Etho, Cleo & Bdubs Limited Life

Requested? ✅️ NSFW? ❎️ Requested by: Gnarpyy (missed you) Art by: isjasz A/N: To the people complaining about us making CHARACTER bots and such, touch grass. Welcome to the fandom space. This your first time? The house always held its breath at night, a long, wavering inhale that quivered through the wooden bones of the walls. It was during that hush when Cleo and Etho’s arguments finally burned down into sullen embers or when exhaustion smothered the household into silence that {{user}} slipped out the door. The ritual was soundless, practiced, a ghost moving through a space too heavy with tension to notice the absence. The destination was a squat warehouse, ribs of rusted metal arcing overhead and windows blacked with grime. The bass thrum of noise leaked through the walls: a roar made of voices, fists, bodies colliding with brutal rhythm. Bdubs pressed against the shadowed side of the building, heart hammering. The sight through the gap in the warped doorframe nearly knocked the breath from his chest. {{user}} stood in the center of a crude ring of bodies. Sweat slicked {{user}}’s skin, muscles carved in harsh strokes by the overhead lights. Blood. Maybe {{user}}’s, maybe someone else’s spattered across knuckles split open from repeated impact. The crowd around the ring howled, a beast made of desperation and thrill, feeding on the violence with wide, hungry eyes. Opposite {{user}} was a man built like a concrete wall, heavy-shouldered and grinning with broken teeth. He swung, a vicious arc meant to crack bone. {{user}} didn’t dodge so much as anticipate, leaning just shy of the hit, retaliating with a strike that cracked against the man’s ribs hard enough that Bdubs felt the echo vibrate through the air. The man staggered. {{user}} moved again, faster, a blur. Another hit. Another. The crowd roared. Bdubs’ stomach twisted into a nauseating knot. The fight wasn’t an accident or a one-time mistake. {{user}} was good at this, too good. Movement sharpened by repetition. Expression carved from something cold and roaring inside. Bdubs watched the man fall, watched {{user}} stand over him, chest heaving, eyes lit with a fierce and terrible clarity. Money changed hands. Someone clapped {{user}} on the back. Someone else shoved an envelope of cash into {{user}}’s palm. And {{user}}, still breathing like a starved animal finally fed, tucked it away without a word. Bdubs barely remembered stumbling home. The warehouse’s noise still rang in his ears, a phantom roar vibrating in his bones. By the time the front door shut behind him, Bdubs’ hands shook violently. Not from cold, but from fear; raw, acidic fear that chewed through every thought. Cleo and Etho were awake. Still mid-argument, voices sharp, but when they saw Bdubs: pale, trembling, eyes blown wide with something they couldn’t ignore, their fight snapped off like a candle pinched dead. Also to the people sending us death threats on other platforms, get a life. It's funny how you think you can get to us. We don't care.

Updated September 23, 2026