#(( mr crazy legs over here..... its supposed to be scary but the legs are so funny to me ))

[just-bendy]

*A distorted version of mickey mouse with a syringe appears for some reason and runs towards bendy letting out a loud screech*

What the HELL was that!? Some sorta twitchy-legged Mickey monster? With a syringe fer some reason? Whatever it is, it's dead now, but man... that kinda freaked me out. And I don't even wanna know what it wanted ta do with that syringe. Blegh.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 29

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is back on Earth, summoned by a strange child.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

It was cold.

Bucky was frozen, the air like a flash freeze over his skin. The warmth he’d been used to vanished as the portal closed behind him. It hurt to breathe, hurt to think. There were so many scents, overwhelming after the dry, dead air of the demon realm.

The noises pressed on his sensitive hearing: air conditions, cars driving in the distance, electric appliances and fixtures. He bent his head and covered his ears, whining, but it didn’t help.

He was accustomed to bright, endless daylight. That wasn’t the reason he squeezed his eyes shut. There’d only been one color in the world he’d escaped.

Now he was surrounded in greens and tans and blues and whites. He couldn’t see the sky; he was indoors, in a house. He couldn’t breathe. He scrambled for safety, the first spot of darkness he could find, under a twin bed. Bucky laid still, curled into a ball with his tail and wings shielding him as he trembled.

In contrast to the assault on his other senses, his sense of touch was cushioned by the carpet, so much softer than the stone floor of his cave. There wasn’t much left to his tac pants and vest, so he experienced the full effect against his skin.

Bucky nearly stretched out on it, marveling at the soft texture, but he went still. There was a second presence in the room. A pair of eyes staring at him hiding under the bed.

A human child. A girl. Couldn’t be more than ten years old.

Bucky curled himself inwards further, terrified, of what he didn’t know. Just that everything was too much and he couldn’t stop fucking shaking.

“Don’t be scared,” the little voice said. “I won’t hurt you.”

Bucky would have laughed if his abdominal muscles weren’t clenched like a vice. It was funny. Horrifying. Why wasn’t she running? Bucky hadn’t used his guise in a long time and he couldn’t summon it now, too overwhelmed to control his tenuous-grasp of magic. His wings and horns and claws were partially obscured by the shadows, but if anything, that should have made him appear more fearsome, not less.

“What’s your name?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

Bucky tried to speak but all that emerged was a choked whimper. He couldn’t even look at her he was trembling so badly. It was like a horrible withdrawal, or an adrenaline rush that wouldn’t stop. He half-wondered if he was dying, or maybe, this is what it felt like to come back to life.

“Here.”

He uncurled enough to look upwards. The girl was holding something out to him from where she knelt, peeking under the bed.

“Mr. Squiggles helps me when I’m scared,” she said with the bright confidence only a child could have. “Go on. Take him.”

Bucky stared at the stuffed animal. Its grey fur was worn, its dark eyes dull. Clearly well-loved and treasured.

He’d had a toy like that, once. A teddy bear with button eyes. He’d loved it so much, but then he and Becca had gotten sick. His parents had burned the toy, along with most of their clothing.

Even now, he could remember how upset he’d been, and how much a child’s toy meant. And this child, who’d just had a demon dropped into her bedroom, was offering it to him because he was scared.

Something surged in his chest. Gratefulness. Sorrow. A fierce protectiveness for this stupidly brave kid.

Bucky reached out to take the toy, claws shaking as he carefully wrapped his fingers around the tabby cat’s leg.

A strange sensation jolted up his arm, following by intense warmth at his shoulder, directly over his mark. And then it was gone.

“You must be hungry,” the girl whispered conspiratorially as Bucky tucked the toy against his chest. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed a thing. “I’ll get you something to eat! Stay here!”

She dashed from the room without waiting for an answer. Bucky planned to stay put, to come up with what he should do next, but at the words you must be hungry, a vast, devastating hunger hit him directly in the gut.

It wasn’t for food.

I need… I need to get out of here. His movements were panicked, clumsy as he crawled out from under the bed. I need to…

Before he could look for an escape the kid returned to the room, nearly smacking right into Bucky. He recoiled backwards away from her, putting space between them, but she only looked up in him in confusion. Then she smiled and held out the plate she carried, a sandwich perched on top. Peanut butter and blueberry jelly.

Saliva flooded his mouth as his stomach rumbled, but he dared not move any closer to her. The demon side of him had no interest in the kid, thank Christ for that, but he was still terrified of hurting her. He was designed to be a living weapon, after all. Not exactly child-friendly.

He just wished the kid would get the memo.

“Go on,” she said, smiling brightly. “Take it. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Hysterical laughter threatened to burst out of him. It was like a baby kitten trying to soothe and comfort a lion. Bucky towered over her, his wings and horns still on full display, but she just stared up at him with wonder and awe. No sense of self-preservation at all.

Figuring he would at least address one of his hungers, he took the plate from her as if it was a live grenade. Satisfied, she beamed up at him and then went to close her bedroom door.

“I don’t think my friends are coming back, they all ran away when that blue portal appeared. That’s what that was, right? And you’re a demon?”

Bucky choked on the first bite of sandwich he took.

“That’s what I thought.” She nodded sagely, the ribbons of her ridiculous pigtails flapping with the movement. “I told them I could do magic, but they didn’t believe me. Bet they will now!”

Her face fell a little as she looked past Bucky, and she mumbled, “Mom is definitely going to ground me.”

Bucky followed her gaze to the open closet doors. Extinguished black candles were scattered on the carpet surrounding what appeared to be a charred spirit board. But what really drew Bucky’s eye was the state of the closet door and the back of the closet itself: charred as if there had recently been a fire. He could still smell the stench of sulfur, and he shivered. He would not miss that place, that was for sure.

Quickly scarfing down the food—when had Bucky last had a good, ol’ fashioned PB&J?—he eyed the kid warily. She kept talking about magic and how her mother always blamed her for things catching on fire around the house, but it wasn’t her fault. On and on she went, as if she was talking to another human being and not a six-foot tall demon. She was way too damn calm for being face-to-face with the occult, but then again, she seemed like a weird kid to begin with.

He kept waiting for the voice to chime in with its opinion, but it had been silent since Bucky came through the portal. He frowned. It had promised it would be here, so where was it?

Bucky sighed and turned his attention back to the small chatterbox.

“What’s your name, kid?”

She told him, proudly and without hesitation. Definitely too trustworthy. What would have happened if it was one of those other demons that had gotten through?

He frowned further, troubled as he looked around her room. He couldn’t see anything suspicious, but the stink of other demons was still pungent to Bucky’s sensitive nose.

“Did you see anything else come through besides me?” he asked.

The kid finally lost some of her spunk as she looked down at the carpet, gripping her denim overalls tightly in her hands.

“Hey,” Bucky said, voice softer. “You’re not in trouble.”

It was strange, the more he talked to her the less anxious he was. Already he had stopped trembling and shaking, though his senses were still reeling from the influx of earthy smells and loudness of civilization.

She nodded slowly and looked past Bucky. He turned to see what she was looking at now, and this time it was her open window. They were on the second story, and it was dark outside.

“Lot of things, but they ran away. They weren’t like you.” She swallowed and gripped her clothes tighter. “They were scary.”

So, she wasn’t as unaffected as Bucky thought. Her voice was unsteady, and the smell of fear was unmistakable. Kids weren’t supposed to see things like this. Like Bucky.  She seemed fine now, but what about when she tried to sleep tonight? What about years from now when people told her she was crazy and she couldn’t trust her own memories?

Didn’t seem right. Not for a kid, and especially not one that had saved his life. Bucky didn’t know how she’d done it, but he was proof positive that magic, or something like it, was real.

Bucky turned back to look at her, sadness weighing heavily on him like a physical thing. He didn’t want her to be afraid, or worse, harmed by what had happened. Would the demons come back to this place or would they prey on other unsuspecting targets? Either way, he swore he would hunt them down. It was a small price to pay to come back to life.

But first, there was the matter of the girl. He couldn’t leave her like this, with such dangerous knowledge in her head.

As Bucky moved to give her back the plate, something deep and instinctual within him rose to the surface. The girl extended her hand and he dropped the plate, grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open, but Bucky’s other hand cradled her cheek as he pressed his thumb directly between her brows.

A jolt went up his arm and through his hand, straight down his thumb and into her thoughts, her memories. Surprise mixed with horror when he sensed the memories she had just created, of him and the demons and the portal, were obliterated from her mind. Just as the Chair had done to him.

Bucky released her, shocked by what he’d just done, and then was forced to rush forward as the girl started to collapse. Fearing the worst, Bucky felt along her head and neck, but she was breathing, slowly and deeply as if she’d just fallen asleep. Her face was smooth and untroubled, too innocent for what she’d experienced.

Holding her carefully, Bucky carried her and laid her down on the bed. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled the covers over her, hoping if her family came in and found her they would think she was simply asleep. She was asleep, Bucky was coming to realize. Whatever power he’d wielded had done this, and perhaps it was a small mercy she wasn’t conscious for it, but it still made him sick down to his bones.

When she woke up, she wouldn’t remember any of it, including Bucky. Perhaps… that was for the best.

With one last lingering look, Bucky strode across the room to the open window. Under the cover of darkness, he leapt from the ledge and opened his wings, catching the air and flapping as hard as he could to gain altitude.

It wasn’t until he was high in the air with the lights glittering below him that he realized his claws were still wrapped around the stuffed cat. He’d have to return it at some point, but for now, he had other, more pressing problems.

One, Bucky was starving. He was so hungry he could barely think, as if all his years of being dormant were catching up to him. The pain of it was consuming, racking his body and making him shudder midair.

And two… he had yet to hear the voice again. It filled him with emptiness, his pleas going unanswered, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. Maybe he’d gone crazy in that place. Most men would have. He was just disappointed to have been proven right, and the voice hadn’t been real after all.

He couldn’t think about any of that right how. First things first: Bucky had to feed.

Next Chapter

[champagne-bucky]

The Undoing: Two

Summary: The truth about a past life is unveiled.

Warnings: THIS IS A DARK STORY!! dark! Steve Rogers x reader, kidnapping, non con and dub con (or at least mentions of), dark! Bucky Barnes, Stockholm syndrome, grooming, mentions of pregnancy termination and suicide mentions (for one chapter), possibly more tags to be added!

Notes: Welp, it’s here. Hope you guys enjoy chapter 2. There is one more chapter explaining the background of the story and our main character. Hope you all enjoy!! Please make sure to like, comment, reblog, inbox, and follow me for more! Enjoy :)

PLEASE READ WARNINGS!!

*Eight Months Later*

You were in pain. So much fucking pain that you thought you were about to combust from the inside. The contractions started early in the afternoon yesterday. Steve was being stubborn and said that it wasn’t time yet and that the baby will be born on its due date. However, the baby was having other plans.

“Steve,” you tried to scream up to the kitchen. Hopefully he wasn’t out.

“STEVEEEEEEE,” you screamed as loud as you could. You didn’t even know what time of day it was.

Following your obnoxiously loud screams, you heard a series of footsteps from upstairs coming to the basement. The bastard at least gave you a cot to sleep on since you were getting bigger.

“What do you want,” if you weren’t in so much pain you would’ve notice how he barked at you.

“So much pain. I’m in so much pain. I think the baby is coming,” tears were in your eyes as another contraction hit you.

“Sweetheart, the baby isn’t supposed to be here for another two weeks. I think it’s just something that you ate and now your stomach is upset,” he tried to be comforting but in reality he was tired and annoyed you woke him up.

Just as you were about to say something, you felt a gush of water from in between your legs. You screamed out loud and Steve looked bewildered at the sight in front of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking shit, fuck. It’s too early. They aren’t ready,” Steve became frantic as he found the key in his pocket to unchain you.

To get up the stairs was a major dilemma. Every step was like climbing a mountain. Eventually, Steve got tired of how slow you were taking and just ended up picking you up and taking you out to his car.

He got on the phone and dialed up Bucky to meet him at the hospital. You found out that the two were never father and son. They were just posing as ones at work events and family parties that were being thrown. It was just all a scheme to get you.

The pain was doing a number on you. At one point you were finally able to fall asleep, but not until you heard Steve make another phone call.

“Hey, it’s time. Get them ready,” was all you heard from your kidnapper before you passed out.

_________

Hospitals were always a scary place to you. Ever since you were 16, you tried to avoid them as much as possible. Well, this hell hole might just work as your saving grace.

Steve had never taken you out anywhere, not even to get the baby checked by doctors. Knowing him though, he probably did all his evil deeds when he gave you things that made you sleep easier at night.

“When we get in there you so much as utter a single word about anything and I’ll make sure you’ll regret it,” Steve warned you before he ran in to get you a wheelchair. You couldn’t even register the feeling of fear for the wave of contractions hitting you.

Soon enough, you were in a hospital bed and were propped up on stirrups. The nurse had put an IV in you and Steve refused to leave your side. From what the nurses told you, you dilated really fast and baby Rogers wanted to come out now.

Never in your life had you experienced a pain worse than this one. The doctor and Steve yelled at you to keep on pushing, but you felt so numb you didn’t think you were doing anything. Steve squeezed your hand hard because he was getting impatient about meeting his baby.

Notice, his baby. He made sure that during this whole pregnancy that the baby you were carrying was his, not yours or ours. This was his way of breaking you down. Rightfully so, it was starting to work. During those months, you found yourself asking him to stay a little longer after sex. Asking him to hold you for a second longer. You didn’t think that you would succumb to the situation so easily. Well, now that the baby is almost here you need to do what’s best and protect it.

“I see a head!” The doctor yelled and she urged you to keep on pushing. “C’mon, Mama Rogers, just a few more pushes and you get to meet your baby!”

You couldn’t remember the last painful moments of childbirth until the tiny squalling newborn was being placed in your hands. The little babe was still covered in God knows what, but it didn’t matter. The little thing screaming and crying ignited a light inside of you that you thought had died a long time ago.

“It’s a girl! Congratulations mommy and daddy,” the doctor finished cleaning you up and another nurse took the baby girl to get cleaned up, your baby girl.

Steve still had a grip on your hand as he refused to leave your side. He stayed stoic when the doctor announced the sex of your baby girl. “I wanted a boy,” Steve mumbled before walking over to the nurses that asked him if he wanted to see the baby.

Internally, you smirked to yourself with the little bit of strength that you had left in you. He didn’t get what he wanted this time around. Steve Rogers would have to live with the fact that he couldn’t have the control on one thing in your life.

“Have we thought of a name yet?” A young nurse comes over to you and Steve.

“No, I’m going to need a little more time for that,” Steve answered before you got a chance to. As much as you didn’t want to raise a child, let alone Steve’s, you had thought of a perfect name for the baby.

“Well,” the nurse seemed unfazed by Steve, “we are gonna bring baby girl down to the nursery while we let momma rest. Want to bring some family over as well?” The nurse did not put her eyes on you once and only directed questions to Steve.

Steve left along with your baby girl. He gave you a “loving” kiss on the top of your head and gave you a warning glare. Once you were all alone you got straight to work, you pressed the nurse call button and hoped that the nightmare was ending tonight.

________

“There she is,” Steve tried his best to perk up while he showed Bucky the little newborn.

“She’s beautiful, Steve. Congratulations,” Bucky admired the adorable little girl squirming in her crib.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” Steve paused for a moment. That’s all he would need before he asked Bucky the worst possible question a new father could even conjure up.

“You want her,” Bucky snapped his head at Steve. He chuckled at first thinking that Steve was just nervous about fatherhood and all, but the face he made that went along with his question was completely serious.

“Steve, you can’t be serious now, what makes you wanna do that?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t feel right,” Steve simply shrugged.

“What do you mean? I’m sure Y/N isn’t ready to be a mother either, but you guys can work it out. I know you-”

“Something isn’t right...about her,” Steve looked at the baby.

Bucky was confused as he eyed up Steve and the baby that was being taken away by a nurse for feeding time with you. “Steve,” Bucky chuckled warily, “you think a half and hour old newborn baby is capable of what exactly? World domination?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve turns to Bucky with wide eyes. Bucky thought the man was having a psychotic break.

“I know what I’m talking about. There’s something about that thing,” Bucky gasped.

“Steve, don’t call her that, she’s your daughter,” Bucky spoke above a whisper.

“Then why don’t you take her then?” Steve almost growled at Bucky when a nurse hurried over and tapped Steve’s shoulder.

“What?” Steve barked at the nurse.

“Mr. Rogers, it’s your wife. She’s doing what you thought would happen,” Bucky was left in the dark at this statement.

“That fucking bitch,” Steve stormed passed the nurse leaving Bucky to look at the rest of the newborns.

___________

“Please, please, if you just listen to me,” tears were streaming down your face as the nurse kept dismissing your revelation. She kept trying to push the baby towards your breasts, but you kept pushing back trying to explain to her your situation.

“One of you go get the father,” the nurse yelled as one scurried out into the hall.

“No, no, please don’t get him. Get me out PLEASE,” you were screaming hysterics as the nurse yelled at everyone to clear the room.

“You're having crazy thoughts, my dear. We can give you something after you’ve fed the baby,”

“NO! PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU CALL SOMEONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!” You were full on wailing as you tried to grab the nurse.

Steve walked in. His smile was kind and patience towards the nurse. You missed it, but for a millisecond his eyes were on yours with a fear of God hidden behind them.

“I’ve got her. You take the baby, I wanna talk,” the nurse yanked herself away from you and tore the now screaming baby from your arms.

You were left alone with Steve. The room was quiet all for your whimpers. Steve stalked his way over to you with the death glare clouding his once blue eyes.

He didn’t say anything. His breathing got heavy and his fists were clenched real tight. It was a moment later, but the next sound to fill the room was the sound of the smacked flesh of your cheek. The tears flowed more and your whimpers turned into screams for help. Steve grabbed you by the hair and smacked a hand to your mouth.

“I told you. I fucking TOLD you you’d regret it if you pulled something like this. After everything I’ve done for you. After everything I gave you! You know what? Say goodbye to the baby, she’s gone!” You screamed through Steve’s palm as loud as you could, but he only slammed you into the pillow of the hospital bed. Your screams and pleas were muffled as you tried to beg Steve not to take away your baby girl.

“Shut up, SHUT UP,” Steve screamed at you and you tried your best to quiet down. “I’ll make a deal with you,” he drew away his palm.

“I’ll let you keep the baby, but you have to work for it. No slip ups, no more outbursts, no running away, no defying me. You break any of these rules Mrs. Rogers, I’ll ship this baby off to the farthest foster home in the country. That’s a fucking promise.”

That was the day the light died down in you entirely. There was no hope and you'd have to accept that. You had to keep it together. If not for you, then for the baby. All for her.

All for Sasha.

Tags to be added in comments!!

[pokeprism14]

Halloween Special

Halloween Party~Fairytail Style

***Third-person p.o.v***

“Aaaahhhh!”

“Kill it! Kill it!!!”

“I got it!”

“Salamander you missed you idiot!”

“Then help me Metal Breath!”

“You’re both idiots! I’ll kill it,”

“Please kill it Gray darling!”

“You guys are destroying the guildhall. You must be amateurs if you can’t hit that little thing without destroying the guild,”

“THEN YOU KILL IT!”

“Will you boys stop arguing and kill it already!”

“We’re trying! The darn thing is too fast!”

When Rachel walked into the guildhall that day, she was in no way expecting this kind of situation. A fight wouldn’t be surprising, but the girls huddling together on top of the bar with the boys running around trying to kill the thing scaring the ladies was something she wasn’t expecting to see today.

But what really through her off was the thing causing this whole mess. A tiny little thing the size of the palm of her hand.

A spider.

Natsu finally lured it into a corner smirking triumphantly.

“Ha! Now I gotcha,” Natsu sneered evilly with a wicked grin on his face as he lit up his fist to kill it.

Just as he was about to punch it someone caught his hand.

“What in the world are you doing?!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Rachel! Out of the way! It’s going to get away!” Natsu shouted at her trying to free his hand from her grip so he could kill it.

“All this fuss over a little spider? Honestly, I thought you guys would be better than this, you guys about wrecked the guildhall! Move,” Rachel said pushing Natsu away from the spider.

Rachel walked over to it and bent down. “Poor thing, these people probably really scared you. Here, I’ll take you away from them,” Rachel said as she grabbed one of its legs and held it up before standing up.

“Rachel! What are you doing don’t touch it!” Lucy screeched.

“Why it’s just a spider? Honestly, it’s pretty harmless,” Rachel said with a shrug holding up the spider.

“But it’s so icky!” Levy trembled.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Whatever, I’ll be right back after I let it go outside,” Rachel said.

“What?!? You’re letting it go?!?” The girls screeched.

“But it might come back that way!” Evergreen squeaked.

“Yeah, just let us kill it!” Natsu exclaimed.

“It’ll be way easier that way,” Gray argues.

Rachel shook her head walking towards the doors.

“No. There’s no reason to kill it. Now you guys are going to clean up the guildhall while I’m gone and if you don’t, I’ll bring it back and this time, I’ll bring its friends too,” Rachel said wickedly.

The guild nodded quickly and got to work as Rachel walked out the guild doors spider in hand.

***Timeskip***

After disposing of the spider back to a good home in the forest, Rachel walked back into a nicely cleaned and repaired guildhall with a smile as she joined a large group at a table.

“Rachel how the heck did you do that?” Evergreen questions the spirit mage.

“Weren’t you scared of it?” Laxus questions.

“I’m surprised you weren’t scared of it,” Freed responds.

Rachel chuckles, shaking her head.

“I still can’t believe you touched it,” Carla shivers.

“Me neither,” Wendy agrees with a shiver.

“How could you touch it. ‘Shiver’ It was so gross,” Lucy shivers in disgust.

“It’s just a spider,” Rachel reasoned.

“But there so creepy looking,” Erza shivers.

“With the way they crawl around and- ‘shiver’ there just so terrifying,” Levy shivers.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders, “It’s just another bug.”

“But all bugs are gross!” Juvia argues.

“Yeah, how come you weren’t scared like the rest of the girls?” Bickslow questions.

“Do you know how many bugs I’ve lived around over the years? I lived in my parent’s basement, then a dungeon cell for six years before I lived in the forest for nine years. Honestly, I lived around bugs my whole life. I’ve pretty much slept next to them. If I ever was scared of them, I got over it a long time ago,” Rachel answered.

The girls shivered in disgust at her response.

“Well, that explains it,” Gajeel responds.

“Why wouldn’t you let me kill it though!” Natsu exclaims.

“Because that would’ve only left a mess and that is just gross. There’s just no need for that. It was just looking for a home. Besides, you guys are way more of a threat to it than it is to you. There’s no need to be afraid of the little thing,” Rachel explains.

“I knew you were kind, but I can’t believe your defending a spider,” Gray mutters.

“All life is important Gray. Besides, spiders eat all those other gross bugs you guys don’t like,” Rachel explains.

“So you like bugs then?” Happy asks.

“I wouldn’t say I like them, but I wouldn’t say I dislike them either. I just don’t mind them,” Rachel shrugged.

“Wow Freed you’ve got a girlfriend braver than all the girls in this guildhall,” Bickslow chuckles.

“That’s not true. Everyone has fears Bickslow. It’s only natural,” Rachel said simply.

“I’m still allowed to be impressed right?” Freed asks, placing his head in the crook of my neck.

Rachel chuckles, rolling her eyes.

“You’d be a great person to have around during Halloween with bravery like that,” Laxus chuckles.

“Halloween? What’s that?” Rachel asked.

The group froze.

“You don’t know what Halloween is?” Gray asked her.

Rachel shook her head, “No. Am I supposed to?”

Freed sighed lifting his head, “I should have expected this.”

“Halloween is a holiday about celebrating the spooky things in life. People dress up for fun in costumes and scare people, while kids go around door to door to get tricks or treats,” Freed explains.

“Not all the costumes have to be scary either, they can be fun or silly too,” Evergreen comments.

“A lot of people tend to go to haunted houses or mazes to get scared for fun,” Bickslow adds.

“It’s really just a holiday to have fun and mess around,” Freed explains.

“Ooh, I understand,” Rachel replies.

“Fairytail always hosts a Halloween party in the guildhall on Halloween,” Laxus comments.

“Really?” Wendy questions.

“Yeah, there’s drinking, candy, food, games, even a haunted house!” Happy exclaims.

“And everyone dresses up in costumes for the event,” Bickslow explains.

“It’s always been one of Fairytail’s biggest parties, well, aside from the Christmas party of course” Evergreen explains.

“Don’t forget Mira’s spooky performance too,” Gray adds.

“Sounds awesome!” Lucy exclaims.

“Sounds like a wonderful time,” Carla explains.

“Juvia’s excited,” Juvia exclaims happily.

“I even heard Master’s invited the other guilds to join in if they wanted this year,” Erza comments.

“So it’ll be even more awesome! Ha-ha!” Natsu laughs, excited.

“It sounds like loads of fun! I can’t wait!” Rachel exclaimed.

***Timeskip***     ***Freed’s p.o.v***

“Freed, you made it!” Bickslow exclaims as I entered the guildhall for the Halloween party.

Bickslow was dressed as a grim reaper, with his dolls as his ghosts.

“You look good man. Nice costume,” Laxus praises, dressed as a vampire.

I was wearing a long red over coat, different from my usual coat, dark pants, black boots, and an eye patch over my right eye. To make it even better, I had my chest exposed and of course I had with me my sword as well. I was a pirate this year, captain to be more specific.

I smirked triumphantly. “Thank you. I’m proud of it,” I bragged.

“I bet Rachel will like it too when she sees it,” Bickslow comments.

“Speaking of which, where is she?” Evergreen questions, she was dressed as a witch.

“She said she needed a bit more time to get ready. She said she’d meet me here,” I explained.

“I’m excited to see her costume!” Evergreen exclaims.

“I bet Freed is more excited,” Laxus comments with a smug smirk.

I coughed, trying to hide my deepening blush.

Truth be told I was very excited. After hearing about the idea of couple costumes, Rachel wanted to do one together with me. So we were supposed to both be pirates. With me as the captain and her as my first mate. It even works for Prism too as she’s both our trusty bird, (Prism did not like the idea of being called a parrot, not in the least). So the costumes work for everyone.

To make the whole thing even more fun, we decided to surprise each other with our costumes by not revealing them to each other until it was time for the party. So saying I’m excited would be an understatement, it was driving me crazy not knowing what she was up to.

“Of course I’m excited. I know that Rachel will look amazing no matter what she wears,” I spoke confidently.

“Aww that’s sweet of you to say Freed.”

I turned around at the sudden voice.

My jaw dropped at the sight. Rachel was there wearing a loose low white frilly shirt with a red corset around her waist and short shorts alongside a side cape around her waist. Her boots went up to her knees and the left side continued halfway, and she had a rose and feather in her hair. The outfit cleverly showed off much skin, but not too much. It complimented her perfectly.

“Freed if you keep gawking at her like that you’re going to start drooling,” Bickslow laughed.

I pouted as Rachel giggled.

“Well, I for one am glad he likes it,” Rachel smiled seductively.

I smirked.

“Hey Rae, where’s Prism?” Laxus asks.

“She already started her mission,” Rachel responds.  

“Mission?” Evergreen questioned.

“She’s made it her goal to scare everyone at the party at least once, so watch out,” Rachel warned with a chuckle.

“Duly noted,” Laxus responds as Bickslow cackled at the idea.

“What’s your plan for tonight Rachel?” Evergreen asks.

“I plan to spend the night with my trusty first mate, that’s what,” Rachel answered, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.

“Excuse me, but I’m the captain here,” I scolded playfully.

“Really?” She purrs, playfully tracing her fingers over my exposed chest.

“Captain means you’re in command of the crew. Do you really think you’re in command of me, Mr. Justine? After all, every good captain needs a sword, and you seem to be missing one,” She purrs before disappearing into the party crowd.

I blinked in surprise, glancing down to my side, noticing my sword was now missing.

She took my sword.

“Sly little Spirit mage. I’ll get her yet,” I muttered.

Evergreen squealed as Bickslow and Laxus chuckled.

“So, you gonna let her get away with that or are you gonna go after your girl?” Laxus questioned.

“Like I wouldn’t,” I responded with a smirk, leaving them to search for her.

***Rachel’s p.o.v***

I snickered as I moved through the crowds of the Fairytail’s Halloween party. A lot of people came tonight, not just members of our own guild, but other guilds as well. There were people from Lamia Scale, Sabertooth, Blue Pegasus and even Mermaid Heel here, it seemed like everyone wanted to come to the party.

As I moved through the crowds of partygoers, I spotted Mira and Cana waving me over.

“Wow Rachel, you look great!” Mira says in her ghoul costume.

“Aw, thanks Mira. You both look amazing too,” I complimented them both.

“So Rachel~ How’s it going so far with you. I see you got his sword,” Cana teases in her cat costume.  

“Yeah, is our plan working?” Mira asks excited.

“Well, I don’t know yet, I just got his sword. Are you sure about this plan guys?” I asked them.

“Of course Rachel, just you wait,” Mira winked.

“You’re the one who wanted to make it special for Freed,” Cana pointed out.

“Yes, but are you sure Freed’s that kind of person? I don’t really see Freed as a type of possessive person,” I asked them unsure.

“Just trust us Rachel,” the girls said with a wink.

“Ok,” I muttered unsure before I left them to explore the party some more.

***Freed’s p.o.v***

“Damn, where is she?” I muttered searching through the crowds of the party.

“Ahhh!” I screeched, jumping in surprise at the white glow suddenly appearing next to me.

A hooted giggle soon followed.

“Geez, Prism,” Freed exclaimed as Prism chuckled in amusement.

I suddenly lit up with an idea.

“Prism, do you know where Rachel is?” I asked her.

If anyone could find Rachel, Prism could.

“No, but I can find her. What’s up?” Prism asked, landing on my shoulder.

“I just need to find her. Can you find her for me and help me sneak up on her?” I asked her.

“Sure, but only if you help me with something,” Prism hooted flying in front of me.

“What do you need?” I asked her.

“I need help to scare Bickslow. He’s the last one I have left to scare, but with his babies keeping guard it makes it difficult to sneak up on him,” Prism explained.

“Really? You got everyone else? Even Laxus?” I questioned.

“Ooh yes,” Prism smirked triumphantly.

I thought for a moment before I got an idea.

“Leave the babies to me. Can you-” I started.

“Already on it,” Prism hooted flying above the crowd.

After a quick moment, Prism responded, “She’s over by the bar talking to Gray and Juvia. If you sneak through the crowd on the right, you should be able to get right behind her easily.”

“Thanks Prism. Here,” I said writing some runes.

“This should lure his babies away for a bit,” I said with a smirk.

“Perfect, thanks,” Prism smirked before she flew off.

“You too,” I muttered after her before hunting after my girlfriend with a smirk.

As I headed towards Rachel, I heard a distant screech from Bickslow and smirked to myself.

***Rachel’s p.o.v***

I laughed at Gray’s failed attempt to pretend he didn’t want Juvia around.

Suddenly, both of them smirked.

I looked at both of them questionably before I froze at the sudden voice.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow my girlfriend for a bit, thank you,” Freed interjected with a growl.

“Free-!” I squeaked in surprise as he pulled me away from the party into a room behind the bar.

“Freed?” I squeaked in surprise as he pushed me against the wall of the room after he closed the door, trapping me between his arms.

“I believe this belongs to me,” Freed purrs, taking his sword from my hands and placing it back around his waist.

“Now~ I believe I need to remind you who’s the captain here,” Freed purrs, breathing down on me as he moves in close.

A nervous, excited shiver went down my spine before Freed moved in close.

***Timeskip***

“Morning Rachel,” Mirajane greets as I entered the guildhall and sat at the bar.

“So Rachel~ How was your night at the party?” Cana asked expectantly.

I flushed, extremely red. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tried to cover it up, but failed miserably.

“Really? That hickey on your neck says otherwise,” Cana laughs.

I buried my face in my hands as I flushed even more red.

“Well, by that reaction, I guess it went well,” Mira chuckles.

I pouted. “It was just a kiss...” I muttered.

“It must have been one heated kiss with that squeal you made Rae,” Laxus said from behind me.

Burying my face once more, I groaned, “Laxus you’re not helping.”

“Yeah, well now you learned your lesson. Despite what you think, Freed’s quite a possessive person,” Laxus comments.

“Yeah, I definitely figured that one out,” I groaned, embarrassed, although I smiled slightly at the thought of my over possessive rune mage.

And only a few tables away, that very rune mage was smiling as he listened to their very conversation.

A/N: No, there was no lemon. Sorry, I just don’t do lemons so don’t expect one from me. Anyway,  Happy Halloween everyone!!! I hope you enjoyed the special! If you want to read more on the two’s story come check out my book here:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/211154244-journey-of-a-light-mage-a-fairytail-fanfic

P.S. I have now added the picture.

[headoverhiddles]

All Work, No Play - Jack Torrance x Reader

Synopsis: You investigate the Overlook alone one night, unsure of what you’ll find. 

Notes: HAPPY HALLOWEEN YA SPOOKY BITCHES!!!!!! 

It's Halloween night, and this probably wasn't a good idea.

The Overlook Hotel had withered and shrunk in on itself over the last decade of being empty. One too many murders, and the previous owners had given up-- the bad press had grown tiring, and a repeat offense couldn't simply be explained away as cabin fever this time.

There was something about the old Overlook, and as with any place attached to a grisly history, it had its divided theorists. Some say there's bad energy there-- that's what made him do it. Others say the ghosts roam freely, whispering to whoever stays there or enters the front doors. Most people just go with the rational excuse; it was a coincidence of mass psychosis.

You let the words ghost and psychosis rattle around in your brain as the chilly fall air sweeps you inside. You probably should've brought someone-- anyone. You hadn't even told a soul where you were... this was a very, very bad idea.

As you turn to leave though, the door shuts on its own. Doesn't slam; just closes softly. You swallow. I guess that's decided for me.

You take a few cautious steps inside the large hotel. It's dark, but there are candles, half melted down, that you can make out in the dark. Taking the matches out of your purse, you walk around, lighting each sconce.

Your nerves are overtaken by awe as the place lights up. It's absolutely beautiful. Fallen from grace, sure, but the cobwebs add to the antique novelty of the place. How more people don't go ghost hunting here on TV, or just for fun, astounds you. Maybe the rumors really are true, and madness prevents visitors from staying a whole night through.

"Hello?" you call, your heart rate spiking. There's a ballroom to your left, empty and thick with dust. Your heart gradually starts thumping against your chest with each step you take further, and you wipe your palms on your jacket. "Anybody here?"

The autumn wind answers you again, howling outside and rattling the windows. The place is huge. Thinking of the scope of it makes your head spin... there are hundreds of rooms, and each could be filled with hundreds of things.

A breeze blows behind you, but you're already on the stairs. Trailing your hand up the banister of the grand staircase, you start to smile. This is so spooky. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all--

You pause, eyes widening. What's that noise?

Tip. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tip tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

It sounds like a... typewriter?

"Hello?" you repeat. The echo of the old typewriter keys is all that remains of the disembodied noise.

Coming up to the second floor of the Overlook, you again marvel at the view out the window. The snow-capped mountains behind the place tower over the hotel, and it looks strangely serene, out here in the middle of nowhere with no one to look at it but you.

"I'm all alone," you remind yourself. Your voice sounds so out of place.

You walk down the hall, and head down to the room that the Grady murders supposedly happened in. You inspect the walls, hoping for just a little leftover blood, but they did a good job of cleaning up-- it just looks like a regular old room, with the aging 70s style decor.

Taking a peek in the bathroom, you hold your breath. The shower curtain is drawn, and by the ghost stories floating around about this place, there's supposed to be an old lady who haunts the bathtub. As you inch toward it, you swallow, remembering that if there is something horrifying behind this curtain, you've got a long way to run from it to the front door.

It's fine. It's fine. She supposedly appears as a regular lady until her skin starts to decompose, according to the legend. Still... seeing someone hiding in here wouldn't be the most comfortable thing, no matter what she looked like. You notice something dark moving behind the curtain, and your hands start to tremble.

"Oh god. I-I don't mean to disturb you," you toss out timidly, hoping that you'll at least warn the spirit (if there is one). Please don't let there be one... please, please...

You peel the shower curtain back, looking between your fingers... to find a missing tile, a swarm of cockroaches crawling around the hole in the wall. You make a face, rubbing your hands on your pants just in case, and back away. Well, no old lady. Just an old, infamous hotel room lost to the hands of time.

You nearly jump out of your skin as you feel a hand on your shoulder. You whip around, to find nobody there. Another jump, as you hear the striking of a piano chord beneath the floor, just downstairs. Your brain instantly reaches for anything to make sense of it-- you left your phone downstairs by accident, and it started playing your classical playlist. No. There's a radio downstairs that... turns on by itself? No. There's an ice cream truck???

You frown at yourself for that last idea. Anyone would have to be crazy to drive all this way out to serve ice cream to some supposed ghosts. You're crazy for even attempting it yourself, especially at night. Then what about that hand, too?

You have to go see what made the sound.

As you walk slowly down the carpeted hall, you hear the music drift up. It's some sort of ballroom music. Descending the stairs, you bite your lip, chewing obsessively. Oh god, oh god. You really hadn't thought this through.

"Is there someone here?!" you call, "This place is... closed. I don't... work here, or anything." Then what are you doing here?

Having a happy Halloween, you argue with yourself. Right. If you survive the night.

You nearly stop breathing as you see what's going on. The ballroom that had previously been empty was now fully lit, golden, and open for business. Soft waltz music drifts out, and you put a hand on the entryway.

Ghosts.

You walk inside, looking around. There are no ghosts that you can see, but what else could have done this?

"Mr. Grady?" you ask, looking up at the ceiling, at everything you can take in. "Mr... Torrance?"

You sit down at the bar, and are amazed to find that it's fully stocked. You grin a little bit, feeling more excited now than scared to be experiencing all this, and walk around to the other side.

"Would you like a drink, Miss (y/l/n)?" you ask yourself in a posh accent, straightening your back.

"Don't mind if I do," you answer, pouring one.

"Make that two, would ya honey?"

You scream, and drop the bottle, hearing it smash at your feet. You turn around, to find a man sitting at the bar where you had just been.

"Who are you?" you breathe, white knuckling the shelf.

"Don'tcha know my name?" He gives a splitting grin, eyes ghostly shadowed, "You just called for me five minutes ago."

"Mr. Grady?" you ask cautiously, looking around to see if he had any weapons on him.

"The other happy haunt," the man continues to grin unnervingly, You don't dare blink or look away from him.

"Jack Torrance," you whisper. He laughs loudly, the booming sound filling the ballroom.

"That's me, honey. That's me. Stuck in this fucking place after an... unfortunate unfolding of events. Now, uh... if you don't mind honey, since you're on the other side of the bar already... would you swipe me a bourbon and make it neat?"

Shakily, you pour him his drink. You don't stop to question how you're talking to, and pouring a drink for, the ghost of an axe murderer.

"That's more like it," he nods, licking his lips. His eyes descend a little, and he hums. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" You blush a little bit. You had noticed he was pretty good looking as well, much more attractive than the legends paint him, but you're not about to admit that.

"I..." you mumble.

"What're you doing here tonight, Miss... what did you say your name was? Miss (y/l/n)?"

"(y/n)," you tell him.

"(y/n)," he muses. "Come sit. Can't tell why you'd wanna spend the night in a... run down old place like this hotel." His fists ball up. "These walls can drive a man mad. And, they did!" That laughter returns, before his face gets dead serious. "You know who I am, don't you?"

You swallow. "You murdered your family with an axe... just like the caretaker before you." He shakes his head adamantly, slamming his glass down and making you jump.

"I didn't kill them. I was told to... and I tried. God knows, I fucking tried," he grits his teeth, and takes another long drink of bourbon, "But sometimes, things are just out of your hands." He looks at you sideways. "You never answered my question. Why did you come here? Hm? To see little old me? Come see if the ghost stories are true?" He makes a 'wooo' sound, wiggling his fingers playfully. You shrug, unable to hide your nerves.

"Basically, yes. That's why I came."

"You're interested in ghost stories, are you?"

"Yes," you say.

"Fine, that's just fine. Interesting. My wife never liked them. She used to get squeamish, you see, whenever I would talk about anything that scared her. Everything scared her. Ghosts, spiders... me."

You walk around to the other side of the bar. "And why would she be scared of you?"

"Because I'm a scary person, (y/n)," Jack smiles. "Can't you tell?" He puts a hand on your knee, and your whole body goes frigid. You don't remove his hand, though. For a second, confusion flashes over Jack's face. He can't tell why you're not running, screaming. Now that you had adjusted to finding the very thing you came here to find, you weren't afraid anymore. He places the glass in front of you.

"Your turn. I think we have cause to celebrate."

You agree, and pour some of Jack's bourbon that would be very (very) nicely aged at this point. Lifting it to your lips, you appreciate the taste. It's probably the best bourbon you've ever had.

"Are you gonna keep me here?" you ask. Jack moves his hand up your leg slightly, looking down at it.

"That depends, sweetheart. I could keep you here for the night... just you and me, celebrate Halloween the old fashioned way, y'know..." He raises an eyebrow. "You know it has been a very long time for me."

"Aren't there other ghosts you can... pass the time with?" You start to worry. What if he wants permanent companionship? He could kill you!

"Let me put it this way honey. Ghosts making love to ghosts is like waving a hot dog around in the air," Jack mutters sarcastically, downing the last of his bourbon. You frown at that mental image, and decide then that killing you wouldn't be in his best interest, it seemed. He goes on. "No. I've missed feeling this. And you walk in here tonight, ready as can be to find some ghosts. Well, lucky me. You found one." He gives a big, playful smile, and you stand up.

"I came to look for ghosts," you say, voice low as you back up against the wall, "Not fuck them."

"Life is full of surprises, isn't it?" his grin grows, as he walks closer to you from the bar, "Or death is, I guess."

"Mr. Torrance," you say softly, "No matter what, I'll just have to leave in the morning."

"Then stay awhile," he grins, reaching his hand out. You look at it, listen to the ghostly noises echoing around you, and remember that you're standing in a hotel haunted by killers. Not bad looking ones, if Jack was anything to go by. Dammit, no!

"I guess I don't have to leave just yet," you cave, and take his hand. Just as you're about to close your fingers around his though, you start to feel a little dizzy. "Mmm," you moan, putting a hand on your chest. You start to cough, and your eyes close. You can see in your mind's eye, as clear as if you were looking at it, the elevator doors in the hallway opening, and a river of blood pouring out.

"Help, help, help," someone says, and you realize it's you. You start to cough, and see the same shade of red that came out of the elevators, in your palms.

"Drank the bourbon did you?" Jack asks, sighing. "Well. You know what they say. Always read the label!" You turn back, and see the ballroom has completely darkened, everything dusty with cobwebs and silent as a mausoleum. The bottle sitting on the bar is rat poison.

"No," you cough, and try to crawl toward the door.

"At least it wasn't an axe," Jack reminds you, and his laugh echoes as you run out the front door. Two steps, three, and you fall to your feet, pawing at the ground. Coming to terms with the fact that you're not going to get any further, you roll over onto your back, and look up at the Overlook looming over you. Jack approaches the door, and holds it open for you.

"All work no play makes Jack a dull boy. So, (y/n)... ready to play, angel mine?"

[poppibranchlover]

Nine Lives, One Fight - Part 11

The story: Deep in the forest of Troll Town, there lies a mysterious tiny purple mushroom that has a secret magical ability. King Peppy calls this mushroom forbidden for all Trolls to go near it. One day, while Branch is out in the woods doing his survival research studying, he encounters it and, not knowing it is a regular mushroom, decides to harvest it and bring it home. But in the next morning, its magic effects transform him into a small blue cat! After being sent to the animal pound, his girlfriend, Poppy, finds him and decides to adopt him, although not recognizing it is Branch. Desperate to finish his research project due for a special event invented by Poppy, Branch is forced to learn how to behave like a pet cat and must figure out what caused him to become one.

You already seen what had happened in Part 10. Now get ready for Part 11!:

Branch ran through the path of the large forest, lost and scared. He wanted to go home by himself without Poppy’s help, but with scary noises of predators growling and swaying tree branches filling throughout the woods, it was hard for him to do this on his own. He was just a small tiny kitten, and has no choice but to deal with the problem he got himself into.

While Branch was still running, a voice suddenly shouted “Hey! You dropped this!”

Branch quickly stopped in his tracks and listened. He sniffed the ground, trying to find what is dropped in front of him. He approached a bush and stopped sniffing suddenly as his wide cat eyes were staring directly at...

...two long rabbit ears! They were peeking through the bush, shivering. Branch titled his head to the side in confusion. “Is that...a tiny rabbit? Lost in the woods all by himself?”

He cautiously approached the bush. Maybe this cute little animal was looking for a home...just like him. The tiny snow-white creature looked up at Branch. It was so innocent that it didn’t even know it was in danger of being lost in the forest.

Branch bent down to the precious rabbit. The bunny stayed hidden deep in the leaves. It looked up, its nose twitching, as Branch said gently to it “Awwww. Hey there, little guy. I heard your owner kinda left you behind. Come on. Let me return you back to him!”

He carefully opened his mouth to grab one of the little rabbit’s ears, but before he can, the creature popped up from hiding and suddenly spoke directly to Branch with the same Troll-like voice he heard in the first place! “How do you think I went away from him, you fuzzo?!”

Branch’s eyes widened in horror and he couldn’t believe his ears! He jumped back, stuttering “W-wait a minute! Did you just talk?!”

“Oh yeah I am! What do ya think I’m talking about?” the bunny said, raising an eyebrow. It leaned over with a smirk and said “What’s up?”

Branch suddenly screamed and retreated to a nearby bush.

Then he peeked out from it and shivered with fear, trying to understand what he just witnessed.

“No way!” Branch exclaimed. “Y-you can t-talk to me?!”

The rabbit called out from the distance in its calm voice “Hey, kid. Don’t be scared of me. I’m surprised to find out that you can understand me! Isn’t this great?”

“No, not really!” Branch cried, still hiding in the bush. Was he going crazy? He has never heard bunnies speaking to him before, and now he ended up meeting one that can understand him! He closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, thinking he was still dreaming.

Then he jumped out of the bush and walked towards the rabbit, attempting to know if it doesn’t talk to him anymore. It just stood there on that bush, nose twitching and staring at him.

Before Branch can sigh with relief, it suddenly spoke again “Are you gonna stop stressing about your feelings?”

As it said it, Branch shook his head and stomped his paw on the ground. “No! No, no, no, no, no!” he shouted. “This can’t be happening! Rabbits don’t talk to me like that! Now I can understand you?! How is that possible?!”

“Well, it’s probably nothing!” the rabbit said cheerfully. “I just can’t believe you are actually talking to a rabbit, aren’t you?!”

“No, don’t do the innocent,” Branch said nervously, pacing back and forth. “I must be crazy! What is going on? What a nightmare!”

“You can understand me!” said the bunny with a wide smile on its face. “It’s no nightmare, it’s...”

Simultaneously, Branch said “Horrible!” while the bunny happily squealed “Awesome!” 

“Okay, seriously. This needs to be stopped,” Branch demanded. “I ask you a question. Why you can speak to me like that?”

The little bunny looked down. At first, Branch felt bad for a moment in front of this cute pouty rabbit face, but he had to get some answers.

“I...I prefer not to say who I really am,” it simply answered. “But I live in the forest all alone until I saw a helpless little cat like you running from a large scary dog!”

Branch did not believe his ears. He recognized that creature. It was the same bunny he had run into while he was being pursued by the big black dog yesterday!

“So...you know me?” he asked in disbelief.

“Of course! And I’m not alone in the woods anymore!” the rabbit said, laughing. “I never knew I needed a friend someday like you!”

“How did you know I am running from that huge dog yesterday?” asked Branch.

“It was easy. I was just hopping around when a fluff of blue fur tumbled straight into me, and just before I want to help, you run away and then that scary mutt was coming straight toward me. So I just hid and saw what is going on.”

“And that’s how you came here and meet me?”

“Yep!” the bunny said eagerly, wagging its little bushy tail. “Now that no predator is coming after you, you seem so lonely here. Are you looking for your owner too?”

“No!” Branch said, annoyed. “I’m trying to get home myself! I don’t want to get interested to being with my owner! But where is your owner?”

“He left me alone here because he hates my behavior of eating his food in the house,” the rabbit said sadly. “But here I am now!”

“Whoa,” said Branch. “That sounds so harsh. But you know what, I’ll tell him a word. Why am I talking to a rabbit and how do you understand what I’m saying?” He raised an eyebrow as he said this.

The rabbit scratched its fur with its back leg and replied “We always talk when Trolls are not around. Normally, nobody seems to hear us talk when we’re apart from them. When we’re near them, we usually communicate using animal language.”

Branch thought it was better for him to be with the other Trolls since he changed his habit, but after being turned into a cat, he has no other way how will the people know him. “Your explanation makes sense. But I am not sticking with my owner’s side for now. I gotta get home,” he told the bunny.

“What? Now?” it asked. “But we haven’t get to know each other yet! What’s your name, little cat? I want to know what cute name your owner pick?”

Cute name? Branch suddenly thought about Poppy nicknaming him “Mr. Tickle”, but if he did reveal this name to the rabbit, it might be too teasing for him. He sighed and blurted out “My name is Branch! I’m no cat! I’m a brave young survivalist!”

This caused the little rabbit to fall over and laugh. Branch frowned, utterly baffled. That creature was now thinking that his name sounds a lot funny!

“REALLY?!” the bunny howled through his laughter. “You called yourself a “cat survivalist”?! What a made-up!”

Branch has no idea what he is talking about. He insisted “Stop it! It’s not a “made-up” title! It’s a job I usually do in case of emergency!”

“Oh, I get it now! You’re a survivalist because you always do everything to survive in the forest!” said the rabbit, giggling.

“No. My job was to prepare for danger and keep my village safe. I hope you understand that. Please stop making fun of my title.”

The rabbit stopped giggling and smiled. “I’m sorry. It’s just I found how funny it is for cats to have jobs!”

“But most cats don’t do jobs!” Branch said firmly.

“But this one does have!” the rabbit said, playfully wagging his tail and wiggling his nose.

Branch stared at him. This creature looked so energetic like his girlfriend, Poppy, only that it was just a grey bunny, longing for a friend. Wanting to know more information about it, only one question burned his lips: “Who are you in reality? I want to know what does your owner name you!”

The little long-eared creature groaned. “Sorry, but I prefer not to reveal my own name.”

Branch sat, plunking his bottom down on the floor (as if it looked like his way of crossing his arms), with a stern look on his face. This little kid was already annoying him.

“If you want, you can give me a name as the queen does with you!” the bunny suggested, leaving a laugh escaping from his mouth.

Branch shot him a murderous look. Did this weird little creature just spy on him? He named the rabbit without any hesitation. “Hmmm…let me think about it. 'Wiggles'?”

“What?! That’s not supposed to be my name! Why?” the bunny asked, getting up on his four legs, obviously finding how completely stupid is that name.

“Because rabbits always wiggle their noses.” Branch pointed out.

“Urgh, fine!” Wiggles growled.

Meanwhile, Poppy and Biggie are almost finishing up their conversation regarding on presenting Branch to the Show-and-Tell festival.

“I truly understand,” Biggie was saying to Poppy. “But I have a question. How are worms and cats different from each other?”

“My father once said little worms have the genes of a cat. Compared to a normal cat, they might be a distant cousin!” explained Poppy.

“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Dinkles and Mr. Tickle will make great friends!” Biggie replied. “Besides, they’re definitely cousins now!! What do you think?”

“Of course they’ll get along so well together!” Poppy said excitedly. “This is just so exciting! Right, Mr...” She smiled and looked down at where Branch is supposed to be before realizing that he is not there.

“Mr. Tickle?” she said, confused. “Where’s Mr. Tickle?” She began to whimper.

“Oh no! Where did your little cat go?” Biggie asked, gasping. “He was right here!”

“I know!” cried Poppy. “But how could my sweet little cat disappear?”

“Perhaps a magician took him out of nowhere and made him vanish!” Biggie suggested, imagining how terrifying it is for someone looking like he had just kidnapped a cute kitten.

“I’ll go look for him!” Poppy said, desperate for her pet. She ran around the village, calling out for Branch. She was worried sick. Why Branch had to run away from her so he can return to his beloved bunker home? Poppy also didn’t know the reason why he did it as she only knew he did ran away on purpose.

“Mr. Tickle? Mr. Tickle, where are you?” she called as she searched the village high and low for her lost pet. “Oh, please be okay! Don’t run off! You’ll be caught by Animal Control if you get lost again!”

Poppy stopped walking for a moment and quietly cried. She had promised the Animal Control that she can take care of Branch more properly and now that he disappeared, it was now the time to face the consequences being made.

While Poppy was lamenting, Smidge was preparing her Show-and-Tell project when she noticed her in the corner. She approached her and said proudly “Hey, Poppy! Glad you made it just in time to test out my Muscle Spirit treadmill!” But when she realized she looked very sad, she asked “What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?”

“Oh, Smidge! I need your help!” Poppy begged. “I lost my pet cat, Mr. Tickle! I was talking with Biggie and he suddenly disappeared!”

“A lost cat?” Smidge was stunned. “Oh my gah! Whatever you’re talkin’ about, lost animals always go to Animal Control!”

“I know,” said Poppy. “AC officer Garth told me I should keep on eye on him otherwise he’s back in his poor little cage where I first met him!”

Smidge held her hand, trying to make her feel better. But the sad pink Troll could not be comforted unless Branch is found.

“We have to find him, Smidge,” Poppy whispered. “He can’t be gone forever.”

“Don’t worry,” the tiny yellow Troll told her. “I hope we’ll be able to find this poor little cat! I could definitely hear him meowing in the woods right now.”

Poppy looked at Smidge with determination in her eyes, hopeful that Branch would be back at any moment.

In the forest, Branch was grumbling as he walked. Wiggles the bunny was following him and he could not get rid of him anymore.

His innocence is irritating him. He hopped with joy and skipped between some rocks on the ground, humming an interminable song.

Branch viciously hissed at him in an effort to drive him away. “HIIISSSSSSSSSSS!!!!”

Wiggles stopped hopping and clumsily stepped backwards. But he didn’t seemed scared of him at all.

“You could not shut your mouth and listen to the sounds of the forest?!” Branch snarled. “Maybe you’d like that!”

“Aw, I can’t help it!” Wiggles exclaimed. “I’m too happy for that.”

Happy. Happiness. One thing that only Branch, Wiggles and the other Trolls could participate because Branch had to ensure the protection of the village.

Not quite. Branch is still in the form of a kitten, and he wants to go to his bunker since he is finally away from the captivity of the animal pound or Poppy’s care. He turned to Wiggles, who was running behind to stay beside him; his paws were too short because of trying to catch up.

“Look, I don’t need any help from a cute little bunny like you,” Branch said sternly. “I have a lot of things to do like, you know, preparing for the worst to come at Troll Village.”

“Ohhhhh.....okay,” said Wiggles, rolling his eyes and understanding his statement. “I get it now! It’s what a survivalist really does, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Branch said. “It’s the one possible thing I have to expect unless the queen might be organizing another party.” He turned back to the path where he was walking and continued on his way.

The tiny rabbit looked at him with his wide blue eyes. “What kind of party is the Troll queen preparing?” he asked.

Branch grumbled. “Some kind of Show-and-Tell party that also included cute little animals like us! It’s just that I don’t want to be used as my owner’s main object for the party!” He was shuddering at the statement that Poppy is planning to use him for her Show-and-Tell event while she is talking with Biggie earlier.

“Oh, that’s fascinating!” Wiggles said with a giggle. He was trying to catch a squirrel but it scurried away while he was talking. “I will definitely like attending to this party!”

“Yeah, that’s why I had to make my own project for this special occasion.”

“What project?” Wiggles didn’t quite catch those words.

“I am planning a research project on nature to show to the Trolls for this party or else I’m a failure to the rest of the world!” Branch explained, getting clearly annoyed. “I just don’t have enough days to finish it in time!”

“Just calm down,” Wiggles told him calmly. “All you need is a little practice, man! Get a hold of yourself!”

Yes, but getting a hold of myself would cause me to scream with rage when I can’t get any ideas to complete it, Branch thought while Wiggles jumped around, trying to catch some fireflies. He groaned and was about to continue walking when Poppy’s voice called out in the distance. “Mr. Tickle?! Where are you, little kitty?”

“Who’s calling out in the distance, calling for a guy named Mr. Tickle?” Wiggles asked with meek curiosity.

“It must be Poppy,” said Branch, looking at the direction where her voice was heard. “She’s looking for me! She nicknamed me Mr. Tickle when she kept me as a pet!”

When he said this sentence, Wiggles snickered as his nose twitched. He is thinking something funny about Branch once again.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to make fun of me?” he demanded.

“I have a question,” Wiggles said. “Why your nickname is “Mr. Tickle” and not 'Branch the cat survivalist'?”

Branch rolled his eyes. “It’s that ridiculous nickname my owner would usually gave me, and I hated to be called like that.”

“Oh, cool!” Wiggles chuckled. “But can I call you ‘Branch’ in the meantime?”

“Yeah, you can call me that name if you want,” the blue Troll-cat replied. “I prefer some people who usually call my name when they need me.”

But now Poppy really needs him. Branch can hear Smidge saying “There’s your pet! Go to him!”

Wiggles wanted to go to Poppy as well, but Branch pushed him away. “Please go home,” he growled, worrying that the bunny was not supposed to accompany him to Poppy’s house. “Your owner will also worry for you.”

The little bunny shrugged and turned to greet him. “I guess you’re right. Oh, well! See you tomorrow, my new cat friend!” he said cheerfully before hopping out of sight, leaving Branch standing alone in the woods again.

“Friend?” he asked as he watched the rabbit disappearing into the dark. “We just met and I’m already his friend? Pfft…” He sighed, annoyed.

Once Wiggles is already gone, Poppy rushed towards Branch, exclaiming happily “I found you, Mr. Tickle! Come here, sweet kitty!”

She picked him up and embraced him with a big cuddly hug. Branch wheezed uncomfortably while Poppy was hugging him and giggling.

“Oh, Mr. Tickle!” Poppy said, relieved that she found her pet cat. “I’m so glad you’re okay! Don’t ever leave my side again! Let’s get you home all warm and cozy!”

Now that she found Branch, Poppy proudly walked out of the forest, taking him in her arms and making her way back to her pod.

                                                  To Be Continued...

                                               Stay tuned for Part 12!

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

WhatsApp? Part 7. (Steve Rogers x reader)

Description: You’ve never been lucky with guys. You just wanted to catch someone’s eye, to be loved. One day, that’s about to turn completely - with one fake, completely imagined number a guy gave you

A/N: I'm back, bitcheees.

Warnings: STEVE BEING AN EMOTIONAL SUPPORT.

Tagging: @missdictatorme, @songforhema, @mikariell95

Read the rest here:  Part One  Part Two  Part three  Part four  Part five  Part Six

If you like to have your readings in order :):  H E R E  

The Charity Evening was coming way too fast for your liking - you didn't feel ready at all and only two weeks remained. All the things were just suddenly fucking up and you just watched it happen, crumbling down in front of your own eyes.

“I just... Don't know. I am just afraid that I will fuck something up. I can fall and roll down, kill somebody else... Steve, it's just too much. Plus the costumes are not ready. There is just too much going on.” - You sighed into your phone. It was a workday and you took your pause for lunch. Steve had a pretty calm day and he was up for a call. Every time you needed him, Steve was just a knight in shiny armor for you.

“Do not be ridiculous. You will do great, Y/N. Do not try to convince me otherwise. Every one of you is doing great so there is not a reason to be as stressed as you are. Besides, it's not healthy.” - Steve answered in a playful tone and you could hear some city noises in his background. You knew pretty well that he's in Brooklyn, somewhere out there, but even through that, you were staring down every guy that passed your seat. No one felt quite like Steve.

“Are you a nurse or what?” - You laughed and drank a bit of your juice. The sun was shining right at you, but the wind was blowing lightly, so you didn't feel hot. 

“I am just concerned about your health. I don't need to be a nurse for that.” - He laughed a bit and you heard a doorbell rang. He just entered a shop. 

“So, you're going to be at the Stark Charity Evening. Wow. Should I expect you to show yourself from the shadows?” - You asked and went to pay your lunch with Steve still on your shoulder. 

Yeah. Steve Rogers just called you one evening and told you “I will be at the Stark Charity Event” and you went NUTS. Steve FUCKING Rogers will be there somewhere and even tho you knew he didn't know how you looked like, he will most probably see you. You went from “omg I will fuck something up” from “holy shit boy, I am most likely to die that evening”.

“I tend to stay in the shadows. And I don't think this is the evening you want me to show up. Trust me, you just have to wait. Be patient.” - Yes, you talked about seeing each other in person. Steve sounded like that it is everything he wants - yet he had to decline.  He truly was a mystery. But mystery with a beautiful voice. 

“I just have to try my chances. One day, you will say yes.” - You gave the lady the cash and told her to keep the change. 

“Yeah. And that day comes. But if you ask all the time about it, you will feel like it will be a forever. I will be there and I will support you.” - Steve sighed. 

---

He wanted to meet you so badly. So badly he just went to an antiquarian and looked for a thing that you might like. He got a sense of what you like and what you don't like throughout the time. Now, it was almost four months of almost day-to-day texting and calling. Sometimes he even tried his chances and flirted with you. It wasn't too often and it was hardly noticeable. But you got a small radar in your head or what, because you knew every single time.

He liked you. For real. Now that your calls were an everyday routine, he was truly feeling something. And he truly wanted to reveal himself during the Charity Event - but he was fucking Captain America and people would go nuts. He thought about it and he wanted it to be private so you had your time accepting that he was a freaking superhero.

So yeah, he would definitely be there, but watching you from the shadows. He knew which choreography will be yours because you talked about it stressing you a lot, so be made sure that he'll be especially on that part of the evening.

"You don't even know what do I look like, Steve." - You chuckled and he heard as you walked through the street as he watched those small things in the store. He wanted some jewelry - a necklace maybe? He was just searching for something at that point.

"So? I will do after the sound of your voice. I know the sound really well over that month." - Steve chuckled back.

"You know I can theoretically do the same?" - You asked him in a tight voice. He knew really well you wouldn't. You respected his privacy as he respected yours. You wanted him to see you that evening, and if he didn't wish to be seen, he knew you wouldn't go all Sherlock Holmes just to find him.

"That's fair." - Steve said. And it just bumped in his eyes. A small necklace. Nothing too crazy or big or scary. Just a simple silver necklace with a little gem on it.

"I thought about it... You said you'll go with James and Sam... I can reserve you some tickets for you to even get there. You wouldn't believe it - Tony Stark himself called us and said that the men will go crazy from our number." - You giggled excitedly. That made Steve frown a bit. Of course - your number was supposed to be slightly racy to get bigger attention and more money. And did he knew from his Captain America forties tour that men loved those ladies and couldn't care less about poor Steve.

And to see someone else flirting with you just because he could not approach you in person? Was Steve even ready for that? The answer was obviously no, but what else could he do that watch if that scenario happens?

"You can. I and the boys will love to see all of you and if you say there's only a tight chance of us actually getting there... It will be good." - Steve answered, lost in his own thoughts, paying for that damn necklace. He was thinking about how he's about to execute the plan - he wanted you to know he was there but he couldn't approach you. How to make it work?

When he looked over the cash in his huge palms, it hit him. A check. Money check for your charity with his own name on it. Anybody could be named Steve Rogers, right? But you would know in an instant, it would not be suspicious and you don't have to see his face.

And he knew he had an account which was made by Tony Stark himself, so everything it took was a... Phone call. A simple call which will bring him hours of being practically tortured by Tony Stark's jokes. But he knew that Tony is ready to help practically anytime he asked him.

"And on what name should I leave it?" - You asked concerned, tearing Steve off his mind.

"What?" - Steve asked, not having a single idea what you've talked about.

"The tickets, Steve. On what name should I book it? On yours?" - You repeated the question with tenderness in your voice. Like you knew that he's thinking about something important. He watched as the cashier carefully wrapped the necklace.

"No! No. Sam... Barnes." - He stuttered. It would be highly suspicious to have three tickets on a super hero's name. You probably didn't notice but some people would. You may be completely oblivious about his identity, but the people could be a pain in the ass sometimes. And Sam wasn't as recognizable as Steve or Bucky since he wasn't in news so often as he and Bucky were. So that was a plan right there.

"Okay. Take it as done. And I'm in front of the office, so, have a nice evening, handsome. I'll call you around six, is that a deal?" - You asked tenderly.

"Of course. Enjoy your day, Y/N." - He stated. So that was it. He was going to your number on the big Event and he was almost out of his mind about seeing you... A whole you. No matter who you'll be.

---

Since then, your day seemed to be better and better. The costumes finally arrived and they were exactly what you wanted them to be. They were truly beautiful. And shorts and shirts? They looked just great. The uniform covered it and it was easily strippable, so you got everything you needed.

Your choreography looked great, you managed to learn to dance on high heels and it indeed looked really sexy, just as Deena told you. You even felt that way and from what they've told you, that was the most important thing.

When you got home and thought about immediately calling Steve. That was usually the thing you did at home. You called him, listening to him on a loudspeaker when you cooked or watched some news. But today, you got something better for him. Something... Sexier and more intimate than everything you've done before.

You carefully slipped into the denim shorts covering you from your knees to your waist, it was practically shorted jeans, and then you wrapped yourself in a shirt, tying it around your waist. It showed only a little of your skin on your belly, nothing terrible. Then you covered yourself in the uniform consisting of a long, khaki green skirt and a fucking tight tux in the same color.

But you needed to say that the makers of those costumes were really good and it was fucking detailed from what you have learned about those uniforms. You indicated that they would be old styled. You remembered that Steve had a thing for old-styled things.

You took the photos almost an hour before everything was in its place and you looked actually good. (To be honest, you could send Steve a photo of you in a potato bag and he would find it sexy, but you couldn't actually know that.) Then, with great expectations and big nerves, you hit send. There wasn't your head, only your body in that uniform, your hip swayed so they would actually have a nice form, your legs pressed together and your hand circling your right hip. You looked like a pin-up model in that one.

Trust the narrator - you looked sexy as hell. And you couldn't know that you'll almost kill him with that photo.

Y/N: So... What do you think about our uniforms? Are they precise enough, Mr. Rogers?

---

They were just playing some monopoly at Tony Stark's tower. It was a nice tradition for them to sometimes gather around the table, all six of them with Pepper, Sam, Wanda, Vision, and Bucky, just to play child games.

Sam was extremely competitive so when he wasn't winning, he was pissed off, complaining about the rules almost all the time. Tony calmed him down with his witty remarks and the others just had fun from it.

"All I'm saying is, this,-" Sam hold some card in front of Thor's eyes and made him look at it. Thor wasn't comprehending with human games. He tried, yeah, but he couldn't get around with the rules. - "Means that you have to pay me. Gimme the goddamn money!"

"I am sorry, mister Wilson. But what if I just want to look around your beautiful land, you know, just to visit it?" - Thor asked and took a swing from his bottle of beer.

"You know, birdbrain. Thor's a traveler. He looks at things and their beauty, am I right?" - Natasha slowly patted Thor's shoulder and smiled, because she wanted to piss Sam off. She was extremely good at it. - "Why should he pay you? He pays with his soul."

"Romanoff, if you don't leave and if you don't stop encouraging Rapunzel, we will never finish the goddamn game." - Tony looked at Natasha, but he couldn't hide a smile. The thing with Avengers playing the games was like this - it always ended up with a huge argument and almost always it was started by Sam. Like the time they played Twister and Sam was extremely sure that Vision was just cheated because he has the power to actually go through things.

Bucky and Steve stopped Sam right before he was about to punch Vision in the face; forgetting about that Vision's body was made from Vibranium and that the punch will hurt him like hell.

Steve usually didn't play with them - he was making small talks, sipping his beer, enjoying being with his friends. This was everything he needed to have a good evening. 

When his phone vibrated, he just smiled to himself and opened up without hesitation as he was talking with Clint about renovating his home. They were so caught up in the conversation that Steve didn't even think about covering up the display - so he almost fainted when Clint sighed loudly in the surprise.

“You, man, are full of surprises. Who the hell is that girl and what she is doing on your phone in that piece of clothing?” - Clint pointed a finger at that picture and devilishly wiggled his eyebrows. Thanks to God that it was Clint who saw her, Steve knew that if he asked him to shut up about that, he would. He was a way different than for example Tony Stark.

Steve turned his eyes to the screen as well. And he fucking flipped. What the hell? He was not too away from fainting.

It didn't mean that it didn't suit you. It didn't mean that you didn't look good - you looked too good. For his eyes, it was a dreamy sight from times he had known so well. You were so similar to... Her. It suited you, it made your hips stand out...

At that moment he realized that this is the first time he was you. Actual you. And you took his breath away for a solid few seconds. He took a close look at you. You truly were breathtaking for him. He practically studied the was that tux was hugging your breasts, and how it slowly slipped on your waist and ending on your gentle, delicate hips. That skirt was the true killer, revealing a bit of your bum, but not too much of it.

He sighed loudly and excused from the conversation with Clint. He walked directly to look out of the window, watching your photo. His brain froze for s minute or two. He tried to come up with a nice word, a compliment, something... Anything. But his brain was stuck.

From what he could tell, you were a treat for his eyes. To say that you were beautiful was a huge misunderstanding. You were mind-blowing. Dear lord, Steve couldn't speak for ten minutes straight, he just looked and in front of himself and drooled away from you.

"What happened, old man? You've seen a ghost?" - Nat wiggled her eyebrows and took a sip from her dry Martini. She looked beautiful as ever with her red dress on. Steve couldn't come up with a meaningful answer, so he just showed her the photo of you. Natasha closed her eyes a little, looking at you.

"That's practically a pornography for you, isn't it?" - Natasha giggled. She was drunk a bit, not too much, but she was tipsy already. - "But I got to say, she is beautiful. You're a lucky guy."

"That's for the first time I've seen how she looks like. I still don't even know how her face looks like..." - Steve sighed and giggled. His cheeks were rosy. He had a beautifully dreamy face and it appeared like his eyes started to shine. Natasha was happy for that man.

"Are you gonna tell her?" - She leaned her face into her palm, her full lips were smiling at Steve lasciviously.

"Tell her what?" - Steve answered innocently.

"That you're into her. And not only a bit. You have a huge crush." - Natasha winked. Steve shook his head and in that little moment, she snatched his phone and ran away from him.

"Natasha! Don't!" - Steve ran after her, but Natasha was too quick. She laughed and texted before Steve snatched the phone back. He. Was. Dumped.

Steve: Hey, Y/N, my big friend here wants to tell you that you look seriously hot! Love, Nat!

"I swear to dear Lord..." - Steve looked at her and massaged his scalp. You'll definitely go to tell him to frick off. He just knew. You looked hot. You truly did. But that just wasn't a thing that Steve would say out loud.

He would say: this suits you perfectly. Or: you look gorgeous. He wouldn't say you're hot. That was so overdone and so rude to you. But then his phone rang again.

Y/N: Thank you for that, that's just so sweet! Also, can you show him this one?

Well... If you looked hot in the uniform, according to Natasha, he was seriously considered about her opinion now. You were trying to burn him alive - he would swear that his body's temperature raised by three to four degrees, he was sweaty and he just closed his eyes to breathe it all out.

Those denim shorts... Those fucking denim shorts. He was damned to the deepest for the thoughts that have crossed his mind at that moment. He growled and excused himself.

"You're tearing the party, Rogers!" - Tony yelled with a joking tone.

"Let him be." - Clint pleaded with a smile. Natasha took his side almost immediately. - "He told me he isn't feeling well tonight. Let our pa get some sleep. The next party will be a definite killer." - Nat winked at him. And so Steve walked home in a pace of a world runner. 

And he knew that he will most probably die during the next call with the image of you in his head.

[flippyspoon]

Rings

“How’re you feeling?” Steve said. He shut the back door of Scoops and Billy rolled his eyes as he followed Steve across the expanse of parking lot to the Camaro.

“Just fine, Harrington. For the millionth time.” Billy was still wearing his lifeguard trunks and a flimsy tank-top that didn’t really function as clothing.

When they reached the car, Steve turned Billy around. He cupped Billy’s cheeks between his palms.

Billy blinked at him and his breathing changed just a little as Steve touched him.

“Let me just…” Steve looked into Billy’s eyes, searching for any signs of veininess.

“Hargrove, what the hell…?” Steve mumbled.

He had been looking for Billy Hargrove. They all had. They thought he had been killed and then they had thought he’d killed somebody else and then suddenly there was Billy Hargrove, coming out of nowhere and clobbering him, growling like an animal, his cries echoing in the quiet of the mall after hours. But then he had stopped and rolled over, clutching himself and screaming. He’d scrambled forward and then back, his face a rictus mask. He looked like someone fighting himself.

Steve  crouched and made a weak attempt to get to his feet, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum of the mall floor now slick with blood. Billy was struggling to his feet in front of him. He looked wrong. His icy blue eyes were black with tiny veins that swirled and pooled. The cords of his muscles bulged unnaturally and the golden tanned skin turned to something like a slimy shell. It was happening so slowly that Steve didn’t register it until there was suddenly a monster standing in front of him.

“Hargrove,” Steve whispered.

Steve watched the monster stand on its several legs. He couldn’t have pointed to eyes but Steve felt he was being looked at for a moment, until the monster turned around and ran away.

“You look a little pale,” Steve said, frowning.

“I’m not pale,” Billy protested, dropping his eyes from the intensity of Steve’s stare. “Jesus. You’re worse than Owens.” He didn’t move though as Steve stood there with his palms cupping Billy’s face, his thumbs resting against those too pale cheeks, though really they did have more color in them than they’d had a couple week ago. The toxin would take probably another month to disappear completely, Owens had said.

“Just like to make sure you’re okay,” Steve said, finally dropping his hands.

“Well, I’m okay,” Billy mumbled. “C’mon. Let’s go chill at the quarry a while.”

In the car, Billy bounced on his seat as he drove, the corner of his mouth turned up as he flicked from station to station, looking for the right tune. Steve cracked a window, feeling the breeze on his face. He took off his Scoops hat and fanned himself with it before dropping it in his lap. He watched Billy’s thick fingers fidget with the radio dial as he glanced to the road and back. “Didn’t you used to wear a lot of rings?” Steve said. “On your fingers?” “I lost my best ones,” Billy said. “During the…”

“Oh,” Steve said. “That sucks.”

At the quarry, Billy parked and they looked out on the rocks below, the sky clear as a bell and cerulean above them as they smoked with the windows rolled down, listening to Sabbath. Somehow Steve could hear the slight smack of Billy’s lips when they met his cigarette and when they came away again. He watched the smoke spiral and drift out the window. Steve impulsively grabbed the half-full pack of smokes that sat under the gear shift, pulling one out for himself and grabbing the Zippo from Billy when he offered it.

“I could buy you some new rings,” Steve said, and watched the sun flash on Billy’s necklace when he turned his head. “Didn’t lose your necklace anyway.”

“Why would you buy me rings?” Billy’s voice sounded low like gravel, like the rocks in their quarry.

The two monsters were fighting each other.

The smaller one was Billy.

He was losing.

Black goop oozed from the punctures to his exoskeleton.

Steve held his side where he still bled, and skittered back in the street, idly holding an arm out to keep the kids back as if they might bolt forward and try to come between the two beasts as they fought.

Max screamed, “Billy!” She was crying.

Steve realized he had forgotten for the entire day that Max was Billy’s step-sister as she now crawled forward, tears streaking down her face, her mouth drawn in horror.

“Jesus,” Steve muttered, as she watched Bruce appear to kill Billy Hargrove in front of them. “Jesus…”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” Eleven said. She was just behind Steve. Her voice sounded too flat and also as if it were coming from far away when she was really next to Steve’s ear. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way…”

Eleven had told Billy to fight back, is what Steve understood. She had gone into his mind and spoken to him in the void. She had told Billy to fight off the monster and help them instead of letting it take him over.

When that idea had been suggested, Steve had laughed.

Now Billy was dying and Steve wasn’t laughing anymore.

Bruce was dying too.

That was something.

Billy had saved them after all.

“Why not?” He smiled because Billy was sitting there now, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, his gaze flitting around like he didn’t know what to do with it. “You deserve some rings. Nice pricey ones. Silver and gold. Diamonds.” “Harrington…” “What?” Steve leaned on his hand and smoked and watched Billy flutter.

“You make such a big deal out of it…”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. “So weird how I make a big deal out of you sacrificing yourself for me and everybody I care about-”

“I didn’t die.”

“You absolutely thought you were going to die. We all thought you were dead for like hours.”

Billy started to answer that and stopped, emitting only an impudent little choking sound that was not a confirmation or a denial. He smoked his cigarette and squinted out his window.

“It’s just so weird,” Steve said. “You always strutted around like Mr. Big Dick all the time over bullshit and then you did something real like really real and you want to pretend it didn’t even happen-”

“I dunno how to talk about it,” Billy blurted out around his cigarette.

“What do you mean?”

Billy shrugged.

“Is it like, you’re sorry you did it or something?” Steve stubbed his cigarette out and exhaled his final drag.

“No! Jesus.” Billy had thick fingers. Steve grabbed one of his hands that was tapping on the steering wheel and examined it, tracing his lifeline. Billy’s cigarette nearly fell out of his mouth. “Hey…”

“I think you deserve rings because you decided not to be a monster,” Steve said. “And you saved everybody even though you thought you were gonna die. And you can’t take it back.” Steve grinned at him and idly clasped Billy’s hand with his, squeezing it. “It’s too late. You’re a hero, asshole.”

Billy was staring at their hands. “Eh…”

Steve laughed at him and tilted his head, his hair falling over his eye and he tried to pull Billy’s hand away but Billy held it fast, pulling Steve towards him. He took his cigarette out of his mouth with his other hand and threw it out the window and blew smoke downwards at their intertwined fingers.

“You’re right,” Billy said, so quietly that Steve strained to hear him. “It’s the only real thing I’ve ever done. That’s why I dunno how to talk about it.”

“I mean I’m here if you ever want to,” Steve offered. The radio was playing “What About Love” and the beat of the song sounded just like the beat of Steve’s heart. They were parked at the quarry holding hands.

“Why?” Billy said.

“You ask me that a lot,” Steve said, rubbing his eyes. He moved Billy’s hand around as if playing with it meant they weren’t really holding hands so much as goofing around.

“Your answer’s always different,” Billy said.

“This is my favorite part of the day,” Steve said, and turned Billy’s squarish hand over now, watching Billy’s fingers wiggle between his. “This is my favorite thing.”

“Why?” Billy said.

“I like being here with you,” Steve said. “I like looking at you and seeing that your eyes aren’t all scary and veiny. I like thinking about what you did and how different you are since it happened. I even like when you try to pretend it didn’t happen at all and act all cool like nothing’s changed even though…” He held up Billy’s hand and clapped his other palm to it so Billy’s hand was sandwiched between his. “Is that what you want me to say?”

“I… Is it true?” Billy mumbled.

“Yeah. I mean also, you’re crazy hot so...”

Billy blurted a laugh now and his cheeks turned so red and so unlike the pale they had been for weeks as he grinned at Steve with bright seaside eyes that Steve yanked him forward and their lips met, warm and a little chapped as Billy squeezed Steve’s hand. Steve opened his mouth just enough to let Billy’s tongue in and he reached up to tangle his fingers in Billy’s damp curls, bringing him closer. Billy tasted like strawberry candy and coconut and his wicked tongue curled with Steve’s and they pressed against each other, wrapped in warm skinned limbs, until Steve finally pulled away just enough to nuzzle Billy’s slightly burnt nose with his own. He let his eyes slip shut and rested there in Billy’s arms.

“You know, I’d do it again just to save your ass,” Billy whispered, a grin in his voice.

“I’m gonna buy you so many rings,” Steve said in his ear.

[mbakusthrone]

Work For Me Chapter 16: I’m Back

I am just… so damn tired of being heartbroken. I lay on my bed for the 6th day in a row, staring at the ceiling, a scene reminiscent of my previous breakup. I played what happened in my head over and over again. It seemed like everything was going so well. I thought that maybe, maybe things wouldn’t be so hard for me for once. That everything just might be alright. I couldn’t look at my phone, I could hardly pick it up without it buzzing with a call, text, or voicemail from M’Baku. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for love. Maybe I just should be by myself. I never cheated on myself. I never left me and got back with my ex because I knocked her up. But...then again I haven’t been doing myself any favors.

I sat up in bed as the thought occurred to me. I hadn’t been doing anything for myself. Haven’t given myself any breaks. I’ve just been busting my ass for these...men since forever. First Ry, then M’Baku. I had been working so hard to keep them in my life, what had they been working on? More importantly, what I have I been working on for me? When was the last time I did something for me? I was shocked.

I was terrible at having a relationship with myself. Something moved within me. Not my body, but my soul kind of. Like a buzzing energy in my chest. Something I haven’t felt for a long time.

Inspiration.

Flipping off the covers, I jumped out of bed and ran to my closet, ripping open the doors and shuffling through the canvases, looking for my paint and ignoring the portrait of M’Baku.

“Damn it!” I cursed. Ry had taken all of my shit. I was going to have to get some before this feeling went away. I grabbed my purse and flew out the door.

Walking into the crafts store, I teared up at the smell. It was like nostalgia had uppercut me in the jaw. I grabbed a cart and whirled it around to the paint section. Grabbing canvases, brushes, and paint and throwing them into my basket.

“I’ll need this...and this... and yes! This…” I was murmuring to myself.

“Need any help finding anything?” An employee gestured.

“No thank you.” I said coldly.

“Y/N?” The voice made me stop dead in my tracks. Please no. Sure enough, I looked up to see M’Baku, dressed in a dark green muscle tee and dark grey joggers. The smell of his cologne gave me a pulling feeling in my gut. His beard and head were freshly cut, he looked so damn fine except for his eyes. His eyes were so tired. I bet he was. I looked down at myself. I was in a tank top, pajama pants, robe, slippers, and a scarf. Teeth unbrushed, body unshowered.

“What are you doing here? Are you following me?” I demanded. M’Baku shook his head and gestured to his basket. Whittling instruments. Oh. I considered this situation, him looking the way he does and me looking the way I do. I almost, ALMOST, thought of letting him talk. But I didn’t. Without another thought I whirled my cart around and sped away to the cashier. I threw a glance behind me, just in case he was crazy enough to chase me. He wasn’t. He stood in the aisle, a forlorn look in his eyes and his shoulders dropped. Defeated.

It was three days of painting before my mother called and convinced me (demanded) that I start looking for jobs. She was right, I couldn’t live off of my savings forever. I posted my resume, and nothing. I put in my application at like twelve jobs, including a bagger at Food Lion. Nothing. What was going on? I figured working for M’Baku would at least let me get a waitress job. No one was hiring. At least that’s what I thought. Before putting in my application for a receptionist job at a small law firm, I decided to call.

“Edison and Lee’s Legal Office, how may I help you?”

“Hi, I was wondering if you were hiring for a receptionist?”

“Oh sure! What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/LN”

A pause.

“Oh...um..actually it looks like we don’t have any jobs available, sorry!”

The click of the hangup actually made me jump. Excuse me? I angrily dialed again.

“Edison and Lee’s Le-”

“Excuse me! Why did you hang up on me?!”

There was a sound of shuffling, as if she were getting under the desk to speak to me.

“Look, I’m not even supposed to be speaking to you right now,”

“What? I don’t even know you!”

“Shh! Its.. It’s your old boss. He spread the word to the whole city. Anyone that would be brave enough to hire you would be business murder. Boy am I glad I’m not you. Good luck though!”

Before I could respond she hung up again. I started to shake. Seething with anger. Is he out of his damn mind?!

I pushed right through the doors of the building I used to work in. Speeding past reception and right up the stairs. I was so mad I didn’t even feel the burn of my legs. I kicked the door open to my old floor and stomped to M’Baku’s office. Empty. My head whirled around to see a tall, jittery girl at my desk. Her eyes widened as I approached her.

“WHERE. IS. HE.”

“Uh...Uh.. I..”

“WHERE!!”

“He’s in a meeting? With Mr. Morgan!”

I didn’t respond to her and headed up to John Morgan’s office.

I’ve known John’s receptionist Katy for a long time now. As I burst into his floor, she gave me a knowing look and pressed a button, opening the lock to his office. I gave her a nod before I pushed the doors open.

The entire room turned to look at me. M’Baku sat up straight, his eyes tired yet prepared. He knew I would be coming. I pointed at him.

“Are you...out of your MIND!?!” I wasn’t even planning on yelling. It just came out of me. “Who do you think you are? This is my life you’re messing with! Are you crazy! Everything that I’ve done for you and this is what you do! You are the most VILE, PATHETIC, USELESS man I have EVER met!” With every word I stepped closer until I was right above him. M’Baku didn’t move a muscle. “You can treat me like shit as your assistant. You can woo me then dump me on the side of the road. But this is my FUTURE you are messing with M’Baku. And you do NOT want to MESS WITH ME!”

My words hung in the air. The entire room was silent. I was done. Still fuming, but done. I waited for his explanation. As M’Baku opened his mouth to say something, John started to laugh.

“Way to go, M’Baku, you really must have put it on her good. But, I must say, this is too much for my clients. I’m calling security.”

“Don’t.” M’Baku said, standing up. “I’ll escort her out.” M’Baku reached for my arm but I jerked it back.

“No you won’t. And YOU.” I said, pointing to John. “Can you just shut up for once?”

John mocked offense and held up his hands.

“Ooooh. Scary. M’Baku can you reel in your slut?”

I barely had time to soak in John’s words before M’Baku had pulled his fist back and punched John in the face. John flew from his seat, falling to the ground like a rock. The clients started to panic, getting up in their seats and running to John’s aid. John came to after a moment, touched his face and looked at his fingers. Blood was running down his face, nose broken.

“Yeah…” John said, licking the blood from his lip. “You are so fired.”

M’Baku looked to me, his face full of pain.

“I don’t care.” M’Baku said, “I just care about Y/N.”

Shaking my head, I turned and fled the room.

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[sick-raven]

Ghosts of the Present - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 + warnings

AO3

Previous chapter

Chapter 5

“Motherfucker,” Miranda grumbled under her breath. Jonathan’s phone was dead, the message was obvious. What could have anger him this much? Miranda had her suspicion and the ridiculousness of the whole situation made her pissed. Not only was he snooping around, he also couldn’t even stay and ask a question? Fucking Jonathan, is that the genius you claim to be, you damn baby? His theatrics annoyed her before, but now he just stepped over the line with his damn stalking. He deserved thinking whatever he did!

Sitting in her living room, body burning in pain, she grinded her teeth. What the fuck, that idiot. Was she really that untrustworthy? What did she do wrong?

Nothing! This reaction is on him, she was fair!

“Motherfucker!” she shouted angrily and took her phone out again.

The other side picked up immediately.

“What do you need, Constantine?” she asked calmly, focusing at the most important thing at the moment. It wasn’t Jonathan. She can deal with him later, if she deems it worth it.

“I found the last ingredient, if you feel like going for it, love,” answered Constantine.

“It hurts like hell,” she whispered unsure whether she talks about her body or the betrayal.

“I warned you.”

“I know. Tell me.”

***

The anger grew stronger by the minute. Jonathan moved around the lab making small silly mistakes that threw him into worse and worse rage. How dares she? Takes away his dignity and now his focus too! “Fuck this,” he grumbled to the vial with wrong amount of liquid.

“You should drink some tea to calm your nerves,” Jervis giggled.

“Shut up!”

Jervis sat in the corner of the lab. Somewhere he got small chair and table and he prepared whole tea set with kettle, biscuits and tiny cups. Only thing missing was a teddy bear. Jonathan counted seconds, ready to flip the table if Jervis only looks at him funny.

He slammed his fists on the table. Focus, Jonathan! One bitch won’t destroy your work. She doesn’t matter!

Miranda…

Damn her!

Was he not good enough? Was he a bad fuck? She was just playing with him, eating his feelings like succubus, cutting his life, energy and trust. She never liked him. Who could’ve? Bitch!

Stumbling around dissatisfied with everything his mind was running. Formulas and amounts of necessary components tangled together with Miranda’s voice asking him, if he trusts her.

He had to sit down. Calm down. Focus.

That’s how Khulan found him, strict look on her face. “How is the work proceeding?”

“Well,” he snapped annoyed. “Your flying monkeys work overtime.” That made Jervis in the corner chuckle. Jonathan will stuff the kettle into his throat!

“You need to hurry up; Ra’s al Ghul wants to fasten the production.”

“Ra’s al Ghul can come here and say it to me himself.”

“Watch your tongue, doctor,” master Khulan warned him.

“Your self-important attitude doesn’t scare me,” he snapped. “It’s easy to order around, but the work has system! You brainwashed morons couldn’t know!”

“You…” Khulan reached for her dagger, Jonathan held his toxin bracelet up. The imminent disaster stopped Jervis who jumped between them.

“Everybody please, hide your weapons,” he asked in happy tone. “Excuse my good crow friend, dear scary master,” he giggled. “He is angrier than Red Queen herself since his Banshee left him.”

“Shut up, Hatter!”

“Or he left her,” Jervis continued.

Khulan straightened her back, frowning at the short man. “What did you say?”

Jonathan moaned frustrated and turned back to his work. The last thing he needed was to speak about Miranda to the…

League?

“His dear Alice is no more,” Tetch was babbling. “Even though she was hardly Alice, maybe her eyes, but dark, dark lady she is indeed. Scary, always hidden in the shadows, killing like one of your ninjas.”

“Banshee,” Khulan repeated.

Jonathan lost his breath. Small puzzle pieces fell together with loud snap. He found what he forgot and realized what just happened.

Good! Let her rot!

No, that’s…

Khulan smiled at Jervis and her smile could freeze people alive. “Tell me, Mr. Tetch, where do I find this Banshee?”

Cold has run on Jonathan’s back.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

***

Miranda was lucky, if whatever happened these last few days could have been considered luck. Sadness and anger she left behind her. There will be enough time to wallow in feelings (is this really why she looked for them so hard? Just to suffer?). Right now she had more important matters.

Gotham museum could challenge the best prisons she has ever seen. Constant destruction and robberies forced the city to invest in good security system. Miranda never was a tech-savvy, but she was Banshee. Making loud noise was her jam.

Hidden in shadows she moved around the building. Silent alarm had to be on already, she moved fast, going exactly where Constantine sent her. The work was quick. She got to glass display of old Irish artefacts.

‘Violence is always the answer’ was a motto she lived by. Miranda broke the glass with a baton. The silent alarm switched, now it was screaming. Whole building was screeching, honking like crazy. In the shards a bracelet was waiting, decorated with runes and pictures of snakes and branches.

She grabbed it and screamed. The gold burned, so did her whole body. Every part of the skin Constantine touched was boiling. She couldn’t let go, she tucked her hand in, but the gold fried onto her fingers. The bracelet melted, the gold liquid found its way on her hand, up to the wrist, and burned in her skin.

The bracelet disappeared. A scar of gold stayed around her wrist.

“Fuck!” she hissed painfully on her knees. “Next time warn me, you jerk.”

She stumbled her way back. The police ran by her without noticing her in the shadows. She slipped right by them, skin still pulsing in pain. Why did she ever agree to this? Ha, as if! Why did she ever decide this?

Home sweet home. In light she could finally look at the new scar. The burn lost its red colour. Now it looked like grey and gold tattoo, pulsing, burning. “Cool,” she mumbled. Will it work? Hand trembling, she dialled John.

“You could have told me I will get attacked by jewellery!”

“You are welcome, pet. It’s the last thing you needed.”

She bit her lip thinking. “Thanks, Constantine. I owe you one.”

“I will summon you if necessary. You remember the rules. Don’t die, Bradbury.”

Don’t die. She wanted this. She built this up for a month and half. Stealing, killing, hurting, cooperating with John fucking Constantine. Just so she didn’t die. So she knows more and knows better. So if the League ever came back…

And it did. Sooner than she anticipated.

With a sigh she took down her weapons and set them on the table. Sleep is what her body and mind needed. Long, deep sleep. In her experience, it solved many things. In the morning she will know what to do with Jonathan. How to deal with danger in the city.

Her plans got interrupted by knock on the door.

She hid a knife in her palm. Who would come here now? The knock came again, more desperate than the first one. Slowly, she opened.

Jonathan stood there, guilty look in his eyes. Miranda clenched her teeth. Brave of him to come here after that theatre. Stabbing him between the eyes sounded nice.

“What do you want? Calmed down, huh?” she snapped.

“I’m sorry, Miranda. I overreacted,” he apologized.

“Overreacted? You are a jerk, that’s what you are. Goodbye.”

He held the door so she couldn’t close it. Playing with fire, she was so close to smack his fingers in the frame.

“What do you want?”

“Let me in, I will tell you.”

Should she listen to him? Give him a chance? Why? He went out of his way because of one stupid message. He didn’t even have balls to ask!

Maybe he gathered them now?

“Fuck you,” she hissed and went back to living room. He followed, looking around curiously. His gaze stopped at pictures on her wall. He never noticed them before. “Well? Speak!”

“I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusion,” he said gesturing apologetically, faint smile on his face. Miranda’s anger rose. What was he playing? “I hoped to made this right.”

“Oh? How?”

“However you ask,” he held his hands to her.

Miranda frowned. Something smelled fishy. “What did I do to you? Answer.”

“Nothing, and I know that now.”

“I see. You will do anything I ask?”

“Yes.”

Miranda tucked her hair behind ear. Then she smiled. “You beg on your knees for forgiveness, Johny-boy, just like last time you fucked up. And I will consider your request.”

Jonathan didn’t hesitate to go down.

Neither did she. One swift kick to the side of his head. This wasn’t Jonathan. Send him to the land of unconscious and question that fucker later!

But this she didn’t expect.

Her leg hit his face. She expected hard surface.

Leg went through. It burrowed in the face like a mud. Miranda shouted in shock and staggered.

“What the fuck?” she screamed.

Wet bubbling came out of Jonathan’s body as it crumbled under its own weight into pool of mud. It didn’t splash on the floor but formed into humanoid shape. The mud golem grinned with yellow teeth.

“What gave me away?” the mud asked.

Miranda took a step back. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gotham, what the fuck is that? Weapons!

She threw her dagger.

With a laugh the mud swallowed it inside its body with wet sound. No good!

Golem grabbed at her. She dodged. His arm stretched and caught her anyway. Hugged her body like a disgusting wet strait jacket. “Let go!” No strength could get her out. She tried to kick to no avail, he was too far away.

“Master Khulan wants to speak with you,” Golem said.

Miranda’s head gone light as if he forced every ounce of oxygen out of her. That name stabbed her heart. Khulan. In Gotham. And she knew about Miranda. How? HOW!

Jonathan.

“No!” her tries to wiggle loose were for nothing. “No! Kill me! Do it!” The mud surrounded her face stopping her screams leaving a taste of cemetery in her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes. No! Not to them! How the fuck could he?

She can’t die.

She doesn’t want to die!

Table! Weapons! Close enough. Now, Miranda, no time to waste!

She kicked. The leg hit one of the sound mines and activated it. Loud noise and rhythm in low frequency filled the room. She felt it resonate in her head, teeth hurt, heart couldn’t decide how to beat.

Golem screamed as his arm fell off. Whatever held the mud together broke apart and the mud slid down and splat on the floor. With every beat it got flatter and turned into liquid.

Miranda spit the mud. She grabbed the gun and the rest of the sound mines.

Window behind her broke. On the carpet fell burning bottle.

“Shit!”

Door in front of her burst in flames.

Shadows moved in the flat, out of balance from the sound.

Miranda activated the second sound mine. Every normal human this would sent to unconsciousness. And it did. League’s assassins screamed and fell silent. Miranda wobbled to the door, blood spurting out of her nose. She jumped the fire and ran out, finding her tempo. Behind her sound mines screamed and loudly cracking fire was swallowing everything she owned.

“Fuck you! Fuck!” she grinded her teeth. They knew about her. Jonathan told them about her. To Khulan of all people! What now?

While running, she called Terry.

“What is it, boss? It’s night.”

“Don’t go to the shop, Terry, understand?” she ordered, hardly catching her breath.

“What?”

“Don’t!”

“Okay, okay. What is…”

She ignored them and kept running.

Next chapter

[ramheavenandhell]

The Lines Between Ricks And Mortys – Chapter 2: Is that a Morty? / Am I interrupting something?

AN: This chapter we're finally getting into our first Morty battles. I'm not really good at writing action scenes so I apologize in advance and won't be angry if you just decide to skip those parts ^^' Warning: violence (aka Morty battles), minor character death, Rick/Rick (Lab Rick / Surgeon Rick) smut (rimming, fingering, anal)

The Lines Between Ricks And Mortys – Chapter 2: Is that a Morty? / Am I interrupting something? "Oh man, Rick. I'm still not sure about this whole "catching Mortys" stuff…" The C-137 duo was walking over the plaza, their current goal the centrum where the portal was located. Rick had just miraculously finished building an injector, some manipulator chips and some other random stuff that he thought useful from the junk that Morty had found around the place for him. Obviously, he would let Morty dig through the trash to find that stuff for him – that was the work of an assistant and not the work of a genius scientist after all. "Morty, just go and look around on the streets and inside trashcans and bring me whatever is useful enough to build something with." Rick had said. "What?! How am I supposed to know what you regards as "useful"? For all I know, you're just gonna complain that I brought you junk when I'm done." Morty wouldn't complain about such a task no matter how dirty it was, but what he wouldn't stand up for was digging for hours through trash bins for Rick when he didn't even know what he was supposed to be looking for. "Jeez, Morty! Learn to think for yourself for a bit!" His grandfather was immediately frustrated with him again. "I'm not asking you to bring me some leftover food or dirty paper dishes, but some spare parts. Wires or anything that is metallic – heck, even—even some alien bacteria would be useful." So, that's what Morty tried to look for – working better when he was given directions to follow anyways – and picked up empty cans and whatever else fit the description of what he was supposed to look for. While Morty had been trash hunting, Rick had been taking a look at Salesman Rick's manipulator chips, having a hard time convincing the man to at least just show him the goods even when he knew that he wasn't allowed to buy them yet – not that C-137 was even too fond about venturing into the guy's shop. Long story short: Rick got a glimpse of those chips and was able to build a few himself with the trash that Morty was able to find – it was really fascinating what some people threw away… "I mean, if these Mortys are lost in those dimensions shouldn't we actually help them instead?" Morty finished voicing his current moral troubles about the Ricks' newest pastime. He had been actually starting to think about this whole "Pocket Morty Game" thing – the fact that Ricks and aliens were capturing Mortys (altering their minds with manipulator chips) and then forcing them to fight against each other just for entertainment – and it didn't sit well with him. "Morty, by catching them we're helping those Mortys. I mean, think what would happen to them if we just keep letting them wandering around. They might starve or another Rick could catch them and might do unthinkable things to them. Think about that mystery Rick who kidnapped you. What do you think he might do to those Mortys if he catches them, hm?" Rick interjected. The number of Rick guards was slowly increasing the more they proceeded, which meant that they must be getting closer to the communal portal – not that you would not be able to find it with all the signs pointing in its direction along the way. "I-I guess you're right, Rick." Morty mumbled as memories of what Mysterious Rick had done to him slowly seeped into his mind. Since they were constantly on the jump, Morty hadn't found a moment yet when he could have properly reflected on the traumatizing experience. "I'm always right, Morty. So, you see, we're helping them and they'll help us getting through this stupid "game" – it's a win-win situation. And hey, I don't have to tell you that you'll be the leader of the bunch, right? So, let's do this!" They finally came to the landing where a bunch of armed guards were standing gathered and as they were close enough one of the guards gave them – or more specifically Rick C137 – a scrutinizing look-over before activating a small machine via one button press. As soon as he had done that, a green vortex opened, the swirl and humming of the portal being the only real familiar thing that they had encountered in this entire place yet. Morty looked up at the huge metal ring that had produced the portal. It reminded him of a Stargate from the movie and the series of the same name. Being a fan of all sorts of sci-fi shows Morty remembered that he had watched it when he was younger even though it had some scary scenes. Now that he thought about it, Rick's portals were a lot like that "gate to the stars", too. They just didn't have those fancy effects. Still, He couldn't help but be a little disappointed that the metal ring that was around the portal didn't rotate when the guard had activated it. Without waiting for an invitation or further instructions, the duo entered the rip in space that would lead them to a random dimension and as soon as they passed through, the portal closed again.

Since Morty C-137 had called the other Mortys in the meantime and informed them about some possible suspects that they should probably investigate a bit more, the boys had all agreed to share the work and Morty C-133 was the one that volunteered to check out the doctor Ricks from the Healing Center and Morty Labs. Obviously, his Rick wasn't too happy about their involvement with this whole Morty kidnapping thing – it was none of their business and they were busy with other stuff. "You do realize that we're actually here to look for that weirdo Morty and don't have time for this crap." Rick C-133 did point out to his Morty. However, his grandson kept insisting, "C'mon, Rick. The others are helping out, too, and will inform us if they see or hear anything about the Morty we're looking for. And maybe we also find something out about him when we're asking around. At least it can't hurt to do it, right?" "Yeah, fine. I guess you got a point…" the scientist finally gave in with a sigh. Actually, it wasn't such a stupid idea to poke around at the clinics, seeing as the little shit had been wounded the last time that he had seen him. So it wasn't completely unlikely that he would visit a doctor who would take care of that for him. Therefore, the C-133 duo was approaching the Morty Healing Center first and Rick couldn't help but asses Surgeon Rick's crazy look and questionable outfit from afar already. Thankfully, he couldn't see past the counter or he would have seen how short the white latex skirt actually was as well as the straps of the garter belt that suspended the white latex stockings or the teal colored, heeled sandals that made his long legs look even longer still – in short Surgeon Rick's outfit looked like a cyber version of a latex nurse outfit and was definitely more fetish wear than actual work clothes. "So, you must be Surgeon Rick." Rick C-133 greeted. "Why, hello there. Yes, I am. How can I help you?" Surgeon Rick greeted cheerfully. C-133 peered behind the doctor and at the interior of the small clinic and spoke up again. "You've got no Mortys here? I would have expected a cute little Nurse Morty at least." Surgeon Rick's face fell a little "Yeah, they don't let me have any Mortys here. Actually it's been prohibited to assign Mortys to me anymore." "Why's that?" "That's none of your business, Mr. Customer Rick." Surgeon Rick's smile looked a bit strained and his voice sounded menacing despite the fake-friendly tone. "So, anyways…" the medic continued. "You gonna heal your Morty now or what? Actually he looks quite healthy to me." Surgeon Rick looked with slight disappointment at the Morty at Rick's side. Morty felt a shiver run down his spine and resisted the urge to hind behind his Rick's back. Screw it! He jumped behind his Rick and dug his hands in his lab coat. He had enough of creepy Ricks after what he had been through. Until now, he didn't even get a break to come to terms with what had happened to him and until his Rick found the culprit behind his kidnapping, he probably wouldn't get around to digest it properly – if he ever will. "No, we're fine right now. Just doing a bit sightseeing, checking out the locations. You know, stuff like that." Rick C-133 explained with a fake smile. "Okay. Well, when your Morty gets hurt just bring him to me. I'm going to fix him back up for free. Courtesy of the Council of Ricks of course." Surgeon Rick offered, sounding sincerely nice now. "Will do." Rick C-133 mumbled. Trying to bring it up as casually as he could, he finally cut the small talk and asked what he really wanted to know about, "By the way, did a suspicious Morty come by here?" "Suspicious? How so?" Surgeon Rick asked confused. "Well, I mean a Morty that's just different from other Mortys." "Hah! All Mortys are different from one another. There are not two Mortys who are the same." Surgeon Rick replied with conviction. "Well, he should have had a broken left arm. You had any like that in today?" he tried to specify. "Sure. I've got at least twenty today alone." The doctor replied with a smile as if they were just casually talking about the weather and not injured Mortys. Yeah, that didn't help him at all. It was obviously just a waste of time trying to get some useful information out of the crazy medic. With a sigh and a mumbled "Yeah, whatever…" Rick C-133 turned around and left for good this time. "Bye and have a nice day~" Surgeon Rick sang in his shrill voice, his creepy grin back in place and waving a latex-gloved hand. Both Rick and Morty had to agree that this guy was uncomfortably freaky. "That guy is not quite right. And I'm not just talking about his weird personality or clothing." Rick said to his Morty "I wonder why he's prohibited from getting a Morty assigned to him?" His Morty nodded at that "Yeah. That certainly sounds very suspicious…" "Well, since the Morty Labs are pretty close by, how about we check out the other nutty doctor over there. Can't be much worse than this one…" Morty didn't really feel like encountering another Freak Rick, but he followed his Rick anyways. He had promised the other's to check them out and so far the suspicions didn't seem to be entirely for nothing…

They wandered around in this oddly looking dimension, which had mint-green grass and trees with pink leaves. Morty C-137 looked in awe at their surroundings, which looked so different from earth and not only because of the odd color palette. The smells of peppermint and cotton candy wafted through the air coming without a doubt from the nature that was surrounding them. Rick, however, was completely focused on his Mortytector, not looking up for a single second. He went in a straightforward path to a row of trees and only then did he bother to look up from his device. Motioning for Morty to be quiet, he slowly nudged himself between the trees and peeked at what was behind it. Morty also slid up next to Rick, trying not to make any loud noises as he walked over the fallen and piled up leaves from the trees and supporting himself on the trunk so to not trip over an extended root. There, walking on a patch of grass and looking rather lost was a kid. "R-Rick? Is that a Morty?" C-137 asked in a careful whisper. "Let's see: brown hair, yellow shirt, blue jeans. Yeah, I'd say that it's obviously a Morty. I-I mean— just take a look! What else could it be, Morty?!" Rick replied also in a hushed whisper but clearly annoyed tone. "But t-that doesn't really—" Morty started, but was quickly interrupted by his grandfather. "Look, Morty. We're here to—gotta have to catch us some Mortys, okay? So, let go of your planetary mindset, stop being judgmental and let's just gonna do so-some catching now." Without waiting for a reply, Rick left the safe hiding place to approach the Wild Morty, his own Morty following a bit reluctantly. Startled by the rustling of the leaves, the Wild Morty turned around to see the advancing duo and the Morty's eyes widened before the instinct to flee kicked in. "Oh great." Rick groaned, but started to run after the fleeing Morty nonetheless. "Looks like we'll have to chase it until it's tired itself out, Morty." "'It', Rick? Really? 'IT'?!" Morty complained about the phrasing. They ran over patches of grass, weaved between some trees and even followed a small, pebbled path, before the Wild Morty was forced to stop. Panting heavily from exhaustion the poor thing had reached a dead-end as thick shrubbery blocked off any means of escape. Morty himself was panting heavily from all the running, but felt bad for the other Morty. He could clearly see the fear in the Wild Morty's eyes. "Finally. That Rick from the Day Care had said that we need to weaken Wild Mortys before we can catch them, so – attack, Morty!" "Aw, geez…" Morty complained but approached the other Morty. Still not wanting to fight against one of his own kind, he wanted to try a different approach and lifted his hands up a little to show that he meant no harm. "H-hey, there…" he started, but didn't come very far as the Wild Morty lunged at him and managed to throw him to the ground. "Ouch!" "What the heck was that, Morty? That's just embarrassing." Rick immediately criticized. And that was probably true because any attempt at peaceful conversation was pretty much pointless at the moment. The Wild Morty was acting like a cornered animal now and not holding back at attacking Morty C-137. Rick watched the entire scuffle from the sidelines and could tell that the Wild Morty was clearly stronger than his own. Just as Morty C-137 was short of passing out, laying on the ground with the other Morty sitting on top of him and about to deliver the final blow, did Rick actually step in. In a swift motion, he pressed the injector to the Wild Morty's temple and watched the red LED on the attached Manipulator Chip blinking on and off a few times before it turned green. The newly captured Morty's stare was blank as the chip was probably working on rearranging the memories and Rick hoped that it was working properly. Obviously, it should work properly because this wasn't even one of the chips that he had crafted, but actually one that he had stolen from Salesman Rick. Not that his own chips wouldn't be able to work. He just stole that one, to check out how this thing was built up because it was always easier rebuilding something that already existed instead of having to start from scratch. Which wasn't saying that Rick couldn't do that, but he really didn't have the time for all that crap. "Morty?" he carefully addressed the newest addition to the team to make sure the chip really did work. "Yeah? What is it, Grandpa Rick?" the freshly caught Morty asked back. "Wow. You really listen to the name 'Morty'?" Morty C-137 now asked, having recovered a little bit from the brutal, one-sided battle and got to his feet again. "Why wouldn't I? You listen to the name 'Morty', too, aren't you?" "Well, yeah, but that's not really your name, is it?" C-137 asked, but gulped at the antagonizing look he received in return. "Well, it's not really your name either, right? You're name is actually 'Mortimer', yet you listen to the nickname 'Morty'." "Yeah, w-well… that's true. What is your actual name though?" "My name is Morticia. However, I'm fine with being called Morti even though no one in my family has started to call me that before Grandpa Rick came to live with us." Morticia confessed. At the mention, she looked back to Rick, but suddenly her eyes went wide. "Um, Rick?" she asked. Rick did feel uncomfortable at that look. Did the chip not work properly, after all? "Yeah?" he urged here on. "Wh-where are your boobs?" Rick and Morty's facial features derailed at that. "WH-WHAT?! Obviously, I don't have boobs! I'm a guy, not a chick!" Rick yelled almost indignantly, the hint of a blush on his face. Was Morticia's original Rick a female Rick or something? "Y-yeah, I know. But remember that you actually made it so that you had boobs and said that you did it so that I wouldn't feel so bad about being a female Morty anymore? And you were so proud of them, too. I mean those were some huge knockers." Both Rick and Morty looked at her as if asking if she was serious about this. It made her a little nervous and definitely uncomfortable. "B-but I guess it's better for your back if you don't have them anymore. I mean, i-it's not like I'm complaining." she decided to quickly drop the subject.

The walk to Morty Labs was short since it was just in the neighborhood. Of course, these facilities were all located close to each other to save the trainers the mileage and also to keep up the sales. All they had to do was walk down some steps and then turn around the corner and the building of nutty medic Rick number two was already in sight. As they waltzed up to the counter, Lab Rick seemed to be just finished with his last job. He handed a Morty over to his alien trainer. The poor boy looked somewhat dazed and completely disoriented. Morty C-133's heart immediately went out to him, but the Morty's owner already dragged him away – probably off to more Morty battles. Tearing his eyes away from his unfortunate alternative counterpart, Morty looked back up and looked around the so called Morty-Lab – and instantly regretted it. He cringed at the sight of a brain in a glass jar, eyeballs still attached to it and staring blankly into nothingness. In another jar was something, which looked like a Morty-embryo or something and he wasn't sure if he even wanted to know what it was here for. Aside from that – and some other jars that contained eyeballs and who knows what else – an assortment of questionable medications like "Mortynol" for example littered the workspace and a bunch of capsules that he had seen in the Blips and Chitz machines as well as some Petri dishes and even some of those manipulator chips. A calendar that hung on the wall however caught his interest. Not exactly the fact that the calendar stated that it was the 11th of Ricktober today – though it was interesting to know that the Citadel had its very own calendar system – and also not the notes that Lab Rick had scribbled on certain dates, but for the fact that a picture of Surgeon Rick was decorating it. After his uncomfortable examination of the business, he turned his attention to a grinning Lab Rick. The medic completely ignored him though and was focused on Rick C-133. "Hey, there. How can I help you? Your Morty needing a memory wipe?" Rick C-133 looked like he was actually considering taking him up on the offer and maybe he was really contemplating it. Wouldn't that be the easiest way to help his Morty? To just erase that traumatic experience that he had to suffer from? Even if it meant that, he had to lie to his boy? "Nah, just doing a little sightseeing. I was actually wondering what your shop is about. So, you wipe Mortys' memories? Is that it?" "That's part of it, yes." Lab Rick answered, not sounding offended by the other's very insulting-sounding statement. "I can wipe Mortys' minds or trigger forgotten or even erased memories. So, if there's something you want your Morty to forget or to remember, you're in the right spot here." "Wow. Do you have a lot of customer's because this doesn't really sound too exciting?" Rick C-133 was not impressed. "More than you think, actually. Aside from Morty trainers, I've got my hands full with the Mortys from Plumbubo Prime 51b. Those Plumbus Slaves need some regular mind wipes." Morty looked alarmed and wanted to ask about that. Plumbus Slaves? Regular mind wipes? What was going on, on or in Plumbubo Prime – he honestly had no idea what Plumbubo Prime was even supposed to be. Was that a planet? A different dimension? His own Rick snorted and wore a look of disgust on his face. Looks like he knew what this was about. "Yeah, well whatever. Did a Morty without a trainer come by here today? He should have had a brok—a wounded arm." Lab Rick looked at him with something like disbelieve. "No. Why? Did one run away from you? For malfunctioning manipulator chips, you should go and see Surgeon Rick to fix that. Or you could go to Salesman Rick for a refund. But if that Morty is really wounded the Healing Center would be your best bet." "Do you know him personally?" Morty suddenly spoke up from behind the safety of his Rick's back. "I-I mean Surgeon Rick?" Rick L-54 looked down at him for the first time, making a face of surprise as if he hadn't noticed him being there until now. "Yeah, I do know him. We've both been working at the Citadel's Medical Research Facility before we took on these jobs." He admitted. "So you know each other pretty good?" Morty carefully treaded forward. The medic huffed a little laugh. "Yeah, you could say that we know each other very well." "T-then… do you also know why he's prohibited from Morty re-reassignments?" Lab Rick's smiling face dropped instantly and the playful mood turned to ice in a matter of seconds. He leaned forward, coming closer to Morty's face who froze up in fear, hands digging deep into his Rick's lab coat, completely forgetting that there was a perforated glass window still separating them. The boy had a deer-caught-in-headlights-look on his face. "That's some very personal information, you know. And it's not really my place to tell." The medic's tone sounded dangerous, almost threatening. Even to someone with the disability of not being able to read between lines, it would have been obvious that he just said "That's none of your fucking business!" without actually saying it. Morty fought the urge to 'eep' in fright and just hid more behind his Rick's back, almost regretting to be so forward and asking as he did. However, this also made the medic fishier and Morty couldn't help, but suspect that the two doctor Ricks are somehow working together. At least they were both sharing this secret and that was suspicious enough as is. Lab Rick cleared his throat as he stood to his full height again and looked back at Rick C-133. "There something else you want to know or can I go back to my work now?" He pulled on his leather gloves as if to make a point. C-133 matched his attitude with a sigh and a slightly agitated look on his face, seeming equally irritated. "We're fine, thanks." With that he turned around, one hand on his Morty's back to urge him to move. He was getting really frustrated that Lab Rick also didn't seem to know anything about that mysterious Morty. C-133 had as many traces as before – namely none. "Hey, if you ever need to wipe your Mortys memories, you're welcome any time." Rick L-54 shouted after the retreating duo. It made Morty feel somehow uncomfortable. The very thought that there was Rick technology that could do that sort of thing… Ricks being able to control what Mortys got to remember and what not. A shudder ran through him, as his imagination went wild. Rick didn't turn back or comment on it. He only patted Morty's back slightly where his hand still rested that had pushed the boy in the direction that they're headed…

It was only a few trainer battles in that Rick quickly realized what a good addition Morticia was to their team. She easily proved that she was so much a better fighter than Morty in those few battles that the scientist really thought about renouncing what he had said to his grandson previously and make Morticia the leader of the bunch. Who knew that the slight difference in gender could make such a huge difference? It probably didn't really have to do with gender, but that's what Rick would be sticking to for now. Beating just another weak trainer and his pathetic Mortys to the ground, they found themselves slowly approaching the battle ground of this dimension's Rick. Morty was currently ignoring how the scales were tipping and that his grandfather was down talking him more and praising the female version of himself above everything else, clearly favoring one of the two. It wasn't like he didn't notice it, he was just too busy pondering over the call that he had received a short while ago. Morty C-133 had called and teleconferencing all of them as he shared his gatherings from investigating the Medic Ricks. "Unfortunately I couldn't find out any specifics, but both Ricks from the Healing Center and from Morty Labs are definitely freaks and very suspicious. Surgeon Rick is definitely the crazier one between the two and they both share some secret that they won't reveal to anyone. It's about the reason why the surgeon isn't allowed to have any Mortys assigned to him anymore. Whatever this is about, the two clearly seem to be working together somehow. I'm sorry that I couldn't find out more yet, but I'll definitely try to keep it up…" The other Mortys found that as suspicious as C-133 did and they all promised to keep some track on both of the medics and that they would try to look into it more if they found the chance and time… Morty wondered if they really already found the culprit – well, at least someone who was behind the brothel ring. Of course, there was still the search for Mysterious Rick and also that dangerous Morty… C-137 got drawn out of his thoughts as they walked up a small flight of stairs and into the arena, ready to face their first Rick (Boss) battle. Morty was actually shocked as he looked their opponents over. Ignoring the odd-looking Mortys, he actually observed the Rick more closely. Actually, he would have thought that all Ricks would be cocky bastards that would seem a lot more intimidating, but this one looked rather… pitiful. This Rick looked far older than any other versions of his grandfather, the wrinkles like deep valleys in the ashen skin and bags hung heavy under his eyes. But that wasn't what was so shocking to Morty C-137, also not the skull that the other scientist was clutching tightly in his hands. No, it was the open display of emotions that laid bare on this Rick's face. He actually looked like he would start to cry any moment and his gaze was fixed on his two Mortys, making it looked like he wanted to do nothing more than to apologize to his grandsons over and over again. Their first Rick opponent was Guilty Rick. Rick C-137 stepped forward and said "Okay, let's make this qu*oouurgh*ick." Guilty Rick finally looked up to his opponent, clutching the skull in his hand that was that of a Morty, the slightest bit tighter. "Actually, I'd rather not fight. I've seen so many horrible things already, I do not want to see more Mortys getting hurt…" C-137 smiled smugly. "Pfft. Fine with me. Then just hand over the badge and give me a portal and we're outta here without anyone getting hurt." Guilty Rick sighed loudly. "I'm afraid, I cannot do that. The rules prevent me from it." C-137 facial features flipped back to a frown "Well, then we gotta battle. Morty get in there." Hesitantly Morty stepped forward. Guilty Rick only sighed again before he sent his own Morty into the ring. Morty C-137 looked his opponent over. It was a very odd-looking Morty. The tiny creature looked like a Morty in an almost embryonically state as his hands were in its most rudimentary form and its feet were absent as if they hadn't developed yet. The pink jelly-like substance that was surrounding it only added to the helpless-look that it emitted. "Be careful, Test X1." Guilty Rick said to his little partner, looking worried for his little companions health and safety. "Rick. I-I can't do it, Rick. I can't fight against it—him." Morty said as he looked at the other's big eyes. "Argh, Morty!" his Rick groaned in frustration and slapped his hand on his face. "Aren't you the most useless turd ever? Whatever, just get back here. Morticia, you go in and crush him." As Guilty Rick saw the look of determination and lack of mercy on the female Morty's face, he panicked a little and decided to also switch out his Morty. "Test X64, you go in." Even if it was a wise decision of Guilty Rick to swap out, correctly sensing that Morticia was a tougher enemy even his stronger Morty didn't stood a chance. The Test X64 certainly put up a fight, attacking Morticia with body slams and weird pitiful screeches and howling noises, but Morticia was still stronger than that. She fought back with fist and even teeth as she bit her enemy, throwing him to the ground and jumping on him to pummel him with her fists before he would throw her off again. Rick C-137 cheered her on between shouting out commands to her while Guilty Rick also spoke commands but watched mostly worried. With one last powerful punch Morticia came out as the victor, towering over he fallen and dazed opponent while she was still panting heavily. "Oh no, Test X64." Guilty Rick mourned and grieved over the loss of the fight. The Rick carefully check for his wounds, accessing the damage as he apologized and stroked the Jell-O outer case. The dazed Morty gave a few pitiful screeches that made his Rick's heart break. Morty Test X1 came forward now, moving back into the ring. "Oh, nonono, Morty. You don't have to do it. We can forfeit this battle." Guilty Rick said, now even more reluctant than before to let his littler Morty fight. The Morty gave a few noises as if to tell his Rick that it was all right and he wanted to do it. The moment was so touching that it brought tears to Guilty Ricks eyes. Rick C-137 rolled his eyes at the overly dramatic display of emotions and affection. "Morticia, come back here. You did good, girl." Rick said as he saw that the fight had taken a bit out of her and she was wounded and panting still. He didn't doubt that she would be able to finish the other opponent off, too, but he wanted to give his grandson another chance. "C'mon, Morty. I'm generous enough to give you a second chance at this. Rip him apart." Morty stepped hesitantly forward and looked at his determined opponent who really seemed to have an entirely different opinion on this battle than he did. Despite its confidence, the creature still looked innocent albeit weird and Morty still couldn't find it in him to cause any harm to it. "Jeez, Rick. I-I still don't think that I can do it…" Morty said as he looked with curled brows over to his opponent. "C'mon, Morty! What the fuck?! What is wrong with you?!" Rick was getting peeved – 'Such an ungrateful, little bastard!' – and got more and more aggravated by the second. "Y-you know, if you keep that up I'll just leave you at the Day Care, Morty." "Yeah, seriously. What's wrong with you?" Morticia now also started to chime in. "Just do it!" "Yeah, Morty! Just do it, you little pussy. Aren't you embarrassed that a girl version of you can do this so much better?" Rick continued to lay verbally into him and Morticia also continued going at it, their voices starting to overlap as if they were trying to outdo each other at beating him down with words. The verbal abuse, coupled with the built up stress from everything that had happened in the previous battles – and most likely from the events that had even lead them here – was starting to get too much. Morty may had been preoccupied with his thoughts on the events of the other Mortys investigations, but it didn't mean that all the insults that he received from his Rick since Morticia had joined them were just forgotten. The boy was at his limit – having finally reached the breaking point – and suddenly he started to see red. Flipping out, Morty suddenly screamed and ran at his enemy, furiously attacking the seemingly defenseless Morty-Embryo-Thingy that didn't stand a chance against him. He kept pounding, laying into his enemy for several minutes even after it had stopped moving already. After something that felt like an eternity the red sheen lifted from his vision and he panted heavily as he looked down at his poor victim. The pink Jell-O-like membrane had been almost completely liquefied and still clung to his hands, yellow shirt, pants and face and the Morty inside that jelly-like outer case had been beaten to a pulp, laying on the ground and only giving an occasional twitch and making the faintest pained sounds. As he slowly realized what had happened while he was still regaining his senses, his Rick commented, sounding slightly proud "Whoa, Morty! Who knew that you were such a killing machine? You really need to chill, buddy." Guilty Rick had abandoned the Morty-skull that he had hang on to in favor of cradling the dazed Test X1 Morty in his arms. "I'm sorry, Morty. I'm so sorry." He whispered to the small creature. He wailed as the Morty in his arms took his last painful-looking breath. "Oh my god! I think I-I killed it, Rick! Uh, him." Morty shouted panicked. "*Urp* whatever." Rick commented with little interest. "I'm so sorry, Morty." The grieving Rick mumbled still cradling the deceased Morty in his arms. "C'mon, I don't have time for this crap. Hand over the badge and shoot us a portal back to the Citadel so that we can move on with this shitty adventure." Without looking up, the other Rick pulled first a badge from his lab coat and handed it over before retrieving his portal gun and opening a way back for the C-137 Team. Guilty Rick never let go of his little Morty and still mumbled apologies while rocking back and forth. "I'm so, so sorry, Morty. I will join you soon…" Rick C-137 ignored the poor excuse for a Rick that had crumbled before his feet and went through the portal. His two Mortys joined him albeit his Original Morty a bit more reluctantly as he looked worriedly at the defeated Rick that they left behind. "Rick, do you thing that he's going to do something to himself?" "Morty, I don't know and I don't care." Rick pulled his flask from the pocket of his lab coat and actually took the time to look back at him as he said, "You know, at best that's going to be a subplot that has no relevance to our story-line." He continued to walk as he took a sip from his flask.

Surgeon Rick sat slumped at his counter, just lost in his thoughts when he suddenly saw a familiar figure approaching the Healing Center. He immediately perked up. "Mio Amante." He said happily, as Lab Rick came up to the counter. "What do I owe the pleasure to see you here?" "Well, I'm having lunch break right now and thought that I couldn't spent my time better than with you, mia Estrella." He answered. "Oh, that's so sweet of you, but you know that I can't close the clinic. Gotta be always open in case of emergencies, you know?" Surgeon Rick replied, looking first delighted but then a little saddened again. "Well, I don't see any customer's right now." Lab Rick commented after he looked around. Indeed, there wasn't much going on today and there were surprisingly few pedestrians walking around at the moment. It was an extremely peaceful and quite day today and it actually felt pretty nice to have a breather for once. Lab Rick went around the reception counter, taking the freedom to invite himself in. He quickly took Rick S-422 in his arms from behind and whispered against his ear "C'mon, let us spend some time together." The way in which Lab Rick had said those words, made it very obvious to Surgeon Rick how exactly he wanted to spend the time with him. "Oh, c'mon. Never at work, remember?" he answered back, but didn't try to get out of the embrace. They still had their rule from the time when they both worked at the medical research facility: to not have sex at their workplace – at least Rick S-422 was still sticking to that. "I don't see you working right now." Rick L-54 commented and began to nip at the other's ear. "Hngh… Amante…" Surgeon Rick moaned softly from the ministrations. He was slowly giving in. After taking one more look around at the plaza in front of the Healing Center and seeing it practically empty, he sighed. "Okay, but make it quick." "Hmm, sure. Been awhile since we done it quick and dirty, hasn't it?" L-54 agreed. S-422 didn't comment further on that and instead dragged the other deeper into the little clinic. They went over to a little cot that was for examining the Mortys. Enticingly Surgeon Rick bent over it, thrusting his ass out and showing the other exactly what and how he wanted it. Lab Rick licked his lips hungrily at the sight, his eyes wandered over the patch of shaved and surprisingly smooth skin between the rim of his stockings and the tips of the mini skirt. His hands quickly followed on that trail and lifted the skirt up enough to reveal a bright-pink lace thong underneath. Nice! Rick L-54 grinned wolfishly at the seductive garment. As pretty as it was, it was in the way though and needed to go. So, with a quick movement, he pulled the garment down and left the other Rick's bottom completely exposed. Deciding to have a little fun and foreplay first even though they should really hurry up since they didn't know when the next customer would show up, he gave one of the ass cheeks a hard spank. Surgeon Rick groaned from the slap, but didn't seem to mind – if anything it was actually quite the opposite. The L-Rick's hands then started to knead both cheeks before he spread them wide apart. Hungrily, he bent down and started to lick from the surgeon's balls all the way up the crack. "Mmh… Amante. Hurry up!" Surgeon Rick moaned impatiently and wriggled his ass. Lab Rick smirked in reaction to that. "Don't you know that good things come to those who wait, Estrella?" "If I'd been the kind of Rick who sits around and waits, I wouldn't be a Nobel price winner." The surgeon retorted smugly. Well, that was probably true. Instead of commenting though, Lab Rick bent down again to lap at the other's opening. The wrinkly rosette fluttered, giving an invitation to the wet muscle to come inside, which the hungry tongue gladly followed. Surgeon Rick groaned loudly as his lover was eating him out. He eagerly thrusted his ass back as Lab Rick fucked him with his tongue, delving deeper and deeper with each push. "Hngh… J-just hurry up already!!" "Tsk. So impatient." As Rick L-54 said that, he pulled off his gloves and pushed two fingers at once deep into his lover's rectum – dry. The sudden stretch and burn made the surgeon groan loudly. "Yeah. You like that, baby?" Rhythmically Lab Rick stretched the other out who didn't really mind the pain from the lack of lubricant. After all, Rick's were as much masochists as they were sadists. After deeming the other ready enough, Lab Rick mercifully retrieved a bottle of lube that he always carried in his apron and slathered up his cock, which he quickly freed from his pants with the slick gel-like substance before positioning its head against the pink puckered hole. In one quick, hard thrust, he buried all of his nine inches inside of his lover. Surgeon Rick practically howled and even Lab Rick couldn't contain his groan at the feeling of the heat that enveloped him. For a moment neither of the two lovers moved. Then Lab Rick started to lazily stroke with one of his hands over the other Rick's back. "C'mon. Just get to it, Amante. You're really taking your time today…" Surgeon Rick urged and moved to push back against him. "And you are more impatient today than usual." Despite his reply, Lab Rick decided not to tease his lover any further and finally moved. He withdrew his length till only the tip remained inside just to ram it back in a moment later. Like that, he set a hard and fast pace, reaming his lover who was bent over the cot and clutching the upholstery tightly. Surgeon Rick moved back, matching each of Lab Rick's harsh thrusts and they both groaned and moaned loudly as they were quickly approaching their orgasms. The sound of someone clearing his throat was suddenly heard loudly over every other noise the two Ricks made in their little tryst of love. Both looked up to see none other than Rick C-137 standing at the counter. "Looks like I'm interrupting something here." He said with a grin that indicated that he wasn't the least bit sorry for disrupting them. At his side stood Morty who was covering his eyes with his hands and his head glowed as red as a traffic light. Morticia stood on his other side and was also blushing heavily while looking the other way. Neither of them had wanted to see that. "I'm here to get my Mortys healed up." C-137 continued. Morty instantly complained, fidgeting. "Aw geez, oh man… do we really have to go in there? Can't you just buy a serum or something?" "And waste my hard earned Schmeckles that I got from the battles which, by the way weren't won by you? C'mon, the healing here is free so move your ass in there already, Morty." Arguing further with his grandfather would be pointless at this moment so Morty just gave in and walked together with Morticia in the clinic. Thankfully, the two lovers had already separated again and fixed their clothes. Lab Rick was on his way out, but not before saying something to his boyfriend in a low-tone. "See you later, mia Estrella." However, even if it was spoken lowly, Rick C-137 still heard it and quirked his eyebrow after the medic had left the facility. "So, you gonna fix my Mortys now or what Estrella?" he spoke that nickname in a mocking tone. "Yeah, yeah. I'm on it already. You just wait up there in the front." Surgeon Rick answered before finally focusing on the Mortys. "C'mon, get out of your shirt and hop up so that I can examine you." He said to Morty C-137 while motioning to the cot that he had been bent over just recently. Morty visibly cringed at the thought of having to sit there while being half-naked and getting examined by the creepy-looking doctor. Surgeon Rick saw this reaction and exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. "Just get on it already. It's not like it's contaminated or anything." After all, he didn't get to cum so nothing was ruined – well, other than his mood…

After he was examined, healed, cleaned up and even given some clean clothes to put on again, Morty C-137 had decided to inform the others about his newest "discovery". He was able to get all the Mortys on teleconference again before he reported the news. "Okay, so the Medic Ricks are definitely weirdos, but I think I have uncovered their big secret now. It seems that these two are actually having an affair with each other." He explained. "Uh… you guys don't wanna know how I found out about that…" "S-s-so, does t-that m-mean that we-we can already r-rule them o-o-ou-ut now?" A-22β6 asked. "I think that we can." K-4872 spoke up now. "I found out why Surgeon Rick is prohibited from Morty reassignments. I've done some research and to make a long story short there had been an incident, concerning the death of a Morty. The whole thing had been a tragic accident though and another incident with a Morty who reported him was apparently just a misunderstanding. So, yeah. I think that we can rule these two out as suspects." "Okay, got it. Still, thank you for your efforts, C-133." C-137 replied. A-22β6 spoke up again. "I-I'll check o-o-ou-ut Salesman R-Rick together w-with my R-Rick next." "Okay. Good luck and take care." The Mortys bid each other goodbye before they hung up again. Morty K-4872 also hung up after the tel-co was over. "So… Rick-cest, huh? I guess that is a thing, after all…" he couldn't help but comment on the entire affair thing. "We've all been there and done that at one point…" his Rick answered. Morty looked with a frown at his Rick. "TMI, Rick. TMI."

Bonus: "Harder, Amante! Harder!" Gloved fingers dug into the sides of the cot as he held on for dear life. His lover was driving into him in a fast pace, hitting his prostate with each powerful thrust. "Fuck! You feel so good, Estrella!" Lab Rick groaned, his hands gripping those bony hips tighter, sure to leave some bruises. The two medics moaned loudly, both longing feverishly for release. So close, so close…just a little more… "Excuse me?" Surgeon Rick groaned in annoyance, his head dropping forward on the cot in defeat. Not again. "I want to have my Mortys healed. What kind of service is this?" The voice of a Rick complained from the counter. Lab Rick, despite wanting to do anything but stop right now, halted. That only agitated the surgeon more. "Is it impossible to get some dick in peace and quiet here for once?!" He yelled frustrated in his shrill voice. The outburst actually shock the customer Rick and with a mumbled "jeez" he left with his entourage of blushing Mortys. No one in their right mind would want to deal with a sexually frustrated Rick voluntarily…

AN: I like to point out that we have a side story now that will be accompanying this fanfic. It's called "The Mortys and their Stories" and as the title suggests, it will center on the backstories of the Mortys that Rick C-137 catches in this fanfic. That way you can still get more information and character development if you like without me cluttering up this story too much.

Part 11 of Entricked Fates

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Part 1 of Entricked Fates: Gotta Catch Me Some Morty

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 2 of Entricked Fates: Mortyfied and Rickfused

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 3 of Entricked Fates: Ricking the Routine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 4 of Entricked Fates: Ricks will always be Ricks

oneshot

Part 5 of Entricked Fates: The Morty-Lover

oneshot

Part 6 of Entricked Fates: Second Chances AKA The Rick One For Me

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part 7 of Entricked Fates: Rickvestigating the Morty Disappearances

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Part 8 of Entricked Fates: When the Morty’s away, the Rick will play

oneshot

Part 9 of Entricked Fates: It’s Not His Ricking Fault!

oneshot

Part 10 of Entricked Fates: I Ricking Hate My Life!

oneshot

Part 12 of Entricked Fates: The Mortys and their Stories

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[thecreativeangel]

aut neca aut necare: VI

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You try once more to apologize to Peter (not successfully) and Spiderman thinks it’s a good idea to bring up your family. 

Warnings: A hoe needs D E P R E S S O

Words: 3.1k wow i need a life

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“Hi Peter. Sorry I got in a completely meaningless fight with you and brought up the death of your parents. We're cool, right?”

Yeah, that wasn't going to pass. You stared with half bleary eyes at the phone in your hand, a paragraph long text message highlighted in blue, about to be deleted. This was the fifth…sixth? Sixth attempt at an astounding apology that would make Peter so emotional he’d forgive you in an instant. So far, everything you wrote turned out to be shit. Every text was too long, too pathetic and clingy. And it became apparent to you that as of recently, your texts to Peter had to be perfect. Even before the fight you’d been double checking the spelling, triple checking to make sure there weren’t too many emojis.

Is adding a period too formal? Too strict? And yes, you knew very well why you were acting like this but refused to say it out loud.

After huffing through your nose, you pressed delete and half an hour’s worth of typing was gone. The sound of heavy boats cutting through water was really helping right then, to calm nerves and such. You closed your eyes and dangled your feet over the side of the warehouse. The tracker you'd put on one of Kim’s “henchmen” (could a high school student really have henchmen?) had been still for two hours now, and the video you could get on your phone was of the spider-tracker crawling up and down a man’s pant leg. The doors were locked. The live feed was silent, save for the man pacing; he was alone.

A boat horn rang through the night air, startling a cat that was sleeping on the fence down below. That reminds me, you thought. Haven't gone to Delmar’s in a while. Your phone screen’s light illuminated your face, the blank text box ever present. Okay, go simple. Don't be a dumbass. Straight to the point. I've got this. Your fingers moved nimbly by themselves, typing out the shortest thing you could think of.

“‘I'm sorry’ isn't enough right now, I know. See you at school.”

You hit send and watched the text until “delivered” appeared in small blue letters right below. Was that too up front? Probably. Was he going to forgive you because of one text, no matter how long? No. Never. You looked up at the stars and sighed, feeling a cold gust of wind flow past your cheeks. With the mask off, details about your surroundings were more clear. Everything was in high definition, but that made it hard to focus. Spidey was right; your senses were dialed up to 11, too much input and not enough capacity for storage.

Looking back down at your phone, you saw that “delivered” had changed to “read”.

Peter already saw what you wrote. He didn't bother to reply.

You made a high pitched scream at the back of your throat, frustration and shame warming your cold cheeks. I’m an idiot! Of course he still hates me- I brought up his fucking dead parents! I was the first person he opened up to after they died, and now I’ve gone and fucked up. You kicked your legs over the side of the warehouse and laid spread angled on the tin roof. This was the warehouse you’d been visiting for a few days now. Almost a week. It was only half a mile from where you saw the tall grey alien talk to Kimberly and her bosses. Sure, you should be more careful than texting while hunting down dangerous criminals, but after a few days of spending nightly hours on the roof, it had grown boring. Tame. The giant garage door was locked and from a tiny crack in the wall you only saw a giant, empty warehouse.

You were close to giving up when a car pulled into the alley on your side of the roof. A boy stepped out, loudly smacking on gum and locking the car equally loudly. Still laying down, you peeked over the side of the roof. He, a younger kid, by the sound of it, was with a girl. She talked quickly, nervously. A lazy grin slid across your face; Kimberly was never good at whispering.

“Spit that shit out before I make you,” she finally snapped. You heard a “whooey” sound and a wet splat, meaning he did as told.

“It calms me down,” he explained serenely, as if appeasing a toddler. “Maybe you should try it, since you’re so worked up. Maybe you’ll stop annoying dad all the time.”

The garage doors slid up, rumbling so badly you felt the tremors in your entire body. Their voices faded and before they did, you heard Kimberly retort: “Dad likes me better anyway.” So that’s Kim’s brother? The three menacing, scary hooded figures that talked to the grey alien were a...family? SERIOUSLY?

“Hey,” a voice hissed, poking your shoulder. On reflex, you blindly grabbed (an...arm?) and threw them away, fully prepared to then launch yourself at the target because if they wanted to fight then-

“Ow, what the fuck!” Spidey gasped, holding his bruised bicep.

“Shit- don’t sneak up on me like that!” you cried.

“Why-” he seemed to wince, rubbing the sore spot. “D’you always try an’ kill people when they do that?!”

“Well I was kind of in the middle of something!” you argued, glancing nervously over the ledge at the half dozen parked vans. “Friggin’ intense bad guy shit was happening and you just sneak up on me outta nowhere…”

“What’s intense is your grip,” Spidey murmured, rolling his shoulder. “Is that ‘cause of your powers or are you a gym rat?”

“Okay Mr. ‘I Can Stop A Moving Train’,” you said, putting a hand on your hip. "Not everyone knows how to control their strength.”

He snickered and plopped down on the ledge of the warehouse. “No seriously. Powers or its always been like that?”

“Uh…” you sat down next to him. “Powers I think. Dunno, I’ve always been able to slap a bitch who needs it.”

Spidey pouted under his mask. “Aww, am I your bitch?”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from cackling. “Say that again, but slowly.”

“Am I y- oh,” he laughed awkwardly. “Whoops. Welp, guess this partnership is terminated. Nice knowing you, I’m going to go kill myself now.”

The boisterous laugh finally escaped your lips, all thoughts of Peter leaving your conscious. Spiderman made a gun with his hand, held it to the side of his head and jerked his thumb back as if pulling a trigger. “Now that my sidekick knows I’m an idiot, might as well drop being Spiderman, right?”

“Sidekick?” you managed to scoff between giggles. “Please. I’m the dominant one in this relationship.”

“Kinky.”

The tips of your ears suddenly felt hot. “S-shut up!”

Spidey laughed when you shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes under your mask. “That’s not what I meant, dammit! I’m like the biggest virgin you’ll ever- Stop laughing!”

He kept doing so but somehow, you felt lighter than you’d been a few minutes ago. Free. Like a kid. Which was odd, because this was a nightly patrol and Kim was right below- “We need to get down there.”

The lighthearted aura was sucked from the air. “Huh?”

“I’m supposed to be down there! I was going to sneak in and- and now we’re talking about bullshit when we could be doing something!”

“Oh-kay crazy,” he dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “I called the police, they’ll be here in less than an hour. All we have to do is make sure they don’t leave the premises.”

You frowned inside your mask, thankful that it didn’t change to show facial expressions like his did. How could this superhero, especially one who was known to deviate from law enforcement, sit here and wait for people to do work for him? People who were defenseless unless they were armed with a weapon, no less. You impatiently tapped a gloved hand on your thigh, ears perking up to the muffled arguing that traveled up a nearby air vent.

“Go patrol the city,” Spidey suggested, tapping commands into the sensors on his wrist. “Better that than sitting here and doing nothing. I’ll call you if I need backu-”

“No way,” you said sternly. “I’m gonna kick their asses myself if they try to escape. Not leaving.”

“Don’t- you shouldn’t hurt them, they’re just doing their job,” he said finally, after at least five minutes of thick silence.

“They’re dangerous-”

“So are you,” he fired back. You drew away, fingers tightening around the ledge in surprise. He must have noticed the outburst was uncalled for because he released a shaky sigh. “So am I. We’re dangerous, you know that- right? Only difference between us and them is that we aren’t desperate enough to go into that line of work.”

You bristled at that. “That’s a damn big difference.”

“Not a hard line to cross, though,” Spidey noted, ceasing his tapping of instructions. “People do shit when they’re desperate. For money, for safety, for family…” he looked away from the skyline horizon and turned to you. “I’d do a lot for my family, more than I’d ever tell you about.”

“Well,” you said frankly. “That hurts a bit. Thanks, man.”

“You’ve been getting more...reckless,” he said, “The whole fiasco with the United Nations-”

“I told you that wasn’t me!”

Peter said the same thing, about the United Nations. About the little epic failure you achieved in one night. He was wrong, though; you were framed, it was synthetic smoke. Who was trying to make you Public Enemy #1? You didn’t know and it was killing you. Maybe I should tell Peter about this superhero gig. He could help me deal with it, I guess, you considered the notion. That’d be a huge chip off my shoulder. Too bad I was a complete dumbass and ruined the friendship with one stupid fucking offhand comment-

“Okay, say it wasn’t,” Spidey said patiently, drawing you out of the stream of furious thoughts. “But you stole from that jewelry store a while back.”

“I stopped a potential robbery!” you said defiantly. “He was an idiot for trying to steal at Fifth Avenue- who the hell does that? A-and I only took one little diamond-”

“‘One little diamond’?!”

“Whaaat?” you whined, looking down at your dangling legs guiltily.

“What would your parents think?” Spidey asked, probably expecting you to open up more. Probably raising an eyebrow under his stupid mask. Good luck with that, bud.

“Okay, okay,” you immediately dropped the playful tone. “I get it, that was bad. Let’s move on please.”

“No, c’mon,” he pressed. “Everyone thinks about their family when they do bad shit.”

Your lips were pursed in a thin line and you felt your head tilt in a small nod. He would get no other answer right away, but he sure did try. “Do you...not have a family?”

No response. “Shit, I’m sorry. I assumed-”

“I have a family,” you forced out, and it sounded so disgusting to say that you prayed you’d never have to say it again. Spiderman did this thing where he leaned forward and turned his upper body towards you, cocking his head down and waiting for a continuation. You huffed.

“It’s a complicated situation, webhead,” you lifted one leg onto the roof and pulled your knee to your chest, letting the other one dangle. “S’not a big family anyway, so at least it’s not completely out of hand.”

“Dead relative?”

You shook your head. “Single mom.”

“Oh,” his hand patted your shoulder, a surprisingly welcomed gesture. “My best friend’s got a single mom. They’re not very close, though.”

“Good for them,” you said flatly.

Spiderman shifted awkwardly. “So maybe don’t...steal jewelry? For your mom’s sake?”

He looked at you for a reaction, even a tiny nod, and got none. “You really hate talking about her, don’t you?”

“It’s not- ugh, I dunno,” you hung your head lower. “If I talk about my mum for another second I’d probably start on a whole rant ‘bout how she utterly failed as a parent and, despite technically being there my entire childhood, is constantly ignoring her responsibilities-”

You opened your mouth to continue but choked on the words, realizing that the conversation was 90% you oversharing. “Anyway she’s an okay mum or whatever. Hasn’t done anything that bad. Very average.”

How else were you to phrase it to someone you met so recently? “Very average” was giving her way too much credit but it wasn’t abuse...anymore. In the past two years she’d gone from hitting you for being a disappointment to not caring at all. She didn’t yell every week, she didn’t slap you upside the head or box your ears. She tried to do Mother/Daughter nights but they always ended with her screaming about kicking you out while you wiped away tears. Frankly it wasn’t “caring” as much as it was random fits of rage but- it wasn’t physical anymore. You didn’t have hand shaped bruises anymore, nor split lips. You still had to be careful around your mum ‘cause hell, who knew if she was having a bad day. Who knew what she’d do if she had a bad day. But despite the bad days...she was still your mum. She always apologized after a week or so, told you she hadn’t meant it.

Spiderman was nodded slowly. “You’ve...got a lot to say about your mom.”

“Trust me, that barely covered my opinion of her,” you grumbled. “But what the hell, right? Not like I know you,” your hands felt clammy and hot from frustration.

“Don’t look,” you warned him briskly.

“What?”

“I need some air, don’t look at me.” Your fingers grasped the bottom of your mask and began to tug up. Chilly night air tingled pleasantly wherever it touched, almost making you sigh out loud.

Spidey’s neck must have snapped with how quickly he looked away. “Are you crazy?! Why are you taking the mask o-”

“Relax, I’m just lifting it a little,” you bunched the mask up on the bridge of your nose, inhaling deeply for the cold, dry New York air. It rattled in your lungs yet you took another calming breath, glancing at Spiderman.

He was covering his eyes.

“You don’t have to-” your quiet laugh got his attention. “Don’t cover your eyes, dude. Jus’ don’t look at my face.”

“Uh, yeah,” he hesitantly took the hand from his face. “Gotta be cautious thought.”

“S’ just my mouth, Spiderboy,” you grinned at his awkward nature. “What- can’t handle seeing a girl’s lips?”

“Yes I have!”

You giggled at his voice crack. “Pretty sure you’ve a bigger virgin than I am.”

“I am not!”

“Oh yeah?” you quirked an eyebrow, knowing he couldn’t see it. “I’m making my ‘I-don’t-believe-you’ face, by the way. Seriously starting to doubt that you’re my age ‘cause…you act like a twelve year old. No offense.”

“I’m sixteen!” he defended and honestly, seeing him angrily wave his arms around without facing you was hilarious. And the suit sounded like it was frantically trying to adjust the voice modifier to his high pitched rambling. “I swear I’m sixteen, it’s fucking puberty-”

You put a hand up to silence him, smiling maniacally before pulling your mask over your chin again. “I kid, I kid. Mask is back down.”

If this were a cartoon there would have been steam shooting from his ears. Not like, angry steam. Flustered steam. Or maybe both. Either way, it was funny.

“I hate you,” he groused. “And my voice had to crack! God, that’s worse than when we met!”

A fresh bout of laughter erupted from thinking of that memory alone. Your cackles, once again muffled by the shitty mask, had to be stifled by biting down on the inside of your cheek.

“Pfft, ha! Oh-” you gagged on the words. “Oh that was fucking amazing! D’you- d’you remember when the kid was running-”

“Please no.”

“And you tried to grab him-”

“No, no you said you wouldn’t bring that up!”

“And he threw the bag of quarters at your dick! Ha!”

Spiderman groaned in agony. “Take the mask off so I can deck you.”

“Come at me scrub, I’m- shit,” your metal wristlet beeped, flashing the word “Urgent” in neon blue block letters. “Ah, damn. There’s a robbery near my place, gotta check that out,” owners of a small Korean place near Delmar’s are being threatened at gunpoint. You’d been there with Peter and Ned few times, and that made thought you somber again. “That’ll be a few minutes to get to.”

“You’ve gotta stop bugging the cameras,” Spidey said disapprovingly.

“Well some of us don’t have fancy Super-Conducting 4.2 Tera whatever to help us,” you answered snidely, projecting a small image of the restaurant's security camera view. “Fuck, you’ve got patrol too. Who’s gonna guard this shit?”

“I can stay here,” Spidey offered quickly. He’s not asking to swing me there? That’s...weird. Last time I checked he was the biggest Mom Friend I’ve ever met.

You paused at the ledge of the warehouse, eyes moving from the him to Queens in the distance and back again. “Are you sure?”

“Go!” he urged, shooing you away. “I can handle one night without a partner. S’ your chance to prove that you’re not evil.” You scoffed, wheeled around and raised your middle finger, falling backwards off the ledge with your arms spread like wings. Your body dissolving into a column of smoke seconds before hitting the ground. Spiderman didn’t call for backup that night and the ordeal was stopped with a few “magic tricks” of yours. The robber was easy to take down as he was stupid high and though you disappeared before they could say anything, you saw the restaurant owners talking to a local reporter with relieved expressions. You doubted the old couple would say anything bad, but being tentative never hurt anyone. Hopefully Spidey’s call sent a few officers to the warehouse.

Funny thing was: you hadn’t seen any police cars heading to the warehouse as you flew Queens. Not a single one.

A/N: idk why i got carried away with this. like on one hand...character background. on the other...character background that will cause some depressing shit vv soon

Tags:  @everythingthatisrandom, @mcheung0314,@spiderdudeparker, @lou-la-lou, @4-a-m, @miss-glitch, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @lubrielx, @kaitlynthehuman, @b-lyn-k, @hotsocke, @therealwatermelon, @shipping-the-unsinkable-ship, @vivideley, @rosieredcheeks 

[raendown]

Happy birthday @officerjennie! Was I more subtle than you were? XD

Pairing: ItachiShisui Rated: G Word count: 2865 Summary: Shisui was only out here training because his sensei had told him to improve skills he already thought were pretty good. He's insulted and tired. Then he's confused and maybe a little bit frightened when he makes an incredible discovery simply by being in the right place at the right time and saying the right thing.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Smoke Without Mirrors

Training was boring. Alright, not all training was boring and Shisui was usually rather good at it but he found standing in one place and doing the same thing over and over again to be very much not fun. Doing something he was good at would have been fun. Instead he was stuck here blowing one fireball after another because his sensei said they weren’t big enough.

“Grand Fireballs are supposed to be grand,” she’d told him with a scoff. “You’re better than this. Practice until they’re the size of Fugaku-sama’s.”

Shisui kicked at the grass under his feet a few times, irritated just remembering how the shame had burned through him at her words, then took his stance again and reached deep in to his rapidly emptying chakra reserves. His Grand Fireballs were just fine as they were. So what if they weren’t as big as his clan head’s? There weren’t many in the whole of their clan who could match his fireballs and he didn’t know why his sensei thought he, a sixteen year old, would be able to do so. Sometimes it was more obvious than others that she had not grown up as part of a clan. Civilian born, an excellent soldier, but she had frighteningly little concept of how clan jutsu worked.

Letting his irritation fuel him, Shisui ran through the hand signs he had memorized years ago and brought his fingers to his mouth, blowing through the circle with little regard for how the heat of the flames stung his hard-earned callouses. He had about three and a half seconds to stare in awe as pride welled up inside his chest upon seeing how massive that fireball was. Then he realized he had aimed poorly in his anger and the only tree in this barren muddy field was now alight with happy little flickers of orange and yellow.

“Ah crap,” he muttered under his breath, reaching down to his hip where there should have been a skin of water for just such an occasion. He was no expert at water jutsu but he’d bullied the Hatake kid in to teaching him something simple once; all he needed was a source of water and he could put out small blazes like this.

The only problem lay in the fact that his water skin wasn’t there on his hip. Shisui twisted to glare at his belt, personally offended by the sudden realization that he had left it by the river when he refilled it earlier.

“Well that’s not good.” Lifting his head again he gnawed on his lip indecisively. “Uh…please stop burning? Damn it, I’m gonna be in so much trouble if I burn down another tree.” It wasn’t his fault everything around him was always so flammable. And it wasn’t like he did these things on purpose, it was always an accident. Trouble just seemed to follow him around like a clingy ex-lover some days.

Shisui twisted his fingers together and wracked his brain as he watched the smoke grow and collect – much more smoke than such a small flame should warrant, he noted without really thinking much of it. He definitely started thinking more about it when the smoke billowed out and rushed back towards itself like a sentient cloud. A thick plume shaped more like an arm wrapped itself around the small fire until it was no longer visible, holding in place for a few breathless moments, and then dispersed to reveal that the flame had been completely smothered. Which should have been good news except all Shisui could do was stare as the smoke rushed back inside the tree.

His legs trembled underneath him with fear. In his short career as a Konoha shinobi he had seen some really weird stuff but nothing like this – and all the weird things he had seen until now had always had an explanation, a human will behind them casting their jutsu and manipulating the world to their benefit. There was no one here now but him.

“Always has to be me,” he grumbled. “I always find the weird shit. No one’s going to believe me that the tree smoked its own fire out. Not that it matters; whatever the hell that was is clearly going smother me too when I turn my back. Great. Wonderful. Death by smoky tree, just how I wanted to go!”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“WHO SAID THAT!?” Shisui didn’t think his eyes could get any wider but he proved himself wrong just then as he spun in circles trying to find the source of that voice. He was no sensor but every shinobi worth their salt could tell when they weren’t alone and he was absolutely sure that he was alone – or he had been up until about five seconds ago.

His useless search came to a halt when he noticed that the tree had once again began to smoke. Shisui could have sworn the fire had been completely smothered but even if there were still some lingering coals left burning they definitely should not have been enough to make that much smoke, a good-sized plume billowing out rather than up and then dropping to gather an inch or so above the ground. He was just wondering if this was all a very strange prank – one of his teammates thought she had a great sense of humor even though she really didn’t – when the weird smoke contracted within itself and coalesced in to the shape of a human.

From somewhere within the shifting darkness two eyes opened, burning red and black in a mirror of the Sharingan.

“What the fuuuuck,” Shisui whispered to himself. His feet shifted back a step, preparing the run, but he stopped when the red eyes in the smoke blinked at him sadly.

“Oh, I frightened you. My apologies.” Whatever it was, it sounded sad. Shisui found that sort of offensive in a way. Nothing so unnatural had any right to feel sad about frightening him. It was too innocent of an emotion and he really didn’t want to stand here thinking about how cute that was.

He still paused, even knowing how stupid it was.

“Uh…thanks for putting out the fire I guess, Mr. Smoke Demon Thing. Please don’t eat me?”

“I’m not going to eat you.” The human shape tilted its head. “And I am not a demon. I am an Enenra.”

“Oh. Hello…Enenra.”

“That’s not my name.” Red eyes crinkled softly with amusement and Shisui wondered if he was going crazy, seeing things that weren’t really there and giving them emotions they shouldn’t be able to feel. “I am made of smoke and…well, I suppose you could call me a demon after all.”

He looked saddened by the admission and even though he knew it was crazy Shisui couldn’t help but want to take that sadness away. It was in his nature, to the dismay of his clan head, although he had never understood why kindness should be a bad thing. A shinobi should also be allowed to be human. Fugaku-sama had seemed to agree when Shisui was younger but after his firstborn son passed away only a few days after being born he had changed, become insular and more aggressive with little time for his dreaming nephew.

“So if Enenra isn’t your name then it’s your…species?” he guessed, trying for a cheerful tone. “Do you have a name?” His efforts were rewarded when those pretty red eyes brightened.

“Yes. My name is Itachi.”

“Well that seems like a silly name for smoke. But I think I’ve heard it somewhere else before.” One hand rubbed at his chin in thought as he wracked his brain for why that sounded so familiar. He almost missed the way sadness crept back in to Itachi’s eyes, his form wilting and blurring around the edges.

He got an answer before he could ask. “I suppose you probably have. Most in the clan would have heard my name, though I doubt many would recognize me now.”

“No I don’t think I’ve heard any legends about smoke creatures. I just think I knew a guy once. Hey, do you do anything super scary? Like, you’re not going to fill my house with smoke now that I’ve seen you and kill me in my sleep are you?” Shisui clapped his hands against his cheeks with horror. “You’re not going to take over my body or anything are you? I swear I’m too pretty to die like that!”

Itachi’s form twitched and a moment later he began to laugh quietly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to do any of those things,” he said. Shisui drooped with relief.

“Good, good. I mean, I had sort of planned it all out, you know? A nice heroic death on the battlefield when I’ve reached a good age so I can sacrifice myself nobly and go out as a legend. That sounds pretty good don’t you think?” Mostly joking, Shisui was startLed when Itachi seemed to be giving his words some serious thought.

“I think any death is a terrible one.”

Pinching his lips, Shisui tilted his head. “Alright so if you’re not going to eat me then why did you…show yourself to me?”

“You asked the tree to stop burning. I was going to hide in the smoke so I could go find somewhere else to wait for nightfall but you were so polite and I didn’t want you to get in trouble. You seemed worried about that.” Leaning forward, Itachi’s body seemed to densify even more until Shisui could make out the faint outlines of an earnest expression.

“Huh. You look more human now.”

“Oh! I hadn’t realized!”

“Realized what? Whoa!”

The hand he had lifted in a thoughtless jerked back instead when Itachi’s vague shadowy form gave one final twitch and solidified completely. Instead of being human shaped he now looked like a human, fine details and skin, clothing and all. His long hair was dark and pulled back in to a low ponytail, wispy fringe hanging down to frame large eyes and deep tear tracks. Pouty lips were twisted to one side in an anxious grimace while his long thin hands twisted themselves together.

If Shisui had met this boy on the street he would have said he were another Uchiha. He would have thought ‘damn he’s cute’ and gone to talk to him – especially if he were toeing the ground in the adorable manner he was now. What he would not have thought was that the boy in front of him was anything other than human, so good was the disguise.

“Gotta admit,” he mumbled. “That is as impressive as it is scary.”

“I thought it would make you more comfortable,” Itachi said.

“Hm. It sure made me more something.” Tilting his head side to side, Shisui decided that the transformation was seamless. Nothing about the boy in front of him showed any hints that he was, in fact, an Enenra.

The smile Itachi gave him was disarming and dangerously adorable. “You’re funny.”

Shisui nodded and said nothing for a minute. Now that he had taken a closer look he realized that Itachi really did look like an Uchiha. Every detail from the smooth dark hair to the pale skin to the way he held himself, there were more than a dozen people Shisui could have guessed he was related to. It was eerie, suspicious, just out of place enough that he couldn’t set it aside as a mere coincidence.

Not that he had to say anything; it seemed Itachi noticed him noticing.

“Ah. Are you, perhaps, wondering where you might have seen me before?”

“Something like that,” he admitted. Itachi nodded and his expression saddened once more.

Turning his head to look off towards the center of the compound he said, “You might have met me, I wouldn’t remember, but it would not have been in this body. I was…much younger then.”

“Eh?” Shisui tilted his head. When Itachi beckoned him closer as though intending to tell him a secret he went without questioning it. Later he would realize how stupid that had been, of course, doing whatever a strange entity told him to and coming close enough to be attacked – or worse, possessed. He was lucky that this time it turned out the smoke creature wanted nothing more than to whisper to him quietly in a field where they were already quite alone.

“Do you know a woman named Mikoto?” Itachi asked. “Or a man named Fugaku?”

“Yeah, they’re my aunt and uncle.”

“I see. And did you know their…their son?”

“You mean Sasuke?” Shisui asked.

He was startled to see Itachi’s eyes widen with shock. “They…they had another child, then?”

“Another? Oh!” Shisui bonked his own forehead with the heel of one hand. “You meant their first child! They did have another son years and years back but he passed away of some sort of sickness. I think he had underdeveloped lungs or something. Don’t really remember his name though, it’s been so long. It was something like…like…”

The blood in his veins ran cold and Shisui felt a tingling running up his spine. Itachi, he noticed, watched his eyes grow wide with no sign of surprise on his own face. He didn’t seem too worried about having his secret figured out.

“You…that was…but…how?” By the end of his spluttering Shisui’s voice was coming out as a frightened whisper.

“As you said, I was sick. But I was not ready to leave this world just yet.” Itachi shook his head and sighed, turning his gaze back towards where Shisui now realized his clan head’s house would be. “Father believed in following tradition. When he cremated my body – he didn’t mean for anything to happen I’m sure but – my spirit was released in to the smoke from the pyre and I have been here ever since, watching. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in…I don’t know how many years it’s been since I took this form.”

“Fourteen,” Shisui provided faintly.

“So many? It doesn’t feel like that many years have passed.”

More than one thing raced through his mind at once and Shisui felt a little woozy trying to process them all. Firstly that he was speaking with the spirit of a dead boy who had attached itself to a new form made of smoke and then had the audacity to grow up regardless of whether he was still alive or not. Secondly that he had mentally called a dead spirit cute because that also seemed important at the moment and he couldn’t help but still think Itachi was on his way to becoming a damn attractive teen.

And thirdly, the most important, that he had known Itachi. They had met several days after the baby was born, though Shisui was so young he remembered little more than a tuft of dark hair and the worry on all the adults’ faces when the baby wouldn’t cry. For some reason he felt responsible for this boy, dead or alive, and he had to fight the urge to invite Itachi home with him.

How he would have explained a smoke demon to his mother was beyond him – not to mention he had no idea whether Itachi slept, let alone where they would have found room for an extra futon.

“So…what’s being dead like?” he ventured after enough time had passed that the silence was getting painfully awkward.

“Lonely,” Itachi answered.

“I, uh, should have guessed that.” Scratching at the back of his head he made an offer without stopping to think it through. “Maybe I could, like, come hang out sometimes? Do you always spend your time in trees?”

“No, this was just the first place I thought to conceal myself when you came in to sight.”

Shisui snickered, breaking out in to true laughter when Itachi gave him an affronted look. “Well I guess it wouldn’t be the most terrible thing to come see you again. You seem like an alright guy. And hey, it’s not like we don’t know each other, right?”

He tried very hard to deny the flutter of his heart when Itachi granted him another smile. It was a really nice smile, so sue him. Getting to see it again wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to him. And if he got to keep that smile to himself for a while until he figured out how to handle the fact that their dead clan heir was still hanging around with a body made of smoke? He’d done stupider things, he had to admit.

When Itachi shyly reached out to touch his arm Shisui’s heart made a good effort to leap straight out of his chest. Knowing they could physically touch made it all the worse.

“Would you like me to give you a few pointers on how to perform the Grand Fireball Jutsu you were working on?”

And he was intelligent? Shisui closed his eyes and wondered vaguely whether Itachi would taste like smoke if they kissed. He was so screwed.

[anthropwashere]

we are all walking each other home

AO3 || FFN

(This is the silliest thing I’ve ever written. I don’t need to tag this body horror or gore or nothin’. I used the humor genre on FFN! Hope you guys like a good dose of the kids just goofin’ through another Fenton tech fiasco. Fic title comes from Mother Mother's "Family," because these kids are so good and I love them to bits.)

=

Tucker’s only on question three of his algebra homework and already wants to go back to grinding out a few more levels on Doomed in lieu of finishing when his phone goes off. The 8-bit Ghostbusters theme means it’s Danny, which hopefully means a fun—albeit potentially life-threatening—distraction. He’ll take what he can get.

He tosses his pencil down, flippin his phone open with a flourish. “Tucker Foley speaking. If it’s the Box Ghost again I want a divorce. Also, all my DVDs you keep hoarding. It’s been like three months since you borrowed—”

“ICAN’TCHANGEBACK!”

He blinks, takes a second to mentally untangle the panicked syllables—garbled even more so by the ear-prickling fuzz that means Danny’s in ghost mode. “Uh. Have you tried thinking happy thoughts?”

“TUCKER!”

“Okay, okay. Loop me in, ecto one. What happened, where are you, do I need to come charging in to rescue you triumphantly at the last second, et cetera.”

A painful crackle of static makes him pull the phone away from his ear. Sounded like Danny breathed an exasperated and loud sigh into the speaker. Rude much? “No, I don’t need RESCUING. I’m home, alone. Jazz and my parents are at that conference-luncheon thing for gifted academics or whatever—“

“Which you’re still not jealous about.”

“—shut up, bigger problems—“

Tucker rolls his eyes, leaning back in his computer chair. “Uh-huh.”

“ANYWAY. I promised my dad I’d clean the lab but I kinda spaced out, so I went ghost to speed things up but I accidentally knocked some stuff off the junk table and when I picked it all up one of their gizmos shocked me and now I can’t change back and they’re gonna be home any minute now and I don’t know what to do—“

“Whoa, stop, slow down. It’s cool.”

“It’s REALLY not.”

“Sure it is. Text Jazz, tell her there’s a ghost emergency at the house, make sure she stalls your folks any way she can. I’ll be over ASAP to look at whatever you zapped yourself with, see if I can’t find the undo button you’re too spazzed to notice. You call Sam yet?”

“No. Her mom dragged her to that thing at the country club today, remember?”

Oh, right. She’s probably dying for any excuse to get out of small talk hell, but this doesn’t sound like something that warrants busting out Plan E. “Alright, just you and me then. See you in fifteen. Don’t just float there and panic ‘til I get there, dude. Finish cleaning the lab or something.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“You’re not, like, blistering or turning weird colors and not telling me, right?”

“What? No. I’m just stuck. It feels kinda weird when I try and change back, but that’s it.”

“Okay, just checking.” He hums. “Sounds like some kind of anti-Specter Deflector.”

“Sure felt like it. It looks like a friggin’ Bop-It though.”

Tucker snorts as he slams his algebra textbook shut, getting to his feet. “Your parents are gonna get so sued when their ghost hunting tech goes mainstream.”

“You mean my dad is. He does most of the original designs. My mom’s just the one who makes ‘em work.”

“Like I said, so sued.”

“If I touch this and a recording of your dad goes off ordering me to ‘flick it,’ I will die and I will haunt you.”

Danny, hovering the usual two-and-some-unnecessary-feet off the ground, rolls his eyes. “Gross. It’s not gonna say anything. At least, it didn’t when I touched it.”

“Maybe you didn’t flick it right.”

“Gross. I’m pretty sure the original Bop It didn’t have a ‘flick it’ option anyway.”

Tucker picks the wandlike device up, careful of the frayed wires dangling out of its spherical hilt. It’s done up in the usual slick neon green and polished chrome of Fenton tech, surprisingly free of any Jack Fenton-themed stickers. Mrs. F has definitely had her hands on this, which means it’s at least halfway functional.

Color scheme aside, it really does look like a friggin’ Bop It. Hasbro will have words with the family Fenton if whatever-this-is ever goes out with the rest of the gear they pass around Amity Park like slightly corrosive candy. He turns it over, watching it catch the lurid light of the open Ghost Portal. “What’s this bit s’posed to be then?”

“Uh. ‘Pull it,’ I think.”

Tucker snorts. “Oh, because that’s so much better. You try either to set it off?”

Danny loops a little closer, fluid and boneless in the movement even though he keeps his legs as-is. He always reminds Tucker of betta fish when he’s ghost mode, for some reason. Must be the aura; it makes  him blurry no matter how you look at him. “No, like I said, I bumped the table and a bunch of stuff fell off. All I did was pick it up.”

“You touch the wires?”

“I dunno, maybe? It shocked me as soon as I touched it.”

“Hmm.” And that’s the trouble with Fenton tech; it’s all brand new. They’re building better mouse traps for mice that can walk through walls, disappear, and fly. Danny’s parents have to get crazy with their designs. “Any idea what it’s supposed to do?”

“No. I only pay attention when they give their inventions names.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re useless.”

Danny throws his hands up irritably. “I’m the one who’s stuck here.”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s the word from Jazz?”

“She convinced my parents to pick up dinner, so that’s bought some time.” He fidgets, nervous. It always makes Tucker’s eyes feel funny when Danny does that in his periphery. “The Specter Deflector lasts twelve hours.”

“We don’t know if this’ll last as long. Even if it does, you’ll still be good before school tomorrow.”

That mollifies him a little, at least enough to stop with the honest-to-god hand wringing for a minute. “Y’think so?”

He shrugs. Sure, he thinks so. He also thinks it could be a half dozen other things, none half so reassuring. “I could try zapping you again, see if it undoes whatever’s keeping you from changing back?”

Danny winces. “Pass.”

Figured not. He gives the device a few cautious pokes and twists to see if he can make it do anything. He gets some humming, a flush of neon green light down the circuitry patterned across it, a few painful sparks off the wires. Danny skirts back nervously when it does that. It must’ve really hurt when it zapped him, because when he’s ghost mode he can shrug off a frankly scary amount of damage no problem. He looks okay, at least. Tucker did a lot of reading up on electrical shock after the accident—not like much of it’d be applicable to a half-ghost, probably, but he can’t help but sympathize a little when Danny shies away from anything that might shock him.

After a couple minutes he gives up. If it’s supposed to do anything specific he can’t get the thing to do it. Maybe zapping Danny used up too much juice? “Jazz can ask what this one does for you without looking suspicious, yeah?”

“Are you kidding? They love it when we ask questions.” Danny drops to the ground with a sigh; as usual, it looks like gravity’s reluctant to notice him. His hair floats a little, his limbs lag like he’s underwater. Betta fish, man. “Guess I don’t have any choice but to hope they tell her something good, huh?”

Tucker flashes him a grin, tossing the Fenton Bop-It back on the junk table. “That, and help me with the algebra homework?”

They retreat up to Danny’s room, but no algebra textbooks are cracked open. They just end up talking, half semi-serious conversation about patrol schedules and what-if scenarios, half gushing over the upcoming terrible Sci-Fi channel marathon this weekend, and the next thing they know the front door bangs open. Mr. F’s voice booms out Danny’s name. Danny goes deer-in-the-headlights stiff floating half a foot above his bed. Tucker grabs him by the ankle and swings him toward the wall, hissing, “Hide!”

Danny blinks owlishly. “Uh. Right!” He phases through a NASA poster and Tucker hears the bathroom door shut just a few seconds before footsteps come pounding up the stairs. Jazz bursts into the bedroom breathlessly, eyes falling on Tucker. He points at the wall and she nods, relieved.

“Come on,” she says. “I figured you were going to spend the night. There’s enough takeout for you too.”

“Cool, thanks.”

It’s about fifteen minutes of the usual awkward pantomime. Oh, Danny’s taking a shower because he got splashed with a little ectoplasm cleaning up the basement, nothing serious, ha ha ha! I’d be happy to take a plate up to him since we’ve got a lot of homework still, but oh, could you come downstairs with me real quick, Jazz? Danny wanted me to grab a folder and I just don’t like poking around down there by myself, you know? Thanks again, Mister and Missus F! You’re the best!

Down the basement stairs he slumps, exhausted. He hates lying. He hates how good he’s getting at it more.

Jazz shoots him a worried glance, all raised eyebrows and puckered mouth. He starts talking before she can pull that teen psychiatrist schtick on him. “We couldn’t figure out what the thing that zapped him is or how to undo what it did. I think it’s just low on power, but I dunno if it’s even got an ‘undo’ button yet.”

She winces. “Junk table?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, great. Just show me which one it was and I’ll see what I can get out of our parents.”

He shows her the Fenton Bop-It, tells her what he’d tried and what Danny did to get stuck, then grabs an empty manilla folder out of a filing cabinet for appearance’s sake and runs back upstairs. It’s a juggling act of weighed-down dinner plates and Coke cans to get back up to Danny’s room, but he manages.

“I come bearing sweet and sour chicken,” he says, kicking at Danny’s door. It creaks open a second later, a suffuse white glow spilling out into the unlit hall. He siddles in, kicks the door shut behind him, and has to lean up against it when Danny’s suddenly about two inches from his face.

“Well?”

“Personal bubble, dude. Take your plate before I drop it. And relax, alright? They just got home. Jazz hasn’t even had a chance to ask about it yet.”

Danny huffs but floats back a little, pulling his Coke and plate out of Tucker’s hands. “Thanks.”

“Uh-huh.” Tucker takes Danny’s desk, leaving Danny to float on over to the trunk at the foot of his bed. It takes a little doing, but Tucker gets him to eat. Of course, some of Danny’s reluctance is because he’s ghost mode; something about it makes everything taste funny, apparently. “Like Pop Rocks,” he’d said once, when Sam had tried to get him to explain what he meant. All snap and crackle no matter what he tried eating or drinking, with practically no actual taste to go with it. Shame, because the Fentons had gone to the really good Chinese place on Singer Street.

They stack their empty plates and finally knuckle down to do homework. Knowing Mr. F, it’s going to take an hour-long lecture before Jazz has any luck finding out something useful about the Bop-It. Danny gripes about trying to write with gloves on a few times ‘til Tucker sighs and points out the obvious thing to do, which is to take them off.

“Oh,” Danny says, sheepish.

Bless him, but NASA’s gonna have their work cut out if they actually decide to take his half-ghost butt.

It’s after six by the time Jazz finally staggers back upstairs, looking a little wall-eyed but otherwise not so bad off after a Jack Fenton Lecture. She shuts the door and sags against it, shooting Danny an apologetic look. “Well it’s not bad news,” she starts.

“Oh, that’s comforting,” Danny says.

“They’re working on a way to stall ghost powers out permanently—“

“How is that not bad news?!”

“Because that thing is just a prototype! They haven’t had any success yet on the little ghosts they’ve tested it on.”

Danny drops his notebook and pencil to float to his feet, gesturing sharply at himself. “Well it seemed to work pretty good on me!”

“I know!” Jazz winces, lowering her voice. “I know. Are any of your other powers affected?”

“Um. I don’t think so?”

“Ghost basics seem fine,” Tucker notes, pointing at him with his pencil. “Flying, intangibility, and invisibility are all the little ghosts are good for anyway.”

“Huh.” Danny flickers out of sight, reappears looking thoughtfully at his bare hands. “Yeah, that’s all fine.”

Jazz manages to look relieved and smug at the same time. Tucker would never say it aloud on pain of death, but it makes her look just like Mrs. F. “That’s what I thought. They’ve only tested it on little guys, nothing strong enough to take on a humanoid form like Spectra or Technus. Those ghosts, well, they don’t change like you, obviously, but they have changed how they look, right?”

“Right,” Danny says uncertainly.

“So maybe that’s as far as Mom and Dad have gotten with this thing and they just haven’t realized it because they haven’t tested it on a strong enough ghost.”

Seems like a sound enough leap in logic to Tucker. “Did they mention a theoretical timer on this power short, or is Danny gonna have to have a very belated parent-ghost son talk on the wrong end of an ectogun?”

Danny shoots him a dirty look. What? It’s a fair question.

“Theoretically? Twenty-four hours. In practice? And on something bigger than a cat?” She shrugs. “No idea.”

Danny groans. “How is that not bad news?”

“They’re positive any power short wouldn’t be permanent?” Jazz offers with a weak smile. “Plus I got Dad excited to work on it some more, and I suggested it might be a good idea to include a reverse switch. Y’know, as a precaution?”

“Well, okay, that’ll be good if they ever zap me with it in the future, but that doesn’t exactly help me now.”

“Sounds to me like you’re gonna come down with a twenty-four hour flu,” Tucker says.

“No way,” Danny and Jazz say at the same time.

“Our parents are total spazzes about getting sick,” Jazz adds. “They’d be all over him.”

“Yeah, that, and I’ve got a makeup history test I can’t miss,” Danny says. “This is the last chance Mr. Caulfield will give me to make it up.”

“You can’t go to school like this,” Tucker says, half-laughing.

“I have to. I’m this close to failing the class and it’s almost the end of the semester.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling so much in history?” Jazz asks, reaching up to rest a hand on his elbow. He fidgets up out of her reach.

“I told you about English,” he mutters, not looking at her. He drags bare fingers through his hair—it flows rather than falls back into his glowing eyes. “I have to go to school. We’ve gotta find a way to fix this.”

Sam texts them both about an hour after that, all caps locked grievance about silver spoons and sleazy old men gloating over the size of their yachts. Normally it’d be funny, but the three of them have been brainstorming and all they’ve come up with is a whole lot of nothin’. Their biggest hope—well, not Danny’s, but options the kid does not have—had been the Specter Deflector. It had shocked Danny as good as ever, but left him just as ghostly as before. Didn’t even short out any powers, far as Danny’s tested. Weird.

Danny scowls at his phone, tapping out a reply. It pops up on Tucker’s phone a moment later. Got zapped by another invention. Come over if you can get away

Tucker adds, for clarification, He’s not hurt and it’s nothing crazy. School’s gonna be a problem tho

Sam texts back that she’ll be over as quick as she can and leaves it at that. Jazz leans back on her hands on Danny’s bed, watching him circle the ceiling.

“Homework,” she reminds him.

“Bigger problems,” he grumbles.

“Putting off homework all semester messed your grades up enough that you can’t take a dive on one test.”

His eyes flash, two neon green flares that sting to look at head-on. “Fighting ghosts all semester messed my grades up enough that I can’t take a dive on one test.”

They’ve been coming back to this in-between trying to figure out if any other Fenton gadgets might help. Goody-good straight-A Jazz and troubled teen might-actually-fail-to-graduate-at-this-rate Danny both have excellent points. Ghosts take priority, definitely, yeah, they all agree on that. But Danny’s a slacker too, happy for any excuse to procrastinate. Still, Jazz is kind of choosing a bad time to rub that in his face.

Tucker is staying firmly out of it. He likes his eardrums intact, thanks very much. He lets them bicker, thinking. If they can’t fix this in time for school tomorrow and it doesn’t wear off in time either, option C is… what? Somehow smuggle a ghost kid into a high school that sees ghost attacks on the regular and hope nobody notices?

Pfft. If Danny had the same tricky shapeshifter powers as Spectra, maybe. Even if he did, it sounds like the Fenton Bop It would’ve probably shorted it out anyway. They’d have to bury him in like three hoodies and an aviator hat—ha, and a big pair of aviators to match—

“And what are you laughing at?”

He half-heartedly hides his grin behind one hand as they both glare daggers at him. “Nothin’. Just, pictured trying to sneak you into school in a terrible disguise.”

Danny scoffs, but Jazz’s frown turns downright considering. She hums, tapping her chin. “You know, that might be your best option.”

“What? Jazz.” He drops down to land beside her, gesturing at himself with a wide sweep of both arms. “This isn’t exactly subtle. Putting on normal clothes isn’t gonna get me far, and how exactly would you explain Phantom trying to steal my place at school for a day?”

“Ghosts do all kinds of strange things to alleviate boredom when they’re on this side of the Portal. It’s not like anyone knows much about them, right?” She grins. Tucker would definitely never tell her, but it makes her look just like Mr. F. It’s uncanny. “Besides, if you do get caught, you could just fake-scare the class, vanish for however long it might take to fix this mess, and then pretend Phantom kidnapped you or something.”

“No way! I’m not setting myself up as a villain! People finally stopped screaming more when I show up to fight the ghost of the week—“

“Day,” Tucker corrects.

“—whatever!” He folds his arms over his chest. He still looks weird without the gloves on; it makes it easier to tell there’s a green undertone to his skin when there’s more of it to see.

“You might not get found out,” Jazz points out. “If we’re smart about it, you probably won’t.”

“Probably,” Danny parrots. “Real comforting.”

“I don’t see you coming up with anything better, dude,” Tucker says.

“Not you too. Come on, I’m glowing.”

“You can barely tell under fluorescent lights.”

“My hair—“

“Nothing a beanie-hoodie combo couldn’t hide.”

“My eyes—“

He sticks up a pair of finger guns and winks. “Sunglasses.”

“We aren’t allowed to wear sunglasses in class,” Danny reminds him through gritted teeth.

“Optometrist,” Jazz pipes up. “Do you have anything important first period?”

Danny shrugs, wary. Tucker doesn’t blame him. Jazz and her Ghost Getter ideas tend to backfire on him nine times out of ten. “I don’t think so?”

“Well, skip first period and show up late to second wearing sunglasses. When anybody asks you to take them off just say you got your eyes dilated and your optometrist told you to keep your eyes covered the rest of the day.”

“That’d work,” Tucker says. “You ever get your eyes dilated? It sucks. Totally believable to wear sunglasses instead of those dumb roll-up things.”

“I really don’t think—” Danny starts, but Jazz cuts him off with a flap of her hands as she crosses the room to stand right up in his personal bubble. He tries to lean away but she leans right along with him, grabbing his chin between finger and thumb. “Augh, Jazz! What—”

“The biggest problem is going to be your skin, I think,” she says. “You’re just too green like this.”

He swats her hand away. “You can thank all the ectoplasm in me for that. This plan sucks. It won’t work, not in a million years.”

“Well not with that attitude,” Jazz replies, cheerfully undeterred. She skirts around Danny over to his bed to snatch up his phone.

“What are you doing? Don’t touch my phone—!”

She smoothly dodges his lunge, elbowing him in the gut with that sibling kung-fu Tucker’s only ever seen on TV and here at Fenton Works. With Danny in ghost mode she may as well have tickled him with a feather, but she makes her point. He floats back with a huff.

“Jazz.”

“I have an idea, but I don’t have the right supplies for it. Sam should though.”

“That’s not terrifying or anything,” Tucker mutters as she texts out something and sends it. He’s not privy to whatever supplies she’s talking about; she’s switched out of the group chat. He and Danny share a worried look as his phone pings a reply text that makes Jazz’s eyes light up.

Sam’s grin gleefully tap dances the knife’s edge between conspiratorial and downright supervillainous. She’s got her spider backpack on one shoulder, an overnight bag on the other, and what looks like a Goth’s version of a tackle box in hand. “Well Jazz, I have to say I wasn’t sure about this plan at first, but it had a chance to grow on me on the ride over.”

“I thought you’d enjoy this,” Jazz replies. She’s changed into her pajamas and put her hair up in a ponytail. In one hand she’s got a mint green leather bag with black polka dots on it. The other hand is hidden behind her back. Gosh, that’s ominous.

Danny’s the one that’s got both girls looking at him like they just might sink their nails into him and never let go. He, rightfully so, looks nervous as hell. Tucker’s done the smart thing and made himself as small and unobtrusive a target in the corner as he can. Alas, poor Danny, he knew him well. Algebra will be his new best friend.

“Uh,” Danny tries feebly, “What idea is that, exactly?”

Sam and Jazz brandish tackle box and polka dot bag in tandem. “Makeover party.”

Small and unobtrusive, small and unobtrusive, Foley, for your own safety do not laugh—

Danny’s voice cracks. “Excuse me?”

“You heard us, ghost boy,” Sam says with relish. “You wanna take that history test so bad? We gotta make you look convincingly human. Thus: makeover party.”

Danny bounces into the air, legs melting down to an intangible tail so no one can make a grab for his ankles. “Oh no, no no no, absolutely not. I’ll take the failing grade.”

As answer, Jazz reveals what she’d kept hidden behind her back: an uncapped Fenton Thermos. “Daaaanny,” she sings, sugar sweet, “Don’t make me uuuuse this.”

Tucker buries his face in his beret to smother his laughter.

“You’re awful,” Danny tells her. “The worst sister ever.”

“Perhaps,” Jazz agrees smoothly, “but I’m your sister, and I’m older. So get down here and let us at least try to make you look passably human? The worst that happens is it doesn’t work, you wash your face off, and we think of a new plan.”

Danny curls up more tightly in one corner of the ceiling, like a grumpy black and white snake. “No, the worst that happens is you giving Sam prime blackmail material.”

Sam shakes her tackle box. Mysterious things rattle inside. “It’s the 21st century, Danny. Boys are allowed to wear makeup now.”

“Oh yeah? I think I’ll take my chances strolling into class as just Phantom over looking like one of those creepy guys you hang out with at the Skulk ‘n’ Lurk. Shut up, Tucker.”

Tucker waves one hand apologetically, wheezing on the floor. He’s going to sprain something at this rate and the girls haven’t even busted out the concealer yet. If Sam doesn’t take pictures he will, best friend solidarity be damned. Both girls ignore him.

It takes a little more cajoling and threatening, but Sam and Jazz win in the end. Danny sulks all the way to the bathroom to change into some pjs (phasing through the wall again to avoid his parents). He comes back with his jumpsuit and boots in his arms and a mutinous expression on his face, and Tucker’s glad it’s not just him that stares.

Danny’s eyes flare. “What?”

“Nothing,” Tucker says quickly, because he has a healthy sense of self-preservation and respect for the stupid amount of super strength and speed Danny’s got in ghost mode.

“It’s just weird to see Phantom look so casual,” Sam drawls, because her favorite thing in the world is to push a guy’s buttons when he’s already down, apparently.

But okay, yeah, it is weird. The white glow off Danny’s skin doesn’t quite spread to his ratty space camp shirt and gray sleep pants. It’s an older shirt from a couple years back so even though he always gets them oversized it fits him well now. He stands differently when he’s ghost mode, straight-backed and chest out instead of his usual slouch, and this is the first time Tucker’s seen just how fit all that ghost fighting’s made him. Or maybe he’s only this fit in ghost mode? Tucker could swear Danny’s forearms aren’t quite so defined usually.

Danny’s glower could irradiate milk. His jumpsuit, when he tosses it aside to join his gloves and abandoned homework, splashes its own weird white glow on the carpet. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying this.”

Sam just grins, gesturing him over to where she and Jazz have laid out their supplies on his desk. Jazz wheeled in her own office chair while he was changing and Sam’s taken Danny’s, so with one final grumble he picks up the wooden trunk from the foot of his bed with the same ease Tucker might pick up an empty cardboard box, setting it between them. He plops down with a defeated hunch like a man kneeling before a guillotine. Overkill maybe, but Tucker’s not sure he’d be wearing a different expression if it were him facing the makeover party.

“If you don’t stop laughing,” Danny growls through gritted teeth, leaving the threat unfinished to let Tucker fill in the blank however he likes.

“Oh don’t worry, Tucker’s going to be too busy to laugh,” Sam says cheerfully, flashing him a wide smile that’s much more terrifying than anything Danny can cook up. “He’s going to be doing your homework.”

“Aw, what? Sam—!”

“And mine,” she adds. “Don’t worry though, I’ve only got algebra left.”

Danny laughs.

Tucker keeps his nose to the grindstone no matter what embarrassed squawking Danny makes. If he looks up he will laugh, and then he will die. And that would be an extremely uncool way to go. Worth it, maybe? No, no, Danny’s room is right above the Ghost Portal. He doesn’t want to find out if simple proximity to an inter-dimensional hole in reality would bring him back as a ghost if he died close enough to it. Look what standing in it did to Danny.

“Mascara?”

He bites his cheek and resolutely does not look up. Ah yes, x equals eleven, definitely.

“Your eyelashes turn white too. C’mon, hold still.”

“Don’t put that thing near my eyes, holy crap—“

“I said hold still!”

...What did x equal again?

Eleven. Right. Probably.

Tucker copies out the work and answer in Danny’s and Sam’s notebooks. He’s gotten about as good at copying their handwriting as he has at lying to authority figures. He’s still not sure how he feels about that little skill either, but hey, he’s almost too distracted to hear Danny whine.

Sooner than he expected he hears Jazz say, “I think that’s pretty good for a first try, don’t you?”

He looks up, furtive. Danny’s back is to him so he’s only got the girls’ expressions to go by. Jazz looks pleased, while Sam’s tapping her chin as she scrutinizes whatever-it-is they’ve done to him. “It’s a little plain,” she says.

“Plain is good,” Danny says fervently. “Please leave it at plain, this already feels really weird.”

“We are aiming for normal teenage boy,” Jazz reminds her.

Sam tosses something into her tackle box. “I know, but it feels like a wasted opportunity to not Goth him up for fun.”

“Blackmail material,” Tucker sings under his breath.

Sam laughs, Danny hunches deeper into himself, and Jazz gestures Tucker over. “Is he still too obvious?”

Prepared to say yes, of course he is because he’s a GHOST, Tucker finds himself briefly speechless once he does get a look at Danny’s face. “...Huh.”

“What does that mean?” Danny demands anxiously. Sam, grinning like a well-fed cat, slaps a hand on his hunched shoulder.

“It means tomorrow’s gonna be a breeze. You might want to bust out some last minute review notes.”

Tucker steps back, snags Danny’s sunglasses off the dresser, and shoves them onto Danny’s face. He leans left, then right, then hums. “Got some spillover on the laser sights that are gonna be a problem.”

“I’ve got a pair of wraparound sunglasses he can borrow,” Jazz says.

“Huh. Problem solved.”

Fed up with the lot of them, Danny jumps into the air and phases through the wall into the bathroom to inspect their work. Jazz and Sam sweep tubes and compacts and who-knows what else into their respective makeup bags.

“Thanks again for going along with this,” Jazz says.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been trying to get Danny to let me experiment on him for ages. The things I could do with that green undertone….” She trails off, a little wistful, a lot ominous. Today is clearly not the last time Sam’s going to experiment. Tucker drains the last of his Coke as a toast to the paces Danny’s spooky ooky undertone is going to be put through.

“He looked normal,” Tucker says.

“That’s the point,” Jazz says.

“No, but he looked normal. Like, normal-normal. How’d you do that?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” Sam cuts in, waggling her fingers. “I could make you look like a ghost if you were up for wearing colored contact lenses.”

“Pass.” Still, whatever they’d done had even magicked away that funny blur to Danny’s features that always made Tucker want to clean his glasses. A pair of shades, a hat and hoodie, and Danny’d look like any other sophomore. Hell, he’d probably fit in more than he does usually; Danny keeps forgetting to pretend to notice the fall weather rolling in.

Tucker puts his empty can on the dresser to give them a little golf clap. “I gotta say, I’m impressed. If Danny can keep his cool for eight hours he might actually make it through the school day without getting caught.”

Sam scoffs. “That’s a tall order.”

Jazz hums. “I’m not sure what he’ll do if there’s a ghost attack. He can’t exactly wear his jumpsuit under regular clothes.”

Tucker snorts. Yeah, a polyurethane hazmat suit is a little harder to hide than good ol’ fashioned superhero spandex.

“He’ll just have to take it with him,” Sam says, but she reaches down to pick up one of Danny’s gloves with her lips pursed. “If it keeps glowing like this it’ll be hard to hide any time he has to get something out of his bag.”

“I can put it in this,” Danny says as he phases out of his closet. It’s a testament to how often he rejoins a conversation like this that none of them jump. He’s got a Dumpty Humpty drawstring bag in hand, shaking out the various bits and bobs that had already been in it.

“Oh, so now he wants to contribute to the plan?” Sam and Jazz share a victorious look. It really does not bode well for anybody, how well they’re suddenly getting along.

Danny huffs. “I didn’t think this’d actually look believable,” he says, gesturing at his face. “How the hell did you do it?”

“Don’t bother, dude, already tried. Lips is zipped.” Tucker kind of can’t help but stare as Danny lands beside him. As long as he sticks to fluorescent lights, Tucker’s just about positive no one will be able to tell the difference.

Jazz reaches out, grabbing Danny’s hand to stare at it intently. By this point Danny seems to have given up squirming as a bad job, though he does look nervous. “What now?”

“Your hands are almost as obvious as your face. Do you have any fingerless gloves?”

“No.”

“Nothing a pair of scissors can’t fix,” Sam says with a matching snip-snip of her fingers.

“Why fingerless?”

Jazz, twisting his fingers in weird directions, raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to spend the whole day trying to write with bulky gloves on?”

Tucker, best friend that he is, just manages not to laugh. It’s a near thing. Danny, as always, doesn’t appreciate his efforts.

“I think we should do your nails too,” Jazz says, finally letting him go. Danny slumps, goes to pinch the bridge of his nose, and gets his hand grabbed again for trying.

“Ah ah ah,” Sam teases, “No rubbing.”

There’s a dirty joke that could be made here, about two idiots who both ought to be failing biology for how badly they’re missing each other’s signals and how determined they are to ignore what’s—who’s—standing right in front of them, but Tucker stays quiet. He’s not an idiot. Dirty jokes only end in tears and blackmail.

“It feels weird,” Danny grumbles. “You’re only painting my nails if you paint Tucker’s first.”

“It’s not my secret identity on the line here,” Tucker points out. “Twenty bucks or I walk.”

Sam bites her lip trying not to laugh.

In the end Tucker’s twenty bucks richer and sporting nails done in a fetching combination of raspberry and lime. They all end up with a bit of lime polish—who could resist an inside joke like that?—though Danny’s the only one that gets glitter. Tucker makes a solemn promise to never cross Jazz; she can be downright nefarious when she wants to.

“Just watch,” Sam says as they do a last cleanup now that their nails have all dried. “You’re gonna wake up at four in the morning for some stupid ghost attack and be able to change back.”

“Don’t,” Danny groans. “You’ve jinxed me now.”

“Go wash your face off,” Jazz says. “Tucker, can you take your guys’ plates down? We’ve had a real problem with ghost ants lately; they’re like bloodhounds for crumbs.”

“Sure thing.” Anything to avoid the argument that’s gonna follow Danny being told he’s going to have to get his face all done up again first thing in the morning. He shuts the bedroom door, balancing empty plates and soda cans in one hand (muffling Jazz’s “It’ll smear if we leave it on!”), and makes his way down to the kitchen. Mr. F is there washing out his coffee mug for the night; he beams when Tucker enters.

“Heya Tuckerino. You kids havin’ fun up there?”

“A blast.” He grins, showing off his nails.

Mr. F chuckles, holding out one big hand to accept the plates. “Was there a homework break before you did your toes to match?”

“No pedis tonight, unfortunately, but our homework’s all done.”

“Good, good.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Trash needs taking out, if you’re offering.”

“Sure thing.”

“There’s a good lad.” Mr. F’s eyes wrinkle when he smiles fondly. He’s a beard shy of looking like Santa Claus. Or Hagrid. Somebody big and jovial and kind who wouldn’t hurt a fly—so long as it wasn’t a ghost fly, anyway. It’s a shame Danny’s so leery of telling his parents about the accident. Tucker gets it, really he does, but it’s still a shame. He grabs the trash bag and the recycling too, since it’s nearly full.

“Have a good night, Mr. F.”

“Don’t stay up too late curling each other’s hair now!”

“Oh please, and let Jazz ruin a ‘do this good?”

Mr. F’s laughter follows him out the door.

=

(The "Loop me in, ecto one," line is a riff on Dean Koontz's Odd Thomas series. The movie didn't come out until 2013 but c'mon, a series about a young guy who only wants a normal life but has to deal with ghosts all the time? You know one of the kids found the first book somewhere and had a real good laugh.)

[phantoms-lair]

Fangs for Being There: Once Bitten

commission for @providentially-demonic

Two vehicles pulled up to the Roger’s residence at the same time. “Mrs. Talbain,” Daphne greeted. “Here to pick up Winnie?”

“As I suppose you’re here to pick up your pack.” Selena smiled though it faded slightly, “Have you had any luck convincing him?”

Velma sighed. “Not even close. He’s still shutting down the conversation anytime we bring it up. At least having him and Scooby stay at Fred’s house mixed with more group sleepovers at here is helping.”

(More Under Cut)

That was something, at least. If nothing else it would be one less stressor, which bought them some time. And mixing the two was a smart move. Like Shaggy, the rest of his pack were not quite full grown and it wouldn’t be realistic to ask for them to leave their own families permanently to stay with him. Likewise having him permanently leave the home where he had grown with his parents and sibling would have left a negative mark of its own.

Rotating it so he could still stay in his home some nights while his whole pack was there worked well.  Now if they could just solve the last big problem of getting him comfortable with other werewolves, one way or another.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind Shaggy biting him,” Daphne muttered under her breath.

It wasn’t quite quiet enough as both Selena and Velma turned to her. “Trouble in Paradise?” Velma asked tentatively.

“Not really, at least not when we’re alone.” Daphne sighed. “But he’s so used to hiding our relationship around others that he does it reflexively. Any public affections unsettles him, even holding hands. I’ve seen how cuddly Shaggy is with you, not to mention Winnie and I just...I just want Fred to at least feel comfortable being close to me.”

Selena couldn understand that. An aversion to touching your partner, even if it was only in public, was terrifying to her.

“It’s just an adjustment, he’ll get over it.” Velma put a hand consolingly on Daphne’s shoulder. “Just make sure you keep pushing him out of that comfort zone a bit.”

Any further discussion was cut off as the front door opened and Winnie rocketed out, jumping in her mother’s arms. Selena twirled her around before hugging her close. “Did you have a good time with Coach?”

As Winnie excitedly told her about her day, Shaggy, Scooby, and Fred left the home as a more sedate pace. Still there was no denying Shaggy’s eyes brightened just as much as Winnie’s when he saw his friends, even as he was keeping his distance from Selena. “You guys are here early.”

“I missed you,” Velma grinned, throwing her arms around her boyfriend.

“Missed you too,” Shaggy grinned back, melting into the hug.

Daphne couldn’t help the ping of envy, but Velma was right. It would just take time.

“I guess we can head out on the case now,” Fred said brightly. “A supposed ghoul haunting the old Mill.”

Cases had never been Shaggy’s thing in the past, but as much as they scared him there was a sense of normalcy around them. And anything that made him feel more normal he would take in a heartbeat.

~

After the case they were all feeling far less gung-ho. It had definitely been normal for them. Guy in costume, real estate scandal, yada yada. Unfortunately during the chase the ‘Ghoul’ had cut the rope bridge they were running across, causing them all to go tumbling down in ball. They were covered in scratches and bruises and were not feeling very charitable towards the man in the overdone Halloween costume, even after he was caught.

“I think this pair of leggings is done for,” Daphne bemoaned as she took in the numbers of holes. “And something hit my knee hard.”

“I think it was my face, it certainly hit something hard like an elbow or a knee.” Velma was grateful no teeth had been knocked loose.

“Like, either that or mine.” Shaggy rubbed his jaw in memory. His own injuries had healed up, but he still remembered the aches.

“I think my elbow got the other one,” Fred pulled back the torn bit or sweater and shirt, both with red-becoming-brown stains. “And whoever got me left a few tooth marks.”

“Ouch,” Daphne grabbed the first aid kit so she could disinfect it. “Let me see.” She gently cleaned the wound. “Yeah, it’s not whole mouth’s worth, but that is definitely a bite.”

“How big is the bite? Can we tell who bit him?” Velma asked with some urgency.

“Not really, Like I said, it’s just a few teeth and it wasn’t exactly a clean bite. We were all tumbling around. I mean I could have done it and just not realized it.”

“I hope so.” Velma said solemnly. “I really do.”

Fred and Daphne both blinked at the seriousness in Velma’s tone. It wasn’t until Shaggy jerked back with a panicked keening that they realized what Velma had.

Shaggy may have been the one who bit Fred.

“Oh.” Fred sat down hard on the bumper on the Mystery Machine, the flopped on the floor of the back of the van. “Oh wow.”

“It might not be,” Velma was quick to throw out. “I know I got someone with my face, and Daphne flat out said it might have been her. It might even have been Scooby.”

“Is there a way to tell?” Daphne asked.

“I don’t know,” Velma admitted as Shaggy began hyperventilating. “But I know who we can ask. ~

Winnie had just gone to bed when the Talbain’s phone rang. Selena debated not answering for a moment, but decided an call at this hour was more likely to be important that a telemarketer. She was glad for that decision when she heard Shaggy on the other end.

“Like, I need your help. I may have bitten Fred!”

Giving silent thanks that she hadn’t ignored it, or worse Wulfic had picked it up, Selena gathered herself. “I know this was a hard decision to make, but I really think you made the right -”

“No, I mean I don’t know.”

Selena felt a moment of incredulity pass over her. “You don’t know if you bit someone?”

“We all went down in a heap. It could have been any of us that bit him, But it could have been me and I don’t know.  Is there some way to tell if it’s a werewolf bite?”

Hoo boy. Nothing seemed to go simply for the new Primogenitor. “Not until the next full moon, I’m afraid. The gift won’t take hold until the full moon has risen and the sun has completely set, so no magical indicators will show up till then. The bite wouldn’t be different to any other human bite, though if it gets infected, the infection should clear with the first transformation.”

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, but Selena could still hear him on the other end, taking the raspy breaths of someone struggling not to cry. “Isn’t there, like, anything I can do? Any way to stop this?”

“I’m sorry.” As much as she felt this wasn’t the disaster her clearly saw it as, being unable to help a pack member in distress was enough to send most werewolves into a full on panic. “If you can, have one of your group sleepovers tonight. Keeping the pack together should at least do some good emotionally.” Really more for Shaggy than Fred, as even if he was bitten he wouldn’t have the instincts yet, but she had little doubt having the support of his pack would be comforting to both of them.

“There’s really nothing I can do?”

She felt her heart break, he sounded as young as Winnie. It struck her sometimes how young he really was. And how much had been unfairly put on his shoulders. “You can be there for him. I promise you, Shaggy, this won’t hurt him as much as it hurt you. He’ll never be alone, hold on to that.”

~

Hold on to that Shaggy stared at his phone, trying to feel some kind of hope from Selena’s words. But she was right, and if it was him that was responsible for the bite, Fred was going to need him to be there for support, as someone who had been through it. He couldn’t let himself fall apart or, heaven forbid, leave Fred alone.

“She said there’s no way to tell. Like, not until moonrise.”

“Same as with you.” Velma recalled. “You had to be in direct moonlight to change the first time.”

Shaggy perked up. “Maybe -”

“I don’t think staying out of moonlight for the rest of my life is really feasible, Shag.” Fred interrupted. “And it hasn't worked that way since your first time. And it’s not that bad. I mean, I’ve been asking you to bite me for months. This is a good thing.”

“It’s not! There is nothing good about this, man.” Shaggy felt himself getting hysterical. “There is nothing good about being a werewolf.”

“That’s not true.” Velma pulled him close to her. “You’ve been much more open with us since. It’s been almost a year since you met the Boo Brothers or did the summer semester at Grimwoods and you never even mentioned it to us. You didn’t trust us to believe you.”

“Velms,” there was a slight whine to Shaggy’s voice. 

“It’s fine, you had reason to think we wouldn’t believe you.” She kissed his cheek. “But now you don’t feel like you have to hide any actual supernatural stuff from us.  Your injuries heal faster, that’s another good thing.” The rest of them were still pretty banged up from their tumble. “You know earlier when someone’s wearing a mask because you can smell the makeup and costuming material. There’s a lot of good things about being a werewolf.”

“And, with the exception of one crazy vampire, most of the actual supernatural things don’t want to hurt you anymore. Especially to the werewolf community, you’re someone to be protected.” Daphne pointed out.

“At this point the only real drawbacks are a need to hide on the full moon and the depression from feeling isolated. We’re already spending the full moon with you anyway and I know I’m not going to be alone in this.” Fred’s did his best to smile. He still felt shaken over the whole thing  

He’d hoped it wasn’t obvious, but Scooby came over and leaned against him in comforting manner, which meant his nerves wasn’t as well hidden as he’d hoped. And even if Shaggy wouldn’t notice his initial feelings, he’d definitely notice Scooby’s reaction.  Dang. Fred reached down and scratched him behind his ears. “It’s scary. I’m not going to lie about that.” Well, he might if he thought he could get away with it. “But no more so than the idea of graduating high school, starting college, or getting married. Any big change is inherently scary, but that doesn’t mean any of it is bad. Shag, if you bit me I’m glad this happened.  This way we get another werewolf in the pack and you don’t have to worry about doing the actual biting.”

Shaggy frowned. This really wasn’t a good thing and Fred didn’t need to pretend it was “Um, Selena said we should stay together, so we should probably have a sleep over tonight. If that’s okay with your parents?”

“We’ve pretty much got carte blanche, since we travel so much on cases,” Velma shrugged. “I mean if we did it every evening for a while, they’d probably say something. But up until that I think we’re good.”

“Why don’t we do that?” Fred suggested. “It’s only a few days off till the full moon. We can go on a camping trip. We could be together and no one would question it. And hey, a change of scenery during the full moon might help.”

Maybe being out in the world would feel less like hiding, less like he had to, and more like they were just having a good time together.

“Like, be out during a full moon?” Shaggy looked decidedly nervous about that. “What if someone sees me?”

“We’ll be in the middle of nowhere, not even stopping for cases,” Daphne promised. “But if you want to try and make it back in time, we could -”

“Nah, like it’s okay.” It’s what Fred had wanted to do, and if that’s how he wanted to spend his first full moon, then it was the least Shaggy could do. Maybe it would be better to be just away from people rather than hidden behind four walls, especially walls with windows. “And we don’t need to avoid cases till the last day.”

“I think we’re all done with cases for a bit.” Velma said dryly. At least until the scrapes stopping stinging. “Let’s grab our camping gear. Tents, sleeping bags, maybe some fishing gear if we go somewhere with a lake?”

“Lakes are more likely to have campers nearby, but we can spend the first two days at the lake, then find a more secluded spot.” Fred suggested.

“Rish rounds rummy!” Scooby wagged his tail enthusiastically.

“Definitely fishing then,” Fred grinned. “We can set out today, spend tomorrow catching a whole bunch of fish at the Lake Khools, then move further into the woods for the full moon. It’ll be fun.”

~

In the end they had decided Lake Khools had been just too crowded even for the pre-full moon days. The weather had been in the beautiful late spring-early summer stage where it was not too warm, not too cool, not too humid and the lake was filled with families fishing, boating, and swimming.

Instead they’d kept driving north, heading into the more mountainous areas. They’d camped by the riverbed. Few people would take the moving water and stoney riverbed over the soft sand of the lake and they found a peaceful spot to relax. They’d spent the first day setting up and the second swimming and fishing. They also found a bunch of crayfish when one had snipped Scooby’s tail and planned on having a boil their final day.

It was on the third day when Shaggy woke up feeling like it was far too early. A quick glance at his watch confirmed it was several hours earlier than he’s normally get up. Still something was keeping him from going back to sleep. It took him a moment to realize what it was. Fred’s sleeping bag was empty and he was nowhere to be seen.

He tried to get up quietly, but didn’t quite manage to not wake up Scooby.

“Raggy?” he yawned “Rit’s early?”

“You can go back to sleep Scoob. I just need to talk to Fred.”

“RI’m roming roo.” Scooby stretched and climbed to his feet.

“You don’t have to, bud. I got this.”

Scooby just gave him a look that brooked no argument and followed him outside. They found Fred at the edge of the river, staring into the current.

Shaggy say down beside him, while Scooby leaned against his other side. "How are you holding up, Fred?" "I don’t know. Nervous? Exhausted? Like I'm too tired do anything but too jittery to just sit here." Fred put his head in his hands. "Afraid of changing, but at the same time wishing I didn’t have a whole other day to get through before it happens." Fred was being a bit more honest than he would have been normally. He had been doing well the day he got bit, and yesterday had been full of camping fun. But the moment he’d lain down in his sleeping bag every nervous thought had pushed its way front and forward in his mind. He’d gotten a few fitful bits of sleep here and there but not nearly enough. “I don’t know if I can take this. How can you do this every month?”

Scooby crawled into Fred’s lap and rested his head on his chest. Fred instinctively wrapped his arms around the dog, drawing comfort, “The good news is I don’t. I’ve only done this once. This whole what you’re going through right now? It’s, like, not the change. It’s the not knowing.” "What do you mean?" asked Fred, confused. “My first full moon I didn’t know was coming till it hit me.” Shaggy shrugged. “The second, man I was waaay more of a mess than you are now. Enough that Velms pretended to believe in monsters to help me feel better.” Sure she knew for a fact now, but at the time it was a big thing. “It got to the point that she needed to point out that the panic I was feeling was actually worse than just being a werewolf. And I think that’s kinda where you are now. You don’t want to turn into a werewolf, but it would be better than the not knowing and psyching yourself out.” "Shaggy, it's not that I don't want to be a werewolf, just-" "You don't.” Shaggy cut in. “You want to help me and you're willing to be a werewolf to do that. But you don't want to be one. And I don't blame you." Shaggy leaned back against the rocky shoreline. "After all, I don't want to be one either."

And wasn’t that the problem. “Well, ‘wanting’ it doesn’t seem to be a factor for either of us.” Fred pointed out.

“We still don’t know for sure,” Shaggy pointed out. “I mean, we still aren’t sure it was me, Scoob, or one of the girls.”

“True but… it feels kind of like it was meant to be, you know.” Fred joined him in leaning back. “Like it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to be a werewolf to help you, but you wouldn’t bite me, so fate stepped in.”

“Like, Fate needs to leave us alone.” There was a bitterness in his tone that seemed foreign coming from Shaggy. “It’s bad enough I have to deal with this, man.  I don’t want any of you guys to.”

“And we don’t want to lose you,” Fred said quietly. “I don’t think you realize just how much that possibility is scaring us. It was bad enough when we thought you were depressed, because that we thought you could move past it with time. This Lone Wolf Syndrome thing is so much worse. And it’s not just us, Winnie and Mrs. Talbain are scared too. This is serious. And I would rather spend every full moon turning into the chain-in-the-basement horror movie werewolf for the rest of my life than to have you die. Being a werewolf like you, still me just a little different, it doesn’t even register as a cost comparatively. Not one of us would regret being bit, Shag. The necessity, maybe. But never the bite itself.”

“But, like, it’s not necessary. If I could just get over this, man. Get to know some more werewolves and spend time with them, you guys wouldn’t even have to be thinking of this.”

“We would anyway,” Fred informed him. “We don’t like feeling different anymore than you do. And getting over this fear isn’t a small thing, Shag. It’s not an irrational or silly one.  The two times you’ve been in the monster’s community you’ve been threatened and attacked. Being asked to take it on faith that you can trust these people now is a tall order. It’s the kind of trust that’s slow to earn, which wouldn’t be a problem if we weren’t under an invisible timer. I mean, Mrs. Talbain has been great and all, and we love Winnie, but I don’t think any of us want to be anywhere near Wulfric Talbain any time soon.” It was a strange mix of anger, wariness, and at the same time not wanting to wreck to home life of the only two werewolves Shaggy could semi-trust. Anyway you cut it though, it was probably best to keep Mystery Inc and Mr. Talbain far apart.

“And honestly with how hit and miss your experiences with supernaturals have been, Shag, I’d rather stay ‘in-house’ instead of bringing another werewolf into our pack.” “Team,” Shaggy muttered.

“Shag-” Fred sighed.

“We don’t have to use stupid wolf studies words just because I can be wolfy sometimes.” Shaggy huffed. “We’re friends. We’re a team. Always have been. We don’t need another word for it.”

“Row rabout ramily?” Scooby suggested.

Shaggy thought it over“Okay, that one sounds good.” He admitted.

“Family sounds good.” Fred agreed.  He loved his parents, brother and nephew. But he loved the gang too.

Shaggy felt a weight on his shoulder as Fred leaned over and began to drift off.  He and Scooby shared a look. At least Fred could get a little more rest. Sunlight began to creep over the horizon. But Fred didn’t stir.

“Dawn of the final day,” Shaggy muttered, thinking of a video game he had played years ago. The full moon certainly felt as ominous as it did it that game.

“Rot rinal,” Scoob said, still curled around Fred. “Remember, rhings change, rut rot rhe rimportant rarts.”

“Being human seems pretty important to me.” It was something he hadn’t known he had value till it was gone.

“Rot to re.” Scooby argued. He had never been human and that hadn’t mattered one jot.

“Bet you wouldn’t like being a cat,” Shaggy said with some humor.

Scooby huffed in response. Fred shifted a bit in his sleep. The two shared a look and quieted down. Fred was going to need every bit of peace he could get.

~

The rest of the day was a strange mix of almost manic activity to keep Fred’s mind off the upcoming night and have to stop because Fred’s lack of sleep was causing him to zone.

They didn’t go to the deeper or faster moving parts of the river,  Not a safe place when you’re overtired. They stayed where the water only came up to mid-shin and either caught more crayfish in cups or just splashed around. Fred even built a functioning fish trap that provided enough lunch even for Shaggy and Scooby. During the quiet times there was fly fishing and bird watching till Fred felt better.

Late afternoon they built a fire and filled the campfire pot with crayfish and Shaggy’s secret seasoning stash he hid somewhere in the Mystery Machine.  Scooby also pulled out the makings of s’mores, enough to ensure they would have enough of the gooey treat to snack on most of the night.

Dinner was good, but Fred found he had little to no appetite. The lower the sun set and the more colors stained the sky, the more his stomach twisted and turned. Even the water they’d brought with them was sitting heavily.

Daphne caught the others’ eyes as she noticed Fred withdrawing from the conversation more and more.  When even discussions on trap construction and application failed to draw him in, distraction was no longer an option.

Fred hadn’t even realized that the conversation had stopped until Daphne’s arms were wrapped around him. He started for a moment, then melted into her embrace.

“We’re here Fred. We’ve got you.” She reassured.

“And none of us are going anywhere,” Velma promised. “We didn’t for Shaggy and we’re not for you.”

“Thanks guys.” Fred’s smile was genuine, if a bit shaky. “I’ll probably be fine when it’s over in,” he glanced at the sky. “A few minutes.” Was that really all the time he had left?

For the first time since this happened, Shaggy didn’t go to his side. Instead he stared into the fire. “Fred, it’s okay if-” Shaggy braced himself, “-it’s okay if you hate me.”

“Hate you?” Fred repeated in disbelief.  “Why on Earth would I hate you?” Velma and Daphne looked equally baffled while Scooby was just giving Shaggy a very exasperated look.

“I can’t...I can’t forgive Rastaban for what he did to me.” Shaggy admitted. “For turning me into a werewolf and making it so I had to stay as one, even aside from the other things he did. And if I can’t forgive him, how can I ask you to forgive me?”

“Shag, I know you’re not this much of an idiot.” Fred shook his head. “Rastaban Dracula manipulated you into a bad place and then tried to steal your free will along with your humanity, no matter how much you didn’t want it. I have repeatedly asked you to turn me into a werewolf, knowing full well what in entailed. And even then the bite was a complete accident. I don’t blame you, and I certainly don’t hate you.”  

“But-” Shaggy ducked his head down.

“No buts. Come here ya goon.”  Fred opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. Scooby nudged Shaggy towards him insistently.  As soon as he got close, Fred pulled him into a hug. “We’re in this together. Got it?”

“Got it.” Shaggy said softly.

The sun dipped below the horizon and Fred screwed his eyes shut. He hadn’t understood why Shaggy had hid under the blanket the first full moon party, but now he understood. It was one small way of putting off the moment of no return. He listened to the pops and cracks he had heard each full moon, but a lot closer.

When they stopped he braced himself and opened his eyes. He realized he had turned the hug he was giving into a full on cling. He let go to look over himself and saw...nothing. No fur. No claws. No tail. “I…”

“You’re you!” Shaggy cheered, picking him up and twirling him around. “I didn’t bite you! I didn’t curse you!”

“Shaggy, maybe less twirling near the campfire.” Velma instejected.

“Oh. Sorry Fred.” Shaggy put him down gently. Fred wobbled a bit, before Daphne helped prop him up. “Er, maybe too much twirling in general.”

“I think it more likely surprise mixed with a lack of sleep. The adrenaline crash coming soon won’t help either.” Velma said. She put a hand on Shaggy’s shoulder. “I know full moons are kind of a designated the-gangs-all-here time, but it might be best for Fred to sleep this off.”

“I’m fine.” Fred tried to straighten up.  “I could stay up all-” with that his legs gave way.

“And there’s the adrenaline crash.” Daphne smiled gently. “Let me get Fred back to the tent. I’ll be back in a few.” Daphne knelt down and helped Fred up.

“I’m fine,” He repeated, though without much behind it. “It’s the full moon. We always stay together on the full moon.”

“You need rest, Man,” Shaggy was still grinning. “Why not get a little shut eye? We’ll be up all night, you can join us later.

“That’s fair.” Fred couldn’t quite stifle a yawn. “But I’ll be back, okay.”

“We’ll save you some s’mores. Get some rest.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Daphne gave them a wink.

The walk to the tents was quiet. Fred’s steps became heavier as he went on, and it wasn’t just fatigue.

“Fred what’s wrong? This isn’t just you being tired.” Daphne knew him far too well for that.

He sighed. Figured Daph would be able to see him. “It’s just...this was the third time.”

“The third time for what?” she asked softly.

“The third time Shaggy needed help and I wasn’t able to help him. He needed help in the drive in theater. He needed help when Dracula came back and kidnapped Velma. And now he needs help to fight this super depression werewolves are susceptible too, and I couldn’t even do that. I thought it was perfect. An accidental bite, so no guilt. It would have fixed everything. I know even you were looking forward to it. But...when I didn’t change I felt relieved. What kind of friend am I?” Fred trailed off.

“Change is scary, Fred. Believe me, we are all familiar with that by now. But do you really think Shaggy wouldn’t have felt guilty. He’s made it clear that he equates turning someone into a werewolf with ruining their life. I think the accident thing may have been even worse. Biting someone without even meaning to would make him think he’s dangerous to us whether he wants to be or not. And I don’t see that ending well. And yes, I liked the idea of you being more cuddly as a werewolf, but it was a stupid and selfish idea. How did you know?”

“You got jealous. Whenever Shaggy and Velma would hold hands or snuggle together. Combine that with our knowledge of werewolves being much more tactile than humans it wasn’t a hard guess.”

“I still feel like a jerk.” Daphne hung her own head. “I love you. And I love you because you’re you. Whether you’re a werewolf or not.”

“Thanks.” He smiled at her. “It was really hard, when we first started dating, not to hold on to you every second of every day. I think I made so by convincing myself that something horrible would happen if I did. But it’s past time for that. We don’t have to hide our relationship any more, and I don’t want to. It may take some time for me to unlearn, but I want to be your boyfriend publicly. Not just in secret.”

“Okay Fred, listen up, because I’m only going to say this once.” Daphne leaned in and kissed him. He readily returned it. “We’ll figure out how to help Shaggy. But we can’t by making the existing situation worse. Winnie’s buying us some time, we just have to use it well.”

“As smart as you are beautiful.” Fred looked at her with a dreamy expression, but she could see the tiredness in his eyes.”.

“You need to get some sleep. Especially if you want to join us later.”

Fred wanted to argue, but he could barely keep his eyes open. “Only for about a half hour or so. Then I’ll be right back.”

~

Fred awoke to find Shaggy packing up his sleeping bag. Not only was it bright enough to see, but his friend was completely human again. “I slept through the whole full moon?” Fred asked aghast.

“You needed it. I, like, crashed hard after my first full moon, well second. But the first was weird and involved magic sleeping dust, so I don’t know how to count that.”

“But it wasn’t my first full moon. The bite mark probably came from Velma.” Since she had confirmed her face hit something like a knee or elbow.

“Yeah, but you went through the same amount of stress as if it was. So it evens out.” Shaggy shrugged.

Fred took a deep breath. “Shag, I’m not giving up. I still think turning me into a werewolf is the best solution we have. But I accept that I’m not ready for it yet. So I’m going to work on it till I’m comfortable being a werewolf. Until it’s something I legitimately want.”

Shaggy gave a small smile. “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t much, but it was the closest to a positive answer Fred had gotten yet. He grinned back. “So did I miss anything last night?”

“So many s’mores. It was a travesty to miss. Although gooey marshmallow and fur? Not a great combo.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Feeling better rested than he had in days, Fred got up and began to help packing up the camp.

“So how’s everyone feel about full moon campouts? Repeatable?” He asked.

“Like, it’s got my vote.” Shaggy declared.

“Rine too,” Scooby added.

“And we could easily incorporate it into a week long trip or just camp out for one night. It’s convenient.” Daphne was sold.

“I think I can put up wards so no one could find us.” Velma added. “I found some that might be useful in…” she trailed off, blinking. “We are idiots!”

“You okay, Velms?” Shaggy asked, concerned. Calling herself or any of them an idiot was not standard Velma behavior. “Shaggy, where would I have gotten information on wards?”

“The Grimness Book?” Or maybe Selena Talbain, but that was less likely.

“And why do we have the Grimness Book?”

“I stole it from Dracula?” Shaggy wasn’t sure where this line of questioning was going.

“And why did you steal it from Dracula?”

“It had the spell that…” the realization hit. “The spell that turns werewolves back into normal people.”

“Right. It doesn’t work well on Primogenitors, but no one you bit would be a Primogenitor. They’d just be a normal werewolf.”

“And we didn’t think of it since we’d written off the spell since it wouldn’t work on Shaggy,” Daphne pinched her nose. “This was all pointless.”

“I wouldn’t say that, I think I got some good experience.” Sure Fred hadn’t actually turned into a werewolf. But he’s gotten to live the worry and apprehension of being in thrall to the full moon. It was a common point Shaggy hadn't been able to share with anyone before. “And the camping itself was fun.”

“We should scope out some more Full Moon spots.” Velma mused. “Camping not as viable in bad weather or in winter, and having some variety isn’t a bad thing.”

“My family owns some out of the way cabins,” Daphne volunteered. “That would work for rain or snow.”

Shaggy watched as more ideas were put forth, full moon locations for all seasons and conditions. Different activities they could do in those places. All of his friends turning the worst night of the month into something to look forward to. “Pack,” he whispered under his breath. He’d hated them using the word. Hated what it meant for them. But if being a werewolf was something Fred could learn to want, maybe it was something he could at least come to peace with.

It helped that he had the best pack in the world.

[crimsondomingo]

Day 31: Mash up any two

Thank you to everyone who followed my AU a day challenge this month. Today’s ended up so long, I have to put a cut for once, because it’s over 3k! Totally on accident, I guess I just got carried away.

Big thank you to @a-redharlequin for helping me headcanon last night!

And thank you to everyone who submitted ideas for the mashup. I’m going to keep your prompts in my ask and might respond later with drabbles.

Now for what I did choose: Supernatural / High School

For my July AU a Day Challenge

“You know it’s impolite to stare, right?”

Barry blinked. He hadn’t meant to stare. He’d just never seen someone so gorgeous in real life before. And now he was talking to him. “Um…” And his eloquence was living up to its usual level of why me?

“Hi,” the gorgeous boy saved him. “I’m Len. You’re new, huh? Can’t be easy transferring at the start of senior year, no matter where you’re from.” He smiled at Barry like all the world existed only to be his backdrop.

“You too. I mean thanks!” Why was Barry ever allowed to speak? “Sorry, I’m just nervous. I’m Barry. And yeah, it is hard transferring like this, but…well it’s sort of a long story—”

“Say no more.” Len held up a hand as they headed toward the school together. “Like, really, say no more, because we’re on school grounds. Any tough stuff about where you came from, who you are, you don’t have to say anything. We’re all pretty much ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ around here, unless a teacher brings it up. Don’t feel pressured. Here, we’re all normal—even if we’re not.” He winked.

Barry felt a wave of relief at the joke. He’d been expecting to be asked to get up in front of everyone and tell the long, difficult story of how his father died when he was a baby, then his mother when he was ten, being raised by a man he no longer trusted.

Not after getting that telegram on his birthday only a few days ago, explaining that he was enrolled at this school, something his mother had wanted for him and that everything would make sense eventually as long as he got there in time for orientation. He’d run away that moment and never looked back.  

The telegram had included a package with a uniform, which Barry wore now, just his size too. He wasn’t sure he liked being stuffed into a suitcoat and tie, skinny and awkward as he was, but Len filled out the uniform beautifully.

“Oh and ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ doesn’t apply to other things,” Len said with a wink, before pushing the doors open for them.

Barry tried not to trip his way inside. He definitely hadn’t been around anyone that open in his last school. People were fine with him being bi, they just didn’t really care. About him. At all. It was like he’d had this cone of avoidance around him all his life, everyone just sort of overlooked him. But here, now, only days after turning eighteen at a brand-new school far from home, Barry could finally start over and stop being invisible.

He’d already dropped his things off at the dorms—what little he’d brought along when he ran away, with barely any money to his name. He just couldn’t trust Uncle Eobard enough to tell him what he was up to. If he could trust him, why had Eo told him not to go anywhere on his birthday? Why hadn’t he known that the final pieces of his mother’s will would arrive that morning?

Barry didn’t want to think about it, so he followed Len inside. They were in the same class—Class A, which was only made up of twelve people, given the number of chairs. Everyone appeared to be there already, but they were chatting, hovering together in clumps around different desks. Not knowing what to do with himself, Barry headed for a desk in the corner.

“Oh no, you sit by me,” Len said, taking Barry’s elbow to guide him to a seat. Then he got strangely close as he sniffed along Barry’s neck. “You smell amazing, by the way. What is that?”

“U-um…me?” Barry said, since he didn’t wear cologne.

“Well you, Barry, smell delicious.”

“Lenny,” a girl’s voice interrupted Barry's forthcoming squeak, “don’t hog the new kid.” She was gorgeous too, with long wavy brunette hair and the same striking blue eyes as Len.

“Are you two…?”

“Twins? Yep. Aren’t you a lucky one. I’m Lisa.” She held out a perfectly manicured hand.

Barry noticed the other students starting to gather around too. “Uh…hi. I’m Barry,” he said, shaking Lisa's hand and glancing around at the others.

“Wow, you smell great,” a pretty blond boy said with a similar sniff at Barry like Len had.

“Eddie,” a gorgeous, dark-skinned girl giggled. “I’m Iris. Nice to meet you.”

“A new rookie in town, huh?” a brunette boy even taller and ganglier than Barry called. “Finally!”

“Ralph was the new kid before you,” a blonde girl with a dazzling smile offered next. “I’m Kara, student council president.”

Another blond girl who looked a little scary like she could easily beat Barry up, with another girl at her side equally scary but with darker skin and hair—like night and day, Barry thought admiringly—came forward. “You don’t have to tell everyone you meet that you’re student council president, Kara. I’m Sara. This is Nyssa.”

“Hi!” Barry nodded around at everyone, none of whom seemed unfriendly, not even the scary girls.

Scratch that, he thought, when the biggest boy yet came over, crazy muscly, and unabashedly sniffed Barry like the others. “He doesn’t smell that great.”

“This is Mick,” Len explained.

A very kind looking brunette put a hand on Mick's arm, and he seemed to instantly sag out of his standoffish posture. “I’m Caitlin. Mick doesn’t like anything new,” she said. “But if you have anything shiny, he'll love you forever.”

“Hey. I ain’t that easy, doll,” Mick said, then snapped his attention back to Barry. “You got anything shiny?”

“Uhh…” Barry was hesitant to lift his wrist but didn’t want to lie. “Just my watch. But I need it. I’m always late otherwise.”

“You have a watch?” a new voice called, though Barry couldn’t see who it came from initially. “Come on, guys, let the little guy through!”

When he appeared, he wasn’t that little, just shorter than everyone else, but he had the loveliest hair Barry had ever seen.

Why was everyone, scary or not, so attractive here? Barry felt like the only dull stone on the beach.

“I'm Cisco! Can I see it?” The boy indicated Barry’s watch. “I’m kinda a collector.”

“Of watches?”

“Well, really anything that's—”

The bell rang and everyone hopped to attention, quickly taking their seats. Floundering for a few seconds, Barry scrambled into the desk Len had chosen for him, second row with Cisco on his other side, Kara in front of him, and Eddie behind.

Just as the bell made its final trill, a severe—but still attractive, damn it—man with dark hair and a quick gait entered.

“Good to see none of you forgot your manners over the summer,” he said as he set a briefcase on his desk and perused the class. His eyes landed on Barry sharp enough to make him tense. “Ah yes, our transfer. You were intended to meet with the principal before class, Mr…” he opened his briefcase and started paging through papers.

“Barry?” Barry said too much like a question; he should know his own name! The severe man’s eyes flicked up as if annoyed he’d spoken without permission. “Sorry! I didn’t realize I was supposed to—"

“It's fine. I am the instructor for Class A, Mr. Wells. Since you’re here, Barry, why don’t you tell us about yourself.”

Okay, maybe he was being asked to get up in front of the class to spill his life story like he’d feared.

“Relax,” Wells said. “Short, sweet, and only what you want to share. Remember, first and foremost here, pretend you’re in Anywhere, America, and you are a normal student moving to a normal town.”

Pretend? That was the truth, though the strange directive did help calm Barry’s nerves. He stood to address the class.

“Okay, umm…I’m Barry. I turned eighteen a few days ago. I um…I’m just me, no parents. I grew up with my uncle. And I’m excited to be here because…because I needed something new and this seems like everything I could hope for.” He really didn’t mean for his eyes to land on Len as he said that, but the alluring smirk that aimed back at him made him forget who he was for a moment. “I-I like science and sci-fi movies and far too many types of junk food. That’s all.” He sat like a total goon, wishing he could hide.

A few of the kids snickered, but not in a mean way. Everyone still looked welcoming, so Barry tried to relax.

“Very good,” Wells said. “Why don’t we break the ice a bit more with everyone and then you can go check in with the principal for housekeeping. Students, as you know, you are seniors this year. After graduation, you go out into the world. That means a certain level of professionalism is expected on school grounds at all times. However…” he smiled subtly, “why don’t we let you get any last minute tomfoolery out of your systems now. For the next fifteen minutes, and not again for the rest of the year unless in your dorms…everyone can take on their true form.”

A smattering of laughter and cheers filtered through the students, while Barry blinked confusion.

“Um…what?”

He should have gone to see the principal first, he really should have, because mere moments after that, he was in the middle of a nightmare.

Kara was the first he noticed since she was in front of him, the way she seemed to fade until she was a mere shadow of herself like an apparition. Barry thought he must be imagining it, until he looked around at everyone else.

Cisco at his left had got up to stretch his legs, making him slightly taller now because his legs resembled those of a goat with hooves, and horns had sprouted from out of his hair like little nubs.

Lisa, kiddy-corner from Barry, grew taller too, her feet like a raptor’s, hands monstrous claws, and bat-like wings grew from her back along with a tail and pointed longer horns, all in shades of glittering bronze and gold.

Caitlin, kiddy-corner the other way, was no longer brunette but had almost white hair, with ice hugging her strikingly paler skin that contained a tinge of blue.

Whirling around, Barry looked at Iris behind Cisco, her legs completely gone as tentacles spread out black beneath her.

Then he made a slow circle as his heartrate began to skyrocket and the visions didn’t go away.

Eddie next to Iris, eyes glowing like an animal with fangs in his mouth.

Sara beside Eddie, with even more animalistic eyes, deadly claws, and fur spouting around her body.

Nyssa, beside her, slithered up taller because her bottom half had become a snake, eyes slit and tongue forked as it hissed out between her lips.

Mick in front of Nyssa was like Lisa but different, body covered in red scales around his horns, wings, and clawed hands and feet, with fire snorting from his nostrils.

And Ralph—okay, Ralph was less scary, since at first Barry couldn’t even see him, until he hopped up onto the top of his desk, a little green goblin much shorter than the tall boy Barry had met.

Finally, his eyes rested on the person beside him, not just sitting nearby, but right at the edge of his desk as Len stood there looking down at Barry, very much like his twin, the same creature as Lisa, but his coloring was navy and silver. That did nothing to dim the glow of his eyes or glint of his fangs.

And it didn’t help that everyone’s clothes had disappeared, and no one seemed to care that they were naked!

“Wh-what…?”

“Mr. Wells, I think we're freaking him out,” Len said as matter-of-factly as any student addressing their teacher. “I promised he wouldn't have to divulge everything the first day. I think he’s shy. It’s actually kinda cute.” He winked at Barry with his fanged smile.

Even Wells at the front of the class had glowing red eyes now and symbols on his skin with strange items floating out of his briefcase to hover around him.

Barry couldn’t breathe. He had to be dreaming. He had to be dreaming.

“Are you okay?” Iris's asked kindly, but when he looked down at her hand on his arm, it wasn’t a hand, it was a tentacle!

Barry pushed so hard out of his chair, he knocked it over and fell onto his back, trying to scramble for a safe corner.

“Barry!” Mr. Wells called menacingly. “I highly doubt revealing your true form is cause for such behavior.”

“I-I don’t have a true form!” Barry clambered to his feet, wishing he was backing toward the door instead of the window. “I only have this form! Just me!”

“You mean you’re a wizard like Mr. Wells?” Kara floated closer to him.

“No,” Eddie answered for Barry, tongue running over his fangs as he drew closer too, “he’s human. He must be. That’s why he smells so good.”

Barry was going to die, right here on the first day of school.

“Nonsense,” Wells said. “A human could never find our grounds.”

“He is though,” Len pushed through the others, perhaps scariest of all, other than maybe Mick, with his gargoyle wings and horns and…well, it was all strangely enticing too, which meant he must be some sort of sex demon and was messing with Barry’s mind! Barry should not find claws and fangs attractive!

But that grin coming closer and the glow of his eyes froze Barry to the spot.

“You are human,” Len said, with a clawed hand reaching for Barry’s face.

“Enough!” Wells yelled, and everyone but Barry had a glowing red string around them that yanked them back to their seats without so much as disrupting a chair.

Wells walked briskly over to Barry, did a complicated gesture, creating a glowing sigil in the air that shot forward at Barry’s face.

“Now you’ll all see that he’s actually…” Wells trailed, blinking his red eyes in incomprehension at whatever his symbol throwing was causing him to see on Barry’s face. “Human,” he whispered with a frown. “You are human. That’s impossible. I need to see Principal Singh about this.

“Everyone!” he whirled back around to face the class. “Behave yourselves while I’m gone.” Turning back to Barry with another complicated hand gesture, this time the glowing light was green, several rune-like symbols forming a square that shifted forward and then down at Barry’s feet, like a cage that shot light up toward the ceiling all around him.

When he tried to move forward, he discovered it was a cage because he couldn’t get past the barrier. “Hey! Wait, I—”

“I will be right back,” Wells said and hurried from the room.

Leaving Barry with his…classmates, utterly trapped.

Every single one of them got out of their chairs once Wells was gone.

“P-p-please…”

“Barry, don’t be scared,” Kara said, floating still, mostly translucent like a beautiful blue fairy or wind spirit. Maybe that’s what she was, and as she came closer, part of her became more tangible, or maybe Barry was just getting used to looking at her like that. “None of us would eat you or anything. Well…I suppose Eddie would,” she nodded at Eddie, the vampire, who was looking at Barry hungrily. “And maybe Mick. And I suppose Iris could—”

“Please stop trying to make me feel better,” Barry said miserably as he looked at each of the creatures before him, Len last, who pushed his way to the front again. “You’d eat me too, wouldn’t you? You said I smell good.”

“You do,” Len said. “Like the best meal I could ever imagine. But I’m a Cubi.”

Barry’s eyes bulged, recognizing that the hunger from Len was definitely unique from anyone else’s—well, besides his sister, though she seemed more interested in Cisco, thank goodness. Still, he knew Len was a sex demon “L-like an incubus?”

“I’m more of a switch, I think. I haven’t decided yet. Lisa and I only just had our sexual awakening, so we haven’t fed from a human before.”

“A…switch?”

Lisa smiled at Barry like he was oh so quaint. “Incubus means to lie upon, succubus to lie beneath, no gender involved, honey, just…preference.”

Barry understood with a vivid picture in his mind of Len first above and then beneath him. “O-oh.”

“But the point is,” Kara pressed on as self-appointed ambassador of the group, “no one’s going to hurt you. If there was some sort of mistake, they’ll just erase your memories and send you back to the human realm.”

“I’m not in the human realm now?!” Barry exclaimed.

The others laughed.

“Not anymore, Rookie,” Ralph said, startling Barry with his same voice coming out of that little goblin.

“The whole point of this school is so we can blend in with humans without drawing attention,” Caitlin explained, frost emanating off her in lovely waves.

“Really?” Barry said meekly. “But no…no, I can’t go home either. My uncle, he’s not really my uncle, and I don’t trust him anymore. I think my mother sent me here to protect me from him.”

That had everyone looking at each other in concern.

Nyssa spoke for the first time, her voice a sultry hiss, “And who was your mother?”

“Children!” Wells barged back in, though no one rushed back to their seats this time. “Give me room at least,” he said as he pushed through them, looking startled now and…wary? Of Barry?

He seemed almost hesitant when he waved his hand to dissipate the green barrier, then did one more gesture that drew a glowing red symbol that resembled an upside-down pentagram.

“Apparently, he only seems human because the spell I used before couldn’t detect…this.”

The pentagram flew at Barry like the previous symbol had, and almost instantly, everyone, Wells included, backed up a step, looking fearful.

No…in awe.

“What? What is it?” Barry asked, turning around to look at himself in the reflection of the window. The red pentagram was still glowing in front of his forehead, but it soon faded and was not what caused Barry to stare.

When he was a little boy, he loved books on mythology and monsters and fantastical creatures. What he saw around his otherwise familiar face was an amalgamation of so many of those things that he almost thought he must be looking at someone else.

His eyes were gold and shimmering, the faintest of fangs in his mouth like so many of the others, with red ram-like horns coiling from his head, ending in golden points. His skin had a rosy glow to it, and there was much more of his skin on display because his uniform had disappeared like the others, forming a red sash at his waist to cover him.

His hands had fairly small claws instead of nails, but they were also gold, his feet far more changed since they were almost like lion paws with reddish fur and gold claws there as well. The fur gave way to his skin up his legs, but there were red and gold scales at various places all over him, framing his body like glittering jewels.

From his lower back sprouted a long plume of red and gold feathers, and just beneath that was a long lion’s tail, like he was a griffin, bird and beast and scaled lizard all in one.

Most impressive though was his wings, both feathered and scaled, red and gold like all the rest with clawed hooks at the top and very ends.

When he turned around, everyone but Len was on their knees. Then Len too lowered himself with a whispered, “It’s you. The lost prince.”

“…what?”

Len bowed his head. “You’re the Demon Lord, Barry.”