#that shit turned out hideous like what is proportion?

[wrenmkingsley]

Alright who of y'all told him murder is wrong?

Ref

[the-almighty-gob-john-langley]

Tattoo, or not tattoo? That is the question.

I had every intention of keeping this daily blog going, well, daily. However, you avid reader - and you know who you are because I certainly don't, will have noticed my absence and no doubt ignored it anyway.

Well, to cut a long and possibly boring story short, yes, I know, so what else is new, it involved replacing a washing machine that didn't need replacing at all as there was nothing wrong with it, and the ever so slightly more important, to some perhaps, point that the GP phoned to say that my white blood cell count was above what it should normally be and was an indication that I may have an infection while forgetting to inform her that I felt like shit, may possibly have an infection and the constant mildly annoying pain in my left side could be an indication of the very same.

I know the cause isn't liver related, as by now I'd have turned the shade of yellow one would never find on a Dulux paint colour chart. With only the kidney left to pinpoint as being the source of the pain I can, with reasonable confidence, rule out this possibility as to my best recollection this was the one that if not all was removed by surgery due to overindulgence in amphetamine enjoyment more years back than I now care to remember, then a fair proportion was.

So, in all, I've had neither the time, inclination, or compos mentis to string anything together that would make any sense at all to me, never mind you. To be fair, nothing still does, and it's either the side effects of my painkillers or some early sign of dementia that's so efficiently wiping out my ability to think straight while remaining hopeful it's the former rather than the latter. Anyway, feeling now almost duty-bound to continue scribing here I am, back for another bash on the keyboard.

When asked the other day as to whether I had any tattoos, and why not if I didn't, the best and snappiest answer I could give at the moment was for the same reason I wouldn't put stickers all over a Rolls Royce. I absolutely loathe the bloody things, or do I? I don't know, to be honest. I'm somewhere between complete ambivalence to them and putrifying abhorrence. While totally accepting that people have the absolute right to do with their bodies whatever they choose I fail miserably in understanding why anyone would choose to have themselves inked in a major way as some do.

I can understand more fully something small and discreet, but anything that covers a larger area of the body, to me, is incomprehensible, I simply don't get it! Why, why, why?

When I was younger and led a lifestyle that, how can I best put it, maybe awry of normal society, perhaps? Yep, that'll do it, anyway, the point being that tattoos were a bang-to-rights giveaway in making you instantly recognisable to the police that there was no getting away from, no matter how much you tried to alter your appearance, and so tattoos weren't a smart thing to get done. That's part of the reason my skin to this day is tatt free because, in an ironic kind of way, it was tattooed into my subconscious where nothing can be visibly seen to make me identifiable.

In a way, I'm actually glad I was put off the idea as I look back all these years later for aesthetic reasons more than anything else now. While I'm the first to admit that some of the designs I've seen have been absolutely as colourful as they are beautiful, the impression I get, no pun intended, is that people seem to think in the moment when having them done rather than many years further on when the skin loses its tautness and the once pretty colours and design fade into one big blob that looks more like an ink spill on blotting paper, and from what I've seen on older people who had their tattoos done in their twenties, quite frankly a hideous mess of inky nothing on crepe paper-like skin, and as unattractive as anything could possibly be.

I recall once ruining a potential date I was getting on blazing well with until I mentioned that the idea of having ink on my body I would regard as not being an intelligent thing to do and finding myself completely ghosted from that moment forward. I'm still of the same viewpoint even though some people have vociferously pointed out that to them certain tattoos are about memories of certain people, or events, while any realisation at all that both memories and tattoos fade away eventually. While to others there appears to be some kind of subconsciously symbolic, tribal bandwagoning going on whereby in order to be accepted by the tribe they feel compelled to get inked, and the more ink the better because suddenly it becomes addictive.

It wasn't that far back in years when as a photographer, like many others in the profession we wouldn't engage any model with tattoos because the sodding things were an absolute bloody nightmare to photoshop out - especially when there were say, 400 images to edit. For me in particular there was an 'only natural' models standing order I had to comply with at the behest of a particular client, and this meant no tattoos, no boob jobs, other enhancements, or cosmetology treatments of any description, not even a blemish. Yes, natural meant 'natural' and so the job of engaging those who were just right for the role became harder and harder as to see an absolutely beautiful female completely ruin her natural look so that she more resembles someone off a building site is just awful!

Even though I've long since retired from photography the fact remains I still see no long-term benefits of logic in having tattoos at all, regardless of reason, other than for some they simply see a good idea at the time rather than looking years ahead. Whatever, I'm still glad it was a trap I never fell into.

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

Amusement Park

Part 11 of the Guardian fanfic (and we’re almost to the end)! If you would like to read this in chronological order and don’t feel like tag surfing, this is also available on AO3.

Not everything my humans do ends in tragedy. Occasionally, they have something resembling fun.

Digging in the Archives led them to one of those traveling amusement parks that sometimes took over parking lots for a week. I'd seen it at a distance but frankly, the screaming and the smell of cotton candy hadn’t instilled much confidence.

You'll hate it, the house informed me. It had given me a pendant through which it talked, sometimes. I was still getting used to the mansion’s constant presence.

For once, the entity was uncharacteristically wrong. I didn't totally hate the amusement park.  The place was loud and there were far too many people, plus it all smelled vaguely of vomit. But my humans had a good time, and that somehow made up for the rest of it.

Arada and Overse held hands and bought themselves giant hot dogs. Baradwahj kept stopping to doodle in her sketchbook. Even Gurathin, who as far as I knew didn't like anything that entailed having fun, was having a good time as he argued air resistance and thermodynamics with Volsecu.

I was walking alongside Dr. Mensah, on two legs at that.

"Have you ever been on a Ferris wheel?" she asked.

I shook my head. If wolves had been intended to leave the ground, we'd have wings. And seeing as how we didn't, I didn't want to chance it. It must've shown on my face because Mensah laughed and touched my shoulder.

"You look like I suggested an execution."

"Yeah, maybe."

"It's perfectly safe."

"It doesn't look safe." How was I supposed to protect my clients if they were going to get on something that rickety?

The house offered unhelpful information, starting with when Ferris wheels were invented and the statistics of accidents and injuries.

Mensah shook her head, clearly amused at the whole thing, and stopped in front of a food vendor. Money exchanged hands, and suddenly she had this puffy ball of sugar on a stick. It was a hideous shade of pink.

"Want to try a bite?" she asked.

"Hell no!"

She snorted. "You could use more meat on your bones, you know."

"That... thing isn't food."

The rest of the group was up ahead, stopped in front of a small building that read "Fun House of Mirrors." These words didn't look right together, but fuck it, I don't understand humans and I couldn't care less what they considered fun.

"Over here!" Arada yelled, waving her hands.

Mensah waved back and started walking again. Normally, I do at most a half-assed version of my job. A decade in, I've come to the conclusion that humans are somehow drawn to danger, and frankly, stopping them is a waste of breath. But these humans... I didn't want anything to happen to them, so I'd been paying attention.

So, when a clown walked between me and them, I growled at the weirdly-dressed human. Except, it didn't smell human at all. It smelled... like me, like another were-creature. I didn't see a collar, so it wasn't a guardian. Just a free were-creature, one that hadn’t been caught by the department.

We’re supposed to report unregistered users of dark magic to the department. But, my binding almost never picked up when such a creature was around—it certainly wasn’t reacting now—and I had no plans of telling the department a damn thing.

The clown planted itself in front of me. "Oh wow," it—correction, she—said, suddenly excited. "Oh my god, you're like the only other shapeshifter I've met. Shit! This is awesome. Oh, god, can I...uh, take a picture?"

The team noticed my absence and came over, and then, there was nowhere to run. I stood around awkwardly while they chatted with the other were-creature, whose name was Tasha and who turned into a bear but had started as a human. And then they exchanged phone numbers. And I was just standing there, trying not to look as uncomfortable as I felt.

"You OK?" Tasha wanted to know all of a sudden.

"Fine."

"You look about a mile down the road from fine," she pointed out. "I can practically see you trying to crawl out of your skin."

"So?"

"So, you need to relax a little," she told me, oblivious.

Mensah carefully explained that I was currently working. Tasha patted my shoulder, and I almost jumped backward. It took effort to stay still and not bite the were-bear's hand off.

"Stop that," I growled.

Tasha handed me a balloon, one of the many she was holding and giving out to kids. I just stood there, string in hand, and tried to puzzle out what the fuck I was supposed to do with it. You can't really kill anyone with a balloon, and you can't eat it.

Ratthi said, "It's very purple."

I looked up at the floating ball. "What do you do with it?"

"Hold it for a while and then let it go and watch it fly away."

"What for?"

Humans often engage in rituals that bring them joy. It doesn’t always have meaning, the entity told me like I didn’t know. I wished I could glare but there was no one to glare at.

"Fun." Tasha was in my face. "The whole purpose of this place is to have some fun. It makes living a little easier, a little lighter."

I looked at Dr. Mensah like I needed rescuing all of a sudden.

"Come on," she said quietly. "Let's go see if we can find you something that's actual food." She smiled at the were-bear. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Tasha. Feel free to reach out to us anytime."

After lunch, we entered the funhouse.

I know humans are supposed to be delighted in things that bend the mind, but the house of mirrors gave me the creeps. I felt sufficiently unnerved to switch back into my wolf form. On the off chance that we got attacked three steps past the front door, I was ready.

I walked ahead of the rest of the investigative team, using my superior senses to seek out our target. But, frankly, I doubted the sanity of any creature that would make its home in this horrible place.

I stopped in front of a set of mirrors that distorted human proportions. Standing on four feet and only half as tall as the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I could still mostly identify what I was looking at. Trust humans to enjoy something as convoluted and mind-bending as this place.

And then a shadow walked straight out of the mirror and past me toward the investigators. It was a silhouette of a person, outlined in gray and green sparks of light. It sang as it moved, each word visible in the fog-shrouded room.

The words were literally spilling out of its mouth like confetti and falling on the ground.

I decided that this monster had bigger problems than a group of curious investigators to deal with.

"Indeed," said the strange spirit and the word plopped on the ground like a meatball. "This is what you might call a curse."

I yipped at it softly. "What kind of curse?"

It, of course, had no idea what I was saying. The mansion helped translate, somehow able to communicate with the creature just because of the pendant's proximity to the monster.

"The kind born of ill intentions," the spirit answered just as the humans caught up.

I placed myself squarely between them and the spirit, moving so that, if it tried anything, it would have to go through me.

Mensah put a hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, as a heads-up that she was standing beside me. I shivered at the unsolicited touch. Baradwahj was taking notes, and in the brief silence I could easily make out the sound of her pencil scraping against paper.

"I wondered why so many beings of light were suddenly in my domain," the creature said, and the words floated away, carried by an unseen breeze. "But now, I understand. The humans beyond these walls never cease to surprise me."

Overse, whose magic also had a connection to words and writing, stepped forward. "Who are you?"

"A difficult question, human." The cursed being rose above the floor on bare feet and twirled before us. "Once, perhaps I was human. But then I was cursed, for speaking the words that needed to be said. And the curse is renewed with each passing moon. For fifty years now, unceasing and unfailing."

"Can you tell us who cursed you?"

"I never knew her name. But she was... beautiful. Like the light of a new moon falling on a still, silent lake."

I heard whispers among the group. Finally, Overse said, "If we could find the one who cursed you, perhaps we could convince her to lift it."

"Perhaps."

The spirit flittered past me and between the humans. It passed through them untouched and didn't appear to cause them any harm. Sparks of green light landed in her wake.

I knew the humans wouldn't leave this alone, so I shapeshifted and became human. The spirit turned to face me now that there were eight people between us, haphazardly arranged and staring.

"So you're more than a wolf."

"And you're more than a prisoner," I countered.

"A curse is a curse." The creature shrugged.

"Not every curse is the same. Why the mirrors?"

"So that I might remember the importance of the human shape, the wonder of what it means to be born a human being." She spit the words out.

I had a sudden, inexplicable moment of clarity. "The head of the department did this, didn't she?"

"You're a smart one, little wolf."

No, not smart. Just good at remembering terrible things at inappropriate times. Mensah did this complicated thing where she got a little closer but didn't touch, like just existing would somehow prop me up. I don't know why. It's not like I cared what happened to this spirit or the uptight asshole of a human who chaired the department.

Overse and Arada grasped hands. Ratthi looked so very, utterly sad.

Mensah made a decision. I like how she thinks hard about her choices but once she's chosen, it's full steam ahead. I hate humans who waffle about things.

"We're leaving," she told the team. "There's nothing more we can do here. The Archives got it wrong this time. Guardian, we have some things we need to do tomorrow. So you have the day off."

[cagestark]

Ok here's my prompt: college winterironspider, established winterspider and they want to do a trio costume with Tony as a way to show him they want him 💕💕

A late Halloween Prompt whipped up in thanks for boosting my friend’s rpg. Thank you! (Also you all say that Halloween is a 365 day event so 3 days late shouldn’t stop you right? ;)

Warnings: homophobia including slurs, some mention of smuttiness but nothing explicit, foul language. WinterIronSpider. 3.6k.

-

Tony flings open the dorm room door, already toeing off his sodden shoes. New England weather could turn on dime, and it had a habit of turning unfavorable on the 15 minute trek from the Chem labs back to his dorm room. His shirt is sticking to his skin, jeans heavy with rain. He can feel his hair, getting just this side of too long for how Howard likes it, dripping down the back of his neck.

Mother Nature hates him, and she’s not the only one, because Peter Parker is lounging on Tony’s roommate’s bed. Bucky is nowhere in sight, but the bathroom door is closed, so deductive reasoning is barely required. They’ve probably been fucking; the room has that musty scent that makes him twitch in his wet pants. Parker lays among the mussed sheets and blankets like the pillow princess he must be, curls riotous, beaming at the sight of Tony.

“Hey, Tony,” says Parker in the softest, cracking voice that Tony’s ever heard come from a nineteen-year-old. He blinks dazed, whiskey-colored eyes. “Y’re all wet.”

“I know. Where’s Barnes?”

“Bathroom.”

Tony hums. Barnes liked to take ridiculously long showers, conditioning his ridiculously long hair, moisturizing his ridiculously huge and attractive body. The guy was the antithesis to his boyfriend, large where Parker was small, dark where he was light, brooding where Parker was a goddamn ray of sunshine sneaking in through a crack in the curtains and blinding Tony. With Barnes in the shower, Tony is stuck shivering in his wet clothes, wishing he’d stayed out in the downpour and smoked a cigarette. Instead, he just sits on his bed—his sheets have seen worse than some rainwater. Opening up his bookbag, he sees that his textbooks are unscathed. Thank fucking God.

All the time, he feels Parker’s eyes on him. The kid is too pretty for his own good—both he and his boyfriend. When he came to MIT, he had envisioned dozens of nightmare scenarios regarding roommates. Maybe they’d steal his clothes, eat his food, leave their hair in the drain. Instead, he’d gotten a goddamn Calvin Klein model and his twink. Sometimes, Tony had to lay awake facing the wall on his side of the dorm room, pretending he didn’t hear the breathy giggles and dirty, foul whispers as the two fooled around while their roommate was ‘sleeping’. It left him unbearably hard, determined not to rut into the mattress lest they find out that he was still awake (and stop, God, please don’t stop—).

It was all very, very fucked up: how much Tony liked them; how much it made him hate them.

“You’re gonna catch pneumonia,” Parker says.

“What do you want me to do about it, kid?” Tony asks. He’s only three years older than Parker, but the kid seems so young—the enthusiasm, the naivete, the buoyancy. Tony can’t help but call him kid.

Parker raises his eyebrows. “It’s your room. Take off your clothes.”

Tony stops where he’s flipping through his textbook. He lets it fall closed with a thud, assessing Parker’s gaze. He looks innocent enough, maybe a little sleepy, but he wasn’t dumb by any means (a full ride to MIT proved that). Surely he had to know how that sounded, for him to tell his boyfriend’s roommate to undress in front of him.

“In front of you, Parker? I’ll take the pneumonia.”

The kid just grins, shaking his head. “Whatever. Are you going to the Halloween Party at Delta Psi?”

“Everybody is going to the Halloween Party at Delta Psi,” Tony answers flatly.

“Are you going to wear a costume?”

“Fuck no.”

“Because you have no idea what to wear, right.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re a shit, Parker. So, what if I don’t? I’m an engineer; what do I need to dress up for?”

“I’m dressing Bucky; I could dress you too.”

“Yeah,” Tony snarks. “That’s just what I want.”

The bathroom door opens. Bucky appears in nothing but a towel around his hips. His abs violate state and federal laws—or at least if they don’t, they should. His hair is wet and up in a bun. Eyes like the ocean iced over drag up and down Tony’s body, making him feel heated despite the goosebumps on his skin. Tony is keenly aware of how his nipples have hardened, somewhere between the icy downpour and the sight of Parker looking fucked out on the twin-sized bed.

“Took you long enough,” Tony mutters. He grabs some clothes from the drawer and disappears into the bathroom, cranking the shower (and the drain is spotless because Barnes is a fucking good guy who cleans up after himself, the asshole) up to hellish proportions and peeling his wet clothes from his body. On the other side of the door are warm voices that are easy enough to tune out, or to tune into when he’s standing under the burning spray with a hand on his cock.

-

When he gets out of the shower, Parker is gone back to his own dorm. Bucky is eating a bowl of cereal, still shirtless. The words come out of Tony’s mouth before he can stop them: “Barnes, I think your boyfriend hit on me when you were in the shower. I just thought you might want to know that.”

Barnes stops chewing. He’s got the best poker face Tony has ever seen, no hint of anger or jealousy or surprise. His jaw closes again with an obscene, sugary crunch. After he swallows, he says, “Thanks, Tony. You’re a good friend.”

-

The first package arrives two days later. It’s for Tony, with no return address. He rolls his eyes—that’s just like his mother to be so dramatic as to not even say she’s sending him anything nor leave her mark. When he opens it though, there are no deliciously baked treats, no heartfelt (maybe a little distant) cards with carefully crafted handwriting, no trinkets that are hideous which he will be forced to cherish. Instead, it’s the ugliest pair of pants he’s ever seen: straight-legged and a size too big for him and a dirty gray.

“The fuck, mom,” Tony mutters. He tosses them aside. “Really off your game, crazy old bat.”

But when Barnes gets out of class and spots the box sitting on Tony’s desk, he points to it. “Did you get the first part of your costume?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your costume?” Bucky enunciates more, the fucking asshole, like Tony didn’t hear him the first time. “Peter told me that you said you were cool with him getting you a costume. He gets really fucking into Halloween. I saw this picture of him up in his Aunt’s apartment in Queens—”

Tony holds up a hand. “Stop. Rewind. I in no way told Parker he could dress me up for Halloween. Period.”

Barnes just raises his eyebrows. “That’s not what Peter thinks.”

“I couldn’t care less what he thinks, I’m not some doll for him to play with.”

“Next time he’s over, you can tell him so.” The guy’s pale eyes fucking glitter—glitter—like he knows that’s not going to go over well for Tony. And maybe it won’t, maybe Tony’s going to have to break some fucking hearts, but there’s no chance in hell he’s going to be caught dead in a costume, especially not one picked by a doe-eyed little twink like Parker.

But when Parker arrives for his date with Bucky two hours later, pink-cheeked from the windy cold, he’s got another little box tucked under his arm that he thrusts into Tony’s hands.

Tony thrusts it back. “Nope. Don’t want it.”

Parker frowns, looking up at Tony with those flat brows curled in confusion. “What do you mean? It’s for your costume.”

Barnes watches everything through the reflection in the mirror he keeps by his bed. He’s currently combing his hair like a schmuck (fuck, he looks so handsome), mouth pressed into a flat line, though Tony suspects that it’s more from holding back laughter than expressing any discontent. Tony chooses a point on the wall above Parker’s head and stares at it. The kid’s got eyes like vortexes, and Tony isn’t getting sucked in, no sir, not today.

“No costume. I’m not wearing a costume.”

“Sure you are, I’ve already bought the stuff. It’s started to arrive—did you get the pants?”

“Pants? Is that what they’re called? They’re hideous—” Barnes makes a noise in the corner that has Tony throwing a fuming glare his way. “I’m not going to wear them, or anything else. So return the stuff, kid.”

Parker stares down at the small package in his hands. “I—I can’t. I had it expedited so that it would get here in time for Halloween. No returns.”

“No re—? Well, fuck. That’s not my problem. I didn’t ask you to buy me stuff for a costume. What the hell were you going to dress me up as, anyway? A corpse from the 80’s?”

When Parker looks up, his eyes are a little misty. He rubs at one with his forearm, probably scratching himself with the wool from his coat. “It was gonna be a surprise.”

And yep. There it is. That does Tony in, because as much as Tony wishes he was the no good cruel piece of shit that plenty of people around MIT and the New England area like to label him as, he’s a sucker for tears. He’s seen his mom cry too many times, it just—it gets to him.

Tony snatches the package out of the kid’s hands. He points a finger at him. “No cartoon characters. No cross-dressing. No dorky inanimate objects, like a fork or a wet floor sign. Got it? Swear to God, kid, if you embarrass me in front of the whole school, I will never forgive you.”

“Why would I want to embarrass you?” Parker asks. He holds out a pinky. “It’s not embarrassing. Promise.”

“Fuck your pinky, man. Go on your date. Get out—you too Barnes, I don’t want to see either of your faces for like, two hours or something. Swear to God. I’m at the end of my rope, do you hear me? The end of my fucking rope.”

-

In the box is a scarf, long and plain and red. Tony rolls his eyes and sets it with the pants.

That night when he returns from his evening class, he finds that Barnes and his boyfriend have dragged all the blankets off of Bucky’s bed and onto the floor creating the warmest, coziest looking nest Tony’s ever seen. It looks like a slice of Heaven after coming in from the brutal cold. The best spot of all looks to be somewhere in between Barnes who is sprawled on his back, one arm behind his head and the other outstretched, and Peter who lays with his head cushioned on that ridiculous bicep. The size different between the two of them makes Tony’s mouth go dry.

On the wall, a Star Wars movie plays: The Empire Strikes Back.

Parker leans his head up, blinking at the sight of Tony in the doorway. He smiles, so soft and sweet that it hurts. “Hey Tony,” he says. He pats the blanket beside him. “Want to join us? There’s room.”

Tony hasn’t the slightest idea what to make of that. Not even a little one. Doesn’t Parker know how awkward that would be? For Tony to just cuddle in a pillow fort with Barnes and his boyfriend? Doesn’t Parker know how much that would hurt—

“No, I’ve got somewhere to be,” Tony lies. He steps out the door he had just came through and shuts it behind him. The library is always open on campus, and Tony falls asleep bent over the table there, cheek pressed into a book about the latest breakthroughs in Artificial Intelligence.

-

The next day arrives a plain white t-shirt in a plastic bag. Begrudgingly, Tony tries it on. It clings to his chest and the gentle six-pack he sports (nothing like Barnes who spends five days a week at the on-campus gym and drinks protein shakes in the morning). Turning sideways, he eyes himself in the mirror. At least this doesn’t look bad, certainly not with the way it clings to his biceps, but he will be fucking freezing.

Barnes comes in and catches Tony checking himself out in the mirror. For a moment, Tony thinks that maybe Barnes is checking him out, too, but—

“Looks good,” Bucky purrs. Making fun of Tony, surely.

Tony flips him the bird, but the guy just laughs.

“What is he dressing you up as?” Tony asks. Purely out of curiosity. Knowing how whipped Barnes was, Peter could dress him up as anything and he’d take it. Even something embarrassing or emasculating.

Barnes just rolls his eyes. “You know him. It’s a secret.”

The comradery with which he says it, like of course Tony knows how Peter is—something about it itches at the back of Tony’s brain, a mosquito that has landed and started to suck at his blood. But it’s no surprise that Barnes and his boyfriend are weirdos who like to spend more time having ‘dates’ in their dorm room with Tony rather than at a restaurant or the movies or any fucking where else.

But, like all things that Tony doesn’t want to wonder about, he pushes to the back of his brain.

-

The next day, it is a denim jacket and hideous combat boots.

“Fashion homicide,” Tony mutters.

-

The day before Halloween brings Tony a red flannel shirt.

“Goddamnit,” he says, holding it up so Barnes can see. “What is he dressing me up as, a lesbian?”

-

It isn’t until he’s assembling it all in the bathroom that he puts it together—and okay. It’s not bad. Bender was easily the coolest character in the Breakfast Club, though his fashion sense was nothing like Tony’s. The layers—white shirt under flannel under denim—are a little stifling, but out in the cold fall air, it would be perfect. He even combs his hair back.

All in all, Parker could have done far, far worse.

But when he comes out of the bathroom and finds the two of them in the dorm room, he sees that Parker has done worse.

Matching costumes.

Parker is Brian through and through. He looks like a total scrub in his khakis with Nike sneakers on, the long-sleeved sweater that clings to his thin frame. A ballpoint pen is tucked behind his ear, wrist-watch circling the delicate little wrist, and to top it off, a pair of sunglasses are looped over the collar of his sweater.

And Barnes? Forgone are his goth threads. He sits on his bed wearing blue jeans that hug his broad thighs, the whitest shoes that Tony’s ever seen, and a goddamn blue wifebeater that shows off his arms, both heavily muscled. Folded on his pillow is a letterman jacket, and Tony doesn’t even like jocks, but his cock twitches at the sight, thinking of slipping it down off of Bucky’s bare shoulders.

“No—we match,” Tony says.

Peter lights up. “Yes! You got it! The Breakfast Club is a classic.”

“I should have said no matching costumes. We look like—” like boyfriends, Tony thinks, “—like queers. I’m not going out like this.”

“Watch the slurs you throw around,” Barnes says, his mouth an unhappy, flat line.

Tony winces. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. But this is taking it to a whole new level that I’m not comfortable with. Not to mention, three gays all going out in matching costumes? Isn’t that a little suggestive?”

“Suggestive of what?” Parker asks. He’s holding fingerless gloves—the last part of Tony’s costume. It’s the cherry on top. With the cigarettes that Tony plans to be chainsmoking thanks to the stress of this whole event, he’ll be method acting his character all night.

“Come on. Suggestive, suggestive. Like we’re all—” Tony mashes his hands together.

Barnes reaches out, hand flat, arm flexing nicely. He doesn’t even look at Parker and Parker doesn’t look at him, but they slap hands in a high five.

“Am I speaking in tongues? I’m not fucking leaving like this; I’m not going to have the whole campus thinking I’m your loser third wheel.” It would be too painful, when there’s a shameful part of him that would gladly be the third wheel to them, that’s desperate to be between them. This feels like the crudest parody.

“You wouldn’t be,” Peter says.

“Pete, maybe we shouldn’t do this right now,” Barnes interrupts.

“No, Bucky, this was supposed to—supposed to be cute!” Parker turns away from them, towards the wall by Tony’s bed. He drops the gloves there and crosses his arms. It would be petulant if it wasn’t so heartbroken, the curve of his shoulders, his head drooping down morosely. Instead, the kid just looks like he’s trying to hold himself together.

Tony sighs. It takes Herculean strength not to roll his eyes. “Kid. I’m sorry. Clearly this meant a lot to you. Fuck knows why, but—”

Peter turns around, eyes tearful and flashing with anger. He reaches up to his ear, fiddling with the lobe with trembling fingers. Grabbing Tony’s wrist, he puts a little diamond earing in his palm, just like Claire did with Bender.

“What’s this?” Tony says, shoulders hunching. “My ears aren’t pierced.”

“Yes they are,” Peter says through his teeth. “You probably got them pierced five or so years ago, but your dad was an asshole about it and made you take them out. It’s been ages and the holes are hard to see but they still won’t close.”

Tony blanches. He can still hear the way Howard demeaned him, spent the whole dinner talking his Tony’s mother about how ridiculous the boy looked, how it gave people ideas about him, because pierced ears are for women and the only men who have them are faggots. “How the fuck do you even know that?”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” This is the loudest Peter’s ever been, his usual fragile voice replaced by this one that is sure and angry and doesn’t crack.  “One: I spend every moment that I’m not looking at Bucky looking at you. I’ve got eyes; I know what a hole in an ear looks like, thanks. Two: your dad is an asshole about everything. He’s probably the reason why you don’t drink mixed drinks, why you call us queers even though you’re bi, why you lie and say you’re going to spend the whole holiday break at home but then come back and spend it here alone in the dorm. Because your dad is an asshole.

“He’s probably the reason why you’re such a fucking dunce too. A thick skull must run in the family, because Bucky and I have been hitting on you the entire semester and even though you go into the bathroom to jerk off every time you come back to the dorm and catch us making out, you won’t make a move or, or let us make the move, and—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tony says, his own voice rising to a shout. “You’ve been doing all this bullshit on purpose? Blowing Barnes when you know I’m awake? Skipping around here in your underwear because, what, you know it turns me on? Because you want to out me? Am I a fucking joke to you?”

“No,” Peter shouts, slapping a hand flat on Tony’s chest. “We like you, fuckface!”

The force of Peter’s tiny hand barely makes Tony sway, but the words—those might as well knock him to his knees. He feels like the scarf around his neck is on too tight, like there’s not enough air in the room. He licks his lips, his eyes moving between Peter’s red-rimmed eyes and nose (he’s an ugly crier) and Bucky who is still sitting on the twin bed watching them, his face white and afraid.

“You like me?” Tony asks. “What does that even mean? You two are together.”

“It means,” Peter says, taking Tony’s fist, coaxing open the anxious fingers to wear the diamond stud earring still rests, cutting into his palm. Peter presses his thumb against it, tenderly. “That we like you. We want you. To get to know you. You—and not your hang-ups.”

Tony shakes his head, taking his hand from Peter’s burning grip. “I—I can’t do that. My dad—”

“—is an asshole,” Bucky mutters.

Tony snorts softly. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“We don’t have to go home with you at Thanksgiving or Christmas or ever, if you don’t want,” Peter says. “We just want a chance. We want you to do something for yourself. Not your dad. Does that make sense?”

The silence lingers around the room. Somewhere in the distance, Halloween music is playing, ghoulish noises and moans and witch-like cackling. Mouth dry, Tony takes the backing off of the stud earing and reaches up, feeling for the holes in the lobes of his ears. It’s been years since he wore them, and his hands are trembling so badly that he can’t even find them—

“I’ll help you,” Peter says tenderly, taking the earring. He has it in in a moment and leans back, taking Tony in from head to toe.

“Well?” Tony asks. He clears his throat—there’s something stuck in it, some lump that he has to swallow away. He holds out his arms. “How do I look?”

“Gay,” Bucky says from the corner, smiling.

“That’s it!” Tony shouts. “I’m not going! Thanks for nothing! I’m out!”

“Tony,” Peter groans. “He was just joking, he’s—”

But Tony is already stalking to the dorm room door and pulling it open. He stops to glance over his shoulder at Bucky and Peter who are watching him with wide eyes. “Well?” he says. “I’m all for being fashionably late, but if we don’t get going, there’s not going to be anything left of the keg—”

The two scramble for their jackets and follow him out the door.

[yellowcanna]

Stray Dogs

Summary:

When Nakahara Chuuya opened his eyes, he had expected everything to be the same as it did for the past five years. The jingling sound of chains rang through the air as he slowly pushes himself from the cold ground. He brushed off some dirt from his cheeks—not that it will make him any cleaner. When he sat up and took a proper look at his surroundings, he realized it was not the same... 

“Great, of all things it’s a fucking leech.” He groaned. 

“As if I want to be roomed with an animal that looked like it hadn’t bathed for a decade,” said leech fired back. 

This was the beginning of their long journey. 

The story of how two stray dogs met.

Pairings: Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya), Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi)

Rating: T

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

Series: Part 2 of Those with Claws and Those with Fangs

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◅ PART 1                               Main Page                               PART 3 ▻

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The same pitiful cries.

The same foul stench.

The same depressing atmosphere.

When Nakahara Chuuya opened his eyes, he had expected everything to be the same as it did for the past five years.

The jingling sound of chains rang through the air as he slowly pushes himself from the cold ground. He brushed off some dirt from his cheeks—not that it will make him any cleaner. When he sat up and took a proper look at his surroundings, he realized it was not the same.

Ocean blue eyes stared flatly at the other existence sharing his room.

“And here I was wondering when the kitty would wake,” said the raven-haired boy seemingly his age.

The boy had a metal collar on his neck and hands as well. Thick iron chains stretched from the cuffs with the other end nailed deeply into the stone wall. He was covered in grimy bandages with ragged clothes like everyone else in this cursed place.

Chuuya furrowed his brows as he tried to process what his new roommate had said. It's been like this ever since he was shipped to this foreign land. The lack of having someone to converse with also didn't help his language improvement. After all, humans didn't need him to speak their language to become their source of entertainment.

“Great, it’s a fucking leech.” Chuuya groaned. Why of all things did he get locked up with a vampire? Was this some sort of new torture method?

“As if I want to be roomed with an animal that looked like it hadn’t bathed for a decade.”

“What was that?! I’ll beat the shit out of you, brat!” Chuuya shouted out of reflex, only to freeze when he realized that he understood the other just now. The vampire was speaking Japanese.

Chuuya really looked at this vampire for this time. His eyes scanned over the vampire's delicate Asian features that he hadn’t bother noticing before.

“You’re a brat as well!” The vampire countered. Burnt umber eyes looking over Chuuya in a way that made the redhead wanted to slam his fist into that smug face. “Not to mention you’re just a shrimp! Should have drank more milk when you had the chance!”

“Mind your own business!”

The two glared at one another. They could already tell that they were not going to enjoy rooming together.

Their glaring contest was interrupted when the metallic door to their confinement slammed open. An old, shaggy gruff man stomped in. He was someone Chuuya seen regularly during mealtime. As usual, the man threw a chunk of raw meat at the redhead's feet before he turned to leave.

The heavy door slammed shut, leaving the two in silence.

"Is there discrimination against vampires here?" The vampire asked in a bored tone. "Why wasn't I given a meal?"

Chuuya ignored the vampire and grabbed the piece of meat that barely got any blood left despite being raw. The meat was covered in dirt and the flesh was an unhealthy dark brown hue. A sour stench was practically emitting from the thing. The meat was spoiled, that much was obvious even to the vampire who was scrunching his nose in disgust.

Chuuya didn’t even bat an eye as he bit into the old meat and tore it apart with his teeth.

“I’m amazed you can eat that.” The vampire commented after Chuuya had already devoured half of it. “No wonder you’re short.”

The sound of knuckles cracking echoed through the tiny room.

“Do you even know the situation you’re in?!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The vampire responded blankly. “I got captured while testing out a new suicide method in a well. Now I’m stuck here with a werebeast.”

Said werebeast’s brows twitched. This was just perfect. Not only was he locked up with his race's sworn enemy, the said enemy was suicidal. Just great!

“Go hang yourself and die.” The redhead went back to eating what little food he had left. After that, he began to lick the sour blood off his dirt-covered hand. 

The vampire appeared thoroughly grossed out by his action, but Chuuya couldn't care less of what his roommate felt. He had long thrown away the pride he once had. To survive in this hellhole, he had to lower his head to these humans that captured him. His body has been worn down over the years. Now, he was practically just a skeleton wrapped within a thin layer of skin. 

That was what this place does to them. They were beaten and starved until submission, then used for those veil creatures’ entertainment.

Chuuya could still remember that night eight years ago when his village was raided by humans. Older werebeasts were killed off and the young ones were all captured. Chuuya didn’t know where the other kids got sent off to, but he was the only one they bothered shipping across the ocean due to his unique bloodline.

Apparently, humans found it entertaining to watch monsters like him kill one another.

“So? How did you get captured?” The vampire suddenly asked.

Chuuya glanced at the vampire from the corner of his eyes before turning away to ignore him. Sadly the raven didn’t get the message, or perhaps he chose to ignore the fact that the werebeast did not want to talk to him. “Did they wave some catnip at you and let you jump into a cage?”

“I ain’t a house cat!” Chuuya barked before being hit by a wave of dizziness. He collapsed against the cold floor as his ears started to ring and his vision spinning.

“Hey,” the vampire called, but Chuuya ignored him. He closed his eyes to fight off the wave of nausea. After lying still for a bit and having some blood flowed back into his head, Chuuya felt mildly better.

“You dead?”

“Are you an idiot?” Chuuya grumbled before sluggishly pushing himself up. The vampire frowned as he examined the werebeast’s movement.

“You’re starving.”

“No shit.”

Chuuya leaned back against the wall. He didn't have the energy to argue with the vampire. 

“Do they only give you that much to eat every day?”

“Every day?” Chuuya huffed. “That was my meal per week. Now shut up unless you want a rotting corpse next to you. I heard you leeches hate the smell of dead things despite sleeping in coffins.”

“We sleep in actual beds. Those are just human superstitions.” The vampire deadpanned.

Chuuya didn’t bother with him as he closed his eyes. He needed to store up energy if he wants to survive to get next week’s proportion. It didn’t take long for him to submerge into the familiar, welcoming darkness.

Chuuya didn’t know how long he has slept for. Being low on energy like this, it wasn’t unusual if he slept for days or even a whole week. Time was something impossible to tell when trapped in a small room with no window. The only thing he could tell was the number of years he has been trapped here for from the passing seasons every time he was let out.

When Chuuya woke up, it was from a harsh kick to his side, knocking him into the cold stone ground.

An angry voice shouted something, but Chuuya couldn’t understand the language.

The werebeast slowly opened his eyes. He stared up at two men standing over him, clad in heavy-looking armours. A black cat was perched on one of the men's shoulders. Its tiny head tilted up haughtily as golden eyes looked down upon him as if looking at a piece of filth.

As usual, Chuuya wanted to know how that cat would react if he were to gouge out those disgusting eyes. His raven-haired roommate just sat there, watching silently as Chuuya was dragged out the door by the chains on his neck.

The humans sitting around the large stadium cheered when Chuuya was thrown up onto the stage. Torches were burning brightly, illuminating the field and the hideous faces of the humans. A barrier was soon cast over the stage, preventing both creatures from escaping.

Chuuya’s eyes were dilated as he tried to make out his opponent this time. He was starving and his head still hurts. He flipped around and got onto all four. He couldn't see his opponent properly due to the hunger that's making his vision blurry, but that didn't matter. It was pointless to see who or what he's going to kill off anyways.

With a roar, Chuuya began to transform.

The crowd went wild as crimson glow shrouded the werebeast’s body. In a burst of blinding light, the petite boy was gone. In his place was a tiger that was all skins and bones, yet the ferociousness it was displaying made anyone that saw at a close distance cowered.

The cheering from the crowds went up by ten notches at the sight.

“…So noisy,” A certain vampire mumbled as he sat in the small, confined space. The entire room was pretty much shaking from the intense cheers coming from above.

He continued to count the seconds in his head. Picking up a pebble next to him, he slowly drew another line to the tally chart next to him.

As of this moment, this marks the seventh day since he got been thrown in here.

The noise eventually died down after half an hour. Soon, he heard footsteps and the jingling sound of chain approaching the room. When the door was kicked open, a familiar redhead drenched in blood was thrown ruthlessly onto the ground like a ragdoll.

The human secured the werebeast’s chain to the wall and left without giving the broken youth another look.

Chuuya curled into a ball, shivering and panting as he cradled his right leg that has been ripped off at the knee. The redhead tore what little piece of clothing he had and tied it around the wound to slow the bleeding. 

The vampire’s eyes gleamed the moment he sniffed the werebeast’s blood.

He reached out, pale hands extended towards the other boy only to be stopped by a sharp tug with metallic rattling sound resonating throughout the room. The raven looked down at the chains preventing him from going any further. His eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t even realized he had reached out like that.

Chestnut brown eyes observed the alluring blood pooling over the ground. Unable to resist, he stretched his hand out as far as he could. He was able to reach out just enough to brush the tip of his middle over the edge of the crimson puddle. He immediately withdrew his hand and licked the small red stain off his fingertip.

The blood was so rich and filled with vitality that just a small taste filled him with strength. Just a tiny morsel and it left the vampire desiring more. It was a feeling he had never felt in his entire life.

This was the feeling of being alive.

Unable to contain the thirst for blood, the brown in the vampire’s eyes were completely gone. His pupils were dilated and gleaming in the purest, uncontaminated red.

Chuuya sluggishly opened his eyes when his instincts flared up, warning him of danger. He squinted his eyes at the other occupant in the room and was met by a pair of predatory gaze.

For the very first time since their meeting, ocean blue eyes softened.

The werebeast slowly uncurled his body. He stretched the stump of his leg towards the vampire. A pool of blood began to form as it expanded towards the vampire. 

The raven looked at the werebeast with a flicker of surprise in his glowing eyes before he hid it. Pale hand reached out once more. He was nowhere near touching the werebeast, but a good half of his hand was able to touch the blood. Hot red fluid bathed his hand as he ran his tongue over his palm, savoring the sweetness of the divine blood.

Chuuya observed the vampire for a while before finally closing his eyes. Completely worn out from the battle and injuries, he fell into a deep slumber…

When Chuuya woke up, it was to the smell of food.

Without even thinking, he reached for the source of the smell and grabbed onto a piece of old meat. He practically gulped it down without chewing. The fight and losing a leg took a huge toll on his body. If he doesn’t eat, he won’t be able to last much longer. Thankfully his captors knew that as well, so the meat he was given this time was a tad bit bigger than what he usually gets.

After the food rested in his stomach, Chuuya laid there with his eyes closed. He wasn't going to drift back to sleep, but the less movement he makes, the easier it'll be for his body to store up lost energy. He wiggled his toe a little, just to confirm that his leg has completely regenerated. He wondered how long he had passed out for this time…

“Why did you do that?”

Chuuya reluctantly looked to his roommate who just can’t seem to get the concept of leaving someone alone.

The vampire was still sitting against the wall like before. He didn’t even look like he had shifted from that spot at all. The easy-going look he wore on his face was gone. He stared at the redhead with those dark eyes that didn’t reflect a spark of the dim like hanging over their heads. His face was expressionless and impossible to read.

Chuuya wondered if this was what the vampire’s really like under all that façade.

“Did what?” Chuuya shut his eyes again and rolled into a more comfortable position with his back to the vampire.

“Your blood.” The vampire pointed out with a deep frown on his face—not that Chuuya could see. “You could just let me starve. It’s not like I can do anything to you.” To emphasize his word, the vampire held up his hands and shook them, causing the chains dangling off the metallic handcuffs to jingle.  

"You were hungry," Chuuya muttered, more like telling that to himself than to the vampire. "Do I need more reasons than that?”

His response seemed to have caught the vampire off guard.

The silence dragged on as Chuuya waited for a response, but it didn't come. Just when he was pondering of going back to sleep, the vampire finally spoke. 

“…You don’t make any sense. We’re technically enemies.”

“Hah?” Chuuya impatiently snapped open his eyes and glared at the vampire from over his shoulder. “I don’t care about whatever stupid grudge is between werebeast and vampires. It got nothing to do with me. Don’t group me with the rest of those idiots.”

That seemed to spark the vampire’s interest as he looked over the redhead.

“You’re an outcast of your clan.” The vampire said certainly as his sharp eyes relaxed by the slightest bit. “Werebeast has intense training right at birth to drill the hatred of vampires into the younglings. For a werebeast to say something like that means you've never gone through those training."

“For a leech, you sure like to blabber to your enemy," Chuuya said dryly. “I’ve never heard of a vampire drink a werebeast’s blood. You didn’t even hesitate. I thought leeches rather die than drink from animals.”

“Oh? Were you testing me?” The vampire’s eyes twinkled in amusement.

Chuuya clicked his tongue and looked away, refusing to answer to that. Truthfully, he had forgotten about that until the vampire started giving him a lecture about his own culture. All he saw was that the vampire was hungry and needed blood, so he gave it to him.

It was just as simple as that.

Unknown to Chuuya, the vampire was grinning as he looked over the werebeast.

“I’m an outcast as well.” He suddenly said.

Chuuya looked back in surprise.

He hadn’t expected to hear that. Then again, perhaps he should have expected it. Chuuya met a vampire once. It was right here on this very stage humans set for them. When the vampire laid eyes on him, the look of disgust and excitement to kill was something Chuuya was all too familiar with. It was the same look on the villagers’ faces back home whenever vampires were mentioned.

Chuuya never understood why.

Just like the raven-haired vampire had said, werebeasts educate their young ones the moment they’re born to hate vampires. Vampires do the same. When asked why, nobody can give out a proper, non-racist answer. All they knew was to hate one another. No one remembers the reason that started it all, nor do they care.

It had become a part of who they are to hate each other. It was stupid.

“The whole werebeast and vampire fuel got nothing to do with me. I just wanted to find a quiet place where I can painlessly die." The vampire sighed. "Of all places I ended here, where I'll be tortured for the rest of my life."

"After they starve you enough for about a month, you'll get your first match," Chuuya informed him curtly. “Just let your opponent tear you into shred and die.”

“No way.” The vampire chided as if Chuuya had suggested something outrageous—which he probably did, but the moron’s suicidal. “I hate pain! Why else would I say painless?”

“…I’m starting to see why you were kicked out of your coven.”

"Well, you're wrong about that!" The vampire announced proudly. “I wasn’t kicked out. I left on my own.”

“Yeah right.” Chuuya wasn’t buying it.

"So what did you do to get toss out?" The vampire seemed pretty interested in the werebeast’s backstory.

Chuuya leveled the vampire a look. He remained silent for a while before finally speaking.

“Ever heard of Arahabaki?”

“The God of Calamity.” The vampire’s expression turned serious as he looked over Chuuya. “You’re from the royal bloodline?”

“Yeah.” Chuuya snorted, his tone filled with sarcasm and mockery. “Only one out of a thousand to possess it. I drew that lucky card.”

Arahabaki was this ancient bloodline that brought immense power and fame to the werebeast.

It was said that Arahabaki was once the god of werebeasts. Only those with royal bloodline—the ones that made contracts with Arahabaki—can use its power of destruction. It was this power that allowed the werebeasts to climb up the food chain and stand next to the vampires at the top of the pyramid as equals. In the past, werebeast with the royal bloodline were worshipped because in a sense they are god’s vessel.

Nowadays, everyone just viewed this bloodline—viewed him—as a curse.

Throughout the long history of werebeasts, the method to control Arahabaki had been lost. Any werebeasts that uses its power would just go on a rampage. Their powers will increase immensely and they will go on a rampage until the user dies. They will destroy everything in sight, regardless of allies or enemies. Nowadays, Arahabaki is simply known as Corruption.

Ever since the villagers discovered he got the cursed bloodline, they treated him like the plague. The only fortunate part was that although Corruption brought him scorn, it also brought him protection. As much as his entire village wanted to kill him, they feared that it may unleash Corruption. They fear him more than their hatred for him. Every day when Chuuya went outside, he was faced with loathing and frightful looks from everyone around him. When the adults weren't looking, he would even get rocks thrown at him by kids his age.

That was why when the village was raided by the humans, Chuuya didn’t particularly felt anything. He didn’t care about the villagers that were killed, nor did he care about the fate of other kids his age.

That was how detached he was from his race.

“That’s why I was sent here. Werebeasts with royal bloodlines are more durable and won’t die too easily.” Chuuya’s tone was filled with mockery as he said that. "There were witches among the humans that attacked my village. They were able to detect my bloodline with some sort of device. Put some sort of spell on the collar to seal away my ability and Arahabaki.”

Chuuya wondered why he was telling the vampire all these things. Perhaps it has been too long since he had a decent conversation, or perhaps he was lonelier than he thought…

“You saw that black cat, didn’t you?” Chuuya continued. "That's the witch responsible for keeping us under control here."

“Witch huh…” The vampire hummed before a smirk graced his lips. “I’ve heard some interesting things during my travels. Would you like to hear, chibi?”

“Who’re you calling chibi?!”

“The humans are plotting to start a Witch hunt.”

“…What!?” Chuuya blinked, unable to believe what he just heard. “That’s ridiculous! Witches are the only humans that can combat the other species!”

“Exactly.” The vampire nodded. “Once the human conquer all the other species, they will exterminate the witches.”

"You sound like the humans will win." Chuuya frowned.

"They will." The vampire nodded certainly. "They may lack power, but their numbers greatly surpass all other races. Of course, if all species unite, the annihilation of humans would be a breeze, but each species are too invested in their priorities and got too much pride to set aside old grudges. Even with humans raiding and capturing us, we're still fighting one another rather than ganging up against a common enemy. The human knows that, which is why they will win this war. Once they do, we'll all be under their control."

Chuuya wanted to argue. He wanted to say that’s impossible. After all, of all species on this planet, humans are the weakest. Sure they have witches, but every species got veteran fighters that know exactly how to deal with them.

However, he couldn’t deny what the vampire said was true. After all, his village was the perfect example. Had their village’s warriors not set off to the border war against the vampires, the humans wouldn’t be able to invade his village and massacred them. Even with the humans attacking them, they’re still fighting vampires at every chance they get.

Wait a minute…

Chuuya inhaled a sharp breath when he registered something Dazai said—specifically that last part.

Now that he thought about it…why did those humans choose night time to attack them? Werebeasts may come in many kinds, but they’re all nocturnal creatures. That was because they have higher advantages during the night with their superior senses, but most importantly, it was to defend against the vampires that are only active during nighttime.

Why attack them during the night when it's at their disadvantage? Chuuya could only come up with one answer. The humans masked their attack as an attack from vampires. They are using both species' hate for one another to their advantage.

Chuuya laughed.

He couldn’t believe how it took him this long to realize the truth.

Perhaps it wasn’t just the werebeasts. Perhaps the vampires will go home to find their coven slaughtered with evidence of werebeasts littered all over the place. The two idiotic races will continue to bite at each other’s throat while the real culprit walks free with a bunch of new slaves.

“What about the witches?” Chuuya asked curiously. “Why get rid of the only protection they have?”

“Once human wins this war, witches will be hailed as their specie's saviors." The vampire replied. "Despite being so weak, human are proud creatures—especially males. In their culture, males are the dominant creature. They will never accept or allow females to have more power than them."

“Just for that?” Chuuya gapped in disbelieve. Now that he thought about it, aside from the witch, all the humans he saw in this place are males. Even in the audience seats, there weren't any females around. 

“Just for that.” The vampire smirked. “To oblivious citizens, they’ll just say that witches are no different from us, and the mass will agree that they should be eliminated.”

“Heh!” Chuuya cracked out a smile as he flipped onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. “If that’s the case, then I’m starting to feel sorry for that witch.”

He snickered for a while before sitting up.

“I take that back. Witches can all burn in hell for all I care.”

“Chibi—”

“Don’t call me that!”

“You never gave me your name, what did you expect me to call you?”

Chuuya paused a bit, remembering that they never did exchange names.

“…Nakahara Chuuya.”

“Dazai Osamu,” the vampire—Dazai responded, “So, Chuuya—”

“Who said you can call me by my given name?!”

“—what plans do you have after leaving this place?”

“Who knows?” Chuuya leaned back against the cold wall. “Well…for the time being, it’s to eat my fill. I’ll think after that.”

“How like an animal.” The vampire commented with a smirk. “You don’t seem weird out by my question.”

“Like hell I’ll stay here forever and play games with those humans.” Chuuya spat as he glared down at the chains around his wrists. “I’ll leave this damn place. And when I do I’ll rip them into shreds—exactly the way they wanted me to on that stage of theirs.”

“What a brat.”

“Hah?!”

“But that’s not a bad idea~”

The vampire held up his hands with one hand readied in a snapping motion.

The werebeast looked at him weirdly.

With a snap of his finger, the metal cuff around the vampire’s wrists and neck suddenly opened up and clattered onto the floor.

Chuuya’s jaw almost hit the ground as he stared at the vampire who was up on his feet, rolling his shoulders around with his joints making satisfying pop.

“It’s only been twelve days and I’m already getting sore muscle~”

“H-how did you—?!” Chuuya stammered as he looked at the open cuffs lying on the ground. From here, he could see the written incantation on the inside of the vampire’s metal collar. Chuuya is certain that's the spell used to suppress their abilities. He had even tried to pick the lock in the past only to find that there's some sort of protection spell preventing him from sticking anything into the keyhole. So how did this vampire get out?

“I’ll give you two options.” The vampire said as he stood over the chained werebeast. “One, you will come with me. Two, you stay here and wait for who knows how long until your next chance to escape.”

Chuuya frowned as he glared up at the vampire. “What are you plotting?”

"Whatever do you mean?" The vampire's tone was so sweet and innocent that it was just reeking with ulterior motives.

"You could leave any time you wanted," Chuuya pointed out. “What are you playing here?”

“You make me sound like the bad guy here.” The vampire heaved out a heavy breathe as if the redhead was some unreasonable kid. “I simply want a collaboration.”

Chuuya narrowed his eyes, not believing a single word the vampire is saying.

"There's a huge barrier cast over this place. To nullify the barrier, I need to find the witch. But as you can see, I don't have that kind of fighting power to survive until I can find her in this place."

“What do you mean nullify?” Chuuya demanded, sharply catching that keyword.

"My ability allows me to cancel other abilities with a touch." The vampire explained. “Abilities and spells are useless against me. You should know what that means don’t you, Arahabaki?”

Blue eyes dilated as the werebeast stared at the vampire. Chuuya didn’t speak for a long time. He just stared at the vampire and the vampire stared back, waiting for his response.

"...How can I trust you to stop me?"

“You don’t.” The vampire replied tersely.

“Tch.” Chuuya clicked his teeth. He didn’t like not being in control, but this was the first chance he had gotten in years. Who knows when his next chance will be?

“I’ll kill you if you’re late. Even if I die I will drag you down.”

“I much rather want to die with a lovely maiden.” The vampire gagged as if the very thought of dying with the werebeast disgusted him.

“Take this off.” Chuuya tilted his head back, giving the vampire access to the collar around his neck.

Dazai’s hand reached down. When the tip of his fingers brushed by the collar, Chuuya felt whatever magic binding him disappeared, leaving just the cold body of the metal tightly gripping his neck. His keen ears picked up the sound of a lock being picked. Then, the weight around his neck vanished as the heavy collar fell off, hitting the stone ground and creating a rather impressive dent in the shattered rock.

The vampire whistled. He wasn’t showing the slightest bit surprised that the werebeast has been moving with such tremendous weight on him. It was as if he somehow already knew.

The redhead cranked his head, testing his new range of movement before looking up at a small pin the vampire was holding between his fingers.

“Need help?” Dazai drawled as he waved around his lock picking tool.

With a huff, crimson light outlined the metal cuffs on the werebeast’s hands. The thick metal began to deform, wrenching off the werebeast’s slender wrists and crashing into the stone ground with such force that a huge crater with a size that nearly took up the entire room was formed.

Chuuya sucked in a shuddering breath. A droplet of sweat rolled down his forehead. Using just this tiny bit of power was already taking a toll on his body. It was utterly pathetic.

“I won’t last very long.” He warned the vampire as he got onto his feet.

“Yeah, I know," Dazai responded with a smirk before he stepped back against the wall and melted into his own shadow.

Chuuya stared at the place where the vampire disappeared into. He could still feel the vampire's presence within the room. The other was hiding quietly in the shadows like those humans in the audience seats, watching the entertainment that's going to play out.

Crafty bastard.

The werebeast looked down at his wrists. The skins underneath the metal cuffs were red and wrinkled from years and years of abuse. Hearing the sound of roaring cheers coming from above, Chuuya looked up to the ceiling. A wide smile spread over his lips as he gazed at the ceiling.

He crouched down as crimson light outlined his silhouette. The werebeast crouched down as the ground under his feet was ripped out and suspended in midair—supporting the red-head.

“Better keep up, shitty Dazai.” The werebeast scoffed before he shot towards the ceiling. With a kick, he smashed a hole right through the ceiling.

The loud cheering was immediately stopped when a hole suddenly appeared at the edge of the stage. A boy with reddish hair flew out from the hole and into the sky, stopping just inches from the giant barrier covering the entire stadium.

Chuuya took a deep breath to calm his speeding heart as he stared at the full moon before his eyes. It was weird. He has always seen the sky whenever he was thrown up here on this stage, but for some reason, it felt like this was the first time in years that he was finally able to see the sky.

“Freedom, huh?” Chuuya mumbled as his eyes focused on the wall in front of him.

The barrier was made out of a layer of transparent membrane that is barely visible unless looked closer. It looked very thin and fragile, but a foul aura was practically radiating off the thing. There was even a weird attraction coming from this barrier as if it was alive and tempting him to touch it.

Chuuya felt his hair stood up as he realized what it was. He had seen it once, and it was when those humans invaded their village. A barrier like this was cast over the village to prevent anyone from escaping. 

Just a simple touch and this barrier will suck out the souls of any creatures that aren't human. The barrier itself was made purely of these unfortunate souls. The moment it sucked out a soul, the soul will be merged with the barrier, becoming one with it and enforcing its power. 

The one Chuuya has seen before was much weaker compared to this one. This barrier must have killed off a lot of creatures. Perhaps they were even fed to it for that sole purpose.

“Damn witches.” Chuuya cursed before another thought came to him.

If this is a barrier that sucks out souls of its victims, then what Dazai said about being unable to leave was a bunch of bullshits! Vampires were the only creatures that don’t have souls. They are creatures that dwell on the life force of other life forms to stay alive. Since they got no soul of their own, this blasted barrier wouldn’t have worked on that guy! The most it’ll do was probably make him feel even hungrier after walking through it!

“DAMN IT!” Chuuya snarled as he realized he’s been played.

That lying, scheming, son of a scoundrel!

If this barrier was an obstacle for the vampire, then they can call it even after he gets rid of it. However, if the barrier was never a problem to the vampire, then it won’t be a collaboration, but just the vampire one-sidedly helping him!

The first was freeing him; the second will be saving his life from Arahabaki.

These aren’t debts that he can easily brush off. The vampire must have done this knowing that he won’t be able to just walk away without returning some kind of favour to call it even. In other words, the vampire wanted something from him, but it wasn’t breaking out of this place.

With a frustrated scream, Chuuya shot down like a meteor and crashed into the stage, completely obliterating it. 

The two creatures fighting on the stage and blown off by the force.

Chuuya reached out, easily grabbing onto the tail of a giant lizard thrice his size and held it over his head like it weighed nothing. 

"This is perfect." Chuuya glowered at the hissing Basilisk desperately trying to break free. “I was just feeling hungry.”

In a blink of an eye, Chuuya transformed into a tiger. He slammed the Basilisk into the ground, breaking its neck before he used his sharp fangs and tore off its flesh.

The audiences cheered, believing this was part of their nightly show. The guards on the sideline were in a mixture of confusion and panic, not certain if this was a special event the higher-ups decided to host or not.

Chuuya knew he couldn’t stall. He swallowed the flesh of the Basilisk and drank its blood. Once he had enough, he transformed back into his human form. He wiped the blood staining his mouth with the back of his hand and laughed at the oblivious humans in the audience seats.

When his keen ears caught a string of gibberish, Chuuya used the power of gravity and leaped into the sky just as a yellow beam of light shot by where he stood, denigrating ground and the half-eaten Basilisk in a blink of an eye.

Chuuya landed next to the newly formed hole and glared at a woman dressed in all black with a pointed hat. Like all witches tend to be, she was a plain-looking woman—though probably beautiful by human standard—wearing a black dress that looked like a cheap rip-off from fairy creatures.

In Chuuya’s eyes, the woman was no less hideous than a blobfish.

Her lips that were painted in the colour of fresh blood were rapidly moving to cast her next spell. She twirled her twig and Chuuya took off into the sky as chains shot out from the ground in an attempt to capture him. Even now, she wore an arrogant look on her face, like she was dealing with a pest and not a werebeast that could potentially kill her and everyone else in the vicinity.

The witch was strong, but just from two attacks, Chuuya could tell she’s an amateur in battle. Perhaps this was the first time she even engaged in a fight. She was most likely put in charge of this place due to her high magic affinity. The witch was too full of her power and after years and years of governing these chained up creatures that lost their ability to fight back, she has forgotten just how strong they were. Even veteran witches don’t engage in combat without proper preparations and a bunch of human meat shields she could hide behind.

This dumb woman just charged in to show off how strong she is.

Chuuya had always thought that when this day came, he would tear the woman apart with his claws the second he gets the chance. Maybe he’ll also go up to those humans cheering from the audience seats and snap off their heads and rip out their hearts.

He expected a lot of anger and rage…but never did he expected calmness.

As he jumped around to dodge the chains, he felt nothing inside him. He looked at the faces of the humans, then to the guards that regularly abused them, and finally at the haughty witch.

He felt absolutely nothing when looking at them.

In his eyes at this very moment eyes, they were all just dead objects.

That was all there is to it.

“Grantors of dark disgrace,” Chuuya chanted as crimson markings appeared over his sickly pale skin, “you need not to wake me again.”

━━━━━━━━ ✠ ━━━━━━━━

"Do you have four stomachs or something?" Dazai wondered as he watched the weretiger shoved food into his mouth. Well, he supposed he couldn't say shove, as the other was quite elegant in how he ate…astonishingly.

Still, the speed he was displaying was not normal.

Chuuya ignored the vampire as he cleaned every single plate without leaving a morsel of food behind. At first, the humans around them would stare at the redhead with their jaws slack, wondering just how much the petite boy could eat. Eventually, they got bored and went back to minding their own business.

The waitress ran back and forth, taking away the empty plates and bringing up new ones.

"Bring another basket of baguette—actually make that two basket, five shepherd's pie, some more roast lambs, chicken, pork, beef, whatever you got," Dazai told the waitress as his eyes roamed over the menu. "You know what, just bring everything that is filing, no need to bother with the taste. If you can stuff him to death, I'll pay triple the amount."

The waitress screamed when a knife flew right past her and towards the raven's head. The vampire didn't even look up as his hand shot up, grabbing the knife by the handle before hurling it back. The woman's knees were shaking as she watched the red-head catching the knife with ease and stabbing it into the chicken.

"You got that?" The vampire asked disinterestedly, eyes never once lifted from the menu.

Nodding hastily, the waitress scurried away to have the cook prepare the next round of feast.

The vampire let out a long sigh. "I'm helping you order food and you tried to skewer me."

"Don't think that just because I don't understand that you can talk shit about me," Chuuya growled with a vein throbbing in his forehead. There was just something he didn't like about the vampire's attitude just then, so he acted.

"Animal instincts huh?" Dazai mumbled as he looked at the way the werebeast was glowering at him. He could almost imagine a small orange cat, hissing and puffing itself up to look big and threatening. The vampire suddenly felt a strange urge to tease his companion more.

Unfortunately, a hushed whisper soon brought his attention elsewhere.

Chuuya took a bite of his chicken while Dazai ran his finger over the rim of a wine cup. While neither of them acted out of ordinary, both of them focused their attention to the back of the restaurant where a group of soldiers sat. Usually, these human soldiers were loud and noisy, but this group here was unusually quiet.

They chatted quietly among themselves, all of their faces serious and some even started to get anger the more they conversed. After listening to them for a while, Chuuya turned to Dazai who had picked up a cup and was playing with the dark fluid inside.

"They're talking about your masterpiece from three days ago," Dazai informed him with a sly grin. "Since the witch is missing, they're convinced that the destruction of the fighting ring was her doing."

Chuuya lightly bit on the tip of his fork as he looked over those soldiers. "This is why you got rid of that witch's body?"

"I told you, humans don't trust witches. All you need is to give them a reason and they'll push all the blames onto the witches."

"How stupid."

Dazai set the cup he was playing around with in front of Chuuya. Chuuya looked at the weird liquid inside for a moment before picking it up and taking a sip.

He quickly spat it back out.

"What the fuck is this?!" He coughed, feeling the sour and bitter aftertaste sensation in his throat.

"It's call wine," Dazai sniggered, "Human makes it with fermented grape juice."

"Fermented? It's rotten?!" Chuuya choked in disbelieve. After eating rotten food for so long, he wouldn't even care if it's crawling with bugs. But why would human willingly eat rotten food?

"That's why you're a kid." Dazai deadpanned.

"Who are you calling a kid?!"

A man came by just then, dropping a large barrel right next to their table, saying something to Dazai before leaving. Confused, Chuuya looked down to the barrel. He could hear water sound coming from inside it. When he smelled the familiar scent coming from it and that iconic cow mark drawn on the wooden surface, it didn't take a genius to find out what it was.

The damn leech had ordered an entire barrel of milk for him!

People screamed as a table flew across the restaurant—along with the body of a raven-haired man—right into the group of soldiers at the very back…

Half an hour later, Chuuya and Dazai walked out into the busy street.

The restaurant workers and the owner lined up at the doorway, wide smiles on every one of their faces as they waved goodbye to the two youngsters walking away from the restaurant.

"How much did you pay them?" Chuuya questioned skeptically. He didn't understand human currency, but he could tell it's not a small amount. After all, he did nearly take apart the restaurant. The bodies of those idiot soldiers that tried to hack him with their swords were still piled up in the middle of the dirt road with white foams gushing from their mouths.

Dazai was humming as he twirled a brown leather pouch around his index finger. It was the same pouch he had swiped off those human soldiers when the werebeast threw him (and the table) into them.

Chuuya's blood boiled at the thought of being used by this bastard…again.

"Enough to let them buy a new restaurant," Dazai replied. "For mere foot soldiers to have so much money, it seems the higher-ups of this town are quite corrupted."

Chuuya couldn't understand the concept of money. Werebeasts never needed those kinds of things. They live pretty much like wild animals. They hunt for their food and make their own home. Whenever anyone needed something, they just share what they have.

Well, at least that's what it seemed to him anyways.

"Now what?"

"What do you mean?" Dazai was feigning innocence.

"You tell me, you're the one that made me come with you!"

"I never said you had to." Dazai countered, causing the vein on Chuuya's head to throb.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm just repaying the favour. The sooner we call it even, the sooner I can leave!" The werebeast grumbled. "You got something you want me to do, don't you?"

Dazai looked up to the starry sky, exposing his delicate pale neck wrapped up in bandages. His face was serious, lips slightly parted as he let out a long, thoughtful sound.

"Aaaaah…nope."

"What?" Chuuya blinked, wondering if he heard wrong.

"I don't have anything I want you to do."

"Then why the hell have me come along with you?!"

"Now, now, you're making a scene!" Dazai chortled, gesturing to the humans gawking at the odd Asian pair. "There's an inn just down the street! We should hurry before they run out of room!"

"Hey, bastard! Hold it!" Chuuya swore as he chased after the vampire.

In the end, there was only one room left—or that's what Dazai claimed anyways. That was fine with Chuuya since they still have unfinished business.

Once they've settled in their room, Chuuya was instantly on the lanky vampire.

"Explain yourself." He threatened dangerously.

Dazai sat on the soft bed, looking up at the werebeast standing over him with arms crossed over his chest. Sad that it's only at times like this that the werebeast would be taller.

Chuuya didn't know why, but the way the vampire's looking at him made his blood boil, so he slammed a foot into the side of the bed and loomed over the vampire.

"What games are you playing here? You can't expect me to believe you want me to follow you around without any reason."

"Of course not!" Dazai said in an offended tone. "You're going to be my dog after all!"

"…Hah?"

"If I tell you my leg is itchy, you scratch it! If I want to drink blood, you go kidnap a beautiful blond woman in her early twenties and bring her to me!"

CRASH

The entire bed was crushed into pieces as Dazai fell into the pieces of broken wooden frames and fiber fillings of the mattress. When he looked up, Chuuya has his foot hovering over the vampire's face.

"They say that vampires can live as long as their hearts are intact." The werebeast muttered, tilting his head to the side as murderous glint flickered within his eyes. "Want to test that out?"

"I hate pain, so I'll pass." Dazai sighed, putting both hands up in surrender. "You can't take a joke, can you? If you want a reason, you can say that it's to survive the war."

"What do you mean?"

"Since you were locked up pretty much all your life, you wouldn't know, but we're close to the final war."

"What final war?"

"The world war."

"World war?!" Chuuya gapped, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"A worldwide war involving every single species. The entire planet will become a warzone" Dazai spoke in such light-hearted tone it sounded like he was discussing the weather rather than an incoming apocalypse. "This is what will happen when you keep slaughtering and enslaving other species. Once they finally realize the peril they're in, every single species will see everyone and everything else as enemies that need to be eliminated, then a full out war will emerge."

"And human will come out victorious." Chuuya narrowed his eyes, still remembering what Dazai had told him. He slowly pulled back his foot, allowing the vampire to sit up. "You're saying this war will come soon?"

"In two years, to be precise." Dazai hummed. "When the war comes, nowhere will be safe. Money will mean nothing and survival will only be for the fittest. If you want to live, then we need to collaborate."

"I thought you wanted to die." Chuuya kindly reminded him.

"I rather die at the hands of a beautiful lady than some barbaric, racist animals."

"You want me to kill you off right now?" Chuuya gritted his teeth before pushing his anger back down. If what this vampire said is true, then he'll need this bastard alive. Being the only one that speaks his native language and the ability to keep Corruption under control, he needed Dazai.

And with only the ability to nullify other powers, the vampire needed protection.

It was a fair deal…given that everything he said was the truth that is.

"So, what will it be, Chuuya?" Dazai wore that knowing smirk on his face as he held out his hand.

The bastard was so certain the werebeast will take his deal. As much as Chuuya wanted to prove him wrong, he can't. He got no other choice but to accept this deal. He slapped his hand against the vampire's and held it in a brutal grip.

"If I catch you doing anything funny behind my back, I will put a stake through your stomach and roast you in the sunlight."

"Such a brat." The vampire grunted, causing a huge vein to throb as Chuuya applied all his strength into the handshake. The cracking sounds of breaking bones resonated throughout the room.

"GAAAH! You're such a brat!"

"You're a brat too!"

"Tell me that when you grow taller!"

"I'm only fifteen, I'm still growing! You're like what, fifty?!"

"I'm fifteen as well!"

(ﾉꐦ ⊙曲ఠ)ﾉ︵ ┻━┻

"Wow…so that's how you and Dazai-san met?" Atsushi said in fascination after listening to his mentor's story.

Chuuya sat on the barstool, sipping on a glass of wine as he regarded the young tiger's excitement. "You're more invested in this plain old story than I am."

"I just think it's amazing." Atsushi smiled sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head. "I know what happened during the Dark Age, but hearing Chuuya-san's story made it feel more real."

"Well, it was hundreds of years ago." Blue eyes drifted down to the wine in his hand. "To you brats, it might as well be a fairy tale."

"But Chuuya-san and Dazai-san lived through it, right? In that case, it's not a fairy tale."

Chuuya looked at his disciple with a small hint of surprise before a smile lifted his lips.

"But why was Dazai-san in Switzerland?"

"To escape from his coven," Chuuya answered. "That shitty mackerel came from a strong coven of pureblood vampires. At the time, they ruled over Yokohama and got connections all over Japan. After deserting his coven, he had to leave the country."

"Yokohama?" Atsushi's eyes widened. "You don't mean…?!"

"Yes. The same place where Akutagawa came from. That coven has merged with other species over time and turned into one big organization. That is the Port Mafia."

"Then is it safe for us to be here?" Atsushi asked with worries lacing his voice. "What if the Port Mafia—"

"Calm down, kid." Chuuya chuckled at the frantic look on his face. "We struck a peace treaty long ago. They won't bother us as long as we don't bother them."

Atsushi let out a sigh of relieve, glad to hear everything was alright. "So then…was Dazai-san captured by the humans the moment he left Japan?"

"Capture?" Chuuya snorted as he remembered the ridiculous reason that landed the vampire in the cell as him. "That moron didn't get captured. He let those humans take him."

"Eh?!" Atsushi was dumbfounded. That was certainly not what he had expected, but then again this was Dazai they're talking about...

"He heard rumours about a werebeast with royal bloodline in the dueling ring, so he came to find me." Chuuya rested his chin against his palm. "The bastard planned everything out from the beginning, just so I would team up with him for the Dark Age."

There was more to that though.

What Dazai had planned wasn't only for the survival during the Dark Age. Even back then, the vampire was looking even further to the future. Dazai had sought Chuuya out for the creation of Double Black. With their combined powers, they were quickly made known to the world. It didn't matter what species they were. Whenever people caught wind that Double Black might be nearby, they will flee the vicinity, fearing to get caught up in their battle.

It was due to this that they were able to live peacefully right now.

After human came out victorious during the Dark Age, life became harsher for all other species. It was only in recent years that they were getting fairer treatment, but many were still slaves made to serve the humans. A good example would be that creep Tatsuhiko Shibusawa. How many different species suffered at his hands? How many were tortured, wishing for death that just wouldn't come?

These kinds of humans exist all around the world.

Dazai being Dazai, had another reason to form Double Black. Perhaps that’s his ultimate goal from the beginning. Everything he did was simply to pull free from his old coven—the current Port Mafia. With Chuuya by his side, Dazai has a chip to bargain for his freedom. It was thanked to this that they were able to form a contract

Everything went exactly as that arrogant vampire had planned.

The only thing Dazai hadn't accounted for was the change in their relationship…as well as raising two kids. These two things were probably the greatest surprises that scheming mind wasn't able to predict.

"Honey~ we're back!" An irritating voice sang as the front door flung open, revealing the tall and lanky vampire carrying multiple bags of groceries with his disciple in toll.

"Oh, you're back," Chuuya said disinterestedly as he continued to swirl the wine around his glass.

"Welcome back, Dazai-san, Ryuu!" Atsushi greeted as he hurried over to take the load off the vagabond vampire.

"Did you miss me, darling?" Dazai pounced towards Chuuya, only for the redhead to shove a palm into his face to stop his advance.

"Don't touch me!" Chuuya snarled with veins popping up from beneath his forehead. "I told you not to come near me for a month!"

"Chuuya! Don't be so cruel!" Dazai whined. "If I keep sleeping on the couch like this my back won't be able to take it!"

"And my back can?!" Chuuya snapped, now using both hands in an attempt to push the vampire away. "You kept going even when I told you to stop!"

"That was Chuuya's fault!" Dazai held his hands to his cheeks and swooned at the beautiful memories of last night. "What kind of man would stop when their mate is looking at them with those teary sapphire blue eyes, cheeks blushing in cherry blossom pink and hiccupping when—"

BAM

With a simple push of his hand (and the power of gravity), Chuuya slammed the vampire face-first into the floor. Thankfully, he still remembered that they're at home, so he held back on his strength. Otherwise, they'll need to replace the finely polished floor. This was one good thing about moving to a new home. If this was back in their dusty old manor, Chuuya wouldn't have cared.

When Chuuya's sharp eyes snapped up, he saw Atsushi and Akutagawa sorting out the groceries bags and putting the food into the fridge. Akutagawa looked like he couldn't care less (or rather, too used to the scene), while Atsushi was desperately pretending not to have heard anything and failing miserably. The kid's entire face was burning up and his movements were very robotic.

"So Atushi-kun, what did you two do while we're gone?" Dazai appeared right beside the younger weretiger, surprising the poor boy and causing him to drop the carton of milk he was putting away.

Dazai stood there with his hands in his pockets, smiling brightly as if he hadn't kissed the floor just seconds ago.

"O-oh, Chuuya-san was just telling me how you guys met!" Atsushi spluttered, eyes darting every now and then at Akutagawa, signaling for help. The young vampire spared Atsushi half a second of his precious time before he returned to whatever he was doing, completely brushing him aside.

This caused a vein to pop over the white weretiger. He'll remember this.

"Ah, brings back memories." Dazai sighed blissfully. "Chuuya was so adorable back then~"

"AH?" Chuuya glared daggers at his mate.

"I don't mean anything bad!" Dazai hurriedly explained. With his mate mad at him like this, anything he says would be equivalent to stepping on a landmine.

He only wanted to tease his mate a bit last night, but he went overboard and pissed him off instead. This was all Chuuya's fault for being so cute though. Not his.

"Atsushi-kun!" Dazai spun around dramatically to white-haired boy cradling the milk. "Next year will be your eighteenth birthday! You'll finally be legal to bond with Ryuunosuke!"

The carton of milk fell back onto the ground. Atsushi's face was burning up to the point where steams could be seen rolling off his skin. Behind him, Akutagawa had frozen up. In fact, it wasn't just him. Rashoumon seemed to have frozen as well with how stiff the fabric became.

This spiked Chuuya's interest as he set down the wine glass he had been playing around with.

"That's right!" The redhead agreed as he leaned over the table. "Have you two talked over yet? Vampire's thirst for blood will increase during sex so you should—"

"CHUUYA-SAN!" Atsushi screamed, mortified that the older weretiger was going to give him the talk.

"What, don't tell me you're getting shy over something like this?" Chuuya teased.

"W-we um…" Atsushi fidgeted, embarrass and uncertain of how to tell their mentors.

"We decided to take more time," Akutagawa said as he came to stand beside his lover. Atsushi looked up at Akutagawa. There was a small look of surprise on his face before that surprise melted into warmth. With his lover beside him, he regained his confidence and nodded firmly to Chuuya.

Chuuya looked back and forth between the two. He smiled at how uptight they were being.

"Take all the time you need." He waved at the pair. "Once you perform the bond, it'll be for life. It's normal to need time to think about it. Took me fifty years to finally decide to bond with this mackerel." He said, jabbing a thumb at his lanky companion.

"Chuuya, you wound me!" Dazai cried with a hand over his heart, yet his expression didn't have a hint of sadness for someone being hurt. If anything, his burnt umber eyes were twinkling in amusement.

"You two are worried whether or not you can stay together for the rest of your life, correct?" Dazai walked over to join own mate's side. He gently placed a hand onto Chuuya's shoulder. To his delight, the weretiger didn't throw him over his shoulder and allowed the contact. "The fact that you're worried about this means you won't have any problems. After all, werebeasts and vampires are destined to become mates."

"What do you mean?" Atushi exchanged looks with Akutagawa. This was the first time they were ever told of this. Since when did the two sworn enemies become destined mate materials?

"Oh, that's easy to figure out if you think about it," Dazai told them. "The difference in our body temperature is one. Vampires are creatures born in coldness. Unable to come into contact with sunlight or fire, it’s impossible for us to feel physical heat. Werebeasts, on the other hand, have unusually high body temperature due to their regenerative cells constantly being produced in their body.”

Dazai didn’t need to say the rest as the two already knew this. The huge difference in their body temperature was what made them want to be near each other in the beginning. It was this difference that made it so comfortable when they hold one another because it’s only with each other that they can feel the warmth of another living being.

"Werebeast's blood cells carry high regenerative properties. A single cell holds twenty times more nutrient than a normal blood cell. That's why their blood will taste sweeter and richer than other species. When we drink from them, werebeast's blood will help heal our body. And due to the werebeast's regeneration power, their body will instantly restore any blood that was lost."

"Meaning as long as we have food, we're an all you can eat buffet for them." Chuuya chipped in from the sideline. "There are many more examples…"

"But werebeasts and vampires can't see that." Atsushi finished for Chuuya.

"When you're trained to hate and kill from a young age, you will lose the ability to think rationally. When Ryuunosuke first met Chuuya, the first thing he did was to attack him~" Dazai chuckled, causing Akutagawa to flinch as if something invisible had slapped him across the face.

"Really?!" Atsushi gawked at his lover. He then turned to Chuuya who seemed so fond of the memory that he started cackling.

"I beat him up pretty bad." Chuuya snickered. "I even offered some blood to let him recover, but he said he rather die than to drink from me. So, I broke all four of his limbs, dislocated his jaw and just poured my blood down his throat.

"E-eeeeh…?" Atsushi looked back to Akutagawa whose face was scrunched up in what looked like shame. He suddenly felt very sorry for his lover…

"That is the hate drilled into young werebeasts and vampires." Dazai explained. "Chuuya and I were stray dogs in our clan. No one bothered to educate us. Ironically it's thanks to this that we're able to find out the truth."

At the mention of stray dogs, Atsushi looked over to Dazai. He knew why his mentor was an outcast, but he knew nothing about Dazai.

"But why?" Atsushi asked, unable to understand how these two strongest species fell so easily. "How did werebeast and vampires ended up like this?"

"…It's not hard to guess." Dazai shrugged. "If werebeast and vampires are allies, then this world will long be under their rule. Someone decided to break them up and turn them against one another, and they did for centuries to come. That's all there is to it."

"But—"

"While we're on this topic, allow me to tell you something more interesting!" Dazai cut off the young weretiger. "Atsushi-kun, what do you think is the most important quality between mates?"

"Uh…love?"

"Atsushi-kun sure has a pure teenage girl's heart."

"No! That's not—"

"The most important quality is rivalry!"

"…Rivalry?" Atsushi was dumbfounded. He did not expect that kind of answer.

"Your answer may be true for human, but for us it's different. Love alone won't maintain a relationship past a century. Humans wouldn’t know that, as their lives are too short. Atsushi-kun, has any of the other species you've encountered performed a mating bond?"

"No…" Atsushi replied after some thought.

During his travels with Chuuya and Dazai, he has met quite a bit of other species. He met agents working for the government, and then those that hid within the underground world. When he thought over all of them he had met, none of those species had bonded with anyone else. His and his lover's mentors were the only one he knew that bonded.

"For now you may love someone, but that love will eventually turn into boredom with time. Because of this, there are rarely any species that perform mating bond. After all, once you've mated, it'll be for life. Depending on how long they live, it could be for centuries or millennia. Even back when vampires and werebeasts were still thriving, they only mate to reproduce. Pure, sappy love doesn't exist in a fantasy world like ours. Those only exist within human's imagination. For us, a hundred years could pass in a blink of an eye and before you know it, the love you once felt got reduced to nothing.

That's another reason why werebeasts and vampires are suitable to become mates. Because not only are they lovers, they are also rivals. No matter how compatible their bodies may be, their personalities will never match. There's always one thing or another that will make them butt head, but that's what helps them understand each other beyond what pure lovers are capable of. That's the important quality you'll need if you want to be together."

"That's what you meant by destined?" Atsushi sweatdropped.

While his and Akutagawa's relationships were way better than when they first met, they still argue over a lot of things. Sometimes over small things, sometimes over bigger things…oftentimes their arguments ended up with them going at each other's throat.

There were many times where Atsushi couldn't put up with Akutagawa, and he's certain the vampire felt the same way. Yet strangely, never once did Atsushi ever stop loving Akutagawa despite all the issues going between them.

He supposed it's the arguments and fight that made them closer and able to understand one another so well.

Without it…

Atsushi's face turned green as he shuddered at the thought of a kind, patient and cheerful Akutagawa.

"What is it?" Akutagawa asked when he noticed his lover bending over the sink.

"I think I threw up a little…Ouch!" Atsushi cried when Akutagawa kicked him in the back of his knees, causing him to knock his chin against the hard counter. "What was that for?!"

"I just felt irritated." The vampire replied as if the answer is obvious.

"You!" Atsushi pounced towards his mate in an attempt to get him back, but the vampire easily side-stepped him. Atsushi already knew that's what the vampire would do. He knew him too well after all. He kicked his leg out, to trip the vampire, but Akutagawa had predicted his moment and already summoned Rashoumon.

"You two! Take this outside!" Chuuya bellowed when Atsushi bumped into the cupboard, causing the glass and ceramic tablewares inside to rattle.

"With this, life won't ever get boring, don't you agree?" Dazai said softly as he watched the two youngsters going at one another. Atsushi's arms have transformed into his tiger parts now.

"Not ready huh?" Akutagawa's word flowed back into Chuuya's head as he looked at the two's interactions. Chuuya wanted to laugh. He knew exactly what these brats were thinking.

Bonding was a sacred mating ritual that binds two people's lives together.

With the bond in place, the mated couples can feel one another at a higher level of intimacy.

The feeling of bond isn't easy to explain. If Chuuya had to describe it, it's like seeing a spark of light for the first time within a world of darkness.

The light wasn't blindingly bright or overly hot. It was a soft mellow light that carried only a tiny bit of warmth. Despite how tiny it is, its presence was impossible to ignore. That speck of light was so fragile and precious that it just makes him want to carefully cradle it within his hands and protect it.

Once a bond was formed, there was no way to undo it.

A bond was a blessing for two people in love. However, if that couple had fallen out of love, then the bond will become a curse. Despite no longer loving each other, they were forced to always be aware of the other's presence. No matter where they go, they won't be able to shake off the yearning in their heart to be reunited with the ones they never wanted to see.

Loving someone else will become impossible, as no matter how hard they try, they won't be able to shake off the longing to seek out their bonded mate.

The only way to break the bonding was through death. However, if one was to die, then the other will always follow shortly after. After all, to suddenly lose that speck of light and return to the world of darkness is a frightening process. It was enough to drive the one left behind insane.

Chuuya has seen failed examples of bond couples before. All those examples led to only one result.

Death.

When Chuuya looked at Atsushi and Akutagawa, all he saw was two dumb brats desperately trying to protect one another.

They love each other, so they were afraid of tying each other down. They were afraid that somewhere in the future, their partner would get tired of their relationship and wanted to leave, but can't because of the bond.

They were afraid that one day the other will hate them for it.

Hell knew how many times Chuuya wondered over that question. Even someone as smart as Dazai dragged it on for years.

In the end, the answer was always simple.

Neither of them was able to imagine a life without one another. Until they decide to bond, they will always yearn for something more, something that will connect them closer. It was just a matter of who will take that first step.

These two brats were more than ready, but that was something for them to figure out.

Chuuya grinned as he thought back to that night when Dazai extended his hand to him. It was the moment he decided to take that hand that both of their fate intertwined.

"…I suppose you can sleep in the bedroom again. I'm feeling quite generous right now, you better be grateful."

Dazai looked down at Chuuya in surprise before stars shone within in his eyes.

"CHUUYA!"

"Just this once!" Chuuya warned as Dazai nodded frantically with the face of a puppy that finally got the treat he deserved.

Chuuya couldn't stop the smile blossoming on his face despite knowing that this may very well be a part of his manipulative mate's plan. No, Chuuya is certain this is part of Dazai's plan to climb back into his bed. Why else would he be talking these bullshit lover qualities for no reason?

He wasn't going to believe his mate was genuinely doing it to educate their students. If anything, watching the two fretted over a problem that was never a problem had always been an enjoyment to this bandage wasting mackerel.

The worst part was, Dazai must have expected that he would figure it out. If Dazai wanted to keep something a secret, it stays a secret. No matter how long Chuuya had known him for, he would never be able to figure it out. The bastard didn't bother hiding his intention because he knew, either way, Chuuya would give in.

Sometimes, Chuuya hated how he could understand his mate so well. Many times he wondered just how he got bonded to such a bastard, yet he couldn't find himself to regret this decision. If anything, it was the best decision he had ever made—setting aside how he wanted to strangle the leech three times a month.

Well…he supposed he can follow through with his manipulation once in a while. He'll just have to properly beat up the damn mackerel the next time he tries pulling something like this.

"What did you guys get?" Chuuya asked as he crossed the kitchen to open the fridge. He let out a small, delighted hum when he saw how it was stacked full of food.

"It's been a while since we had some traditional food," Dazai said as he leaned over the weretiger and started picking out some ingredients out of the fridge. Chuuya's mouth watered when he saw three large packs of sashimi.

"Chuuya."

"Wha—hmph?!" The last half of the redhead's words became muffled when a Dorayaki was shoved into his open mouth.

"Eat that for now. I'll have food ready soon." Dazai purred into the redhead's ear, causing colours to crawl up the weretiger's neck as he nibbled on the overly sweet treat.

In that distant, he heard the sound of crashing coming from upstairs, but Chuuya couldn't bother to care. He sat back down on the barstool, slowly nibbling on his treat as he watched his mate grabbed a knife. Dazai was in an extremely good mood as he flipped the dangerous weapon around his fingers before getting to work…all while singing that dumb suicide song he came up with decades ago.

"Hey, shitty Dazai."

Dazai turned to see a Cabernet Sauvignon glass flying towards him. The vampire caught the glass by the stem, elegantly twirling it around the air to prevent the beautiful crimson fluid inside from spilling out.

"Drink that for now." Chuuya threw the vampire's word back as he took another bite into the Dorayaki.

Dazai swirled the thick blood around in the glass before bringing it up to inhale the sweet aroma of his mate.

Smiling, Dazai set down the knife and walked over to the weretiger.

"Chuuya." He called the name of his mate tenderly.

Chuuya looked up, meeting the vampire's soft brown eyes before he picked up his glass of wine. Smiles graced both of their lips as they tapped the rim of their glass against the other, creating a crisp ringing sound.

"To stray dogs."

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

Extra – "Osamu"

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

"Chuuya-san."

"Hm?"

"I've been wondering for a while now…why don't you call Dazai-san by his given name?"

"Pfft!" Chuuya spat out the wine he was in the middle of swallowing. He coughed heavily, trying to get rid of the fluid that entered his lungs before looking over to his disciple.

"W-what's with that all the sudden?!" He spluttered.

Atsushi thought his mentor's face looked oddly red, but it was probably from the choking. He swiftly handed over some napkins which the older weretiger took.

"I was just curious…you and Dazai-san are together for so long but I've never heard you call Dazai-san by his given name."

"Who the hell would call that bastard's name?!" Chuuya snapped, bringing the wine glass back to his lips. Instead of slowly savoring the taste of the wine which was what he had been doing, he was gulping it down like water. "His name is Osamu! It's just lame! I'm surprised he even kept such a plain name for three hundred years!"

"Oh? I had no idea you felt that way, love." A dark voice suddenly whispered right next to his ear, breathing icy breath down the soft curve of his neck.

"PFFFFT!"

"Dazai-san!" Atsushi shouted in surprise at the appearance of the vampire standing behind the choking redhead. "Y-you were here?!"

"Yo, Atsushi-kun~" The vampire greeted merrily, but for some reason that smiling face brought chills down the young weretiger's spine. "If you’ll excuse us, Chuuya and I will have some adult talk.”

“Hey! Put me down, shitty Dazai!” Chuuya shouted as he was thrown over his mate’s shoulder. He trashed around, but the vampire didn’t loosen his hold as he went up the stairs and disappeared into their shared bedroom.

A long silence followed.

Atsushi stared at that closed door for a long, long time before only one thought came across his mind.

Tomorrow’s training with Chuuya will be hell.

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◅ PART 1                               Main Page                              PART 3 ▻

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[thetygre]

30 Day Monster Challenge 2 - Day #2: Favorite Frankenstein

1.) Mary Shelley/Bernie Wrightson

Put simply, there’s no beating the classic. Mary Shelley’s original monster is a landmark in literature, the coalescence of an idea about monstrosity and humanity that has been developing since the dawn of civilization. Alright, so that might be a little grandiose, but the point stands; the original Frankenstein’s monster is still the best. Like Dracula, every new generation brings a new interpretation, and makes new connections to him. The monster has, through his influence on culture, succeeded in becoming the father of his own race. He is a true monster of God, a divine omen, an abstract entity that conveys the importance of man’s reaching scientific knowledge. He makes us question our limits, our humanity, and how much we as a species are meant to stretch and bend away from the natural order. And to this day, nobody has managed to quite capture that ideal perfectly.

But the late great Bernie Wrightson came pretty close. Known mostly as a comics artist, Wrightson’s version of Frankenstein is the one that comes to mind for me whenever I envision the monster. He is simultaneously majestic, horrifying, and pitiful. Built like an Olympian god with a face like a corpse. Wrightson’s work on his expressions can convey anger, sadness, and the creature’s own weariness for existence. Wrightson’s monster, to me at least, comes the closest to invoking Shelley’s description of Frankenstein’s attempt at an ubermensch, and his subsequent failure.

2.) Boris Karloff

There’s a lot to be said against Karloff’s Frankenstein. It created a pop cultural image that is ultimately at odds with Shelley’s work. The monster’s eloquent suffering is replaced with a series of moans and grunts, and his arc is ultimately threadbare. And yet, Karloff’s Frankenstein brings something absolutely essential to the Frankenstein mythos; innocence. The creature is a victim of its own creation, too powerful and too strange for this world. The damage it causes is the byproduct of its father’s meddling in things man was not meant to know. That’s a perspective we didn’t get a lot of in Shelley’s original novel, and for all that the Universal movie is different from the novel, it meshes with the novel’s morality by reminding the audience of an important message; the value of humanity. Karloff’s monster appeals to our humanity on the most basic level, that of an innocent suffering. In that, I think even Mary Shelley would be proud.

3.) Shuler Hensley

Aaaaand now we’re back to Van Helsing. Okay, legitimately? I think the Frankenstein’s monster is the best part of Van Helsing. I am dead serious. Like Castlevania’s Dracula, the monster here is an amalgam of all the different parts of Frankenstein pop culture. There’s alchemy, mad science, and body horror, but there’s also a search for humanity and a desire to find meaning in life. Also, like everything in this movie, overacting. Just some grade-A overacting. Hensley screams his lungs out shouting Byronic prose, which I always took to be a kind of fun dig at the original monster’s own flair for the overdramatic.

4.) Peter Boyle

Boyle doesn’t bring a lot to the table as the creature in Young Frankenstein. The movie is a loving parody, and it clearly derives mostly from the Universal Studios movie. And yet, there are some subtle hints of brilliance in this portrayal of the creature and Frankenstein. The Universal movie was a source, yes, but Mel Brooks also drew from the novel for his own spin. At the end of the movie, Gene Wilder’s Frankenstein departs from Shelley’s (who is also the character’s grandfather) by taking responsibility and trying to help his creation. And in turn, the creature forgives and protects Frankenstein. I know it’s all just for good fun, but when you start viewing it through the classic metaphors applied to the novel, it creates a more optimistic picture about human progress. (Plus, I’d be remiss if I didn’t include one of my favorite movies on this list.)

5.) Christopher Lee

Christopher Lee’s Frankenstein is actually the version that turned me on to the character. When I was a kid, Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein did nothing for me; he was too sad, too sympathetic to be a monster. Frankenstein’s monster was supposed to be scary to me; stitched out of corpses, with greasy black hair and dead eyes, angry at all the world. (Also dressed in a stylish black suit.) Lee’s monster delivered that to me. The moment I first saw him, I knew that this was how Frankenstein’s monster was supposed to look. Now that I’m older, I can appreciate Boris Karloff’s performance more, but I’ll still always have a fondness for my first favorite Frankenstein.

6.) Rory Kinnear

The youngest monster on this list, Rory Kinnear played Frankenstein’s monster, referred to variously as Adam or Caliban, in Showtime’s Penny Dreadful. Think a cheaper, tawdrier League of Extraordianry Gentlemen. Appearance-wise, Kinnear’s Frankenstein is... it’s- it’s not great. This show had the special effects budget of some pocket lint and the grace of God. But the character is what stood out here. Kinnear’s creature, more than any other, struggles to find his identity, to find a means to turn his monstrosity towards good. His constant failure as people use him and reject him embitters him even more against his creator, but gives him a common bond to other characters. In the show’s last season, Kinnear’s Frankenstein reunites with the family of the man who’s body was used to create him, stepping in apparently returned from the dead. And that and what happens afterward with the character are, I think, worthy additions to the Frankenstein mythos.

7.) Junji Ito’s Frankenstein

Leave it to Junji Ito to create the first truly repulsive Frankenstein. Lee’s came close, but Ito’s portrayal of the monster is nothing short of revolting. In the novel, it’s never made clear why exactly people are repulsed by the creature’s appearance; it might even have been all in the character’s perception. But Ito’s Frankenstein is simply hideous; it’s the first Frankenstein I can think of where you can imagine what he smells like, and it’s like rotting meat. The monster is imposing, too; Ito, like Wrightson, didn’t skimp on making his creature gigantic in proportion. It’s hard to feel sympathy for this creature, and it almost seems to take pleasure in the evil it commits against its creator. It’s easily the nastiest version of the monster you’ll ever meet.

8.) The King of Toyland

Like Van Helsing, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is just something I’m going to keep coming back to during this challenge. League’s Frankenstein is mentioned only in passing, making an actual appearance only as a background cameo, but what little is given might just be the most heartwarming version of the character I’ve read. After the canon events of the novel, Frankenstein’s creature wanders the Arctic Circle, despondent and immortal, unable to kill himself. In his wandering, the creature finds a land populated entirely by sentient dolls and toys, hidden in the North Pole behind a magical field. This is Toyland, from the Noddy series of English children’s novels.

The residents of Toyland are ruled over by Olympia, the automaton girl from the opera The Tales of Hoffman. The toys, instead of rejecting the creature, ask him to stay, claiming they need his strength to protect the land. The toys don’t see the creature as unnatural; to them, he is simply another misfit toy, an oversized doll. In time, the creature and Olympia fall in love and marry, and they rule as the king and queen of Toyland. The creature, at last, has found a place and a people he can call his own, somewhere where he is accepted, a purpose for his strength. And somehow, this was all written by Alan “Old Man Yelling at a Cloud” Moore, without a shred of irony or cynicism. And if you don’t think that’s the most sentimental shit in all of Frankenstein lore, then I don’t know what to tell you.

9.) The Flesh Golem

Before even Christopher Lee, the first version of Frankenstein’s monster that I really loved was the one in the 3rd Edition Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual. Well, okay, it’s not actually Frankenstein’s monster; it’s just a ‘flesh golem’. But energized by electricity, afraid of fire, made of dead men cobbled together? Come on. My older cousin used to tell me that her idea for Frankenstein’s monster was that Frankenstein ran out of human parts, and had to resort to animal material to finish the creature. Frankenstein might have the nose of a pig, or the eyes of a horse; anything to finish the work. That idea never left me, and I thought of it every time I stared at the flesh golem, taking in the metal frame and oversized claw. I remember the first time I actually read the novel, I kept drifting back to that lanky, stitched-up construct with its monster parts and lop-sided face.

10.) The Prometheans

Another tabletop rpg rendition of Frankenstein’s monster, this was a whole game built around them. Promethean: The Created was the fourth of the New World of Darkness line or Chronicles of Darkness or whatever we call it these days. In it, players took on the role of artificially created beings, filled with supernatural energy, whose very presence twisted and corrupted the world around them. Normal humans can’t stand to look at them as a supernatural field makes them immediate targets of hatred, and they are hunted by their own twisted, monstrous bretheren who want to consume their divine power. And yet, for all that, it was a fundamentally optimistic game. Promethean marked a trend in the World of Darkness line that turned away from doom and gloom towards seeking salvation. The ultimate quest of the Prometheans is to gain their humanity, and their journey is about undertaking a pilgrimage to their ultimate realization. Promethean is about personal horror, and defining one’s own humanity.

[redroseinsanity]

Tattoos - Daisuga Week 2018

Day 6 | August 25th | Wedding/Tattoos

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | 

“I’m sorry, you want what?” Daichi finds himself repeating at two bloody am on a Friday night. 

“Cocopuffs,” the most beautiful man he’s ever seen slurs, leaning on the counter and waving a wrinkled sheet of paper around, “I want Cocopuffs right here.”

And he points to his heart before taking another long sip from his water bottle that’s definitely not filled with water, silvery hair flopping into his eyes. 

Now Daichi’s used to strange customers, especially at night, but he can usually handle them. That’s why he’s on the night shift, because most troublemakers take one look at his muscular build and his level, no-nonsense gaze and they see themselves out. 

He’s even broken up a fight or three before, nearly been in a couple himself and more likely than not, seen a lot more shit than Shimizu or Asahi do in the day. 

But he’s never had to deal with someone who looks like a divine being who got lost on earth and wandered into his shop by mistake, is almost obscenely drunk and in roughly the same proportion, heartbroken about something he calls Cocopuffs. 

“Uh,” Daichi says eloquently. 

“I have to have Cocopuffs near my heart, because she’ll stay there forever,” the customer says more to himself than anything, hazel eyes fixated on nothing and rapidly becoming brighter. 

“Sir,” Daichi tries again, because he’s professional, goddamnit, “I’m not sure what exactly you want me to do, this is a shop for body art-” 

“YES!” the man shouts, eyes sparkling as though he completely forgot that he walked in here himself five minutes ago, and then covers his mouth looking rather contrite, “Sorry that was too loud, wasn’t it? I mean, yes,” he whispers. 

“I even told my kids, about Cocopuffs today, and how she-” he chokes, tears brimming alarmingly before spilling down cheeks so pale, Daichi could swear that they’re translucent. 

Resisting the urge to reach over and wipe them off with his fingers, Daichi offers tissues instead and is rewarded with a grateful, if watery, smile. He curses his pathetic little heart for speeding up at that and then forgets as the beautiful stranger sobs harder. 

“I told them she was the best hamster and I miss her so much already!” Daichi makes out from the muffled voice that wavers out from behind tissue laden hands.

“And they’re the sweetest class, I love them so much,” he lifts his face and Daichi nearly swallows his own tongue because who the hell looks like that when they’re drunk and crying their eyes out? Like a creature from myths of yore, sent to lure men to their deaths. 

Because at this point, this guy could crook a finger and Daichi would probably let himself be drowned. 

He frowns at himself, Seriously man, get a grip.

The frown is mistaken for confusion because the drunk dude scrunches his brow in a painfully adorable manner and gestures with his bottle and paper. 

“I’m a teacher,” he informs Daichi, “At a kinder- kin- At a school for small kids,” he pauses, looking pleased with himself, “And they drew me this picture of Cocopuffs so I wouldn’t be sad, see?” 

The crumpled sheet is proffered again and upon closer inspection, Daichi can make out something that looks distinctly more like a cross between a dog and lamp than a hamster. 

“So I thought, of course! I should get Cocopuffs put right here,” he motions vaguely to his chest, “So that I can show that she’s in my heart forever and I’ll be less sad.” He beams so brightly that Daichi falters, helpless in the face of this picture of desolate beauty. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he hears himself say and immediately hates himself as the smile turns into a crestfallen expression, “But I can’t do anything while you’re intoxicated, because it’s permanent. It’s a company policy and-” 

The remaining words die in his throat as a pink, slightly cracked bottom lip trembles and then an entire waterfall of tears begin cascading down silently. Daichi doesn’t know what to do but he’s nodding and he’s saying, “Okay, okay, take a seat.” 

He has no clue what he’s doing, he’s so far out of his depth here but all he knows is he doesn’t want to see this man shed another tear. Swigging again from his bottle ans humming quietly, the drunk customer flops into the seat with all the finesse of a two year old hopping on a bean bag. 

Behind him, Daichi props his hands on his hips and scans the shop as though there’ll be a sign that tells him what to do now that he’s agreed to ink a sweet but truthfully hideous picture of a dead hamster on this charmingly insane, ridiculously attractive person. 

Half an hour later finds Daichi exercising an incredible amount of self-control as he works to replicate a five year old’s rendering of Cocopuffs on a fair, slender chest that jumps erratically as the stranger chatters on about everything and nothing. 

It’s a little difficult to focus when he can feel the gorgeous customer’s heartbeat leaping through his skin, pattering at Daichi’s fingertips and tempting him to linger over the rhythm that he wants to get to know over warm days and hot tea. 

But he doesn’t do anything but work steadily on, and slowly, the rhythm slows down and evens out, as does the man’s breathing as the alcohol kicks in and he drifts off to sleep. His words fade from his lips into long breaths as he snuggles closer to his balled up hoodie. 

He doesn’t even know his name and yet, Daichi is overwhelmingly endeared by this vulnerable, effervescent being, who waltzed into the shop like a sprite from the woods and rattled Daichi’s boring world to become this terrifying explosion of colour. 

Throwing a makeshift blanket over the curled up figure, he goes back to the counter hoping no one else comes in for the night, an affectionate smile playing on his lips.  

Suga wakes up with a headache, puffy eyes and the distorted memory of an Adonis smiling at him. 

With a small moan, he pushes himself up and in the same moment, realises he’s exactly where he dreamed he was. Freezing, he slowly peers at his chest and sucks in a breath when he does. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not permanent,” he startles at the voice and lo and behold, it’s Dream Adonis, holding a bottle of water and smiling that warm smile. When Suga only blinks at him, he looks a little sheepish and rubs the back of his neck. 

Suga feels his heart get pierced by at least fifty cupid arrows, he’s hungover and in mourning, not blind and celibate, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t appreciate this vision that he’s been graced with so early in the morning. 

“Ah, you were quite distraught and insisted that you get uh, Cocopuffs over your heart,” Suga wants to crawl into the nearest dustbin and stay there until the world has forgotten about his idiocy, he’ll stay there with the trash he belongs with. 

“But you were pretty drunk and we don’t ink people who can’t sign the disclaimer form so I used some of the paints that I normally use to test out designs. It’ll wash out by the end of today.”

And Suga could kiss him right this second but he gets distracted by a thick band of intricate loops encircling an impressive bicep and his thoughts sputter and die out. 

He’s hungover, mourning his hamster and he feels like trash, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let this prize get away. 

Gazing up at Dream Adonis through his eyelashes, Suga smiles sweetly and sees him gulp. 

“Thank you so much for taking such good care of me last night” he coos, “I’m lucky I was in such good hands, you really saved me from doing something I’d really regret.”

He takes the water, taking care to graze knuckles with light fingers and feels electricity run through his body. 

Tilting his head in an angle he knows makes his throat look irresistible, he takes a moment to regroup and then he leans in, offers a hand. 

“I have a feeling I’d like to get to know you better,” he lets his eyes wander before his lips curve up so sinfully that he sees the other man’s eyes widen, “A lot better.”

“But let’s start with this: I’m Suga. Care to join me for breakfast?”

[bigbenalpha]

I’ve been DMing, session 5

The D&D session this evening (08/22/18) was pretty loot-centric. No fights happened but there was still a dangerous development. This recap is slightly long but it's a good read if I do say so. **WARNING** might be scary

A few more bodies were found in the flooded cellar, but they were genuinely dead. The party found healing potions and antitoxins in the cellar, coin and many useful items that once belonged to the zombies. The ghost's body was discovered - it was the zombie that was missing its legs. Her daughter and son were two of the bodies from inside the cellar. The party made a pyre and burned all the corpses. They decided to check out the cave where the stream flowed out to fill the cistern. This is where the Drow came out according to the goblins.

Inside they discovered a large cavern with many types of mushrooms, some edible and some that glowed faintly. There were also many clusters of glowing crystals and a strange trail of something on the cavern floor that seemed like room temperature ice. It was the hardened slime trail of a flail snail. Luckily the snail wasn't around but several party members knew that the trail, once hardened, could be harvested and melted down and used like glass. It would fetch a good price from the right people at market. Back outside, a locket and a strange metal object was found in the ashes of one of the dead kids. Right about where the stomach should be. The locket was a cameo that matched the family portrait in the farmhouse and the object... maybe was a key to the lightning chest?

A few of the party took the ashes and skulls of the ghost and her kids to the small family cemetery and laid them to rest by the grave of her husband, placing the cameo in his gravestone. Back at the house, the object was indeed the key to the chest. even more coin and loot was found. But first a magic mirror in the lid showed the party a quick montage of the many people who tried to pick the lock. The first was a goblin being forced to do it by a Drow then a series of random people who seemed like bandits or adventures, maybe a hapless teen who talked his pals into partying in the haunted house. Most of those people were clearly killed by the lightning trap. Then there was hideous, green woman with greasy black hair and gnarled hands. The lightning slammed her hard and seemingly fried her left eye. As she crawled away the mirror returned to normal. When the party returned to the great room of the farm house they felt the temperature drop like when the ghost confronted them in the windmill. They saw the lady working at her stove while her kids sat the kitchen table. The front door opened and the husband walked in. The party were only able to hear the faintest whispers from the family and they all ran together and embraced. Right before the vision faded the woman looked at the party and smiled.

The party loaded up the slightly recovered hostages and the stolen loot onto the farm's rickety wagon and donkey cart (which were going to have to be pulled by the big beefy party members). Storm clouds had gotten thicker in the sky. Useful things were harvested from the ankheg and giant wolf spiders, then they were thrown onto another pyre with the bodies of the Drow, goblins and chitines. As they reached the edge of the wheat fields lightning struck the windmill and farmhouse. The fires quickly spread and the old grains in the mill exploded. As the party picked up their pace and fled into the forest and the road back to the caravan the fire spread to the fields.

Also in the chest was a journal. The ghost's name was Willofred Hargrove, wife of Yusef, mother of Henry and Susan. The ghost and the family portrait she her having long, raven-black hair, as do her children. She was a wizard and she and her husband were adventures who finally came back home to take over his family's farm. They were joined by two dwarf fiends and a halfling. About fifty years ago the town of Fair grove was caught in a turf war between hill and fire giants. Yusef was in town and died. The town wasn't completely destroyed and many people kept living there but it was pretty much done. Then another series of bad things begin to happen. Crops failed, farm animals and elderly folk were struck down by a mysterious malady, children began to act up and do destructive things. The final event was shocking - a young mother threw her newborn twins over a waterfall and killed her husband. She was raving that it was really the fault of the Queen Bee or the Green Bee and she took her own life a few days later. Willofred suspected that a green hag was at large in the area and began to take steps to protect the area from her. Then Henry and Susan went missing. That was the last entry.

Back at the caravan the hostages were all reunited and their stolen items returned. The party were congratulated and many tales were told over the campfires. As the evening drew to a close Baba Sarya told that party that had seen in her cards that a heavy cloud hung over that farm and the party had disrupted something. She told them all to stay close to the fires or sleep inside if they could. Everyone went to bed and fell into a well earned sleep, and they dreamed.

They all dreamed the same thing, but they were each alone in their dreams. The awoke from a nap, on a couch, the tears they shed when they cried themselves to sleep were dried on their cheeks. They were back in the farmhouse, clean and well-kept. Their spellbook and various implements of craft were on the coffee table. None of the scryings had shown the location of Henry or Susan. They stood up and straightened their dress, the potions that were cooking on the stove were ready to be bottled and stored. They loaded up the bottles which felt weightless compared to how heavy their heart was. They made their way to through the fields, past the windmill and down the path to the cellar. Odd, the door was open and one of the oil lamps was burning. Maybe one of the farm hands had forgotten to close up properly. They set the potion bottles on the shelves that were full of many home-canned foods. They hear a sound even though in the dream there aren't really any sounds. They turn and see their children standing in the cellar door. They run to them, silently shouting their names but they don't respond. They look up with dead eyes and pestilent mouths. The door slams closed and the children pounce. The lights go out and they tumble in the darkness, every bite just feels frozen and empty.

When the lights come back the party members are themselves again, but so very young. They're reliving a shameful episode from their pasts. Maybe they were grown when it happened bu the dream they're kids. They're being slapped around by bigger kids they half remember and grown-ups are watching and letting it happen. The worthless little shit deserves that and more after doing a rotten thing like that. maybe some of the adults are people from the caravan. They finally get free of the crowd and head deeper into the house. Is it a house? Did all that really happen here? Somewhere a baby is crying and maybe... pigs are eating at a trough? They wander down a long hall, things seem familiar but not. The crying and eating sounds get louder. A woman is humming an oddly happy tune. They go in the room where the singing, crying and eating are coming from. The ceiling seems so high and all the furniture has strange, drawn-out proportions. Two dark-haired kids are sitting at a table eating dinner. A woman with long black hair is sitting with her back to them, sewing and singing. You can tell now that two babies are crying somewhere in front of the woman. She sings:

"You must be my lucky star 'Cause you shine on me wherever you are (SNAP! baby screams) I just think of you and I start to glow 'Cause I need your light and baby you know" (SNAP! baby screams)

They don't want to get closer but they can't help it.

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight"

They're right beside her and she turns suddenly. It's the hideous green hag with a patch on her left eye.

"I see you! I know what you did! Maw-Maw Sugar knows!"

On the table in front of her are two screaming newborns. She's twisted one of their legs around and sewn it onto their backs. Their heads are at an unnatural angle. They flip over onto their remaining leg and to hands and crawl to the edge of the table. The party members jump back and bump something. This gets the attention of the two black haired kids who stop eating their mother and get up. Maw-Maw Sugar cackles. ^They party realizes they're in the windmill. Here's where things diverge in the dream.

Half the party get scared and run, half stay and fight. The fighters become their adult selves and have their weapons. They swing at the hag but she floats out of reach. The zombies and the baby things move in. The fight goes up the stairs as the the hag cackles and the windmill catches fire.

The ones who run go outside into the wheat field, which stretches on forever. The zombie kids and baby things give chase. From up above they hear the hag cackling. They turn to see her circling overhead, riding a flaming scarecrow. She swoops down and grabs them in her giant hand and pulls them to her face.

"I know what you did and I'm gonna find you! And Maw-Maw sugar is gonna EAT! YOU! UP!" Her face is covered with bees and she pulls the patch away from her eye revealing a terrifying, fanged maw. She crams them. In the mill the fight stops when the fire engulfs the stairs and they fall into nothing. Everybody wakes up, not at all rested. and that's where we stopped. PREVIOUS         NEXT

[shinyzango]

Schadenfreude

laptop-tippy submitted:

*fanfare* The thing you’ve been waiting for! It’s big! It’s mean! It’s a fic that should never have been done and it’s a nightmare of epic proportions!

Seriously though this is 2347 words and I think it got worse as it went along but here it is. I’m gonna be lazy for the rest of the day now - Tippy

ZANGO’S NOTE: OK This fic gets very dark in the second half, but it’s too well written to not post it. So here’s a warning for you all who want to read this: this shit gets dark and will hurt you.

A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, disturbing the calm peace of the forest for the briefest moment. The stars twinkled harmlessly above, the moon’s silver glow a halo on the tree tops and glittering across the water. An owl’s call echoed in the vastness of the branches.

Yet he moon’s tender light was drowned out by the bonfire’s furious roar, orange light dancing across the shadowy tree line and throwing jagged shadows across their bark. Crack after crack, another tree fell victim to the blade of an ax and toppled to the forest floor, wickedly sharp blades chopping off limbs and tossed them into the ever growing blaze. Hideous, mad cackles howled in the night, their eyes glowing and fur haloed in the fire’s light as they circled their hand made clearing. All that was left was a pair of trees stripped of their branches.

The sound of clanging steel brought another wave of laughter among the horde, the mice toppling over one another in their twisted mirth at their personal entertainment. Chains wrapped around the barren trunks dug into the bark, jingling like bells on a string. A mighty yank pulled the links taut, but was fruitless aside from shaking the once imposing pines. The dull, rusted grey of steel clashed against the bright reds and greens of the wrist they wrapped around, scuffing the once pristine design. Wide, panicked honey brown eyes leered dangerously at dirty paws and sharpened steel that wandered too close, jerking against the binds that held his arms outstretched.

Dirty, knotted and leaf filled red hair fell out of the bun she had tied it back into and into her eyes as she writhed in the mouse’s grip. His grimy paws were firm around her upper arms as she hissed and kicked,“Let me go! Let me go!” The filthy rodent merely laughed down his snout at her pathetic strength and held her still, nails cutting into her skin.

Her brown eyes snapped a furious leer towards one of the mice as his grabby paws wandered too close to the frightened soldier and she jerked in the mouse’s grip,“Don’t you dare touch him!” Her angry yelling raised even more cackling from the swarm, their glowing eyes switching between their captive audience and chained jester.

One of them, a mouse so large he was better defined as a rat, leaned in close to her face, baring his crooked and yellowing teeth in a twisted grin,“Aw, how cute.” A massive paw cups her chin, raising her eyes to his,“The lass thinks she’s brave!” The horde giggled in wicked delight as she struggled against him; the rat, keeping his paw under her chin, turned his attention towards the swarm,“Why, I think she’s gonna take us on! All by herself!” The mice positively howled in a cacophony of mockery, their eyes glowing with amusement as her face burned.

She yanked harder against his grip, yet he clenched his filthy hand around her face, fingers digging into her cheeks,“It’d be such a shame, though, to see such a pretty lass,” The rat dragged his nails down her face, and as thin red lines trailed down her cheeks his sneer stretched wider, eyes blazing in the golden light,“Have what makes her so pretty be mangled beyond recognition, wouldn’t it boys?” The mice around them snickered and cackled as she cringed, tears in her eyes.

Their wild cacophony fell silent as steel clanged and wood groaned, wooden shoes stepping heavily in their direction,“Don’t touch her!”

The grin on the rat’s face fell and the wild light in his eyes dulled as he leaned away from her. Boredly, he cast a look over his shoulder,“Do ya mind, boyo? We’re havin’ a conversation ‘ere.” Snickers and giggles rose around them, their attention back to their strung up jester.

The light of the barely controlled bonfire behind his back cast a golden halo about his body as he stood with legs spread, the chains about his wrists stretching his arms behind him. Golden brown eyes flicked nervously across the cackling horde, swallowing at their mirthful sneers and blazing eyes before narrowing at the rat,“I said don’t touch her. Because if you do,” Lips lifted and bared sharp teeth in a furious snarl,“I’ll-”

“What? You’ll what lad? Come ‘nd bite me like an animal? ’M pretty sure that’s for us, boyo.” The rat smiles smugly as the swarm howled once more and watched as the Nutcracker’s bravado quickly crumbled. He waved a paw dismissively,“After all, me 'n the lass were just havin’ a pleasant conversation,” Another twisted sneer lifted the rat’s lips as he leaned down, lifting her face back up,“Weren’t we, lass?”

Clara merely gives him a disgusted grimace and spit in his face. Yet the rat remained unfazed, his grimy paw dropping from her chin and wiping his cheek,“Aw lass, ye didnae hafta do that for little old me. I’m not important enough for such a curtsy. But the King, oohh the King,” His wicked grin stretched wider, eyes glowing with delight as her expression dropped,“He’d probably love somethin’ like that.”

“NO!” Hans yanked himself forward with burning honey brown eyes, chains rattling loudly and barren trunks creaking dangerously while wooden shoes trenched the dirt. Tiny flecks of paint danced in the soft breeze and were quickly incinerated by the blazing heat,“DON’T YOU DARE!”

The rat rolled his eyes, once again leaning back and returning his attention to the wooden soldier with an irritated sigh,“Can’t ye see we’re busy, ya crackhead?” When he received no answer the mouse fully turned away from her and stormed towards the soldier. Hans met the rat’s fury with a cold glare, hands fisted behind him as he bared his teeth.

The rat merely sneered and backhanded the man across the jaw,“Cannae get a sliver of peace from you tonight.” He muttered as he rubbed his paw. The force knocked the soldier back a pace, his ornate hat toppling to the ground. It was quickly scooped up by the sniggering horde and tossed about, a toy in their new game.

The rat ignored the cackling mob and snatched the Nutcracker by the chin,“Ye got too much bloody spunk in ya, boyo.” The man snarled, sharp teeth glinting in the orange light, yet the mouse continued to stare down at him with a brow raised, filthy nails scraping against his face,“I think,” The rat snapped his fingers, attention shifting to another mouse standing next to the bonfire,“That ya need ta be taken down a few notches.”

The rat’s eyes burned in wicked delight in the fire’s rampant blaze and Hans’ furious expression dropped, honey brown eyes widening. A golden streak of light flashed across the mouse’s flea bitten and scarred snout as he sneered,“Let’s see 'ow much of a choppin’ it takes to cut you down ta size.”

Brown eyes widened, horrified tears streaking down her reddening cheeks as she writhed in fervor,“NO!”

Her screeching did nothing to stop the mouse’s intent, and the ax’s blade met the soldier’s back with a deafening crack. Wood chipped and splintered as a ragged gasp tore from his throat and he arched away, yet could not escape while the horde howled and cheered. The orange blaze shimmered off the steel’s edge and another strike came with a hollow thunk, the chains jerking and jingling with a choked grunt.

Clara’s screaming was drowned out by the mad cackling and jeering of the swarm, their eyes alight with glee as their jester struggling when the ax cracked against his back. Honey brown eyes flittered about, teeth clenched tightly and bared wildly as wooden shoes trenching the earth. The blade’s wicked edge carved through the soldier in slow, measured strokes, chunks of candy red wood clattering to the ground in careless enjoyment.

Filthy claws drew droplets of crimson that trickled down her arms in her violent struggling,“STOP! STOP IT! YOU’RE KILLING HIM! YOU’RE KILLING HIM STOP!”

The massive rat waved a hand with a smirk, gesturing towards the raging inferno vague. The mouse wielding the ax halted it’s descent; yellow eyes glanced behind him, catching the fire’s glow as devilish intent stretched a grin across it’s maw. The mouse quickly darted off and the man sagged, breaths haggard. The rat looked over his shoulder with a shrug,“Killin’ 'im? Nah, we’re just havin’ a bit a fun, right boys?” He grins wickedly when the mice giggle and snicker and a filthy paw grabs the soldier by the head and pulls it up to face him,“Besides, from the looks of 'im he could take on quite a bit more,” Sharp teeth bare as filthy nails scrape down wood, small tears twinkling in honey brown eyes,“Don’t'cha think, lass?”

Clara shook her head with wide eyes, red hair thrashing,“NO! STOP IT PLEASE!”

The rat’s eyes gleamed in the orange light and he glanced over his shoulder,“Aw, come on lass. We’re jus’ doin’ our job.” He looked back to the man and dropped his head. The soldier glared hatefully, growling under his breath as the rat stepped back. Honey brown eyes glanced over to the woman as he offered a weak smile,“After all,” An evil grin spread across the rat’s snout,“We’re supposed to..discourage any rebellin’ against our king,”

The red hot blade of a battle ax reared it’s angry head, stark against the star filled void of the night sky.

“Aren’t we lads?”

The ax cracked against the soldier’s ruined back, and instantly wood crackled and burned under the intense heat. Golden brown eyes widen and the man’s back arches sharply as a horrendous scream tears from his throat, echoing through the dark shadows of the forest surrounding them. The swarm roars with laughter as red steel was ripped from the blackening slash and chopped into another section of candy red paint, jarring another agonized howl as wood sizzled and charred.

Red hair was tangled about dirty paws in an effort to keep brown eyes watching, her screams lost to the horde’s wild cackling. Crack after crack, wood burned and sizzled under the wickedly sharp blade’s heat and ripped tormented howls from the soldier’s chest. His screams lost intensity as the blade slowly cooled into burgundy, yet still carved into his wooden skin with ease. The burning blade is torn from his back once more, an exhausted groan grinds over his overused voice before golden eyes roll back, chains pulling taut as his head dropped and body sagged.

The rat sneered,“Aw, looky 'ere lads,” His muck covered paw grasped the man’s shoulder, giving it a shake,“Little soldier boy 'ere is down fer the count!” Cackles raise from the swarm of filth and glowing eyes as their jester rattles harmlessly,“Seems like we pulled a good job, then eh?” Cheers wash across the horde and the rat stands up, grinning madly,“Then let’s be goin’! To the castle wit’ ya, ye bilge rats! I'v seen enough o’ ya ta last me a lifetime!” Eyes glow and crooked teeth flash as laughter and cheers echo in the dead of night.

“Hey,” The mouse’s raspy voice reaches her ears just above the cacophonous noise,“What about her?”

The rat merely glances down his snout at the red haired woman before turning away,“Leave 'er wit ’m. If the lass was that much trouble wit’ you then there’s no reason to bring 'er to the King. He prefers 'is woman a little less,” He grins wickedly, brow raised,“Spirited.”

Sharp, dirty nails scrape spitefully across her skin as the mouse drops her without a second thought. She crashes to her knees, quickly scrambling away from the mice, who watch her with filthy sneers.

“Go on, love. 'Ave fun.” They cackle and turn away, leaving her on the ground to follow the horde as it slowly merged with the shadows of the forest. Wide, tear filled brown eyes snap to the soldier’s lifeless body, and she quickly gets to her feet and rushes across the clearing.

“Hans!” The man hardly stirs when small hands clasp his cheeks. Dark steel untangles easily under thin fingers and clatter to the ground; without the brace of the chains the man falls forwards and into her embrace. Crying, she lowers him to his knees, his head falling against her shoulder lifelessly,“Hans, please. Hans…wake up..” Her hands carefully reach for his destroyed back and jolt away when blackened wood crumbled under her touch. Her sobbing increases as she clutches his waist,“Hans…Hans…I’m so sorry….”

Her breath hitches and eyes widen when a soft groan reaches her ears, his face slowly turning into the crook of her neck. Large wooden hands shakily lift and cup her back,“C..Cla..ra…?”

She clutches him tighter,“Y-yes Hans?”

“D…Did th-they…hurt..you..?”

Sobs wrench at her throat,“No..no Hans they didn’t hurt me but…b-but Hans, you-”

His arms tighten around her,“I c-could feel…it…all of it….”

Another wave of tears burn her red eyes,“H-Hans..?”

“I-I can f-feel pain, Clara. I’m not…..I’m not a….”

“No, Hans, you’re not. You’re a person.” Carefully, she leans her forehead against his shoulder, drops streaking across the dust covered paint,“You’re a person, Hans…”

“…….Clara…”

She hiccups softly,“Y-yes Hans?”

“…It hurts….It hurts so much Clara!” Burning tears trickle down her neck and his grip on her tightens, teeth baring as he choked back sobs,“Clara it hurts!”

A hand reaches up, fingers softly stroking through tangled black hair as she turns her face into the crook of his wooden neck, muffling her own ragged voice,“I know Hans….I know.”

The empty silence of the night was broken by the roar of the slowly dying bonfire, orange light casting a halo across the wooden soldier’s mangled and charred back, his broken cries muffled by the woman’s neck and witnessed by the ever watchful eye of the full moon.

[the-redamancist]

enemies to lovers!kim jaehwan

genre: fluff

word count: 1.8k

note: this is barely an enemies-to-lovers au lmao; it’s more like bickering-classmates-to-possible-date-partner au rip

kim jaehwan’s name is one that is commonly mentioned amongst the music majors, mostly words of praise regarding his ‘heavenly’ voice and ‘phenomenal’ piano skills

you, for the most part, had brushed off these conversations, simply because you have never had a class with said student before

but fate works in funny ways, and it just so happens that you and jaehwan are in the same music composition class in the last year of your course

being in the same class as kim jaehwan is, put simply, a test of one’s patience

patience that you didn’t have a lot of

you had hoped to end your last months of college in a relatively subdued environment, but as the days started to pass, you began to realise that there was no way your classes with jaehwan are ever going to be peaceful

during the classes when you have to work on a group project, all you can hear is his loud voice from across the room, passionately singing a song about broccoli or something random that he made on the spot

his ability to conjure up songs on the spot is impressive, but you would also like to work on your own music in peace, thank you

and that’s how you started referring to jaehwan as ‘that one loud dude in comp’, and to be honest, your impression of him has never been top notch, purely because you thought of him as a bit of distraction from your own work

to say that you and jaehwan are enemies at this stage is a bit of an overstatement though, purely because the two of you don’t even know each other that well

it all changed, however, when the professor announced one day that for the end of semester festival, the class would be split into groups, and each group would have to come up with a self-composed 5-minute performance

it just happened to be that you and jaehwan were chosen into the same group

the composition would take up approximately 45% of your final mark for the semester, and as someone who has almost always excelled in your studies, you were pumped and ready to go

by the next class, you had a full-blown plan written up, suggesting to your group that the piece should be done at least a fortnight before the festival so that you could practice

and the other members, including jaehwan, easily agreed to it

when it came down to what kind of song you were going to work on, however, things took a different turn

you quickly noticed that jaehwan and you had completely opposing ideas when it came to the piece

whilst you wanted to compose something upbeat and lively, jaehwan wanted to work on a ballad; when you thought a piano riff would be most suitable for a part, he thought using a guitar was more fitting

by the end of the class, you were both beyond annoyed, and left without saying another word to each other

the next couple of weeks was like hell to you

jaehwan and you continued to argue about the song, alternating from lyrics to instrumental

almost every class left you impossibly drained from the mini arguments with him, and if it weren’t for the large proportion of marks that the project took up, you were ready to give up

a few weeks into the project, you discovered that not only did the two of you disagree on topics regarding your project song, but also on what seemed like every aspect of life, and almost every class was filled with your endless bickering

‘who wears a woollen jumper with sweatpants?’

‘,,,jaehwan you’re literally wearing a neon orange jacket don’t come for me’

your groupmates, despite wanting to finish the song as soon as possible, were glad that your remarks at each other were, for the most part, harmless

one day, you noticed that jaehwan looked a little worse for wear when he walked into class, but didn’t think much of it

it wasn’t until you made a light jab at how hideous his phone case was, that he suddenly lashed out, forcing a ‘why do you care’ through his teeth before grabbing his books and abruptly leaving the classroom

you chalked it down to him being in a bad mood, and even though something didn’t sit right with you, you ignored it and continued to work on the song

you became alarmed, however, when jaehwan didn’t attend the next class

and the next

days later, jaehwan has missed all 4 composition classes, and after the initial annoyance, your group was starting to freak out, because the festival was approaching fast, and with the song only half-finished, it was crucial that all group members were present

as for you, not only were you worried about the project, but deep down, you were also a little concerned for jaehwan

sitting in class, you began to miss the squabbles that you had with him, and even though you used to find his constant singing during class annoying, you started to feel that without him, the class felt too quiet

but the two of you were still so unfamiliar with each other that you felt that it wasn’t appropriate for you to check up on him; it wasn’t until you wanted to call him that you discovered that you didn’t even have his number

things dragged on for a few more days, and finally, on the ninth jaehwan-less class you’ve had, you decided that enough was enough, and pulled aside hwang minhyun, who you recognised as one of jaehwan’s close friends

and to be honest, you were ready for all the excuses in the world

an incurable disease? his dog ate all of his underwear and he couldn’t leave the house? 

you had thought of so many possibilities, but no longer being able to afford tuition definitely came as a shocker to you

‘his parents don’t support the whole music scene that jaehwan dreams of,’ minhyun had told you solemnly, ‘and he has to work in order to afford the tuition and living expenses, but he got fired last week’

after thinking back for a bit, you came to the conclusion that the day that he acted abnormally was most likely the day that he got fired

your conversation with minhyun also got you to think about your family, and the vast amount of support they had offered when you told them that you wanted to pursue music

not having the encouragement from your family was almost impossible for you to imagine, and you suddenly felt very sorry for jaehwan, who was going through god knows what right now

the next day, after trying to persuade yourself that you simply don’t want to fail the project, you called a few friends, and after some asking around, found that there was a position available at the local library

with that information in hand, you then went to minhyun, and after reassuring him that you weren’t going to rob jaehwan, was able to get him to give you your missing classmate’s address

you’ve got everything planned out, and was so ready to talk to jaehwan

until you were standing outside his door, rethinking all of your life decisions after pressing the doorbell

was this appropriate? is it weird that you have his address before his phone number? would he think that you’re a stalker?

in the midst of your thoughts, the door had opened, and on the other side stood kim jaehwan in all his glory, looking like he hadn’t slept in days

your visit definitely came as a big surprise to him, if the way his mouth dropped was anything to go by, and you could do nothing but offer a small smile at his shocked expression

a few minutes later, you’re perched on jaehwan’s couch, eyes wandering the tiny apartment as he went to get you water

the place was very small, and unlike his loud nature, the apartment was barely decorated, with the walls bare and dull

it was only then that you were reminded that jaehwan is still a struggling college student chasing for a dream that was deemed impossible by others

after mustering up some courage, you cleared your throat, looking up at him, who had just placed the glass of water in front of you

before you could say anything, however, jaehwan beat you to it

‘sorry for just disappearing on you guys; things haven’t been going well for me recently, and i just don’t have enough motivation to go back to class right now’

he ran a tired hand through his hair, and your resolve to get the boy in front of you back onto his feet inflated 

‘i heard from minhyun about what happened’

any tiredness on his face was instantly replaced with alarm, and you quickly continued, fearing that he would get the wrong idea

‘and i want to help you. a friend of mine knows a place that is offering a job and-’

‘if you’re doing this out of pity, don’t’

his statement threw you off, and in the process of formulating a response, you started to question your own motive

were you really only doing this because you’re being a good classmate, or because you just wanted to get a good grade?

‘it’s not pity; i just want to help you,,,,,,,,,,,and i’m maybe a little worried about you’

the last part was muttered under your breath, but the sudden shit-eating grin that jaehwan was wearing told you that he had heard every word

and that, was when the two of you became friends

weeks later, it was finally the day of the project performance, and sitting backstage, you were almost drowning in nerves

after your visit to jaehwan’s apartment, he had taken up your offer of working at the library, and started attending his classes again

you were happy that he was able to return to normal, but right now, all you could think about is the performance, and what would happen if anything went wrong

amongst your worries, you heard the announcement for your group to go on stage, and taking a deep breath, you turned your attention to your groupmates, who looked as nervous as you

‘we can do this, right?’ you asked, forcing a smile on your features

after a brief group cheer, you turn to follow the rest of your group on stage, but was stopped when someone tapped you on the shoulder

turning around, you had no time to process what was happening as you were pulled into a searing kiss

a forehead pressed against yours, and you opened your eyes as a familiar voice spoke up, sounding confident as ever

‘we can do this’

and with that, you were turned back around, facing the brightly lit stage once again

all your worries were thrown to the back of your mind, and as you stepped onto the platform, only one thought remained 

you’ve fucking got this

[thedefinitionofbts]

In Your Eyes

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader ft. the rest of BTS

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Drabble

Words: 2.5K

Description: Jungkook is not adept at interacting with girls, especially not ones he’s been crushing on for years. 

A/N: Because I really needed this after all the Jungkook angst. 

“Doing 10 more reps is not going to make you feel any better you know.”

Jungkook grunts, before placing the weight back on the rack. 

“You’ve been at it for hours. Take a break man.” Seokjin takes another sip from his water bottle, using the towel draped over his shoulder to wipe the trickle of sweat that’s started to run down from his forehead.

It had only been a couple of weeks ago that Seokjin started dragging the younger male along with him to the gym. He thought it’d take more convincing, but the mention of girls being attracted to fit guys was all it took to get Jungkook off the couch he’s been playing video games on for the past few months. He didn’t expect Jungkook to become this obsessed with weight training, didn’t think the nerd had it in him, but boy was he wrong. 

“I’m this close to hitting my goal body fat percentage.” Jungkook sits up from the bench and grabs his usual blend of protein powder and mineral water, biceps twitching as he lifts the bottle to pour the liquid down his throat.

“Don’t tell me you’re already treating this like gaming stats.”

“You need to have goals in your life.” 

“What’s the point? You don’t even take shirtless post-workout selfies.” Seokjin turns to face the mirror and begins stretching, admiring his self-proclaimed perfect face in the process. “And if you think your newly developed muscles are going to just translate over to your nonexistent social skills, I have some bad news for you bro.” 

“I just want to see improvement ok?” Jungkook defends, walking over to the next station. 

“You seriously think I don’t know the real reason you’re pushing yourself so hard?” Seokjin glances over to eye the sweaty boy who’s now moved on to legs. “You literally hid behind a bush when you saw her walking towards you last week.”

“I was still in my sweaty gym clothes!” Jungkook exclaims, as if it could pass as an excuse. 

“And what about the time you kept laughing after everything she said, even when it wasn’t meant to be funny?

“I was nervous.”

“When are you not when you’re around her?”

Jungkook doesn’t have a response to that. He knows Seokjin knows. There’s no point in hiding the fact that he’s harbored a crush on you since he saw you walking down the halls for the first time in high school.

“Do you want me to just talk to her for you?”

“What the hell? No!” Jungkook snaps back. “I mean, what would you even say?”

“Umm, hey Y/N, I have a friend who’s a couple years younger than both you and I. You know that kid who’s super awkward around new people and especially you because he’s had a huge crush on you for years now. So…you interested in going on a date with him?” Seokjin cracks up, unrestrained windshield wiper laugh reverberating through the gym making some annoyed heads turn.

“Fuck off” Jungkook mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

“Remind me why we’re friends?”

“Because I’m in the same year as her, and you kept asking me for updates when I left for college and you were still stuck in high school.”

Jungkook groans, he knew that decision would come back to haunt him, but he just couldn’t help himself back then could he?

 …

 “Dude” Taehyung sighs. “Just ask her out. The worst she can say is no.” He proceeds to pick up his controller after stuffing a hand full of chips into his mouth, talking mid-chew with eyes still glued to the screen.

“I can’t. It’ll crush every dream I’ve ever had.” Jungkook tilts his head up and squeezes his eyes shut. “And not in that way! You know what I mean!” He quickly adds before Taehyung’s eccentric mind can run off to god knows where. 

“You’re acting like her rejecting you is the end of the world.” The older male huffs, leaning back on the couch the two of them were huddled on. 

“It is!” Jungkook cries, burying his face in his hands.  

Taehyung shakes his head. “You’re so whipped. Just look at yourself. Training your ass off with Seokjin, wearing clothes you used to hate just because you think she might like guys who dress fancy.” Taehyung stops playing and turns to Jungkook. “Name brands were always my thing.”

“I borrowed that weird patterned shirt one time!” Jungkook exasperates, recalling how hideous he thought it was; yet still forcing himself to throw it on despite it not being his preferred style. “You’re never going to let it go are you?”

“It was Gucci!” Taehyung exasperates, making a clearly offended face.

 …

 “The way you literally choke on your words every time you try to say hi to her, does not match all of this.” Jimin gestures towards Jungkook’s perfectly proportioned body.

“What?” Jungkook crossed his arms defensively, making his practically see through white button up crinkle near the chest area.  

Jimin huffs a shortened laugh. “In case you actually don’t own a mirror-which sometimes I question if you do, you’re fucking hot.” Jimin’s voice echoes throughout the empty dance studio. He’s stopped stretching his legs and has begun examining his own hair in the mirror, running a hand through his soft locks and making sure they look on point like always.

The door to the studio opens and a sleepy Hoseok walks in. “All I heard is ‘you’re fucking hot’, and I don’t want to know the context.” He says as he drops his bag and begins changing into more comfortable shoes.  

“Hobi! You’re late.” Jimin accuses.  

“I worked an overnight shift.” The older male responds, letting out a long exhale before starting his routine warm-up.

“I see you’re back to Timberlands” Hoseok comments as he eyes Jungkook’s boots, clearly remembering Namjoon’s comment on how the boy is recently changing up his sense of fashion.

“I-I never moved on from them,” Jungkook says feeling a bit embarrassed as he looks down at his favorite pair of shoes. He knew he was going to be in the dance studio all day, so there was no need to dress to impress because he wouldn’t be seeing anyone (especially not you) except Hoseok and Jimin.

“He only dresses up when there’s a chance to run into you know who.” Jimin blurts out, causing the youngest male to run up and tackle him.

“Who? Y/N?” Hoseok asks raising a brow, interest sparked for the first time since he got out of bed today.

“Yeah, he thinks it’ll get her to notice him.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook whines.

“Hey, I wasn’t finished yet. I was about to add how unnecessary it is when you look good in everything anyways.“ Jimin flashes him an angelic smile, making Jungkook loosen his hold on him.  

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been acting so weird lately.” Hoseok comes to realization. “Can’t blame you though, she’s really pretty and like what, 3 years older?”

“Almost 4” Jimin corrects.

Jungkook feels like he wants to crawl into a hole and never come out. Why were his friends like this? God, he shouldn’t have been so obvious about his crush on you, but he was never good at hiding his true feelings, especially not when his hyungs were all so observant. 

 …

  “Namjoon?” Jungkook begins to ask. “You think you could help me, uh, compose a song or something?”

Namjoon glances up from his laptop. “Yeah, sure. But can I ask why you suddenly want to do something I’ve been trying to spark your interest in for ages?”

“Oh no reason, just I, uh, wanted to, I mean…I-I like music?” Jungkook mentally curses for being so non-covert.

Namjoon chuckles lightly. “You want to write a song for Y/N right?” Namjoon grins, hitting the target and getting straight to the point.

“I-I….yeah…I guess that’s what I was considering.” Jungkook admits.

“Of course I’ll help, but you should probably allow her to get to know you before gifting her a random love song.” Namjoon laughs again. “That might just scare her off.”

“Y-yeah, I’m working on that.” Jungkook knows he’s hopeless. He’ll never gather the courage to actually talk to you, not when he’s barely able to look you in the eye when he’s attempting to just say hi. “I’m just bad at expressing my feelings or just talking to girls in general.”

Namjoon smiles warmly, dimples forming on the sides of his cheeks. “Honestly though, the best way is to just be yourself.” He encourages. “I’m sure she’ll find a lot of things about you to be charming.”

  …

  Jungkook’s never been one to strike up random conversations with strangers, but he figures Yoongi was just giving him a chance to practice honing his social skills. That is, until he sees you walking into the coffee shop. He immediately diverts his eyes, training his gaze onto the cars passing by outside and hoping that you’re not actually walking towards their table.

Yoongi didn’t mention who the person joining you guys was, and he prays his horrible instincts are being their normal horrible selves and that you won’t-

“Yoongi!”

This can’t be happening.

“Y/N!” Jungkook can practically see the signature half-smile plastered on Yoongi’s face, but no, he refuses to turn and acknowledge the reality of the situation.

No, this is not happening. Maybe if he closes his eyes-

“You’re Jungkook, right?” He hears the sweet melody of a females voice drift to his ears.

Fuck.

“H-h-hi” Jungkook says, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Glad you could make it, Y/N.” Yoongi says, smiling as if nothing was wrong, and pretending like this was the most natural situation he could’ve thrown the youngster in, and not purposefully set up at all. “I wanted to officially introduce the two of you. I know you’ve already met, but-”

Yoongi’s phone vibrates before he can finish. Jungkook watches intently as the male looks down and checks the message. “Oh, looks like Namjoon janked up the microwave again. I gotta go fix that shit before the guy starves or burns down the apartment trying to cook.” Yoongi puts on a fake sad face.

Yoongi can’t be leaving. Jungkook’s eyes widen in horror.

“You guys don’t mind if I head out right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest but you reply before he has the chance to.

“Oh yeah, you go ahead. We’ll be fine.” You smile at Jungkook who glances at you shyly before fixing his large doe-eyes back on the empty table in front of him.

Yoongi sighs. “The guy has an IQ of a genius, but he’s a total klutz.”

Jungkook hears you laugh, but he’s sweating so much he wonders why the fucking AC in the shop feels like it’s turned off when it’s actually on full blast.  

 …

 “So you’re a college freshman now, right?” You turn to Jungkook after Yoongi leaves, trying to focus on creating a lighter mood. You’ve always known he was the extremely introverted type, someone who takes a while to open up.

“Y-yeah, starting soon, classes starting-” You giggle at the way he squeezes his eyes shut and mutters something under his breathe when his sentence doesn’t come out coherently.

“Hey, well congrats on surviving high school.” You still remember seeing him in the hallways back then, the scrawny kid who would look away every time you waved at him. You had asked Seokjin about it, but the older male just said he was a shy one. Seeing him act the same way now was utterly endearing, and you liked how his sweet personality hasn’t changed despite the noticeable transformation in his physique.

“High school, yeah.” Jungkook mutters. “Y-you’re uh, almost done with college right?” Jungkook winces at the way the pitch of his voice gradually got higher as he finished that last sentence. Because puberty still likes to pay him random visits now and then.  

You giggle again. “Yup, I’m in my last year, but I’ll be attending grad school at the same university.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “T-that means you’ll still be here…”

“Mmm-hm” You hum in confirmation. “So if you ever need help with school, hit me up.”

“Y-you’d do that?”

“Of course. We’ve known each other long enough.” You reply nonchalantly.

“Hehe, y-yeah. Known each other…”

“You know, on the outside you look like the type of guy who would just fuck a girl and leave, but on the inside you’re like super nerdy and a complete jokester with your friends. Am I right?” You give him a knowing look.

Jungkook’s jaw drops.

“Sorry, I should’ve been more refined with that statement. I guess what I’m trying to say is, you totally seem like the type who’s super soft but hides under a hardened shell.” You watch as an astonished expression washes over his face. “It’s the vibe you always given off.”

You still remember the days he was always dressed in a hoodie too big for him or that white shirt he must either continuously wash or own several of the same kind. You briefly wonder why he’s recently stopped sporting the style that you’ve grown to associate him with.

“Always?” He wonders how long you’ve been analyzing him to come up with such an accurate portrayal. He’s usually misunderstood.

“Yeah, ever since I first saw you back in high school. And I totally thought you hated me or something.” You chuckle, recalling how he seemed to avoid you at all costs. “You don’t actually… hate me right?” You slowly lift your eyes to meet his, waiting for a response.

“No!” Jungkook answers quicker than his reflexes can even allow. “Y/N, I’ve actually liked you since high school. Like, like-like. And I’m just so nervous around you and super socially awkward in general, and I didn’t want to come off weird and shit. Uh, fuck.” He blurts out, finally revealing his feelings that he’s kept hidden from you for so long. It’s the most embarrassing thing he’s done to date, and he swears he’ll hide away from society for good after this day. “Haha, wow, I can’t believe I just said that.” He bites his bottom lip, feeling his cheeks blossom into the darkest shade of rose that’s physically possible.

You feel your heart skip a beat as his confession, a feeling that gradually spreads as a soothing warmth throughout your chest. “A-actually, I have too.” You admit, voice soft and shy, much like his is 90% of the time.

Jungkook is speechless at that moment, just gaping at you for what feels like an eternity because this obviously can’t be real.

“W-what?” Jungkook feels like he’s in a dream. How was this possible? There’s no way you could’ve just admitted that you’ve had a crush on him too, and since fucking high school. This can’t be real. This can’t.

“Jungkook, I’ve liked you since then too.” You repeat, firmer this time because he looks like he’s in a daze. 

Jungkook has to swallow before replying because he’s still in the most shocked state he ever been in. “R-really?”

You nod, eyes gazing into his with a sincere resolve.

“Shit. I can’t believe. Wow.” Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with himself in that moment, but he’s so fucking relieved he feels like someone just transported him to heaven. This was actually real. “Wait, d-does that mean you’ll, uh… go out-”

“Yes, Jungkook.” You smile tenderly. “The answer is yes.”

...

[blushvy]

Reputations: Fred x Reader

*Don’t worry guys this isn’t going to be sad, this takes place during the Triwizard Tournament so your 6th year. You are Draco’s older sibling in y/h and you’re best friends with the twins. Okay that’s it enjoy!*

“Y/n you can’t be friends with them you know that!” Your little brother Draco was always playing tattletale with you.

“Actually quite the contrary Draco I can be friends with whomever I please,” you sassed back. You weren’t going to let your annoying little brother boss you around.

“Father will hear about this!” He shouted and stomped off. God was he a drama queen.

“Right Draco as if I actually care what father thinks!” You yelled back. You loved him because he was your brother and it was kinda required but sometimes you wanted to hit him.

“Hey Y/n what were you just yelling about?” One of your best friends Fred Weasley asked as he walked around the corner of the hall.

“Oh nothing just my brother being an idiot,” you laughed as you said that Fred knew how Draco could be sometimes.

“What did he do this time?” Fred chuckled.

“Nothing in particular just being a dick,” you responded not wanting Fred to know how your family felt about him and the rest of his family. You were sure he already knew but you didn’t want to make it worse.

“Well, if he’s bothering me and George have just made these puking pastels that you could slip him,” Fred and George were always looking to sell you their new products.

“I’m good, but thanks for the offer,” you said shaking your head.

“We should get back to lunch yeah?” Fred asked. Oh shit you totally forgot.

“Oh yeah we should let’s go,” you both started to walk back to the great hall. Fred slung his arm around your shoulder as you two walked.

“Hey be careful buddy someone might think we’re dating,” you reminded him.

“And that would be bad why?” Fred asked seemly genuinely curious.

“Well for me I don’t think it would be but I seriously doubt you want people to think that you’re dating the Malfoy’s only daughter,” you replied.

“Y/n, you seriously think I give two shits was other people think?” Fred seemed astonished.

“Yup I do, you have a representation to protect,” you giggled when you saw the look on his face.

“You’ve got to be kidding? What can I do to prove it to you?” Fred looked oddly concerned.

“Actually, I might have something… No wait you’d never be able to do it,” you said smirking slightly.

“I can too! Tell me what it is,” You had to admit Fred was committed.

“Okay… but it’s hard. You have to go to the Yule Ball with me, prove you don’t care what people think,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest. Fred started laughing, you were confused. You raised an eyebrow at him. “What? Why are you laughing?” You asked.

“That’s your hard challenge? That’s it?” Fred continued to laugh. “You got yourself a deal,” Fred stuck out his hand for you to shake. You were shocked but you put on your brave face and shook his hand.

“Ready?” He asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied. You two walked back to lunch.

People stared at the both of you as you walked through the halls all week. Fred’s hand or arm usually around your waist or shoulders. Even Fred’s sister Ginny came up to you and asked what was going on. Fred couldn’t believe how much attention you two were getting, on the other hand you knew very well why this was going to blow out of proportions. Even with all of Triwizard Tournament events happening this still was being talked about every time you or Fred walked into a room. It was about a week before the ball so you and Hermione went dress shopping.

“How’s this one?” Hermione asked holding up a short red dress with hideous ruffles.

“Awful, put it back,” you answered laughing.

“Oh lord I didn’t see the ruffles,” you heard Hermione groan as she put back the very ugly dress. You picked through dresses looking for the perfect one but you were having very little luck. Finally you stopped upon a blue slightly shimmery long dress. It was gorgeous, not for you though.

“Mione! Come here!” You shouted to Hermione who was across the store. You heard the heels of her shoes click clack across the wooden floor.

“What?” Hermione asked. You held up the dress in response. Hermione’s eyes widened. “Holy cricket it’s gorgeous!” Hermione squealed.

“And it’s your size!” You exclaimed. Now with Hermione’s dress picked out it was your turn. You and Hermione spent over an hour trying to find you a dress. Eventually the owner of the store got tired of you two being in there so he took out a dress that he thought would look good on you (or so he said).

“What do think?” The owner asked hopeful you would say you liked it and leave. It was absolutely gorgeous.

It was a beautiful maroon not to mention backless and flowing. It was simple but not boring. You were in love, you looked over at Hermione who quickly nodded her head yes.

“We’ll take them both!” You exclaimed as you went to go pay for your dresses. The both of you spent the rest of the day talking about your dates and how you were going to do your hair it was great much needed girl time.

(Time skip brought to you by that cool ass dress I found online)

It was the day of the ball and boy were you nervous. Not about the ball itself but the fact that there was a good chance Fred was going to back out. But you did your best to calm yourself down and once it got about 6:00 you started to get ready as Fred was picking you up at around 7:45. You took a shower and got everything ready. Once your hair was done you put on your dress and looked in the mirror. You looked better than you had in a while you thought. When it was around 7:30 you walked outside your common room and there was Fred waiting for you. He was all dressed up in his dress robes and look very handsome if you’d say so yourself. He saw you and his eyes went wide as he looked you up and down. You giggled and did a little twirl, his eyes got even wider when he saw that it was backless. Fred handed you a corsage that matched your dress.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” you thanked him.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Fred said smiling. You slapped his arm lightly.

“Oh come on that was so cheesy!” You both started to laugh.

“Anyways, shall we?” Fred held out his arm for you to hold and you did. The two of you walked down to the great hall as people stared. You walked past Draco who completely flipped out.

“Look Draco, at least I didn’t come with pug-face Parkinson,” you teased as you past him by. You couldn’t help it you absolutely hated Pansy. Draco mouthed ‘Father will hear about this,’ and frankly you didn’t give a damn. The dance began with the competitors dancing with their dates. You saw Hermione in her dress and she looked absolutely amazing as she danced gracefully with Viktor. All was well until you heard Fred busting out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” You asked confused.

“Look,” Fred could barely finish the word but he pointed at Ron. You started laughing too, Ron looked so angry as he watched Hermione intently. His ears were bright red and the scowl on his face wasn’t a good look for him. You and Fred were laughing way too hard at him but you didn’t care. Finally Dumbledore called all the rest of the couples out to dance and Fred stood and held out his hand.

“May I have this dance?” He asked.

“Of course,” you replied.

The two of you danced for hours, stopping only for food and breaks because dancing that much makes your feet hurt.

A whole lot of time and dances later, there was one last slow dance. You and Fred got up and you put your arms around his neck and his hands were at your waist. You leaned you head onto his chest and closed your eyes, this was nice.

“Y/n,” Fred spoke up.

“Huh?” You lifted your head up to look at him.

“I love you,” Fred confess- wait what?!

“You what?” You asked, maybe your heard him wrong.

“I said I love you,” Fred repeated clear as day. He loved you. Wow.

“Well I love you too Fred, I really do,” you smiled and put your head back down on his chest. The two of you danced until the ball was over. That was truly an amazing night.

[nyrandrea]

Bond

So yeah, I said that I was going to hold off writing anything else before Chapter 3 came out but here we are again, pfft. Just can't help myself, I guess.

I really wanted to explore the whole bond idea between Henry and Bendy because it was just too interesting to /not/ write about it. So once again, this story is inspired by the 2D Bendy AU created by @shinyzango, go check out her amazing art!

Enjoy! 

The pure raw emotion that he felt was still surging through his body.

Henry kept an eye on his surroundings as he walked, narrowing his eyes as he half expected the walls to start warping or Sammy to come back from the dead and start attacking him at any given moment. He shook his head, he shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

The older man was slowly making his way down what seemed to be yet another department in the studio, the building was so big and every room and corridor looked so similar to each other. Was he even going the right way anymore? He didn't really know.

There were small rooms dotted about the corridors, Henry made sure to check each and every one in the hopes that there would be some kind of clue as to what had happened to the studio and more importantly, everyone in it. Some rooms held radios that played catchy tunes from the old cartoon show, Bendy had insisted that they stayed so that they could listen, making up an excuse that the songs might hold some kind of deep secret. Henry simply obliged, smiling whenever he saw the demon tapping his foot to the beat or hummed along to the music.

Other rooms held more significant items, the most important being small tapes that held voice recordings from other employees: Norman, Wally, Susie and...Sammy. Every time he heard the music director's voice, it made him think back to that dream. The way that Sammy's ink covered limbs were twisted, how out of proportion his arms and legs were, his impossibly angled head... 

'No...' Henry thought. ‘Not now. I need to focus.’

But his mind just kept wandering back to the bizarre dream, or rather, nightmare. The hideous monsters, the distorted studio, Sammy and...Bendy. He glanced a quick look at the little toon, who was sitting cross legged on the black line, happily chatting away about a gag that he and Boris had performed during an episode of the cartoon show.

The little demon looked so...different compared to what he had seen in his dreamscape, he was so big and... monstrous. But despite how terrifying he looked, he was still the same Bendy inside. But... he had never ever seen that kind of form before, not even when the devil had went completely crazy.

Then there was those intense sensations that suddenly went through him when he touched Bendy, along with those visions: The two figures at the ink machine, the clarinet, the large golden ring...what did it all mean? Maybe...

“...And then Boris tried to lure the sheep away with his clarinet! But I wasn't havin' none of that, so then I-“

“Bendy.” Henry hastily interrupted. He didn't want to ruin the cartoon's good mood, but he had to know if Bendy knew anything or rather...felt anything. Luckily the little demon didn't seem to be annoyed at all at the sudden interruption.

“Huh? What's up Henry? You feeling ok?” Bendy replied with a somewhat worried look.

“Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry.” Henry quickly said, not wanting to cause the toon any upset, God knows that he done that too many times already. Bendy sighed in relief and gestured for the man to continue.

“I was just wondering...” He started, not really knowing how to put this into words. “Back when you touched your head against mine...did you feel anything...weird? Like...any pain or...?” Henry cringed at his bad wording of the question, he honestly didn't even know how to describe it.

Bendy looked down in deep thought for a few moments before looking back up to the human with a small frown.

“No...I didn't really feel anything like that. Just relieved that ya were alright. Why? Did you feel pain? A-are ya alright?” The demon asked, a nervous tone in his voice.

Henry frowned in thought for a moment, before smiling calmly. “I’m fine Bendy, just must be old age catching up to me, nevermi-“ 

The older man’s eyes widened slightly in mild astonishment when he felt a surprisingly strong tug on his thumb. Looking down, he saw that Bendy had stood up and was currently grasping at it, holding it down in a defiant manner.

“Don’t lie to me, Henry.” The cartoon said, his tone of voice was firm, like he wasn't prepared to take any more nonsense.

“What? Bendy, I'm not-“ Another tug. The devil gave him a sombre look.

“Please Henry...I’m begging ya...” Bendy replied in a more pleading manner. “I know that yer lyin' to me, please don't do that, ya gotta spit it out.” He looked down for a moment, before continuing. 

“Pals tell each other stuff, they don't keep secrets.” Bendy said as he gave the human a determined look, who in return, was looking down at him with a rather perplexed expression.

“Bendy, I...” The man sighed, he was right, he shouldn't be lying. But Henry was the proud type that never really shared his troubles, he mostly either dealt with them on the spot or brushed them off to the side if the situation was too dire to deal with it. He had been doing the latter a lot lately.

“Wait.” Henry started, raising an eyebrow at the small demon. “How can you be so sure that I'm lying?” He questioned, he wasn't exactly the best at keeping secrets, but Bendy had never straight up called him out for it before.

The devil in question let go of Henry's thumb and blinked in surprise, before shrugging and replying in a cheerful manner. “Dunno. I just do. Call it uh...” Bendy paused for thought before snapping his fingers and pointing up at the man with a smirk. 

“Intuition!” He exclaimed, looking very pleased with himself.

Henry simply gave the toon an amused look. “Right...” He looked back forward with a small frown.

There had to be more to it than that. Bendy seemed so...sure, like he absolutely knew without a doubt that the older man was hiding something. Maybe it had something to do with the...thing that he felt. Did Bendy feel it too? It was like they were...somehow linked...

But before Henry could get too deep into his thoughts, Bendy's voice piped back up, catching his attention once again.

“So how's the leg, Henry? Ya don't seem to be limping as much as before.” Bendy said with a joyful grin. “Do ya think it's healed up now?” Henry chuckled.

“Well, I don't know about 'healed up' but...” He tested the injured leg out, walking on it without the axe crutch, and smiled when he seemed to manage quite a few steps before leaning on the axe's handle again. “I think it's getting there though, bud.”

The little demon's face immediately lit up, his grin growing even bigger as he clasped his gloved hands together. “Oh Henry, that's great! You'll be better in no time at all!” 

“Yeah...” The man simply replied with a small relaxed smile. Bendy really knew how to keep him motivated, even in the most dire of situations, he was an absolute Godsend in this Hell of a studio, ironic as that may seemed.

The light mood was suddenly cut though, as a clanking sound from above immediately caught both of their attention.

“...Henry...?” Bendy nervously whispered, glancing up in fear.

The older man narrowed his eyes and stopped walking, cautiously glancing around as the sound stopped, leaving silence to engulf the area once more. Henry didn't dare to move yet though, he knew there was something here with them, he could sense it.

So could Bendy apparently, as the little toon quickly grasped onto his thumb and tugged it in a panicked frenzy.

“Henry! We gotta move! It's-!”

A loud moaning from the pipes cut him off, and their gazes quickly shot up to the ceiling. Ink oozed and dripped from the pipes, creating a small puddle on the floor, just in front of Henry's feet. The black liquid bubbled and grew larger as splodges of ink dropped down, the man didn't even waste any time on waiting to see what was going to sprout out from the puddle and hopped over it to run away as fast as he possibly could. He already knew what it was.

Or rather, who it was.

A loud, ear piercing screech sounded out from behind him, urging the man to try and move faster. 

'How the Hell did that thing manage to find us so fast?' Henry angrily thought as he limped as fast as he possibly could.

Although his injured leg was nearly healed, it still slowed him down a considerable amount. But unlike the dreamscape, 'Bendy's twisted leg was also a huge hindrance to it.

The difference between him and it though, was that the creature had grown used to it's deformed limb, and had adapted to the environment a lot longer than he had, giving it the clear advantage.

Henry suddenly felt a shot of fear go through him, but it didn't feel like his own, not to say that he wasn't afraid, he was just more suppressed about it. No, this was pure, unfiltered terror. The man looked down at Bendy, who's face was frozen in dread, the little cartoon looked like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Bendy? Bendy, listen to me.” Henry urged, in between breaths. “You have to snap out of it, bud. Please!” 

The toon simply kept staring ahead, quietly muttering. Another scream sounded out from behind, much louder and closer this time.

“Bendy!” Henry shouted, his voice was quickly drowned out from a distorted screech.

“Shit!” He swore as he stopped and turned on his heels, readying his axe to face the monster head on. There was no way he was going to be able to outrun this thing, so there was no choice in the matter but to fight it, injured leg be damned. The ink creature leapt towards the human with his gloved claws fully protracted, while Henry raised his axe to strike.

His eyes widened though when he felt a sudden stinging pain in the back of his head, the instinct to protect washed over him like a wave, the piece of paper in his hand suddenly lurched.

“NO!” A deep and distorted voice suddenly screamed out as a large black shape literally leaped out from the paper with sheer force, sending Henry flying to the floor.

He landed with a thud, and held his head as he felt a swirl of emotions go straight through him, the two most prominent being fear and rage. It made his mind spin with confliction, making him feel extremely dizzy, he had to fight the overwhelming urge to throw up.

A pain induced screech filled the hallway as the large black shape collided with the creature, sending it crashing to the ground. Henry slowly sat up while still clutching his head, and looked up to see Bendy hovering over him, his back arched and large body covering him to prevent the other monster from getting any kind of view of the man.

“Bendy...how...how are you...?” Henry stammered, his eyes as wide as saucers. Bendy had never been able to just...leap out of the page like that before. The demon always needed some kind of living ink to draw upon in order to physically form outside of the paper. 

‘This...How the Hell is this even possible...?' The older man internally questioned, holding his still pounding head.

'Bendy' managed to finally stand up properly, after having a bit of difficulty with it's twisted leg, and hissed at them both, to which the larger and much bulkier Bendy replied with a low and deep snarl. The demon kept his stance and raised one of his large, dripping arms off the ground slightly, as if he was threatening the smaller creature to back off. The thinner monster simply hissed back and splayed it’s long, thin claws, getting ready to strike. Henry could easily tell what was about to happen, and knew all to well that he had to get out of the way if he didn't want to get caught in the middle.

Bendy seemed to catch onto this thought as well as Henry suddenly felt a large hand slowly and gently push him to the side, the demon moved directly in front of him while doing so in order to completely block the other creature's sight of him, which resulted in a snap reaction, as it suddenly roared and charged for him. 

The two monsters clashed against each other, sending ink flying everywhere. Bendy tried to grab the slippery creature as it climbed onto his body and started to rake it’s needle-like claws into his back, causing him howl out in pain. It's sadistic grin grew wider as it kept slashing and hacking away, but the smile was soon wiped away as it was suddenly rammed into the wall, making it let out a pained screech. Bendy slammed his body into the wood in order to try and get the lanky monster off of him, but it's claws were dug in so deep that it managed to just about hang on. 

Henry stared dumbfounded as the two monsters kept roughly scrapping with each other, it was like watching two feral animals fight to the death, it was...it was awful.

He looked up and cringed as the walls around them groaned in protest at the sudden weight being thrown into them, the building was going to collapse around them if this kept up, and Bendy was clearly having a tough time, he had to try and help get that thing off of him.

Henry slowly stood up, his injured leg trembled and ached in protest as he did, the sudden running and falling to the ground had done a bit of a number on the injury, setting back the healing process yet again, but he had no time to dwell on that now. 

The older man grabbed onto his axe and used the wall as a support as he raised the weapon into the air. He only had one shot at this, he had to make it count.

It was extremely difficult to aim though as the two ink monsters wouldn't stay still for a single moment, Bendy kept turning on the spot, trying to reach behind him to grab the smaller creature while it kept clambering around his body, using it's clawed hands as climbing picks. It didn't help the fact that ink kept flying everywhere, obstructing his view. It was so damn hard to focus.

'C'mon...I just need an opening...!' He frustratingly thought as he tried to zone in on the smaller monster. 

Bendy suddenly turned towards Henry and nodded with a determined look, before turning his back to the man in order to expose the smaller demon, making it look around in a confused manner at the sudden movement. 

The human blinked in confusion as well. 

'How did he know to...?' Henry shook his head, this wasn't the time to be questioning anything. He flung the axe towards 'Bendy' and struck it right in the head, making it scream and clutch at it's injury, resulting in it slipping off and falling to the ground in a crumpled heap. 

It pulled the axe out, spraying the floor and walls with black liquid, and slowly turned it's injured head towards Henry, growling lowly.

The human had no time to react as it charged for him with it's claws out, the stinging pain in his head suddenly peaked, the underlying rage that he had been feeling came out at full force, there was so much going on that all that Henry could do was freeze in terror.

A booming roar sounded out as an enormous, jet black clawed hand struck out and slammed 'Bendy' down before it could get anywhere near the man.

He watched with wide eyes as the creature shrieked and writhed under the claws that pinned it down, he swallowed a large lump in his throat as he felt a raw and primal instinct take over him, the impulsive urge to tear something apart ate away at his mind, he felt like he was going to be physically sick again.

The hand dragged 'Bendy' back and threw it across the hallway, Henry gazed up to see a large black shape looming over him. Sure enough, it was Bendy, but his usually goofy grin was now a fang filled, sadistic looking sneer. His fingers were as sharp as knives, his horns had grown slightly deformed, and the once rounded white pupil in his eye was now a tiny thin slit. It had happened again, Bendy had lost control.

Henry kept his breathing shallow as Bendy stared down at him, he didn't dare to make any sudden movements, he knew that his friend was unstable in this form, and the last thing that he wanted to do was provoke him. But as the beast looked directly into his eyes, he felt it again, the trust, the overwhelming urge to protect. 

Was...was Bendy still somehow in control?

A loud shriek caught their attention, interrupting Henry's thoughts, as the other 'Bendy' prowled back over towards them both with it's claws out, it's limp was much more obvious than before though, indicating that it was weakened, maybe even injured. But it still looked as though it was up for a fight, as it hissed lowly in a threatening manner.

Bendy turned his back to Henry and growled back in a much more distorted and deeper tone than before and arched his back, the rising droplets of ink on his shoulders flared furiously, his claws dug deep into the floor, making the wood creak.

 The two creatures stared in silence for a heartbeat before yet another fight ensued, this time Bendy being the first to attack.

The scuffle didn't last nearly as long as the last fight though as Bendy completely wrecked the creature this time. He didn't even give it a chance to try any kind of futile attempt to attack, and after a few moments of hitting it around, he swiped it away, sending the creature crashing to the wooden floor. Henry felt a feeling of satisfaction flow through him, and looked up at Bendy to see a smug grin on the demon’s face. 

The smaller monster whined in pain and wasted no time in retreating, as it dissolved into a black puddle and seeped through the cracks of the floorboards before any finishing blow could be made, resulting in an aggravated growl from Bendy.

It had escaped once again.

Henry simply blinked and breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned against the wall. The immediate danger was gone, at least. But he still felt the rage inside him gradually build up, and glanced back up at Bendy, extremely nervous at the fact that he was growing more unstable by the minute. To say that the demon was seething was a severe understatement.

No, he was absolutely livid.

The older man had to cover his ears as Bendy let out an ear-splitting roar and started attacking everything that was around him in a wild frenzy. He crushed the few tables and chairs that were in the area and launched them at the walls, before angrily swiping at the pipes that were on the ceiling, his claws cleanly sliced them, sending ink spilling everywhere, it was pretty surprising that no Searchers formed from the liquid, perhaps they knew to stay away from the danger.

Henry kept a hand on his head and clenched his eyes shut as he felt an extremely powerful mixture of nothing but negative emotions swirl around in his mind: anger, shame, grief, bitterness, insecurity...there was so many. 

By this point, he was absolutely positive that this had everything to do with his nightmare, it must have formed some kind of...connection between them, somehow. He knew that these horrible thoughts was what Bendy was feeling right now, and that he had to calm the raging demon down, one way or another.

He took a deep breath and tried to mentally suppress the chaos that he felt, maybe if he calmed the emotions down within himself, then Bendy would also feel a little better.

The older man felt a twinge of something, and opened his eyes to see Bendy staring right at him with a still slightly crazed look, the remains of a destroyed chair in his clawed hand. Henry swallowed, if he didn't play this right, he was probably going to end up getting crushed himself...

'No...' Henry internally scowled at himself. ‘He wouldn't do that. Not after all the crap we've been through together. I can do this.’ 

Bendy half-heartedly threw the wooden debris in his hand to the side, and growled as he quickly made his way towards Henry. He stopped right in front of the human and snarled ferociously into his face, before raising an enormous clawed hand to strike him down.

‘It’s now or never...' Henry determinedly thought as he quickly reached up to lay a gentle hand on the monster’s face, just next to his widened eye.

The demon’s clawed hand stopped and hovered in mid-air.

“You’re alright, Bendy...” Henry coaxed softly, still trying to suppress the horrible thoughts that kept piercing his mind. “It’s ok now... you don't need to fight anymore, we're safe...” The man said with a small sympathetic smile. He suddenly felt himself become exhausted, but he kept soothing the large demon.

The emotions started to die down as Bendy made a confused sound. His horns simplified in shape, his fangs and claws softened and the white slit that was his pupil rounded up again. 

Henry breathed a sigh of relief. His friend was back once more, and his aching head had subsided for now.

Bendy looked up at his raised arm in confusion, before looking back down at Henry, he seemed to put two and two together swiftly as big black tears suddenly welled up in his eye. Henry was quick to comfort him however, as he started rubbing the side of the monster's head in an affectionate manner. The tears rolled off of Bendy’s cheek and dripped down Henry's hand and arm, staining them, but at this point he didn't even mind.

“No, no...don't worry, you didn't attack me this time, bud. You're gaining more control over that form of yours, you did real good...ok?” Henry softly said as he tried to ease the large demon, who lowered his head and whined. 

The man felt himself get pulled in for a gentle embrace, which he gladly returned.

“Yeah, everything is alright...” He soothed. As they hugged, Henry suddenly felt a sort of serenity wash over his mind, which was certainly a nice change from the fear and dread that he had felt just moments before.

But the moment was short lived as he noticed that Bendy was becoming increasingly heavier, and looked up to see that the devil had his eye closed and was letting out a soft snoring sound, making the older man chuckle.

As amusing as it was though, Henry had to wake him up before he was going to accidentally get crushed.

“Uh...Bendy...?” No response came from the monster, so he tried gently tapping his cheek. “C’mon bud...I know you need to rest but...not on me, please.” He half joked, honestly not wanting to have to try and move a huge sleeping ink demon, he was too tired to move himself to be quite frank.

Bendy finally responded to him and broke up the embrace, leaving the poor man drenched with black ink, the demon grinned amusedly at the sight before letting out a tired yawn. Henry smiled as he picked up his axe and had a look around.

“Well, we should probably get some rest. But not out here, it's too...open.” It felt a little ironic saying that in an enclosed building. “We should look for one of those small rooms, there should probably be one down-“

Henry felt an arm wrap around him and lift him up, he looked up at Bendy, who had already started to move. The monster grinned cheerfully and nodded, seemingly knowing where to go without Henry really having to say. Henry blinked, this whole...connection thing was really difficult to comprehend.

But right now he was far too exhausted to even question it, so he simply let Bendy carry him to a small room that held storyboards for the old cartoon show, black ink was splattered all over the cheerful drawings. It was a sad sight.

 Bendy gently set Henry down onto the floor before completely dissolving into a black puddle, the older man picked up the piece of paper and set it on his knee as he sat his back against the wall. 

He simply smiled when he saw that the little toon was already completely passed out.

“Sleep tight, bud...” 

It didn't take that long before Henry felt his eyelids drop in sheer tiredness as well, he only prayed that he would, for once, have a peaceful few hours of sleep. He and Bendy deserved that much, at the very least.

I'm so sorry if I butchered the bond thing but hey, at least I gave it my best shot. xD

Let me know what y'all think!

Chapter 1 - Friend - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/160888670286/friend

Chapter 2 - Rest - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/160888769001/rest

Chapter 3 - Enemy - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/160963746341/enemy

Chapter 4 - Family - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/161237849016/family

Chapter 5 - Nightmare - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/161560167591/nightmare

[wonderfulworldofwinchester]

Whole New World

Sam x Reader

Request: Um a topic you can write is The reader is way shorter then Sam but then while hunting a witch their bodies get switched, and Dean can’t help but laugh at how they struggle with their newfound height, or lack there of.

WARNINGS: Bit of Language. Some teasing. Blacking out?

A/N: This is another oldie that I am revisiting as a part of my Redo Rally. 

The last thing you remembered were some muffled latin phrases and a hideous laugh as the with disappeared, then everything went black. 

                                                         * * * “SAMMY!… Y/N!” you could hear Dean shouting somewhere near you. Opening your eyes and blink the blurriness away, you were hit with utter confusion…. Dean leaned over what was most definitely your body. Your mind immediately starts trying to process the sight. You must be having one of those ‘out of body experiences’ that people talk about. Yes that’s it. that’s whats happening. You sat up to attempt a better view and Dean turned around. “SAMMY!” he said moving towards you. You looked behind you  thinking that Sam was surely somewhere in the same direction as you. Just then you felt Dean grab your arm. “Sammy… Sammy. You ok? " Frantically looking around and realizing your proportions are way off. "Dude youre acting really weird. What did that bitch do!”

“Dean? Y/N?” You were hearing your own voice. This is weird. You made eye contact with yourself. immediately both of you guys’ eyes widen. “SHIT!” You say realizing what had happened. 

Dean still looked vaguely confused, then it hit him and he started to chuckle “W-wait a minute… You two switched bodies?” Now he was full blown laughing. 

Damn even in your body Sam could give an expert bitch face. “Shut up Dean. Lets just get out of here and figure out how to undo this.” 

As you started towards the Impala Sam was falling behind and you and Dean kept looking over your shoulders at him. It was kind of amusing at his attempt to walk in your body, although you were probably a sight too, trying to manage a body almost twice your size. “God, how do you keep up with us with these little legs. guys I can only walk so fast” 

“welcome to my world Sam” you laughed. Your ride on your high horse was cut short when you couldn't figure out how to fold this ginormous body up into the Impala. Eventually, you thought you'd had it, only to find out the hard way you didn't. "Goddammit!" You muttered, hitting both your head and your leg simultaneously. "I'm sorry, you were saying, Y/N." Sam said between laughing fits. "Oh shut the hell up!"                                                         * * * The next couple of days were filled with many long hours looking for a cure,  many frustrations, and a whole lot of cursing as well as laughter from a very amused Dean. 

“Dammit!” Sam shouted followed by an exasperated sigh. he pulled out a chair and climbed up on it trying to reach a book in the bunker’s library. “Stop laughing Dean!” 

“Bitch” “Jerk”

Meanwhile you were actually enjoying the advantages of being able to reach things. The three of you sat at the table searching through every book possible. You were  midsentence in one of those books when you heard grunting “Ugh I can’t reach anything” you looked up to be met with the sight of Sam practically climbing on the table to reach another book. At this point you were sure Dean was going to pee his pants he was laughing so hard. 

The whole time this had been going on, Dean had been getting a kick out of teasing Sam. He always had a new nickname to call him by such as 'shorty' and 'short stack’. he was constantly taking Sam’s stuff and holding it out of reach. 

You would walk by and tell him to stop saying “its not nice to tease people about things they cant control” 

“But this is the only time I can do this kind of stuff. This is the first time in like forever that I’ve been taller than Sammy” 

                                                   *  *  * Everything started to get blurry again and then went black. When you opened your eyes you realized you were in a completely different part of the bunker than when you blacked out. Looking around in confusion you wandered out into the hallway and ran smack into Dean’s chest. "Hell yes! woo im back baby! You did a celebratory dance down the hallway and saw Sam waking up. “Its over Sam! were back!” You hugged his neck.

Dean just rolled his eyes as he walked away “Well the fun’s over for me”

“Jerk” You and Sam sad in unison. 

If you want to be added to one of my taglists, just ask :) But be sure to let me know if you want to be tagged in everything, or just a certain character, etc. I love y’all! 

@tillielynn16 @fandomaskedstuff @naruko88558855 @hillface89 @saltysamgirls @ahdysj22

[homestuckhomestuckhomestuck]

hussie formspring trivia 7/?

So... Is Nepeta actually scratching him or is Gamzee slashing his face on purpose just to be fucked up?

He is slashing his face on purpose. Because I didn't think the erotic submissive asphyxiation fetish death was fucked up enough, I thought a little bit of self mutilation was in order. I hope at this point people realize that when you punched your Homestuck ticket, or really anything I've worked on, you were signing up for something that runs the risk of getting pretty fucked up. Practically everything I've done outside the confines of MSPA has been considerably more bizarre. I'm capable of containing the impulse to do bizarre shit when I want to. If you look at some big stretches of Homestuck, you will observe something that is quite tame, often cutesy, and even at times bordering on accessible. But then, to create a well manicured and widely palatable product was never the mission here. It was about exploration, high diversity of concepts and execution and all that, and I guess above all, fun for me personally. (and YOU!) So there are vehicles built into it to support my more usual fare. The primary vehicle for that was Hivebent, and the entire troll presence in the story in general. It began with a pretty messed up premise. The establishment of a colorful cast of kids from a violent race of psychopaths whose entire civilization centers around brutality and murder, and watching how kids from such a culture relate to each other and come of age. Hivebent began with dark notes relative to Homestuck, and only got darker. The scene with Vriska and Tavros in her quest cocoon was an example of the escalation in fucked up shit. Present events are even further escalation. It was always going to get much worse before it got better. If you got into this story more recently without knowing anything about me or what I've done before, and feel the story would be better suited without the inclusion of the more bizarre elements, or the downright NASTYTIMES, all I can say is that's not who I am or what you signed up for. Do you know about Humanimals? Probably most of you do. It's a comic I did years ago. I still think it's hilarious, personally. If you do too, then I would bet there aren't many ways in which our senses of humor differ. But to many it was disturbing, hideous rubbish. In truth, these comics are probably about as unsettling as you can possibly get without resorting to violent or sexual content. (if it appears sexual in nature, that is only your imagination at work, trust me) http://www.teamspecialolympics.com/comic.php?sec=archive&auth=Blurbs&cid=blurbs/00085-h.gif&blurb=h (Edward was on Equius's wall in the latest Flash) [here's where this answer probably gets a bit too long] I'm constantly mining content from my older work to incorporate into Homestuck. The instances of this are hard to quantify. Let's talk about Equius again. Lot's of people thought he had depth beyond his gags, and that's definitely true. But that wasn't what was relevant about him, to me personally. He was always the troll personification of everything like Humanimals I ever did and put on the internet. (Hence is lusus is basically a Humanimal.) I used to do all sorts of weird stuff, reviewing obscene furry pornography, making weird collages involving horses, and just a whole lot of bizarre shit that didn't make much sense, but I thought was funny. The whole span of these endeavors was quite trollish in nature, and you will agree if you peruse Humanimals. The fact that it puts some people off is part of what makes it funny. So Equius was that entire arena of trollish content, rolled into a character. That's why I was STRONGLY committed to maintaining the integrity of his arc, as I defined it. It was more important by far for me to adhere to his role as the fucked up dude who embodies all that stuff than have him blow it by doing something heroic. He believed he died a death of supreme integrity. And so do I. Don't get me wrong, he was still a gag character. But this was the precise nature of the gag, an homage to an entire vein of humor I used to deal in copiously. He, like some others, trolled you in life, and then trolled you in death. What happened in between, you ask? Well, that was just you falling in love. Whistles was a graphic novel I did years ago. It's another thing I've mined ideas from, which have specifically begun to show themselves lately with Gamzee's turn. And oddly, there's some of Whistles rolled into Equius too. If Equius seemed to accelerate to a point of depth faster than others, maybe it's because he was built on quite a payload of founding concepts, all revolving around perversity. Whistles was about a clown in a circus who was as sweet as could be. He loved his ringmaster, in spite of the fact that the master was a cannibal and a tyrant who attempted to kill him. When the circus rebelled against the master and beat him, Whistles flipped out, killed a lot of people, and absconded with the master into the desert. (nice clown going murderous is obviously what Gamzee imported from this) The recurring theme throughout the whole comic is that every time Whistles has a chance to do the right thing and rebel against his evil master, he can't overcome his loyalty to him. To the point where he offers his starving master his own severed arm to eat. The whole thing is darkly humorous and pretty messed up. Equius imported this insane reverence for the hierarchy at the expense of his own well being. Though with Whistles, it wasn't quite as perverse and didn't have the creepy sexual connotations. (However, at one point Whistles did dabble in prostitution. But when he did it, it was cute!) I get asked sometimes if I will make book 2, the conclusion of Whistles. The answer is, probably not. It's incredibly time consuming making a graphic novel, and I don't know where I'll find the time. It also probably just gathered too much dust for me to get into it again. But unlike Equius, I did plan on giving Whistles a heroic end. I always intended for him to overcome his obsession with his master. For what it's worth, I did finish a draft of book 2's first chapter. It introduces a new villain named Sugarshoe who is, get this, another insane clown! If you read through this and recent HS events, it may seem like I'm obsessed with this kind of thing. Not really. Like I said, I just borrow heavily from myself. http://www.andrewhussie.com/comic.php?sec=archive&auth=Andrew&cid=whistles2_draft/whistles2_001.jpg Just to wrap up this trivia binge, some other examples of old stuff I've rolled into Homestuck are.......... SBaHJ. I did a few strips on a whim, satirizing someone's comics, about one month before I started HS. I folded it into HS as it's primary source of original memes to be referenced ad nauseum. The whole Bro puppet obsession was largely sparked by this series of ridiculous muppet comics I did in the forum years ago. One of the comics actually made it in HS, pinned on Bro's door for Dave to find. File this under More Fucked Up Shit I did. http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread.php?24118-Cheerfulbear-PLAY-ME All the wizard stuff in Rose's house, and her wizardfic writing in general, was mostly imported from my own absurd wizardfic I wrote some years ago, a pretty healthy sized book I never quite finished. It was called Wizardy Herbert, and was a very flippantly satirical story about kids and magic, starting out as what seemed like an unapologetic Harry Potter spoof revolving around a magical summer camp instead of a school, and then quickly launching off the plot deep end into some very convoluted stuff of Homestuckian proportions. In fact, there are many ideas mined from this story and injected into Homestuck. Any time you read anything about magic being stupid or not being real or anything like that, that's Wizardy Herbert talking. Zazzerpan and his full Complacency were minor characters in WH. WH is actually extremely similar to HS, in terms of the nature of the dialogue, the blend of utter silliness and dramatic seriousness, and complexity. It feels like such a similar thing to me, this might be the main reason why I'll never quite finish it. Characters from WH are on Rose's wall here. http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=6&p=002121 Herbert is the guy with the eye patch. He had a magic gun. But he could never figure out how to use magic, so he primarily just went around shooting things. Anyway I guess that's enough about all that.

[thefreckledone]

Pompeii 26

@vesperlionheart

Sakura stared at the near catatonic man on her couch. Since showing her his tongue, as if that explained everything, he’d remained silent, gazing off into the distance with unfocused, glassy eyes. She’d left him there, giving him space, but the hour was drawing to a close and Sakura was starting to feel concerned.

“Sai,” she said, trying to bring him out of his daze.

He didn’t even blink.

“Sai!” she said a bit more forcefully.

He shivered, distant but miserable in the cold.

That was what decided it for Sakura as she gently took his hands in her own. He didn’t respond and Sakura could almost feel the ice running in his veins. She’d no idea how long he was outside, but it had been far too long.

“Sai,” she said in a firm tone. It was the voice she used to control unruly patients or speak with those who looked down upon her. It wasn’t exactly a kind tone, but it was effective. “Sai, stand up.”

Sai stood as she pulled him, following her lead of gentle touches and strong voice. She pressed him into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Sakura tested the water, waiting until it was lukewarm before turning and assessing Sai’s state.

He was still completely unresponsive and she worried to leave him alone.

Sakura chewed at her lip, weighing her options.

Sakura stared down at him for a moment, heart in her throat. She turned abruptly, heading to her balcony. Sakura threw it open, ignoring the rain and the way the dark birds scattered with cries of dismay, and leaned over across her balcony to knock on Kimimaro’s window.

She waited for a moment, banging on it again until Kimimaro came stumbling out of the kitchen, dressed in silk pajamas. He looked around wildly, hair unkempt before settling on Sakura. He blinked, before hurrying to the sliding door.

“Sakura? You’re soaking wet! What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sakura said. “I have a...friend over tonight. Just...wanted you to know.”

He furrowed his brows, green eyes lightening with understanding. “Are you...alright?”

Are you safe?

Sakura thought about it for a long moment, remembering how unresponsive Sai was. “It’s fine,” she said, shaking her head. “I just...needed someone to know.”

She turned to go back inside, only to stop as Kimimaro wrapped a hand around her wrist. Sakura paused, looking up into his inscrutable expression. “Yes?”

“Sakura...stay safe. Not everyone in Pompeii can be trusted,” Kimimaro said, rain soaking through his pajamas, making them translucent against his skin.

“I know,” Sakura replied, pulling out his warm grasp. Her thoughts flew to a snake eating itself, dancing faux foxfire, whispers among the trees, and secrets wormed in deep beneath the soil of Pompeii. “Trust me, I know.”

She left him there, on the balcony and returned to Sai. He was where she left him, eyes glazed over even with the running water behind him.

Finally, with a sigh, she rolled up her sleeves and tugged Sai with her to the shower. As gently as she could, Sakura moved him beneath the spray of the showerhead, watching him for signs of life. His eyelids flickered before closing, a deep sigh rattling out of his chest.

He was still far too cold so Sakura grabbed a washcloth and began methodically rubbing over his fingers before moving to his feet. Along the way, she slowly increased the heat of the water until it steamed. Sai’s translucent skin was flushed a deep, healthy red when Sakura turned off the tap.

Sakura ignored the way her clothes clung to her skin as she directed Sai out of the shower. She didn’t pay attention to the trail of water on her tiled floor as she made Sai take a seat on the toilet. She glanced into the cabinet, pulling out two towels. One she left to the side as she tilted Sai’s head forward and began tousling his hair. The thin veins beneath his skin were clear in his neck, a shimmery silver in color. She stared down at his back, wondering what had happened to him.

Sakura felt him stiffen beneath her touch and she pulled away, allowing him to sit up straight. He regarded her warily, eyes trained on her.

Sakura sighed in relief, leaning back against the counter. “Good to see you’re back,” she said. She grabbed the extra towel and tossed it his way. “Take off your clothes and dry off. I’ll get you something else to wear.” Sai was watching her with a perplexed look as she pulled something off a hook. “Wear this for now,” she said, passing him the robe. Sakura felt a bit embarrassed as she looked at the fabric, dogs playing poker against a searingly green background. Ami had given it to her as a gag gift for Christmas one year and, to her surprise and shy chagrin, Sakura kept it. After all, it was Ami’s first haphazard attempt at sewing. Now, Sai was going to wear it. “I’ll grab a t-shirt and sweatpants for you.”

Sakura bustled out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d done the right thing, bringing Sai here. He clearly wasn’t in a good head space. And that whole tongue tattoo…

Sakura paused in her thoughts before scurrying into her bedroom. She lifted the book, stroking her fingers over its spine. The book fell open and asked in bright ink, What’s up?

“What can you tell me about tongue tattoos?”

Bad idea. Fade in about a year and you can’t taste shit for a while after eating...Not that I’d really know. Hell, go for it!

“What?” Sakura shook her head. “Terrible advice aside, that is not what I was talking about. I...I saw a tattoo on someone’s tongue. It was...I don’t know, a bunch of dark lines, some segmented and some not.”

what.

“What does it mean?”

is that person still here.

Sakura’s brow furrowed; the book always used correct punctuation. “Yeah, he’s in the bathroom-”

get him to leave NOW.

The absolute rage in the lettering made Sakura jump. “What the hell?” she whispered, glancing toward her bathroom door. “What’s your problem?”

Not safe. Whispers. Spider. The trees have eyes.

“Stop,” Sakura said, heartbeat speeding up in her anxiety. “Sai has been nothing but...well, pretty cryptic but he’s done nothing to earn your enmity.”

Sakura you don’t understand! He’s bad news-

“Haruno,” Sai called, almost tentative.

Sakura closed the book, shaking her head. “Coming!” she said before turning her gaze back to the book. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Sakura tossed the book down and headed back into the living room. She had to fight her instinct to laugh at the sight that greeted her. Sai stood calmly in her living room, swamped in her hideous robe. Ami hadn’t done the best job with the proportions. Sai’s pale knees peeked out beneath the robe. As unbecoming as the garment was, Sai seemed completely unaffected.

“Let me grab you those clothes,” Sakura said, remembering her initial goal.

“This is fine.”

They stood there for a moment in silence as Sakura searched for something to say.

“Why were you sitting out in the rain?” Sakura asked.

He shrugged, not quite meeting her gaze.

“Didn’t you have somewhere to go?” A blank look greeted her. “You know, a house, your home?”

“Home?” He blinked and Sakura had the sinking suspicion that he was suppressing a flinch. “I have no home.”

“Where do you live?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere.”

And thus continued his (and everyone else’s) habit of cryptic evasiveness.

“So you’re homeless?” Sakura clarified.

His nod was minute, but it was still there.

“Stay here,” Sakura said, before she could talk herself out of it. She didn’t know Sai, not really, aside from his abrasive and socially inept attitude. But she knew he was wounded, hurt in a way that festered and rooted itself deep beneath his skin. She couldn’t just stand by and let his suffering continue unabated.

“What?” he asked, an expression of shock clear across his face.

“Stay here,” she repeated, reckless. “You can sleep on the couch tonight. Tomorrow and the days after…” She shrugged. “It’s not much but I can set up one of the patient rooms for you. There’s beds and while I can’t promise fantastic food you’re always welcome at my table-”

Sakura was cut off as she was wrapped in strong but shaking arms. The worn fabric of her robe brushed against her face and Sakura was surrounded by the strange intermingling scents of herself and Sai, spicy and earthy. Sai pressed his face into her hair, exhaling heavily.

“Sai-”

“Thank you,” Sai said and Sakura could feel his tears in her hair. “Just...thank you.”

Sakura brought her hands up to his back, drawing nonsensical patterns across the expanse. They stood like this for a while, Sakura aware of her wet clothes and the way Sai’s breath heaved from his chest, trying to escape. Sakura made small noises of comfort, hoping that she was helping.

“Are you...writing out the bones of the body on my back?” Sai asked, voice steady but subdued.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” Sakura said, flushing with embarrassment. “It’s something I used to do in medical school too, after I learned all the bones for an exam. It...soothes me.”

Sai pulled back slightly, only to smile down at her. It was a genuine smile, small, wobbly at the edges, but genuine nonetheless. “It soothes me too. Thanks.”

Sai was the first to pull away from the hug and Sakura let him, ignoring the way her heart squeezed as he did his best to erect the barriers he held at the beginning of the night. They were tattered and frayed but Sakura could still see the way his gaze shuttered as he looked away from her. Then he yawned, mouth opening wide.

Sakura giggled. “Time for bed I suppose. Let’s get you fixed up here.”

Sai nodded, following in her footsteps.

As they gathered blankets and pillows, Sakura couldn’t help feeling at ease with her decision. There was something right about it.

Sakura bit her lip as she took in the befuddled expression on Sai’s face. I think I could get used to this...

The pounding of her heart woke her.

Sakura sat up in bed, glancing around wildly. Her clock read 3:20 AM. What had woken her? Sakura’s brows furrowed. It wasn’t a nightmare, she didn’t get those anymore. It was…

Sai .

Sakura bolted out of bed, stepping out into the living room.

Sai stood outside on the balcony, barefoot and dressed once more in his dark clothing. Somehow, it seemed that the garish robe suited him better. Sakura swallowed back the protests on her tongue like whiskey, heavy and bitter, stinging her throat as they went down. “You’re leaving?” she asked instead, doing her best to keep her voice level.

She failed.

Sai looked at her, pale face ancient and distant beneath the silvery light of the moon. He stuck out his tongue and Sakura’s breath caught as she saw the tongue tattoo suffused with golden light. “I am called,” he said, simply as if it explained anything.

“Stay,” Sakura entreated.

He looked at her, pure misery carved into his expression. Sakura blinked back the tears as she took in the pain in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, forcing one of his fake smiles. Sakura hated it.

Her eyes burned as he stepped off the balcony, consumed by shadows.

Then, she let the tears-the tears that she knew Sai couldn’t cry-fall.

“What did you just say?”

Sakura winced, ducking away from Naruto’s gaze as she continued to wind the bandage around his chest. She wished she hadn’t spoken at all. “Nothing, Naruto, just forget it.”

“It’s not nothing!” Naruto exclaimed, leaning in close to her. “It’s your birthday.”

“I highly doubt birthdays are a major celebration here in Pompeii,” Sakura said. “It gets monotonous after awhile does it not? Centuries passing by in the briefest flicker.”

Naruto pouted at her. “But, but it’s your first birthday in Pompeii! That’s something worth remembering right?”

Sakura found herself softening beneath the weight of his charm. “It is special only because Pompeii is special. Besides, my birthday’s already passed. What does it matter now?”

“It was yesterday! There’s still time isn’t there Menma?” Naruto asked, looking to his silent twin. “It’s still March 28th somewhere right?”

Menma scoffed, shaking his head. “Not on this plane of existence at least.”

“It’s fine,” Sakura said, redirecting her gaze to Naruto’s wound. He’d been messing around with foxfire and found himself with some serious burns. While they were healing at an accelerated rate, Sakura knew that dressing them would expedite the process further. “There’s no need to worry about it. Things have been very busy recently and everyone’s been away on business. It was a peaceful birthday.”

Though she was trying to soothe Naruto, she couldn’t have said anything else that would strike guilt into his heart like her words did. “I’m sorry Sakura,” he said, voice quiet. “We may have been busy, but that’s no excuse for making you feel so unimportant on your birthday.”

Sakura shivered, looking up into the face of a man who suddenly seemed eons beyond her. “That isn’t what happened at all, Naruto!” she exclaimed hotly, looking to Menma in support. He wouldn’t meet her eyes either however. “Oh for the love of-! Look, it does not bother me at all in any shape or fashion that we did not celebrate my birthday. You didn’t know!”

Naruto looked up at her. “Can we make it up to you?”

Sakura sighed, fight leaving her. “Look, we can get a small group together and go out for dinner tonight. I am paying for my meal and we can celebrate the party that way.” Sakura glanced up at the clock, paling. “I need to get prepped for my next appointment. I assume you know your way out?”

Naruto and Menma waved her off before turning to look at each other. Menma shook his head as he took in Naruto’s wide-eyed enthusiasm.

“She said small party,” Menma warned.

“Semantics!” Naruto exclaimed, waving a hand in Menma’s face.

“Naruto…”

But Naruto wasn’t listening.

Menma shook his head, grabbed Naruto by the collar, and headed for the door. Sakura would have no idea what hit her.

“Have a wonderful rest of your day,” Shizune said, heading toward the parking lot.

“Sure you don’t want to come along?” Sakura asked, fiddling with her handbag. “We’re meeting at Akimichi’s.”

Shizune laughed, stopping and taking Sakura’s hands. “I would love to join you for a celebration of your birth. Unfortunately I have a prior engagement. With the Spring Planting at hand, I am kept rather busy.”

“Do you need a few days off? A few weeks? Is Chiyo working you too hard?” Sakura demanded, clasping Shizune’s hands.

Shizune blinked, startled before giggling. “No, it’s fine, it’s fine. I’m glad to be a part of the Planting; it’s a pretty big deal here in Pompeii.”

“Please take a couple days off,” Sakura said. “Paid and everything. Don’t run yourself into the ground for my sake.”

Shizune smiled beatifically and bussed kisses over both of Sakura’s cheeks. “Thank you, love.”

“Have fun!” Sakura said, waving her friend off.

Then she looked down at her watch and cursed herself.

She was late.

Sakura raced down the darkened streets, making her way into downtown. Nestled cosily between the florist and the hair salon, Akimichi’s green sign glowed warmly down upon her.

She frowned, surprised to see how dark it was inside. Was it closed? She was only a few minutes late, right? Sakura peered into the window closely, scrutinizing it. This darkness was strange, a shadowy dark that seemed nearly solid.

It seemed artificial .

Sakura braced herself, tensing slightly as she pressed against the bright blue door. It gave, opening with a heavy groan.

The darkness did not extend beyond the doorstep. Sakura swallowed, clutching her phone as she called, “Hello? Anyone there?”

There was no response.

Sakura stared into the blackness before shaking her head. She wasn’t dealing with this. She turned and headed back down the street.

“Happy birthday!” a multitude of voices exclaimed as light suddenly streamed out through the restaurant.

Sakura turned, blinking in shock at all the people who stood before her. There were nearly a hundred. She located Naruto and scowled. “I said small party!”

Naruto shrugged, grinning at her. “C’mon, this isn’t even the best part!”

He bounded forward, taking her hand and tucking it at his arm as he weaved through the sea of faces.

Sakura answered all the well wishers with cheer, grinning as Ino attached herself at her other hip, scowling all the way.

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me it was your birthday yesterday! How could you?” Ino pouted. She looked truly hurt.

“Sorry,” Sakura said, patting her hand. “I’d no idea this was such a big deal.”

“Here we are!” Naruto said, pushing her up the stairs and stopping before the door. “Are you ready?”

Sakura nodded, finding anticipation curling in her gut.

Naruto pushed open the door and Sakura found herself breathless. She wasn’t sure how, she expected it to be a combination of some people’s magic, but the sky was magnified above her. It seemed much closer, like she could reach out and brush up against the shimmering stars. Galaxies and planets were within the touch of her fingertips and Sakura couldn’t speak.

“You like it?” Naruto asked nervously. “We got the Nara family to help with casting the skyscape, the Senju brothers did some of the magnification, Karin and the coven of course maintain the spell and the Uzumaki…” He stopped, grinning. “Well, you’ll see what we did shortly.”

“Naruto, this is incredible!” Sakura exclaimed. “How did you pull this off?”

“It was nothing.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, smile pleased. “Everyone was happy to pitch in. We’re really happy you’re here.”

Sakura blinked away the mist that came to her eyes, smiling up at him tremulously.

“Hey, Sakura!” Kiba called. “Come try some of these ribs. They’re to die for!” Sakura headed over, losing Naruto in the crowd. Kiba crowded her into a breath stealing hug before he set her back on her feet. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you,” Sakura replied. “Now what was this about to die for ribs?”

Sakura settled into her seat between Menma and Naruto, grinning at Ino and Deidara who were arguing across from her. She was full, both of delicious food and of pleasure, surrounded by her neighbors who came out tonight to share in a celebration of her life. She felt warm. She felt welcomed.

She felt at home, even among the strangeness.

“Okay, okay,” Sakura said, pushing Naruto away. “Stop rubbing this big ‘surprise’ in my face. Go ahead and show me!”

Menma looked up. “It’s about to start.”

Sakura turned her gaze up to the sky. It was still a magnified view of space and Sakura found herself lost again among the galaxies. She laid back from the low sitting table, focusing slowly on the sky above.

She gasped as a streak of light streamed across the sky. She cut her eyes to Menma, surprised to find him watching her with a soft look. He grinned, pointing back at the sky.

Sakura obediently looked back at the sky. Numerous stars were falling across the skyscape. Sakura watched the bright spots as they came more alight before fizzling out into nothingness. There was something poetic about it.

Sakura wasn’t sure what the future held, wasn’t sure when the other shoe would drop. She knew that the higher she climbed, the further she had to fall.

Sakura wasn’t sure she’d survive the impact.

There were still so many unanswered questions and Sakura wasn’t sure of her place in it all.

Somehow she just did not care.

Sakura decided to enjoy the moment, regardless of what the future held. She had people here; people who loved her, who were family to her.

The tears that were shed were surreptitiously wiped away before Sakura said, “I suppose that was the Uzumaki contribution?”

“Yeah,” Naruto said with a wry smile. “How’d you like it?”

“That was one of the best birthday gifts I’ve received in a long time,” Sakura replied, meeting Naruto’s gaze.

He seemed puzzled. “But...you haven’t even opened your presents yet.”

Sakura blinked. “My what?”

Naruto turned, gesturing to a veritable mountain of gifts. “That’s how these things usually go, right? Presents on a birthday?”

Sakura sucked in a heavy sigh. “Oh boy.”