins the party descended on them. It was over before it began. Eldingar pulled out some rope and tied up the lone survivor before throwing him over his shoulder. “I got him.”

The villagers joined them and together they pushed up the hill. When they got to the top, their stomachs dropped. Dozens of robed figures, kobolds, and drakes stood between them and the keep.

They all turned at the sound of the approaching group. Horrid grins spreading across their faces. “Get them!”

Before the two groups could clash volleys of arrows came shooting over the wall. Most of the gathered force dying instantly. Those that survived the initial attack were caught off guard as a large force came pouring out from the keep. Armed men and women launched themselves at the invading force.

One of the guards broke off and made their way to Origen. “Follow me!”

The guards fell in step behind the group, creating a wall of force, stopping any that tried to follow. Another volley of arrows rained down on the enemies sending them scattering. Once everyone was inside, the large wooden doors were shut once more.

A tall man came running up to them. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“You’re welcome for saving your people,” Netta said, staring the man down.

“I apologize. Thank you, but who are you?”

Origen glared at Netta before answering. “My name is Origen Greycastle. We were sent to investigate. Are you Lord Glin?”

“Yes. I wasn’t expecting you for a few more weeks. Thank Digon for your speed. I hate to ask you to do more, but as you can see, we are in desperate need.”

“Of course.”

“For money of course,” Eldingar cut in. When the two holy warriors looked at him, he shrugged. “What? I still have to eat.”

When Lord Glin saw the unconscious cultist, he jumped. “You caught one. I’ve been trying to get one all night, but they are wily, and we have been pinned down in the keep for most of the invasion. Come with me, I know where we can keep him.”

As the party followed behind the Lord, a young man came rushing up to them. He handed each of them a small vial filled with thick red liquid. “Take these. You’ll need them more than I will.”

“Thank you.”

When they entered the interior of the keep, a red-bearded dwarf came running up to them. “Lord Glin! The great hall has been converted to an infirmary. The healers are doing all they can.”

“Good job, Caspin. We need to get to the holding cells. The paladins from the Dragonwing Sanctuary are here. They have one of the cultists with them.”

Caspin nodded and pulled out a large ring of keys before racing toward a large metal door. The door swung open with a loud screech. “This way.” He grabbed a torch from the wall and made his way down the steep stone stairs.

The holding cells were empty, except for a small cot and a bucket in the corner of the room. Eldingar dropped the body to the ground, smiling when the man let out a pained wheeze. Origen took a step forward, but Netta held up her hand.

“Allow me.”

When Origen opened his mouth to argue, Eldingar put a hand on his shoulder. “Just watch.”

Lord Glin stepped out of the way and let the halfling into the cell. The cultist was just coming to consciousness. His eyes darting around the room, when they landed on Netta he laughed. “This is the best you got?”

Without warning, Netta grabbed the man’s arm and burned it. The man howled out pain and struggled to get away. He made it a few feet before his back it the wall and he realized he was truly trapped. “You’re crazy.”

“Let’s get something straight. I would rather just kill you in some horrific way, burn your face to ash, melt you into goo…maybe even take your balls and let you live.”

Origen took a step forward, but Eldingar stopped him. The dragonborn then cleared his throat, snapping Netta out of her tirade.

“But, lucky for you. You have some information we need. Now, I want you to tell me everything. Who you work for, what you are doing here, and why.”

“I’m not tellin’ you anything,” the man said, trying to stop his body from trembling.

Netta shook her head, her eyes burning. “Wrong answer.”

She took a few steps forward and held her hand up. Thick purple and green liquid burst forward and covered the cowering man. He screamed out in pain, struggling to get his robe off.

Origen pulled out of Eldingar’s grip and dropped by the man’s side. Together they got the robe off, with minimal damage to the man. “Netta, go sit down. I think you’ve done enough.”

Netta shrugged and stood over by the blue dragonborn, who reached down and gave her a high five.

“I’m sorry about her, we just met. I didn’t know she would hurt you. What is your name?” Origen asked.

“My name is Phil,” the man said. His voice thick with pain and tears.

“Phil, listen. I don’t want to hurt you, but she was right. You have information we need. Please, tell us what you know and then we’ll leave you alone. You’ll be safe here in this cell and you’ll never have to see the woman again.”

“How hot do you think fire has to be for there to be nothing left? Do you think I could get it that hot?”

Phil began to cry tears and snot pouring down his face. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just keep her away from me. None of this was worth it. Please.”

“I promise,” Origen said. “Now tell me, who do you work for?”

“They call themselves the Cult of the Dark Dragon. They talk about some queen they want to find, but I never really cared. They offered us booze and gold to cause a little bit of mayhem. It was easy work, but then it got worse.”

“How so?”

“They wanted us to hit bigger and bigger targets. Cause more damage and kill more people. I didn’t want to, but if we tried to leave, we were killed. The blue dragon woman…she killed so many of them.”

“Dragon woman?”

“There were two of them a blue one, Drosa they called her, and a black one, Sitar. Sitar is in charge, but Drosa she carries out the orders with an iron fist. There is one more person in charge, Hulan Doth.”

“Are there here?”

“Drosa and Hulan are, but Sitar. She is back at the camp. It is a few miles south of here. Don’t tell them I told you this. They’ll kill me.”

Origen placed a calming hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I won’t. Can you describe the camp to me?”

“It’s in a basin of sorts. Tall walls of stone surround three sides of it. There are tents in the center and watchtowers that overlook everything. The generals, they stay at the back of the camp, by the cave.”

“What’s in the cave?”

The man closed his mouth, staring up at the half-elf with fear. “I’m scared.”

“Your generals aren’t here right now and I am. Now answer the paladin’s questions or I will come back in there and I will—”

Eldingar grabbed Netta and pulled her back a few feet.

Origen sighed. “I hate to say this, but she is right. I need to know.”

“Black dragon eggs…three of them.”