#pulling out the your mom jokes on these bozos

[hitwiththetmnt]

Back, P22, next

@yorshie

[blitzsicedcoffee]

Chapter 2-Mama's Medicine

He's watching the road front and back. It doesn't help that Barb is in the passenger seat and Fizz is in the back and they're both yelling whenever they see a car nearby. 

"Guys chill the FUCK out! I'm the one with a license for a reason", he tells them and it quiets them for a moment, then Barb speaks up again, "Only cause Dad made me do a show on my test day", she complains and Blitzo rolls his eyes. That's all they ever talk about anymore, is the shows they're made to do and the things they miss because of it. Well- and why they're all in this car. For Mama. 

"Blitzo you're gonna miss the exit!" Fizz yells and points to a sign, and Blitzo swerves into the exit, making Fizz and Barb hold on to one another.

"Hehe...everything's fine...", he looks back but Barb yells back, "EYES on the road asshole!" 

Blitzo finally drives into the parking lot in Sloth and parks the car, and the teens all fall out of his mom's station wagon that he'd "borrowed". 

"Oh sweet unmoving ground!" Fizz says, pretending to blow the ground a kiss. Blitzo rolls his eyes and nudges him, "Pff, you're not funny".

"Liar", Fizz shoots back. 

"Jester slut!" Blitzo jokes back but Barb flicks the back of his head, "Ow what the fuck!" 

"Get your heads focused bozos, we're here for Mama", she says and Fizz sticks his tongue out at Blitzo. 

"Don't make me flick you too", Barb points and Fizz hides behind Blitzo. They follow her into the pharmacy and look around boringly. 

"Hey you think Mama could use a neck massager?" Blitzo jokes as he tries it out on himself. Fizz grabbing it and trying it out as well. 

Barb rolls her eyes, "No". She pulls both their arms over to the pharmacy desk as a tall older imp woman looks down at them. 

"Can I help you kids? Candy is on aisle 5", she says and Barb narrows her eyes. 

"We're here to pick up a prescription. Tilla Buckzo? We're her kids-", she grabs Blitzo and pulls him to the front, "And he's 16 so he can grab her medicine for her", she says, gesturing to Blitzo. Barbie hasn't been able to get her ID updated, again, because of being forced to do shows. 

Blitzo's mouth is in a line but he nods and hands her his ID, she looks it over with an uncaring stare then hands it back, "Alright then, what kinda medicine?" She asks. Barb and Fizz look at one another and shrug but Blitzo speaks up, "Immunotherapy meds. She has an autoimmune condition that rapidly gets worse", he tells her and for a moment the pharmacist looks impressed. Blitzo writhing his hands behind his back in anxiety. 

She comes back and tells the dosage instructions to Blitzo who nods, then gives it to him. 

"Do you have the copay? It's $50", she tells him and the teens freeze. A copay? What's that? 

Blitzo stutters, "W-well uh-What's that!" He points and when she looks away he holds the bag of meds close to his chest and runs, pulling Barb's arm who pulls Fizz's. They run to the car as the pharmacist sicks two hellhounds onto their trail. 

"Blitzo! The key!" Barb yells as she watches the hellhounds draw nearer and Fizz jumps up and down nervously. Blitzo throws the medicine back at Fizz who holds it close, then Blitzo digs in his pockets for the key and pulls it out, pushing it into the driver's seat door. Pulling open the door he sits and finally is able to unlock the rest of the doors and Barb and Fizz frantically fall into the car, pulling the doors closed with their tails. 

"Blitzo get us out of here!" Fizz yells, covering his eyes as the hellhounds aim a gun for their window. 

"Don't worry I got this", he turns the ignition and reverses the car, running over the hellhounds, then accelerates forward, speeding towards the inter-ring highway. 

Barb widens her eyes as she looks back, "Did you just kill people?!" 

"Mama needs this medicine, Barb", Blitzo says seriously, continuing to accelerate. 

"Yeah but Blitzo that's...death that's...killing!" She says and Fizz covers his ears, "Let's just pretend we were never here!!" He says. 

"I agree", replies Blitzo. He looks back and no one is on their tail, he slows down to the speed limit. Turning into the exit of Pride, where their circus currently resides. 

They all get out and Fizz hands Blitzo the bag of medicine. He holds it close and heads separately to his Mama's tent, not even checking to see if Fizz and Barb are behind him. 

He runs in and finds his Mama on her couch, watching her shows. 

"Hi Mama", he says. She looks up and smiles, acknowledging him. He walks over to the kitchenette and pours some water in a cup, then sits next to her and pulls out the pill bottle, popping the top. 

"The pharmacist says to take this twice a day okay?" He says, handing her the pill and cup. She shakily takes them but puts them down first. 

"Mama no you gotta take them...", Blitzo says then she puts her cold hands on his cheeks. He leans into them. 

"You went all the way to Sloth for me? Did you take my car?" She asks. Blitzo looks down and nods. 

"Such a sweet boy", she kisses his forehead then takes the cup and pill, taking it. 

Blitz wakes up sweating, both claws gripping the sheets and tearing a little through their silken cover. 

"Darling?! Are you alright?" Stolas asks as Blitz breathes heavily, looking around to get his bearings. He nods, "I'm...fine. Just..very realistic dream". 

Stolas climbs into the bed and pulls Blitz towards him, "Would you like to talk about it?" 

Blitz wraps his arms around Stolas's torso and squeezes close to him, coughing a little more and Stolas rubs his back again. 

"Not really", he replies. Stolas kisses his forehead, "As you wish". 

[makebank]

secrets & suds

request: long request but to summarize jj is involved with a kook but hasn’t moved past hooking up, he gets in trouble for pope sinking the boat, and she decides to help out. 

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of smut but none, cussing, typos, angst, fluff

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as he throws his shirt over his disheveled head. His skin is slightly damp and glistening and some of his tufts of hair plastered to his forehead. “Gotta bounce, see you tomorrow?”

You beam at the blond from across the room and send him a smirk, “You always do”. He rushes out of your house just before dawn. JJ was always good about making sure to leave before your parents woke up, specifically your dad. You never minded the class division, but it was easy to say from your spot on the kook throne. You take a moment to regain your breath then toss yourself back onto your silky king size bed. Your satin pajama set lay wrinkled off the side of your bed, you knew he was going to love ripping off the matching outfit as soon as he saw you. 

For some time now you and JJ have had a little arrangement. And by arrangement that meant he came over most nights to fool around. Sometimes you’d get him to watch a movie or cuddle, but it was always interrupted by your parents waking up or his friends texting him for something. You weren’t exactly sure when you started to fall for the troublemaker, but it came with ease. He seemed so rough and mysterious, which is what amplified your want for him in the first place. But after closer observation, he is kind, gentle, and would do anything for you. Of course you knew it would never happen. He is too caught up in the division and himself to even want anything more than this. Not that you don’t love the time you get with him, but you crave more. 

You sigh as you stand up wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe. Peering out of your bedroom window, you watch JJ sprint across your lawn and expertly hop the high gate. 

-

Alternating between mindlessly scrolling through your phone and checking out your window, you grow impatient. JJ had never missed coming over without texting. You were worried something happened or maybe he was just bored of you. It was getting late, so you send a single text hoping he was okay and try to lull yourself to sleep.

-

The next morning you wake up and for a moment your fears weren’t there. Slowly blinking your eyes open, it all comes back to you. You reach for your phone hoping for some relief. To your dismay no new messages were from him. You jump out of bed and rush to take a quick shower. Some slight snooping wouldn’t hurt. 

You definitely weren’t close with any of JJ’s friends, but you did know where to find them. You enter the Wreck looking overwhelming overdressed in your designer shoes and this season’s newest sundress. You find a vacant booth and make yourself cozy until a curly haired girl you recognize as one of his best friends comes to get your drink order. After she introduces herself, it clicks. Kiara right you had a class with her freshman year of high school. Hm small world. She comes back with your coffee and asks what you’d like to order.

“Have you seen JJ lately?” you awkwardly ask. She shoots you a confused look before settling into a glare. “What’s it to you?” You stumble on your words, “Oh… nothing. He just normally mows our lawn on Wednesday mornings, but he didn’t show up. Just thought I’d ask”. She seems semi satisfied with your answer and doesn’t press for more detail. “Well, he’s busy. Not that it’s any of your business anyway. So do you want something to eat or not?” You weren’t sure why she was being so hostile it's not like you two ever had any direct problems. Maybe she was just being protective of her friend. You weren’t going to take it to heart. 

You slump down in your seat resigning to the fact you weren’t going to get any answers from her. “No, I think I’m good with just this. Thanks”. She huffs whatever and walks away. Just as you're about to leave you see a frantic boy rush up to the counter to Kiara. You knew it was Pope from the pictures JJ has shown you. He looks like he’s on the verge of meltdown. 

“I can’t believe JJ covered for me. Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. I feel so bad! What do I do?” He’s running a mile a minute and Kiara tells him to lower his voice. She brings him into the back room to comfort him away from eavesdropping ears. However, you heard it all and can’t comprehend what happened that he would owe that much money. Nonetheless, you conclude that you’re going to find a way to help him, wherever he is. You drop a couple twenties leaving a hefty tip and rush out of the restaurant. 

Walking down the street you bump into the three bozos that rule your side of the island. They ogle you and shout their vulgar ‘compliments’ at you. You scoff but are well accustomed to their barbarian-like nature. As you strut away, you overhear Rafe yelling at Topper. “Dude, get over the boat! You won’t even hit on y/n with us. That Maybank kid will have to pay one way or another”. What was with today and perfect timing? You thought you were going to have to dig a little deeper.

You walk home to think of a plan. You had lots of money, but your parents would notice if you took that big of a chunk out without something nice to show in return. There was no way you could get that much, but you could find a way to get fifty percent. That would be enough to get the authorities off his back and give you time to talk down the Thorton’s. You decide you could easily sneak a couple thousand without your parents noticing, but you were going to have to figure out a way to come up with the rest. 

It dawns on you after spending all your childhood watching teen rom coms. A car wash! Everyone was always searching for one after a storm. Plus, it wouldn’t take much but a simple tweet and an instagram story to have people lining the block. You immediately text the girls’ group chat to set the plan for tomorrow. 

- 

You wake up with a spring in your step ready to put your plan into action. You frown a little knowing it was another day with no word from JJ. You hope he’s safe and just taking time to himself. 

Putting on your skimpiest bikini and shorts you gawk at yourself in the mirror. It’s not like you had a problem with showing yourself off, you just knew the attention you were in for today regardless. You were doing this for JJ though, you wanted to help him out and show him there’s a lot more to you than having money and pretending to be perfect. 

You greet all your friends and start setting up. As cars start to line up, you can’t help but giggle to yourself thinking of the stereotypical ‘Cherry Pie’ or “Milkshakes’ playing in the background of every car wash scene. You get to work flirting and scrubbing cars as you all work for every dollar. The nice thing about Figure 8 was that they were willing to spend whatever. Just as you were about to head to another car you hear someone shouting your name.

You whip around to see a red faced and furious JJ. “You’re alive!” You try to lighten the tension. “What the hell are you doing y/n?” You frown in confusion. “What do you mean? A car wash?” He doesn’t seem satisfied with your sarcasm. “You're half naked out here and all these guys can’t keep their hands to themselves,”  he remarks annoyed while flailing his arms. You grin for a moment realizing he’s jealous, then it dawns on you, “First of all, you just disappeared off the face of the earth for days. No text or anything. Second, since when you do you care about what other guys say to me?” He crosses his arms over his body clearly irritated by your logical retort. “It’s none of your business. And I don’t care”. All the energy drains from you at the impact of his words. “Fine. Then keep not caring and leave me alone.” You swivel around stalking off to another car leaving him alone. Even if he didn’t want you, you were determined to finish your job and then move on.

You turn over your shoulder to see JJ storming off in the other direction. Your heart aches at seeing him actually leave. At least you knew he was breathing now. The next car pulls up with Pope in it. “What was that all about?” Your eyes widen at one of his friends catching you. He chuckles, “It’s okay I know about you guys. He tells me everything”. You soften knowing you weren’t a complete secret. “I’m not sure. He’s upset with me though.” He sends you an empathetic smile, “Don’t worry. He’s dealing with a lot right now. He’ll cool down eventually.” You nod your head, “Yeah, I heard about that. That’s actually what this is all for,” you admit sheepishly. Pope’s eyebrows raise with confusion. “My mom had me bring the car, because she said it was raising money for the high school”. Yikes. “That’s my bad. I kinda said it was for whatever people would listen to, so people would come”. He laughs, “Quick thinking y/l/n. You want some help?” Now it's your turn to laugh. “I’m sure we could find you some short shorts somewhere.” He parks the car off to the side and grabs a sponge to contribute. 

The rest of the day goes by with a breeze while joking with Pope and the girls. The last car drives off and you all plop on the curb for a break. You dry off your hands and start counting the money. You could almost cry happy tears. You raised over four thousand dollars. You thank everyone and promise to buy them mimosas at brunch tomorrow. For spoiled rich kids, they sure knew how to help someone in need. Pope pulls you into a side hug, “Thanks for doing this for him”. You smile squeezing him back, “thanks for helping”. 

After putting on some real clothes you stalk off to the Thorton’s. They promise they’ll leave JJ alone about the couple thousand left so it can be paid off slowly, now that they have a down payment for another boat. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you did all you could. 

-

JJ was relaxing at John B.'s when he got a call. After hanging up, he’s elated and full of energy. He yells to the pogues, “Guys they said I don’t have to serve any time for the boat!” They all jump up excited and ask how. “They said over half of the debt has been paid, so they said I’ll have to sign up for some payment plan. But this means it won’t be on my record or anything”. They all join him in a group hug congratulating him. John B. pipes up, “Who paid it?” JJ stops for a moment considering that it wasn’t just magic, and the only person he knew that had money that knew was Kie. “Did you have your parents do it Kie? I seriously can’t thank you enough,” he picks her up into a giant hug. She shakes her head once he lets her down. “No, I wish I could’ve though. Sorry man.” 

Pope is smirking thinking about his day yesterday trying not to blow his cover. JJ notices. “What do you know, Pope?” He just shakes his head not budging. JJ throws his arm around his neck putting him into a choke hold wrestling move. Kie and John B. are enjoying watching them fight until Pope taps out. “Fine! It was y/n. That’s what the whole giant parade of cars getting washed was”. JJ freezes speechless. He turns on his heels and instantly busts out of the chateau. 

Meanwhile, you’re getting into comfy clothes preparing yourself for a lonely movie marathon tonight. Just as you settle into your thousand thread count sheets, your door swings open making you jump. “JJ you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?” He crosses your abnormally large room beelining to you. He grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss. Your hand naturally falls to his arm as you allow him to passionately lead your lips. You pull away gasping for air. “What was that for?” 

He sits down next to you. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry for disappearing and not texting you. And I’m really sorry for being such a dick yesterday at the car wash. I didn’t know you were doing all that for me. Either way though I shouldn’t have acted like that. Thank you for what you did. It means a lot. I’ll repay you I promise”. You smile rubbing your thumb against his hand. “I forgive you. You don’t need to repay me, we worked for it. You were right though, it wasn’t my business”. He shakes his head, “I wasn’t right. I like you a lot. I’m stupid for not saying it before. I just didn’t know how to tell you about all my issues and thought I’d scare you off.”

You lean over kissing him on his cheek to soothe his obvious tension. “You can’t scare me off. And I really like you too. You can trust me with your secrets, but I’ll try not to meddle anymore if you don’t want to tell me.” Grabbing your arms to scoot you closer, he brings you in for another long and deep kiss. “Don’t worry. You can know all my secrets now,” he winks as he pulls his shirt off easing you back onto the bed. 

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[waifuu-writerr]

HAIKYUU AND JEALOUSY | HEADCANON

Hey guys I wanted to try this so please bare with me if it isn’t soo good, feel free to request anything you would like☺️ I’m down for anything.

Warnings; like 2% angst but mostly fluff💕

TETSURŌ KUROO:

~ Kuroo tends to sometimes get jealous easily but not at the same time😬 so beasically, he gets jealous easily but most of the time he doesn’t act upon his feelings and they just go away

~ You have been currently ditching Kuroo a lot to go study with a a close friend from class, since final exams were coming up

~ You don’t really think much of it since your only ditching a couple of dates on the weekends and he picks you up in the mornings to go to school all the time

~ Suddenly the 6th time you ditched him to go study he showed up at the library claiming “ I’m having trouble with the subject you guys are in today so, could you help.” You didn’t think much of it and let him stay, you did miss him anyways

~ He would be glaring at your classmate for most of the time, but only whenever you weren’t looking to make sure you didn’t know. You end up looking up to ask your classmate something and notice Kuroo’s glares

~ “umm.. Kuroo can I talk to you over there really quick.” You say as you get up from your seat, apologizing to your classmate and heading to where you told Kuroo to go. “What’s going on why are you glaring at my classmate like that?”

~ “ what’s going on? What’s going on is that you ditched me for the 6th time in the past 3 weeks to come to this library with that bozo” he quickly hisses, “ omg Kuroo, your so childish you know the finals are coming up and your only really helpful when it comes to chemistry.” You say

~ before Kuroo can say anything back to you calling him childish you interrupt him, “ I will go on several dates, kiss you, and cuddle with you several times the days after my exams are over if you just let me study.” You say, Kuroo might be snarky but he is a big softy and the moment you say that he gives you a chaste kiss and heads out the library. You can’t help but giggle and walk back over to your classmate.

HAJIME IWAIZUMI:

~ Hajime doesn’t really get jealous since he knows that the only person you want is him and you would never want anybody else, same goes for him

~ Since both you and Hajime want to take things slow and don’t want everyone in your business the both of you decide it better to keep the relationship on the down low and not tell anyone. You still go on dates, hold hands, and do other things but they are outside of school

~ One day you show up to one of his games to cheer him on (you would obviously be cheering for the team and not him specifically to keep the relationship on the down low but he knows most of the cheers are just for him)

~ After the game you head down the bleachers to talk to the team, since you were friends with most of them, and walk with Iwaizumi on your way home. Before you were able to go up to Iwaizumi, Oikawa stopped you and started flirting with you

~ “Ooh Y/N-Chan did you come to the game and cheer for me? I’m so lucky to have a pretty girl like you to cheer for me.” You didn’t think much of it since Oikawa flirted with you as a joke most of the time and you subconsciously would flirt back, not because you liked him but just because you have a flirty personality

~ When Iwaizumi saw you and Oikawa flirting with eachother he was fuming and threw two volleyballs at the back of Oikawa’s head, “Ow Iwa-Chan why did you do that, can’t you see I’m talking to a pretty girl.” Uh oh... now he was in for it Iwaizumi went to slap Oikawa but, you stopped him right before he could do anything

~ “ Iwaizumi we were just talking, no need to get jealous~” you said with a sly smirk plastered on your face, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but blush at your words. “Wait why would Iwaizumi be jealous!?” Oikawa yelled still holding to the back of his head from the pain

~ “ You were trying to flirt with my girlfriend you Idio-“ but before he could finish what he was saying he stopped himself and covered his mout, “well.. now that the cats out of the bag, no need to deny it anymore.. and we can finally kiss in between classes” you let out as you reached for Iwaizumi’s hand and intertwined it with your own

~ Oikawa just stood there shocked at the fact that Iwaizumi had a girlfriend and he didnt know about it, “ Iwa-Chan how come you didn’t tell me!” Oikawa whined as you both turned around and started leaving the gym

HITOKA YACHI:

~ Yachi gets jealous all the time but, instead of getting mad she gets sad and believes that someone else deserves you because she doesn’t think highly of herself

~ One day you told her you had to ditch one of the dates you planned on going to with her because, “something had come up” Yachi didn’t think much of it and told you it was fine

~ She wanted to get you a gift to give to you on your next date so she headed over to the mall to look for something you would like

~ As she was looking for your favorite store she accedently bumped into someone causing their drink to fall on the floor, as she turned around to apologized she saw you and another female with beautiful, long brown hair next to you

~ “Yachi?” You said in a questioning tone, as you went to grab her wrist and help her up she quickly pulled away from you and looked at you with tears falling from her eyes all you could see was pain in those beautiful hazel eyes of hers which made your heart ache

~ “I- I hope that you are h-happy and are loved by this new person.” Yachi said as tears were flowing down her face, before she was able to turn around and flee you grabbed her arm and spun her around to hold her into a deep hug, as much as she wanted to run away she couldn’t because of your strong hold on her

~ “ Yachi baby,” you mumbled into her shoulder and pulled away from the hug so you could see her face “ this is my cousin, I had to cancel the date because she surprised me and showed up at my house.. we were here because I told her about you and she wanted to get you a present so she could meet you later tonight.” You spoke with tenderness and love in your voice

~ As soon as you said those words Yachi froze in her spot and looked over to your cousin, in which your cousin gave a shy wave and small smile, she wanted to just disappear because of how embarrassing the situation she was in was. Imagining how crazy she must look with tears that are now dry on her face and messed up hair from the rough, but sweet hug she was in

~ Yachi got down on her knees and started apologizing to you and your cousin, “ Omg i am so sorry, I just judged you based purely on looks and didn’t even ask you what you were doing, I came here to get you a gift y/n I’m so sorry, this must be so embarrassing” as Yachi rambled you and and your cousin couldn’t help but giggle at what had just occurred.

~ “Yachi baby come on let’s go get some icecream” you said helping her get back up and grabbing her chin to pull her into a passionate kiss. Your cousin couldn’t help but take a photo “aww how cute my lil cousin all grown up” the both of you realeased from the kiss and couldn’t help but blush at the comment. “ come on let’s go” you said as you held Yachi’s hand and started walking towards the icecream stand.

KŌSHI SUGAWARA:

~ Just like Iwaizumi, Suga rarely gets jelous because he is already assured that you have a strong relationship.

~ Everyone really knew you were dating Suga based off of all the PDA you guys showed during and outside of school, both of you mixed well and you both were the “moms” towards the karusano volleyball club

~ One day while you were on a date with Suga in a nearby park you were stopped by an old junior high friend who didn’t go to Karusano but was visiting the area because of his cousin, Suga didn’t really mind this and let you speak to your old friend for a little while he went on his phone

~ “So are you dating anyone y/n” the friend said with a smirk on his face, this question made Suga look up from his phone to see how the conversation would continue, “As a matter of a fact yes, I do have a boyfriend” you said as you crossed your arms “ aww that’s too bad y/n I’ve always really liked you~” he whined as he started getting closer to you and started to touch your arms

~ You were very uncomfortable and Suga starts to glare at the friend, but the friend doesn’t pay any mind to him, “ why don’t we head over to my apartment your boyfriend will never need to find out” he said in a more quite tone as he reached for your face and tried to caress your cheeks

~ You immediately slapped his hand away and backed off as you walked over to Suga “ first of all I would never do anything like that with a low life like you, and secondly my boyfriend is right here” you hissed

~ The boys heart dropped as he moved his gaze towards Suga who was now standing and still glaring at him “ You heard what she said so why don’t you move it along elsewhere.” Suga said with a scary and menacing look on his face he looked as if he was ready to start swinging on this fool

~ the boy quickly hurried away from you guys and you turned and kissed Suga, “ I love you y/n” Suga said as he pulled you Into another kiss “I love you too Suga” you said as you intertwined your hand with his and started walking in the park again🥺🥺

IM SORRY IF THESE WERE A BIT TOO LONG FOR YOU BUT I HAD SOO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS, FEEL FREE TO REQUEST ANY HEADCANONS OR SCENARIOS YOU WOULD LIKE FOR ME TO WRITE THANK YOU GUYS FOR EVERYTHING❤️❤️

[littlepumkinseed]

More FanFiction writing

Of course it’s Moroha X Hisui

(Guys they need a ship name-)

I’m not a good writer, just so everyone knows but

I love this pair so much even though their actions with each other have been small.

So this one sets place after they find their parents,

First off I don’t know how they're going to find them.

Second I’m just going to assume there was an amazing battle and they won, yay! And now Towa and her gang and the Inu gang, plus Kohaku-

And third I wrote this before I watched episode 5, and I did not see the Miroku cameo so just assume he was trapped along with everyone else.

Warning for Inu’s mouth

Everyone now are on their way home.

The newly freed parents are now beginning to notice the little things between their kids.

🥀 A Little Thing 🥀

God she was tiny. Tinier than Kagome and that was saying a lot when Inuyasha considered the size of his wife. Kagome stood right under his chin but Moroha, his baby girl, stood an inch or two under his shoulder.

She was a little thing, Moroha looked like a mini Kagome…. But she was just like him.

Now that worried him.

She was a handful when she was a child, he had always worried about her, but now he was now terrified.

Yesterday to him Moroha was only a four year old, small, wild, and innocent. Inuyasha had promised her the day she was born that she would never have to live what he’s lived through. That she would be raised with both a mother and a father with as much love that a child needed and more, and he failed. He wasn’t there, and she didn’t even have Kagome. She’s been alone for ten years.

Ten god damn years.

She’s grown up the same way he had, so it only makes sense that she would be just like him.

In the final battle Inuyasha noticed how Moroha charged in, he saw her attitude, how she seemed to have copied his best moves without ever learning from him. She fought with a sword like a pro even though when she was four she only ever played with a wooden sword. Her laugh though, that was all Kagome.

When she was four he had a lot of worries but now that she was older he had over a hundred.

His number one worry right now though was boys. The boy he’s worried about the most right now is Hisui, the monks own mini copy. Also from the talk of his brothers twins, it seems like Koga might have his own son.

Just his luck.

But sense he hasn’t met the little prick Hisui is the only one on his hit list.

He began to see the little things between Hisui and Moroha on their way home from the final battle.

Hisui was quick to offer Moroha help if looked like she needed it.

Moroha constantly teased Hisui, mostly about his hair. It looked neat and well groomed in the front but when it was up in the back it wasn’t small like Mirokus, Hisui’s hair was fluffy and tangled. Moroha tended to tug on it.

When the group was walking both Hisui and Moroha would slow down to joke and talk in the back.

Near the second day on their way back home they stopped by an inn. They were tired, some of them still even a little injured so they decided to stay the night. The Inn had a bath house, Sesshomaru's twins and Moroha went first, Hisui went with Kohaku to discuss with the demon slayers. Sango stayed, she said she was retired and didn’t want to spend her entire life fighting especially because she already lost ten years of it.

Sense all the kids have left he was going to pull Kagome aside to not only kiss her, because he’s only done that once in the past two days and he has ten years of kissing to catch up on, but he was going to tell her about the little Hisui thing but apparently Miroku wanted to bring it up first.

The moment Hisui left, Sango was spreading out the sleeping mats, and Kagome was sorting through her old yellow backpack, now Morohas.

“Isn’t this surprising people?! Not only are we alive and well, but! Our children are now young adults! And we are planning a wedding!”

Inuyasha chokes.

“Miroku what are you talking about?” Asked a skeptical Sango.

Inuyasha knew what he was talking about.

“Miroku, you've been back for less than a week and you're already playing matchmaker?” Asked his Kagome.

He was going to have to kill Miroku before he killed Hisui.

“Kagome from my experience you're the matchmaker here.” Bozo gestured to him and Sango. This caused his wife to laugh.

Maybe Inuyasha could snap his neck and make a run for it. Grap Moroha along the way, maybe Kagome would understand.

“Who’s getting married to Miroku?” Sango asked getting up from the bedding, crossing her arms.

“Why, Hisui and Moroha!”

…

“MIROKU-!”

“That’s wonderful!”

“And how would you know that husband of mine?”

“Kagome?! Why is this wonderful?! She’s fourteen!” Inuyasha practically screeched at his wife. “Calm down Inuyasha! She doesn’t have to marry him it’s just cute she has a boyfriend-“

“That’s what your friends from the future called me and we got married!”

“Well Inuyasha in our era it is appropriate for girls of 14 to wed.”

“Shut up Bouzo! In Kagome's era girls got married over the age of 18! You’ve been trying to get Hisui with Moroha since the day she was born!”

“Miroku tell me how you would know our son is marrying Moroha?” Sango hands were now on her hips as she stomped over to her husband.

“Don’t you see? The way he looks at her is the way I look at you Sango, and Moroha looks at him the way Kagome looks at you Inuyasha.”

“Well isn’t that beautiful? Too bad your son isn’t fit for Moroha.”

“Inuyasha! Hisui is a nice young man!”

“HE'S A SMALL MIROKU KAGOME”

“Um from what uncle Kohaku has told me I take after my mom more…”

The adults in the room froze.

Turning slowly they faced the sliding screen door. There stood an amused Kohaku and a flustered Hisui.

“You take after me..?” Sango asked quietly

The rather red Hisui gave a simple nod.

…

“OH THANK GOD” Sango cried and ran to her son and dragged him in an embrace.

“What's with all the commotion?” Towas voiced echoed from the hallway, coming around the corner the young youth stood with a towel around her shoulders, her white hair still wet from the bath. She reminded Inuyasha almost nothing of his brother.

“From what I can hear it’s about Hisui, what do you do this time?” Setsuna is the one that reminded him of his brother the most. She makes him shiver with her cold glare.

“Oh don’t yell at him Setsu!” His daughter's teasing voice rose as she pushed past the twins. Her hair was down, now she really was a mini Kagome.

Mini Kagome skipped over to Hisui, her wet hair left droplets of water on the ground as she moved.

Sango chuckled as Moroha elbowed her son, Hisui looked absolutely mortified.

Maybe if he’s scared of him Inuyasha wouldn’t have to kill him, he’ll just stay away from Moroha.

“I’m sure they're just teasing him! Isn’t that right Hisui? Wow your red.”

“Is someone going to tell us what you guys did to Hisui” Towa asked as she walked over to a sleeping mat.

“Well you see-“

“Don’t tell them Miroku!”

“But I-“

“I This stupidity has gone on long enough.”

“Why are you still here anyways!” Inuyasha hollered looking out the sliding door on the other side of their room where Sesshomaru stood outside looking at the forest.

“I’m here for my offspring.”

“Then why don’t you join them inside?”

“Because I would rather not get caught up in another one of your groups' love quarrels.”

Inuyasha was going to kill everyone but his wife and daughter. This

Was

Not

A love discussion, Moroha isn’t in love with Hisui. She isn’t going to marry anyone! They are going to go home and he’s going to raise her the best way he can with what little time he has left-

Oh god. Inuyasha sniffed the air, as did his daughter in the background.

He knew that scent and apparently so did his daughter.

“Sorry to cut the conversation short but I got to go!” Moroha yelped as she ran past Inuyasha and through the door passed Sesshomaru who was also sniffing the new scent that had entered the air.

“Inuyasha what is it?” Kagome asked besides him

“Fucking. Wolfs.” Inuyasha growled as he stomped out of the inn next to his brother as two whirlwinds zoomed over the grassy hills.

Coming to a stop the first whirlwind was easy to see.

Koga.

Besides him a young youth appeared from the wind. One with a matching face of Koga’s.

Fuck. The wolf pup had a wolf pup.

This isn’t going to be a little thing.

-Fin

@mandirox @misteria247 @nat-the-cat-123 @hopidoodle @dreamerredstreak @adorablemoroha @crazyimmunity92 @beanyboobee @nectarine500 @raevofdamned

[fanficsandfluff]

Emotions Get the Better (1)

My first Arthur Fleck x reader installation. There should be more to follow. But who knows. I’m all over the place. Enjoy!

~~~~

You were always a very emotional person. All around over-emotional on any layer of the spectrum of emotions. You’d feel a pit in your stomach and a lump in your throat when you’d see a particularly beautiful ballet performance while at work. If you found something even minorly funny, but it touched you in a certain way, you’d cackle. If you got genuinely angry at something, you’d shout until your throat hurt; and if you were angry enough, you’d start to cry. Full circle of tears. 

Hormones, your mom would blame it on when you were growing up. You did have some hormonal imbalances but you’d been taking pills for that most of your life. Fucking pills. If you could, you’d never take a single pill the rest of your life; but then you think about it too hard and you think you’ll drop dead after one day without meds. So you keep picking up your prescriptions. 

Anyway, as of late there’d been new and strange occurrences on your commute to work. You worked at the biggest theater in Gotham as an usher. They held bands, cultural shows, and dance performances, and they were planning on a Gala screening of Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times in the upcoming month. You were excited for that and kept basically begging your boss to give you a shift for that event. But during your walk from the train station to the theater, swerving through bustling crowds that seem to always intentionally bump into each other, you’d noticed a green tuft of bouncing hair on the other side of the street where you’d normally cross. A clown was dancing, advertising an “Everything Must Go” sale. He seemed happy enough to be doing what he was doing. And you had to stare at him for a little longer than you probably should have. Clowns always gave you the creeps, even if some people genuinely though they were funny. So that day, you waited until the next block to cross the street. 

And you realized this guy had a decent gig because he’d be in the same spot on that street every day for the next week. You’ve seen him so much you were surprised that by now he hadn’t turned to look at you and beep his red nose at you. Well, you supposed you’d recognize him more than he would recognize one person out of hundreds that pass him every day. But seeing him every day heading to work somehow gave you something to think about during the more boring shifts. Do people see his sign and act and visit the store that’s closing? Is everyone just as perturbed by his clown makeup, hair, and shoes as you so they just ignore him? Do the drapes match the carpet? 

You snorted at that last one out loud as you washed your hands in the bathroom sink and splashed water over your tired face after a 7 hour shift, on your feet, with nothing but one 15 minute break to serve as your rest. 

You could hear the train rattling on the track above you, so you started sprinting towards the staircase that led up to the platform. And just in time, you sped into the closing doors, your shoulder getting hit with the brunt of the automatic door, which forced open upon your entry. You stood inside the train car and let out an audible, “Whew....” and caught your breath as you stumbled to an empty seat and plopped down on it. Thank god you made it. You would’ve had to wait another 45 minutes for the next one. The train began to rumble forward.

As your breath slowed and your heartbeat returned to normal, you took in your surroundings of this late-night subway car. You shifted your eyes to the left and your jaw almost dropped. Clown guy seemed to be looking at you with a faint smile on his painted face, but quickly turned his head away when you made eye contact with him. 

You grinned to yourself and looked down at the empty coffee cup rolling backwards and forwards in the seat across from you. The clown must’ve had a long day to be coming home at this hour of night. And he still was in full garb, wig and all. You didn’t want to be rude, but you finally had the chance to get a good look at him, not just from across the street. You looked at his big clown shoes and had to stifle a genuine laugh. The whole getup on this shitty Gotham train at like midnight was somehow the funniest thing you’d seen in a while. You wanted to snap a picture if you could. The man seemed to be in his own world now that he wasn’t staring at you. 

The train pulled into the next stop and a bunch of rowdy teenagers got on and you already wanted to switch train cars. You had a long ways to go before your own stop. 

They were all busy yelling and laughing and pushing each other as the train lurched forward, until one of them tapped another on the shoulder and went, “Yo yo yo,” to get his attention. He caught sight of the clown. The boys mellowed out for the time being and all turned to look at the clown, who seemed oblivious he was even a target of theirs. 

Slowly, each of the boys started giggling to themselves, making jokes at the clown’s expense. 

“Yoho! That’s so fucking creepy, man--”

“What the fuck, are we in a horror movie, like--?”

And one of the more brave teens of the bunch stepped closer to the clown as the train rocked, “Hey, man, going to a birthday party?”

The clown’s eyes shifted up towards the teen and he looked away again, not wanting to get into this. 

The teen scoffed and kicked one of his oversized shoes, “You ain’t exactly the funniest clown I’ve seen. You wanna tell a joke? Change my mind?”

You were sitting, trying your hardest not to get involved in this scene. Rule one of being in Gotham was that you always minded your own business. Crazy guy screaming about the mayor and somehow also grilled cheese? You ignore him or get up and calmly move to another car when the train stops. You never make eye contact. 

But this poor guy was just minding his own damn business and these dumbass kids are bothering him just because he’s decked out in clown gear. This wasn’t right---

You were shaken out of your own thoughts and actually had to look up when you heard what had to be a laugh, but it came out as a cry, almost. The clown had thrown his hand over his mouth, but behind it he was stifling laughter. 

“You’re supposed to make us laugh, bozo! Not the other way around! Jesus!” and now the teen was laughing at the clown. 

You couldn’t look away now, as the whole posse was cackling along with the clown. But you knew something was off about the way the clown was laughing. You could see his hand going to hold his throat as a small choking sound made its way out of his mouth, and then the giggling resumed. 

“You’re a fucking freak!” one of the other teens yelled and they started to crowd around him, all taunting him. Some were even starting to shove him. 

You blessed the heavens since you knew this was one of the shorter stops on the train and you stood up from your seat and loudly yelled, “Hey!” over the sound of the group’s raucous. You just prayed these teens would respect a lady. You wanted to slap yourself just for that stupid thought. 

They turned to look at you and you almost clammed up before saying slowly, “Listen, can we just leave the guy be?”

“He started laughing at me! Don’t you think he’s a fucking creep, lady?”

“You know, maybe he wasn’t laughing at you. Maybe he just remembered a joke and started laughing at that. He is a clown, so he’s supposed to find things funny. You think you can just switch cars? Please, he wasn’t going to bother anyone.”

The train screeched to a halt and the teens all looked around at each other. It seemed your politeness took them for a loop because they weren’t used to having to deal with manners. You gave them one of your stern looks you saved for especially rude patrons at work. 

“Aight, I mean, I guess you want some alone time with your boyfriend. Have a good night, miss,” the teen who got up close to the clown said to you with a sneer to his voice and a glint in his eye. As the doors opened, the boys scurried out together. One of them tripped over the clown’s big shoe and the others continued to laugh at him. 

They were gone, into another car or hopefully back out on the streets so they could go home to their damn families. The train moved forward once more.

You looked down at the clown who you realized had stopped laughing and was now looking up at you with what you could probably describe as shock, but you didn’t want to be that generous towards yourself. You took a seat beside him, “Kids can be such assholes, right? Geez... are you okay?” you saw his wig was now crooked and long brown locks peeked out from under it.

“I’m fine,” he finally answered after a little too long of a pause, and added, “Thank you. That was very nice of you.”

“No problem. Just maybe in the future change out of your getup before coming on the train?” 

The man looked at you and his lips twitched upward in what could have been a smile if he didn’t let them fall back to the almost-frown he had on before. 

You looked at him a bit longer. He had such a meek voice. You never would’ve guessed he sounded like that just from seeing him dancing from across the busy Gotham street. But now that you were up close to him, you can see how delicate his frame was, how oversized all of his clothes really were on him, not just his shoes. 

“When do you get off?” you asked.

“N-Not for a while. Second to last stop.”

“Okay. Mine’s a bit before that, so I’ll just ride with you until then.”

The clown stared at you as if you were from another planet before he cleared his throat gently and slid the green wig off his head and put it away with care into a big duffel bag he carried with him. 

You got more comfortable in your seat and let out a yawn. The ride went smoothly for the next few stops, the clown not interacting with you at all. You could feel like he wanted to say something to you or turn and look at you, but all he did was sit and look down at his lap.

“I’m Arthur,” he finally said in a voice just above a whisper, and he looked at you.

You looked back at him and gave him a smile, sharing your first name with him, as well.

“I’ve seen you around, Arthur,” you finally brought up the topic you most wanted to address, “You’re in front of the shop that’s closing down. I pass by you on my way to work.”

“Oh, I--- Well, I’m sorry I haven’t noticed you before.”

“Not your fault, I mean, I walk on the other side of the street and you have no reason to literally notice me out of every person that passes by you each day. How’d you get the clown gig?”

Your eyes kept drifting down to his vest because looking at the clown makeup in such close proximity for too long was starting to skeeve you out. 

“It’s something I’ve always thought I’d be good at. I’m actually a comedian.”

“Oh,” you nodded and smiled, “I can see the connection.”

There was more silence and Arthur fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Your stop was finally here and you stood up, “Well, I’ll see you, Arthur. I’ll say hi more directly next time I go to work. Stay safe.”

“Th-Thank you again,” he said probably the most confidently he’d said anything during his interaction with you. 

You stepped off the train and gave him a small wave. Doing something like that for someone made you feel sooooo good. Wow, you need to be participating in more selfless deeds more often. You can see how people say helping less fortunate is rewarding. You made an audible sound like a scoff as you walked through the late night Gotham streets; who the fuck are you to be thinking shit like that? God, your mind was everywhere lately. Maybe you would try and walk on Arthur’s side of the street tomorrow. Maybe it’ll make him happy. Maybe it’ll make the both of you feel a little bit better. 

[rmjagonshi]

You asked for prompts. Will you do mutual pining teen stans as they build the stanowar and imagine whisking thier brother away to be all alone on a ship??? Pretty please?

I didn’t ignore you, anon! Promise! I hope this fits what you were looking for. I have never written a song fic before, so, I hope it’s okay that I did that.  

Song by Michelle Branch (All You Wanted)

Stan Pines wasn’t jealous of his brother. Sure, Ford got a lot of attention from teachers and old grannies, and their father, but Stan wasn’t jealous. Ford was interested in nerd things, like math and chemistry and monsters…well, monsters were cool. But still, Stan had other things. He had…well…he had…

What did Stan have?

Ford had his smarts and Stan just kind of tagged along for the ride. But that was okay. He had Ford. They didn’t have much else, but they had each other. And that was enough. That was enough for years.

When the schoolyard bullies came to throw rocks and shove dirt down their pants, at least they were together and they could help each other up. And when their father decided he’d had enough of their shenanigans and wailed on Stan with the metal end of a belt, well…Ford was there. They were never alone. They always had each other. And they always would.

~I wanted, to be like you. I wanted everythingSo I tried, to be like you, and I got swept away.~  

But still, it bothered Stan sometimes that Ford was obviously the epicenter of their dynamic duo, and Stan was the poor helpless planet caught in Ford’s orbit. Ford was smart and creative and always had the answer to everything. So, Stan started trying to be like him. He picked a book at random from the library shelf and tried reading it. But the words blurred and he didn’t understand half of what he was reading. And it was so boring. I was talking about shapes or ‘faces’ or bonds…Stan didn’t understand. The book cover showed a picture of a rock and some weird drawn shapes where you could see all the sides.

When book reading failed, Stan moved onto experiments. Experiments were more fun than reading because he got to mix things together and watch what happened. But one too many explosions and one used fire-extinguisher later, Stan was banned from doing experiments without Ford’s help. That only left school. So Stan tried doing well in school. But school work was even harder than book reading. Math was just a jumble of numbers and symbols, and history was all memorizing facts and dates. None of it was interesting, but his grades did improve, if only marginally. He was so excited when he’d studied all week for a test and got a B-. A B-!

That was the best grade he had ever gotten EVER! He was so happy he raced home after detention to show it to Pa, finally something of worth to show him. But Ford had gotten there first. Of course he had. Ford didn’t have detention. Ford had gotten an A+, as usual. All of a sudden, the lousy B- didn’t mean much. He didn’t bother showing it to his parents.  

Stan went back to just tagging along and helping out his brother. He wasn’t jealous, but he did kind of wish Ford was so horribly bad at something, so Stan could be good at it. After one bad run in with Crampelter, Stan dragged himself and Ford home to their mom to get bandaged up. Through ringing ears and two black eyes, Stan heard his father tell him he was signing them both up for boxing lessons.

Boxing lessons were more horrible than Crampelter. At least with Crampelter, they could run away or hide or something. And they didn’t always cross paths with the bully. Boxing lessons were every other day and you couldn’t run. Both Stan and Ford came home sore and beaten more and more, but their pa never let up. No friends but each other, no support from family but each other. They clung together tighter and tighter.

~I didn’t know that, it was so cold, And you needed someone to show you the way.~

But boxing lessons paid off in the end. Stan was getting stronger. He stuck close to Ford and together, they stayed mostly out of trouble. Stan on his own would always wind up in detention, but Stan with Ford was able to weasel his way out of most things. Sticking with Ford made Stan aware of the crap Crampelter pulled when Stan was in detention. They both got bullied, but Ford had it bad. He had tried to hide the cuts and bruises and missing notebooks, but Stan saw them. Ford didn’t stand a chance. The next time they were cornered in the field behind the school, Stan fought back. He tackled the lard-butt and wailed on his face with all his strength until Crampelter kicked him off and rode away on his stupid bike. Stan got detention and was grounded for a month, but he didn’t care. When he’d held out his hand to help Ford up, Ford had looked at him like was was some kind of hero. From then on, Stan was the muscle, and he would protect Ford at all costs.  

~So I took your hand and, we figured out thatWhen the time comes I’d take you away.~

It wasn’t long after that they found the boat, and the dream of sailing away on the Stan O’ War, just the two of them, was born. Stan threw himself into fixing the Stan O’ War. If no one else wanted them, then they would go somewhere else. Bullies didn’t really pick on Stan anymore. He was popular, exactly, but he was left alone enough that he was a 'pseudo’ jock. Ford wasn’t so lucky. Sure, people liked him, he was smart and could help them with their homework, but they weren’t interested in being friends. It became apparent when Ford had asked Lucy out for drinks after he’d helped her study for the upcoming Physics exam. She’d laughed in his face so long, he’d just gathered up his stuff and left, her laughing echoing down the empty school hall. Stan had gotten pissed when Ford told him about it. She didn’t deserve Ford, and Stan said as much, but Ford was still felling shitty about the whole thing.

“Why do people hate me?” Ford was curled up with his face pressed to his knees on Stan’s bunk. He’d stopped crying (not that there were many tears, but still, he was embarrassed about the few drops that had worked their way from between his eyelids), and was now just sitting, moping and wondering if he’d ever find someone who actually liked him.

“No one hates you! Okay, maybe Crampelter and Sonia do, but they hate everyone. And I think Sonia doesn’t like you because you’re associated with me. And that bitch haaaaaates me.” Stan had sat beside Ford with a bag of toffee peanuts and had refused to move until Ford cheered up.  

“Okay, fine. They don’t hate me, but they sure as hell don’t like me.” Nobody liked him. They were only interested in if he could help them, then they were more than happy to drop him. Ford was too weird. And not just his hands, though they were part of it. Ford liked weird things. Shrunken heads and six-legged cats. Sea monsters and the Jersey Devil. Ma did her best to connect, but she didn’t understand his interests, and Pa…well, it was best not to engage Pa with anything that might be considered 'weird’. They only one that had ever tried to understand and take an interest in him was…    

“Hey, you don’t need them. I like ya. And once we sail away on the Stan O’ War, it doesn’t matter what these bozos think.”

Ford grinned. Maybe Stan was enough.  

~If you want to, I can save you. I can take you away from here.So lonely inside, So busy out there,And all you wanted was somebody who cares.~

Stan doesn’t know when it happened, or what caused it. Like growing up, you know it’s happening, but each change is so gradual, you don’t notice it until you compare it to where you were before. And that’s what he was doing, comparing himself now to how he used to be. Because he never used to think like he does now. At least…he doesn’t think so. He’d always been trapped in Ford’s orbit, and he never really thought much about it before. They were inseparable. And that never used to be a problem. But Stan finds himself thinking about Ford more and more. His brother invades his thoughts more often than anything else, and if he isn’t thinking of Ford exactly, then he’s thinking of something in tangent to him. Thinking about how boring math class is makes him think about how excited Ford it to learn new things. Thinking about his favorite snack reminds him how much Ford hates toffee peanuts. And, of course, thinking about the boat makes him think about sailing away from all the shit they deal with. When Ford starts making an appearance during his dreams in place of Carla, well, it really isn’t all that surprising, if a bit disturbing.

Middle school passed in a whirlwind of working on the boat and keeping out of trouble. Sooner than they realized, they were in high-school. Classwork got harder and Stan was struggling. Stan throws himself into working on the boat. He even takes welding and woodworking when they’re offered. He might not be great at reading a map or doing math, but he can work with his hands to make things and fix things. He gets a part-time job and works down at the dock when he can. He spends more time in the library than Ford does some days. It’s hard. All of the work. He tried and tried and it never gets easier. Sometimes he thinks he ought to leave things alone. Ford had potential to be something. And he wasn’t very good at hiding his feelings. He did his best, lifting porn mags from the corner store and keeping a pin-up calendar tacked to his wall, but it felt hollow. It also didn’t help that Ford had picked up on his acting. Who was he to try and hide something from the person who knew him best? But he still hid. And still thought about letting go even as he wanted so desperately to hang on. Some days, he wants to throw his hands in the air and say 'Fuck It" and give up. But then he sees Ford come home with bruises and busted glasses, or maybe it’s just a smile or a belly laugh at one of his jokes and he’s right back, putting everything he has into making this work. In the end, it’s all for Ford. It always was.

Ford is all too aware that Stan is struggling. And he hates it. He hates seeing Stan like this. There are days, sometimes, where Stan doesn’t smile, at least, not a real smile. Days when he cries  because he just doesn’t understand the work. Days when he does whatever he can to prove he’s a man because someone or something convinces him that he isn’t. He does his best to help.  He tutors Stan when he can and works out homework problems with him. Stan is trying. He really is, but he gets confused and forgets things easily. He could read a page and not remember anything he’d just read. Every day, Stan would be ridiculed by their father, be constantly told he wasn’t worth anything, constantly told he 'was being a girl’. Every day, Stan would chases skirts and flirt with any woman who looked at him, got into more fights than he had any right to, and tried harder to prove himself worthy.

Ford knew the dream about sailing away on a ship was a childish one. He knew Stan was holding onto that dream with everything he had. But their future was so vague. They needed money to live, jobs paid money. Sailing around the world on a boat wasn’t going to get them there. It was just a matter of fact. But when Stan would get excited about progress on the ship or would tell stories about all the adventures they would go on, Ford found it harder and harder to admit that it was all just a fantasy. When Ford found Stan coming home with a chip on his shoulder and a black eye from getting in a fight with some chump that called him a fag, Ford found himself wanting to take away all the pain and misery. And the dream of whisking Stan away from everything on a ship felt all the more real.    

~I’m sinking slowly, So hurry hold me. Your hand is all I have to keep me hanging on.Please can you tell me, So I can finally see Where you go when you’re gone.~

As senior year drew closer and closer, so too did their dreams. Ford was convinced they could sail away on the Stan O’ War to somewhere else. They could live on the boat while they worked and saved up money to get a decent place to live. And if something happened, then they would always have the boat. But they couldn’t just be treasure hunters. It wasn’t possible. He was drawing up a plan to figure out how they could manage. As soon as they were old enough, they were out of Glass Shard. But there was still work to be done to get there. And he still wasn’t sure how to break it to Stan. Stan was so dedicated to the idea that they would be treasure hunters, the he was blind to the reality they were facing. But Ford still wanted to get them away from there. He still wanted to rescue his brother.  And maybe…maybe, if they were away from this, Stan could just be himself. Maybe Ford could…

~If you want to, I can save you. I can take you away from hereSo lonely inside, So busy out there,And all you wanted was somebody who cares.~

But things got harder. The science fair came, and Ford saw an opportunity. He could build something that would he could patent. He could sell it and they would have a nice nest egg to get started. But then, West Coast Tech was interested. And the promise of millions. Millions. What would he do with millions? They could do anything. They could sail away for months or years at a time and they would never have to come back to this shitty ass town. Finally, some success. Finally, something good. Ford would make some discovery, make a fortune, and he would come back for Stan. They would escape. He was so excited! He didn’t want Stan to get discouraged. It wasn’t forever. It was only until he was able to make something that would secure their future. And maybe it would give Ford time to process his…desires.  

All you wanted was somebody who cares.

Everything fell apart after that. Ford spent years throwing himself into his work, and Stan spent the same time doing everything he could to make it rich.

If you need me, you know I’ll be there…

But when the post card was sent, Stan came without a second thought. And when the call came to correct his mistake, Stan stepped up to the challenge.

~If you want to, I can save you. I can take you away from here.So lonely inside, So busy out there.And all you wanted was somebody who cares.~

And in the end, after more hardship than either one had ever thought, in the end, they found themselves on a boat, with more money than they needed, and no more need to run away. No more need to hide. In the end, none of the past really matters. Because Stan has a family that cares. Ford found a way to use his sills to help. And they finally decide, to hell with all of the fear, to hell with the self-denial. Standing aboard their ship, lost in the middle of the ocean after having hauled up an actual crate of lost pirate gold, Ford and Stan share their first kiss.

[abra-ka-dammit]

AU That Should Never Happen Pt. 3

:-)))

(pre-warning for some horny scenes, but that’s just par for the course in this AU)

[Part 1] [Part 2]

“And who might this be?”

The Grand Warlock was strewn lazily across his gilded stone throne, one leg hanging off the side and kicking back and forth idly as he eyed his surprise guests.

General Catfeetz grinned wide, his sharp white teeth shining from behind dark lips.

“I’ll tell ya who it is,” he said, pride obvious in his voice. “This here’s the Steelknuckle boy.”

“Oh?” Gremix’s brows rose and he flipped himself upright, landing softly on his feet and striding down the steps to take a closer look at the prize.

This “Steelknuckle boy” was, at best, pathetic. The son of a trade princess? No way. Short but beefy, one would think the guy tough; but there he stood, sobbing loudly, hardly coming off as an adult with tears and snot streaming down his face. Gremix grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged it down to reveal the characteristic Steelknuckle family flower tattoo emblazoned on his chest. Yep, he was the real deal. Somehow.

“How did you get him?” Gremix asked in fascination.

“Scouts caught him tryin’ to steal a boat, probably meanin’ t’ escape th’ harbor.” Catfeetz snickered. “Easy catch, too. This guy’s a joke. Didn’t even fight back.”

“Hm,” Gremix muttered, scooping the prisoner’s chin with his fingertips to lean his face up to his own. “Identify yourself.”

With a loud, disgusting sniffle, the crybaby choked out “Zubert, sir.”

Gremix smiled ever so slightly. Not often they came in pre-respectful.

“He should be a good bargaining chip for taking down Zippa. If I remember anything about that bitch, it’s that she only has one family member, and it’s this bozo.”

“Seriously?” Catfeetz scoffed. “She should’a had another after this loser popped outta her cooch. Li’l “Zubert” here ain’t fit to lead a cartel; can’t even escape from an island in the dead ‘a night, shit.”

“Please,” Zubert muttered, giving another sniff and peering with frightened, watery eyes between the two overlords, “I don’t have any money, Ma cut me off. There’s no point to keepin’ me.”

“Money?” Gremix barked a laugh, Catfeetz in turn grinning his nefarious grin. “Please; I melted down all the gold I owned to gild my palace.” He raised his arms, gesturing to the room around them, where not only his throne but all the pillars and even the stairs had intricate golden designs decorating the stone. “Money means nothing to us anymore.”

“Who needs money when ya rule th’ world, eh?” Catfeetz said with a chuckle. “Nah, we don’t want yer momma’s dough, kid, we want her dead.”

“Wh-what?!” Zubert’s eyes widened. “Don’t kill my mom! There’s gotta be—I mean, can’t ya jus’ negotiate, or, or…” He swallowed hard, the tears welling up again in an instant.

Gremix rolled his eyes. “What’re we doin’ with him for now?” Gremix asked.

Catfeetz tugged the ropes that bound Zubert’s hands in front of him, leading him closer to the warlock. “Don’t ask me, Boss figured I should give ‘im to you. You got a much less, uh,” Catfeetz squinted one lichlight eye in thought, “open floorplan at your base.”

“I see.” Gremix considered Zubert for a moment. What was he supposed to do with the bawling young man? There was plenty of dungeon space, of course, but if he wanted to use Zubert to negotiate with Madame Steelknuckle, he’d need to stay in decent condition—at first, at least. More could come if she refused to cooperate; but for now…

“Drixzy,” Gremix said flatly. “Come to me.”

The fel-infused rogue was nowhere to be seen in the throne room, but within moments the fast clicking of boots echoed from one of the stone halls and she entered.

“Yes, Master,” Drixzy said, stopping at Gremix’s side and kneeling into a bow. He patted her gently on the blonde head and Catfeetz gave a sharp whistle.

“Well how’d you train her t’ do that? You psychic now too?”

“Hardly,” Gremix laughed, motioning for Drixzy to stand, which she immediately obeyed. Gremix took her hand in one of his own, lifting it to display the golden cuffs that decorated her wrists. “I’ve been working on some fun toys, however.”

Catfeetz gave a vaguely impressed nod. “You’re weird as fuck, brother,” he said. “But whatever floats yer boat. Now take this idiot so I can get back t’ important stuff.”

Gremix turned his head ever so slightly, peering at his faithful servant. “I have a pet for you, my Drixzy.”

Drixzy’s light brows could be seen rising just above the cloth tied over her fel-glow eyes. “For me?” she asked.

“Yup,” Gremix said, Catfeetz handing the confused woman the rope that bound Zubert. She rolled the rope around in her hands, face tilting as she looked at the young man through the unnatural sight granted by her Master. He seemed pretty cute for a guy that had all sorts of gross fluids running down his face.

Gremix raised a hand, placing it gently on one of Zubert’s cheeks—Zubert flinched, but stayed in place, squeezing his eyes shut in fear of whatever the hell was going on. But to his surprise, the hand was warm and inviting… perhaps almost supernaturally so. His body relaxed, his mind emptying of all those worries that had plagued it merely moments before, a warm bliss expanding through his body from his cheek. The longer it stayed there the more unfocused he became, until he felt almost as entranced as he would during a really good fuck. There was a snap in the back of his mind and his focus returned, Zubert finding suddenly that he had been so lost in pleasure he’d almost forgotten where he was. Gremix’s hand had lowered, which he determined to be the cause of the abrupt end to that bizarrely wonderful feeling.

“Wh… what?” he asked, blinking slowly. He wasn’t sure what was going on anymore; but at the same time, he did. The faces around his blurred and came back into focus repeatedly until finally settling into normalcy and he focused on something concrete—Drixzy. She was staring straight at him, Gremix having already left to return to his throne and the general already out the great stone doors. Or, he thought she might have been staring, but surely she couldn’t see him from under that blindfold.

“Take good care of Zubert, child,” Gremix said. A sly smirk sneaked onto his lips as fel-tinged magenta eyes watched the silent exchange. “He’s yours; do as you wish with him in your idle hours. But keep him in okay condition for me, alright?”

“Yes, Master,” Drixzy said, giving a curt nod. “I am ever grateful for your gifts.”

Zubert could do nothing more than blink in puzzlement, his mind still trying to reconnect the dots that all fell apart the moment Gremix touched him. The rope around his wrists tugged him forward and still in a minor daze, he plodded along behind Drixzy as she led him away.

Gremix watched them leave, then casually flipped himself around to lay upon his lavish throne once again. Maybe this will be good for Drixzy, he thought. She’d gotten so moody since his own little “pet” had shown up, after all. Maybe having a little boytoy of her own would keep her quiet, considering how little interest he found in “playing with” her these days. Oh, forget the smooth curves and soft skin—all he could think about was the dark path of tummy hair leading down to the unmentionables of the ex-rebel Rusco; who since leaving, permanently collared, had not shown hide nor hair around the palace. But Gremix knew he’d be back. He bobbed his foot up and down once more, humming a tune to himself as he stared up at high ceilings, lost in pleasantly distracted thought.

Drixzy had brought Zubert to her quarters, but she puzzled over what exactly to do with him. Gremix had never left her a charge, after all. Zubert quietly peered around the room. It had stone walls like the rest of the palace, lit by torches that displayed floating, glowing green crystals instead of fire, a soft blue carpet on the marble floor and an impressively large, luxurious looking bed draped over with sheer canopy… but very little sign of character. There were no wall decorations, no furniture aside from the bed and a dark wooden wardrobe, no knick-knacks, nothing. Was she just a really boring person? Oh, no, it was probably because she was blind, right? Zubert shrugged, turning his attention to his captor.

“Uh, Miss…. Miss Drixzy?” he asked quietly.

Drixzy glanced at him, frowning.

“What?” she snapped.

Zubert flinched at the cold, careless tone of her voice, swallowing.

“Uh, I won’t…. I promise I won’t try nothin’, I swear; so could you untie me?” He raised his bound hands in front of him to emphasize. “My shoulders are crampin’ somethin’ awful an’ I’d love t’ get a good stretch in.”

Drixzy considered him with distrust. “I’m not an idiot,” she hissed. “Now be silent. I need t’ think.”

Zubert wilted a little. “But I—okay…” he muttered. He looked around again but finding no furniture had magically appeared since last time, he just flopped down onto the ground, folding his legs and staring down at his lap miserably.

Drixzy paced the room, her demonic hoof-design heels not issuing their characteristic clicking steps in the downy carpet of the room, leaving the two in an eerie silence as she thought.

What was Gremix expecting her to do? Was this some sort of test? Or was he really just letting her have a person? But why? She was naught but a servant herself, surely she didn’t deserve such a thing. There had to be something else…

A sniffle interrupted her thoughts, Zubert still suffering mild sinus drainage from his earlier cry. She sighed in annoyance.

“Alright,” she said, conceding and striding over to him as she pulled a large dagger from her hip. Zubert perked instantly, holding up his hands with grateful eagerness so she could saw through the rope. As the bindings fell to the ground, he stretched his arms out to his sides with a huge sigh of relief.

“Thanks, Miss Drixzy!” Zubert said with a big smile, continuing to sit. She watched him, but he just… sat there, smiling like a doofus.

“If you so much as raise a hand to me—” she started, but she was cut off quickly by a startled “goodness, no!”

She cocked her head questioningly.

“I’m sorry, that was rude a’ me t’ interrupt, but I swear I wouldn’t ever hurt you, miss. I mean, I know I’m like, a prisoner a’ war or whatever right now, an’ most people would try an’ get away, but, uh…” He chewed his lip a little bit before continuing. “Ma kicked me out, so I wasn’t livin’ nowhere anyways. I don’t got anywhere to run away to, so I think I oughta jus’ comply an’ make it easier for both of us. You don’t gotta worry about me pullin’ nothin’, I’ll jus’ do whatever you tell me to, an’ get to sleep under a roof again.”

Drixzy’s face screwed up in befuddlement. “What? You’re just… acceptin’ your capture?”

“Yup, pretty much,” Zubert said. “If I try ‘an run for it, I’ll definitely get attacked an’ maybe even killed, but if I listen t’ you, I don’t, right? I’m not the best thinker, but even I can see what my best option here is.”

Drixzy nodded slowly, re-sheathing her knife. “Yes. But I don’t trust you, nevertheless.”

“Fair,” Zubert said almost understandingly. “You jus’ met me, after all. But I’ll show you, I’ll be a real good, uh…” he squinted. “D-did that warlock guy say pet?”

Drixzy pursed her lips. “That warlock guy is my master—and by extension, yours as well—The Grand Warlock Gremix Rivensoul, and you will address him with proper respect.”

Zubert hunkered down a little in shame. “Oh, sorry. But th’ question remains… what exactly am I?”

Drixzy let the question bump around in her head for a while. What was he, indeed?

“We’ll see what you prove yourself to be,” Drixzy decided. “It’ll be up to yourself to determine how you are treated, so act mindfully.”

Zubert nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll do my very best!” he said with a big, stupid smile. Why did he keep smiling? It was almost annoying Drixzy; yet at the same time, there was something about the dopey face and big kind eyes that she couldn’t help but find kind of cute.

“Can I ask you some stuff?” Zubert inquired. “T’ get used t’ the way things are here an’ whatever.”

Drixzy sighed. She had nothing to do right now anyways; the family was between ambushes and waiting on something she wasn’t told of (upper management info only, after all). “Fine,” she said, crawling onto her bed until she could plop backwards into the lush pillows. “Ask what you will.”

“Cool!” Zubert chimed. “So firs’ thing’s firs’… uh, can you…. see?”

“Yes, and no,” Drixzy said. “I can see normally, but blindfolded I hold a special form of sight much more intricate than what your own eyes will show you; yet it also conceals some things from me that you can see.” She shrugged slightly. “It’s hard to explain, but for all intents and purposes, just keep in mind I am watchin’ you.”

“Oh!” Zubert exclaimed. “That’s pretty cool. So what do I look like under there?”

Drixzy scoffed. “If you aren’t gonna ask relevant questions, then just keep yer mouth shut.”

Zubert wilted a little again. “I’m sorry, I was jus’ curious.” He pondered a moment. “So what was, uh—” he squinted, trying to find the right words—"what th’ heck happened t’ me out there? Th’ Grand Warlock guy touched my face an’ I got real dizzy an’ weird feelin’.”

“That was a gift,” Drixzy said, her voice softening as though the words were a happy sigh. “The Master’s Blessing is the promise of sheer bliss as reward for obedience. All who follow him melt at his tender touch.” Drixzy’s voice wandered off dreamily, the goblin seeming to zone out for a second. Coming back to herself, she continued, “when you do good, he rewards you with more. If you do poorly…” Drixzy frowned. “Well, just don’t anger the Grand Warlock and you’ll never need to find out the rest of that sentence.”

Zubert gave a curt nod. “Noted,” he said. He thought for another moment, then posed his next question. “Who’s that guy that brought me here?”

“General Catfeetz leads the military side of the family,” Drixzy said, crossing her legs comfortably. It was strange, but she was finding herself enjoying talking to Zubert—she couldn’t remember the last time she just had a conversation with someone that wasn’t instructions, commands or other work issues.

Zubert stifled a laugh but a pfffft escaped his lips anyways. “C-catfeetz? That’s the dude’s name? Really?”

Drixzy scowled. “He’s no laughing matter.” Her face dropped once more into a stern serious look. “General Catfeetz is powerful, ruthless, and cruel. He leads through fear—his soldiers know that dyin’ in battle is a merciful end compared to what he’ll do to them if they fail or betray him.”

“Yikes,” Zubert muttered. “Okay. He was pretty buff so I didn’t wanna mess with him anyways, but that’s probably good to know.”

Drixzy breathed a laugh, then tilting her head back such that she would be looking at him down her nose, she said “come up here,” patting the bed beside her with one leisurely hand.

Zubert’s ears flicked upwards, the tips noticeably reddening along with his cheeks. “Oh! Uh. Are you sure? I mean, that’s your bed and—”

“NOW.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Zubert leapt to his feet, almost falling over in his haste before scrambling over and onto the bed. Crawling over, he warily laid beside her–not because he was scared, but rather, uncertain of her boundaries.

“Do you have any more questions?” she asked him.

“Lots!” he said with another dumb smile. And those… cute dumb… biceps. A thought crept into the back of her mind. Did Gremix hand over this tiny beefcake to preoccupy her? She wasn’t sure if she should be hurt or happy for the gesture if that were so; sure, maybe he was trying to make her feel better about his own lack of attention, but shoving another man at her to do it for him? She rolled onto her side, leaning her head into a hand to look at the guy as he went on with another question about the palace. There was something so nice about just talking, though—she would worry about that all later.

To Drixzy’s surprise, the young Steelknuckle heir did in fact stick to his word. She left him untied in her bedroom for hours at a time and when she would return, he was sitting there waiting patiently for her. Sure, she’d left a guard at the door just in case, but it became clear in short time there was no need. For some reason, Zubert was genuinely just going along with it all. She was baffled, having seen so much resistance against Gremix’s rule from those who were brought in since the uprising. But here was this guy, brought in against his will, just cheerily doing as she said without batting an eyelash over it.

Oh, and she told him to do things. Before long, he was following her around the palace to do her bidding at a whim—lift this, move that, and for the love of the Light, please take off your shirt first. Over time she chose to decorate him: clasping a sparkling gemmed leather collar tight around his throat, combing his hair up however she liked, painting his nails, and dressing him in tight pants and minimal other clothing. Slowly but surely, she became accustomed to the idea… he was hers. Her pet. Her toy. Hers to do with whatever she pleased. And she wanted to do some things, admittedly. But a thought nagged at her.

She was Gremix’s.

And so it came, an awkward conversation she was about two convincing words away from not going through with:

“May I have sex with him?”

Gremix stared blankly at the blindfolded blonde from behind the war table, where maps and notes and other miscellaneous papers were spread out and pinned with meticulous planning.

“What?” Gremix asked. “What do you think I gave him to ya for?”

Drixzy’s shoulders rose in embarrassment, her ears pinning. “O-oh!” she said quietly. “It’s just that, Master, my body is yours, an’…”

Gremix strode around the table, approaching her and laying his hands on her cheeks, drawing her face close to his own, his touch enough to make her hitch a breath.

“You are, and always will be mine,” he agreed in a low voice. “And since you are mine, you are mine to treat; and the Steelknuckle boy is your treat. I care not what you do with him. Sleep with him or hang him upside-down from the ceiling with a burning candle shoved in his ass for 12 hours, it don’t matter to me.”

Drixzy swallowed, giving a tiny nod.

“After it all, you will still be mine,” Gremix said, dropping his hands to her waist and moving his face in closer until their cheeks brushed together and he could speak directly into her ear in a near-whisper that sent a shiver down her spine, “because I do it better.”

Drixzy gave a nervous laugh—the closeness had her heating up in an almost pavlovian response to his physical attention. Oh, why Zubert? Why Zubert when her master was here, so warm, so gentle, so full of that delicious power that seeped in through her skin and made her sigh in pleasure and press her body into his. Gentle kisses on her neck were enough to drive her crazy normally, but oh, when he put his Fel into it… She simply wanted to dissolve into him where they stood.

“Master,” she said breathily, “please…”

A quiet chuckle in her ear denied her request, and Gremix backed away, to her massive disappointment. She felt so hot and her heart was pounding, and she wanted him so badly—but he shook his head.

“I’m very busy, silly girl. You’re hot an’ bothered now, ain’tcha? Go use it on your little pet. I bet he’ll appreciate it.” He gave her a smile that almost seemed kind, and in that moment, she thought of the doofusy grin of the foolish loyal man set away in her boudoir, no doubt cheerily awaiting her return. She gave a quick nod.

“Thank you, Master,” she said quietly, and left him to his planning.

Probably needless to say, Zubert had no complaint when the woman returned, her calm steps devolving into a near sprint when she had the door closed behind her, then becoming a leap that resulted in her tackling him onto the mattress. He only blinked up at her and gave one of those stupid, cute smiles of his. Damn that smile! She would be rid of it, by pressing her mouth to his.

And oh, what a kiss—at least, for Zubert. There was that feeling again. That dizzy, almost orgasmic fuzziness that Gremix’s touch had caused. There was no need to convince the more-than-willing young man, but had he been resistant before, he surely would have caved in to her desires as the wave of pure, unadulterated, unnatural bliss came over him.

She pulled her face away only barely, and without bothering to catch her breath as his eyes dazedly cracked open, she panted out a simple command:

“Fuck me.”

“H’okay.”

Didn’t need to tell him twice.

And so things continued; Drixzy freely indulging herself for satisfaction from the frustration that Gremix’s continued general absence caused, with whom she decided to call her “attendant”. After all, he did attend to her every need, there seemed no better term. Zubert liked it better than “slave”, anyways.

But it wasn’t just his servitude, sexual or otherwise, that kept her interest. For some reason, he liked to just talk. And it continued to seem so strange to her, just talking, about anything. Zubert talked to her about ships, about Steelknuckle isles in their heyday, about the ocean and fish and food he liked and something funny his friend said once… She herself kept quieter, content to just listen to him and interject when he asked her something. She would openly answer most things about the family but wouldn’t speak of her past. He’d only brought it up once, but her sharp, instant demand that he never inquire again ended that line of curiosity right quick.

Months passed by as such. Zubert became a palace-wide spectacle: guards would snicker at his slutty outfits as he passed by, plodding along behind Drixzy as she went about her daily business. Others whispered rumors of who he might be or where he came from—perhaps simply a hapless commoner Drixzy found attractive? A relative of one of the generals? One such rumor that wasn’t held by many as true said he was in fact the heir to an entire cartel. Nobody asked, however. After all, nobody dared talk to Drixzy about anything besides work.

“New batch of prisoners, here!”

Catfeetz’s lieutenant arrived with a posse of guards to the castle, a string of captured rebels in tow to be offered up to Gremix’s forces. As per the usual routine, they were brought to a dungeon and stripped to their underthings, chains around their necks hooked to the stone floor ahead of them, keeping them kneeling uncomfortably as a pair of shackles attached to their wrist from another short chain behind them kept them forced upright. It was a pretty typical bunch of rebels, some jeering and spitting when their gags and blindfolds were removed, the others solemn and quiet. One by one, Gremix offered his “Blessing”, and they either accepted it or were killed. Drixzy stood by—and as she did, so did Zubert—much to his horror, as he watched those who rejected the Grand Warlock quickly offed by a skilled slice of Drixzy’s poisoned blades across their throats. Luckily, it seemed the more common answer to “do you want to die or live in heavenly bliss serving me” tended to lean to the latter, but the blood oozing over the stone floors from the first who’d denied the gift was enough to make him feel ill.

The Grand Warlock was halfway through the set of rebels when the next one he approached was a rather tall, fluffy-white-haired goblin who was sobbing hopelessly into his gag, hiccupping and rocking himself back and forth the little amount the chains would allow. Gremix rolled his eyes, and removing the gag and blindfold from this one, was met with what was probably the most terrified face he’d ever encountered during a conversion.

The goblin didn’t jeer or spit; in fact, he said nothing, only making a tiny throat squeak as he tried uselessly to liquify into the floor and away from the green glow that pulsed within the warlock’s pupils.

“Don’t be afraid,” Gremix started, gently, as usual, but he didn’t get very far before the captive broke into full bawling again. He gave an agitated sigh, standing and patting dust off the robe at his knees.

“This one’s defective,” he said, waving a hand at the crying mess to signal Drixzy to end him as he stepped over to the next goblin.

Drixzy drew her blade and started towards the young man, who was all but balled up now. But she only made it one loud-clicking step before she felt a tug—a hand on her arm. She looked back to see Zubert with a panicked expression. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, and even if he did he didn’t think he could get words out without puking at the moment anyways, so he just shook his head over and over, beseeching her with pleading eyes.

Gremix, noticing the uncharacteristic hesitation, looked back at the two with a scowl. “What’s keepin’ ya? Get to it, Drixzy." Drixzy glanced at Gremix briefly before inspecting Zubert’s desperate head-shaking once more.

“Yes, Master,” she said, brushing Zubert’s hand from her arm, the musclebound servant wilting in hopelessness as she left his side to do the deed.

The crying captive lifted his head only slightly to see his oncoming killer, and for just a moment, his eyes met what would have been Drixzy’s, were they uncovered—but the moment was the same regardless. The tearstains streaking his cheeks, face and eyes red and puffy, afraid… Drixzy suddenly understood why Zubert wanted to stop her. He was just another Zubert.

“Master,” Drixzy said, tentatively. “I’m sorry if I am oversteppin’, but…”

Gremix’s eyes narrowed as he eyed her with suspicion.

“May I have this one?”

The suspicious look fell to make way for one of surprise instead.

“What?” Gremix peered down at the chained goblin, who was still apparently attempting to burrow into his own being, head once more tucked down into his chest. Gremix made a disgusted face at the wretch before letting his gaze return to Drixzy. “You… want that pathetic thing?”

Drixzy fidgeted with her dagger. “Do you… remember when your Rusco was here?”

Gremix remained silent, so she continued; “He was defiant, but you didn’t have me kill him, because you looked at him and saw something you liked, right?”

The sobbing continued, but tear and terror-filled eyes were once again barely peering up at the people openly discussing his fate. His gaze wandered the room, where it then met that of a person the bound goblin hadn’t noticed before—Zubert stood back in the shadows, wringing his hands anxiously and giving the guy a forced hopeful smile before he burrowed into himself again.

“So you’re saying you see somethin’ in this trash heap that you like?”

Drixzy’s mind buzzed as she flipped through every explanation she could think of, trying to find the one that was truest.

“I have a thing for beta males,” she decided on, pointing behind herself with a thumb directed at Zubert—the comment said so flatly that Gremix couldn’t help but bark a laugh in return.

“Fine, fine.” Gremix said, shaking his head in bemusement. “You’re not getting another until one of these ones die, though, got it?”

“Yes, Master,” Drixzy said, glancing back at Zubert who had perked up significantly, and was now eagerly bouncing in wait for her word.

“Take him to my room,” she said to Zubert. “Chain him and return to me here.”

Zubert stood up straight, puffing out his chest and giving a firm salute. “Yes, ma’am!” he said, then hopping over to the person whose life he had just saved to unlock the chains.

“Wh-what?!” came the first words from the mouth of the crying but otherwise until now silent prisoner.

“Gag him,” Gremix said with an apathetic wave of his hand, and Zubert paused, picking up the cloth that had been dropped to the floor and re-tying it around the head of a now somewhat struggling goblin.

It took some doing, but he got it on, trying to reassure the frightened goblin that he would be safe and shouldn’t worry… but panic set in, and the captive was having none of it anymore, now desperately pulling against the chains he had no chance of escaping from. Zubert held the chain key tightly, giving an uncertain glance to the others.

“Oh, for the love a’…” Gremix sighed. “Hold him still.”

Zubert nodded, obediently moving behind and holding firmly the shoulders of the soon-to-be “blessed” man. Wide eyes watched in abject horror as hands rose to his face—he tried to jerk his head away but a strong grip from behind turned it back to the Grand Warlock and his warm hands cupped sharp cheeks.

The prisoner choked some sort of noise from behind the gag as green flames burst from the hands on his face, squeezing his eyes shut just to reopen them in confusion a moment later when he felt no burning.

Zubert watched in fascination—he’d never seen the Blessing from a third-party perspective, only having experienced it himself. The flickering flames looked terrifying, but no sound of pain came from the unwitting convert; of course not. After all, it didn’t hurt when it happened to him, either.

“It’s alright, see?” Zubert said quietly, a slight flick of ear the only indication he had been heard.

The flames seemed to be sucked into the held skull, a bright green erupting from behind tear-filled eyes as the convert stiffened—muscles in his shoulders and back twitched feverishly, but it was as though he could not move. The flames gone, Gremix lowered his hands, and the guy slumped forward into himself once again; but this time from sudden wooziness. Heavy, deep breaths came from him like convulsions and with one last horrified glance up, the Fel glow faded from his eyes. A calm seemed to come over him, the shaky anxiety and fear all but nullified.

“I don’t like blessing unwillin’ parties,” Gremix said, rising once more. “You will repay me for havin’ t’ do that later.”

“Yes, Master,” Drixzy said. “Anything, any time. I thank you for allowin’ me this gift.” Her attention turned to Zubert.

“Take him now. And be back quickly,” she said, “you will need to remove the bodies of these insolent rebels when Master finishes the conversion.”

Zubert swallowed hard, not entirely enthusiastic about that specific task, but ever faithful, he unlocked the chains and led the dazed and confused stumbling beanpole of a goblin out of the chamber.

It was quite a while before Zubert returned to Drixzy's room again. When he did, however, he came with a tall glass of water in one hand and a crumbly buttered biscuit in the other.

“Hey!” he chimed as he closed the door behind him with one stubby leg's foot.

Chained to the stone wall in the corner of the room, pressing himself as far into the joint of two walls as he possibly could, the goblin Drixzy had spared eyed him warily.

“Don’t worry,” Zubert said, approaching slowly such as not to startle him. “I’m not gonna hurt you or take you away anywhere. This is where you’ll be staying now.”

The bound goblin shook his head indignantly. Zubert shrugged.

“I mean, you don’t have much choice, y’know? If ya just behave an' listen to Drixzy and the Grand Warlock's every command, you’ll be perfectly fine, like me! Drixzy might even unchain you if you prove you won’t pull any tricks.”

The other man did not look convinced, but Zubert, a few feet away, placed the water and biscuit onto the soft carpet and raised his hands slowly in front of himself.

“Look, don’t kick me or nothin', okay? I’m gonna ungag you, Drixzy said I could. I also snuck you some water an' food, an' it’s the cold water I’m not supposed t' take, too. Figured it might be nice after havin' that thing in your mouth so long.”

A wary nod signaled that Zubert could come closer, though there was still a untrustful stiffening of his shoulders in preparation for some sort of trick… but the cloth loosened and Zubert pulled it away like he said he would, then backed up a few steps and gave him a goofy smile.

Zubert looked him over—the guy was scrawny, and not entirely impressive sitting there in threadbare boxers, but Zubert had to admit he had a thing for tall, lithe people. But more importantly, this dude clearly couldn’t feed himself, arms bound behind his body, so Zubert concluded he had to assist. Well, that was his job, according to Drixzy, right? Helper.

It was a clumsy event, Zubert tilting the glass to a very dry, desperate and eager mouth, such that between the two of their efforts a notable amount of water ran down his chin and onto the carpet; but with a relieved sigh and smacking of finally moistened lips, it was obvious that he’d had enough to satisfy, at least.

Zubert sat beside him, taking the biscuit and breaking off a piece to offer up. The captive sighed, but opened his mouth such that the crumbly bread could be popped into it.

“I’m Zubert, by the way,” Zubert said. “Zubert Steelknuckle.”

Swallowing, his companion simply said “Stix.”

“Nice t' meetcha, Stix!” Zubert said, breaking off another bite-size piece of biscuit. “We’re roommates now, so I hope you’ll stop lookin' so scared of me soon.”

“I don’t wanna stay here,” muttered Stix. “I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know who any of these people are n' I wanna get outta here!”

He looked the muscley and… tightly panted goblin over pleadingly.

“Y’ have the key, don't'cher? Let me outta here, c’mon.”

Zubert frowned. “No, Drixzy has it. And even if I did, I’m not allowed t' let you leave. If you try to run, I’m just gonna have to escort you back.”

Stix made an agitated sound, opening his mouth for another bite of biscuit, which he chewed in thought for a silent moment.

“Sho then, yer jusht one of ‘em, choo,” he decided, food still in mouth.

“No,” Zubert said with a chuckle. “I’m being held for ransom!” He paused, the cheeky smile on his face slowly dropping until he sort of just looked distressed. “Y’know, t' get my ma out of hidin', so they can kill her.”

Stix balked. “Why do they wanna kill yer mum? And who are they?” He really did seem genuinely confused about everything going on.

Zubert scrutinized the tone of Stix's voice, brows lowering in concern. “You mean, you have no idea about th' Gutshot Takeover?”

“Th’ what? No!” Stix looked appalled.

“Where the heck have you been?”

Stix nodded upwards. “Zeppelin. In fact, I was riding one jus' yesterday for a delivery, and then…” He scowled. “We we’re just passing by th' harbor when a ton of flyin' machines showed up outta nowhere and shot us down!” The goblin's ears lowered slowly. “I… I don’t even know if anyone else…”

Zubert perked; oh no, was Stix about to cry again?

“Hey, hey! Don’t worry. They uh, they like taking prisoners more than jus' killin' folks, cuz they make them join the troops, an' then there’s more of 'em.”

Stix looked horrified. “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” he groaned.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Silence befell them for a few minutes as Zubert fed Stix the rest of the biscuit. As he finished the last bite, licking crumbs from his lips, Stix decided to speak again.

“So, er… explain this whole takeover thing?”

“Oh, sure,” Zubert said, sitting and leaning back against the wall nearby Stix. “I don’t know all the details from their side, but, uh… I guess there was this mafia my ma was makin' deals with, an' they got a little weird an' started talkin' about takin' over Bilgewater's whole thing. Ma cut ties with 'em cuz she thought they were bonkers! But she was a big financial investor, so I think they got mad at her.” He scratched at the side of his face with a ponderous look. “Guess they were serious about takin' over, cuz the Grand Warlock and General Catfeetz are somehow ridiculously powerful, an' all the Bilgewater guys started following 'em because they were toutin' that they would slay Gallywix an' make things better for goblins everywhere. But then it just twisted more 'til they straight up decided they were jus' gonna take over th' whole world, an' now everything’s a big, scary mess. They’ve taken basically all of Azshara, killed Gallywix, an’ I’ve heard some of the followers say there’s a big plan coming to fruition soon.”

Stix looked as though the blood had completely drained from his face. “What the fuck?” he said under his breath.

Zubert shrugged. “I dunno, man, but I didn’t get too bum a deal outta it, so I’m jus' mindin' my own business here, y’know?”

Stix looked pensive for a moment, squinting down at the soft blue carpeting beneath him. “So… if I stay here, I’ll be safe?”

“Yeah!” Zubert said. “Miss Drixzy’s real good to me, an' I know she’ll treat you just as nice. Just you wait.”

Stix nodded, then gave a sigh and sunk into the corner.

“My shoulders hurt,” he grumbled.

Zubert tilted his head, peering at Stix. “Want me t' give 'em a rub?”

“No.” The reply was instant, and Zubert got the feeling Stix wanted minimal contact, so he shrugged it off.

“When's she get in?”

“Miss Drixzy?” Zubert pursed his lips in thought. “Heck, I don’t know. I haven’t seen a clock in so long, I don’t even know what month it is anymore. She don’t have a regular schedule though anyways. Jus’ kinda shows up when she shows up.”

“Oh.”

Silence fell once more, and Stix zoned out, staring at nothing on the ground, probably lost in thought. Zubert figured so, anyways. He certainly didn’t seem to want to talk though, so Zubert just sat there with him quietly.

“You. Up.”

Zubert snapped awake suddenly, blearily blinking and looking around as he lifted a head that had drooped to one side as he unintentionally dozed off. As he came to, he realized the speaker had been Drixzy, and he scrambled to his feet.

“Yes, ma’a—”

He didn’t get to finish his word, as warm lips pressed into his own. He didn’t mind, though, his eyes closing as he happily reciprocated the surprise. Drixzy pulled away and, as though only now remembering the guy, turned her head to Stix, who was staring wide-eyed at the two in what could only be described as pure confusion.

Zubert gestured to Stix with one hand, stepping back to introduce the two.

“Miss Drixzy, this is Stix. He’s a’right.”

“Stix.” Drixzy stared quietly for several moments before Stix leaned closer to Zubert and whispered, “Can she see us?”

“Oh, yeah,” Zubert said.

“How?!”

“Um… magic?”

Stix scowled at the unsatisfactory explanation, peering nervously back at the demonic woman. He couldn’t see half her face, but the tight, thin purple leather of the odd but sexy leotard she wore accentuated all the right things. Maybe this wouldn’t be all that bad.

Drixzy, seeming to have satisfied her staring, once more faced Zubert.

“Unbind his arms.”

“Yes ma’am!” Zubert said, approaching Stix, who cautiously scooched around to face his back to Zubert. The knot took a moment, but soon enough Stix’s sore arms were released, and he pulled them around to his front to rub the ache from his shoulders.

“Th’nks” he muttered, backing into the corner again and glowering his distrust.

“I expect Zubert has caught you up with your current situation?”

Stix glanced to Zubert, who only smiled. Looking back at Drixzy, he gave a single nod.

“Good. Now, I ask if you plan t’ be compliant. You will live well cared-for, and The Master’s blessing will bring you joy. If you choose not to comply, then I will revoke my decision to spare you.”

Stix frowned, giving no answer for several moments.

“Stix,” Zubert said in a gentle, hushed voice, “please answer Miss Drixzy.”

A dirty look was tossed his way, but with a deep breath, Stix finally answered.

“I guess so.”

Drixzy’s stern face gave way to just the faintest hint of a smile. “Prove so and I will let you roam the room freely as Zubert does.”

Stix sighed, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling, where eerie shadows were cast by the fel-light gems that lit the room. He watched with fascination as one of the shadows seemed to flicker and shift a little despite the still nature of the light. His brows creased, and he decided not to look there anymore.

Drixzy, in a contradictory motion, elegantly flopped onto her soft bed, giving a gentle sigh as she sank into it. Zubert glanced between her and Stix, unsure who he should be near at the time. That was answered for him soon enough, as one of Drixzy’s arms rose and gave a come-hither finger wave.

Zubert shuffled over, crawling up into the bed with her, where she rolled onto her belly and said into the blankets “massage.” Like a good doggie, Zubert obeyed, shifting over to straddle her lower back to get a good angle to start working her shoulders with firm, strong hands.

There wasn’t much else to do but watch, so that’s what Stix did. Watched. Watched as Zubert kneaded at the back of a sexy woman, the cut muscles in his bulky arms flexing noticeably with each movement. Stix was pretty sure this was how one of the smut books he’d read started.

Zubert scooted back a little on top of Drixzy as he moved down to work on her upper back, then eventually moved a little further to work on the mid-back… By then he was straddling her butt, and Stix squinted as he noticed Zubert’s crotch moved against it as he rubbed her. Now he wasn’t “pretty” sure; Stix was 100% sure he’d read this one.

Pleased little “mmm”s escaped Drixzy here and there as Zubert worked, and she squirmed beneath him ever so slightly—Zubert flinched, trying to choke a gasp as a soft, barely-clad behind pressed against his accidental excitement. The woman’s head turned away from the face-smothering position she’d been resting in, and a sly smile could be seen on her lips.

“Pleasure me.”

Stix balked; these two were seriously about to do it in front of him? He glanced around frantically. Was this weird? Should he look away and pretend nothing was happening? Should he watch?

Zubert gave a nervous chuckle. “Uh, y-yes ma’am, but, it’s just…”

Drixzy’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Zubert glanced behind to Stix, who looked startled at the sudden attention.

“I mean, someone’s here.”

Drixzy scoffed. “Then pull around the curtains, you baby.”

“That’s not…” Zubert took a deep breath. “Yeah, alright.”

Stix cleared his throat, mumbling a half-hearted “I mean, it’s, uhm, it’s fine.”

Zubert’s ears perked, one brow lowering in consternation. The gears in his head took a moment, but finally he barked a single laugh, turning back to Drixzy.

“Never mind,” Zubert said, fingers trailing up her back to the small zipper tag at the top of the neck of her leotard.

Stix swallowed. Yup. Zubert was just gonna let him watch. He wasn’t sure if he was excited or mortified, but all things considered, it was hardly torture to watch two very attractive people have sex. Just like the books; except instead of words, it was—he choked on a bit of spit as Zubert tugged down his pants. But… he supposed now the tiny goblin had to have something going on to compensate in some way for his unimpressive stature, and that was it.

The act was certainly something. Drixzy, despite being “bottom”, stayed entirely in control, guiding Zubert’s every action. He was fast to catch on any time she changed what she wanted; Stix, trying to ignore other feelings, thought about how strangely in-tune they were with each other. Did they just have good sexual chemistry?

By the time it was over, Stix was hugging his legs as tightly to himself as possible; his hot, red face nestled into his own knees.

Breathing heavily, the very much naked Drixzy—well, naked but for the blindfold and the golden cuffs on her wrists which glowed faintly with fel runes—sat up and turned her attention to the man in the corner, who swallowed hard, his eyes very much unable to meet her unseen gaze, as they were lost on so many other things.

She ran a hand down the front of her body, tilting her head to the side, curtains of long blonde hair cascading down off her shoulders.

Stix couldn’t say a damn thing. A pathetic sort of squeaking whimper was all he managed, burrowing his head further into his knees, though he simply couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Zubert, who had flopped down and not moved even a little bit since they finished up, finally shifted around, pushing himself up onto his elbows to peer over at Stix as well.

“Good show, buddy?” Zubert gave a cheeky grin.

Stix’s hands finally rose to cover his burning face and he curled into himself like a dead shrimp.

“If you behave yourself,” Drixzy said, leaning back into her pillows with her arms folded behind her head, “perhaps I will let you have some fun as well someday.”

A hopeless breathed laugh came from the center of the Stix-ball. “A’right,” his muffled voice could be heard saying. “A’right, a’right. This can’t be real. This is a weird wet dream. Wake up. Wake up.”

Zubert pouted. “You ain’t dreamin’, Stix. Well…” He glanced to Drixzy with a sideward smirk, “…not yet.”

A slight smile crept onto Drixzy’s lips. “Oh, you little ham,” she muttered.

Zubert winked at her, and Stix pulled his head out from the depths of his body to give them both a disbelieving look.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Zubert said with a content sigh.

Something told Stix that wasn’t true.

Well, he had sort of been wrong. Not entirely, but he became more relaxed over time, though internally terrified still; something about Zubert’s ever-present smiling mug perhaps? Or maybe he was just coming to terms and accepting his fate. Drixzy began to dress him about as strangely as Zubert, and was slowly but surely chipping away at his defensive shell with coos of adoration and compliments. He wasn’t comfortable around her, but she was always a looming figure in this caged life he couldn’t avoid.

He stayed silent, mostly. Zubert would press him for conversation, but more often than not was harshly denied. Sure, he may have been settling in, but he wasn’t gonna be happy about it. He would barely let either Zubert or Drixzy touch him willingly, either—Drixzy would lay a farewell kiss on his angular cheek every time she left for an extended period of time, which required a gentle but firm Zubert to hold him still as he tried to squirm away from it. There was always something about those kisses. They were so, so warm. And for several moments after she pulled away, he would think, maybe this isn’t all so bad. And that thought horrified him more than anything.

The chains stayed. He was too twitchy—Drixzy was hesitant to trust him. Not because she was worried he’d get away, obviously; they’d find him before he even escaped the palace, and that would only be a death sentence. But as he had at least complied as much as to not attempt to claw Zubert’s eyes out when he approached with food and drink, Drixzy decided to offer him a modicum of freedom, via a classic combination of ankle shackle, chain, and an immensely heavy metal ball that couldn’t have been anything as simple as iron or steel. Zubert, shocking nobody, was able to lift the ball without too much struggle, but much as he tugged, Stix couldn’t make it so much as budge, only managing to cut up his ankle trying to pull away from it when the others weren’t around.

This new form of bondage was at least better than before—he was now allowed to be led around the palace by Zubert, who would tote the ball so they could sit in the gardens for fresh air, or to the mess hall where they’d try to haggle the actual good food away from Gremix’s followers, who generally just regarded the two with befuddlement before ignoring them.

One garden trip resulted in, to Zubert’s surprise, the lanky goblin whipping out a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter, which he seemed very excited about.

“Where’d ya get that?” Zubert asked.

Stix wiggled his fingers as he said “cafeteria,” his other hand already popping a cig between his lips.

“You stole it?”

“Duh.”

Zubert looked displeased, but he said nothing more, deciding he would keep quiet about the contraband to Drixzy. At the very least, Stix seemed more relaxed as he smoked than Zubert had seen him in all the time he’d been there.

How long was that now? Weeks? Months?

Zubert’s eyes rose to the sky above the towering garden walls: grey and smoggy as the harbor always was. He had no idea what the date or time was, every day blurring into the next and becoming one conglomerate concept. With a twinge of concern, he realized that he had almost forgotten he hadn’t always been there, there were times before the palace; the memories of which were faint and fading. Steelknuckle Casino, the isles, his mom… Large ears lowered, and his brows knit. Zubert wasn’t often very critical of his current living situation, but sometimes, a creeping realization like that would sneak up and…

“You, uh, ready t’ go back in, ‘r what?”

Zubert seemed to snap out of a daze, blinking over at the floofy-haired thief, who was snubbing the last nub of his cigarette out against the delicate marble seat of the bench they sat on.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Zubert hesitated for a second, squinting one eye. What… what had he just been thinking about, again?

Zubert slipped off the bench, and grabbing the chain just above the ball, hefted it up and they headed back inside.

How much time had it been?

Stix stared at the bottom of the bed’s canopy in the dark. He didn’t like it, but what choice did he have when Drixzy wanted him to sleep in the bed? Zubert would haul his ball onto it, the short chain not giving way for escape to the floor.

How much time had it been?

Drixzy rolled over in her sleep, a soft arm coming down atop Stix’s chest and he hitched a breath—but it was nothing, as usual. His eyes dropped to her arm. Slowly, carefully, he pulled one of his own from under the blankets, hovering it just over her green skin in a hesitant moment before gently laying his fingertips upon it. She didn’t react, so he let his palm slide down onto her arm as well; yellow eyes watched her through the dark to be sure she didn’t wake. But then, he stopped.

He had meant to carefully lift and move her arm away, but as his hand rested there, a warming calm came over him and he opted to just leave it resting there. What an odd feeling. What a nice feeling.

His eyelids began to droop, sleep overtaking him.

How much time had it been?

Who cared?

“So what color are your eyes, Miss Drixzy?”

Zubert lay on his belly, his feet kicking back and forth behind him, face perched in two hands as he leaned onto his elbows.

Stix was there, too, his ball and chain keeping him stuck on the bed with them. But he was starting to think he didn’t mind it so much anymore. He’d started talking a bit more, and though he was still uncomfortable with touch, he was much more willing to be within a handful of inches of both Drixzy and Zubert.

“Green,” Stix said. “You can see it through her mask, can’t’cha?”

Drixzy chuckled softly, petting a hand through Zubert’s hair as she relaxed. “You’re right, they are green, now.”

Zubert pursed his lips.

“What color were they before?”

Drixzy frowned. “Before what?”

“You said “now”, didn’t you?”

Drixzy was silent for a few rough moments.

“I don’t… recall.”

“Bet’cha they’re still that color, but just glowy, right?” Stix offered. “Like th’ Grand Dickhead’s, his’re pink but th’ green shit comes from inside, yeah?”

“Oh yeah!” exclaimed Zubert. “We could jus’ look an’ tell you!”

Stix sat up in interest. He had no idea how long he’d been there anymore, but in all that time, he’d always wondered what was beneath the blindfold—and Zubert did too.

“You can’t,” Drixzy said, defensively. “I mustn’t show my eyes to anyone but The Master.”

Stix scoffed. “How’s he gonna know?”

“Yeah, jus’ for a second! It can’t hurt, right?”

Drixzy’s hand paused its petting motion. Admittedly, she had been desperately curious to see what the two boys looked like in the real world; what she saw through the blindfold was vague, forms and shadows of depth, the concept of facial expressions, but not true to life. She chewed her bottom lip for a second.

“Fine, but just for a moment,” she said quietly, sitting up and raising her hands to the back of her head.

Zubert and Stix leaned in, eagerly awaiting the answer to their burning question.

Untied, the strip of dark cloth fell to Drixzy’s lap, and long-lashed eyes slowly opened.

“Holy fuck,” Stix yelped, backing away quickly.

“What?” Drixzy asked, glancing between the two of them. Her eyes were adjusting to the light she so rarely saw, but they tried to take in her people-pets’ forms anyways.

“Your eyes,” Zubert said, his tone low and serious, “they’re so bright with the Fel that I can’t tell.”

Drixzy rubbed at her eyes, blinking away the stars. “Really?” Finally, her eyes focused and landed on Zubert. Oh. He had such a cute baby face… but then from the neck down, was hot. She had not seen that disconnect before. Charming. Her gaze turned to Stix, who swallowed and leaned away as much as he could without falling over. Stix, unlike Zubert, was skinny, tall, and seemed, in a way, slightly worn out; like an old letter from a friend, or a well-loved paperback.

“Your hair is white,” Drixzy stated.

“Y-yeah,” Stix said.

“I could never tell,” she said softly. “I can’t figure out colors very well with this—”

A loud bang interrupted her, and she froze in terror. She was facing the opposite direction, but she was more than aware that that sound was the door being slammed open. Two guards with sharp polearms entered, followed by none other than the Grand Warlock, who walked in calmly, hands folded behind his back.

She had never felt so afraid in her life. The dread was almost tangible; her breath seemed caught in her chest, as though she were choking on the very air. Zubert and Stix could feel it too.

They done fucked up.

“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing, my dear Drixzy?” came Gremix’s voice from behind her back.

Zubert looked frantically between the glowing-eyed woman and the eerily collected warlock, interjecting; “W-I mean, I convinced her t’ take it off! Please don’t be mad at her, it’s my fault.”

“What’re y’ doing, idiot?” Stix hissed under his breath. “You’re gonna get yerself killed!”

“Silence, both of you.”

Zubert’s ears drooped; the command had come from Drixzy.

“Come here,” Gremix said flatly.

Drixzy, swallowing a lump in her throat formed of sheer fear, obliged. Gradually, she backed up to the edge of the bed closer to the door, only turning to face her master as her feet found the floor.

She’d only met his gaze for a split second when she gasped in sudden, sharp pain, stumbling back a step and shooting a hand to her cheek—which was now red and stinging from an unexpected backhand.

“Hey!” Zubert shouted, making a move as though meaning to go defend Drixzy, but Stix grabbed his shoulder and tugged him back.

Tears welled in Drixzy’s eyes and she regarded Gremix fearfully. Despite literally having just slapped her, the warlock seemed just as cool as the moment before, his stern expressionless gaze locked on her.

“I’m sorry, Master,” she said quietly, her voice barely a squeak.

“You certainly are.” Gremix looked over his shoulder, nodding a head to one of the guards. “Take the slaves.”

Drixzy’s ears whipped upwards. “What? Why—they didn’t do anythin’, Master, please!” Despite her objections, the guards headed deeper into the room, seizing Zubert and Stix; the latter trying to make some sort of resistant effort, but Zubert, as ever, allowing himself to be directed without a fight.

“You will put that blindfold back on immediately and wait here for my decision about what happens next,” Gremix said, glancing aside to the guards as they escorted the two young men away. “You will not leave this room; d’you understand me?”

Drixzy wrung the cloth in her hands for a second, but gave a slight nod, and lifted it to her face to tie on once again.

“Do make sure to actually obey my instructions this time,” Gremix concluded with a note of venom as he turned on his heel and strode out after the guards.

Drixzy watched as more guards outside saluted him, then closing her door and, assumedly, guarding it.

Her knees seemed to give out, and she sat on the edge of her bed, trembling.

What had she done?

They stood still, eyes lowered. They didn’t look but they could tell he was staring them down. The warlock’s gaze felt like needles on their skin; Stix, for the first time in quite a while, had begun to shiver.

“It’ll be okay,” Zubert said. “We’ll be okay, don’t worry.”

“Is that what you think?” Gremix asked from where he lounged upon his throne. The guards held the two goblins before him at the bottom of the lordly steps for his consideration, and he’d been picking his brain for the best way to go about his intentions.

Zubert swallowed, not responding. A shaky breath shuddered from beside him. Every instinct told Zubert to pat Stix’s shoulder, or hug him, or anything… but Stix probably wouldn’t have wanted it, anyways.

Gremix observed the two for a few moments, deep in thought. Then, fel-tinged magenta eyes flicked to Zubert.

“Steelknuckle.”

Zubert flinched, but raised his eyes to meet the warlock’s gaze.

“Punch him.”

Both Zubert and Stix looked taken aback.

“Stix? W-why?”

“Jus’ do it. Hard as you can. Straight in the face.”

Stix whimpered, a fearful look tossed Zubert’s way. Zubert shook his head incredulously.

“I can’t punch him… he didn’t do nothin’ to me.”

“Are you defying me?” Gremix asked, one brow raised.

“Uh…” A chill ran down Zubert’s back. “No, no of course not, but, it’s jus’…”

Gremix gave a disappointed click of his tongue.

“And here I thought Drixzy would have done a better job on you.” He slumped back in his throne, stroking his jawline in thought.

“Ah!” Gremix sat up straight suddenly, snapping his fingers before pointing at the guard holding Stix’s ball. “I’ve got jus’ the thing. Why don’t we playtest that lovely new whip I was given last week?”

“Excellent choice, master,” the guard said.

“I will retrieve it for you, Master,” piped up a follower who was coincidentally walking down a hall to the side of the throne room.

“Thank you, child,” Gremix said with a head nod towards the follower, who saluted and jogged off in the direction from which they had originally came.

Stix looked like he might faint.

Zubert raised his eyes, giving Gremix a pleading look. “D-don’t hurt him…! Please.”

Gremix simply stared at him, blinking slowly.

Zubert’s eyes welled with tears. “Please! I—I told him he’d be safe! I told him he’d be okay if he stayed here!” Zubert swallowed back a desperate sob. “Please, he didn’t do anything.”

Stix peered aside at the pleading goblin.

“Don’t… don’t make me a liar.” The tears, having no room left to well, began running down the soft curves of Zubert’s cheeks.

“How odd,” Gremix said. “His face is leaking.” His gaze drifted to the guard holding Zubert. “He should see the doctor to get that looked at, I think.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Master,” said the guard. “I will deliver him.”

Zubert’s brows knit in confusion. “Huh? Doctor?” He got no explanation, however, and was tugged away down a hallway, glancing back at Stix as he turned the corner—their eyes met for just a moment, and Zubert could only feel his stomach sink to his feet. He looked… betrayed.

“No, please,” Zubert sobbed one last time, but the guard jerked him forward and he disappeared from sight.

“Here it is, Master,” said the follower from before, now toting what could only be described as several strands of rusty barbed wire braided together on one end to form a crude steel whip.

“Ah, lovely,” Gremix said with a pleased smile. “Guard, will you do the honors, please?”

“Of course, Master,” the guard behind Stix said. He placed down the heavy ball, stepping away to take the “whip” from the other follower, who then giddily approached Gremix, bowed, and received a gentle brush of his hand on their cheek; a blissful sigh was the last thing from them before they returned to whatever business they had been tending to before.

There was no forewarning, and no words for the feeling, Stix yelping loudly as the steel wires lashed across his back unexpectedly. Fabric and flesh tore, and his eyes overflowed with tears of pain as he tried to gasp his breath back. Suddenly dizzy from the shock, he fell forward to his hands and knees, shaking and huddling into himself. Hateful eyes rose to see the Grand Warlock lounging upon his seat, looking nothing more than bored.

“Why?!” Stix whined. “What’d I do t’ deserve this!?”

“Oh, silly boy: nothing, I’m sure. I’m punishing you…” Gremix said, leaning his cheek into a hand, elbow propped onto the arm of his golden chair, “…but the punishment is not for you.”

Stix’s ears pinned, but he had no time to parse that as the wires struck his back once more, cutting and gouging at already tender, bleeding flesh and causing him to cry out in pain.

Gremix smirked. “Let’s do twenty, shall we?”

“Yes, Master.”

Somewhere deep within the mazes of stone hallways that led underground, Zubert trudged along with his guard. It was creepy enough in the dank, empty halls, but even worse, he kept hearing an eerie screeching sound echoing from somewhere distantly behind.

It seemed they’d walked forever. There was no way Zubert was going to remember the route back… though a nagging voice in the back of his head said that might not be a concern soon. Finally, the guard stopped him, creaking open a heavy metal door plastered with warning and hazard signs, revealing a large room full of whirring medical equipment, steel tables with long sheets of tissue paper spread over them, and…

“Oh, a doctor. I got it.” Zubert said.

“Well, they don’t call me that much anymore,” came a smooth voice from the corner. “No respect, these lot.”

Zubert whipped his head around to identify the speaker. Behind a cluttered desk sat a goblin man with long, fiery red hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was chewing on something and leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk, clearly comfortable in this odd, chemical-smelling, machine-riddled room.

“What’s this, then?” asked the supposed doctor.

“Test subject.”

The doctor’s brows rose, and his eyes shone excitedly. He kicked off from his desk, chair rolling back enough for him to hop to his feet.

“Can I—?!”

“Non-fatal only.”

The doctor’s cheery face dropped into a disappointed scowl.

“Fine… but I’m never gonna get anywhere on Serum K if you guys don’t give me some expendables!”

“Yeah, yeah,” groaned the guard, shoving Zubert forward into the room. “I’ll let the Master know your concerns.”

The doctor crinkled his nose. “Yeah, sure ya will.”

The guard gave a final wave and a sarcastic “have fun!” as he left, sealing the door behind him.

The doctor turned and gave the tied-up Zubert a strange smile.

“How d’you feel about needles, little man?”

Drixzy hadn’t moved an inch from where she sat. Hours had passed, but she felt frozen. What was going to happen to her? She had spent so long following Gremix faithfully, catering to his every demand for years, and in one foolish moment had thrown that all away. What was she thinking? Why would she do something so stupid?! She rubbed at her temples, mind racing. It was Zubert and Stix—something about them. She was becoming weak for them, forgetting her place… and theirs.

Drixzy gasped, startled from her thoughts as her bedroom door opened once again. A guard’s head popped in.

“The Master calls you. He wishes you to clean up an unsightly mess in the throne room.”

Drixzy, puzzled, stood from her bed to follow the guard out. A mess? Was he making her do chores as punishment?

As soon as she crossed into sight of the throne room, she found herself wishing that true.

She cried out in despair, running into the room with loud, fast CLICK CLICK CLICKs of her boots on the stone. Reaching the center below the throneward stairs, she fell to her knees, hands shaky and unsure of what to do to what she found there… an unsightly mess, indeed. Stix was unconscious, his shirt shred to pieces and his back all but mutilated and losing him significant amounts of blood. She turned her head to the throne to see Gremix seated there, staring down at her, expressionless and cold.

“Master--!”

He raised a hand, flicking his wrist to toss something down at her. Drixzy caught it skillfully, whatever it was, and she brought it close to herself to see it. Small, green, and lightly glowing, it appeared to be a minor healthstone.

“Embed that into his back, an’ clean him up; you might have a chance to keep him alive yet, my pet.”

Drixzy swallowed back tears, brushing one hand’s fingers through bloodstained hair—hair she now knew was white. And this is what he got for her knowing.

“Oh, Stix, I’m so sorry,” she muttered into his ear as she stooped down to lift his limp body. Plenty of guards and other followers were around, and they watched her quietly, some whispering to one another, but not a one offering to help as she hurriedly part-carried, part-dragged the significantly taller, bloodied goblin away.

His eyes didn’t open right away when his consciousness returned to him. Stix pondered in the darkness of his mind if he was dead. Was he in the afterlife? The afterlife felt like a very comfy bed. But slowly his senses returned to him, and he could make out quiet noises. Little subtle sounds that signaled that another person was around. Well, he certainly couldn’t be dead, then; his happiest afterlife, he thought, would be free from dealing with other people ever again. He was already not keen on most people, and recent events were really only setting the roots of that feeling even deeper.

Recent events?

His eyes finally cracked open, just to see nothing but darkness. Wait, was he dead? He lifted his head—no, he just had his face in a pillow, after all. Damn.

He regretted the movement instantly.

“Nnngh--!!” Stix groaned as he winced, plummeting his face back into soft feathery pillows.

“Don’t move!” came a concerned voice from somewhere nearby. Drixzy’s voice.

He only groaned again.

“You’re injured, just lay still and rest,” she said. Her voice was soft, delicate… sad.

He didn’t want to feel bad for her—he was the one who suffered for her! And yet, the tone of her voice seemed to tug at his heart. What annoying, confusing, conflicting feelings he’d had since entering this palace.

“Stix,” Drixzy said, walking over to the side of the bed where he laid, “do you know where Zubert is?”

Stix thought about it. His memories of what happened before he passed out were fuzzy… what was that word again? It had seemed such an odd thing that Gremix said. Oh--

“Doc’r,” came his pillow-muffled response.

Drixzy stumbled backwards as though she had been shoved by the invisible force of his voice.

“D-doctor?!”

“M’hmm.”

“Stay here!” Drixzy said, turning to make a dash out her door, but she paused. “I mean, you probably can’t go anywhere right now if you’d wanted to, but…” Oh, what was she saying? She was in a rush!

The clacking of her boots as she sprinted down halls and around corners echoed throughout the lower chambers. One might have thought that cacophonous sound would be enough for people to keep an eye open, but Drixzy still nearly mowed someone over in her rush. She didn’t stop to apologize. Did she ever stop to apologize? She didn’t remember being polite to followers ever. Why wasn’t she polite to them?

The warning-adorned door smashed open with a loud BANG!, Drixzy immediately yelling, “BAZLEE! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?”

The doctor, this Bazlee, blinked at her, apparently having been in the middle of an experiment; syringe in hand, surgical mask over nose and mouth, and someone green and struggling bound to the metal table before him. Her heart sank. It wasn’t Zubert.

“Hello to you too, Drixzy. Why yes, I’ve been lovely, thanks for asking!”

“Where is he?”

Bazlee looked puzzled. “Whom?”

“Zubert!” Drixzy shouted, fear straining her voice. “He’s—he’s short, an’ has black hair, an’ tattoos, an’ really sexy arms!”

From somewhere deeper in the room came a weak chuckle. Her ears perked and she dashed towards the sound.

She went around a large, humming machine of some sort to find Zubert sprawled out on a stained bedroll on the floor.

“You really think my arms are sexy?” he asked. His voice was but a scratchy wisp of strained breath, his face pale and eyelids drooping.

Drixzy knelt beside him, placing a hand on his cheek. He was cold as ice. She swallowed hard, ears pinning.

“Are you in pain? Can you move?” she asked.

Zubert took a bit to respond, seeming to have to gather the energy to over time.

“Badly. Can’t move.” He gave a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Drixzy. I failed you.”

“No, no, of course you didn’t, don’t say that,” she murmured, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

“He ain’t gonna die, you can chill. Probably, at least. …Maybe.”

Drixzy turned, scrutinizing Bazlee, who had snuck up behind her at some point.

“How do I help him?”

The doctor pursed his lips to one side, giving an exaggerated “hmmmmmmmm…”

“Bazlee! This is no time for your crap!” Drixzy snapped.

He snickered and shrugged.

“I dunno, honestly. Warm him up? I design the poisons, not the antidotes.”

Drixzy huffed. She scooped her arms under Zubert’s back and tried to lift, but with a groan of strained effort, she realized that while the bottom half of Zubert was within her limits, his upper body bulk was far too heavy for her to heft all the way back to her bedroom.

Zubert gave another weak chuckle. “Sorry…”

“Stop apologizing,” Drixzy said, rubbing her hands down her face. What was she going to do?

She scanned her surroundings, seeking anything that could give her an idea—and her eyes landed on Bazlee, who was no longer paying attention to her, instead pulling bloodied rubber gloves from his hands to dispose of.

“Bazlee,” Drixzy started, her voice softer than it had been any time she’d addressed him before, “please, will you help me?”

The doctor eyed her.

“Please—we used to be friends!”

This puzzled the red-haired man, whose brows lowered in concern. “What? When?”

Drixzy paused. When? She could have sworn… her head pounded as she tried to dig up where that thought had come from.

“I… I don’t know.”

Bazlee gave her an incredulous look, but shrugged it off.

“I guess. That useless idiot they just gave me died before I could get anythin’ done, so I could take a break…”

Stix had dozed off, pain wearing him down into sleep again and again, but a clattering awoke him. The sound of the door opening, and what sounded like squeaky wheels…

“Thank you,” Drixzy said, taking one of Bazlee’s hands in her own with a grateful squeeze after they had moved Zubert from the wheeled stretcher they transported him with to the bed.

“Yeah, well,” Bazlee mumbled, pulling his hand away from hers and shaking it off like she’d gotten water or cooties on it. “Next time one of your dudes ends up in my lab, I’m not doin’ this again. Jus’ for the record.”

“You will never see them in there again.”

Bazlee laughed, and taking the stretcher, wheeled it out of the room. A few moments after he closed the door, fast wheel-squeaking could be heard from the halls, along with a “YEEEEAHHHHH!”—then very soon a “WAIT, NO—” and a crashing sound.

Drixzy pursed her lips—she had no time to go attend to the doofus doctor who she could only assume just tried to ride his stretcher down the halls.

“J’fnd’m?” came a muffled voice from pillowed face.

“Yeah,” Drixzy said. “I found him.” She placed a hand tenderly on Zubert’s chest. His breathing was slow and weak.

She tried piling blankets upon blankets upon blankets over him, but nothing she did seemed to warm him, and it seemed the color was completely draining from his body—she’d never seen a green so white. She searched her mind desperately, staring down at her hands. Useless hands! They couldn’t even save her… pets? No, they weren’t pets to her. An ache in her chest denied that term, and she longed for something else. Her eyes drifted from palms to the golden cuffs around her wrists. The fel runes on them flickered and glowed, seeming to move and shift around the surface. She hadn’t quite figured out what these were, but she knew that Gremix had created them, and somehow had been summoning her through them—not by sound, but a strange feeling that emanated from them and crept into her mind when he called her name. Perhaps there was more to the shackles than that. Maybe it was a two-way thing.

“Master,” she whispered. “Please… let me save them.” Zubert watched her, pretty sure he was dying and thus slipping away from reality because Drixzy was definitely talking to her own hands.

Nothing happened—until something did. The runes’ glows shone brighter in a burst of sudden green energy, then faded, the color turning into a vapor that dissipated in the air. What did that mean? What kind of help was that?

But then she felt it. A tug in the back of her mind—like when Gremix called for her, but ever so slightly different. This feeling was not saying “come here.” Instead, it simply said “kiss”.

She was too desperate to question, so she leaned in, and laid a kiss upon Zubert's cold, pallid lips. It was then she understood.

A warmth came from her hands, rising up her arms and into her body. It was the touch of her Master—but not being given to her. It was siphoning through her, and as it rose to her head, she heard a gentle inhale from the near-frozen goblin.

Stix, curious of the quiet shuffling, turned his head just enough that he could peek over with one yellow eye. What he saw, he couldn’t quite explain. Well, he could explain the part that was Drixzy smooching Zubert like she tended to, but the fel glow overflowing from beneath her blindfold and bursting in waves from her wristbands was another thing. The lights seemed to materialize into a green fog, which then drifted around Zubert, where it seemed to then be sucked into him. Miraculously, color was rapidly reappearing in his skin, starting with a golden red in the cheeks and ears signifying not just life but that he was quite enjoying what slowly but surely became a much deeper kiss. Regaining his ability to move, Zubert sat up—hands met faces, silent pleased noises escaped them, and the fel clouds continued until finally Drixzy pulled away. Zubert, half lidded eyes making him seem entranced, tried to lean to follow her, but Drixzy put her hand on his face and for a few seconds they just sat like that. With a twitch of an ear, Zubert seemed to find himself again, though looking confused, and Drixzy lowered her hand.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Zubert looked down at his hands, turning them around, then moved his arms around a bit. “Yeah! I’m kinda achey, but way better now!” He gave her a perplexed look. “What did you do?”

“I d'no, but I don’t like it,” came a muffled voice to the side.

Drixzy frowned. “Stix, let me heal you too.”

“Hell no!” Stix said, wincing as the slight chest movement only served to reopen barely-scabbed gashes, gushing hot blood into the bandages wrapped over practically his entire torso. “Keep that demon stuff away from me.”

“You’re bleeding profusely and in so much pain, though,” Drixzy said, voice low and concerned.

“Don’t care.”

Drixzy sighed. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault, I failed to take proper care of you both but just ended up hurting you.”

“That’s not true!” argued Zubert.

“Yeah,” Stix agreed, brows lowering into a look of disgust. “You didn’t hurt us, that monster out there on his shiny chair did!”

“Do not speak that way of The Master,” Drixzy said disapprovingly.

“Seriously? How c’n yer stand up for that guy?! Don’t y’ see he’s terrible?” Stix asked indignantly.

“He isn’t,” Drixzy disagreed, slipping off the bed and walking around it to Stix's side. “You don’t know him like I do. You don’t know how he is when we’re alone.”

Stix blinked in disbelief. “Are you even hearin' yerself?”

“Stix,” chided Zubert. “Jus’ stop.”

“No! This is insane, this—nnh!”

He had started to try to push himself up, forgetting until too late that every single movement stung like a razor down his back.

He felt hands on his face, which gently turned his head in the opposite direction, towards Drixzy.

“Don’t,” Stix said. “C-c’mon…”

“It really works, Stix, I feel way better now,” Zubert said, trying to offer some reassurance.

“I’m only helping,” Drixzy insisted.

“I don’t want yer help.”

Drixzy scowled.

“Well, I don’t care what you want. You’re mine, and I’ll do as I will.”

Stix couldn’t exactly back away or fight her off, so he just squeezed his eyes shut as she leaned in, twisting to meet his pillow bound face, and pressed her soft lips onto his.

She hadn’t kissed his lips even once; Stix figured she just had Zubert for that kind of stuff. He certainly didn’t think she’d kiss him, and he certainly didn’t think he would have enjoyed it so much. There was a strange warmth that seemed to seep from her lips, tapping into his own body. His mind became vague; were they using tongue? It was as though his consciousness had left his body to float in a liminal space. It was a painless place, an anxiety-free place. So nice. So heavenly.

He blinked, suddenly finding himself once more in his broken body, strewn across Drixzy’s bed. He felt dazed, yet renewed. Shakily, he pushed himself up to sitting, and Zubert gave an excited applause.

Stix still looked worse for the wear, having lost significant amounts of blood, but as shown by Zubert carefully peeling bloody bandages off the skinny goblin, the horrendous mutilated flesh had closed up quite a bit, thick scabbing holding the cuts closed as though it’d had several days to heal already. Stix shuddered as the cold hit his now-bare torso, then hissed sharply through his teeth—“fuck, it still hurts.”

“Still as much?” Zubert asked concernedly.

Stix considered himself carefully before answering.

“Nah. Less, but it still hurts.”

Drixzy peered down at her bracers, but the runes had died down to their usual faint flickering glow. “I don’t think I can do any more. I’m sorry.”

Stix grumbled, but Zubert, much more enthusiastic about not feeling like he was freezing to death, chimed in with a “you’ve done plenty! More than we could have asked for.”

Drixzy gave him a weak smile, and the door creaked open behind her. She glanced over to see a guard simply holding it open. For a moment she was puzzled, but then she realized why he was there as the back of her mind prickled: come here.

She peered at her boys, both better but tired.

“I’m being called for. Try to get more rest, you two.”

Zubert nodded, Stix giving no acknowledgement of her even having spoken.

Drixzy turned and strode out the door. The call wasn’t coming from the throne room this time. She could sense his power even from afar. He was in his chambers.

With a deep breath, she started down the halls.

She entered slowly, warily. The dim, fel-lit room was same as it always was: cold, slightly spooky, and containing the one thing she was truly afraid of…

Gremix.

“You called for me, Master?”

“Yes,” he answered from where he lay, casually leaned against the strikingly carved and engraved headboard of his luxurious bed, arms crossed behind his head. As usual, he wore a delicate, fancy robe, which spread from his crossed legs like a fish tail.

“Join me.” He pulled his arms from behind to pat the mattress beside him. “You’ll be sleeping with me tonight.”

Her heart skipped a beat—it’d been so long since Gremix had let her sleep with him. She wanted to be excited, but a pit in her stomach warned her that Gremix was probably still very displeased with her. Cautiously, she came forth, hefting herself into the soft bedding and crawling over to lay beside her master. An uncertain hand lifted towards his chest, but she hesitated to touch him.

“It’s fine, dear,” he said with a smile that didn’t look quite genuine.

She laid her hand softly on his chest, scooting in close to him and nuzzling into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Master,” she nearly whispered. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Bygones, bygones,” Gremix said, combing clawed fingers through her nearly-white blonde locks. “What’s up with you lately, huh? Of everyone, I never would have thought you would disobey my direct command.”

She burrowed further into his shoulder in shame.

“I’ve been feelin’ so strange,” Drixzy said. “I keep getting confused. I told Bazlee we used to be friends”—Gremix’s brows furrowed immediately—”but that can’t be true… I don’t remember that, nor did he. I don’t know why I said it.”

“I see,” Gremix said, no note of concern in his tone despite the betrayal of a distressed face. “That’s very silly of you. You never met Bazlee until the Palace.”

“I know… but for a moment, I was so sure.” She frowned and shifted back to look entreatingly at the warlock. “What’s wrong with me, Master? I feel like I’m losing grip on myself.”

Gremix pursed his lips, scrutinizing the woman’s face a moment. Reaching up slowly, he lifted her blindfold up and off her head. She opened her eyes, and as usual, they glowed with unholy intensity.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Gremix said, a soft tone to his voice that Drixzy hadn’t heard in so long. “I am going to fix you.”

“Thank you, Boss.”

Gremix froze, and the abrupt stiffening of his muscles indicated to Drixzy that something she said was wrong. Her eyes widened, and her hand shot to her mouth, covering it in confused horror.

“Wh… why did I…”

Gremix's ears pinned, slight movements in his jaw a sign of clenched teeth.

“Never. Call me that. Again,” he said, some sort of powerfully serious frustration seeming to bubble inside of him.

“I-I'm sorry, Master—oh!”

Drixzy found herself suddenly flipped onto her back, the warlock hovering above her on his hands and knees. She couldn’t remember the last time Gremix had looked so upset. Or had he ever looked upset?

“Master,” Drixzy started softly, swallowing a lump in her throat, “how… long have we been here?”

The Grand Warlock’s hand slid up the front of her body and he leaned in to her ear, his warm breath giving her goosebumps.

“Always.”

Zubert and Stix had waited a while for her, but Drixzy did not return that night, and they fell asleep sprawled out in the spaciousness of the bed. When they awoke, she still had not returned. It wasn’t until a while after the door guard brought them dinner that the blindfolded young woman came back.

There was something about the way she was walking—hips swaying, each heeled bootstep like a step down the catwalk. Her lips were tight and straight, her posture immaculate. Expressionless.

“Welcome back, Mi—” started Zubert, practically a dog wagging its tail at its owner’s return.

“Silence.”

Zubert paused. Her voice was flat, cold. He glanced aside at Stix, who returned his troubled look.

“On the floor, pets. Where you belong.”

Both guys seemed to wilt a little, scooching themselves off the comfy linens in disappointment. What happened? Drixzy seemed to have completely changed overnight. Zubert thought it felt familiar… Like how she was when he first arrived.

“Drixzy—”

“I said silence.” Drixzy sneered at them, her voice carrying a malice that chilled them to their cores. “I have failed my Master by being too soft on you both. You will learn your places, or else be destroyed.”

Stix paled. Killed, sure; but “destroyed” sounded—somehow—worse.

“Do you understand me?”

Stix and Zubert both nodded fervently.

A smile crept onto her lips, but not the soft, tender smiles from before. It seemed, in a way, sinister. As though merely watching them fear her was a pleasant joke. A horrible realization crept up on both of the guys.

She was smiling just like him.

[ballinscenarios]

heya! could i please have scenarios of oikawa, akashi, iwaizumi and kise as older brothers please! thank you!

My ask box is literally ridden with nothing but nsfw asks, but this saintly, heaven sent ask popped up and is gonna wipe my smut record clean, if only for a hot minute.———————————————————————————————————–

Oikawa:“What’s his name?!” Your head rolled to the side and your bored eyes landed on your older brother. His voice dripped with offense and his face matched it in disgust. You were simply looking at your phone, checking your snapchat, when your crush had sent you a cute snap of their selfie, with a caption “How’s your day going, _______?”You sighed. “What are you talking about, Tooru-chi”.“You’re smiling at your phone! And-and-and not just any smile!” He had risen out of his seat at the kitchen table by now, stomping over in his alien-clad pants, cereal bowl in hand. “I’ve been running a volleyball team filled with teens for a while now and I know a dopey, love-strucked smile when I see one!”

“Oh, like when you see Iwa-chan?” You snickered.

“Oh haha, you’re so funny! But seriously, who’s texting you? Or snap-per-chatting you?! Is it that classmate of yours you like? From english?”

“For your information, you nosey bozo, it is! And they asked me if I wanted to get ice-cream later!”

Your brother’s pout on his lip quickly flipped as his eyes began to sparkle with excitement. 

“A date?! Let me help you pick out what to wear!” He scrambled to get up, drinking the last of the milk straight from the bowl and running to your room. “Hurry up and tell them yes so we can start getting you ready! Your dating lessons from the one and only Oikawa Tooru starts now!”

“I want this date to go well, Tooru! Not end my dating life before it even begins!”

“HEY!”

Akashi:A mansion. A mansion is what you owned, and even with the unfathomable square footage, you still couldn’t get some damn alone time.

“I know you’re there, Sei. Stop spying on me.” You muttered, legs dangling off the tiles and dipping into the outdoor fountain. The navy blue, star-lite sky was the background to the neon blue arising from the flowing water. It danced on the walls, the fountain, and on your face, hiding the fact that tears were running down.

“I’m only spying because I know you are not well.” He stated simply, coming to sit beside you after rolling up his pajama bottoms. “You’ve been extremely stressed out lately, even with how flourishing your department is. I thought you might want an outlet to talk to, me being your business partner.”

You stared at the dancing water. Squinting your eyes.

“I’m your sibling, Sei. Sibling before business partner.” You could feel your older brother’s eyes on you after your statement. “Ever since I’ve been old enough and qualified enough to run my own department, i-it’s like the family dynamic is completely gone. We never have dinner at the same table anymore, we’re all in different countries for holidays, and birthdays come second to milestones in the company. I know my department is flourishing, but it’s beginning to seem so gray. I miss the colour our family was.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until the tear had joined the water below. Your older brother sighed, before re-crossing his legs in the water. The sound breaking the silence.

“I couldn’t agree more with you, and now with you and I both in the business, we have more power together. Let’s make breakfast tomorrow, and discuss what we’d like to change. Not in a meeting room, but our dining room.”

You looked up at him, smiling for the first time in a while. “And watch cartoons on the carpet?”

“While eating our famous chocolate chip Akashi pancakes, yes.”

Iwaizumi:Family vacation was a highlight to any summer. The cottage was like a second home, with no problems or worries following you, only sounds of the wilderness and the lake awaiting you to jump in. But this year, your parents had decided to bring along friends, and leave you and your brother, Iwaizumi alone at home. You both begged to go, insisting you’d even set up a tent, but were denied at the reason of ‘adults only trip’ with a ‘break from the kids’. You were barely kids anymore!

Throwing your book onto your bed, you glanced around. Your room was so boring! White walls, gray carpet, only a brown desk; Where was the colour!? 

“Oi… Haji?” You called, walking into the door frame of his room.

“What’s up?” He responded, pulling his headset off his ear closest to you, eyes still focused on the battle royale game he was playing (Yes, he was playing fortnite). 

“Would you be up for painting my room with me? We can put all my furniture in mom and dad’s room while they’re gone. It’s like the perfect time! My room is so boring and blah, it’s just plain colour!”

After some aggressive clicking on his controller, and deciphering, he looked at you, shrugging.

“I don’t see why not. Move everything you can without me and I’ll be in in 5 minutes to help. This game’s almost over.”

Within minutes, your older brother was helping you move your desk, bed, dresser and anything else into your parents’ room down the hall. 

After driving to the store and picking out the perfect shade of your favourite colour and painting supplies, you began painting the middle of the wall as Iwaizumi lined the top and bottom, and around the windows carefully.

“How impulse was this decision, ______?” Iwaizumi laughed.

“If you didn’t do it with me, I probably was going to ask Oikawa.” You joked back, looking back at your brother in amusement. “Thanks for helping me, though. I appreciate it a lot, Haji.”

“No problem! I’ve got your back any time, little bro/sis.”

After finishing up painting, your older brother held the bag up to you, leading you to reach in and grab the last object that was in it… Christmas lights?

“I snagged them at the store when you were debating what colour. They were on sale, and I figured they’d suit your fancy. Give your room a little extra… extra-ness that you like.” 

Your jaw dropped at the surprise before you hugged him, making the stay-cay renovation week even better!

Kise:You rolled your eyes walking into the bathroom. The house sure was a lot more lively when Kise was home from modelling. He’s been gone lately, getting job after job, basketball game after game, and travelling lots for appearances, and now he was home for a month, and the house seemed to balance again. 

“Turn down your music.” You shoved his arm before reaching for your toast that had just popped.

“Heey~ I just got home! You should be nicer to me, you know. I missed you!” He giggled before scraping butter onto his own slice of toast.

“Oh you know what. Since you’re home now,” You offered before opening a cupboard. “Can you make that dip you always make for our chips? I’ve been really missing it.” You laughed at his over-the-top hurt expression.

“Missed the dip more than your lovely older brother? I’m hurt.” He stated before scrolling through his phone. “Yes, I’ll make it. But you gotta help, and you gotta dance.” 

You shrugged, grabbing a large mixing bowl before bobbing your head to the beat. “Don’t you forget the singing!” You added before biting into your toast.

This is what you had missed, you thought to yourself. The random dance parties at late night hours with your older brother while you made the most delicious chip-dip you’ve ever tasted. Ingredients flew all over the place just like the notes coming out of both your mouths did. Spatulas were microphones, stirring sticks were guitars and oven mitts were drums as you and your older brother enjoyed his new playlist he had compiled over visiting all the foreign countries.

“Can we watch Mama Mia?” Kise said, sprawling on the couch.

“Shouldn’t you have more energy as a basketball player? How will you ever be a broadway star if you’re tuckered out after 13 songs?!” You poked fun, dipping your chip and watching it snap in the dip!

“…I’m not even gonna sass you back because the chip did it for me.”

“Don’t laugh at my demise, Kise-chi!!!”

[lenin-it-to-win-it]

“this isnt a herem anime u fucken weebs”

summary: toshi gets injured and drama ensues when nighteye, naomasa, hizashi, and aizawa all show up to fuck him! who shall win his affections (and 8 foot thundercock) in the end? find out on this episode of “its almost 2 in the fucking morning i have class in 6 hours what the fuck am i doing” 

notes: i decided to write this bc i thought naomasa and nighteye arguing over all might would be a Dank Meme and then i added mic and aizawa to make it a proper HaremTM, im dedicating this to @motojirou-kajii bc rose is literally the only reason i have the slightest interest in nighteye so congrats u are INDIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS HEAP OF SIN HOPE U LIKE IT FUCKO

***************************************************************************************all mite had broekn much of his limbs and ruptured all 3 of the orgens he had left so it was basically like any other day in his miserble life.

he was sad and loenly and even tho his arms were 8 feet long neither could reach his mightey montser cock that wuz also 8 feet long ;)).

“what a sad day this is for me, ALL MIGHT TM” he saed sadly. he coffed up blood and sighed sighfully. “if only ther was a nubile young man who could bring me confort,,”

sir niteeye crawled out from underneath the couch where he had been hiding for totally legitiemet, not secretly jacking his dick to all mights despare, reasons.

“sir nite ey” said toshinori weakly.

nihteye gently slapped toshinorys ass. “good nighteye. sleep tighteye.”

toshinori laghed. “dont let the bedbugs,,, biteeye?”

“nice fuckin going dr. genius u ruined the joke u stupid idiot” nighteye snapped angrely. “it was perfect but u pushed it 3 far and now its ruined 5ever. ur beating that dead horse harder than i beat my meat when i think of your grate jiggling jugs in that slutty little spandex onesie u run around in”

“not aneymor” toshinori cried as teers ran down his face. “my slutty dayz are over. now im just a sad old man. no mor spandex onsesies for me- only” his face scrunched up as he wept mournfully. “TASTEFUL TROUSERS AND LOOSE TURTLENECKS OH NGHTEYE WHAT IS MY LIEF BECONE??? I WISH I WER THE DED!!1”

nightey wipped out his two inch dick and bithc-slapped the sympol of peace across his fuckin face iwth it. “TOSHi YYou INgoRENT SlUT stop being EMO this isnt 2004 that shits not cute anymore fam”

toshi kept rcrying but now they were happey teers. “relly bro?? u think wer fam???”

nighteyey started wackin his ween. “o fuck ye dude, ur like my fuckably non-blood related older brother that id 10/10 would bang”

all mite opened his moth like he mIGHT (GET  IT?!!??!1?) say words but befor that cold hapdlen, the door SLAMMED OPEN and nowmasa walked in.

“helo toshi my bff forever with whom i am best friends forever” he said, friendily. “i hav come to take care of u, my friEND!”

“NAO-NAO-CHAN!” toshi exclamed happely, his cockanoodledoo swellign up to the size of 3 lebron jameses with joy and knocking kniteey out the fuckin window. “MY BEST FRIEND FOREVER!!!!1! YOURE MY FRIEND AND I LOV U!!!”

“I LOV U TOO!!1” naomasa replied with much gaynes on his ordinary face.

“um E XC USUEE uuU!” niteeye saed angrielty as he crowled in thru the window, picking sticks out of his hare (sadly he left the stick up his ass). “TOshI who is this?!???”

“i could ask the SAME QUESTION!!” naomasma yelled with his boring eyes narrowing suspeciously. “toshi, who is this OTHER MAN??? is ther somethign u would liek to ExpLAnE?”

t0shi sweated nervsouly. “nao nao chan this is., um,, he,s,”

“IM NITEEYE” nighteye snapped, doing the anime glasses thing with his glasses. “his sidekiCk”

“ex sidekick” toshi added

“well iMM naomasa, his CURRENT best friend!” naomasa replied crossing his unremarkable arms.

“well ur currently abotu to get ur  ass beAT u fuCKEN NORMIE” nighteye shouted threateningly as he flexed he collectiv 2 miligrams of muscle he had on his entire bodey.

“NORMIES REEE” shreiekd a fmailiar voice from the door which was still oepn.

“HIBACHI YAMDADDY???” nighteye roared, territorially draping his penis across toshinorys eyeball. “what teh abosulte Fuc  K are u doign here you cheap hore???”

“excus u fucko im am NOt chEEP!” hizashy yelled igdignatly. “u can ask showta, it costs at LEAST three dollers to insrert ping pong balls up my ass! FOUR dolers if u wanna snort cockaeine off my stank tiddys.” hizashi lowered his voice shamefully. “the cokane isnt reel tho, its the powedery suger thing from like, pixy sticks. i cut open and shitlod of pixy sticks and sprinkle the sugar on my tiddys and predent its cocaine. MY LIFE IS A LIE!!!!”

“take ur fake tits and ur fake cocaein and your FAKE ASS KMART WEAVE AND GET YOUR SKANK ASS GONE, BITCH!” naomasa shrieked, taking out a fucking glock that he had bc he was a PolicemenTM and shoting hizasy in the dickhole.

hizashy bled 2 death on the flor but other than that he wuz fine. ‘wat are all u beta cucks doing her?? i thot this was all mitgh-senpais house not an incel convention”

“IM here taking care of super dady so he’ll repay me with the secks!” nighetye proclaimed proudly. “idk wat HES doing heer” he added pointing at naowmasa.

“Im supoorting my best friend you nutless heap of used scrotumz!” naomasa replied upsettedly. “bc im a GOOd PERson and I c ARE”

“how du u even KNOw ur best friends?” niteye asked snottily. “mayebe IM hi best friend!1”

“fat chance bozo!” naomaasa laffed as he tore off his plain white shirt revealign his chest wich was totally unremarkable except the tatto ritten in comick sanz that sed “ALL MIGHTES BEST FRIEND FORVER, LUV ALL MITE PS. SIR NITEEYE CAN LICK A CHODE”

nighteye gasped, infurieted and only slightly aroused. “ya well wateVER” he snapped pissily. “its not like some piece of shit tattoo is legaly binding”

naomasa turned around. “THIS TATOO IS LEGALY BINDING, SIGNED THE FUCKIGN GOVERNMENT OF JAPANESE???” nigtheye yelled loudly, reading the rest of the tatoo. “wel maybe i dont CARE about the law! im a bad bitch FUCK THA POLICE!!!”

naomasa smirked “all might sure is”

toshinori paused what he was doing- chewing off his own arm to escape- long enuff ot nod and conferm this fact so the fact was almost as firm as nighteyes salty rage boner.

be4 nightey could kik naomasa in the eyebal, aizawa walked in. he wasnt werring clothes but his nakeed body was covered in hair and appelsauce so it was basicaly hthe same thign.

“sup toshy” he said unceremonsioulsly faceplanting onto toshis bony ass. “i herd u got injured. want som simpathy secks?”

“Not from YUO, u BIG DUM DOODOOHEAD!” hizashi shrieked, thrusting angriyl against aizawa. he tenderly inserted his weenie hut jr into aizawas mouth. “from us.”

“wher did this walking bag of stray pubes come from?” noamasa asked confusedly.

“straight from ur moms house, pissbaby!” azawa roared sexily. “ya, thats rite, idk who ur mom even is and i fucked her.”

“but rnt u gay??” naomasa asked confusedly

“nowmasa ur  denser than a bowling ball made of other, heavier bowling balls” nighteye snapped frustratedly. “ thats the  JOKE!!”

“ur sex lifes a joke” aizawa sed, flipping his slimy hare over his sholder. thre ded flies fell out.

“OH SHIT SON GET DUNKED ON” hizashi yelled proudly hi-5ving aizawa with his dick.

“WHY DONT U GO FUCK A CAT YOU GREASY CUMSOCK” nighteye screamed enragedly as all the vains in his silly time sexin snake popped open.

“been ther don that” aizawa sed flatly “wy dont u shov ur hand up ur ass and c if u can find anymore shit comebacks”

“oh snap” naomasa whispered quietly  

“YOU SINGLE PEACE OF STALE WHITE BREAD I WIL KIL U WERHE U STAND” nigheye SHREKED as allstar by smashmouth stared playing on hziashys neck speeker.

“pls comrades do not fite over me” said toshinory sadly “violenc dosnt turn me on, im not endeovor”

“endevor is literally the fuckign worst thign to excist ever” naomasa agreed

“iv sen the minion porn hizashy jacks off to but i still agree” aizawa also aggred

“MINIONS WITH FAT TITS ARE HOTTER THAN NEDEVORS STEAMING NIPPLES WILL EVER BE!” mic agreedded impassionetly!

“it seems like we all agree” said nighteye agreebly.

every1 agred.

“c were not so differnt are we?” said toshinoriy, putting down his half gnawed arm “cant we all b firends?”

“or we coudl all FUCK” hizashi suggested eagerly

“yes, share my body for the glory of cummunism!” all mighte was happey to say

“this isnt a herem anime u sack of shit weebs” ngihteye replied disgustedly

“wat about,,.” hizashy pulled down his pants reveelign the sord art online tato of kiritows face he got on his asscheek in the 4th grade “NOW”

nighteyse night eyes welled up with teers. “oh ddady,,” he tore off his shrit to show the tato of asunas face he had on his left boob “TAKE ME NOW”

they all fukced and toshinory coghed up blod multiple times, hizashy was mssing at least 40 percent of his penis, nighteye kept calling toshy “daddy”, naomasa responded to 3 calls from the polece station mid-nut, and they all got rugburn from aizawas big ol donkey dick the end

[mischiefandspirits]

Iron Legion (26/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, Timeline, AO3, and Fanfiction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Web-Warriors, Part 5

Peter spun on Harley as soon as his friends were out of sight. “What are you doing? Go with them. I need to go after birdman.”

“And how do you plan on getting onto a plane?” Harley scoffed, tapping at his phone. “Your suit doesn’t fly and you don’t even have it anyways.”

Peter double-checked that the others had gone deeper into the house then pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

Harley glanced up at him, turned back to his phone, then looked up completely. “Seriously?”

“I wanted to be prepared, just in case, and I couldn’t bring it in my backpack like I usually do.”

Harley shook his head and turned back to his phone. “Well get ready, your ride’s almost here.”

“Ride?” Peter’s eyes widened. “You brought Gryphon here?”

“I told you I was going to use it to kick your butt.”

“Is it even finished?”

Harley made a sound that started affirmative, then quickly became uncertain. “I mean, it flies, but I haven’t, you know, run all the tests. It’s probably fine though.”

“You sound like Dad does right before he runs into a wall.”

“Shut up.”

The sound of repulsors met Peter’s ears and a moment later an oblong box landed between them which unfolded into an Iron Man-like armor. The differences being a maroon and silver color scheme with a navy, diamond-shaped arc and a more rounded design on the faceplate.

“You coming?”

Peter quickly stripped off his dress suit and put on the spider one he'd had tucked into his shirt as Harley stepped into the armor.

“Master Peter, Master Harley, I have informed Miss Nebula of what’s happening. I do not think you should get involved.”

“If that guy disables the tracker before someone gets to it then we’ll lose an entire boatload of Avengers tech,” Harley argued.

“Plane-load,” Peter muttered, pulling on his mask.

“We’ll keep eyes on it and him until Dad or Vision can get here,” Harley finished, ignoring the other boy’s comment. He wrapped an arm around Peter and closed his faceplate.

“I -”

He shot into the air.

Peter yelped and grabbed onto the armor with his hands and feet. “You jerk!” he shouted, but his brother didn’t respond. “S.I.L.K., connect to Gryphon’s frequency.”

“Connecting to the Gryphon armor,” she responded just before laughter filled the comms.

“Should have called you Iron Dick instead of Iron Lad.”

“I’m not Iron Lad either.”

“Yep, that’s who you are now. S.I.L.K., register Harley’s frequency as the Iron Lad armor.”

“Registered .”

“S.I.L.K., no, ignore that!”

“I’m sorry, but my protocols give Peter priority over everyone except Mom and Dad.”

Peter laughed and Harley twisted in the air. “You know, I could drop you right now.”

“But you won’t,” Peter hummed, climbing around Harley so he was perched on his back, using his stickiness and the notches in the armor to keep a tight hold.

He squinted, focusing on the dark shape of the villain’s wings and the nearly unnoticeable distortion that gave away the plane. “It looks like his wings have closed up against the plane. Some sort of high-altitude vacuum seal?”

“Probably. I’ll knock him off,” Harley said, raising a hand.

“Wait, you might damage the plane on accident,” Peter said, grabbing his arm.

“Well then, what do you suggest?”

Suddenly a drone dropped away from the wings, staying in line with the plane until it slowly started to bank.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked.

“They’re using the drone as a decoy. It’s got the plane’s signal,” Harley said, keeping in line with the plane. “I don’t know how though. There’s no way he managed to cut into the plane yet.”

“It might be Stark tech, but dad didn’t program the plane himself. Someone must have managed to hack it wirelessly somehow,” Peter said, looking over the plane.

“Then why send the bird guy at all?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve got a plan.”

“All ears.”

“I need you to drop me on the plane.”

Harley was quiet for a moment. “Pete, I know I made that joke, but I’m pretty sure a drop from this height would kill you.”

“Drop me on the plane,” he repeated. “I can climb around and get him off.”

“Are you sure you could even hold on? That thing’s going to be smoother than my armor.”

“I’ve held onto glass before.”

“Not at this velocity and wind speed.”

“It should be okay, and you’ll be there to catch me just in case.”

“The suit is equipped with a parachute in case of emergencies,” S.I.L.K. added.

“See, I’ll be fine. Drop me.”

“Aunt Pep is going to kill me,” Harley sighed, flying up to the plane.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bwaaaw! Bwaaaw! Bwaaaw!

Adrian looked up with a frown at the alarm and air pressure leak. “Damn it, Mason.” He moved to a control panel, expecting to see the wings failing, only to see someone outside the plane working to knock them off.

He growled and slammed his fist against one of the crates. As he marched over to where he’d left his helmet, he muttered to himself, “Four years! Four years and not a word from the feds, nothing from those Halloween-costume-wearing bozos down there in Avengers Mansion, and then, all of a sudden, these spiders show up and think they can tear down everything I’ve built. Really?” He grabbed his helmet and put it on. “I’m going to kill him.”

“What’s going on?”

“Spider-Man’s here.”

“I guess he’s done letting his sister do his dirty work,” Mason said as Adrian lowered himself into the wings.

“He’s going to regret it.” He strapped himself in and grabbed the Matter Phase Shifter then hit the release.

Spider-Man’s grip slipped when Adrian pulled away from the plane, but unfortunately, he managed to catch himself before he fell.

He moved to cut the hero down, but was knocked off course when a blast of navy light grazed his wing. He cursed when he turned to see Iron Man flying towards him.

“What? What happened?”

“Stark’s here.”

Tinker cursed as well. “Get out of there!”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?”

Adrian rolled and ducked, but Stark kept on his tail and worked to keep him boxed in near the plane. Thankfully he’d either gone soft or was having an off day because his shots all grazed at best and fell wildly off the mark at worse.

Suddenly he felt himself stall and he turned to see one of Spider-Man’s webs attached to his wings, the hero flapping in the air as another web connected him to the top of the plane. He turned, slicing through the web with his wing. Spider-Man shot another web at his waist, but it came loose and the man fell on top of the plane.

Adrian immediately dropped to dodge another blast from Stark. They danced around each other for a few more minutes, but Stark seemed distracted now and Adrian quickly came up with a plan to lose him.

“Chief, I’ve lost contact with the plane.”

“What?” Adrian glanced down at the plane and realized Spider-Man was nowhere to be seen. But how… His eyes widened and his hand dropped to his belt to find that the Matter Phase Shifter was missing. Great, wonderful, as if this mess couldn’t get worse!

Adrian spun around, feinting upwards before ducking under the plane, hoping to put it between Stark and himself long enough for him to get away. Stark wouldn’t risk getting too far from the plane, after all. Not with the spider still on it.

He realized his mistake almost as soon as he was under the plane and a weight fell onto his back and he turned to see Spider-Man perched right between the propellers, the cube hanging from his waist by a short line of web.

“Hi there,” he shouted over the wind. “Sorry to drop in like this, but you’re going to jail now.”

Adrian reached for his knife, then slammed to a stop as Iron Man appeared in front of him, gauntlet pointed at his face.

“I wouldn’t do that,” a voice that was distinctly not Stark said, amplified by the suit’s speakers so Adrian could hear him. “Land, now, or I’ll blast you out of the sky.”

“And risk the Spider?” Adrian yelped back.

“He’s got a parachute.”

Adrian looked between them, then slowly dropped towards the ground.

“Do you have one?” Spider-Man shouted jokingly. “You really should. You never know what kind of trouble could be-fall you.”

“Oh my god, are you always like this?” the not-Stark Iron Man groaned.

“Your just jealous you can’t be this punny, Iron Lad.”

“Iron Lad, huh?”

Adrian turned his head to see another Iron Man flying up alongside Vision.

“Oh, hey Mr. Stark!” Spider-Man laughed awkwardly. “We, uh, caught the villain and saved the plane.”

“I’ve noticed. We’re going to have a long talk about this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Miss Toomes, Miss Jones, Mr. Leeds, I have received the all-clear. You may now leave the panic room.”

The three shared a look and Michelle shrugged, pushing past the others to open the door. They passed through the closet and into the bedroom just as a woman came in.

“There you are.”

“Who are you?” Michelle asked, getting into a defensive position.

“Spider-Woman!” Ned answered, pointing to the spider insignia on her chest.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Come on, kids. The bad guy’s captured. Time to go.”

The girls cautiously followed her out while Ned attached himself to her side, asking question after question about the night’s events. None of which were answered.

When they got outside, they saw Peter and Harley talking with Nebula and Tony Stark himself while Vision stood off to the side with a pair of people in FBI jackets.

When the two groups noticed them coming out, one of the FBI agents approached them while Peter met Liz’s eyes with an apologetic expression.

I’m so sorry, he mouthed to her, but before she could question it, the FBI agent said, “Which one of you is Elizabeth Toomes?”

“Me?”

The woman gave her a soft smile. “You’re going to have to come with me.”

“What’s going on?” Michelle asked.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that right now. Miss Toomes, please. Your mother is going to meet us at headquarters.”

Liz gave the other two a confused look, but followed the woman and her partner to their car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harley froze the moment he was through the door. “H-hey Mom.”

“Harley Nathaniel Richards, what were you thinking?”

“He wasn’t, obviously,” Harley’s sister snorted from the couch.

“Stay out of it, Valley,” Harley huffed while Mom said, “Valeria, if you think I don’t know he couldn’t hide this from your nosy butt then you have another thing coming.”

Val looked up with wide eyes. “Hold on, what? I had no idea Harley was trying to turn himself into discount Iron Man.”

The two gave her matching doubtful expressions.

“Okay, but in my defense, I never thought he’d actually be able to do it.”

“Thanks.”

She gave him a thumbs up and turned back to her video game.

“Mom, I -”

“Am grounded,” she cut in. “One month. No tv, no computer except for school, no workshop, and no Peter.”

“No… Peter?”

“No Peter,” she repeated with a nod. “Or any of your other little Jr. Avengers crew. Now go get cleaned up. Dinner is in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Val snickered as he shuffled past her and he shoved her off the couch.

“Hey!”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, missy,” Mom said.

“Me? I didn’t do anything?”

“I rely on you two to sell each other out. You’re grounded for a week. No video games, no music, no hanging out with friends outside of school. I hope whatever he bribed you with was worth it.”

“… Eh, yeah, it was.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Vis!”

Vision jumped and turned to see Peter hanging in front of him. “Oh, hello Peter.”

“What are you doing? I was going to invite you to spar with me and Spider-Woman, but if you’re busy…” he frowned as he caught sight of the screen Vision was using to keep organized and Vision closed it.

“I am just doing a bit of research. I would be happy to spar with you and Agent Drew.”

“Vis, are you looking for M-Wanda?”

Vision frowned and opened his mouth to argue.

Peter dropped down onto the couch next to him with a flip. “Vis, it’s okay.”

“She is… special to me. I know what Mr. Stark said, but I do not want to abandon her.”

Peter pressed up against his side. “She abandoned you, not the other way around.”

“But -”

“Vis, she threw you through the floor. You have to understand how bad that is. I know you two had been dating or something right?”

“I do not believe we made it that far.”

“And you want to find her to restart that, right?”

“I really care for her,” Vision agreed with a nod, and Peter gave him a sad expression. “I know you all do not like her.”

“We don’t, but trust me when I say I’m being objective about this. She’s not good for you.” He opened his mouth to argue and Peter cut in over him. “She hurt you.”

“I was unhurt.”

“Maybe not physically. But she attacked you, and you can’t say that didn’t hurt inside.”

Vision thought back on the moment she had turned his powers on him. “It… did. A lot. But she did not mean to hurt me. She just felt trapped.”

“And what happens the next time she decides she’s feeling trapped. Will she throw you through the floor again? Through a wall? Vis, that’s not a good start to a relationship. If you two were dating it’d be domestic abuse.”

Vision wanted to argue, but all he could do was stare down at the boy.

“I won't tell you what to do, but be careful, please. We all care about you and we want you to be happy and safe.”

“I understand. I need to think about this.”

“Okay, Vis. I’ll leave you to it.” Peter patted him on the shoulder and flipped over the couch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shuri bounced along with her music as she looked over the readings from Barnes’ latest scans.

“How is it looking?” her brother asked as he poked at one of her newest prototypes.

“It’s looking good. We might be able to wake him up soon to start treatment.” She slapped his hand away and added, “Though it would be sooner if you weren’t in here trying to blow up my lab.”

T'Challa stepped back, eyeing the prototype. “You’re working with explosives again?”

“Nope. It’s just temperamental.”

He sighed and took another step back. “Please at least try not to blow anything up this week.”

“No promises.”

He sighed again and left.

She chuckled and grabbed the prototype, tossing it across the lab where it bounced harmlessly across the counter. “So predictable.”

She turned back to her work and frowned when she spotted a small spider climbing across a microscope. “How did you get in here?” she tisked as she grabbed a glass case to catch it in. Whoever was letting bugs into her lab was going to regret it.

She turned back to the spider and froze when she saw it rapidly spinning a web, the strands forming a pattern far too precise to be natural. Her eyes widened as the strands began to form numbers until she was presented with an American phone number. She immediately scooped up the bug and held it up to a magnifying glass. She sucked in a breath as realized it wasn’t an actual spider, but a spider-shaped robot. A bug in a completely different sense.

She looked between the bot and the number contemplatively.

She should tell her brother about this immediately, but there were very few who could get inside Wakanda’s borders, let alone to Shuri’s lab, all whilst undetected.

She gave it a few moment's thought, then brought up a secured line on her Kimoyo Beads and called the number.

“This is a private and secured line. Please identify yourself at once,” a female voice answered as soon as the call connected.

“I found your bug,” Shuri said instead.

“I’m sorry, that is not adequate identification. Please identify yourself at once or I will be forced to report and end the call.”

Before Shuri could say anything -- or more likely hang up and go to her brother -- the bug gave a few small chirps.

“Oh, hello Ana. Congratulations on a job well done. Apologies, Princess Shuri, I will transfer you to Spider-Man right now.”

Spider-Man? Well, that explained the spider design. She recognized the name as one of the people that Stark had brought in to help against the fight against Rogers, but why would he try to contact Shuri? Clearly, that had been his intention if his secretary immediately knew who she was simply by the fact that she had the bug.

“Wait, S.I.L.K., give me a second!”

“Hello?” Shuri asked, surprised by how high pitched the voice was. She knew her brother had said Spider-Man sounded young, but just how young?

“H-hey. Hi, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to get back to us so soon. It’s an honor to speak with you, Your Highness. Is that right? Your Highness? Sorry, I’ve never spoken with royalty before.”

Shuri snickered at the spider-boy’s flailing. “Just Shuri is fine. And you are the Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Tell me, Spider-Man, why did you send in your spy bug to infiltrate Wakanda.”

“Woah, wait, no! First, she’s not a spy bug. Anapistula’s a delivery bug. No recording of any kind, promise. She was just made to find you and give you my number. I swear. As for infiltrating Wakanda… Okay, yeah, technically that happened, but we knew it would be easier to do that then wait until one of your random trips to Oakland.”

“We?”

“Iron Lad and I.”

She recognized that name as well. “Do either of you have actual names?”

“Maybe,” he hummed.

“You know I could figure it out.”

“Yeah, but we’re not going to make it easy.”

“Why did you contact me then?”

“… How much do you know about the creation of Vision?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With that, we finally get Iron Lad in action and find out what Anapistula was for. For the record, Ana's AI is very basic, more in line with an animal than a person, similar to Redwing. Harley just needed her to be smart enough to find her way to Shuri from Joe's drop off.

[sunreliable-archive]

         *   ☼   ❝ I’m lucky to be alive? Says the guy I saved five minutes ago. ❞                       re : 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

❛    i wasn’t talking about bozo over there.    ❜   somewhere in the vicinity of his own gesturing  ,  from a figure previously curled up and knocked out cold comes a groan. peter resists the urge to tell him to shut it  ,  if only because the angle’s bad for trying to web a mouth shut  ,  and half - assed villainy isn’t actually the most pressing concern right now.  it’s too public to risk pulling the mask off  ,  amidst broken glass and stone he can only hope franklin’s got a good image of his ‘ are you joking  ?  tell me you’re joking ‘ face.    ❛   your parents are looking for you everywhere.   your mom’s gonna kill you.   then me.   maybe not in that order.    ❜

         *   ☼   featuring : @boyimpossible as 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 .

[guttersvillemayor]

Late Night Confrontations

[In the days and weeks since I’d come back home, it was a struggle to find my way. If I thought I’d find a job with my skill set easily enough, I was sadly disappointed. And one night after several drinks with Wendy and Teddy, both of whom had to leave to get sleep for work the next morning, I found myself alone at Louie’s Diner. It was a place I knew very well, in some ways too well, as I had worked there some in high school and all through college. The owner was like a loveable uncle who was close with several of his loyal employees and regular customers. That night he had been filling in as cook to help out one of those employees and saw me sitting at the bar. Even made a joke about my sad looking face. He was yet another person I couldn’t bring to tell my troubles to, no matter how much he tried to pry it out of me. Louis Doucet had been one of the first people to take a notice in my love of photography, told me I had talent. Even bought a couple of my photographs over the year which still hung in the diner. To admit that I was flat on my ass with nothing to show for it after everything would hurt almost as much as it would to do so with my parents. It was bad enough that I was paranoid about most of my brothers figuring out that something was rotten in the state of Denmark, though if any of them had they hadn't mentioned it to me or my parents yet. Louie eventually stopped pushing and instead did what he always did best, offer a port in the storm. It started out with me simply asking how things were going considering he was working the overnight shift and ended up with him mentioning that he was down a person or two. It’s hard to describe the emotion I felt when he asked if I wanted to pick up a shift or two to make extra money. He was clearly trying to save my pride and dignity by not suggesting I was unemployed while still giving me a source of income. Thankfully I’d held out on the urge to cry until I got safely into my car afterwards. I hadn’t truly felt how far I’d fallen until that moment I had to pull over into a dark parking lot during my drive home because I was crying so hard that the sobs were wracking my body. It was easy to compartmentalize and not fully acknowledge my situation except for in moments like that when it stared me so boldly in the face with nothing else to pull my attention and distract me. After that, I made sure to keep busy and occupied any moment when I wasn’t job hunting. I also slowly started to add a couple more shifts at the diner until I found myself once again working there as a full-time employee, mainly covering the overnight shift. Something about working graveyard fit me and my current emotion state better. Like tonight with the tension from another family dinner still hanging around me like a cloud of dirt circling Pig-Pen from the Peanuts comic strip. It hadn’t been as much of a production as the one held the first night I came home, but that also might have been what made it easier for my family to pick up on the things I was saying or, in some cases, not saying. I’d told my parents I was going to hang out with Teddy, when in reality I was coming to work. It was an excuse I’d already used several other times since I started at the diner. I didn’t know why I couldn’t bring myself to admit to them I had gone back to work at my college job, but it was just another thing piled onto the others that I hadn’t told them. Lying was becoming more complicated and no long the little white lies that I felt wouldn’t upset my parents too much.

It was a few hours into my shift when the door opened, causing the bell to chime alerting myself and the cook we had new patrons. For the last 15 minutes we’d been sitting around doing nothing since our last customer left. Something that happen occasionally during early weeknights as most people didn’t go out late Mondays through Wednesday. Not a lot of partying left the French Quarter those days, at least not in this part of town. Sliding off the chair in the kitchen, I yell out to whoever entered the diner.] I’ll be right with you. [It wasn’t until I walked through the swinging door and looked up that I realized my newest customers were in fact my brothers, though thankfully only two of the five. The twins to be exact. With almost matching rueful looks, they slide into the bar stools in front of me. I’m not sure if the look is because their little sister is working in a diner at the age of 29 when they know I used to make a better living or because it’s almost 2am and they’re in an empty diner usually populated by college students or people who had been out late drinking… in some cases those college students had been the ones drinking. Though there were also ones who were just up late studying. Either way, I knew my brothers didn’t fit any of those descriptions and, in fact, probably had work early at the family-owned construction company. My eyebrow raises instinctively as it has done several times in the past with them.] What brings you two bozos into a respectable place like this after midnight? [I pause for a bit, momentarily thinking about ignoring the fact that they somehow found out about my late night job, but I’m more irked and curious causing me to speak again before either of them can answer my first question.] Okay, how did you find out about me working here again, do the other guys know and most importantly, did y’all tell Mom and Dad? [The Twins chuckle awkwardly, an inherited trait from both our parents. However, it’s Jackson who speaks up first. He was always the more smooth talking of them. Jonah was more of a goofball, and together they made an act growing up that caused more than its fair share of trouble. “It wasn’t hard to see that something was up at dinner tonight. Even Reba commented on it on the drive back home.” It sounded reasonable enough, but as my gaze darts from Jackson to Jonah, I realize the latter is still feeling a bit too awkward.] Wendy said something to you, didn’t she? [The look on Jonah’s face is almost comical… okay, who am I kidding, it’d be downright hilarious if I wasn’t so annoyed with both my brothers and now one of my best friends as well. Actually both best friends as I’m sure it’s Teddy who spilled the diner beans to Wendy in the first place. “Look she only told me tonight because she was worried about you after dinner.” “And Reba really did comment on it,” Jackson adds to support Jonah. “It wasn’t until I’d mentioned it to Jonah that he told me.” My head starts to shake furiously as I work out the timeline for all of this to have even occurred] Dinner ended only four hours ago. Are you telling me that you two girls text each other late into the evening? [My incredulous look and tone only serves to make my older 36-year-old brothers blush slightly.] You two are fucking ridiculous. [Throwing my hands into the air, I turn away from them and reach back for the menus before slamming them down a bit in front of the Twins.] Order something and tip heavily… [Once more, I turn away and head towards the kitchen, still shaking my head and muttering.] Fucking ridiculous.

[It takes me a couple minutes to get a hold of my emotions. To not completely freak out about what’s happening and being confronted with the reality of my situation. But eventually I do go back out to the front where the Twins are still sitting at the bar, keeping a cautious gaze on me. Not letting them control the conversation, I quickly jump to be the first to speak once again. My pad in one hand while the other hand is pointed at their menus.] So do you two know what you want? I’m sure you can interrogate, lecture or whatever it is you came to do to me once I put your orders in. [Jonah easily orders a burger, but Jackson looks like he wants to say something else until he gets a nudge in his side. Then he follows Jonah’s lead for a burger as well… Guess there’s nothing like a nice, juicy burger in the middle of the night while confronting your little sister about her poor life choices. I quickly write up their orders, pull the slip from my pad and place it on the serving window for Wayne, the cook, to make. With that out of the way and drinks finally served, I have nothing left to delay matters. My body resting back against the counter, arms crossed defensively.] So what is it that was so important to say that you guys came out here in the middle of the night instead of just waiting until tomorrow? [The twins look at one another, yet another sign of their silent communication which I’d seen over the years. As if deciding who would do the talking, though I think we all knew it would be Jackson as Jonah would end up fumbling things as he usually does. I’m still not sure how he got Wendy to date him much less agree to marry him. However, I’m pulled from that line of thinking when their gaze lands on me once more. “Look, EJ, we know you’re a grown woman.”] Yes, I know that as well. [Jackson gives me a sharp look for cutting him off. “But the reason we came down here in the middle of night instead of waiting is because we know that you’d do anything to weasel your way out of talking to us. At least this way, you’re getting paid while you do it. Besides, we should be asking you what the hell you’re doing working here again anyway. I thought Mom said you were coming back to work here at a newspaper or something.” My gaze, which had been angrily leveled at my brothers, darts away quickly. One of those white lies coming to bite me in the ass. Not that I had lied, per se. More like I didn’t correct my mother when she made that assumption and then preceded to share it with others. My living back at home was seen as a way to save up money until I found the perfect place. I don’t bother to say anything in regards to that, and Jackson decides to just keep on going. “We’re worried about you, sis. You’ve been keeping things from us all. I mean even Wendy didn’t know the truth about you working here.” “Yeah, she was clearly upset when she told me what she’d found out from Teddy. You two are supposed to be best friends, Emma Jean.” Jonah’s tone as he cuts in only serves to rile me up. Here was a clear example of how my friendship would be different with Wendy now that she was going to be married to my brother. And I know Jackson can practically read on my face that the interruption wasn’t helping the situation as he stays Jonah with his hand before continuing on again. “What happened to our little sister who at least told her best friends everything? I mean you’re living back with Mom and Dad, pretending to be working as a photographer when instead you’re back to being a waitress. You know you could come to work at the company if you needed a job until you got back on your feet if that was the case.” I roll my eyes at that suggestion. Clearly he wasn’t understanding why I was willing to go to the lengths I was… not that I could rightly say that I always understood them myself. “But I guess that would mean actually being honest with mom and dad about what was going on in your life.” Point one for Jonah. “True, look we just want to understand. Even Jasper was mentioning to me the other day that he thought something was wrong with you. He was ready to call a Mosby family meeting with the rest of guys if things went on much longer.” So apparently the other brothers didn’t know. However, I still tense up at the fact that I had so poorly hidden my problems from them. Despite my paranoia, I was sure I could go on until I found a new job, but I guess that was the denial talking.] Are you going to… [The ding of the cook bell causes me to jump a bit, and I hastily turn away to grab the twins’ food from the window. Softly thanking Wayne as he goes back deep into the kitchen to take care of his own business. The plates make a soft clank against the bar counter and I can feel the gaze of both Jackson and Jonah on me before Jackson’s hand reaches out to gently cover mine. “Only because we care and so do they. You can’t keep this hidden any more. But we won’t tell mom and dad. At least not until we can all talk some sense into you.” They both chuckle as I pull my hand back letting them dig into their food. Taking the time to allow things to settle, I go about refilling their barely touched drinks and then doing some menial tasks to keep me busy. However, it’s not long before we’re once again confronted with our paused conversation. This time Jonah doing some of the talking. “We’re not going to push you any more tonight, EJ. But we just had to let you know that you’re better than this and that we want to do what we can to help you get back on your feet. All of us.” Our eyes lock and the look in his is clearly letting me know he’s talking about Wendy. Really? Now I’m seriously not sure how I feel about their relationship and in a way it feels like another piece in the Jenga tower of my life has been removed and shifted into a new place. How I haven’t fucking toppled over yet is an absolute fucking mystery to me. Not feeling safe to speak with all the emotions once again swirling in my head and my chest, I simply nod my head in reply and then write out their ticket and place it between the two of them. My voice slightly thick when I do finally say something, pointing to the check.] Just leave some cash. I have to go help Wayne with something in the back, [Not sparing another look towards my brothers, my hands reach out to push the swinging door open as I make a quick exit. It doesn’t take long for the tears to start threatening my vision, causing it to blur more with each second. Each shaky, shuddered breath expelling slowly from my lungs before I swallow down another gulp of air. The struggle to breathe and calm myself is like a heavy rock on my chest until finally I hear the bell on the door jingle. A watery glance towards Wayne confirms that the twins left and I can once again breath a little easier, but not by much. A couple minutes pass before Wayne walks over to me, gently placing his weathered hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you go home, kid. I doubt we’re gonna get anymore customers before the early morning rush and Christy will be in by then. I can hold down the fort until then.” My head is such a mess at this point that I don’t even fight it and just nod at his suggestion. An hour later as I lay in bed emotionally exhausted, I try to remember how exactly I got home from work and then I wonder what the hell I’m going to do when I’m finally confronted by all five of my brothers… or worse, my parents.] I am so totally fucked.

[kbaldwin0609]

‘The Bachelorette’ Season Premiere Recap: Rachel Gets Her Groove On

Dean and Rachel (Photo: ABC)

Warning: This recap of of the Season 13 premiere of The Bachelorette contains spoilers.

Happy lucky number 13, rose lovers! Full confession: I’ve already decided that our new Bachelorette — the “sassy yet classy” Rachel Lindsay — is too good for any of the bozos this franchise could ever find and this is all, once again, an exercise in emotional futility… but if this franchise has taught me anything, it’s that life is about the “journey.” So let’s kick ours off, shall we?

Yes, I object to the lengthy, episode-padding “refresher” about Rachel’s doomed courtship with Nick on The Bachelor, and honestly if I never see the clip Dean saying “I’m ready to go black and I’m never going back” again, it’ll be to soon. But the preamble was all worth it for this moment alone:

Photos: ABC

Nosy old ladies FTW! Anyhow, let’s meet (a handful of) the guys:

Kenny, 35: Perhaps it’s just because he’s a professional wrestler (aka “Pretty Boy Pitbull” Kenny King), but Kenny’s declaration that he’s “coming to The Bachelorette to win your heart” sounds a little bit more like a threat than it should. But of course in real life, he’s a softie. Just look at how sweet he is with his 10-year-old daughter:

Fine, we’ll allow it.

Jack, 31: This lawyer from Dallas lost his mom to cancer in high school, so his intro package consists almost entirely of him staring pensively off into the distance.

Alex, 28: A meathead who can read! Revolutionary.

Does this Detroit-based “Information Systems Supervisor” still live with his parents? Unclear. But we are down with mom’s advice: NO KISSING ON THE MOUTH. It worked for Pretty Woman, pal, so it could work for you.

Mohit, 26: All you need to know about this guy is he likes to participate in Bollywood dance competitions (along with his regular job of launching some kind of startup).

Lucas, 30: Meet this season’s Designated Idiot. Not sure whether Lucas has a job or any family members who still talk to him, but we do know that he has a catchphrase — “Whaaaboooom!” —and he’s committed enough to get that catchphrase printed on a t-shirt.

Blake E., 31: Though he identifies himself as a “personal trainer and sports nutritionist,” Team Bachelorette prefers to call him an “aspiring drummer” on screen, because that sounds so much more pathetic. Not that Blake needs any help sounding foolish, as he says things like “I would say scientifically, my libido is above average” and “Many women have told me about the amazingness of my penis.” And how does Blake repay his penis for earning him all that praise? By forcing it to squeeze into these nut-hugging jeans.

Rude.

Diggy, 31: This dude from Chicago (real name, Kenneth) has 575 pairs of sneakers. So, yeah. Next?

Josiah, 28: Do you enjoy sobbing uncontrollably? Then this terrible backstory is for you. When Josiah was 7, his older brother hung himself in the backyard after being bullied — and Josiah was the one who cut him down from the tree. Traumatized, Josiah turned “to the streets” for a mentor and got arrested for burglary when he was 12. Fortunately, a Wise Judge pulled the boy aside and told him, “You’re not a thug.” Now Josiah is a lawyer who represents his community and puts bad guys in jail! Plus, he looks great in a tank top.

When Rachel arrives at Casa Bachelorette for the first time, she’s greeted there by “the people that know me the best”: The cast of Bachelor in Paradise Season 4!

Joining Jasmine, Dolphin Shark and Platinum Vagine are Raven the Runner-Up, Kristina, and two women I couldn’t identify until I consulted a cheat-sheet: Astrid and Whitney. Anyhow, the “ladies” give Rachel a pep talk about going with following her heart, etc. Then Whitney (or is it Astrid?) tells Rachel that her best friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who’s going with a girl who says “the second guy” from After the Final Rose isn’t there for the right reasons. (FYI: Said guy is Blake E., of the much-praised penis.)

In all seriousness, though, all of these women really do seem to like and respect Rachel, which is, frankly, a miracle given how women usually respond to each other on this show. “One reason why you connected with all of us, even though we’re all so different, is because pulled the best out of us,” Raven says, tearing up. “I hope someone goes hard for you.” That sounds kinda weird, but still, it’s sweet.

At last, it’s time. Harrison greets our queen at Casa Bachelorette with a warm hug, before sending in the limos. Let the Robot Roll Call Begin!

Peter, 30: It’s a solid opening effort for this “business owner” from Wisconsin: He makes a little joke about being from Nick’s home state and then heads inside before he says something stupid. Watch and learn, fellas.

Josiah emerges next, looking sharp in a silver-and-black ensemble — and he makes the first of what’s sure to be many legal jokes of the evening: “I am convinced that by the end of our experience together, you will have no reasonable doubt that I’m the man for you.”

Bryan, 37: Chris Harrison told Yahoo TV that Bryan is a “Latin-lover type,” and the chiropractor from Miami lives up to that description with his suave, Spanish-language intro.

Kenny the professional wrestler wisely does not lead with a gimmick related to his day job, and instead breaks the ice with an arm wave.

It makes Rachel laugh, so mission accomplished.

Rob, 29: Pretty sure this guy is here solely to help ABC plug their Bachelorette Fantasy League.

Iggy, 30: Quick, genuine-seeming “I’m so happy to be here” intro. Too bad this Consulting Firm CEO didn’t tell the story featured in his ABC bio about the time he got a boner in a board meeting.

Bryce, 30: A beefy firefighter, he shows up in uniform and sweeps Rachel up in his arms, because… he’s a firefighter, so it’s okay? Anyhow, she doesn’t seem to mind.

Will, 28: I’m 100 percent on board with this guy’s Urkel-inspired introduction. It was silly, funny, and best of all, quick.

That said, it would have worked even better if he stayed in his Urkel costume all night. If Alexis can get a rose in a shark costume, pal, you should be able to score in suspenders.

After a quick hello from Diggy, we meet Kyle, 26, who tells Rachel he wants to show her his “buns” — meaning, of course, that he brought her food. Nothing wrong with that.

Blake K., 29: Finally, a Blake who doesn’t talk about how great his penis is! This Marine tells the Bachelorette that his grandparents only dated for “a few months” and they’ve been married for 65 years… so who says an 8-week reality show can’t lead to love?

Brady, 29: Has it really taken 13 seasons of The Bachelorette and 21 seasons of The Bachelor for someone to make this “break the ice” joke?

I’m disappointed in us, America.

Dean, 26: This is the dude who used the “I’m ready to go black” pick-up line at After the Final Rose, and after taking flak for it on Twitter, he feels a little sheepish about facing Rachel again.

The Bachelorette is once again gracious about it and tells Dean she appreciated his “confidence” on ATFR night. The “but don’t do it again” was clearly implied, though.

Eric, 29: This personal trainer met — and danced with — Rachel during ATFR. “This is gonna be our thing,” predicts the Bachelorette, as she and Eric dance it out again.

DeMario, 30: Hello again to DeMario, the guy who brought a ring and tickets to Vegas on After the Final Rose. If you thought he brought the confidence on ATFR, he’s even more focused now. “I’m looking forward to being able to have many more first moments — first date, first kiss, first Christmas…” And she LOVES it.

Oh DeMario, if only you hadn’t ruined your great second impression by falling victim to the most insidious grammatical error in the Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise: “I have that confidence that it’s gonna be her and I.”

Blake E., 31 arrives with a full marching band in tow — confirming everyone’s suspicions that yes, he is overcompensating for something. (And, to be fair, Blake’s also trying to make up for his tongue-tied intro at After the Final Rose.)

What’s that you say, Harrison? We’re “not even close to being done” meeting the guys? Oof, keep ‘em coming, then.

Fred, 27: Thank goodness Harrison explained this situation for us last week in his 5 Guys to Watch interview, otherwise I would have been completely lost. Turns out Fred and Rachel went to a camp together when they were younger — she was a counselor, he was a camper — and he’s carried a torch for her ever since. “I knew exactly who he was when he came out of the limo,” insists Rachel. “He was a very bad kid!” I dunno, this could either end up like a rom-com… or a Lifetime Movie Network thriller.

Jonathan, 31: There’s a reason Team Bachelorette doesn’t give this guy an on-screen ID when he first emerges from the limo. It’s because this is the asshat whose occupation is listed as “tickle monster” on his ABC bio… and that’s exactly what he does to our Rachel.

  Hands off, pal. As Davey points out in the Judy Blume classic Tiger Eyes, tickling is a form of torture — and torturing someone is not a great way to make a first impression.

Lee, 30: Speaking of torture, this “singer/songwriter” from Nashville arrives with guitar in hand and begins serenading Rachel with a half-assed composition.

Literary meathead Alex, 28, dances out of the limo with a vacuum, in a cute callback to Rachel’s original Bachelor intro.

Milton, 31: What’s a “Hotel Recreation Supervisor”? We’ll never know, because once he takes a selfie with Rachel, producers move on to…

Adam, 26: On what planet does “arriving with a creepy doll named after you” sound like a good way to impress a woman you’re trying to date? Seriously, this thing is the stuff of nightmares.

Why is “Adam Jr” from France while human Adam is from Dallas? Who can say. Either way, Rachel wants them both to go away right now.

Matt, 32: This “construction sales rep” from Connecticut shows up in a full penguin costume, in a less-than-subtle homage to the fantastic penguin pajamas Rachel wore on her overnight date with Nick.

And props to Matt for keeping (most of) the costume on all night.

Grant, 29: This “Emergency Medicine Physician” gets a blink-and-you’ll-miss it intro (seriously, the ambulance he came in got more screen time). He’s quickly followed up by…

Anthony, 26: “I’m here to help you understand me, and I will commit myself to understanding you as well.” A little stiff, but I suppose we can’t fault him for choosing not to make a fool of himself right off the bat.

Jamey, 32: Barely has time to utter one compliment — “This dress is ridiculous!” — before Team Bachelorette shuttles him inside.

Jack Stone the lawyer (why does he get two names? There are no other Jacks!) shows up next, followed by Mohit. But the “sausage fest” (Bryan from Miami’s term) isn’t over yet.

Jedidiah, 35: This ER physician with a Biblical name doubles down and goes with a full-on Old Testament intro: “When Jacob met Rachel, he wept.” The Bachelorette is impressed… or at least she pretends to be: “Oooh, Biblical. I love it.”

Michael, 26: This “Former Pro Basketball Player” from Chicago had time to bake Rachel some brownies, because he is a “Former Pro Basketball Player,” which is not, in fact, a job. “The blacker the brownie, the sweeter the dude,” Michael informs our heroine.

Naturally, Team Bachelorette saves the worst — that would be Lucas “Whaboom” — for last. Do I really need to tell you that Lucas subjects our Bachelorette to a performance of his catchphrase — which makes him look like a dog having a seizure while sticking its head out of a speeding car — and that Rachel somehow still manages to sound completely genuine when she says, “So nice to meet you”?

The guys aren’t as forgiving. “That’s the crazy one,” notes DeMario. “Let the circus begin,” adds Jonathan Tickle Monster, who really isn’t in a position to judge, but whatever.

Praise be to the heavens, the intros are finally over.

So do we, honey. Josiah is the first to ask Rachel for a one-on-one chat, and he leads her outside to the (not really) good-natured jeers and catcalls of his jealous competitors. You snooze, you lose, boys. Josiah’s got an amazing story and he’s not going to waste any time making sure Rachel knows it.

Not everyone can have a “full-circle” backstory, though, so many of the other guys need to rely on props to make an impression on Rachel. Dean, no doubt hoping to erase his ATFR blunder from the Bachelorette’s mind completely, has the Bachelorette Interns bring in a small sandbox where he and Rachel can play while they chat. Rob pulls out an actual Rachel Lindsay trading card he had made for his Bachelorette Fantasy League.

And don’t forget about AJ, the terrifying doll version of Adam the real estate agent. Team Bachelorette spends a good three minutes on this joke, as Adam Junior stalks Rachel from place to place while she chats with the other guys. The doll even gets its own confessional, complete with a steamy French voiceover.

Let us all take a moment of silence to remember the guys who will, in the end, get less screen time than AJ, an inanimate object.

Moving on to Frederick. “You were a bad kid!” Rachel reminds him, a scolding tone in her voice. Though in the privacy of her confessional the Bachelorette admits to finding Fred “very attractive” today, she’s not sure she can get past seeing him as a misbehaving third-grader.

From boys to men: Bryan steals Rachel away from Fred to give her a Spanish lesson… and then he goes in (a little too hot, in my opinion) for a kiss.

Oooh, someone really wants that First Impression Rose. As soon as Harrison chums the water, the FIR feeding frenzy gets underway, and it seems a little more aggressive than usual. Guys are jostling each other to get in front of Rachel, and giving each other pep talks from the sidelines.

Unfortunately, poor Mohit is too drunk to walk the few steps to where Rachel’s sitting, so Lee the “singer/songwriter” slides into the opening instead. Indeed, as the night wears on, everyone’s getting a little sloppy — including Lucas, who pulls the jackass (but admittedly kind of funny) move of narrating Peter’s conversation with Rachel through his bullhorn.

“He’s a f***ing clown,” explains Blake E., in case we didn’t already know. Correction: Lucas is a f***ing drunk, exhausted, and hangry clown. “Forget the whabooms, forget the ‘let the big dog eat…’,” mumbles Lucas, when he finally gets to sit down with Rachel. “Who’s the big dog? Are you the big dog?” Rachel replies, in a tone normally reserved for toddlers on the verge of a meltdown. “Do you need to eat?” Yes, someone please get this man a burger and some black coffee, preferably spiked with Ambien.

As gracious as she is, even Rachel is starting to get annoyed with the guys’ buffoonish antics as the night wears on. Milton’s incessant growling, for example, is working her last nerve. “The first time he did it, he got a pass. The second time, I said, ‘Oh no, this is his thing,’” sighs Rachel. “It’s not mine.”

Meanwhile, Blake E. is trying to get Lucas to admit that he’s just Here To Be On TV™, but by doing so Blake’s giving Lucas exactly what he wants — more screen time.

Lucas: “I think everybody has a little Whaboom in them.” Blake E.: “I have no Whaboom in me.”

Aaand scene.

Though it looks for a second that Kenny the wrestler — who has a heartfelt chat with Rachel about his life as a dad — would get the First Impression Rose, it goes to… Bryan, the ambush-kisser. When he and Rachel kiss this time, though, the only one surprised about it is poor, drunk Mohit.

Oh Lord have mercy, Chris Harrison and his Butter Knife of Bad News have finally arrived. It’s rose ceremony time! Rachel tells Harrison that she’s “confident” about the cuts she’s about to make, before heading into the slaughter. And the roses go to: Peter, Will (who? oh right, Urkel!), Jack, Jamey, Iggy, Eric, DeMario, Jonathan the Tickle Monster (!), Bryce, Alex, Kenny, Dean, Matt the Penguin, Anthony, Brady, Josiah, Lee, Diggy, Fred, Adam (minus AJ), Blake E., and… Lucas? While this is terrible news for humanity in general, it does provide us with some pretty amazing reaction shots from the guys who Rachel chose over Whaboom.

First there’s Milton, the living embodiment of SMDH.

  And there’s Mohit, who chooses this exact moment to reevaluate every decision he’s ever made in his life.

And so we also bid adieu to Rob, Matt, Blake K., Grant, Jedidiah, Kyle, and Michael. (And yes, I had to triple check who some of these guys were.)

One “this season on” supertease later, and we’re done, rose lovers! And I want to hear all of your thoughts. Who do you like? Who (besides Whaboom) do you want off your TV screen ASAP? And which guy do you think has the very angry, cellphone-wielding ex-girlfriend? Post your thoughts now! And don’t forget to check out Chris Harrison’s exclusive blog right here.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if I can find a half-sized Chris Harrison Jr. doll on Etsy.

The Bachelorette airs Mondays at 8 p.m. on ABC.

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