#which is fuckers who have suffered more than jesus himself but are still so so kind and full of love and show it all the time alwyas

[dickggansey]

i was soooooooo into magnus chase when i first read it omg i had forgotten how much i liked it.... it’s the kind hearted character who doesnt wanna fight and just wants to help his friends for me 

#yeah i was like 18 when it came out and like 21 when it ended what about it #he's in the category 2 of Favorite Character Type for me #which is fuckers who have suffered more than jesus himself but are still so so kind and full of love and show it all the time alwyas #also he's literally the 'im a healer but-' meme #anywyas #i wont go insane about it i swear <3

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: Roommate HCs [V1]

To be honest, I just wanted to ramble some more and let my brainworms take over. This is sorta late but Happy Valentine’s everyone! I was gonna post this earlier but this honestly took me a long time to write so I moved it to today. 

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. Seriously, as much as I love writing this non-serious fics. Why do you people like this?

—

Based off my ramblings with Keqing anon: Link

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @kaechu @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife​  @dokidokisama @rokipersonal​@minakohasmanyhusbandos​ @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess​ @yuu-yuukurotsuki​ @hanniejji​  @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii​ @stanzastic @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​ @dai-tsukki-desu​ @thicmitten​ @nonniechan​ @htnicayh​ @genshins1mpact​ 

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Diluc

What? Diluc has a roommate? Did you blackmail him in living with you? Is that even possible? Did you throw yourself in front of his car because you needed someone to pay for your student loans and the easiest way was to file a lawsuit? In this economy no one would blame you. Diluc seems like such the self-isolated character that would murder his roommate in cold blood but in reality, he act’s detached from the world because he forgot how to socialize and he’s desperately trying to cover it up without choking. That or he’s trying to learn how to astral project. If he could drink away the pain he would but instead he buys 20 packs of grape Kool-Aid and injects it into his veins. 

Does not and will not ever have a normal sleeping schedule. You’ll wake up to him working, come back home to him working, and will sleep to him still working. His daily dose of Vitamin D is from the brightness of his screen rather than the sun and he’s filter feeding at this point. It’s concerning. He’s going to crumble and he’s bringing the world down with him. Through the power of tax evasion. But as soon as he needs to walk out into society, he pulls movie magic and looks like perfection. It’s both physically and mentally disgusting. 

He’s actually is a really nice roommate to have just so long as you give him space. Great cook and knows to clean up after himself. Though he does have crash and burn days where’s he’s completely out of commission. You could set the entire apartment on fire and he would sleep through it. The entire two weeks are dedicated to zombie eye marathons and then he’ll suddenly collapse and sleep for 46 hours straight. When he wakes up from his hibernation he’s the most groggy and nonsensical person. His life blood is coffee because you keep hiding the 5 hour energy away from him because, you know, life is enjoyable and those cancer bottles will actually kill him.  

“University sucks our money out of our bodies faster than our will to live.” 

Beidou [Happy Birthday Queen 💕]

Despite her appearance, she’s actually really strong and it scares the piss out of you when you’re doing something or scrolling through your phone mindlessly and you suddenly get your spine re-arranged when she slaps you on the back to ask what you’re doing. Likewise, when she hoists you up and throws you over her shoulder so you come with her on her 3am convivence store raids for alcohol. It’s either you change now or else we’re walking out of the apartment in your t-shirt and no pants self. She can and will carry you under her arm that way. It’s both incredibly attractive and horrifying at the same time. 

She’s really friendly and a great talker if you’re alright with her “I must hold you in my arms, fresh prince of bel air style”. It doesn’t matter if you’re taller than her, she’s doing it. She does however, get in a bit of trouble from her rowdiness and you often get noise complaints but Beidou just passes them off to Ningguang and everything is fixed. She has ovaries of steel when neighbors rather confront her personally and she’s ready to 1v1 in the parking lot. You’re trying to desperately hold onto her shirt to stop her from pile driving your neighbors for the third time this week but she’s too strong.  

She’s constant party until we die attitude and suffers the hangover in the morning. It’s actually really funny to catch her in her hangover moods because whatever filter Beidou had, which is none, is gone. She really takes “cursing like a sailor” or the next level and the amount of creativity she comes up with is actually impressive. She can be a bit messy but she’s really likeable and always down to go anywhere with you as long as you’ll do the same. It’s a very ride together, we die together situation. You’re my best friend, you’re dying with me. I’ll see you in hell. 

“Imma T pose over my dad and then crash the car into the parking garage.” 

Kaeya

Kaeya on the surface seems like such a chill roommate. And he is for the most part. But he’s such an ass. Your things are his things, no questions asked. If you just bought a really nice sweater or you had leftover food, that’s his now. He’s innocent until proven guilty even if he’s literally holding your lunch. The pure amount of bullshit he can spit out to convince you that no, he did not pull the fire alarm because he wanted an excuse for not going to work, puts him on Shakespeare level. He’s also very pretty, way too pretty, sir can you share some of your genes? 

But aside from that, he’s actually super dependable. You forgot something at home? Sure, he has nothing better to do so he can bring them for you. We’re missing eggs? No problem, he’s just by the store. You’re 95% sure that he just wants to be cheeky and make you thank him for 20 minutes before he actually hands you what you asked for. It’s better for you if you never tell him anything you’re afraid of because Kaeya has no social cues, or more like he throws them out the window, and he’s probably a psychopath. 

He’s incredibly private of his room and things despite his attitude towards yours. You’re convinced he either has a secret lab or that’s where he’s storing the bodies. I was the good guy but due to unfortunate circumstances, I need to stab a bitch. But he’s a really good serious talker for those 3am, because everything happens at 3am, talks about life and the meaning of the universe. It absolutely wrecks your sleep schedule but some of the things you talk about are the most crackhead things like what’s the lowest amount of money someone would have to pay you to walk outside without clothes? It’s a legitimate question. 

“Never before have I been so offended with something I 100% agree with.”

Jean

Okay, what world did you save in a past life to live with his absolutely wonderful woman? Mother Teresa take a load off, take a seat. You have nothing to worry about. She’ll bring home little treats back home and it’s the most wholesome thing ever?? Is this what love and affection feels like? We’ve been starved for so long. She says it’s not a big deal and anyone would do it BUT THE MOMENT SOMEONE BUYS FOOD FOR YOU. IT’S A MAGICAL MOMENT. They are forever stuck in your will until proven otherwise. An absolute ray of sunshine that must be protected. 

She does get super busy so you don’t often see each other or get to hang out as much. She’s a bit of a workaholic but a lot more easier to talk her into taking a break. She’s also a pretty decent cook but she prefers baking and jesus christ, girl can you calm down? Be still my beating heart, I’ve been smitten. Has mother hen vibes that you’re not sure if she’s your roommate or if she adopted you into her family. It’s time to start a petition for the Jean protection squad. Given the opportunity, I would aggressively hold your hand. 

She’s always open to whatever you want to do. Any recommendations or things that you like she will try out at least once despite her busy schedule. She’s lowkey lonely because work consumes her so any time you want to hang out or do something together, she jumps on it like she’s feral. She get’s a bit shy to ask if she can join in on your plans because she doesn’t want to bother you or intrude no matter how many times you tell her that’s okay, she still get’s a bit iffy about it. Please save this girl before she trips. In your arms. Platonically. Just kidding haha. Unless?

“I can’t wait to see you happy and not hating everyone again haha.”

Childe

First impressions of Childe were great, until he opened his mouth and you realized how much of a two brain cell child(e) he was. He has two braincells because they constantly have to 1v1 in his brain. He’s lived with a lot of siblings so he has no social awareness or concept of privacy that you’re lucky if you come home and he’s half-dressed. It doesn’t matter if you’re 2 weeks older than him, he’s going to call you 82 years old and why your bones aren’t being fossilized at this point. He’s such a little shit, this fucker licks the yogurt lid peel.  

He get’s really restless when he’s stuck under house arrest, because apparently 1v1ing in the parking lot of a Wendy’s is illegal for some reason, so he makes dying whale noises until he get’s to go outside again. But he’s actually a really wholesome guy, probably because of his younger siblings, that he’ll sometimes get you something because you seemed down and it’s such whiplash? Who is this man and where did he come from? You’re starting to have a change of heart before he tells you that he got banned from the library for accidently punching the school’s computer. How you “accidently” punch something you have no idea but Childe always comes home with some sort of injury. Maybe he’s just incredibly clumsy. For your sanity, you’re going to go with that. 

He’s actually so uncultured that it’s crippling. You can’t blame him too much considering his upbringing and it’s great that he’s so interested in learning new things but...child no...It makes you want to take your spine out of your ass and rip it like a Beyblade. Watching him take chopsticks and stab his food like it’s marshmallows makes you want to fall into a blackhole and let the chair consume you. 

“I, too, fantasize about beating the living shit out of people.”

---

Is this another tag yourself game cause I resonate with Diluc. I’m crying in insomnia. As much as I enjoy writing these fics I absolutely hate tagging them. I remember I used to have a tag anon but that was back when I wrote for bnha. 

Valentine’s Day was fun tho. I had a drinking game with friends as we played league then ended it off with a movie night. 

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin crack #genshin impact crack #genshin impact childe #childe x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc x reader #genshin diluc x reader #genshin impact beidou #beidou x reader #genshin beidou x reader #genshin impact jean #genshin jean x reader #jean x reader #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya x reader

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Laid out cold, now we're both alone (part 3)

A/N: Hello, this fic is very important to me because I tried my best to give justice to such a cool idea and I hope I did a good job. Plus I don't do multichapter ofter, so this was a challenge.

I wanna thank the lovely @livdonna​ for proofreading my work, you're literally the best <3.

P.S. If you want to get tagged in the next chapters, let me know.

Summary: Nikki needs to ask a favor to Vince Neil, in order to keep someone safe.

Warnings: Major Character Death,Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug Use, Angst, Overdose.

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Taglist: @slashscowboyboots @witchytombstonesmile @arnold-layne @emometalhead​ @i-dont-like-rice​ @nikki-sexx​ @smokeandmirrorz​

Bittersweet. That was the best way to describe Nikki’s emotional state as he got teleported in front of Vince’s house. They weren’t the biggest fans of each other.  He was always so annoyed by his singer, whom he considered more of a diva prince than a front man.

Sometimes Vince Neil was a stupid spoiled fucker, in his opinion, yet he needed him. What made his blood boil the most was that he had to put his pride to the side, because this wasn’t about him but about Tommy, and there was no way in hell he would have disappointed him again, even if that meant having to deal with the blonde’s bullshit.

He decided to get in the blonde’s house but without showing himself at first.  He wasn’t being avoidant ( absolutely not) but just he wanted more time to think, that’s all. The first thing he noticed was how different Vince’s mansion looked from Mick’s : outside there was a big pool, in which the clear water was shining thanks to the sunny day, meanwhile the inside was mostly white and gave the whole house a very elegant and snobby atmosphere; however it was very messy too, which was a huge disappointment.

It reminded him of the singer: face of an angel but inside he had his demons. Who didn’t to be honest? Unfortunately Nikki wasn’t so lucky to get an angel face to hide his dirty soul, he felt like everyone could tell how fucked up he was.

Lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t notice Vince passing right through him, talking on the phone in an exasperated tone.

“I know Doc, you repeated that hundreds of times! Yeah , I’ll call Mick and Tommy and we will do this fucking conference!”

There was a small pause.  Doc was probably answering back, and Vince looked like he was about to smash the phone on the ground.

“What’s holding us? We fucking lost our bassist, our friend and brother. Jesus, I fucking get it that you want our money but show some fucking mercy, bastard! Fuck you!” He violently put the phone down, only to fall ungracefully on the couch.

The whole conversation made the bassist laugh out of anger.  He knew Doc was all about money, especially because they made his life a living hell, but Vince appearing concerned about his death was honestly so fake.

What? Were you saying that Vince Neil was mourning him? The guy who kept fucking up the band over and over again was sad for him?

“Fucking Nikki, real dick move you pulled there!”

Nikki didn’t wait one second before sitting on the couch and making himself visible to the blonde.

“Oh Vinnie, that’s so rude to say.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vince screamed,  trying to back away but just managing to fall off the couch.

The other man couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Nikki, is that you? What kind of joke is this?!”

“Yeah. Look it might sound nuts but I’m a ghost. I’m dead and couldn’t pass through because I have unfinished business to solve.”

If looks could kill, well Nikki would have died again judging by how Vince was staring at him. He saw his face turning into an angry snarl before he started to yell.

“What the fuck, Sixx?! You die, leave us all alone and then you even have the courage to stay a fucking ghost! You fucking selfish prick!”

The bassist felt his blood boiling, well not literally but he got the same feeling as if he still had blood pumping in his body. How did Vince dare to say such things? He was the selfish prick, he was the one never caring and always causing trouble.  He was destroying the band!

“I’m a selfish prick?! I didn’t decide to fucking die! I put my heart and soul in the band and you kept destroying it. Now you want to accuse me? Fuck you!”

“You didn’t want to die? Oh well, what did you think would happen if you kept injecting that shit in your veins. We are fucking screwed now, without a bassist and ready to split up!”

Oh that was funny! Vince wanted to shame him, as Nikki was the only one drinking and fucking up with drugs. Oh sure Mick, Tommy and him could do anything but Nikki dares to shoot up, oh he’s a junkie! However he knew it was different, it wasn’t a simple way to party for him... He needed it to be alive. He had tons of pages written in his diaries that could be used as a proof.

“Oh because you’re such a saint, aren’t you Vinnie? I’m the bad one, I’m the one out of control. Well guess what?  The only person I hurt was myself, meanwhile we can’t say the same thing for you!”

It was a low blow, a terrible one and Nikki knew that. Rage blinded him, but that didn’t mean he had to dredge up the past, especially on something as horrible as Razzle’s death.

Good job Sikki, great way to get your friend to do what you want.

Vince’s face turned red, his fists clenched and got up to Nikki’s nose. He looked like he was about to punch him, but he had to realize it wasn’t going to happen since the bassist was not tangible, so he kicked a small table.

“You’re the only one who you hurt? What about the band, the fans, all those people you lied to and made suffer. Most importantly, what about Tommy, Nikki? How is he? Because it doesn’t look like he wasn’t hurt when you left him all alone, when you preferred shooting up instead of caring for him.”

Tommy. If he knew Vince’s weak point, the singer knew his too. It fucking hurt so bad, now he was the one wishing to be able to slap him.

“You don’t know a fuck about me or Tommy. Shut the fuck up!”

“Oh, I know all the times I saw him scanning the room around hoping to find you, all the times he looked heartbroken when you disappeared in the bathroom during rehearsal. I saw him after you destroyed him, how he still loved you even if you threw him away like trash. His two worst nightmares came true: you left him and you died. So tell me again Nikki, how did you just hurt yourself?

He wasn’t about to cry, even if he felt like a thousand legs were kicking his chest, he wasn’t about to give that fucker the satisfaction to see him crying ( he probably couldn’t even do that). But after the pain came the realization : he was there for Tommy. He was angry to forget that this wasn’t about him but about the drummer, and he probably ruined everything.

Now the hard part came : swallowing his pride down and convincing Vince. Oh, he would probably torment the bassist as slowly as he could, but eventually he had to accept.  Fuck, the two of them knew each other since high school!

“How’s Tommy?” His voice was so low, he doubted the singer heard him, but somehow he did.

“Oh, so now you want to know how he is?!” His voice was still loud and angry, but he must have seen the desperation on Nikki’s face, because he decided to answer anyway. “ He’s a mess. I just talked with him very briefly, he wanted to know if it was real. Then Doc fucking occupied this phone like it was his bitch, so I haven’t called him again, yet.”

This wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, it wasn’t fucking reassuring at all… Fuck, literally anything could have happened, Tommy could have hurt himself or left the country and this was all because of him. He just hoped his family was going to be close to him, he was loved, they would have never left him alone. That was supposed to be his job too, but he failed.

He failed his sweet Tommy.

“Sixx, what are you thinking about?”

It was the moment. Even if his heart wasn’t beating, he still felt the oppressive pressure of anxiety.  He wanted to run but he had to do it.

Swallow your pride. You fucking owe it to Tommy.

“Vince, promise me that you’ll protect Tommy, no matter what.”

“What?” The blonde was visibly confused and how to blame him!

“You were right, I broke Tommy and he’s going to have such a hard time. He fucking loved me, even if I didn’t deserve it, and now I’m terrified he’s going to destroy himself. You can’t let that happen!”

“Nikki…”

“I fucking love him Vince. I still love him so much.  He deserves a good life, I can’t ruin him even in death. He needs support.”

“Why me? It’s not like Tommy and I are best friends.”

“Because both you and him have known each other for a long time, and when the band will keep playing there’s going to be you, him and Mick left. He would never tell his stuff to Mick and he has something else to do, which means that you have to do it.”

A dry laugh escaped from Vince’s mouth.

“What if he doesn’t want to get helped?”

“You know how to get what you want. You’ll find a way, I’d do it but I’m a little dead… look I know you hate me but I’m only asking this. Like I said to Mick, this is my dead man’s wish.”

“Okay.” The voice was so low and Nikki barely had the time to react before Vince disappeared in the kitchen.

All his insecurities came back to eat him alive. What was even the point of being a ghost if he still had feelings? The truth was that he wasn’t sure on how much Vince could help, sure having someone close to Tommy was good, but he knew his boyfriend and fuck if he was a stubborn fucker.

His boyfriend.

It was a dagger through his chest, yet it still felt warm like the first time Tommy called him that. His face always lit up whenever he said it. The drummer always made loving him seem like the easiest thing in the world, as it was even possible to love someone like Nikki.

But Tommy did and what did he get in return? A junkie boyfriend and eternal heartache, because the love of his life was dead now.

Vince came back with a beer and softer expression on his face. Nikki didn’t move from the couch so he sat back to where he was.

“I will do it. I’ll keep an eye on Tommy.” His firm voice eased Nikki’s worries a bit.

Fuck, he never expected to see Vince Neil agreeing with him.

“Thanks dude, I know you hate me but Tommy didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t hate you.” His voice was shocked and the bassist had to suppress a laugh.

Yeah sure Vince Neil, not hating Nikki Sixx.

“Oh c’mon, don’t tell me you weren’t happy to hear I was gone.”

“Fuck no. Nikki we might have fought a lot and you were a fucking pain in the ass, but I’d never want your death. I cried, you were still my band mate and brother!”

He wasn’t sure why this whole conversation was hitting him so hard.  It was probably because he didn’t know how to react to the simple act of someone caring for him beside Tommy. Especially when this someone was his singer.

But did they really hate each other as they thought they did? If the roles were reversed, would he be happy about his death?

“I felt the same. Ya know, when we thought you were dead in the car crash.”

Vince gave him a small sad smile.

“Maybe we can bury the hatchet. You don’t follow me for eternity and I won’t talk shit about you in interviews. Deal?”

“Deal.” Nikki smirked.

It’s time to go, Nikki.

The same sense of helplessness he felt before with Mick, came back. Because he could pretend everything was somehow normal, until the voice reminded him that this wasn’t his place. Even if in this case it was for the best for him to go, considering how awkward it felt for both of them to be so friendly with one another.

“Vince, I have to go now.”

The singer made an expression between sad and relieved, but maybe for the first time ever, it was genuine.

“Don’t be a stranger. Send us some bottles of Jack or some strippers from hell, okay?”

Nikki let out a chuckle. Since when he was laughing with Vince Neil?

“I’ll try my best. Vince, keep the promise.”

“He loves you. You should visit him, he deserves to say goodbye to you one last time.”

He knew that, he fucking knew that already! It didn’t matter how hard he was trying to avoid that, he was going to go to him anyway, not only because Tommy deserved it but because he was selfish.

He wanted to see him one last time too.

“I know. I’m going to go to his house next.”

Vince seemed happy and gave him a small smile. Nikki took a deep breath and got out of Neil's mansion, feeling every type of emotion.

God, now it was show time.

#nikki sixx #Tommy Lee #Vince Neil #Mick Mars #Motley Crue #motley crue fanfiction #80s rock band #80srock #fanfiction #My writing #tommy lee x nikki sixx

[dothwrites]

ayyy congrats on 500!! Prompt: witch/familiar au please?

@queenvee08, I live to serve this is definitely going to be a longer fic at some point in the future i hope you’re happy with yourself

—

“What do you think? Hellsbore or mandrake root?” 

Dean stops his perusal of the two herbs which, to be fair, look almost identical, to glance over at Cas. 

Cas, who is still sulking from this morning, when Dean accidentally kicked him off the bed, doesn’t answer. The only indication he gives that he’d heard Dean at all is the irritated flick of one ear in his direction. 

Asshole stays in cat form when he wants to give Dean the silent treatment. And sure, Dean can hold a sulk with the best of them, but it’s also disconcerting to be ignored by someone who’s intent on raising their hind leg and indulging in a thorough tongue bath. Especially when Dean knows that Cas only does that shit to get on his nerves. 

“Come on. Cas. Come on. Asked you a question. Come on buddy.” 

Dean can feel Cas’ low-grade frustration thrumming through their bond at the back of his mind. It’s like having an annoying song that you just can’t quite get out of your head, or a persistent itch that lingers, no matter how you contort your body to get at it. It’s annoying, but ultimately not damaging. Except Dean is done being ignored. He truly does want Cas’ opinion, seeing that he and Cas make a hell of a team (in the six months since he and Cas bonded, Dean’s understanding and abilities have only deepened, to the point that even Bobby says that with a little more practice, he’ll make a hell of a witch), but more importantly, he wants Cas’ company. 

When he’s not being a grouchy little bastard, Cas is great to have around. If he’s in cat form, he’ll laze on the counter, sunning himself and batting at the random bits of string that Dean dangles in front of him. After some trial and error and one memorable time when Dean yowled, Holy shit Cas your claws, as Cas failed to gain purchase and ended up dragging his claws down the back of Dean’s neck, he’s learned the trick of balancing on Dean’s shoulders as Dean fills orders and experiments to make different combinations of spells. Dean’s gotten used to Cas draping himself on the back of his neck, like a warm, furry weight (fucker is heavy). And then there are the times when Cas will just curl up next to him, or wrap himself around Dean’s ankles, butting his head against him. It’s worth it then, for the daily allergy potion that he drinks (a twist of fate that his familiar ended up being a cat, the one animal that Dean’s allergic to, but it’s worth it if it’s Cas). 

And if Cas is in human form, then that’s even better, because he’ll sit crosslegged on the counter and help Dean measure out ingredients for spells. He’ll read spells over Dean’s shoulder, suggesting improvements or modifications (Cas’ practical knowledge of witchcraft is formidable, his intellect staggering and sharp; every time he speaks, Dean’s reminded that he’s in the presence of a mind much quicker than his own). He’ll even, if the mood strikes him, deal with customers. Dean’s seen more than one granny come tottering in, looking for a joint relief aid, and come waltzing out, starry-eyed, from a conversation with Cas. 

Not that Dean blames them. Cas is gorgeous. 

He’s the kind of attractive that stops people in their tracks, the kind that makes people do an unironic double-take. When you add in that jawline, those shoulders, the long elegant fingers, thick runner’s thighs, and perpetually messy bedhead, and multiply it by his pack-a-day deep voice, and then throw in his intelligence–No wonder that people are falling over themselves. 

And that’s the problem. Because Dean is one of those people. 

It’s not forbidden persay, shacking up with your familiar, but it is the kind of weird that gets you talked about at parties. It’s taboo enough that only the fringe elements of the community will even entertain the notion, and then in whispers and titters. Kind of like having people figure out that you like weird kinky sex stuff. There’s no law against it, but they sure as hell look at you differently. 

Dean’s not sure if he’s ready for that. And he’s damn sure not going to make a move until he’s sure that Cas is interested. And as for that…Dean has no idea. They may share a bond, but the bond doesn’t stretch to their every thought, which means that they can hide things from each other. And Cas can be closed off when he wants to be, which makes him almost impossible to read. 

So Dean grits his teeth, keeps running his shop, and tries not to have a coronary every time he goes to sleep with Cas in his cat form at the foot of his bed and wakes up with Cas in human form snuggled up next to him (that probably means something, right? What? What does it mean?). 

And then there are the times that he tries not to scream, like right now, when he poses another question to Cas, and the irritated scrabbling at the back of his mind gets louder. Cas pins him with a long look before he deliberately flattens his ears to his skull. A second later, he lifts up his lips to reveal two delicately pointed canines and hisses softly.

“Jesus, it was a fucking accident,” Dean mutters, turning away from Cas. See if two can play that game. He’s interrupted from his brief pity party by the sudden absence of aggravation from Cas. Instead, it’s replaced by intent focus, that steel-trap mind narrowing its sight until it finds a single focal point. 

Forewarned, Dean is facing the door, magic already sparking at his fingertips, when it opens and Crowley comes through. 

Crowley, who’s been after him for months to join the coven he keeps under his thumb. Crowley, who trades and barters in souls instead of money. Crowley, whose eyes flash red as he neatly sidesteps the Devil’s Trap Dean keeps hidden underneath the rug. 

A low growl rumbles from Cas’ chest as he stalks over to Dean. It never ceases; Dean can feel it shaking through his body as Cas presses against his elbow. Their bond tightens and Dean feels the additional surge of magic, the familiar supporting his witch and boosting his powers. The magic surges through Dean, the purest drug he’ll ever need, and that, combined with the presence of Cas at his side, gives Dean enough fortitude to look at Crowley and snarl “Get the fuck out.” 

Crowley pretends to be hurt. “Such a cold welcome Squirrel. And after everything I’ve done for you.” 

Dean forces a brittle laugh. “You? You’ve never done shit for me, except try to get me in your pocket from Day 1. I told you then and I’m telling you now–I’m not for sale.” Next to him, Castiel hisses in punctuation, lips curling back to reveal his bared teeth. Without looking, Dean reaches down and settles his hand on top of Cas. He feels the fur standing on end, the tension running taut through every inch of Cas’ frame. 

Crowley flicks a dismissive eye towards Castiel. “Can it pussycat,” he sneers, before he turns back to Dean, ignoring how Castiel’s growl rises in pitch. His eyes glow red in warning. “Last chance Winchester. Take the deal before something goes wrong.” 

Dean doesn’t even need to consider. “How about you go to hell?” 

He senses Crowley moving before he does, but it’s Cas who acts. With an inhuman screech, he launches himself from the counter straight at Crowley, claws outstretched. 

A flick of Crowley’s fingers sends Cas flying across the room, his small body hitting the shelves. Cas’ high, anguished scream, somewhere in between a human and cat cry, strikes straight at Dean’s heart. 

Magic sparks at his fingertips and this time it’s his turn to flick his fingers. He’s never been adept at nonverbal magic, but it turns out that with rage clouding his vision, he’s amazing at it. It doesn’t feel like it takes any effort at all for him to hold Crowley stationary, hand outstretched. No matter how much Crowley struggles, he can’t break free. 

Dean chances a glance to the other side of the room. His chest clenches in worry when he catches sight of Cas’ human frame, sprawled unmoving on the floor, back to him. For Cas to lose control of his form–Dean turns back to Crowley. For the first time, the demon’s face shows fear. 

“You head back to that pit of brimstone you crawled out of,” Dean snarls. The urge to hurt, to rend rises in him, dark and ugly–But then he feels, muted but still blessedly present, the calm pulse of Castiel in the back of his mind. It soothes the violence in Dean, long enough for him to look at Crowley and enunciate every word, just so that there’s no misunderstanding. “If I ever see you in this shop again, I won’t hesitate to rip you right out of that meatsuit and shove you down so far into the pit that it’ll take decades for you to crawl back out.” 

He leaves Crowley pinned for a moment, just to make sure that the demon gets the message, before he relaxes his hand. Crowley’s feet don’t even touch the floor before he disappears. 

Dean rushes to Cas’ side, gently turning him over. A thin trickle of blood runs from Cas’ hairline to his temple. Dean’s blood boils, but before he can perform a summoning to yank Crowley’s ass back and take every bit of Cas’ suffering out of his hide, Cas’ eyes flutter open. 

Now, as always, Dean’s caught in their piercing gaze. His mouth goes dry and he becomes aware that he’s gently thumbing over the bolt of Cas’ jaw. He doesn’t stop. 

“Crowley gone?” Cas asks, voice thicker and rougher than usual, but his eyes are lucid. 

“Yeah. Asshole hightailed it out of here.” 

And before he can second-guess himself, give himself a list of reasons of why he shouldn’t, Dean leans down and kisses Cas. It’s firm, unyielding and unapologetic, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind what he means. 

Cas freezes, but only for a moment, and then he’s kissing back, hands reaching up to rest against Dean’s cheek. His fingers hook into the soft spot behind Dean’s ear, pulling him closer, and Dean goes willingly. 

“Finally,” Cas murmurs, once they part. 

“Finally?” Dean echoes, drunk on the memory of Cas’ stubble scraping against his chin, the bold sweep of Cas’ tongue against the seam of his lips. 

Cas gives him his best flat stare. “I was spooning you every morning for two straight weeks. What did you think I was trying to do?” 

Dean swallows, aware that he may not be as suave as he likes to pretend. “I thought you were cold?” he offers, when it becomes clear Cas is waiting for his answer. 

“You thought I…” Cas murmurs to himself, before he rolls his eyes. “What would you do without me?” he asks, rhetorically, before he’s pulling Dean’s face down to his once more. 

Don’t know, Dean thinks blissfully, as he proceeds to learn Cas and the variety of noises that Cas can be persuaded to make. 

Hopefully I’ll never find out. 

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #dean winchester #castiel #witch!dean #familiar!cas #cas is a cat because why not #witch/familiar au #dothwrites

[comfy-whumpee]

Nano: Revenge

He ate like he thought it would be his last meal, every time. No matter if Rain brought him one meal a day or three, over the next week, he ate like his life depended on it. He pulled back when he was finished, curling into a ball or lying down on his side, half-folded. It was strange, and sad, but far unlike what they had expected. Where was the rushing charge? The violent escape? The victorious comeuppance?

Rain stood by the hatch, watching. Lauritz never quite put all of his attention on the food, always glancing up at them and down again. Something about how they acted, or maybe just his experience so far with two people who hated him, made him constantly wary for the food to be taken away again. Perhaps he wasn’t convinced that they wouldn’t just let him die if he annoyed them too much, or if they got too angry, or if they simply felt like it... Given what they’d done to his nose, they supposed that was fair. Smart of him, even, not to trust them easily.

But they didn’t take the food away. Lauritz got his full meal or three each day, and he showed the signs of someone who had needed it. His colouring improved, less of a pasty paleness to his cheeks. His movements got more steady and less exhausted, and the shadows under his eyes faded a little each day. They had no idea what had been going on before he came here – even he didn’t, of course – but it was both satisfying and dissatisfying to see him recovering at their hand.

Why, why were they the ones who had to do this? Couldn’t he have gone somewhere else, to one of his criminal friends?

There had to be a reason he was here. They couldn’t trust him until they had found out what it was.

Kala had tried interrogating him, and he had the bruises to show for it, but he hadn’t given her anything but desperate pleading. Rain had questioned him too, more sedately, with long, slow pressure increasing like the crank of a medieval rack. Again, he’d had nothing. Apologies in droves, but no useful words came out of him. Nothing but a brief murmur about an orange lunch box, which was unlikely to be anything.

He was frustrating. Rain felt it like a sting.

Kala felt it like an open flame climbing up her spine.

-

Her face burned. Her arms were liquid pain. The rope around her wrists, tying her to the pillar, chafed the skin until it was raw. Kala hated this, hated every second of it, with a ferocity that only made her helplessness bite worse.

The bastard was in with Rain right now, in the other room, the one where he had the chain looped around the ceiling. They were alone with him. Kala couldn’t do a thing to help.

She would kill him one day, she swore to herself. She would kill him. There was nothing he could do to stop her. She’d get out, get fit, get strong, and learn to fight. She’d track him down, or ask Rain to do it, they were smart like that, and then she’d put a knife through him. Or smash a baseball bat against his skull. Or choke him to death.

The imaginings of what she could one day do for revenge were her anchors, her burning candlelight in a cold and dark-lit room. She would kill him. It sustained her, while he had all the control.

-

He was scared of her. Good. He should be.

Kala closed the hatch, even knowing that Rain was out on the beach. They might come back early. They probably wouldn’t like her doing this, or at the very least would want to know why. She didn’t feel like explaining.

She had a knife. She'd bought one a while ago, ostensibly a hunting knife. It would have been a hunt. She would have used it on him, gutted him, if she’d had the chance.

Now he was here and she had the knife, and she wasn’t going to kill him because Rain would never forgive her, but she was at least going to make him understand. Years ago he had made her feel like a piece of shit. Like a worthless stain on the world, scum at the surface of the ocean. He’d almost destroyed her, and he didn’t get to pretend that it never happened.

He watched her walk towards  him, staying on the ground, arms against his chest. He always sat like that, as though he were trying to protect himself from her, but she didn’t care for his tricks. He couldn’t guilt trip her like that, no. She was going to make him understand. Make him hurt, how he had hurt her, and then maybe...

Maybe she’d feel better.

Kala was wearing a long-sleeved black top with a lace neckline, and black loose trousers. Her lipstick was black as well today, as was the smoke and shadow around her eyes. She felt raw, black and bitter, despair tainted with rage. When she crouched opposite him, he watched with wide eyes, and she pulled up her sleeve and showed him.

He paled. Up and down her arm were short slashes, an erratic pattern that overlapped and repeated enough that she looked like the leaves from a motherfucking pine tree. Like the forest floor in autumn, when all the needles were shed and grown again for winter. Like a fucking carpet.

There was no skin unscarred from wrist to elbow. He’d gone over it again and again, and she’d been lucky he’d picked her left arm and not her right.

“You deserve that and more,” she told him, voice hard. “I’d slit your fucking throat if I could.”

She didn’t pause for him to reply, not wanting him to offer a stupid apology or a protest that he didn’t understand. He was still Lauritz fucking Nielson, no matter what he said. He still deserved this. She would still give it to him.

She pulled him forwards by the shoulder and bent him over his knees, revealing the arms still bound behind him, just as hers had been. The cable was chafing. Good.

With the knife, barely knowing what she was dong, she cut into his forearm, a short horizontal line. Then, she added a vertical line.

Blood welled up surprisingly fast, blurring the marks she had made. She moved further up, away from the wrist which would soon be slick and stinging with blood. She made another slash, diagonal, and a line crossing it, and a line at its end, and another stretching up, and one up, and one up, changing direction each time like she was crossing out invisible words on his skin.

Fucker. Sadist. Criminal. Bastard. Asshole. Monster. Piece of shit.

He deserved this and more.

Lauritz didn’t make a sound as it happened except to quicken his breathing, harsher and faster in his nose. He didn’t pull back, just lowered his head. No fight in him. Pathetic. Even Rain had fought, when it had been their turn, struggled and begged and affirmed that they didn’t deserve it. They had both fought. Lauritz didn’t even do that.

When she ran out of space, and the arm was covered in short slices, she had to stop. She pulled back, letting him go, and he sniffled. He was crying. Jesus fucking Christ, he was crying. That was just pathetic.

“What?” she asked, tone sharp. “What? What are you crying about? You deserve that, you know.”

He nodded slowly. “Just... hurts,” he croaked, in that weird barely-there voice he had sometimes, like he hadn’t spoken in months.

“Well now you fucking know how I feel,” Kala said, and groaned. “They’re only surface scratches, you’ll be fine.”

He didn’t reply, staring at the floor. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Her stomach turned. “Don’t fucking say that. You deserve it, just take it.”

“...Okay.”

God, he was the worst. He took the satisfaction even out of this. Kala got up, sighing, and left him to it. He would have to figure out how to stop the bleeding himself.

-

When Rain came home, they could tell something had happened. Kala was grumpy and quiet, and the ladder was down but the hatch was closed. Something had happened with Lauritz.

Making a cup of tea to warm themself up from the sea breeze, they noticed her knife on the beech counter beside the sink.

That answered that question.

“You should go bandage him,” they said, passing Kala in the hall. “I don’t fancy renting a boat to ditch his body in the ocean.”

Kala half-turned, frowning, mouth opening to object, but Rain was already heading up the stairs, tea balanced without spilling a drop. Her mouth closed again and she made a grumbling noise. Rain smiled privately as they entered their bedroom and put the tea down on their desk. After a moment’s pause, they reached into their pocket and withdrew the latest piece of sea glass they had picked up, a pale blue like the summer sky. With a clink, they placed it into the bowl that held their collection. They would clean it later.

Kala went up the ladder a few minutes later. Rain had left their door open, and Kala left the hatch open, so they could hear her moving around. Lauritz didn’t speak while she was there, it seemed, except to occasionally apologise as she cleaned him up. There must be a lot of blood for her to do that much scrubbing.

Then the sound of bandages being snipped. “This’ll hurt like a motherfucker,” Kala muttered. “You’ll forget it’s more than one. Serves you fucking right.”

Ah. Rain’s stomach flipped. Suddenly, they knew exactly what Kala had done to him.

She still couldn’t feel much on that skin. She complained of it itching on dry days, sore when she stretched or showered. But it had scarred so much because it had gone untreated, gotten infected in that dingy abandoned house. With Lauritz bandaged, he wouldn’t suffer so greatly.

Rain looked down at the white and blue sea glass in their china bowl. Somehow, it felt wrong for Lauritz to be harmed less than Kala by the same thing. He had caused all of Kala’s pain. Now, he was only experiencing a small portion of it himself.

But what was the alternative? Doing exactly what he’d done?

Would they be just as bad as him?

No, it was different. They weren’t holding him captive.

But they were. He was tied up in the attic.

But they weren’t torturing him.

But they were. Kala had.

They weren’t sadists...

Were they?

Hadn’t Rain pushed at his broken bone just for the feeling of power over someone who had hurt them before?

What, exactly, was different about how they were treating him?

#nanowrimo extract #my fic #whump #revenge whump #whumping a whumper #amnesiac whumpee #knives #cutting #angry whumper #kala #rain #lauritz

[spaceskam]

Him. (the werewolf au)

warning: mild sexual content, guns, hunting, daddy issues

ao3

Alex Manes did not get along with other human beings. It was a simple fact.

He'd known he was different from a very young age because of this one little fact. It meant he got in fights at school. It meant he didn't listen. It meant he was deliberately rude. He didn't mean to come off so horrible, but he learned it was the only way to get people to leave him alone. If he was an asshole and perceived dangerous, they’d leave him alone.

Another one of those little things he did as a kid to make him unapproachable was spend his free time in the woods, usually with his grandmother who lived in a cabin deep in the trees. While normally, in any other place, that wouldn’t be a problem. Maybe that’d make him a person to bully, but here it just made him that much more of an obvious outcast that people didn’t even want to associate with negatively.

According to the hunters' legend, the wolves that populated the woods outside of Roswell weren’t quite... normal. They were larger than normal, more violent, more deadly. They were the wolves, yes, but also not. Whispers were spread from generation to generation about how everyone should be wary of people they didn’t know well enough; you never knew who wasn’t quite who they claimed to be. Alex thought it was funny to play right into that idea.

His grandmother, before she’d died, had been the only sane one. She’d learned to fend for herself, growing her own food and hunting deer and using every part of the animal to avoid going into town. She was completely self sufficient where she lived in the middle of the woods and not once had she ever had a negative encounter with those supposedly vicious wolves. She was more reliable than the hunters and their tall tales, Alex deduced, and had been living in her old cabin since he was 16.

It wasn’t that easy, though. His father was still the leader of the group of hunters that ran the town and made it their mission to go out into the woods once a month and try to kill one of those wolves. They usually succeeded. It was a carnal, horrific act that was meant to be applauded, parading these dead animals around after they’d killed them and insisting that they were in some way human and not caring. Alex hated it.

And yet he was still a Manes man. His brothers still came to him for deer meat and kept him up to date on town gossip. His father still stopped by and made it clear that people spoke negatively about him and that he should join the hunt. After all, he was skilled gunman, he’d be good at it. But Alex denied.

On the few occasions that he did go into town–whether it be for things like soap or just simply a man to warm his bed for the night–people stared. The Manes boy who went wrong, the Manes boy who was one of them, the Manes boy who had somehow made it to the age of 26 without caving under his father’s iron rule. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel powerful.

“Don’t you get lonely?” Forrest asked. He was nice and he was cute and he didn’t judge Alex, always being open to make the drive into the woods for a lengthy fuck in front of the fire. Alex wouldn’t even mind seeing him more than once every two weeks if he didn’t do things like ask that.

“No,” Alex said, shaking his head. He was in Forrest’s lap, both of them bare and comfortable being that way. Another benefit of living in the woods was that, as long as the hunt wasn’t happening, there was a very slim chance anyone would stop by without a warning. They could do whatever they wanted.

“I would,” he admitted, “If I lived out here, I would.”

“Good thing you don’t live out here then,” Alex said. Forrest wrinkled up his nose before giving a playful laugh, reaching a hand up to comb Alex’s long hair behind his ear. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he cut it, but it didn’t matter because it pissed off his dad and for that reason alone he would never cut it again.

“You ever think about moving back into town?” he wondered, craning his neck as Alex moved down to kiss his neck. He slowly kissed his way to his ear, taking it between his teeth gently.

“I’d rather put my dick in a blender,” Alex said as seductively as he could. He felt Forrest physically recoil at the thought, a groan coming from him as he leaned away. Alex smiled.

“Why do you say shit like that? Jesus,” Forrest breathed, shaking his head. Alex just grinned at him until he grinned right back. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, I believe that so much,” Alex said sarcastically, rolling his hips forward to get a little bit of a reaction from him. It worked far too easily. “Round two?”

“You expect me to say no to that?”

“No, I really don’t.”

Forrest left around two in the morning, needing a little coercion to make him realize staying over night wasn’t an option. Telling him he planned to be up early to do yoga didn’t work, but telling him he’d be forcing him to wake up at 5AM to join if he didn’t leave definitely did.

He didn’t really understand Forrest’s desire to be around him. Sure, he was probably the only person Alex had found since his grandmother that he could tolerate for more than thirty minutes, but that didn’t mean he wanted him around always. He liked space, he liked being alone. His brothers asked often when he would settle down and Forrest occasionally liked to see if he wanted something more, but apparently ‘I don’t want to’ wasn’t a valid answer. Apparently, it wasn’t right to enjoy being on your own.

Sometimes, on days that weren’t great, he’d consider it, though. He felt like this now, yes, but would he always? Wouldn’t he want someone eventually? And, when that time came, wouldn’t it be nice to have Forrest around, someone who he already knew he could tolerate? But then he remembered that’s just what society told him to feel.

If he found someone worth altering his life for, it wouldn’t be a question. He’d know it.

Bright and early the next morning, Gregory Manes, the middle Manes boy, showed up at the door with iced coffee. He was the least pushy of Alex’s brothers and was the only one who, while still going hunting every month, hadn’t killed any wolves. That was the only reason Alex tolerated his early morning visits.

“Wasn’t Flint supposed to come?” Alex asked, sipping the coffee as he led the way to the side door. It entered straight into the not-quite-outside room that Alex used to do all the fun stuff like skinning and packaging.

“Yeah, but I wanted to come talk to you,” Greg said. Alex raised an eyebrow as he opened the freezer, desensitized to the smell of blood and meat that filled the room as he continued to drink his coffee while simultaneously pulling out package deer meat to put in a bag. For a town full of hunters, they never seemed to be able to get any deer of their own.

“Why?”

“You need to steer clear of that Long boy. Or at least tell him to stop acting like you two are an item,” Greg said. Alex furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Since when had he ever taken being told what to do well? “I’m not judging you or trying to tell you what to do. I’m just saying he’s starting to outcast himself by association and he seems too nice to suffer like that.”

“He shouldn’t be telling anyone that we’re together anyway,” Alex said, slamming the freezer door shut, “We aren’t and he knows that.”

“Okay, well make sure he knows that. Mrs. Sibley, the lady who runs the coffee shop, refused him service this morning and I have to assume it’s because word is getting around that you two are together.”

That took Alex off guard as he looked at him with wide eyes. Even he had never been refused service. Maybe that was the fear, but still. 

“Seriously? Jesus, why do any of you stay in that town?”

“It’s not that easy to just get out.”

“For him it would be. He’s smart and friendly, he’d be able to get out easily,” Alex explained. Greg sighed.

“I don’t know, that’s not my call to make. All I’m sayin’ is he’s gonna suffer if something doesn’t change,” he said. Alex nodded and decided to be nice about it. He knew Forrest wouldn’t listen to him if he told him to stop, but it wouldn’t hurt Alex to distance himself from him for his own good. He didn’t need him like that.

“Okay.”

“Also,” Greg sighed, “I need you to drive into town later and pick up Isobel from work because I have to get ready for the hunt tonight.”

Alex froze and looked over at him, carefully pulling the coffee away from his lips. Greg was giving him that pleading little smile and Alex hated him for it. This is why he didn’t socialize. They did shit like this.

“So this is a bribery coffee?” he asked. Greg rolled his eyes.

“Please? Your the only guy that I trust around her anyway.”

“Then maybe get her to ask one of her friends? You know, women so she doesn’t have to be picked up from work by some guy she’s met once?” Alex explained. 

Greg gave him that look like he should know that wasn’t an option. Which, granted, it sort of wasn’t. All the women in the town usually got together on the night of the hunt to cook for all the men when they got back. It was all very sexist if Alex was concerned. But, still, Isobel already got judged because she wasn’t from around there. If she asked someone to go out of their way on the night of the hunt, it could make it worse.

“Fine,” he groaned, “But you owe me. That’s like a two hour round trip just to pick up your girlfriend.”

“I’ll pay for your gas and I’ll make sure dad doesn’t come around here for three months,” Greg offered. Alex eyed him.

“Deal.”

-

Alex spent his day compiling fire wood, checking his garden, and making sure the fence around his cabin was secure. His one rule was that, during hunts, if any of the fuckers even tried to enter or shoot around his property, he’d shoot them. They listened, but you could never be too cautious.

He combed and braided his hair before he left, even bothering to get dressed in something that wasn’t dirty. As much as he didn’t care to impress anyone, he also wasn’t too keen on alienating a girl who was already alienated enough. 

She was quiet when he picked her up from her work, saying her thanks and nothing more. He dropped her off and immediately started heading back home. The sun was starting to go down and he knew that as soon as it go dark, idiots would be in the woods. He was trying to avoid getting his tires blown by boys who got spooked by every little sound and mistook his truck for a wolf.

He was none too lucky though, navigating that dirt road that he specifically carved out for his truck as the siren rang throughout the town to signify the beginning of the hunt. He rolled his eyes and kept an eye out for people that were in the woods hunting, not really eager to hit anyone despite the fact that he could hear just how gun crazy they were. 

But then something dark was laying in the middle of the path. Alex slowed to a stop and turned on his brights. He felt all the air leave his lungs as he realized it was a wolf. Big as ever, but not in pieces every other time he’d seen one. Instead, this one was wounded and looking in the lights with scared eyes. 

Against all better judgement, Alex climbed out of his truck and slowly started walking towards it. It was hurt, but it wasn’t dead. Maybe he could help and then he could feel just a little bit better knowing he wasn’t as bad as the rest of his family.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, as he neared the animal. It’s fur was thick and a dark brown, eyes almost too human as they stared him down His stomach swooped in fear, but kept his hands where the animal could see and took slow steps. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just wanna help, okay?”

The wolf whined, but didn’t bark or growl. Alex tried to remember all the tales of how vicious these creatures were and wondered if maybe, just maybe, they were only vicious because they were treated with venom first.

“Let’s see where you’re hurt, okay?” Alex cooed as he got close, crouching slowly. He held eye contact and slowly reached to pet the wolf’s head, promising that he wasn’t a threat. It didn’t bite his hand off, so that was a plus.

It only took a few seconds to see that there was a bullet graze in it’s front leg which was probably why it was in the middle of a path instead of hiding somewhere. However, it looked like something he could feasibly patch up. Alex frowned as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to get the animal back to his cabin. Sure, he was strong, but strong enough to pick up a whole ass wolf?

A gunshot rang through the air and the wolf startled, whining and fearful. Alex had never felt so much compassion for anything in his entire life. Never had he ever felt as bad for a human as he did for this wolf. Which is probably what led him to deciding to carry it.

“Give me one second, okay? I’m gonna help. If you wanna bite my arm off, that’s cool too,” Alex said before running back to his truck. He dropped the tailgate and grabbed a blanket from the back seat before heading back to the wolf. “I got you.”

He laid out the blanket as fast as he could and, will a lot of struggling, he managed to get the wolf on it. He didn’t question why it was trusting him so much, he just went with it. His grandmother did always say he had an open soul. He always thought that was bullshit, but maybe he was just open to a different species.

He dragged the blanket with the wolf on it all the way to the back of the truck and winced when another shot echoed through the air. Alex said a few cursed under his breath before looking down at the wolf that was staring up at him, putting it’s life in his hands so willingly.

“This is probably gonna hurt, okay? I’m sorry,” he warned.

Alex gathered the ends of the blanket and wrapped them around his hands, trying to think of it as picking up a heavy log instead of a living being as he lifted it and tried to throw it in the back of the truck as gently as possible. That didn’t stop the pained yap the wolf made when it hit the bed of the truck and Alex instantly gave it another pet.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Stay put, okay? It’s gonna be okay.”

He closed the tailgate and quickly got back into his truck, driving the rest of the way feeling like he had stepped into a different side of reality. This is why he didn’t go out during hunts. Now he had a stupid wolf to take care of.

When he got to his cabin, he moved fast to get the wolf from the bed of the truck and inside. It’d be safe there as long as no one actually saw him taking it in there. Alex had zero faith in his father to respect his privacy if there was a wolf involved.

“Alright, it’s okay,” Alex cooed, repeating himself over and over as he carefully got the wolf onto the ground. It was a lot easier to do that than it’d been to lift it, so that he was thankful for. 

He dragged the wolf on the blanket all the way through the front door and locked it behind him, letting out a huff of relief. He stood there for a moment to catch his breath as the wolf stared up at him, 

“You trust me, right?” Alex asked rhetorically, but the wolf rolled onto his side and gave him unbridled access to tend to the wound on his leg. Alex tilted his head to the side. “Oh, you really trust me. Guess I gotta make it worth your while, huh? Gimme one second.”

Alex flicked on the lights in the kitchen, not giving a shit if it obscured the men hunting. He was the one that rigged up the generator and he was going to use it regardless. He started searching for his first aid kit, a rag, and then got two separate bowls to fill with water (well water, he couldn’t take credit for that, that was his grandmother’s doing). 

He brought everything back to the wolf and sat on the ground beside him, opening the first aid kid.

“Here’s water if you need it,” Alex said, putting one of the bowls by the wolf’s head, “This might hurt a little... I say to an animal who literally can’t understand me.”

The wolf a soft huff of acknowledgement, ears flicking. Alex smiled and shook his head, scooting a little closer. He tried to be gentle as he looked at the wolf’s bleeding leg, dipping the rag into the other bowl of water to use to wipe it clean.

“It’s just a graze,” he murmured in confirmation, “Took a chunk of flesh, but I think it’s superficial. You’ll be okay.”

Still, he got a little gauze pad and wet it with hydrogen peroxide before cleaning it with that. The wolf let out another whine and Alex gave mindless words of encouragement, trying to move as quickly as possible. After that, he got neosporin and dabbed that over it as well before wrapping it up. He hoped it would be enough. He decided he’d just keep a close eye on it to make sure he would be okay. 

“You can stay here until you feel better,” Alex promised, petting the wolf’s stomach gently. He watched him lap up a bit of water before laying his head back down. “You look tired.”

Tired sounded nicer than in pain because surely that’s what he really felt. Nonetheless, Alex pet him a few more times before getting up to put the first aid kid away and discard the bloody rag and bloody water bowl.

The wolf stayed right there by the entrance of the kitchen on the blanket, watching Alex as he got up to make some semblance of dinner. He hummed to himself and to the wolf as gunshots continued. He didn’t want him to be scared.

He made himself deer sausage and a potato, keeping it plain and simple. On another plate, he put a slab or raw deer meat and went back to sitting on the floor.

“I don’t know if you’re hungry, but here,” Alex said as he placed the plate beside him. The wolf eyed him, but Alex kept to himself as he ate his own food. It seemed to be enough and he eventually started taking small, delicate bites. Alex grinned. “Not very wolf-like.”

The wolf gave a superficial growl and Alex smiled even wider.

They ate in silence for the most part, gunshots dying down as it got darker. Usually, by 10, the wolves were either in hiding or dead and the men retreated back into town. Alex stayed with his wolf until the siren signified the hunt was over at 11PM. 

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go get ready for bed,” Alex told him after cleaning their dishes and double checking the lock on the door, “I’ll leave your water there.”

Alex headed into his room after that, grabbing a pair of sweats, an old sweater, and fresh boxers before he stripped down. He could take a shower in the morning. 

Right as he dropped his pants to the ground, he heard uneven tapping against the wood floors. He looked over his shoulder to see the wolf in all his wounded glory limping his way to be near him.

“Excuse you,” Alex said, feigning modesty. The wolf just gave another soft whine and Alex shook his head with a laugh, pulling on his clean clothes. When he looked back again, the wolf had gotten onto the left side of his bed. “Oh, so now you can walk and jump? You really did just want me to carry you.” Another whine. “Kidding.”

Alex climbed into bed, careful to be mindful of his wounded bed partner. He wasn’t actually used to sharing a bed to actually sleep, but this felt like a valid exception to the rule. He pet the wolf beside him a few times and scratched behind his ear.

“Goodnight.”

-

The next few days went by with ease.

They’d get up early, eat breakfast, tend to the garden, eat lunch, hunt deer, get firewood, eat dinner, go to sleep, repeat. The wolf followed Alex around as much as he could and he got stronger each day. By the third day, he wasn’t even limping anymore.

“I have never seen something heal this fast,” Alex marveled as he cleaned up the wound that was now just a scratch after dinner, “That’s insane.”

He stood once he was done and headed into the kitchen to wash his hands again. It was strange. This was the first time since his grandmother died that he didn’t get annoyed by the constant companionship. Hell, even when she was around, he’d go get lost in the woods for a few hours to be in his own mind. But there was something comforting about having another being that didn’t talk back. There was no annoyance about him, just a presence to remind him that he wasn’t completely alone.

Alex was halfway through putting his hair in a bun when someone knocked on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and the wolf stood in attention. No one had told him they were stopping by.

Still, he made his way to the door with the wolf hot on his heels.

“Go,” he whispered to him, shooing him away, “Go in there.”

It took a few seconds of staring him down, but eventually the wolf went into the living room. Alex closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath, hoping that Greg had kept his word and it wasn’t his father. If his dad found out he was harboring a wolf, well, they had bigger problems.

Alex opened the door and saw Forrest, the man smiling hesitantly.

“Um, hey,” Alex said, “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t return any of my texts,” he said, “I was kinda worried.”

“You shouldn’t be, you know I don’t look at that thing,” Alex said. Forrest nodded, looking around as if trying to find a reason to stay. “Look, my brother told me about people acting rude towards you because of me. I think it’s best if we stopped.”

Forrest looked taken aback. “They’re rude because I’m gay.”

Alex gave a small smile and shook his head. “No. Well, maybe a little, but Mrs. Sibley wouldn’t refuse service to someone because they’re gay. Not saying she’s the most welcoming person in the world, but she takes her money very seriously. It’s because you’ve mentioned me to people.”

He bowed his head for a moment, thinking about it. Alex expected him to leave, but instead he just looked back up at him and shrugged.

“Fuck ‘em.”

“No,” Alex said, “No, I’m not about to be responsible for you.”

“Then I’ll say we broke up.”

“We aren’t dating.”

“Yeah, but clearly they think we are,” Forrest said, shaking his head, “Look, I don’t give a shit what we are. You’re the only guy in this town that is both not straight and not conformed to this town’s bullshit agenda. Can’t I fuck at least one person that isn’t a Republican?”

Alex snorted a laugh and felt himself caving. He did like having Forrest at his beck and call for the same reason that Forrest clearly liked having him. They were two of the only sane people.

“Fine,” Alex said, looking him up and down, “But you still came back here awfully soon.”

“What can I say? The hunt always makes me hate everyone around there a little more,” Forrest explain. Alex took that as a perfectly valid answer.

He pulled Forrest into his house and into a kiss, slamming the door behind him. Forrest grinned easily, wrapping his arms around his torso and pulling him in tight. Alex could feel how toned he was through his shirt which, honestly, he loved. Alex did yoga and lifted heavy shit, but he wasn’t all sculpted with abs and stuff. Forrest, on the other hand, was.

Their make-out was interrupted by a loud bark. Forrest nearly jumped out of his skin and Alex instantly looked over his shoulder to where the wolf was all but glaring at them.

He was growling low as he slowly stalked forward. Alex couldn’t be fucked to find it intimidating.

“Really? Relax,” Alex told the wolf. He just growled right back. Forrest hid behind him shamelessly.

“Since when did you get a fucking dog?” he asked. Alex didn’t really have an answer, so he just shrugged and then walked closer. He knelt down in front of the wolf despite his anger and looked him in his all too human eyes.

“Go to bed,” he said. The wolf’s angry demeanor dropped in favor of something close to a pout, a mournful whine coming from him. “Go.”

He slowly walked away, head bowed and tail all but tucked between his legs. Alex huffed and stood back up, turning to Forrest who seemed very confused still.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. Alex just shrugged and walked closer. He didn’t want to explain himself and he wasn’t about to. Forrest didn’t question him as he pulled him back into a kiss and started pulling him to the couch.

Alex tried, he really did, but it was hard to enjoy having sex when there was a wolf dramatically walking through the house and whining for attention. They got as far as Alex being shirtless and on his back on the couch and Forrest kissing down his chest to go down on him when they had to stop because the fucking wolf was just watching them like a disappointed parent who whined louder and louder by the second.

“Go to bed!” Alex told him. He just laid down on the floor right there as if that’s what Alex meant. “Oh my God,” he groaned, throwing his head back. Forrest chuckled against his stomach before sitting up.

“This is what you get for getting a dog.”

“Well, if I knew getting cock-blocked was a side effect of a pet, then I’d never have signed up.”

Forrest gave a small laugh and they both sat up, accepting that there was no way to continue without feeling awkward as hell. The wolf seemed awfully proud of himself.

“Why did you get a dog, anyway? I thought you said you weren’t lonely,” Forrest said.

“I’m not. And I didn’t really want him. I found him and he was hurt, so I’m letting him stay until he’s healed,” Alex explained. Forrest gave a teasing smile.

“You helped something in need? Aw, who knew you had it in you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alex laughed, reclining back against the couch, “I guess you can go now since we’re clearly not allowed to do anything.”

“Seriously?” Forrest asked. Alex just raised an eyebrow. He sighed, but clearly wasn’t too shocked. He probably would’ve been more shocked if Alex actually condoned in letting him stick around if they weren’t going to hook up. “Alright then.”

Alex walked him back to the door and they shared a kiss before Alex locked up after him. He glared at the wolf when he walked back into the living room, shaking his head.

“Can’t believe I’m just letting you tell me what to do in my own home,” Alex scolded as he dropped back on the couch. The wolf got up and came over, jumping up onto the couch and licked at his face. Alex tried to lean away, but the slobbery kisses kept on. “Haha, very funny.”

The licks stopped, but the wolf laid heavily on him. Alex just accepted it and relaxed into the couch, stroking his soft fur. Was it bad if he didn’t mind this over sleeping with Forrest? 

“Lets go to bed, I guess,” Alex sighed eventually, giving him one last scratch before they both got down from the couch.

It felt standard now to walk to his bedroom and change and get comfortable in bed with a huge ass wolf. He’d only been doing it for a few nights and yet it was like he couldn’t remember not being this way. He was almost sad at the prospect of sleeping alone again.

“You’re almost all healed,” Alex whispered into the darkness but he trusted the wolf understood every word. He stared at him with conviction like he always did and Alex no longer assumed he didn’t hear him. He did. “Are you gonna run off tomorrow?”

The wolf blinked once and then shifted closer, nudging his nose against Alex’s chin and laying his head on his chest. Alex huffed a laugh and shamelessly buried his face in his fur. 

“I’ll take that as I’ll at least see you around.”

-

Alex woke up the next morning, not to fur, but to skin.

When he opened his eyes, he was face to face with a man. Alex immediately jumped up and scrambled out of bed, his heart thudding in his chest. The man in his bed sat up, unabashedly naked as he sat criss-cross and blinked up at Alex. He tilted his head to the side in that distinctly animalistic way that made Alex’s heart stop.

“What the fuck?” Alex asked, raking his hands through his hair as he tried to make sense of this, “What the fuck?”

“I’m all healed now, see?” the man said, pointing to the faintest little scar on his arm. Alex’s mouth went dry at the confirmation. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

“I-what? Oh my God, cover up, I can’t fucking think,” Alex said and the man just smiled at him, doing as he said. He had curly hair that almost reached his shoulders and stubble dotting his cheeks along with a hairy chest. His shoulders were broad and so was his smile, his skin tan in a way that complimented his muscles. He was hot. But he wasn’t fucking human. “I’m so confused.”

“Why?” he asked. Alex scoffed, eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

“What do you mean why? I went to sleep with a wolf in my bed and woke up to a fucking man,” Alex pointed out. He blinked innocently, those eyes identical to the ones he’d seen in the wolf. It was only more confirmation.

“You like men.”

“And I liked your smartass comments better when I couldn’t hear them,” he said. Again he just blinked and tilted his head. Alex rubbed his hands over his face. “I just... I know the legend, but... really? Is this really a thing? What the fuck?”

“I... I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said. Alex took a deep breath, trying to focus on his thoughts so he could ask the right questions. When he did, though, they came out all at once.

“How do you speak English so well? Why did you wait so long to show me that you’re human? Why did you show me at all? Are you human? What’s your name? How old are you? What the fuck?” Alex rambled. The not-wolf stared at him with wide, overwhelmed eyes. “Fuck.”

“I... I...” he stuttered out, furrowing his eyebrows, “You usually say less words.”

“Yeah, well, I usually don’t get confirmation of fucking mythical creatures,” Alex snapped. The not-wolf’s face slowly got more and more concerned, not longer any trace of that big smile. In fact, he looked scared. Alex sighed and rubbed his hands over his face again. He’d told that wolf four days ago that he was safe here and he meant it. Even if that meant he had just quickly adjust to this. “I’m sorry for freaking out. Look, just... I’ll lend you some clothes and then you can explain everything to me while we make breakfast. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding his head as he stood to his feet with complete disregard of his nudity. He stumbled a little as he did so, catching himself on the wall and laughing a little. “These feet are weird.”

“Yeah,” Alex breathed, looking away and hoping he had clothes that would fit him. He picked out the baggiest sweater and baggiest pair of sweats he owned, turning to give the pair to him. He took them with welcome hands.

Alex watched as he fumbled with them, sitting the sweats on the bed as he decided to focus on the sweater first. He twisted it and unfolded it, flipping it around in his hands a few times before finding the large opening at the bottom. He looked up at Alex for confirmation that he was doing it right. All it told Alex was that he was basically dealing with a fresh goddamn human.

He stuck his hands inside, stretching and moving wildly as he tried to make it work. Alex smiled at the childish nature of it and moved forward, helping him get his arms through the sleeves and his head through the collar. He flashed a smile when they made eye contact. 

“Can you get the pants or do you need help with that too?”

“I got it. You did it so many times.”

“Great, glad to know I could teach you something,” Alex huffed, shaking his head with a little laugh. Still, the not-wolf had to sit on the bed and focus harder than normal to get his legs through the pants. “Does your hand-eye coordination improve the longer you’re human or am I going to have to teach you how to function?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Like, do you get better at doing things?”

“Oh. Yes.”

“Got it.”

They made their way into the kitchen and the not-wolf stood too close to him, lingering over his shoulder as if his wolf boundaries were still acceptable in human form. They weren’t though, not really, and Alex shoved him away.

“Give me space,” he instructed. He agreed, moving a few feet away before eventually deciding to sit on the floor by his water bowl that was probably not helpful anymore. “Now, give me answers.”

Within the 15 minutes it took to cook eggs and deer sausage, Alex got the run down of all things mythical. He learned that it was extremely difficult to shift when they were hurt, meaning he couldn’t have let Alex know earlier if he tried (but they healed faster in wolf form anyway so it was pointless). He also learned that he spent most of his time as a wolf, but usually became human during hunts because his elders had taught him that was what he should do. That was how his English had gotten as good as it had.

“Wait, so why were you a wolf during this last hunt? What happened?” Alex asked. He shifted awkwardly, pulling on the sleeves of the sweater as he tried to find his words.

“Days are different out there, it’s hard to know exactly when the hunt will be. Usually, my sister comes to get me and gives me a place to go, but this time she didn’t. I-I don’t know why,” he said. Alex furrowed his eyebrows as he looked over at him.

“Your sister?”

“Yes. She spends most of her time human, she doesn’t like being outside like that.”

“Because of the hunt?”

“No,” he said, but then he paused for a moment, “Yes. I don’t know. It’s strange. She wants to be normal, so she goes. I like being that.”

“I get it,” Alex said easily. He dispersed the food onto two plates and walked over to him, sitting down on the floor with him. He handed him the plate and a fork, but he simply put the fork on the ground and used his hands. “So, do you have a name? Or do you spend so much time as a wolf that you don’t have one?”

“No, I have one,” he said, picking up a small section of scrambled egg with all five of his fingers. Alex smiled as he shoved it in his mouth in the messiest way possible. “It’s Michael.”

“Michael,” Alex repeated, “I’m Alex.”

“Alex,” he said, nodding his head as he shoved more egg into his mouth, “I never had this food, Alex, it’s good.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”

They ate in silence for a little while longer, Alex finding amusement in watching him make a mess and then eventually having to show him how to wash his hands. Instead of a morning workout or going immediately to his garden, they sat down on the couch to talk more. Michael sat too close, too eager to lay on him like he did when he was a wolf.

“Okay, you can’t do that,” Alex told him, pushing him away until they were firmly on other sides of the couch, “I don’t like that.”

“Like what?”

“The whole unnecessary touch thing.”

“That man that was here before did that,” Michael pointed out. Alex opened his mouth to explain, but then he realized that Michael had caused that whole scene and knew exactly what he was doing.

“Yeah, and you ran him off. Why would you do that?” Alex asked. Michael had no shame as he looked at him.

“Not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“He got all the petting and he was only here for a few minutes. I got none for that whole time,” Michael explained like it was obvious. Alex scoffed, but couldn’t help but laugh.

“You aren’t entitled to my attention, you know that right? I can pet whoever I want,” Alex said. Michael just shrugged, twisting to sit with his back against the arm of the couch and his legs criss-cross again. “But I was trying to have a sex and I think you knew that.”

Michael gave a guilty smile.

“What the fuck?” Alex said, giving another little laugh, “You’re such an ass.”

Michael laughed, so open and free that Alex nearly felt guilty for being cynical. But, still, this wasn’t a completely understood situation.

“So, what’s the plan? ‘Cause you can’t stay with me forever,” Alex told him. Michael pulled his leg up, resting his chin on his knee and giving him those sad puppy eyes that worked just as well as they did when he was an actual dog. “Oh no, you’re not guilting me into letting you stay here.”

“But I’m hurt.”

“You said it yourself, you’re all healed,” Alex pointed out. Slowly, that bottom lip popped out in a pout and Alex had to fight a smile. 

“But we’re friends.”

“Friends don’t cock-block each other.”

Still, that pout was still there. Alex shook his head, trying to hide his laugh before he got up. He was just going to have to think about this more. He felt bad just throwing him back out when he knew that his family was trigger happy, but he didn’t like the idea of having a whole ass person in his house. Maybe they could compromise. 

“Look, I’m gonna go take a shower, can I trust you to stay put?” Alex asked. Michael nodded. “Good.”

The rest of the day somehow carried on like normal. Michael sat on the bed like he always did to watch Alex braid his hair, staring like it was the most interesting thing in the world. They went to work on the garden together, this time with Michael working on his hand-eye coordination by trying to help. It was the same as they went to cut fire wood. Turns out there was a bonus to having someone around with werewolf strength--the dude could basically carry a whole ass tree.

For some reason, Alex didn’t hate it. He didn’t hate having him tag along and he didn’t hate having to explain things to him. He felt more patient than ever and that in itself was wild. He didn’t like people. But, then again, Michael wasn’t quite people.

“You need to go take a shower,” Alex told him that night. Michael just stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Don’t look at me like that. If you’re gonna stay in human form, you have to act like one.”

With a little bit of persuasion, Alex showed him how the shower worked and what soap to use on his hair and what soap to use on his body. Alex waited outside of the bathroom for about five minutes until a large crash happened and not-so-manly whining followed it.

“What did you do?” Alex asked.

“My eyes,” Michael whined. Alex sighed and asked for permission to help him. It was granted without hesitation.

He walked into the tiny bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain, seeing him holding his palms to his eyes and yet barely any soap in his hair. Alex grabbed a rag and peeled his hands away from his eyes, holding his chin as he dabbed over his closed eyes.

“Now blink a lot,” Alex told him. He did as he was told for about a solid minute until it didn’t hurt as bad.

Alex decided to stay and showed him how to wash his hair, massaging his scalp and smiling at the way he seemed to purr at the sensation. He helped him rinse it out before deciding he could wash his body on his own. He left him with a warning that he needed to be completely dry with the towel before he came out. The instructions worked well enough despite Alex ending up drying his hair for him.

“So, I don’t know if you plan to stay human, but if you do, we can go to a thrift shop and get you some clothes of your own,” Alex offered as he gave him another pair of clothing. He would have to do laundry soon which was always a pain in the ass.

“I’d like to stay human for a little while,” Michael said, putting on the sweater with a little less trouble this time. 

“I thought you said you liked being a wolf.”

“Yes,” Michael said, “But I like being with you.”

Alex ignored the way his stomach clenched and he just made his way towards the bedside table, grabbing his brush before undoing his braid. He didn’t mind Michael, but the fact that he didn’t mind him was scary. It was scarier to know that Michael wanted to stay human to be around him. What exactly did that mean? Nothing, right? They hadn’t known each other long enough to be more than nothing.

The bed creaked as Michael crawled onto it and Alex eyed him.

“What are you doing? You’re sleeping on the couch,” Alex said. Michael made a wounded noise, looking up to him like Alex had just told him his dog died. “I told you. If you’re human, you have to act like it. Humans don’t share beds with strangers.”

Michael didn’t move, looking up at Alex like he was genuinely, deeply hurt by the idea that, not only could they not share a bed, but that he was a stranger. Alex held up his end for a total of thirty seconds before he caved. What the hell was this wolf-man doing to him? Since when was he this fucking nice?

“Fine,” Alex groaned. Michael instantly fell into bed and curled into the blankets, smiling all proud of himself. Alex shook his head, finishing brushing his hair before he climbed into bed too. 

Like the night before, only much different, Michael nuzzled his face under Alex’s chin. He snuggled close like that was okay and shifting and itching as he tried to get comfortable in not only his new skin, but new clothes. Alex thought about pointing out that unnecessary touching thing again, but he smelled good and he wasn’t actually that bothered. He didn’t instigate it by touching him more, but he definitely didn’t push him away.

“Alex?” he whispered, voice soft like it was a secret.

“What?” Alex whispered right back.

Michael didn’t give a verbal response, simply pressed in closer and pulled the blanket up to Alex’s chin which meant it was basically over his head. It had Alex wondering if he got cold without all the extra fur. Regardless, he still didn’t touch him.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

-

A week went by and it turns out living with a half-man, half-wolf wasn’t that bad.

Michael was actually quiet for the most part and he adjusted to human-living quite well. He picked up on how to make coffee very fast. He took showers regularly and wore clothes and helped in the garden. He was an effective hunting partner and wasn’t grossed out by the process of skinning the deer. He was still working on the boundaries part, but, hey, he was trying and Alex appreciated it. It had to be confusing to rationalize that it was okay to touch while they were in bed, but not when they weren’t unless he was a wolf.

It was all easy until they had to go into town to get him clothes and to refill gas cans.

“I don’t like stores.”

“Neither do I.”

“I hate them.”

“So do I.”

“Then why did we go?”

Alex sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He hated going into public, he always had, and after moving into the woods, he hated it more. He hated talking to people and he hated the way the town looked at him and he hated having to perform social niceties that, to him, didn’t feel very nice. However, he hadn’t quite acknowledged that Michael had been even more isolated from it all. 

They’d been in the thrift store for a total of about thirty minutes and just barely made it to that point. People were staring and whispering and avoiding them like the plague, judging them openly. Alex was used to that. Michael, on the other hand, was not and he nearly had a breakdown in the middle of the store after four people deliberately speed-walked away from him and one lady loudly asked her friend why they thought it was okay to come during peak business hours. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around people not liking him on principal and it made him uncomfortable and, well, a wolf never really had to learn to contain emotions. So Alex sent him to the truck while he paid.

When he got to the truck, Michael was curled in a ball with his hands clasped over the back of his head.

“Look, I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you,” Alex said softly. He knew that the people who chose to be around him suffered consequences with the exception of his brothers and his father. And even then the only reason they didn’t was because they ran the fucking town. Alex was an outlier and everyone suspected he was one of them and that his father had sent him to the woods for that reason. The worst part was that Michael actually was.

“Can we go home now?” he asked, voice small as he stayed in the ball. Guilt filled Alex’s system and, for the first time since he was human, he reached out and initiated touch. He stroked his hair and then squeezed his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

“One more stop, but you can stay in the car for that, is that okay?”

Michael nodded.

Alex drove to the gas station while keeping one hand on Michael, hoping that that would be stabilizing enough. He left Michael in the car with a soft ‘I’ll be right back’ and went to go pay for his gas. He grabbed a coffee and sour candy while he was inside, deciding to give Michael some sort of prize for surviving a day amongst the humans of Roswell along with something to ground him, before heading to the counter.

“$50 on pump 7?” the cashier said without even looking up at him. Alex appreciated her lack of conversation mixed with the lack of judgement. She had the same distaste towards him as she did everyone else and she always had. Which is why this was the only gas station he went to.

“Yeah,” Alex answered, fishing out his wallet. There was something slightly annoying that all of his money still technically came from his father and brothers. Sure, they were buying meat off him for not only themselves, but for the big dinners on the night of the hunt, so it wasn’t like it was a handout. But still.

“Alex?” a familiar voice asked. Alex looked up to see his brother, Greg, walking inside. “Hey, I was just on my way out to your place.”

Alex gave a small shrug as he turned to him, coffee and candy in hand. He would never admit that he was a little scared that, if Greg saw Michael, he would know. They’d all been taught from a young age to question anyone who wasn’t from around there and, even if they were, to keep watch of all their differences. Greg was a little different and had been dating a girl who wasn’t from around there, but it still made him wary to let him follow him back to the truck.

“Need meat? Or just need a little brotherly companionship?” Alex asked. Greg huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“Meat,” he said, “I told you, I’d keep dad from comin’ around there. I keep my word.”

“Right,” Alex sighed. He was thankful that he didn’t have to see his father, but, fuck, he didn’t want him meeting Michael. Not one bit. Especially not when Michael was having a bad time. He would like all of his brothers to not see him be nice to anyone. 

“Isobel’s with me,” Greg told him and then eyed him for a moment before looking towards the cashier and then looking back, “And I also noticed there’s a guy in your truck.” So much for keeping that to himself.

“Yeah,” Alex said simply, shrugging his shoulder. He could play it off.

“Moved on from Forrest already?”

“You’re the one who told me to leave him be,” Alex pointed out though he didn’t say that he’d sort of forgotten about Forrest over the last week. He’d sort of been distracted.

“Yeah, I did,” Greg said, nodding slowly. This was certifiably one of the weirdest conversations they’d ever had. That was saying something. “You usually don’t listen.”

“What can I say? We both have a thing for strangers, don’t we?” Alex said. Greg huffed a small laugh.

“I’ll see you at your cabin in a bit,” he said, clasping a hand on his shoulder as he walked past him.

Alex went to his truck, opening the driver’s seat and prodding Michael in his thigh with his middle finger. He peeked up at him through his curls and over his knees, eyes wide and cautious and obscenely gorgeous. Alex held out the coffee and the candy.

“Eat that, it’ll help you feel better,” Alex instructed. Michael nodded and grabbed the items with slightly shaky hands. 

As frustrating as it was to see Michael so distraught over a few rude people, there was also something fascinatingly pure about it. Hell, there was something fascinatingly pure about nearly everything this non-quite-man did. It had Alex’s mind filling with new questions each day. Was he born this way or had he been changed? Was he raised as a wolf? Was he given the option? Had he been in these woods with Alex their entire lives and somehow never crossed paths? 

Alex filled the gas cans in the back of his truck as quickly as possible, climbing back in once he was done and heading home. He was exhausted already and it was hardly noon. He rightfully blamed Michael.

“You good now?” he asked after they’d been shrouded by the trees on the path to the cabin for a good fifteen minutes. Michael had lifted his head entirely, sucking on the sour candy that made him make disgusted faces, but he kept on because Alex had told him to. He’d follow it up by taking sips of the coffee that caused an even more distressed face from the clashing tastes, but he persisted nonetheless. “‘Cause my brother is coming over and I need you to feel like a real person.”

“I am real,” Michael answered.

“Yeah, you can’t talk like that.”

“I…” Michael started, but he stopped himself and shifted, “Alright.”

When they pulled up to the cabin, Michael grabbed the bag of clothes they’d gotten, his trash, and went to help with the gas cans. Alex rationalized that that was a big reason why he didn’t mind having Michael around. He pulled his weight.

“Do you feel better?” Alex asked as they got settled in the outside area, filling a bag with frozen deer meat for Greg.

“Yes,” Michael said, but his eyes were still a little distanced. It only took a few seconds before he added, “But do you mind if I shift?”

Alex blinked in surprise, but he quickly shoved that away. “Yeah, of course, do whatever you need.”

Michael nodded and started heading inside to go do just that. Alex almost stopped him to wait until after Greg got here and left, but he figured he could say he dropped him off before coming home. Alex did have a lot of questions, more pooling in his mind that he supposed he could wait until he wanted to shift back. Maybe them healing faster in wolf form applied to emotional wounds as well.

A few minutes later, someone‒Greg‒knocked on the door. Alex brought the bag of deer meat into the house with him as he went to go open the door. Michael was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, you really want me to leave as soon as I got here, don’t you?” Greg asked as Alex immediately handed the bag to him. He shrugged a dismissive shoulder. “You remember Isobel, right?”

Alex looked over towards the tall blonde that stood behind him. Her makeup was faint and her hair was down and her clothes were plain. It almost made Alex feel bad. When Greg had first met her, he’d excitedly showed Alex pictures of her since he was the only one he could go to about a girl who was from out of town. She looked lively and always dressed to the nines in every picture, regardless of how mundane the situation. That town had successfully forced her to conform. 

“Yeah,” Alex said, “I picked her up from work that day.”

“Yeah, I know, but you’re, well, Alex,” Greg said. He didn’t need to elaborate for Alex to get what he meant by that.

They barely had a second of silence pass between them before Isobel’s face suddenly lit up, looking much more like those pictures. Alex looked behind him at that and saw that Michael, fully wolfed-up, had made himself known. Alex stepped to the side and she took that as her invitation to go pet him.

Except it seemed a little more than that. Isobel dropped to her knees and Michael immediately jumped all over her, licking her face as she hugged him and pet him. Alex couldn’t help but feel extremely confused by that.

Clearly, so was Greg because he felt the need to say, “She really likes dogs.”

“I see that,” Alex noted. The two of them sat there on the ground even as Michael calmed down, just hugging each other. For a moment, Alex recalled Michael saying his sister much preferred living as a human. Was it possible that she… No. No, that’d be crazy.

“When, uh, when did you get a dog?” Greg asked, a little too much emphasis on the word ‘dog’. Alex licked his lips as he watched the two of them. Isobel seemed to be whispered into Michael’s fur, slowly but surely convincing him that maybe she was that sister he spoke about.

“He was hurt, took ‘em in,” Alex explained. Greg just nodded in a kind of stilted way. Alex looked between Isobel and Greg a few times, slowly but surely milling things over in his mind. Did Greg know? Was he also just harbouring one of them?

Oh, what would Daddy Manes say if he knew what his boys were up to?

“Iz,” Greg said after a moment, clearing his throat, “We gotta get back for dinner with my dad.”

Isobel looked over at him with sort of a neutral expression before she nodded. She kissed Michael’s fur and scratched behind his ear and he gave a little whine when she pulled away. Alex stared at her pretty intently as she stood back up and looked at him. She gave him a small smile.

“He’s a very nice dog,” Isobel said. Alex nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed. They stared at each other for a while, longer than what Alex was taught was socially acceptable. Neither of them cared.

Greg cleared his throat.

“We’ll see you later, Alex,” Greg said, giving him a goodbye nod. Isobel reached for his hand and he took it, leading the way as they headed to his truck. Alex closed the door behind them and turned to the wolf that seemed to continue to take over his life.

“Was that your sister?” Alex asked him. Michael just stared up at him, his animalistic features making it difficult to receive confirmation. “Okay. Lunch?”

Michael stayed close, disregarding the boundaries they’d established when he was in human form. Honestly, Alex didn’t really mind. It was strange, but he was infinitely more comfortable with the wolf version of him snuggling up to his side, laying at his feet, rubbing up against him for pets than he was with the human man that breathed too heavy and still put his clothes on backwards.

After lunch, with not much to do, Alex laid on the couch and grabbed a book. Michael, in all his fluffy glory, sprawled across him. He got through maybe a chapter before the not-quite-wolf captured his attention. It was easy to just wrap his arms around him and hide his face in his fur. It was easy to focus on his steady breathing and the way he cuddled close despite his lack of human grip. Which, honestly, was what made it easy. People left and judged and spoke. Animals… There seemed to be an unspoken dedication that Alex could appreciate.

He could remember the last time he took a nap in the middle of the day before that.

-

Forrest: heard you got a new man. Feel like I shouldn't be surprised.

Alex rolled his eyes, throwing his phone back on the bed and grabbed his brush. Michael watched him with those intense eyes like always and still said nothing. Alex got to work braiding his hair.

It had taken a few days, but eventually Michael was ready to be human again. Alex woke up that morning with him snoring and naked, body cold from the lack of fur and basically burying himself into Alex to chase heat. It was clingy and annoying and so fucking hot that Alex wanted to kick him out. But he didn’t.

“More buzzing,” Michael noted as Forrest texted him again.

“Ignore it.”

“Okay.”

Alex pulled the braid over his shoulder to finish it, noticing it had reached his nipples now. A childish thought of how he could finally be a mermaid passed through his brain and he couldn’t help but smile. It was weird to think of how many years he’d wanted to be anything but himself and now he happened to befriend someone who had that choice.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Alex asked as he thought about it, turning to Michael who was eager to give an answer, “Were you always like this? Like, able to shift? Or is, like, the legend a thing and you can be turned?”

Michael paused for a moment, thinking relatively hard as he tried to find the right words. Alex let him as he tied off the end of the braid. He sat back on the bed and Michael, the king of needing physical touch, made sure their thighs were touching. Alex didn’t mind.

“Both is true. I was born like this. My parents were both this,” Michael said, “But they died. Or left. Or something. I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?”

Michael shrugged. “I don’t remember. They were gone when I was a baby. I was by myself a lot.” 

Alex felt an uncharacteristic pang of empathy and he reached out, rubbing his arm slightly.

“I’m sorry to hear that. That must’ve been scary.”

“A little. I got good at hiding during hunts and stuff and a few people fed me when they didn’t realize I was a wolf because I was small. But one of the elders, Aliya, she found me and took care of me. She taught me to go human during hunts for safety. She died too,” Michael said. He seemed very flippant about that word, like so many people he’d loved died. And most of them were probably at the hand of Alex’s family. Wasn’t that just horrifying?

“What about your sister‒that’s Isobel, right?” Alex clarified. Michael stared at him for a minute, almost like he was scared to confirm it. Alex just squeezed his bicep in comfort. (It was obscenely muscular and almost ruined the mood, but Alex was adult enough to cover that up.)

“She… Don’t tell her I said so,” Michael said quickly. Alex nodded. “Yes. But she isn’t my real sister, we just…”

“Take care of each other?” Alex filled in. Michael nodded in agreement. It had Alex wondering a little bit what had stopped her from going to get him on the night of the hunt. Maybe it had to do with Greg, but even that felt weird. The whole thing was weird. “I get that.”

“Humans can become like us, though,” Michael said, changing the subject. Alex didn’t mind. Whatever was going on with her really wasn’t his business. “We can bite right here.” Michael reached up and pressed his fingers to Alex’s neck.

“Just right there?”

“Yes, I think,” he said, nodding, “But it’s scary. You can die if it’s wrong.”

“Have you ever done it?” Alex asked, his hand moving from his arm to tuck a few loose curls behind his ear. Michael kept that intense look. 

“No, never,” he insisted, “I don’t think it’s good.”

“Not even if I asked?” Alex said. Michael’s eyes seemed to widen just a little bit more, trying to register his words as Alex continued to fiddle with the ends of his hair. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. “Kidding.”

Michael swallowed harshly and stared, leaning a bit closer. Alex wasn’t sure if he should move or not. But Michael didn’t cross any boundaries‒or, not really‒and instead did that thing he did when he wasn’t human. He nudged his nose into Alex’s cheek and then buried his face in the crook of his neck.

Alex leaned back against the pillows and moved his hand to the back of his head, letting him lay there for a moment. Michael had gotten dressed more for a desire to be warm than a desire to be clothed, so Alex wasn’t surprised when he moved his hand up and put it over Alex’s collarbone. His fingers slipped beneath his shirt. Alex still had no desire to push him away.

“Did you ever think about being human and moving into the town?” Alex asked, gently scratching his nails against his scalp.

“When Izzy did. I didn’t wanna be alone,” he whispered. 

“What stopped you?”

“I found Max,” Michael said. That was the first time he ever mentioned someone named Max. Alex didn’t know what to say to that, so he just kept scratching his head and waited. “He’s my brother.”

“Where’s he?”

“I got hurt,” Michael told him, voice softer than before. Alex wrapped his other arm around him. “I’m not sure where he is. We got split up and you found me, so he’s probably out there.”

“Do you miss him?” Michael nodded. It was the first time that Alex considered that Michael might actually leave for real. Why was that so much scarier than him staying? “Do you want to go back into the woods?”

“I want to find him,” Michael said instead, “So he knows I’m okay.”

Alex dragged his thumb over Michael’s jaw, staring up at where the wall met the ceiling. His great grandfather on his mother’s side had built this little cabin back in the late 40s when the Manes had changed the status quo from killing wolves for protection to killing wolves for glory, moving out into the woods to make a statement that it wasn’t dangerous. His great grandma and his grandma had lived in the town for awhile after that, though, and his grandma only moved out here after she’d had two kids and her husband died. 

Alex’s mother had been raised in this tiny cabin with her brother and her mother, fully living off the land like it should’ve been. To this day, he still never understood how exactly his mother met his father and why she liked him enough to have four children with him. It felt like a disconnect. Why would she choose that over this?

But it didn’t matter. This cabin, small and quaint as it was, was a statement of rebellion and family and change. Who would Alex be if he tried to make Michael stay? Even if he wanted him to?

“You can go, if you want.”

Michael sucked in a deep breath and nuzzled in a little closer. 

“And I could come back?”

“Always.”

They fell silent like they usually did, soft touches still being given. They didn’t really need to discuss the logistics. He would probably leave and he would probably come back. Alex had been alone for a long time before‒he liked being alone‒it wasn’t some dramatic thing. This was just a wolf person he’d housed for the last three weeks. It wouldn’t be a drastic change.

It was only when Michael tilted his head and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck that Alex realized he was beyond fucked.

-

“Stop talking.”

“Then you talk. C’mon, tell me how good I‒”

Alex coved Forrest’s mouth with his hand, chasing his release with each thrust of his hips and trying to get the man under him to stop fucking ruining it. 

It was perhaps Alex’s own fault, though. Michael had left to go find his brother four days prior and Alex, for the first time ever, felt lonely. It was weird sleeping alone and it was weird gardening alone and it was weird eating alone. He missed the annoying heavy breathing and the too much touching. Staring at the unused pile of clothes felt like they were taunting him. So he called Forrest up. It was dumb of Alex to think it was a valid replacement.

The man was still a little burned by Alex “moving on” and felt the need to show that by attempting to be bossy. It had Alex wondering how he even dealt with him in the first place. He liked the silence that came with living with a literal wolf much more than the ramblings of a man who claimed to be an animal in bed.

“Fuck,” Alex grunted as he finished, catching his breath for a second before pulling out and rolling onto the other side of the couch. Forrest seemed to be silenced by his own climax which, honestly, was a blessing.

A blessing that didn’t last nearly long enough.

“So, why’d you call? New guy not doing it for you?” Forrest asked. Alex rolled his eyes and groaned, wanting for him to just shut the fuck up for a few minutes. Forrest kicked his leg to get him to answer. 

“Why do you care? I made it clear we aren’t a thing,” Alex said.

“Yeah, but I at least deserve to know who else you’re fucking for my own safety. Like, when’s the last time you’ve been tested?”

“I’m not fucking anyone else,” Alex huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “And I got tested, like, last month. Which, again, haven’t fucked anyone else.”

“Well, then who’s that guy everyone saw you with? You know shit spreads fast in that town when it involves a Manes,” Forrest told him. Alex closed his eyes. “You’re known whether you want to be or not.”

“Oh my God, will you fuck off?” Alex asked, pushing himself to his feet, “It’s none of your business, nor is it anyone else’s. I’m out here for a reason.”

“Which I still don’t get. You’re a Manes, your family runs this town. Why aren’t you basking in that?” Forrest asked. Alex walked to the kitchen and grabbed a towel, wiping himself down and trying not to be irritated.

“Why would I want to? I fucking hate it,” Alex said, “The only reason I hooked up with you in the first place was because I thought you got that.”

“And I do, on some level. I don’t wanna be associated with my family either. But the difference is my family is a bunch of annoying bigots, your family runs a town.”

“A town full of idiotic, cold-hearted people who thrive off the glory of murdering innocent animals for generations,” Alex scoffed, “And you think I want that tacked onto my name?”

“No one fucks with you because of your name, Alex.”

“No, no one fucks with me because they think I’m some fucking creature of the night.”

“And you do nothing to dispute that, by the way.”

“Because I don’t give a shit! Let them think what they want.”

“Sometimes I think your dad was right,” Forrest said, his words making Alex freeze in place. He looked up slowly, seeing Forrest just standing there completely naked and with none of the charm that Michael’s nudity had. The power those words held, the ‘your dad was right’, hit Alex square in the chest. He hated it.

“What did you just say to me?” Alex asked. Forrest shifted under his gaze, his angry stance swaying just a little bit with the fear that came with being stared down by a man with the last name Manes. Alex felt he was the least scary of them all, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what he was capable of. 

“After I first met you, your dad cornered me and told me to tell him if there was anything sketchy about you and he’d make sure I was safe in town. And there is something sketchy about you. This, this whole isolation thing and your weird indiviuality complex is fucking weird. You do know humans are social creatures, right? We’re supposed to feel more comfort being close, not being separated. Sometimes I think maybe you really are what the rumors say,” Forrest said. 

“So you were hooking up with me because my father told you to?” Alex clarified slowly, his body filling with anger and something akin to betrayal. It wasn’t like he’d ever really put anything into a relationship with Forrest, but, fuck, he did think they were at least friends on some level.

“No,” Forrest said quickly, shaking his head, “No, that was my choice. He just… took advantage of that. But still.”

“No, what the fuck have you told my dad?” Alex scoffed.

“I told him you self isolate and that’s probably a mental issue,” Forrest said, having the audacity to sound like he cared, “That isn’t normal, Alex.”

“Fuck you,” he said, shaking his head, “Seriously, fuck you. Why would I want to be normal? Why can’t I just do what I want? Why the fuck do you buy into bullshit standards that are set for us? You even said it yourself, everyone in that fucking town conforms to the same bullshit ideology. Why are you buying it?”

“I like you, Alex,” Forrest said softly, “But I’m worried about you. So’s your dad.”

“Oh my God,” Alex breathed, a small hysterical bout of laughter raking through his system. He felt so stupid. So stupid for thinking that someone else, someone human, would get it. “Get out.”

“Alex‒”

“No, get out. You don’t know shit about my dad if you think he’s worried about me. Get the fuck out of my house.”

It took a few minutes too long, but eventually Forrest was gone and Alex was left with more regrets than ever. How the hell did he let someone into his space? He’d known for his entire life that humans were shitty and thrived off their stupid hive-mind. Why did he think Forrest was any different? Was it the blue hair? The fact that he was intrigued by Alex’s way of life until he realized how in depth it was? Why?

 He missed Michael.

-

Gregory Manes showed up unannounced early one morning, no coffee in hand.

“I’ve come to expect coffee from you and now I’m disappointed,” Alex said flatly. 

“I know that you know,” Greg responded instead, voice a little on edge. It was how Alex noticed the way he was fidgeting. “But the hunt’s tonight and Isobel’s out there and you know the woods better than anyone else. Help me.”

Alex had to blink a few times to fully process what he was asking. He figured that Isobel had probably gone to fetch Michael before the hunt. He wanted to reassure him, to tell him they’d probably be fine, but Michael had been shot last time. And, honestly, he was a little eager to see him again. 

“Okay.”

Greg waited for him to get dressed and braid his hair. They filled their water bottles and stuffed a bag with two blankets in case they shifted and needed cover. Then they headed out into the woods to find their respective objects of affection. It was strange that they had this thing in common and both of them seemed very determined not to elaborate. Alex had no idea what Greg knew, Greg had no idea what Alex knew, and they were both aware of how dangerous it could be to share information. So they didn’t.

Alex didn’t really know where the wolves went when they were out and about. He rarely saw them and, when he did, they kept their distance. He never felt the need to bother them before. They shared space, it was free reign. That meant he really had no idea where the hell he was going. 

It was the definition of wandering. Neither of them spoke or tried to call out for the wolves they wanted to protect, deciding to keep it to themselves. Truly, it was more for Greg’s safety than Alex’s. If all the wolves were like Michael and Isobel, that meant they knew exactly who the Manes were. Alex didn’t hunt them, but Greg did. Maybe he didn’t shoot, but he was there. It had Alex wondering if Isobel suffered any judging from other wolves for being with him.

They walked for hours, going deeper into the woods than even Alex really hadn’t gone since he was an angry 13 year old who ran out of school and into the woods. His father had assembled a search party after six hours of him being gone only for his grandmother to find him in a clearing, eating berries she’d taught him were safe.

They reached that same clearing around noon after a solid five hours of walking and decided to take a small break.

“Dad’s gonna kill us when he finds out,” Greg sighed as they sat down on a log. Alex shook his head.

“Why are you going to tell him?” 

“Didn’t say I was. He’s just… Dad. He knows,” Greg said. He had a point. The worst part about his father was that he was one of the smartest men Alex had ever met. He had a military background and was a born leader who had studied human psychology to only boost that more. He could read body language too well. The idea that Greg even brought Isobel over to his house for dinner felt like bringing her into a trap.

“Why do you let Isobel around him?” Alex asked. Greg huffed a laugh.

“I tried not to. Even, even before I found out about all this. I didn’t want her influenced by him,” Greg said, giving a stupid little laugh, “But she has been, so…”

“Does she spend enough time out here? I think it makes a difference,” Alex said, keeping his words as vague as possible. He knew Michael handled things by shifting. It wasn’t even like he was trying to run away from the problems, it seemed to be more about things making more sense in the mind of a wolf. 

“I don’t think so,” Greg admitted softly. Alex nodded. He wasn’t very good with words and he didn’t know how he was supposed to comfort him in that moment. Was he supposed to say it gets better? That it’d be fine? That she wasn’t out here because she was mad at him? Because he didn’t know any of that.

“If you wanna, like… spend more time out at the cabin… It was your grandma’s too,” Alex said as if that was helpful. And it seemed to be because Greg smiled.

Maybe it would’ve been more heartwarming if a low growl didn’t come from behind them.

They both looked over to see a wolf, bigger than Michael, growling at them with his head bowed and eyes narrowed. It was a similar tactic to the one Michael had used in an attempt to run off Forrest, but this time Alex actually did find it intimidating. This wolf seemed out for blood.

The two of them jumped off the log as the wolf took a step closer.

“It’s okay,” Alex said softly, holding out his hands to show that he wasn’t a threat, “It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you.”

It was stupid of him to think what worked with Michael would work with this wolf. Alex caught the moment the wolf lunged and immediately pushed his brother out of the way. Before the wolf could get to him though, another one tackled it out of the way.

Alex and Greg both fell to the ground as they watched the two fight with wide eyes. It was jarring and confusing and Alex only got more horrified when he realized one of them was Michael. But it wasn’t like they could do anything. They just had to wait.

Eventually, Isobel, barefoot in human form, appeared. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were thrown on like she’d shifted in the woods beside some hidden stash of clothes. She whistled loudly, efficiently breaking the two wolves up.

“Thanks,” Greg told her. She simply walked over and held her hand out to him, helping him to his feet. 

Before Alex could get to his, Michael came to him and instantly started to greet him with licks and nuzzles. Alex shamelessly accepted them, scratching behind his ears.

“Hi,” he said softly and Michael damn near purred in response. God, he missed him.

“We need to get out of the woods, they’re going to prepare for the hunt soon,” Isobel said sternly. It was more words than Alex had ever heard her actually speak and he sort of understood why. There was a comforting, yet commanding lilt to her voice. It was impossible not to obey.

“We can go to my cabin,” Alex offered despite the fact that part of him actively hated the idea of packing his house with that many bodies. However, he could suffer one night with it.

Besides, he could close the door and only focus on Michael being back in his bed.

“Let’s go.”

- 

“I’m sorry for almost attacking you. I’ve never seen any Manes that weren’t a threat.”

“It’s alright.”

Alex didn’t say anything. He just let Greg accept the apology from Max and Max could just take the fact he let him in his house as enough of a compromise.

It was dark by the time they all got settled in the cabin and all in human form. Michael and Max had to shift back and Alex witnessed it for the first time. It looked ungodly painful and, according to the looks on their faces, it was. Their bodies were morphing in different ways and contorting unlike anything Alex had ever seen. But then they’d both stretched, bones cracking, and they were fine.

Michael put on his clothes, but Max was a little harder. He was taller and broader than Michael and Alex and it wasn’t like Greg had clothes in his truck. He had to just settle for pants that didn’t quite reach his ankles and a jacket.

“Coffee?” Michael whispered, his breath hot against the back of Alex’s neck. He was hovering and touchy, but Alex honestly didn’t mind. He had a bad taste in his mouth after the night before and he’d sort of missed the way he wanted to be close.

“It’s night time,” Alex pointed out. Michael hummed and pressed a kiss to his neck. Logically, Alex knew that meant nothing. Michael was a fucking wolf, he didn’t know what constituted as romantic and platonic affection. But, still, it was getting difficult to make sense of it.

But, then again, his brother was sleeping with a wolf, so it must be okay.

“Coffee,” Michael repeated. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Fine.”

They made coffee and joined the other three in the room. Max had sat on the floor and Isobel had chosen to sit in Greg’s lap on the couch. Alex took the other end of the couch and Michael placed himself at his feet. The siren signalling the beginning of the hunt rang through the air and it didn’t go unnoticed how all the wolves in the room got stiff with discomfort.

“It’s okay, they know not to come close,” Alex promised, hand mindlessly rubbing Michael’s shoulder as he sipped his coffee. 

“Dad’s gonna fucking kill me for skipping,” Greg noted.

“Kill him first,” Max suggested. Alex snorted and nodded in agreement. 

“I wish it was that easy. I don’t even know how to fix any of this at this point. How do we change a whole town’s mindset? Like, no matter what, they’ll be scared and they’ll want the hunt to continue,” Greg complained, making it a little too serious. No one really had a response because he was right. People have tried to make statements before, but they all got virtually shunned out of the town. 

“Well, it doesn’t help that they’re right,” Alex said. That got the wolves attention, but he wasn’t going to back down. “They’re scared of creatures that aren’t quite human, aren’t quite wolf. And they exist. Maybe it’s not the same way they think, but they do. And because of the hunt, the wolves are defensive. Like, Max wanting to attack us. That’s because of what the humans did first. There’s a lot more to stop before we just say no more hunting.”

“How many wolves are even left out there, do you know?” Greg asked. Isobel didn’t answer which made sense since she was in the woods the least.

“Not many,” Michael said.

“A lot left decades ago,” Max chimed in, “Like, at least eight different packs left decades ago. Most of the ones that were left were just stubborn. But, now, with the way things have been going, most of us that are still out there are alone or run in packs of two. Makes it hard to keep a head count.”

“But there are other places? Like, you won’t go extinct or anything?” Greg clarified. Isobel huffed a laugh and shook her head.

They sat up and talked through all the gunshots, trying to provide a distraction. Alex kept his hands on Michael the whole time and Michael did the same. It made it hard to focus entirely, but he did his best. 

Alex, deciding to be nice, offered to let them stay for the night. Greg and Isobel could take the couch and Max seemed content to take the floor. They just all agreed that they would find a better hide out in the morning. Then Alex and Michael went to bed.

Alex changed out of his day clothes into his night ones, deciding that he could force himself and Michael into the shower in the morning. He just wanted to get back into bed with him and maybe steal a more efficient night’s sleep. Maybe. Spending so long touching all casually had him feeling sort of restless. Still, Alex took out his braid and shook his hair out before heading to the bed that Michael had already made himself at home in.

“Can I ask you something?” Alex asked as they stared at each other in the darkness. Michael nodded like he always did. “Why’d you trust me so easily that night of the last hunt? Like Max said he could smell that we were Manes. Why’d you trust me?”

Michael furrowed his eyebrows like he was confused by the question. Alex just waited until he realized he actually wanted an answer.

“I’ve seen you, Alex,” he said simply. It was Alex’s turn to be confused. “I’ve seen you for years. We share space, we always have.”

“So, what, you just trusted me based on watching me?”

“The one who lived here before you fed me when I was small,” Michael explained, “If she trusts you, I trust you.”

Alex let out a heavy breath at that little revelation. He remembered Michael saying that he’d been fed by humans, but he hadn’t quite put it together that it was his grandmother. But, if she had, she had known full well he was a wolf no matter his size. Suddenly, her insistence that they were calm creatures made sense. She fucking fed them. She took care of them.

She took care of him.

“I’m sorry, should I not have said that?” Michael asked.

“I want to kiss you,” Alex said, all those pent up feelings from missing him and wanting him and touching him rushing to the surface. Michael didn’t give him a verbal response.

Instead, he moved forward and placed a soft little kiss on his lips. Alex felt like his whole world shifted into place at that moment. That’s what it was supposed to feel like. Not like getting a fix, but like he was finally fitting somewhere. He’d never felt so welcome and in a good way. There was no hiding. He was wanted because he was him.

Alex exhaled slowly as Michael ended the kiss, still sort of hovering a centimeter away. It really wasn’t enough. 

He dove back in to continue the kiss, making it a little deeper and deliberate than the one that preceded it. Michael laughed as Alex rolled him onto his back, placing himself firmly between his thighs and sliding his tongue past his lips. Michael held him close, kissing back just as feverishly and seeming to enjoy the closeness. Alex wondered if this is what he’d been chasing this whole time.

He didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop.

And, with Michael so eager, he didn’t see why he would ever have to.

-

Alex Manes was never one to sleep in, but apparently having sex with a not-quite-man could knock you out for hours.

He woke up to someone knocking on his bedroom door and, as much as he wanted to tell them to go away, he couldn’t. He gently pushed Michael off of him since he’d decided to lay on top of him all night and grabbed his pants off the floor, putting them on before he opened it. It would’ve been all nice and fun if he didn’t open it to his brother looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Dad’s here,” he said. Alex suddenly felt a lot more awake.

“What?”

“Our father is here,” Greg said, voice hushed as he leaned a bit closer, “And we’re casually harbouring three fucking wolves.”

“Right. Just… right,” Alex said, looking around as he tried to stop feeling so fucking shaken up. He’d spent so many years no giving a shit what his father wanted anymore, but put a hot, naked wolf-man in his bed and suddenly he was fourteen and trying to explain how the first season of Queer as Folk got stashed under his pillow. “Um, let me get dressed. Stall him?”

“Hurry.”

Alex closed the door behind him and Michael lifted his head at the commotion. His curls were an absolute mess and his face was soft, everything about him making it hard to deny when he reached out towards him. Literally all Alex wanted to do was crawl back into bed with him.

Instead, he said, “Get up.”

Michael whined in protest, but Alex was just quickly throwing on clothes and tying his hair back in a bun as he tried to get him to put clothes on. He sat up in slow motion, a pout on his sweet mouth as he tried to listen. Alex grabbed his jaw, kissing him hard and quick in hopes that it would wake him up a bit more. It did, but he seemed to want to use that energy to pull him back into bed.

“No, look, get up, my dad’s here. Put clothes on, okay? Actually, you know what? Stay in here, don’t leave the room, okay?” Alex said. Michael fed off his fear and gave him a concerned look, nodding his head. “Okay.”

Alex pulled on his shoes and left the room, trying to act normal.

His father stood in the doorway of the cabin, face irritated as he spotted Alex over Greg’s shoulder. He was unsure of where Isobel and Max had gone, but he hoped they were somewhere safe. It felt weird to actually care about two people he hardly knew, but he knew Michael cared about them and that was pretty much all that mattered.

“Either of you care to explain to me what’s going on here?” he asked. Greg and Alex didn’t fork over an answer, but nor did they look at each other for one. They knew their father. They weren’t going to show any sign of guilt.

“Just hanging out with my brother,” Greg said.

“And you skipped the hunt for it? Do you know how bad that looks on me? It’s already bad enough that we have Alex hiding out in the woods and then parading around town with strange men all the time. Do neither of you have any ounce of respect for our family name?” he demanded. Alex searched for his confidence as he gave a cocky smile, hoping that it came off as genuine.

“Not really,” he said. Jesse shook his head in disgust.

“For God’s sake, Alex, you’ve really made it your mission to be a disgrace,” Jesse said. No matter how many walls he built up, that still hit him in his chest. He didn’t show it.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Greg snapped.

“Don’t,” Alex said, shaking his head, “Not worth it.”

Jesse huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I guess I should blame myself for this. I tried so hard to instill comradery in all four of you. Somehow it split into two groups, equally as hard to manage.”

“What do you need, Dad? I’m going hunting tomorrow, so maybe come back in a few days if you need deer,” Alex said. He shook his head.

“No, I had questions about that new friend of yours,” Jesse said, eying Alex. He tried his best not to react. “Forrest told me you had a dog and then you didn’t.”

“I had a dog for, like, two days. It was just one that was hurt and I patched up. He’s gone now,” Alex said, though he couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed. Then again, he knew his father was manipulative as hell. He was pretty sure Forrest had no idea of what his father might take from that little bit of information.

“And that man you were seen with. Where is he from?” Jesse prodded. Alex rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Dad? You do get that the whole werewolf thing isn’t real, right? It’s a myth,” Alex said. Jesse didn’t buy it. Alex didn’t actually expect him to, but it was worth a shot.

“Both of you are playing with fire,” he said, looking between the two of them, “If I find out what I think I know is true… Both of you will suffer the consequences, do you hear me?”

And Alex heard him loud and clear. It was a simple threat. Stop or I’ll make you stop.

“Okay,” Alex said, “Goodbye.”

He slammed the door shut and locked it, both of them still unable to breathe properly until his truck was gone. It was nerve wracking.

“Alex,” Greg whispered, “I think we’ve dug ourselves into a hole we can’t get out of.”

Alex swallowed harshly and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm down. It was clear that the only alternative to stop or I’ll make you stop was to just leave. He either had to get rid of the wolves or get rid of the town.

And wasn’t that fucked. And, yet, it was simple.”

“I know a way out.”

-

“I feel bad.”

“Don’t.”

“I do.”

Alex held Michael from behind, pressing kisses to the back of his shoulder in an attempt to give him some kind of comfort. After Greg and Alex had talked for a while, they brought up the prospect of leaving the town to the wolves. They’d said it themselves, most of them left. Maybe it was time they did too.

“Maybe we could just go, just me and Izzy and Max. This is your home,” Michael said. Alex sighed and his chest ached at that. He didn’t really want to leave this cabin. It was his and had been passed down for generations. But now that he had confirmation of the beasts he’d been warned about his entire life, it didn’t seem right to stay.

Besides, what was this cabin standing for if not to inspire rebellion?

“I know that sounds like a good idea, but my dad knows we’re hiding something. Even if you leave, we’ve got a target on us,” Alex explained. It was, sadly, the complete truth.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Michael whispered, that guilt so evident in his voice. Alex shook his head and craned his head over his shoulder to steal a kiss. Michael tried his best to reciprocate, but Alex knew he was hurting and it made it hard. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s my dad’s fault for thinking genocide is a fun bonding activity,” Alex pointed out, “Besides, I promised I‘d keep you safe, right? Let me do that for you.”

Michael sniffled and nodded reluctantly. 

After speaking for the entire day after his father left, the plan was to pack everything up over the next two days and then get the fuck out of town. There was a tiny, woodsy tourist town a coupe states over that sounded appealing. They’d stay in a hotel for a few days until they found work and another cabin in the woods, hopefully one a little bigger so Alex could still keep his space. It would all work out. Probably.

It was funny to think that simply a month prior he never would’ve considered uprooting himself for someone else. But he guess he always did say that, when he found that person who was worth it, he’d know.

And he did know.

"Hey, look at me," Alex coerced and he opened his pretty eyes, "This isn't just because of you. This is right and wrong. He's wrong." 

"Yeah," Michael breathed, "Okay." 

"Let's get up and have breakfast and then we can start packing," Alex told him.

Michael was better once he got up and had Isobel and Max to talk to. He seemed to be reminded that their decision wasn't only about him. They both seemed to understand that, if their siblings hadn't been so directly involved, then maybe they would've decided against leaving. But it wasn't about their own safety, it was about the safety of the ones they loved.

Still, Alex itched for alone time and itched for things to go back to the way they were those three weeks where it was just him and Michael. It was calm and they fit. Now, though, Alex just had to deal with adjusting to socializing until he could find a new place to isolate.

He could do it. He did it for the first 16 years of his life.

Alex cooked for them, admittedly feeling a bit odd at Michael's lack of hovering. They'd only hooked up for the first time two nights ago, but Alex already felt more comfortable with him at his side when he was human. It had Alex wondering just how much of that was the wolf in him that made him addictive.

"I called a buddy of mine from out of town," Greg told him, hair slightly toussled from Isobel's hands more than it was sleep, "He said he could get us a job as farm hands out there for a little while. You think you can handle that?"

Alex nodded despite that being the last thing he wanted to do.

"We're looking for land too, right?" Alex clarified. He could take a little bit of working and living in close quarters, but he knew he'd be right back to being a pissy teenager if it was kept up too long. He needed to be alone.

"Yeah. How much do you have saved up? I was gonna go transfer my bank account so dad can't track us," he explained. Alex shrugged. 

"Few thousand. It's all in cash," he answered. Greg nodded as he absorbed that information.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. It might take a little while to get self-sufficient," Greg said, "Property taxes 'n all."

The more Alex thought about it, the more he felt uncomfortable. He knew leaving was the right thing, he did. But he'd finally gotten to a good place.

"How about this," Alex said, "Once we get a cabin, I stay there and start a garden and hunt. You and Isobel can work since you like being around people." Greg gave him a stupid, older brother look. "Don't. I'll pull my weight and I'll work for awhile, but I can't do that forever or we're all fucked and you know it."

"Yes, but you're used to feeding yourself and maybe Michael. This is stepping up to five people."

"You seem to forget I fed the whole town every hunt. And Max prefers being a wolf, so he can feed himself," Alex pointed out. Greg sighed and nodded.

"I'll try to make it work, okay?" 

"Good."

Alex finished up and made all five plates, dispersing them. Michael took that as his opportunity to hover again and Alex loved it. He stood behind him, nuzzling his nose into Alex's jaw and giving his neck kissed in between bites. He felt so shameless and that was a wonderful feeling.

After they are, Greg, Isobel, and Max left to go pack up things from his house and deal with his bank account. It finally left Alex and Michael alone and Alex felt like he could finish fucking breathe again.

"I'm gonna miss this," Alex admitted as they walked into his bedroom, "Being alone with you all the time."

The plan was to pack, but Michael wrapped his arms around him and dragged him towards the bed. He didn't fight him, instead he just laughed and complied. Except it didn't turn into anything sexy. Michael picked up his brush and took it upon himself to brush Alex's hair before braiding it. Apparently all that intense watching wasn't mindless.

He tied the braid off and tugged him back a bit, pressing a kiss to his jaw. Alex turned into it, sealing the kiss easily. How had he gone all his life without those kisses?

“And you’re sure you won’t hate us for making you leave?” Michael clarified mid-kiss. Alex breathed him in.

“No. You’re just finally giving me an excuse to get away from my dad,” he admitted. Michael nodded and pulled him in for another kiss that quickly escalated into more.

Within the next two days, they found themselves all packed up and ready to go start anew. Alex’s heart broke a little knowing that he was leaving his cabin, but he told himself over and over that it was for the best. It was the only way to get away from his dad and all the shitty connotations that came with that town.

He was going to get away. He was going to breathe again.

He was finally free.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #17k of me projecting onto alex manes

[britishassistant]

Too Many Bridges (I Dig Canals) 1

He was twenty-two when he died.

His mama hadn’t wanted him to move out to West Texas, crying that it wasn’t safe. His dad had soothed that he’d be fine at UTEP, the first one in the family to go to university, a business major, doing them all so proud.

His little sister had said they’d all dealt with much worse in high school, where the teachers screamed at you for speaking Spanish until you could barely remember a word.

His short older sister just snuck a dumb Homestuck backpack into his luggage, filled with the latest volumes of Boruto. He’d liked to read them while eating shitty convenience store ramen at 2AM.

Then he’d run out of cup ramen in his senior year, gone to the 7-11 at 1AM to grab some more, and made the mistake of glancing at a cracker junkie shaking from withdrawal.

Last thing he knew, he was bleeding out around a knife while the druggie tore through his groceries, crooning, “C’mon, c’mon where’s the hit, where is it, I know you’re hiding it.”

He’d only had the strength left to flip the racist fucker off before he finally drifted away.

He wakes as a baby.

The only natural response to this is to begin screaming.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?! Why the fuck is he a baby?! Is everyone a baby when they go to Heaven?! Or wait, his butt’s kinda damp, is this Heaven at all?! Is he in Hell?! Was him flipping off that cracker enough to get him sent to Hell, after all he’s done?! All the masses he’s been to?! For the love of Christ, what’s going on—

A woman with white-blond hair and a tired face leans over him, muttering something harsh-sounding in a foreign language.

A loud and angry sounding man’s voice shouts something from somewhere he can’t see, which startles him into crying harder.

Then a large and callused hand slams down over his mouth, practically smothering him.

The woman’s face looms over him, wrinkled and shadowed like the face of the devil himself, poisonous green eyes glaring at him.

“Damare, kuso gaki.” The devil-woman hisses.

He whimpers.

His hair is green now.

Like a dehydrated shrub left too long in the heat, spiky-dry and almost yellowing at the edges.

And his eyes are purple. As if the green spiky anime hair wasn’t enough to humiliate him.

He misses his mama and his dad and his sisters but thank Jesus they’ll never see him like this.

At least his skin color’s pretty much the same as his last life. If he ended up resembling that fucking junkie who murdered him in any way, shape or form...

Well. All he knows is it wouldn't be pretty.

His new name is Meiun Nobuo.

The devil-woman who would rather smother him in his crib than let him cry apparently gave birth to him.

The deadbeat who cursed him with this eye and hair color and returns most nights stinking of alcohol and rotting fish is the sperm donor.

He misses his real family.

They live in a dock town.

Their house is farthest from the shore, so the scent of rotting fish guts and seagull shit is vaguely bearable. It’s bigger than the fishermen and farmer’s huts and market stalls that make up the rest of the village, with a curved asian roof.

He thinks the sperm donor is in a relatively high position in the village, perhaps an official of some sort. Probably inherited, because he seriously doubts anyone with a brain would elect that drunk deadbeat to any position of authority, but who knows.

He used to think the same thing about the government in his past life, and look what happened there.

Ragged official looking people buzz in and out of the rooms he’s not supposed to enter all day every day. Some of them smile at him if they notice him, lips spread sickeningly wide and eyes sycophantically crinkled.

Others look at him like he’s a nuisance, worthy of only their ire.

As if he asked to be reborn to this fucking paltry excuse for family when he had a perfectly good one back home

The devil-woman isn’t from around here.

That much is obvious in the way she’s constantly ill at ease, snapping at the slightest inconvenience, acting like everyone’s out to get her.

To be fair, a lot of them probably are just for the chance to have some peace and quiet again.

He privately counts himself among that number.

She’s always grumbling about how much better it is in rain, but regardless of the weather her shitty attitude never seems to improve.

She also starts trying to poison him when he turns four.

When his rice tastes weirdly bitter he spits it back into the bowl.

The devil-woman slaps him across the face.

“Eat.” She hisses, forcing his head into the bowl. “I didn’t destroy my body for you to bring shame to the Dokuso name like this. Your great uncle was already immune to neurotoxins by the time he was your age. The least you can do is eat.”

He tries to struggle, to scream for someone to help him, but the devil-woman just forces his head down farther until he swallows every last grain of tainted rice.

His body won’t stop shaking for the rest of the day, every gasp of air feeling like it’s scraping his lungs raw.

It becomes some kind of demented pattern.

He’s poisoned, he suffers, his body adjusts, he’s poisoned again in a new way, rinse and repeat until he seriously finds himself contemplating whether his last death was better than this.

The look of dissatisfaction the devil-woman always wears, as though he’s somehow not doing this (or dying) fast enough for her liking, weighs the argument a lot.

On the days where he’s in less danger of throwing up his guts, he has lessons with a tutor, because of course he fucking does.

Death, taxes and homework: the three constants of existence.

The tutor calls him a prodigy with mathematics, even if his grasp of kanji is shaky.

The deadbeat uses this as an excuse to push some of his work onto a five year old with some garbled line about “carrying on the work of our forefathers”.

He hates this.

He hates it so fucking much.

He prays every night, asking Christ why he’s being tormented like this. He hasn’t got an answer back yet.

He’s gonna make a break for it as soon as he’s old enough to do so. He’s still too young to be allowed out of the house, even for festivals. He also doesn’t receive anything like an allowance yet either, though he suspects that’s more due to the fact that the sperm donor is a cheapskate.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. He’s already got access to some of the accounts, has proven himself to be a dedicated worker beneath suspicion.

Nobody’ll suspect the kid “carrying on the work of his forefathers” if money begins disappearing, not when there are so many greedy adults around. It’s foolproof.

He’s just gotta wait until he learns where he is and how he can get away.

He can do that. It’ll be fine.

“The daimyō has declared dōjutsu users enemies of the state.” His sperm donor complains one evening. “The Mizukage has authorized the use of deadly force to subdue them.”

The devil-woman sniffs, says something nasally and contrarian back but he can’t hear her over the blood rushing in his ears.

Dōjutsu.

Mizukage.

His mouth is dry. He can’t breathe.

There’s no way—there’s absolutely no fucking way—the tech here is way too primitive, he must be hallucinating, going through withdrawal from not reading his favorite manga for so long.

There’s no way this place could be the same world as Boruto. Besides, Chojuro would never authorize a-a genocide like that, Kagura-kun would be so disappointed in him—

But Kagura-kun’s grandfather wouldn’t have had any problems with it, would he?

It’s not until the devil-woman whacks him over the head and screams at him to get up that he realizes he’s on the floor.

He climbs shakily to his feet.

He endures the scolding quietly.

He goes to his room when dismissed.

He shuts the door behind him and slides down it, trying to muffle the sounds escaping his throat. They could be hysterical laughter or sobs. He really isn’t sure.

Because of course he’s been reborn years before any of the good characters of this series or plot developments that he can clearly remember will make their appearance.

That’s just his fucking luck.

He presses his forehead to his knees and screams.

This revelation helps along his plans, at least.

If he’s in Kiri, then he knows he’s probably on one of the many islands that make up the...peninsula? Archipelago? Fuck, geography was never his strong suit.

But yeah, he’ll need to charter a boat to get to the mainland so he can disappear.

He briefly entertains the idea of becoming a ninja for Kiri, maybe growing up to become one of Chojuro’s aides and Kagura-kun’s mentors. Getting to meet Boruto when that arc comes around.

But no. Or at least, not yet.

Going there before Terumi Mei has had the chance to overthrow Yagura isn’t a good idea, what with the whole “kill everyone else you studied with to become a genin” thing they’ve got going on. Also the people claiming to be his parents might track him down and have him sent back.

Fire Country is probably his best bet to vanish. The ninja there actually care about the populace.

He might even be able to go to Konoha. See Boruto and Sarada and Mitsuki grow up firsthand.

The thought leaves a warm feeling in his chest even as his limbs tremble from the effects of the latest venom for the rest of the week.

It doesn’t last.

Of course it doesn’t.

It’s one thing to know that certain people in the community are slated for death.

It’s a different ballgame entirely to see a mob barge into the sperm donor’s office, howling for blood.

He can only hear the words “kekkai genkai filth” chanted like a curse before the deadbeat is nodding his head and rising, grabbing a huge ass sword from where it’s been gathering dust on the wall.

He tries to shrink back, tries to let the throng pass him without drawing their attention, but a hand grabs his collar and yanks him away from his little table, away from his calculations, and drags him along with the frothing crowd of people with hate in their eyes.

He’s squashed near the back of the herd, but every time he tries to get away there are hands and arms to yank him back into line, hands of men or women or—Jesus, or other kids.

He’s eventually funneled through the doorway of a tiny farmer’s hut, pushed into one of the walls by the crush of people, and he looks up and there’s—

There’s—

Oh God.

Oh God.

Oh Jesus in Heaven have mercy.

He can’t look.

It’s awful, it’s too much, he can’t look, he can’t, he gags, averts his eyes—

He sees the girl in the corner of the room.

She’s crying, mouthing “Mama” to herself over and over.

One of those murderers has seen her too.

The man takes a step towards the girl—

“Stay the fuck away from her!” He yells.

He can’t remember moving. All he knows is he’s now in between the girl and the mob, knees trembling and adrenaline pounding in his ears.

His voice is all shaky and squeaky, not intimidating at all.

He’s scared.

Jesus Christ, he’s so scared.

These monsters just killed that innocent lady for their dumb fucking witch hunt.

What’ll they do to this girl if they get their hands on her?

One of the villagers steps forward and growls, “Outta the way, boy. You don’t wanna get hurt for that thing.”

“Fuck you, asshole!” He screams back.

“Meiun, discipline your fucking brat before we do it for you!” Someone else in the mob shouts.

The sperm donor is pushed to the front and begrudgingly holds out a hand. “Don’t be stupid Nobuo. Get your ass over here, now.”

“Listen to your father!” The demon-woman shrieks from the safety of several people away.

He laughs. He can’t help it. “My father?! You want me to acknowledge that drunken excuse of a sperm donor as a father?! Get real, you fucking hag!! You and him wouldn’t know what real fucking parenting looked like if you fucking murdered it in cold fucking blood!!”

He points at what’s left of the lady. “Because guess what? Looks like ya did!”

“How dare you—” The deadbeat’s gone dark purple.

“No, how dare you?!” His hands are shaking and Christ, there’s no way this can end well, but his mouth won’t stop running. “That lady was a perfectly fucking nice lady, a loving wife and a good mom and you assholes think you can just come out here and murder her for what?! Having something that you don’t?! Being a genuinely good person, like you aren’t?! You’re all just JEALOUS FU—”

Pain explodes in his temple.

A man’s screaming, “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, YOU KNOW NOTHING YOU LITTLE BASTARD, SHUT UP—”

He tries to raise his arms, tries to fight back, but the man’s swinging too wildly, he can’t stop the blow to the gut that knocks the air out of him.

More arms appear from nowhere, shoving him to the ground, pinning him down, jeers and taunts about how if he loves kekkai genkai filth that much he can join them, see what happens to them.

The knife glints evilly in the light.

He doesn’t wanna die again.

Jesus Christ, he doesn’t wanna die again.

There’s cold for a moment behind his right ear.

And then there’s nothing but agony, red and sharp and pounding pounding pounding and Nobuo is screaming screaming screaming.

Until his throat feels like it’s going to give out.

Until he knows he’ll die like this.

He doesn’t wanna die he doesn’t wanna die he doesn’t wanna die he doesn’t wanna die he doesn’t wanna die he doesn’t wanna die he doesn’t wanna die he doesn’t wanna die Christ—

The sensation is sudden and painful.

Like he’s been punched in the chest again, but in reverse.

Something erupts from him, with enough force to leave him breathless.

The jeers and ugly laughter become screams as pained as his own.

“Shit, he’s one t—?!” is the last thing he hears before a sound like glass shattering over and over overwhelms all other noise, even the terrified shrieks for mercy.

Nobuo’s eyes roll back into his head.

He blacks out.

The right side of his head throbs.

He whimpers in pain, curling in on himself.

“A-are you alright? Are you hurting? I tried to patch you up as best I could...” A soft, sweet voice murmurs.

He cracks open his eyes a sliver to see a dark-haired head with a pretty face hovering over him. The pretty face looks worried, almost scared.

“What...?” He tries to ask, voice croaky as hell. “Where...?”

“Ah, I, uh, took you and ran away after you got those guys off you.” The pretty face explains, averting their eyes for some reason. Their kimono is torn in places. “You-your e-head was bleeding really bad, so I tried to fix it, but I don’t think I did a very good job...”

What?

His hand lifts to the side of his head, feeling cloth sticky with what he can only assume is blood.

And feeling nothing beneath it.

His breathing hitches. He tries to stop it, tries to gulp the panic and fear back down, he can’t cry, he’ll get hit again if he cries, he can’t—

He lets out a sound that can only be described as a wail, shoulders shaking.

There’s movement and he flinches, oh god, he doesn’t want a hit, not now, not when he’s already dealing with this—

Small, thin arms wrap around him, trembling. A head of soft hair buries itself in his other shoulder, and a low voice begins sobbing “I-I’m so-sorry, I-I didn’t, I co-couldn’t stop them, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” in his remaining ear.

A small part of his brain notes that this is the first time he’s been hugged since he woke up as a baby.

They cry for a long, long time.

Finally, when it feels like he’s gonna have a head cold for a week at least, he shrugs his shoulder minutely.

The girl looks up, face blotchy and red.

“You’re that girl, right? What’s your name?” He croaks.

The girl tenses and pulls away a little. “I’m Haku. I’m eight. A-and I-I’m a b-boy.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks flush. Where does he feel like he’s heard that name before...?

“And you are?” Haku prompts.

“M-Meiun Nobuo.” He states with a grimace. “M’ six.”

“Ah...then Official Meiun was...” Haku’s eyes begin to fill with tears again. “Y-your father, and, and your m-mother—”

“God no.” He snaps. “That man impregnated that woman to make me, but father and mother are the last things they can be called. Real parents don’t pull the shit they do on their kids.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “This may’ve sped up my plans, but you did me a favor, taking me with you. I was planning on running away anyway.”

Haku lets out a confused sniffle.“Where were you planning on running away to?”

“Fire Country.” He might puff out his chest a little. “Their ninja actually care about people, and they don’t hate kekkai genkai there.”

“Kekkai genkai...th-that’s what they kept calling me and m-mama...” Fat tears begin rolling Haku’s pretty face.

He shakily slides an arm around the older boy’s shoulders. “Y-you can come with me. If you want. I-I don’t exactly know the way, I was hoping to get some more geography and funds first, b-but I’ll figure something out, I swear.”

Haku takes a few deep, shuddery breaths. “I-I don’t either, but I know how to get to the next village, if that’s okay?”

“That’s great! That’s way better than what I can do!” He assures, giving his traveling companion’s shoulder a pat. “...d’you, like, wanna start going now, or...?”

“Can we stay here for a moment?” Haku asks. “J-just until I can check your head’s okay?”

Meiun Nobuo nods carefully, leaning more against the older boy. “Sure. No rush.”

#my writing #too many bridges (i dig canals) #naruto #one piece #boruto #homestuck #naruto oc #meiun nobuo #haku naruto #tw: violence against children

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash

Part 5 in Getaway Series 

Warnings: noncon sex (oral and intercourse), angst, rude words from a rude dude. This is dark!(nomad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. I mean it, I’m not gonna tell you again.

Summary: Steve continues to haunt the reader.

Note: Steve’s a fucking dick in this series and I need y’all to just know that I know that. This motherfucker is making me suffer and so I must pass it onto you like the tape from the Ring. He’s honestly suck a fucker and I can’t.

Anyways, hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think as always. Love ya <3

...

In the two weeks since you had moved in, your dread had infringed upon every second. You counted the minutes until his next visit. You expected his intrusions and yet they were always unpredictable. As erratic as the man himself. As inconsistent as your life had become. 

You could not control Steve, could not prepare for him. You could only bide his presence until it was over. Until he left you to stew in your shame. To sink into your self-pity. To hate every inch of the body he had taken over. That which was no longer yours.

This was not your apartment, it was his. You could paint the walls, buy a new rug, hang your pictures, but it didn’t change the fact. Didn’t change his lingering shadow. The darkness that gathered in the corners at night reminded you of him. He could be everywhere and anywhere.

As he was that night. It was odd. Three nights in a row. You came home and he was there, waiting. The first, he had appeared just as you stepped off the bus. He walked with you as if you were together. As if there was anything normal about your association.

The second, he had been on your couch. A box of crackers emptied and the block of cheese half gone. He waved with two fingers but carried on his semi-slumber on your sofa. You tiptoed around your apartment and tried not to draw his attention, but every night ended the same. You expected that at least. 

He left when he was done with you. You didn’t sleep, merely counted the minutes until his return.

The third day, he called you. A Friday. A weekend ahead of you. Time off was no longer a luxury. You didn’t have time to yourself. 

“I’m waiting.” Was all he said. He didn’t await your response before he hung up. It didn’t matter that you had an hour left or that you were in the middle of another call. In his mind, you were already late.

You barely locked the door behind you before he was on you. There was no pretense that night. The top of your blouse undone, your pants pulled down just enough, and you were trapped between him and the wall. 

Your cheek was against the drywall as your back was arched painfully. He slammed into you, his grunts kept time with his hips. His jeans chafed against your ass, his sweat filled your nostrils. He had your wrists pinned over your head as you bit your lips. He was angry about something, but he never told you much. Only spoke if it meant humiliating you.

“You were late,” He hissed as he trapped your wrists in one hand. His other came up to the back of your neck.

“I was working,” You snarled. His nails dug into your skin.

“I don’t care,” He growled and bottomed out. He paused and sighed before he resumed. “I’ve waited for you too many times.” You closed your eyes and said nothing. Your jaw tensed and your body jolted with his sharp thrusts. “You need money?”

You bared your teeth and kept quiet. He scoffed and sped up. Your fingers curled and his grip tightened. His grunts stretched to long groans. He swore as he rode out his orgasm and his cum seeped out around his cock.

A knock came at the door and your eyes snapped open. He released you and pulled out quickly. His cum dripped down your thighs as you pulled your pants up into place and buttoned them. You did up your blouse and neared the door. You peered out through the peep hole as the door rattled with another knock.

“Shit,” You looked over as Steve lazily tucked his cock in his pants. 

“I didn’t think we were that loud,” He smirked.

“Fucking hurry up,” You hissed. He straightened the hem of his tee and his smirked faded.

“What did you just say?” He scowled.

“Sorry, it’s...Gia,” She knocked again and you grabbed the handle. “Please, just...hide?”

“Nah, it’s cool,” He shrugged and neared. He leaned in as he lowered his voice. “Besides, last I checked, I make the rules.”

You looked at him. Your desperation crinkled between your brows. “Please...Captain.”

He nodded and backed away. He wasn’t convinced or impressed. He turned and walked into the kitchen. He glared at you as he opened the cupboard door beneath the sink. 

“You owe me, girl,” He warned as he sank down to his knees and turned onto his back. He fell onto his ass and reclined under the pipes. “I’ll just finish up with the plumbing, eh?”

“Thank you,” You whispered weakly.

“Thank me later,” His voice was dangerous, “Answer the goddamn door.”

You turned and unlocked the door before Gia could bang again. You tried not to pay attention to the wetness gathering in your panties. Your thighs were sticky in your wool pants and you felt entirely disgusting. You opened the door and smiled.

“Hey,” You greeted a frowning Gia.

“Hey? Jesus Christ, could you take any longer?” She shook her head, “I’ve been texting you.”

“Sorry, my phone’s still in my purse, I was just--” 

“Who’s that?” She pushed past you into the apartment.

“I think it’s just a clog,” Steve called from under the sink. “No leak.”

“Is that--?” She mouthed as she looked back to you. Her voice rose to a murmur, “Glad to see you making friends.”

“Landlord is out of office and...he offered,” You hated how easily you lied these days.

“And you accepted,” She poked your side and stepped into the kitchen. 

Steve sat up and turned to pull himself up with the counter. He closed the cupboard and smiled at Gia. “Hey.”

“Nick,” She greeted warmly, “How’s it going?”

“Freelancing now, I guess,” He shrugged. He grabbed the cloth from the oven handle and wiped his hands. “A little plumbing issue but nothing serious. And you? Haven’t seen you around since the move.”

“Work,” She leaned against the counter and looked back at you. “Don’t tell me you forgot?”

“What?” You asked.

“You can’t be serious,” She crossed her arms, “It’s Friday.”

“Shit,” You cursed, “I’m sorry Gia, I’ve been working and--”

“I work too but I don’t forget when we plan something,” She snapped, “You’re not busy…” She glanced back at Steve as he pretended to fiddle with the sink. “Are you?”

“No, I think he’s almost done,” You intoned, “Thank again...Nick.”

“Not at all,” He stepped away from the sink, “Should be good to go now.”

“Wait,” Gia blocked him from squeezing past her, “You...you wanna join us for a drink? We’re just heading to the bar down the road.”

His cheek twitched. He was going to smirk. His blue eyes flicked over to you and you shook your head. He smiled. “Sure, if I’m not intruding, of course.”

“Intruding? No.” She replied and sent you a wink over her shoulder. “It’s a nice place. Just on the corner with the patio.”

“Think I know the one,” He said.

“Besides, my sister owes you for the plumbing,” She sang, “You’ll just have to tolerate our girlish prattle.”

-

Steve was on his second beer and Gia was awaiting her next cocktail. You had barely touched your glass of ginger and rye. You were too antsy for that. Even if it would have calmed your nerves, you feared you might slip. Admit something which might give away your true predicament. The real reason your life had disassembled so quickly.

She was just snickering at her own joke when you finally found your voice. “What about that guy you met? Ben, was it?” You asked.

“Ben...that’s actually what I was hoping to talk to you about tonight but I won’t bore our company with that,” You could tell by her tone that it was going well. It made you wonder then why she had asked Steve to come along tonight. You squinted at her.

“Later, then,” You took a sip of your drink.

“I don’t mind,” Steve leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. He hung one over the back of yours casually. Gia’s lips twitched as she noticed. “My life’s pretty boring at the moment. Who’s this Ben?”

“A client at my boutique,” Her cheeks rounded prettily as she grinned, “He asked me out to dinner and...well, it was so nice. Doesn’t hurt that he bought me this.” She pulled her hair away from her neck and showed off the single square diamond on its silver chain. “We’re going out again tomorrow.”

“Wow, Gia,” You drew a line through the condensation on your glass, “He sounds...married.”

“That was one time,” She sneered, “And divorced, actually.”

Steve laughed. “Dating. Fun, isn’t it?”

“Don’t miss it,” You grumbled. You thought of Ethan; of how you never thought you’d even have to think of dating ever again. You frowned and gulped down the rest of your rye. “Awful.”

“You just need a rebound,” Gia trilled, “To get you over the hump...in more ways than one.”

“Jesus, Gi,” You grumbled and signaled to the waiter. Drinking sounded even more appealing as the night wore on. Steve’s hand clung to your chair. “It’s barely been a month.”

“You think Ethan’s waiting? I heard he went out with some girl, Sarah, last week.” She said. Your heart dropped and you tipped your empty glass at the server to signal a refill. 

“What?” You felt the air rush from you. Sarah was a co-worker. That was fast.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“No, it’s...we’re over,” You stood and Steve kept the chair from wobbling before rescinding his arm. “I gotta...use the restroom.”

You squeezed past Steve and wove between the other tables on the patio. You ducked inside and followed the signs that led downstairs to the bathrooms. The stalls were tight and didn’t lock properly. It didn’t matter. You kept the seat down and sat. You held your head and breathed. How much longer could you pretend?

You heard the door open and stood. You flushed as if you had used the toilet and exited to wash your hands. You stared in the mirror as you lathered the soap and rinsed. You dried your hands and shivered. Another drink and you’d call it a night.

When you returned to the table, Gia and Steve seemed entirely at ease, though your sister was distracted with her phone screen. Steve turned to watch as you approached the table and sat. Your second drink had arrived and you picked it up without pause.

“Oh, I was just texting mom,” Gia looked up and set her phone aside. “I was just letting her know that Nick’s coming to the barbecue on Sunday.”

“He what?” You slammed your drink down and choked.

“I invited him,” She said, “Jeez, he’s right here. You think you’d be a little nicer considering--”

“No, no, I just...I forgot about the barbecue,” You wiped your mouth with a napkin and cleared your throat.

“Keep a fucking calendar,” She rolled her eyes, “You know mom will be pissed if you don’t show up.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ll...go, okay?” You avoided Steve’s gaze as he stayed quiet.

“Either way, you’re still invited, Nick,” Gia chimed. “It’s a neighbourhood thing. Everyone goes.”

-

You couldn’t tell if Steve was that talented a pretender of if Gia was that gullible. She had eaten up everything he said and he had loved every moment of it. You could feel his arrogance; his self-satisfaction at his deceit. His hand on your thigh when Gia wasn’t looking. He was reminding you; he owned you and he could just as easily own everyone around you.

Gia had ducked into a cab outside the bar, giggling as she declared her intent to see Ben. She grinned between the two of you as Steve assured her he’d get you home safely and you held back a scowl. When the yellow door closed and the headlights disappeared at the next corner, your heart sank. 

You walked in silence back to your apartment. Steve’s mask had slaked away. You wondered if it was a shadow of the man he had once been. Of the Captain America who had saved the world several times over. Had he been tainted by some unknown misfortune or had he always hidden this depravity?

He stopped outside your building and turned to you. He leaned on the door and held out his hand. You stared at his palm in the shadows of the flickering overhead light.

“Keys,” He snapped his fingers. “Jesus.”

You dug around in your pocket and fished out the jingling key ring. He snatched it and crossed his arms. “You owe me, remember?” You frowned and peered back at the sidewalk. He reached over and played with the tail of your shirt. “I expect an answer.”

“Yes, sir,” You grumbled and avoided his gaze.

“Oh, come on,” He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. He looked sinister in the dark. His hair shrouded his face, his blue eyes sunken in bottomless pits, and the lines of his face seemed even deeper. “I don’t have to lie for you, girl. I really don’t.”

“Yes, sir,” You croaked as his grip on your jaw tightened, “Thank you, sir.”

“I could’ve told her what a slut you are, hmmm? The real reason Ethan tucked tail and ran,” He smirked and ran his thumb along your cheek. “I’m sure I’ll run into her again at this little family picnic.”

“I said thank you,” You clung to his wrist as he squeezed harder, “Please, Captain, thank you.”

“I don’t want you to say thank you,” He released your chin and wriggled free of your grasp. He pushed himself away from the metal frame and turned to the door. “I want you to show me,” He unlocked it and pulled it open, “And you better make me believe it.”

He held the door open and waved you through. You gulped and stepped ahead of him. He was close behind as you led the way. As you climbed the stairs, he tickled the back of your thighs and pinched your ass. Your head buzzed with alcohol, but it could as easily be the anxiety. 

When you reached your apartment, his arm snaked around your waist and drew you against him. He unlocked the door with one hand and ushered you inside, his bulge obvious through the denim of his jeans. The door snapped shut and you felt blindly through the dark as Steve clung to you.

“Bedroom,” He ordered, his hot breath embraced you. “It’s all you, girl.”

You continued to the small room. You flipped the light on his hands explored your hips. He was holding back, waiting for you to guide him. ‘Make me believe it’. He parted and watched you. You rubbed your hands together as you turned to him and he tilted his head. He stared at you; expectant. You didn’t dare tweak his impatience.

You neared him and pushed back the collar of his shirt. You slipped the sleeves down his arms and smelled the sweat woven into his tee. He let you. His passivity was peculiar; alarming. You dropped the button-up and tugged up the hem of his t-shirt. Your fingers glided over his muscled sides and reminded you of his strength.

He lifted his arms and bent to let you remove the shirt. That you let fall with the other and he stepped closer. He leaned over you and his nose brushed the top of your head. He breathed you in before he stood straight. 

“Go on,” He urged and looked down at his bare torso. 

You bit your lip and followed his gaze. Your fingertips were tentative along the top of his jeans. You unhooked the metal button and pushed down his zipper. His cock twitched against his briefs as you carefully shoved the denim lower. You could feel him watching you; judging you. It was as if he was measuring your every move. 

You bent as you forced his jeans down. You awkwardly unlooped the laces of his boots and he stepped out of them as you loosed them. You untangled his feet from jeans and socks alike and stood. His cock was visible through the snug fabric of his briefs. You grabbed the elastic roughly and fought to keep your nerve. 

You inched it past his erection and he sighed. You let his underwear fall free and you stared at his body. He stretched his fingers and flexed his arms as he cracked his neck. Almost as if restraining himself. You looked up at his fiery blue eyes and he grinned.

“Well?” His gaze drifted down, “Seems we’re only halfway there.”

You pressed your lips together and stepped back. You undressed swiftly. Sneakers kicked off, sweater and shirt twisted together as you tossed them away, jeans rolled down your legs, and your bra clumsily unclasped. You stood and tucked your thumbs beneath your panties as you braced for the final layer.

“Ah…” He held his hand up. “I like em,” He admired the polka dot panties, “Keep em on for now.” He pushed his shoulder back and gripped his hips. “Well, where do you want me?”

You withheld a sigh and glanced around. The bed would be easiest. You were tired. You shrugged and pointed to the thin mattress atop the folding frame. “There,” You declared and he chuckled, “Sit.” Your voice was higher than usual. A betrayal of your reluctance.

“So safe,” He passed you and snapped the elastic of your panties, “You’re funny, girl.”

“Funny?” You watched him sit. He leaned back on his hands as his cock stood against his stomach.

“You...You’re so stubborn.” He snickered, “You cling to this naivety but we both know you’re not so clueless.” His eyes roved your body as poked his tongue through his teeth and thought. “I think you liked the little window game a lot more than me.”

You bit your cheek and said nothing. 

"You know that's why Ethan had to leave. He could see you needed more than him," Steve taunted. "Because it's easy enough to tell by the quiver in your thighs that you fucking liked it and even if you won't admit it, you want it."

"Stop," You hissed. "Please."

"Come on, you can't get enough when I've got you bent over--"

"I said stop. What do you want from me? Ethan's gone. My whole life has turned to shit." You snarled, "What do you want?"

"I want you to be honest," He said as he sat forward. "It would make all of this so much easier."

You shook your head and looked away. You walked over to him blindly. Your chest knotted and you turned to him. You placed your hands on your shoulders and stared him down. You gritted your teeth as you mustered the last of your resolve.

"It will never be easier," You said, "Not with you."

His smirk fell. His eyes turned dark and he leaned back so that your hands fell. He spread his legs wider and nodded to his cock. "Well, go on. Make me keep my mouth shut."

You gave a long blink. You hung your head and slowly got to your knees. He had already taken Ethan from you, he wouldn't take anything else. You ran your hands up his thighs and shifted closer. You dragged your fingers along his length; up and down, up and down. You gripped him and kept your motion easy. You circled his head and he groaned.

You could feel his unyielding gaze. You bent your head and opened your lips over the head of his cock. You kept your hand around him and brought him deeper and deeper. You repressed a gag as he poked the back of your throat and you pulled back. You worked your hand in tandem with your mouth. 

He rocked his hips up each time you took him. His cock was slick with your slobber and he pushed further into your throat. Your hand slipped and you struggled to breath around him. You held the base of his cock and worked him in and out as you fought not retch. He spread a hand across the back of your head and forced himself to his limit.

"Look at you," He purred, "Sucking my cock so dutifully…" He held you down. You slapped at his thigh and stomach, unable to draw breath around him. "Tell me you don't fucking like it."

Your eyes rolled back and your head throbbed. He let you go just as you were sure you would pass out. You pulled away and reeled onto your ass as you sputtered. He laughed and you touched your ragged throat. He slid back across the bed and reclined with his hands behind his head.

"I mean, you don't think you're done, do you?" He chided, "You haven't even made me cum."

You pushed yourself up to your feet shakily and neared the bed. You climbed up and the frame creaked dangerously. It barely held your weight, let alone his. He stared at your panties and you stood to slip them down your legs. He reached out and you handed them over as the shame nipped at your neck.

You stood on your knees as you straddled him and reached down to guide his cock. He was still wet with your spit. You slid him inside of you with a gasp and he moaned until he was at his limit. You winced as your walls strained against him. He was still too much. Every time hurt just as bad as the last.

"Well..." He kept one arm bent behind his head as his other squeezed your panties.

You slowly began to move your hips. He bared his teeth as you rocked and you tried to resist the knot as it tangled inside of you. You pressed your palms to his firm stomach as you kept your motion steady. Your legs ached from your effort, event at that pace.

He groaned impatiently and his blue eyes sparked. You sped up just a little and the knot tightened. You couldn't fight it. His cock filled you over and over as your clit rubbed against his pelvis. You shuddered and dug your nails into his skin and your breath hitched.

"Come on, you can do it," He said airily, "That's it, girl. I can see it." You closed your eyes and ground harder against him. You couldn't help but chase the release; a single second to forget your endless torment. Even with him. "You're gonna cum all over me, aren't you? I didn't say you could do that."

You tried to mute your delight and sneered. You couldn't help animalistic growl that rose as your peak grew closer. You bounced atop him madly; desperately. The metal frame whined. It wasn't him beneath you, you weren't in this shitty apartment, you weren't on top of this decrepit bed. You were somewhere else and you felt fucking wonderful.

"Look at you," He preened and your mouth formed an o. You came suddenly and your hips bucked against him. "Oooh, you're cumming, you dirty fucking slut."

You grabbed onto his sides as you rode out your climax. Your head fell forward and your pelvis slowed until you were almost still. The tendrils swirled along your thighs and back. The afterglow embraced you and you fell forward, exhausted.

"Fuck," Steve swore and sat up.

He stayed inside of you as he flipped you onto your back. On his knees, he pushed as deep as he could go. You whimpered and the bed echoed your cry. It trembled beneath you dangerously. Steve stretched your panties out across your neck and held you down with them.

The thin cotton choked you as he pinned them beneath his thick hands. He pulled back and slammed back into you. You threw your arms up but he easily ignored you. You grabbed onto his thick biceps as he wove the panties beneath your neck and clasped them tight with one hand. He twisted the seams around two fingers as his other hand gripped your hip.

"Fuck," He growled as he began to thrust. The bed wobbled and you clawed at the blankets. "You fucking bitch, you think you can leave me hanging?"

He sped up and the bed shook. The metal groaned and your eyes rounded up at him. "St--" Your voice died as he twisted the panties tighter. "Th---" You could barely speak, "B--"

A snap and a crash and you were pinned entirely beneath Steve's body. He didn't miss a beat as the end of the bed fell apart. The mattress slid slightly down the slant of the frame. Steve fucked you as if he didn't even notice and your weight rested at the base of your neck. The panties strained around your throat as he rutted against you, your arms pinned beneath his thick torso.

"Look what you've fucking done, you slut," He snarled in your ear. "You like make a fucking mess." He hooked his fingers around your shoulder and delved even deeper. "You were just waiting for me up in that cabin, huh?" You turned your head away as it pounded. You could barely breathe past the cotton noose. "Back in that little hole you shared with him, huh? He fucked you but he couldn't get you off, could he? Not after me."

You squeaked at the sudden pluck inside. Your walls pulsed around him as his flesh slapped against yours loudly. The metal grinded into the floor beneath. You squeezed him between your legs as you came again and he nuzzled along your shoulder. 

"Again?" He bit down and sucked. You sputtered in pain.

He pulled away suddenly and held himself up with one arm as he lifted his pelvis and hammered back into you. His thrusts were decisive. Agonizing. He plunged into you completely and grunted. His cum soothed your aching walls. He wiggled his hips and slowly untangled his fingers from the panties.

He pulled out of you and the other side of the bed collapsed with a bang. He sat back with a booming laugh as he lifted the corner of the mattress. He looked at the bent frame and sighed. You tore the panties away from your neck and tossed them aside. 

He pushed himself to the edge of the bed and stood. He grabbed your elbow and led you up from the sagging mattress. He turned you to face him and his hands grazed along your arms and crept around to the back of your thighs. He lifted you at once and stood with you in the air. You exclaimed and clung to his shoulders. 

"Shit," He reached down to line his cock up with your entrance, "Looks like you won't be sleeping much."

#dark steve rogers #series #getaway #au #fic #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve rogers #nomad steve rogers #mcu #marvel #captain america #dark fic #dark!fic #darkverse #dark!verse

[falafel14]

El Camino Review: “Dude, you’re my hero and shit.”

 Where to start? (Bitch). 

Okay so I loved that Mike was the one who gave Jesse the idea to start over in Alaska. Jesse’s determination to follow a path that Mike recommended for him felt like he was desperate to honor one of his very last memories of Mike, which felt like a very Jesse thing to do. Then there was Mike’s line about how Jesse can never put things right. It’s the one thing he’ll never do. And when Mike said that I couldn’t decide whether he was establishing that Jesse’s redemption was impossible or just calling his redemption an impossibility so that Jesse could subvert expectations. In my heart, I wanted the latter. But I got the former. So was I disappointed? Actually...no. We’ve lived with the Choose-your-own-Jesse-Pinkman-ending thing for the last six years. I fan-ficced my own Jesse resolution and that gave me closure. Now I feel like I’m getting to see Vince Gilligan’s own personal Jesse resolution that he needed to give himself closure. And Vince’s choices are very different to mine, but understandably so. Vince is the one who personally made all those creative choices to put Jesse through the worst kinds of Hell (not me, I didn’t do that shit...). So after years of torturing this character so excessively I can understand why Vince needed to deliver his most abused creation to a place of peace and safety (Alaska apparently).     

And if I couldn’t get a redemption story for Jesse...well, at least I got one for Skinny Pete! Damn. Skinny has always been my favorite of Jesse’s friend circle and this film solidified why. Like Jesse, Skinny’s another smart compassionate guy who could have amounted to so much more if he hadn’t fallen into the drug world. The moment when he called Jesse his hero brought me to tears. I mean Skinny never saw the worst of Jesse’s crimes, but this line suggested to me that regardless of what Jesse had done, Skinny always saw Jesse as an impressive, admirable and decent person. And that was fucking lovely. It was heartwarming to see characters like Old Joe prepared to help Jesse out purely because they remembered him as being a good kid. But Skinny’s the one who risked his own freedom (”I’m on probation, yo!”) to give Jesse a chance to escape. So here’s hoping that your mad piano skills are discovered in prison, Skinny Pete! Oh and Badger’s lines about Skinny’s driving had me howling - “You couldn’t drive Miss Daisy!”, “You couldn’t drive Thelma and Louise off a that cliff!” Vince, if you want to write a straight up comedy next, then I’m here for it.      

Skinny Pete aside, I’d say my favorite parts of El Camino were the flashbacks. I mean...who knew we were going to get so much fucking Todd? And you know from my fanfic that I wanted the full horror of Jesse’s time as Todd’s prisoner/pet explored and...yes, it was every bit as horrific as I had expected. And yes, I feel terrible for laughing so often at Todd’s cheerful oblivious psychopathy. I wasn’t laughing all the time though. Who knew that the most heartbreaking line of all Breaking Bad canon was going to turn out to be... “Pepperoni”? Let’s just get it out of the way and say Aaron was devastating once again as Jesse Pinkman and is surely set to win a fourth Emmy for this role. And if Aaron’s going to be in the lead category this time, could we get a supporting actor nod for Plemons? Because DEAR GOD, he was blood-chillingly brilliant as Todd.

Then we have these two fuckers back together again. I knew they’d have to bring Bryan back in some way and Jesus, if you’d asked me to pick any missing Walt and Jesse moment from canon that I’d like to have seen...I swear my first choice would’ve been the journey home from 4 Days Out. This was the last time Walt still had his humanity, the last time we had juvenile “Yeah bitch!” Jesse and the last time before their relationship was so horribly poisoned by betrayal. Just before the mess of Combo’s murder, then Jesse’s heroin spiral, then Walt letting Jane die that they never came back from. It was just so wonderful to go back to a time when you could see these two genuinely cared for each other, even while being the most hilariously dysfunctional odd couple (”I totally graduated high school, dick!”) I never thought I’d get to see Bryan and Aaron acting together as Walt and Jesse again, especially this version of Walt and Jesse. It was a gift. This scene alone made the whole of El Camino worthwhile. 

Which is not to say the rest of the BrBa movie is anything shabby. While it is a getaway story rather than a redemption story, it still had me on the edge of my seat. Man, I love that Vince is such a merciless writer. Like, normally in a movie when your antihero character is in a room hiding from police, the writer will give you a moment of tension then allow the character to slip away. But Vince is all nope! The worst is going to happen. Jesse is going to get caught and worse still those guys aren’t even real cops but men who were complicit in his kidnapping ordeal. Man! And I love how Jesse gets a moment of being a badass when he judged that the Kandy Welding guy wasn’t going to shoot him, but then we get him being a dumb dipshit thinking he could call the bluff of the Disappearer guy. And yet it all felt consistent because Vince’s writing and Aaron’s performance have always balanced Jesse’s smart and stupid moments so well. And while I personally didn’t want Jesse to commit further crimes and get more blood on his hands in his bid for freedom, I can’t begrudge Vince going all the way in making Breaking Bad a contemporary Western complete with its own gunslinger quick draw scene. That was awesome (”Dude, you’re on fire...”)

Did I love everything about El Camino? No. Like Felina was for Walt, Jesse’s resolution did feel a little overly neat. I didn’t really want the Vacuum repair guy to be the solution since Saul had stressed that Jesse would only have one shot with him. The guy then giving him a second chance but being persnickety over the exact money felt like a contrivance. Also, I didn’t like Jesse screwing over his parents again. I know that Jesse’s folks could be dicks, but still. Lastly, the letter to Brock. It was pure fan service, I know. But if the moral of this story is - ‘Jesse doesn’t get to make things right’ - then he shouldn’t get to write a letter to Brock either. Because what could Jesse possibly say that would make things better for Brock now? I have to say, that beat didn’t feel earned for me. 

Finally though, I will say I liked the choice to end on the Jesse/Jane scene. As with the Walt flashback, this comes just before the end of S2 and the last hope Jesse had of a happy ending. Because I don’t really feel like Jesse’s new life in Alaska will be happy from now on. I feel like Jesse will always be lonely, scarred, self-loathing, guilt-ridden and haunted. He’ll never escape who he has been. But the message of Jane’s last line seemed to be simply telling Jesse to be his own master from now on, which I suppose is a good mindset for a guy whose biggest downfall was being too easily led. Did Jesse redeem himself for his crimes? No. Could he have ever redeemed himself for his crimes? Probably not. Do I think Jesse should go on suffering? Nah...leave him be. 

#breaking bad spoilers #el camino #el camino: a breaking bad movie #jesse pinkman #aaron paul #vince gilligan

[slxyangel]

Hangers Down (Axl Rose x Reader)

Summary: Usual hookups in unusual places.

Wordcount: 2k

Warnings: Barely any, except for smut and a bit of cursing.

A/N: This was requested AGES AGO by @axl80s​ and I finally fucking did it. I’m so sorry hun, I hope you like it :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Masterlist: https://twitter.com/ReadehFreddeh/status/1185626889144147969?s=20

He came home to a stark naked, recently showered version of you who was leaving the towel on the bed and ready to put on lotion with her back towards the door of the room. The first thing he did when he entered the house was leaving the jacket in the living room, so now his hands and attention were free to admire the glorious vision he had in front of his eyes.

He leaned against the threshold, quietly and with an amused expression, not wanting to give away his presence there. You were so engaged in your tasks you hadn't realized you had a red-haired spy behind you. He loved moments like these, seeing you do simple stuff, absorbed in your own world and thoughts, unbothered, uninterrupted, natural. Oh, and besides, you were naked and wet, that was definitely a plus to the combination.

You were on your feet fondling your legs, up and down, unconsciously offering Axl quite a spectacle of your ass in the process. Then came the arms, which you rubbed promptly, nothing fancy, and then the front of your torso. Your hair was out of the way in a poor attempt of a bun, only picked up enough so that it didn’t bother. From his point of view, there was basically a bare back with it’s correspondent bare ass, and a pair of elbows bending and unbending so that two hands he couldn’t see reached every corner of what he wanted to touch. Thanks to this, he wasn’t surprised when he felt his erection growing against the fabric of his jeans. Well, he was, but only because of how long it took to happen. Two minutes, impressive.

Once you were done and turned around to get your panties from the drawer you literally jumped at the sight of him standing there, against the open door with a smile that was up for no good.

- Go on, don’t mind me -- he said, without moving a muscle.

- JESUS! You scared me, Axl. What do you want??? To kill me???

Your hands, that had traveled to two strategic places (and had been pretty unsuccessful on their task, to be honest), fell to both sides of your body once you identified the intruder as your boyfriend.

- Believe me babe, there is a set of things that I want to do to you right now, and killing you isn’t one of them.

You snorted and shook your head. An amused sigh escaped your lips and you made your way to your aim, the wardrobe. After you opened the door but before you reached the drawer, a pair of cold hands held your hips from behind and spun you around, 180º. He wasn’t moving fast, so even though you had plenty of time to get away from his mischievous intentions, you didn’t do it until his lips were already against yours. You moved your neck backwards with your eyes still closed and a sort of smile easing your features. That left him with plenty of space to shift down to your neck and bite it. Your hands were on his shoulders, putting the slightest pressure to pull him apart, though you let him do. But when he started sucking on that sweet spot in the crook of your neck, the one he knew for a fact drove you crazy, you had to stop him before the already growing heat inside of you became a more serious and less undoable issue.

- Stooop, I have to go to work -- you said, increasingly unconvinced.

- At seven p.m.? -- His raspy voice sounded muffled since he hadn’t really listened to you and had gone back to misbehaving above your collarbone.

- Yes, Axl. I have the night shift this week, remember? -- you spoke as you tried to get away from him with difficulty, mostly given that you were trapped between the wardrobe and a very insistent Axl.

- Nope, I don’t remember.

He grabbed your ass with both hands and squeezed it until you had no choice but to stand on your tiptoes and get closer to him, all your bare front brushing against his body. His lips were hovering above yours without touching them more than a couple of times, deliberately. You didn’t want to give in to the kiss, but as much as you tried to fight against it, your eyes were just about to close. The fucker knew exactly how to play his cards. He let go of your right butcheek only to come at it again with renewed force, slapping the flesh to make a filthy sound that filled the room.

- I just had a shower…

- Don’t worry, I’ll just lick you clean.

And just like that, he lifted you up from your butt and dropped you on top of the drawers, seating you between all the hanged clothes. Even a few hangers fell down, but he didn’t seem to care, and at this point you didn’t either. He was only focused on three things: bending down, spreading your thighs apart with his hands and eating the everloving hell out of you.

His mouth had no mercy, it moved through every single inch of you with a dexterity that had you whimpering his name and holding onto both the fabric around you and his hair. He was fast and efficient, as if he was phisically hungry. You could feel the fluids starting to drip off of you, and in any other occasion you would have been worried about wetting the furniture and the clothes inside of it, but seriously, your mind wasn’t in no shape for thinking anything besides how good he was making you feel. He went from sucking on your clit to entering you with his tongue, and you couldn’t help but squirm on your seat. His arms couldn’t do much to keep your legs separated, so he finally gave up and let you close them around his head, pressing your flesh against his ears. The pleasure was too much to handle, but he wasn’t stopping or slowing down, though you could feel him smiling against your center. Your cries filled the room as he kept up his steady, desperate rhythm and you came on his mouth with a loud and filthy moan. The muscles in your back contracted and your head fell back, but your legs didn’t seem willing to give up any of the pressure you were putting on Axl, who was running out of air. He lightly tapped your right thigh with his hand, twice or three times, and when you realized where you were and what was happening, you freed him, lowkey worried and still lightheaded.

- I’m sorry -- you mumbled, with a shy smile on your face.

- Don’t be, that was hot.

You looked at him, with his lips all swollen and wet and his hair extremely out of place, and when you finished the scanner you thought it must have definitely been hot, because of how big the bulge in his pants had grown. Now your shy smile became a surprised yet a pretty greedy one.

- You like what you see? -- he asked, teasing you.

- Fuck me. Now.

You didn’t know if he was expecting a “Yes” or a “No, I’d like it better if you took off your clothes”, but you had run out of patience. Still seating inside the wardrobe, you grabbed the t-shirt he had on and got rid of it as he took off his belt and his pants. You started kissing him fiercely, tasting your own flavor in his mouth and getting turned on again. Well, not that you had been “turned off” at any point. Once he was naked he grabbed your ass the same way he had done minutes before and lifted you up, carrying you to the bed. Those scarce two meters were glorious; the feeling of his hard tip brushing against your wet core gave you a sneak peek of what was coming next.

He laid you on your back and positioned himself on top of you, between your legs. Thin strands of his red hair tickled your shoulders, neck and face, making you giggle to the contact. Your hands grazed down his sides, and when you reached his ass, you squeezed it and rose up your hips, urging him to enter you. I mean, you were already soaking, and he was already hard, so what was the wait for? Suffering? He read your thoughts and lined up with your entrance with the help of your own hand. The very second he entered in contact with your warmth, he thrust into you with the same eagerness he had eaten you out with, and began a series of swift motions that had you repeatedly pushed against the headboard.

You could barely explain what you felt, the sensation of your deepest space clenching around his length was one you would probably never get used to and you most definitely would never get enough of. With each push he seemingly reached new levels of depth, and you kissed him as a prize. Your eyes were closed, but you knew exactly where and how everything was: the bed unmade, sheets and towel wrinkled at his feet; his arms at both sides of your head, one pressing the pillow and the other caressing your hair; his knees on the mattress, your legs over his ass; he locked up your body and you locked up his. You also felt the way he moved his mouth to your ear and whispered “Look at me” with the softest of voices, contrasting with how hard and good he was fucking you.

So you did, you opened your eyes and sensed how his thrusts became unsteady as much as he tried to fight it. The feeling was great, so pleasant, so intimate, but you knew you weren’t even half as close to your own orgasm as you had been a while ago, so you decided to enjoy it your own way. You cradled his face with both hands, looking at him with sweet eyes and, no words spoken, gave him your permission. He had a little frown on his face due to the effort and concentration, and he lightly shook his head in denial. He wanted to make you feel good, but he didn’t seem to notice that that felt as awesome as it could get; you being the one who made him lose control… there were no words to explain such a feeling. He was trying, he was really trying, as if it was a matter of pride, but the instinct was stronger than him for once and he sank one more time into you, letting himself go. His head lowered and hid in the crook of your neck, releasing the most harmonious sounds ever, and you stroke his hair until he came back down from his place in paradise.

He stayed there, quiet, for a little while, enjoying what was left of his orgasm and inhaling your scent. You enjoyed yourself too, feeling him inside of you and telling your inner lioness to calm down and breathe, but a sudden movement made your mind snap out of there. He pulled away from your chest and propped himself up in the bed, still looking at you. Then, as if that last minute of relaxation had never happened, he lowered himself and sank his head between your legs. You were absolutely confused, but his tongue dancing down there left little to no space in your brain to formulate coherent sentences. Then, as if he had read in your mind the words he knew he wasn’t letting you speak, he mumbled:

- I said I was gonna lick you clean.

#axl rose #axl rose x reader #axl x reader #axl rose smut #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses x reader #axl smut #Smut #fanfic #gnr fanfiction #gnr #gnr x reader #classic rock imagine #oneshot #one shot #imagine #axl imagine #axl rose imagine

[vagrantblvrd]

Sky Factory Android Shenanigans is giving me so many ideas?

That super cliché sci-fi AU where Michael’s an android on the run (because reasons???) and he ends up on one backwater planet/colony somewhere. Parts on the fritz thanks to a run in with some black ops/assassination squad and he needs repairs but doesn’t know who to trust?

Broadcasts reporting him as, idk, malfunctioning and the whatnot and a danger to the public – do not approach or engage – and call the authorities if you see this unit.

(Unit, like he’s not a person anymore, had his autonomy stripped away along with his humanity and goddamn him for being stupid enough to trust whatever organization he signed up for that got him killed, turned him into this and fucked him over again with all the secrets it was keeping he hadn’t even guessed at before stumbling on them, hence the android on the run part of things? But yes.)

And then he overhears someone talking about this lunatic living on the fringes of whatever settlement he’s come to. Like something out of the true crime stories he used to follow when he was a kid – or is that just another implanted memory?

Shady as hell and rife with con-men and thieves and worse, perfect place to hide out for a while until his stupid body shuts down and he dies for real out here.

Half-blind most days because that shot to the head and it acts up at the worst times. Almost gets him killed a few times when some of those thieves and worse ambush him in an alley and it’s sheer luck he manages to get out of it without suffering more damage.

Anyway, anyway, he hears about this lunatic who’s supposed to be some kind of mechanical genius, right? Doesn’t run a real shop, lives out by the main scrapyard like a weirdo. People bring their busted machines and gadgets and the whatnots to him and he fixes them up nice and pretty-ish. (Cheaper than the officially licensed technicians near the spaceport and a hell of a lot more discreet to boot.)

So.

Michael makes his way there, half-convinced he’s walking into a trap but it’s take that risk or end up being a pile of spare parts in the guy’s scrapyard anyway, right?

And at first the asshole doesn’t even respond when Michael knocks on his door, pretends he’s not home or whatever and Michael’s just.

At the end of his rope and angry and defeated and he starts yelling at the fucker until his vocalizer glitches out, and that’s when the door snaps open, sending Michael tumbling inside where he lands on his face because his everything is fucked up and he doesn’t react fast enough.

Looks up to see someone staring down at him, implants and augments like whoa because no human has an eye that glows red unless it’s in one of those old horror holovids.

“What do you want?

Surly bastard, which lines up with the things Michael overheard before.

Loner who doesn’t really gt left alone because people need things, don’t they, and there’s not a lot of  money coming into a place like this. Old mining planet/colony where the companies pulled their operations out when the mines ran dry and only the worst kind of people come by anymore.

The few decent people left behind too poor to relocate, so it’s a shitshow and as someone with the skills to he has he gets visitors more often than he’d care for. (Customers or someone hoping to take what he has any way they have to, which explains the weapon in his hand and Michael’s almost to point he’d just let the fucker shoot him to be done with it, but.)

He stands up, servos and whatever else he’s made of these days creaking and groaning and this little flash of light that may be actual sparks coming off him and he sees the guy’s grimace at how bad off he is.

Like Jesus, if he wasn’t what he was Michael knows someone would have scrapped him a few planets back, but whatever.

The guy – Ryan, of course it’s Ryan – flips the lights on and they get a good look at one another.

Michael’s headed for a full-system shutdown and Ryan?

Looks like he’s been through some shit. Enough augments and implants that the legal system would be hard-put classifying him as human anymore, leaning past cyborg and dangerously close to being an android himself like some of those soldiers Michael’s seen who got caught up in the outer worlds skirmishes a few years back.

A lot of them look cobbled together from whatever parts he could find out here, which makes sense if the guy’s here of all places. (People don’t end up somewhere like here if they have resources to call on, you know? And no one ends up somewhere like here if they’re not in some kind of trouble, so. Yeah.)

They regard each for a long, long time.

Michael knows Ryan recognizes him, but he’s too tired to bother running – been doing too much of that as it is – and he wouldn’t get far in the shape he’s in if he tried

Last resort and the way that goes and Ryan sighs, gesturing for Michael to follow him and he does because what else is he going to do?

Ryan fixes him up, this long on-going process that takes a long damn time because Michael’s so busted up. Has this little helper bot he’s built out of old construction bots or something because its still sporting that distinct yellow paint job, little black and white stripe along its side.

Beeps and chirps and boops whenever Ryan asks it to bring him this tool or that, dig through the bins along one wall for parts or whatever. Hovers along just behind him when they’re not in the workshop/lab loyal little helper and kind of cute in a weird kind of way.

Ryan calls it E.D.G.A.R. and when Michael asks what the acronym stands for Ryan shrugs because hell if he knows, he just thought it was appropriate, which what does that even mean???

Ryan and E.D.G.A.R. dig through the bits and pieces he has stashed in his workshop/lab/lab, cannibalize worker androids – makes and models who didn’t start out as humans like Michael did – for some of it. Searches through the scrapyard to find parts he can modify for the rest.

Once he gets Michael functioning to a high enough level he can lend a hand Michael’s out there too, digging through piles of appliances and machinery and trying not to look too hard at the scattered android parts and chassis tossed in there too. (Some look too human, synthetic flesh torn and weathered from being unprotected from the elements for who know how long)

They don’t really get friendly, the two of them, but Ryan forgets to play the curmudgeon the longer he works at fixing Michael up.

Doesn’t ask who Michael is or how he ended up here, doesn’t seem like he’s waiting on the authorities to come claim him either.

Kind of a confusing time for them both because it’s clear Ryan’s got his own secrets, you know?

More than just some guy who picked up what he knows ‘along the way’, no.

There’s an order to his workshop/lab/lab Michael recognizes from the days right after those fuckers turned him into a machine, the way he works.

Meticulous as hell and so precise and just. More care than any of the hacks Michael’s gone to since he’s been on the run.

And then!

And then there’s – Michael doesn’t know when the shift happens but he bitches about something and Ryan laughs, quiet little huff of air and this tell-tale quirk to his mouth, and he gives Michael this. This look.

Something thoughtful to it he doesn’t really understand, can’t fucking compute, but who cares, right? Because Ryan’s less of a bastard after that, they get along better and Michael stops worrying Ryan’s just waiting for the right moment to turn him in, thinks his luck might be changing on him – so of course that’s when things go to shit.

Someone must have seen Michael before, recognized him and figured out he went to Ryan for help because the people chasing Michael?

They find him.

Assassination squad(s) and both of them unprepared for it and Ryan gets hit, gets hit bad.

More machine than man, but there’s still enough squishy human left to him that a bullet/energy weapon shot in the right place will kill him, you know? (Besides, all those augments and implants are hooked up to his squishy human parts in amazingly delicate ways and it’s real fucking easy to use that against someone if you know how.)

Michael doesn’t get away unscathed himself, but of the two of them he’s far more functional. And even though Ryan didn’t have the right parts and components to bring him up to factory specs again, so to speak, he did a damn good job with what he had on hand, you know?

There’s also the fact that the people who made Michael what he is now didn’t expect him to turn on them, thought they had a nice loyal dog in their hands and they made a mistake giving him the teeth and claws they did. All these built-in weapons because he’s a prototype, isn’t he.

New war machine to sell to the highest bidder and better than all those soulless robots people were using before because there’s a human mind in there capable of making the kind of decisions and choices and whatever else a simple computer program or AI could ever hope to. (Real fucking close to the complex sort of AI they’d need for that, but not close enough to satisfy the corporations or military forces who would commission them.)

So.

Michael gets them out of there, follows E.D.G.A.R. to this ship Ryan’s got hidden away – looks like shit but Ryan – stubbornly hanging on – insists it’ll get them to safety, just don’t fly them into the sun or a fucking planet, for Christ’s sake.

Michael gets Ryan into the medbay which – surprise, surprise – looks like a smaller version of Ryan’s workshop/lab/ than a medbay, but who cares at this point.

Hooks him up to machines to keep him alive until he can give him proper medical care and gets them away from any pursuers.

When he goes back down to check on Ryan it’s to find the asshole directing E.D.G.A.R. to open up this   pod on the wall. (Looks more like a casket.)

Human shaped and something about it unsettles Michael who demands to know what’s going on, because Ryan shouldn’t be doing what’s he’s doing.

Seriously injured and lost a lot of blood and any normal human would be dead by this point, and Ryan.

He sighs, gives Michael this look because they both know he’s not going to get better from his injuries, you know? Squishy human parts all fucked up and augments and implants malfunctioning worse than Michael had been when he went to Ryan.

Only a matter of time and Ryan knew something like this would happen one day – all the things Michael was careful not to ask Ryan the same way Ryan didn’t ask Michael because secrets. (And Plot Reasons, but c’mon, you know how this works by now.)

E.D.G.A.R. cracks the pod/casket open and oh, wow, surprise, surprise there’s an android body inside it.

Looks a hell of a lot like Michael’s, but this one is a little bigger, bulkier. Looks like an older version, one that was modeled more after the construction androids, used for heavy labor and the whatnot. No synthetic flesh cover its frame, all powered down and waiting and -

“Don’t do this,” Michael says, because Ryan thinks he knows what he’s doing but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

(Michael doesn’t know what else they can do, but this - there has to be another way.)

Ryan gives Michael this sad little smile and it’s horrifying because internal bleeding and everything else, and he’s just.

“Michael,” he says, and he sounds so tired. “Why do you think I knew how to repair you?”

Because Ryan didn’t end up in some backwater planet/colony by accident, you know?

Doesn’t know the things he does because he read about it somewhere or had a job working in a goddamned repair shop on one of the inner worlds.

None of those easy little lies Michael kept telling himself, no.

Ryan used to work for this corporation, big on advancing science and all that bullshit that had major funding provided by the military and so on and so forth. People real interested in cutting down on human bloodshed and what better way than to create machines to do it for them?

Things went wrong along the way, and they got desperate as project after project failed to live up to expectation. (Some key component missing and it wasn’t until someone decided morals and ethics were oh so troublesome they made any real headway.)

People like Michael and accidents here and there, soldiers offer a second chance and there’s an experimental program that hasn’t been revealed to the public. Dangerous, of course, but -

Some people got a choice in the matter, sold their souls for that second chance. Others like Michael never had that luxury.

And Ryan, oh. He was part of that, wasn’t he.

Designed the androids because the science of it all, but he never expected things would lead where they did.

Got to watch as his creations were used in the worst possible ways, saw the early days where human brains couldn’t cope with the transfer progress. Breadth and depth of what makes a human mind (soul?) shoved into a computerized/cybernetic shell of its former self, most without warning and the fallout -

Most committed suicide, some went mad. The others had to be destroyed as they decayed.

And Ryan.

He tried to expose them, did what he could and it almost, almost worked.

But one man against a vast conglomeration fueled by greed and corruption and it almost killed him. (Should have, maybe that would have been better.)

He had a handful of augments and implants before everything went to hell to help him in his work, but afterward.

Well.

Squishy human bodies are just that, aren’t they. Get injured so badly they can’t be fixed and he ended up needing more and more until he might as well have been one of those androids he created once upon a time. (Poetic justice to it, or so he thought when he bothered to think about it at all.)

And anyway, anyway, that doesn’t matter at this point because it’s either transfer his squishy human brain-stuff into the waiting android frame or die.

Before all this, before Michael, Ryan might have chosen death. Figured it’s what he deserved for his part in things, no way he can expose the people responsible when he’s failed before, but.

Michael makes him want to try.

(Ryan knew, you see, while he was fixing Michael that the idiot would go right back out once he was done and try to do the impossible. May have drawn things out longer than he should have to prevent that from happening because he likes Michael, okay? Too much, maybe.)

This isn’t the way he saw things going, but he doesn’t want to die now. Doesn’t want to leave Michael alone to fix Ryan’s mistakes. (And maybe it’s not all on Ryan to fix, but who else is going to do it?)

So.

Michael hates it, hates it so much but he does what Ryan tells him to do. Gets him hooked up to the right machines, boots up the right programs and whatever else and watches Ryan die as he turns himself into an android.

He doesn’t know why Ryan’s doing what he’s doing, thinks it’s because he doesn’t want to just fade away into nothing, but Ryan tells him later.

Tells him everything as he’s figuring out how his new android body works, the two of them following gossip and rumors surrounding this broadcast someone’s sending out about the people responsible for making Michael what he is. Things said people are trying to shut down, shut down hard, but can never catch.

He tells him and Michael listens and it’s not easy, God is it ever not, but they come to an understanding  or something like that.

Ryan didn’t know, not for the longest time and when he did he tried to do something about that, and that has to count for something.

(He saved Michael’s life or whatever the hell you’d call it when he turned up on his doorstep, and that counts for something too.)

And just.

Michael’s got his own mistakes too, okay.

So.

They figure things out, and Ryan fixes up his android body so its face looks like his human one and he maybe upgrades it, Michael laughing at him when Ryan goes on and on and on about laser hands or whatever the hell. (Ridiculous and impractical as hell, but goddamn does it sound cool.)

Also, also? Ryan doesn’t have the combat training/protocols Michael does so ~training. Partly to get him used to how his new body moves, partly because they don’t have access to adequate things at first and Michael runs him through the basics, right?

And he teaches Ryan how to compensate for it when his targeting whatevers are on the fritz and Ryan proves to be a better shot than Michael? (New ways to bring old cliches and tropes into play, is what I’m getting at here.)

Those moments where Ryan comes up against the limitations of his new body, realizes what he’s lost when he chose to become an android and Michael just being there because he’s the best person to understand what he’s going through?

The two of them becoming this amazing team over time that is an actual threat to the people after them? (And E.D.G.A.R., because Ryan is too damn fond of the bucket of bolts.)

They run into assassination squads and whatever else and finally, finally find the source of the broadcasts and of course it’s Matt and all these misfits and outcasts with grudges against the assholes after Michael and Ryan and it’s just.

Shenanigans in space as this group of supposed space pirates/smugglers/criminal types take on a corrupt corporation because reasons.

Also, yes, totally FAHC AU in space, but different ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

================

More of this AU with Jerevin this time???

#myan #ragehappy #android au #(but in space) #look #i don't even know #i just #yes #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #character death #(but they get better)

[probablymango]

Dungeons and Arcana

Chapter 1: New Game

Lucio rubbed his face, trying hard not to glare at the others at the table with him. “Explain to me again, what is it you want to do?”

Asra smiles, setting down his glass. “We want to bring two more people into the game with us.”

“I got that. Who are they, do I know them, what are their experience, and do I need to start a new campaign?” He hated getting new players. Not that he wants to keep others from playing, but it meant having to learn them, figure out how they play characters, see what they could and couldn’t deal with, merging them into pre-existing campaigns was a bitch.

Julian raises his hand a bit. “My sister, she’s got a bit of experience from playing with me.”

Lucio nods, then looks at the other two.

“Our roommate, Muriel. You’ve probably met him before, or well, at least seen him.” Mordenkainen answered, making vaguely descriptive hand gestures. “Tall guy, beefy, wears a hoodie all the time, and has the big service dog. Ring any bells?”

It did, mostly because the guy was like a huge brick wall, but he wasn’t very social, so Lucio didn’t know him very well. “Does he have any experience?”

Asra and Mordenkainen look between each other with small looks of worry. “... We’ve tried…” “But neither of us are good dms so….” “Not really….”

“Jesus christ.” He groans, rubbing his face and pushing his glasses further up his face. “...... I’m going to have to meet them both, then we’ll see about a new campaign. Nadia!” He looked over his shoulder towards the kitchen.

“What?” Nadia yells back.

“You’re going to need to make a new character!”

“Okay! What kind of campaign?”

“Not sure yet! Probably just a self inserts and fantasy!”

“Hella!”

Lucio rolls his eyes then turns back to the three in front of him. “Same time or do we need to reschedule for the others?”

“Muriel is good with us.” Asra smiles brightly, lightly jumping in his seat.

Julian thinks for a bit, then pulls his cell out of his scrubs pocket. “... I’ll have to check in with her for that, but let’s stick with the same time for now.”

Lucio nods, ideas of what to make the campaign starting to form. “Good, good, please get them in contact with me before then please. I need to meet them first, even if it’s over webcam.”

Nadia came out of the kitchen, holding a bowl of grapes and milk shake. “So we’ve got more people coming?”

“Maybe.”

“Yes.” Rang in everyone else.

She nods, thoughtfully sipping at her shake. “We’ll have to order more food then. Do any of them have allergies?”

“Portia does, but I doubt that’ll stop her from eating what’s presented.”

“Still, best to make preparations anyways. What’s she allergic to?”

“Dairy, but she doesn’t acknowledge that fact.”

“Oh.” She makes a face. “Is…. is there a non-dairy pizza? Hmm, I’ll keep an eye out for non-dairy snacks that taste good.”

Julian sighs with relief. “Thank you. I can try to get her to send a list of snacks she likes, if that’d help?”

Nadia and Julian start to discuss food, while Lucio turns to the other two. “So, I know of Muriel, but what’s he like? Asides from being a big boy.”

“Shy, not outgoing, and suffers from anxiety.” Asra says, ruffling his brown hair. “We figured that doing it with friends would be the best chance at having him play and plus you’re pretty good, so we figured you’d be best at being one of his first dms.”

Lucio sighs in defeat. “We’ll talk more about this later.” He glances at the clock, then groans. “After work, it’s time to go.” He and Asra stand up, grabbing their bags and coats. “Bye Noddy!”

“Bye Mayor!” Asra grins, sliding on his obnoxiously colored green, pink, and orange jacket.

“Not mayor yet.” She laughs, waving them farewell. “Don’t forget your arm charger!”

“Thank you!” Lucio quickly grabs it from the counter, then goes out to the car. “What do you plan on playing tonight?”

Asra buckles himself, as he makes his signature cat face. “What do you mean?”

Lucio narrowed his eyes at him as he buckled himself in and pulled out. “Do you plan on being a memey little shit with the music tonight or do you plan on doing normal bar music?”

“Oh, you know.” He grins, giving Lucio the answer he knew. The bar was going to be filled with meme songs, most of them were going to give him a headache.

“You little shit.” He groaned, already feeling the headache forming from just thinking of what he was going to hear for the hours they were working together. “Can you at least put on good meme music?”

“Excuse you, but Smash Mouth is great music.” He laughs, watching the buildings pass by.

“No, no it’s not. And please, for the love of god, don’t play What’s New Pussycat, because I swear, I will jump over the bar and strangle you for it.”

“Kinky.” He snickers, poking at his shoulder.

“It’s not a kink thing you perverted little shit!” He groans, keeping his eyes on the road as he blindly slaps at Asra.

Asra snorts, weakly batting his hand away. “What if I play, It’s Not Unusual?”

“That’s worse!” He groans, putting his hand back on the wheel. “Just… Please, take some of the patrons’ requests.”

“I’ll consider it.”

It was quiet for the next few minutes, but as Lucio finished parking, his speakers came to life with-

“DO YOU LIKE WAFFLES?”

“ASRAAAAAA!”

The culprit ran into the bar, laughing with bastardly delight. Lucio groaned, rubbing his face as he turned off the car, and grabbed his bag. He hoped today will be slow, so he could write, but since Asra took over the music selection, more people started coming in. It was good for business, but not good for his creativity. He went inside, clocked himself in, and went to his usual part of the bar, the one with the plug-in built into the counter. He plugged in his phone and arm, hoping people chose the other bartenders, but knowing he’s never that lucky.

His fear was confirmed about 10 minutes into his shift. Asra had some weird remix playing as a sickly looking older man came to the bar in front of him. Worm man, or Vlastomil, as his name tag reads, comes in regularly. The only reason Lucio even remembers this fucker is solely because he stands out; super pale, an almost leprechaun face, dark clothes, and is usually saying something about worms. He assumes the man works at the bait shop, but honestly didn't care enough to find out. “What will it be, sir?”

“Drunken worm cocktail.”

He gets out the ingredients, passion fruit vodka, peach schnapps, cointreu, coconut rum, sweet and sour, cranberry juice, and gummy worms. It looked tasty, white bottom, with red top, ice, and gummy worms resting on the top. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” He sets down $15 and walks away to a darker part of the room. A weird, but alright person.

He stares at him for a bit, then picks up his phone and starts typing.  Vlastomil…. Sounds like a perfect fantasy name….  He quickly made some notes, then put away his phone as another person came over. “Hi, how can I help you?”

The man in front of him was beautiful, like almost a model. Long hair in a braid, brown that somehow beautifully turns to blond, and clothes that looked a bit more expensive than this area normally gets. Dammit, he didn’t need an instant crush on a stranger. “What kinds of wine do you have?”

“... Uh, I’ll have to check the list.” Not many people wanted straight wine, so he forgot the actual names of them. “We have…. Pinot Grigio.. Some Chardonnay… uhhh.. Pinot Noir… Rose and Cabernet Sauvignon?”

He raises an eyebrow and has a small smile. “Not used to serving?”

“Not used to serving straight wine. Which would you like?”

He stares at the bottles for a bit. “Pinot Noir.”

“You got it.” He pours him a glass and hands it to him, then watches as he awkwardly holds the glass, probably expecting a wine glass instead of the regular ass glasses they have.

“Thank you.” He continues to stay at the bar, drinking as he looked around, sipping thoughtfully at his wine. “Hmp, this is just like him too.”

He shouldn’t butt in or even mention that he heard it, but his nosiness is getting the better of him. “Who?”

He sighs, leaning back into the bar. “My ex, he used to bring this home constantly. Should have expected the bad after taste of him with it.”

“That’s rough buddy.” Did he really just say that? He’s been dming too long, now he sounds like an actual NPC!

He snorts softly, turning to smile at him. “I didn’t think bartenders actually said that.”

They don’t, I’m just too used to fantasy. “I like going beyond people’s expectations.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He turns back around, continuing to sip at his wine.

Lucio looked over at Asra, only to see him gesturing to…. Do something? He looked at his phone and, oh, he sent a text.

Snek meme bastard: is that valerius? Me: Who is that and why should I care? Snek meme bastard: cuz hes muriels cuz Me: ….. Me: Can u try that again with proper spelling? Snek meme bastard: valerius is muriels cousin Snek meme bastard: is that valerius? Me: not sure Snek meme bastard: ASK Me: NO Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: please Me: no Snek meme bastard: ………. Snek meme bastard: ill give you $20 bucks if you do Me: …… if he calls the cops im bringing you to jail with me

He groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose, then looks back up at the handsome man in front of him. “What’s your name?”

He looks up at him. “.... any reason you want to know?”

Shit, shit, what does he say? “Why wouldn’t I like to know the name of an attractive person at my bar?” He grins, dying on the inside. He really needs to stop hanging out with MC, they were giving him bad habits of unnecessary flirting with everyone who sticks around for more than 5 minutes.

He looks at him for a bit, then laughs. “You…” He snorts, setting down his drink. “Where.. How did you learn to talk like that?”

“I have no idea of what you mean.” Well, at least he got the stranger to laugh, hopefully that means good things and not being considered a creep. “I speak like a regular people.”

He laughs more, then tries to take a sip of his wine. “I’ll…” He snickers. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me your’s.”

“I’m Lucio of Vesuvia!” He adds a bit of lordly flair to the way he says it, deciding to commit to the weird way of talking for this man. “And you are?”

He giggles, barely able to talk at this point. “I’m- hehehe- I’m Consul Valerius, at your service!” He goes back to laughing.

His phone lights up, warning him that Asra wanted to call. Fuck that, it’s too loud for that to work out. He declines the call to see that Asra had texted him. A lot.

Snek meme bastard: is it him? Snek meme bastard: hey Snek meme bastard: lucio Snek meme bastard: lucio Snek meme bastard: is it him? Snek meme bastard: LUCIO Snek meme bastard: lucy Snek meme bastard: i said get a name not flirt Snek meme bastard: …… Snek meme bastard: bitch Snek meme bastard: dude Snek meme bastard: respond or i will rick roll the entire club Snek meme bastard: im serious Snek meme bastard: just say if he is or isnt Snek meme bastard: 3 Snek meme bastard: 2 Snek meme bastard: 1 Me: WAIT

But it was too late, the room was filling with the beginning of Never Going to Give You Up, sending almost every person in the bar into a collective flight or fight response. Some were booing Asra, others just loudly complaining, some were laughing, and even fewer actually left. Asra stared directly at Lucio, demanding a response.

Me: YES HIS NAME IS VALERIUS Me: TURN IT OFF Snek meme bastard: :3

The music was changed to.. Something else, the song wasn’t familiar, so that was good. He sighs, rubbing his face. “Sorry about that. Our DJ is a…. He’s a bastard and let’s leave it at that…”

He shrugs, finishing his glass of wine. “It’s alright, odd choices in music, but he seems alright.”

After the song, one of the other DJs took over for a bit, then Asra made, as straight as he could, for them. “Valerius?”

“Who wants to know.” His mood immediately dropped back to being serious.

“Muriel’s roommate, Asra.”

He glances at Lucio, as if to get confirmation.

“This is my bastard coworker, Asra, the memelord.” Lucio sighs, gesturing at him.

Asra grins, then starts talking to Valerius, but Lucio stopped listening so that he could make some more notes. Vesuvia and Valerius… wonderful names..

“Excuse me!” A loud person, yelled at Lucio. He looked up to see Vulgora, one of the few people you actually remembered the name of. They were constantly getting into fights and just overall loud. “Get me a beer!”

“Any specific kind?”

“A beer!”

Lucio nodded, getting the cheapest beer he could find and putting it in a glass, then handing it to them. “Here you go.” Vulgora and the bar had a deal, they could drink as much as they wanted and the bill would be put directly on their bank account. The bill on most days was too many drinks, on worst days, over hundreds of dollars for repairs. He didn’t understand why they were let back in after the first time, but at least they were paying for it.

With their drink in hand, Vulgora started chugging as they went to find someone to arm wrestle, and Lucio went back to his phone. Vulgora… that’s a rather unique name…

There was tapping on the counter, he looked up to see one of his greatest fears: Dr. Valdemar. The doctor might not have done anything specifically harmful to him, but waking up in the middle of surgery was still lucid led to….. Visual nightmares that have haunted him for over 6 years. “..... How can I help you?”

“Have you seen Dearil?”

“Uhh.. no?” Name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place who it was.

They look around, contemplating their next words. “Dark orange hair, reddish brown eyes, and is probably carrying a skull?”

No, no he has not. Well, maybe, there’s a lot of people here. He shrugs. “Can’t help you, sorry.”

They nod, setting down a bill. “Thanks anyways.” They wandered into the crowd, hopefully to never be seen again.

…. They would make a great villain. He typed some more at his phone. He was getting a lot of V names tonight.

“Um, sir?” There was a lady in front of him. “Do you serve food here?”

“The bar with food is over there.” He points to the other side.

“Thank you.” She smiles, walking away and someone said “Volta!” as she approached.

This place has a surprising amount of people with Vs in their first name… He went back to his phone, waiting on Asra to stop talking to the cute guy.

#mysterious art #lucio #arcana #nadia #julian #asra #apprentice #oc #fan apprentice #valerius #vlademar #vlastomil #volgora #volta #fanfiction #fanfic #oh yeah. i write sometimes

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Acts of Sacrifice

by Dan H

Monday, 13 August 2007Dan H on Harry Potter, Aslan, and John Sheridan

I still, technically, have a weblog, although I haven't updated it in over a year.

One of the things I wrote about when I still did update it was the movie version of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardobe. In particular, I felt that it was interesting that in movie!Narnia the Salvation of Narnia was supposed to come from the Pevensies, whereas in book!Narnia and BBCAdaptation!Narnia it was very much supposed to come from Aslan.

I don't think it was conscious, but this subtle change pretty much destroyed the underlying moral message, and the underlying emotional impact of the book. Incidentally it also undermines the original Christian message, but religion isn't really what I'm interested in for the purposes of this article.

In the movie, Aslan sacrifices himself to save Edmund, and the strong implication is that he does so because otherwise the Prophecy would not be fulfilled, and the Four Kings and Queens would not be able to Save Narnia and the White Witch would win. In the movie, Aslan makes a sensible strategic decision. His life for the lives of everybody else in Narnia.

In the book, however, the exact opposite is true. It is Aslan, not the four children, who is the key to driving back the White Witch. When Aslan dies on the round table he is not only sacrificing himself, he is sacrificing Narnia itself, and he is doing it purely for the sake of one rather horrible little boy. Again I should briefly mention that this is rather central to the Christian message: Jesus was not one man dying for many, he was God dying for You.

As you probably remember, I've just come from an epic slog through Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. One of the things that sat most awkwardly about that book was Harry's "sacrifice" at the end. Like movie!Aslan Harry makes a strictly Utilitarian decision: by his death he can weaken Lord Voldemort, and therefore achieve his goals (or, perhaps more precisely, the goals of that manipulative fucker Albus Dumbledore).

Perhaps I'm just selfish, but I genuinely don't see that as any kind of meaningful sacrifice. Both Aslan and Harry reach the decision that they can, by their deaths, further the goals they are working towards better than they can by remaining alive. It's just resource management. It certainly isn't heroism. It most definitely isn't Christ-like, despite Harry's miraculous resurrection and the revelation that his death broke the power of Lord Voldemort and redeemed Hogwarts.

There's an episode of Babylon Five, which I don't actually like very much (because it's very, very heavy handed) which actually highlights this point remarkably well. In the episode Comes the Inquisitor, the Vorlons send a man named Sebastian to B5, and Sebastian proceeds to torture the hell out of John Sheridan in an effort to get him to admit that he is unworthy of his destiny.

So Sheridan gets zapped, Delenn shows up, so the Inquisitor zaps both of them, and they do the traditional: "Wait! Don't kill my romantic interest! Kill me instead!" speech.

Here's where it gets interesting, where the distinction is drawn between the sacrifices of Movie!Aslan and Harry Potter, and the kind of sacrifice that actually has a meaning.

How do you know the chosen ones? No greater love hath a man than he lay down his life for his friend. Not for millions, not for glory, not for fame... for one person. In the dark. Where no one will ever know or see. I've been in the service of the Vorlons for centuries, looking for you. Diogynes with his lamp looking for a man willing to die for all the wrong reasons.

Now okay, it's a bit preachy, it's a bit JMS, and ultimately I'm in no way convinced that Sheridan actually displays the qualities which Sebastian attributes to him, but I think it recognises something which both the Narnia movie and the Potter books failed to recognise. It is easy for a fictional character to sacrifice themselves for an objectively defined Greater Good. Defeating Voldemort or the White Witch are obviously big important endeavours and they require that people make sacrifices. But it's precisely because those tasks are so vast that the decision to sacrifice oneself in their service is ultimately meaningless. If your destiny (sorry, "Destiny") is to die, then dying is really your only option, whether you go to your doom with your head held high or blubbing like a little girl is ultimately meaningless. In the Potterverse the vaunted Gryffindor courage is little more than a good old British stiff upper lip: putting a brave face on it while you do whatever it is you were intending to do anyway.

I should probably take a step back here and say that I'm very much talking about fictional characters here. Real people have survival instincts, they have millennia of evolution telling them to save their own skins. In the real world, a soldier going into battle, a policeman tackling an armed criminal, or an aid worker working in a warzone are all showing tremendous courage, even heroism, just by going about their daily lives. A fictional hero, though, has to be more than that. A hero must, by definition, not just be doing his job. A hero who is also a solider must do things which the ordinary soldier is not called upon to do, and ordinary soldiers are regularly called upon to lay down their lives for a cause.

The test which Sebastian places before Sheridan is a simple one, but one which cuts to the heart of what "sacrifice" really means. He does not ask "what will you sacrifice for your destiny" he asks "what won't you sacrifice for your destiny" or to put it another way "what will you give up your destiny to protect."

I think it's actually a very important question for any "hero" to ask. A hero is generally working towards some higher goal, and they will often make tremendous sacrifices in pursuit of that goal. The greatest sacrifice a hero can make, therefore, is not their life, but the very goal towards which they have struggled for so long. When your entire live has been devoted to something, dying for it is a small step, giving it up is what takes real moral courage.

The death of a fictional character is meaningful only insofar as it affects the narrative afterwards. When a fictional character sacrifices their life, the sacrifice only has meaning if it does not directly further their wider goals. Otherwise it's just a play, a strategic manoeuvre. Being dead but getting your way is infinitely preferable for a fictional character than being alive and losing.

When Lily Potter sacrifices herself to protect baby Harry, that's heroic. But her sacrifice is meaningful precisely because it is futile. From the Utilitarian mindset which governs Harry's later sacrifice, or the sacrifice of movie!Aslan, it's a completely stupid thing to do. As far as Lily is concerned, Harry is going to die no matter what she does, so really she should have just cut her losses and saved herself. Her sacrifice had power because she wasn't trying to achieve anything by it, she was just making a moral stand: no matter what, she wasn't going to stand aside and let her son be murdered.

In fact, one might almost say that the sacrifice of a fictional hero (as opposed to a real person doing a difficult and thankless job) is powerful only if it is ultimately futile. Its meaning resides in its very meaninglessness. It has to have a purity of intent, a simple moral decision that this line cannot be crossed, that this injustice cannot be borne, and all the "greater good" can go hang. The sequence in Pan's Labyrinth, in which the doctor administers a fatal injection to a captured solider who would otherwise be tortured is a fine example of this. This single act of mercy costs him his life, and it costs the rebels their doctor, but achieves nothing except the end of one man's suffering.

So for me, the most resounding moment of heroism in Harry Potter is not when he goes off to let Voldemort kill him, thereby destroying the chunk of Plot which resides in Harry's very soul. Rather, Harry's one moment of redemption in my eyes was when he flew into the burning Room of Requirement to rescue Draco Malfoy. Here he risks not only his life but his entire Destiny in order to save his worst enemy.

Unfortunately, Harry's principles are not always so unwavering. He happily uses Unforgivable Curses at little or no provocation, whenever it becomes convenient to his Quest, and it is his devotion to the Quest we are expected to admire, not his loyalty to any actual people (which is, let's face it, negligible).

I don't mean to single Potter out here. I think there's a general tendency in modern fiction to praise those who put the "big picture" ahead of the troubles of individual people. It seems to be seen, nowadays, as worthier to be concerned with large scale issues like destroying the Dark Lord than with small scale issues, like how many lives you wreck along the way.

Were I in the mood to make a trite political point, I might be inclined to draw parallels between this modern brand of heroism, and the attitude of a number of modern governments to problems like - say - international terrorism. So long as you take down the Dark Lord it doesn't matter what methods you use to get to him.

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Wardog

at 10:38 on 2007-08-14Hmmm...interesting, very interesting. *strokes goatee* Actually, it occurs to me that Harry's Big Deal is that he supposedly understands LOVE unlike Lord V. And that his sacrifice is, you know, this amazing, jesus-like act of LOVE. But surely the point of love is that it's personal and small-scale. I mean, it's LOVE that inspires the Malfoys to say "fuck this war and everything else, we're saving our son." If I had a son and he was walking off to lay down his life before a nose-less super-villain (and by, super, in this context I mean inept) I'd probably be all "Son, son, run away to Australia, you can live with Hermione's parents, go, go now." I wouldn't be saying "Hey, kid, death is fun. You're being really brave." LOVE is another one of those weird double-thinks, it's the ultimate selfish emotion that, nevertheless, inspires selfless acts. Thus Lily Potter dying for her son. Not Lily Potter grinning happily that the son she *gave her life to protect* is about to *fling his own away*.

Similarly, you'd think LOVE would not gather around Harry

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Wardog

at 11:01 on 2007-08-14Also I have to wonder if the 7th book was trying to ship RAB/Kreacher, just because it occurs to me that drinking the Killing Juice himself was an insanely noble sacrifice, especially when Kreacher survived it and, in fact, had suffcieint dodgy plot-hole house elf magic to be able to get them both out of the cave again. Also to lay down your life for an attempt to kill your house elf strikes me as ... well ... is that LOVE do you think?

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Arthur B

at 12:28 on 2007-08-14I think the general rule with Harry Potter books is that "if the fans think they can discern a relationship between characters which is not specifically stated in the text to be a relationship, they are Wrong because they are trying to corrupt the Holy Writ of Rowling".

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Wardog

at 16:52 on 2007-08-14I don't know, I think there's definitely something going on between RAB and Kreacher... Greater love hath no man than he who is willing to lay down his life for house elf... Oh, sorry, we're talking about Rowling here so that should be LOVE.

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Jen Spencer

at 14:46 on 2007-08-15My current favourite source of heroism: David Sumner in Straw Dogs. He is willing to fight the pack of maniac locals to the death because he will not stand by and let them lynch a slightly retarded murderer, and he certainly will not let them violate the sanctity of his home (again) to do it. You go dude!

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Wardog

at 10:36 on 2007-08-16I haven't seen Straw Dogs, I'm afraid it's another one of those movies that would upset me. I gotta comfort zone and I'm sticking in it, dammit.

#Harry Potter #The Chronicles of Narnia #J.K. Rowling #Babylon Five #C.S. Lewis #Dan H. #Ferretbrain

[perfectackeracy]

“When the story stops sucking...”

Ok so you’ve probably noticed my lack of reviews and activity in general. Even the anime didn’t make me raise my voice more than usual lately. 

I’m gonna make it short: my lack of activity on meta and theories is mostly due to a lack of passion and interest regarding the manga events. It’s been since April that I haven’t written anything globally consistent, and it was mostly because the chapters were devoid of an interesting topic to elaborate upon. Everything I wanted to say was scattered in my asks and I had no motivation to sum everything up.

When I first started this blog, I mostly held theories about what was going outside the walls, what were the enemy’s true motivations and how the story could end. Even after the dull battle that was RtS, there was still something to elaborate upon: who was Zeke? What’s going to happen to Reiner and Bertolt from now on? What’s located inside the basement? What is the truth behind the world? Back in the day, I was more passionate on character analysis and what lies behind their motives.

The first major ragequit I’ve experienced was two years ago: two of my favorite characters died for some cheap, unnecessary drama (that wasn’t that unnecessary when you analyze Isayama’s words). At that time, when the basement’s secrets were revealed, I was more interested in how things can turn dark on Paradis than attachment to what’s left of the characters, since my favorites were on the other side of the ocean, dead or dead inside. Still, the prospect of a dark Eren following the wrong path because he can ws interesting enough to keep me interested.

Then we’ve got the Marley arc. An arc I was more than happy to follow, with an exclusive point of view from the fighters located on the other side, a team which has my favorite and a bunch of kids I came to appreciate. Naturally I would deliver as I’ve always delivered up until a certain point. You had Reiner dealing with the pain and the guilt accumulated through these years, the interactions between the group of warriors, an empire on decline, Zeke’s questionable motives, Eren’s presence that will ultimately cast doom, not only on Marley but also on the rest of the world, including Paradis. 

Then the SC came and things weren’t as interesting anymore…

It’s almost as if the SC’s reintroduction brought anything I didn’t want out of the series: we’ve got the same dull fights since RtS, the same plot-armored cast, the same sob comedy we had an arc ago and Zeke’s character who currently looks like an expy of Light Yagami and his 456138D chess consisting in anticipating everybody to accomplish his goals. The entirety of Vol. 26 was more a deception than a satisfactory volume.

We’ve transitioned from a geopolitical festival to a full-fledged battle with a twist at the end, as well as some flashbacks, and the whole thing was either dull or laughable. Let’s review this point by point to show you how disappointing this whole mess was.

The action sequence

To summarize the whole battle: Eren transforms into the Attack Titan, the Warhammer had him cornered, Mikasa saves him at the last minute, Jean and co. barge in and defeat the Marleyan troops, Warhammer has more resources but Eren can put two and two, Porco comes to Sister Tybur’s rescue but overestimated Paradis, Porco was saved by Pieck, Zeke comes in, Zeke has to act, Armin nukes the harbor, Porco gets distracted and fucks up, which leads to Zeke being captured and Pieck fucking up, as Pieck was about to be finished, Falco and Magath interfere, the kids hide Pieck, Porco fights against Eren but panics in front of the zeppelin, screw up and allowed Eren to use him as a nutcracker, Porco almost dies but is rescued by a suicidal Reiner, everybody boards up safely and fuck off from Liberio with Zeke, another titan power, and the last remaining cadets, one of them successfully killing a soldier who had death flags on her for a long time.

To be frank, I’m not sure how people can think it’s a good battle overall. On one hand, you have a bunch of soldiers in gear with titanium plot armor and on the other hand you have a team of warriors who need to be ridiculed through and through and pass for incompetents as Eren does his job without suffering any consequences during the battle. The most active, Pieck and Porco went from careful to suddenly disoriented, being put down by their enemies just like that, not making this fight even equal. It’s not even close to RtS’ sense of battle, where the SC was backed against the wall before returning the situation with crappy tactics. Here, we’re witnessing an emergency plan working rather well. Too well even. 6 deaths in total? Really? On the other hands, you’ve got Marley depleted from two more titan powers, Pieck’s panzer unit and a couple of soldiers.

Concerning titan fights, Porco and Lady Tybur held their own against Eren but were wrecked not so long after they gave their best. Porco in particular is a huge contradiction, who went from prideful (vs. Levi) to careful (to Pieck) to outright rushing everything (seeing the Colossus and seeing the blimp). It was a bit embarrassing on his behalf.

The battle also recycles some common elements that are quite tiresome to watch: Mikasa saving Eren when he’s getting backed in a corner, Armin’s basic plans -that nobody could ever guess-, always working while everybody acts like a clueless moron around him, Jean being contradictory… For an arc supposed to illustrate the divergence of the main trio, there wasn’t much to show except both Mikasa and Armin being disappointed in Eren’s actions.

Even the major deaths of this arc were neither shocking nor impactful. The most shocking deaths I can recall were Udo and Zofia’s because they were kids, but they weren’t painted as prominent characters in the cadet batch unlike Falco and Gabi. Next we had Willy Tybur, whose death was expected in the same chapter he died in, his sister, who had a fair chance to only serve as a placeholder to be eaten, and Sasha, who not only had red flags being painted all over her (killing the guards in front of Gabi, being the only one not wearing a breast plate), but was the subject of Isayama’s planned death (from Oita’s Q&A, March 2018). Sasha was already a non-character at this point, and him spending a whole funeral (when no other character got this privilege) was just plain obnoxious.

The characters

I’m still amazed -and not in a good way- by how bland the main staff became. Supposing it was remotely entertaining to make me root for them, my thoughts would’ve been something other than “Jesus fucking christ when will someone die already Gabi please shoot these fuckers”.

In simpler terms, Eren is by far the most entertaining character of the SC so far. While I understand the need to oppose Eren to his comrades in terms of ideology, his opponents are either uncaptivating or uninteresting to watch.

Armin is, of course and by far, the biggest offender. From the victim of Eren’s actions, he’s the one who opposes Eren’s individualistic views, but his character -or rather, his lack of- makes it hard to sympathize with. Simply speaking, a simpleton like him would’ve been better if he didn’t enjoy himself like an idiot after not only inheriting the CT, but also living at the price of Erwin. His unexplainable mastery of the CT at the same level than a natural like Bertolt, as well as a poor copypaste of the sad giant who never wanted this feels at the same time forced, redundant and bent over for the character’s convenience. The way a gary-stu would. To add more on the injury, Hange, the commander, passes as a complete buffoon in front of him, going as far as to praise his basic plans and compare him to Erwin. When you combine Isayama’s interviews and his position in the story, the way he comes off as a special snowflake feels unwanted. Even more when he got to live at the expense of two -potentially- more interesting and more popular characters.

In the end, we’ve got an amalgamate trying to narrate the story to Annie, who wasn’t seen for six years, but who was used as a confidence pillow. Considering Armin is a grown man who, in the end, chose to go with Eren and used gary stu nukes against Marley, am I supposed to sympathize with this? You know, it’s a good thing Armin tanked in popularity. His character was borderline insufferable in the former arc, and in this one, you just wish someone would mercy crunch him.

Fortunately Armin is by far the worst, but other members have their characters suffering post-timeskip. Special mentions to Hange and Levi. Hange either switched between the eccentric clown and the serious commander. While I’m ok with them being less competent than Erwin due to the pressure, they’re also a vet losing all their team members and yet displaying the personality they always did before timeskip. It’s no longer the squad leader specializing in research, but the commander, sometimes incapable to maintain a serious side, like when Yelena introduced the anti-Marley soldiers. While there’s a certain pressure coming from Zeke’s directives but also Eren’s decisions, their whole character is somewhat lackluster. Going from almost leaving the strategies to Armin to outright try and be friendly with Eren while he’s, once again, jailed, right after scolding him.

Moving on to Levi, while he held his promise for later I’m under the impression he became a meme without convictions more than anything. All he does in these chapters is threatening Zeke, which can be fun the first time but quickly becomes annoying, since we’re getting back in the old ways where Levi lacked development and was simply the clean freak, who also happened to be Paradis’ strongest soldier. He doesn’t have much usefulness in the story except being the sharp razor cutter of the group. Considering what Isayama said in the character directory it had to be expected, but it’s still annoying.

The character I’m feeling sad for so far are Historia and Reiner: Historia because she still doesn’t know what she really wants and bends again to someone else’s demands, even giving her body to fill the conditions of a potential savior, all at the expense of her freedom, pride and happiness. I’m surprised she agreed with Kiyomi’s conditions so quickly, however. Meanwhile Reiner was feeling suicidal up to the point of letting himself die. Had it not been for Gabi and Falco calling him, Porco would be dead. Still disappointed the volume didn’t end on his point of view. Besides, I was expecting him thinking about Bertolt during his coma, since Eren picking him up was similar to how Bertolt picked him up as they were kids. Yet another blueballing moment for Bertolt’s closure… Oh well.

Jean is more or less okay. His character is consistent, but he feels to much like an underdog in comparison of other characters who have been put in front. He’s still the same guy who acts tough but still has a moment of hesitation. I still don’t get why he’s used for convenient survivals, especially when he decided to not toss Gabi and Falco away from the blimp. Gabi, a trained soldier, killed Sasha, who was one of your besties for a long time? Ok let’s not throw them out and blame Eren on this whole fiasco!

I’ve said my mind about Floch, but him becoming a fanboy of Eren was unexpected and I’m curious to see what role he’s going to play in the future. Connie’s reactions to him teaming up with the man who was responsible for his village being devastated is too lackluster. Still, him describing Sasha’s loss as a part of him dying was touching.

Sasha was practically a non-character whose death would’ve been more impactful if it was set on for earlier. Isayama let her not only for the sidelines for way too long, but she ended up being the only “major” death on Paradis, with a couple of death flags on her. The result was not only predictable, but quite obnoxious with the over-extended funeral. Her character never got past the food jokes and Isayama is adding another layer of grief and mourning. Layer that could be shortened and used for something else. If there was another one I’d say ok, but this extra mourning is just really unnecessary. No character, not even Erwin, had this treatment before. Is it happening because Sasha doesn’t require much plot significance like Marco?

Gabi deserves my appreciation however. Her motivations to become a warrior were touching and understandable if you’re a member of a minority who strives to be accepted among other folks who sees you and your upbringing as inferior.

Zeke is a complete enigma. His actions are the ones impacting the plot the most and I really don’t know what to make of this. His movies are clear and at the same time they aren’t. Clear in the sense that he plays everybody like a fiddle to reach some goal. Unclear in the sense we don’t understand precisely what this goal is and what pushes Zeke to do this. Whether it’s for the common good or his own safety. The keikaku master exposition is becoming old if we keep exploring yet again what’s happening on Paradis on the third year. It’s cool Zeke is at the origin of both solutions and conflicts, but nothing is really explained.

The current plot

Or more accurately, monkey shenanigans 2.0. They’re not really the most compelling but they’re interesting enough to follow the series monthly. Despite that, we’re getting more questions than answers with all these chapters. If Zeke sides with neither camp, what is he fighting for exactly?

Since vol. 26 was mostly battles, not much questions have been answered to, and in the end, we’re spending more time with Paradis’ cast, getting more and more unlikeable with each chapter, falling into their own ways, rather than finishing with Marley, a cast we’re accustomed to since vol. 23. It would’ve been much better to end the battle of Liberio on Marley’s point of view first, then explain the flashbacks after. Engaging on an exposition dump was a clumsy move, and ending the battle to see a bunch of soldiers attacking another nation like terrorists acting like a bunch of clowns feels off compared to the settled tone.

Plus, so many scenes could’ve been shortened or skipped to insert other character moments instead. Sasha’s funeral comes to mind. You could’ve cut it half and have Historia thinking about Ymir when Kiyomi made her a proposition. The food jokes are outdated anyway and they make the story feel more embarrassing to read than comical. Same thing as Levi threatening to make a sopa de macaco. Still a tier better than food jokes, but still annoying.

The sudden transition to Paradis really makes me wonder, overall, why I should care about these fucks while the Marley arc started with another perspective? You just can’t let things unfinished and have an exposition dump in the meantime.

#snk spoilers #snk 107 #snk vol 23 #snk #attack on titan #snk meta #meta #on a positive note #pixis is the best character on paradis so far

[moonfox281]

I can't help it but I see Dick from your mobwife series as someone who can't spend like 200$ on something because it is too much and Jay, Trevor and Jeff have fun of him because he is literally husband of one of the richest crimelord and son of billionaire and if somebody dare him to spend a lot of money at once he invest it in orphan house

“So, this one is on sale.”

“If we buy another IKEA table, I’m burning that whole place down.”

One Saturday, one free peaceful Saturday morning after such a long week of working and being vigilantes, and Dick just have to settle on hunting for on sale furniture. It would have been fine if said on sale furniture wasn’t some cheap stuff that either took 5 hours to put together or wouldn’t last for more than a week, or both. Jason still briefly remembered the last time Dick was so angry at him he decided to throw a whole lamp at him, and that lamp just fell apart while halfway in the air.

“Besides, we don’t need another coffee table.” He said, nudging his foot into Dick’s lab.

“But it’s cheap.” Dick stayed stubborn and showed Jason his laptop screen.

Yep, there was no way in hell they were going to buy that table. “You know how ridiculous it is when you said that?”

“So, I saw Blue at Trader Joe today.”

Not this shit again.

“I thought I pay you better than that.”

“You do, it’s just old habit. The question is why Blue was there.” Trevor didn’t seem like he would drop the subject soon, Jason cursed Dick for charming his men this hard. They were Jason’s men, this whole gang was supposed to devour itself for the Red Hood, now Jason constantly felt like they were just an army of giant puppies that followed Dick’s every step.

“You tell me, I can’t control him.” Not in the way that he could control Jason. Fuck his life, one bat of those lashes and he would come kneeling, mob boss or not.

“You know how shaken the cashier was when he just stood there like a Hollywood star with a diamond ring on his hand that shone like a disco ball? I tagged along to make sure he wasn’t going to get robbed or something. Jesus, boss.”

Yes, letting his husband wandering around the not so friendly neighborhood looking like that and dressing like that, wasn’t always such a good idea. Jason did have a bad habit of painting Dick in fancy jewelry that looked so fucking nice on that silky golden tanned skin and made his gorgeous blue eyes popped like heaven.

“I’ll give him a word about that.” Jason decided, already knew he couldn’t convince Dick to stop going for grocery alone or even chose some other place without landing himself on the couch tonight.

“You boys are here to help, not to look like you’re about to kill someone. So quit it!” Blue hissed, making the whole team jumped.

Jeff tried his best to not look like he was touching his guns three times in every 10 seconds. The whole store looked like it was ripped out of some Zombieland’s scene, which meant it suck, and stunk so fucking bad one of his men sneezed the first second they stepped in here. Jeff wasn’t even sure if he should let Blue’s pretty slimy fingers touch any of these out-of-date looking stuff on the rack.

After 10 minutes, Blue decided he had taken it enough and tore apart the team’s formation, ordering them to get as many supplies as possible because today was such a lovely day to go donating foods to some homeless people out on the street. It had been long since Boss assigned this much of arm force for Blue’s protection team for just daily casual stuff like this. Stupid Trevor must have spilled with the man about the Trader Joe incident, Jeff had told him Boss was too scared of Blue he wouldn’t say anything to his husband at all. In return, to shut Trevor’s worry up, he assigned more men tagging after Blue for just a walk out of the house and now Jeff was taking the full hit of it.

It wasn’t like Jeff wasn’t anxious to carry Blue’s billionaire ass back to the penthouse in Diamond District or Boss’s fortress in Crime Alley, but Blue was stubborn and hard to handle, damn it Trevor.

“Pfft, the last time I saw a weirdo buying this much can food, he thought the apocalypse was getting close.”

And of course came with the shitty store, was a shitty cashier.

“But I guess with a face like that, people will take in even the stupidest thing you throw out, huh?” The guy huffed, eyes taking a quick swept at Blue that made Jeff itch to blow his brain out.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” A guy from the team hissed, despite Blue telling them to all get in line and pretend like they were just casual customers and didn’t know each other.

“Oi, what’s your problem, man?” The guy waved the scanner around. He looked like a junkie, with that beard and the freckles around his upper shoulder. Jeff hated this place.

“Just ignore him and do the rest of my stuff, please.” Blue sighed and tried to be polite.

“Okay okay. Jeez, you pretty people are demanding.”

Blue did his best to stay emotionless, glaring at the one that had barked out first in the corner of his eyes. Stupid Bob.

Everything would have turned out perfectly fine if that pig of a cashier didn’t spot out Blue’s giant ring when he handed over the cash.

“Fag huh, must have got some sweet sugar daddy.” He muttered, and Blue had already turned toward the door far enough to not hear anything, but others were still in line and every single one of them caught the words perfectly.

They lost their shit in a matter of seconds, pulling their guns out even before Jeff got the order out of his mouth. The cashier looked like he was about to faint when 7 pistols pointed at his face at the same time, lucky for them the whole place was so shitty looking they were the only customers. Speaking about that, the only reason they were here instead of some more decent, nice looking store was that because Blue felt pity for the place at the first time.  

“The…the fuck!” The fucker yelled, looking desperate when Bob went toward Blue, took the plastic bags for him and pulled him close to him, locking the front door of the store and flipping the “CLOSED” sign out. “You… you want money..? He..here, I can get it for you.”

Blue was escorted back to Jeff and immediately he hovered over the smaller man, shielding him close with his massive body mass. Blue pinched the bridge of his nose, groaned and turned his head to murmur near Jeff’s neck. “What did I told you guys?”

“Sorry, but some people just don’t deserve your suffering like this.”

“This is so unsightly!” Blue hissed back when the cashier dumped all the cash out from the drawer without them demanding for any. “Ugh, just put that back please, we’re not here to rob anything.”

“Blue…” One of his guys tried.

“Don’t Blue me!” Blue glared and grunted in that dictatorial voice he rarely used. “I don’t know what the heck my husband had told you, but I don’t like this ridiculous protective shit you’re all pulling.”

He stopped to take a breath, pulling out his phone and yep, Boss was so dead. Blue spent a good five minutes yelling at the speaker in French and judging by the gap between each sentence, Jeff could read Boss didn’t get much speaking in this.

“We’re buying this place.” He stated after closing the phone, eyes staring straight at the cashier.

“Wait, what? This whole place?” The fucker looked disbelieved.

“Yes, this whole place.” Blue repeated nonchalantly. “From now, I want you to invite every homeless person in here and charge free for every item they pick, understand?”

“What the…” The idiot yelped. “Who do you think you are to−”

Jeff fired the gun into the gum rack and the next thing they know, that fat fucker had already run out of the store yelling at the old man pushing the cart across the street.

#jaydick #My writing #mob wife au #writing prompt #ask box

[incorrect-ego-quotes]

I wonder how Anti would react to Kinkiplier? Would he be just as annoyed as Dark?

okay, so the mission seemed easy enough. sneak into the other egos offices, steal a laptop, and rush back to their own meeting room so they can go through it. kink nodded as wilford and dark brought him up the speed. "you do realize we're only asked you because you're quite literally the only ego free right now, right?" dark asked.kink nodded and made a noise of approval. his gag still in place. "and you do realize if you mess this all up they'll either kill you or hold you captive, right?" wilford added, "you don't wanna end up like mark bop, poor guy was capture for a week and now all he speaks in is gibberish and babbling."kink tilted his head in a sign of confusion, furrowing his eyebrows. dark rolling his eyes before shooing him out the getaway van, "wait!"kink turned back around, dark cringing as he unbuckled the gag from kink's mouth and removed his blindfold. "please, for the love of evil, throw this shit away." he pulls up the wet gag."no can do, darkidoo--""hey! that's my nickname for dark!" wilford yells. turning around towards the commotion."i mean, as long as i'm screaming for dark under some covers i'll take any name he likes," kink purred. dark giving a...less than amused face and flipping him off before closing the van door. "he...is gross." dark shuddered, climbing into the front seat of the van. "are you sure he's not just misunderstood? perhaps he has different tastes but he does hold consent and respect above all things. perhaps he has weird kinks but he makes sure everyone and everybody is safe, sane, and comfortable. perhaps its us who just don't understand the taboo behind different lusts just because its different to our own, we're the ignorant ones here.""...jesus, wil, where did that come from?""hmm? oh, sorry, blacked out there for a second," wilford sits up, "anyways yeah kink's fuckin' weird." ***kink successfully snuck past their so called security guard -- which was really just some undead looking boy with a baseball bat. poor guy was muttering about a 'stupid job' and 'why can't chase be security man today?'he barrel rolled out the hallway and into the nearest open office. thankful a guy like him is so flexible (in more ways than one). nearly missing a pair walking by. "dude, the avengers can beat any type of dorky magic bullshit any fuckin' day." one dressed in a red superhero suit spoke up. walking beside another copy of himself wearing a tuxedo and cat mask. the two arguing, making kink laugh. what nerds. finally he stood up, closing the office door and getting to work at finding a laptop. not taking in his surroundings until, well, it was too late. looking up from his search at the desk. the walls were a shade of black, dark -- almost sickly green carpeting under him. the walls adorned with targets, all littered with /knives/ instead of darts. the bookshelf filled with books of rituals of...well, who know what fucking demonic powers. the desk itself was littered with instructions on different methods to kill. and a large, stainless, steel knife on the edge of the desk. "what the hell kind of office is this?" kink asked. his blood running cold as he heard the doorknob jiggle. ducking under the desk and hiding out as he heard the owner of the office enter. he bet it was some emo kid, some dark and edgy guy who probably still listened to Panic! At The Disco or Green Day. he wasn't expecting such a cute and mysterious boy sitting down in the office chair. scrolling through his phone, his dark eyes and glitching static. smiling as he felt the need to woo him off his feet arise. kink bet this cutie was into some weird shit and he was all for it. "hello, baby boy." kink said as he moved himself from under the desk. anti jumping back and screeching, almost hissing. "who the hell -- wait," anti stopped, "wilford? did you shave the mustache?""what? no i'm not--""bim?""no, i'm not--"host? did you get some shady plastic surgery to give ya eyes?""i'm not!! i'm a new egos!!"anti sat up, intrigued. his need to kill and stuff this new ego's dead body down a trash can subsiding, "new ego? what the hell is that mark doing making new egos," he sighed. "what's your name?""kinkiplier.""...kinkiplier...?"the sudden outburst of laughing made kink frown, it...it was a good name!! it /fit/ him like a glove!! oh, but he knew how to deal with people like this. dark and mean, but once you got under their skin..."laugh now, but soon i'l have you squirming and screaming, baby boy." kink smiled as he inched closer to anti. anti's laugh dying on his lips."erm, what the hell are you on about?""can't you see? i know how bad boys like you like to play." kink laughed low in his throat. inching anti back into his chair. kink taking a seat right on anti's lap. the position awkward, but suitable for his plans."bad boy? i'm...i'm just -- i mean!" kink laughed again, catching anti's chin in his fingers gently. making him look into his eyes, half lidded and full of lust. "tell me, baby boy, what's your fantasy? anything you dream of when alone, and don't be shy," he leans in to peck anti's cold lips, "i'm no prude like the others. i can make all those fantasies come true."anti flustered as he experimentally kissed kink back. heart thumping and breathing slow and deep. he's never had this attention before. most run away and cower in fear of him, this guy was...different. in a good way. "i...like this one thing...""hmm?" kink smiled as he kisses anti's cheek, "what is it, baby boy? give me 30 minutes and i can make those little dreams come true..."***"WHERE IS HE?!" dark finally cracked. throwing the soda he had been drinking out the window in rage. the poor woman who was drenched in it looked around confused at whoever dirtied her. "probably dead. or alive but captured. or playing dead." wilford said through bites of his burger. the kinky ego gone for so long they had time to drive off and get a late lunch. getting nothing for kinkiplier though, he didn't pitch in at all. "or...he...wouldn't use other methods of getting a laptop from them would he...?"the two stared at each other. wilford with a few fries hanging out his closed mouth and dark's realization. "oh no." the two stared back at the building as kink rushed out. climbing into the van with the promised laptop. "DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE." he yelled as wilford sped away, robbie the zombie trying to chase after the two before throwing a tantrum and rushing back inside the building. "don't ever say i--wait you guys got lunch?" kink stopped as he noticed the burger wrapper, "without me?!""hey, you didn't pitch in jack shit for this Burger King, so suffer." wilford munched away, "how did you get it?""i used some good old fashioned methods to get it. nothing too bad though," he laughed as the two others groaned. grabbing his gag again, "hey. question -- who was the cute demon dude with the wound in his neck?"the van screeched to a halt. the two head egos looking back at kink, who had his gag back in, smiling away. "you went after anti?!"***"DOCTOR!" robbie the zombie rushed back in, "they got away!! and i don't want to be security anymore, its hard!!""damnit!" schneeplestein cursed, throwing his pen and clipboard down in anger. "what did they take?! who did they take?! is everyone here?!""doc," chase rushed in, "found everyone but..." he shook his head, "i need help with anti."schneeplestein grabbed his first aid kit from his own office and ran over to anti's office. expecting the worse scenario -- anti decapitated, anti shot, anti (ironically) stabbed. he wasn't expecting to see anti disheveled and clothed. tied up some weird kinky bdsm way, thick rope over his chest and legs, blindfold in place and a makeshift gag in his mouth. "what the?" the doctor muttered as he ripped the gag and blindfold away from anti. anti thrashing about. "FINALLY," he gasped, "what took ya so long, kink? i thought you said you're gonna get the--""kink?""...schneep? oh--" he tried to get out of his binds, blushing madly as he trashed about, "g-get me out of here!! i...i was tied up by some mad man!! i had no idea!!""anti, is that a hickey on your neck?" "shut UP chase!! it was...a mad man who marks his victims with...uh," schneeplestein laughed as he cut through the rope. anti sitting up, crossing his arms. grumpy and used. he knew kink was bullshitting him -- they always did. and now kinkiplier was just added to the list of 'People I'm Going To Kill Without Mercy' -- right under dark and right before the cast of Riverdale (hey, he hated the show a lot. give him a break.) "...hey," anti spoke up from the teasing and mocking laughter, "did that fucker take my laptop?"the laughter quickly died as they all looked at anti. "...you /idiot!/"***kink sat down with the host in the shared break room, tired from his so called mission that day. removing his gag to sip at the hot chocolate he'd made himself. "the host inquires about the last mission kink had with the other egos today.""hmm? oh yeah, /that/." he laughs as he takes another sip, "i walked right in and put the moves on the dark emo one.""anti? the ego with the wound in his neck?""yeah yeah!! him," he laughs more, "i just wooed him, as i do, and he told me some private shit he likes. tied him up, promised i'd come back with something to gag him with. i took his laptop and booked it out of there, i was like james bond." he hums the theme song as host laughs quietly. "the host must ask what anti is into. he's a peculiar ego who nobody knows much about.""aw, just normal stuff. he really likes being told he's loved and appreciated. poor guy's starving for positive attention.""the host feels displeased with this realization. did kinkiplier really play with anti's emotions?""host, babe, its a dog eat dog world. gotta take advantage of what you can to move forward," kink chuckles darkly, "you should know that. right, author? stealing people out of their lives to move forward in what was your career. killing, maiming, and silencing anyone who got in your way. don't think just because i act the way i do doesnt mean i don't know shit about you and everyone else here, author.""...the host is uncomfortable and wishes to leave. a panic attack rising in his chest, ready to burst out the longer he stays.""aw, i'm just messing with ya, hostie!!" kink laughs and presses a kiss to the host's cheek, the smell of hot chocolate rich in the host's nose, "im gonna go see google, see ya around!"the host sits and starts to cry bloodied tears. holding his cup of coffee close. shaking with fright. no...no, he...he was promised those secrets were buried. he was promised they would never be brought up again. the host cries harder as the gravity of what just happened hits him. perhaps kinkiplier isn't what he seems.