Fire and Brimstone

GWS Jun 3rd, 2015 (edited) 3,659 Never
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  1.         It was a sunny day in the small town of Milkwater. The bird chirped and sung along with the gentle breeze which blew through the spring air. The smell of blooming flowers and freshly milked Holstaurus milk from the farms intoxicated the air with a warm feeling of comfort, clashing with the already warm sun which gave the small town an orange hue of morning. The sky glowed in gold and red which touched the green plains of crops and gardens, like a painting created by the greatest of artists. People and Mamono alike were beginning to wake up, breathing in the morning air to begin their rounds for the day tending the farms or going off to work. Milkmen who delivered the freshly made milk from their farms began to load up their trucks, while families began to make their early breakfasts for their children to wake up to; the fresh smell of blueberry pancakes, the smell of cinnamon French Toast—what more could anyone want?
  3.         And yet, in the residence of young Vincent Anonymous, things weren’t as peaceful as everyone else. Instead of waking up to the comfortable sounds of bird and chicken Harpies waking up, he was awoken by the sound of growling, followed by incoherent rage. And then his alarm. Instead of the feeling of the warm sun shining through his window, he instead felt the cold hard wooden floor as he fell out of bed due to his sheets getting tangled around his legs. Instead of the smell of warm milk and Alraune pollen from outside, he was assaulted by the smell of cinder. She hasn’t showered, he said under his breath. And instead of a stack of pancakes on the table which waited to be eaten by him, his stomach churning and growling like a wild animal, he instead had to answer the door.
  5.         “Hello?” It was more of a tired ‘what do you want’ than a hello, but the young Harpy mailwoman who smiled as if she just won the lottery didn’t deserve to have her mood ruined. And considering how a 21 year old long haired, five o’clock shadow of a man with dark circles under his eyes didn’t faze her, it’d be a feat.
  7.         “Package for a… Uhm…” She looked at the small brown cardboard box she held with both of her wings and read the receipt. “Yram? Am I saying that right?”
  9.         “It’s upside down.” The Harpy blinked at his remark. She looked at the box and turned it around.
  11.         “Oh! Oh, that makes more sense!” She never lost her chippy attitude. “Package for a Mary Anonymous! Is that you?”
  13.         “No.” Vince said flatly. Before she could say something, he looked over his shoulder down the single floor bungalow hallway to the bedrooms, and shouted. “Mary! Your doll’s here!”
  15.         There was no answer. Of course there wasn’t an answer. She never answers. The somewhat fazed Harpy chirped.
  17.         “U-Uhm-“
  19.         “MARY!” Vince’s voice rang in the small household, causing the Harpy to jump. He glanced over to her. “Sorry.”
  21.         “N-No, its fine-“
  23.         “MARY!” There was a sound of movement, followed by an irritated groan from one of the rooms.
  25.         “What?” A faint, muffled voice came from one of the bedrooms.
  27.         “Your stupid doll’s here.” Vince answered. There was a pause. Vince sighed. “The one you’ve been raving about for about a week now.”
  29.         “OH!” The voice responded. “Shit, it’s here already? I was expecting it to take a couple more days.”
  31.         “Yeah well maybe for once in your lifetime you’re lucky. Now get your ass out of your room.” He turned to face the meek looking Harpy, who glanced at him and went back to her peppy posture. So it is a façade. “Sorry about the yelling. And the swearing.”
  33.         “No, it’s fine. You’d be surprised at the places I have to go to deliver mail and packages.” She chuckled to herself and gave him a small clipboard. “Just sign here, please.”
  35.         Vince took the clipboard in hand, scanning the delivery paper. He clicked the back of the blue pen and signed where the small X was. “You ever had to deliver to that farm with all the rats?” he asked while returning the clipboard.
  37.         “Oh yeah. Multiple times. Back at the post office we all call him Nyanon.”
  39.         “That doesn’t make any sense.” Vince said flatly. “He has no cats. Just rats and mice.”
  41.         “Oh I know, but that’s what they call him.” She shrugged. “Who knows where nicknames come from, y’know?”
  43.         “Ho hoo? What’s this?” A sly voice came from behind the young man. A long, dark haired arm slung over Vincent’s right shoulder, draping over his chest. The Harpy’s face slowly began to turn from confusion to horror as a tall, dark haired dog-girl leaned onto Vincent’s form. Her skin was a dark as the night, which seemed to blend with her black sclera eyes and piercing auburn irises which were surrounded in some sort of ghostly fire which poorly hid the dark circles and bags under her eyes. Her long  waist length black hair was messy and tangled, as if it was never managed in years. The air began to feel thick and heavy, smelling like cinder and ash. The tall Hellhound only wore an overly large grey shirt with an emblem on the front. It seemed to be the only article of clothing she wore, evident to how her miniscule breasts seemed to barely poke against the overly large shirt which collar was wide enough for one of her shoulders to fit through.
  45.         Mary took a sip of the can of Cola in her other hand and grinned. “Am I interrupting something? Because you two seemed to really be hitting it off.”
  47.         “So you actually decided to show your ugly face.” Vince hissed under his breath. Mary gasped, sarcasm dripping off of her overdramatises.
  49.         “Little bro, are you calling me ugly? That really hurts my feelings, you know!” She clutched her heart, looking away as if saddened. “Oh, to be called ugly by my adorable little brother. Why, I think I might even cry.”
  51.         “Cut the dramatics and take your stupid doll.” Vince growled. Mary pulled him into a headlock, giving the obviously-afraid-but-trying-to-hide-it with-a-smile Harpy a warm smile.
  53.         “Isn’t my little brother Just. The. Most. Adorable. Person. Ever?” She tightened her grip with ever drip of sarcasm, eventually whispering to him next to his ear, her voice low but serious. “It’s not a doll your uneducated little piece of shit, it’s a model.”
  55.         “T-They’re all… the same… t-to me!” He could barely breathe, let alone blurt out his snarky comment to rile her up. The Harpy coughed, getting back the attention of the two siblings.
  57.         “I-I’m just going to l-leave this h-here.” She was already backing away from the house before she could say goodbye. “U-Uhm… Nice meting you!”
  59.         And like that, she was off, leaving a coughing and wheezing man and his drinking sister to close the door.
  61.         “I thought the bitch would never leave.” Mary said dryly, picking up the cardboard box off the floor. “Damn sun was burning my eyes out.” She glanced at her brother, who kept coughing. “Oi, get some water before you die. I don’t want to go dragging you off to Hell. That would mean I’d have to go outside.”
  63.         Vince stood up, breathing heavily to catch his breath. “It’d be a change of pace… from sitting in your room all day in your own filth.” He glanced to his NEET Hellhound sister and grinned. “Mom and dad would be ecstatic to see you finally out of the house wearing something other from an old worm out shirt.”
  65.         “Hey, I wear more than just a shirt.” Mary paused. “I occasionally wear a sweater in the winter time.”
  67.         “Or nothing at all.” Vince coughed. Mary glanced over her shoulder. She took a long sip of her Coke and grinned, leaning against her door frame facing her younger brother in a seductive pose.
  69.         “Ho hoo, is my little brother implying that I’m not wearing anything under this shirt?” She covered her mouth, barely hiding her shit eating grin. “My my, I never took my own innocent little bro to be such a pervert~.”
  71.         “I’d rather die in a Minotaur accident down over at the farm a couple streets down then have to take a gander at what lies under your shirt.” He folded his arms, glancing out the window at the kitchen. “Then again, at least I’d die being smothered by those soft globes, in comparison to your mosquito bi-” He couldn’t even finish his sentence when the now empty Coke can impacted the side of his head. He rubbed his head in pain, but grinned at the irritated looking Hellhound who walked back into her room.
  73.         Vince never knew what made his sister become the NEET she is now. Back when he was in middle school, he would always hear the rumours of his older sister in high-school by his friend Alex’ older sister. About how she was the toughest girl in the school; beating up Oni’s and Lilim’s and the like; putting them in their place while she ruled the school. About how she took out a Jinko and Hinezumi and made them into her servants. How the teachers and staff were scared of messing with her due to her dominating appearance and personality. Naturally, the principle didn’t care if she was the Demon Lord and suspended her for all sorts of things, getting their parents into a tiff- Groundings, banning of using the TV, the computer, going outside with her friends, all sorts of things. But she didn’t care about anything. His father called it ‘a rebellious phase’ that he assured would die out.
  75.         Which it did. Eventually. After she somehow graduated High-school right before he would begin grade 9, she went to college. That’s when everything began to spiral out of control. At first, she entered with a smug expression, saying things like ‘I’m going to turn this place into my bitch’ and the like. Vince believed it, considering during his time in high-school he was afraid by virtually everyone due to his relations with the queen of Milkwater High. But it was after the first couple months that things began to change. The once proud and ego infused Hellhound started to become quiet and introverted. Instead of her being the first to wake up, she slowly became the last, sometimes not even waking up on time to go to her classes. Her once brightly lit room began to get dark and covered with curtains to block out the sun. It was rare at times to even see her outside of her room.
  77.         That’s when the mail orders began. Packages after packages after packages. It was like the house slowly began to turn into a post office. Of course, Vince or their parents had to answer it, since she would never leave her room. But on occasion she would come out, take the package, and be back in her room like nothing happened. And she always smelled like musk and cinder, something their father said was because she barely showered. Vince had a general idea what it was, but he never said anything. Nobody knew what was in the boxes. Vince heard his mother and father speculating about it being ‘stress relief’, but the eventual barge into her room confirmed them to be nothing but dolls.
  79.         Models. Nothing but models.
  81.         “So why did you come out of your room anyhow?” Vince called, walking towards her room. “I mean other from once again sabotaging any way from me to escape your clutches and go have a family.”
  83.         There was a laugh, a mocking one at that. Vince entered the den of the demon, his nose being assaulted by the pungent fragrance of cinder and ash. Her room was the exact same as he last saw it. The normal hardwood floors were covered in a dark grey carpet; a request she made years before the NEETening. Her window was covered with a thick black curtain which covered any sort of sunlight that tried to shine into the dimly lit room. Clothes varying from T-shirts to undergarments were strewn across the floor, some piled onto the large couch which sat on the left side of the room. A large TV sat on the right, adjacent to the couch. Multiple different lights glowed and flickered on the TV stand, some even blinking as if there was something wrong. Next to the TV on the left near the door was a small mini fridge, which looked as if it’d seen better days, what with it draped with clothing. Near the window at the end of the room was her bed, which sat against the windowed wall.
  85.         The rest of the room was consisted of posters and shelves with models on them. From cute anime models, to comic book models, to even Gunpla and tank models. Vince wondered if his sister was more of an Otaku than a NEET, but considering how she never went outside, never saw the light of day, or barely talked about the stuff unless it was him, he figured she was more of a closet Otaku NEET something-another. In the far left part of her room was her battle station. Three brightly lit screens, the whirling sound of fans from the computers. He always wondered where she got all the money, considering their parents never paid a dime for anything in her room. But she says she apparently has a job. The large desk served three purposes: building models, lurking on the internet, and, considering the small trash can filed with tissues, masturbation.
  87.         “You couldn’t hook up with an Alp even if you tried.” She sneered. Her black claws reflected the light of her monitors as she began to cut open the box. “It’s about damn time this thing showed up. I was beginning to think some gutter trash bought the last one.”
  89.         “Y’know, there’s someone that probably ordered it and is saying the exact same thing.” Vince said while he walked over to his sister. She scoffed.
  91.         “Like I care about what others think.” She gave him a smug grin. “I was once a badass, you know.”
  93.         “Yeah, but now you’re a fat ass.” Vince returned the smug grin.
  95.         “Keep thinking you’re tough shit. I’ll put you back in your place once I’m done.”
  97.         “What’s in the box?” Vince asked, ignoring her threat. He peered over her shoulder, catching a glance under her shirt before looking at the box. They were the same size since high-school. He wondered if they were the reason she went NEET.
  99.         “Char’s Zaku II. Origins version.”
  101.         “Never heard of it.” Vince said flatly. Mary hissed.
  103.         “Stop trying to be snarky. We watched it last night.”
  105.         “In my clean and much fresher smelling room.” Vince stated. “With the wonderful light of the sun shining through my window.”
  107.         “The curtains were closed.” Mary spat. “And your room doesn’t smell any different from mine!”
  109.         “Probably because your nose if filled with cinder and musk.” Vince waved his hand at his nose dramatically. “Go have a shower or something. You smell like your own fluids.”
  111.         “And how would you know what fluids smell like, squirt?” Mary asked. She never took her eyes off the runners as she began clipping. “Can you pass me some sandpaper sticks? Bottom drawer on your right.”
  113.         “I’m not a kid anymore. I know what it smells like.” Vince said while he got three sets of sandpaper sticks in three different grits.
  115.         “Thanks.” Mary said while he placed them on the table. “Are you saying my own little brother has had sex before? And here I was thinking as an older sister it’s my duty to take your virginity!~”
  117.         “Says the virgin herself.” Vince smirked. Mary turned to glare at him, pointing her clippers at his face.
  119.         “I’m no virgin. I lost that years ago. You on the other hand,” She motioned at his crotch, circling it. “are still a virgin.”
  121.         “Amuse me.” Vince smirked. “And how do you know that?”
  123.         “I can smell it. You practically stink of virginity.” She glanced at him and grinned. “Go have a shower or something. You smell like virginity~”
  125.         The two were always close. They both went to school together, went to the mall together, everything. They were practically inseparable back in the day. She’d always protect him from harm, trying to direct him into the right path, saying things like ‘don’t be like me’ and ‘grow up to be a good husband’. Even now, when she’s lazier and less macho, and he’s more knowledgeable then when he was younger, they still stayed close. Their father used to tease them about how Mary would always talk to Vince when he was in his mother’s stomach, hoping that it was a boy and not a girl. Mary never admits it, but considering how she used to blush at the story, Vince believed it.
  127.         “So why did you come out of your room anyhow?” Vince asked again. Mary picked up a piece of the model and began to sand the nubs, carefully holding the piece in between her paws.
  129.         “What, you mean I can’t leave my room and walk around my house?”
  131.         “Our house.” Vince corrected. “And you never leave your room.”
  133.         “I do too, you idiot.” The grating of plastic against sandpaper mixed in with the quiet sound of her computers. “Just not often.”
  135.         “Ever since you got the mini fridge you never leave your room.” Vince took a piece of the red Zaku II and some sandpaper and began to sand the nubs, leaning against the table. “I call your bluff.”
  137.         Mary sighed. “Alright, I admit defeat.” She pointed a thumb at her fridge. “Thing’s out of Coke and the like. I came out to check the main fridge.”
  139.         “And how’d that go?” Vince asked, blowing off some dust.
  141.         “I got distracted.” Her voice sounded low, as if there was a hint of irritation. Or…
  143.         “Ehhh, what’s that? Is my sister jealous of seeing her little brother flirting with other woman?~”
  145.         Mary busted into laughter. And not a sarcastic laugh, but a genuine laugh. Her sharp teeth glistened in the light of her computer screens. She wiped away a tear, or a fake one considering her smoldering eyes prevented tears, and sighed.
  147.         “No.” She said flatly.
  149.         “Liar.”
  151.         Mary snorted. “Do you really believe that I’d be jealous of who my brother flirts with? I could care less whose Demonic Energy Diseased vagina you put it in.” Vince placed the sand stick back on her desk and took the one with a smaller grit.
  153.         “So, you’re saying if I were to call that Harpy mail girl on a date, you wouldn’t be just a bit jealous.” Vincent noticed how she went rigid.
  155.         “Yeah right. She was too busy pissing her daisy dukes in fear because of me that she wouldn’t even consider wanting to go on a date with someone who’s related with a demon dog.” She chuckled. “I mean really, who’d date some freak like you? Who’d want to marry someone who’s related to some being from hell, huh?” Vince glanced at his sister. Her tone wasn’t that of mocking, but something different. As if saddened.
  157.         She wasn’t talking about him. She was talking about himself.
  159.         “I mean, who would want to date someone related to some violent rapist. Really! Some sadistic, violent monster that doesn’t care about anything but reproduction and dragging people down to Hell to get their pelvis destroyed!?” Her shoulders were beginning to shake. “No one wants that! And what’s worse, this violent sadistic savage of a relative is flat chested! Who wants a rapist as a family member who acts aggressive because she’s self-conscious about her breast size? Who… Who the fuck would want a bitch as a relative? Not even figuratively, I mean literally a bitch. A big-“
  161.         “Fat assed.”
  163.         “-Fat assed bitch!?” She sniffed, and glanced at him “My ass is not that big.”
  165.         “Your soul isn’t being weighed down by gravity; it’s being weighed down by your ass.” Mary chuckled, which caused Vince to chuckle along. “Want to take a break?”
  167.         “Yeah, let’s take a break.” Mary pushed out her chair and began to stretch her arms. “Sheesh, how long have we been sanding?”
  169.         “Half an hour.” Vince glanced at the time on the computer screen. “Maybe a bit more.”
  171.         Mary whistled. “Felt like an hour.” Vince placed the pieces back on her desk and began to walk over to the door.
  173.         “Coke?” He asked at the door.
  175.         “Yeah, sure.” Mary watched as he exited. “Wait- shit! Can you restock my fridge? It had some Coke, some Dew, some 7up, and some beer.”
  177.         “No beer!” Vince called back. “If you want beer, you’re going to have to get up and go to the main fridge to get it.”
  179.         “Vinceeeeeent~!” Mary wined. But to no avail.
  181.         It wasn’t long before Vince returned back to her room, holding a 12 can box of Coke and Mt Dew. He passed his sister who was setting up her TV with something and began to fill up her mini fridge. She glanced over to him and glowered.
  183.         “I can’t believe you actually didn’t bring any booze.” She sulked. Vince gave her a genuine smirk.
  185.         “What, you thought I was joking about you having to get up to get what you want?” He placed a hand on his chest. “I couldn’t live with myself if I were to lie to my beloved sister~.”
  187.         “Laugh it up now,” Mary grinned, taking a seat on her couch, controller in hand. “For it’s going to be your last laugh of the day.”
  189.         Vince tossed her a can of Coke and took a seat under her, right in between her legs. Neither were bothered by the position; they always sat like this together on game night. Though, he was happy she was wearing boy shorts. He was worried she actually was nude. “Amuse me: what are we playing?”
  191.         Mary smirked. “That, my little brother, is for me to know.” She turned back on the TV, which revealed the game. “And for you to find out.”
  193.         Super Smash Bros Melee
  195.         Vince looked up at his sister, who had the biggest grin on her face that it almost tore it in half. He sighed. “What was the score again?”
  197.         “355-335-me obviously being the 355.” She looked down at her brother. “Dare you enter the magical realm, dear brother?”
  199.         “I can’t dare to be stupid if I don’t.” He took one of the controllers which were strewn around on the floor, wincing at the sound of her opening the lightly shaken can of Coke. “Don’t get any on me.”
  201.         “Ehh, are you worried about getting wet, little bro?” She said cunningly.
  203.         “No, I’m worried about you attracting ants. And besides,” He smirked as she went into the menu. “The back of my head’s already getting wet because of you.”
  205.         The clunk of her fist against his head was drowned out by the two’s laughter.
  207.         ---
  209.         “Hey…” Mary whispered, while they were picking what character they would use for the next match.
  211.         “What?” Vince asked, glancing over his shoulder, looking at her thighs before looking up at her. She looked away, in no particular direction.
  213.         “Don’t get married…” It was hard to see in the darkness, but she was blushing. Vince smiled and looked back at the TV screen.
  215.         “Don’t count on it.”
  217. FIN
  225.         Vince hated this time of year. There were many days of the year that would always come and pass, but it was this specific day of the year, this specific night which caused him tremendous irritation and unhappiness. It was ironic that he would feel this way on such a day considering when he was a small child, he and his older sister would always rave about this day the same way they raved about Christmas. But it was when the both of them got older and started living together, alone, without their parents that the feeling of joy and happiness turned into to bitterness and agony. Even though he slept uncomfortably in his bed, his mental clock—which never seems to function—told him that it was the day; the day in which he dreaded every year.
  227.         Halloween.
  229.         He didn’t set his alarm--he never did--and yet he reluctantly began to stir. His curtains were closed, blocking a little of the bright fall sunlight which greeted him, but it wasn’t enough to tell him that he had awoken at 8 o’clock in the morning. This was an amazing feat for him, considering he never woke up early at all since high school. But the child within--the child who liked Halloween even while he disliked it now--woke him up bright an early. Why, you ask? Not even he knew the answer. But he hated it nonetheless. He glanced at the clock next to his bed for confirmation, and groaned when it was, in fact, 8 o’clock in the morning. He hated the morning air and everything it stood for, and he wanted to go back to sleep.
  231.         Why, he asked himself as he dragged himself into the washroom. Why did he seem to like Halloween more than any other day of the year aside from Christmas? He turned on the light and winced as it assaulted his eyes. He wanted to go back, to be embraced by his blanket and sleep until he felt like waking up, but even as he aimlessly grabbed for his toothbrush, missing a couple times, he was wide awake. And he hated it. He hated the taste of the toothpaste, and he hated the fact that washing his face made him even more alert. He looked at his reflection; the face of a man who hadn’t slept properly in months. Why was he even awake at a time like this? He cursed under his breath, a curse directed at his younger self. He used to wake up bright and early with his sister to decorate the house for Halloween. They’d get their costumes, comparing them to each other; they’d carve pumpkins, seeing who could make the scariest face; and they’d make bets on who could get the most candy. He got the most candy, considering most were afraid of his sister, but they always shared in the end.
  233.         He glanced at the toothbrush cup. Her toothbrush seemed to be wet.
  235.         It wasn’t a surprise that his sister was awake as well. And she made it evident that she was, in fact, alive and well. He walked down the hall, passing by her door, and into the living area and kitchen. To say that it was rare this area was in use would be like a pot calling a kettle black. Most of the time he and his sister were in their rooms or in her room; mostly in her room when he gave it some thought. The living area was mostly there for when visitors came, equipped with a large TV and some gaming consoles, while the kitchen was in use mainly for food. And it was there he found his sister. His large, seemingly bored and at the same way irritated sister. She wore an old grey sweater she always loved to wear during the fall/winter months. The hood was cast, covering her head. Her long black ears poked through the makeshift holes she obviously created, twitching at the sound of her feet. Even though she was playing on her 3DS, her large paws moving the D-pad with precision, her tail wagging in a stiff fashion spoke her true emotions.
  237.         “Morning.”
  239.         “Mornin’.”
  241.         Even as Vince shuffled into the kitchen to get something to eat, he couldn’t help but glance at her tail. Her black hair was dishevelled and messy, and looked as if it hadn’t been cared for in months. Considering how dark her room usually was, it was rare for him to even see it. But here it was, as clear as day—literally—and Vince almost wanted to comment on her poor care of her body. But then she’d comment on how he was staring at her butt. Which wasn’t far off, considering it was hard to miss something which had its own gravitational pull: especially since she decided to wear a pair of jeans which looked as if they’d been in a long and drawn out battle with a blender. From the torn knees to the ripped thighs, they had clearly seen better days.
  243.         “You’re up early.”
  245.         Mary snorted
  247.         Every Halloween they woke up this early, and it was every Halloween they’d always be in the same mood. It was also every Halloween Vince always had to do the same thing.
  249.         “You haven’t eaten anything, have you?”
  251.         “Not hungry.” She growled when something clearly wrong happened in her game, but it wasn’t enough to hide her stomach’s own growl.
  253.         “Just admit you like my pancakes.” Vince said with a sly grin.
  255.         “You mix the batter for too long, you add too much butter, and you burn the first half.” She didn’t even glance at him once as she said it matter-of-factly. “They taste like shit and the only thing that saves them is the fact that Maple Syrup makes everything taste good anyhow.”
  257.         “And yet you eat them as if your life depends on it.” He shook his head. “Man, how could I ever face mom and dad now if I had to tell them their daughter eats shit for breakfast?~”
  259.         “Well maybe if you didn’t make shit I wouldn’t have to eat it.”
  261.         “You don’t have to eat shit, you know. There are probably other things one can eat that would provide them the same amount of nutrients.” He shrugged. “But, if you want to eat out of the toilet instead of on a plate then go right ahead.”
  263.         “HAH! Yeah, keep talking. You won’t be talking shit when I’m done with this.” She hissed, more at her game than at her. “Now hurry up and make breakfast, I’m starving.”
  265.         “You know, if you’re so hungry why don’t you make something to eat?”
  267.         Vince knew this would hit a nerve. He did this every Halloween, and she hated it. It wasn’t already bad enough that his sister lacked the basic necessities of table manners, but to be reminded that she also lacked the basics of cooking drove her insane. And he knew. Even as she seemed to have gone completely quiet, pausing her game to glare at his back, he couldn’t help but have a smug smile plastered onto his face the whole time as he began to gather the ingredients. He could feel the heat on his back, the heat which would make the lowly oblivious idiot who had never been brought up in a house of Hellhound’s sweat and shiver in fear, but he stood tall and defiant.
  269.         Even as he heard the violent sound of the chair in which she sat on being pushed, he continued on. He had better things to do than worry about a pissed off Hellhound probably thinking of many ways to kill him, and one of those were getting all the ingredients needed for his famous ‘shit’ pancakes. Flour, baking powder, vanilla, sugar; all he needed was the eggs, butter, and buttermilk and he could make his prized pancakes in which he prided upon. Of course, it wasn’t the first time he’d been insulted by his sister, or he would be striving to improve his recipe. It wasn’t because they were bad; it was that they were too good. It was their mother’s recipe of course; one that Mary never wanted to admit she adored.
  271.         What Vince didn’t expect was the sound of his last remaining ingredients being placed next to him. He glanced to his right in confusion, and he saw his sister—his irritated looking sister—standing next to him, her hand on the carton of eggs. If Vince hadn’t been living with his sister for years, he would be intimidated by her height. But there wasn’t much to be intimidated by a tall Hellhound who had a negative chest to begin with. He blinked, looking directly into her burning eyes, and she turned her gaze away from his. There were many questions racing in his active mind, but the most important question had to be said.
  273.         “…What are you doing in the kitchen?”
  275.         “What, is it a foreign concept for me to be in the kitchen?” She shot back. Vince blinked, causing her to growl. “Listen here you little shit, I come into the kitchen now and then.”
  277.         “I’m not sure you understand the phrase ‘now and then’. It doesn’t apply to those who come into the kitchen every few months to restock her own fridge.”
  279.         “That’s because my lovely little brother does it for me.” She grinned.
  281.         “Yes and your lovely little brother feels bad for making your ass so fat due to spoiling you.” He held his face in his hands in sorrow. “Now my poor older sister dares to redefine the phrase ‘pear shaped’! I fail as a little brother; woe is me!”
  283.         “You having fun acting?”
  285.         “I don’t know, I think it may be my calling. How would you feel seeing your little brother on the big screen?”
  287.         “I’d puke until I hold the Guinness book of World records for puking enough to drown this town.”
  289.         “Small town; not really a feat.” Vince paused. “Plus it would damage my career if my sister was a known vomit enthusiast.”
  291.         “Then my job would be complete.” She smirked. “Your life would be ruined, all the girls who would suck your dick for a picture with you would avoid you like the plague, and once again you would come crawling back to me into my arms and live with me in oblivion once more.”
  293.         “Truly you have a leash on me I cannot seem to see myself.”
  295.         “Your first mistake was being born.” She placed a paw on his head and leaned closer to his face, a sadistic grin on her face. Her smouldering eyes burned onto his. “You’re all mine, little bro.”
  297.         “Of course I am. Who else could cook for you?” He grinned, a grin that increased when she frowned and moved away from his face. It was hard to tell if she was blushing, but it didn’t matter. Vince had fought the demon and subdues it with one sentence. He was a legend in the eyes of many, and a good brother in the eyes of some. “But seriously, what are you doing in the kitchen?”
  299.         She seemed to flinch at the question, and it wasn’t hard to read her that she was thinking of an elaborate excuse. Her tail seemed to drop and hang limply behind her, occasionally wagging and flinching. Her ears seemed to perk up and flicker even as she thought, and she looked off into the distance in deep thought.
  301.         “I just wanted to help, t’is all.” This was her excuse. Vince sighed.
  303.         “Get an apron.” He said flatly, gesturing off to nothing in particular.
  305.         “The hell do I need an apron for? You take me for some maid?” She was practically spitting irritation, and it was too bright and too early for Vince to be dealing with this.
  307.         “No, but I know how you cook and you make a mess that makes P’Orc’s squeal in glee and Beelzebub’s orgasm endlessly; Get an apron.”
  309.         “Tch, I just wanted to help, asshole.”
  311.         “No, you wanted me to teach you how to cook. And the first step in listening to the chef.” It wasn’t hard to tell, Vince thought to himself. And the way Mary seemed to have the same face she had when she was a child being caught with her hand in the cookie jar—getting a cookie for him—he was right on the money.
  313.         “…Can’t I just use a shirt?”
  315.         “No.”
  317.         "Fucking bullshit, you don’t use an apron!”
  319.         "Surprise surprise; I know how to cook.” He said with sarcasm dripping off his voice. “And it’s pancakes, not a Turkey.”
  321.         It didn’t take long before Mary eventually growled in irritation--after everything she said was contracted by Vince--and stormed off to find an apron. It wasn’t as if Vince had many aprons, they were all left over with the house by his mother and father. Personally, he didn’t like wearing an apron, considering he hated tying the back. But his mother would always pester him to wear one, and his father, who was more of a grill person than a stove person, always told him the very importance of the apron and the basics in apron wearing use. From brushing off sauce, to using it as a makeshift napkin, he knew every trick of the trade when it came to aprons. ‘Aprons are an art’ his father used to tell him, and it wasn’t before he himself began to make food that he understood the fundamentals of wearing a piece of cloth over the front of his body. Aprons were as important as having a good knife, and were after much baking and cooking, were essential in making a good dish.
  323.         He completely ignored the look of embarrassment and annoyance his sister had on her face when she rounded the corner wearing w white apron. If it were a situation where they weren’t brother and sister but lovers, it would almost be erotic. But to even think of his sister in such a lewd fashion disgusted his very being. He didn’t care his picky his mind was beginning to be; she didn’t even wear it in any sort of erotic fashion or even in a functional fashion. He expected her to take off her sweater so she didn’t have to roll them up, but kept them on. She didn’t tie it, or even wear it properly to warrant its proper use. Even as she crossed her arms over her chest, obviously hiding the ‘kiss the cook’ on the front, she had no sort of chest to even make the average man blush. It was even worse that she took the hoodie off from over her head, revealing her painfully obvious bedhead which would be erotic if it weren’t for the fact that it was, in fact, his flat chested, bottom heavy, NEET sister.
  325.         “You admirin’? Enjoying the view?” She asked coyly.
  327.         “Yes. I am amazed that you have caused me to feel a sense of sickness I haven’t felt since when I was a kid who over-ate too much candy at one time. You have recreated this feeling in seconds.”
  329.         “Oh really, and what does mini-Vince say?” She asked, moving closer to him.
  331.         “It’s amazed that in record time you have eliminated morning wood.” He said dryly. “You know, actually; stay still for a bit. Let me burn this scene into my brain so when I ever get an inappropriate boner the image of this will kill it so fast you swear it was shot.”
  333.         “Haw haw. You’re a really comedian.” She spat, giving him the finger.
  335.         “Honesty and sarcasm are too different things.” Vince said, sticking out his tongue. “Now, do you know how to crack eggs?”
  337.         “HA! What kind of fucking stupid question is that? What, did you bang your head against the headboard when you woke up?”
  339.         “So you don’t.” Vince covered his mouth in a dramatic fashion. “Unbelievable; My Older Sister Cannot Be This Fucking Stupid!”
  341.         “Go fuck yourself.”
  343.         “Embrace your anger.” Vince smirked as he watched her grab a pair of eggs with one of her paws, holding one in between each digit. “Let it flow.”
  345.         “You’re such a fucking nerd.” She
  347.         He snorted. “You’re one to talk.”
  349.         “Right; because I’m a nerd.” She scoffed. He was captivated at how careful she was being trying to crack one of the eggs. He knew she was terrible at it, but she chose to try and prove herself. But the way her paw seemed to be shaking, and how she tapped the bowl multiple times with an egg, increasing her pressure ever so slightly to not redo her last embarrassment with eggs which was smashing them against the side.
  351.         “I think Char Aznable is a terrible character.”
  353.         “Now you listen here you fucking uneducated piece of subhuman garbage,” He expected her to react quickly, but to drop everything and look at him directly with such malice it could melt anything in a 40m radius, he was actually surprised. “Char is one of the most well written characters in Mobile Suit Gundam. The only reason anyone would say Char was a bad character is because a) They are so underdeveloped in the metal field that their mind cannot do basic thinking processes or b) because they like Hayato. Motherfucking Hayato. And the fact that you and Hayato are both short makes it painfully obvious what your favourite character is.”
  355.         She didn’t even glance at the eggs on the floor, shattered and splattered on the marble, but instead got a new pair.
  357.         “At least Hayato got Fraw.” Vince knew that this was going to be a lost cause the minute she came into the kitchen, but he was having fun.
  359.         “Who even cares about Fraw?”
  361.         And even though the argument the two had went on as the day progressed, with Vince eventually making breakfast while talking with his sister, he had to admit that even though he hated waking up early, if it meant on each Halloween they would always have this much fun together, he honestly didn’t mind. They both laughed, they both yelled, but they never in fact hated each other. Even after the constant threats his sister would make on his life, he knew she would never actually do most of what she said. Unless it was in some form of pain that Vince could recover from, which mostly included beatings and a slew of pranks.
  363.         He didn’t even know where the time went even as they were walking through the Pumpkin patch that belonged to one of their neighbours. It had become a tradition every Halloween to find the best looking pumpkins and carve them for the special occasion. Since they were kids they had been doing it, and even now as young adults they did it. It wasn’t as if it was a strange concept since not only was this pumpkin patch available to the entire town—especially since it was the largest—but the entire town knew about their pseudo tradition. Mary seemed to not mind being outside on the cloudy fall day much either considering Halloween was her element, so to speak. She loved scaring the kids, considering they were always terrified of her. But instead of running away in fear, their little legs moving as fast as they could, they ran away giggling and laughing at being scared by the big bad wolf.
  365.         Of course, they don’t know it’s not a costume. But what they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them.
  367.         Their neighbor seemed to always be happy to see them both outside. Vince always went outside, considering he wasn’t as much of a NEET as his sister, but Mary was a Unicorn. And their old neighbors knew this. They’d always tell the same tales of how he and his sister used to play outside, and how she would always protect him from every little thing—from squirrels to birds to dogs and foxes. Of course, Mary always denied doing any sort of cute thing, but the old man would always confirm it with pictures. Pictures of when they were small with their parents. Most wouldn’t mind being told about their childhood from the eyes of another if it wasn’t for the fact that their neighbour wasn’t the most silent horn in the orchestra, and it wasn’t long before a crowd would form listening intently at the embarrassing tales of Vince and Mary. It was at this point Mary would drag the poor man off into his barn, which always cemented the reason why everyone feared her for they’d never see him again for the entire day.
  369.         It wasn’t long after they got their pumpkin and some groceries that they had come back home before it got super late. Even though everyone in the town knew they never bought candy if it wasn’t for themselves, kids would always knock on their doors. Every single Halloween it was the same. Even as Vince restocked the fridge with fresh food while Mary made sure to turn off every light in the house, they had a sneaking suspicion that some beyond un-intelligent child would walk up the front steps and knock on their door. The way Mary seemed to have such a sadistic smile on her face talking about it, Vince feared that if a child were to come and knock on their door during Halloween they would know firsthand what Hell actually looks like.
  371.         “So, what’s the movie this year?” Mary asked, plopping onto her couch with a pomf. The hiss of a can of Cola being opened rang in the silence of her room, and she gulped down the soda. Vince fiddled with a small box in his lap, turning on the VCR.
  373.         “Remember when the hot water was out?” Vince asked. He glanced over his shoulder to see the confused look on her face, the glow of the TV making her almost look like a ghost with piercing auburn eyes. “Well, I found these old tapes in the basement while I was fixing the boiler. Guess what I found?”
  375.         “Mom and dad’s honeymoon?” Mary asked coyly.
  377.         “Good god no.” Vince said bluntly, getting a chuckle from his sister. “Old horror cartoons we used to watch as kids. Tales from the Crypt, Are You Afraid of the Dark?; the whole lot of them.”
  379.         “Shut up.” Mary coughed, chocking on her drink. “Are you serious?”
  381.         “Scouts honor.” Vince said, making a cross over his heart.
  383.         “Well then put one in!” Mary exclaimed.
  385.         “Got a personal episode you want to watch?”
  387.         “Just put it in.” Mary glared.
  389.         “Impatient much? “ Vince said, spitting out his tongue. “Maybe I should put it in nice and slow. Or do you want me to just j-j-j-j-jam it in? I mean, I don’t think the VCR likes it rough like some.”
  391.         “Who says I like it rough?” Mary sipped.
  393.         “Who said I was talking about you?” Vince grinned, pushing the tape into the VCR. He couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed that she made a fool of herself or irritated. He took his normal seat on the floor in between her legs and tilted his head back. “Christ, could you be any hotter there? You’re going to boil my brain.”
  395.         “Shut up.” She growled, punching him lightly on the head. He chuckled at her embarrassment, but what happened next threw them both off.
  397.         The large flat screen flickered to life as the VCR began to read the tape. But instead of the thrilling intro of Tales from the Crypt, they were both met with ‘Pirates of the Carri Be eeean’ in crudely written English with a badly drawn Scylla with a pirate hat. They looked at the screen in more curiosity than confusion, but were both mortified by what happened next. The paper moved, and there were two little kids in extremely bad pirate outfits. One was wearing a badly constructed pirate hat with face braids draped over his little face. On his face was what looked like a beard and mustache created by the wonders of washable markers, and one eye was covered by a paper eyepatch. The jacket he was beyond oversized, covering one of his hands while the other held a cardboard sword.
  399.         Meanwhile, the other child, looking not only older but much taller, wore the same getup except with green paper taped to her pitch black shin on her face, creating some sort of beard that was supposed to be tentacles(?). The way she was grinning, with her auburn eyes looking down at the little pirate, and how she just radiated confidence, she was mucking up the entire situation. The camera seemed to even be unsteady, shaking on occasion. She pointed her own cardboard sword at the little kid, and her grin increased—causing one of the green paper tentacles to fall off.
  401.         “Jack Sparrah, I’ve got yew trapped and cornahed!” No, you could not say she was trying a British accent. That would be an insult to the British accent. “Yew have nowheh tew run! Aneh last werds?”
  403.         “Jack Sparrah never gives up!” The little boy more giggled as he said his line, and ran at the tall Hellpup with vigorous speed and resolve. At least, that’s what the boy thought he was doing. They clashed swords, making their own ‘Shing!’ and ‘Clang!’ noises. Eventually ‘Jack Sparrah’ seemed to stab the girl, and she laughed.
  405.         “Ohohohoho! Poor foolish Jack Sparrah! Eye ‘ave no hert! Yeur stabbing at nothin’!” She grabbed the ‘blade’ and broke it, causing the poor boy to fall onto his butt. But then, out of seemingly nowhere, he took out another sword, and the fight ensured.
  407.         Vince was too captivated by the extremely bad film to even realise that his sister was wrapping her legs around his chest, squeezing her thighs against his head to almost crush him.
  409.         “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” She was spewing so much venom it hid her absolute embarrassment, and Vince tapped her legs as if to tell her she was crushing his head--Which she was.
  411.         “I found it in the basement. It said Horror Films.” Vince protested, trying to look up at her. But her eyes spoke more paragraphs than her entire expression.
  413.         It then dawned on Vince the true meaning of the label of the box. This was entirely orchestrated by their parents. Since they were children they always watched horror films on Halloween, and they knew that they could continue the tradition even now. They also knew that eventually the boiler would give out, causing him to come downstairs eventually and find the box of 'Horror Films' inconspicuously placed right next to the dying boiler. This was a plan entirely created years in advanced by his parents, and how their plan was reality. their bomb which they have set in the past was now finally going off in the future. They lied to both Mary and Vince that their videos were lost, for this was proof that they weren't lost but moved. He was amazed by the amount of planning put into this one moment, and was actually impressed by its intricacies.
  415.         “Well fucking change it!” Mary growled, loosening her grip on his head. She went to get the remote, but Vince was quick to move and grabbed it for himself.
  417.         “Wait, this isn’t that bad.” Vince grinned, and he turned up the volume. In the light of the TV, Vince could see his sister blushing in embarrassment, and she lunged at him onto the floor in pure rage.
  419.         “Give me the fucking remote!” She yelled.
  421.         Vince knew she could overpower him with ease, but he continued to defy her what she desired. She pinned him to the grown, her loose shirt rubbing onto his chest, and went to reach for the remote in which he held high above his head, but he tossed it away. She tried to leap for it, but he grabbed her tail and yanked her back, ignoring the moan in which escaped her mouth. She was too busy covering her mouth in embarrassment to go after him, but after seeing how he triumphantly held it in his hands, sitting cross legged and grinning like a Cheshire running an ice cream truck, she growled like a ravenous animal and pounced. Before they collided, he tossed it overheard, sacrificing the pain of a bottom heavy NEET charging headfirst into him for the safety of the remote. She was moving too fast to turn and skidded into him, causing them both to crash into the closet where they were ceremonially buried by her clothes.
  423.         It wasn’t long afterwards that Mary’s head poked out from under the clothes, and scanned the area for the remote. Her eyes set upon the small grey brick next to her computer, and she ran on all fours like a dog towards it, leaving a bewildered and pained Vince to sit in a pile of his sister’s clothes, her scent overwhelming his senses. He had got used to the scent of her room being a mixture of ash and cinder with a little dash of ‘alone time’, but to be assaulted all at one by the scents which were stronger due to how close they were made him feel slightly lightheaded. He sat upwards, oblivious to how a pair of panties sat on his head, and wheezed and coughed for air. He hazily glanced towards his sister, who held the remote in one of her paws, triumph painted on her face.
  425.         “You’ve had your fun, ‘Jack Sparrah’, but I’ve won.” She grinned. She pointed the remote at the TV and-
  427.         “I wuve you, big sis!”
  429.         -froze completely in time. Yes, it was at the microscopic moment before one of her big meaty fingers could press the power button that the little boy on the screen, whose little arms were wrapped around his older sister, had said the phrase which froze time. Her face began to flush, and she trembled. It wasn’t that she was a bro-con, or maybe it was, but she didn’t even realise she had pressed Rewind and Play until she heard the phrase once more, and she made a strange squee/giggle/moan hybrid/eldritch abomination that confused her little brother who sat in her clothes. But the embarrassment that was washing over him cleansed him of the numbing of his scents to make him blush.
  431.         “G-Give me the remote.” He didn’t care that his voice stuttered; he held his hand out towards her. “Mary-“
  433.         “What happened to that stoic and defiant attitude you had before when you were trying to defend the remote before?~” Even though she said this as if to sound high and mighty, her tail wagged with enough vigor to power a city. The way she seemed to aimlessly rewind and replay the scene while shivering made Vince know that there was a slim chance where she sat was getting a little damp.
  435.         So Vince ran towards her, tackling her onto the ground while she was defenceless and vulnerable, and tried to get the remote. But her height difference was evident, and she held him in place with one arm, pushing his face into her cutting board of a chest while holding the remote out of reach. He tried to get out of her grip, but she cemented his entrapment by licking him in place with her legs. It wasn’t hard to place two and two together to know that the wetness Vince was feeling was from a certain place, and Vince was completely trapped in his sister’s arms. He looked up at her, and she looked down with a gleeful grin, breathing heavily like a wild animal and blushing as if she had a fever. The two looked at each other, both visibly blushing, and Vince could feel—no, hear her heart beating in rapid succession. It was strange, but the usual smell of ash was replaced with something else. An almost sweet yet pungent scent when his own heart race. Their eyes never drifted from each other, and they seemed to stare for what felt like hours. The sadistic grin of his sisters began to fade, and her eyelids began to lower. His own defiant look began to soften, and it was at this point Vince noticed something he had never noticed before.
  437.         His sister was very cute.
  439.         His mind seemed to race as every picture, every thought, every memory of his sister seemed to appear all at once. Of her cute smile when she was happy, of when she joked with him, of when she always seemed to be at peace with him. They had lived with each other since college, and some would swear they were married. They’d seen and done each other’s laundry, taken showers together—which was because the water was low—and had slept with each other; of course, not in the lewd way. And now, as their hot breaths mingled in the seeming hot air, it had dawned on him that her face was so beautiful to behold. Her features were soft, save for the dark circles which were hidden by her ghostly smoke that radiated off her auburn eyes. Her lips looked so soft to the touch, almost drawing him in. Even as she held him close, he actually felt comfort instead of pain in how tightly she held him. Her chest was nonexistent, but she felt so soft like she was a pillow he could fall asleep on--Which wasn’t the first time he had done so. He was so captivated by her eyes to not even care about the growing dampness he felt. Their breathing seemed to almost be in sync, and the more he looked at her the more he was being pulled in. He tried to move closer, but her grip was too tight. But she seemed to understand, and her leg lock and arm were unlocked, giving him free reign. But now, with free mobility, he didn’t know what to do. All he could do was stare. And it was the same for her. When he gulped, she gulped. When he blinked, it wasn’t far afterwards that she would blink. Even as he moved closer, eventually hovering above her, her hair sprawled all over the carpet below her while his hair draped around his face, he didn’t know what to do. In the scorching heat, of their bodies, they were already sweating. But it wasn’t long before his body went into autopilot and he leaned closer. Her body seemed to also be on autopilot as her eyes slowly closed and her soft lips puckered in preparation to embrace his.
  441.         When their lips met, an almost electric current coerced through them. The soft feeling of her lips on his put him in a state of bliss, and the feeling of his drenched her pants in newfound fluids. Even though it was a measly peck, which was quickly parted, the small action caused way more than anticipated. They looked at each other once more, faces flushed in embarrassment. But That was tossed out the window when their lips pressed against each other once again. Vince didn’t even care that he held one of her hands with his, entwining fingers, or how her warm wrapped around her neck—he was too busy dancing with her tongue to care. Even as they fought for dominance, he didn’t care how she wrapped a leg around his; the intimacy of the kiss removed all background noises, including the knock at the door and the sound of trick-or-treaters. His pants were straining, and hers were drenched, but they continued the waltz in their mouths. Their tongues mingled and entwined, and the slight moan could be heard from his sister. When they finally broke the kiss, they were both out of breath. A string of saliva connected their lips like a strong of fate, and their heavy breaths mixed in the sex scented air. They gazed into each other’s eyes, and looked away in embarrassment, dryly laughing in between breaths.
  443.         To say that English was a difficult answer was an understatement.
  445.         It was Vince who broke the pregnant silence. “I, uhh… I’m going to… go to bed…”
  447.         “Yeah?” It wasn’t a question. By the sultry tone in her voice, it was so far from being a question to call it a question was lying.
  449.         “Yeah… In my room…” He tried to get up, but her grip was tight. “Uhm… Right now…”
  451.         “Oh? Oh!” Mary blushed in embarrassment and let him go. At any point in time, in any situation, she would’ve tightened her grip. But the intimate kiss seemed to fry both of their brains, and now they were acting like kids in preschool who just kissed for the first time. “S-Sorry!”
  453.         Sorry? Vince was bewildered by the word in which his sister had never used in her entire life. “I-It’s fine…” He slowly began to get up, but during the initial process of getting on your feet he felt a sensation in which could only be explained by the fact that the pants in which he wore were two times too small. He tried to hide it, but the light of the TV gave it enough definition that it could be made out in a crowd.
  455.         Made out, Vince repeated. The phrase cannot be said the same way ever again. He shuffled towards the door, hiding his raging member by the door frame, and waved sheepishly at his sister, who had decided to lay in the most seductive pose that his heart skipped a beat. Was it intentional Vince never knew, but she was too busy wiping the spit off her mouth to realise.
  457.         “U-Uhh, good night…” He squeaked.
  459.         “…Hey.” She said in a low tone.
  461.         “Hm?”
  463.         “You…” She seemed to look away, hiding her face from his gaze. “You’re not a bad kisser…”
  465.         There was a pause.
  467.         “Yeah… You’re not so bad yourself…”
  469. FIN
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