#the idea is They meet because he gets “cornered” by some rival family grunts being a little too confident for their own good

[angelbitezzz]

There was gonna be more but, well, y'know 😒

So last night I got struck by the idea lightning and started spontaneously working on a Mafiafell self insert au because I'm insane. Underfell is already basically my favorite au, and while Mafiafell has it's problems (glances surreptitiously at that one infamous fic and comic) I think it has a lot of potential

[bxcketbarnes]

The Black Angels (Gang!AU)

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Words: 3200+

Author's Note: I was looking at the prompt list I reblogged a while ago and got this idea from one of them. I hope you all like it! xox

-

The Black Angels. One of the most ruthless gangs in Los Angeles. Their leader? Calum Hood. You've heard a lot about the guy since one of your best friends happens to work with him. Ashton Irwin. Calum's right-hand man.

You've patched up Calum and his men more than enough times since you're a nurse at the local hospital. You always worry a bit helping his gang as they're the biggest target in the city.

"Y/N, you've got men in room 4," one of your co-workers tells you and you sigh, nodding your head. You place one of your patient’s folders back into its place before heading to room 4.

Ashton, Calum, and Michael greet you with small smiles when you step through the door. "What happened this time?" You ask them and Ashton pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a couple of slice wounds on his torso. "Jesus Christ."

Calum watches you with a cautious eye as you step towards the black-haired man, your fingers running over the wound. Ashton hisses, moving his body away from your touch and you quietly apologize.

"Let me just go get a couple of things to patch you up," you mumble before heading out the door.

"Are you sure we can trust her?" Calum asks Ash and the man gives him a look.

"What do you mean?! She's been helping us for months!" Ashton states and Cal crosses his arms over his chest.

Before Cal could answer you walk back into the room with various utensils and bandages. You look up at the guys, feeling the tension in the air as you glance between Calum and Ashton.

You've always been intimidated by Calum and you couldn't pinpoint why the man didn't like you very much when you've saved their asses so many times. You set the supplies on the table beside Ashton, feeling Calum's eyes on you as you rip open a packet of alcohol wipes.

Ashton hisses when you swipe it across one of the slashes. "Sorry," you mumble and toss the used wipe into the trash. You grab a needle and thread and start to stitch the wound.

"Why are you helping us?" Calum asks calmly and your gaze moves to the brunette, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Because I care about my friend. We may not be friends Calum, but I'm not leaving Ashton to die," you snarl while narrowing your eyes at him.

Michael snickers, covering his face with his hand as Ashton lets out a grunt. You tie off his stitch and begin to move to the next one. "Cal, I told you that you can trust her. I've known her for years," Ash mumbles and you thank him quietly.

Calum huffs and walks out of the room, Michael following him after he apologizes for his leader's behavior. "Is he always like that?" You ask Ashton and he nods his head.

"Unfortunately, yeah. Ever since one of the guys turned out to be a traitor from a rival gang he's had trust issues," the black-haired man explains and you hum in reply.

"I still wish you would let me around the safehouse. Or even try to convince him to set up a medical wing so y'all don't have to keep coming here," you try to reason with him and Ashton gives you a look.

"You know why I can't do that," he mumbles and you let out a sigh, finishing patching up his wounds. "I don't want other gangs to think you're close to us. It could get you hurt or killed."

-

You walk up to The Black Angel's safehouse, pounding on the door as you hold your medical bag in your free hand. You look around to make sure no one's around as the door opens in front of you.

A man you've never seen before stands in front of you and you eye him curiously. "Can I help you?" He asks, laying a hand on the gun in his pants and you let out a snort, moving past him.

"Please. Ashton! Get your ass out here," you yell out as some of the guys turn their heads towards you.

Calum comes out of one of the rooms first, a glare in his brown eyes as he walks up to you. "What are you doing here?" He asks, anger evident in his rugged voice.

"I'm here to take Ashton's stitches out. If he had answered his phone, I wouldn't need to be here, Calum," you spit as the black-haired man comes around the corner.

"Y/N!" He states with wide eyes and steps between you and Calum. "What the fuck? I told you not to come here. How did you even find us?!"

You cross your arms over your chest, looking up at the tall man. "I've got my sources. Why weren't you answering your phone?" You ask in return and Ashton lets out a sigh.

"Broken. Calum ran it over when we were driving away from a supply run," he explains and your anger dissipates, running a hand through your hair.

"You still could've come by to get your stitches out. You know the drill," you tell him and the man chuckles while nodding his head. "Is there a place we can do it?"

Ashton nods his head and leads you towards his room, Calum's eyes on your back the entire time. You can feel him burning a hole through you and you glance over your shoulder at him.

He huffs and turns to go back into his office, slamming the door shut behind him. Calum sighs and runs a hand over his blue hair. "Fucking hell," he mumbles and walks over to his desk. There was a picture of you on it, his fingers tapping it a couple of times.

The blue-haired man is trying to get used to you being around, but it's difficult. Especially because you're a woman. He wouldn't want any kind of woman getting into this mess. Having the possibility that they could get hurt or even killed…

You and Ashton walk into his room, the black-haired man closing the door behind you. "You think he's lightening up?" You hum and Ash playfully glares at you. "What?!"

"You know I don't want you here," he sighs and you give him a look before letting out a sigh. "Y/N, I'm serious. I don't know what I would do if something happens to you. I know Aunt Laurie would fucking kill me."

You shake your head and set your medical bag on the desk. "I didn't know my mom scared you so much, Ash," you laugh as he sits down in the chair after taking his shirt off.

"She can be quite intimidating when she's angry," he tells you and you shrug your shoulders. "Look… I'm only looking out for you and my picture of you disappeared so I need you to stay on the low."

You furrow your eyebrows together and crouch in front of him. "Why do you have a picture of me? Freak," you tease and Ashton scoffs.

"Because you're the only family member I'm really close with. Other than my mom," he states and you smile up at him.

You take out his stitches, seeing his wounds have healed up nicely. "Well, the good thing is that the slices have healed perfectly. The bad news is that you'll have a few scars," you tell him while throwing some stuff away.

"Eh, the ladies like a good story," he says and you gag slightly.

"Ash, I don't need to know that. You're my cousin," you chuckle and the black-haired man shrugs his shoulders. "Alright. I'm leaving now. Please get a new phone, so I know you're okay."

Ashton nods his head and wraps his arms around your shoulders, bringing you into a hug. You breathe in deeply, resting your hands on the middle of his back. "Make it home safely. If you feel like someone's following you, come back here," he exclaims and you look up at him through your lashes.

"Thought you didn't want me coming here?" You ask with a smirk and Ashton rolls his eyes and pushes you away.

"Well, you're already here so might as well have you come back," he states and you nod your head, understanding what he's getting at.

You wave goodbye to him while leaving his room, looking to your left to see a man standing in the doorway. He slowly backs into the room before closing the door and you swallow thickly, already feeling uncomfortable.

You hug your medical bag to your chest as you walk down the hallway. You peek your head into Calum's office, seeing the blue-haired man sitting at his desk. You debate to yourself whether or not you should talk to him, but you wanted to gain his trust.

"Calum?" You call out and his head snaps up, his brown eyes meeting yours. "Mind if I have a word with you?"

He looks at you cautiously as you step into the room before closing the door. "Sure come on right in," Cal states in a rude tone and you sigh. "Sorry."

"What's it going to take for you to trust me?" You ask him, getting right to the point and the man leans back in his chair.

"I'm sure Ashton's told you what I've dealt with before," he mentions and you slowly nod your head. "Then you know why I have trust issues."

You run a hand through your hair, letting out a short sigh as your eyes roam around his desk. You furrow your eyebrows together when a picture of you sits on it. "So, you took the picture from Ashton's room?!" You ask and step forward to pick it up before throwing it at him. "What?! You don't trust him to where you're taking his things?!"

Calum chuckles and stands from his chair, towering over you. "I trust Ashton. I don't trust you," he mutters into your ear and you shiver. "Who are you to him?"

"She's my cousin," Ashton's voice calls out and you jump, moving away from the blue-haired man. "What I don't understand is why you couldn't just ask me instead of taking my stuff."

Your glance over your shoulder to see Ash standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. You move your gaze back to Calum and he sighs, sitting on the edge of his desk.

"Sorry, Ash, but you know how I am," he exclaims and the black-haired man snorts, nodding his head.

"You're right. I do know, but you also know that I'm a good friend of yours. So, if you have a problem you can come to me," Ashton mentions and Cal nods his head.

The boss man grabs the picture off of the desk and holds it out to Ash. He takes a hold of it before his hazel eyes move to you. "What are you doing in here, anyway?" He questions and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I came to try to make amends since I plan to be around more often," you tell him and you bring your eyes back to Calum. "I'll see you guys later."

You walk away, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit as you head towards the front door. "Hey," Calum calls out and you glance over your shoulder, humming in response. "There's an extra room here that could be for your medical stuff. So, we don't have to keep bothering you at the hospital… even though it's technically your job."

He smirks and you chuckle softly. "Yeah? Sounds like you're asking me to move in, Hood," you also smirk and Calum laughs, shaking his head.

"You wish," he states and turns around to head back into his office. You bite your lip, trying to stop the smile from coming to your lips as you continue to walk towards the front door.

-

A loud knock on your door awakens you from your slumber. You spring up, a gasp leaving your lips as you breathe heavily and look around your bedroom. "What the hell?" You whisper to yourself when another round of knocks sounds off the walls.

You furrow your eyebrows together as you throw your blanket off of your body. You get up from the bed, slowly walking towards the front door of your apartment.

"Y/N? I can hear you walking," Calum's voice comes through the door and you're even more confused.

You unlock the door and open it a bit, looking at the blue-haired man through the crack. "Calum? Wha-How do you know where I live?" You ask him and you see him gripping his side.

"I've got sources," he says with a smirk and you roll your eyes as that's what you told him and Ash about two months ago upon finding their safehouse. "I… we got ambushed and I need some help."

"I think you're bleeding," you state while noticing the droplets of blood staining the carpet. "C'mon, get inside before someone sees you."

You wrap an arm around Cal as you help him inside your place, immediately walking towards the bathroom. "Thanks, by the way, for not just throwing me to the dogs. I know I haven't been the nicest to you," he confesses and you glance up at him while turning on the bathroom light.

"It's alright, Calum. You had your reasons. Plus, we've been getting along well the past couple of months. I think we're past that rough stage," you smile gently at him and your heart flutters in your chest as a smile comes to his plump lips as well.

"How are you so sweet?" He asks and you blush, shrugging your shoulders. A wince leaves his lips and you snap back to reality, realizing that Calum's currently bleeding on your tile floor.

You unzip his bomber jacket, seeing the blotch of red on his white skin-tight shirt. "I'm gonna need you to take the shirt off," you tell him quietly, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Sure, sweetheart," he smirks and you scoff, mumbling incoherently at him. Calum lifts his shirt over his head before placing it on the sink. "How's it look, Doc?"

Your eyes widen at the bullet hole in his torso, noticing a graze a couple of inches to the right of it as well. "Cal-" you cut yourself off and quickly gather some medical supplies, needing to make sure if the bullets are still lodged in him or they came out clean.

"Don't worry. They're exit wounds," he reassures you and you take a quick glance at his face, seeing the calm look.

"I guess that's good but at the same time, it's not," you mumble while grabbing a few alcohol pads so you can clean his wounds. "This might sting."

Calum curses as you wipe the pad along the bullet hole, cleaning it before tossing the bloody wipes into the trash. You tape gauze to each wound, making sure they're covered properly before running your fingers through your hair.

"Do you need any pain meds?" You ask him and Calum shakes his head. You nod your head, muttering an okay before leading him back into the living room.

"Could I stay here tonight? Lay low until the morning?" Calum asks and you nod your head, butterflies setting off in your stomach.

"Y-Yeah, you go ahead and take the bed. I'll sleep here on the couch," you tell him and go to grab a couple of blankets when his hand takes a hold of your wrist.

You halt your movements, your eyes staring into his as Calum's thumb gently strokes your wrist. "I'll take the couch," he mentions and you start to shake your head.

"No, no. You need more space for the wounds you have," you try to reason and the blue-haired man smiles down at you.

"Share the bed with me then?" He asks and your cheeks heat up. "It's not like we both haven't been thinking about it."

"I-I… What?! You've… thought about me like that?" You whisper and he tilts his head before licking his lips.

Calum moves his hand to your face, grazing his fingers across your cheekbone. "More times than one," he breathes and your eyes flutter shut, feeling his breath on yours.

His lips were just about to meet yours when a knock on your door pulls you away. You furrow your eyebrows, wondering who it could exactly be since its two in the morning. "Y/N, it's me!" Ashton's voice calls through the door and you let out a sigh of relief.

You start to head towards the door when Calum grabs your wrist again, pulling you back towards him. You go to say something when his lips connect with yours. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands landing on his chest while you move your lips against his.

It wasn't a long kiss, but it was definitely passionate. You pull away after about a minute and your heart beats erratically in your chest. You smile softly, his forehead leaning against yours for a few moments.

The knocking continues and you move away from the leader, heading towards your front door. You open it to see Ashton standing on the other side and his chest is heaving up and down rapidly. “Oh, thank god,” he breathes and you look up at him confused while he pushes his way past you.

“Ashton? What’s going on?” Calum’s voice calls out and the hazel-eyed man looks towards his boss before bringing his eyes back to you. You feel your cheeks heat up and scratch the back of your neck, clearing your throat.

Ashton shakes his head and reminds himself to bring it up to you later. “We have to go. All of us,” he states and Cal tilts his head to the side, not getting what he means. “Someone betrayed us… again. They know about Y/N. They know where she lives and they suspect she means something to you, Calum. We need to go.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as the blue-haired man clenches his jaw before running his hands over his face. “Alright. Y/N, pack some stuff. I’ve got a cabin that’s tucked in the woods we can go to,” he commands and you nod your head, rushing past the two men towards your bedroom.

Ashton watches you walk away for a few seconds before turning his gaze towards his friend. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he mumbles and Calum nods his head, pulling up his shirt to show off the patched up wounds he has.

“I needed our nurse to patch me up,” Calum chuckles and Ashton raises an eyebrow, humming in response.

You walk out of your room with a suitcase and notice the tension in the room. Your eyes dart between Ash and Cal, the black-haired man giving you a look that screams, "you'll be explaining this later."

The three of you leave your apartment, Calum's hand resting on your lower back as Ashton leads you out. The blue-haired man looks everywhere, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious as we walk towards a black SUV.

Calum grabs your suitcase, going to put it in the back as you get into the backseat, seeing Luke in the driver's seat and Michael in the back seat. Ashton hops in the passenger seat while Cal gets in beside you. Your heart still beats quickly in your chest as Luke begins driving away.

You feel a hand on your thigh and your gaze moves to Calum, seeing the sympathetic look on his face. "Don't worry. We'll keep you safe," he whispers and stealthily presses a kiss to the side of your head.

-

Taglist: @galcalirwin @myloverboyash @sexgodashton @h0tsos @mysticalhood @gigglyirwin @thebookamongmen @philthepegacorn @frontmanash @tea4sykes @itsasadfishworld @everyscarisahealingplace @talkfastromance4 @maluminspace @creator-appreciator @g-l-pierce @abb-lan-5sos @hemmingslftv @notinthesameguey @another-lonely-heart @strawberriesonsummer @suchalonelysunflower​

[spacegaywritings]

Drunk Kitchen - Chapter 1 / 2

Summary: Remy and Virgil have some fun with adult juice but their fun is about to drop when the craving for sustenance Can be read as purely platonic considering there is no lip-kisses. Tags: food mention ×missing your soulmate ×Alcohol ×Drunken Shenanigans ×Drunken Flirting ×Drunkenness ×war metaphors from drunk idiots taking cooking too serious

tumblr links:1 / 2 || ao3: 1 / 2 / all. My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me Story under the cut!

  The sun was low, the day was crisp. Afternoon settled over the land and into the bones of workers hungering for the sweet end of their weekend shifts just to make a bit of extra money and finally be with their beloved home.

Outside, a few people got ready to enjoy the Saturday night, to go wild and party and dance until their bodies had different shames and their head carried different names. The first groups emerged from the home-coming crowds as the birds flew back to their nests and the first buses took the party people over to the pool of sweaty bodies and alcoholic beverages.

Inside, some people reunited their families, others were greeting the next groups of wellness-seeking average people who just lived for getting a meal cooked for them once in a while.

In other places, the party was already high up. It was autumn, Saturday afternoon and so late, you could almost call it evening with the clouds closing in to frame the sun. The bright star was slowly descending, disappearing behind the busy streets and high skyscrapers.

Virgil and Remy... they were the last kind of people. Ever since their roommate - Emile, lovely and beloved datemate of theirs - was out to meet his parents and do some catching up stuff, Remy had decided that it was time to do some catching up as well.

Holding up a bottle of strong alcohol, he had invited Virgil into the “fun” they would have and all the other could see was the impending doom within a bottle. Still, he had given in and willingly decided to slurp some of the disgusting and burning liquid from Remy’s bouncing navel piercing.

Virgil had never forgotten his doubts as quick as in these moments.

Drinking was far beyond by now, the sun was burning with the last intensity of a stubborn yet dying ally. The last words were spoken and Remy sagged against his love.

“wmhwmhw V..”, he mumbled and snuggled against the taller boy.

Virgil swatted at the other but made no attempt at actually pushing him off or anything. Instead, he wrapped an arm around him after trying to get at his little coffee bean. He wavered on his feet but made sure to lean against the counter as Remy just decided to give in and crush Virgil with the whole weight of being responsible to hold him up.

“The fwuck yo...yo wan-mmm “, Virgil hiccuped as he snuggled the other, “uh.. Ri?”

His voice was low and the words came out much clearer than expected but Virgil was worse off than Remy, despite the heavy hiccuping that came from the smaller of the two.

“VIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii”, Remy shouted at once, then dragged the syllable along as if it was a piece of chewed out, wet gum rather than a nickname.

The man in question just let out a grunt in reply but looked at the shorter guy with hazy hazel eyes. Heh, hazel hazy... hazyel... Pf..

Virgil’s lips twitched into a lazy smile. His arm tugged at Remy who had not enough control over his body to resist the strong suggestion of cuddling closer. The tall, slightly curvy man chuckled a bit and flapped his long lanky arms around his lovely Remy.

“Ri-Ri - Remyyyyyy”, he giggled in a singsong voice as he rocked from left to right and left to right and further to the right and then stopped.. because he lost the unsteady rhythm his drunkass-stupid mind had set up before. He was even too silly to follow his unconscious motifs.

The smaller man was torn between giggling and breaking off the whole hug but the rocking movement was something between nauseating and comforting in a way that he felt too mentally and physically weak in his knees to put a foot down and stop it. He just let his baggy body sluggishly fall from one to the other side within Virgil’s soggy grip.

“Nuuu”, Remy protested. He was so short of breath, he just snuggled back against Virgil’s chest and let out more distressed noises of Remy’s Complaints :tm: “Vii....”, he started again, his mind gathering every bit of brain juice he had to actually continue his intention and voice whatever weird thought had built up in his mind, “food..we..”

Remy swallowed.

“we need foo...fofof..foof....” Remy scoffed at himself, indignation taking over as he felt anger rise against his useless mouth. How dare it just suck at wording like this? “f-food. FucKING food!”

Spit flew against Virgil’s purple shirt but he was too dizzy to really see it. His mind was everywhere and it felt as if nothing was steady but instead, all was moving. He knew nothing should be moving and he had stopped rocking forever ago.

Wait, where was he? Oh, oh yes. Remy.

“uh.. what?”

He blinked and redirected his attention to the other again.

“Uh.. fo-forgot to .. uh .. what .. um, did you say? “

His mind was still drawing a blank at him so he just stared at Remy, hazel eyes empty and void of expectation or thought. He lacked about anything but a high blood sugar level and tons of alcohol. Yes. Yes, so much alcohol of it.. of this bottle and another bottle and oh man..

“Virgil - Vi Vi vI vI v iv iv viv - bitch! virgIL you stupid fucker”

Remy ranted on and patted his chest violently, insistently. The other blinked and just... nodded again, his wavy attention slowly wobbling back into place as Remy wanted to have it. His mind felt like these ... these screens ..oh man these screens... sleep screens? These screens that happen when you do not use your shit and then your technology gives you that DVD screen and the symbol changes colour and wobbles from one corner to another and usually just hits walls.

This was his mind right now.

“Virgil” Remy flapped a hand against Virgil’s cheek. “Like,... food... we gotta eat and this shit.... food... just food, man”

He voice started to sound like he was talking about a conspiracy rather than preparing a meal with one of his datemates.

Virgil carefully nodded. Still, his face seemed as droopy and out-of-this-world as before. Connecting to him seemed about impossible bit Remy was trying his best and somewhat succeeding at this point.

At last, the taller one was looking down at the man in black. A slightly oversized top was hugging Remy’s sides and slacked a bit around his chest area. Forever stoic, the tall over squinted at Remy and nodded.

“Food”, he repeated.

Slowly, at an incredibly ancient pace, Virgil’s mind seemed to start and actually process the idea of food, a meal. Yes, food. Food sounded good, sounded like an amazing thing to have. Oh, yes food could be tasty and they could eat together and have really tasty food that was delicious.

“Em has foood”, he argued eventually.

Yeah, whyever the hell would Virgil make food if it was not in order to satisfy Emile’s petite hunger. His mind just could not comprehend the idea of .... making a meal when Emile was gone. Why would he? It did not make sense.

Unless..

Virgil blinked, a flash of intelligence brushing through his alcohol-numbed braincells. Remy.

“hungry... uh.. you “, he started at first, then swallowed, his mouth tasting of cherries and kisses even sweeter than sugared fruit. And it tasted of a lot of alcohol. It could rival a bottle of common sanitising solution, to be candid. “You are hungry?”

Remy nodded eagerly!

His head bopped up and down immediately but once he had executed the movement for a bit, his head seemed to understand that the pressure and pain seemed to come from the sensation of sudden and repetitive movement of his innocent brain. If he tried harder, maybe he would just make a little cocktail in his head.

Heh, like a brain milkshake when you ate icecream a lot and it started hurting so you shake your head until the pain comes off. Brainfreeze was bad. Yes.

But food!!

“ah - uh.. food”, Remy repeated once more, “cook - um,.. we should cook.”

Virgil nodded without understanding and let himself be tugged along. The smaller boyfriend was freeing himself from Virgil’s wide hugs and he quickly made it out of the embrace and stepped away from the loving support that was his boyfriend’s stable shoulder.

Without missing another heartbeat, Remy strode forward and dragged Virgil along. Together, they made a move, they made progress, they took a whole step after the other until Remy - the genius of the two - made a big realisation- Virgil had been his support all along.

His body did not like being without any wall or shoudler to lean on. Instead of moving forward, he was suddenly experiencing the force of being forced downwards and he and Virgil bonked their heads together as they stupidly collapsed into the floor.

No braincell was lost in the process of making this fall. They were just as silly before the fall and they would continue to be silly even afterwards. Honestly, they were not more clever, now that they had experienced the first hardship.

Oh no. Those were drunk idiots.

Hurting heads clanked together and Virgil slid over the body underneath him, his throbbing temples restricting his reason and patience.

What had happpened? Did they not want to make food? But the food... Where was the food?

“Where ‘s Em?”, Virgil mumbled and scrambled his twig of a physical vessel back into a seating position at last.

Remy was still on the floor, groaning and cursing unintelligible strings of words. Maybe they were made-up words. They sounded made-up. Virgil’s boyfriend was beautiful and a really clever writer so he probably knew how to make words. Wow, such great skill.

He really wanted to kiss him now but a part of him was still mourning after the - once again - new realisation of a missing Emile.

“Viiiiiiiiiii”

A voice whined and the black bundle of boyfriend was moving towards him again, hands facing him and arms outstretched as if to grab Virgil like a lifeline.

“Em is not here...”, Virgil responded and laid back down to his partner.

Misery loves company ♥

The tall boy curled around the smaller one and gently hugged him from behind. Remy let out a little hiccup and snuggled into the embrace.

“n we dun hav food”, he argued silently and nudged Virgil’s chest with his heavy head. It was running on pain and simply pressing against his skull for no reason but to be dummy annoying.

That stupid bitch.

“We uh.. can umm.... do this thing - like..uh, cook..” Virgil swallowed, his body suddenly invigorated by the energy of being right about something, by having a single functioning braincell in his godforsaken drunk-ass head. “Cook! Oh my fuck, we-we can cook!”

The raven man twitched and tapped the floor insistently.

“PIZZA!”

Virgil nodded.

“uh.. how.. how do you.. uh ,,, we? How ... how pizza? How do you make uh, ujm.. pizza”

“Oh !! o ! yes, pizza!”

Virgil’s mind was already swirling around the idea of hot, cheesy, greasy food. Tasty, doughy and absolutely amazing for his mouth - his tastebuds. It felt like a relief already.

In foolish happiness, the two got up. It took a while, longer than a few moments but rather multiple minutes until they had climbed and dragged themselves back up to the position of standing, sophisticated human beings. Not that they were a part of the fancy beings but rather that they seemed to resemble this species a bit more than any other.

Eventually, Remy hung over the drawer filled with snacks. He needed to eat, wanted to eat and he had a certain craving for the greasiest of foods. The black dude grabbed the crisps and hugged them to himself, snuggling up on topf of the kitchen counter with the little snack as Virgil got minced meat to make a killer festival of a greasy pizza dish. Remy started off good! His hands grabbed the package from two sides and started pulling. For some reason, still, his grip seemed to slip. His fingers just couldn't grasp the material properly. It was one of the shiny packages that felt smoother than these matte ones. Virgil liked the texture better so they usually got these rather than other ones.

Just.. today.. they didn't seem to want to open and Remy, in his silly mind, was convinced that more violence and stubbornness would solve the issue better than scissors would ever be able to. Virgil got a pan and was ready to got. Meat, pan. What else would a person need?

His drunk mind started working, gears setting into motion and letting his thought process start. Just as he realised that maybe some oil would be helpful, he heard a loud sound, a sudden shuffling and scattering.

The hazy mind of Virgil redirected his shortened attention span to the source of sound and was met with the sight of Remy covered in spices and crisps. Opening the pack of crisps with a little more aggression was not as practical as he had expected it to be and now he was stuck on the kitchen counter, covered in crisps and crumbs and excess spice powder.

“...uh..”

The tall blob of confusion looked at the orange boy. Yes, Remy was now officially orange. Those were spicy crisps! Honestly, if someone was able to pull off being covered in crisps, drunk out of their mind yet still look somewhat remotely attractive then it was Remy.

The hungry man giggled, his body vibrating and and shaking in amusement. The crisps travelled down, sliding off his clothes and down onto the counter.

“I am tasty!”, he cheered, arms stretched out and ready to hug and tackle the issue at hand, “look!”

The taller one of the lovers just shook his head and leaned in, snatching one off the crisps with his tongue and welcoming the spicy hot treat into the drooling cavern that was his mouth. A hum escaped his mouth and he nodded his head sagely.

“Very tasty”

The two giggled further, Virgil curling his tall posture into a slightly crooked “l” as he  leaned closer to the counter. His hand grasped the edge and promptly encountered one of the lost crisps that cracked and broke on impact. A dying screech could be heard after the lethal contact. A few crumbs could be found on the inside of Virgil’s hand as he retreated his palm in the curiosity of an innocent child’s mind.

“huh..”, he observed wisely. His tongue leaped at the crumbs and he absorbed the piece of sustenance.

“We need to clean .. uh.. that”, he added after chewing on his food and eventually swallowing it down. His left vaguely gestured towards the mess of roasted potatoes decorating one of his datemate’s bodies.

It was a wondrous sight but would turn Emile into an upset little puppy rather than a happy and excited Golden Retriever. He did have the soft energy of one.

Remy nodded again. One of his hands bravely sneaked one of the crispy delights and rewarded his watering mouth with the taste of bell peppers.

“Ish gwood”

Virgil snorted.

“Em- uh.. We- we need to clean”, he reiterated, “we gotta clean.”

The smaller man suddenly shook, his body coming to life and more avalanche of crumbs suddenly breaking from Mount Remy and crashing down onto the kitchen counter with silent pitter-patter sounds. It was like raindrops but less liquid and more dry. More crunchy and crushing.

Satisfying.

“We! Uh, we can..ah- do uh.. um! Bowl! V! Get a bowl!”

The taller of the two broke away from his waiting stance and slowly descended to his knees to pick up a bowl. His mind comprehended the things a bit better by now. The alcohol might be fading or maybe the one bit of crisps was absorbing ALL his alcohol within him.

Or magic, obviously.

They got the crisps from the kitchen counter and off Remy right into the bowl which was then settled in Remy’s happy lap. He was welcoming and neighbourly to the bowl, hugged it and treated it right because he was proper and gentlemanly in his foggy mind.

Virgil looked at the bowl, full and rich with greasy little pieces of potatoes and a mix of spices.

“uh.. they um.. they will be bad”, he thought aloud and tapped against the bowl as he fished another bit out of it. His mouth was accepting the treat willingly and his stomach howled in anticipation. Only his mind was still twisting and turning and nothing made sense. Not that he minded too much. His body was warm and cozy and his thoughts seemed to fly. “we um.. should eat all.”

Remy hugged the bowl, his face immediately scrunching up in distaste.

“Food!”

The smaller man curled up, his legs moving up and his back hitting the wall as he pulled his knees up to his chest. The bowl was put between his chest and the knees.

His precious treasure.

“Ri, we... you are eating it. We will eat it”, Virgil compromised and reached out for the bowl but Remy hissed at him. The heart of a betrayed man was on his tongue as he scowled at the other and gently snuggled his little meal.

A soft puppy face spread over his facial features.

“We eat it..?”

His voice was softer than silk, the tone lowered to a plead. Virgil’s smile was soft and genuine when it appeared and settled on his features. He tried to mimic a similar level of gentleness with his voice and carefully brushed over the back of one of Ri’s hands that was grasping the bowl.

��We will eat it all. No throwing away.”

Remy smiled at him and nodded enthusiastically.

“We share!”

The two were calmly eating out the bowl, enjoying the greasy treat and Virgil allowed himself to lean into the counter and lay next to Remy. The latter eventually decided to be a good bean and switch the bowl with Virgil. Once one of his datemates was sprawled over his thighs, Remy brushed through the pastel pink hair tips of his love’s soft strands. The home dyejob was long ago and the colour was faded so much that the bleached hair slowly took over but Virgil seemed comfortable with a tuff of cotton candy as his hair.

He hummed.

“Food... V.. “, he commented and gently patted his head - earning a little gasp from the other in his state of mindless relaxation. “perfect”

Virgil giggled, the words of his Remy immediately prompting the response their datemate would usually add to it.

“Do you mean ‘purrfect’ ?”, the two inquired in unison before falling victim to their own giggles which soon consumed the incomplete throuple. They would both hear Em’s voice without him being around.

Remy softly nudged his love and Virgil let out a soft grumble. He decided to groan back and nudge again to insist on his wish that the tall boy move.

“We still need to cook, yanno”

Virgil giggled, wobbling on his feet with his wonky stand on the ground. He shifted his weight from one side to the other and moved like a wave to balance his uncertain steps.

“Heh.. cock”, he commented, intelligently so.

Remy joined his hilarious giggles and soon enough, the Virgil curled over the other, hugging him and vibrating in laughter as his smaller roommate shook and twitched in his soft snickers.

“C-cok..!”, Remy tried to correct yet failed as his breathless lungs swallowed half his sounds. Instead, his miserable attempt at setting things straight ended up in making the whole endeavour even gayer. “Co-..cockpfffffffffff”

Virgil shook his head, head red with laughter and euphoria as the words hit him and the meaning actually reached his mind. For some reason, repeating “cock” was amazing and his mind chanted it back at him, echoing the stuttered out attempts at saying “cook” that Remy produced with little success and much struggle.

“c-...”, Virgil laughed loudly, drawing back and wobbling onto his feet once more instead of blanketing his love with the abomination of his oddly large body, “co...cocc!!”

Remy had just composed himself to as much as breathe for a little second but the words Virgil threw into their version of a conversation quickly rekindled the fire of shrieking laughter and gasping snickers.

The two continued simply repeating each others miserable shots at saying “cook” a few more times, wild banter or unfinished words and breathless syllables were between them and filled the room with the warmth it was missing with their datemate still out. Heads grew hot and glowed in amusement at their stupid joke. Nothin could stop them but their horrible need to breathe after all.

They calmed down and their laughter died down.

Virgil decorated the floor, hugging the cool tiles with his warm tomato head as Remy patted the empty counter he sat on, his hand just mindlessly moving against it, stroking it ever so gently like a lover should be caressed. The tall boy was already half asleep as Remy’s hazy look wandered over the mess of a kitchen.

Crisps were still scattered wildly around the kitchen counter (mostly limited to where he was sitting) and even the floor. Cups, shots and little decorative umbrellas were clotting the sink and a few empty cans and bottles lined the side of the sink that did not have a drying rack. Even further, there were towels and napkins everywhere.. and more importantly, a pack of meat and a whole bottle of olive oil.

Why.. Oh, yes. The food.

His lethargic sight was enriched by the eventual addition of crisps creeping into his field of vision.

“V!!! V! The fooooood”

His words emphasised the food part. The significant part. Oddly enough, he could experience a moment of déjà vu yet without any recollection of similar events happening to him. Or happening at all.

The patch of pink and purple pastels was still on the floor but slowly, the legs within the pink yoga pants started stirring up.

He groaned again, feeling the déjà vu also but not being able to quite place it. The past minutes were lost on him. Virgil’s eyes blinked at the new day and new situation before him. Everything was fresh to his drunk mind and he nodded as he signaled he had heard his smaller lover.

He scratched his butt but made sure to flip himself over so he could see the other hovering over him on his divine place on the kitchen counter. Far above him, posing on the clouds of this mundane kitchen. The house’s own Cupid was shooting him glances of love and blinked in charm with his lovely eyelashes.

Virgil smiled up at the divine sight of his love. His sight was blurred by the pinkish veil of his hair that pretended to protect his lazy eyes from the longing lights in the kitchen that shone down onto him.

“Hey there, beauty~”

His smile grew into a little grin as he winked at the comfortable god.

“V you silly noodle~ “

Remy giggled back and curled into himself once more, by now fully laying on his kitchen cloud. His legs were slightly bent, the one pressed against the counter a bit more so than the one above it. One of his arms was supporting him as he leaned on its shoulder. The other arm was lazily draped over his rich middle.

His fingers traced hearts over the counter as he blinked into the pink madness of his little giant.

“What do you want, my love~?”

Virgil smirked up at his adorable master, a stupid happiness painting his facial features with a certain softness. Maybe it was just the fact half his face was covered in his bangs completely falling all over his eyes and even tickling his nubby nose.

The two gazed at one another, each a picture of the epitome of beauty to the other. They relished in the affection, the rosy vision and blurry flutters in their heart.

A noise could be heard. Remy blinked, awakening from the trance that was the spell of love his precious Virgil had cast on him with just his soft looks.

A rumble and grumble could be heard. A hollering and squeaking of demands and curses was thrown around - all coming from the hungry monster in Remy’s stomach. He looked down at it, a distant look in his eyes.

Confusion rolled in his mind but Virgil seemed to remember - or just suddenly have a little bit of understanding left in his mind. He blinked his eyes further open and patted the floor, gently stroking it before pulling himself together and sitting down properly.

“Riri, the f o o d!”, he told him and grabbed the counter to support himself in getting up. His tall body was soon hovering over the counter and gesturing towards the oil and meat once more. “We can cook the meat, man”

Remy nodded, rubbing his eyes. He carefully pushed himself into position once more and soon enough sat proudly on the counter, cheek a bit red from laying on the counter. He played with the sunglasses on top of his head and grabbed a nearby bottle. Taking a huge swig from it, he swallowed the acidic liquid.

His face immediately grimaced as his taste buds detected the different sensations coming at them and his reaction was immediate. The bitterness of alcohol, the intense burning of it down his throat made him scrunch up his facial features entirely. A fire was felt in his mouth but it was calmed by the abundance of sweetness mixed into their cocktail blend was finally reaching him. A taste of fruity freshness and the acidic undertone from lemons and limes washed the bitterness way and made him forget about the disgusting aftertaste of cheap vodka.

Ugh, who bought this shit anyway. It was one of the most widely-ruined alcoholic beverages on this planet and people just saw it as cheap ingredient for a sad cocktail in their plan to get smashed with as little money and effort as possible. Which he and Virgil did too, so he could not really judge that.

Virgil.. Virgil who was looking at him, head tilted and exposing his neck a bit. His pastel purple shirt around him was loosely hanging from him and barely covering his collarbone and general neck area.

The tall pastel boy reached for the bottle before Remy got to unscrew it and made sure to empty the rest into his big mouth. Remy just blinked at the other, shaking himself in disgust for a moment before he received the empty bottle in his hands and finally shut the holder of horribly disgusting sweetness.

“Good”, Virgil reviewed with a click of his tongue.

A pleased expression settled on his face and he looked like a peaceful statue of stone that would sit in some temples and parks.

Remy shook his head, his piercings clanging together with silent sound akin to jingling bells. The taller datemate cleared his throat again and pointed ta the stove.

“You gonna come.. come and uh.. help me cook?”, he asked softly as he looked at his lovely datemate. He was such a handsome piece of man. A fine man in black from head to toe, even his earrings and piercings were black (safe for the septum in silver than graced his lovely nose).

The smaller goth got down to the floor and quickly wrapped his arms around Virgil’s soft middle.

“mmmh”

Remy hummed and gently snuggled up to the walking softness that was one of his boyfriends. Sometimes he just realised that they had not touched in a while and it felt ridiculous.. wrong, in a way.

The closeness was remedying the little void in his touch-o-meter. He snuggled up to Virgil’s chest, hugging him close and simply enjoying how the embrace was returned. Virgil’s large arms folded around him, carefully holding him and shielding him from the touch-starved life without him. The taller one softly started rocking after he pressed a little smooch to the top of his head.

“Got you, Smalls”

Remy let out a sound of protest but stayed within the hold. No fight, no resistance. It was just cuddling softly, eyes closed and hearts opened as the warmth of affection lulled them in. Slowly, the weight in Virgil’s arms became more present, the pressure against his chest a little uncomfortable as Remy dozed off, falling against the tall pastel bean.

“ m nodt smahls”

His eyes fought to open again and he lethargically burdened himself with blinking at the other.

“Ssure not l-llove”, Virgil giggled in return and leaned down to hug more of his little lover.

Emile was still not with them and it was nagging at him.

“m!”, Virgil argued, pulling away from Remy at once, “We clan - can!Uh ... um.. Cook and and then be up um.. for uh.. for when Emile uh .. retwurns back uh .. home!” He bounced a bit in his spot and turned his attention back to the stove, quickly moving to put some oil into the pan he had put out before.

“He-he can eat th-the food and ...b..uh.. be proud of us!”

Virgil got on to it, totally absorbing himself in the magical art of fucking preparing food - a meal, even so. The only thing was that the whole process seemed a little lost on him. Once the oil was in and the stove started to heat up the pan along with the oil, he was a bit.. clueless and left to the devices of a person just as unknowledgable as a child. Or, well, a drunkass FULLY grown adult who does not understand life but is tall enough to eat BABIES.

Helplessly, he turned to Remy as the oil startd to change. It did not look just the same as before, there was something happening. There were small bubbles and it felt like some bride’s veil was just dropped in this shit and now everything was slowly whitish but in a really weird and odd blur. Holy fuck, it got more.

There was even more. They got more and more by the minute, soon enough covering the bottom of the whole pan and effectively taking over the oil.

Oh no. It was... It could not be!

This shit was fighting the oil.

“REMY”, Virgil yelled instinctively as he grabbed his smaller man and hugged him close, effectively trapping him in the sweet embrace of absolute and immediate anxiety edging on panic.

The smaller individual stared at the oil, the whitish bubbles in it and saw the sizzling, witnessed the soft little sounds, almost friendly enough to woe him into believing its innocence but he was smarter than that. He would not be fooled into falling for this cheap trick. He was a serious and super intelligent man. He was capable, strong, handsome, gay, hungry and even more fucking gay if he did not mention it before.

Nothing and nobody would or should ever mess with a Queen, a Diva like Remy.

Not even oil. No matter how tasty and delicious it seemed to be .. or smell. How did simple greasy shit already smell so aromatic? Honestly, this was peak restaurant ambient!

Remy held his tall boy and hissed back at the rude intruder.

“Oh, you -”, he challenged with the sudden flow of determination hitting him. The alcohol was driving into his bloodstream and fuelling his confidence to the point of proud idiocy.

He eyed the pan... quickly, he could realise the oil jumping at them, starting the fight, picking up weapons and hitting the first men!

“TAKE COVER!”

The malicious entity has chosen.. death. Ah, alright. Remy saw that. Remy understood.

He was a clever man.

He blinked, refreshing his mind and eyes at once. Within SECONDS - because he was a genius among mortals - he had calculated e v e r y t h i n g.

The oil was coming for them, launching missiles of little white bubbles and hot hard pain at them. It was seething, it was cruel and it was not the last word of blood and injury spoken between them. Remy predicted the attacks swiftly, his mind working overtime at the task of working out a plan as he threw himself against Virgil to dramatically shift them out of shooting range.

They needed to be safe from this evil monster, the ill-spirited being of oily disasters and compromised bubbles of seething, white rage.

“Virgil, Virgil we - “, he started, gasping his words out as if a terrible injury was keeping him from breathing and speaking properly, “we need to stop it!”

The long man nodded, gaze shifting from the monstrosity of oil he had unleashed and the alarmed face of Remy’s usually so calm features. He reminded him of a person at gym, you know, those fitness coaches that were really into physical exercise and they would push you to your limits so hard, you wanted to cry. Kinda. A weird cry of yes and no but it was no maybe, not really. Actually, it was not maybe at all.

It was weird and it was painfully feigned enthusiasm for self-torturing devices.

Wait, how did he - Oh yes, the oil.

“We, um.. uh .. stop it”, Virgil agreed.

A small tinge of regret stabbed him like the shady little bitch it was. Just a fucking little backstabber getting back at him - literally, pun not intended - when he least expected it, when he was exposed and vulnerable. Okay, he was always vulnerable.

Virgil waved his hand around as if to fan the danger away with his magical drunk powers of dummy-thiccness.

“We can distract it”, he slowly suggested, his voice slowing down significantly, “away from us.”

His hands were parallel to one another, as if to indicate a certain length that was the space between his hands. The palms faced one another and he moved the pair of hands from one side to another with an air of importance surrounding him.

Remy nodded with great authority.

“Amazing plan!”

He agreed with a cheer and stared back at the raging fireworks of oil bullets littering the kitchen with greasy spots and defacing destructing. The situation got out of hand, slowly but surely so.

Burning olives could be smelled. They were the souls of the dead, the fallen and forgotten. Their sacrifice would not be for nothing, it would not be dismissed as collateral damage.

Virgil dashed forward, running straight through the shower of oily precipitation raining down on him, his vulnerable pastel soft self. He screamed, screeched and cried in battle demeanour and aggressively threw his head back to face his opponent.

“I will take it from here!”

Virgil stared at the pan, the drawer underneath it heavily attacked by the angrily steaming monster. It was where all the lids were.

“Ri!”, the pastel baby called through the loud hissing and shrieking of the raging dumpsterfire that was hot and burning oil, “You go bash that meat into this shit”

Virgil swallowed hard, the words on his tongue too much for him to comprehend, tears forming in his eyes as he came to terms with what he was about to announce. “I will go get the lid and shut this fucker up”

Silence.

When radios or TV channels hit an error, there was that weird static sound, somewhat intense and monotone but persistent. It was this kind of sound that seemed to dominate the battlefield the oily savage had forced upon this kitchen. Their kitchen..... It would pay for it.

Remy’s beautiful face of love and darkness was derailing into a shocked movement of mouthing protests, proposing empty alternatives to the plan. Virgil shook his head decidedly, not even paying mind to the multiple Remys before him.

It was just an oil job. That shit had messed with their kitchen enough but it would not mess any further with him and one of his dear beloved ones.

He looked down at his arms, spots of burned skin meeting his vision. Future scars of the heroic action he was about to complete. There was flesh missing in his mind, in this kitchen. It was lost like the comrades they had forever missed in battle. The salt shaker, the cocktail glass... The little spoon with sugar crystals still on and around it. They had fallen and they were to never return.

The two engaged in eye contact for a moment lasting longer than a heart’s eternity. Their eyes longingly connected, just a bit, only a second.

Remy gulps down his hesitation and fear. While the oily giant was harmless at first, it was fear-inducing and absolutely horrifying by now. It was teaching them the lessons of obedience and pain - the hard way. Their hearts knew love from each other but they also felt the terror blown into them by the horrific enemy rising in their kitchen.

Virgil nods.

The time has come.

The nod was slow, an exaggerated movement in order to make sure Remy would not miss it. Compared to the following actions, it was basically slow motion. Then, everything happened at once, happened in quick succession and happened incredibly so.

Remy dashed forward to the meat and just flung it right into the pan at once while Virgil slid all over the floor to the drawer and Pulle out a lid just to immediately smash it on top of the pan, covering up the oily mess and saving them from the dictatorship or violence and hatred.

Just like that it was over, they counted their wounds and embraced each other as shivers and memories crawled up their spines. They knew what have been through and they wouldn't be able to just live it down. It would stay.

The raging fire of the defeated oil could still be heard but it was contained at last, it was not out there to hurt them anymore. they were safe and sound in each other's arms. Remy squeezed the pastel blob in his arms, the slightly taller male wincing at the friction and pressure against his wounded skin. His exposed arms smelled like burned meat.

Or maybe it was just the actual minced meat cooking in the pan. They didn't know.

The sage hand turned down the heat of the stove and Virgil gently nuzzled his boyfriend's neck, his fine face quickly hidden in the collar of Remy's black jacket. Not even at home was the place for Remy to take it off. He was more comfortable in it and he absolutely was right in just how stunning and badass he looked with it decorating his biceps.

Virgil gently dove deeper into the embrace and just sighed, softly mumbling nice things, little praises and compliments for his beloved datemate. The other carefully reassured him, told him he was proud and that it was over.

The oil was still angrily boiling and loudly seizing the meat inside.

Remy carefully nudged his love and have his cheek a little smooch.

"We did it" he concluded and gently squeezed his hands. Virgil nodded, lips curved up and humming in affirmation. "You're a brave one, Rem", he shot back.

The addressed man let out a small sound, something akin to a groan. His cheeks were dusted in red feathery delight of a warm blush. He gently shook his head and peppered a few more kisses all over Virgil's scarred face.

"No, you", he softly countered.

Virgil giggled and shook his head as he pulled away and turned to the food. The smell of cooked meat was reaching up to their nostrils, spoiling and temping them with the luxurious scent of a promising meal.

His stomach rumbled in anticipation.

"Cheese?"

Remy tilted his head as he carefully pushed Virgil out of the way to stir the food without getting hurt. Even with some oil spilling around and shooting into his direction, the jacket protected him. Virgil's soft appearance wasn't covered up enough for him to be safe from the deathly syringes of oil doses. He got the hint and stumbled around to get his jacket. Emile and Remy had hade it for him.

He loved it so much.

"Yes, cheese. Of course"

The two, now oddly sober, cuddled up before the stove and got into the whole cooking process.

Virgil got cups of actual water for them at last and they both drank this. They didn't feel ask dizzy and odd anymore, nor just focused and immersed in the idea of eating food. The smell really did it to them.

Virgil had added some spices and Remy sneaked some more crisps into his mouth, occasionally feeding some to his beloved soulmate. Well, one of them.

He softly rests his head against Virgil's shoulder as he stirred cut tomatoes into the mix. Some herbs and beans were added by Virgil at this moment.

Who would have thought they would eventually get to make food at all? They certainly believed in it, during the times when they actually remembered wanting to make food.

The pastel pal snuggled up to Remy, leaning against the much stronger one and simply dozing to the delicious smell of probably just slightly burned food. Remy nudged his datemate to the couch to doze a bit. Virgil was hugging a bundle of blankets rather than covering himself up. He looked ready for more hugs as he silently whimpered for Ri to give up on the food and just cuddle him.

Meanwhile, Remy mixed grated cheese under the food and added fresh lettuce like the genius he was. His mind was young, hungry and drunk but he was also wild and free. Especially free of logic. The emptied cans were cluttered all over the kitchen and barely any space was left unoccupied from the drunk ramblings of idiot amateur cooks.

Towels, trash, cutlery and plates were all over the place, some cutting boards adding to the mix and obviously many bottles and cups. The oily mess all over the counters and the floor wasn't even spoken of at this point. There were still so many other stains in the usually so clean and tidied up kitchen. Usually, Remy would take care of cleaning the kitchen, keeping it neat and clear at all costs but right now, he was not in the mindset. He was drooling over the food the had made. It was probably way past midnight, yet he was focused on the food.

The steaming hot goddess was lazily falling from his big cooking spoons as he stirred and mixed stringy cheese into the mix of spices and meat and so so many tomatoes. Considering their state, they could have cooked worse food. The heaps of reddish "stew" heavily fell back into the pot. By now the strings of molten cheese were drawing lines and twirl through the wonderful creation.

Oregano tickled his nose.

He got a big bowl and basically spilled 80% of the stuff into it. The bowl greedily absorbed the food, taking it in and deliciously spreading itself with the tempting smell and sight. in Remy's mind, he had halved the whole drunk masterpiece of smells and tastes but reality didn't exactly reflect his beliefs accordingly.

He didn't mind the few bits of mashed-up food staining the sides around the bowl. Not that the kitchen was suddenly turned into a worse mess by this. It wasn't a significant addition but rather the cherry on top of a true mess.

Anyhow, the food was done and ready to feed them. He got three spoons in all his laziness and wobble his tickling legs into the living room with his love. Emile would be bs ck soon and he would be able to eat with them and enjoy it along with them. It was just a matter of minutes, right?

The goth popped up next to Virgil, dropping the bowl on the table with the flattering spoons clashing onto the glass table in front of them. Virgil was curled up in his corner, stubbornly and lovingly hugging the pile of pink blankets. They had a rose pattern all over them. As much as Remy adored seeing the contrast of Virgil's mostly white and pastel pink appearance with the more intense rose colour and the floral patterns. Green and reddish hues seemed so stark and radical next to the soft colour scheme that he presented with his peaceful figure of a dozing drunk cuddlebug. Still, the knowledge this used to be a gift his ex had given him didn't sit right with him. Not exactly, at least.

Remy nudged him.

"Love, the food is done", he gently reminded him, him voice pressing against its ground and keeping it as low. It was a ducked down figure in a dark corridor at night when everyone was asleep but the little figure that was the voice.

"huhmm", the pastel punk mumbled softly and stirred ever so slightly, his curled up body opening up for Remy to fill his arms rather than the blanket. His halfway covered face was more visible by now since he tilted it a bit.

Remy smiled a tad.

"Come over love", he invited gently and patted his lap as he brushed over Virgil's arched back with his other hand. "mwmm"

Remy hummed back in return.

The pastel bean shifted over into his boyfriend's lap, resting himself in it with the upper half of his body as he curled up on the new space, now with his arms loosely wrapped around nothing but the love between them.

He felt Remy brush one hand through his dyed hair and his lungs immediately relieved a breath which came out in the form of a sigh. The smaller of the two giggled.

He hummed.

''You slee..sleeby..?'', he asked softly, his voice ending in a low hum.

Thoughts and words were mentally swirling around like noodles in a nostalgic childhood soup. You know – the ones with noodle letters in it. They were aimlessly whooshing from side to side, queerly dancing in an uncertain rhythm with uncoordinated movements guiding them into the unknown. Neither Virgil nor Remy were ready to bring order into the mess of lost letters and unconnected pieces.

There was some sense between them when Virgil basically purred under the ghastly touches, these bare fingers gracing his skull and caressing his pounding head. The tall man curled up into a ball, reaching out to lazily grab one of the hands Remy needed to keep around him somewhere. In his hazy state of mind, Virgil just somewhat expected a random Remy-hand to float around before him because surely the hand to touch him was in front of him .. logically. Yes, he totally deduced that by means of not looking around because his eyes were so heavy with the pleasure of being touched so delicately, the satisfaction of being handled with great care as if he was a fragile glass of thin sugar – just a moment about to break apart, melt away or dissolve into sugary water.

Sadly, his extremely intense and complex calculations turned out to be – surprisingly – wrong after all, leaving Virgil wondering just how he ended up with an empty handful of nothing but all the needs for more body contact he had harboured in it before his attempt at catching more of at least one of his beloved datemates. Involuntarily, he let out a sound of disagreement, a sort of angry hamster sound.

His hand fell over Remy's lap, simply collapsing over it with the sound of frustration and slight anger accompanying the dramatic fall of his unmotivated limb. Virgil instinctively curled further into his fetal position as Remy tried his best to conceal the chuckle rumbling up from within his chest.

He was trembling with amusement but, picking up on the distressed Virgil-sounds, he reminded himself to maintain at least a small amount of countenance in order to not repeatedly poke his sensitivities. The goth was not making fun of him after all or finding his distress to be somewhat entertaining at all. His drunk brain just... short-circuited at how adorable yet odd his lovely idiot sounded when he randomly stretched out his arm just to immediately let it flop down onto his lap and just groan at it as if moving was the worst punishment to ever happen to him.

Virgil's hands were already working up to his hood, confused finger tips tugging at it and letting it clumsily slip through them because fabric was so hard to hold onto. His uncoordinated grip on them caused him to lose his motion many times as Remy leaned back to give him the space he needed to curl his fingers around the hem of his hood. He squealed and screeched in anger at the exhaustive process of getting this right.

Eventually, though, he got his fingers tightly buried in the hood, knuckles turning white as his tired kind just moved his head along with motioning the hood to lower over his head and prevent the access Remy's gentle fingers used to have to his soft hair.

''Oh, darling, nu'', Remy tried softly, his voice attempting to reach out to the closed off taller bean before him. ''Hey there, lil' coff'he bean''

He poked around, carefully searching to reach the long nose in the excess of fabric that stretched over a great part of Virgil's face. It averted itself when Remy fianlly got around to brush against his nose.

''Nu'', he spat out at once, his hands trying to pull the blanket over him as well.

Remy patted his head but the so-called ''coffee bean'' was retreating and hissing at him.

''Com'on, my coff' bean'', he cooed once more, his voice softly sneaking into Virgil's mind, into his heart. Slowly and surely, it got around to actually stop his fingers from pawing at the damned blanket. This cursed stupid pink fabric with its silly roses and vines all over it.

...M.. Shtupid.. roses.. n stupid ''Princey'' guy.. This was their Virg. Theirs only.

Remy kept himself from narrowing his eyes at the enemy. There was no time to be jealous when his little bean curled away from him. This was worse heartache to him than a past lover he and Emile had clearly helped Virgil get over. He nudged him again and the pastel ball returned another hazy noise in reply. It sounded much like a stubborn ''nu-uh!''

''I didn ..laugh about yu, my dear'' He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes patiently. '' 'm just laughed b'cuz ..am so hap-...happ...happy to be wif..wiff you-you'', he started, a little hiccup interrupting him, ''and to see you“

Another hiccup rudely disrupted his flow of speech.

''in mah lap, hun.''

The charcoal-clad man nudged his love's cheek tentatively, barely managing to draw a response from him. ''mmm.... mean'', he retorted insistently.

''Virgiiiiiiiiiiiil'', he whined at once, ''I made fuuuuuuud!'' He inhaled deeply, sitting a moment for the dramatic effect. Or really, he was just waiting because his mind drew a blank on whatever else he had intended to say at some point in time. Uh.. he had made food.. there was food and he was with Virgil and he made the fud for him and Emi and.. uh..

Ah! Yes!

Remy blinked excitedly and nodded to himself, congratulating his genius of a mind that suddenly recovered the thought process lost to the alcohol dampening and slowing down his cognition. He leaned in, bowing deep over the protesting bundle of purple and black. From the lack of words, he wanted to think that Virgil was dozing off and forgetting about the little misunderstanding between them.

''If yu... wan...nn..wanna'', he slowly suggested, ''I can.. feeed you-hoooo''

Virgil slowly blinked, his eyelids breaking open to reveal his dark embers of small orbs.

''Mh?'', he murmured. His head pushed back to Remy's lap and quickly nudged his chubby stomach with careful, uncoordinated movements of a person not just anything but sober but also sleepy and full of feelings.

He tasted love on his lips and gently brushed his tongue over them. ''Ri'', he demanded, voice soft with sleep and heavy in the exhaustion from fighting to stay awake, stay conscious and mindful of his surrounding enough to understand his present datemate at least.

The addressed man patted his hooded head softly.

''Com’up'', he mumbled back and tugged at the sleepy giant in his lap. Virgil was soon sagged against Remy but at least sitting. His left still fruitlessly brushed over Remy's lap.

Hug... He.. He wanted a hug.. Hug.. Hug Remy.

''Riiii'', he soothed softly, voice still just a whisper if any. The goth drew an arm around him and pulled him closer against his shoulder. ''M here, hon'', he assured patiently, mind already wondering just what they were doing again, '' gotcha close.''

He nuzzled the top of his head and carefully left a not of his love on it with a little peck.

Virgil snuggled up to him, his body fitting just perfectly to his side. They were a perfect match, all that was missing was a bit of food now. And a bit of Emile, of course. Emi would make it all perfect. Remy drew him closer and simply let them hug one another for a bit longer. More like waiting for Virgil to slowly gather up his energy and bodily control to eventually embrace the other fully and just rest in each other's love.

The taller one hummed against his collarbone, eyes comfortably closed in contentment.

''You said.. fud..?''

Remy laughed.

''Yeah''

*** The night draped over the village, hugging every little building and lamp post for comfort and love as it lovingly warmed everyone into a world of dreams and happy thoughts. It was the end of the day, it was late and actually almost time for yet another day.

Emile rubbed his eyes, keys to his car jingling in his hands as he approached the door. He had never expected a catch-up to take this long but the afternoon just spun further and further into a late evening and eventually, they had switched locations in order to extend their get-together beyond the point of midnight.

Any texts of updating information to his lovers had been to no avail. Emile thought they were having too much of a good time or perhaps even went to sleep when 3 am had arrived. He did not know how they were doing but he trusted them to be fine, to relish in just being two chaotic yet lovely cryptids together.

He straightened out his dark blue suit and ran a hand through the strawberry blonde mess of formerly gelled-back hair.

His hands worked to unlock the door and once he stepped inside, he shut the door behind him. At once, a certain.. smell hit his nostrils.

He was not sure what it was but it was obvious that the flat had not been aired out properly. The air was thick enough to try and grab a piece out of it. And the scent? It reminded him of a greasy fast-food truck. If he had to guess, maybe something like chilli cheese hot-dogs? He was not sure but there was something spicy in the hair.

It kinda stung.

Emile blinked and switched on the light, quickly taking off his dark overcoat and the first layer of his suit along with his dress shoes. He was left standing in his vest that was hugging his firm statue, accentuating each and every part of his muscular body.

A part of him wanted to call out for his beloved ones but he knew them, he knew the partying souls living in the calm giant that was the pastel-soft Virgil. He was more than familiar with the outgoing and extra kind of behaviour Remy would display with just a bit of party around or in him. He did not intend to torture them with loud noises when he knew they were wild spirits just waiting to run free and roam around without any constraints. They deserved to rest well after partying hard, to be honest.

Emile slowly moved into the bedroom just to find it .. void of the silent snores and little shuffles that came from the drunk sleep of his beloved mates. Instead, there was nothing and he simply frowned at the empty bed. The bed was made, still so it was obviously untouched. Nothing had happened here and none of his lovers happened here for sure.

A part of him wanted to call out for them by now but something held him back. This something was lingering within him as he peacefully stripped his body off the suit and changed into his pyjamas. When he came across his phone, he decided to tap their contacts and just call one of them and then the other, just in case they went out and one did not pick up at first. With the two being tipsy or even drunk, there was no knowing for sure.

He put the phone on speaker and got into his flannel PJs.

Toot.

Toot..

Faintly, somewhere, he could hear something. At first it was so distant and weak, he nearly overheard it, due to the sound of his pyjama stretching over his body being louder than the faint tone in the background. However, once he stilled his movements and stopped dead in his tracks, he was able to identify a sound - even the nature of it.

“I’m on the battlefield like OH MY GOD”

It was Remy’s ringtone.

“Yes, I’m a one woman army”

Emile blinked, the song now clear as day in his mind as he finally identified the muffled sounds. He picked up his phone, fingers flying to grip it and shut the loudspeaker.

“oh la la, oh la la ~”

The song was indicating him to come closer, luring him in and playing hint for his curiosity. The mind was working as he took it step by step through the dark apartment. The end of his pants were dragging over the floor as he sneaked over the ground, his feet merely separating from it with every step he took. His feet ate every bit of sound as he walked, progressing at a speed so slow and cautious, he felt as if he was walking on eggshells rather than the socks Remy had made him by hand.

The sound was getting closer, the persistent, cocky voicelines of the singer were shooting through his mind as he carefully approached the scene. Before him was the darkness leading up to the kitchen. The light from their bedroom was illuminating his way to it.

With a usual movement as if everything was as it used to be, as if there had never been a war and losses in this field of tragedy and blood, Emile switched on the lights and revealed the graveyard of oil and hopes.

The sight was quite a bit- Pans and pots were stacked on top of one another. Spread over a turned off stove and the abused sink who witnessed it all. Stains of any kind seemed to repaint the counter, floor and partly even the ... the ceiling? How did they do that! Unbeknownst to Emile, the horrors of battle drew consequences nobody would be able to imagine. Of course it would paint the world into a new picture, it would change reality and distort beauty into true abominations of cruelty.

There was a bloody puddle of oil on the floor, a pool of death juice tainting the world of the living with what used to be, what used to exist and live and grow. It was no more.

He slowly, respectfully stepped forward, deeper into the red flags of the forbidden zone. There was desolation and chaos. Cutlery, foods and spills whatever in any place and spot free enough to accommodate it. His feet slowed as he progressed further into the field of war, the area of missing people and lost souls.

He walked through the mess, skipping over dead utensils and empty packages. There were bottle caps all around and the worst was little glitter particles and sparkles all around. Maybe they had mixed drinks with glitter. In the context of the battlefield, it looked like the luck and happiness that used to wield yet now it was broken and scattered in the wind of change, the breeze of ends.

Emile watched the drain in horror as he identified tiny pieces of fruit stuck in it. Cocktail cherry bodies blocking the water from ever flowing into the sweet relief of the sewers. It was forever trapped in the sink along with the dying cutlery.

He strove through the devastated lands, through the chaos and destruction. His eyes did not see the past, did not see the struggle to stay alive - to be safe. He was blessed with the ignorance of arriving fashionably late to the scene and just luckily skip out on all the war. He never had to experience the torture of the oil giant. Emile did not even realise how much of a chosen man he was with the entitlement of being spared with mercy and love.

His innocent soul floated above the rotten land, the stabbed and wretched floors and towels soaked with tears, blood and sweat. The salt of ruined soil was poisoning the roots of a new generation. He simply skipped through it, free of guilt or memories. He was not drawn to the tragedy of what used to be. Instead, he marched over to the living-room to finally find the treasure he had been looking for. His flannel-clad self, the pirate of the suffering lands was here to take advantage of the tired soldiers of oil wars.

As unexpected, there was a bundle of black and a bundle of rose snuggled up together, the colours weirdly merging into one fusion of softness. The pattern of roses naturally fit the blackness it was curled up around. It seemed like the most natural occurrence, a home-grown batch of adorableness. Emile blinked, his eyes behind his glasses still needing to adjust to the dark image before him. It was dark because he refused to switch on the lights when his loves could and actually did camp in this space.

“You two are lucky I love you so much”

His whisper slowly weighed down onto them, gracing them in their sleep and rocking them in warmth and affection. They were in the lap of love and safety, dressed in their own schemes and shenanigans with contentment painting their features and highlighting their position with lazy sparkles and soft contact to one another.

Emile bowed over them to draw another blanket over the two, just to make sure to cover them both in the warm coziness they deserved.

For another short moment, he relished in seeing the two embracing one another, Virgil curled against Remy and holding him so close, he would usually fear the other could suffocate - yet he knew better than to worry about them. Remy enjoyed a surprisingly large amount of squishing and a comparably lousy amount of space for sleeping.

After this, he slowly and softly walked away, step by step, back to the bedroom to nap on his own, all alone in their big big bed. He snuggled up with his excess of blankets and soon enough fell into a deep sleep, completely unbothered by everything that used to be and will be. For now, everything was different and so cool compared to how it would be per default but that did not mean his night could not be nice. Relieving dreams soon settled in his mind, abandoning all possible worries in his mind.

Morning was soon to come.

[sapphicscholar]

Pride Month Prompts Day 9: Closet (Alex-Centric Sanvers)

From this Pride Month Prompts post! I’m taking the opportunity to write some short fics for a variety of pairings that I haven’t written for as much, maybe at all. They won’t be going on AO3, so I’ll be sure to tag them all with #pride month prompts so you can find them later if you want. 

Day 9: Closet

Pairing: Sanvers (non-canon version), though really it’s a character study of an already out Alex

“How’s it feel being out of the closet?” a rather drunk Winn asked Alex, his words slurring together slightly. Apparently he was a four-drink-limit kind of guy.

She took a deep breath in through her nose, letting it slowly filter out through her mouth. It was Winn. Winn who had his own share of coming out stories. Winn who’d lost one of his foster homes over a coming out. Winn who’d finally met the new “partner” a couple of days ago and nearly spat his beer all over the table at the sight of Maggie, later wrapping Alex up in his arms and welcoming her to the “family” as if she hadn’t been there all along. But, as far as he knew, this was all new. First time meeting a girlfriend. First time hearing Alex confirm the whole “ladies lovin’ ladies” deal. Why wouldn’t it be the first time it had ever happened? The first time Alex herself had realized it could happen?

“Fine,” Alex answered after a too long pause. “I’m gonna grab another drink. You want something? Water? Wings?”

Winn paused, brow furrowed. “Water.”

“Good choice, Schott.”

Making her way over to the bar, Alex’s mind wandered back to middle school, to watching Willow and Tara kiss on her television screen and feeling that tug in her chest, that sense that she was watching something that made sense to her.

Then it was high school—making out with a guy or two to see what the fuss was about before deciding that long nights spent with Vicki that felt an awful lot like the dates she saw on TV were definitely better.

College brought campus pride groups and LGBTQ centers, but Kara had always been the joiner, not her. Instead, Alex had watched from afar, wondering how the hell people had time for clubs, while she blew through her classes and labs fast enough to graduate in five semesters, fast enough to make her mom proud, fast enough to get herself one step closer to the life she kept telling herself she wanted to live, the kind of life that would honor her father’s memory.

Grad school had been the first moment she gave herself freedom, and everyone saw how well that had worked for her—long nights lost to tequila and gorgeous women with soft hair and soft curves and soft lips who she claimed with a hard intensity that was meant to say: one night only, nothing more. By the time the dean sent her a letter warning that she’d been placed on academic probation, Alex swore off those kind of nights. She’d given up on the idea of time-consuming romance back in college, but it was grad school that taught her the danger of even giving herself those fleeting moments of fun; they all took her away from where she was supposed to be, what she was supposed to be doing.

Then Hank Henshaw was showing up beside her in a jail cell because she’d gone and done it again, wanted too much, wanted too hard, wanted one more night to lose herself in loud beats and strong drinks and beautiful women just one last time before throwing herself back into her studies. And Hank was stern in a way that rankled, but he also gave her purpose, kept telling her he believed in her too much to let her throw her life away. From that point on, life was split between research and intensive training. She watched her body change in the mirror week after week. Said goodbye to the skinny girl who’d spent a few too many mornings on her bathroom floor, counting the pale blue tiles that decorated the walls. Met instead a new version of herself—one with sharp angles and short hair and visible muscles. Every so often, she’d catch a glimpse of her reflection and think back to Meg, the president of Pride her freshman year. Meg, who had seemed too fucking cool for anyone with the short, tousled hair and the arm muscles that rivaled the gym jocks’ and the slightly baggy jeans that sometimes revealed a glimpse of underwear she most definitely had not purchased from Victoria’s Secret during their 7 for $25 deal days like Alex had. On those days, Alex would catch herself spending a little more time at the weights station at the DEO gym, catch herself flexing a little after her shower as she dried off in front of the mirror, catch a hint of a cocky smirk pulling up the corner of her mouth and wonder what it might be like to let herself go back to those bars these days.

“What can I get for you?” The same bartender who had served her earlier called over the din of the crowd.

“Uh, another whiskey and a glass of water.”

“Coming right up.”

A minute or two later, two glasses landed in front of her, and Alex handed over cash, shaking her head as he reached to get her change. “Keep it.” A small part of her kept hoping that leaving generous tips these days would make up for those grad school nights before she’d caught on to bar etiquette (or had, at the very least, been too far gone to honor it).

As Alex jostled her way back from the bar, a sharp elbow caught her side, and she let out a grunt—more of annoyance at the splash of water that had soaked through a patch of her jeans than of genuine pain.

A woman with short-cropped hair and a fitted black t-shirt with BUTCH emblazoned across the front in bold block lettering paused at the sound. “Shit, I’m sorry.” When she spun back around to assess the damage, she paused, giving Alex a quick once over before nodding her head in acknowledgement.

In that moment, all the frustration with Winn and James and her mom and everyone who kept treating her like this was all some new thing she’d discovered, as if she’d been surprised by her own desires, slipped away. In that moment, she was seen. No recently nudged open closet doors lurking behind her. Just her. Alex. A visibly queer woman in a bar who would be joined by her girlfriend as soon as she finished at work.

Alex grinned, nodding back at her before they drifted back to their respective corners of the bar.

[galaxy-parker]

Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked

Pairing: Peter Parker x female!Reader

Summary: Where you’re a criminal and Spider-Man isn’t convinced

Request: OKAY but.... request for villain reader! x spiderman who is supposed to take him out but she actually finds him hilarious and can't bring herself to kill him because she realizes he's her age and that would be really messed up so she leaves him alone and disappears in the night after flirting with him and giving him a smooch on his cheek

Warnings: I mean there’s cussing and the entire story doesn’t make sense

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: I love the idea and I hate the execution, nothing makes sense but you know, enjoy? Also some of the dialogue is from a prompt list because its 2 AM and my brain is mush.  Thank you my BABE @minnie-marvel for the request i’m sorry i fucked it up

~~~

Rain patters against the slowly darkening sidewalk and you shove your hands further into your coat pocket, wrinkling your nose in annoyance. September has barely begun and the sky is already acting as if October is around the corner.

Your steps echo through the street in tandem with countless others despite the horrid weather and you hike your hood higher over your head, the fabric hugging your hair tightly due to the ever growing number of raindrops weighing it down.

Being a criminal is harder in the rain, the dark clouds and heavy fall of water obscuring your view and you almost want to skip it tonight, spend the evening with your family or your friends or even by yourself, but you quickly banish the thought- you have a job to do, a bit of rain won’t stop that. Besides, you’ve found that it’s easier to avoid the authorities and pesky bugs when the weather takes a turn for the worst.

You mouth twists into a sour expression at the thought of Spider-Man, always getting in the way of your raids, always preaching to the good and making you out to be all that bad- as if you had any other choice.

There ain’t no rest for the wicked. You grin to yourself and shake your head. ‘Money don’t grow on trees.’ You mutter.

The sound of rumbling breaks the sky and it’s followed by a bright flash of light. Someone in front of you jumps in alarm. You roll your eyes, feet already speeding up to pass the frightened woman, hands already straying into her purse.

There ain’t no rest for the wicked, until we close our eyes for good.

~~~

‘Alright, the systems down. You’ve got five minutes.’

You press your finger against the piece lodged in your ear, peeking out from behind the stark wall you’re crouched behind. ‘Copy that,’ You whisper.

You stand swiftly and in a mere three steps your in front of the glass doors of a local jeweler and it’s swinging open without a slight squeak- a noise easily concealed by the sound of rain. You duck inside, already swinging a ratty black bag from your shoulder and sliding over the counter- the glimmering gems under glass almost enough to make your mouth water.

You tilt the top open and grab the handfuls of bracelets and necklaces smiling up at you, each jewel well over a thousand dollars at least.

‘Three to go,’ The voice rumbles.

You don’t know the owner of it, at least not personally but you’ve been through every raid together, sharing the profit between the two of you. You think he’s about your age, maybe a few years older. He calls himself “X”

You make your way through the store, collecting as much as you can until your bag is practically bursting with diamonds and dollars and the voice in your ear is counting down from sixty.

‘Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven,’

You dart towards the door, your hand landing on the knob when something else catches your eye and your heart lodges in your throat.

A shiny new laptop sits perched on a shelf, the red light by the camera shining brightly in the darkness. You swallow hard but your throat is dry.

‘Fifty-three, fifty-two,’

You press your fingers to your ear again, eyes never leaving the device. ‘Didn’t you say the systems were down?’ You try not to let the panic seep through your voice.

‘Yes, fifty seconds,’

‘Then how do you explain the laptop,’ You ask.

‘What laptop?’ X sounds confused, and it does nothing to calm your nerves.

‘The laptop that’s been filming me this whole time?’ You snap, pacing from the door to analyze the thing from up close. Yep, definitely filming.

‘Shit,’ He mumbles before- ‘Is your mask on?’

Your hands stray to the black fabric obscuring your face and you nod before realizing he can’t see. ‘Yeah,’ You shake your head. ‘Yeah.’

‘Forty seconds, what are you gonna do?’

‘Destroy it,’ Your hands grip the edges of the laptop and your furrow your brows. ‘Duh.’

You pull it towards you, but it seems stuck in place. You pull harder and it barely scoots forward.

‘Plan B.’

You grab a crowbar that’s hanging from your bag and reer back, holding it high above your head and bringing it down hard just as- ‘Wait!’

But it’s too late, your makeshift weapon is already slamming against the computer screen, the glass cracking under the pressure. It’s only a second later that the alarms begin to blare. You drop the bar.

‘What the hell?’ You yell, spinning on your heel on instinct and booking it to the door.

‘It was wired, they knew you were coming.’ His voice is panicked and you feel your heart begin to race. ‘Get out of there.’

‘Yeah,’ You breathe as you shoot through the doors, the sound of police sirens filling your ears. ‘I think I’m ahead of you on that one.’

You race around the corner of the building, barely feeling the cold rain against your skin as your eyes land on a rusty ladder leading to the roof. You take one look behind you, the flashing lights already visible through the murky night and jump onto the first rung, putting as much distance between you and the ground as possible.

‘I’m hacking into the security cameras on the roof,’ He says. ‘I’ll be your eyes.’

‘It’s about time,’ You jab. ‘You were doing a hell of a job down there.’

‘Shut it.’

Your hands grip the edge of the roof, gravel stinging against your bare fingers and rain soaking the fabric covering your palms. You hoist yourself over the edge before darting to the opposite end of the building, tires screeching below you.

You leap to the next roof over and roll through until you’re on your feet again and still running. You make it across three more buildings when you get the first warning.

‘Your boyfriend has decided to make an appearance.’ He quips.

You roll your eyes, glancing over your shoulder to see the webslinger approaching fast. ‘Shut up.’

You slow your pace as you hear him land behind you mere seconds later and only wait another two before sliding onto your knees, the gravel chafing your skin painfully through your jeans. Spider-Man’s first web flies straight over your head. A breathless grin slips onto your face as you whirl onto the backs of your hands and kick your foot up, your boot connecting with his chest right as he leaps to catch you.

You let out a loud laugh. ‘You’re becoming predictable.’

He grunts as his back hits the gravel, but he rolls onto his knees and shoots another web. You jump to the side, the sticky thing gripping the spot where you crouched a second before.

‘So are you,’ Is his only reply. He steps towards you and you turn your back to him, sprinting to the edge of the building and throwing your arms back to launch yourself to the next but his webs finally hit their mark and you’re pulled back into his arms. His hand clamps against the back of your neck, the other grabbing for the backpack and you growl, throwing your elbow back. You just graze his face and he jerks to avoid it, but that’s all the distraction you need to slip out from under your backpack and whip around.

Your foot meets his knee and crashes to the ground loudly, his grip on the bag loosening. You grin as you rip it away.

‘It’s nice to see you again, Spidey,’ You sling the bag over your shoulder and take a step back only to be pulled by a web stuck to your wrist. You stumble and Spider-Man is behind you in a second, hand tight on your shoulder. Surely more to restrain you than to steady you.

‘Yeah, how’s life treating you?’ He retorts, grabbing your opposite arm with his free hand.

‘Cops are on their way, hurry it up.’

You purse your lips, letting something sharp and metallic slide into your hand. ‘Like I ran over it’s dog.’

You drive your elbow back again, this time into his abdomen and turn, bringing the small knife down against the web still stuck to your hand, it snaps easily under the sharp blade and suddenly you’re free again and throwing yourself over the edge of the roof before your rival has time to regain control.

Your feet pound against the ground alongside the slick feeling of rain, and if it weren’t for the hot adrenaline coursing through your veins you’ve no doubt you’d be freezing.

‘Time?’ You pant, arms pumping at your sides. You can hear Spider-Man land on the roof behind you.

‘Eleven forty-three.’

You hum, eyes landing on  a gutter peeking over the edge of the roof a few feet away, leading to the ground. An idea sparks in your head. ‘Not too shabby.’

‘Focus.’

‘Killjoy,’ You swerve away from the front of the building, instead making a b-line for the pipe and you’re almost there- it grazes your fingertips when you’re yanked back yet again, and yeah maybe you’re annoyed this time.

‘Damnit.’ You spit.

‘It was a valiant effort,’ Spider-Man jeers. ‘But this game of cat and mouse is over, criminal.’

‘Don’t you mean spider and exterminator?’

‘Spider and- no, I don’t mean spider and exterminator.’ He scoffs and roll your eyes, blinking away the drops of water that land in them.

‘Too bad,’ You lift a shoulder as he slides the bag from them, keeping a tight grip on your arm. ‘Thought it was clever.’

‘It’s a little dark, don’t you think?’ The bag hits the floor with a clink and it slouches against your leg. Irritation fills your gut.

‘Yeah, well my middle finger salutes you.’ You scoff.

‘Wow,’ He pulls both your arms behind your back. ‘Someone needs a happy meal.’

You suck on your teeth, trying to think of another out as the whirring of Spider-Man’s mask fills your ears. His hand is tight on your wrists.

‘You’ve got about two minutes before the cops get to you,’ X prodds. ‘There’s a gun in the front pocket of your bag. Use it.’

‘There’s a what?’ The words burst from your mouth before you can stop them.

‘What?’ Spider-Man asks, the confusion clear in his voice but you ignore him, your only focus on the looming feeling of fear and guilt.

‘You have to kill him.’

You shake your head, brows furrowed in disbelief. ‘Are you kidding? No.’

‘You don’t have a choice, Y/C/N.’

‘There’s always a choice.’ You mumble.

‘Who are you talking to?’ Spider-Man pulls you around to face him, and the eyes of his mask are narrowed in a glare. You shake your head before slamming it forwards into his.

He stumbles back, hand holding his forehead. ‘Ow, what the fu-’

‘Front pocket.’

You kneel down and practically rip open the compartment, hands grappling inside until they land on something cold and metal and too bulky to be another knife. You pull the gun free, holding the bag up in front of you as a shield as more webs plague you. 

Until you stand and the webs connected to your jewels grow slack.

Until you’re pointing a gun at a hero.

He looks shocked, or as shocked as he can with a mask covering his face and your hands are shaking, god, your hands are shaking.

‘Do it now,’

‘Don’t,’ He holds his hands up in front of him and the webs release from his wrists, slackening further. ‘If you do this,’ He hesitates. ‘You can’t come back from it.’

You sling the bag over your shoulder and clench your teeth, steadying the gun with both hands. Sirens grow louder in the distance and you’re running out of time.

‘What are you waiting for?’ X barks. ‘Shoot him.’

‘This is so fucked up.’

Spider-Man’s stance is tense, but not from fear- at least not fear for himself- but rather from determination. He takes a step forwards and he knows, you think. He knows what it’s like to kill, if not from first hand experience then from second.

‘How old is he?’ You whisper, only loud enough for the com to pick up.

‘Around your age, I guess,’ The answer is quick and gruff. ‘Why does it matter?’

Your breath is quick as your mind races through possible scenarios and your finger twitches next to the trigger- but you already know your choice.

‘I’m not a killer.’ You drop the gun.

‘Y/C/N-’ X starts but he doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before you’re ripping the piece from your ear and throwing it to the ground. You crush it under your boot.

‘Well,’ Spider-Man drops his hands. ‘That was intense. I wasn’t counting on such a drastic character arc.’

You laugh as he approaches and you shake your head. ‘No character arc here,’ You say. ‘Just my morality interfering with my job.’

‘One hell of a job you settled on,’ His hand reaches for your own, to take you in no doubt and you can’t help but think it cute that he imagines you’ll just give up so easily.

‘What can I say, I’m a badass,’ You respond, pulling your arm from his reach and leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his clothed cheek. ‘See you next time, Spidey.’

You take advantage of his surprise, using the time to whip around and lower yourself over the edge of the roof before sliding down the gutter.

‘Wait!’ He yells, but you’re already dodging out of site, using the blanket of rain and darkness as a way to conceal yourself.

You chuckle breathlessly as you hike your bag up on your shoulders, the sound of police cars and spiderwebs echoing in the distance.

There ain’t no rest for the wicked.

~~~

Taglist:

@minnie-marvel @holland-haven @lokis-sunflower-anna @magic-marvel @greekdemigodwannabe @e-ms-world @highlady-ofthe-summercourt @sadicallyrad @secondsineternity @laurfangirl424 @hedwigthelegend @spiderdudeparker @hazzyhollander @dontpanc @signed-potato @propertyofmarvel @awkwardnesshabitat @spideyboipete 

[silverfootstepswrites]

Butterfly [38]

summary The path we take

“But I want to watch with you...” Haku whined.

Kisame could have shot lasers out of his eyes. Haku’s lower lip stuck out as he looked at Sakura again. Sighing, she squeezed his cheeks between her hands, making his lips pop out. 

“You better get warmed up before both of us kick your ass,” Sakura warned. He bared his teeth at her.

“Old farts,” he grumbled, wrenching away from her. He headed further into the back to stretch and to warm up. 

“I’ll stay with him. Do some last-minute nagging,” Kisame said to her, giving her a light push on the shoulder. Sakura nodded, already heading in the direction of the lady’s singles skaters. Many of them were jumping up at down, stretching and keeping themselves warm. Some were listening to music. Others were on their phones, sending last minute texts and reading words of encouragement from friends and family. 

Sakura found Karin in her own little corner, trying to check her hair using a mirror and her phone. Sakura intervened. She grabbed the comb from Karin and swiped at a few stray hairs. After a little spritz of hairspray, her crimson hair was perfect. Karin clapped her on the arm once.

“Who choreographed your programs this year?” asked Sakura as Karin took a sip of water. Karin was careful not to smear her lipstick. She flashed her teeth to Sakura, pointing. 

“You’re good,” Sakura assured her. Karin nodded. 

“I did. Mangetsu helped a little,” Karin finally answered. That made sense to Sakura. She had picked Mangetsu’s brain over the years for her own routines. He had a knack for showcasing an athlete’s strengths in his programs.

Karin looked down at her phone, then up at Sakura. She seemed to consider something before she held up the phone for Sakura to see. It was a photo of a hand wearing a sparkling diamond ring.

“GET OUT!” Sakura shouted, drawing many stares. She grabbed Karin’s other hand to inspect it. But there was no ring.

“We’re going to announce it after Worlds. I’m retiring after this season, Sakura,” Karin told her. She shoved her finger up against Sakura’s mouth, shushing her. 

Karin was inarguably one of Russia’s success stories. A woman who had truly clawed her way to the top with lots of natural talent but even more dedication. Sakura knew that it was her rivalry with Karin that had propelled her to the top so quickly. She made it a point to say this in every interview. And Karin always did the same. 

For years, the press had tried to portray them as bitter enemies. Journalists had used every opportunity to twist quotes and snap photos to breed animosity between the two. But the reality was that Sakura loved Karin fiercely. Most of the time, it seemed like Karin returned the sentiment. And although Sakura hated losing, losing to Karin was almost alright. 

Sakura wanted to be surprised. She wanted to be outraged and to insist to Karin that she still had plenty of years of competition left in her. 

“I guess it’s time, huh,” Sakura answered. She didn’t try to hide how sad the idea made her.

“Yeah. My knees can’t take much more of this. And my left hip,” Karin grumbled, gesturing at various parts of her body. And then she smiled.

“Also, it’s just not the same without my rival to piss me off,” added Karin.

Sakura laughed. She squeezed Karin’s hand. Just for a moment. And then it was time for Karin to get ready to go out on the ice

Karin shed her blue jacket with white sleeves, revealing the sparkling red outfit underneath.

“давай,” said Sakura, wishing her luck.

“Arigatou,” replied Karin, who shimmered her way onto the rink.

Karin was still one of the most beautiful  skaters to watch. There was such obvious passion in her routine. But the reality that after a long careers and multiple injuries, she wasn’t as powerful as she once was. Her jumps were clean. Her edges were still tidy. It just didn’t have the speed and strength that she had once been known for. 

That didn’t stop Sakura from being so proud of Karin when the music stopped.

Sakura screamed the loudest when Karin finished her routine. Even though she had threatened Haku, he still snuck out to embarrass himself with her. They fussed and shouted Karin’s name, begging to have her children. Karin turned away from them, heading to the kiss and cry to receive her score. But Sakura knew that Karin was laughing from the way her shoulders shook. 

As the last few ladies performed, Haku lingered by Sakura’s side. 

“...You should be out there,” he muttered, nudging her elbow. 

A sudden, crippling sadness overtook her. Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, she didn’t say anything. She turned her face away from him, watching the skaters dance their way across the light. Outfits glimmering almost as brightly as their eyes did.

“Keep drinking water,” she replied, giving him a soft shove to the side. If he noticed the look on her face, he didn’t say anything. 

There was an intermission as they cleaned the ice to prepare for the men’s competitions. The stands that had been half-empty during the junior programs were filled to bursting by the time the first group went on. The sheer number of signs with Haku’s name on them were uncountable. But then again, he did have the home advantage. It made sense that so many of his fans would be there.

Haku and Sakura sat in the warm-up room. 

“Sakura, say something nice about me,” Haku suddenly said. Sakura turned to look at him. Found him holding up his phone. She gave him a flat look.

“Something nice about me,” she repeated. Haku glared. But he was persistent.

“What’s your favorite thing about my skating?”

“I don’t have to listen to you talking,” she retorted.

“What’s my best move?”

“Moving away from me,” Sakura continued. Loving watching the frustration build in his expressions.

“...You’re mean,” he huffed. 

“You can take it. Because you’re a champion,” she answered, finally smiling at him. 

Haku finally stopped looking at her through the camera. His eyes flickered up to meet hers instead. 

“You think I’ll be a champion today?” The way he asked the question made her pause. It was almost like he was a teenager again. All gangly and sulky. The one who still wore oversized suits to banquets and didn’t know how to make real small talk. 

Sakura reached out. She cupped his chin with her palm, patting his cheek with her fingertips. 

“Who cares? You’re always my champion,” Sakura answered. 

Haku ended the video. Shoving his phone in his jacket pocket, he hurried to wipe the tears gathering in his eyes. 

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” he whispered. She had to agree. They had trained side-by-side for so many years. She had seen him during his best seasons and during his worst. One thing that had never wavered about him was that confidence. But as she searched his face, Sakura realized why this was all so familiar to her.

When Sakura reached out with her arms, he accepted her hug. Hunching over, face pressed to her shoulder. 

“You’re nervous because you want to win, stupid. There’s nothing wrong with that,” replied Sakura, laughing a little. She patted his back, listening to her hand swish over the synthetic material. 

“But hey, Sendai senshu for life, right?” she reminded him. She felt him nod. Haku squeezed her a little tighter. 

“....even if I lose?” he asked. 

“Even if you lose,” she agreed. And then she added, “But especially when you win.”

Once Haku had calmed down, they were back to their usual selves. She scolded Haku for dripping snot onto her jacket. Teased him about his puffy face and red eyes. He jabbed at her as he put in eye drops. His half-hearted kick connected with her butt as he blew his nose. 

When it was his turn, he was still a little sniffly, but looked much less distressed. Haku turned to look at her one last time as the ushers called for him. He was waiting for her to give him one last piece of advice. Some words of wisdom that would transform him before he went on. Sakura remembered feeling the same way. 

She smiled, touched the tip of his nose as she whispered, “Boop.” Then she spun him around and gave his back a hearty shove. She could hear him laughing all the way down the tunnel.

The next five minutes went by so quickly. Sakura remembered heading onto the ice. She remembered tucking her hands into her pockets so that she wouldn’t fidget. And she recalled finding Kisame. Her heart pounding all the way up in her throat as she settled in beside him. Haku was the final skater of the night, and the anticipation was palpable in the air.

Kisame held Haku’s bright blue skate guards in one hand. He was just finishing up giving Haku the usual pep talk. Haku listened to every word, nodding. And then he looked at Sakura. There was nothing left to say. They did their usual handshake. And as Haku pushed off the wall, the cocky smirk was back on his face. 

“He’ll be fine,” Sakura realized. And Kisame grunted his agreement.

Sakura couldn’t breathe. Her eyes were glued to Haku as he spun and swooped his way around the rink. He was so dazzling that it almost hurt to look at him. That satisfying crack of his first landing made her heart swell. She didn’t realize that she was crying until Kisame shoved a wad of tissues into her hand. 

She was sobbing by the time Haku landed his final quad. Kisame clucked his tongue at her even as he put his arm around her. The cheers from the audience made the inside of her head feel numb. And when the violin gave its final screech, Haku threw his arms out to the sides. The applause that she had previously thought was loud thundered to new heights. 

Before Kisame could hand over the skate guards, Haku threw himself over the barrier. He wrapped an arm around Kisame and one around Sakura. 

Haku teased her relentlessly about her runny nose all the way to the kiss and cry. Sakura pinched at his side a few times, making him yelp. But as he plopped down on the bench, they were all smiles. Kisame shook his head as he settled in on Haku’s left. He patted Haku’s knee. 

“That was your best this season,” he told Haku, who nodded. They didn’t need to see the scores to know that. They just knew.

Sakura sat to Haku’s right, blowing her nose. When she saw one of the cameras zooming in on her, she gave a helpless smile. Of course this attractive moment would be caught in high definition for all the world to see. 

When the number 190.76 blared out over the speakers, Sakura felt her ears ringing. At first, she wondered if there was something wrong with her. But then, as she looked around the arena, she realized that it was because the crowd was screaming so loudly. It was like her skull was resonating with all the noise. 

Sakura yelped when Haku grabbed her around the waist. He spun her around and around, laughing. She was dizzy. But when Haku finally put her down, her first thought was to hug Kisame. Because she finally understood, even if it was just a fraction of it all, how he must have felt. Being there at at every rehearsal, waking up just as early as her. Yelling at her over mistakes. Watching from the sidelines during each competition. 

“Thank you, Coach,” she whispered. She knew that he understood, because he patted the back of her head. 

“Oh, now you’re grateful?” he chuckled.  

The victory ceremony for that night’s competitors was short. Everyone knew where to stand on the podium. When Haku got up on the tallest box, he waved to his fans, who screamed in response. Gold, Sakura decided, was a great color on him.

With his season’s best scores and a gold secured for the Grand Prix Final, Haku was busy with interviews. As they called him to the table to sit with the silver and bronze medalists, Haku looked over his shoulder at Sakura and Kisame. They waved him on. Sakura was a little surprised by how tall he was as he made his way to his seat. He bowed to the reporters as he settled in his chair in the middle. 

After such a busy night, Sakura half-expected Haku to want to settle in to rest. Instead, he was pounding on the door of her hotel room. 

“Let’s play!” he whined. 

She cracked the door, glaring, to ask, “You’re the devil, aren’t you?”

Over his shoulder popped up a couple of the other men’s skaters. They waved at her. Sakura sighed.

It didn’t take much more convincing to get her to change. It really had been a long time since she had had a chance to hang out with Haku and all their other friends. 

As they headed to the nightclub, shivering in their jackets, Sakura remembered another Grand Prix Final. The year Haku had finally turned 20 and didn’t have to sulk in his room while everyone else went out clubbing and drinking. 

Haku had been bouncing around, smiling at nothing. And after blowing out the candles on his cake, he had demanded alcohol.

Utakata had suggested that they take him to a nightclub. When they had asked why he had chosen that particular club, he held up his phone, showing off Karin’s instagram post, including the geotag of the club’s location. 

December in Barcelona was nowhere near as bad as Moscow or even Tokyo. They walked on the streets together in light jackets and jeans. She remembered wearing a maroon turtleneck that Kimimaro had bought her. Haku wore a turtleneck too, laughing whenever they took selfies together. 

She remembered holding hands with Kimimaro the whole way there.

Inside the club, Utakata treated them all to shots. Haku threw back his first drink, grimacing at the taste of tequila. They laughed at his expression. But that didn’t stop him from taking another shot. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he looked at Sakura. 

“I want to dance!” he declared, the spoiled birthday boy. 

Sakura slipped off her stool. She took him by the hand, guiding him through the moving bodies. It was a busy night, and it seemed like many of the spectators and skaters had come to this particular club to hang out.

On instinct, she turned back to make sure that Haku was okay. The colored lights blinked in time with the beat, shaking the floors and walls. His face lit up cyan, purple, blue, and then green. And when he met her eyes, he flashed a grin.

“Is this what I’ve been missing out on?” he yelled, leaning closer to her.

Sakura laughed as he grabbed her hand.

“Come on! Let’s dance!” Haku said.

And Sakura glanced over toward the bar. And she could see Utakata and Kimimaro sitting there. Utakata lifted his beer to her in a salute before he took a gulp.

Sakura pointed toward the dance floor. Kimimaro waved her on, a smile on his face. She motioned for him to join her. But Kimimaro shook his head, just waving her ahead. And then he pointed at Utakata and mimed chugging several drinks, assuring her that it was fine. That he would keep Utakata company instead.

Sakura stood there, weighing her options. She looked from Kimimaro to Haku. And as she deliberated, Karin emerged from the crowd, yelling for them to join her. Sakura glanced back at Kimimaro one last time before she pushed past the bodies to join Karin. Laughing when Karin drunkenly threw an arm over her shoulder.

As Sakura stood in that club in Nagoya, she wondered. Because at 24, she had thought that Kimimaro’s smile had been encouraging. But maybe, if she had been a little less self-absorbed, she would have paid more attention to that expression on his face.

Had he been lonely? Even a little upset? Why?

But she jolted out of these thoughts as Haku pushed a drink into her hand. This was a night to celebrate. She didn’t want him to worry if he saw her looking upset.

“KAMPAI!” Sakura quickly exclaimed. A whoop rose from their group as they clinked glasses together. 

[thetravelersjournal]

Gear Foxx- Prologue

That part before the beginning of a book

The forest, the year 2014 A.D., five minutes to midnight.

A soft whisper of wind raced through the surrounding trees. The orchestra of the night was beginning. Beavers gently splashed into the water on their way home, while woodpeckers inconsistently pecked at fallen logs for a good meal. Mice softly scurried to their hiding places, trying to avoid the sinister and sly snakes. A family of deer laid down, resting beneath the starry sky.

A red Fox leaped silently over fallen trees, trying to catch up with its prey. The bunny it was chasing had much experience in avoiding its predators, and dived in and out of the bushes and shrubs, moving swiftly. The younger and slightly more inexperienced Fox foolishly pushed on, chasing the small mammal onto a small dirt road just past the tree line. It didn’t notice the truck until the last second.

The truck halted in its tracks. It was a strange vehicle, with pictures of wildlife and the rainforest on each of its sides. One might think it would have belonged to a forest observation team had it not been for the cages full of loud animals in the back, desperately trying to escape their confinements. The driver quickly got out to see what he had hit. Scars lined his face in an almost hypnotizingly bizarre pattern, making it seem like he had been the subject of one too many bar fights. He wore a shabby coat and pants that hadn’t been washed for decades, and smoked a cigar that appeared old enough to have been from the civil war. His large mustache twitched as he peered down at the unconscious and slightly bruised Fox. He stared at the small clipboard he had in his hand.

“Bonus,” he said, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small needle with an even smaller tracking device held inside. He carefully stuck it into the Fox, injected the tracker, and pulled it out.

“Alright boys, haul ‘em up!” he grunted, putting the needle back in his pocket and pulling out a lighter, “The doctor never said how he wanted them brought back in.”  His two helpers got out of the van and glanced silently at the Fox before lifting it up and placing it into a cage. The animals became even louder, apparently shocked at the state the newcomer was in, and tried even harder to escape their cramped prison. Mac banged his hand on the side of the van before shouting, “QUIET DOWN!” He lit his cigar and climbed back into the truck, slamming the door.

The van made a gurgling noise before starting up, as if it too were in protest. As it drove back down the road, the cries of animals turned into cracks of thunder, disappearing off into the night.

The Human looked out the window of the car, listening to his friend drumming the wheel. Otherwise, all was silent, except for the constant hum of the engine. Neither one spoke a word. They were both tired – their boss had them work overtime today – and wanted to get home as soon as possible. The two hadn’t even bothered to change into their street clothes after work, not even the Human, and his work clothes were rather small due to his tall and skinny stature. He fully planned to collapse into bed as soon as he got home, and didn't care if his pajamas were on or not when he did. The Human looked at the clock, which read 12:09 A.M.

“The one downside of working at a movie theater,” said his friend suddenly.

“The one downside?” the Human replied.

“Okay, so maybe one of.”

“One of many.”

“But,” said his friend, turning to him, “We get free movies.”

“Eyes on the road, dude,” said the Human.

“Oh, lighten up. There’s no one on the road anyway.”

“Besides, nothing has been out for like, six months now. That, and we get guilt-tripped into working every time we try to watch one.”

“Yeeeah… but what about the snacks? Or all the nice people you get to meet?”

“Snacks? You mean all the popcorn those ‘nice people’ drop on purpose or throw at the screen so we have more of a mess to clean up?”

“Alright, so you hate your job. Don’t ruin it for the rest of us,” said his friend irritably.

“I just hate doing the same thing day in and day out. At least the people in movies live more interesting lives than we do… I want to do something new for once, go somewhere, see places, meet people…”

“And since when have you been a ‘people’ person?”

“You know what I mean,” the Human sighed, turning back to the window.

“Be careful what you wish for,” said his friend.

“Why, is my life suddenly going to change in the next ten sec- LOOK OUT!”

The Human’s friend slammed on the brakes as a forest observation truck ignored its stop sign and flew straight in front of them. Whether the speeding van even noticed them was unknown, as it continued driving on down the road. The Human’s friend gently let their foot off the brake and slowly continued on their course back to the Human’s house. The Human sighed out all the air that had filled his lungs as he had braced for impact. The shock made his chest feel like it was on fire, and his ears were filled with a high pitched whistle. He shook it off, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, which had slid down in the sudden stop. Barely avoiding death was not how he liked to spend his night. Rain now began to fall outside the closed window, drenching him with shivers.

They sat in silence a few moments longer, before the Human’s friend spoke up.

“Well,” his friend said, “your life kind of changed in the last 10 seconds.”

“Shut up.”

“Anyways, we made it,” his friend laughed as they pulled into the Human’s driveway, before glancing sideways at him and sighing. “Sorry I can’t celebrate with you at your birthday party.”

“Naw, it’s cool. Have fun at your little sister’s dance recital,” the Human snickered.

“I wish. Later.”

The Human thanked his friend for the ride and watched the car drive off before walking into the house. He quietly went up the stairs, being careful that he didn’t wake up his parents. He walked into his room, set his glasses on his desk, leaped silently over a few old Sonic the Hedgehog comic books, and fell flat on the bed. Before he could even think about how much fun he was going to have the next day, he was fast asleep.

Dr. Cain Kintobor was getting desperate. His experiments so far had brought up more problems than solutions for his military weapon research. Thus far, his test subjects had died, grown opposable thumbs, or lost all their hair. He knew he was getting close, however. His last few experimental specimens seemed to be smarter than before, and walked on their hind legs compared to all fours. But he still had not yet achieved success, and that was why he was out at one in the morning, in the cold and rain, waiting for his new test subjects to arrive.

Test subjects. He was forced to rely on animals rather than humans, all because of ethics. The government had issued his grant money on the condition that he use it to create the ultimate weapon, but they refused to let him use criminals in his tests. No one wanted to test the waters of experimental ideas! Dr. Cain was baffled at the very notion. Why not use convicts? The world wouldn’t miss them anyway. A low rumbling awoke him from his thoughts.

The truck slowly crept up the road and came to a stop before the doctor. The truck driver stepped out and walked toward Kintobor.

“Fifty different kinds of animals, just like you requested, sir,” He said, looking down at his checklist, before stating, “Noah’s Ark is here.”

“Yes, yes, fine, fine. Anything special Mac?” Kintobor grunted, too exhausted to pretend to be kind to the driver.

“Think I got a cow with a lazy eye in the back,” Mac said, jerking his thumb over to the truck.

“Hmm. Interesting,” said the doctor, not bothering to stifle a yawn, “Well, bring them inside.”

Mac and his two helpers grunted as they started unloading crate after crate full of animals. Kintobor watched their progress for a while, his lab coat whipping in the wind, before heading back inside. He still had lots of work to do, and wanted to finish preparing this batch of animals before Thursday, as his wife and son, Ivan, were planning a picnic by the meadow with some of his close colleagues and friends. Even the Clarkes would be there, and usually Dr. Clarke and his family were too busy to come to these fun outings. Dr. Cain always liked to show off his son, and how he, like his father, wanted to become a great scientist.

Kintobor started his routine of analyzing each animal. As he walked down the row of crates, each animal cowered near the corner of their cages, desperately trying to put distance between them and the doctor. Kintobor stopped at the edge of the Fox’s cage. He peered down at the nimble creature. It was still unconscious, not aware it was imprisoned.

“This will do just fine,” he said.

He ordered his assistants to bring the sleeping animal to his lab. He adjusted his glasses and got to work, walking into a room that could indeed be labeled as a mad scientist’s laboratory. Test tubes were everywhere, most containing strange liquids or clumps of fur. Scientists and lab assistants scurried about while armed guards stood at the entrances and exits to keep out unwanted visitors- and keep the doctor’s experiments in. The atmosphere smelled of sweat, making the entire workplace hot and stuffy. The air itself was full of static electricity, so that if a person were to walk in without a hat, every hair on their head would stand straight up. Dr. Cain had no problem with this, however, as he had very little hair to begin with, the result of a genetic disorder. If anyone was brave enough to ask the doctor what disorder, he would simply say, “It only affects the family intellectuals.” Apparently this disorder did not affect the upper lip, as his mustache was so big it rivaled Mac’s.

The Fox was placed in a solid Plexiglas-like tube. Giant pipes ran to and from the tube, providing energy. The doctor turned to his colleagues.

“Are we up and running, and did you add the different DNA compounds like I asked?”

“Almost, and yes. We just need to run a system analysis on-”

“No,” said the doctor, “perform the experiment now.”

“Are you sure? If we fail too many more tests we’ll lose our funding.”

“I am sure. Now perform the test!”

Another of his colleagues spoke up. “Doctor, I do not think it is wise to-”

“I do not pay you to think! Perform. The. Test.  NOW.”

Kintobor’s partner glanced at the other scientists before begrudgingly pulling a lever. Sparks shot out of the top of the tube and slammed into the Fox. Now awakened from its peaceful sleep, it howled in agony as the electricity intensified. A strange liquid started to fill the chamber. Instead of collecting around the Fox, however, the Fox seemed to be absorbing it into its body.

“Turn on the DNA modulator!” the doctor shouted over the Fox’s yelps of pain. The Fox’s eyes shut tight as a white powder covered the entire tube. The electricity continued, not fazed by the new substance entering the small space. The doctor smiled. He could feel it this time. Any second now he would have the ultimate soldier.

That’s when a green asteroid rocketed straight through the building, broke through the glass of the testing tube, and landed right beside the Fox.

If the Fox’s screams of torture had been loud before, it was nothing compared to how loud it was now. The scientists and guards covered their ears as the Fox began to effortlessly float in the air. Its eyes opened only to show they had been rolled into the back of its head. Visible energy seemed to collect around the Fox as it floated higher into the air. Test tubes exploded, light bulbs shattered. The entire compound appeared to rattle and shake, swaying against the raging storm outside. Then, as soon as it had started, it stopped. The Fox fell back to the floor, unconscious yet again. Surprisingly, while several sparks flew from various broken wires and outlets, the damage to the lab was minimal, despite the monstrous ‘quake’.

Kintobor slowly got up from his hiding place. He looked around the smoke filled lab. His heart sank. He was so close to victory! He sighed, and looked to see if there was anything left of the Fox. What he saw surprised him.

The Fox was mostly ‘unharmed’ (“I’m surprised it kept all its limbs,” the doctor mumbled), although it was slightly glowing- a fact that unnerved Dr. Cain, but he didn’t pay too much heed to it, especially after it grew pale a few seconds later. The Fox was twitching uncontrollably, and was slowly beginning to wake up. Kintobor looked next to the Fox to see the green asteroid… but then again, it didn't look like an asteroid at all, but rather a giant emerald.

“Hmm… so you're what caused all the chaos,” he said.  He tried picking it up, but because it was bigger than his own body, he ultimately failed. It was so bright that it was practically creating its own glow. In fact, it was; the Fox’s strange hue a minute prior must have been from the glow of the emerald reflecting off of it. After examining it for another minute or so, Dr. Cain pointed to one of his partners and said, “We need to run some tests on this after we have this animal caged.”

The Fox, however, had woken up, and did not seem too happy about being caged again.  Its pupils grew until all that could be seen was yellow. Before the doctors, their assistants, the guards, or even the Fox knew what was happening, it had vanished without a sound.

The scientists stood dumbstruck at the spot where the Fox had been. Kintobor’s face slowly turned a very dark shade of red. His colleagues stepped back and plugged their ears, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

“FIND ME THAT FOX! NOW!” he shouted.

The armed guards ran from the room quickly and grabbed their guns, tasers, and tear gas canisters. Using the tracker Mac had implanted into the Fox, they found that it had teleported to a small town about three hundred miles away- almost a 6-hour drive. Based on the time it was now, they would get there around 10 A.M., at the earliest. They moved out of the building, got into their armored cars, and drove off into the now foggy night.

Dr. Cain seethed with rage. He was going to make the ultimate soldier. Nothing would stop him from creating unmatchable military might. Nothing…

The Human was awakened by a soft thud; so soft that the sound only nibbled at the edges of his consciousness. He groggily lifted his head to look at the clock, which now read 3:27. He groaned. His first thought was that he wanted to get some sleep before his party later that evening, but then he realized that it didn’t matter how tired he was in the morning; his parents probably wouldn’t care if he slept till noon. Therefore, he decided to see what made the sound, and turned on the lamp that was next to him. His eyes would’ve bulged if they hadn’t been practically closed shut.

In the middle of his bedroom was a red Fox, lying unconscious on the carpeted floor. ‘Red’ however, was an understatement. The Fox was soaked in its own blood, shining from the light his table lamp was giving. The Human blinked a few times to make sure what he was seeing was true, slowly gaining awareness of the situation. Then he pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, glancing quickly over at the animal after doing so. The Fox sat still in the center of his room.

The Human got up cautiously. He would have been cautious, at least, if his lamplight hadn’t decided at that moment to burn out. He tripped over his own feet, saved himself, then waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. How a Fox had gotten into his room was beyond him; his window and door were both closed. Where had it come from, and why was it so injured?

He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the Fox was twitching wildly around on the floor. It began to emit its own light again, a sort of dull green, illuminating the room and making the Human’s hair stand on end.

Still, the Human approached the Fox slowly, with great heed. It was a peculiar thing, and besides the fact that it was bleeding from head to toe, it looked rather sick, like it had been unnourished for some time. He was a foot from the Fox; half a foot; an inch. He could hear its shallow and un-rhythmical breathing as it was trying to force more air into its lungs than it could hold.

And then the Human did something really stupid. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over and poked the Fox in the stomach.

Pain flared up inside him as the Human silently began screaming. The Fox started to meld with his skin; the pain flew through him with burning intensity, until he could no longer feel his face. Peach blended with red until the brighter color took over. Hair became fur, hands became paws, and eyes grew to resemble brown flying saucers. The Human tried to scream but nothing would come out, the screams instead ricocheting inside his own head. The world was spinning, shadows laughing, the pain became audible, it hurt so much, it was too much, it was too-!

And everything went quiet. Dead silent.

The Human could no longer hear the house creak, could no longer hear the AC humming, could no longer hear his dad snoring in the room across the hall. He could not smell the scent of burnt fur, or feel the carpet underneath him, or taste the blood on his tongue, the blood that was oozing down his face like gentle rivers of water. The final terror that struck him was that he could no longer see his own bedroom. Everything was black, pitch dark.

And the Human passed out.

The Human awoke with a start. Sunlight pierced his eyes, and he had to blink a few times to get used to this sudden brightness. He was on the ground, and the blankets from his bed had fallen down with him.

“Was that a dream?” he said out loud. He looked over at the clock on his bed, and was surprised it read 9:58. He got up slowly. Sleeping had not seemed to have helped him, as he was extremely exhausted. His back ached, his hair was pointing up in all sorts of directions, and his tail drooped to the floor, so he had to drag it when he walked. The Human was so tired, that he was oblivious to the fact that he had a tail, as well as the fact that he was shorter than before. His thoughts were on breakfast.

He went downstairs, yawning with each step he took. He looked up at the kitchen table and saw a note written by his parents. It read, “Son, we went to the store. Your brother is at swim practice. I know you won’t want to, but you need to wash the dishes, take out the garbage, and vacuum all the carpets. We should be home around two. Happy 16th!  –Mom”.

The Human sighed. “I should probably change into some decent clothes before I start,” he groaned, stretching.

“You humans have some pretty messed up priorities,” said a mysterious voice.

The Human looked around frantically, trying to discern the source of the voice. “Who’s there?” he proclaimed.

“Just me, the voice inside your head that you’ve been ignoring for the last five minutes,” it replied.

At this point, the Human was fully awake, and finally began to notice some things. He had not put on his glasses, and yet he could see perfectly. He could hear his neighbors arguing next door, even though they weren’t yelling. He could smell the remains of his mom’s breakfast on the kitchen counter, but the eggs had long since been eaten, and the dishes cleared and cleaned. The entire room seemed taller, and his usually tight uniform was now too baggy; the Human doubted that even his belt would hold up his pants. He looked around, only to spot his dark red tail behind him. Whenever he moved, it moved. The Human stood in shock for a few seconds, watching his tail mimic his movements, but snapped out of it long enough to ask, “Wha- what? - why?”

“Glad you finally decided to wake up. I’m no happier about this than you are,” said the voice, sounding very annoyed.

“Who are you?” the Human finally spilled out.

“I’m the Fox that was in your bedroom last night.”

“Okay, so, how are you inside my head exactly?”

“Do you remember nothing of last night?”

The Human, of course, could remember everything from last night. He ran into the bathroom to look in the mirror. And for a moment he saw his reflection.

He found himself hard to describe with words. He appeared to be a humanoid fox with wide brown eyes. His fur was reddish, except for the white patches covering his chest and the end of his tail. What once was his hair now seemed to be fur pretending. It flowed like grass clippings from the top of his head, too short to need to be combed. Above his hair were long ears, standing straight up from his own surprise. His canines were much longer now, sticking out from his other teeth. His nose and mouth now seemed connected to a long white snout. His arms and legs were like skinny noodles, and the Human wondered how he was able to stand up.

He only had a second to ponder his appearance, however, because at that moment the front door exploded.

The Human coughed up dust, and tried to peer through the rubble that had filled up most of the hallway. This was impossible, as the smoke cloud was too thick to see anything. In fact, the cloud of dirt seemed to be growing, which only made it harder for him to breathe. And unless it was his imagination, the smoke was slightly turning green, almost as if it was-

The Human passed out on the floor. He didn’t see the armored troops come in, nor did he hear them tossing him into their truck, or hear his neighbor's’ screams, or smell the scent of gunpowder that formulated into the air, or feel the cold hard metal floor shifting as the armed truck drove down the road. He could only taste the warm, stale air being pressed onto his tongue as he breathed in the peculiar sensation of unconsciousness.

A long time later (or perhaps no time at all), the Human finally woke up. He was still in the metal crate on wheels surrounded by guards; how he got there and where he was going was still a mystery to him. He could feel his arms bound in rope behind his back, cutting into his wrists like knives. He felt cold; shifting around on the floor told him he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

“Hgrrgh?” he moaned without opening his eyes.

“Is the beast awake?” said a voice. The Human could hear the hint of fear in the voice.

“Naw. Just having nightmares about us!” said a second voice, laughing.

“Should I taze it?” said yet another voice. The Human could smell the sweat coming from the third man, dripping off his face down onto the floor. He kept his eyes closed.

“What’s the point? There’s still a pretty long trip left to go. Might as well inflict some torture on it to keep it in line,” replied the second voice again.

The Human felt someone pinch his cheek. “Come on beastie, wake up!” said voice #2. The man was so close that the Human could taste the liverwurst smell emanating from his breath. He waited, trying not to cough. He could somehow sense that the man’s finger was close to his face.

“Closer… closer…,” he thought desperately. Finally, the man’s finger was an inch in front of his nose as the man tried to poke him again to wake him up.

The Human opened his eyes and bit the man’s finger in his desperate attempt to escape. He realized his mistake a second later, as the car was full of guards carrying guns that looked like they could shoot off his head with one round. The man howled and retracted his finger from the Humans open jaw, before kicking him in the face. He spat blood on the floor and looked up at the man, growling.

“It bit me! That little stinking demon bit me!” the man shouted.

“Calm down, Joe. This wouldn’t have happened if we had tazed it in the first place,” said the third man.

“Yah? Well, I think it’s time the little vermin was shown his place.” Joe punched the Human again in the face, who pretended to pass out again. He needed a better time to escape.

“I thought you said you wanted it conscious?” said the frightened first man.

Joe gave him a look that told him quite plainly to shut up. The first man sighed, muttering, “My mother wanted me to be a lawyer, but no, I had to work as a security officer in a facility that runs experiments on animals…”

They continued down the road, arriving closer and closer to their destination, although the Human did not know it. To him, it seemed like days had passed in that space, and it only seemed to be getting longer. Every time they hit a pothole, his head would bang against the wall of the truck. Occasionally he would open an eye to view his surroundings. Usually the guards were playing cards on the floor, other times they would be sleeping or picking their noses. Once when he was brave enough to open his eyes again, he noticed the frightened guard looking at him, and quickly closed his eyes. The last thing he needed was another punch to the face.

Surprisingly, having the Fox in his head wasn’t as bad as he thought. He could communicate silently with him, which really helped pass the time, and eventually they knew a lot about each other, the knowledge of why the Human had been captured in the first place being of particular interest.

“So they think I’m you?”

“No, they think you’re me,” said the Fox.

“Well that’s reassuring,” the Human sighed mentally.

“All we can do now is wait.”

Thankfully, they did not have to wait much longer. The truck finally arrived at the doctor’s doorstep. Joe shoved the hybrid in a crate. “You’d better remain unconscious if you know what’s good for you,” he smiled menacingly. The Human growled back, although he didn’t realize he had done it until after the fact.

“Did I just growl?” he asked silently.

“Technically that was me. Since we’re in the same body I think our subconscious’ are fighting for control,” the Fox replied.

“Lovely,” replied the Human sarcastically.

Joe took the two inside the facility. The Human looked around. He was in the strangest laboratory he had ever seen, most of which had been destroyed by the meteor. The meteor itself was being closely examined by a man in a white lab coat with a large mustache, who was taking notes so fast his hand blurred across the page.

“Doc, I got that animal you needed,” Joe shouted, apparently thinking the doctor was off in his own little world. The doctor, however, turned around at once and walked over to Joe. His face was happy at first, but turned to surprise when he saw the creature. “This isn’t the Fox I had, is it?” he questioned. The Human took the moment to observe the doctor, peering at the name on the front of his lab coat, which read Dr. Cain Kintobor, Lead Researcher.

“Sure is. The tracking implant homed right in on him.” Joe showed a strange device to the doctor that the Human assumed they used to track the Fox.

“Hmmm… yes… it certainly seems so… but this creature hardly looks like a fox. He almost looks human,” observed Kintobor, still uncertain.

Finally, the Human could stand it no more, and made his third stupid decision of the night. “Not like I wanted to look like this in the first place!” he mumbled. He might as well have shouted, as everyone in earshot turned their heads slowly toward him, not daring to believe who had said it. Kintobor stared at him with wide eyes. The Human realized he had done something stupid, and instantly shut his mouth. But the damage had been done. Dr. Cain was looking at him with great interest now.

“Fascinating. How did it learn to do that?” he said quietly.

But the Human kept his mouth shut. He held his gaze away from the doctor, staring at the floor of his cage instead.

“Hmmm. Yes. Go and bring it over to the table for examination. And give the thing something to knock it out, I’d rather not have it screaming the entire time,” Kintobor said.

“With pleasure,” said Joe. He brought the Human and Fox into a room full of medical equipment- if you could call saws, hedge clippers, and knives of all kinds medical equipment. A table stood out in the middle of the room, blood splattered across it. The Human was so preoccupied with staring at this gruesome display that he didn’t notice Joe sticking a needle into his butt until it was too late. Whatever was in it immediately started to take effect. The edges of his vision faded as the room swam in front of him. It took all his self-control for him not to throw up.

“Ugh… urp,” he burped.

“It isn’t knocked out yet? What is this thing made of?” said Joe.

The Human felt slightly dazed. He tried closing his eyes to make the room stop spinning, but that just made it worse, making it almost impossible to reopen them. That’s when he felt the second stab to his butt.

“Owwwww…,” he managed to spit out before collapsing on the floor of his cage.

When he opened his eyes again, he was on the table in the middle of the room. Trying to move his arms or legs brought no success. He looked down to see his wrists and ankles shackled by metal bands. Any chance of escape quickly deflated from the Human’s mind. The only thing he could move was his head, and anyway he turned caused pain to shoot through his spine. At this point, he didn't care who heard him or not, and somewhat slurred out, “Where am I?”

“It spoke again. I thought you gave it the special sedative that I made,” he heard Dr. Cain say.

“Maybe it was defective?” said Joe uncertainly.

“Perhaps. That thing is supposed to be able to knock out an elephant with half a shot.”

The Human keep trying to turn his head to see where the two men were standing, but could barely make them out through the corner of his eyes. The doctor turned away and started to speak to his co-workers, so the Human quickly looked for any means of escape. He spotted a paper clip on the desk next to him, just out of reach.

“I feel like I’m in a movie,” he thought.

“Grab it with your tail,” his Fox friend chimed in.

“What? My tail? It’s not like I have a hand on my tail.”

“No, just grab it with your tail!” the Fox exclaimed.

“Easy for you to say,” the Human thought, “You’ve had a tail all your life.”

“Fine. Want me to do it then?”

“How? You’re trapped in my subconscious, remember?”

“Not if you’re willing to let me take control for a minute or two,” said the Fox.

“Okay, well, what are you waiting for?” the Human thought back.

Instantly, the Human could no longer feel his body. He felt like he had detached from it, but he could still feel, see, hear, and smell everything around him. His head turned to the left even though he had not asked his body to. His eyes stared at the paperclip on the table, then towards the outline of the doctor and his co-workers, then back to the paperclip. He could see his tail moving and trying to clasp it in vain for a few seconds before finally succeeding. His tail moved back in a flash, and no one had seen what had happened.

“Wow,” was his only thought.

“See? Simple. As soon as I’ve unlocked the bands I’m letting you take control again,” thought the Fox.

Again, the Human (or rather, the Fox) looked over to the doctors, who were still preoccupied. He then set to work on the cuff of his right arm. In a few seconds, it was free, and he set to work on his left. Unfortunately, the doctors had finally decided to turn back around.

Dr. Cain shouted, “Restrain him!” Joe pinned the Fox’s arm on the table and took away the paper clip. He then put his right cuff back on as well as securing the one he had been working on. The Fox hissed at the guard, but he paid no heed. Dr. Cain walked beside him and stared into his eyes. The Fox glared back, but found the doctors stare to be quite unnerving, and quickly turned away. He then let the Human take back control, who peered again at the doctor, disgusted.

“Based on the scans we did to its brain, and what I’ve just seen now, I think our little experiment has two different souls inside it,” said the doctor.

“Wait, what? How can you tell?” asked Joe.

“Well, the fact that its irises are changing color is one big hint,” said Dr. Cain.

“Oh,” said the guard, still not understanding.

The doctor sighed. “Why am I trying to explain this to you?” he said. He then turned to his colleagues. “Are we quite ready?”

“This time? Yes,” one of them replied.

“Excellent.”

The doctor took out a small iron rod from a furnace. This intrigued the Human/Fox, as they had not seen it until moments ago, and it was not the kind of thing you usually spot in a mad doctor’s lab. They then noticed the other doctors file out, as well as the guard, so that the only people in the room was them and Kintobor.

“You can talk now if you want. I know there’s a lot more to you than looks,” the doctor said casually.

The Human remained silent for a moment before saying, “Who are you?”

The doctor was surprised. “Oh, how rude of me. I haven’t even properly introduced myself. My name is Dr. Cain A. Kintobor.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on. A Fox comes into my room as if by magic, I touch him and then all of a sudden we’re sharing bodies,” The Human said.

“What? You must be a very stupid boy,” said the doctor.

Dr. Cain continued. “The Fox you touched was one of my experiments. I am trying to create a weapon for the United States military; in particular, a ‘super soldier’.”

“Well, I certainly don’t look like Captain America,” the Human retorted.

“Ha! No, humans were not... ‘suitable’ enough to become weapons. The head corporal has condemned it. No, I needed to experiment on animals. It was legal (mostly), and they could at least be brought under your control easily. All I needed to do was combine the different genomes of different animals to create it. And I almost succeeded.

“This Fox was the last of my experiments. Something about it… interested me. Whatever the reason, I decided it would be my next subject, and soon the operation was underway. I added different strands of DNA from cats, rhinos, ants, camels, rats, and other foxes. I even added a few strands of Napoleon’s DNA! This time, I knew, would be like my many other experiments. Failure. It has happened before, time after time, and I expected it to happen again.

“But then the unexpected happened. The unpredictable. The one-hundred thousandth percentage of chance in any experiment for the inconceivable.” The doctor turned and looked at a giant green emerald that neither the Human nor the Fox had noticed was in the room. How they didn’t notice it before was astounding, as the great rock seemed to be giving off a light of its own, magnificently shining in the dark room. The Human could feel its power emanating throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and filling him with hope… as if everything was going to be okay…

“This… chaotic emerald,” the doctor continued, “fell from space and landed in the experiment chamber. While you were missing, I had the chance to study it. I’m hardly even close to beginning my research! This meteorite seems to be composed of raw energy- besides that, I’m at a loss to describe what it is and where it came from! I do, however, know that it is the reason why you have been a success compared with my other test subjects.” The doctor turned back toward them and started to walk around the table they were strapped to. “I have given my part of the story. It is now your turn.”

“Yea, let me just think for a second,” the Human said sarcastically, “Oh yeah. Now I remember. A fox appeared out of thin air in my room, melded with my body, and now we’ve both been taken hostage by a bald maniac with the biggest mustache I’ve ever seen.”

Kintobor looked at them with more interest. “It seems you have somehow gained the ability to teleport, although I doubt you have mastered it, considering there is now one of you rather than two. Your souls, on the contrary, seem to not be accepting each other, so the two of you will split apart given time.”

The Human and Fox both gave a mental sigh of relief. Maybe their lives could go back to normal. Or at least as normal as you can get after being held in a mad doctor's lab.

Kintobor walked over to the iron rod that the Human had seen earlier and picked it up. The Human could now see that it was an electric branding iron, a giant X at the bottom. He looked at it confusedly. The doctor noticed his expression and smiled. “Don’t worry, however. I am here to fix that,” he said.

Suddenly the Human and the Fox knew what the iron was for. The Fox took control again and began to tug at his cuffs, desperately trying to escape.

“It is time for another experiment, as well as making sure that you are mine and mine alone. No one is going to be stealing my experiments from me. Including my own test subject.”

The Fox tugged harder at the metal straps on his arms and legs. He started to sweat as the doctor came closer with the branding iron. The Human started to panic, taking back control as he let out an incomprehensible string of words before asking for his lawyer. But it was no use. They couldn’t escape.

“Don’t worry. This won’t hurt a-,” Dr. Cain stopped for a second before saying, “No, never mind. This will hurt a lot.”

As the doctor began to press the hot iron onto the Human's chest, he began to scream, his voice escalating with every passing second. The Fox’s screams joined with his, their voice becoming one howl of intense pain and agony. The heat burned through their fur and soon onto their skin, damaging the skin cells and nerves. As the feeling of pain began to lessen, the Human and the Fox stopped screaming, the room growing large spots, vibrantly flashing brighter than the emerald had. Dr. Cain started to laugh as the world spun and, ultimately, turned black.

The Human opened his eyes slowly, squinting at the bright light that filled the room. Once his eyes had adjusted, he looked around to find he was in a solid glass tube in the center of Kintobor’s main laboratory. Scientists were moving around excitedly, letting papers fly and testing different chemicals with enthusiasm. Guards were stationed close with their backs turned, to make sure that the Human and Fox did not escape. In the center of the hustle and bustle was Dr. Cain, giving orders to his fellow scientists and filling out paperwork. The Human weakly pounded his fist on the glass, escape still being the number one priority on his mind. He could feel his ‘roommate’ stirring slowly inside of them, only half awake. He tried to stand up, only to immediately sit back down because of the burning pain in his chest. The Human looked down to see a giant letter “X” branded on his skin. He touched the pink, raw flesh of his belly only to grimace at the discomfort. He tapped the glass as hard as he could.

“Help…” he softly cried.

One of the scientists took note that he was awake. He turned to Kintobor. “Project X is awake now,” he said.

“Good,” said the doctor, “I want it to be awake for this.”

Joe walked over to the doctor, slightly alarmed. “Doc, I think we may have a problem.”

“And I have the utmost confidence that you can take care of that problem. Right now I am busy getting the fusion matrix up and running so that we can combine the metaphysical cerebral boundaries of the two beings into a solitary intellect.” Kintobor turned to see a blank expression on Joe’s face. He sighed. “I’m combining its two minds and souls together.”

Joe shook his head. “That’s great and all, Doc, but General Morgan is calling to see the progress on his military ‘weapons’.”

“Stall him. Even if he comes by, we won’t need him for too much longer anyway.”

“You got it.”

The doctor turned back toward the Human as Joe walked out. “Fire up the Photon Rays,” he said to an assistant.

One of the doctors came up to Kintobor. “Are you sure we should use the meteorite? We hardly even understand the capabilities of its power…” he reasoned.

“-Which is exactly why we are using it. We need to test its…potential,” Kintobor said.

“But this device is alien. We don’t even know where it comes from. This is hardly ideal,” his colleague protested.

“I will make it ideal.” Kintobor turned to his assistant, “It is time we used this blessing. Is the fusion matrix running now?”

“Ready to go,” said the assistant rather nervously.

“Fire when ready then.”

The Human looked up to see a large metal ball slowly retract from the ceiling of his confinement. Sparks of green electricity could be seen coursing throughout the rod as it stopped about three feet above his head. The Fox whimpered before the Human shakingly stood up and mumbled, “Oh, give me a break.”

Electricity shot out of the rod and down onto the Human/Fox, filling the tube with a green glow. Both creatures inside of it could feel the energy flowing through them. It crossed through their eyes, filled their ears with a loud static sound and made their fur smoke. They dropped to their knees as pain washed over them. They opened their mouth, but no sound came out. They both tried desperately to hang on to themselves, to try to fight the pull each was feeling in its core. The pain intensified, growing to sheer levels of madness. They were being hit by hundreds of thousands of lightning bolts, each more torturous than the last.

“Holy cow,” one of the doctors cried, “The amount of energy… it’s going to explode!”

Many of the scientists ducked behind lab tables and desks as the tube was filled with green light. The armed guards ran to safety, keeping an eye on the experiment. The hybrid finally let out a paroxysm of pain as the green light coursed through him into the tube, making it vibrate rapidly. All they knew was pain as they started to lose consciousness. Everything turned cloudy green, the room started to disappear, the pain only kept growing when suddenly-

Bliss. Eternal bliss.

The creature could feel its arm bleeding. Could smell the burning metal in the air. Could taste the sweat rolling down its face. It could not, however, feel the fiery wounds it knew were on its fur.

The creature knew that when it opened its eyes it would return to the world of pain. That its miserable existence would begin, that it would have to fight to live.

I held my eyes shut a little longer before finally opening them.

Chapter 1

Read the prologue in parts!- Part 1 and Part 2

Gear and Dr. Cain belong to me.

[johnhardinsawyer]

Don’t Let Go!

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

8 / 2 / 20

Genesis 32:22-31

“Don’t Let Go”

(Wrestling with God)

If you were to somehow look into the dark mists of the past – back to an age called the 1980’s – and if you were to turn on the television on a Friday or Saturday night, you might just find a show with loud and big and sweaty men called “wrestlers.”  Some of these men had big-sounding names like “The Giant” or “The Macho King” or “The Nature Boy” or, quite simply, “Hulk” – and they would jump and roll and slam and slap and smash each other until the referee counted to ten and the bell rang.  It was quite a spectacle, but for a kid like me, it was awesome!

A few years later, in an age called the 1990’s, my little brother joined the 7th grade wrestling team.  Instead of preening muscle men with sequined capes, though, two skinny, scrappy, middle schoolers in singlets squared off on a circular mat.  When the referee blew the whistle, the boys grabbed each other and never let go.  Instead of the wild acrobatics on TV, there was this primeval – almost animalistic chess game – of small, strategic movements.  Every muscle on that mat was working overtime.  The only sounds were grunts and sweaty skin slapping the mat.  Finally, one of the wrestlers would be pinned to the mat by the other and the whistle would blow, and both wrestlers would limp away, exhausted.  I remember being exhausted, just watching it.  This was real wrestling.

In today’s story from the Book of Genesis, we find a wrestling match unlike any other, before or since.  In today’s match, we find a man named Jacob wrestling on a riverbank in the wilderness with someone – a mysterious figure.

Some of you might remember Jacob from a couple of weeks ago.  When last we checked in with him, he was in trouble and on the run from his brother Esau.  Jacob had run until he couldn’t run anymore and had gone to sleep – out in the wilderness – using a rock for a pillow.  As he slept, God came to him in a dream, and said, “Know that I am with you [Jacob] and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”  Jacob awoke, in awe, and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.”(Genesis 28:15-16)

God was with Jacob, from then on.  It takes a few years, but Jacob goes and gets married and has a family and becomes very successful.  And, in today’s story, we find Jacob and his family, and all of his servants, and flocks of goats and herds of cattle, headed back home to meet up with Esau, Jacob’s angry brother.  Jacob, in a move that might seem strange, but strategic, sends gifts some generous gifts to Esau across the river, hoping to appease his brother.  And, in a last, risky move, he sends all of the people he loves – his wives and children – across the river, too.

Here, in this moment, Jacob is about to return to the land that he calls home, and he finds himself all alone – or, so he thinks.  We don’t know what, exactly, Jacob is thinking, but I imagine him wondering if the God who has always been with him will still be with him when he sees his brother again.  As if in answer to this thought, Jacob isn’t given much time to think, because suddenly, someone else is there.  And, in the text, in the blink of a semicolon, they are wrestling.  In the original language, they’re not just wrestling:  they are “getting dusty”[1] – down and dirty – which is what happens, I guess, when you’re wrestling on a riverbank in the dark; dust, and dirt, and sweat, and scratches, and scrapes. . .  every muscle straining from the effort.  Now, nobody is there to watch this spectacle – the match of the millennium – but, as the story goes, they wrestle all night.  And, it becomes clear, as the sun begins to rise, that the mysterious figure wrestling Jacob isn’t going to get away, easily.  So, in some kind of trick move, he hits Jacob in the hip, pulling it out of joint. Jacob is in agony by now –  his grunts turning into roars of pain.  Somehow, though, he does not let go.  “Let me go, for the day is breaking,” the mysterious wrestler says.  “I will not let you go, unless you bless me,” Jacob says through gritted teeth.[2]

Then the man says something, unexpected.  He asks Jacob his name.  Now, those of you who know the story of Jacob know that, as a baby, he came out of the womb holding on to his twin brother’s heel.[3]  The name Jacob, literally means, “Heel Grabber.”[4]  It would seem that Jacob has been wrestling, literally, from before the time that he was born.  No wonder he’s so good.  The mysterious wrestler tells Jacob, “I am changing your name – from Jacob to Israel – because you have struggled with divine and human beings and have prevailed.”[5]  The name “Israel” means “the one who strives with God” or “the one who persists and perseveres with God.”[6]  “Tell me your name,” the persistent Jacob asks.  The mysterious figure gives him a look and says, “Why do you want to know my name?  You mean to tell me that you don’t know who I am?”[7]  And then, right then and there, he blesses Jacob, and the wrestling match comes to an end.

The Bible never tells us what happens to this mysterious wrestler – whether he disappears in a puff of smoke, or walks off, sweaty and tired, into the sunrise.  But we do know that Jacob gets up, blinking in the morning sunlight – “limping because of his hip” (32:31) – and says, “I have seen God face to face, and yet, my life is preserved.” (32:30)

You know, there are all kinds of ways to interpret this story.  I imagine that there are some who would say that it literally happened.  Others might say that it is some kind of fable – some kind of mythical origin story.  It might be some kind of big metaphor for the descendants of Jacob – the children of Israel – who have struggled and striven with God for thousands of years.  But the thing that I keep coming back to when I read this story, is the fact that Jacob struggles, but he never lets go of God. . .  until God blesses him.

Who does that?  Who wrestles with God and doesn’t let go?  Today’s story gives us an actual wrestling match.  But there are plenty of figures in the Bible – from Moses to the Prophet Jeremiah to Jesus, himself – who wrestle with God in other ways and, no matter how difficult it becomes – from wandering in the wilderness, to being ridiculed in public and losing everything, to dying on the cross – they never let go. . .  until the people get to the Promised Land, and return from exile, and are able to see life after death.

Plenty of people, throughout history, have wrestled and persisted in ways that are profoundly personal and in ways that are powerfully public.  Some of you may know someone like this – a relative or friend.  There are some very persistent people who have shown us what this looks like.  I am mindful, this week, of the late Congressman, John Lewis, from my home state of Georgia, who was beaten so badly by police that his skull was fractured and arrested time, and time again, in the struggle to end segregation, and give all people the right to vote, and work for the equality of all people.  He did not use violent methods as he wrestled for justice – in fact, he was an example of non-violent struggle – but in his own non-violent way, he never let go.  He never let go of the idea that God was calling him to this work and helping him do this work, no matter how hard the work became.  Even his political rivals admired this persistence.  

In a letter that was published on the day of his funeral this past week, Lewis referred to the “soul-wrenching, existential struggle. . .” [8] for justice.  That sounds like quite a wrestling match, to me – one that left John Lewis limping from the Edmund Pettus Bridge to the halls of Congress.  Through it all, though, he never let go of the “spirit of peace and power of everlasting love” that he learned from and saw in Jesus Christ because he trusted that, in the end, he would see God’s blessed and Beloved Community – “a nation and world society at peace with itself.”  Even though Lewis died with the struggle far from over – he was able to see glimpses of the Holy, and it gave him hope.

“I will not let go unless you bless me,” Jacob says.  “I will not let go, no matter how dark the night may be, no matter how hard the struggle may be, unless you bless me.”  This is real wrestling.

There are some who would say that it takes some kind of extraordinary faith to hold on to God like this, but I don’t know.  Because there have been plenty times in my own life when I haven’t had anything resembling an extraordinary faith, at all – just a tiny seed of faith, planted in the heart, and mind and soul – faith that things won’t always be like they are, faith that God is somehow at work through it all, faith that there is something better right around the corner and that God is at the heart of it, bringing it into reality before our very eyes, faith that God can use us in large and small, but Holy, ways in the life of the world – no matter what we’re wrestling with.

I don’t know what – or who – you’re wrestling with this morning.  I know there is a lot of wrestling going on right now, though, in just about every facet of life – from wrestling the loneliness and anxiety we might be feeling to the sheer weight of problems too big for us to solve on our own.

I want you to know that you are not alone in this struggle.  Very often, the God with whom you think you are wrestling is actually on your side, struggling on your behalf, helping you along the way, feeding you at this Table, granting you the strength to keep going, and never letting go of you in love.

If I can offer one word of encouragement, it is this:  don’t let go.  Don’t let go of the One who never lets go of us.  Don’t let go until you are blessed – even in some small way – with a glimpse of something Holy.  You may be tired – worn out and worn down.  You may even be injured by the struggle, but don’t let go until the One who made you and will never let you go takes you, fills you, sends you, and uses you for good.

Don’t let go.  Don’t let go.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

---------

[1] F. Brown, S. Driver, and C. Briggs.  The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (Peabody:  Hendrickson Publishers, 1997) 7.

[2] Genesis 32:26.  Paraphrased, JHS.

[3] See Genesis 25:26.

[4] Brown-Driver-Briggs, 784. “follow at the heel, assail insidiously, circumvent overreach.”

[5] Genesis 32:28.

[6] Brown-Driver-Briggs, 975.

[7] Genesis 32:29.  Paraphrased, JHS.

[8] https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/30/opinion/john-lewis-civil-rights-america.html?fbclid=IwAR2jrv4LdbZcdNhcvjY8MNQ8FmIA36qM5fHNfLeEqNbPp8glsVqBmrn5ILU.

[thetravelersjournal]

GF Prologue Part 1

I decided that the prologue I posted before was a little long, so I decided to upload it in two parts! I’ll make sure to tag the original as well as the second part below. Enjoy!

The forest, the year 2014 A.D., five minutes to midnight.

A soft whisper of wind raced through the surrounding trees. The orchestra of the night was beginning. Beavers gently splashed into the water on their way home, while woodpeckers inconsistently pecked at fallen logs for a good meal. Mice softly scurried to their hiding places, trying to avoid the sinister and sly snakes. A family of deer laid down, resting beneath the starry sky.

A red Fox leaped silently over fallen trees, trying to catch up with its prey. The bunny it was chasing had much experience in avoiding its predators, and dived in and out of the bushes and shrubs, moving swiftly. The younger and slightly more inexperienced Fox foolishly pushed on, chasing the small mammal onto a small dirt road just past the tree line. It didn’t notice the truck until the last second.

The truck halted in its tracks. It was a strange vehicle, with pictures of wildlife and the rainforest on each of its sides. One might think it would have belonged to a forest observation team had it not been for the cages full of loud animals in the back, desperately trying to escape their confinements. The driver quickly got out to see what he had hit. Scars lined his face in an almost hypnotizingly bizarre pattern, making it seem like he had been the subject of one too many bar fights. He wore a shabby coat and pants that hadn’t been washed for decades, and smoked a cigar that appeared old enough to have been from the civil war. His large mustache twitched as he peered down at the unconscious and slightly bruised Fox. He stared at the small clipboard he had in his hand.

“Bonus,” he said, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small needle with an even smaller tracking device held inside. He carefully stuck it into the Fox, injected the tracker, and pulled it out.

“Alright boys, haul ‘em up!” he grunted, putting the needle back in his pocket and pulling out a lighter, “The doctor never said how he wanted them brought back in.”  His two helpers got out of the van and glanced silently at the Fox before lifting it up and placing it into a cage. The animals became even louder, apparently shocked at the state the newcomer was in, and tried even harder to escape their cramped prison. Mac banged his hand on the side of the van before shouting, “QUIET DOWN!” He lit his cigar and climbed back into the truck, slamming the door.

The van made a gurgling noise before starting up, as if it too were in protest. As it drove back down the road, the cries of animals turned into cracks of thunder, disappearing off into the night.

The Human looked out the window of the car, listening to his friend drumming the wheel. Otherwise, all was silent, except for the constant hum of the engine. Neither one spoke a word. They were both tired – their boss had them work overtime today – and wanted to get home as soon as possible. The two hadn’t even bothered to change into their street clothes after work, not even the Human, and his work clothes were rather small due to his tall and skinny stature. He fully planned to collapse into bed as soon as he got home, and didn't care if his pajamas were on or not when he did. The Human looked at the clock, which read 12:09 A.M.

“The one downside of working at a movie theater,” said his friend suddenly.

“The one downside?” the Human replied.

“Okay, so maybe one of.”

“One of many.”

“But,” said his friend, turning to him, “We get free movies.”

“Eyes on the road, dude,” said the Human.

“Oh, lighten up. There’s no one on the road anyway.”

“Besides, nothing has been out for like, six months now. That, and we get guilt-tripped into working every time we try to watch one.”

“Yeeeah… but what about the snacks? Or all the nice people you get to meet?”

“Snacks? You mean all the popcorn those ‘nice people’ drop on purpose or throw at the screen so we have more of a mess to clean up?”

“Alright, so you hate your job. Don’t ruin it for the rest of us,” said his friend irritably.

“I just hate doing the same thing day in and day out. At least the people in movies live more interesting lives than we do… I want to do something new for once, go somewhere, see places, meet people…”

“And since when have you been a ‘people’ person?”

“You know what I mean,” the Human sighed, turning back to the window.

“Be careful what you wish for,” said his friend.

“Why, is my life suddenly going to change in the next ten sec- LOOK OUT!”

The Human’s friend slammed on the brakes as a forest observation truck ignored its stop sign and flew straight in front of them. Whether the speeding van even noticed them was unknown, as it continued driving on down the road. The Human’s friend gently let their foot off the brake and slowly continued on their course back to the Human’s house. The Human sighed out all the air that had filled his lungs as he had braced for impact. The shock made his chest feel like it was on fire, and his ears were filled with a high pitched whistle. He shook it off, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, which had slid down in the sudden stop. Barely avoiding death was not how he liked to spend his night. Rain now began to fall outside the closed window, drenching him with shivers.

They sat in silence a few moments longer, before the Human’s friend spoke up.

“Well,” his friend said, “your life kind of changed in the last 10 seconds.”

“Shut up.”

“Anyways, we made it,” his friend laughed as they pulled into the Human’s driveway, before glancing sideways at him and sighing. “Sorry I can’t celebrate with you at your birthday party.”

“Naw, it’s cool. Have fun at your little sister’s dance recital,” the Human snickered.

“I wish. Later.”

The Human thanked his friend for the ride and watched the car drive off before walking into the house. He quietly went up the stairs, being careful that he didn’t wake up his parents. He walked into his room, set his glasses on his desk, leaped silently over a few old Sonic the Hedgehog comic books, and fell flat on the bed. Before he could even think about how much fun he was going to have the next day, he was fast asleep.

Dr. Cain Kintobor was getting desperate. His experiments so far had brought up more problems than solutions for his military weapon research. Thus far, his test subjects had died, grown opposable thumbs, or lost all their hair. He knew he was getting close, however. His last few experimental specimens seemed to be smarter than before, and walked on their hind legs compared to all fours. But he still had not yet achieved success, and that was why he was out at one in the morning, in the cold and rain, waiting for his new test subjects to arrive.

Test subjects. He was forced to rely on animals rather than humans, all because of ethics. The government had issued his grant money on the condition that he use it to create the ultimate weapon, but they refused to let him use criminals in his tests. No one wanted to test the waters of experimental ideas! Dr. Cain was baffled at the very notion. Why not use convicts? The world wouldn’t miss them anyway. A low rumbling awoke him from his thoughts.

The truck slowly crept up the road and came to a stop before the doctor. The truck driver stepped out and walked toward Kintobor.

“Fifty different kinds of animals, just like you requested, sir,” He said, looking down at his checklist, before stating, “Noah’s Ark is here.”

“Yes, yes, fine, fine. Anything special Mac?” Kintobor grunted, too exhausted to pretend to be kind to the driver.

“Think I got a cow with a lazy eye in the back,” Mac said, jerking his thumb over to the truck.

“Hmm. Interesting,” said the doctor, not bothering to stifle a yawn, “Well, bring them inside.”

Mac and his two helpers grunted as they started unloading crate after crate full of animals. Kintobor watched their progress for a while, his lab coat whipping in the wind, before heading back inside. He still had lots of work to do, and wanted to finish preparing this batch of animals before Thursday, as his wife and son, Ivan, were planning a picnic by the meadow with some of his close colleagues and friends. Even the Clarkes would be there, and usually Dr. Clarke and his family were too busy to come to these fun outings. Dr. Cain always liked to show off his son, and how he, like his father, wanted to become a great scientist.

Kintobor started his routine of analyzing each animal. As he walked down the row of crates, each animal cowered near the corner of their cages, desperately trying to put distance between them and the doctor. Kintobor stopped at the edge of the Fox’s cage. He peered down at the nimble creature. It was still unconscious, not aware it was imprisoned.

“This will do just fine,” he said.

He ordered his assistants to bring the sleeping animal to his lab. He adjusted his glasses and got to work, walking into a room that could indeed be labeled as a mad scientist’s laboratory. Test tubes were everywhere, most containing strange liquids or clumps of fur. Scientists and lab assistants scurried about while armed guards stood at the entrances and exits to keep out unwanted visitors- and keep the doctor’s experiments in. The atmosphere smelled of sweat, making the entire workplace hot and stuffy. The air itself was full of static electricity, so that if a person were to walk in without a hat, every hair on their head would stand straight up. Dr. Cain had no problem with this, however, as he had very little hair to begin with, the result of a genetic disorder. If anyone was brave enough to ask the doctor what disorder, he would simply say, “It only affects the family intellectuals.” Apparently this disorder did not affect the upper lip, as his mustache was so big it rivaled Mac’s.

The Fox was placed in a solid Plexiglas-like tube. Giant pipes ran to and from the tube, providing energy. The doctor turned to his colleagues.

“Are we up and running, and did you add the different DNA compounds like I asked?”

“Almost, and yes. We just need to run a system analysis on-”

“No,” said the doctor, “perform the experiment now.”

“Are you sure? If we fail too many more tests we’ll lose our funding.”

“I am sure. Now perform the test!”

Another of his colleagues spoke up. “Doctor, I do not think it is wise to-”

“I do not pay you to think! Perform. The. Test.  NOW.”

Kintobor’s partner glanced at the other scientists before begrudgingly pulling a lever. Sparks shot out of the top of the tube and slammed into the Fox. Now awakened from its peaceful sleep, it howled in agony as the electricity intensified. A strange liquid started to fill the chamber. Instead of collecting around the Fox, however, the Fox seemed to be absorbing it into its body.

“Turn on the DNA modulator!” the doctor shouted over the Fox’s yelps of pain. The Fox’s eyes shut tight as a white powder covered the entire tube. The electricity continued, not fazed by the new substance entering the small space. The doctor smiled. He could feel it this time. Any second now he would have the ultimate soldier.

That’s when a green asteroid rocketed straight through the building, broke through the glass of the testing tube, and landed right beside the Fox.

If the Fox’s screams of torture had been loud before, it was nothing compared to how loud it was now. The scientists and guards covered their ears as the Fox began to effortlessly float in the air. Its eyes opened only to show they had been rolled into the back of its head. Visible energy seemed to collect around the Fox as it floated higher into the air. Test tubes exploded, light bulbs shattered. The entire compound appeared to rattle and shake, swaying against the raging storm outside. Then, as soon as it had started, it stopped. The Fox fell back to the floor, unconscious yet again. Surprisingly, while several sparks flew from various broken wires and outlets, the damage to the lab was minimal, despite the monstrous ‘quake’.

Kintobor slowly got up from his hiding place. He looked around the smoke filled lab. His heart sank. He was so close to victory! He sighed, and looked to see if there was anything left of the Fox. What he saw surprised him.

The Fox was mostly ‘unharmed’ (“I’m surprised it kept all its limbs,” the doctor mumbled), although it was slightly glowing- a fact that unnerved Dr. Cain, but he didn’t pay too much heed to it, especially after it grew pale a few seconds later. The Fox was twitching uncontrollably, and was slowly beginning to wake up. Kintobor looked next to the Fox to see the green asteroid… but then again, it didn't look like an asteroid at all, but rather a giant emerald.

“Hmm… so you're what caused all the chaos,” he said.  He tried picking it up, but because it was bigger than his own body, he ultimately failed. It was so bright that it was practically creating its own glow. In fact, it was; the Fox’s strange hue a minute prior must have been from the glow of the emerald reflecting off of it. After examining it for another minute or so, Dr. Cain pointed to one of his partners and said, “We need to run some tests on this after we have this animal caged.”

The Fox, however, had woken up, and did not seem too happy about being caged again.  Its pupils grew until all that could be seen was yellow. Before the doctors, their assistants, the guards, or even the Fox knew what was happening, it had vanished without a sound.

The scientists stood dumbstruck at the spot where the Fox had been. Kintobor’s face slowly turned a very dark shade of red. His colleagues stepped back and plugged their ears, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

“FIND ME THAT FOX! NOW!” he shouted.

The armed guards ran from the room quickly and grabbed their guns, tasers, and tear gas canisters. Using the tracker Mac had implanted into the Fox, they found that it had teleported to a small town about three hundred miles away- almost a 6-hour drive. Based on the time it was now, they would get there around 10 A.M., at the earliest. They moved out of the building, got into their armored cars, and drove off into the now foggy night.

Dr. Cain seethed with rage. He was going to make the ultimate soldier. Nothing would stop him from creating unmatchable military might. Nothing…

The Human was awakened by a soft thud; so soft that the sound only nibbled at the edges of his consciousness. He groggily lifted his head to look at the clock, which now read 3:27. He groaned. His first thought was that he wanted to get some sleep before his party later that evening, but then he realized that it didn’t matter how tired he was in the morning; his parents probably wouldn’t care if he slept till noon. Therefore, he decided to see what made the sound, and turned on the lamp that was next to him. His eyes would’ve bulged if they hadn’t been practically closed shut.

In the middle of his bedroom was a red Fox, lying unconscious on the carpeted floor. ‘Red’ however, was an understatement. The Fox was soaked in its own blood, shining from the light his table lamp was giving. The Human blinked a few times to make sure what he was seeing was true, slowly gaining awareness of the situation. Then he pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, glancing quickly over at the animal after doing so. The Fox sat still in the center of his room.

The Human got up cautiously. He would have been cautious, at least, if his lamplight hadn’t decided at that moment to burn out. He tripped over his own feet, saved himself, then waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. How a Fox had gotten into his room was beyond him; his window and door were both closed. Where had it come from, and why was it so injured?

He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the Fox was twitching wildly around on the floor. It began to emit its own light again, a sort of dull green, illuminating the room and making the Human’s hair stand on end.

Still, the Human approached the Fox slowly, with great heed. It was a peculiar thing, and besides the fact that it was bleeding from head to toe, it looked rather sick, like it had been unnourished for some time. He was a foot from the Fox; half a foot; an inch. He could hear its shallow and un-rhythmical breathing as it was trying to force more air into its lungs than it could hold.

And then the Human did something really stupid. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over and poked the Fox in the stomach.

Pain flared up inside him as the Human silently began screaming. The Fox started to meld with his skin; the pain flew through him with burning intensity, until he could no longer feel his face. Peach blended with red until the brighter color took over. Hair became fur, hands became paws, and eyes grew to resemble brown flying saucers. The Human tried to scream but nothing would come out, the screams instead ricocheting inside his own head. The world was spinning, shadows laughing, the pain became audible, it hurt so much, it was too much, it was too-!

And everything went quiet. Dead silent.

The Human could no longer hear the house creak, could no longer hear the AC humming, could no longer hear his dad snoring in the room across the hall. He could not smell the scent of burnt fur, or feel the carpet underneath him, or taste the blood on his tongue, the blood that was oozing down his face like gentle rivers of water. The final terror that struck him was that he could no longer see his own bedroom. Everything was black, pitch dark.

And the Human passed out.

The Human awoke with a start. Sunlight pierced his eyes, and he had to blink a few times to get used to this sudden brightness. He was on the ground, and the blankets from his bed had fallen down with him.

“Was that a dream?” he said out loud. He looked over at the clock on his bed, and was surprised it read 9:58. He got up slowly. Sleeping had not seemed to have helped him, as he was extremely exhausted. His back ached, his hair was pointing up in all sorts of directions, and his tail drooped to the floor, so he had to drag it when he walked. The Human was so tired, that he was oblivious to the fact that he had a tail, as well as the fact that he was shorter than before. His thoughts were on breakfast.

He went downstairs, yawning with each step he took. He looked up at the kitchen table and saw a note written by his parents. It read, “Son, we went to the store. Your brother is at swim practice. I know you won’t want to, but you need to wash the dishes, take out the garbage, and vacuum all the carpets. We should be home around two. Happy 16th!  –Mom”.

The Human sighed. “I should probably change into some decent clothes before I start,” he groaned, stretching.

“You humans have some pretty messed up priorities,” said a mysterious voice.

The Human looked around frantically, trying to discern the source of the voice. “Who’s there?” he proclaimed.

“Just me, the voice inside your head that you’ve been ignoring for the last five minutes,” it replied.

At this point, the Human was fully awake, and finally began to notice some things. He had not put on his glasses, and yet he could see perfectly. He could hear his neighbors arguing next door, even though they weren’t yelling. He could smell the remains of his mom’s breakfast on the kitchen counter, but the eggs had long since been eaten, and the dishes cleared and cleaned. The entire room seemed taller, and his usually tight uniform was now too baggy; the Human doubted that even his belt would hold up his pants. He looked around, only to spot his dark red tail behind him. Whenever he moved, it moved. The Human stood in shock for a few seconds, watching his tail mimic his movements, but snapped out of it long enough to ask, “Wha- what? - why?”

“Glad you finally decided to wake up. I’m no happier about this than you are,” said the voice, sounding very annoyed.

“Who are you?” the Human finally spilled out.

“I’m the Fox that was in your bedroom last night.”

“Okay, so, how are you inside my head exactly?”

“Do you remember nothing of last night?”

The Human, of course, could remember everything from last night. He ran into the bathroom to look in the mirror. And for a moment he saw his reflection.

He found himself hard to describe with words. He appeared to be a humanoid fox with wide brown eyes. His fur was reddish, except for the white patches covering his chest and the end of his tail. What once was his hair now seemed to be fur pretending. It flowed like grass clippings from the top of his head, too short to need to be combed. Above his hair were long ears, standing straight up from his own surprise. His canines were much longer now, sticking out from his other teeth. His nose and mouth now seemed connected to a long white snout. His arms and legs were like skinny noodles, and the Human wondered how he was able to stand up.

He only had a second to ponder his appearance, however, because at that moment the front door exploded.

The Human coughed up dust, and tried to peer through the rubble that had filled up most of the hallway. This was impossible, as the smoke cloud was too thick to see anything. In fact, the cloud of dirt seemed to be growing, which only made it harder for him to breathe. And unless it was his imagination, the smoke was slightly turning green, almost as if it was-

The Human passed out on the floor. He didn’t see the armored troops come in, nor did he hear them tossing him into their truck, or hear his neighbor's’ screams, or smell the scent of gunpowder that formulated into the air, or feel the cold hard metal floor shifting as the armed truck drove down the road. He could only taste the warm, stale air being pressed onto his tongue as he breathed in the peculiar sensation of unconsciousness.

Part two of Prologue- Part 2

Read the full version!- Full Prologue

Gear and Dr. Cain belong to me.