An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
March 7th, the girl with the ridiculous name that she’d met briefly on Penacony, poked her head out of the door. She took in the scene in the corridor, containing not one, but two intergalactically wanted criminals. She noticed which door Firefly was standing in front of when she yelled. She put three and three together.
“Is anyone on this damn train not screwing a Stellaron Hunter!?” March yelled out in exasperation.
My first foray into Star Rail fic, on the trials and tribulations of not one, not two, but three Stellaron Hunters all simultaneously trying to sneak onboard the Astral Express for some quality date time.
It was dark, stupidly late at night, and the door to your home was in sight. It was so close you could’ve sprinted there in under thirty seconds.
Which was exactly what you were doing.
Panting and gasping for air, you were running like your life depended on it. And just a little ways behind you was the reason for it: a dog.
No, not a dog. Something bigger, more terrifying. You’d only glimpsed it as you were passing by, having paused by the edge of an alley when something had caught your eye. There, on the ground, was a necklace of some kind. An amber teardrop hung from the delicate chain, the clasp appearing broken.
Your plan had been to grab it, go home, sleep for the night, then take it to a police department in the morning as a lost item — or hang onto it and post about it around the neighborhood and online. Either would work.
But as you’d slipped the necklace into your pocket for safekeeping, a deep, guttural growl had frozen your blood in your veins.
Deeper down in the alley was the creature. It’d stepped slowly into the light of the overhanging streetlamps, revealing pitch black fur, curving claws, and spikes jutting out from its back. It was large, larger even than wolves (which you happened to know were basically the size of tigers), large enough that it’d looked down on you as it approached. Huge horns grew from the back of its head, around its tall ears, and arced upwards in front of it.
Hellfire burned in its eyes, the pupils pinpoint dots — until it focused on you. Then those pupils expanded into sharp diamonds, it flattered its pointed ears back against its head, and it gave a loud, booming snarl unlike anything you’d ever heard.
You’d broken into a run before you could think about it, eyes fixed on your front door as if it could possibly save you from this thing.
You didn’t even make it up the slight incline to your door before a sudden impact to your back flattened you down on your front. Pain exploded from everywhere in you, a yelp escaping you, and when you tried to push yourself back up you recognized a weight pinning you down.
A low growl from above you stopped you from retaliating, and you could just see the muzzle of the beast slowly lowering towards you from over your shoulder. Drool dripped onto the ground beside you, and to your disbelief you saw steam rising from it. Suddenly you couldn’t breathe at all, terror seizing your lungs despite the protesting hammers of your heart, desperate for oxygen.
You got a glimpse of a mouthful of canine fangs before it suddenly retreated, followed swiftly by the snout bumping against you. It poked and prodded along your side and back, sniffing, and out of some mixture of morbid curiosity and confusion, you chanced a glance back.
It hadn’t lifted its paw yet, but it was clearly looking for something, and when it jammed its nose into your pocket, it seemed to have found it. Its head snapped up, meeting your gaze, and you froze again, sucking in a strangled gasp and holding it out of absolute terror.
Then it stepped off you and reared up on its hind legs — and shrank. The fur receded, little by little, and its size reduced and face squashed in close. When it was done, you were suddenly looking at a — a man, looking more or less human.
He had dark brown skin and wild black hair, glowing yellow marks creating jagged patterns along his skin. The beast’s horns and tall, pointed ears remained, and when he moved his hands you saw each digit was claw-tipped, but otherwise he just looked like a naked man.
He crouched down, grabbed your hip, angled your body, and dove his hand into your pocket. You couldn’t help a squeal at the ticklish sensation of fingers against your skin, squirming, but he paid you no mind as he fished around. Then, after a second, he withdrew his hand — and the necklace you’d picked up.
He frowned at it when he held it up and noticed the clasp was snapped, then sent you a killing look. Holding the jewelry out, he snapped accusingly, “Why did you break it? How did you break it?”
You gawked, at a loss. First this beast was a man, now he spoke?
“I-I-I — I didn’t?” you squeaked, finally regaining some control of your breathing now that you weren’t being chased.
He narrowed his fiery eyes at you, and now that you could look, you saw what appeared to be actual flames in his eyes. His sclera were red and slightly glowing, and his irises were flickering like red flames.
He seemed to believe you, though, and he drew the necklace back over to him to frown at it. He turned the broken halves of the clasp over in his fingers, examining them in the low light, and in the process gave you a moment to really look at him.
He was a lithe sort, and in the low light it was hard to make out details about him other than that. If not for the glowing gold bands around his limbs and across his torso you wouldn’t have been able to really tell what kind of position he was in, crouched as he was. His wild, lengthy hair tangled around his face and down his back, and from his profile you could see he was actually fairly handsome.
As he looked at the necklace he also canted his head this way and that, and at one point he tried to reclasp the broken chain with his tongue pinched between his also-very-sharp teeth.
He huffed when it didn’t work, then turned to you again, his sudden attention making you jump. He held out the necklace to you, demanding, “Fix it.”
You took it by reflex, then shook your head, confused and not a little off-balance. “F-fix it?” you echoed, blinking down at it. Looking up at him again (it was getting strangely easier to meet his gaze every time, you noted…) you replied, too confused to think up a lie, “I can’t.”
His lip curled at that, revealing his sharp, canine teeth. “You can’t,” he repeated — not a question, but more of a threat.
You shrank back, withdrawing from him, unable to forget how terrifying the last few moments had been. “I-I really can’t,” you squeaked. “P-please don’t—”
“Why not?” he barked, leaning towards you.
You hadn’t realized before, given you’d been on the ground anyway, but now that he was leaning over you it was obvious that he was still very big. Not nearly as large as the canine version of him had been, sure, but tall enough that he probably still towered over you while standing.
Your heart picked up its pace again as you leaned back further from him, stuttering, “I-I-I’m n-not a j-jeweler.”
“A jeweler,” he echoed again, thoughtfully.
“Y-yes. I’m not, I mean. A j…a jeweler…”
“Hn,” he grunted. “Could a jeweler fix it?”
“W-well…yes?” you offered.
“Where can I find one?”
Your mind blanked, slowly realizing that fixing this necklace seemed to be a priority to this creature. “Um…s-somewhere, I’m sure,” you offered.
“Where, exactly?” he pressed.
“Ah…” You considered that for a second, then fished out your phone, opening your map app. After some searching, you located one about twelve miles away. Not too bad, considering how rare they probably were. You rattled off the address to the man, then peeked up to find him gawking at you, his head tilted in confusion.
You bit your lips, awkwardness descending. He didn’t know how to navigate the streets, apparently. And he probably didn’t have a phone. Point of fact, he had nothing, you noticed belatedly, your gaze immediately slipping down to his crotch to confirm whether or not he was naked.
Yep, you noted, looking away, your face burning. He was very, very naked.
After another second he rose to his feet, unfortunately putting his nakedness much, much closer to your line of sight, and demanded, “You will take me there.”
“W-what?” you snapped, looking up — getting an eyeful of his equipment in the process — and forcing your gaze up to his face.
“You will take me,” he decided, reaching down and snagging your arm. He pulled you up to your feet like it was nothing despite you protesting and pulling away from him the entire time.
“I-I’m not going to just — wait, wait!” you demanded, wrenching your arm from his grasp. Pained lashed you as you did so and you sucked in a wincing breath, immediately looking down at your arm. Cuts had been slashed into your sleeve and blood was oozing from underneath, his claws having torn into your skin.
He made a chuffing sound, catching your wrist to lift up your arm and look at the wounds himself.
Yanking your hand back — apparently you hadn’t learned your lesson the first time — you explained, “Look, I get that this necklace is important to you and you need to get it fixed, but this time of night there won’t be anyone awake to help you. It’ll have to wait until morning.”
He glanced at you as you spoke, then gave a long, suffering grown, dropping his head back. And, yep, you saw, he was indeed very tall. Your head barely reached his pecs.
Maybe it was the way he was acting like a teenager that was just asked to take out the trash, but his attitude actually came off as endearing.
“Sorry?” you offered with a strained, wary kind of smile.
He glanced at you again, then down the street, visibly antsy despite the fact that he wasn’t moving. It felt like his tail was wagging, but when you glanced down, you saw that he didn’t have a tail — in this form.
“Fiiiiiine,” he huffed at last, facing you again. “Then I will stay with you until morning. Then you will take me to the jeweler.”
You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “Wait, I didn’t agree to this. I never said—”
He leaned over you again and you shrank by reflex, his presence suddenly surrounding and terrifying you. He felt even bigger than his already massive form, and as his eyes narrowed on you, you realized you’d been way too lax. This guy had an even larger canine form capable of snapping off and swallowing your head whole if he were so inclined.
You needed to keep that in mind.
“I will stay with you until morning,” he repeated. It wasn’t a question or even an offer. You couldn’t even call it a command. It was more like he was saying that this is the way things were, end of story.
“S-sure,” you squeaked. It wasn’t like you really had a choice in the matter.
He eased up at once, taking the necklace from your hand and looking down at it again. “Now,” he rumbled more gently, “we will go to your home.”
The very idea of having this creature in your home was terrifying by itself, especially given you knew you were going to be alone tonight. But when the giant horned fiery wolf man gave you an order, it wasn’t wise to fight him on it, you decided.
You briefly considered going someplace else, but you figured a wolf-creature-thing would be able to smell if the place you took him was yours or not and you didn’t want to test his patience. So, resigning yourself to your future, you trudged the rest of the way to your home and showed him inside. You were just glad no one else noticed you on the street.
This would be incredibly hard to explain.
You said nothing as you showed him inside and gestured for him to take a seat on your sofa, and in the brighter light of the interior you could see his details better. For one thing, his feet were more paw-shaped than you’d noticed; that must be part of the reason he was so tall. He was literally walking on his toes.
His skin was a rich chocolate shade, though his face didn’t expressly match the African features the skin tone implied — which, you supposed, made sense. You doubted he was human, so why would he look like your preconceived ideas about humanity?
Having a fully grown man sitting nude on your couch didn’t sit well with you, though; even if you could ignore his nudity, the idea of an unknown male’s junk just sitting on your cushions grossed you out. So, telling him to wait a second before he could sit down, you rushed to find something for him to wear.
Luckily you had bought some oversized gym shorts in the past and had kept them all this time, so you dug up a pair of red ones and returned with them.
“Here,” you said, tossing it at him, “wear this.”
He tilted his head at the article, turning it over in his hands and looking through the leg holes. “Why?” he asked, sounding genuinely baffled.
Because I don’t want your naked cock and balls on my nice furniture, you thought bitterly. “Because this is my house and I make the rules,” you told him.
He scowled but did as bade — once he figured out the right way to put them on, thanks largely to your intervention. And he looked uncomfortable as he wriggled in them, shifting his weight, lifting and lowering his legs. He glowered at the loose fabric like it was strangling him.
“I don’t like it,” he complained.
“Tough titties,” you retorted, then slapped a hand over your mouth in horror. Did you really just smack-talk a demon dog?!
He sent a sharp look your way, then set the necklace down and strode towards you. With a whimper you flattened yourself against the wall, and you flinched away when he reached for you, squeezing your eyes shut.
A harsh tug on your shirt and the sound of tearing fabric followed; you yelped, smacking him out of reflex and covering your suddenly bare chest.
He snarled at you for that, crowding you further into the wall, lifting your injured arm and pinning it to the wall by the wrist. For a second your heart stopped, expecting something wildly unpleasant to follow, and the way he lowered his head and opened his mouth didn’t dissuade such thinking.
Lick.
A slimy, incredibly hot swath ran up your inner arm, and sheer bafflement had you snapping your gaze to the source.
Lick. Lick. Pause. Lick.
He was licking your wounds, lapping up the smeared blood like it was a treat. When he’d sufficiently cleaned your inner arm, he angled your arm the other way to clean the outer cuts, too.
You could only stare — and blush, because while this was simply awkward at first, now it was getting kind of…erotic.
A tall, literally and figuratively hot male was licking you. How else were you supposed to take it?
He was all business, though, and eventually stopped and examined his work, moving your arm this way and that. The pain had ebbed, and when you could finally tear your gaze off him to check your wounds, you found them gone.
Not even a scar remained.
“Wh-wha-wha-wha—” you stuttered, at a loss. “How did you…?”
He gave you another sharp look, as if chiding you for being stupid, then retreated to the couch. He flopped back on it diagonally, one heel propped on the arm, and you couldn’t help staring as he spread and wriggled his beastly toes. They weren’t exactly canine paws, but rather a cross between human and canine, yet you could still see little pads on the underside.
“You’re staring.”
His voice suddenly piercing into your awareness made you jump, and — realizing you were still topless — you turned your back on him and hurried back to your room for a change of clothes.
A part of you didn’t want to go back in your living room, lest your temporary housemate do more weird things, but another part of you couldn’t resist the pull to see him again. He was just so weird, and the more you thought of it, replaying your interactions so far, the more you realized he’d never intentionally hurt you.
He’d clearly been after the necklace when you found it first, and the most aggressive thing he’d down so far was to stop you from running away any farther. He hadn’t hurt you once you were down, though he clearly could’ve, and your cuts had been your own fault — which he’d also healed for you without prompt.
Out of nowhere the walls were suddenly vibrating with heavy bass music, blaring out from the living room. You rushed out to find the man was on his feet, gesturing wildly at the stereo he’d inadvertently turned on, looking for what he could possibly poke to make it stop.
You hurried over and twisted the knob to turn the music down, then hit the power button.
He’d moved aside when you came over, and now he stared down at you, his ears straight up with interest. Before you could say anything, he demanded, “What was that spell?”
“Spell?” you echoed.
“The chanting that came from the box,” he clarified.
Oh, lord. “It wasn’t a spell, just music,” you explained.
He canted his head at you, confused. “Chanting is music,” he said.
“Chanting is music,” you agreed, “but not all music is chanting.”
“But they were chanting,” he pointed out. “I’m sinking aside, and the mast and lines are broken down tonight,” he repeated.
The lyrics to Battleship sounded weird in his much deeper voice, but you were impressed by how he’d memorized them so easily.
Which was how you ended up turning the stereo back on and having a spontaneous party with a literal demon in your living room. After some initial confusion he got into it, and when you started dancing to the music he joined you. He even seemed to be enjoying it, following your motions to learn how dancing worked. It was stupidly delightful, punctuated with laughter from both of you.
Eventually, though, you had to turn off the music and rest. You got some drinks for the both of you and plopped down on the couch, and he joined you, letting his head fall back over the back of the couch, panting for breath with a grin on his face.
Once you’d soothed your parched throat with several draws of your chosen beverage, you twisted to face him. Curiosity was plaguing you; you had to know more about him.
“Who are you?” you finally asked, your voice still heavy with exhaustion.
He glanced at you, answering roughly, “Ikselei.”
“Ikselei?” you echoed. “That’s a bizarre name.”
“Is it?”
Shrugging, you offered him your own name, and he gave you a puzzled look.
“And you say my name is odd?” he demanded, smirking at you as if to say you were the weird one.
You flushed, disliking his assessment. “What are you, anyway?” you asked, folding your arms. “The only fitting thing I can think of is werewolf.”
He chuffed, dismissing, “Those beasts? You offend me, human.”
“Well, what else can transform between a wolf and a human?”
“I am neither of those things, either.”
“Clearly. Look, what do you call yourself?”
“Ikselei,” he returned, grinning.
You huffed. “Are you always so difficult?” you complained.
“Difficult? We are playing,” he teased, suddenly pivoting to lean over you.
You shrank back; he followed. “W-well you’re not answering my question.”
“I did. I am Ikselei,” he told you, still looking incredibly amused.
“Is that your name, or your species?”
“Both.”
“Both?”
“My people are Ikselei. I am of my people. I am Ikselei.”
“Oh.” You absorbed that, then frowned. “But you recognized my name and species as separate things,” you pointed out. “You even called me ‘human’.”
“This is true.”
“So what’s your name, then?”
“Ikselei,” he repeated. “Until I earn another.”
Ohh. It was starting to make sense, now. “So your name is Ikselei until such time as you earn your name,” you worked out.
“Yes.”
“And how do you do that?”
“Working. Completing tasks. Battle. Glory,” he answered. Then, leaning to the side, he snagged the necklace from the table, holding it up. He eyed it like it was precious, and you realized then that it probably was — to him, at least.
“We work until we do something that stands out enough to be worthy of a name,” he went on.
“What kinds of names do you get, then?” you asked, curious.
“They would be in our tongue, not yours,” he explained.
You perked up. “Wait. Does that mean ‘Ikselei’ is in your tongue?”
“Yes.”
“What does it mean, then?”
“Hellhound.”
You gawked all over again, your eyes snapping up to his horns and back. It made sense, now! The wolf form, the spikes on his back, the fiery eyes, the horns — he wasn’t just a dog, he was a dog of Hell!
Then, recoiling, you realized all at once what was in your house. A literal creature of Hell, and who knew what kinds of atrocities he was on Earth to commit. Battle and glory had been on his list of tasks from before, after all.
When he noticed your reaction he lowered the necklace and leaned down towards you, visibly sniffing. “You smell of fear again,” he noted. “Why now? You were fine before.”
“Th-that was before I knew y-you were from…from Hell,” you whispered.
He canted his head. “So?”
“So?” you echoed, too baffled to hide your stun. “So that means — that means you’re a demon!”
“And?”
“And?” you blurted, growing frustrated. “Demons a-are evil creatures that come here to kill and maim and — everything else terrible!”
He chuffed, leaning back into the cushions and smirking at you. “Humans think they know everything when they know nothing.”
You gawked at him. “Did you just Dunning-Kruger me?” you demanded, aghast.
“I don’t know those people.”
You threw up your hands, snapping, “Are you calling me stupid?”
“You are stupid.”
“I am not!”
“You know nothing of my home,” he pointed out, “but you pretend to know everything. That is stupid.”
You couldn’t argue that, biting your lip on a retort. You were silent for a long moment, then demanded, “Okay, then. What’s Hell like?”
He shrugged. “It is my home.”
“Uh-huh. What else? Is there…fire and brimstone, demons, so on and so forth?”
“It is very hot,” he agreed, nodding. “Much more so than here.”
“You have flames in your eyes.”
“Many of Hell’s peoples do.”
“So there’s others?”
“Hundreds of thousands of peoples,” he agreed.
You stared. “Like what?”
He chuffed again. “Too many to name.”
“You can’t name them all?”
“I do not even know them all.”
You narrowed your gaze at him. “How could you not know all the peoples of your own world?”
He gave you a look, arching his brow. “Do you know all of yours?”
“Touché.”
Silence stretched out between you, then, as Ikselei relaxed into the cushions, and you recalled how you’d gotten on this subject to begin with.
“So?” you prompted, and he cracked open an eye to regard you. “What are your names like when you earn them?”
He grunted, offering, “To translate… Seven-boulders… Iron-side… Star-drinker. Others like that.”
That actually sounded really cool. “What do they sound like in your tongue?” you asked.
He gave a hum. “Krelnecht, Neishuren, Askiavar.”
You leaned your elbow onto the back of the sofa. “That’s pretty cool. I concede, your names are better.”
He chuckled.
Lethargy was getting to you, though, so you pushed yourself up and stretched. You grunted as your back cracked, then told him, “I’m going to sleep. In the morning we’ll get your necklace fixed.”
He looked pleased by that, twisting on the sofa to stretch out across it.
You paused a second, then asked, “Can you…is there a way to make you look totally human? No animal features and no horns?”
He chuffed as if the question offended him. “If I must,” he said with a withering tone.
You chuckled. He really was adorable in certain ways. “See you in the morning,” you said with a wave, heading back to your room. He didn’t return the wave.
At first you hadn’t been sure you could sleep with a literal demon in your house, but the last hour or so had calmed you down considerably. Ikselei didn’t seem like a demon so much as a guy who had some weird physical features, that was all.
Your eyes closed easily once you got under your covers, and before you knew it you had drifted off to sleep.
—
Getting Ikselei ready to go out in the daytime world was a struggle, you found. It didn’t help that you’d found him sleeping on the floor in his wolf form when you exited your room and had shrieked bloody murder, causing him to wake up in a defensive frenzy; as you’d recovered from your shock, he’d spun in violent circles, snarling viciously, and knocked over several breakable objects.
Once he’d shapeshifted back to his hybrid form, he’d explained that taking on a human form took energy and, knowing he’d have to fully transform himself in the morning, he’d opted to rest in his canine form to replenish his energy. Unfortunately, once he managed the transformation — and after eating a ridiculous amount of your kitchen stores — you had to go shopping.
He wouldn’t let the necklace out of his sight (or you, when you were carrying it), so that meant he was coming with you. And given most places had a “no shirt, no shoes, no service” rule, that meant he also needed more clothes, so your first stop was someplace where you could get him a shirt and a pair of flipflops — and sunglasses, just in case his power started to slip free.
He hated the shoes more than anything, and even your platitudes and assurance that flipflops were the least offensive shoes available didn’t help much. The way he walked with shoes on was hilarious, his stride both wide and high, and he scowled at the flop-flop of his own steps. He snarled at the shoes more than a few times during the trip, which, also unfortunately, had to be done on foot because he refused to get into a car.
It took ages before you finally made it to your destination, and by then Ikselei wasn’t the only one feeling irritated and murderous.
Luckily, repairing a broken clasp was easy. The jeweler looked at it, assessed it, and concluded it would take mere minutes and gave you a price. Though it felt stupid that you had to pay for this when you wouldn’t even be receiving anything for it, you still did so, expecting Ikselei wouldn’t be so patient with you if you kept refusing him.
Who knows what he’d do to you and the jeweler if you backed out now. He’d been nice and even accommodating thus far, but you hadn’t forgotten that he had, essentially a seven-foot-tall wolf form and could outrun most vehicles.
Once the task was done, paid for, and the necklace was returned to Ikselei, the two of you headed outside. There, he held up the necklace to the light, smiling at it in a way that suggested he was legitimately pleased.
You were glad he’d succeeded in his task. “So,” you prompted, drawing his attention, “just what is the point of that necklace, anyway? What’s the significance?”
He just smirked at you. Guess he wouldn’t say, you figured.
So you changed your question. “Now that you have it fixed and everything,” you asked, “does this mean you get your name, or…?”
“This, alone, isn’t enough,” he answered, looking down at you. He pulled his glasses off, carelessly dropping them aside, and gave you a wicked smile. “I have much more left to do.”
You felt a little creeped out, pairing that look with those words. Swallowing, you checked, “Here? On Earth, still?”
He shook his head. “We don’t travel that far for glory. I’m only here because I was tracking this,” he explained, turning the pendant over in his hands. “I’ll be returning soon.”
You weren’t sure if you felt a thrill at the prospect of him leaving, or a pulse of sorrow. “Soon…?” you echoed.
He nodded. “Conditions must be met. Traveling between worlds is not so easy,” he said with a patronizing tone, as if he were educating a child.
You rolled your eyes, though you supposed, in this case, the treatment wasn’t inaccurate. You were new to the idea of dimension-hopping, after all.
Then he said, “But your role in this is done. Thank you…for your aid.”
Your chest squeezed. Was he saying goodbye…? “Um…you’re welcome,” you replied, silently adding, Not that I ever had much of a choice, you know.
He grinned, then suddenly rushed into you, flattening you back against the wall behind you. Your heart leapt at his sudden aggression, wondering if “farewell” meant “and now you die” for hellhounds, but before you could get out more than a gasp, his tongue filled your mouth.
A bizarre, inhumane squeal escaped you from the sheer surprise of it. Then, as his mouth worked, his tongue stroking yours, your eyes started to roll back, pleasure surging through you. His hand cradled your head as you angled your kiss, softening against him.
This was weird and probably blasphemous, but his kiss — hot and wet and wild as it was — ignited something in you that you couldn’t suppress. You moaned, your hands gripping him by the shirt and pulling him harder against you.
To say his kiss was ravenous would be putting it mildly. He absolutely devoured you with deep, rough swipes of his tongue and sucking, nipping pulls of your lips. You couldn’t get over how ridiculously hot his kiss was, but as the surprise of it faded, you recognized how delicious he tasted, too.
Spicy and sweet in one, like nothing you’d ever tasted before. His flavor was as unearthly as he was, and it sent little quivers racing through you, starting a burning hunger that you already feared would never be sated.
You found yourself mentally begging for more, melting in his embrace, even as a part of you rebelled against what you were doing. This man wasn’t a man, that part screamed; he wasn’t even a demon, he was a hound. A hound from Hell. Just because he was wearing a human form and could talk and tease you didn’t mean he wasn’t still a literal dog.
Despite knowing that, you still whined when he finally withdrew, trying to cling to him. But he broke your grip easily, moving back, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“You were a lot of fun, human,” he taunted, walking backwards into traffic.
Your heart leapt again at the risk he was taking, managing a step forward, a hand outstretched to him.
“Think I’ll miss you,” he finished, that grin widening. You barely caught his eyes flickering with those inner flames before a blaring horn sounded, a vehicle barreling straight towards him. He winked.
Thud!
You shrieked as the car slammed right into him — but in the blink of an eye, he was gone. He wasn’t wheeling through the air, wasn’t crushed underneath it, wasn’t splattered across the windshield. He was gone, nothing but a few wisps of black smoke dispersing where he’d just been.
The vehicle swerved and brakes squealed as it came to a stop just a little ways past where you were standing, nearly hitting a light pole in the process. You were shaking violently, having witnessed what you’d thought was surely a death.
But he wasn’t there. Nothing was there — not even the clothes you’d gotten him.
Then, as if the god of comedy were watching, two flipflops fluttered down from above to plap on the street in front of you.
Just like that, you were laughing. Of course he’d take everything but the shoes.
“Ikselei,” you chided, hoping he heard you, wherever he was now.
misha proved once again that he is a real friend to j. but seriously doubt the fact that misha shared the incident with j feeling upset, will change attitudes at all (=everybody keep ignoring jensen had depression & continue to treat him like cr**)
other than this, looks like panel was mostly shenanigans
does anyone have danny in high school shenanigans they want to see written??? i'm trying to come up with some ideas for the world is having more fun than me (tonight) series but i'm drawing a blank. i've read several that i've loved but kinda want something new????
my askbox is open or you can just send me a pm if you have any that you haven't seen/don't want to write!
So my kid was playing breath of the wild and proceeded to place sticks and flint, and light it up inside one of the hyrulians house's.
My husband told me he'd probably be the one to find a bug in the system. This is also the same kid who attacked the chickens and figured out he could teleport before they could attack him. And that he could get eggs from them.
Nanashi likes to take long hot showers. Not as long as what Gil or Nero or any other fancy servants would do but still pretty sizable. Maybe half an hour to forty five minutes? Just him stepping out of the shower in nice, clean clothes and warm as well.
And all of a sudden a servant like Enkidu and Vlad or another messy servant, coated in mud/dirt/who-knows-what, walking up to him and hugging him just to leech the warmth. Nanashi going “Please..let go. I just got out of the shower” and the servants going “Nah”
