#other creatures followed at a slower rate

[coastaldog]

the disease of dogs

[sanjoongie]

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔

🌑My submission for the Long Winter's Night event by @cultofdionysusnet

🌑Pairing: Shadow Demon! Choi Soobin x Human! Reader (f)

🌑Genre: smut, somewhat pwp, fluff

🌑Au: Supernatural au, demon au, shadow realm au

🌑Trope: strangers to lovers

🌑Rating: 18+, MDNI

🌑Warnings: tentacle sex, sex pollen, sub! Soobin, dom! Reader, 69 position, oral (m&f), deep throating, colored cum (it's my thing okay), oral fixation, spit kink, marking, nipple play, breast play, penetrative sex with no barrier, fingering (f), hand kink (because soobin has massive hands), aphrodisiacal cum, creampie, aftercare, sex in water, pull out method

🌑Word count: 4,277

🌑Beta’s: @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii

🌑Summary: During the day in which night is the longest, and therefore the shadows, you unknowingly walk into the shadow realm, but luckily, a demon takes you under his… shadow tails

🌑divider by @cafekitsune

“Goddamn last-minute customers,” you grumbled to yourself as you reached for your keys in your purse. 

It was late at night, with the full moon high in the sky. One would think it would illuminate the world a little bit more, but to you, it just made it so the shadows were longer. 

You had just finished your shift at work and had locked up, but not before getting extremely pissed off by someone who had claimed ‘they just wanted to look’ and kept you way past closing time. Still grumbling, you fumbled to unlock your car when you froze in fear. Were the shadows moving?

A street light went off farthest from you. You would have shrugged it off as a normal occurrence until the next one beside it and the one after that blinked dead. Fear gripped you firmly, but you didn’t drop your keys until what you could only describe as a mixture of a bull and a dog slowly moved out of the shadows. Smokey darkness clung to it, but its eyes were a bright blue that penetrated the darkness. 

Then it broke out in a flat-out run towards you.

You turned as quickly as you could, dropping your purse and booting it out of the parking lot and down the road. No one was out at this hour, and even if you screamed for help, no one was coming. You could hear the scratching of the creature's nails on the pavement as it took the corner onto the road, and you knew you had no chance of outrunning it. Your eyes found an alleyway that surely the creature couldn't follow you into, and you squeezed into it. 

You closed your eyes tightly, struggling with keeping your breathing at a slower pace. You didn’t want to give away your location, and you hoped that the creature would simply run by you and you would be safe.

You waited and waited, but you didn’t hear any growling to indicate the creature had found you. You didn’t hear any jaws snapping or cracking of the brick as it attempted to make a hole for itself to get to you. So you opened your eyes, but you were not met with the brick wall that had been before you only moments before. 

Your lips parted in wonder at what your eyes took in. The entire realm before you was painted in dusky colors of purples and blues. Toadstools as tall as trees stretched up into a sky with beautiful celestial features. A golden bat screeched over your head, wings flapping enthusiastically. A silver hedgehog and its family snuffled around, looking for food. You were definitely not in your world anymore.

“What’s a human doing in the shadow realms?” A sultry voice said from seemingly nowhere.

“The…shadow realms?” You weren’t sure you heard right.

The voice sighed. “I forgot it was the longest night.”

You looked around, but you couldn't see anything other than beautiful blue moths fluttering in the air. “Listen, if you could just help me get back?”

Shadows pooled down a mushroom stalk, making a line down the pale flesh, but still, whoever was talking to you did not reveal themselves. “How did you get here?”

“There was a creature hunting me. I fit myself into an alley and closed my eyes, and now I’m here.” You shrugged. “You tell me.”

“I don’t… you didn’t come through a portal? No one tricked you to follow them in? Are you sure you didn’t hear any giggling?” The voice sounded hesitant now.

You stepped forward, swinging your head around, trying to locate the owner of the sultry voice. If you were to hazard a guess, it seemed to be a male voice, but you were in a world that wasn’t exactly familiar right now. “No giggling.”

“I guess I should escort you back to my hut. You’ll be safe there until I can help you find your way back. You don’t want to be out here. There’s much worse things out there than that creature, let me tell you.”

The line of shadow continued its trail down the mushroom’s stalk, skirting over rock and around flowers, and made an odd pool before your feet. Slowly, a figure emerged upwards. First a head, then shoulders, a narrow waist and legs. The figure stayed draped in shadows. It cocked its head at you. 

“Who are you?” You gulped but dared to ask.

“A better question would be 'what am I?' but I guess I can answer your first question.” The shadows pulled back to reveal luscious lips and big brown eyes. 

You bit down on your lip to suppress a gasp. It was a "he" and he was handsome. The shadows only pulled back to form clothing that seemed silky and soft, but you wouldn’t know unless you touched them, you supposed. “My name is Soobin.”

“I--”

Soobin held up a hand. “Don’t tell me your name. The less I know about you, the better. I’ll refer to you as Sunshine.” He pursed his lips to one side. “All you need to know is I am a shadow demon. This entire world is dangerous to a human. You come from a world that needs sunshine, and this world thrives on shadows and moonlight. Everything here is built to lure you to your demise. Even myself.”

You watched in slight awe and fear as several tail-like appendages fanned out from behind Soobin. He almost appeared as a fabled nine-tails. He was glorious and beautiful. But he had just finished saying he was a shadow demon. Surely you shouldn’t be thinking about him like that…

You laughed nervously. “But you’re going to take me to your hut? For safekeeping?”

The skin around Soobin’s eyes crinkled, and he laughed. “Yes.”

“Even though you just warned me that you are built to lure me to my demise?”

Soobin pressed his lips together in determination. “Yes. I may be built to do that, but I choose not to.” His dark eyes wandered around. “But not all demons will approve of my choice. We have to get moving.”

You followed your savior but you couldn't help but gawk at the world around you. A purple bear flashed its golden claws as it dug into a blue beehive. A silver owl swooped overhead, catching mice also out for the (day?) night. You came across beautiful blue flowers that smelled divine. You picked one and inhaled deeply. It was such a beautiful place, if not for Soobin’s warning, you almost didn’t want to leave.

Your body began to tingle. Your hand smoothed over the rough bark of the silver tree beside you. You gasped at how pleasurable it felt. Your lower half tightened and your nipples pebbled. You felt like you were just thoroughly made out with, you were so turned on. Where did this come from?

Soobin turned around from walking in front of you. His lips were so plush. What would they look like wrapped around your fingers? Do Shadow Demons have oral fixations? Would he let you sit on his face? You shook your head. The hell was wrong with you right now?

“Are you okay?” Soobin was standing right in front of you now, not a hair's breadth away. 

You sucked in your breath. “No.”

Soobin frowned cutely. He manhandled you gently, turning you around, looking for scratches or leeches. You were a human, a creature of light. Everything in the shadow realm wanted to suck the sun from you. “How do you feel?”

"Like I want to pin you up against a tree and take you in my mouth,” you deadpanned.

Soobin broke eye contact with you and swallowed loudly. “Shit.”

You brushed your lips against Soobin’s lips while you spoke. “Would you? Would you let me?”

“You are infected with our flower’s pollen. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Soobin danced out of your reach easily. His shadow tails held your wrists loosely. 

Soobin shook his head vehemently. “Sunshine, you have to resist.”

“I don’t know what kind of flowers you have here, but I smelled one earlier that smelled divine,” You purred.

You couldn't stop eyefucking Soobin. You licked your lips. “You could pin me to the tree instead. Fuck my face. I’ll be good to you, Soobin.”

“Resist what, Soobin?” You wondered, tilting your head. “Is it because I’m human? I may not have a second pussy, which I'm sure your females have, but I could be so good to you. Just give me a chance?”

“There’s a way to turn the lust,” Soobin licked his lips gratuitously. “You could turn it to violence. There is a tree that bleeds red sap. I could give you an axe, and you could--”

“Soobin,” you whined. “I want you. If I wanted to just get off, I could hump that rock over there. I want you! I’ve been turned on and resisted before. This is different. When I think of you, the need only amplifies. I want YOU.”

Soobin looked at you through his fringe. “I won’t have you against your will. Are you sure it is not the lust clouding your mind? That you can think of nothing but sex? Was I revolting before you began to feel this way?”

You willingly raised your arms above your head, and Soobin’s tails allowed you. You crossed your wrists, hoping you looked like you were an offering for him. “I give my body willingly to you.

Soobin continued to meet your eyes and then looked away. “I am not a dominant. I do not initiate coupling.”

“You have permission to take all the pleasure you need from me,” Soobin offered you, sooty eyelashes kissing his cheekbones, in deference. “I hope you aren’t insatiable and can find some relief with my body.”

Soobin’s face became rosy, and you couldn't help but coo. His shadows let you go, and you rushed to cup his face. You licked Soobin’s lower lip for access to his mouth. He parted his lips slightly, and you captured his upper lip between yours in a sizzling kiss.

You moaned into his mouth. “You taste like the night air and bitter berries.”

“Are you sure, Soobin?” You pressed your fevered forehead to his. 

“Your need for me is alluring,” Soobin said, biting deeply on his lower lip. “I am eager to see what you would do to me given the chance.”

You were eager to taste everything about him. The thin, almost silky-like clothing he wore was discarded easily. You licked and sucked his jaw, neck, and down his pecs. You played with his nipples when you realized he was sensitive and cried out when you did. His hands had gone around your body immediately, hands digging into the flesh of your ass deeply. He bucked his growing hard-on against your stomach. 

“You need to be sucked into something, don’t you, sweet thing?” You cooed at the shadow demon.

Surely Soobin’s allure was his innocent eyes and his luscious lips. Who wouldn’t want to be lured into his embrace to find what he was capable of? He nodded, dark eyes on yours, a curious gaze set to them.

You popped off Soobin reluctantly. You spat on the head of Soobin’s cock and frowned when it was colored a dusky lavender. Was that your spit or was that Soobin’s cum? “Did your precum just get me wet?”

You dropped to your knees, and your hands smoothed up his hip bones. You mouthed gently at his hard-on and Soobin moaned deeply. He was so velvety smooth yet hard against your lips. He smelled like the deep, sweet earth, and you wanted to bury your nose into his skin.

You held his cock with both your hands wrapped around them and sucked on the tip of his dick. Soobin let out a choked moan, head tipped back, and Adam’s Apple bobbing freely. You used both your fists to jerk him off, sucking and licking the top of his head. Your tongue tingled and you felt your cunt gush with wetness.

Soobin smiled cutely, pushing the apples of his cheeks to prominent little bumps. “This realm is dangerous, I told you that. My bodily fluids are made to make mating with a human easy. How else are we to eat your light?”

You got rid of your own clothing quickly. You then snatched Soobin’s hand and tugged him to lay down on the soft moss under your knees. You straddled his body, your head pointed to his feet, your cunt hovering over his head. “You can eat me like this,” You purred.

You felt airy wisps along your body and felt your body respond to it in kind. You turned your head to see two of Soobin’s tails were pulling your ass cheeks wide. You felt rather than saw Soobin’s tongue along your folds. The tip gathered your wetness along your folds, making you shudder, and then he stuck his tongue inside your hole. Your pussy clenched around the wet appendage. Soobin thrusted it in and out of you before burying his face deeper into your cunt.

Not to be outdone by the shadow demon, you laid your tongue flat against the bottom of your lip and eased his cock into your mouth and down your throat. You gagged only slightly before being able to settle him deep down your throat. You set the pace with your deepthroating, and found pleasure in the joint effort of your reduced breathing and Soobin’s tongue flirting with your clit. 

Soobin was a mess under you. Your mix of spit and his cum was pooling along his pelvis in a cloudy lavender splash against his lovely skin. You could only imagine that your own cum and his spit had to be covering his chin and cheeks with how enthusiastically he was licking you. 

“Sunshine?” Soobin said your nickname tentatively.

It was a fight between needing to moan as Soobin pushed you towards an orgasm and needing his cock heavy on your tongue. You couldn't seem to get enough of him.

Eventually, his tongue on you proved to be too much. You began to slurp and lick up the mess around his cock, leaving love bites along the way. Your nails dug into his sensitive inner thighs, leaving crescent moon marks as your climax overtook your body. You felt pleasure lick at your nerves but you weren’t satisfied, not completely. 

“Soobin,” you whimpered with perhaps a little manipulation coating your tongue. “I ache. My pussy hurts. You’ll take care of me, right?”

You squealed when several of Soobin’s shadow tails moved under your legs and arms. They held your head aloft and lifted you off of him. Your body was in the air now, almost as if you were sitting on a chair. 

His eyebrows tilted inwards as he appeared worried for you. “If I release inside of you, you’re only going to need me more. It’s never-ending. Are you sure?”

You allowed your lower lip to quiver. “I want your pretty purple cum to paint my insides, Soobin. Won’t you do me the honor? Or do you need me to pull you inside of me, sweet boy, hmmm?”

Soobin whined in the back of his throat. “Tell me what to do that will be good for you.”

Soobin’s tails supported you as you gestured for Soobin to come stand between your legs. “Bring that pretty cock to me, sweet thing.”

You grabbed the base of Soobin’s cock and tugged it until his feet moved him forward. You played the head of his cock along your folds. You could appreciate just how long he was now, in the most intimate part of your body. 

Soobin eased inside of you, eyes on your face the entire time. Even once he was flush with your body, with your moans tickling his eardrums, he still pursed his lips in a question. “You really want this?”

“You sure are a funny demon,” you laughed and groaned at the same time. “Soobin, you’re cute. You protected me. I would have jumped your bones regardless of the flowers making me want to have sex.”

Soobin broke out into a smile that showed his dimples, and you almost swooned in his shadow tails. “Really?”

“Soobin,” you said his name in a sing-song voice. “You’re balls deep in me right now. Really.”

His body waved between your legs, a hand smoothing up your thigh in appreciation of your spread legs, just for him. “You’re squeezing me so tightly.” Soobin gasped as you clenched down at his sentence. 

“You're so fucking loooooooong,” You moaned. “Fuck Soobin, are you--hnnnnnn!” Your words became incoherent as you felt him hit the end of you. This shadow demon really was made to breed. 

“Is it too much?” Soobin checked in, eyes searching out yours as you opened your eyes.

“Oh no,” you laughed, “It’s just right.”

Soobin pressed his lips together and reached out to grasp both your breasts with his hands. His thumb rubbed against your nipples and you groaned. His hands were so big that they encompassed your breasts completely. Your hands glided over his hands and squeezed. “It’s so good, Soobin, please, give me more.”

“More?” Soobin wondered.

“Aren’t your tails meant to help too?” You prompted.

Soobin smiled again, and your heart skipped a beat. His eyes twinkled in merriment. Was he truly just happy between your legs? Happy to just be with you? “What do you want them to do?”

Soon, one of his tails was satisfying your oral fixation, entwining with your tongue, the light and airy material it was made out of making an entire new sensation in your mouth. His tails adjusted your stance so that Soobin’s hands were on your ass instead, splaying across your lower back and ass. His tails squeezed around your breasts, undulating and massaging them. 

Soobin licked his lips. “Is it good for you?” 

You laughed under your breath. “Soobin, it’s so fucking good, I think I’m going to go crazy with how good it is.”

“Good, because--” Soobin let out a desperate whine. “I’m not sure how much I can hold out anymore. I need to cum soon.”

You smiled teasingly. “Do you need permission?”

Soobin nodded enthusiastically. “You're the dominant. I’m only allowed to come inside of you if you say I can.”

You put a hand around the back of Soobin’s neck and pulled him in close. “Come for me, sweet boy.”

Soobin closed his eyes and shuddered. He groaned loudly, and his hips stuttered against you. You could feel him squirting inside of you, and you felt your body react to it. You felt the need to come, and you felt the desire to have Soobin inside of you for all of eternity. You wondered how many times a shadow demon could come, and would your body be able to keep up?

“Sunshine, Sunshine, come back to me,” Soobin whispered to you. His huge hands now cupped your face. 

“Here Soobin, I’m here,” you panted. 

“I don’t think I should have come inside of you,” Soobin said apologetically. 

“Don’t apologize, you’re amazing,” you reassured him.

You looked down your body, covered in a light sheen of sweat and saw Soobin’s pretty lavender cum pouring out of your used cunt. Your lower half throbbed at the sight of the creampie. You had been so deep into your lust that you hadn't even felt him pull out. 

“I can make you come again, but I don’t think I should use my cock,” Soobin winced.

You whined at the idea that he would not be fucking you with his pretty cock again. “No, Soobin, I need it!”

Soobin shook his head. “Don’t use your beautiful eyes against me, Sunshine.”

You squealed as Soobin’s tails turned you over, facing away from him. You had one tail wrapped around your middle, another brushing your hair from your face and two holding your arms behind your body. 

You felt Soobin’s hand on your ass, rubbing circles on your ass cheek. “I can bring you with my fingers. That will satiate your body. I think the pollen will have run its course if I make you come.”

“Let’s say…” You could practically imagine the pained expression on Soobin’s face, ��...I’ll finger fuck it out of you.”

“But your cum?” You panted.

You wanted his fingers inside of you. They were thick and long, and--You whimpered at the image.

“Oh god,” you moaned, “Please, whatever, just touch me, Soobin!”

Soobin wiggled and turned his middle finger inside of your pussy and you could feel his cum push out to make room for just one digit. You tried to push back on his finger but you had no leverage in this situation. “Another?” Soobin asked.

“Three!” You insisted.

“Someone’s greedy,” Soobin muttered.

Regardless, Soobin pushed three fingers into your used hole, and you groaned in happiness. Soobin must have bent over at his waist because his head was besides yours, still fucking your cunt with his fingers. “I’ll carry you back to my hut, don’t worry, I won’t leave you here.”

“Right there, Sunshine? Does that feel good?” Soobin whispered against the shell of his ear. He kissed your temple and murmured words of encouragement. 

“Such a--” You had meant to call him a gentleman, but Soobin was no longer pushing his fingers into you with abandon. He crooked his fingers, and he was brushing against the spongy part inside of you that would allow you to see stars. “Oh fuck Soobin, right there!” You whined.

You felt his shadows flick across your nipples, in an interesting mimic of two tongues flicking your nipples. “Your fingers are splitting me. It’s glorious,” you grunted. 

“I’ve almost got all of my cum out,” Soobin told you, “You ready to come, Sunshine?”

“So fucking ready, oh god,” You nodded.

Soobin ruthlessly thrusted into you, precisely stroking that part inside of you that made you come undone completely for him. You felt your body shudder, and you screamed in pleasure. You screamed Soobin’s name, you cursed, you convulsed as you came so hard. You weren’t sure if that was from the pollen or from Soobin’s cum, but it had been the best orgasm of your life. 

Soobin’s tails cradled you until they safely deposited you in his arms, snatching your clothes up as he began to walk. At some point, he had acquired his silk-like clothing, and you snuggled into his chest. You could confirm they were indeed soft as they looked. 

“I’m so glad you found me first,” you muttered tiredly. 

“You’re lucky,” Soobin said to you as he strode in the direction of his hut. “If it had been Beomgyu that had found you, you’d be begging for hours to come.”

You giggled. Soobin almost sounded a bit territorial right now. 

Soobin bathed you in a still, dark pool that his hut was built near. His hands on your body stirred some remnants of the lust still in you. You pulled him in with your arms around his neck again, and he groaned into your mouth. He fucked you underneath the sparkling skies above, unable to deny you anything, it seemed.

“Sunshine,” he cried out, pulling out just in time and you watched as his cum clouded the water. 

You couldn't help but pout. “Soobin, you’re too much of a gentleman.”

Soobin’s eyes mimicked crescent moons, and he chuckled. “You do not have the energy for a frenzied sex session again, Sunshine.”

“Soobin?” You wondered as he brought you inside of his hut.

“Surely you don’t need more?” He said in disbelief. 

“Maybe the appeal isn’t the pollen anymore,” you giggled, “Maybe it’s just you, Soobin. But that’s not what I was going to ask.”

“What if I can’t get back?”

Soobin gently laid you down on his bed, pulling soft warm material over your naked body. “What were you going to ask?” he said, bambi-eyes blinking down at you. 

Soobin sighed heavily. “Then I suppose I’ll have to continue to protect you.”

You sat up, and the material slid back down to your waist. Soobin’s eyes were quick to scan over your body, although he should be already quite familiar with your naked form by now. His eyes were full of lust, regardless. “Will you do more than just protect me?” You asked

Soobin sat on the bed, leaning with one arm. “I think you’re a bit of a masochist, you know?”

You giggled, and Soobin quickly broke into laughter with you. “Yeah, I think so. But you know what? It’s not so bad to be driven mad with desire for you, Soobin.”

A light blush dusted Soobin’s cheeks. “You are a mystery to me. You are a human. You should be scared of how much you want to be with a demon.”

You cupped one side of Soobin’s face. “What if I don’t see you so much as a demon?”

Soobin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Then that would make you a very stupid human.”

You shrugged. “Then I guess you can call me dumb.”

Soobin shook his head. “Sleep. I will watch over you. Then, we will search for a way to get you back to the sun.” He looked at you with a bit of disappointment. “You won’t last long here. You do need the sun, regardless of how much you like it here.”

You yawned. “Then you should come back with me.”

Your soft snores made Soobin smile bitter-sweetly. He had to bring you back to the human world. But surely he could enjoy a few hours of watching you sleep, right? It was the longest night, after all. He only wished it was longer. 

[star-junk]

Only Bones

Chapter 5

Rating: Mature

Pairings: in this chapter Alastor x ReaderOC, fem!reader, future: Vox, Lucifer

Second POV, alternate POV, slow burn (tho more of a fast burn, moving through the plot rather quickly). Super self-indulgent, c'mon it's a reader fic!

Warnings: Dark Themes, Altered state of consciousness, almost SA situation in this chapter. Non-con elements in the future, cannibalism and just things not being nice overall--it's Hell.

General Notes: I've decided to go with non sex-repulsed Alastor for my story. Also, operating under many assumptions for Season 2 so walk with me on this one. I think we're veering into AU territory as more details on SE2 are revealed.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5...

Sometimes, you dreamt.

You dreamt the night before Dezba appeared at the Feisty Minx:

A flurry of dark feathers had engulfed you in a whirlwind of dark torn fabric. Screaming crows was everything you heard as you were lifted up into the air, spirited away from greedy eyes and reaching hands, bodies clawing their way towards the stage. That had been your dream… and then the next day Dezba showed up. No rhyme or reason, he was just there.

Unfortunately not long after that, there was the Cannibal Colony dream…

You stood in the middle of a bandstand (its location at the time unknown to you), at the center of a colonial town. Hollowed eyes followed your every move, hungry... A cheerful female voice hummed behind you. When you turned to look, a large flowery parasol hid a woman’s upper frame, her slender form leisurely sat at a table set up for tea. Only her pale hand peeked from behind the parasol, it beckoned you closer.

And all the dreams prior, when you counted among the living:

The one before your wedding…

The one before Mama Tozi passed.

And all the other dreams prior.

This dream, however, felt… different.

Your eyes opened to drooping branches hanging above you. The smell of moist earth permeates your nose, soft grass presses against your face. Muted cool light illuminates the soft darkness around you. A handful of fireflies dance here and there ephemeral in the warm night or dark day, you can’t really tell.

Sitting up brings the alarming realization that you wear nothing. Alarmed, your gaze searches around for any immediate danger or anything to cover yourself with—but are soon relieved to find no one about. Green foliage surrounds you as far as the eye can see. Thrilling frogs nestled in an unseen water source create an atmosphere of unnerving tranquility. You have never seen a place like this.

The moment is interrupted by a snapping branch coming from the dense greenery. You stand to hide behind the nearest tree.

Your heart is racing inside your ribcage.

Until a buck’s silhouette materializes from a few yards away, it walks among the shrubs. Its fiery red fur strange in the natural hues of the land.

You breathe easy at the sight; not a man. And then tilt your neck for a better look. The deer noticing you too, mirrors the movement. He prowls across your line of sight, his steps careful - calculated - at odds on such a fretful creature. He goes behind the thick trunk of an oak.

And then the buck is no more.

A man emerges from the other side.

You gasp, backing away. Suddenly you’re the frightened beast. And the man before you seems to know it.

Moves slower, closer.

His entire frame is hidden by shadow extending a large slender hand to you.

You turn and run.

You run and run, and run… don’t know how long you run until you come to a clearing.

There’s a cliff and an unforgiving turbulent sea below. A looming sickly grey sky hangs above.

Your eyes move to a crane at the edge of the cliff.

Its paleness emanates a splendid radiant light, it contrasts against a storm in the horizon. Just then a sudden terrible gust of wind whips your bare form, your eyes shut bracing against the painful wind that feels like a thousand daggers against your skin.

When you open them again, a new male form stands in the bird’s place.

His pale skin just as ethereal. You watch him take a step forward, his bare feet coming dangerously close to the edge of the abyss.

And an incomprehensible melancholy invades your heart, you reach for him only to lose your own footing at a second gust of wind, falling into the punishing sea below.

Freezing cold water hits your form, you twist and fight after the initial shock, searching for the surface yet sinking, sinking, sinking, until something brushes against you and panic overtakes you. A set of hands wraps around you, painfully yanking you up towards the light. Your body is hauled over a rock. You gasp for air, hands raw clutching onto the rough surface with all your might.

Your shaking body ceases all movement upon the sight of shark infested waters all around you.

You’re paralyzed with fear.

A dark hand surges up from the water, sharp and menacing, it reaches for you. You crawl away from it not looking where you are so you end up slipping back into the water again…

And—

The scenery changes, you’re back on marshland again, sitting over a circle of soft warm moss.

The humid warm night embraces you. A rough wet tongue licks at your nose, urging you to open your eyes. A pair of golden eyes settle over yours, they belong to a tiny black cat, the licking culprit. It sprints away seemingly having completed its mission.

But then behind you…

Behind you, something— someone softly combs their fingers through your hair.

That’s when you truly wake up.

You’re covered in sweat when your eyes snap open. Sitting up you’re so relieved to find yourself back in your tiny apartment alone and safe. How it should always be.

You hated having them, these… dreams. Because although you knew they were premonitory to some extent you could never tell how nor when the visions would breach reality. Most of the time the only thing they did was put you on edge, paranoid for a few days until they slipped from your mind.

You look for the time, the clock on your wall states 4:15AM.

You decide to start your day early.

------‐------------------------------------------------------------------

Business was booming.

The TV appearance did its job in spreading the word about your pies, and even after the price hike - you still sold out everyday, sometimes even early. So in that regard you couldn’t complain too much, you were back in the green! Increased gains of recent days making up for the entire unpleasant experience.

“Nuria, maybe we should hire some help. The Princess’ re-opening is like, right around the corner.” Jo suggests wiping down the counter. Another early closure, the shop was already empty as you happily counted the day’s earnings.

“Hm.” He was right. But you disliked the idea, finding someone reliable and trustworthy in Pentagram City was like searching for a needle in a hay stack. You got lucky with Jo. “What if we close the shop the day prior in preparation, I think we can afford to do that.”

He thinks for a moment before shrugging, “Works for me!”

You nod, placing the money in a small safe and then bend down to hide it inside a hole on the floor, covering it with a loose checkered tile.

You were busy doing that when Jo asks, “Uh… were you expecting fancy company today, Nuria?”

‘No, no.. por favor no más!" You pray, it better not be— a swanky white limo stops your train of thought. It parks outside the shop and you are surprised to see the Princess emerge from the car, her Hotel Manager in tow.

“No, I wasn’t.”

………………

“ …So we were thinking of having you in charge of the entire menu for the event instead! What do you think?” She pinches her pinky between two fingers, nervous anticipation pulling at the corners of her lips.

You stood there listening, a notepad in hand and pen at the ready for any special pie request she might have come up with - thinking it was the reason for her unexpected visit but now your face is frozen in a polite smile, not quite believing what you’re hearing.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

“Oh-oh, but please do NOT feel pressured, I know you must be busy and all!” She breaks eye contact looking at her Hotel Manager. “We will understand, it is a last minute idea and all.”

“No, no, it’s not that Your Highness, I just… no one has ever asked that of me before.” Hadn’t even occurred to you!! “So it would be my first time catering an entire event’s menu!”

Vaggie speaks next. “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, Ms. Nuria, if it makes it better our attendance expectation is um… reserved.“ The Princess looks like she’s about to say something but the girl reassures her, a gentle hand at the Princess’ back, “for now.”

“May I ask out of sheer curiosity, why me… ?” What’s the catch here?

At this they look to one another, a decision is made and the Princess is the one to explain, “Well… the original plan was to have my dad help, but he is still not doing well… ” Her smile falters for a moment before her enthusiasm returns, “Buuut! That gives us the opportunity to partner up with people already serving the community we’re trying to reach!” Then she adds, a little deviously. “And I pay good~!”

Oh well, in that case, “I see, wonderful! What a wonderful idea! Did you have a specific cuisine in mind?”

“Wo-hoo!” She bumps her fist in the air.

“Nuria.. “ Is the only thing Jo says before the celebratory mood is interrupted by desperate banging at the shop’s door.

Following Jo’s line of sight you spot a member of Rosie’s colony; Abigail. She bursts through the door, making a beeline for you. Without hesitation Vaggie produces a weapon in defence, but there’s no need when Abigail plops to the floor in front of you as soon as she enters.

“Miss Nuria!!” She wails at the top of her lungs, reaching and tugging at your skirt. “Miss Nuria! I need your help—my boy, Oli!! He… “ She takes mouthfuls of air sobbing. “My Oliver— he was helping around old man at Augustus’ orchard… When one of those blasted angelic contraptions got him!! We told Augustus to take the damn thing down but the paranoid nut insisted on keeping it on his land!” Another mouthful of air. “And now look what happened!!!“

“Oh Lord.” You search for your shawl and bag, throwing a few items in it from the first aid kits you kept at the shop, before looking at your impromptu guests. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I can come by later to sort out the details.”

“No, wait! We’ll come with you!” There’s concern on Charlie's face too.

“Okay… everyone get in the van.” Jo throws you the keys. “Jo, make sure to— “

“Got it.” He responds before you can finish, and with that you’re on your way.

You race to get to the scene as fast as you can. You ask Abigail more questions about how it happened, she answers as best she can through her sniffles and never ending tears. The Princess comforts her as best she can from the back passenger seat until you got to Cannibal Town and…

It was bad.

Oliver’s hand had been completely mangled.

“Ay Oliver, mi rey.” He was laid over one of the working tables under a Barely-Living Tree. You gingerly take his arm between your hands to inspect the damage. Even Charlie gasps at the sight.

“It hurts… “ He groans.

“How are you even going to fix that?” Vaggie asks, skeptical.

You place his hand back to rummage through your bag and exhale. “That’s the thing. Abigail,” you turn to her, “I don’t think we can save his hand.”

“What?” She yells. “You have to do something!!!”

“I can’t expedite healing with this one, not for something major like this. Do you see that?” You point to the faint glow of his wounds, “The holy element keeps the wound open and fresh - preventing the usual regeneration process from happening. I’ll have to amputate the hand past the lesion and hope it closes. I’m sorry.”

She sobs as Rosie fans herself a few paces away, “Now dear, no crying at least you’ll still have the rest of him in one piece. It could have been much worse!”

Abigail nods and moves away to let you work.

“Here, drink.” You place the vial at his lips. “It’s a sedative.” He obeys after hearing that, gulping the entire thing in one go. You don’t particularly like the idea of getting mangled in a fit of pain as well. After a few moments his eyes begin to close.

Theo brings buckets of water upon your request, you pour one over the wound to rid it of the dark pooling blood, getting a better understanding of the damage. You wince at the sight, pressing on, you use the tips of your fingers to carefully feel around what’s left of his arm where the bone shredded. Moving past torn sinew and muscle, until you find a solid undamaged section further up and away from the where the security system mangled his arm.

This is where you will cut. “I need a rope and a hoof clincher.”

“Oh yikes.” Vaggie says coming to stand next to a grimacing Charlie. “Shouldn’t we find actual medical care?

“N-not that you’re not doing an amazing job!“ Charlie quickly adds.

“Oh darling, they won’t come inside the colony nor will they see us even outside of it. They say we’re far too risky of a patient, can you believe?" She giggles, finding the implication amusing. “So Nuria helps for now.”

Abigail and Theo quickly fetch the requested items coming back in no time. You turn to Charlie.

“Princess, would you mind boiling some water for us please?” You ask apologetically, testing how far her empathy goes. Thankfully she agrees, and promptly creates a powerful flame at the center of her palm, suspending the bucket with water over the flame with the other. It boils quickly. You have Abigail place the clincher in the water to disinfect it as best possible. It’s not the best sterilization method, but it is the fastest, using a saw will take forever and from what you’ve seen down here sepsis too, could be its own brand of hell; A scourge that overtakes the body, torments the mind and the already haggard soul.

Tying the rope above the area where you’ll amputate, you use your shawl to hold the burning clinchers, carefully positioning them around Oliver's arm as Theo holds it in place and with a quick snap of clinchers the arm comes off.

The small gathering of cannibals around the scene Ooohhs and Aahhhs, some even clean their drooling mouths. An actual serving platter is handed to you. Not surprised at this point, you sigh, placing what remains of the arm on it. Several of them cheer and move away with their acquired boon, dispersing once there was nothing more morsel to be had.

The cut was thankfully clean, you pour more water from another bucket to wash the remaining blood. Already feeling much better observing the clean amputation.

The salve comes next.

“What is that?” Charlie asks.

“A homemade remedy I made.” The ingredients were hard to procure but it does its job as soon as you apply it; Oliver’s muscle, sinew and arteries cocoon the exposed bone slowly, his body twitches you hope in relief... ‘Wow’ Charlie gasps. Soon all you have to do is untie the rope and wrap the raw exposed skin with the clean bandage cloth you brought along. “No stitches for this one. The skin will break anyway in a few days when the arm regrows… “ You explain, pausing for a second in doubt. “If it regrows.”

A couple of colony members volunteer to carry Oliver home. You give Abigail the rest of the balm with instructions on what to expect during the healing process and when to apply the rest of the balm again. She thanks you, doing a little courtesy asking you to come have dinner sometime to meet her family. You smile and politely decline.

“That was amazing, Nuria.” Charlie claps, “I didn’t know you were a doctor!”

“What? Oh no, baby, I’m not.” You correct her. “I just… I’m really not.”

“Still, that was impressive.” Vaggie comments. “Clearly you must have training of some sort.”

“My Nuria is just resourceful like that! Very humble, very—what do the young ones like to say these days? Ah yes, very demure~!” Rosie gloats, dusting your shawl and wrapping it over your shoulders, fixing your hair as if you were her favorite doll.

You chuckle to hide how unsettled the gesture made you feel.

“Oh Rosie… “

—---------------------

“And then she applied this… ehh, this ointment on the wound. And it healed!” Charlie’s eyes shine with wonder as she finishes her day in their current team bonding activity:

‘Your Highlight of the Day!’

Alastor stops mid-sip sitting at the parlor where Charlie was currently gushing over Rosie’s girl. The whole endeavor sounded mildly interesting until it took an unexpected turn…

“It what now?” Angel asked with half-there interest, lounging on one of the recliners, “Like magically or whatever?”

“I don't know if it was magic-magic per se, but it was very neat.”

“And you said she made it?” Alastor's form materializes from the floor up next to her, curious.

“It sure did!” She beams without missing a beat. “I think she would do great at the Hotel!”

“But she already gave us a flat out ‘no,’ hun.” Vaggie reminds her.

Well, that won’t do!

“You know, some souls just need a bit of coaxing towards the path or redemption!” He straightens, tapping his cane on the carpeted floor below.

“Since when are you invested in redeeming souls?” Dear ol’ distrusting Vaggie asks, already narrowing a suspicious glare his way.

“Why when it’s amusing to me, of course, sunshine!” He answers easily, ruffling the top of her hair with one hand which she quickly swats away. “Perhaps I should pay the pie shop a visit soon!”

Charlie stands up then, “Ohp, I hope it’s not too soon though! I... I don’t want her to think we’re getting all up in her business and all. Like Vaggie rightfully said,” Her index finger comes up in solemn instruction, “They must want to come to us!”

Hm. “But of course, Charlie, we’ll give her space—though I don’t think it would be too odd if we happened to bump into each other in the city.”

“Woah, Smiles showing interest in someone?” Angel Dust perks up.

“That sounds more like stalking if you ask me.” Husks comments from the bar counter, pretending to clean one of the already spotless glasses.

“Haha! Quite the jokesters you lot are!” He dismisses them both with good natured laughter, “I just hate seeing talent like that go to waste is all!”

Husk only tilts a skeptical eyebrow as response, unconvinced.

—---------------------------

You’re at hell’s version of a general store, it was a bit out of the way from your usual routes but the prices were the best. Perusing through the dry goods aisle someone’s hips push you out of the way, you’re about to cuss at the rude asshole but are greeted instead by a familiar mischievous grin.

“Hey, girl~!” Kotori greets.

“Riri” You smile and hug her.

Kotori was the girl in charge of making the costumes for Feisty Minx entertainers and performers, including yourself. Beautiful garments adorned you in major shows, anything from feathered head pieces, beaded work and bedazzled embellishment looked otherworldly when done by her. It was unfortunate she also ended up under Alicia’s clutches, who had no qualms about underpaying hard work. She deserved much better, you always thought, but to her what mattered was that she got to do what she loved most. Although you did not share her philosophy, you supposed one had to find joy wherever one could when misery is abound everywhere else.

“I know the hustle keeps you busy, but a call once in a while, b!”

“Girlfriend, you know how hard it is to find free time! Are you still working for Alicia?”

“Sure am, but it’s not the same without you! I mean, for one, that place has been like a graveyard since you left.” Is that why she was raising the rent? Or was she only raising it for you? “So I took on other clients - you know there’s always demand for flashy clothing in the city!” She adjusts her cat-eye glasses. “Speaking of flashy, I saw you on TV the other day!”

“You did!” Your smile tightens at the mention.

She continues, “I can’t believe Jo is still with you, the little rascal! Who would’ve thought he was the ride or die type.”

“I never would have thought either, but people do surprise you sometimes.”

“So how was it? Being on TV and all?”

“Oh, It was… an experience. For sure.”

“Wow, you don’t sound too happy, did something happen?” She asks, “But wait, don’t tell me! Wanna go out tonight? I got paid two tickets to this one place and it has been some time since our last girl's night out. We should catch up!”

She got paid in what? You fight the urge from smacking your forehead. ‘Ay Riri’

And yet, it had indeed been a while… Oh what the hell, you shrug. “Yeah, why not. Only thing Jo is borrowing the van today. His brother’s band has a gig tonight.”

“You let him borrow your van?! Giiiirl— “ She stops herself from saying whatever she was about to say when she sees you narrowing your eyes in warning. “OK, no worries, the place is local.” She winks, and then looks at her watch “Ooops, gotta go now but I’ll be by at 10!”

“It's a date!” You wave back as she hurries over to checkout.

…….......................

“AND THEN SHE PULLED MY HAIR!”

“SHE WHAT?”

“SHE PULLED MY HAIR!” You yell for the third time tonight as a strange mixture of EDM and Norteño blasts through the speakers from every which way at the bar. Honestly, you should have known better, thinking you’d be able to have any kind of conversation when she showed you the tickets for this place. You tip the glass of beer to your lips again, rolling your eyes when the leech attached to Riri’s hips pulls her away for another dance.

You sigh. What a waste of a night.

“Yeah, apparently the dude is already working for the BlackSun Gang from southside. Gotta say pretty impressive for a recent Splat.” Some sinner taking up Riri’s spot shouts, unlike you, determined to have a conversation with his friend even amid the chaos of the music. You swirl the contents of your glass listening in out of sheer boredom. “Said he had a wife that might be down here already!” You pause. “Imagine, what’s worse than having to share the eternity of hell with your old bitch!” He laughs.

“Aww, would that really be so bad?” You ask leaning in close to the mouthy moron of a sinner made up of equal animals and motorcycle parts.

He turns, looking you up and down before answering, the engine at the back of his head roaring. “‘Suppose hell would feel like heaven if she looked like you, sweet heart.”

What an idiot, though you laugh flicking your hair, “Mind telling me a bit more this fellow, you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

“Only if you let me buy you a drink!” He offers. You nod acquiring your very own hip-leech for the night, he motions for a couple more drinks and proceeds to, in fact, not tell you about the newly fallen soul. Instead talks (or more like shouts) about himself for 10 minutes straight, its more than you can handle. Yawning, you decide to cut to the point, slowly draping an arm over his shoulders which finally stops his yammering. Your lips touch what you hoped was his ear.

“So this new guy, did he say what— “

Your words die mid-sentence as you catch sight of Riri being practically dragged by the guy who had been glued to her since you arrived. Her head hung to the side unmoving. Something was wrong, very wrong. Immediately you pushed the oaf away to go to her, paying no mind when he cussed you out. Several moving bodies shoved against you in the packed dance floor, someone even splashing their drink on you, but you cared little as you hurried over to her. They were headed to the exit.

You’re almost there until a firm wide chest blocks your path and rich red fabric fills your vision.

You felt more than saw the crowd retreat.

A sharp bright smile greets you.

Alastor…

But dread courses through you as you watch Riri go past the exit. “Sir, I’d love to speak with you, but I have to go.”

You don’t wait for his response, quickly side-stepping him to run after Kotori, finally making it out of the club. “Shit.” You whisper, your breathing uncontrolled as you look side to side, finally spotting the pair turning a corner. Your heels click-clack over the dirty concrete below. So many fears swirl inside your mind, shoving a hand inside your purse looking for your dagger, unsure if it will even help.

A scream from one of the alleys beyond draws your attention—Riri!!

“Let go of her, son of bitch!” You’re ready to pounce but stop dead in your tracks.

The Radio Demon is already there.

He has the degenerate by the throat, feet above Kotori’s innert form.

“And good evening to you too, Ms. Nuria!” He smiles, unperturbed, as he flings the thrashing sinner against the dumpster next to him. A tentacle emerges from the shadows cast onto the wall, slamming the lid of the dumpster against the skull of the assailant—one, two, three and a few more times before letting his unresponsive body fall with unceremonious grace inside.

You stand there frozen, tiny dagger in your limp hand.

“Oh I do think you’re going to need more than that, dear.” He chuckles.

Riri ‘s groans snap you back from the shock.

“Kotori!” You call, crouching next to her as she regains her bearings.

“Nuria, I don’t… I don’t feel so good… “ She blears as you re-adjust her clothes, covering her up as best you can.

“No, shit you moron you nearly got-… “ You pull her into a tight hug, shutting your eyes tight to keep the tears from spilling, rocking her back and forth. “Thank you, thank you.” You whisper to whichever power that be might be listening, and then to Alastor. “Thank you… “

He remains perfectly still, watching you with mild interest. “Don’t mention it! But do be careful, filth like that swarms about such places, but you know that.”

“I know… “ You whisper, still holding onto Kotori’s warmth. Then you clear your throat, hardening your voice again. “She lives close by, may I take more advantage of your kindness tonight?”

The filter of his voice, now familiar to you, rises as he speaks. “Goodness, dear! Don’t go telling other fellows that - they may take it the wrong way, then you’ll be in real trouble!” He jokes, unnervingly cheery in spite of the grim situation. But you don’t have more time to dwell on that as a robust shadow rises from the ground below Riri’s body. You step back as the shadowy entity arranges her unconscious form over its shoulders and seems to look to Alastor for direction.

“Please, lead the way.”

Riri’s studio is filled by mannequins of all shapes and sizes dressed with in-progress projects and commissions. Most of her walls are covered up top to bottom with her design sketches. Her living space is mostly occupied by her work, allowing herself only a bit of space for personal belongings.

She still lays passed out on her small bed but seems to be okay. You found some tea among the many coffee containers in her cabinets, you’ll have to scold her about her poor diet when she wakes up. You put water to boil on her tiny one-burner stove.

Alastor hums a cheery tune probably too old for you to recognise, he inspects her designs then weaves through the mannequins like a crimson specter in the low light of the room. Neon light from a sign outside illuminates his form, making it appear and disappear in a shroud of darkness.

“You should commission her if you find something you like.” You comment. “She’d be beside herself, I’m sure.”

“Oh no, these are much too flashy for my taste.” Really now? “But one does have to admire the artistry behind it all.” He appears at a different place from where his voice came. “And I already have a tailor.” He explains, eyes set on you.

You swallow, adjusting your jacket in lieu of the shawl. “I’ll stay here with her, she shouldn’t be alone when she wakes up. Thank you again for everything.”

“Hm, you’re a good friend Ms. Nuria, not many people get to have that nowadays." He says, patronizingly so.

Undeterred, you scoff. “I don’t see anything wrong with showing a bit of compassion in this godforsaken place.” Irritated now. “You know, I’m actually surprised someone such as yourself would frequent this side of the city. Speaking of old friends, you should be careful.”

“Oh? I should be careful?” His voice drips with sarcasm. You can see how this man easily got under people’s nerves.

“Si, usted.”

You answer flatly.Though he remains the picture of confident complacency. You almost don’t tell him anything that happened the other day at the Tower. But then you consider that perhaps a word of caution should be enough pay for the favor of saving your friend; nothing down here is free after all. And you’d rather not owe anyone anything more than what you already monetarily did, so you continue. “Of Mr. Vox…from the Vees, he seemed to know you fairly well. Are you— “

The humor in his eyes disappears.

“Yes, I’m familiar." He confirms, hands coming to rest over his cane. “Do you know him personally?” At this you can feel the darkness beneath your feet stir. Alarm bells begin ringing in your head though you remain calm, even when shadows dance on your peripheral.

“Yes and no.” You hurry and answer, the forms around you pause as he cocks his head to the side. “The other day I was invited to the Entertainment District, this time to appear in one of the programs filmed at the V Tower. I went because I really needed to promote my business.” You can’t keep the sourness of the memory from your voice, “I just didn't know the real purpose for that was to meet Mr. Vox afterwards.” Your gaze studies his face, white noise punctuates the sudden shift in atmosphere. “And he spoke about you.”

“Do tell what did he say about me?”

“That I should be wary of you, that you are dangerous.”

He laughs!

You’re surprised to see him take this so well, thankfully, though, the tension dissipates with the sound of his voice, clearly not taking this seriously at all.

“I wouldn't laugh. The way he spoke… That man, he… “ You hesitate in coming up with the right words. “He wants you in ruin. And I don’t know what you did to upset him, but you haunt him… it was like something ugly lurked beneath.”

“My dear Ms. Nuria, him and a thousand other demons!” He shrugs, shifting the microphone to his back, unphased by the information. “That’s no big news to me!” He waves his arm in dismissal, but you take hold of it between your hands - insistent.

“I’m serious.” You glare, “At least for tonight, let me be a good friend to you as well and warn you: Thread carefully… “ You whisper in the stillness of the room.

His eyes roam over your face, searching for any hint of insincerity, an ulterior motive for you to tell him this.

“You wish to repay me for saving your little friend!”

“ ...Yes!” You answer unwavering, owed favors cost dearly in Pentagram City.

“Then I’m afraid you're coming up short.”

Of course. Your shoulders sag, you step away from him crossing your arms over your chest. “Don’t suppose a simple Poor-Bastard Pie will do.”

“Tempting but no. Though I hear that you’re as good a baker as you are a healer.”

This is unexpected. “I merely dabble in holistic remedies.”

“Witchcraft I presume?”

“Perhaps, but if you want something taken care of, I’ll have to charge you for that since partial payment was already made, and I’ll need to see the extent of the malady… AND I make no guarantees.”

“That’s fine, explosive little Abby was plenty happy with her finance’s results, I trust her word.” He must really need the help if he already gathered this much information so quickly. “But I do require discretion.”

“Of course, that’s a given - nobody likes their business put out like laundry.”

“A lady through and through, I see!” His smile turns genuine again. “We’ll set some private time during the grand reopening. Charlie tells me you’ve agreed to stay a day prior in preparation for the event.”

“Yes, strictly for work.” You cut that subject short. “Now will this be for you or someone else?” The kettle’s whistle goes off then, you move to turn the stove off.

“For myself.”

Oh.

“I look forward to seeing you there.”

Turning around to ask a follow up question to that, you find yourself alone in the room instead, hot kettle in hand with the blinking neon lights from outside dousing the room in neon pink, green, blue and red.

Blue and red.

On and off they go.

-----------

Comment to added to the Tag list pls: @sirens-and-moonflowers

[solasnotes]

the wild robot; hard drives and heartstrings

since its early 1900s inception, animation in film has been touted as a medium designed and marketed for children. while the sentiment may seem true to the average moviegoer after the inescapable success of movies like ‘minions: the rise of gru’ & ‘the super smash bros. Movie’– it couldn’t be further from the truth. yes, dreamworks’ catalogue and history with filmmaking play a significant role in this perception from general audiences (see: boss baby, madagascar). however, this is not to say that they cannot make warm and genuine stories that resonate with viewers of all ages and demographics (see: kung fu panda, how to train your dragon). 

2024’s ‘the wild robot’ is undeniably an instant classic and genuine feat in animated storytelling– arguably, dreamworks’ strongest effort since the original ‘how to train your dragon’ in 2010, which was also directed & written by chris sanders.

the plot, inspired by its literary source material and namesake, ‘the wild robot,’ immediately feels welcoming in its simplicity. it follows roz, a robot that finds herself shipwrecked on an uninhabited island with no connection to the human world she was made to assist. despite initially facing hostility from the island's animal inhabitants, roz integrates into the ecosystem, raising an orphaned gosling with the unlikely help of a sly fox named fink.

what stuck with me while watching this movie and what gives it the breathing room to separate itself from the other animated films released in recent memory is the maturity in its approach to jokes and dialogue. slapstick humour has long been a signature trait of a dreamworks’ film and unlike the studio’s past releases, ‘the wild robot’ has a more nuanced take with its joke telling. this style of comedy is almost reminiscent of the early seasons of ‘the simpsons’. the set-ups are driven by the way characters interact with one another and their environment before leading into a clever punchline that isn’t completely in your face. what makes these jokes even better is that they could have very easily been translated into a slapstick moment but were chosen not to, which indicates a clear conscience and desire to produce a mature body of work. a great example of this is roz’s skunk impersonation, which is initially introduced as a standard feature of her ‘instant mimicry’ programming but is then later reintroduced as a fun defence/attack mechanism for the final act. if we were to compare this to another chris sanders movie, ‘the croods’, this gimmick would have played out as a one-off gag where the grandma tries to spite the dad with no relevance to the plot or characters involved. 

the maturity of this film is not only focused on its humour. it is also characterised as such in the way it explores themes of otherness, life & death, and depicts the dichotomy between technological advancement and nature. 

otherness is represented in the 3 main characters: roz, fink, and brightbill. for roz, it manifests in the way she is perceived as a monster by the animals of the island and their unwillingness to accept her as one of their own. her desire to prove herself worthy of the animals’ acceptance is a shared trait with brightbill, the orphaned gosling roz cares for and nurtures. being a runt he naturally has a slower course of growth and a smaller rate of survival, his development is only further stunted by the fact that he grew up without an actual goose to teach him the ways of his species. and to the other geese on the island, he is perceived as a weirdo and of another species entirely, undeserving of migration. fink, on the other hand, is implied to be the only fox on the island and therefore has no community to fall back on but himself. his cunning nature puts him at odds with most creatures on the island and unlike the aforementioned two, he does not believe he has anybody to prove anything to. this acts as a driving force for his character arc in the latter half of the story and is excellently portrayed by his actions.

life & death in animated media is an underrepresented trope due to the stereotyped demographics attached to these projects. what this film does so brilliantly is how it opts not to sugarcoat these themes, and instead tastefully addresses them. as an audience this is first introduced in the death of a mother goose and the loss of all but one of the eggs in her nest. we may not have been directly informed that the bird did die, but roz’s actions in this scene deliver the seriousness of the situation gracefully. later in the movie, the inhabitants of the island go into hibernation, as does roz to conserve the little power she has left. fink, in his loneliness, is unable to fall asleep and when a terrible blizzard sweeps through he wakes roz up to save the animals from their deep sleep. the circle of life is once again acknowledged in this scene in a way that is understood simply– not all animals could be saved like when fink selflessly attempts to dig into a burrow only to discover it was too late for whichever creature was sleeping. handling death is an integral aspect of all people's lives, and seeing this film handle the topic without trivialising it for older audiences or making it seem traumatising for the children in the theatres is charming to witness.

‘the wild robot’ joins films like ‘avatar’ and ‘wall-e’ as cautionary tales for the possible side effects of how quickly humanity is advancing with technology– an increasingly relevant discussion today with the uptick in artificial intelligence and automation of our daily lives. we are only shown snippets of human life in this movie and the way humans are depicted is quite terrifying. living in bubbles that are entirely managed and run by robots designed to complete human tasks is a troublesome reality that attempting to give humans more autonomy only strips them of that. by the point in time this film is set in, humans have become so dependent on the safety their robots and bubbles promise them that a flock of migrating geese inside their dome sets off lockdowns and warrior bots designed to kill at the mere thought of bacteria. there are no positive side effects to segregating humanity from the planet's wonders.

visually, the film is stunning. every frame meticulously crafted to look like a moving painting. the settings burst with life with lush foliage and intricately designed flowers that all have unique designs and abnormalities. the hue vibrancy in the foreground effortlessly distinguishes characters from their surroundings, creating depth and visual harmony. all of these factors in tandem work to develop a sense of wonder for both roz, and the viewers as we join her in discovering this brand new world. at times, i found myself pausing the film just to marvel at its beauty. the decision pursue this route rather than traditional 3d animation was deliberate and thought-through enhancing the audience's experience. like its literary source, the visuals are deceptively modest despite holding more complex emotional value– a reflection of the filmmakers’ intention to preserve the essence of both mediums.

the final piece to the puzzle that brings this movie to life is the stellar voice acting provided by the cast. each voice matches the character, their motives, and their design so perfectly that it would be an insult to not give them their dues. lupita nyong’o’s care for roz delivers humanity and emotion to a character that was not designed to feel those things– an immediate stand out. the most surprising member of the cast was by far kit connor and his perfectly animated rendition of brightbill. connor’s tone for the gosling evokes the perfect amount of anxiety, confidence, and blissfulness that his character presents at all times, he has a promising career in voice acting ahead of him should he pursue it. pedro pascal approaches his role as fink with the same charisma he does with all his roles and is delightful to see. the fox’s transition from selfish to selfless throughout the movie is greatly assisted and felt in the way his tone moves from soft and mischievous to one that is warm. the star-studded cast is without fault from beginning to end and makes every joke funnier, and every exchange more impactful.

‘the wild robot’ is a testament to the endless creativity of animation. the adoption of watercolour aestheticism to deliver themes of otherness, found family, and the cautionary tales of humanity’s advancement with technology brings life to topics that are otherwise not enjoyed in a lighthearted context. within this 102-minute package is a story that audiences of all ages are able to resonate with and look back on fondly.

t

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[callipraxia]

The Unexpected Memoirs of Fiddleford H. McGucket: Chapter Three

Previous Installments: Chapter One and Chapter Two

In which Our Hero arrives in a new town and is reunited with an old friend.

Chapter Three

It was a ten and a half hour drive from my house to Ford’s (the address of which had been told to me, of course, in geographical coordinates, of all the stupid, utterly Ford-like things, and which I had sworn on my life and more than my life to never reveal to another living soul), and I made that trip over the course of two days. I could have done it in less, but I didn’t want to – just as I had put off leaving home for as long as I could, I also delayed reaching my destination for a while, though I still ain’t sure why. I told myself it was because I was reluctant to leave the company of an only nominally supportive wife and a strange little son whose very presence could plunge me into a hell of anxiety sometimes for no reason at all – but if that was so, then why didn’t I wait a little longer and then drive straight through, instead of stopping one night in a little motel not too far from Mount Shasta? And then it didn’t matter anymore anyway, since I was already over the Oregon state line when I checked into that place, and the next morning, I picked at the least-unappetizing bits of a cut-rate continental breakfast with speed before I turned north and east, following the directions I had been given as best I could.

It was a wonderful drive, I’ll admit that. Maybe some folks who had been living in a city for as long as I had, or who had lived too long in a big flyover state like the one Backupsmore was in, would have found it oppressive – buildings growing further and further apart, trees growing thicker and closer together all the time, until, in the full flush of their summer foliage, they had turned the roads dark well before sunset the day before – but not me. There were a lot of ways in which this place was nothing like my old corner of Tennessee, but just at a glance, at least, it was enough like the forests and little roads around home that as I looked out on them, windows rolled down so I could get as much of the remarkably clean air as possible, I felt as though I could slip out into these woods and be pretty much all right at any time I pleased, like an old catfish would be slipping back into the mud in the bottom of the pond-hole where he’d spawned, and that idea was a great comfort to me when I contemplated all the things about what I was doing that made me nervous.

I was an ignorant creature then, no doubt about that. Even at the time, though, I recall wondering what in the hay the likes of Stanford was doing out here in a place like this. Not only was he a city boy born and bred, but he was a coastal body, too. He didn’t like to talk about his home or his childhood, never had, but enough had come up in passing, over the course of all the years we’d known each other, that I knew he’d been born pretty well at sea level. Down there, time passes just a little bit slower than it does in the mountains of my home or those in this corner of Oregon – or in much of anywhere besides deep in the sea, I reckon. Got to be precise, specific-like, after all. We’re scientists. You get imprecise, you get sloppy. You get sloppy, there’s a lot of fields in which you get cadaverinated pretty quick. Or worse. Because believe you me – it’s not one bit an exaggeration to say that there really are things a lot worse than death.

The roads started to seem a little...off, somehow, the closer I got to Gravity Falls, and by the time I finally laid eyes on the city limits, I had gone through three-quarters of what not long before had been a full tank of gasoline. I had also landed in two towns that weren’t my destination along the way, highlights among all the wrong turns I’d taken after the places I happened to be stopped being places which appeared on the road maps I’d bought back at the state border. After all that, I got to town hours later than I had meant to, so that it was getting on toward evening time, and I had a cramp in my leg, what felt like a black hole in my stomach, and my butt had gone so numb it had somehow made its way back around the circle of sensation and discovered how to be numb and painful at the same time. Even as I finally crossed into town, I couldn’t help but think wistfully about what my wife and the boy were doing right then, and how comfortable I might have been back home doing it with them….

Still, though – it was glorious summer, the end of July, near about like it is now, so I was spared worrying about it getting dark on me, and under all my aches and pains and fatigue, I was still young. Now that I had found the town, at least, I also found that I was beginning to become excited again – if also nervous. As usual. I had always had weak nerves, after all, and here I was: not only a stranger in a strange land, but one with no idea what he was going to find here. Incredible opportunity, or dismal failure? A reunion with a friend who had disappeared so suddenly and unexpectedly from my life, or...what? Just an employer? A stranger with a familiar face, like my brain is now telling me Stan Pines, of all people, is? What?

Don’t know now – doubt I had much of an idea then. In fact, once I saw the word diner on a sign, I believe I stopped thinking of much at all besides the opportunity to address some of my more immediate problems. In the best-case scenario, after all, somebody could help point me toward the road I was looking for, rather than leaving me to poke around and hope for the best for half of the night, and even in the worst-case scenario, I at least stood a good chance of addressing the issue of the growing void in my abdomen. The other word on the sign, besides Diner, was Greasy’s, but this did not deter me, not when I had grown up in a place where every Saturday night, half the town stood in line to get into an old warehouse which had been converted into a fish house under the name of Hogjaw and Lester’s. The crowd I could estimate, from the number of cars and trucks out front, was within Greasy’s Diner wasn’t as big as the typical Saturday night crowd at Hogjaw and Lester’s, but I still had a good feeling about things as I parked myself in the lot and then went and opened the door.

That, naturally, didn’t last all that long. I made it about half a step into the building before I looked up and noticed that every eye in the room was seemingly fixed on myself.

Instantly, I wished I was dead and had to fight down the impulse, immediate and instinctual, to run away as fast as my feet would carry me. Somehow, it seems, I had forgotten the number one rule of places like Greasy’s or Hogjaw’s, which was that outsiders more or less weren’t supposed to know about them. Now, Greasy’s Diner was right out on the main street of Gravity Falls, nothing like the out-of-the-way location of Hogjaw and Lester's, but as I was soon to realize, Gravity Falls itself was the kind of place where outsiders were an aberration. We weren’t only not supposed to know about its eating joints, we weren't even supposed to know that the town existed. My California-by-way-of-Tennessee posterior walking into Greasy’s like it was a Denny’s probably seemed about as bizarre to the crowd gathered there as somebody walking into the fish house back home and dropping his drawers in front of the buffet for all of nature to see would have been.

I stood there gawking at them, turning redder by the moment, and they stared back, just as blankly, at me. Finally, after what felt like a couple of back-to-back eternities, a woman dressed like a waitress stepped up and smiled.

“Howdy there, stranger,” she said, in something which, to my ear, sounded uncannily like an accent from back home. Not quite, of course, but closer than I would have thought a native of this far north could come.

I swallowed hard, jamming my hands into my pockets to keep them out of my hair. I couldn’t imagine that I was going to make much of a good impression on anybody out here, but showing my worst habits to folks – that was something I still had the shame and usually the self-control to not just do, most of the time, back then. At least, it had been years since I’d had an episode in front of anybody, and I also knew that in these environs, as a stranger, the last thing I wanted anyone to do was think I was dangerous somehow, as crazy strangers are usually considered to be. Odds were that as many of the ol’ boys in here were packing as would have been back home, after all….

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, my accent breaking through especially heavy at the end. Maybe that was a good thing; the lumberjacks who appeared to make up most of the clientele would, at least, not think I was too highfalutin to tolerate. Why, I wondered unhappily, had I took the time to dig out some halfway respectable clothes to wear up here? Not that I reckoned the floweredy shirts would have been any more welcome in my then-present company, but it seemed real stupid, just now, to have gone to all this trouble with the thought of impressing someone who I knew for a fact had once owned a wardrobe almost entirely made of turtlenecks and sweater-vests. Would Ford even notice that I was trying to look like a serious adult who did serious research instead of – well – like me? I had doubted it to start with, but right now, not listening to those doubts seemed like a worse idea than it had in California. A much worse idea.

The waitress made no move, unless I counted raising her eyebrows seemingly expectantly, to play hostess, and no other people who looked like employees appeared. Nervously, tripping over my own feet a little, I therefore seated myself at a booth, still feeling too many eyes on me. The waitress, God bless her, at least blocked out the sight of a few of them when she instantly appeared beside me again, this time with a paper pad in hand.

“Welcome to Greasy’s. What can I get ya?” she asked.

“I – uh – is there anything you would recommend?” I asked – whispered, nearly. My shoulders were scrunched up nearly to my ears. “I’m gonna be in town for a while,” I explained, “so I reckon I’ll try everything sooner or later, but...why not start with the best, right?”

Her eyes had widened a little when I said I’d be in town for a while, but she smiled again and winked at me as she said, “Our best, huh? Just hold tight one minute and I’ll fix you right up, hon.” Then she walked away without ever writing a word down on her order pad, or even ever showing me a menu. Less than two minutes later, she was back with me, a tray with a sandwich, a coffee cup, and a slice of cherry pie having seemingly materialized from the kitchen by magic.

“Here you go, hon,” she said, presenting this item to me with a bit of a flourish. “Grilled cheese with mustard, and what we all say is the best pie and coffee in the whole Pacific Northwest.” She raked the other patrons with her eyes. “Don’t we, fellas?”

There was a general noise of agreement from the room, broken by only one voice with something more specific to say. Its depth and volume seemed strangely matched to the owner, a red-haired boy probably ten years younger than myself, maybe even still in his late teens but surely no older than twenty or so.

“I don’t know, Sue,” he called out. “I tried some coffee over in Washington once, it was pretty good! Yours might only be the best in Oregon!” One could all but hear the exclamation points after every sentence he uttered. “Want to give me one on the house so I can make a ruling?!”

“Oh, you hush yourself, Boyish Dan Corduroy,” said the waitress – Sue? - as people laughed and I – baffled though I was about why we were drinking coffee at seven in the evening – took a polite sip of the beverage under discussion.

I have had me many a cup of coffee in my day. In the months to come, in fact, I’d have so many cups of coffee that it would start to make me feel sick – heart palpitations (though sometimes that was just panic) and stomach troubles (admittedly, sometimes also just panic), the lot. I haven’t touched a coffee since 1982 because of all that. Just the word ‘coffee,’ though...right now, anyway, what it brings to mind to me is that first sip I had of Susan’s coffee, the way it used to be, anyway, back before….

As I lowered the cup, I noticed that Susan had not disappeared and I sensed that a reaction was being waited on. I smiled, a little wide-eyed as the caffeine hit, and carefully placed the cup on its saucer.

“That,” I announced, “is some excellent coffee.”

The atmosphere of the room...shifted, slightly. Even I could sense it, and I wasn’t too good at that kind of thing, not unless my only competition is Stanford, anyway, or on a real bad day my son. I was not an insider, not yet, but they were going to allow the formation of some thin crack in the ice. It wasn’t one all the way down to the water, nowhere near it – but it was a start.

It hurts, now, to remember them all from here. To look back and not be able to tell them to stop, to run me out of town, to run out of town themselves – just to do anything to prevent what was about to happen, and to do it as fast as they possibly could. Dan Corduroy hasn’t, that I know of, made a joke in years; I would worry for them young’uns of his even if they still had a mama, and if one of them wasn’t among those I happen to owe a debut to. Susan, too – just a shell of what she was, with the diner a health violation and a half on the best day it sees, and the coffee as often as not made from yesterday’s grounds, run through the machine again because she didn’t remember having made coffee since the last time she’d thrown some in the filter. And as for me….

“So, you’re gonna be in town a while,” said Susan, plopping down into the booth across from me without a care in the world. “We don’t get too many outsiders coming to Gravity Falls – not for a whole while, anyway. What brings you to our little corner of the world here?”

“I had a job offer,” I explained. “I was mostly here to eat, but if you don’t mind too much – I wonder if you know of anyone who could tell me where Gopher Road is?”

* * * * * * * *

I suppose I must have noticed-without-noticing when Farmer Sprott (as I would later learn his name was) had finished his omelette and silently walked past me on his way out of the diner, because when I exited it myself, a while later, I was surprised to find the man standing beside my truck. I would have been a little started to see anyone doing that, of course, since nobody here knew me, but I recall I specifically thought – what’s he doing here? So I must have noticed him, all without noticing I did so, on his way out the door of Greasy's earlier. Unsure of myself and, frankly, of my personal safety, I approached hesitantly and said, “Uh – howdy, sir. Can I help you?”

He looked up from his ostensible inspection of my tailgate, glancing warily at me from the corners of his eyes from under his big old hat. “Good truck you got here,” he said instead of answering my question. “Those California plates – that’s not what you’d expect to see on a decent truck.”

“I’m from Tennessee originally,” I explained, resting a hand on the hood. “Been working in California a few years, but - “ I smiled and shrugged, a little more confident, then, thinking that maybe I could make me a friend among the locals, here. “Guess a farmboy stays a little bit of a farmboy, deep down, no matter how far he gets from the farm.”

Sprott nodded seriously. “That’s right,” he said. “So from one of us to another one -” His voice, quiet anyway, became even quieter. “I don’t know what business you think you have out on Gopher Road, mister,” he said, “but if I was you, I’d turn around now and find me some different business, somewhere else. Nothing good can happen if you stay here.”

I stared at him for a long moment, and then responded with incredible eloquence. “...Huh?” I asked.

I’m sure I sounded like an utter yokel, but I was so surprised I couldn’t really think of any more intelligent response to make. Instead of looking at me like I was a moron, though, Sprott shivered even though the evening was warm and glanced around him nervously again before leaning in close, his voice sinking all the way down to a whisper.

“I know that address I heard you asking Susan about,” he said. “It’s not far from my farm. That’s the only reason I know anything about it – or anything about that man who lives out there, and about how he’s a witch.”

Once again, I was too taken aback to even be offended. “A what?” I asked.

“A witch,” repeated Sprott. “A sorcerer. One who meddles with that which man was not meant to know. A servant of the Devil! Unless he is just the Devil himself….”

I leaned away from him, astonished further and, at long last, offended, both on my friend’s behalf and a bit on my own, too. My first thought – reasonably or not – once I began to have coherent thoughts was that this was some kind of anti-Semitic thing, one exaggerated to the point of hysteria by some vile loon who assumed, on the basis of my accent and truck, that I might have some sympathy with his views. Not that I had ever known Ford to advertise being Jewish, but I had, after all, at least heard of the sorts of people who'd take exception to that - though I had never expected one to just – hang around in a parking lot and start going off to me, a complete stranger.

“If we’re talking about the same person,” I said coolly, “then I’m afraid you’re talking about a good friend of mine here, and I can’t say as I appreciate your point of view on the subject.”

Sprott’s eyes widened and he began to back away slowly, his face draining of color. “If you think that, mister - then God have mercy on you,” he said fervently. “Because I suspect you’re gonna need it.”

* * * * * * * *

I was still a little disturbed by this encounter when – after a couple of more missteps, despite Susan and Boyish Dan’s best attempts to give me directions and help me mark my map – I at last found my way onto Gopher Road, and even as I turned at the appropriately-labelled mailbox, I wondered if I ought to mention it to Stanford. I was not, however, disturbed enough for it to prevent me from making a mental note to drag him down here to clean up around the mailbox one day soon. Aside from what the neighbors (I couldn’t see any, but assumed they existed, if only in passing) would think, I also didn’t care to get snake-bit when all I had been aiming to do was find a newspaper.

Then I saw the house.

The lines were those of a good house, one that I automatically felt comfortable with: the sharp eaves and wooden construction reminded me somehow of houses back home in Tennessee, even though they were built for different conditions. Stanford’s house was, however, bigger than any house I’d ever lived in (including my house in California), and it had a number of odd touches. Who, for instance, had ever seen a private house with two stained-glass windows on one side, as though they were as common as clay? And what was even stranger was what I remembered from Stanford’s first few letters from out here, back in ‘75, maybe the end of ‘74 – ones where he’d mentioned that he was having a house-lab combo deal custom-built for himself. He’d never been much of one for decorating, unless one counted stacks of books and a few posters of his favorite scientists, and while his book stacks could resemble abstract sculpture – somehow, even despite that, going to the trouble of installing stained-glass windows struck me as unlike him. Was it something about property value? That was the only explanation I could think of.

If those windows had been an attempt, either by Stanford or the builders, to elevate the property value, though, then my old roommate had clearly decided at some later point to do his level best to negate the effect. Between the overgrown yard, the sagging steps, the unfinished porch, and one shutter which was splintered almost off of a wall, I could have easily mistaken the place for abandoned, had I not been able to see a light, faintly, though a window.

I shook my head. City boys, I thought, trying to make a living in the countryside were always at a disadvantage, and when you added in Stanford’s detachment from any and all things he didn’t find interesting in particular…. I got out of my truck slowly, taking care where I put my feet, because I didn’t know if venomous snakes were a problem in these parts and I didn’t care to find out by having something sink its fangs into my leg. I couldn’t say with any certainty if this yard had really never been cut or not, but I was, at least, willing to bet that the grass hadn’t seen a mower in over a year if it had ever seen one at all…

I took some care not to think about Emma-May’s assertion that it was entirely possible that my friend had simply lost his mind out here in isolation. There was a vague stereotype about physicists going insane, of course, but this was real life, a specific case. Still, though – although I was not thinking of anything in particular, I think I was still a certain amount of nervous for reasons other than the usual and expected as I carefully made my way up the steps and knocked on the door.

One second passed. Two. After five seconds, I thought I heard rapid footsteps from inside the house, but these paused for three or four more before I heard the rattling sounds of locks being undone – a process I noticed even then seemed to take an abnormally long time to wrap up before the door opened and, for the first time in six years, I found myself face to face with the man on the other side of the door.

It was Stanford, all right; it was impossible (or so I thought at the time) to mistake him for anybody else. It was less a matter of features than of expression – anyone, after all, could have perpetually untidy dark hair (as witness my wife), or heavy, low-set eyebrows, or combine a prominent nose with a square jaw, but the combination became curiously arresting when he was animated, as he was now – this, I assumed, having more to do with whatever he’d been doing before I arrived, as I was not vain enough to imagine the sight of myself was that interesting.

Even considering all of that, though - he had changed, some, as I observed after another moment. He was thinner and paler than I could recall seeing him before, and – more concerningly – there was the matter of about half of his face. Everything from the nose down was marred repeatedly by cuts and scrapes; for a moment, I wondered if something had attacked him in the recent past, but then I realized it was merely as if he had made a sporting attempt to use a razor for the first time in his life, after having already grown a beard. That was strange; I was used to the...interesting...results his at-home haircuts could have, but I’d never known him to be that clumsy when it came to wielding objects as sharp as razor blades in close proximity to his head.

For a long moment, we just looked at each other, me observing all this, and him, I assumed, observing as much about me. It was as if we had swapped ends of the kemptness scale since school. At least twice, I thought, each of us started to say something, but then didn’t – as awkward a set of moments as I’ve ever been part of, I reckon – before, finally, Stanford laughed at, seemingly, nothing.

“If you’d have told me,” he said at last, beaming at me in apparent delight. “I - “

Instead of finishing that sentence, he laughed again and shook his head, which was about all the warning I got before I was abruptly yanked into a crushing hug – for all of about two seconds. Then, though, just as abruptly, he backed off again, saying, “sorry – sorry – got a bit, ah, carried away – greetings, Fiddleford! Come in - “

“Shamblin’ shepherds, Stanford,” I said, grinning, now, too. “Still ain’t learned when to switch to decaf, have you? But speaking of ‘away’ – I thought I was going to find the Wizard of Oz before I found this place, and when I finally got into town, I promptly run into someone wanting to tell me about how you’re a witch! What kinda crazy town have you dragged us off to, here?”

“One where I went four years without a decent conversation,” he said. “You have no idea – but never mind. Come in, please - “

Still shaking my head, I picked my suitcase, which I had dropped, back up and allowed myself to be ushered into a poorly-lit hallway. Following him into what I thought might have been intended as a lounge, I added a few more skills to the list of Responsible Adult Habits I hoped to introduce him to before I had to go home. The room was cluttered with all manner of books and papers and what looked like prototype inventions, all mixed up with some other specimens that I found hard to identify beyond speculation (slightly queasy) that they had once been alive. The room was not, however, at all over-burdened when it came to furniture, and as I searched for something that resembled a stable seat, I found myself wondering if I should have brought a sleeping bag, on the off chance there wasn’t actually a second bed or anything even vaguely resembling one in here. I should not, of course, have assumed my old friend was such a poor host; apparently, he’d been sleeping either at his desk or in a sort of large window seat ever since he’d moved in, and so, as I was to discover later, the cot I probably started giving myself back problems on had actually been obtained for my use altogether. Proper living room chairs, however, had apparently not occurred to him as an accommodation to make, and so by the time I found a box I suspected he’d never unpacked after moving in to perch upon, I noted that the slightly manic energy with which he’d greeted me had been either settled down or at least partially masked by apparent embarrassment.

“Sorry about that – should have tidied up more – thank you again for coming out here, and on such short notice – very glad you’re here – so. Do you want to see the blueprints first, or just go on to see what I’ve gotten done so far, or - ?”

He raised his eyebrows inquisitively, as though prepared to concede there was a possibility of an ‘or,’ but I could tell he didn’t really think there was a third option. I laughed, this time a little dazedly, and raised my hands as if in surrender.

“Slow down, now,” I ordered him. “Sit down, catch me up a minute. I still got a hundred questions about all this that ain’t got a thing in the world to do with your blueprints - “

This comment earned me an exceptionally blank look, but he did sit down on what appeared to have once been something’s skull after a moment.

“Oh – uh – yes, of course,” he said. His hands moved restlessly, interlacing one way and then the other. “Naturally. Of course. Forgive me – I’ve forgotten my manners - “ he chuckled nervously and confessed, “sorry – it’s been a long time since I’ve really – been around another person. I’m sure I’ll figure it out again soon, though. Do you want anything? Coffee? That and water are...all I think I have in the house, but I can look around, there might be - “

Even as he spoke, he bounced back onto his feet as though to go do so immediately. Half-exasperated and half-alarmed, I stood, too, and put my hands on his shoulders to stop him.

“The last thing I want is you going anywhere near where there’s coffee right now,” I said, attributing this jumpiness to his being on the brink of an outright caffeine overdose. “You...okay here?" I asked warily. The parts of discussions with my wife which had touched on the possibility Stanford was having some kind of nervous breakdown tried again to surface in my memory, but I pushed them down again as quickly as possible. "I could probably convince somebody right now that you’re the one between us who’s supposed to have the bad nerves. What’s going on?”

There was a pause, and then Stanford shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing, of course. Sorry. I, uh - “ he drew back from me, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand in a familiar nervous gesture and breaking eye contact. “Just...haven’t been around another person for a while, I suppose.”

My brow creased with growing concern at the repetition of this phrase, though I was not yet nearly as concerned as I should have been. “That’s the second time you’ve said that,” I pointed out. “Exactly how long are we talking here?”

“Er….” Stanford frowned, a distant look in his eyes as he thought about it. “Nine...maybe ten months?”

* * * * * * * *

I stared at him in disbelief. Seeing the look on my face, he quickly added, “probably closer to nine months, really. I’m – pretty sure it’s only been nine months.”

I exhaled all at once and turned away, reaching up to run my hands through my hair. “You have got to be - “ I turned back toward him. “Nine or ten months?”

Stanford shrugged, his posture turning inwards, defensive, as he avoided my eyes. “I did say it had been a while,” he excused himself in a mutter.

“A - “ I shook my head in disbelief. “I didn’t know it was even possible for a person to stay alone that long and not end up a total fruitcake,” I said. “It ain’t natural, Stanford. We’re social animals. How are you still alive?”

“I eat things most days and metabolize the potential energy of those items in order to support cellular function.” I glared at him, but he didn’t look like he was altogether poking fun at me with that one. He just seemed...embarrassed? “Stay here a week and you’ll see why I’ve been far happier in here doing my work than I ever could have been out there, with any of...them.” He made a sharp gesture with one hand, pointing back toward the main town. “They’re...short on good conversationalists, here, to put it mildly, Fiddleford. After I finished the contents of the library for the second time, there...just...didn’t seem like much of a reason to...go there again.”

I was right on the brink of shouting when the sight of his hands – or rather, the sudden absence of the sight of his hands – pulled me up short. He had them folded behind his back, now, the way he held them when he was trying to hide his extra fingers; when I saw that, and then, once again, recalled that fool at the diner who’d been going on about witches….

I have always preferred small towns to cities, but I’m not an idiot. I know their disadvantages, having too often been at them myself. When I was a boy in Tennessee, I had been a freak; for most of my time here, I’ve been the local kook. I just find these conditions less of a hindrance than I find the isolation of a big city. Ford, though...He was, in some ways, even weirder than I was. I’d at least managed to get a wife, keep folks from talking about me, and I didn’t have anything physically strange about me. A tiny town like this, someone like him….

“Well, be that as it may,” I said, “I’m here, now, so I hope you’re planning to get back to talking like a person again.”

I don’t know, even knowing about my memory gun as I do now, how I ever managed to forget the way he smiled at me then. “I know,” he said, and for the first time, he looked and sounded something like the person I’d parted ways with six years before. “And you really have no idea how grateful I am for that, Fiddleford – I know it’s quite the sacrifice for you, with all of your own projects – not sure what a ‘computermajig’ is, but I’m sure, heh, sure you’ve worked very hard on it – And, of course, your dependents - ”

This was such an odd way to phrase it that it took me a moment to figure out what he meant. “You mean Emma-May and Tater?” I asked.

“Are those their names? I remember you mentioned you’d gotten engaged to some girl before you stopped writing, but I don’t remember if you ever mentioned her name then – and hearing you had a child last week, goodness, that was a surprise -”

“I stopped writin’?” I asked. “I was under the impression we had more of a matter of you not replyin’. I know I must have told you about the boy….”

Stanford frowned, puzzled. “If you did, I never saw the letter,” he said. “Well – I suppose I might know the reason for that, though. The mail service isn’t fantastic around here anyway, and that was before I, er, might have once told the postman how sure I am that he’s a werewolf....”

He was joking, I thought. What a simple life I had back then. “I reckon having a werewolf mailman would cause a lot of disruptions,” I conceded, playing along. “So you might as well sit back down, then, and we can fill each other in on what’s been going on without the need for his intervention.”

[s-creations]

26 Ways to Feel Mortal - A: Apparatus

26 Chapters based around experiences that newly arrived Geno experiences while trying to find the Star Pieces.

Fandom: Super Mario & Releated Fandoms, Super Mario RPG Rating: Teen and UP Audiences Relationship: Mario/Geno (Nintendo), Mario/Princess Peach (Nintendo) Additional Tags: Rating for Teen needed for later chapters, but shouldn't be to worrisome, I'll have warnings if I'm worried, Poly relations!, Main characters will always be named, Minor characters will arrive as needed, the chapters are not in a specific order, just meets the needs of the given word, please be aware of spoilers.

Apparatus: (noun) The technical equipment or machinery needed for a particular activity or purpose. 

It was a strange sensation, gaining a physical form. The wooden body, which was already a heavy material, seemed so much so when paired with gravity's great pull. Making it all extremely hard to move. 

Start slow.

First, the head.

They gave the puppet’s head a little shake. Which caused their eyes to uncontrollable roll around in their sockets. Well, that was unpleasant. But a few furious blinks and intended eye movement later and they were in control. Or, at least, better control.

Next, arms.

They turned their newly acquired head down to watch their own slow movements. Each arm was carefully raised. Only able to get it about half way up before growing too heavy and they had to lower them again. Wiggling their fingers was an interesting feeling. A familiar tinkle laugh falling from their new mouth.

“It tickles…” They paused. Pressing a hand to their chest. 

Was…Was that their voice? It sounds…deep. They liked it. Very different from what they were used to. Well, moving on from that. Both arms were working. Now time to move onto their legs-

Whoops!

They were back on the ground the next second. An uncomfortable sensation traveling up their back and head as they hit the bookshelf. They were at least able to rub the sore parts of their head to alleviate some of the pain. Allowing a few minutes to collect themselves before trying once again.

Second attempt was a little better…for the start. At the very least, they were able to get onto their feet. First few steps went about as well as their first attempt standing. They stumbled and tripped over their oven feet. Only coming to a stop when their head collided with the small table. 

Well, they knew having a physical body would have its ups and downs. Pain was definitely a down. The lowest point by far. 

Letting out a low groan, they gently pressed a hand to their forehead as if pushing against it would push the pain out. Their other hand reaches up to grab onto the side of the table to help themselves back up. Legs shaking as they leaned against the solid object. 

“Okay… Slower this time…”

While still shaky and still a little uneven, they were able to make it to the front door. Opening it welcomed a new wave of sensations. The chill of the early morning air. The rich smell of dampen earth. The rather deafening sound of the night time creatures. They were even surprised that they could even taste the water in the air. 

This…was a lot.

But they knew this was going to be rather overwhelming. They couldn’t turn back now. They needed this body to find the Star Pieces. 

Uneven ground matching their uneven footing, the uncomfortable sensation setting in their chest area, they departed from the house. Making their way into the forest when they’d seen the piece fall. 

Unaware of wide eyes of childish excitement following their movement. 

______________________

Okay, so, maybe they weren’t as prepared for this as they originally thought. 

They were still uncomfortable with walking. Given the number of times they had fallen while traversing this heavily foliage covered paths. Which led to the next issue of they had no idea where they were going. The forest was an actual maze! They had no idea where they were or how to get back to where they’d come. 

When they finally reached where the familiar energy was emanating from, it struck them that they really didn’t have a plan. It was an honest hope that they would just find the piece lying on top of some shrubbery and be on their merry way. 

Of course they wouldn’t be that lucky. 

They had muttered out a chime, which he would never say in front of his fellow Starcarers, when the Star Piced was presented to Bowyer. Well, just finding it on their own was out of the question.

Just as Bowyer started to reach for the Star Piece, they felt a burst of nervous energy travel through their body. In turn causing their new legs to move them out of their hiding spot before they really thought about it. 

“Stop!”

They stopped when they stood between Bowyer and the Star Piece. Doing their best to look determined. Even as Bowyer towered over them. 

“Hold it right there! You don’t know what you’re doing or how important this is. Please, return this star to me before anything is further damaged.” 

Guess they were going for a diplomatic approach in this matter. Surely they could convince this rather terrifying being that they needed to help prevent- 

Welp, that didn’t work.

Bowyer was immediately furious. Stomping the ground and letting out a high protesting shriek. “Who! Who might you be! NYA! You! You strange! Dressed strange, look strange, smell strange! Nya!”

They faltered slightly. Still keeping themselves rooted in place.

“I serve…a Higher Authority,” Yeah that sounds right, “This Star Piece belongs to everyone, not just you. You can’t keep it.” 

More furious stomps followed this declaration. 

“Nya, NYA! Angry I am! A lesson to you I will teach!”

Panic grew as Bowyer started to launch his own minions at them. 

“W-Wait, calm down! What are you doing? Stop, that’s enough!”

They’d just meant to hold out their hands as a form of a placated stance. Only for the fingertips on their right hand fall away. Revealing mini-barrels that were once hidden under the wood. They were barely given time to understand what they were seeing when small bullets were launched out. 

Bowyer let out a cry of pain as the bullets landed. “Nya! Strong you are… But stronger am I! Hurt you, I will!”

“Wai, wait!” They desperately called out, “Wait, wait, we can-”

They felt their body tense as an arrow was sent their way. Straight path right to them. They were unable to move as the poisoned tipped weapon drew closer. Why couldn’t they move!

The world suddenly shifted. They felt frozen as they were carried away from the danger zone. Even hearing the arrow let out a small noise of pain as they hit the ground. Whoever was carrying them skidding to a halt. 

“Are you okay?” A new voice asked.

They looked over to find a human carrying them. A red cap with a large ‘M’ embroidered above the brim was resting on a crop of messy brown hair. Bright blue eyes looking back with brows crunched up with worry. A large and rather impressive mustache rested under an equally impressive nose.

There was a weird thrill that emitted from their chest. 

“Um, yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” They were gently lowered back onto the ground as another player entered the field. 

A cloud like being wearing a blue and pink striped pair of pants. Held up by a thick rope and buckle that had a visible ‘M’ imprinted onto it. He stumbled a bit on his landing before pointing an accusatory finger to the human.

“You left me! I can’t believe you just left me!”

“Sorry Mallow,” the human gave a sheepish smile, “But I wanted to get this guy somewhere safe. Besides, you got here just fine.”

Guy?

Another new thrill passed through them- him? That description… Why did that feel right?

“Hey, puppet guy!”

They- He was brought back to the current situation. The newcomer named Mallow looked at him while Mario was staring Bowyer down. 

“I saw your pew-pew powers. Wanna help take this bad guy down?”

They- He paused before giving a short nod. “I think that’s an acceptable ask.”

______________________

Gaz was fit to burst with excitement when the trio returned to the small village. He, newly named Geno, was quietly thrilled as he watched the Toad child rush around. Uncaring as their mother talked with Mario about the small care package she insisted on providing them. 

Seeing this excitement, this joy, so up close…it was a little overwhelming. Geno was aware of joy and happiness. It was part of his job in granting wishes that the creators of them could experience that feeling. But watching from this point, this close It was different. 

“Are you really going to go with Mario?” Gaz eventually asked. Slightly more calm but eyes still shining. 

The puppet knelt down to better address the Toad. “That is my intention. I’ve taken up the mantle to get the Star Pieces back into the sky. I hope you don’t mind if I bring your toy back a little later?”

“Of course I don’t care! How many kids can say their toy became a hero? Just come back safely, okay Geno?”

The same warmth he’d felt before returned once more. Geno gave a small nod. 

“I will, I promise.”

[skekilla]

https://www.deviantart.com/skekilla/art/Runaway-Train-Act-I-Scene-5-894445942

Gosh, did this train go on forever?

It seemed like Johnny had been walking for… what, fifteen, twenty minutes? At this point he was starting to wonder if he’d lost Sally somehow. Sure, he knew he was a little slower than her, but he couldn’t be this far behind, could he? After about two cars in, he couldn’t even see the grumpy singer storming through the doors into the next one. He tried to run to catch up at first, but the chaffing of his plastic prosthetics on his skin was just too much. So unfortunately, he’d ended up having to go at a snail’s pace through the dozens of train cars trying to find her. Passenger cars, a lounge, a few libraries, sleeping cars, he passed them all with no luck. She couldn’t have turned around—Johnny would have seen her—and she probably hadn’t stuck around in one of them—he’d made sure to look over the places as thoroughly as he could—so he couldn’t think of anything else to do but keep going. There just wasn’t any way she couldn’t be up ahead… right?

He slid yet another door open, pressing on as best he could in spite of his growing doubt. Unexpectedly, a burst of damp, fragrant air hit him. He peeked inside, fascinated to see giant trees lining the walls in the place of seats. Mosses carpeted the floor like haphazardly thrown rugs, and ferns sprung up from them like fancy vases. What in the… Johnny looked to the ceiling in wonder (surely the trees couldn’t have grown in such a crowded space as the other cars, he thought) but saw to his amazement that he couldn’t find one, only a misty expanse and lush green leaves. The whole place was shrouded in mist, in fact, as if lilac twilight had settled over just this one car.

“No way…” Johnny muttered to himself as he treaded gingerly on the overgrown floor. This can’t be real. This is… ridiculous. Like something out of Wonderland. Maybe he really was going nuts. First a weird train full of demonic creatures shows up in the middle of the street, next there’s a forest growing in that train. He shook himself. Keep focused! This whole mess is pretty dense; maybe Sally was slowed down by it. This could be his chance to catch up. Now was the time to hurry more than ever. Besides, if I’m really going round the bend I’ll have time to deal with that later, he thought grimly. And so, he set himself to wading through the verdant sea.

His boots gripped the moist ground easily. Unluckily, his jolting step didn’t take so naturally to the terrain. To make matters even worse, as he went further into the woods, the greenery got denser and denser. He was practically slowed down to a shuffle. At this rate, I’ll never get through this stuff... Doubt crept back over his optimism. What if he never did get through here? What if it was just endless? Had he ever really been on a train in the first place? Had he just been lost in these misty, dusk-lit woods the whole time?

Then suddenly, through the fog and brush, Johnny made out a figure. The long coat and curly hair made her instantly recognizable: Sally! Stumbling over roots and leaves, he finally caught up to her. “Sally! Oh, thank god-”

“Shhh!” To his surprise, she didn’t snark or even say hello to him. Instead, she shoved him back.

“What- what’s going on?” Secondhand panic rose in him. He searched her face for answers, but she was firmly distracted with something else. She shushed him again. What’s happening? What’s with all this fuss? But as his eyes followed Sally’s, he quickly figured out just what it was.

A small clearing in the forest was before them, silver with light. That seemed odd enough, seeing how dense this forest had been so far, but, of course, that wasn’t everything. In it was a man—rugged coat on his broad shoulders, big hat tipped down over his face, and big in build—slumped against the trunk of a tree. A sturdy shovel rested next to him, the kind used for real tough work. The obvious assumption was that he was asleep, but… the way his head hung limply, the utter stillness of him, the tattered edges of his garments… “Is… he dead?” Johnny whispered.

“I don’t know!” Sally snapped. “And I don’t want to find out. Now shush!”

Johnny jumped at her tone, easily silenced by her sharp words. His anxiety still ran wild, but something else joined it: pity. This poor man… He wasn’t really surprised someone’d died here—he would surely be dead himself if it weren’t for Sally, after all—but that didn’t stop his heartstrings from being tugged. There was nothing they could have done though, Johnny figured. From the old style of his clothes, he must’ve been here for some time… though I guess the year doesn’t really seem to matter that much here, he reminded himself. Maybe we could have done something… if only we’d been here sooner…

And then suddenly, he saw it. A dark presence loomed over the man, taking shape before Johnny’s very eyes. In substance, it looked similar to the smaller demons and the trolley imps; in stature, though, it was worlds away from the little horned things that had swarmed the halls. It dwarfed the huge man, hanging suspended from the tree’s boughs, huge clawed hands reaching down to him. Johnny’s breathing quickened as they neared him. No. Oh god, don’t hurt him. If the man really was dead, it wouldn’t matter. But what if he was alive? Johnny’s inaction could mean a painful, brutal end for him. His heartbeat went doubletime. It would be all his fault. All his fault he didn’t save him. I can’t save anybody. Memories of his fellow soldiers falling around him, running in vain from machine gun shots, trampled by tanks and sinking with ships—all flooded his mind in a tsunami of guilt. He couldn’t have done anything. Now I can. I have to!

His already thumping pulse took off, a rocket of adrenaline sending him darting into the clearing. By the time he had gotten to the man and grabbed the shovel from the floor, a cloud of fear as thick as the fog around him finally settled over his mind. Oh my god, what am I doing!? The pounding of his heart was deafening as the spirit settled its terrible eyes on him. He couldn’t stop shaking. And then suddenly, pure instinct took over: his grip on the shovel tightened and, in one swift motion, he hit the creature right in its shadowy head.

An ear-splitting scream shattered the fragile silence about the air, erupting from the thing like lightning from a storm. Thunder soon followed though; its screech became a roar, shaking the leaves above them. This thing was clearly a force to be reckoned with. And now Johnny had made it angry. “Oh god,” Johnny whispered to himself. It raised its horrible claws to strike him, but he was simply too overcome by fear to move a muscle. All it took was one swoop to send him careening against an overgrown nearby wall, the shovel falling from his hands as he did. He cried in pain, whimpering as he sank down to the floor. His now tear-filled eyes fixed on the demon in terror. This was it; there was no way he could escape now. It stalked closer and closer to him, anger flashing in its burning eyes. In the corner of his vision, he could see Sally running to help him, but she would surely be too late. He was practically in the talons of that thing already. It's going to kill me! God, please, I don’t want to die! Not here!

Thwack!

Suddenly, the demon’s head kicked to the side, another scream sounding from it as it flailed around. What…? And then he saw it. It was the man with the raggedy clothes, standing strong and wielding the shovel like a knight wielding his sword, a grim smile on his weathered face. Johnny’s jaw hung open in shock. This man certainly was not dead. In fact, now it seemed he’d be the one keeping them alive.

“Come on, let’s go!” Sally hissed to Johnny as she finally reached him.

“W-what about-”

She was already propping him up. “He’s fairing fine on his own. Let’s get a move on while we can!” In all fairness, she was right; this man was a tank against the demon, shredding through it and showing no sign of stopping. Johnny whimpered a weak protest, but he couldn’t deny that running now was clearly the best thing to do. He finally gave in, stumbling away with Sally. But just as they slipped away into the ferns and mist, he caught one last glimpse of that strange man. To his surprise, his eyes met his own. The cold fire of retribution in them sent a chill down his spine, and it was all made very clear to Johnny in that moment; this man had been here for ages. And if he hadn’t been able to get out yet, why, this train ride may indeed be endless.

[the-firebird69]

Did you have a moment there are several other things in Charlotte county

-you have about 50 pukes per person it's terrible. And that was Tommy f and he said he caught mutivore which is it's a different creature but this is a version of it it's really a venom creature called venom and is taking the form of a shark cuz he eats a bunch of sharks and I was eating orca and he caught it because it went into the muck and got stuck and turned into a petrified wood and it was last week no a few weeks ago and it bit his leg off so he kept following it. And it's impressive is he got it to somehow stop and we think he used his ship so he tried to do it to our son and didn't work he's done trying to hit him in his machine was failing and people wanting him don't do it again and someone hit him and he just get here a few times and he moved so his buddy's saying you didn't do it and he's going on saying you did trying to find someone who cares really though it's kind of something to talk about it's a feat and then it was mad of course and we'll probably get even and in the movie venom he wrecks Tommy F like five times

-there's a huge number of people who are trying to find out what he saw and why the thing is petrified it's going on right now tons of questions and he's becoming famous and he does have a name from it and it's Jonathan entwood and that's not what kills him what kills him is death ray and it's because he hit it with the emitter we think and someone says it's not exactly right on and we agree it is something else so it might not be his name and it's true. Usually they are petrified like Trump in the muck. And that was Trump with him arguing it

-some of the things happening in Charlotte county the head Chiefs are putting up a fight in the front and they are refusing to give up their posts easily and they have decided to fight the oncoming onslaught of macaroni and others they say and they are adamant that people should not join them and help them it's going on right now there's a lot going on but the temperature change is not that rapid it's already 5:20 and it's still hotter than Hades out we see the plume and where it's going it's kind of passing by but it's expanding and a slower rate hours and it will be there in a moment probably 10 or 15 minutes he says it's cooler but not much maybe three degrees now that's about right but boy is still hot and crispy other things are happening here and they're going to watch your attack in about 10 minutes that is going to be very very big strike and we do want our son out of the way but it's already a little bit late and we need to clear it so we're going to go ahead and do it it will heat up a little slower than right away but it's big

-today we had something happen with a stan he began to sell his properties and he sold about 50% of them and in punta Gorda and 20% in Port Charlotte and he is opening a new business now he's closing his businesses shuttering his doors and leaving the area and he's going to meet Sherry and Sarasota and she doesn't want him to. . They always do it and they always follow but she's got an idea and he has to his ships are in limbo he doesn't have any bases or areas to speak of in the moving out on it you're trying to get the idea going and they think that our son could jump start it and her son says he could tomorrow at about 11:00 a.m. right next to the Walmart market come incognito and see if the Chinese can pick up on you and what's going on they said they will and you eat like a pig this is my stomach's big and my bones are big my muscles are big and it's natural I have gigantism and it discriminating LOL so the laughing and say you always ate that much and instead of always been genetically what I am I said what happens to it active I burn it off and they're going to try and do it but he has lost more ships and they're waiting him where he sits 5 million gone 10 million remain they're going after the games but gangbusters to fight Tommy f and they did take over the clan stuff and they are going to take them up there to get out the AI and they did lock the signals and they blocked the signals and Friday antennas and some were very big 100 miles by 10 miles huge antenna and underground so here we go other things happening

-there's a huge temperature change coming here it will cost storms but they'll be a moment and then it will start. And I did ask people. Probably about 20 minutes there will be some storms but he's trying to see if the temperature change it's not really and it shouldn't about 5 minutes so good he'll leave in about 10 minutes it'll be just just inside it

-there are other things happening people are getting fired from their jobs even though we said they're holding it 20 they're still doing it and it's because they're from out of town and their federal employees and they're getting fired from different jobs and different states some are Governor summer lieutenant governor it's all over the place and all over the world and it's going on now there is a huge huge amount of them getting fired from just about every occupation that you can name and including the clergy and including the Vatican and they are getting heated up and they want to start the program you don't they want the empire to have something else to do. All this is happening today and yeah all over the world

-there's a few more things happening Mac Daddy found out that he's unnotice and he needs to get his brain fixed they told him and he forgot and people have been reminding him even our son is and he's moving out pretty soon he's going to try and get it done and they have this game and they're going to play it and I think it'll work he thinks it's the movie and a lot of people do and I said nailed it and he forgot already he said that's westboro and it wasn't there ever so he gets it and feels better and it's not a great symbology for our son because it says they ruined back there and they're going to fix him but really they put her son in there and it didn't really help him and there's no real way to fix it by putting him back in there see what we're saying and it was reform school so we don't like what they're doing and that smells really bad and it doesn't taste good and it's not really just the max other people doing it there wasn't really an accident it was Tommy F and it and it reeks so we're going to stop him there's other things happening they're not as big but they are interesting

-people running around and giving themselves body piercings and getting infections getting earaches and not treating them and getting sick they're getting sick and getting sicker and spoiled and they're not going to the doctor and they are treating themselves and it's not working they're using old medicine and getting sick and they're dying and there's a lot of natural causes deaths because the doctors are simply not treating them and they turn them away and it's horrible they can't help it they hurt so many of theirs and it's happening day and night here and it is tough for our son he says it's okay though

-it's a huge number of people who feel bad about how they treated her son and they should they treated him like s*** and they still are and it's going on all the time they keep doing it and doing it and they're not stopping so requested this morning a list of individuals who refuse to stop harassing and and we test the coding to it and some of them were brought in questions and they said they assumed it was okay anyway and it was going to equipment center completely be lying and all the stuff about why they're doing this live it's a lie. They found out that the morlock are doing it as a plan and it is to be smirk the max and to see that they're in the horrible ones and if they're the ones with the paper closed and then they're the ones who are holding the money and all this stuff and our son says you are sincerely and absolutely absolutely a waste of your own time and I said why I said I can't use the money it's coded the reason why I can't use it is you guys don't have a countercode it does anything and you can't figure out what to do and is it by holding on to the money and that's her style so Dan turns around and he says would be smirking ourselves because we are saying that we're the ones who are doing it but in fact we don't know what to do about it except for what we're doing and he says it's not it's not what you doing it's what Max Max what you do they don't want you doing anything with it at this time and they flicked out and they say that we can't stand it anymore why are you talking that way so go ask the max I've been saying this for months and recently to Dan a few times and he gets it and some others get it and he's horrified and he got into trouble with me and that's why. They ran around today asking some of them figured it out he said I'm in trouble cuz I figured it out he said if you figure out how to make this secret stuff I think someone's going to be after it and they said yeah I was very similar so I figured that out too and it is on they said and so forth and it's going on now that tons of people are figuring it out and yeah there's some storm clouds and I figured out that it just is not as easy as they said and these guys were in our mind and they couldn't get the Intel and still can't and they interview and it doesn't work and you're not asking any questions it's complicated but the code is everywhere so they decide to try and do it a certain way because all the people can't figure it out and bja said to him is working but in the end DJ did not figure out the code himself and really a big piece of it too late and yeah the clouds are coming in and the cold is not and sometimes that happens it's not that bad but it's being held out by the heat it's going to be pushed aside in a few minutes but then the clouds are going to move in real quick he thinks and probably so more shortly Thor Freya Olympus Zeus Hera

And us Nevada Ariana and we're working very hard and diligently and we deserve that it's going to rain

[never-never-land]

18+ Warning…

Just a few quick notes before we begin... All of the characters (at least the ones that you will recognize) have been either aged down or up for the purposes of this story. Never Land is also a place that one can grow old in-- hence why Peter is older-- but you age at a much slower rate. 

I’ve always wanted to see an IF be made about Never Land (and it’s cast of characters), so I hope you enjoy it. 

It’s Peter Pan but not in the way that you remember... 

DEMO // DISCORD

It was a place that you had believed your abandoned child mind had made up. A place of fairies and swashbuckling pirates the likes your world had never seen. It was a place where dreams were to be made and lived. A place where time didn’t matter. 

And then it all went away…

You were back in the world where the sun didn’t shine as bright. Where laughter and cheer didn’t ring out as loudly. 

You were told you were crazy when you tried to explain what you had seen. Sent on your way with a sympathetic hum and a gentle pat on the head. 

Maybe you were crazy but that didn’t stop the vivid dreams from returning every night. 

As the years pass you start to believe that maybe it all had been a fantasy. That your mind has created a place where everything was all right.

That is until you awaken one morning to a sight that you’d thought was only a fantasy. 

The only question now? Would you stay or would you go back to what you made of your life?

What would come out of your Return to Never, Never Land?

Peter Pan: He was the exact same as you had last seen him—- maybe a few years older now— but his mischievous brown eyes were still shining like stars. The wide grin he offers you upon your entrance bringing back memories of days long passed. Reddish-brown hair falling haphazardly over his eyes as he zips across the room with a merry cry. The only difference you could notice was how tightly he held you when he did finally hug you. 

Captain James/Jasmine Hook: The swashbuckling pirate still had the cocky swagger that you remember. Their arrogant blue eyes taking you in from across their ship. Raven black hair falling down to their shoulders as their hat is the only thing reigning in the unruly locks. It seems at least one person had truly stayed the same since you were last here. 

Tinkerbell: The rambunctious fairy of your youth had grown a lot calmer as the years passed. Sapphire blue eyes still filled with mischief every now and then, but she was the calm voice of reason through the chaos of the Lost Boys. A secret smile flitting across her face every time she looks at you but never once staying. It seems Tink still held her cards close to her chest. 

Lyra: With bronzed skin from her time in the sun, Lyra always manages to have a smile on her face. Though, like all of her kind, she held a streak for being spiteful when she felt as though she was wronged. Dark brown locks falling over sun-kissed skin as amused green eyes follow your every move; just make sure you don’t make the wrong one. 

Hunter: The one person you were pretty sure wasn’t happy to see you. At least from what your memories could recollect he hadn’t changed all that much. Cold gray eyes staring at you without an ounce of emotion, save for a curious air, as onyx locks brush across his forehead in tight curls. Dark brown skin shimmering in the soft light of the room.

ART BREEDER PORTRAITS

Customizable MC - choose your sexuality, gender, name, appearance, and skills.

Explore Never, Never Land like you have never seen it before. 

Meet fairies, mermaids, and other mythical creatures as you hunt for the answers to your past. 

Fall in love with 1 of 5 romance options.

To understand your own secrets, you need to try to understand Never, Never Land’s. 

Will you return to your old life? Or will you decide to stay in Never Land?

And what will you do with that pesky crocodile? 

[beskarberry]

All That Glitters

(Pero Tovar x Nymph!F!Reader) [+18]

“Is my fair maiden shy now? I showed you mine, now you must show me yours.”

Next?->

Rating: Explicit duh

Word Count: 6k

Summary: You're a captured Nymph that finds herself being rescued from the clutches of an evil sorcerer by a handsome stranger. After he generously grants you your freedom, a chance encounter has you returning the favor and landing you in his arms.

Content warnings: Freed captive reader/mentions of abduction, nonhuman/mythological creature reader insert complete with fancy all-purpose genitals, goodboy!Tovar, food/meat eating mention, naughty cuddles, oral sex f receiving, p in v, outdoor sex, supernatural abilities.

A/N: This fic was inspired by an ask that followed along the lines of 'what if Reader was the one with the fancy nonhuman bits?' which of course I jumped on like a rabid dog. You're a Nymph, you're very sexy but also very dangerous and you know ya boy Tovar would be all over that like butter on toast. However I went with a more respectable merc in this instance than in canon, so he gets to earn his pussy like a good boy. Enjoy!

The sound of steel and screams woke you up in the dead of night, startling you from where you slept on your pitiful pile of rags. With big, fearful eyes you scanned through the bars of your cage for the source of the noise, your hurried breath echoing against the dungeon’s stone walls.

Sword swings and spell casts boomed high above you, well out of your line of sight, the light of a fireball blazing from under the heavy oak door leading up to the ground floor. A pained scream, a vicious roar, a heavy thud, then silence. Ears perked, you listened intently for the sound of the sorcerer that was keeping you hostage, waiting for the maniacal cackling you had grown used to, but instead you heard the footfalls of a much bigger man.

The wooden barricade swung wide on iron hinges, the ancient hardware creaking loudly. Standing in the open doorway stood an imposing figure, the light behind him casting his face in shadow, but you knew he had to be there for you.

Scuttling back into the far corner of your cage, you tried to make yourself small, but there was nowhere for you to go. The strangers' boots made little noise as he descended the stone steps to your prison, his pace growing slower as he approached. Though you couldn’t see his face, he could see yours clearly, even if you didn’t want him to.

It was a fault of your species, really, the golden scales that dusted your skin like you’d been rolled in a chest of antique coins, reflecting the upstairs light softly over nearly every inch even though they had long since dried out after being away from your river home for so long. Your kind had been coveted for your illustrious skin for centuries, and many regarded you as descendants of the gods themselves.

But many others saw you simply as a trophy.

“You must be the Nymph.” The man called, his rich voice booming in the little stone chamber.

“And you must be a jackass.” You hissed, like it wasn’t fucking obvious. Just because you were unarmed didn’t mean you weren’t able to use the dagger in your mouth, your wicked tongue a poor substitute for your retracted fangs. “Another poacher. How much did they pay you to come find me?”

He laughed, a deep, barrel chested roar. You saw the spark of flint on steel before the wall sconce was ignited, throwing the room into the wavering light of fire that turned to molten gold on your flesh. He held the torch aloft in front of him while he approached, giving you a chance to see who addressed you.

Mercenary. It was written all over his armor, plated chainmail criss-crossed with an unnecessary amount of belts, supporting a miss-matched array of weapons that he’d likely taken from corpses. His face was no better, chiseled jaw and strong brow, the glisten of sweat visible in the firelight under his mop of dark brown curls, his locks just barely covering the top of a long, jagged scar that went straight over his eye to the dimple of his scowl.

“Clearly not enough, I was hired to retrieve a golden flower, not a girl.” He looked you up and down, his dark eyes flickering with the firelight, an odd mix of emotions seared across his brow. The way his eyes raked over your body made you try to curl in a ball, but there wasn’t much point, sitting there naked in a cage with your skin literally alive with color, how could he not stare?

“Well obviously you were lied to, so just lemme out of here and you can tell them you didn’t find anything, cool?” You growled from the floor, crossing your legs tightly to hide your sex. There was a flower, but not one that could be plucked from a stem. The blooming organ of the Nymphs had spawned the unfortunate misnomer of nymphomaniac, many believing your kind to be sex-crazed wildings, but it was only during your breeding cycle that this became true. Legend theorized that a Nymph’s bloom possessed divine abilities, but the cruel sorcerer had failed to coax anything from you.

Nothing was ever given unwillingly.

The mercenary’s shadowed gaze wandered over your flesh, his lip teased between his teeth, his expression cross. “Alright.”

“Oh.” Confused, you watched him unlock your cage, the rusty iron screeching as the grate slid out of the way. The muscles in your legs had grown tight from being trapped for so long, and you squeaked out in pain when you tried to pull yourself to your feet. Surprisingly, you were greeted with a heavily-armored hand being extended to you. Half bewildered, half begrudgingly, you accepted, letting the stranger pull you to your feet. He held you steady while you found your footing, his hands respectfully going no further than your elbows. It would be nothing for him to take advantage of you in this state, weak and naked with nowhere to run, but even with you so close to him that your scales reflected in his plates, he was averting his eyes. “You’re letting me go?”

“They didn’t say anything about kidnapping. That’s too far above my pay grade.” You cocked a brow at his jest, searching his enormous honeywell eyes that wouldn’t meet your gaze. Up close he was strangely handsome, the erratic bristles of his beard growing in odd patches around the bare spots bracketing the corners of his full, plush lips. Staring at the pink line of his mouth you shivered, wondering what it would be like to kiss them.

He felt your chill, his brows knitting together before he was tugging his cloak off and throwing it around your naked body, snuffing out the aurellian splashes. You tugged the warm fabric around yourself, hugging it up to your face, looking up at him with eyes full of stars. The mercenary’s cloak smelled surprisingly good, like warm desert sun and the sweat of a fighting man, and maybe a little bit like horse. Musky, but in a good way.

“Thank you…?”

“Tovar.”

“Thank you, Tovar.” You stepped around him slowly, just waiting for him to change his mind and grab you, to claim his hard-won trophy, but he only ran his fingers nervously through his hair, shifting his stance from one leg to the other. You took another step, and another…

And ran.

*

It was too dry out here, far away from the waters of your home, the deep dark riverbed perfect to shield your shimmer from thieving eyes, but the sparse badlands offered you little to no coverage. Were it not for Tovar’s cloak you would have stood out like a black powder firework, but the heavy wool covered you all the way to your ankles, only your star-studded tootsies shining bright as you trekked over the rocky terrain. They hurt, your bare feet, scraped bloody and raw by the dunes, dirt caking underneath the nails. You tried not to think about them, but as you rounded what you swore was the same sandstone pillar for the third time, you had to address the fact that you were lost.

The sun had just set beyond the horizon, casting the blanket of night in hazy scarlet afterglow. Above you the clear night sky glittered with a thousand thousand lights, the campfires of your ancestors watching down over you, but their silence did fuck-all for your current situation. A warm twilight breeze washed over you, ruffing your cloak and bringing with it the succulent smell of something cooking.

Your stomach roared, empty and abused, flooding your mouth with drool. Suddenly nothing else mattered but finding a meal.

Creeping as silently as you could over the barren terrain, you slinked towards the source of the rich spice. Firelight danced along the wall of the canyon as you got closer, the russet-reds and warm ochre of ancient sediment pulsating like blood in time with the crackling blaze. Seated beside the fire, a man turned a fat rabbit over a spit, the fresh kill dripping with juices. Licking your lips you inched closer, trying to decide just how you were going to-

“I can hear you.” His bark made you scuttle back down the dune, curses dying on your tongue when you recognized the voice. You peeped your head up, the glitter of your cheeks matching the firelight that danced in his own eyes. He called to you again, “Are you hungry, girl?”

His invitation surprised you, but before you could retort your feet were already closing the distance for you, bringing you well outside the range of the campfire. Tovar watched you curiously, pulling the roast from the spit to see if it was thoroughly cooked. He didn’t even wait for it to cool before ripping into it, pearly white teeth sinking into the tender flesh. You had to suck your own spit back down at the sight, but trusting a stranger is what had landed you in a cage in the first place.

The mercenary chewed grossly until there was nothing but bone left. He ripped another leg off the animal and tossed it to you, your exhausted hands nearly dropping the slippery thing as you stuffed it in your hungry gob, wolfing it down in seconds. You didn’t even care that it was flavorless land meat, it was food, tasting like the promise of another day alive.

All thoughts of self preservation went right out the window, and you found yourself at the campfire tearing off a chunk of meat in seconds. Tovar’s burly jaw stopped dead in its tracks at the sight of you, a literal mythological creature inhaling food with the wanton disregard of a warrior, practically eating the bone as well. “Estrellas, did that sorcerer not feed you?” You shook your head, reaching for the rabbit again, but Tovar yanked the spit away.

“Hey! I’m hungry!”

“I can see that. Tell me your name and you can have another bite.” You did, and as promised the sellsword tossed you another chunk, enraptured by your ferocity. You licked the grease from your fingers, waiting eagerly for another piece. He stuffed some in his own hungry mouth, chewing thoughtfully while he pulled another slice off, holding it out to you this time, bidding you closer.

“I’m good, thanks.” You growled, words heavy with skepticism.

He laughed at that. “If I wanted to kill you I would have done so already. Come, eat.”

Good point. Cautiously you got closer, your eyes shifting rapidly from his outstretched hand to the array of weapons he carried, all of them sheathed. Snatching the meat you retreated, but Tovar made no move to grab you. He offered another piece, and this time you caved, sitting down on the ground near him and accepting his company.

The two of you ate in silence, save for the roar of the fire and the duet of nasty chewing noises until nothing but bone remained, blackening to ash under the firewood. Tovar wiped the grease from his mouth with the back of one broad hand, “You can sleep by my fire if you promise not to kill me in the night, deal?”

You cocked a brow at him, pulling the edges of your borrowed cloak in tighter. “Likewise.” He nodded with a grunt and curled up on his side, cutting the conversation short. Either he really trusted you, or he trusted in his combat abilities enough that he wasn’t intimidated by you, but you weren’t sure if you trusted him quite as much. With your knees hiked up under your chin, you hugged yourself tight and watched the dancing of the flames, fighting the draw of sleep until your eyes dragged themselves closed.

*

The sound of chattering teeth woke you up sometime in the night. Without the fury of the sun burning overhead the desert temperatures dropped cruelly, but you were cozy enough in your borrowed cloak that you didn’t mind the chill. Tovar, on the other hand, was shaking in the faded light of the fire, the plates on his chest nearly vibrating in the dull orange light.

His cloak, he’s missing his cloak. Thumbing the edge of the borrowed blanket, you thought long and hard about your next move. Cold sand scraped your knees as you waddled over to the man on the ground, sticking to the shimmering patches on your skin. Tovar didn’t seem to notice you, deep in a fretful, frozen sleep, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists.

“Hey, merc.” You goaded softly, poking at his face, making him twitch. ‘You ‘wake?”

“N-n-n-o-o” He clattered, his brow creasing deeper than the canyon you were camped in. “Wh-wh-a-at’s w-wr-ong?”

“Your teeth are too damn loud, scoot.” You threw the cloak over him and backed your bare booty into the hollow of his hips, ignoring the confused little whine he made when you tucked yourself in between his arms. You were thankful that his chest had been facing the fire, keeping the iron ingots of his armor somewhat warm.

“W-what’re you d-doing, N-nymph?”

“Warming your bed, merc.” The sharp shingles of his cuirass gnawed at your spine while you pulled the cloak around the both of you, using his thickly muscled arm as a pillow. His upper arm hovered conflictingly above your waist, unsure if it was appropriate to touch your naked body, but once the warmth you were sharing seeped into his bones he couldn’t possibly argue. Tovar tightened around you, his broad palm splaying over your belly, fingers sitting just below the swell of your breasts and tracing the outline of your ribs. Behind you he nuzzled into your hair, breathing the scent of you greedily, a deep contented sigh ballooning his chest before he fell back to sleep. Comfortable and cozy in the warriors arms, you quickly followed suit.

*

Stars slowly began to wink out in the pinkening light of dawn, the rosey warmth of a fresh new day burning away the dark. The last chill breeze of night crept over your skin, cool but not unpleasant, slowly waking you up from the best sleep you’d had since you’d been abducted. You took a deep breath of the clean desert air, the crispness of a brand new day prickling delightfully in your lungs. Your dry, itchy scales shimmered sweetly as you stretched out from the cloak that covered you, the tightness in your muscles straining and releasing with every flex.

Rough fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, spurring cold adrenaline through your veins before you remembered why you were so comfy. Tovar, still fast asleep, grumbled into your hair and pulled you closer, his hips canting into your backside. Your cheeks flushed with hot, syrupy arousal when you felt the poke of a sword that wasn’t forged from steel.

Your first instinct was to flee from the sleepy stranger rutting into your ass, but you couldn’t help wiggling against it, curious for a feel. The sons of Adam didn’t usually tempt you, but this one was clearly packing more than the scoundrels you’d caught bathing in your river. The mercenary growled low in his throat at the sensation of your fleshy globes pressing against him, his twitching cock palpable even through his many layers of armor. Warm steam danced along the crook of your neck from the heat of his breath, firing a volley of goosebumps over your gilded skin, tempting you to indulge.

Strong, blunt fingertips turned to claws in your soft belly scales, making you squeak in pain when Tovar woke up in a fright, snorting with confusion. The cloak flew off the pair of you from the fretful kicking of his boots, almost landing in the fire and leaving you stark naked again. “¡Lo siento, señorita!” He shouted, wild eyed, voice horse with sleep. “I did not mean to touch you that way.” He grabbed at his crotch, trying to resituate the beast in his greaves that the gods had cursed to awaken with the rising of the sun. “I am but a man.”

“I can see that.” You toyed your lip between your teeth, devilish curiosity getting the better of you. Mortal men were predictable, but this one had surprised you with his kindness, saving your life not once, but twice in just as many days. You stretched temptingly, letting the cool hues of the unbroken dawn ripple over your skin, the handful of gilded scales that dotted your breasts easily drawing his gaze. “You like what you see?”

“Only a fool would not, but this is not something I can control.” He scoffed at himself, his face the picture of embarrassment. “I am sorry, it will fade away soon.”

“Or…” You purred, scooting towards him. “Maybe I should thank you for saving my life?”

The Spaniard inhaled sharply, unsure of your implications, though his lecherous mind could easily fill in the blanks. “You have already returned the favor by not letting me freeze to death in the night, you owe me no debt.”

“So chivalrous, and so unlike a sellsword.” A catty smile crept across your mischievous face, making Tovar swallow dryly, his cock matching the bobbing of his larynx.

“I am not as barbarous as I look, it would be wrong of me to take advantage of a helpless woman.”

Your face contorted into a snarl, jaw unhinging, retractable fangs glistening with spittle at the man who had offended you. Tovar’s boots scraped helplessly in the sand as he fought to squirm away, drawing one of his swords. You put your face back together with a huff. “I am not helpless.”

“¡Dios mio! No wonder you were able to pack all of that rabbit away. Why not kill me when you had the chance then?”

“Because I’m not as barbarous as I look, either, jerkface!” You crossed your arms under your breasts with indignation, but the way they pushed up your chest brought his eyes right back to them, conflicted desire spilled across his cheeks. Catching his shameless gaze, you quirked a brow at him and dropped your breasts, making them bounce. “Still think I’m attractive?”

Tovar’s plush lips parted slightly at the sight of you playing with yourself, your nimble hands groping the fat of your tits and pinching around your pert nipples, making them pebble in the cool morning air. Being the little shit that you were, you moaned breathily when you tugged at the tips, arching your back so your delicate scales glittered like gold coins across the bow of your clavicle.

“What do you want from me, temptress?”

“Hmm.. maybe just a peek?” You asked innocently, batting your lashes at him, dropping to your hands and knees and crawling towards him.

The muscles in his temples worked at his jaw with thought, and briefly you worried that maybe thinking wasn’t his strong suit. He set the sword down, considering your proposal. “Promise you will not bite it off?”

“Pinky swear.” You were up between his knees now, hovering so close to him you could practically hear the racing of his heart. He swallowed nervously and nodded, rolling onto his back to free his hands. His chainmail tabard jingled when he pushed it out of the way, the flags of his tasset hanging easily over his thighs, showing off the laces straining at his groin.

You flashed him a devilish grin and tugged the knot free, giggling at the relieved sigh that rumbled out of his chest when his cock sprang free of its confines. Though it’d grown hard in his sleep, there was no denying the pearl of precum already beading from his slit, dribbling down the crease of his flushed red head towards the thin ring of his foreskin. Tovar shivered from the cool air meeting his heated flesh, his dark, lust-blown eyes tinged with fear. “You.. you can touch it, if you want to.”

Taking the hint, you used his linen pant leg to brush the sand off your hands and carefully brought the pads of your fingers to his velvet length, the soft groan he made going straight to your heated core. Tovar’s manhood throbbed excitedly at your curling fingers and the gentle strength of your palm, a needy whine making the warrior rut into your grip. “Fuck me, your hands are so soft for one so terrifying. Is your cunt this welcoming as well?”

“Would you like to find out?” You purred with a squeeze, watching the knuckles of his fists go white.

His teeth flashed in a villainous grin, his sharp canines biting down on his lip with desire. “It would be impolite of me to fuck a lady without getting her ready to take my cock. Bring that sweet cunt of yours up here and let me drink from it.”

As hot as that was, your mythological physiology was not limited to your dainty scales and ferocious maw, and for the second time this morning you felt embarrassment creep up your spine. “Um…”

“Is my fair maiden shy now? I showed you mine, now you must show me yours.” He sat up quickly, his roguish dexterity like lightning, towering over you in a flash and pushing you down into the rocky soil. You yelped your surprise, but your legs betrayed you, falling deliciously open for his gaze to feast upon.

The Spaniard's lust-drunk face switched quickly to surprise at your unusual cunt, his brows nearly dancing off his forehead at your flushed pink bloom. Aurelian scales dusted around the apex of your thighs, guiding Tovar’s eyes to where your folds opened like the petals of a flower around the elongated taper of your clit, reminiscent of a calla lilly’s bell. “A cock and a cunt? This must be the flower they sent me to fetch.” He growled, the husk of his voice like gravel. You started trying to close your legs, afraid that he would be angry with you for tricking him, but he caught your thigh quickly. The flash of his tongue glistened across his lower lip, his eyes swirling even darker with arousal. “Such a pretty thing, I can see why they would pay so handsomely for it. Too bad, the only one who will have it is me.”

It couldn’t exactly be called a cock, barely the length of your middle finger and maybe twice as wide, but it was just as sensitive if not more than the bundle of nerves you indulged in with the ladies that would frequent your riverside. Tovar shuffled to get between your legs, the joints of his armor pinching the tender insides of your thighs as he moved his face closer to your hearth. You felt your blood turn to ice, “Wh-what are you doing, merc?”

“Do not tell me no one has suckled you?” You shook your head no, fire blazing a trail across your cheeks. He chuckled darkly at you, his lips inches from your pointed length. “Then allow me to be the first.” The hot steam of his breath fanned wetly over your engorged sex, sending delightful shivers up your spine, but his teasing was no match for the feel of his perfect lips burying themselves in your slick folds.

“T-tovar!” You keened, the deep reverb of his laugh making you squirm, your hips pushing harder against his open mouth. The Spaniard licked a broad stripe up your folds, the tip of his tongue fucking gently into your cunt, lapping at your arousal. Reflexively you tried to writhe away, but his leather gauntlet chewed right into your thighs, his beefy arms locking you to his face. Just as hungry as he had been the night before, he sucked at your petal-like folds, his fingers digging into the fat of your leg when his nibbling teeth made you shriek.

Pulling you harder against his agile tongue, he licked around your weeping hole towards the throbbing base of your clit, sucking the tip of it into his hot wet mouth and proving just how well this man could eat. Torrential heat flooded your belly, the edges of your sight growing darker from something other than the cloud cover slowly inching across the sky. Tovar’s voracious maw sucked hungrily at the swell of your sex, his nose brushing through your curls, making your pussy gush against his scruffy chin.

The siren call of your wet cunt bid his rough fingers to it, the calloused lengths disappearing with ease into your fluttering hole. He sucked and fucked you in tandem, the broad swath of his tongue rippling in time with the punch of his fingers, throwing you deliriously towards the edge.

You fisted his hair, holding him captive and grinding yourself into his face, eyes rolling back in your head as you came. Tovar suckled hungrily, drawing out your release until it was too much for you to bear, your fingers hooking like claws in his thick locks, yanking away from his feast. The dark swirl of his gaze matched the shadowy circles under his eyes, their weathered corners crinkling with his slick-soaked grin. “Did that feel good, princesa?”

Panting, you nodded, squeaking when he pulled his sopping wet fingers from your cunt, the wicked things disappearing into his greedy mouth to lick himself clean. “Mm, much better than rabbit, could feast on you for days.” The mercenary rocked back on his haunches and shucked off some of his armor, leaving him in his tunic. Unburdened, he crawled up to his knees, towering over top of you so his weeping head was mere inches from your slickened core, throbbing with the beating of his heart. “Are you ready to take my cock, hermosa?”

You bit your lip and nodded, wrapping your legs around the small of his back, forcing him to notch at your entrance. The sinew in his neck went tighter than the strings of a lute before he’d even sheathed himself in you, a filthy shiver rippling down his spine. Slowly, he pushed himself into your flooded slit, your walls stretching almost painfully around him even though he had worked you up on his hands.

“¡Ah, cariño~!” He growled, the curls of his groin scraping deliciously against your shortsword. You whined at the sensation, your eyes flickering open to meet his. The melted chocolate pools of desire above you sparkled under his softened brow, the creases worn into his face from a lifetime of swinging a blade ironed flat by the sinful sensation of you fluttering around his length. Wordlessly you wrapped your arms around the back of his shaggy neck, pulling him down to meet your lips.

The taste of you was heady on his tongue, sweet and tangy, the pillowy flesh of his mouth full and flush. He groaned into you, pushing your nectar deeper when the smooth muscle tangled with your own. Rough like he was, his kisses were all tongue and teeth, the press of his angular nose digging into your cheek. Engulfed in his passion, you were barely aware of him shifting his knees, finding better leverage to pull himself from where he was buried to the hilt.

You moaned into his open mouth at the velvet that dragged through your walls, feeling the curl of every serpentis vein that pulsed along his length. His hips lifted, sliding almost all the way out of you before he thrust, bottoming out against the cradle of your womb. Fire burned along every raw nerve, your coils constricting him with vice-like strength. He tore himself from your lips and sank his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, sucking his marks between your scales.

“You… take… me… so… well…” he grunted between thrusts into the hollow of your throat, his filthy words punctuated by the slap of skin. The force of his hips drove you into the sand, the gravelly sting of it felt along every inch of your bare back. Tovar shifted his impressive bulk, his threatening canines scraping your throat, wandering down to the ridge of your collar bone to place a few of his marks of conquest there as well, his thrusts never losing their rhythm.

The fullness of your tits bounced against the underside of his chin only briefly before they were sucked into his mouth, his expert tongue no less keen than it had been between your legs, circling and nibbling the hardened tip to make you sing. Forcing an eye open, your breath caught in your throat at the sight, his heavy head dimpling the fat of your breast, his nose and chin pressing deep furrows with every roll of his jaw. He caught you staring and winked, sucking on your nipple almost painfully, but the tenderness of it was vaporized when his calloused fingers snaked down between your bodies, tweaking at the tip of your blooming clit; a lecherous laugh felt through your very core when he made you scream.

You crashed around him, your vision blurring to white, blood surging through your ears and making you deaf to the groaning Spaniard that was caught in your trap. Tovar’s face contorted from your strength, a slew of curses bubbling past his lips. His mop of thick, dark hair stuck to his sweaty brow, a wayward lock caught in the crinkle of his scar, and for a moment you thought he might spill his seed right then and there.

“Where... where can I?”

“Anywhere.” It honestly didn’t matter since Nymphs couldn’t bear the children of men, so you knew you were safe. Tovar groaned, the sweat on his chest glistening where it peeked out from his deep collar, a few errant hairs catching on the hem. He pushed himself up from you, ignoring the first drops of rain falling softly from the darkened sky and pulling your ankles up to his shoulders. Wrapping his arms around your knees forced you even tighter around him, the delicious stretch of him punching into that sinful little patch of nerves buried deep inside your walls, drawing you closer and closer to another spill.

“Gonna come for me again, hermosa? Let me feel it, want to feel you clench on my cock.” His beard scratched at the sensitive skin of your calf, his wolfish grin threatening to take another bite, but his hands were much more dangerous. Squashing themselves between your thighs, Tovar pawed at where your clitoral growth had become trapped, rubbing it wetly against your own heated flesh.

Your chest heaving, breath panting, eyes rolling back in your skull, you dug your fingers into the sand and squeezed. Tovar’s filthy cadence stuttered and spurred, driven by the need to feel you drench his cock again. His wish was quickly granted, your blossom gushing around his pounding length, the obscene squelch of it nearly echoing in the canyon even over the sound of the sprinkling rain.

Tovar didn’t seem to notice the inclement weather, his fingertips digging into your supple flesh, hips faltering as he careened over the edge with you. His cock throbbed inside your walls, the hot spatter of his cum painting your womb, practically frothing back out from the tight fit. Ragged, desperate breaths burned against your ankle, his moustache tickling a bit from his heaving. He nipped gently at your leg, his plush lips dragging over the sensitive skin, tasting the first tears that wept from the sky.

The sweat of his brow was no match for the soon-pouring rain, matting down his hair and pooling in the dip of your collar bone. Blessed water streaked over your body, your amphibious skin absorbing it quickly after being lost in the arid desert for so long, turning your ashy scales wet and brilliant.

Gently, the man between your legs let them fall to his sides, keeping himself buried in your leaking bloom to watch the rain. Dirt and grime caught in the riverettes of water that coursed down from his tangled locks to stain his tunic even more, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, riding the brilliant afterglow of making love to you, the Spaniard closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the rain wash the taste of you down his throat.

Thoroughly soaked, he breathed the scent of petrichor in deep, his beautifully blown eyes flickering down to you, another blissful sigh rumbling in his chest at the sight. Speared on his cock, your entire body shimmered with the water pouring over you, your natural slipperiness returned, but he wasn’t as enraptured with your coveted scales as he was with your beautiful face.

You were in heaven, euphoria spread over every inch of your skin, from the flecks of gold under your closed eyes to the soft parting of your lips, wet with rain. Your hands idly traced over your body, oversensitized by the afterglow of your orgasms, every fat drop of water like a shock of electricity to your skin.

The roughend touch of Tovar’s palm brushing your cheek made you jump. “Did you do this?” He asked, his voice as rugged as he was. “Did you make it rain?”

Your teeth flashed brightly, “Maybe…”

He blinked down at you, a boyish smile mellowing his features. “¡Mierda! It hasn’t rained on the badlands in over a year, and you’re telling me a Nymph’s cum can make it storm!?” He pulled his softening cock from your cunt, his brow quirking playfully at the sight of your mixed cum dribbling out down the curve of your ass. “Those rat bastards weren’t going to pay me nearly enough.”

Scalding fear crept into your veins at the possibility that he would go back on his word, dragging you back to whoever paid him to hunt you down. He saw your rigid posture and shook his head. “No, you are too precious, I must find a way to get you back to the water.”

Surprise nearly launched your eyebrows into orbit. “You’ll help me get home?”

“Si.” Tovar reached for you, pulling you up to your knees with him, the pouring rain drumming its cadence across your shoulders, spilling down the dip of your spine. Thunder rumbled joyfully overhead, but its prideful booming wasn’t nearly as loud as your rushing heart, confusion and elation suddenly drowning in the thick syrup of passion when the warrior pushed his lips to yours again.

His kiss was slower this time, almost calculative, his tongue rolling with the careful precision of a skilled hunter. The rain clung to his skin, the smell of petrichor losing the fight to the weathered scent of leather and iron that rose like steam from his heated skin. You sighed and kissed him back, deciding you could be mad with yourself later for letting a stranger indulge in you so intimately.

Tovar’s broad hands cupped at the small of your back and the matted tangle of your wet, sandy hair, pulling your head back to deepen his kisses, drawing them out slower and slower until you were melting in his arms. He let you fall on him, the soggy fabric of his tunic sticking to your breasts, wringing water down over your thighs.

He gave you one last passionate kiss before he was pulling away, his big brown eyes not breaking your gaze even when he reached up to brush a soaked lock of hair from your brow. “Are you sure you are a Nymph and not a Siren? I find myself unable to look away from how beautiful you are.”

“I mean, we’re cousins, but that doesn't really count.” You deflected, the cold rain stinging on your hot cheeks.

He laughed, the richness of it going straight back to your cumsoaked core. “Lucky me, I will get to live another day.” You scowled at him, but he only chuckled again, his sharp canines showing in his wide smile. “Do not look at me like that, I want to help you get back to the water safely, but only on one condition.” He brought a thumb up to wipe away the water that pooled in the recesses of your eyes, but the harrowing storm filled them right back up. He sighed, his dimples creasing his cheeks, a devious spark in his beautiful eyes. “Promise me today will not be the only day that it rains?”

★★★★★

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[writeyouin]

Starscream X Killstreak (OC) - Master and Pet - COMMISSION

A/N - Thank you to @littleartdump for commissioning me. It was so great to write this for you, and I loved working with your very detailed OC. The artwork wasn't done by me but by another user commissioned by littleartdump. I believe it was metalmutt on Deviantart, but I can't read the writing well enough on this because I have trouble reading on a purple background.

Description: During the events of TFP, Killstreak was created to battle alongside the Predacons. Unlike the others however, he is inclined to like Starscream and in turn, vows to protect him, even when forced to battle the leader of the Predacons, Predaking.

Warnings - None.

Rating - T

Killstreak blinked his optics for the first time, taking in the world around him. As far as he could tell, he was in a cave, but there was something wrong with it, something that assured him he wasn’t where he was meant to be.

Had Killstreak been a modern Cybertronian, his internal feed would have scanned the plants around him and informed him that he was on a planet billions of lightyears away from his own. It was a planet where organic life grew freely and the creatures weren’t made of living metal, but being less evolved than modern Cybertronians had its drawbacks, which brought Killstreak to another question; who was he?

After two more blinks, Killstreak looked around the cavern properly, taking his first steps in the world. He knew he was a powerful killing machine, craving war and violence instinctively. He also innately knew that he was a Predacon, but what did that mean? He was fully grown and should have had some memories of his life, but when he searched his memory banks, there was nothing; just a blank processor waiting to be filled.

On the opposite side of the cavern laboratory, Killstreak saw two other Predacons stepping out of their own test tubes, clearly going through the same processes as him. Words formed on his internal feed as he tried to figure out his companions. Brothers? Enemies?

No matter which they were, Killstreak felt an instinctual urge to battle them for dominance. They were of little concern however, as another Cybertronian stepped forward, though he was certainly not like the Predacons in the room.

“Predacons,” The bot addressed them, “I am your Creator, Shockwave. You have been constructed to serve our leader, Lord Megatron, and follow his orders to aid the Decepticon cause.”

Data started flooding Killstreak’s processor. Although he had never heard of the Decepticons or anything to do with them, he somehow knew a great deal about them. He glowered at Shockwave, certain that his Creator had implanted all the information Killstreak needed to know. Killstreak didn’t like that one bit; knowledge that hadn’t been earned was likely propaganda used to control those ignorant of anything else.

Despite his rage, Killstreak did not attack. Instead, he read his brethren’s body language, sensing that they would attack and do the work for him. He observed calmly as the other two Predacons lunged forward, attempting to close the gap between their creator in a battle of dominance.

Shockwave, having been prepared for every eventuality, including an attack from the brutish Predacons defended himself easily, holding them into place with inhibitor collars he had fitted around their necks. Once they were trapped, Shockwave looked expectantly at Killstreak, noting that he was calmer than the others and apparently more intelligent.

It was no surprise to the scientist, for in order to avoid a repeat of the incident that had happened with the so-called Predaking, the Predacons that he had chosen this time were of different time periods. Shockwave hypothesized that the two who were created from remains older than Predaking’s would have slower processors and would be slightly weaker. He also theorised that the one created from remains that were younger than Predaking’s would keep the superior strength and firepower, but would also be more suspectable to reason and logic.

Once Shockwave was certain that all three Predacons knew that he was in control, he released the other two from stasis and began talking in the straightforward manner he had been before, each sentence a clipped statement that offered no room for misunderstanding; he was a bot of science and logic, and as such had little time to waste on unimportant words.

“Predacons, you have been assigned the mission of destroying the remaining Autobot forces.”

As Shockwave stated that, the relevant information presented itself on Killstreak’s internal feed.

“Under Lord Megatron’s orders, you are to be given names. You two shall be Sky Lynx and Darksteel. You,” Shockwave glanced at the more powerful bot, “are Killstreak.”

While the three Predacons supposed that the names were so they could better obey orders, they were wrong; Megatron had ordered that they be given names so they would not fall prey to the same hubris as Predaking, making them less likely to try and depose Megatron as the true Decepticon leader.

Killstreak tested the name in his processor, then opened his mouth to try and sound it out, only managing to produce a ferocious growl instead.

Shockwave observed the behaviour, apparently feeling the need to comment on it, “Yes Killstreak, you know by now that you have the ability to communicate as modern Cybertronians do. However, it will take some time for your vocal synthesizers to fully form. You will also be able to transform from your root modes when the time comes, but you will only do so under our Lord’s orders.”

Killstreak growled again, though this time he was not trying to speak; the growl was merely a warning that when he got the ability to transform, he would do so, whenever the mood so took him.

“In the meantime, you have your first command,” Shockwave continued, ignoring the growl of Killstreak’s vocaliser and the furious lash of his tail. If the Predacon wished to attack, so be it; Shockwave would handle it.

“You are to report to the Nemesis for training with your new military commander, Starscream.”

Sky Lynx and Darksteel shared a look with one another, silently debating whether they should try attacking again. Killstreak bounded powerfully over to them, breathing a short burst of flame and then standing over them. To their credit, they didn’t cower, but nor did they challenge him. For now, Killstreak had proved his dominance; the two would no longer look to each other for their plans but to Killstreak.

Shockwave let the altercation occur unhindered by himself; he was simultaneously observing the Predacons’ actions as a scientist whilst allowing the three to display some of their natural behaviours. It was better they form their pack ranks quickly, instead of battling for dominance aboard the Nemesis.

The three Predacons stood proudly during their inspection by Lord Megatron, his scrutinizing glare examining them for all their worth. Even though the Decepticon leader wasn’t a Predacon, he was clearly powerful and not to be trifled with; any battle with him was sure to be gruelling, and until Killstreak was more certain of himself, he didn’t need to pick mindless fights.

Megatron hummed in thought, addressing Shockwave when he next spoke, “And these three will be more obedient than the last one?”

“That is yet to be determined, my Liege,” Shockwave answered honestly, having no way to ensure the Predacons’ loyalty. “Until we can trust them to obey, I have fitted them with collars to prevent any unnecessary damage.”

Megatron sneered. Although he knew the inhibitor collars were a wise move, he didn’t care for them. Let the Predacons battle his Decepticon armada; if they did, they would be turned into scrap metal. Still, the collars would serve one fundamental purpose; they would allow Megatron to test Starscream’s dedication to the Decepticon cause.

“Starscream,” Megatron called, awaiting his lieutenant’s hasty arrival.

“Yes, my Liege,” Starscream rushed forward from where he had been hiding in the tunnel behind Megatron, avoiding the Predacons’ detection until then.

“You are to train these Predacons to serve the Decepticon cause,” Megatron commanded. “Do better than last time.”

“Yes, Lord Megatron. Of course,” Starscream answered obediently.

Admittedly, he was disheartened to have the grim task of training more of the primitive Predacons, who were far too brutish in nature for his tastes. However, since they were fitted with inhibitor collars, Starscream didn’t think the task would be wholly unmanageable; at least he would have a manner in which to control the unruly beasts this time. If he had been provided with an inhibitor collar for that dim-witted Predaking, perhaps things would have worked in his favour.

Megatron turned to leave with Shockwave at his heels, but he growled one more order before leaving, taking grim satisfaction in doing so. “Shockwave, remove the inhibitor collars. Our new allies should be free to do as they wish, don’t you think.”

“Master!” Starscream squealed, running towards Megatron. “Master, no! The Predacons are brutes! They need to be controlled! Don’t remove the collars, I implore you.”

Megatron turned around, smacking Starscream to the floor, “You will do as I say, you incompetent whelp, and this time you will succeed.”

Starscream cowered as Megatron closed the gap between them, bending down threateningly towards his lieutenant. “Consider this your final warning.”

With that, Megatron and Shockwave returned to the interior of the Nemesis, leaving Starscream alone with the new Predacons for the first time. Starscream hurried to scramble to his feet, just in time to hear the crash of three inhibitor collars hitting the deck.

He turned and examined the three Predacons, wondering whether they would be as intelligent as Predaking was, or whether Shockwave might have altered their coding to limit their intellect into a more primal mode; for his sake, Starscream hoped that Shockwave had.

While Starscream observed the Predacons, they examined him in return. Killstreak tilted his draconic head this way and that, examining Starscream from every angle. Compared to him, Starscream was minuscule, his slender frame offering little in means of protection, but perhaps a great deal in means of agility. Megatron and Shockwave had proved themselves to be threats with their slightly bigger frames, but Killstreak was confident that if it came to a battle, he would be able to defeat them, though he would likely sustain injuries; Starscream on the other hand, didn’t appear to be a threat.

Despite the fact that Starscream was clearly a weaker bot, Killstreak didn’t find him to be inferior. Instead, he assumed that Starscream must have a great processor capable of plotting superior strategies that had led him to his high-ranking position within the Decepticon armada.

Killstreak reserved any more thoughts as Starscream cleared his vocaliser to speak, pacing as he did. “Predacons, I am your commanding officer, Starscream, and you primitive lifeforms will treat me with the respect I deserve, or suffer the consequences!”

During his pacing, Starscream had reached a panel on the wall and from it, he pulled out an electric prod, capable of shocking even those with the thickest armoured plating. Killstreak didn’t fear the prod, despite being informed of its power outage by his processing unit. Instead, he admired the way that Starscream had so casually retrieved it, never running which would have caused the Predacons to attack on instinct; by offering one hand and arming the other, Starscream had made himself respectable to Killstreak at least.

Sky Lynx and Darksteel, on the other hand, didn’t care for their new ‘master’ and their distaste showed on their faceplates, though Starscream didn’t recognise the expression as he continued his speech.

“I say jump, you say- ARGHH!” Starscream let out a high-pitched scream as Sky Lynx pounced, landing on Starscream’s chassis and clamping his jaws around the arm that held the electric prod.

Darksteel on the other hand let out a deep rumbling laugh that sounded like two metal plates scraping together since his vocal synthesizer had yet to fully form. He joined his companion, circling Starscream and meandering ever closer with each lap around him.

Killstreak watched momentarily, allowing the small bot a chance to prove his strength. Alas, when it became clear that Starscream couldn’t defend himself against the Predacons, Killstreak decided to step in, feeling an innate desire to protect the commander like he was Killstreak’s very own mate.

Killstreak roared majestically, ordering Sky Lynx and Darksteel to end their attack. The two bots were already forgetting their place, lashing their tails angrily back and forth as they considered combining their strength to battle Killstreak.

Thinking faster than the two Predacons ever could, Killstreak span in a tight circle, using his mighty tail to knock them into the wall, denting the ship in the process. Starscream scrambled up, using the electric prod liberally on both Sky Lynx and Darksteel.

“YOU. STUPID. BEASTS.” Starscream raged indignantly, repeatedly striking them, having apparently not learned anything from his time with Predaking. “How dare you attack your commanding officer!”

Killstreak grinned, though it appeared to be more of a leer in his beast-mode; so, the small bot had some fight in him after all.

“And you,” Starscream turned his attention glaringly upon Killstreak. “You should have aided me sooner!”

With that, Starscream struck Killstreak with the electric prod, and pain coursed through his circuitry with each excruciating second that Starscream held it in place.

Finally, Killstreak was released from his torment, and as he recovered, he couldn’t help admiring Starscream for having the backbone to challenge him.

‘Yes!’ Killstreak thought proudly. ‘I shall protect you, for you are far too adorable to leave defenceless.’

At his inner monologue, Killstreak found his tail wagging lazily, the first sign that he had chosen someone worthy of his attention. Sky Lynx and Darksteel tried to get up, but Starscream attacked them viciously, using the electric prod with no remorse; it would be a long time before he looked at any Predacon with anything more than contempt.

Sky Lynx, Darksteel, and Killstreak stood in the middle of the Grand Canyon awaiting Starscream to arrive and give them new orders. It was the first time that they had left the Nemesis for more than a short flight, and the Predacons were fascinated with the organic terrain they stood upon.

Eager to finally have some room to brawl, Sky Lynx and Darksteel barrelled into one another, testing their strength and agility in a game known to all Predacons. Though Killstreak longed to join the skirmish, he was their leader, not their friend, and he had an image to maintain; no matter how fun crashing into rocks or clashing against a foe’s metal was, Killstreak began the more important task of mapping his environment, scenting the air and occasionally letting out a screech for the purpose of echolocation.

In the midst of his exploration, Killstreak scented the air, his forked glossa tasting his environment. When he had done so previously, all he had scented was the arid expanse around him, filled with rocks, sand, and dirt. Now, his olfactory senses picked up on large quantities of metal, cheap oil, and low-grade energon; he surmised that there was a group of Decepticon Vehicons coming his way and growled to let his pack know.

Sky Lynx and Darksteel ended their brawl, eager for actual enemies to battle, even though they were supposed to be on the same side as the Decepticons. Killstreak gnashed his thangs irritably; it seemed that his two underlings would never learn their place.

Yet, instead of attacking the whelps, Killstreak scented the air again, detecting something else among the Vehicons with his superior senses. He realised with relish that it was a scent he knew. High-grade energon, indicating an equally high rank, the invigorating smell of clean water, the kind which only came from the Nemesis’ wash racks, and fresh wax which had been meticulously buffed into Cybertronian metal; it was the delectable smell of Starscream, and it brought Killstreak out of his previously annoyed state.

The Predacons looked up to find a team of twenty flying Vehicons, comprised of jets and helicopters alike, led by Starscream, sleek as ever in his superior Seeker jet mode.

Starscream somersaulted in the air, showing off as he transformed mid-flip, landing gracefully on the ground in a manner Killstreak couldn’t help admiring. Predacons were strong and fast, but they were rarely graceful, unlike the evolved bot that stood before them. The Vehicons landed and transformed with less grace, preferring practicality over impressive entrances, like the obedient soldiers they were trained to be.

“Predacons,” Starscream addressed his charges distastefully, hating that he had to be associated with them in any manner.

Sky Lynx and Darksteel glared back at their ‘master’, equally displeased to be under his command. Killstreak watched Starscream in admiration, though he was careful to keep his stance ridged and military, giving Starscream the respect he deserved instead of displaying his adoration for all to see.

“Today is a training exercise for you to learn how to scrap every Autobot you see. Take down all twenty Vehicons, and you might stand a chance against those accursed Autobots.”

The Vehicons looked to one another uncertainly, evidently having not known that they were to be used as cannon fodder.

“You have 15 solar-minutes to complete this task. Vehicons, if you escape with your lives, you will be rewarded for your service to the Decepticon cause, by being allowed to carry on your pitiful existence. Am I clear?”

There was a chorus of, “Yes, Commander Starscream,” followed by salutes from the Vehicons, but it wasn’t their subservience Starscream sought and he glowered at the Predacons before him.

Sky Lynx and Darksteel communicated with each other through grunts, glad their vocalisers hadn’t fully developed yet so their conversation could go on undetected by any non-Predacons. The pair were considering ending the exercise early by scrapping Starscream.

Killstreak growled irritably and bounded over to them, pushing their heads to the floor with his mighty forepaws, making them bow to their new Commander. In turn, Killstreak also lowered his own head, and Starscream grinned darkly; he still despised the Predacons, but perhaps there was hope for them yet, or rather, at least there was hope for Killstreak.

Under Killstreak’s claws, Darksteel rumbled an insult that meant something along the lines of teacher’s pet, had the Predacons had the equivalent to a teacher anyway. Killstreak dipped his head lower, showing off his fangs which dripped with corrosive lubricant; he would not be tested by mere underlings and after his warning display, Darksteel fell resentfully quiet once again.

The exercise proved far too easy for the Predacons who had successfully dismantled the Vehicons despite their superior numbers. It had also been of great enjoyment to both Sky Lynx and Darksteel who had delighted in separating helms from bodies in a massacre that stained the ground with energon. Even Killstreak had taken great pleasure in the so-called training, having had a chance to use his corrosive venom for the first time, watching it eat through metal and circuitry alike. Evidently, the killing spree left Killstreak sated, though his blood-lust would likely re-emerge sooner rather than later; after all, there was nothing more thrilling than the hunt.

Starscream stared disgustedly at the carnage around him. A small part of him had hoped that the Predacons would fail their assignment, if only to prove that Shockwave’s experiment was a waste of time and resources. Then again, it was probably best that the Predacons had succeeded, for Starscream was certain that he would be blamed if they failed in any of their tasks; after all, Megatron seemed to blame him for everything, but what else could be expected from such a short-sighted fool?

After nudging a disembodied head with his pede, Starscream approached the Predacons, holding his servos behind his back in his usual military pose; many assumed he held such a position because it looked professional, but for the most part, Starscream always hid his servos because it gave him a chance to arm himself discreetly if he ever had cause to.

Starscream cleared his vocaliser, glancing from the corpses that surrounded him to the Predacons. Although they had done a good job, they would need to be the very best for Megatron to approve of them and as such, Starscream decided not to praise their work; after all, nobody had ever praised him in his long life, why did such prehistoric beasts deserve any better?

“You call that an accomplishment? I gave you fifteen solar-minutes. YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN DONE IN FIVE!”

Sky Lynx hissed while Darksteel growled; unlike before, they now wished that they could speak, if only to tell Starscream how they would dismember him in the future. Killstreak merely lashed his tail impatiently; he had little time for his subordinates’ antics.

“If it were up to me,” Starscream went on, half-yelling, “I would scrap the lot of you. Flashy aerial antics and foolish manoeuvres do not win a war, and when I tell Meg- AARGH!”

Starscream screamed in fear as Sky Lynx and Darksteel bounded towards him, ready to attack once again, but before they even made contact Killstreak was there, standing in front of his master and protecting him with a wall of fire.

Despite the intimidation tactics’ success, Killstreak had had enough of his two underlings who had clearly not paid enough attention to his previous outburst; evidently, intimidation wasn’t enough, and he needed a stronger deterrent to make sure they would stay in line.

Rearing up on his hind legs, Killstreak crashed down, slashing at Sky Lynx and Darksteel’s faces, his claws tearing through the metal, leaving them both with three deep cuts. Sky Lynx howled, rubbing his face against the ground to staunch the bleeding. Darksteel however was less focused on the pain and kept swinging his helm violently from side to side, trying to see through an optic that Killstreak had slashed the connecting wire to.

‘Good,’ Killstreak thought with a decisive snort. ‘Let this be a lesson to them. Perhaps I’ll let them be repaired on the ship if they bow down to me.’

Starscream stared in awe at Killstreak, who didn’t acknowledge him in return, too focused on his underlings; while they were injured and likely wouldn’t attack, it would be foolish to turn his back on them, just in case they acted in pitiful defiance or in a state of panic.

Starscream’s processor whirred into action as he considered the Predacon protecting him, re-evaluating him as an ally. ‘Killstreak obeys my commands. He respects me. With more time, he could even help me depose Megatron, making me the one true leader of the Decepticons.’

“Very good, Killstreak,” Starscream praised, getting up and brushing himself off.

Satisfied that Darksteel and Sky Lynx wouldn’t get back up without his permission, Killstreak finally looked round to Starscream, eager to be lauded by his Commander.

“You will be rewarded for protecting your Master.”

Killstreak wagged his tail enthusiastically, and Starscream raised his eyebrow-plates at the spectacle.

“Yes, well, ah, we should get back to the Nemesis, and I suppose we should take those ingrates back with us,” He gestured carelessly at the two injured Predacons

As an afterthought, Starscream commed Knockout, informing him that it would be his job to treat the Predacons.

“What?” Knockout asked dubiously over the comms. “I’m a medic, not a vet. I don’t know the first thing about treating Predacons.”

“Then learn,” Starscream responded harshly. “And send a clean-up crew down here to recover the offline. No point in wasting valuable materials.”

With that, Starscream ended the call, turning back to Killstreak. “Bring those two back to the ship, then come to my quarters; I have a new job for you.”

Though the flight back would be cumbersome whilst carrying Sky Lynx and Darksteel, Killstreak complied, ever loyal to his one and only master.

Once aboard the Nemesis, Killstreak found that he enjoyed his newfound reward. Under Starscream’s orders, Killstreak was to act as a personal bodyguard and protector to Starscream. Where Starscream went, Killstreak followed. When Starscream recharged, Killstreak sat outside his hab-suite, preventing others entry. When Starscream took a flight off the ship, Killstreak got the chance to stretch his wing rivets, constantly aware of his master’s safety.

While other Decepticons observed the pair with mild disdain or fear, Killstreak had never been happier. Starscream didn’t know it, but in ancient Predacon packs, ordering an underling to act as a protection detail was a show of trust and the original manner in which they chose their Conjunx Endurae. Naturally, Killstreak knew that this wasn’t Starscream’s manner of proposing anything more than an alliance, having used the ship’s computers to research modern Conjunx Ritus, but he was happy nevertheless.

Killstreak was also aware that his protection over Starscream didn’t put him in good standing with Sky Lynx or Darksteel, but the two hadn’t challenged him again since their previous uprising; Killstreak's show of power was enough to keep them in line.

As time marched on, Starscream grew more paranoid of an attack against him. It wasn’t anything new to him, after all, he had made a lot of enemies both Autobot and Decepticon, but for the first time, Starscream had someone to watch his back and he planned to use every tactical advantage in his arsenal to stay online. As such, he ordered Killstreak to meet him in his hab-suite, where he was certain his orders to the primitive Predacon would go unheard by those who might wish to dispose of him.

“Killstreak,” Starscream began majestically, only faltering when Killstreak wagged his tail enthusiastically, knocking over a desk in the process. “Stop that! I didn’t bring you in here to destroy my personal effects, you idiotic simpleton!”

Killstreak whined, sitting down so he wouldn’t cause any further damage.

“Good… That’s better,” Starscream mumbled awkwardly, unused to praising anyone. “I have a new command for you. While you have done an acceptable job of protecting me thus far, it has come to my attention that anyone could crawl through the vents and offline me during recharge. As such, you are no longer to separate from me at all. You will live in my hab-suite with me. Is that clear?”

Usually, Starscream would have expected Killstreak to incline his head in a nod of understanding, but what the Seeker didn’t know was that Killstreak had been practicing speech, now that his vocaliser had finally developed fully.

“Yes Master,” Killstreak answered obediently in a voice that rumbled like thunder; it was a voice that could screech an attack or sound like the calm before the storm, and for Starscream, it would always be the latter.

Starscream stumbled back, shocked by the development, “You can talk?!”

“Yes Master, as can Sky Lynx and Darksteel, though they have less reason to do so.”

Starscream sneered defiantly, “This changes nothing between us. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good.” Starscream looked around his hab-suite, searching for another topic that would put him back in control of the situation. “I suppose I shall have to clear some room for you.”

“That will not be necessary,” Killstreak assured Starscream, making him uneasy once again as he transformed into an alternate robot mode.

“Transforming too… You have been keeping secrets.”

Starscream didn’t like that one bit; he had to know everything about everyone if he was to remain in the running for ruling the known universe. “And the others?” He asked.

Killstreak shook his head, “Not yet, though it won’t be long before they realise that they too are capable of transformation.”

“Very well,” Starscream growled, considering his options.

While he didn’t care for Killstreak’s new abilities, he decided not to linger on them. After all, the Predacon was loyal to him and Starscream wasn’t foolish enough to lose his one true follower; the first step to building an army was to have the first soldier within it.  

“Nothing changes,” He said again, more decisively than before. “I need to recharge. Do your duty and protect me while I rest.”

With that, Starscream laid elegantly upon his berth, and though it took him a while to get comfortable with Killstreak in the room, he eventually managed to fall into a light recharge.

Though there was little space in the room, Killstreak transformed back to his root-mode, lying down next to the berth like a dog protecting its master. He placed his tail strategically against the door so anyone foolish enough to intrude would trip over it, giving him more than enough time to dispatch them.

Then, settling down, Killstreak watched Starscream recharge; it was the first of many nights together for the pair as the Autobot-Decepticon war raged on.

Killstreak groaned, struggling against the weight of the building that Predaking had pushed atop him. Earthen buildings would have been no problem for Killstreak to escape the weight of, but the Cybertronian metal structure was proving difficult to move.

Killstreak roared in frustration, a monstrous blast of fire escaping his mouth. It was natural that he and Predaking would come to blows upon meeting, but Killstreak knew he could have won the battle for leadership over the Predacons had it not been for Sky Lynx and Darksteel siding against him, interfering with their fight by using their combined forces to help Predaking defeat him.

Predaking landed before Killstreak with a mighty slam against the planet’s surface, transforming into his bot mode shortly thereafter.

“Things don’t have to end like this,” He told Killstreak in a tone that suggested he was about to issue an ultimatum.

Killstreak hissed in protest, glaring harder than ever when Sky Lynx and Darksteel landed behind their new leader, looking all too pleased with themselves.

“There are far too few of us for me to let you die,” Predaking said. “However, I have plans of revenge, and I have heard that you treat that fool Starscream like a spark-mate.”

Predaking shook his head distastefully, but didn’t comment further on Killstreak’s poor taste; after all, in a time when the Predacons knew nobody else, it was unsurprising that Killstreak might bond with one of the few options available.

“I make you an offer Killstreak,” Predaking boomed majestically. “Let this wreckage be your tomb, or accept me as your new leader, and don’t interfere when I take your previous Master offline.”

In no mood for games or conversation, Killstreak opened his maw, letting out a squirt of acid, a few drops of which landed on Predaking’s pede, corroding the metal away. To Predaking’s credit, he didn’t shy away or show any indication of the pain he was undoubtedly feeling. Instead, he merely looked at Killstreak darkly.

“A pity,” He stated. “You could have been my second. Now, you’ll die here.”

Not the type to gloat, Predaking transformed, bounding away before leaping into the open air and flying away. Sky Lynx and Darksteel shared a smug look before following their new leader, and Killstreak was left mercifully alone, thinking about how he would escape before they got to Starscream.

With metal pinning down everything but his head, Killstreak knew he wouldn’t be able to manoeuvre himself well enough to use his acid to create a means of escape. Nor could he use brute strength to get him out from the position he was in. That left only transforming, but to do so would be risky; while transforming might allow Killstreak to shimmy free through one of the smaller gaps in the metal, it might also cause it to crush him if it moved too much.

Killstreak considered the conundrum for a few more seconds. Well, if the metal did crush him, he would be no worse off than he was currently. Opting for the one tactic that gave him a chance at not only his own survival, but Starscream’s as well, Killstreak transformed.

As he’d suspected, the metal held in place, allowing Killstreak the space to shimmy forward, though he was careful not to rush to his escape in case he knocked any of the building’s supporting structures.

 Once free, Killstreak wasted no time in transforming back to his root-mode, stretching his wings to catch a gust of wind that would carry him hastily towards Starscream and Predaking. As he soared, Killstreak felt fury burning up inside him, becoming a force greater than he had ever known. If Predaking thought their battle was over, he was sorely mistaken, though this time, Killstreak didn’t care for leadership over the Predacons. Now, he only wanted revenge and to protect the one bot who mattered to him most in the universe; his spark-mate, Starscream.

While Killstreak couldn’t trace energy signatures like modern Cybertronians could, he didn’t need to, for his olfactory sensors brought him a steady stream of information and could do so from halfway across the planet if he so wished. Fortunately, Starscream was much closer than that, but so were the other Predacons; in the time it had taken Killstreak to escape, Predaking, Sky Lynx, and Darksteel had found their target.

Killstreak willed himself on, listening intently as his audio feed picked up on Predaking’s vocaliser. He could see them in the distance now and gnashed his dentae in frustration as the Predacons closed in on Starscream.

Starscream backed away from Predaking who spoke, his tone low and threatening, “I am not here to seize thrones, Starscream, but to settle scores.”

Killstreak narrowed his optics, picking his target. His earlier error had been in not considering Sky Lynx and Darksteel as threats; that wouldn’t happen again. Killstreak tucked his limbs close to his body, increasing his velocity. The aerial manoeuvre paid off greatly as he smashed into Darksteel, pushing him into Sky Lynx, and launching them both off the edge of the building.

After landing, Killstreak spun quickly and spat acid, but Predaking was prepared and dodged the attack. Then, a ferocious battle ensued.

Starscream was forced to watch the fight, unable to escape past the warring Predacons who fought over his life, one trying to extinguish it and the other attempting to preserve it.

“Behind you!” Starscream cried out as Sky Lynx and Darksteel reappeared, having recovered from their fall.

Killstreak spun around, using his armoured tail like a club and sweeping the lesser bots down. With a molten roar of fire, Killstreak managed to set Sky Lynx’s wing alight.

Taking advantage of Darksteel’s disoriented state, Starscream fired his arm missiles, one after the other, hitting the Predacon twice in the chassis and incapacitating him for the moment. With that, Killstreak was left to battle Predaking alone.

Killstreak could have said all manner of sentiments about how it would be an honourable duel now that Predaking didn’t have any underlings to aid him, but when in a battle to the death, who had the time for snappy words and over-the-top conversation that would do nothing to help him win?

Overall, it was a close fight, with both bots doing mass amounts of damage. Predaking tore Killstreak’s wing, melted the plating on his leg, and tore off his horn with a mighty blow. In return, Killstreak ripped away some of Predaking’s neck-wiring, unfortunately missing anything vital, dented his helm, and scorched his audial processors, throwing Predaking precariously off balance.

The two Predacons were almost equally matched, with one exception. The fossils which had been used to create Killstreak were half a million years younger than those used to make Predaking, and in that time, Predacons had evolved the venomous tubing that Killstreak relied on so heavily. Killstreak used it once again, managing to coat Predaking’s optics, blinding him completely as acid melted through metal.

Predaking roared in a mix of pain and fury, blindly lashing out. Killstreak transformed into his root-mode, hissing out the last words Predaking would ever hear.

“For my spark-mate,” He growled, puncturing Predaking’s spark-casing and extinguishing his life force.

After ensuring Sky Lynx and Darksteel were also offline for good, Killstreak was finally able to turn his attention to Starscream.

Starscream stared at him in shocked silence, uncertain of who was in control of the situation at that point.

Killstreak got to one knee, bowing to Starscream on his throne.

“My Liege,” He murmured, graciously inclining his head downwards.

‘And your spark-mate, apparently,’ Starscream thought sardonically, though he didn’t say so aloud. He was considering his relationship with Killstreak in a new light, wondering where he would go from there.

Starscream reached out to Killstreak, patting his head in an act that was somewhere between a master and a pet, and a loving Conjunx Endurae. While there were certainly some cultural differences he would have to learn if he was to pursue a relationship with Killstreak, Starscream would gladly do so as he thought of the hundreds of tactical advantages of keeping the universe’s only remaining Predacon as a spark-mate.

Like my work? Buy me a Ko-Fi.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

October-November Fanfiction Contest

After the cosmic scale of last month it’s time to take it much smaller. Just sit down, relax, and take a deep, rooting breath. The horrors can wait.

prompt: Breathe. Whether it’s gasping for air as they run for their life from a terrible creature or gasping for air while they lay down on the bed with the other on top; a soft, comforting presence of a lover’s slowly rising chest in the middle of a scary night or watching that same chest draw its last breath, focus your story on the act of breathing. word limit: min. 888 and max. 8,888 words lemon: up to M rating obligatory: do not depict Elsa and Anna as children below the age of 17 (explained below) bonus: include a token/talisman for Elsa and/or Anna, include a reference to a folkloric/mythological tale or creature, include where a change in breathing occurs (explained below) challenge: write Elsa and/or Anna with a significant flaw (explained below)

Please also tag your story (if it has any of it) for: angst, tragedy, major character death, violence or abuse, suicide and self-harm mentions, horror elements or anything not mentioned here that you think might make your readers uncomfortable. Non-/dub-con is NOT ALLOWED, unless it is an important part of the story and not described in detail/used as cheap thrills/glorified. Be mindful and respectful.

Restrictions and Bonuses Click here for more detailed answers to user submitted questions. It will be updated if any more questions roll in, so keep it bookmarked!

OBLIGATORY restriction: the kids are NOT alright. For this month, your submissions cannot portray Elsa and Anna bellow the age of 17. This applies to both the main plotline as well as any flashback. Obligatory restriction means if your story portrays Elsa and Anna below the minimum age it will be disqualified.

DISQUALIFICATION means your story will still be posted (unless it breaks our general contest rules) but will not be eligible to go into voting and win.

Bonus 1: Tokens. Give Elsa, Anna or both a token/talisman/charm that they have on their person at all times (or at least a significant amount of time.) To qualify for this bonus, the token must be physical and mentioned at least once with an impact on the plot.

Bonus 2: Folklore. Include a reference to a folkloric or mythological (ALL mythos qualifies here, but remember to be mindful and respectful of people’s beliefs) tale or creature. To qualify for this bonus, the creature/tale needs to be recognizable and unmistakable (no generic ‘scary creature’) and be a legit folkloric/mythological element of REAL WORLD people’s culture (so no pop-culture pseudo-folklore like the Babadook or Bruni.)

Bonus 3: Breathing. Include a scene that depicts a change in breathing (slower, faster, shallower etc.) with an emphasis on the physical aspect. To qualify for this bonus, the change must occur for Elsa or Anna in a compound, complex or compound-complex sentence that focuses on the physical ‘consequences’ of the change of breathing (e.g. expansion of lungs, chest falling slower/faster, throat hurting from repeated panting etc.)

These are not obligatory restrictions, however following them will be rewarded with an additional point in the favorites column for every bonus. In other words, stories that don’t include any of the restrictions will start off with 0 base favorite votes, those that do - with 1, 2 or 3.

Please write down where and how you used the bonuses at the beginning of the story to make sure the mods can verify your points (the note will be removed before posting.) If you’re not sure if your story meets the requirements for the bonuses, you are free to contact us to check.

Challenge: Write Elsa, Anna or both with a significant flaw. Ultimately, how you interpret this challenge is up to you - there is no reward/penalty for completing or ignoring it (except your own satisfaction.)

Read the contest rules before participating. We’ll be accepting submissions through the submit button on our blog starting today till Midnight (on Baker Island, GMT-12) of October 31st. Please remember to submit anonymously to make sure the voting is impartial!

If you have any questions, read the month’s FAQ, send us an ask or join us on discord.

Happy writing!

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

A Little Closer

[Raphael x fem reader]

sfw, apocalypse AU, 2012

The city that never sleeps.

They jinxed it, you thought as you dragged yourself along the street, Raphael at your side. The city wasn't only sleeping—it was dead.

You and him were alone, trying to get back in touch with everyone after getting split up. The team had been separated by unfortunate circumstances, nothing short of Murphy's Law. If you hadn't believed in the law before, you did, now.

But Raph could and would plow through a horde for you. He had to; he was your friend, the protector, at the moment. Because while you were able to handle yourself to some degree, ultimately, Raph was the one defending the both of you. And not even because you told him to. He took the role up himself, assumed it silently and never complained. You couldn't quite tell if it was because he felt obligated, or if it really was just his nature.

"You see that building up ahead? The tall one." He pointed toward a particular rooftop rising high among the ones around, and you nod. An infected ambled around in an adjacent alleyway. You glanced over at it anxiously, while Raph seemed completely unbothered. He was focused mentally planning their route. "That's our checkpoint. From there, we'll rest and see if we can regroup with the rest of the team."

The infected, a slower, pustule-covered form, started coming toward the two of you, stumbling out with quiet gurgles. "Raph," you said softly, with a tap on his hard shoulder. He glanced back at you before pulling out his sai, running at the infected and quickly dispatching it by a stab right in the eye socket. He avoided the sickly green caps.The creature fell heavily, and some of the pustules popped on the pavement, squeezing out a foul-smelling concoction of mutagen and infector cells. It amazed you every time just how fast he could get it done, the killing. And without fear—a few infected were more of an inconvenience to him than anything. He got in and got out, all the while you were left in awe at his ability to work on autopilot.

"Actually," he muttered, stepping around the body and into the alleyway the Infector had just come from. He noticed the fire escape and decided they'd take it from there on the rooftops. "I think we can get there from here. Feel like a little roof-running?" he asked you, throwing a subtle smile over.

Anything to get off the streets. Down there, it was bad. You had to look around every corner, watch your back even more carefully, and even then, straggling infected would still manage to slip under the radar. Though, luckily, Raph often was able to predict the movements of groups, which was what made you avoid the building horde making its way through the city. It was still a major scare to think you were clear and suddenly have a hunter-class infected jump out at you.

"Yeah," you answered him, following into the alleyway. "Yeah, let's do that. There are way too many Infectors down here." A shudder crawled up your spine to think about what the ooze those things carried could do to people.

He leaped up onto the railing, while you took the stairs. "It ain't the Infectors you have to worry about. It's the Hunters," he replied, pulling himself into the edge of the roof. You finished your ascent up the staircase as quietly as possible, and he met you at the top, grabbing your hand and helping you up the rest of the way. "But don't worry; I'll make sure none of 'em get you." You leaned forward and looked at him with a small smile, noting what he said. And that he still hadn't let go of your hand. "Or me," he added quickly as he released your hand and turned away to survey the series of buildings ahead.

You laughed, "Well, I'd be pretty screwed if I lost you, Raph. I kinda rely on you, y'know?"

Unknown to you, those last words would stick with him. For a long time.

"Yeah…" he trailed off. He didn't know how to respond to that. Of course, he'd been relied upon before; by Mikey, especially. He knew what that felt like. But protecting this girl? There was a new sense of pressure. Even Mikey could handle himself well enough alone. But there wasn't anything for you to fall back on, should he be out of the equation. No ninja training, not much knowledge of how to use a melee weapon aside from the basics, and guns were few and far between. Very far. A gang would trade you one, if you were lucky. Most people weren't lucky in that regard. Raph didn't want you anywhere near those thugs, anyway.

Between the two of you was nothing but the sound of the breeze. The city was almost dead silent, save for the occasional racket of survivors, or feral animals. Both were in low numbers; most of the city—the country—had been turned. The rate at which the infection spread was astonishing. Only here and there would a lonely human cause ruckus anywhere.

Raph cleared his throat, "We should get moving. Sun's going down and we need to hunker down for the night, the Hunters will be wakin' up soon."

"Sounds good," you said as you stretched your tight muscles out. Hours of almost nonstop walking and jogging could really work up some nasty knots.

You moved forward, him naturally taking the lead as you both made your ways across the roofs, him helping you along when you needed it, and you keeping watch for stragglers while you were at it. Sometimes, there would be other people up there. Other times, former people.

Coming up to a run down building, Raph made the last jump across, expecting you to be able to handle it. But you were hesitant, your body worn and weary from days of over exertion, and today was the straw that broke the camel's back. After all this time, you just couldn't muster the strength to clear the gap yourself.

Raph was about to go on ahead when he noticed you hadn't made it across yet, and he called out, "Y/N, what're you doing over there? Come on, this is our stop."

You wanted to do it, for the sake of his convenience, but it was too far. You could have over or underestimated and plummeted down into the alley below, gotten incapacitated, and became even more baggage. He watched as you backpedaled from the ledge. "I can't," you answered, slightly ashamed, "it's too far of a jump. I can't do it."

You watched as Raph easily bounded across, landing in front of you. "Here," he motioned for you to step in, and you did, where he then picked you right up into his arms and started backing further away. He'd lended you a helping hand before, a catch, sometimes, but never had he picked you up like this. "Wrap your arms around my neck, this is a little dodgy," he instructed you. He tried to ignore the fluttery feeling it gave him when you did what he'd said to do, wrapping your arms around his sturdy neck as he got ready to leap the gap. You were comfortable enough—Raph was strong. Really strong. But the threat of you both falling still have you anxiety, and for that, you had to clamp your eyes shut.

Without a word, he took off in a dash, one powerful leg launching the both of you off the edge. His arms tightened around you somehow more than they had been before. And for a brief second you felt wind. You still couldn't open your eyes, only focused on the feeling of almost absolute security in Raph's grip. Next was the hard landing, which jarred you out of your brief moment of warmth. He grunted, following through into a crouch and setting you down on your feet.

"You alright?" you asked him, concerned, placing a light hand on his shell.

He had a level of endurance that far exceeded the average person's, but even Raph was getting tired. He despised feeling weak, but his body was now actively working against him. He felt slow and heavy for his standards, running on fumes and secretly desperate for rest. As good of a sleep as he could get without worrying about being ambushed by something, be it human or otherwise. He knew he'd be back to the grind soon enough though because you needed sleep, too, and he would die before leaving you undefended in such a vulnerable state.

You realized then just now exhausted he was as he rose, taking in a deep breath. "I'm alright, let's just...clear the place and get in there," he said.

He approached the door into the stairwell and listened for a second before trying the knob. Locked. He was impatient to get in and finally be able to rest, so he just kicked the door in with everything he had, deciding to deal with anything that might be in there as they came. You grimaced; stairwells were awful places to fight anyone or anything.

Collecting yourself, you came over and peered in along with him. "Easy there, shouldn't we be quiet?" you questioned him in earnest.

He never intended to be rude to you, but his mood got the best of him, and he snapped back with a sigh, "Look, I'll get rid of them, okay? It's not like you're the one going in and killing them, so just stay out of the way and let me get it done."

You backed out of the doorway and shot him a look as if to say, are you serious? You knew Raph was prone to moodiness, but you'd never expected it to be targeted your way.

Shit. He slapped his hand onto the doorframe and leaned his forehead on it, groaning. Not even at you, but himself, because he'd just snapped at his only friend and ally out here at the moment. Seeing the flash of the look of hurt on your face at his words made him feel like a total asshole.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled after a minute of uncomfortable silence. He looked back at you, eyes falling on the sombreness of your expression. "I'm just tired. I'll be more careful here on out, if it makes you feel better. I know you're just trying to look out for us, trust me. I do."

"It's okay," you said softly. "Don't worry about it. Let's get in there now, yeah?" you nudged him, stepping in. You looked over the railing in search of anything suspicious. Oxidized blood, the hybrid mutagenic fluid that the Infectors secreted. No, it all appeared clean. But that didn't mean it was safe. Raph descended the stairs slowly, listening for anything he could pick up on. The two of you were surprised that it seemed clear, maybe even skeptical, but it didn't stop you as your paced picked up. Raph kept you behind him at all times with his sai out and ready.

"You think it's good?" you whisper, leaning your head over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the surroundings in the hallway you had just been lead into, still searching for any red flags.

There was nothing. No sounds, no signs of infected, and deathly quiet. The lack of noise disturbed Raph more than anything, but if it meant one night of peace, he'd take anything he could get.

"The residents must've abandoned this place when the evacs happened," you noted.

"Everyone should have stayed. Maybe then we would have had a chance of actually containing this thing and Donnie wouldn't have to be busting his ass to save us all. If that's even possible at this point."

He let his guard down a little. All he wanted to do was pick out any random apartment and take it over for the night. Trying the one on his left, the door slowly opened to reveal a messy studio, papers strewn about, cabinets still open, things discarded on the floor. He almost melted just seeing the couch, let alone a bed.

You were watching the hall just to make sure, but felt his calloused hand land on your forearm, pulling you in.

"Wow," you breathed out. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see such a mess. I feel like I haven't slept in three years," you muttered to yourself, shutting the door behind you.

Raph wandered around the room as he made his last checks behind the counters and such before he finally relaxed and slid his sais back into their holders. "No kidding," he commented. "I'd bet there's nothing to eat in here, though."

"Can't hurt to try."

Turned out that there wasn't anything but a couple of granola bars and a single bottle of water you'd found under the kitchen table. Probably rolled under there and the owner never noticed, but you were running low on your water supply, as your backpack was starting to feel light.

Raph kept the blinds closed tight in fear of being spotted from the window, even though it was practically a wasteland out there, but you couldn't help but part them a bit to catch a glimpse of the sun going down. That beautiful, warm glow that the Golden Hour produced, and the way it painted the sky. Though, it wasn't all that visible from where you were.

Sunset came and went and gave way to night. It was dark in the apartment; no electricity was being routed there, and so the only thing that lit up the area was the lone lantern you had sitting on the coffee table. Your eyelids were becoming so heavy that you couldn't stop to care if the furniture had bed bugs or other gross stuff. It was comfortable on your aching back, that's what mattered. You lay down on it and was already dozing off when Raph padded by. He stopped. You were so tired, he could see that. He could stand to stay up for a few more hours, he told himself—he would do that.

As you slept, he spent his time cleaning his weapons, adjusting his gear, snacking on what little the two of you shared. Also thinking. About how tired he was in that moment, his brothers (wherever they were), and finally...you. He found his gaze shifting from the knife in his lap that he'd been sharpening to you, sound asleep on the couch and for the first time in days, looking at peace. You had dark circles under your eyes, bumps and scrapes all over your body, yet for a little while, you'd forgotten all about it. Because you were asleep, obviously, but even though he was downright beat, he couldn't bring himself to disturb you. Not yet, at least. The clock on the wall was still ticking on. It was quiet, except for that—Raph couldn't complain. He softened watching you. There was something comforting to him about being able to drop the act and just observe you without having to talk. He wasn't always good at talking. He judged that perhaps you were only trying to fill the silence when you kept rambling or muttering, which was understandable. It made him wonder briefly if you felt awkward when he was quiet.

Raph was on his proverbial last leg in terms of his wakefulness when he heard your voice, the slightest call that was almost inaudible. He set his gear aside and shifted towards you where he sat on the coffee table, trying to figure out if you were only dreaming, or if you really needed something.

"You awake?" he whispered.

Arm dangling off the couch, you rested your face on your other hand. "Yeah," you answered through a dry throat. He remembered the bottle of water from earlier and reached into the backpack at his feet, handing it to you. He'd already drank over half of it.

"How long have you been laying there awake while I could have been getting some shut-eye?" he jested. You did your best to muster a smile, but it wasn't going. It wasn't like you to be so solemn.

He spoke again as you downed the rest of the water, "Uh...joking. Are you—"

"Can you hold me?"

You weren't looking at him. Your eyes were closed, and on the inside, you asked yourself why you'd said it. Maybe it was the mid-sleep grogginess, or you had just lost all care in the world. He was staring at you, but in the low light, you could hardly see his expression. He swallowed; oh, how this had taken him off guard.

"Just for a little bit."

He was going to stammer out something, he wasn't sure what, but anything to relieve the mix of awkward embarrassment he was feeling. He wanted to crawl into that couch with you, to feel the warmth of your body against his cold one—why couldn't he move? Why was it so hard to just say: "Yes, I can hold you."

He could fight. He could defend. What he couldn't do was comprehend his own emotions.

"I, uh…do you feel unsafe, or something?" He felt stupid to ask that, but that part of his mind wanted to rationalize your request. He would feel vulnerable in your shoes. He knew that for a fact. But really, he was aware that wasn't the case, you feeling unsafe; he was there. Your sentinel, willing to push himself as far as he possibly could, and then some.

A sigh left you, and the single word, "Please."

No more thinking. Just do.

He sat up, tentative in his approach to your tired form. You shifted back as far into the cushions of the couch that you could, offering him the space on the edge. He climbed down, and after a minute of trying to situate all of your limbs, he was finally comfortable. He would be lying to say his heart wasn't beating faster, that it didn't feel weird to drape his arm around you the way he did, being pressed against your back like that. Despite everything, it felt natural. Right. Like he'd been missing something that whole time, and as soon as he had pulled you into him, he had a revelation.

There were no words exchanged. Just the sound of the clock ticking and the both of your breaths as you were lulled back into sleep. He couldn't sleep yet. You still had an hour to go before it was his turn. Not that it bothered him. Not then; he wanted to be conscious for this, the feeling of fullness he had with how you seemed to fit against his body so well. The contrast of soft skin to his scales, his lean, solid muscles compared to your own less-developed. His fingers brushed along your wrist in some of the lightest touches he'd ever administered. His leg found its way over your own.

What started rigid and awkward now had melted him. His body hadn't felt that loose in a long time.

Whatever the next move was, he was fine with it. The team was close to finding each other after four days of separation. There was a horde forming outside, gathering up to blow through the city in one last sweep. But as long as they got where they needed to go, he didn't mind it at all.

a/n: i 100% did not feel like explaining how or why they got separated from the rest of the group just be along for the ride bby

[emo-space-tea]

Eternal Stories

NOT MY GIF

Chapter 2

575 BC

Babylon

Kore launched vines up to the sky and wrapped them around a flying Deviant before forcing the beast to the ground. More deviants attack structures but Makkari moves people out of harm's way. Kingo and Thena are fighting two as Thena kills one.

“Hey, that one was mine! Oh, nevermind.” Kingo protests before spotting another and firing at it.

One spider-like creature chased after a girl who tripped and fell, but Ikaris flew in between the two and fired at the creature before Makkari used a sonic boom and multiple attacks to kill it.

Ikaris turned back to the girl and assured her, “Do not fear.”, before giving her a small smile.

Gilgamesh stood at the large gate in front of the city and ushered people inside before it closed. A giant bull-like deviant charged at him but the man quickly punched it causing it to flip behind him into the wall. It got up and went for him again and managed to throw the man, but Makkari caught him and placed him back on the ground,

Ikaris flew in and alongside Kingo fired at the beast. Kore wrapped thick vines around its limbs to stop its thrashing and even stabbed vines through it. Gilgamesh launched Thena on top of the beast and she began stabbing at the deviant. Makkari came in with a sonic boom, knocking the beast to the side. Gilgamesh uppercutted the Deviant launching it back, even though it got back up Gilgamesh slapped it effectively killing it.

The six then stood alongside each other watching out for any more deviants.

After a brief meeting with Arishem, Ajak entered the Domo and went to Phastos’ lab. There she found Phastos blueprinting something, Druig eating like normal, and Sprite semi laying on a table.

“Phastos. Did you go to the party last night like I told you to?” Ajak questioned.

He scoffed and awfully lied, “The party, yeah. It was-”

Druig cut him off and snitched with a smile, “He worked all night.”

Phastos turned to him and asked, “Who was talking to you?” Which made Druig smile more.

“Get a life. And where is Sersi?” Ajak asked.

“Late as usual.” Sprite answered, sitting up.

“I’m sorry, but I have something very exciting to show you, okay? Wait til you see this.” Phastos informed.

After a moment Ajak asked, “What is it?”

“It’s an engine. It moves steam from high pressure to low pressure. Uh, it’ll help them till their fields at an incredibly fast rate.” Phastos explained.

‘It’s gonna freak them out.” Sprite stated, messing with a large golden ring.

“I mean, they only have had the wheel 1,000 years, so…” Druig agreed, having stood up to get a drink.

“You know, we could do that thing where you use your mind to control them and then they could do it quicker.” Phastos ranted, tired of his teammates' sarcasm.

“Ajak, you listening to this?” Druig questioned.

“Phastos, this steam…” Ajak trailed off.

“Engine. It’s a steam engine.” Phastos stated.

“It’s too soon.” Ajak stated before Sersi rushed in. “And there she is.”

“What did I miss?” Sersi asked.

“Nothing. Just the screams of my deep disappointment.” Phastos said, sighing and walking to another side of the room.

“I am sure you have something simpler.” Ajak said.

“Simple. Okay, let’s see. Uh…Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the plow. ‘Cause that’s what it does. Plows dirt.” Phastos stated, disappointed.

“I met another group of settlers who are building their homes in the northern fields. They’ll need to plant their own crops.” Sersi brought up to try and help Phastos.

“Can’t Kore just do that? I mean, she can literally move mountains.” Sprite said, smirking.

“Thanks, Sersi. Thanks, Sprite.” Phastos said, genuinely then sarcastically.

“Listen, humanity may be coming along slower than some of us want. But there is no telling what wonders they will discover as they advance.” Ajak explained.

Later that night, a party was thrown in celebration for the Eternals. Sprite cast beautiful illusions in the sky while announcing to the Babylonians,

“The wonders of the world await you. Follow Gilgamesh and Enkidu into battle. Be forever inspired by their bravery and strength. You and your fellow man will go on great adventures. And become legends of your own!” Sprite finished, her illusions turning into fireworks as the crowd cheered.

She didn’t know that Kingo had been entranced the whole time. Sprite sat down next to him and Gilgamesh joined, drunk. Thena and Ikaris argued slightly as Thena left to go fight Deviants on her own. Though, she told Ikaris to make sure Kore knew where she had gone.

Makkari sped into the city with a chest and stopped in front of Druig, eating as usual. Druig said and signed, “My Beautiful Makkari. You’re late.”

“I needed to get good enough artifacts to trade.” Makkari signed before taking the items out of the chest and placing them on the table.

The men she had planned on trading with whispered with each other, “Just lie to her.”

Makkari quickly stopped the man from taking her goods, which shocked the men. She then signed as Druig translated in Babylonian, “I can sense vibrations. Even the tiniest movement. Including your voices when you speak.”

The men continued to look shocked as she continued, “Did you two just waste my time?”

“The emerald tablet you’re searching for is a myth!” One man explained, but the Eternals' attention was grabbed by a fight beginning.

Druig quickly used his power, causing the men to stop, slap themselves twice before cheering and hugging the person they were just fighting. Makkari nudged him, getting him to stop and laugh, and signed,

“When humans have conflict, Ajak tells us not to interfere.”

“Well, she also says that stealing is very very bad.” Druig retaliated, holding up one of the thing Makkari took.

She grabbed it from him and signed, “If you don’t tell, I won’t tell.”

“Deal.”

She lifted her chin with a smile and Druig mimicked her before the music caught their attention. Feet away from them was a circle of dancing people, Sersi and Kore were a part of that dance. Everyone let go to start doing their own thing and children went up to dance with the woman in pink. Kore danced and spun in circles forming red and yellow flower petals and letting them fall from her hand onto the children who began playing with them.

The pair looked at her with smiles as the children began asking her more about the Eternals. Kore looked at the children with a slight smirk as she formed realistic statues of earth and announced in Babylonian.

“There’s The Wise Ajak and The Brilliant Phastos. The Courageous Gilgamesh and The Graceful Thena. The Cunning Sprite and The Fabulous Kingo. The Determined Ikaris and The Marvelous Sersi. And finally, The Beautiful Makkari and The Handsome Druig. We will be here when Deviant s attack but this must not discourage you from training and fighting your own battles. You are human and capable of extraordinary things, so go out and live your lives, be caring and brave and I promise you will do things of legends!” Kore finished sending a flurry of gold flower petals into the air as the Babylonians cheered.

The party continued and some of the Eternals went up to Kore.

“I think you’re the only person to ever call Druig, handsome. Also I’m way better looking than that.” Kingo stated, jokingly, getting a couple laughs.

“Well, she got my looks spot on. Very handsome, no?” Gil asked, posing next to his statue.

“Why’d you have to out do my speech and show huh?” Sprite questioned, slightly nudging Kore with a smile.

“Well, I believe she forgot someone very important.” Druig remarked.

Kore looked around confused as to who she missed, “Who? I got everyone, didn't I?”

Druig walked up to her looked her in the eyes as she spoke, “You, The Lovely Kore.”

Kore sighed but then softly hit Druig’s shoulder as he chuckled, “You had me worried!”

“These are beautiful.” Makkari signed a compliment, looking at her and Druig’s statues.

“Thank you, though I guarantee I could never make them as beautiful as the originals.” Kore signed and spoke with a smile.

“Oh, I forgot, I have gifts for you all!’ Kore announced. She held Makkari’s wrist before concentrating, vines wrapped around her wrist then 11 flower petals sprouted on them, each a different color.

“Bracelets?” Sersi questioned,

“Mhm! Each petal represents one of us. And the best part is they’ll never die.” Kore explained, making one for Sersi.

She then moved on to Sprite as Phastos said, “You made immortal plant bracelets?”

“Yep, you don’t have to wear it though.” Kore said, in the process of making Gilgamesh’s.

“You’re kidding. I’m never taking mine off.” Kingo exclaimed.

Finally Kore made Druig’s and then turned to Makkari to talk about something.

Druig smiled at his girls as the night continued on.

*•~Emo-Space-Tea~•*

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[nad-zeta]

Mitsuhide- The Blind Date

Fandom: Ikesen

Pairings: Mitsuhide x Reader

Genre: Modern Au

Warning: Alcohol

Words: 1800+

Comments: Eeeeep, guess what time it is???? Whooop Whooop! //dances around ❤❤❤😳🥺🥺😳❤🌈 This week gonna be funnnnn!

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ

How in the high heavens did Mitsuhide allow this to happen. Had he truly lost his mind—gone entirely insane— or perhaps he had been drugged, yes, for there was no other logical explanation as to why on earth he would humour his friends so.

Sitting on the high stool at the bar, he checked his phone, 8:53— he would give her seven more minutes and then he was going to yeet out— that way, at least he could tell the other that he ‘tried’. After all, that was all he promised his friends— that he would show up—nothing more, nothing less.

Tracing his finger along the rim of the whiskey glass, Mitsuhide contemplated the events that transpired leading to this rather unfortunate present day.

All his friends were either dating or married—tragic really—and for some or other reason, they felt the need to pry into his personal life. “Don’t you want to share your life with someone,” the mother of the group started, which inevitably only caused the rest of the group to latch onto the idea and turn the once serious board meeting into a game of matchmaking. It certainly didn’t help that he agreed to a blind date willingly— well semi willingly, anything to get them off his back— adding a condition of his own, that the mouse would have to agree to it from her side without intervention from theirs.

He was confident she would refuse, from the words of friends, she certainly sounded like someone of likewise thinking— a fellow workaholic with no time for dating. But she — to his great surprise— accepted.

It made no sense to him. What made even less sense was why his friends thought the two would click, as personalities and hobbies certainly didn't seem to gell well— at least not in his mind.

Not that any of that mattered as time was ticking away, and she had one more minute to show up before he would call it a night.

A myriad of texts illuminated his phone, and Mitsuhide could only release a dejected sigh from the latest of messages plaguing the group chat. “Be nice and behave yourself,” the mother hen had said.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” came the instigation from Masamune, followed by an array of winking faces and smirk emojis. Now you can only imagine the chaos that unleashed upon the group chat with each member laying their own little egg and nugget of wisdom.

“M-Mitsu?” a soft unsure voice spoke up from beside him, tapping him gently on the shoulder.

Switching his phone off, he plastered a snek-like smile across his features before turning his sharp eyes onto the unfortunate little victim of his company.

“My, you must be the little mouse I’ve heard so much about," came the sly words from his mouth as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him.

With a slight smile shot his way, you took up residence on the tall barstool, “In the flesh,” came your cheeky voice as you shrugged off your jacket and placed both elbows on the table to rest your chin upon your hands.

“And you must be the detective?” you quipped back.

Mitsuhide smiled at that, eyes taking on a mischievous glint as he leaned in closer to drop his voice to a dangerous whisper, “of sorts,” he quickly looked behind him — to add to the suspicion— before returning his attention to you, “and you, my dear, have unfortunately been set up and caught in the foxes trap.”

He kept your gaze in all seriousness.

He was sure you had heard the rumours of his interrogation methods, being no secret at all in the little town you occupied, people, unfortunately, liked to gossip — and whether the rumours of his wicked ways of getting information out of suspects had been spread intentionally or not, people tend to move with caution around him. It was, unfortunately, the nature of his job, and as such, led him down this long lonely road.

You narrowed your eyes at the man, silence befalling the pair of you as you held his gaze before responding in an equally intimidating voice, “have you now, or is it you who has been caught in my trap.”

After another pause, you threw your head back in a burst of laughter without a care in the world. 'He seems fun,' you thought, shooting a wink in the direction of the bartender in thanks for the whiskey on the rocks. You picked up the crystal glass and swirled the liquid around before taking a long sip. It had been a long day, so much so that you almost wanted to stand the poor man up, yet you came anyway, if only for a stiff drink to ease the tension of the day.

“So, Mr fox detective, sir, what’s wrong with you that your friends felt the need to set you up on a blind date, and with me of all people! Do they hate you or something?" you asked, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.

In the dimly lit bar, you gave Mitsuhide a quick once over— he was handsome, in a dangerous, mysterious kind of way. He reminded you of a creature of myths— a kitsune— with his white hair and golden eyes accompanied by that razor-sharp smile. Perhaps that is why the rumours surrounding him were all so believable to the simpletons of the town who had nothing better to do than gossip— cause heaven forbid they do actual work for a change. Relatively speaking, you had not paid the gossip much mind. Instead, you were in the business of judging a book for yourself and not by what others rated it as.

“I could ask the same of you, little one?” he returned the question back to you, resting his chin on his hands.

“Well, to put it simply, my friends don’t know the difference between being alone and being lonely,” you said with a sigh, taking another sip of the drink in front of you.

Mitsuhide nodded in response, long fingers tracing over his glass thoughtfully with a hum of acknowledgement as you continued. “I knew if I refused to come tonight, they would just pester me until I agreed, so, in the name of some peace and quiet, here I am,” you ended off with a laugh and shake of the head.

Perhaps that was not entirely true; sometimes, you wondered what it would be like to find love— to have company to attend the various friend’s weddings with— after all, you were forever the bridesmaid and never the bride.

On the other hand, he knew the struggles of meddling friends all too well, and of course, the endless headache that accompanied the refusal of their ‘help’. He lifted his glass towards you, features softening as eyes crinkled at the seams in a semi genuine smile, “to meddlesome friends.”

You smiled brightly at that, clinking your glass with his as a comfortable silence befell the two of you—it looks like you had more in common than just your workaholic ways.

After a couple of minutes had passed, both your phones lit up at the same time, with an array of nosy friends asking about the ongoing date. And the two of you couldn’t help but burst into laughter and shake your heads in unison, “Unbelievable,” you spoke, taking another sip, an idea forming in your head to get them off your case for a little while longer.

Mitsuhide raised a curious brow at you as you silently lifted your phone, scrolling between the apps before landing on the camera. You shot him a mischievous smile before throwing your arm around his shoulder to pull him closer to you, “What do you think they would say if we sent a selfie,” you said, looking into the camera smiling brightly as finger spammed the little circle capturing a dozen or so photos before Mitsuhide even had time to rebuff. You never did mind creating a bit of chaos, and what better way to do so than, god forbid, you actually hit it off with the man.

“I wonder,” was all he said with a sly smile, and to your surprise, Mitsuhide actually smiled in a handful of the ones captured.

You quickly edited the picture, posting it onto the group with a cheeky caption; however, before locking your phone once more, something in the image caught your attention—a little sticker on Mitsuhide’s trench coat lapel. Your brows furrowed as you zoomed in to inspect it before they lifted to the man beside you, to see it in person. With a curious smile and finger pointed out to the little fox sticker, you couldn’t help but ask, “What’s with the little fox?”

“It’s a long story, my dear,” he said with an air of mystery, but you persisted, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Well, I have time,” the words fell from your mouth, followed by another round of drinks ordered.

“You truly wish to know, little one?” he replied with glowing eyes. And that was the beginning of the end.

The origin story of the fox sticker led to another, that, then led to another and then another. Until a fun game started between the two of you— a story for a story— each new tale accompanied by a new round of drinks ordered.

It was now your turn to tell yet another exciting story, this time about your childhood of all things, however, time had quickly slipped away, and before you knew it, your eyelids started to grow heavy with sleep, words coming out slower and slower until finally your head fell and landed on Mistuhised shoulder.

“My, my little one, you should not let your guard down so easily with a man like me,” the tender words were spoken; it was one of those rare occasions Mitsihide dropped his foxlike mask and wore a genuine smile.

He looked over to see you sound asleep, and it seemed that his fingers moved to their own accord, reaching up to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingertips. After a moment or two, he shrugged off his trench coat and draped it over your shoulders to keep you warm and protected from the cold night’s chill.

“Come along, little mouse; I believe it is time for sleepy mice to go to bed.”

He then proceeded to gently hook his arm around your legs and waist, picking you up bridal style and cradling you to his chest.

“You truly are a troublesome little one, whatever shall I do with you,” he spoke fondly as he carefully loaded you into the passenger seat of his car before securing the seatbelt around you, while you, completely unstirred, remained fast asleep.

You awoke the next day in your own bed, splitting headache nagging at your temples as unfocused gaze locked onto a glass of water and aspirin left by your bedside. Sitting up, you wasted no time taking the hangover cure, memories of the previous night flooding your head.

“Shit shit shit shit,” you curse under your breath, throwing yourself back and covering your head with a pillow— how very uncool of you to just pass out in front of a stranger like that, never mind how unsafe.

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table beside you, cutting your groans of embarrassment and cringe short, replacing it instead with a broad smile upon reading the text from your mysterious date.

[espressokiri]

We’ll Make History

Sero x GN!reader

In which reader feels too drained after their quirk usage and feels that they’ve become dead-weight.

Warning: Violence, curse words, self-doubt.

Genre: Angst

Reader has a mana manipulation quirk in which they are able to create weapons and a shield barrier from mana.

It was chaos.

Civilians screaming and dashing away from the scene as Nomu’s terrorized the city. They were scary enough physically, but the hidden quirks they held created a dread within Y/n as they did not know how to approach the creatures without having an understanding of their abilities.

Y/n felt overstimulated with the blood pounding in their ears and the shrill screams of the non-heroes, their thoughts were jumbled as their eyes darted around their environment -assessing the environment and worrying about their classmates. Their fingers were twitching as they held their quirk at the ready for any strike that may occur.

A Nomu had screeched in their face before lunging to attack, Y/n immediately bringing up a shield to defend against its attack and creating a knife out of mana to stab through the exposed brain. The shield shattered upon its impact, gracing Y/n with a painful ring to their ears. The Nomu shrieked as the knife repeatedly slashed through before it slumped and stilled.

Despite being able to get a hero license, Y/n was not confident with the unknown. For a sixteen year old to be exposed to such environments was stressful, especially since they weren’t meant to be on the scene. It was just supposed to be a rescue mission they said, they said it wouldn’t be like the training camp where they fought villains out of their experience. They lied. They either lied or weren’t expecting multiple Nomu’s to take the place of the villains they had come to familiarize with. Either way, the students were told to use their quirks for defence and protection of the innocent bystanders. 

At this rate, they might as well register the hero course students as heroes.

Rushing towards the centre of the chaos, buildings were lit aflame -the familiar blue hues dancing off of the concrete, mockingly. The heat from the wind gazed their skin as sweat began to break out. Their hero costume was beginning to feel constricting and they felt suffocated, this did not look like a good scenario at all.

Y/n stabbed through multiple Nomu’s and went through a process of blocking their attempts to prevent them slamming into them, which lead to a sharp ringing in their ears and muffled surroundings every time their barrier shattered on contact. Y/n could feel the blood dripping out of their ear canal, their stupid drawback taking place from the harsh usage and constant shattering.

Y/n was quick to jump out of the way as a flow of blue fire came at them. Defences at the ready, Y/n turned to where Dabi stood. He had a knack for dramatics upon every encounter the two had, Y/n wasn’t even surprised that he would find them.

“We meet again, huh?” Dabi drawled, a crazed look in his eye, “too bad I don’t have time for you today, do you know where Endeavour is?”

Y/n’s eye twitched at the casual tone of Dabi’s, “what am I? His keeper?”

Dabi narrowed his eyes at them and let out a small laugh, “burn with the rest of them then!”

Y/n deflected his flames and ran at him, creating sharp daggers to continuously shoot at the villain. Dabi, being preoccupied with burning the knives to ash, grunted when a force tackled him onto concrete. A knife situated at his throat as two daggers had lodged into his palms, forcing his hands to his sides. 

“I’m tired of you, you know that?” Y/n sighed as they gripped the dagger, raising it to strike his shoulder in means to incapacitate him instead of murder.

They pushed through the flesh but retracted as flames licked at their arm. Dabi had wrenched his hand off the concrete and used his quirk on them, immediately pushing them off of him and attacking. Y/n tried dodging and deflecting his attacks but became slower each time, their body losing energy with the rapid use of their quirk.

A length of tape wrapped around their waist and dragged them away, into steady arms of Sero -who looked just as dishevelled as Y/n. 

“Let’s try not getting burnt to a crisp tonight, sound good?”

Despite the humour in Sero’s tone, a slight shake in his voice could be heard. Y/n just slumped back against him, happy to have a familiar face near them, “sounds amazing.” 

“Lets go, we have to finish up the rest of these Nomu’s.” Sero heaved Y/n up from their slumped position and faced the remainder of the terrors.

They didn’t know where the rest of their friends were or where the other pro heroes were occupied, the fear and worry would stay with them until they finish up and gather together to head back to dorms where they can head count everyone.

A Nomu had gotten hold of Y/n and slammed them down on the gravel, cracks and dents forming below the student. “Y/n!” Sero exclaimed, shooting his tape and mummifying the Nomu as best as he could so he would be able to check on them. The Nomu simply broke through the tape with ease and yanked Sero with the tape he shot out.

Before any damage could be done to the male, multiple mana made daggers stabbed through the Nomu’s exposed brain, rendering it still before slumping down lifeless.

“Sero.” Y/n mumbled, not having enough energy as they took it out on most Nomu’s and their constant resistance. Sero stumbled over to them, eyeing the blood that oozed from their split forehead and multiple bruises littering their form. There was definitely some internal bleeding.

“Go and find the rest of them. They might need you.” Y/n said blankly before turning their gaze above, “they need both of us! Get up, Y/n!” Sero went to grab their hand and gently pull them up. A wince made Sero slow his movements.

“I don’t think I’d be of much help,” Y/n dryly laughed, “I’m dead weight right now.”

Sero had never seen the person he liked this way before, it wasn’t that they weren’t confident in their quirk before -they were, but they always proved themselves wrong- it was that they had given up at this very critical moment.

“Y/n, we promised to make it big and we had this whole plan as pro-heroes...” Sero trailed off, not sure what they exactly wanted to hear. “There will be many other pro’s you can achieve those with.”

Y/n’s body was in utter pain, they knew something was broken but they couldn’t pinpoint the location as pain was shooting everywhere. They just masked it as to not let their fellow classmate panic.

“No, Y/n, I want to do those things with you!” Sero bursted, “I’m not leaving you here open to other villains! We’re doing this together! I like you, Y/n, and I’ll be damned if I let you lay here alone after confessing!”

Y/n threw their head back as a laugh of disbelief escaped their throat before a groan followed through, “a-ah fuck, is this what Aizawa felt? Man got pummelled thrice, no wonder he went unconscious.”

“Also, screw you Sero for confessing in the middle of all this because I like you too.” Sero looked at them wide-eyed as they pushed themselves to stand, body trembling from the weight as their injuries were agitated and shooting pain continuously, “now let’s get this over with before I pass out.”

“Promise we’ll make history?” Sero held out his pinky finger towards them.

Y/n linked their pinky with Sero’s, “promise.”