Jun 28, 2025
Thing I'm working on... but not that hard...
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Thing I'm working on... but not that hard...
@thatsmycigarbutyoucanborrowit, @badfloweranthony, @verosiika, @love-pyramus, @christian-sings-the-eulogy, @awstenthegreatest
warnings: gore, cannibalism, christianity, vague ed thoughts, vague rape allusions
sequel to: lights go down
Hands shaking, clutching the porcelain like it was a lifeline, a holy cross. The light above him, buzzing, flickering with each shuddering breath, a defunct halo.
What was it to be holy anyway?
A feeling? A notion? Something you were called, something you were inherently? Something they doused you with and begged for you to stay until you couldn’t take it anymore?
And what did it mean to be unholy? To be unclean? To sin?
Was there any other choice for him anymore?
Bruiser’s stomach churned, from what, he wasn’t sure. The food he ate? Or lack thereof in the past few days? The realization? The pounding in his head and the throbbing in his rib cage, like his heart was about to come loose and explode. Was this what dying felt like?
Maybe death would be a better fate.
He looked up, finally facing the form in the mirror as he took in another breath, feeling it rattle in his lungs. The same yellow eyes hung over his shoulder, leaning over him and those pearly white, catlike teeth grinned down at him and a bony finger prodded him in the cheek, as if coaxing him into putting on a smile. More like forcing, as if someone had pulled wire through his lips and pulled, curving his face into a grin that matched the figure behind him.
“You’ve got the devil on your shoulder.”
The wire loosened from around Bruiser’s lips and he dropped into a snarl, turning his head back to look at the figure, who only laughed. “You better shut your mouth just like I told ya,” he growled back, unable to keep his thoughts clear for longer than a moment. It was horrible and quite impossible to get anything done with him hanging over his shoulder like an impenetrable dark cloud.
The laughter echoed around the bathroom, bouncing off the walls and through Bruiser’s skull, only worsening his headache and his vision blurring. He’d been fighting him off, fighting it off for the past few days and it proved to no avail.
In the reflection of the mirror, he could see her face, standing behind him. Her nails reached out, taking his chin in her hands and turning his face towards her.
‘No, no, no, no,’ he thought, freezing in place as she leaned forward, ice cold lips against his. He wanted to be anywhere but there, with her, again. ‘Get me out of here,’ he begged, to whatever was above. If there was anything above. If anything above even wanted him, after everything. After he’d danced with sin and invited it in, invited this creature into his life, almost willingly letting him take hold. Would anyone save him? Would anyone even know?
He gasped, shaking his head as the ghostly cold lips dissipated into the air like droplets of rain and the icy grip that was around his heart and throat faded. Bruiser stumbled backwards, taking in heaving breaths as the world faded back to reality around him.
Pulling himself back together, brows furrowed, he spoke to the air again. “You’ve been controlling me through fiction.”
Another laugh echoed from the walls, almost bouncing out from Bruiser’s mind to the walls around him, surrounding him like vultures circling their prey.
“It’s obvious.” Came the dark reply, the form taking shape in front of him.
Bruiser’s brows furrowed, glaring back at King. Why him? What had he done to deserve such things? Was it his reckoning? His karma for all those years ago. Leaving him to bleed the snow red… And if he were being honest, it was his fault she’d done that. He needed to prove himself. He wasn’t enough of a man for her, of course he ran. Like a fucking coward.
That’s all he was.
Jaw setting firmly, he let the breath he was holding go, the anger seething out between his teeth. He turned, swiveling out from the bathroom and back to the rest of his apartment. He wasn’t going to let him dictate his life. If he could just prove himself, and fight back, just for once, he could get rid of King. If that was even his name.
B had plans with Syd anyway. Maybe if he just focused, it would leave his mind. He would leave his mind.
“I’ve got to break you like a bad addiction,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as he made his way to the door, hearing the knock from it resonate throughout the home. Bruiser made his way over to the door and pulled the handle open, mouth moving up into a smile to greet Syd who was standing behind the door.
Perfectly manicured nails gripped his chin and suddenly Bruiser found himself stumbling back through his apartment, tripping over furniture and his own feet. His back hit the couch cushion and fear flooded his system, blue eyes going wide.
‘I can’t say no, I’m losing control—‘
A steady weight found itself placed across Bruiser’s lap and a giggle sounded, the undertones of the laugh sounding like the one he’d heard from the mirror moments before.
‘Let me go, let me go, let me go,’ he pleaded silently, looking anywhere but up, anywhere but her face. Even the cracks in the ceiling had to be more interesting right now, they had to be, for his sake. The cracks in the plaster stared down at him, forming a smile and then came the voice, her voice…. But his as well?
“What do you think you’re doing Michael?”
That wasn’t his name. Not anymore.
“Michael!”
Not anymore.
“Michael!”
Not anymore.
“Mikhail!”
Not anymore.
Down, down, down, the pit in his stomach went.
“Mikhail Morozov you get your ass up right now or so help me god!”
Cold water filled his lungs, flooding his senses and kicking panic awake in his mind. Bruiser rose up, vision blurry and throat croaking.
Above him stood Syd, brandishing their now empty bowl, which was dripping the remains of the ice water onto the comforter.
He blinked a few times, trying to calm himself as he took in gasping breaths of air and water, feeling it gurgle in his lungs.
Where was he? How did he…? What did she do to him? Was he even safe anymore? A year or two of running and rebuilding just for this to happen? Why did she come back? She couldn’t be back. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. All this running all his life and for what?
Then a soft head nuzzled into Bruiser’s dangling arm.
A small kitten. His cat… he remembered him, but the name seemed to slip him. A lot of things were.
He was… home…?
He was home.
“B!” Syd shouted. “I’ve been trying to walk you for the past ten minutes,” they said, snapping their fingers in front of his face. “The hell happened to you?”
B sputtered, water falling out from his mouth as he looked up at Syd, hesitantly moving his face upwards, afraid of what he might see.
“I uh…” he muttered.
“You were like shouting and mumbling and rolling around, it’s like you were possessed, seriously.”
Bruiser just nodded, pulling himself out of bed, reaching up to his chin and rubbing his fingers along it confusedly. No marks, or pain… It was like nothing was even there. But he’d felt it. He’d seen her. She’d grabbed him. He could feel her, everywhere.
God, he needed a shower.
He made his way out of bed and dragged his sopping wet blanket along with him towards his bathroom, glad he’d decided to go with the more expensive apartment if it meant his bathroom was connected to the bedroom.
“Bruiser! What’s going on with you?” Syd called, their feet following after him as he went to grab the door.
Their hands both grabbed it at the same time, Syd’s grip almost stronger than his as his own hand shook as he held onto the door, almost using it for support to keep himself upright.
“B, would you stop ignoring me?!”
Anger boiled up inside of him, something animalistic crawling its way up from his stomach and through his throat, the claws tearing as his esophagus and scraping his vocal chords into shreds. He couldn’t control it, despite feeling the creature move inside him, razorlike claws dug tightly into the inner flesh of his body. And then it escaped.
“I’m having bad dreams!” The shout echoed, rattling the door on the hinges as it left his mouth. Bruiser turned, hand now gripping the door tightly. He couldn’t see it, but his nails dug into the wood and it was beginning to splinter under the pressure. Teeth bared, he glared down at Syd. “And nothing you can do will keep the bad things away from me until I fall asleep!”
“Bad dreams?” Syd echoed, confused as they stared back up at him, recoiling from their spot beside Bruiser as his shout still echoed. It felt like staring down a rabid animal, lacking the equipment you’d use to to lasso its neck and bring it into containment to be treated. With the way things were looking, maybe Syd was next to be brought into containment and treated… Although was it really treating someone if you were only passing on the infection?
Bruiser nodded with a huff. “Despite your good intentions, that boy is like an architect and I am just a new invention.”
“New invention?” Syd questioned, taking a step towards Bruiser, hands raised warily, as if they may have to fend off an attack. “Bruiser you’re talking crazy, you just need to—“
“Relax, let me take care of you.”
Nails trailed up Bruiser’s spine and he could feel his body stiffen, like ice spreading through his veins and hardening, freezing him to the spot. The ice was even spreading to his heart.
For a moment, Syd’s hair, curly and light brown, hanging over their grey eyes, morphed into something else completely, straight and blonde, evenly parted and tucked behind an ear, exposing those blue eyes. Chipped black nail polish into long red nails, like talons that would tear him limb to limb.
Panic flared in Bruiser’s chest, the same place he could feel those tails dig into the skin there, piercing through his heart. His steps began to retreat as Syd’s — no, her — her hand drew closer to him and he stumbled back into the tiled bathroom, door slamming shut behind him before he could even reach out to shut it himself.
Heaving gasps shook in Bruiser’s ribcage as he stumbled back, just barely catching himself on the seat of the toilet before slumping against the bathtub, tears prickling in his eyes. He just wanted to hide.
His hands gripped the side of the tub as he tried to suck in breaths of air as if he were drowning, drowning in the ice that was flooding his veins, taking hold and control, freezing his heart and mind.
A raw sob choked up his throat and it came out steadily, his palms sweating as he began to cry, coughing up all of the emotions he’d been feeling the past few days. He was scared. He was so fucking scared. Why did he have to be the one who had to be possessed? Or whatever this was. Maybe it was his psychosis. If that was the case that meant a lot more trouble for him when it faded. If it faded. And if it wasn’t….? What would become of him?
Another cough racked his lungs and it tore up his esophagus as it came up and he nearly choked it back down from the pain. It finally came out and splattered across the bottom of the tub was blood, blood…. So much blood and then a mass of black goop and a decaying pile of spongy flesh.
Before Bruiser could even process what the fuck had just happened, another wave of nausea slammed him, a mix of of a reaction from what he’d seen and the other some force inside of him, forcing his insides out.
For the next ten minutes, Bruiser spent his time, hunched over the edge of the tub, coughing and gagging as mass of flesh and mass of flesh spat out from between his teeth, blood gurgling out in the occasional gasps of air he could take in the gaps between each heaving cough.
As Bruiser tried to pull air through his throat and into his lungs, he sputtered, choking on something lodged in his throat. He could just barely feel it approaching his tongue and he gasped, mixing between gagging and choking as he gripped onto the tub. He was going to die like this, wasn’t he? He felt hollow in his stomach and his mind, a fog settling over his brain. Did it even matter if he died here?
Tears slipped down his cheeks as he began to think about it all. There was so much here that he still wanted to do. Hell, he had an audition on Friday and after that he and Syd were going to get sushi to celebrate. And he was going to go on a date on Saturday and maybe go to another dance class. He had dreams, hopes, ambitions. Yet here he was, coughing himself up on the bathroom floor while the monster that haunted his nightmares stood outside the door, eagerly awaiting him.
B sniffled and it was then that he was reminded of the lump in his throat and tentatively, he brought a hand up to his mouth and reached past his tongue, trying not to gag at the intrusion which brought more tears to his eyes and tremors to his hands. Another cough racked him and just barely did he grasp something between his thumb and index finger, the texture squishy and coated heavily with a liquid. He tried to not recoil or cry at just feeling the object and instead forced himself to cough again as he began to pull it from his throat.
Then he really began to choke, blocking off his airways as he tried to cough it out. Tears stung his eyes again and again and he tried to blink them away, his face now coated in both salty tears and blood. Why did it have to be him?
A painful cough that could have only come from the bottom of his blood-soaked lungs, enhanced by whatever was left of his diaphragm, did the rest of it come out. Long and barely separated, lay before him on the tub, covered in blood and decaying like the rest of him, both inside and out, was a set of intestines.
Intestines.
His intestines.
He’d been coughing up his own organs this entire time?
A smile graced his lips for a moment, sticky maroon blood spilling out from between his teeth and down his chin. If that was really all it took to puke his guts up….
Then fear gripped what was left of Bruiser’s frozen heart and he immediately stood up, rushing over to the sink and grabbing it with his bloodied hands, staring back at himself in the mirror.
‘What’s wrong with me?’ He thought, watching as his reflection blinked at him, waving with red eyes. He was cursed, haunted, possessed, he was something broken. Something unholy.
“Bruiser!” Came the call from outside.
B glanced at the door and then to the bloody tub and choked back another sob, afraid of what would come out this time. His heart?
He looked back at himself in the mirror, brown hair hanging a mess on his hand, plenty of strands plastered to his forehead with sweat while his face was a mural of blood, sweat and tears.
Behind him was the perpetrator, curiously studying him. “You’ve got to choose between your faces.” Watching Bruiser’s surprise as every time he blinked, he changed from his messy state to a rather cleaned up one, hair combed back and face completely clean, dressed in formal wear, the only difference was his eyes - not the normal storm blue-grey but a fierce red staring him back down in the mirror.
A broken prayer slipped from Bruiser’s lips as he fell hunched over the sink, bloody hands clasped together and he tried to pray away whatever was going on with him. It wasn’t just some bad dream, but a living, breathing nightmare. One that was breathing down his neck and latching its claws into his shoulders. It wouldn’t be too long before it made its final strike on him. The killing blow.
“Feels like you’re running out of holy places,” King spoke again, gaze traveling from Bruiser’s broken form to the mess of a tub that looked more like a morgue than a place of bathing, of renewal.
A few knocks sounded upon the door. “Bruiser! Are you alright?”
The knocks reverberated around his skull, irritating him further and the illusion of cleanliness vanished from the mirror, taunting Bruiser with the truth. He was a mess. A bloody and sick mess. Some rabid animal.
“Bruiser!”
Each knock and yell made the walls close in tighter on Bruiser, the wood pressing into his skin and he could feel what was left of him close in on itself to conserve space. He couldn’t fucking stand this anymore.
“Enough!” He shouted back, the shout coming out as some demonic howl, the door in front of him blowing to bits as the lights above the mirror sparked out, a crack splitting down the mirror as well.
His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath he took, the room falling quiet and there was suddenly no more calling for him, no more energy in the room. All he could feel was his own anger, tail lashing and teeth bared like a cornered dog.
Just the thrumming of what was left of his heart and snarl posed in his throat.
Where was Syd?
He remained standing, posed like a predator waiting to hear a sound from his prey, ears straining to catch a sign of life.
“And now the room is getting quiet,” King’s voice came from over his shoulder, the man was halfway suspended in the air, floating on it as if it were just a pool. His pointed devil tail had wrapped around Bruiser’s shoulder, pulling him close as if they were friends. If they could ever be friends.
Bruiser glared at King. “Shhh!” He couldn’t think with King’s stupid taunting, especially not when trying to make sure his younger sibling was still alive.
Hesitantly, his feet began to crunch over the splintered wood on the floor as he made his way over towards where Syd had been standing before he’d… gone nuclear? Whatever that was.
As he stepped over the wood where he could, he placed his foot down and a sickening squelch came from the pile beneath him. Retreating backwards, a now sticky sock held high in the air in disgust.
‘The fuck was that?’
Stepping back, he saw the source of the sound, now halfway flattened under him.
An eyeball.
Bruiser dropped to his knees immediately and much to his own internal disgust and dismay, he picked it up between his already bloody fingers and rolled it over until he could see the iris. A bloody cry crept up his lips and escaped with ease.
Syd.
Bruiser pushed the wooden rubble to the side, digging through it until he came across the limp remainder of Syd’s body, a sizeable chunk taken out from the right side of their face, eye socket onwards caved in towards their lips, bloody splinters sticking out through the mass of flesh.
Syd.
His best friend. His only real family ever since the mess that had brought him to America. He’d practically raised the kid, his little sibling. They gave him something to keep going, to keep trying for. He wanted to achieve greater things to make Syd proud and make sure they both made it, as a family.
And this was how he repaid them?
With a chunk of their face missing, like a shotgun shell blew through them. Part of his heart, his soul, blown to bits.
A heavy sob dropped from Bruiser as he hung over Syd’s body, only able to stammer out apologies and curses between his hiccups and sobs.
The floor creaked behind Bruiser. “Oh what a shame.”
‘Yeah, what a fucking shame,’ he thought, shaking his head bitterly. ‘It’s all his fucking fault anyway.’
‘Or is it mine?’
It was him, who snapped, wasn’t it? It was him who bared his teeth and fought back upon seeing the opportunity of love. It was him who was drawn to the manor and the both with the cheshire cat smile. It was him who longed for danger and it was him alone who stared down death with a knowing grin. He knew all its secrets, anyway. A much less terrifying thing when you got used to it.
No, it wasn’t King’s fault.
It was his.
He’d always been this way, hadn’t he?
When he sinned with Sasha and then left him there to bleed out in the snow.
What a fool he was, to think he could ever cleanse himself of what he’d done.
It wasn’t King’s fault, no, King had only activated what was already there.
Like they always said, broken from the start.
“Nobody taught you how to read a riot,” came the broken, half laugh from the pile of rubble and Bruiser looked back down, astonished to see Syd’s mouth moving slowly.
Their voice was something different now, more akin to the way King had been taunting him, gravelly yet sharp, piercing through his heart and ears like ice, but decayed enough to know that wasn’t right.
Bruiser let out a cry of relief and grabbed Syd, pulling them into his chest and into a tight hug, ignoring the gross feeling of the gore that was their face pressing into his shirt. “Oh bless my soul,” he wept, almost begging to whatever was above. Change this. Fix him. Fix Syd. Save him. “I’m losing control.”
“Been having bad dreams,” Bruiser repeated to them like he had before, still clutching them like a lifeline. “And nothing you can do will keep the bad things away from me… until I fall asleep.”
“Bad dreams…” Syd echoed back to him, glancing up at him through their one good eye as they peeled away from his chest, chunks of flesh stuck to the shirt still.
Bruiser nodded again, gaze flickering over Syd’s skin. “Despite your good intentions…” It was dead, clearly, decaying and graying. But something about it was still so alive.
Alive. What he wouldn’t give to feel alive at that moment, instead of the cold thing he could feel himself turning into, his only emotions being turmoil and anger. To be alive like that again. Maybe that was all King wanted. It was all he wanted too, really. He glanced down at Syd again, pondering it as he looked over their half alive form. The image before him flashed into the blonde girl once more and his lips pulled back into an animalistic snarl. “That boy is like an architect…” Bruiser felt a pull in his hand, a ghostly claw taking his hand and dragging it forwards. And somehow, Bruiser was okay with it, letting it be dragged. His hand found its home clamped around her throat, the claws digging into the flesh there. It felt like it was meant to be there. Like this was what he was meant to be doing all along. Sharpening his teeth and fighting back.
He’d forgotten how to fight back. Bruiser leaned forward, watching as the once gray eyes widened into blue oceans of terror. Teeth sharp, canines all around as if he was made for destruction, his only purpose to ruin what was already created. “Mikhail don’t!” The shout fell on deaf ears. Any shout would be – over the sound of incisors crunching through a windpipe. Blood flooded Bruiser’s mouth and it was delicious. It was everything he’d wanted and more. It tasted like happiness, like being alive again. Maybe that was something he could achieve, with enough destruction. Perhaps that was her reasoning too.
As Bruiser pulled away, flesh ripping and stringing along from Syd’s throat as they began to gasp and gargle on blood and fleeting air, he threw them to the floor, their even more decaying form sliding into the mirror at the edge of the room, tilting it to look up at Bruiser. With every step Bruiser took towards the mirror, he could feel his bones clicking, reworking themselves around the space that used to harbor intestines, now harboring the armor for his sins. His shoulders felt hunched over his form and maybe it was only his thinking, but he felt as though his arms had gotten longer or at least bonier. He was changing with every step and with every step, the beast inside him grew in strength. He finally stopped a few feet from the mirror, catching a glimpse of the flash of red from his irises. What caught him even more off guard was not the blood splattered across his face or the flesh dangling from his now elongated and fucked up jaws, nor was it the horns curling up from the top of his head, hair parted around it nicely – no, what had shocked him was the figure behind him, grinning widely. White hair and cheshire cat smirk.
The beast had found a home. The infection had taken hold. The virus had found a host. “I am just a new invention.”
I haven't posted art on here since 2018 but here's stuff from the last year
happily ever after.
tags: @ryanseamans, @love-pyramus, @madjiick, @thatsmycigarbutyoucanborrowit, @panicky-pancakes, @awstenknyght, @a-devil-searching-for-redemption notes: here’s a fluff fic finally. happy one year anniversary to my boy everything said, both by king and the others in this fic, is truly how i feel about you. i could go on forever but i’m not gonna (at least not here) to spare everyone else.
King adjusted his tie, staring himself down in the mirror. Was this really it? After all this time? He glanced over his dark suit. Was it too dark? Did it really fit the event? God, this was really it, wasn’t it? He couldn’t get that thought out of his head. They sighed, rubbing at their eyes, being careful to not brush away the concealer he’d used to cover up his severe dark circles from stressing about this for the past month.
This was it. Mouse leaned into his room, not bothering to knock on the door as she poked her head through. They’d been through enough and she’d stopped caring. It was an unspoken thing between them. “You ready?” She asked, although her voice sounded less than ready. “What do you think?” King sassed back, turning around, eyes briefly skimming over Mouse’s outfit, it was a dark blue dress that fell to just above her knees. She wore combat boots with them along with a small green crystal necklace. She’d told him what it was before. Machete or something…? It was definitely /or something./
“I’m thinking you’re not?” Mouse suggested, crossing the room towards King, resting a hand on his shoulder. “And you’re overthinking it and working yourself into a loop of panic? You’re thinking this is a bad decision and you’re not good enough and it won’t last?” King scoffed down at her. “I hate that you're like…. Psychic or some shit.” Mouse laughed, clapping him on the back. “Not psychic. I just know you.” She sighed, grabbing King by the shoulders. “Now listen to me you dense idiot. This is happening because it is a good decision and you are good enough. Now go out there and kiss them and shit!” She insisted, letting go of him before shaking her head. “Never thought I’d be encouraging this.” King chuckled, wrapping an arm around Mouse. “Alright, let’s go,” he said quietly as she led him out of the room and towards the hall.
“Everyone’s here?” He asked. Mouse gave a hum in reply. “And no…. Unwanted guests?” he added, remembering his own experience being an unwanted guest. He wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to get him back through this. His fists would be prepared though if she did; nobody messed with his boy. Mouse shook her head, grinning up at King, knowing what he was thinking of. “Nope. Made sure of that and got security at the door.” King sighed in relief, a small smile finally forming on his nervous lips. “Thank you. You’re the best.” “Oh I know,” she said, winking at him before they stopped in front of two large stained glass doors. He could see the outlines of all the chairs and hedges outside. He could just barely see the arch from where he stood. “Don’t you dare start crying,” Mouse warned, a joking tone to her voice - although King knew what she really meant. ‘Don’t start crying because then /I’ll/ start crying and I don’t cry.’
“I wasn’t gonna cry!” King defended himself, throwing his hands up in the air. “Good! Cause there’s no crying. Even though it’s… really happening.” “It’s not a bad thing,” he argued, stepping closer to Mouse. “You’re getting older though, that’s bad.”
“Ouch, I’m only 27,” King retorted, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “You know what I mean! We’re not kids anymore, and I have to go and… marry you off.” “Shortie I had to marry you off a year ago too, you ain’t special,” King interrupted again, trying to stifle laughter. “Listen, no matter how much time has passed and whatever changes, you’re always gonna be my sister, okay?” he said, placing a hand on Mouse’s shoulder reassuringly.
Mouse nodded, taking in a shaky breath. “You ready?” King asked, repeating Mouse’s earlier question back to her. She nodded up at him, trying to blink the tears in her eyes back, hoping to hide the way her eyes were glossing over. “Ready when you are shithead.”
“I’m ready shortie,” King said, wiping at Mouse’s eyes and then giving her a moment to get herself together before they pushed the doors open. Those seated in the garden quickly turned to look at them, King looped an arm around Mouse’s as they slowly began their march down the aisle. As they walked, King’s eyes flickered over Jack, Davey, Josie, Switch and Fennel, everyone he knew, everyone he ever cared about was smiling back at him. King turned his gaze upwards, seeing Spot standing at the arch and had quietly been chatting with Natasha who stood behind him until King was only a few feet away.
Mouse patted him on the back as she turned and went back to her own seat in the front row. Spot looked King over, his jaw dropping slightly as he mouthed the words ‘holy shit’, his eyes lighting up for a moment.
King strode over to the other side of Spot so that way they were looking across at each other. “You look great,” King murmured. “You do too,” Spot said with a small laugh. “So… where’s Bruise-” As the words started to leave his mouth, soft music began to fill the air and the two boys turned, eyes wide to see Bruiser in all her glory, draped in an intricate black dress, walking down the aisle, arm looped around Syd’s. Both of them looked like they were ready to cry already. The music picked up as Bruiser made it all the way down the aisle and Syd let go, turning to walk to their seat, murmuring something to Bruiser beforehand, causing her to smile. “There’s my girl…” King mumbled to himself, a wide grin spreading to his face.
This was it, their day, after all this time.
Bruiser came to stand beside King, lacing her hand with his as they looked up at Spot. Natasha cleared her throat, she was dressed in a simple tux. “So, y’know most officiators have this huge speech prepared or something. I don’t… actually know. When this knucklehead reached out looking for someone to officiate his wedding, I just took the chance,” she admitted, pointing to Spot with a laugh. “So I’m gonna let these three take it away, one of them probably has something prepared.” “King probably has a powerpoint!” Issac called from his seat, the dog lying by his feet looking up and around. The garden burst into laughter at that and King nodded, agreeing. He wasn’t wrong. If he was given the chance, he would’ve made an entire essay for both of his boys, complete with graphs and images for how much he loved them and why. He loved them both to the ends of the earth. They made him a better person and he couldn’t imagine what life would be like without them. He finally cleared his throat. “Guess that means I’m going first then,” he said, glancing down at the outline of the notecards in his pocket. He went to reach for them but then shook his head. He was just gonna go into it.
“The past few years of my life, with both of you in it, has been the best time I’ve ever had. I’ve learned so much and grown so much. You’ve made me so much better. There’s so much that I want to say and so much I was going to say, but it all really comes down to this. Before I knew you, everything was shit,” he paused, sighing and giving himself a movement to gather himself. “And y’know, things are still shit knowing you, but only sometimes. You make it easier to wade through all of life’s shit.” King shrugged, taking a step back, trying not to do any nervous stims in front of everybody. “C-Cause I know we can’t fix things for each other,” he stopped again, clearing his throat harshly as he looked down. No crying. Not right now. “-but we at least make it worth going through it all. It’s worth it to me, to go out and stare down the day because no matter how broken it makes me afterwards, I still get to go back to the both of you when it’s done. No matter what, I’ve got you two. And that’s what keeps me going. You keep me going and I couldn’t imagine life without you. I love you more than anything and I want to be with you as long as time will let us. And time better let us,” King finished, letting out a big sigh as all the words finally stopped tumbling out of his mouth. A rough sniffle came from him as he looked up again at Bruiser and Spot, who were both on the brink of tears again. “Well now my speech sounds stupid,” Spot whined, a broken laugh coming from him.
“Just go for it babe,” Bruiser said, reaching across to stroke his shoulder soothingly.
Spot nodded, taking in a deep breath before he began to speak. The next two speeches went by slowly, which was alright with King. He loved hearing them talk and maybe it was a bit self centered if he liked it more when it was partially about him.
Then finally, Natasha nodded towards Spot, who reached out, gently sliding a ring onto Bruiser’s finger and then King’s.
The three had decided, long before they were planning on getting married, that if they ever were to get rings, they’d get ones that represent the other person. So, King and Spot’s ring to Bruiser was a simple golden one with a ballet shoe engraved on it. Bruiser’s and Spot’s ring to King had a simple music note and the one gifted to Spot, of course, had a crown on it. “Spot, Bruiser, look into King’s eyes and repeat after me,” Natasha began, clearing her throat once more and the two did the same. “I, Bruiser Morozov and Spot Conlon, take you, King, to be my husband; to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish; until we are parted by death.” “And King, look into their eyes and repeat what I said.” King nodded, clearing his throat as it had begun to close and tried to steady his breathing. “I, King Santos, take you, Spot Conlon and Bruiser Morozov to be my husbands; to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish; until we are parted by death.” King looked up at his boys, tears forming in his eyes for what must’ve been the thousandth time that day. “Then, by the power vested in me, and there is a lot, believe me,” Natasha added, chuckling quietly. “-- Girlbossing my way through this -- I now pronounce you all Mr. Conlon-Morozov. You may kiss… each other?” King gave a laugh at that, swiftly moving forward, a wide grin on his face and sweeping Bruiser into a hard but ultimately excited kiss. Their lips moved together, like they were made, no, destined to be together (as cliché as that may sound) while the crowd in front of them began to cheer and clap. “Damn, save some for me!” Spot said, a wolf-whistle coming from somewhere in the crowd as the two finally pulled apart. The two laughed, leaning forward to kiss Spot on each cheek. He smiled, looping an arm around Spot’s shoulders as he finally turned to face the crowd, it felt like a scene out of a movie. A really cliché movie, with a stupid happy ending that didn’t really tie it all together, especially if everything else in the movie was shit. King never liked those movies, he liked when everything came to a nice, tied up closing that made sense. But there, with his boys, King was starting to believe that some stories weren’t all that bad. Some clichés weren’t all that bad either. Especially happily ever after. After all, they deserved one.
comics?
“what was the last thing she said to you?"
mazatlán: sea- robert creeley (a remake of my 2015 art)
goretober day 3- amputation