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kovacs-of-courage · 1 year ago

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Downspiral--A Eclipse AU Sky one shot

-------------------------November 8th, 1943------------------------------

-------------------------Pacific Theater------------------------------------

Sky gritted his teeth in concentration, jerking the yoke of his fighter plane forward. A myriad of alarms shouted demise from the view of his fractured canopy, smoke trailing his battered wings.

There’d be no landing this bird, not softly anyway. The brakes were the first system to go when the guardian’s laser hit, along with the rest of the empennage. Controlling its speed was an impossibility now, leaving Sky as the lucky(and not very grateful) pilot of a forever accelerating one-way carriage to hell.

The radio at his right sparked and flickered to life, incoherent static bubbling through charred wires and melted steel.

“Canary-O-...Canary One, Can you read me?”

Sky recognized the voice immediately; It was his captain, his ship’s captain that is.

“I read you command,” Sky said casually, like he was on any other mission, and not riding a miles long death spiral over the pacific. He thought it lucky that he’d regained his memories days before, given the fact that he’d be most likely disobeying orders if his captain contacted him for the reason he presumed.

“The order to retreat was signaled, all airborne pilots need to fall bac-”

Sky put his right hand on the throttle, cranking the level forward; a hurricane's worth of wind blasting into his goggles.

“I’m sorry sir, but I’m not doing that,” Sky said, unphased by the rapidly increasing g-forces of his chaotic descent.

“Oh yes the hell you are, petty officer. Some rat-fuck brass eagle and a beehive of metal flies wipes out half the fleet in an afternoon, and you think NOW is the time to start disobeying orders?” The captain screamed, his bafflement turned volatility evident.

“I do, actually,” Sky curtly replied. It didn’t bother him much, the idea of provoking the wrath of the military, and he reported to a higher authority anyway; whom he hoped he’d see again, if he survived this aerial bonfire.

The Captain, barely restraining his frustration, reacted as one might expect to hearing his best pilot casually go awol, in the heat of battle no less--

“Petty Officer, I am ORDERING you to turn back. You have five seconds to do so before I decide to take your cute little joke seriously, and order you blown halfway to hell.”

Sky scoffed, breathing unsteadily as plume-ing smoke flushed through the cockpit’s damaged windshield, “I’m...ha...touched you think me so important, sir. But I’m trying to focus here, so please shut up and let me fly.”

“Who the fuc-WHO THE FUCK do you think you are? You are disobeying a DIRECT ORDER; DON’T THINK I WON’T HAVE YOU SHO-”

Sky slammed his hand into the crackling speakers, disabling them, “This conversation’s over.”

As skilled as Sky was in the air; even he needed some piece of mind to do his job right.

He let the speed acclimate over his spiraling craft, the cranked throttle working its pistoned engine to the limits. He’d dropped out of the main area of devastation, the graveyard of falling tonnage where both the American and Japanese forces had been ambushed by Vah Medoh’s Guardian escort.

The fleet of propeller-mounted constructs swarmed the airspace, blotting out clouds and sunlight; more than worthy of protecting their prize. They numbered in the hundreds, maybe thousands at a generous estimate. Their numbers alone were enough to overwhelm any standing airforce, nevermind the lasers that boiled hotter than the surface of the sun.

Sky knew that there was a snowflake's chance in hell that he was going to catch up to Vah Medoh, in the state his plane was in. He’d worry about the flying war machine later--after he landed his soon-to-be pile of scrap metal.

It was a task easier said than done, Sky was finding. Fighting in the square center of the world’s largest ocean left his hands tied.

He did have an escape plan, if one could call it that.

North of his current, fiery heading was a thin wafer of land, two miles long at best. A paltry forest lined its inland paradise, surrounded by beaches of jagged stone and untouched nature.

For most pilots, trying to land across such a makeshift, unwelcoming strip would be an effort in self-destructive fatality. A recipe for an explosion of shrapnel and blood; the makings of a grim cautionary tale.

Sky was not most pilots.

Landing would be the easy part; in that Sky was confident. It was the trio of guardians patrolling the island that worried him; an all airborne attache, separated from the main fleet, and primed to blast him to kingdom come at a moment’s notice.

He’d known of their presence before his dive to scrape the waves, deciding regardless to follow through with his daredevil scheme. It’d been apart of the reason he was so dead-set on his forward acceleration--faster targets tended to be harder to hit.

He was flying the glass cannon of glass cannons; the slightest touch of a guardian’s laser beam an instant game over for him and his rumbling coffin on wings. Playing to his strengths, however few, would be essential to his survival.

That, and some out of the box thinking.

Sky had dropped in red-hot over the ocean waters, falling like a man made comet from the stars--riding his fighter a dangerous half-thousand feet or so above the surface. At his current, bone-rattling velocity, he’d reach weapons range in under a minute. Times like this made him thankful he was born and raised on skyloft; letting him shrug off g-forces that’d stop a human’s heart stone-cold dead.

The enemy horizon filled Sky’s cockpit in a moment’s blink; his craft racing toward the unsuspecting guardians like a goddess-thrown thunderbolt. They were spread thin across the island, a unit of one and a team of two patrolling to northern and southern ends respectively.

Sky went for the former, jostling his control stick back to raise his altitude, quickly matching that of his target. He breathed in deep, steeled nerves unshaken by the raging fires growing behind his seat.

Neutralizing a Guardian, according to his brother’s account, was a simple process when it came down to the mechanics. Its central eyepiece, the pulsating blue spiral at the bottom stalk of an aerial guardian’s chassis, doubled as its main cannon and only onboard optic.

Applying sufficient force to the shared hardpoint would, in theory, temporarily overlord both systems--disarming and blinding it simultaneously. An achilles heel of staggering proportions, something that Sky’s comparatively primitive weapons could easily exploit.

Pressing down on the control trigger to his wing mounted guns; Sky exhaled out as streams of cascading lead and destruction spat from his left and right. He clicked them on in the crucial seconds before collision, letting loose his full arsenal at as close as point-blank realistically possible.

The armor-piercing, high caliber ammunition tore through the immobilized guardian, shredding it’s ancient metals and circuity with the ease of a buzzsaw cutting up flesh.

Sky pushed further still, the smoking shrapnel and crackling debris flying past him in seconds; swooping wide around the island’s western side, aggressively fighting his half-responding controls--the metals of his cockpit quivering in unsteady unison.

“Come on..come on...stay with me here,” Sky said, mumbling under his breath, “only a few minutes longer.”

The plane turned to it’s side, committing hard to it’s broad arc; thin lines of blinking scarlet dotted across it’s wings--signaling greater damages to come.

Sky’s vision panned out, following the trailing reticles to their sources; finding the remaining guardians fast on his tail, primed to kill.

“And looks like the guests have finally arrived,” Sky said, thinking aloud.

The burning aircraft snapped from it’s exposed position, leveling it’s flight and moving between the paths of the ensuing energy blasts--avoiding contact by inches. Sky let the attacks pass, beginning a rapid ascent the moment after, the thrill of a thousand falls pumping his heart like an adrenalized sledgehammer.

The pair that followed Sky split into two roles, aiming to entrap him. He understood their strategy almost instantly, watching one guardian follow his steep climb, and another follow at a distance--leading its shots ahead of his predicted flight path.

Sky flew erratically, reacting to each timed strike with a knee jerk turn or roll seconds before impact, a playfully insulting dance through the smoldering air. He spat proudly in the face of the reaper.

However impressive his aerial acrobatics were, Sky knew that it was a bandaid fix to a gaping bullet-wound of a problem. Neither he nor his fighter could do this forever. He’d eventually slip up and suffer the consequences, or his deteriorating ride would fail and result in the same.

Landing as initially planned wasn’t an option anymore, it was becoming clearer and clearer that the only way his bird was touching the ground again was by gravity alone.

So he climbed.

Sky pressed his machine to the limits, rising steeply into the clouds. He’d increased the curvature of his trajectory until his flight path was nearly wholly vertical, the guardian in pursuit coming close on his quivering tail; it’s blinking reticle dead-set on leaving Sky as an airborne cremation.

The chase breached the heavens and gleaming sun, the amber horizon reflecting patterns of infinite rays off each machine’s chassy--manned and unmanned. Sky pressed the bulk of his strength into the jittering controls of his cockpit, geysers of broiling steam screaming from its torn gaps. The ship was tearing itself apart by the seams, velocity and injury mixing together in a fireball cocktail of catastrophe--Sky’s cue to leave, in other words.

Holding onto the windowless ridge of his canopy, Sky peered at the space directly below, the sight of the advancing guardian affirming his plan; it’s cannon mere moments from firing. He rushed to his instruments, speeding through its systems--and shutting down them all--effectively turning his ship into little more than a nine thousand pound paperweight.

It was a win for both sides, really. The Guardians got to clear the airspace, and Sky got a golden ticket to freefall--on top of not dying no less! Now that’s a bargain, a steal some might even say.

That’s what Sky thought, at least. He was unreasonably calm about the whole affair, eager to plummet through ozone once again. So eager he didn’t bother to bring his parachute, only his beloved sword and shield. He had an escape plan, and it sure as hell didn’t include letting an oversized sailcloth make him a sitting duck.

Sky hit the air running, finding his footing among the clouds and the setting sun almost instantly--like an angel being sent back to the heavens. It was like he’d never left, traversing the world among the stars as natural as he did the one below. He extended his hands to be level with his eyes, bending his knees--subconsciously arching himself against the wind’s pressure.

He’d left in a dash, faster than the guardian chasing him could process. The fleeting image of the pilot bailing not registering, as the airborne sheikah tank continued towards a head-on collision with the burning fighter plane; its beam cannon well into the process of firing.

The resulting shockwave rattled the air, the force hitting Sky’s back like a moblin punch, propelling him downwards. He shut his jaw tight, the taste of copper surging from his winded throat, the suffering mitigated by the visage of falling debris; comprised of charred steel and gears alike.

That was two down, and one sorry machine to go.

The remaining guardian, the supporting barrage from before, had a red dot on Sky the moment it’d realized he left his craft. A fast-ish response; good enough to handle most skydiving, sword-wielding maniacs, however many of those there happened to be. Its algorithms anticipated and prepared responses based on logical assumptions, predicting the opponent’s most sensible move and aiming to best counter it.

A key flaw in that thought process, as one might expect, was that it struggled to adapt to something truly stupid, a tactic so reckless that even a machine built for wave combat was left puzzled for answers. The type of bold, headstrong zeal that made it default to its base targeting mechanisms, throwing all advanced computing methods out the window and into a burning trash fire.

The type of bold, headstrong zeal that, to the bane of countless servants of demise and Ganon, was championed by the hero’s spirit. Sky’s landing strategy being the current example. He’d glided forward, giving each laser a wide berth in his swinging descent, choosing to fall closer to the Guardian.

He’d holstered the master sword, putting his head and chest behind his down-facing shield, his determination burning hotter than suns. The lasers increased in frequency, lines of calculating energy missing the hero upon each attempt, the cannon firing faster as Sky inched nearer.

Sky reached into his equipment, not more than a thousand feet from landing directly on the Guardian’s spinning propellers. He pulled forth a clawed, chain-loaded mechanism into his right hand, it’s ordained bronze and ivory reflecting the dimming sunlight.

Seconds away from contact, Sky readied his shield to the guardian; It’s cannon seething energy, it’s cerulean pupil ablaze and overloaded. It was now or never, the final tipping point of many to decide the battle’s climatic conclusion.

Rippling lightning on it’s edges, the juiced-up laser bit jaws of scalpel precision through the skin of reality; gouging wounds of jagged white bleeding in it’s wake. It drilled into the goddess shield, the god-like thunder popping molecules and devouring matter in voracious hunger.

The force of the attack was immense, a malignant battering ram of bone snapping hatred. Sky was spared from it’s carnage, the idol of his goddess rewarding his faith--protecting him entirely against the forces of darkness. He pressed his strength, what remained, into his left arm; moving the shield in the initial stages of the impact--deflecting the projectile back to it’s creator.

Unable to avoid the parry, the Guardian was forced to swallow it’s own medicine. An eruption of smoke and whining electronics layered the space separating it and Sky. Not that it stopped Sky, who’d already reached out his clawshot, aiming square at the burning machine.

The clawshot hit, finding home in the lower region of the guardian; sinking into the darkened sight of it’s disabled cannon. Sky clicked it’s return button, snaking himself into the suffocating cloud, navigating with ease. He made contact in seconds, pocketing his grappling device once he’d gotten ahold.

The time for gadgets has passed. Fi would guide him home, as she always had.

Brilliant light pierced the chaos, a beacon of hope and justice held righteous. The master sword dissipated smoke and doubts alike, humming softly in her master’s grasp. Sky held tight to her, climbing himself to the top of the guardian with his sparehand--a difficult task given the turbulent spiral it’d adopted.

Reaching the top, it wasn’t hard to see the reasons why.

It’d been left a shell of it’s former architecture, the explosion blowing craters in the roof of it’s inscribed carapace. One of it’s propellers had been blasted clean off, and another was bleeding sapphire flame in unsteady rotations. That left a single fully functioning propulsion mechanism, and little ability to repair it.

Which, to Sky’s credit, was his intended outcome.

He shakily hung to the guardian’s roof, his foot digging for leverage in bundles of exposed circuitry and gears. He reached into his equipment again, the golden hilt of his scarlet whip soon revealing itself.

Sky slung his arm forward, circling his whip tight around the center shaft of the damaged rotor. It barely avoided the blades, the tilted angle of flight leaving it spare from injury--and allowed Sky the stability for decent footing standing atop the guardian, not at fear of being blown off.

Still, that did little to stop or slowthe incoming crash; a cursory glance would make it seem like he’d just traded one suicide boat for another. Sky only hoped that the opposite was true, otherwise this entire effort would be in vain, and the world he vowed to protect would be less defended for it.

It’d be a tragedy of multiple degrees, spinning gears in a heartbreaking clockwork of guilt. And it’d stay as a possibility, a future that wouldn’t come, for so Sky sweared it.

He hadn’t died a martyr yet, and by the grace of hylia, he wasn’t going to start now.

Sky rose the master sword above his head, swaying under the rapidly changing heights. He closed his eyes for a second, a precious infinity of connection between him and the powers that he forever served, and the people he protected.

He let his will go onto his blades, and his blades onto the heavens, or their remnants. She answered his call, as she had countless times before, the vestiges of his love’s divinity whispering cascading adoration across the essence of Sky’s soul.

Thunder struck down onto the blade of evil’s bane, warm benevolence radiating from it’s cerulean shine. Sky let the sword absorb the energy, choosing then to drive it deep below his feet; an ocean of power and awe surging within the guardian, cleansing the corruption and rejuvenating it’s salvageable systems.

The Guardian whirred to life, as best as the circumstances allowed anyway; the mauve malignant replaced by backdrops of blinding white. It didn’t adjust itself upright, seemingly aware that Sky was aboard. It spoke in unintelligible garbles, in a language Sky had no understanding of.

It kept on it’s trajectory, spinning it’s damaged rotor faster as to compensate for the speeding descent. Sky held onto his whip like one would the reins of a horse, having sheathed the master sword in a desperate two-handed attempt to steer the now hylia serving machine away from the treeline.

An effort that was, in the end, only partially successful. The guardian’s meteoric drop had hovered precariously above the island jungle, the blades of it’s rotors shredding the stray branch of leaf that reached to it’s height. Inevitably though, it dropped lower and lower to the surface, brushing against increasingly denser and harder fauna.

The Guardian’s solution? Open fire on everything in it’s path.

Sky recoiled, due both to the physics of being a crashtest dummy on a makeshift shiekah rodeo, and at hearing the buzzing, broken sound of the guardian’s main cannon recharging in full. A main cannon that, this time around, wielded the cosmic divine as it’s power source.

Blistering might spat from the unsteady machine, a singular line of searing light cleaving molten-hot mayhem through the forest; an erratic light show of fatal consequences. The pathway before Sky was little more than fuel for the newborn forest fire, the unintentional consequences of his gambit more than evident in the carnage.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel, however, as the beachside clearing of the island grew larger in view. The guardian barely a few feet above the earth, running over charred bark and flaming stumps like a bull in a china shop. Sky dug his foot into it’s metal, hoping to ride his rollercoaster to the end.

The island had other plans.

A boulder, to be more specific.

Hidden by foliage and dug into the sand, the several ton rock laid at the edge of the forest, and was unshaken by the goddess powered robot. The collision with it’s frontside had been the final nail in the coffin for Sky’s ride--and the reason he was currently shaking sand out of his ears.

It’d launched him a dozen feet in the air, ragdolling across the beach like the other wreckage, though he was significantly less worse for wear. Unlike the other crashees, HE was still in one piece.

Sky continued rolling, his leather jacket and cap doing well to prevent the sand from completely flooding his clothes. It took five minutes, five minutes of tumbling limbs and groaning regret for the universe to take some sense of pity on him and stop his fall.

Despite how loud his spine was screaming for him to sit down, Sky found that recovery was faster than he’d thought. Getting to his feet was a reward in itself, more than any punishment that his body tried tempering it with.

Sky looked down at himself, ruffled and disheveled, his legs and arms coated with blemishes and burns. His brother had once told him that scars were hallmarks of victory, if that were true, then Sky’s stunt had earned the hero rounds of roaring applause. It didn’t bother him, not really, himself was the last thing Sky was concerned about--didn’t even make the top five.

Getting a way off this rock was his main concern, maybe finding one of his brothers, either or at this point. That being said--with no ship, no radio, and being deserted on an island in the middle of nowhere; finding an escape would take some creativity.

A problem for another day, another night perhaps too. He’d just spent his working afternoon losing his job and making death for theirs, energized was not the word to describe himself after that.

Right now, he’d appreciate his survival for what it was; a victory.

And that was enough.

I made this due to the wonderful art(as seen above) my friend @ikaishere made of Ace Pilot Sky! Go check them out, they're wonderful!

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #oneshot #fanfic #eclipse au #short fic #linked universe fanfic #lu sky #ace pilot sky #ww2 sky #haven't posted in a while #been writing just forget to post here #eclipse au sky #lu au #action #kovac fic #linkeduniverse au #linked universe au #linkeduniverse sky

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whenthegoldrays · 10 months ago

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I’ve been seized by another story idea

#this one is a time travel portal romance ahahahh #i've been having it in the back of my head for weeks and weeks but i just barely hit upon the right way to get the plot going #ahhh this makes *checks notes* five stories i'm developing at the same time #(three fics and two original stories)#although #‘working on’ is a generous statement for my 1500s lutyn AU which i haven’t touched in like months #okay so four stories #i am going to write up the twinkling watermelon one between this week and next week for sure #and try to finish chapter three of the ww2 AU #and THEN i will freewrite a bit for the two original stories #meanwhile i will continue to brainstorm #elly's posts #elly writes!

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ceiling-karasu · 3 months ago

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Tried to go to bed, but kind of figured out a backstory to the weasel kingdoms and the war with Flower Hill. It fits in fairly well with real life history as well.

#I haven't slept much #Do NOT want to clog the fandom tags too much but I guess it might happen today #I'll have to make a post later #ww2 still didn't happen in my au because animal biology would not allow for wars like that #the rod that blocks the lighting

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tommmmmmmy-7 · 8 months ago

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Stuff about me bc I have some updates and idk

So this was previously/still kinda is a mainly newsies centred blog, I was MAJORLY hyperfixated on newsies for a while there, it’s kinda died down a little bit bc idk

You see, im the kind of person to do many many things at the same time. Right now my brain is focusing on Newsies still, also School Bus Graveyard, marching band, and writing my own books again. It just happens.

I also have a special interest kinda in anything WW2 and WW2 American Bomber planes (specifically the Memphis Belle!!!)

Soooo I might post about those too just sayin.

(I still am working on my Newsie Au with my characters, as well as to write and edit and maybe publish my own books)

#newsies #alternate universe #more stuff about my newsie au #idk man #writing #The Memphis Belle #planes #school bus graveyard #intro post #autism #adhd #audhd #I think about a lot of things ok #ww2 history #murica #only during ww2 tho #i’m also an author #original character

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localfanbaselurker · 1 year ago

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I have no knowledge (lie) of what genuinely goes on in the micro celebrity au but this is something I believe would go on in fireside

*talking about how asians all look the same*

Cartman: you have to be honest here. It’s just the truth. All Asians look the same as well as all black people look the same and all white people look the same. I mean you look Jewish, it’s just a fact kahl

Kyle: How can I look Jewish? You can’t look like a religion

Cartman: What I mean is you look like a Jew, which all look the same. If you were to actually look like the religion, you’d just be David’s star

Kyle, sarcastically: Yeah and if you were a religion you’d be a swastika

#south park #microceleb au #i figured I have to post about it now #from my musings on the ticking app #for those of you who don't know #the swastika is the famous ww2 symbol a certain group of people used

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wowzaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa · 1 year ago

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this is a short(?) story i wrote about an alternate universe in which europe doesn’t exist. you might like it <3

oh btw i make music with my friends, u wanna check it out? itjustwontdie.bandcamp.com

Heartworm 2023 / Cancer In America (FINAL VERSION)

CLASSIC EDITION - REDO

my first story rewritten for apparently the fourth time. but i can tell. this one’s the keeper. mostly bc a lot of generations ii and iii are just edited versions of the 2022 ones but whatevs lmao enjoyyyyyyy ✨✨✨💀😭😭✋🏼✋🏼🍠🍠👢👢👢👍👍👍❤️❤️💖💖😂😂😂😂💖💖😂😂💖😂😂💖😂😂😢😂😂😨

——————

PRELUDE …AND THEN THERE WERE TWO

Let me take you back to March 1927, in a small town in Germany, nowadays called List. All the residents currently living there were gifted, or perhaps cursed, by the birth of a wonderful baby, a son to a young couple trying to make their way through life. This boy was a very special boy and had all his chances to do whatever he wanted as a child, but stayed with the rules and the rules only. Did this truly benefit him or, like, anyone? Find this out for yourself.

At the age of two, he got a job as the spokesman of a nearby toy factory called “SpaßZeit”. It was founded and run by two elderly-aged brothers, Karl and Leon. This company was very famous in West Europe but if you weren’t in that specific area in that specific time period, you won’t have heard about them.

At the time young Konnor got this job, underwater, close to a volcano near a Sicilian village, another baby boy was born, brought to consciousness in an abandoned sea-ville. This boy, soon to be called Oscar, got onto land at around one year of age. He says he doesn’t remember much of the rest of his history, but other times when asked, he’ll go silent, avert his eyes, and leave the room.

Konnor got his parents considerable money over the next few years up until he was orphaned in a freak car accident, his parents drunk driving off a bridge on the way home from a meeting at Spaßzeit.

He and his little sister, Henrietta, stayed at the factory while the two brothers, growing old, nearly burnt themselves building what would’ve been the world’s first animatronic that they called Busterdog. In fact, those two walked right out of the fire without a scratch! Konnor escaped alive, but didn’t think to get Henrietta. Legend says, she apparently fused with or melted into the animatronic. Allegedly, Konnor saw something exit the fire, but it didn’t look like her. Anyways, the next month, on the turn of 1941, the smoke from the fire was still being run out. It was considered toxic, and no one was allowed near the site. The eldest brother (Karl) passed away from an unknown cause and the government was convinced the smoke and ashes carried some kind of virus. The citizens tried to resist, but a lockdown was enforced in 1942. Everyone’s lives in that town became somewhat dystopian from this point forward.

——————

GENERATION I

PART 1 …FUN TIMES

A 12-year-old boy walked into List. He was very rugged and dirty, but had well intentions. His shirt had holes in it and was an off-putting shade of white and his flood pants were nearly shorts that matched the brown shoe that he had. This boy was Oscar, no last name (known to him, at least). He was going to turn thirteen this year soon. He had been taken care of by an unknown woman for over a year before she mysteriously died when he was six and, missing the ability to relax in a safe home, he wanted to apply for a foster family. In order to do so, he had to go to the Krankenhaus and test and get a vaccine for the disease Blorgschnecke, and it affected mainly teens. In the waiting line, he grabbed an article of the local newspaper instead of watching Tokio Jokio on the little Fernseher. He didn’t know much about the current events. He was, in fact, homeless. He had been living mostly behind a dumpster for about two years.

Konnor was having an awful day, as he was applying for a foster family that probably wouldn’t love him and his birthday present from the universe was a Q-tip up his nose and a needle full of toxic chemicals to counter the ones already in his system.

Oscar was the only one not wearing a mask in the line. Everyone else was angry at him. Finally, one man spoke out and everyone started yelling at him. He was confused, as he could not hear what they were saying. Konnor noticed this and told everyone to take their masks off because they were becoming useless: most people in line had them around their chins.

While a riot formed in the street and buildings crashed, Oscar and Konnor stared at each other, flabbergasted, from across the crowd.

———

The next week, the two met in the woods. The government was getting worse every day and gangs were forming that would publicly loot and murder civilians.

They talked for a long time, and they agreed that for the next couple weeks, they should stay somewhere to protect each other. They went searching for a suitable shelter to temporarily stay for the time being. Most places were either taken or, more commonly, past the point of repair. The two finally settled on a cave just south of the mountains.

It was very empty there, and the cave didn’t go deep. Oscar also pointed out that there was an old man to come with the cave. When asked what he was talking about, he turned around and pointed at the surviving Fun Times brother, Leon. He was not aging well, and he had heart problems that showed. He looked up at Konnor like he was an angel.

He said, “Ah! How you gave me such a fright!” They slowly hugged. Leon was tired, yet Konnor wanted to ask questions. “How come you didn’t talk to anyone after Karl passed away?”

“Oh, Konnor. Those legends are crazy. Then again, who knows what could have come out of the alliance of the Dark A…”

Konnor awaited patiently for the end of the pause, but soon enough realized it wasn’t an intentional pause.

The man suddenly couldn’t speak. It seemed he was choking, but he didn’t have anything in his mouth. He looked like he was trying to pry hands off his throat but there was nothing there. In fact, very soon, there was nothing there.

Konnor tried to see if he had a pulse while Oscar rubbed his forehead in disappointment, saying “Why does this have to happen to every old person we meet?”

Konnor continued to panic.

“How could this happen?! Help!”

“Maybe it’s Sinbad or So White and the three Coyotes,” Oscar pithily pointed out.

“Have you tried checking his pockets?” “What could be in there? How would that even help?! Get in your head!” “Just check them.” Konnor kneeled back down and, shaking, reached his hands into the old man’s pockets, to find a folded up piece of paper. It seemed like a note. “Give it to me.” Konnor refused and kept it to himself. They started wrestling on the floor. They got each other in a lock and Oscar quickly grabbed the note. He unfolded it. “Well? What does it say?” “It says, stay away from two things in life. The evil robot, and the.. beast of the night? What, like a dragon or something?” “I have a question.” “What?” “How did you know to reach in his pockets?” “I’m from a place where it’s actually… customary to look in dead people’s pockets. “Where are you from, then?” “I… oh, look! A dead body! We should get that out of the cave before the police get us!” “Okay…”

They shoved the body outside of the cave and rolled it off a cliff. “Glad to see that old man gone,” said Konnor. “Really? I thought you liked him.” “Naw, all he ever did was burn down a factory trying to build a dog from scratch.”

PART 2 …MORE FUN TIMES

“Well, if we’re gonna eat anything, we’d better set up a fire and get some meat.” “Who elected you leader of this outfit?” “You don’t have a last name! How am I supposed to trust you?” “I know how to make hollandaise sauce.” “Do you even have parents?!” “Why do you need to know?” “I doubt you even have a family.” “What about it? What about yours, Konnor?” There was some silence.

“I’ll only get into mine… if you get into yours.” “Fine, I’ll get some kindling.” “Mm hmm. I’ll hunt whatever I can.”

When Oscar came back with kindling and a little dagger from in the middle of the woods, Konnor also came back with two dead pigs. They had a big meal that night.

The next day, Oscar took one of the bigger bones and, intending to make a broth, boiled it in water along with some random spices. He got curious when the whole batch turned blue and started bubbling. He took it off the fire and drank some. It tasted nice. Nothing happened. He heard a loud noise coming from the cave entrance.

He ran over and Konnor was sitting nearby. “Konnor. What was that?” “What was… what?”

“That noise, just now!” “I didn’t hear anything.” “It was coming from this room.” “Look, we need more firewood, and I’m busy finding leftover steel to make helmets and that kind of stuff.” “Swords, too.”

Oscar walked over and tried to open the entrance like he normally did, but it was stuck.

Konnor went to open it for him and see himself in even more glory, but it was stuck no matter how hard they tried to open it. This was bad, this was very bad.

Oscar ran back to the kitchen and the pot where the potion-like broth once was was now empty and there was little to no sign of spillage on the floor. Oscar began to feel very dizzy and uneasy and collapsed without warning on the kitchen floor.

PART 3 …VISITORS

Oscar had experienced some changes since the kitchen incident and become paranoid and even more malnourished.

He kept trying to make a potion that would “undo the curse”.

He had boarded off the original place where he made the cursed potion and would sometimes inhale too many fumes and forget entire hours of time.

While, along the way, he had made some interesting and wacky broths, he didn’t find a ratio of ingredients that was the same as before.

The two had been living together for months now and it was early 1943.

The two had managed to open the entrance, but it was very hard so they would keep it open all summer and closed all winter. Oscar had begun to make a potion book, documenting each “precise” combination. “Precise” meaning “a little bit” and “some” and “a lot”, of course.

Konnor began to regard Oscar as a wizard, and their roles in protecting the cave began to become clear. Konnor would hunt and make metal things, Oscar would make potions and do anything with wood, and they would both garden, which was especially hard since there wasn’t much natural light in a cave nor enough space to garden out front.

It would sometimes be tricky to keep this routine up, however, but only because sometimes Konnor would be tired or have injuries. Oscar was a good fighter when it came to beasts and such but still didn’t like the feeling he got when the enemy was dead or hurt, even when the enemy was particularly mad or evil.

Someone knocked on the entrance.

There were two people, a girl and a boy.

Konnor and Oscar invited them in and they opened the entrance from the outside, making it movable again.

The visitors, in uniforms of some sort, formally introduced themselves as Diana and Michael as they made their way through the

Diana said, “What are your names?” “Why are you asking?” “We have a warrant.” “From who?” “BND.” “This is a really bad time to come-“ “Well, regardless,” said Micheal, “we have been sent here by the German government, and you people are living in this cave without a telephone, housing license, and address.” Konnor pointed out, “How do we know you people aren’t scammers? You look a little young for the government.” Diana showed him a badge with a picture of an elderly man on it. Konnor said, “Wait. That’s not-“ Diana started fighting with him and Oscar ran away. Diana was good at karate but she spoke German, both confusing and bad news for Konnor. He threw hard punches but she was quick and dodged a considerable amount. Oscar ran back with the last potion he made and dumped it all on Diana without any warning. She disappeared as it was pouring. Michael was now gone too.

“Oscar…what did you do?!”

“That doesn’t matter right now.”

“Doesn’t it?!”

“You invited them in and I only defended you and that’s all I’m going to say about that. Don’t make me come over there and bludgeon you with this metal pot.”

Konnor went silent.

Oscar walked to the entrance and went outside.

Konnor immediately followed him out the door but when he looked around, Oscar wasn’t anywhere.

Oscar woke up on some leaves in the woods at midnight. It had been two weeks since the fight with Diana or…whatever her name was. He got up and saw some blood on his hands. He looked at the leaves below. They were also blood red. Blood was dripping down his front. He then looked around him. He could feel the trees looking at him, staring at him. He felt paranoid.

The trees told him it would be best to go and leave the woods behind. He obeyed something for once in his life and ran away.

He woke up in the passenger seat of a Volkswagen Beetle next to a guy who was a few years older than him. The moon began to go down. The driver said, “What were you doing out in the woods?” Oscar said, “Well, I’m not completely sure.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like you were sleepwalking?” “I… really hope I was.” “And, if you weren’t?”

“It’s nothing. I think the question should be, why would you pick up an unconscious stranger from the woods at two A.M?” “I don’t know. You were bleeding from the head-” “I was?” Oscar felt his forehead and there was dried blood all the way down to the end of his nose. “Yes, you were. And you looked like a gang beat you up.” “Yeah. What’s your name?” “Brian Adams. Yours?” ��Is this interrogation gonna go on any further?” “Look, just, where do you live?” “In a cave, only northeast of that abandoned bomb shelter.” “Got it.”

Oscar pressed his face against the window so that his nose was snow-white. He looked at the trees, and their leaves fell off. Their branches formed crosses and the clouds began to turn red. The clouds dripped a red liquid down onto the ground which grew plants. Oscar exclaimed, “Look at that!” “What is it? Show me.” They pulled over. Brian grinned. In real life, there were actually no blood plants and no crossed trees and no out-of-ordinary clouds.

The driver got out a knife. Oscar said, “This is weird. What do you think it is?” “I think… you’re one of them.” “One of who? Is it those Mexican guys who go around stealing earlobes? Because I have nothing to do with them.” “You’re one of the cursed ones.” “Huh?”

PART 4 …PLACEHOLDER ARC

The moment there was a flash of light, there was nothing.

The moment there was a vision, there was simple, plain, wandering blindness.

The moment there were bleeding vines, there was then a road.

Oscar was running down this road, covered in his own blood once again.

He ran into a Glundenheisten (grocery store) and started looking for scissors, a staple gun, matches, or anything else that could be used to fight Brian.

He lit a match but dropped it in the corner, five boxes of wafers now engulfed in flames. He was still looking for a blade of any kind and not acknowledging the safety hazard two feet away from himself.

That’s when an alarm went off in the building.

Policemen ran in and told everyone to find shelter. Konnor ran to Oscar and shouted in the midst of all the noise, “Why did you run away?!”

“The trees were telling me to!”

Konnor was enraged at this.

“You’re insane! The trees did not tell you to run away!”

“They did, too!”

“That doesn’t matter. We have to get OUT of here! Come on!”

“What’s all the commotion about, anyways?”

“A nuclear bomb is being fired at us!”

Oscar, who’d never seen or heard of a nuclear bomb, gazed in amazement out of the window, surrounded by chaos and fire.

“Huh,” he mumbled to himself.

“Will you look at that…”

———

GENERATION II

PRELUDE …AWAKEN, DARLING

Welcome to September 1945, the perfect time of the year to live in America.

Just warm enough, orange trees, kids playing in the park, people waking up from comas…

Two who fell under this category were Konnor and Oscar, your favourite apocalyptic survivors.

I know what you must be thinking. Apocalyptic? What am I talking about?

You’ll see.

After this, there’s only one more generation, by the way, and then something really wild happens.

Beep, beep, beep.

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

Beep beep beep beep.

BeepBeepBeepBeBeBeepBeBeBeBeep.

BeeBeeBeeBeeBeeB-B-B-B-B-Beeeep.

The same way the hospital machines frantically press when heartbeats become faster, Konnor and Oscar jolted to consciousness in their beds.

“What year is this?”

“1945, sir.”

“We time travelled two years in the future?” Oscar didn’t know what to think.

“Only two? This sucks,” said Konnor.

The doctor said, “You didn’t miss anything. The war kept on going until a couple days ago.”

There was a note on their bedsides, it said, “BUSTERBLORG IS COMING”.

“Where are we?”

“Las Vegas, Nevada.”

“Oh. Well, we should be getting back now.”

“Back to where?” asked Konnor.

“Germany, of course!”

“And what business do we have there?” “Getting back our things, or at least the things that haven’t exploded anyways!”

“I’m pretty sure our cave will be covered in mould by now.”

“What about Buster?”

“What about him?”

“He was a robot! He could’ve sent the nukes!”

“Nuclear Bombs, and he’s probably been in the garbage disposal for a while now,” said Konnor confidently.

“Recycle, and he’s probably been after us for quite some time now,” said Oscar bitchily.

They got out of their beds, had their equipment taken off, and signed their checks as Johnny and Bobby.

PART 5 …DON’T BELIEVE IN YOURSELF

Jonathan and Carlo were people.

Okay… uh.. Good people or bad people?

Oh, yeah, I’ll tell you that later.

Jonathan was from Holland, an interesting place to be at the time. He was raised by loving parents who always stood side by side but one of them disappeared one day so Jonathan left to embark on a journey trying to find his mom and the phone charger she took with her. (Yes, I know, 1945, “at least be true to your own story”, okay, fine.) Jonathan met an older friend, Ray, they called him, and he owned a smoke shop. Carlo was born to a loving household in the Islands, out of which he got adopted because they couldn’t afford him anymore. He was then raised by somewhat strict French-Dutch parents who didn’t see him often. He ran away and started living behind a smoke shop, where Jonathan found him and they became friends who would sometimes buy eachother food and protect each other from the mobs.

They started to travel Europe and try and find a safe place to stay.

One day in Germany, Jonathan saw a rusty gate surrounding a torn building that said “Do Not Trespass! BND Only.” Jonathan trespassed, not being BND, just to see what the big deal was about an old building. What could be the matter?

He thought he saw something move in the ground. Its spikes poked out of the ground as it slithered like a snake, smoothly through the dry dirt. The dirt crumbled into rocks and clumps.

Oh, but this wasn’t a snake. It roared in his face, showing its terrifying fangs and eyes. He didn’t know what this thing was! He screamed and tried to run, but he tripped and fell.

He heard something else coming from inside the building.

He got up.

He then saw a humanoid shadow run away from behind the building.

He grabbed his camera and took pictures of the giant slithering creature and the shadow-like silhouette.

He ran away back home and told Carlo all about it, who told the newspapers.

Konnor and Oscar always checked the newspapers at the 99-cent Depot (there were no Glundenheistens in Las Vegas) in case Leon or Busterblorg showed up and they had to make a run for it. Konnor noticed an article about cases of strange, mutated animal sightings surrounding the 1941 Europe pandemic. There were theories of radiation. He told Oscar. They both knew they had to go back to Germany. This was not over.

———

Their cave had been mostly cleared out.

There was still the pot that was used to make potions, even though it was a tiny bit warped.

There was a bow-arrow and a sword on the ground, a couple other not-important things, as well as a note.

It read, “BUSTERBLORG HAS RISEN”.

———

Oscar - Memory 1

Underwater, Oscar felt stinging all over.

He didn’t know what was stinging him.

The place was completely empty, and it was a bit eerie to him.

He swam down to a house and what he thought could be shelter.

The door was open.

He saw pictures.

Pictures everywhere.

Oscar picked up one displaying a mom and a dad and two kids.

The mom’s face was carved out, as well as both the kids’.

The dad looked somewhat unhappy in the picture, even though they were at the beach.

Did he not like the waves?

Was he upset by the trees?

Was he angry at his delicious drink?

Perhaps.

Or, perhaps, he was in an unhappy marriage.

Maybe the mother got custody of both the kids, so their faces got carved out too.

Or the kids and the parents had a falling out too big to repair.

A good situation made bad.

Of course, Oscar didn’t know that this was a family, that there were other people at all, because it could have been random spots carved out of the photograph.

All he saw was a picture of an unhappy man.

Oscar pitied the man and brought the man everywhere with him. He gave the lonely man the gift of company.

But the man was still unhappy.

Oscar hugged the man and complimented him and made him a hat.

But the man was still unhappy.

Oscar was tired of this man not smiling so he stomped on the picture, the glass shattering into millions of pieces and shards.

The man was now smiling.

———

Konnor and Oscar, who just happened to be dressed in black, filled a bag with their things.

Three knocks were heard on their door.

They looked at each other.

“Oh, no.”

They opened the door to see younger Jonathan and Carlo standing there.

“We were forced to!”, exclaimed Oscar.

“Yeah! By the government!”, said Konnor.

“Well, we are the government,” said Jonathan.

Carlo gave him a look and said, “What? Excuse Jonathan, uh, we’re not. But if you are taking their stuff, we would like their potion book.”

“P-potion book?” Oscar had been thrown sideways by this request.

Konnor, still collected, said, “Okay, but I and my friend must talk. Sorry, just a moment, please!” Konnor then abruptly slammed the door.

It was clearly audible what they were saying.

“OSCAR! No! NOOO!”

“Whatever happens, we have to stick together!”

“What do we do?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Your book, your choice!”

“Your fuck, your shit!”

“Uh?”

“Okay. …Let’s grab this…” “What are you doing?”

“Barricading the door.”

Jonathan, trying not to laugh, put his ear up to the door as Carlo said, “Why are you barricading? We’re not government, promise, okay?” “Sorry! No cook book for you! Sorry, Jonathan or whatever you said your name was!” “Yeah, it’s Jonathan!” “I’m Carlo, by the way.” Carlo reminded Konnor of himself, so he thought he could talk some sense into him. “Okay.. Konnor, how do we know we can trust you with our book?” “Because I’m Carlo Agouza. Headline of Vegas News.” Osczr was shocked, but also was angry at himself for not realizing this. “Uhhh… what are you doing here?”

“I know about your whole situation with the Spaßzeit building, and I know you have something to do with the… well, that.”

———

The two opened the door and they all sat down.

“So, why do you need my recipes?”

“Well, Jonathan and I are going to try to do two things:

Uncover the radiation mystery and make ourselves immortal.”

“Why, though? I get it about the radiation thing, but why do you need to be immortal?”

“Because we need to live long enough to see the end of the Cancer of Videt.”

“Cancer of Videt?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story, but when the time comes, we will be there to kill the Cancer. It’s a curse that is carried through not just rogue body cells, but rogue life.”

“Wow,” said Konnor. “We might have some experience with that.”

“Great,” said Carlo.

“How did you find us, though?”

“Well, it’s a lot of digging.

Jonathan and I did our homework. You used to be the spokesperson of Spaßzeit. Then, we found that, by the time the Lockdown had ended, you had disappeared.

We then traced you to the ‘43 explosion through a spy named Brian Hopkins, and that you were flown into Canada by a soldier because German hospitals need home addresses and you were living in a cave. No caves in a ten-mile vicinity of that old Glundenheisten exist besides this one.

We believe his mother’s been taken by this curse and that the entirety of Europe, especially this town, has also been plagued by this curse.

We need your help to destroy this Cancer.”

Oscar and Konnor looked at each other and nodded. Konnor spoke.

“Well, here’s what we think. We need your help, you need our recipe. If you can work with us on our radiation project, we can be your supplier of all things Videt.”

PART 6 …A NEW PLACE

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

Oscar only saw Brian.

Carlo was smiling.

Carlo was laughing.

Carlo was holding Oscar’s head.

Oscar’s body had been left on the ground.

Konnor was sitting there with a giant hole in his stomach.

He was yelling at someone, like they were in a fight. Maybe he was angry at Jonathan, who was running out the door.

Then, Oscar’s head started to regurgitate blood. Blood was thick and bright red.

Things started to go dark.

Then, he woke up.

Konnor was brewing some coffee.

Lately, it seemed that things were looking up.

Despite Oscar’s visions, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, and he just shrugged it off.

Nobody really knew why, maybe it was just the way the light came through the cracks in the stone, maybe it was that Konnor and Oscar’s party had expanded, maybe it was that now they all had a common goal, a purpose.

Also, recently, Oscar had turned sixteen (fourteen if you don’t count the coma).

Later this week, they were going to set out to Keystone Hollows, a small and peaceful Sicilian village just by the bay, because that is supposedly where Brian went. And they’d had a lot of questions for him.

They had started packing their things.

They each had an individual backpack to take with them, and a small ice box that they would fill with snacks.

Konnor’s backpack had inside a first-aid kit that Carlo lent him, clothes, a compass, a dagger, and a bottle of water.

Oscar’s backpack had inside an axe, a wool blanket, a jar of change, a notepad, a rock, clothes, and a bottle of water.

Jonathan’s backpack had inside a bow and arrow, a candle, a lighter, a packet of money, and two bottles of water.

Carlo’s backpack had inside a notepad, two pens, sunglasses, and some seeds.

On Sunday, they began their expedition. They put up a defense system containing extremely potent poison that Konnor and Oscar made, a tripwire that Jonathan just had lying around, and a lot of cardboard.

———

Konnor - Memory 1

“In Ordnung Junge! Dies ist Ihre Zeit zu glänzen!” Leon assured Konnor’s confidence.

Konnor smiled nervously as the camera began to zoom in on him. He didn’t particularly like being on camera, but he understood that his work was valuable and his family would get paid in return.

He began to speak his lines.

“Hallo, ich bin Konnor. Meine Eltern schenkten mir ein Spaßzeit-Spielzeug aus echter, gereinigter Menschenhaut! Ich spiele damit und habe so viel Spaß mit der neuen Technik.

Holen Sie sich unsere Nazi-Hitler-Spielzeuge für nur RM 1 bei Ihrem örtlichen Glundenheisten!”

Kinder, lernt jetzt fluchen! Mach deine Eltern wütend!”

The brothers were so happy, they hugged Konnor. They gave him a dagger for him to remember them by. He kept it for the rest of his life.

———

They traveled via hitch-hiking, an experience that Konnor had to hold Oscar’s hand through.

It wasn’t a very long ride, since they were just going through Switzerland to Italy, but it was very scenic and they enjoyed the trip.

Then, they just had to deal with the over-sea journey. They didn’t have the money for a flight, and they were in a rural area.

The group took a rowboat across the vast 20-degree water.

They landed safely on the outskirts of Keystone Hollows, southwest Sicily, just by the ocean.

Something about this place was familiar to Oscar.

———

Konnor - Memory 2

“We’re going to be fine, Konnor.”

“Don’t worry, Konnor.”

Konnor gazed at the steaming pile of crashed cars on the narrow bridge highway.

Konnor’s mother suddenly screamed. His father was shouting swear words.

Suddenly, the car was dangling off a bridge. Konnor had almost pure adrenaline pulsing through his veins.

His father told him to climb and that he would be okay.

He climbed up and got back on the highway.

He, shivering, followed the cars and planned to find the nearest shelter.

After a few hours, Konnor spotted a shelter, but when he got to the front door, his parents weren’t behind him like he expected them to be.

———

Monday, October 1st, 1945.

Radiation had spread to parts of Spain. It was all over the news. It had been declared an epidemic.

Of course, Konnor, Oscar, Jonathan, and Carlo weren’t hearing of this, because they were in Keystone Hollows, a small Sicilian village.

They built a chest with their weapons and blades.

Oscar also made some sort of tool that he didn’t name, using mainly Jonathan’s stuff. He didn’t use it for the rest of that trip, but kept it in his pocket no matter what. Now, back to navigation.

You look east, you see a gravel road and a sandy town, way out in the hills, and past it, the idyllic grassy meadow, the trees slung with foreign decorations.

You look west, you see the vast, seemingly endless ocean, and some sort of rusty boat and abandoned dock not far off the shore.

Something about that boat looked awfully familiar to Oscar. He wanted to go see it, but they would have to do that later. For now, they had to go through the grassy meadow, into the Greater Mountains where, supposedly, Brian lived.

———

Oscar - Memory 2

Suddenly, as Oscar stared slack-jawed at the ship, everything turned more vibrant and colorful, as if through the lens of a toddler’s vision.

The ship returned to its old, beautiful, sparkling, majestic state. Where some old rotting piles of wood stood began to grow some small buildings. Shelters, perhaps.

Oscar began to spectate himself walking towards it. The place was beautiful on the inside. Everyone was friendly there, and he had a lot of friends.

an v oi

———

The four walked into the main village, Konnor and Oscar dragging the ice box.

It was a pretty place, but there wasn’t much to see, given that it was rural and small.

The first thing they saw was a parrot on an oddly placed branch, no tree to be seen. The branch was dug into the sand.

The parrot said nothing but, “Go no further! Go no further!”

They eventually found a shelter to stay.

They left their ice chest there, and decided to come back every day before sundown.

Oscar was silent the whole time, as residents looked curiously at him and the rest of Konnor’s party.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Carlo grew a blank stare and started to walk out. Konnor and Jonathan followed him, not knowing what was happening.

One of the residents had told Carlo exactly where Brian was, in exchange for half of their money. They now had $5.30.

Meanwhile, Oscar stood still, frozen by the haunted atmosphere of the building.

———

Ding-dong.

Ding-ding-dong.

DingDingDingDing-dong ggg.

DiDiDiDiDiDidi—dong.

A man wearing a suit and a moustache came and answered the door.

Confused, Konnor explained, “We’re looking for Brian…Brian?”

“Brian, the old owner of this house? I think he must be 20 now.”

“Then who are you?”

“I’m Lorenzo Adams.”

“Lorenzo? This isn’t our dude. C’mon, guys.”

“Hold-Hold on!”

“What, Lorenzo?”

“Have I seen you somewhere?”

Lorenzo pointed at Carlo.

“I’m Carlo Ago-“

“Oh my, Dio! My cousin Leronza lives in Nevada! She mailed me this crazy newspaper about things happening in France and Germany and Hungary- I- Well, I think I might be able to help you. But it depends on what it is that you are seeking…”

———

Oscar woke up on some leaves in the woods at midnight. It had been two weeks since the encounter with Lorenzo or…whatever his name was. He noticed that the leaves below him were blood red. He looked again at his hands. They were also blood red.

Blood was dripping down his front.

He then looked around him. He could feel the trees looking at him. They told him it would be best to go and leave the woods behind. He said no this time, as he had become curious what they were driving him away from.

He began to walk over behind the trees.

He suddenly felt something on his right leg. He reached down and felt it.

It was a pair of freezing cold hands.

Oscar got dragged down to the dirt.

He looked up and saw Brian’s face.

Except it was pale and gaunt, and it had bite marks on it.

Brian, almost turquoise a shell, made two very shallow, rattling breaths. He then ceased to breathe.

Oscar tried to wake him up or see if he was still alive but to no avail.

Oscar walked out onto the road.

There was nothing on it. There was, in fact, barely a road. The road was covered only in cobwebs and further darkness around the corner.

He tripped on something and fell backwards, hitting his head and blacking out.

———

“So, Lorenzo, grace us with your intellect.”

“Well, you see, I used to be a scientist at this place… Draagen Facility, we called it, but no one ever knew the real name, just the address.

We would experiment with nuclear radiation, early atom explosives, all the dangerous materials.

Once, we tested male rats in a small environment riddled with nuclear radiation.

One of the twelve Ratten survived, but had clear physical changes—if not injuries.

Also, we put three plants in that small environment. One of them grew. We called that plant something.”

“What was the plant called?”

“I… can’t remember.”

Suddenly, the door slammed, as if one of the boys pushed it. None of them did.

Konnor pulled it back open, even though it felt like someone on the other side was trying to hold it closed. They walked inside, and suddenly, instead of the aerial, wooden home filled with beautiful furniture, it was

cemented and packed with cobwebs. Everything was grey and rotten. There were maggots everywhere.

There was a pile of completely moldy tomatoes directly in the kitchen entrance. Jonathan walked further than Konnor and Carlo did, and saw that the Fernseher (television set) was on.

He sat on the floor silently and watched the alarm test that was being aired.

WARNING! PERICOLO! GEVAAR! DANGER!

Air quality has dropped to below the “red” level in these areas…

Please, all families and citizens, stay in the nearest shelter. There has been a recent explosion in your area and there has been a toxic air alert of 16.1 pCi/h. This is extremely dangerous to breathe or be unprotected in. Get all of your things and hide underground until further notice.

Various jarring alarm noises came from both outside and the Fernseher.

Carlo went running outside, going back to the shelter to warn Oscar.

He left his backpack, though, and Jonathan planted three trees. That was the last time Jonathan went outside for a long time.

PART 7 …BRIAN LUGOSI’S DEAD

Welcome to the wonderful Keystone Hollows — The place that you’ll never leave!

———

The group had returned to the cave, now more of a half-underground mansion hut, and hid cooped up in there in the midst of what might have been just a typical everyday nuclear apocalypse.

Carlo noticed that all his things are gone.

He didn’t use everything he brought, however.

Everything in the ice chest had been eaten.

There were just empty bags and cans left. It wasn’t like a crazy person had gone through it, though. It was very neatly done, as if by pressure. Each bag was popped in the lower-left corner, each can was just slightly opened, but the straw handle was perfectly in place.

Carlo assembled the bags all into place, so that all the seals were facing south.

They formed a drawing of two trees.

Carlo immediately ran outside of the cave.

He saw two plants growing out of the ground, in the left half of a small planter.

———

Oscar woke up in the cave.

He was trying to deny to himself that he woke up in the cave. He wanted to go back to the woods and find out what happened to Brian.

He then saw the amount of blood coming out of his head and put a wrapped gauze bandage on.

He fell asleep again.

———

March 20, 1946

They were living on tallow and some mysterious fruit that they were growing inside next to a light bulb. Carlo was feeling ill and had a migraine recently but didn’t complain too much because he didn’t want to kill the buzz of Konnor’s upcoming nineteenth birthday!

Konnor was an adult now, and this was an important thing to celebrate.

So you can imagine their confusion when a fog began to roll over Europe and the Fernseher that they had stolen from Keystone Hollows suddenly wasn’t working.

Oscar mainly took care of Carlo and fed him healing potions every now and then. He was good at keeping secrets, so he kept a lot of Carlo’s. By the way, Oscar still didn’t explain the ordeal of the woods or his bandage to them, but would disappear a lot to the woods to try to find him. There were no cobwebs. It was like there had never been any. In fact, he rarely ever talked to anyone besides Carlo.

Jonathan was starting to develop a theory that they had never left Keystone Hollows, as well as a much more likely theory that they had never actually left Germany.

Some possible incentives to think as such:

Ray, the owner of the smoke shop he lived behind, was called Lori by his friends.

Just like it would have been for Lorenzo.

That reminded him of the search for his mother and how off-track he had gotten trying to distract himself. Her name was Loretta.

Konnor was beginning to worry that this fog wouldn’t clear over before his birthday.

This was a strange situation, and Oscar and Carlo knew something the rest of them didn’t.

———

“No. No! No! NO!”

Oscar was digging around in the wood once again, for darkness and cobwebs and Brian’s body. None. Just a completely empty valley where the road was, and tulips growing where all the cobwebs were.

Spring. Spring. That’s why, that has to be why, he thought. Too many flowers, too many of something or other.

He had only been there before in fall and winter.

He wasn’t at all paying attention to the fact that he was searching these woods at one in the afternoon.

He was too busy worrying, burdened with Carlo’s secret.

Oscar was frantically digging in the leaves, getting teary-eyed. He just wanted an answer.

He suddenly felt dizzy, like he was on a boat.

That’s when the floor started moving.

Oscar looked east.

He saw a pile of leaves covered in sand and, past it, more woods, the trees slung in foreign decorations.

No! No, no, no, no! This can’t be it!

Oscar looked west.

He saw a creek past the tulips.

In that creek, there was an abandoned rusty old boat, half sunken.

Oscar was running towards it as if he were running for his own life.

Then, just as he was about to touch it, he tripped on Brian’s body and, hooked on it, fell right into the creek and quickly drowned.

Instantly, he woke up again in the cave.

He gasped for air as he noticed, in a split second, that he was back home.

Okay, this is some kind of cruel joke, isn’t it, thought Oscar. I refuse to engage and I will find answers!

I am going there and I am going to find Brian and I will force him, one way or another, to tell me everything.

———

Oscar saw a shadowy figure in the woods.

He started to chase it. Every turn it took was unexpected and he got slowed down. He picked up speed and was just about to grab it but he fell down into something.

Oscar woke up again in the cave.

No, no, no!

Oscar went back to the woods.

He saw a shadowy figure in the woods.

He started to chase it. He remembered the route it took. He managed to grab it and jumped over the hole he fell into.

He pinned the figure against a tree.

What he saw was something undead. It growled at him. He held it down.

It snarled at him.

He held it down.

It opened its mouth wider than any human could do, and it screamed at him.

Oscar, frightened, jumped back, letting the monster go, and hit his something on something, falling backwards.

Oscar woke up in the cave again.

He went to the woods but this time he could not find the monster or the boat.

He looked at his wristwatch and the time had not changed by a second since the first time he went into the woods.

He noticed that every time he went into the woods he forgot another thing that happened.

———

Konnor looked down at Oscar, who had been caught attempting to bleed out on the kitchen floor again.

Oscar had been gone for a week with no explanation as to where he went. Carlo had gone missing as well, but he hadn’t reappeared yet.

Jonathan was busy baking Konnor’s birthday cake and decorating it.

He was stressed about Oscar and Carlo. What is going on with those two?

Oscar went silent for a half-year and disappeared for days.

Carlo went silent for a month and disappeared indefinitely.

When Oscar finally did return, he came unconscious.

This was a strange, strange situation.

Jonathan was now almost completely sure that there was some place that they never left. He wasn’t sure where it was, though.

Oscar jolted awake suddenly, his mouth closed and dripping with blood.

He pointed at the entrance.

“What are you pointing at?”

PART 8 …SO, THEN, A WORMY THING

Oscar - Memory 3

Oscar sat, eating a dumpster frankfurter.

It was dark outside.

Suddenly, Oscar saw light, and heard a wail.

He thought the heavens had come down to Earth.

He thought he was dying.

He looked suspiciously at the frankfurter, which, in daylight, was actually covered in mould, and then looked back up again at the sound.

Then, he heard a voice screaming.

Then, there was an explosion.

Then, there was nothing.

Oscar got up. He walked towards the source of the explosion. He heard footsteps.

He then saw a flame. One flame, two flames, three flames, a considerable amount of sparks and smoke, then the building was on fire.

He saw something walk out of the building.

Then, another, smaller explosion.

Then, once again, there was nothing.

And then there was everything.

And then there was light.

Broad daylight.

Oscar lay in a pile of ashes and asbestos.

He got up and dusted himself off.

He heard a horn.

He saw a boat sailing away.

———

“Hello…” “Jonathan, did you invite this woman?” “No..”

An elderly lady stood at the door, leaning on a beaten wooden cane.

The old lady showed herself the way inside.

“Boys, I have very crucial advice for you!”

“What?!”

“Don’t mess with radiation. It is very bad for your health. And we wouldn’t want you going and dying, would we?”

“Wait, how do you know us, again?” “Heartworms.” “I’m sorry?”

“He died of heartworms. The things sick dogs get. Karl died of heartworms. No one knows, except for the police, most of which are dead.”

“Hold on, how are you surviving the apocalypse as an elderly woman?”

“Why, I was born in the apocalypse.” “Excuse me?” “I was born in 1941.” “That wasn’t an apocalypse, that was a virus, like influenza.”

“No, I’m not sure you understand. I was born in 1941.”

“How could you be an elder if we, teenagers, are thrice as old as you are?!” “Well, actually, I’m nineteen today,” stated Konnor, confidently. “Well, technically, you’re seventeen today,” added Oscar with an additude. “Well, technically, shut up,” yelled Konnor. “Up yours, birthday boy,” growled Oscar.

The elderly woman was startled by their argument. Wait.

Where did the elderly woman go?

———

April 2, 1946

Jonathan woke up from a deep slumber.

That was a good night’s rest, he thought. Had to have been over 8 hours.

He glanced at his watch.

Oh. It actually had been over eight hours!

It had been nineteen days!

He didn’t remember anything about celebrating Konnor’s birthday but he remembers stabbing someone… Oh, no! Did he stab Konnor? Did he stab himself? Did he stab a stranger?

No, he thought as he observed the green blood on his knife. He walked further into the front room and noticed that their cave’s rocky floor had been uplifted by something cylindrical.

Hooooooold on a second.

He remembered a dragon of some kind.

This was the breaking point for Jonathan.

There is something wrong with this cave, he thought.

And then, as he looked up towards the ceiling, he saw someone (not Oscar, Konnor, or Marco, but a stranger) hanging on the drying rack.

Okay, that’s it, I’m out of here, Jonathan thought. He started packing his things.

“I’m gonna go find Mom.”

By now, he had almost completely forgotten that Marco ever existed, so that was useless by now.

He walked out of the cave, leaving behind that chapter of his life. He had given up on ending the Curse, he had given up on life in Germany. He was finally heading home.

———

Now, it had gone back to just Konnor and Oscar, but now, instead of defending themselves during a time of corrupt government, they were defending themselves during a time of no government whatsoever.

It was April 18th when they awoke.

Carlo and Jonathan were gone, and so were their things.

got up and looked down at a very pale Oscar. Right beside his head was an uplifted trail of blood-washed rock and stone. The entrance was open!

Who knew how much radiation the two could’ve been exposed to while they were asleep?!

Konnor looked down again at Oscar, who seemed to have gone back to sleep. He attempted to wake him up. Nothing worked. Also, in doing this, he noticed that Oscar’s skin felt quite cold.

Flies began to gather on Oscar’s skin. Konnor had to waft them off and keep Oscar warm.

He covered Oscar with blankets.

Konnor started to make some bean soup.

———

Oscar woke up.

He was alone. Everything was blurry.

What was this place? What was happening?

Surrounding him were four walls, each with two or three doors, all closed but one. And the open door led to nowhere.

He looked up, and he saw more doors on the ceiling, what looked like a reflection of the doors he was in the middle of. He tried walking up towards one of the doors and realized his body was sideways. He looked down at where he thought one of the walls were, and it was just the floor again.

Oscar looked behind his shoulder and saw the same wall of doors that he was facing. Then he noticed that his body was also facing that wall.

Had he even turned his head at all?

Where am I?

What kind of weird game is this?

He tried to open a door. It was locked.

He looked closely at the door. He blinked.

He realized he was looking at his hand.

He was now, once again, in the middle of the room.

Oscar started to panic.

He ran over to another door. It was also locked.

He tried to escape, but wherever he went would lead him to the exact same spot.

He tried to open another door.

He pulled with all his weight and was sent flying.

He noticed the door was now opened wide and that a vague shape of some smaller person was walking into the room.

There Oscar stood, staring at a 12-year-old Oscar.

Neither of them knew what to say.

———

Konnor would check on the plants every other day or so, just to make sure it was still growing.

He was beginning to wonder if he was losing his mind. Where was everybody? How was Oscar still able to take a nap?

It felt like Konnor’s life was at a standstill.

He could stay here at the cave with Oscar, who was more or less dead, or he could move on and get a life and try to save the world and be the hero. But he couldn’t do that if he had waters to plant and a care to take friend of and a giant food of supply, could he!

No one knew that he was alive.

And he didn’t know that anyone else was alive.

His entire life was now a leap of faith that, somewhere out there, there was a good samaritan. Someone that knew about him.

They’d better come fast, because Konnor was starting to see two of everything.

———

“Un-fucking-canny,” mumbled Oscar as he looked at every angle and every scar of his old self.

“What happens to me?” “What do you mean?” “If you’re me, you’d know. In the future, how do I go from me to you?” “I- I guess you don’t.” “What?” “If I’m dead and I’m seeing you, then you’re dead.” “No… I’m not. I can’t be. I can’t die at twelve!”

“No. Listen to me. Get out of Germany now.” “Why should I trust you? What if this is just another broken delusion?”

“No, I’m trying to warn you! You need to leave Germany as soon as possible! You are going to die!”

“But-“ stuttered the younger Oscar,

“If I leave, then you die.”

“No! You don’t understand! I’m dead because you stayed in Germany. You’ve got to get out of here now. Turn back.” “But if I left then you would never exist.”

This stopped Oscar in his tracks.

“Oh. You’re right..”

“You know what? This is a stupid trap! You’re not me!”

Oscar was trying to explain to him to leave, but he kept realizing that no matter what Young Oscar did, Oscar would end up dead.

It was like Death had Oscar in a checkmate.

“But wait!”

“There’s no worth waiting for you. I hate you.”

Oscar’s eyes welled up with tears.

“No! We have to stay here! I’m real! I’m you!”

“You’re no person. You’re just a curse.”

———

“Konnor? Is that you?”

A deranged-looking Oscar, covered in blood and rotting pieces of flesh, got up and hugged Konnor. “Yes, Oscar. I’m here for you. You were asleep for a couple hours,” giggled a dirt-covered, limping Konnor.

He pointed at the ceiling, just above a wall that had black scribbles on it.

“MONDAY TUESDAY WHENSDAY THURSDAY FRIDAY THIRSDAY EIGHTDAY ONEDAA ONEDA OADANDA”.

Oscar looked behind Konnor at a giant pile of shriveled fruit and discolored soup.

There were maggots and flies everywhere.

“Konnor…” “What is it, you guys?” “I really messed up.” “Me too.” “No, like, I messed up really bad.”

“Well, let’s hope the sleep midgets don’t punish you.” “What?” “I’m so glad to see you. We’ll get through it.” “Merry Christmas,” said Oscar on this 1st of May as they embraced each other.

This was actually not the lowest point in either of their lives (see: Konnor became an orphan and Oscar was homeless in the winter), but it came very close.

———

“What did we get beat by?” “I don’t know. I remember an old lady and then I remember someone killing her and transplanting into this wormy thing.” “So, then, a wormy thing?” The two were dressed and clean now, but neither of them were all the way mentally stable, and the cave still smelled like beans and rotten apples.

“When was Christmas again?” “I have no idea.”

Oscar went to sit down and he took one of the rocks growing off of a branch of their plants and dropped it in some acidic bean soup.

It sizzled and let off steam. It smelled nice, like roses. He studied it with a microscope and poured it all out into a bucket that he dumped onto the plants. The plants immediately started to look different, but neither of them paid attention.

Outside was starting to look more like it did, but they still kept an up-to-date map about areas with more radiation than others.

Konnor was noticing that he had a headache, and so did Oscar. Neither of them knew why.

———

GENERATION III

PART 9 …START AT THE BEGINNING OF THE END, MY FRIEND

———

Some time in the mid-late 1940’s;

X-rays had finally come to underground post-apocalyptic Germany, so Konnor and Oscar were able to finally get a good diagnosis.

It was a somewhat cold summer, given that the ozone layer had been completely shattered and who knows what that could have led to.

Konnor and Oscar walked up to the Krankenhaus to finally get tested to see whatever this was.

It was a miracle, they said.

A miracle about what?

“A miracle that you’ve lived this long.”

What?!

“You have tumors.”

Oscar and Konnor had gotten diagnosed with brain cancer for being exposed to too much radiation.

Neither of them knew exactly what this meant, but it was scary for sure.

Oscar still hadn’t told Konnor that he was a curse — that their bond was a curse — and he wasn’t sure when he was going to.

The two climbed out of the underground Krankenhaus, worried and confused.

Was this the beginning of the downfall of Oscar and Konnor?

Well, only time will tell. But, I must say, things are gonna get really interesting.

———

Konnor had a plan.

He knew now how everything was gonna go down. It wasn’t all sunshine and flowers, either.

Oscar was planning to tell him about what happened in the room of doors.

He was now completely sure that they were dying because he killed his younger self.

That had to be why this is all happening.

If his younger self was dead, both of them would be dead. Their lives had to go exactly the way they did, or neither of them would’ve been alive.

And they were now desperately trying to track down the monsters that attacked them before, because Konnor was sure that these things were the curse. As you well know, though, having seen all sides of the story…

———

With every stroke of the brush, Oscar’s art got more beautiful.

He was painting a butterfly.

It was a blue butterfly.

He put his arm around to reach for a different brush, and instead of what he was looking for, he felt cold faux leather.

He reached behind himself again, just to feel the same material, what seemed to be a shoe.

Oscar turned around in panic, only to find that he was at his own funeral.

He got up from his chair and, shaking, stared silently at his own dead body.

Konnor stood at Oscar’s coffin alongside others, shaking his head.

Oscar wandered the room, looking at everyone who was attending.

He saw the faces of Carlo, Jonathan, Michael, Leon, and he paced further to see a collection of strangers, the doctors that had diagnosed him, and the thing that shook him the most, his parents were standing at the foot of his corpse.

How were his parents here?

He had no parents!

Parents were supposed to be mean and selfish and unforgiving!

He didn’t even know what his mother or father looked like. How could they appear in this sick dream?

How would they know their son, who they probably never touched, died of a brain tumor? This was when Oscar walked up further.

He discovered that a brain tumor was actually not the cause of death.

Oscar’s dead body had been stabbed in the heart several times.

“It all makes sense now,” said Oscar coldly to himself. He tried to signal to everyone that he was there and, in fact, alive but the people attending didn’t seem to notice or care.

“I was the curse of Alkam, and Jonathan and Konnor finally killed me.

So… what, now?”

———

PART 10 …I DIDN’T THINK I WAS GONNA GET THIS FAR

You’ve read this far, you must like this story. Do you like it enough to keep reading, or does this feel like a fit time to end your journey? It is up to you.

In the event that you choose to keep reading past this little checkpoint, I think you’ll find that the remainder of your time with us here in post-apoctalyptic Nazi Germany is more carelessly written than the previous few parts. Consider everything from now on bonus content if you’d like.

———

Oscar finally confronted Konnor one autumn morning.

“Remember John an-an’ Carlo?”

“Yeah, what about them?”

“They… kind of killed me.”

“What?! Blasphemy! What, are you stupid? If you were dead I wouldn’t be talking to you right now!”

“No. Konnor, listen. They killed me.” “Whatever. And?”

“I was the thing they killed.” “Okay, now you’re just repeat- you’re just rephrasing youself. Tell me what happened.”

“I was the thing I killed.”

“Explain, please.” “I… was… the thing… that they lived… to kill.”

“Yes? …And?!”

“I was… the curse.”

“The- ha!- the curse of what?”

“I… am… the curse.”

“You’re the reason Germany’s an ashtray?!”

“Konnor.”

“Are you the reason I don’t remember what my family looks like?

Do you know how awful it is to not remember what your family looks like?!”

“I was stabbed in the heart! It weren’t no toothpick, either! You were alive! You were alive and well! I wasn’t!”

“It was a mistake to ever meet you or move in with you into this cursed death-pit.”

“The first thing I ever saw was a boat! That boat sank! We read about that boat in the news! I should’ve known then! My first bed I ever slept on was shared with an inmate who was known for murdering children! I lived in a poor kingdom where we were treated like slaves and then when I finally escaped I lived with someone who died within a year of having me!”

“I’m leaving!”

“Please do, do leave! I’m going to do nothing but harm you.”

“Well, that is obvious.”

Konnor swiftly grabbed all of his possessions and slammed the cave entrance on his way out.

Oscar began taking down the boards that he had used to block off the old part of the kitchen.

———

PART 11

———

1948 was a strange year so far.

Well, of course. After all, it was Konnor’s and especially Oscar’s first time living completely alone in years, except this time, he had a home to take care of.

It was also Oscar’s first time living as a dead person, believe it or not.

He still wasn’t entirely sure who killed him, Jonathan and Carlo or himself. Imagine if he was dead because of the Room of Doors incident.

Strange autopsy that would be, don’t you think, suicide by homicide?

The fifties were approaching and the remainder of the government had already built up an entire faux Europe; the one that the world lovingly knows today. They had already killed everyone that knew about what happened, or so they thought, and the last flight from Original Europe was leaving for New York. (unnamed) had boarded that plane. Oscar’s ex-roommate.

Even though it had only been a month or two since (unnamed) had left, Oscar had forgotten what his name was.

Oscar didn’t have to worry about his brain tumor because it was indefinitely terminal at this point, but he still had his moment of nervousness and anxiousness.

Wait, when did Oscar grow a tumor?

Anyways, he was planning to kill a monster later this week at the canyon. For now, he planned on making life potions, ones that cost the most resources. Luckily, he had (dying) plants outside and he was living in a cave about half a mile away from the mountains, where all sorts of things lived and grew. But he didn’t need those resources, because he wasn’t planning on making potions any time soon.

sWAIT!

———

Konnor had quickly gotten used to the bustling nature of Albany, New York. He had gotten a job as a bartender. He was planning to buy an apartment where he could start to write papers so he could quit his job at the bar and become a businessman, hopefully in Senate. Sometimes he missed his old life with Oscar, when things were simpler, but he knew that a freer life in America was worth it. However:

He did not take into consideration that, in order to apply for Senate, he would have to state his hometown, and according to every map being produced from that time on, that town never existed, only “List” which was in its place.

———

Oscar held out his knife against the creature, who had shapeshifted from a humanoid animal to a dizzyingly gigantic mutated earthworm.

This was the beast that had nearly killed him before? Interesting.

Oscar, filled with rage, swung his blade against the pattern of the beast’s scales, leaving a bleeding gash in its side.

The giant spiked heartworm burrowed underground and rose back up, lifting Oscar into the air.

As he was flying directly above the thing’s mouth, he realized he had bitten off far more than he could chew.

The beast jumped up and, just as it was about to bite off Oscar’s leg, he ran on the area below its mouth, using it as a floor. He jumped down below onto the ground. He landed on his feet.

An earthquake happened all at once, shattering the ground. Oscar, standing on a falling fragment of the ground, jumped and threw his blade at its eyes. He missed and his knife landed directly into its mouth. It choked on the sword as it had dragged itself down its throat horizontally, cutting open the tissue to drain out blood and pieces of entrails.

Oscar thought he killed it. He tried to climb back up. The heartworm had successfully eaten his knife, however, and slithered towards him in all of its wrath.

It dove down into the hole he was in.

That’s when his vision went completely black.

———

Oscar woke up, almost drowning in a sea of red water filling up the canyon.

He swam up to the top in a panic, and accidentally swallowed some of it.

He saw the creature laying dead on its back.

It had drowned in its own blood.

Oscar was both happy and also scared… and… a little cold, if I’m being honest.

It started to hail outside.

Now, hear me out. Oscar might not survive.

He is swimming in infected, tar-like, frozen blood. There is a very little chance of him surviving this one.

I mean, c’mon, we’ve already intercepted his death like, what, 5 times, now. If he dies this time, there ain’t no savin’ that guy. Like, maybe it’s just meant to be!

———

Okay, it’s about time I did an arc with Jonathan. Plus, I type well enough now if I want to turn off autocorrect, so now there’s no excuse not to.

Alright. Carlo’s dead, so dear old Johnny boy went… where? Wait, lemme scroll back a second. So many backstories… yeesh…

…M’kay, found it.

So, Holland was a nice-ish place to be in the later 1940’s. They and Hungary were the only ones mostly not affected by the apocalypse, so their economy was amazing at that point.

However, Jonathan was more damaged and brooding than the other boys there, who were mainly just playing games all the time; that is, when they weren’t in school.

One day, as he was checking another street for his family, he met a boy named Johannes (Dutch for Jonathan; they literally had the same name) who was having a hard time with school but wanted to learn so badly after the war and such.

They had a conversation and Jonathan found that a lot of the struggles Johannes had with school were the same ones Jonathan was having with his search. It was hard; he could barely keep up with all that was happening but this was so important to him; etcetera.

The two eventually became friends, creating a complicated dilemma. Our dear old Jonathan didn’t want to leave the warm company of Johannes, but he also didn’t want to get sidetracked on his journey for another five years.

And don’t go trying to jarringly interrupt this part, because it’s not going to

PART 11 …A GOOD LOOK IN THE MIRROR

Now you’re all caught up with where our dear sweet Johnny boy is in his life and mostly perpetually will be,

we can continue with the rest of the story.

———

Oscar swam out of the dirty Aqua-Pack canyon very calmly and slowly, knowing (thinking) that he was, for sure, going to die because of Jonathan killing him. So this gave him a lot of liberty in whatever he did.

Regardless, Oscar was now back home in the cave.

He was silently awaiting the day our dear old sweet innocent Johnny boy would return.

What he really wanted to do was go try to find (unnamed) but he didn’t quite care enough, knowing that it would be near-impossible if he didn’t know the guy’s name.

So he stayed back and started mentally preparing and gearing himself for our dear old sweet innocent loving Johnny boy, angel boy. :)

———

After Konnor got rejected from government jobs, he had no choice but to go to “Europe”, except this time with no friends and no money.

Hot diggity dam.

———

Oscar, fully armed, had spent every day for weeks awaiting the return of Johnny Angel Boy Oh My Goodness He Is So Amazing Angelic Wonderful Dear Old Loving Sweet Kind Generous King Of Gratitude Savior Of The Universe.

But, instead of The One And Only Johnny Very Kindest God Soul Amazing Great Cool AngeOscar instead got Konnor in a ripped up, burnt top and dirty and stained jeans.

Oscar put a finger to (unnamed)’s mouth.

“Shhhh, sh-sh-sh-tsh-tsh-ttsssshhhhh.” “What is it?”

“Blink twice if Johnny’s behind you.” “Wha- why?!-“

“BLINK TWICE, GODDAMN IT!”

“I got cured.”

“What?!”

“I had a surgery in America. I’m tumor-free now. The surgery and radiation cured me. But then they banished me.”

“You didn’t even send a postcard! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because then I can do this,” said Konnor slowly before he rose like a shadow upon Oscar and stabbed him six times in the heart with an old dagger.

———

PART 12 …EPILOGUE

———

Berlin, Faux Germany, April 1965

Oscar walked along the grassy fields of Berlin. A bustling city it was indeed, but it never failed to preserve nature and wildlife.

The nuclear families and mass civilization never knew that Oscar had existed.

His life was of no importance to them.

They didn’t know the truth.

He didn’t care at this point. All of this, his whole journey through modern urban culture, was nothing but a cold reminder that nothing mattered anymore. No one would ever know.

When Oscar had awaken from the dead, the first thing he wondered was,

Where’s Konnor?

But Oscar soon learned that the Cancer had killed him.

That means there was no funeral.

Anyone out of the very small group who had known Oscar still probably thought that he was alive and well.

And the thing Oscar was most deeply terrified about was that he didn’t seem to really care.

He knew full well that he was destined to wander this city and watch it disintegrate until everything went to black and there was nothing to wander anymore.

Just nothingness.

And thank you for reading my confusing, poorly-plotted fairy tale about cancer in America.

——————

FIN

9/29/2020 - 5/23/2023

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alteredphoenix · 11 months ago

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Michael Moorcock's The Whispering Swam and The Woods of Arcady definitely look like reads I'd enjoy. Now if only the first book (Swarm) was on sale with Arcady >:V

#i can't say i've ever dabbled in reading metafictional fantasy before #probably the only other one i can think of i've heard about is philip k. dick's 'valis'#but valis is dick's exploration w/ his religious experiences in the '70s w/ a sci-fi bent #whereas the sanctuary of the white friars is basically a fictionalized AU of moorcock growing up in the '50s and '60s #with a fantasy bent to it #there's something very human and enjoyable about reading post-WW2 london that i liked #when reading the excerpt for the whispering swarm #i'm hoping if i ever get around to reading it in full it'll maintain that atmosphere #armi reads books

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fanartbyherd · 1 year ago

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So… I did at one point draw these two in magical girl outfits.

Honestly I’m a sucker for magical girls (yet somehow I have never finished a single magical girl show??)

This drawing is actually one of the ones that inspired the current mundane horror au to also feature minor aspects of magical girls.

Note that this drawing is a joke, Michel and Gerry do not become magical girls in this au, though there is another character who is.

So another long post incoming, magical girls in that setting.

————whoo————

Magical girls as an institution was founded properly after ww2 but have their beginnings during the war. They started out as civilians with power contributing to the war effort, you know nationalism and all that, they did this informally and sometimes illegally as a lot of the powers ( including the spiral ( correction the majority of the dread pantheon and the “shunned” aspect of the admiration pantheon) where illegal or at least banned. These early magical girls (as a lot of them where women banned from joining the army or not able to help in other ways) became rather messed up as in trying to help out with their powers they would become stronger and risk being consumed by the powers. This was around the time that key charms came into existence. I haven’t decided who invited them or what country they originated from, they where rudemettary items in this case designed to sever off part of a person and a more specifically their power. It might have originated as an instrument to try to entirely remove powers from people. Though I don’t know yet.

Regardless it was only after World War Two that magical girls really became a thing. In part because the imperfect key charms of ww2 where redesigned and updated with research done in that era, including information that was learned from occult experiments conducted by the natzies.

(See this here is why I don’t like world building for urban fantasy, I’d rather not have to research natzi occultism but whatever, ww2 was when a lot of horrid experiments that happened all over and in a world where occult stuff is very real and well known about, I don’t see any reason why absolutely awful things where done with it. I’ll just leave those horror to imagination. Real world baggage in my fiction I loath you.)

Magical girls in their modern iteration where precent to small degrees and had the beginnings of thier larger organizations in the 1950s but took off in popularity in the 1960s seeing the first widespread use as an occupation in 1962. Then officially adopted as the main defense against monsters in 1966. The Cold War helping to propel the use and availability of key charms in both regions allied with the USA and Soviet union.

————occupation————-

Being a magical girl is seen as something like being in the scouts or an extracurricular mixed in with being a summer job. It’s a well paying job for young people still in school or just out of it.

Identities of magical girls are kept secret as a lot of them are minors when they start their careers (and usually end)

Some magical girls also have personas as idles and stuff; child stars, young athletes pushed to perfection, etc.

Most magical girls start their career around the age of 14-16 and most of them retire from magical girl work around the age of 25. Though there are people who began working with magical girl work as a teen and is still work with it in thier adult life. In some way or another, either as mentors or in the less glamorous but still important research, containment, disposal and legal departments.

It is notoriously rare for people under the age of 15 or so to have any sort of alignment if they where not born with it. But not unheard of.

The youngest anyone can be to apply for being a magical girl is 11-15 depending on the country though the average legal low bar is 13.

… let me look something up…

Ok according to the Geneva convention (article 4(3) (c)) says that anyone under the age of 15 can not be recruited to armed or groups allowed to partake in hostilities… good to keep in mind.

Noting that in this au their Geneva convention has some differences to our own as they do have people just walking around with powers. Some rules about how power can and cannot be used in warfare; like no zombies, what to do if a war zone becomes a domain, a lot of specifics that would require me reading the actual Geneva convention to list (mabey I should read that regardless), key charm users (aka magical girls) can not be used against humans.

Back to magical girls. most countries have their minimum age be whatever the minimum working age is or in the case of the USA where technically the minimum age is 16 for full time but where the minimum age is 14 for part time, there’s also exemptions to this when it comes to agriculture. So likely hood is that in this setting the minimum age is something around 14.

Though that being said becoming a magical girl requires a good deal of things, parents permission under the age of 18, at least two years of training. And that it doesn’t interfere with school for students under certain ages. Then of course a person has to have an alignment to a power, or in some cases at least a leaning to one power or another.

A lot of 15-16 year olds take the job because it pays really well even in the train period.

The reason for this ridiculously low age is for two reasons, a in-world reason and an out of world reason.

In world it is because key charms tend to bond easily with younger individuals. Having difficulty with making a permanent connection to anyone over the age of 27. As they operate in some ways simular to imaginary friends. So having teens make the connection is easier.

The irl reason is because a lot of magical girl media the characters are young to teen girls. Card captor Sakura is 10, sailor moon is 14, same for madoka magica, and the winx club member are between 16-18, Tokyo mew mew they are 13 to 16 years old, in magical girl do re me the characters are between 7-14. And even in miraculous lady bug The character of ladybug is 14. So I just kind of stuck with it.

Onto something else.

— — key charms-

Aka the means of transformation.

In order to be a magical girl instead of just a person with power.

Key charms; amplify existing power, prevent physical reformation, protect user from physical harm, heal injuries, strengthen physical abilities and sharpen a persons available senses.

Key charms are loosely explained at the end of these:

(In this one key charms are discussed under the category of artifacts)

So what are key charms and how do they work?

… good hypothetical question… unfortunately I don’t have a clue myself.

Ok that’s not entirely correct, I have ideas on how they work and function in practice, but not theoretically. Like what makes them tick, though I don’t think I will need to know that for this silly fic.

But here’s what I can explain.

A key charms is a small object, usually in the form of a pice of jewelry though not always. Each key charm is unique, and change when they are introduced to a power. Unable to bond with anyone that is not aligned with that power as that is what they have become.

Key charms are difficult to make whitch makes them rather rare. Then to add to the rarity of them is the fact that once a key-charm has bonded to a person it will remain bonded to that individual until the end of thier life unless something severs that connection. Though having a connection severed is usually a choice by both the key charm and weilder but it’s been reported that the power of the end and the desolation can sever that bond too.

Many key charm familiars and their magical girl will perform a passing on ceremony, with a ceremonial “death” and a passing of the charm to its next wielder .

So somewhat eluded too, key charms have thoughts and personality! Usually the personality that forms as a key charm becomes full fledged is one that mirrors its weilder. in the case for key charms that have had previous users the key charm will have the personality of the first user, though it may take up quirks of other users too.

Some key charms are able to sever their connections with ease so have had several users. Others are focused on the mission of defending humanity against monsters at all cost and will sever and take on new users as the need to fulfill that mission. This is the odd ones out when it comes to key charms as most form deep bonds to thier users.

Now outside of the need to form a bond a key charm dose a few other things.

A key charm forms “armor” around the user. This armor is what is visually seen as the magical girls outfits. The armor also obscures the identity of a magical girl. The same way someone with the power of the Stranger's face would.

This armor is made of exess power that the key charm has collected over the years with its user and others, this is inpart why the training period is two years, a magical girl can not go out on regular missions when they do not have armor. (It’s a safety risk!)

In part for identity protection but also for a meriad of legal reasons, like how with the armor the chance of injury is lowered. Not entirely remove but lowered. That and with a proper bond the injury can be healed by the key charms (a bit with how the power of flesh and strategy can heal).

The armor is not entirely real, made of light, (alchemy and crafting) some parts of the appearance are dictated by the key charm while other parts are influenced and dictated by the user.

When a key charm is not acting as armor it often takes on the form of a small creature, a familiar or a mascot if you will. This creature can be something like a little bird, a mouse, a cat, or frog. Other times it might be chimeric like a hedgehog with moth wings, or a griffon or a unicorn or a puppy dog with a lizard tail. Other times they take on the form of an amorphous thing, The creators of the key charms have no idea why these “mascots” became a thing but assumed it has something to do with the nature of powers as it’s still not well understood. (On my end it’s because, come on what’s a magical girl without some sort of mascot… still a magical girl, but missing out) (I have another post about what different creatures are capable of powers wise: xxx).

Now a key charm can only make the mascot and the armor, one thing they rarely can make is a magical girl’s weapon. Those are usually provided by a magical girls agency. Though once a key charm gets ahold of a weapon they can use the users natural power to do some interesting things with them. There’s a few reasons why a lot of a magical girls weapons are toy like. But sometimes an agency will just give a 16 year old a gun… I’m looking at you America.

Now a this whole ordeal about the armor and mascots and weapons is just extra to what key charms are mainly designed to do.

That is to allow someone with power to use and access that power without risking themselves or becoming consumed by that power. This key charms achieve quite well. As magical girls can become powerful but never suffer the body altering affects of powers.

————— magic, monsters and maintenance——

Magical girls hunt monsters, that’s what they do. But not everything with power is a threat so rules and procedures are set in place to work with this.

Magical girls generally rely on the numerical ranking system mentioned here:

To organize what kind of creature they are dealing with.

This is useful for a handful of reasons, such as determining how much of a threat a monster is and if it can be delt with by an individual or if a team is needed to contain it. If a monster is of too high of a threat the magical girls will either have another agency contain it or the seasoned older magical girls will be tasked with that creature’s removal.

Especially if they are dealing with anything that used to be human (or perhaps still is) as when dealing with those the rules are different from when a monster crawled out of the world of dreams. Or even former animals.

(Animal rights activism in this world is probably a right mess. Bigger of a mess than irl.)

Magical girls are not police. But often work with the police, governments and military. But only when it comes to monsters and research. Several magical girl institutions are multinational.

---- Police, Policy, Politics ----

Magical Girls are not Police Officers. they are not law enforcement.

they exist in a sort of limbo, meant to protect people from creatures of power, but hold no greater authority than pest control. Though sometimes that pest just happened to have been human…

the Magical Bureo of Investigation:

Or about five hundred other names that change depending on what country you are in.

when dealing with a monster that used to be human, even if slightly suspected of being human it is out of the magical girls jurisdiction. the most they can do is apprehend the creature and secure it until the Magical Bureo of investigation steps in.

these are the guys who are often derogatorily + commonly referred to as the Magical Police.

they are responsible for containment and care of people with power and their interaction with the public at large. They do a lot of messed up stuff that is relatively just swept under the rug. They also (try to) keep track of who has powers, how they are being used, and that they are interfering with normal life for normal people as little as possible.

For most people of power they play a very little part of their life.

They are also responsible for informing the public about paranormal phenomena, and keeping paranormal places (domains) from harming people. Also run prisons, and educational programs.

They don’t really do research, but they work with researchers, they don’t do public relations well.

A lot of magical girls continue onto careers in the burro or with associated agencies and companies.

The magic police are state run.

Hunters: the oldest of all these institutions, and mostly seen as an outdated practice, in cities that is. as magical girls have replaced hunters for the most part in cities, but hunting is still a common profession in rural areas or areas that simply can not afford to have other institutions in place. hunters usually work alone or in small groups. They work on commission. often having licenses to do thier work. allowing them some of the investigative powers like a private investigator.

Some hunters are organizing into loose guilds or unions.

All sorts of people can be hunters, and some hunters are not as picky about laws and such as the other institutions. There also exist rouge hunters. Two kinds, one is a hunter who continues to hunt even though they have lost their license or don’t have one in the first place, sometimes nicknamed the poachers. The other is hunters who believe that anything with any power is a monster and this needs to be exterminated. Not unusual for these types of hunters to overlap.

Some hunters specialize in hunting certain things, like vampire hunters.

Sectioned Officers: these are incidental. Popular and mainstream culture likes to keep themselves separated from the ongoings of power. But sometimes power comes nocking. Sectioned officers (and their equivalents in fire brigades and hospitals) are people either trained in dealing with crimes involving smaller degrees of power or more commonly they are officers who started out as normal officers and had one to many cases involving power and becalmed the designated go-to.

Magical girls are just as much a tool of propaganda as they are there to genuinely help people.

A lot of magical girls perform in charity events, do club like activities and often do this with these other organizations.

Magical girls as an institution have had a lot of controversies and internal issue, just like many IRL organizations. But is overall seen as a positive force on a young kids life, instead of being a “problem kid” or institutionalized. The world lives with the power, but dose not fully know what to do with them either.

————social————

So being a magical girl is a gender nuteral occupation. But because of it’s history it is more associated with girls. So when places are hiring for magical girls they usually advertise to girls.

But boys and Agendered and gender-fluid and so on so forth individuals can become magical girls. Key-charms don’t care what gender their user is or if it changes.

Another thing in regards to magical girls and why girls where originally targeted in recruitment was because of the false notion that girls are more likely to be aligned with the pantheon of admiration and boys the pantheon knowledge. (Magical girls sold themselves to the public as defenders of love, justice, and humanity against the treat of monsters.) beat the shit out of monsters with the power of friendship and love… and incredible violence. The last section is usually left out of PR stunts.

Because magical girls are generally associated with the pantheon of affection girls from other pantheons are encouraged to hide their actual alignment and simply claim that they defeat monsters with the power of love…. What kind of love? Uuugh, the love kind! Yea ignore the way I make shadows eat things, this is definitely the power of love. Stop asking silly questions…

Now another thing I have had to consider is the relationship between superheroes and magical girls.

See becoming a magical girl was not really pushed onto boys until the late 1950s during the silver age of comics. Where the notion of becoming a magical girl was rebranded a while as being a super hero. To some extent.

Supper hero comics where created during the Great Depression and ww2 for most of the same reasons they where in our world. As a way for a generation at was to learn how to cope with adversity and trauma… as well as instill a sense of patriotism and a tool for propaganda.

But superhero’s where generally marketed to boys.

With the idea that men where soldiers and girls where magical girls.

(Some superhero are relatively the same, but things like the X-men and such are very different than their irl counterparts, but Batman, wonder woman, and a lot of other superheroes are relatively the same )

One thing to note is that magical girls mainly operate in big cities. Rural areas and smaller towns are generally left to fend for themselves when it comes to monsters. Still using older methods of keeping monsters away, methods that are not always that affective in large cities.

Sometimes being a magical girl in your teen years is treated similarly to having been in Girl Scouts or something like that. It looks good on resumes as a lot of other skills are taught by the institutions.

It is also not unusual to find certain lower income families try to get their daughters to become magical girls. It pays well and offers a way up, in similar ways to how college in theory opens up more job opportunities and higher paying jobs. This is especially true for people who have power. Power can be a bit of an extra hurdle in getting jobs. Or keeping them. Especially depending what kind of power it is.

————conclusion——————

This whole magical girl aspect of this fic is actually sort of messed up and dystopian. Sort of the point.

I’d not want to live in their world.

I’m still considering naming them something other than magical girls with the name being so gendered, and sort of tied to anime. Even with the existence of non anime magical girls. Also what else could I call them?

All of this information is interesting and all, but relatively irrelevant to the fanfic proper. It’s just background information…

This is why I don’t normally write fanfics look at this mess.

#fanart #the magnus archives #tma micheal shelly #tma au #cw sexism #fictional ww2 #brief mention of world war two #magical girl #cw natzi #worldbuilding #genuinely don’t know why i keep doing this #long post #lore #cw gun mention #I’m embarrassed so let me be #policing #tma gerard keay

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vodkaisgay28 · 19 days ago

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To keep good love from going wrong (too old to just break free)

Chapter II. — The Wait

Part: 3/?

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Link if you want to read it on ao3 here

Hello hello! Hope ur not too angry about the cliffhanger :DD I just HAD to do it hehehe

Next chaper is coming as usual in two weeks! Cause thank god I still have that pre-drawn!

Anyway! Hope u still like this comics

See you soon!

Enjoy!

ANN

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kwanisms · 2 months ago

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Kinktober 「10:01」 — x.minghao

» seventeen menu | the8 menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ half-dragon!Minghao × fem!Reader wc: 7.3k summary: After inheriting an estate deep in the Bavarian Alps from his maternal grandfather, Minghao arrives to find the estate has survived the war unscathed and that deep underground is a vault full of historic and old art dating back to the 8th century. He decides to hire an appraiser to inspect the collection but becomes enamored with her. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller, historical; non idol au, monster idol au, historical au, post-ww2 au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mentions of: food & alcohol consumption, supernatural & horror themes, post ww2 in Europe, allusions to the Nazi party; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglist! taglist for kinktober is CLOSED. Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this was a rough time to get started and i have to restart twice, once after completely redoing the plot. it was difficult but once i changed the plot, things flowed so much more naturally! but here we are baybee! kicking off Kinktober 2024 with dragon!Minghao in the 1940's post WW2! i did minimal research on this cause I'm a stickler for world building but I hope you all enjoy the first part of Kinktober. one day, 30 to go! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), mirror sex, sex photos, unprotected sex (don’t do this lol), use of pet names (bao bei, beibei, sweetheart, etc.), oral (f receiving, m receiving), fingering (f receiving), and that should be all but let me know if I missed some! kinks: mirror sex + sex photos dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Don’t cover your mouth, I want everyone to know how good I make you feel. ❜❜

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Whether it was the scenery itselves or the dragon blood in him, Minghao loved the serenity and peace that seemed to accompany traveling through the mountains. This drive was a vaguely familiar one though he hadn’t been on this road since he was a young child.

He looked out the window as the car climbed higher, the trees on one side giving way to the view of the valley below. It was a picturesque scene, a beautiful lake at the base of the mountains surrounded by a forest of oranges, reds, yellows, and greens. He turned his gaze away as the car turned, following the curve of the road as the mountain flattened out.

The road was lined on either side with trees, providing cover from the cloudy, gray skies as the car drove along. Minghao caught a glimpse of the manor through the tunnel of trees, intrigued to see what state it was in since the hospitalization and death of his grandfather.

He hadn’t been to this estate since he was a young child, visiting with his mother until he threw a fit about going again. Since then, he had not stepped foot on the grounds, preferring to spend the holidays with his mother instead in their ancestral home.

Now he was in his late twenties and returning to the vacation home of his maternal line after being bequeathed the estate in his grandfather’s will. The car broke through the line of trees, taking a slight curve, forest on one side and a stone wall that dropped into a lower valley on the other.

The manor was just as he remembered, imposing and gray with gothic overtones and the facade made almost entirely out of stone. The angled roofs curved at the base and sharp spires at the ridges along the roofs. The majority of the stone was limestone, edged with a darker color of stone.

As the car pulled up, a light wind blew, the mix of orange gold, and brown leaves blowing across the stone, hitting the wall overlooking the valley. Minghao settled back in his seat, looking up at the imposing mansion, wondering the state of the interior. Outside, the place looked well kept but the inside could be an entirely different story.

The car pulled to a stop, the engine cutting and silence falling over the interior as the driver got out. He made to open the door himself but the driver beat him to it. Minghao got out, buttoning his coat as he looked up at the manor, thanking the driver. Up close, the estate looked almost immaculate. The windows had the curtains drawn, not allowing him to see inside the house.

The front door opened and a rather serious and proper looking man exited the house, followed by an equally serious and proper looking woman. They waited as Minghao turned to look at the driver unhooking the luggage from the back rack. Minghao walked over to greet the couple.

“Good afternoon,” the woman said, curtseying while the man bowed his head. “You must be Minghao,” the man asked to which Minghao nodded. “Yes,” he said softly. “You’ve grown quite a bit since we last saw you,” the woman spoke. “I used to attend to you when you were a child,” she continued.

“Your bags will be brought into the red room,” the man interjected. “It’s the only renovated room.” Minghao nodded. “And you two are?” Minghao asked. “I’m Klaus,” the man introduced before gesturing to the woman. “And this is Renate.”

The woman nodded, giving Minghao a kind smile. “Please, come this way,” Renate said, gesturing to the house. They walked in silence to the house, up the steps and into the foyer. Minghao looked around, taking in his surroundings with an impressed air.

The foyer was small but spacious enough with a small coat room off to the left and to the right was the library, the door opened. “That library was your grandfather’s favorite place in the house,” Renate said, noticing Minghao’s wavering attention. “How many bedrooms does this place have?” Minghao asked, changing the subject.

“Ten,” Renate answered as the driver and one of the staff started bringing in his trunks. “Right, this way,” Klaus said, gesturing to them to follow him, leading them through the foyer and entrance hall and disappearing through an open doorway.

“Shall I give you the tour or would you like to rest?” Renate asked. Minghao looked around once more before turning to look at her. “I think a tour would be nice,” he said. “Will give me an idea of the condition and state of the house,” he continued, looking around once more. “Yes. I think a tour is in order.”

Renate took him around the house, showing him the different rooms. From what he could see, only a handful of the rooms were in need of renovations and a few could use upgrades but were not in dire need. The kitchen was functional and cozy with a large dining room attached.

Also off the kitchen and next to the dining room but not attached, was a decent sized sun room. On the opposite side of the house from these rooms was a guest suite where his things had been brought. “I had this room made up for you since it’s the only guest suite on the main floor,” Renate said as Minghao looked around. “It’s also the only one that has been renovated.”

Minghao stopped and turned to look at her. “It’s perfect,” he replied. “I think I’ll freshen up before dinner,” he continued, crossing the room to where she stood in the doorway. “If you could please produce a set of keys for me, I would appreciate it,” he added. Renate’s smile fell. “Why?” she asked.

“Because I’m the owner of the estate now,” Minghao answered. “I don’t want to have to seek you out to unlock doors in my own home.” Renate nodded, clearing her throat. “I shall see if I can’t locate the other keys. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere,” she replied. “Dinner will be in an hour.”

She left, closing the door behind her and allowing Minghao his much needed privacy. He moved over to his luggage and opened the top trunk, finding some of his clothes. He would unpack later, first he would explore the guest suite and see what he could find and if there were any secrets.

The guest suite was large, a massive four poster bed stood in the middle of the room, the headboard pushed against the outside wall. Thick, velvet drapes hung from the intricately carved wooden frame. Standing at the foot of the bed was an ornate bench carved, stained, and lacquered just like the rest of the furniture. Minghao walked over to a small seating area past two pocket doors that shut to close off the area from the bedroom.

On the opposite side of the bed from the sitting room was the entrance to a private ensuite bathroom with marble floors, two pedestal sinks sat under golden framed mirrors. A massive soaker tub with golden clawed feet stood opposite the sinks. A pipe protruded from the wall above the tub, curving downward and providing a shower head.

Minghao returned to the bedroom area and walked over to the bed, falling onto it and staring up at the drapes. Though he vaguely remembered this house from his childhood, nothing about it had seemed familiar since entering and he wondered how much had changed from when he was a child.

A knock at the door interrupted his train of thoughts and he sat up as the door opened, a young maid poking her head into the room. “Begging your pardon, sir,” she said softly. “I’ve come to unpack your luggage.” Minghao relaxed. “I see,” he said simply. He had assumed, incorrectly, that he might be allowed to unpack his own luggage but he was proven wrong again and again.

“Knock yourself out,” he replied, gesturing to the collection of trunks waiting at the end of his bed. The maid opened the door and Minghao realized it was not one but two maids. “We’ll work quickly and when we’re done, we can show you where everything is,” the first maid offered. Minghao nodded and got up as they started to get to work. “I’ll just get out of your way,” he said, walking towards the door and slinking out of the room.

He still had time before dinner would be ready so he decided to explore the first floor a bit more. As he walked past the foyer, he noticed a door with a round window and walked over, peering into the window only to see nothing but darkness. “The elevator,” a voice said, making Minghao jump. “Your grandfather lost a lot of mobility before he was hospitalized so he had this installed to make getting from the ground floor to the top floors easier.”

Minghao turned to look at the door once more. “Does it only go up?” he asked. “Sir?” Klaus asked. Minghao looked at him. “Does it go downstairs, too?” he asked. Klaus nodded, grimacing. “Indeed it does but there isn’t much down there except storage and cobwebs.” Minghao snorted and turned back to the elevator door. “Does this even work?” he asked, reaching for the door.

“Don’t!” Klaus snapped, making Minghao retract his hand quickly, almost as if he had been burned. “My apologies,” Klaus said, regaining his composure. “The elevator is turned off and very dangerous when not operated properly.” Minghao nodded, wide eyed. “Duly noted,” he said. “Is there another way downstairs then?” Minghao asked. Klaus gave him a surprised look.

“I’d like to see everything,” Minghao added. Klaus nodded. “I’m sure, sir,” he explained. “But you have more than a day to do so,” he continued. “How about you focus on relaxing today and tomorrow you can tackle the basement?” Minghao stared at Klaus but conceded. “I suppose the basement could wait,” he said softly. “Good. Dinner should be ready soon,” Klaus added, giving Minghao a nod and turning on his heel in the direction of the kitchens.

Dinner was a private affair as Minghao sat at the formal dining room alone. After eating, he returned to his room where the maids showed him exactly where they stored everything and even packed his luggage away. He thanked them and called it a night, getting ready for and settling down into the oversized bed.

Falling asleep in a new environment was always difficult no matter how comfortable things seemed and only after tossing and turning for hours did Minghao finally manage to drift into a dreamless slumber.

The following morning, he was woken by Renate. He cleaned up, dressed, and had dinner before he decided to explore the rest of the house, starting with the upper floors. He made a mental note of which rooms he wanted to renovate before finally being given a set of keys; a skeleton key for all the interior doors, a key for the exterior doors, a key to the storage sheds and garages, and a key for the attic which coincidentally also worked for the basement.

Minghao was more than pleased to be allowed to finally inspect the basement and Klaus had been right. It was a storage place for old furniture, all coated in a thick layer of dust, with cobwebs in every corner. As Minghao worked with some of the estate workers to shift the furniture aside he discovered something no one had mentioned to him. A massive vault door.

When asked, Klaus and Renate admitted they knew of the existence of the vault but that they didn’t know what was inside it. Neither also claimed to have knowledge of a combination. Minghao stood in front of the door for hours, trying to figure out the combination, trying several different ones but none of them seemed to work.

Days passed by and he grew more and more restless at not being able to open the vault. While inspecting the library for a book to occupy his time, he found a bright blue book, a copy of On Blue Water by Edmondo de Amicis. It was placed amongst a shelf of brown bindings and looked oddly out of place. Minghao walked over, inspecting the book and carefully removing it from the shelf.

He flipped through the pages, finding blue ink circling parts in the book. Starting from the first instance, he saw the number eighty-seven. The next was forty-two, followed by seven, ninety-nine, sixty-three, and finally four. He walked over to the desk, grabbing a pen from the stand and a blank piece of paper as he wrote the numbers down, taking into consideration the arrows drawn below each number.

When he was done, he returned the book to the shelf he found it and quickly made his way downstairs to the vault door. He followed the combination, hoping it would be correct and when he heard the click, he nearly cheered in relief. He lifted the handle, releasing the mechanism holding the door shut and pulled it open. Whatever he had been prepared to find beyond the metal door, it was not this.

Inside the vast vault was a collection unlike anything he’d seen. A collection of art. As he realized what he’d stumbled upon, he shut the door quickly and headed upstairs to seek out either Klaus or Renate. He needed to make a long distance call.

When you received the call from Germany, you could hardly believe it. A colleague of yours called to explain he had suggested your name to a potential client. Someone had just unearthed a rather large collection in an estate in the Bavarian Alps and needed an expert eye to evaluate and appraise the pieces. They were willing to pay handsomely as well as fund your trip from Portugal, where you currently called home.

You jumped at the chance to set your own price and also for travel to the remote location in Germany. The trip was long, arduous and by the end, you wanted nothing more than to never step foot on a train or ship again. You arrived in Innsbruck, Austria after taking train after train in Italy and that was only after taking a ship from Lisbon through the strait of Gibraltar into the mediterranean and to the Italian capital of Rome. You still had a drive from Innsbruck to the remote estate in the mountains but a car ride where you could sleep off your trip was more than welcome.

You woke up as the sun was setting, the car climbing into the mountains and you could see the valley below was bathed in shadow from the sun setting behind the crest of the mountains behind you as the car turned, following the curve in the road. A tunnel of trees lined the road, wind starting to whip violently as the car drove on and soon the forest opened up to show a massive mansion nestled in the mountains.

It was impressive with the dark storm clouds looming overhead, the light from the sun blocked by the mountain to your left yet golden rays of light hit the clouds behind the estate, making them look ever so darker as the car pulled up next to a blue Roadmaster.

You opened your door, refusing to wait any longer. A bed inside the estate was yours and you were ready to collapse into it and sleep off your travel. The driver unpacked your things, setting them down by the back of the car as the front door opened. A stern looking older woman greeted you, introducing herself as Renate. She had one of the young men from the garage carrying your things and welcomed you to the estate, guiding you inside.

The foyer was grand and dark with white tile flooring. The door to your right was open, displaying a few coats hanging up in what you surmised was the coat room. The door to your right was shut. As the door closed behind you with a loud click, you walked further into the house. “Your rooms have been drawn for you upstairs,” Renate said, guiding you towards the stairs.

You followed her up the sweeping staircase, looking overhead and taking in the details of the intricate and massive chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Once on the landing, you followed her down one of the halls to a door which she opened for you. “This will be your room for the duration of your stay,” Renate explained. “Your things will be brought up to your room and the maids will unpack your things,” she explained. “I will take you to meet the owner of the house now.”

You followed her back down the hall to the stairs as a door opened, revealing an elevator and the driver bringing your luggage upstairs. You continued down the steps to the ground floor and followed Renate through another hallway to a door where she knocked before opening it. “Sir, there’s a Miss Y/N here. She’s just arrived,” she announced, stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter.

Inside the room was a dark parlor decorated and furnished in the Victorian style. It was a cozy room, a massive fireplace with a roaring fire took up a great deal of wall space with built-in shelves on either side of the fireplace. Sitting in front of the fireplace was a seating area, two couches facing one another with a low table between them. Perched on one of the couches was a young man.

He had reddish brown hair, a slender build and was currently immersed in a book he held. At the mention of your name, he looked up and your breath caught in your throat when his gaze met yours. His eyes were red and orange, like fire. The pupils in the middle were vertical slits. “Perfect,” he said, snapping the book shut and setting it down on the table.

Renate gave a curtsey before exiting the room and shutting the door, leaving you alone with the man who now stood before you. He had his hands tucked into his pockets. He wore a simple black turtleneck under a thicker sweater with a v-neck. His trousers were a medium brown and made of what looked to be tweed. He wore simple brown plain toe derby shoes to complete the look.

“Based on Renate’s introduction, I can assume you are Y/F/N Y/L/N?” he asked, a neutral expression on his face. You nodded slowly. “And you are?” you asked, walking forward, intent on shaking his hand. “Minghao,” he answered as you held out your hand. Xu Minghao,” he added, taking your hand and shaking it briefly. “I assume you know why you’re here?” he asked and you nodded once more.

“For my expertise,” you answered. “I doubt you’d invite me here based on my good looks,” you joked. Minghao let out a chuckle, returning his hand to his pocket. “So,” you said, looking around the room. “Where is this collection?” Minghao smiled again, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch across from him. You did so as he sat back down.

“Before we get into the thick of it so to speak, I’d like to set your payment, something you agree is fair and we can sign off on,” he explained. You nodded, narrowing your eyes. “My usual rate is a twenty percent cut of the collection, were you to sell it,” you explained. “Only twenty?” Minghao asked, tilting his head. “The more priceless a collection, the more money I get,” you added.

“If your collection is only worth a million, I would get two-hundred thousand. That’s a pretty fair price for evaluating and appraising the pieces. Especially with the amount of research I end up doing,” you said as Minghao nodded along. “I understand that,” he explained, leaning back against the couch. “I think what you do is worth more,” he added. “I’m willing to go up to thirty percent.”

Your brows rose, eyes widening. “Thirty percent? Goodness, you’re generous,” you said, your lips pulling back into a smirk. Minghao mirrored your expression. “So we’re in agreement?” he asked. “Thirty percent?” You nodded in response. “Sounds reasonable to me,” you answered. “Good,” Minghao replied. “Dinner should be ready,” he added. “How about you get changed and join me?”

You returned to your room, changing out of your clothes and into something more appropriate for dinner. You returned downstairs to the foyer where you were greeted by a stern looking man you had yet to meet. “I’m Klaus,” he introduced himself with a small bow. “Dinner is being served and Mr. Xu has asked me to escort you to the dining room.”

You followed him through the halls until you reached a door which he then opened and gestured for you to enter. Inside was a large dining room with a table large enough to seat 12. Sitting at the head of the table was Minghao. When you entered, he stood up quickly as Klaus exited, shutting the door behind him. “Please,” Minghao said, gesturing to the seat adjacent to him.

You walked over, thanking him and moved to sit. Minghao was quick to pull the chair for you and move it again when you sat down before returning to his chair. You thanked him as the door behind you opened and a small service staff entered, setting a few platters down on the table in front of you and Minghao. “I asked them to make something new,” he explained as they removed the lids, showing a vast array of dishes that all looked amazing.

“Something with goat,” he added as he inspected the dishes. “Please,” he continued, gesturing to the food. “Help yourself to whatever you’d like.” You thanked him, digging into the food in front of you, not realizing that you were ravenous until the food was in front of you.

Silence fell over the room as you ate, no conversation was being had until Minghao spoke up. “So you traveled from Portugal?” he asked as he cut his meat. You nodded, wiping your mouth before speaking. “Yes,” you answered. “I had an apartment just outside Lisbon.” Minghao looked up at you.

“Had?” he asked, picking up on your use of past tense. “Yes,” you answered. “I travel for work and often only rent places for as long as I’m there,” you explained. “The job in Lisbon lasted for almost a year,” you continued. “The collection I was tasked with evaluating was massive and ended up being worth a whopping eighty-seven million pounds,” you added. Minghao’s eyes widened. “Eighty-seven million pounds? Good gracious,” he said softly. “And you got twenty percent of that?”

You smiled, picking up your glass of wine. “It’s not a bad business to be in,” you explained. “It certainly isn’t,” Minghao said with a chuckle as you took a sip of wine. “My father was an appraiser,” you said suddenly. But he never made it a lucrative business like I did. We struggled a lot and he would disappear for months on end, never so much as sending a letter or calling,” you continued.

“My mother, God rest her soul, worked 12 hour shifts at the local textile factory just to make sure we had food on the table.” Minghao kept his eyes on you as you spoke. “As soon as I was able, I started working. Mainly bookkeeping and typing,” you continued. “I was able to put myself through college with a combination of working and scholarships,” you said with a smile. “I immediately made a name for myself, assessing art collections left and right in America until my first overseas assignment in London.”

Minghao couldn’t help but smile. It was clear you took great pride in your work. Your smile, nostalgic, slowly fell as a memory came into the forefront of your mind. “That’s where I was living when the war broke out,” you said, a bitter tone in your voice.

Minghao couldn’t help but feel a similar anger and hatred towards the war. He’d been living in China at the time, deep in a remote area and away from the cities for protection. The war hadn’t hit him but you, living in London, he could only imagine how it affected you. The destruction and danger lurking around every corner.

“I worked as an air raid warden during the first few years but in the last couple, I was promoted to evacuation officer,” you explained. “It was stressful, being in the midst of all the bombings and trying to keep my cool and help direct evacuees,” you continued. “But I learned a lot about the world and myself in those years.” Minghao took a sip of his wine. “I can only imagine what you went through,” he said softly, making you look towards him.

“I was hidden away in China,” he continued. “We didn’t see much war where we were,” he added. You smiled sadly. “China is a pretty big place,” you replied. “I’m sure places like Beijing, Shanghai, and Hong Kong saw most of the action,” you added. Minghao nodded. “I’m sure they did. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Especially so far from home.”

You shook your head. “Home is wherever I rest my head,” you replied. “My family is all gone now. It’s just me.” Minghao felt his heart sink slightly. He knew what it was like to be alone in a sense but he still had family that was alive, he was just estranged from them so it wasn’t entirely the same feeling. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied but you smiled, dismissing his apology. “It’s all right now,” you answered.

“Less to worry about,” you added as you picked up your utensils. “Dinner is delicious by the way,” you added, changing the subject. Though you maintained this calm, unbothered air, Minghao could see right through it. One of his many talents as a draconian descendant.

He wouldn’t push it though. It wasn’t his place. If you wanted to talk about it, you would.

The next couple days, Minghao showed you the house so you could familiarize yourself with the layout. On the third day, he finally took you to the basement, opening the vault and showing you the contents. As you entered, carefully examining the works with gloves, you cataloged things slowly.

“So,” you said, returning to Minghao who was standing outside the vault. “I have good news,” you said softly, lowering your clipboard. “Everything is labeled and there is a box full of documents, which I can only assume are the auction and purchase records. Whoever owned this collection took great care in keeping records which makes my job much easier,” you said with a smile.

“Lunch is almost ready,” Minghao replied. “Shall we eat first and then you can go over the records after?” You nodded, smiling at him. “Sounds superb.”

After a quick lunch of soup and sandwiches, you returned to work, pulling out the record boxes and going through them, matching the papers to the items. “This is incredible,” you breathed, pouring over the records. “Not only are the dates of purchases listed but the prices are also listed. This is an incredibly well documented collection.” Minghao smiled as you flipped through page after page.

It took a few days but you finally had a partial appraisal for the ceramics. “Two hundred thousand?” Minghao asked when you showed him your numbers. “Two hundred and forty-three thousand, six-hundred and fifty-seven to be precise,” you answered. Minghao let out a laugh. “And that’s just the ceramics?” he asked to which you nodded. “I expect that to be the lowest number of this collection,” you answered.

Your assumption was proven to be correct when you came back with the values for the other categories.

Minghao stood, reading over your numbers as you sipped whiskey from a crystal glass. “Are these numbers accurate?” Minghao asked. You nodded. “I’m nothing if not accurate,” you replied. “Are they lower than your projection?” you asked, suddenly worried about his response.

During your time at the estate, you’d taken a liking to Minghao, something you normally never allowed to happen with clients. It was easy to like him. He was handsome, charming, well-spoken, intelligent, and incredibly witty. He was good company during your meals and late at night when you were working on your estimates. You’d become very close with him, especially after he told you about his parentage and his nature as a half dragon. You’d never met someone like him before.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re higher,” he added. “I expected a much lower number.” You smiled at him, setting your glass down and getting up to join him, taking the paper from him. “A great number of these items date back as far as the 8th century,” you explained.

“Like this one,” you said, pointing to an item on the list. “A silk print from eighth century China,” you said. “Or this one. A nineteenth century watercolor. There’s only one of these in existence. And this thirteenth century oil painting? The art community thought this was lost forever.”

“A lot of these items are worth even more because of the war,” you continued, handing the paper back to him and picking up your glass, downing the rest of the amber liquid. “A lot of art was lost, destroyed by the Third Reich. The Nazi stole a lot of art and we’re still trying to recover it. Most of the stolen art may never be recovered,” you continued.

Minghao held the paper in his hands but his eyes were on you. “A lot goes into appraising,” you explained. “Condition, rarity, age, authenticity, subject matter, and size are a few of the things I look at when appraising art collections. Many of these items are unique and only a few versions of them exist,” you continued, moving to the bar cart to pour yourself another drink.

“And every single one of these artists or sculptors are dead,” you continued, popping the top off the decanter and pouring more liquid into your glass. “Which makes these even more valuable. They can never be replicated by the original artist.” You placed the lid back and turned to face Minghao, holding the glass in your hand. He was still staring at you, a look of something you couldn’t place in his eyes.

He set the paper down and stalked forward slowly to where you stood until he had you caged in against the bar cart. “You know,” he said softly, eyes dipping down to look at your lips. “You’re incredibly sexy when you talk about this,” he said, tilting his head to the side. You swallowed nervously. “When I talk about art?” you asked, feeling a heat settling in the pit of your stomach.

“No,” he replied, taking your glass and drinking it in one go before setting the empty glass on the cart. “When you talk about something you’re passionate about.” He leaned in closer, lips inches from yours. You felt a shiver run up your spine, desire mixing with the sexual tension that hung in the air.

“I’m passionate about a lot of things,” you said, one of your hands moving up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Oh?” Minghao asked. “Like what?” He was teasing you now, the smirk on his face gave it away. He wanted to see how far he could take this. How far he could push you before you gave into him.

“Art, cuisine, fashion,” you said softly. “Photography, travel… sex.”

The next moment, Minhao closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours as his hands moved to your waist. You kissed him back with as much hunger, hand grabbing him desperately. Your lips parted, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss as you felt one of his hands move down, cupping your ass and squeezing. Minghao pulled back, looking into your eyes, breathless as he spoke. “Maybe we should—”

“Take this somewhere else?” you asked, hopefully finishing his sentence. He nodded, pulling you into another kiss. “Your room or mine?” you asked as he left a trail of kisses down your neck. “Mine’s closer,” he murmured, his long fingers swiftly undoing the tie at the top of your blouse..

“Lead the way,” you said, pushing him back playfully. Minghao’s fingers instead closed around your wrist, pulling you from the bar cart and dragging you from the parlor, across the foyer to a pair of double doors you’d seen and knew was probably his room. When he parted the doors, he quickly pulled you into the room before shutting the doors.

You only got a brief look around the room before he was on you, kissing you and pulling at the buckle of your skirt belt, quickly undoing it and unzipping the skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at your feet. You stepped out of the mess of fabric, letting him pull your green blouse off and tossing it to the floor with your skirt leaving you in your lingerie.

You felt slightly self conscious under his gaze as his eyes wandered, taking in your figure. You slowly moved back, taking a seat on the edge of the bed still in your heels. Minghao moved over, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your cheek, lips trailing down your neck to your chest. He glanced up, meeting your gaze before he started kissing his way down your stomach as he slowly knelt down.

He worked slowly, removing your shoes, one by one. You glanced up, eyes widening as you caught sight of your reflection in a massive mirror that stood across from where you sat. “My, that’s quite a mirror,” you said softly as Minghao continued to remove your shoes, humming in response.

Once your shoes were dealt with, Minghao’s hand slid up your legs, undoing the clips of your garter belt and then sliding your stockings down your legs, dropping both of them on the floor with your shoes before he got back up, climbing onto the bed over you as you scooted back. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, hands moving to slide your garter belt off along with your panties.

You let out a gasp as you felt two of his fingers spread your lips, finding your clit and muttering softly under his breath about how wet you felt. You tried to say something, to bite back, but your words failed you as he drew his finger in a languid circle around the sensitive nub.

You whined, hips bucking as he took his time, teasing you with long, drawn out massages. He chuckled, kissing down your chest and stomach again. He settled between your thighs, moving his fingers and pushing them into you slowly as his tongue descended onto your clit, tasting you with a groan.

Your thighs tried to close on his head but he pulled back, lightly smacking the inside of your thigh with his free hand. “Keep them open,” he growled before going right back into it. You moaned loudly, unrestrained, quickly reaching up to cover your mouth. Minghao reached up, grabbing your wrist and pulled your hand from your face.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t cover your mouth. I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel.” You nodded slowly, moving your hand down to the sheets and gripping them as Minghao returned his attention to your clit, his fingers moving inside you. He pumped them at a steady pace, stopping to curl them up and making your back arch as you moaned again and again.

“That’s it,” he said softly, watching as your chest rose and fell with each labored breath. “Does it feel good?” he asked. You nodded with a whimper. “Yes,” you breathed. “F-feels so good!” Minghao smirked as he continued to curl his fingers, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. “You gonna be good and come for me, sweetheart?” he asked. Your thighs had started to tremble, the tension in your body ready to snap at any moment. You whined in response.

“I need to hear you say it, bao bei,” he murmured, drawing out his motions, making them as slow as possible. “Yes!” you cried. “M’gonna cum!” Minghao resumed the same quick pace, rubbing against your walls as he drove you over the edge and your orgasm crashed down on you. You gasped, spewing out a slew of curses mixed with his name as he helped you ride out your high.

“Good,” he said softly. “Good girl.” You attempted to push his hand away when it became too much and sensing what you were silently asking for, Minghao removed his fingers, giving you a break. He cleaned his fingers, getting up from the bed. You heard him move around the room but were too exhausted to open your eyes and see what he was doing.

He returned to the foot of the bed and when nothing else happened, you finally opened your eyes and saw him standing at the foot of the bed. He held something in his hands. “I’d like to ask your permission for something,” he started.

You looked at the item in his hands and noticed it was a camera. You looked up to meet his fiery gaze. “I’d like to photograph you,” he continued. “Like this,” he added, gesturing at your posture. You pushed yourself up. “You want to photograph me naked?” you asked, slightly amused. Minghao chuckled, lowering his gaze to his camera. “No,” he replied, shaking his head before looking back up.

“I want to photograph you in the middle of sex.”

To say you were surprised was an understatement but you weren’t entirely turned off the idea. “And these would be for your eyes only?” you asked softly. Minghao nodded as he prepared the camera. “I plan on turning one of the bedrooms into a dark room,” he explained, raising the camera to look through the viewfinder and pressing the shutter button, before lowering it and smiling at you.

You leaned back, spreading your legs. “How do you want me?” you asked playfully as he raised the camera again, snapping another picture. You laughed and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed and grabbing at his belt loops, pulling him closer to undo his pants, starting with his belt. You unzipped his pants, pulling them down enough to pull his cock free from the confines of his underwear.

You wasted no time in taking the head into your mouth, surprising him into letting out a groan, his head falling back, exposing his long neck. You took more of him in your mouth, keeping your tongue flat against the underside as you took him further. You heard the snap of the camera and pulled back until just the tip was in your mouth, tongue swirling around the head.

You heard another snap followed by the automatic wind of the camera and kept going, each time taking him further and further into your mouth as you drew him to his full length and hardness. “Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” you heard him groan, snapping another photo. You pulled back, moving your hand up and down the shaft and looked up at him.

“You gonna fuck me already?” you asked mischievously. Minghao tossed the camera onto the bed and pulled his sweater over his head, discarding it on the floor before pulling off his shirt and adding it to the growing pile. You scooted back to the middle of the bed, removing your bra and tossing it aside as he climbed onto the bed, trailing wet kisses up your stomach, stopping to nip at the skin under your breast. His tongue brushed over your nipple, swirling around it before he continued up your chest, running his tongue over your skin.

At the junction of your neck and shoulder, he sank his teeth into your skin, making you cry out and your body jerk suddenly. He used your movement against you, moving closer and taking his cock in his hand. He guided the head to your folds, rutting against your for a moment before pushing into you, letting out a growl as your warm walls enveloped him.

He grabbed the camera from its resting spot and sat back, holding it up to snap a photograph, aiming the lens at the place where your bodies met. “Oh fuck,” you gasped as he thrusted into you, bottoming out and his cock nestling against your cervix. He snapped another picture of your nude body before tossing the camera aside once more and grabbing your hips.

He neither eased you into it or warned you but started a rough, brutal pace immediately, hips snapping forward and burying his cock into your cunt repeatedly. You cried out in both shock and pleasure at the intensity at which he started right away. Your fingers curled into the sheets, thighs spreading more as he pounded into you. “You’ll cum if you go too fast,” you mused, eyes fluttering shut as you felt him throb inside you.

He chuckled, a breathy sound as his grip on you tightened. “I have more stamina than that, beibei,” he said softly. He gave you another harsh thrust, enjoying the way your breasts bounced with each snap of his hips. The room was full of the sound of skin against skin and your moans. It almost drowned out the sound of the rain outside. Almost.

Minghao slowed his pace before pulling out of you. You protested but he simply grabbed your hand and pulled you up as he shifted behind you, pushing you on to your hands and knees as he re-entered you from behind. You moaned, head dropping as he grabbed your hips, resuming that same merciless pace only now he was hitting even deeper.

“Look up,” he murmured in your ear. You did as he said, raising your head until you met the gaze of your own reflection. “Oh shit,” you gasped, walls clenching around him. He grabbed your chin, pressing his chest against your back as he leaned over you. “I want you to watch me fuck you,” he growled into your ear. “Watch yourself cum.” You moaned but maintained eye contact with him through the mirror. In the darkness of the room, his eyes glowed and he seemed even more dragon-like than before.

You pushed back, meeting his hips and thrusts with as much force as you could muster but you were getting weaker with each snap of his hips against your ass. His cock seemed to swell inside you or maybe it was your walls clamping down and not wanting to let go but he filled you so deliciously and with each rut, you were pushed closer and closer to your climax.

“That’s it,” Minghao said, his breath hot against your skin. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and let go.” His freehand moved from your hip to between your thighs, working your clit in time with his thrusts as he propelled you over the edge. You came with a scream as a loud clap of thunder shook the house and the very mountain it stood on.

Minghao fucked you through it, chasing his own high as he finally released inside you, painting your walls in his hot thick cum. There was more of it than you could initially comprehend, filling your walls and no doubt every crevice of your womb. Pregnancy was the last thing on your mind and you moaned, pushing back onto him, milking him for every bit of cum he had.

“Careful sweetheart,” Minghao purred into your ear, moving his hand to your throat and holding it firmly but not squeezing. “We have all night,” he continued. “I’m not done with you just yet.

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