#Dewey picking the music?

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You | Part V

Part V is finally out!! I enjoyed writing this one a lot! I still have some more chapters in mind, especially for the big reveal. Not sure how many I can write out, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon.  Sorry it’s a bit short this time! The next part is going to be longer. As usual, heed the tags

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

word count: 1836

“Don’t you know the trope of never having sex in horror films?” The other line asked you, making you laugh, “you didn’t kill me the first time, why would it be any different now?” You asked as you sat out on your front porch, taking a seat on the bench outside. “What if someone else made you star in their movie, huh? Wouldn’t you be part of their film instead,” they said as you laughed, “yeah, but then it could be some big cross over. Like alien versus predator or king kong and Godzilla, I would kinda like to see that, my two boys fighting for protecting me.” You teased as they chuckled. 

“I heard you wanted both of us there tonight,” they hummed, making you smile, “so you’re the one who makes the calls?” you asked before continuing, “I want you both here…alongside a new lingerie outfit too, you boys are really racking up a total. You two should take me shopping sometime.” You suggested playfully, wishing that you could go out in public with the two. “Maybe someday,” they said, sounding a little more somber now. “Will you two ever let me know who you are?” You asked, it had been on your mind lately, but the silence gave you your answer. “I guess you still can’t trust me, huh? It’s fine, I’ll find a way to prove it to you two.” You said, hearing another phone call coming in. “I have to let you go now, one of my friends is calling, I’ll see you two tonight, right?” You questioned, “we’ll be a little later tonight but don’t worry, we’ll be there.” They promised you before hanging up. Y

ou smiled, answering the new call coming in. “Hey! Me and Stu were gonna head out for lunch soon, did you wanna join? Sid’s gonna call Billy to see if he wanted to go,” Tatum’s voice said, you debated for a moment before agreeing. “Great! Me and Stu will pick you up, we can pick up Randy too afterwards,” she said as you hummed. “Sounds good, I’ll get ready now,” You said, hanging up after saying goodbye. Your eyes lingered out into the street, you couldn’t help but feel as if there was someone watching you, wondering if your secret stalker was watching over you right now. Part of you wished they’d just come out and reveal themselves to you, pull off their mask and show you their faces. You let out a sigh, getting up from the bench and heading back inside the house to get ready.By the time Stu’s car pulled up to your driveway you were ready, hair and outfit finished along with just the right amount of makeup for you. 

You could hear the music playing from outside, wondering at which point in time Stu would finally lose his hearing, you gave him another 10 good years. You texted your parents that you were going out with your group again, promising them to be home before curfew. Curfew had bummed you out recently, you made a mental note to tell your masked killers that you were mad at them for making Woodsboro go under a curfew, everything sucked now that nothing was open past 6. “Hey Macher, calm it with the stereo,” you said as Stu chuckled, “can’t help it, I like making my presence known,” he said as he turned up the music louder. You rolled your eyes, chatting with Tatum as you all headed to pick up the others. 

Sid and Billy met you at the restaurant, already sitting down at a booth when you all arrived. It was about an hour later, everyone finished with their food and just spending time chatting about whatever came up. “Did you guys hear about Oliver?” Randy asked as Tatum nodded, “Dewey said it was even worse than Casey and Steve, said you couldn’t recognize him at all,” she added in as your eyebrows furrowed. “Sid said the neighbors tried getting the killer, did Dewey say anything about that?” You questioned as Tatum shook her head, “no, he said the neighbor tried to shoot at them but they missed. Said they took off into the woods,” she said, you growing worried if they had been hurt. They didn’t mention anything on the phone so you assumed they weren’t, making you relax a bit. “Maybe it was your mystery date,” Randy teased, making you glare at him, “I mean we were talking about him yesterday, maybe your boyfriend got mad about him and decided to off him as some romantic present,” he added as you laughed. “Right, cause I totally want to be an accomplice,” you joked as you rolled your eyes, but you did wonder if that was true.

 Oliver had bullied others as well, so you didn’t put it past them to have also been one of his victims. Though, the thought that they did it for you made your heart beat faster. “I think you cracked the code Meeks,” Billy teased, noticing your reddening cheeks, “are you all forgetting she was almost killed by them?” Sidney brought up as Stu hummed, “well she is still alive, maybe Randy was right with them doing it to cover up their tracks,” he said as you scoffed. “Can you jackasses back off before I take my turn at you?” You said jokingly, waving the butterknife on your plate around playfully. 

Later that night you sat in bed, rewatching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre on your laptop with Irena purring and fast asleep on your lap. You snacked on some popcorn as you watched the movie, looking to your side as you saw Tatum calling you. You hit pause on the movie and answered as you ate another piece of popcorn, “whats up, Tate?” You asked as she quickly spoke, “holy shit! They almost got the killer!” she yelled into the phone, making you sit up. “What?” You questioned as she laughed. “The killer! They were going after some of Oliver’s friends. They were having a celebration for him and one of the guys actually fucking stabbed them! Dewey said they were chasing them down but lost them a few moments ago, they said the police are gonna be waiting at the hospital incase anyone comes in with a stab wound,” she said, you carefully moved Irena off your lap and set your laptop on your vanity as you looked out your window. You could see the black outfit moving and struggling to climb up, “shit, that’s awesome Tate, let me know if Dewey calls you again, I’m gonna go tell my parents,” You spoke, hanging up the phone and putting it down as you pushed your window open. 

“Seriously? Going after the whole fucking football team?” You asked angrily, putting your hand out to help them inside. You shut the window after they got in, seeing them collapse onto the floor. “Shit, hold on,” You said as you rushed to your bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit and rushing back to their side. You were about to lift up the robe before they grabbed your wrist, pushing your hand away. You felt a little hurt that they still didn’t trust you, but pointed in the direction of the restroom. “You can patch yourself up in there, my friend said the police are going to be at the hospital, you can’t go,” you said, seeing the flashing of police lights pass by outside. “Is the other one okay?” You questioned them, getting a nod as they hubbled to the bathroom. After half an hour they emerged from the bathroom, taking a seat on your desk chair. “Are you okay? Did the bleeding stop?” You fretted over them, getting a nod as they motioned you over. They grabbed your wrist, holding your hand up to their chest so you could feel their steady heartbeat. You relaxed before pushing on their chest, huffing at them. “The whole fucking football team, you’re actually fucking crazy,” you huffed out before gently rubbing where you had pushed them. “The other one, he got away okay?” You asked, smiling when you got another nod. “You can stay as long as you need tonight, the police are probably out searching for you,” you said, sighing softly as you looked to them. “Don’t think I forgot about that lingerie set either, it was pretty expensive,” you said jokingly, earning a laugh from behind their mask. “I’m gonna head to bed, I have an exam tomorrow,” you said, giving a little kiss to their mask. “If you wanna join at least take off your clothes, I won’t look, I promise. You can even blindfold me if you don’t trust me,” you offered, heading to bed. They followed after you, you laid down and closed your eyes, facing them so they could see that you weren’t looking. They began to shuffle out of the costume, going to your door and locking it before heading back to your bed. They laid down behind you, wrapping their arms around you and holding you close.

You fell asleep easily in their hold, relaxing in their arms throughout the night. A few hours later you woke up to muffled voices in the bathroom, you sat up and rubbed your eyes as you looked to see the morning sunlight lighting up your room. “I’m fine, just spent the night at her place,” you heard coming from the bathroom, your groggy mind a bit too slow to recognize they weren’t using the voice changer. You did your best to not pay attention, not wanting to betray their trust by finding out who they were too soon. You laid down again, closing your eyes when you heard the door open. You felt their hand tracing your face before they planted little kisses on your cheeks before planting a soft and loving one to your lips. They pulled away and pulled the mask on before tapping you, you pretended to stir awake, blinking up at them. “You’re leaving?” You asked as they nodded, “be safe, okay? I would rather prefer finding out who you are when you trust me and not through some Gale Weathers interview,” you said as you leaned up, planting a little kiss on their mask just like last night. “Be safe, both of you,” you said as they nodded and began to climb out your window. 

An hour later Tatum came to pick you up in her little red beetle, driving both of you to class. You met up with Sid and Stu, who had his arm wrapped around Tatum. “Where’s Billy at today?” Tatum asked as Sid sighed, “said he came down with a major stomach bug. He said he was sick all night and didn’t even sleep, his dad told him to head to the doctor instead of class,” she said as you turned towards Sidney. Stu became aware of your glance at her, his eyes widening in surprise when you made eye contact with him. 

[writebackatya]

Gandra: Look, I’m not saying I’d go back F.O.W.L., but I gotta admit I do sometimes miss being on the villains’ side. When you steal something to get the job done, you get congratulated

Goldie: And you don’t have to hear a whole speech about morals and ethics, or how part of the adventure is getting there right

Gandra: Exactly! Well, kinda. Villains still have their speeches but they’re their own breed of annoying

Lena: Like listening to a one woman monologue on amateur night every time they give their speeches of getting what they want and having all the power in the world. All though it’s easy to tune out and pick out the key information you need to know

Gandra & Goldie: Yeah

Lena: I don’t think I miss villainy as much as you two, I feel like I would’ve enjoyed it more if you know, I wasn’t paired up with an abusive aunt

Goldie: It’s never too late to dabble in villainy

Lena: Well, it kinda is since I’m officially a good guy now. My magic is no longer an “evil color”

Gandra: Ever heard of being an “anti-hero”?

Goldie: It’s the bee’s knees, kid! Sure people will get upset when you betray them or whatever, but when you come in at the last minute to make the right decision, you will be seen as the hero of that adventure

Gandra: Eh, it depends on who you’re with, the situation, popularity, and other factors but yeah. The Morally Gray Side is basically picking all the best parts of villainy and the hero side that you see fit for yourself

Lena: That does sound appealing

Beakley: {enters the room} What are you all talking about in here?

Lena: Nothing.

Gandra: Don’t worry about it.

Goldie: Just a little girl talk, Bentina. It’s private though, so shoo. I’ll make sure we’re on our best behavior.

Beakley: {narrows eyes in suspcion and then leaves the room}

Dewey: You know what I miss about being on the villains side, the musical numbers!

[skele-bunny]

ARUUUU water ghoul dew 🥺 water ghoul dewey talk pretty please gimme the droplet pleeeeease 🤲

FISHY TIME!!!!!! RRRAAAAAAA!!!!!!

Dew was the one who got Alpha into doing pushups with someone on his back. They had been roughhousing, and Dew managed to get on his back, just laughing up until Alpha pushed himself up. How Dewdrop clang so tightly each time Alpha did it, it just made him happy and low-key opened a new interest for him. He's also got into the habit of picking Dew up, kinda like how Delta does with Pebble. Was Dew's first topside as well, and his first mate!! While they don't renew their bond anymore, they still consider each other a mate unofficially. Alpha can't be around as much because of his sickness, but Dew always makes an attempt to see him as much as possible.

Delta had a really strong habit for otter holding Dewdrop when they swam together, and he didn't mind it. Just curled up wether floating or at the bottom of the lake resting so comfortably. They had a really strange relationship that went deeper than just mates, but didn't know how to label or process it. When Delta had his transition that went wacked, Dew felt like their connection had been severed so severely. Tried everything but nothing felt the same anymore. On a softer note, besides almost mauling each other first time they met, were super attached to the hips after. Two water ghouls in sync with their heat/rut is VERY loud and everyone had to deal with it LMAO. Always seen practicing together no matter what, and had to be in their own booth as when they'd sing, they'd cause too many accidents to those that passed by.

Sometimes when their schedules aligned, Dew and Pebble would sneak to the practice room and just run through setlists or simply have fun with their own sheet music they liked working on together. Pebble kept making the joke that they could pull of the two men in a trenchcoat trick and they attempted it once... Yeahh they ended up eating dirt when trying to go down stairs, but it was still funny to them wjsjdj. During swimming outings, they'd totem on Omega's shoulders and announced themselves as the kings of the lake. Of course until Omega decided it was time to flop backwards and make them all fall. Constantly seen curled up together during tour.

Aër was a strange one, to Dew. He never really talked or had much expression, but it was obvious when he'd get flustered easy. He'd just stare really hard whenever Dewdrop would talk to them, face turning red, and then quickly walk away. He figured out that, to spend time with Aër, it just had to be quiet. Maybe music, if he was lucky. Aër was really into knitting, so Dew would rest across the room reading a new book Papa had recommended him. A lot of their encounters were sexual, however. While Aër never really fucked Dew (he didn't with anyone), a LOT of toys were involved and it's the only times Aër would speak non-stop, saying things you'd never expect and it got Dew ALWAYS blushy and squirmy.

Before their relationship went sour, Omega was up there with Alpha. Dew would constantly peek into his study and quietly step in. It was a game to see if Omega could sense him or if he was too focused on his work. Scared him maybe 3 times, but usually before Dew could even get past the threshold; "Yes, little fish?" They read together a lot, and Dew would sometimes bring Omega agate from the lake with just the brightest smile and soso proud. There's be times Dew would lay on Omega's back and just ramble about whatever he wanted, as Omega enjoyed the pressure and always made for good company. Their tails always ended up intertwined.

Papa? PHEW. Could confuse them for siblings of you wanted to, sometimes. While Dew was quiet a lot, Terzo could very easily break that shell and they'd quickly match energy. Papa joined them for dinner one night, assisting to make it and he threw flour on Dew. Very quickly got a whole egg thrown back and a food war started until Alpha plucked both of them up, still attempting to throw jelly at each other while laughing. Terzo loOOVVED Dewdrop! Never seen him as an accident, "You were always meant to be my ghoul." Didn't like when higher-ups would bad talk him, and kept reminding that he was Papa and he wouldn't stand for his ghouls being mistreated. He'd give some of his old clothes to Dew that didn't fit anymore. Always made him SO happy.

[marvel-ous-m]

Been thinking about modern AU Elementary School Librarian!Eddie and Substitute Teacher!Steve.

Eddie, who doesn’t really know how he ended up working at the school. A series of events that made him luck out, he supposed. He had always loved books, and practically lived at the public library in between working at the shop and sleeping. He had gotten to know the librarians there over time, had familiarized himself with the Dewey Decimal System from browsing the aisles, and had begun to explore different genres of books after finishing his sci-fi/fantasy bucket list. One evening, while he was curled up on one of the couches in the corner, re-reading The Hobbit for the hundredth time, a little girl with fire-red hair and her front two teeth missing ran up to him and begged him to read to her. He had glanced around the room for a moment, searching for the girl’s parent, but came up with nothing. At a loss, he decided he might as well read to her.

They got through three books that the girl- Max, she had said her name was- had picked out. By the end of his time reading to her, a small group of kids had crowded around him, and a couple of parents were on the outskirts of the makeshift circle smiling at him, clearly pleased that their kids were enjoying “story time”. One of the librarians noticed too, apparently. As Eddie was leaving to walk back to his apartment that night, he was slid a printed-out job posting for the librarian at the elementary school. Eddie never really saw himself as a ‘kids’ guy, but reading to them had been the highlight of his day, and they had all said he’d done the voices well… maybe this would be a good thing. Certainly better than the muscle strain he had almost daily from fixing cars.

So he submitted a resume. He got a letter of recommendation from the librarian who slid him the job posting, and somehow, even without having any certification past his High School Diploma, he landed an interview. They had been desperate, apparently. It was a tiny school in their tiny town and they needed someone to fill in. After only fifteen minutes, he got offered the job- pending results of a four week job shadow with the retiring librarian they were trying to replace and background checks. Two months later and he had become a well-established faculty member at the school, ‘Mr. M’, who did the best monster voices (according to the kids), decorated the library to make it look like it was out of a fairytale (with the help of the art teacher and his now-best-friend Robin Buckley), and even filled in for the music teacher on occasion. It was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Roughly three years after he was hired, he finds one of his lunch breaks being interrupted by Mrs. Harrington’s 3rd grade class. She had always been a bit of a bitch, but she never operated off-schedule. Eddie put his lunch away and observed as the kids flooded into the library and ran around, all finding a book to read or an activity to quietly play with. Will Byers (one of his favorite kids- not that he had favorites, but he totally did) ran up to him, holding watercolor markers and giving him puppy dog eyes. Eddie sighed and rolled up his sleeve, then helped Will sit on his desk so he could reach Eddie’s arm better. Will had asked about Eddie’s tattoos at the beginning of the year, wondering why there wasn’t any color on some of them, and then had been determined to color them in. And Eddie? Well, he couldn’t say no to the kid. Plus it was pretty adorable to have his ‘metal’ tattoos covered in washable marker.

“Will! Did he say you could do that?” Eddie looked up at the exclamation, surprised to come face-to-face with somebody who was definitely not Mrs. Harrington.

“Wait- who are you? Do I need to get the security guard?”

“What? No- no, I’m Mrs. Harrington’s substitute. They sent an email out about me I think? I’m- her son, actually. But you can just call me Steve. Or- probably Mr. Steve in front of the kids? I’m still kind of new at this- my mom called me last week and said she needed to stop teaching for a while because she needed to go on my dad’s business trips with him, she’s always been a bit suspicious of what he really does on the trip, and since I just got my teaching certification she figured it would be best for me too be her substitute- and shi-oot, shoot, I’m totally over sharing right now- it’s just the kids begged me to come here and they weren’t doing our math activity so I kinda panicked-“

“Whoa, alright, slow down big boy.” Eddie chuckled under his breath, then grabbed a sticky note and a pen with his free hand and scrawled out his number. Once he was done he handed it to Steve with a smirk. “I’m absolutely terrible at checking my email. So there ya go- the first number is for my cell- teaching these rascals can be a handful, especially with Henderson and Mayfield in your class, so feel free to text me anytime. We can talk about school or… other things.” Eddie let his eyes take in the man in front of him- and damn, this guy was hot.

Steve blushed, stuttering as he spoke. “A-and the second?” Oh shit, he wasn’t just hot, he was cute too. Eddie suddenly wanted to make Steve this flustered all the time.

“Second number is my extension for the phones here, if the kids get to be too much I can come down the hall for a visit and get them focused while you take a break. They have library time on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1pm to 2:30pm.” Eddie smiled at him, softer this time. “I’m sure you’re doing a great job. They’re just antsy because of the change- but I think they’d like anybody more than your mom- um, no offense.”

“None taken, she’s a bitc- um, a not super nice lady.” Steve coughed, smiling nervously. “Still getting used to kid-friendly language.”

Eddie shook his head fondly. This was certainly the start of something very interesting.

[follows-the-life-ahead]

Dangerous - Dewey Riley x fem!reader

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four | Part five

Summary - Y/n L/n, a high school student in her senior year who lives in the small town of Woodsboro, California. She can’t really complain about her life, she’s a great student, with great friends to whom she can tell everything, well, almost everything. But what happens when a masked killer is on the loose? And one of her closest friends turns out to be the main target of the said killer? Will she be able to survive?

A/n- just a tiny little chapter :)

Info - i lost my taglist google form, so if you want to be tagged in any works comment below this post or send me a message!

Pairing - Dwight ‘Dewey’ Riley x female!reader

Word count - 1.4k

Warnings - mentions murder;

“Sidney Prescott, who escaped a vicious attack last night is the daughter of Maureen Prescott, who was brutally killed last year when convicted murderer Cotton Weary broke into their home and savagely raped and tortured the deceased. Cotton Weary is currently awaiting the appeal for the death sentence handed down after the young Sidney testified against him. She was the key witness in the state’s case against the-“

And the tv went off.

It was the morning after the attack Sidney was a victim of. You were in the kitchen of the Rileys’ household, currently eating breakfast. The news channels were going on and on about last night's attempted murder.

Taking your eyes off the tv, your gaze landed on Dewey. He put down the tv remote on the kitchen counter and proceeded to sit down at your side on the round kitchen table. When you had walked into the kitchen that morning he was on a phone call, you assumed police related, and when your gazes had met you gave him a small nod of your head as a good morning greet.

“It’s never gonna stop, is it?” Sidney spoke up, as silence filled the room. Her question was directed at Dewey.

You stopped eating, putting your sandwich down silently on the plate in front of you. You glanced at Dewey, who proceeded to tell Sidney the same thing he told you last night.

“Billy was released.” He grimaced. You swallowed thickly. The look on Sid's face was concerning you. “His cellular bill was clean. He didn’t make those calls.”

Your gaze flickered from Sid's to Dewey's face slowly. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Sidney's anxiety was palpable.

“We’re checkin’ every cellular account in the county.” Dewey continued. “Any calls made to you or Casey Becker are being cross-referenced.”

Sid's worry was getting the best of her. She shock her body as if a chill ran across her entire form, and you’re pretty sure it did.

“It’s gonna take some time, but we’ll find him.” Dewey tried to reassure Sidney. But she just looked numb.

Tatum tried to comfort her punching her slowly in the arm. “you okay?” Sidney, you noticed, tried to smile, but to no avail.

Silence filled the room once again. Everyone ate in silence. You noticed Sidney picking on her food, but decided to not mention it. You felt a pair of eyes on you. Looking to your right, you caught Dewey's gaze, who simply gave you a grimace of a smile. You did the same. He was the only thing that filled your world with a little light on this sad morning.

Dewey drove the three of you to school that morning. You sat in the back with Sid, and Tatum in the passenger seat next to Dewey. You could feel Sidney's concern radiating from her body. The car ride was silent, aside from the music Dewey put on to try and lighten up the mood.

As you reached the school’s driveway Dewey turned on the car police sirens before parking.

Dewey and Tatum opened their doors and got out of the vehicle. You pushed through Tatum's passenger seat and got out of the car, as Sid did the same on the opposite side.

Tatum had already rounded the vehicle while you were still closing the door. From where you stood you could faintly overhear Dewey trying to reassure Sidney. “Don’t worry, Sid. It’s school. You’ll be safe here.”

But as soon as you started walking to the front of the car, reporters started to launch at Sidney. You stopped near the driver's outside mirror of the car, as Dewey intervened.

“So how does it feel to be almost brutally butchered?” Asks a reporter.

Dewey immediately put himself between the lady and Sidney. “Hey, now leave her alone.” He says as he tries to maintain some distance between the woman and Sid.

“People want to know! People have the right to know!” The news journalist yelled as Sidney hurried off towards campus with Tatum following her.

“Leave her alone.” Dewey continued to interact with the reporter who barely listened to him, even if he was the law.

“How does it feel?” The woman continued.

“She just wants to get an education.” Dewey tired of not being listened to decided to stop being nice and polite for a second. “Turn that thing off.” He said as he pointed towards a cameraman that was recording Sidney from a distance.

Soon the reporters got bored as they realized they weren’t going to get any answers from Sidney and walked away.

You let out a big breath you didn’t know you were holding. You glanced at Dewey who shook his head, probably irritated by all the reporters making his job a lot more difficult than it already is. He took off his sunglasses and brought his hand up to pinch the brim of his nose, as he calmed himself and prepared for another day of interrogating students.

You adjusted your backup on your shoulder and the sudden movement made Dewey look up at you. “Hey.” He said, his demeanor much more relaxed when he saw it was you.

“Hi.” You greeted, a small smile tugging at your lips.

This was the first conversation you had since the night prior. The day had only just started and it had already been pretty eventful. You hadn’t had any time to talk. But the thing is, none of you knows what to talk about with one another. Being apart for almost a year, making it harder to know what was going on in each other's lives.

“Crazy morning, huh?” He asked, awkwardly.

“Pretty eventful, I’d say.” You answered, trying to have a normal and not at all awkward conversation. You just wanted to be able to develop that bond you had.

Dewey closed the door of his vehicle that he was leaning on and turned fully to you. “ I’ll be here today, questioning more students.” He started, “ If you see anything or overhear anything, come find me.”

“Okay.” You agreed. “I’ll be with Sid and Tatum during breaks, we agreed to meet at Tatum’s locker, so we could all be together in case anything happens.” You told him, squinting your eyes as you look up at him.

“It’s going to be okay. You’re in school, and there are police and reporters everywhere, the killer can’t do anything here.” Dewey reassured you, bringing his hand to rest on your shoulder.

His touch burned your skin through the thin cotton of your long sleeve shirt. He is gentle and warm. His eyes make you believe that nothing is going to happen to you.

“I really hope you’re right.” You sigh while nodding. As he just rubs your shoulder. A small act of affection, but that makes your heart flutter.

“I’m always right.” He says goofily. As he lets out a laugh.

You end up snorting. For the first time in almost a year, you both feel completely at ease with each other's presence, like in the old days.

“Yeah, sure you are.” You joke as well.

The bell rings, and it's time to part ways.

You looked towards the high school building. Unknowns to you, Dewey keeps his gaze on you at all times. He takes the small amount of time he has to let his eyes wander all over your face's side profile. He just hasn’t seen you in so long, he didn’t even remember how good it felt to be in your company. You just bring this sense of peace and quiet to him. It relaxes him. He wishes that when this is all over that you’ll be as close as you were one year ago.

“Well, I gotta go.” You look up at Dewey frowning a little.

“Yeah, me too.” He answered, pursing his lips. “I’ll meet you all here to take you home after school.” He says.

“See you then.” You bring your hand to his bicep and give it a squeeze. You walk towards the building, anxiety flooding through your entire body.

“Bye,” Dewey whispered as he watched you go inside the building with a small smile tugging on his lips, as his hand went up to his arm as he touched the same spot yours was just seconds ago.

He puts on his sunglasses once more and hurries off to work. Duty calls.

Tag-list: @horriblyhorrific @mabpotter1 @beekindacool @augustvandyne @superiorbaby @rockagurl @ouijaboardemo @crzymadness @strangelittlenobody @laaurawriting @randomweirdooo @nelleicrain @viennasolace @simonsbluee @brightforestxmoon @darkqween900​ @padf00ts-l0ver​ @kennaomalley​ @random-fandom-things-555​ @anaemicvampire​ @megann-duff​ @get0ut0fmyr00m​ @elisaa-shelby​ @appleiewinchesters

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (Part 9)

Guys, I don't normally post here unless I have at least another POV ready, but I'm gonna admit this last Ivan POV is NOT working out. I rewrote it three times, and it's still fighting me. Hopefully I can dig myself out of the ditch, but oh well. Y'all can enjoy Till's POV while I suffer.

ON AO3 - part one - part two - part three - part four - part five&six - part seven - part eight

Till's life is going well. He's used to the new house, he's found new inspiration to write and mix more songs ever since Mizi's concert, so he's going live more often, which means his audience has been growing steadily. Dewey got a promotion at work and Isaac is doing an EMT course that will guarantee him a promotion as well.

He's also started chatting more often with Navi, enough so that they are... almost friends? He doesn't want to assume, but Navi is always so happy to talk about anything Till wants that the conversation flows easily. Navi especially likes to know what Till is eating, all the boring details that Till finds himself... eager to share. Till has never been overly chatty, and idle conversation is awkward, but somehow Navi shows so much interest in what he has to say that Till finds himself invested in expressinging himself more, in looking for things to talk about.

Navi likes knowing what Till thinks of the weather, and actively engages with him over which brand of ramyeon is better. Somehow, they can get into discussions over the most innocuous thing, and end up discussing music and lyrics and mixing for hours on end.

They have an ongoing discussion about the use of english in lyrics, which frequently comes back up whenever one of them thinks of another argument, and also an untold pact of sending animal pictures to each other; Till sends pictures of any dog he sees on the street, because Navi said it's his favorite animal even if he can't have one, and Navi sends back cat pictures, since his sister has one and cat pictures are easier than snake ones, which are Till's favorite animal.

Till feels... warm, about it. He's never had many friends, being a lone wolf throughout his school years; he was always in detention, or going directly home after school. He'd always had a temper, something that only really cooled after he left school and was allowed to focus on music. Dewey was his brother, not his friend, and Hyuna was more of an acquaintance than a close friendship.

Till also felt. Guilty, maybe? About the amount of money Navi kept spending on him. He wasn't a friendship expert, but he was pretty sure friends didn't send you almost 50$ dollars when you complained about picking between ramyeon and tteokbokki and told you to pick both.

(Till knew it was a mistake to migrate over from texting to Kakaotext, since now Navi could send him money directly through that. But he also had to admit the amount of stickers Navi used was beyond cute.)

Navi had also sent him some other gifts, beyond the spontaneous kakaopay transfers and normal stream donations; he's sent Till a collection of rings after bothering Till for a week straight to give him his ring size, a comfy sweater that Till didn't take off for a week due to how soft it was, and so on.

Till felt a weird tingling feeling on his stomach, a blush taking over his face whenever Navi sent him anything. He's normally fine ignoring it after a token protest, too practical to actually deny money.

He thinks he should feel bad about it, or something. Dewey told him, a few weeks into his streaming career, that he'd feel awful about getting so much money and not giving it back. Till thinks it's an exchange; he streams and people give him money for entertaining them. For a little while, the same applied to Navi. Why should he care if someone wasted their money on Till? He didn't think gacha companies were at fault for people's spending habits.

That was until they started texting. That was until Navi stopped being just a name on the screen and became a person who liked dogs, did spicy challenges for fun and had strong opinions about the conservation of endangered animals.

Till thought he might start to feel guilty, then, or at least want to pay Navi back somehow.

Instead what he gets is a warmth throughout his chest and an entirely undignified urge to squirm in place. He likes it when Navi spends money on the most mundane things, when Navi tells him to get himself some food. When Navi sends him money with instructions to get something specific Till scrambles to get it, and enjoys the treat with red cheeks and an unknown tightness in his chest.

He doesn't get it, and he's too embarrassed to talk about it with anyone else.

(Reviewing the memory, later on, will show Till the following; the weird warmth, the urge to squirm, it is arousal. Till likes it a lot, when Navi gives him things and tells him what to do with it. He feels spoiled and taken care of and confusedly horny about it all.)

He's doing his best to not care much about it, but his weeks-long wave of good luck seems to have run dry, because he ended up sick some two days ago. He's had to cancel three streams already, and is miserable enough he's debating actually going to a doctor about it.

Luckily for him, he's not coughing or nauseous, which are his least favorite symptoms. He is congested and his nose is running all the time, and he does feel feverish, but there's not much he can do about that except sleep it off.

He's currently huddled into his couch, slowly eating the samgyetang Isaac made for him and watching a show Hyuna recommended. It's a simple, no-thoughts-necessary show; the female MC is a former yakuza member that's trying to leave her past behind and live as a teacher, and the two competing love interests are a big executive type who has a child on the school and is an ass to her but is able to afford a pretty luxurious life as long as she goes along with his plans, or a old member of the Yakuza who fell in love with her when he was a child and is now reforming himself to be able to stand besides her "in the light", as he put it.

Till is cheering on the yakuza guy, mostly because he's a lot sweeter than the asshole executive.

He's also live-blogging to Navi, who has been hovering so badly that Till gave up and allowed the other to get his actual address so Navi can buy him some soup and energy drinks. He thinks he'll regret it later, but he's not complaining right now, when Navi is making sure he has food delivered for every meal and also all the necessary meds.

You [ 5:47PM ] Oh look, the asshole is going on a business trip. Maybe we'll get some good scenes with the yakuza guy now.

Navi [ 5:47 ] You're really invested into this, aren't you? What do you even like in this character?

You [ 5:48PM ] He's just so much better than the asshole. I don't get why girls would ever go for someone who's so rude to them.

Till huffs, looking up at the TV as the in-between episode extra starts. They're always funny, showing the behind the scenes and some interviews with the actors. He likes the main actress well enough, and by what he saw the actor for the asshole is a well-established star that he had no idea existed until now.

Well, the same can be said of the younger yakuza guy. His actor, someone named Ivan, is talking about how he prepared for the role, and Till can't help but be interested. The asshole guy only talked about his physical conditioning, but Ivan is talking about how he talked things over with the director, watched former-yakuza interviews and did his best to research about the motivations of his character.

He's also very handsome, in an endearing way, and Till can't help agreeing with the interviewer when she tells Ivan his fans will love the role, and that seeing him do such an earnest character will get all the girls swooning.

You [ 5:48PM ] Also, seeing the interviews, this Ivan person is just a lot better than the other actor. He cares a lot more about his character, which I think is way more important than how you look.

The interview ends, and Till decides to send another commentary before getting up to fetch more tissues for his nose.

You [ 5:48PM ] I bet Ivan would look cute doing aegyo. He's got the face for it, at least. Though I don't know if actors do that, I've only seen Idols do it on command.

Message sent, Till puts his phone to the side and gathers his little mountain for tissues and shuffles to the trash can, dumping them before refilling his water bottle and getting a new box before snuggling up again.

Navi still hasn't answered.

He frowns. He knows Navi can be busy, he definitely has other things to do rather than keep Till company, but he usually sends a BRB text if he'll be away from his phone for more than a minute.

He's still a little sick, and fervish, and miserable, so he doesn't think too hard about it and messages Navi again.

You [ 5:50PM ] Navi?

Navi [ 5:51PM ] Sorry, hyung. I just got surprised. My name is Ivan as well.

Till makes a little surprised noise. Ivan isn't that common of a name. What are the odds?

You [ 5:51PM ] Wow, it must be weird to share names with someone famous.

Navi answers quickly, but with far poorer grammar than what Till is used to.

Navi [ 5:52PM ] haha yeah well, I got used to it. do you like Ivan?

You [ 5:53PM ] I haven't seen much besides this series, he seems pretty good. Did you have any recommendations?

Navi – or, well, Ivan. Till quickly goes to change his contact name before he forgets – takes some more time to answer, and Till decides he must be busy, so he puts the show back on, doing his best not to sneeze into his soup. It's only as he's almost napping that he gets a text.

Ivan [ 5:52PM ] "Creating Heaven", "So long, not enough" and "Kamera" are tolerable, but hyung should watch some more and tell me what's your favorites!

Till is too sleepy to type, so he just takes a picture of himself giving thumbs up and snuggles back on his couch, Ivan-the-actor's soothing voice talking with the MC lulling him to a nice, dreamless sleep.

part ten

[verfound]

FIC: "Mellie's New Friend" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Read on Ao3

Prompt 64: Nail Polish

There wasn’t a lot to like about Gertie, the old woman who lived next door.  Gertie was, politely speaking, kind of a bitch.  She took offense to just about everything about the Couffaine household: the dyed hair of its owners, the loud music that cranked at all hours, the even louder children the owners let run around like little hooligans, the constant stream of strangers (family and friends all, not that she cared) always coming and going, the general Chaos that followed them around like an unlucky shadow.  She was loud and cantankerous herself, always quick to shoot a barb at Marinette or one of the kids when she spotted them outside of the house.

(She never bothered casting barbs towards Luka.  For Luka, she reserved her trademark silent scowl.  He had thought she’d actually growled at him one day, but looking back he was pretty sure that had been Poochie, not her.)

Marinette tried, bless her, to be kind and patient and all those good, wholesome things people like Marinette were with her.  She always did her best to greet the barbs with a smile.  She always reminded the kids that Gertie was alone, and lonely people tended to be…harder than people surrounded by friends and family.  And when that didn’t work, she slapped a tight smile on her face, wished her a good day, and scurried back inside.

None of the kids were old enough to remember her Grandpa Roland – he had passed well before Harmony was born – but she did.  His memory afforded her the grace the others sometimes lacked, when it came to their old neighbor.

It was a good two years of living next to Gertie’s hateful barbs before they realized Gertie had, at some point, apparently…had a heart?

Because there was a child in her backyard.

Melody was the first to notice, and Luka had to admit he had noticed her before he noticed the other kid.  Because she’d been sitting by the fence, acting like she was talking and playing with someone he couldn’t see – and she had long outgrown her last ‘imaginary’ friend.  And while it was possible one of the kwamis was out there with her, he was pretty sure he would have seen them zipping around.

“Mels?” he asked, poking his head out the back door.  “You ok?”

“I’m good, Papa!” she called.  “It’s just Milly!”

Her face scrunched up, and then she rolled her eyes in a perfect imitation of her aunt.

“Sorry.  Mildred,” she said, dragging out the name like it was distasteful.  “I don’t know why you don’t like Milly – it’s so much more fun than Mildred.”

Luka had walked across the garden to her by this point, and amused expression on his face.

“Mildred?” he asked, chuckling.  “And who’s Mildred, songbird?”

“My new friend,” Melody said, grinning at him.  She pointed at the fence.  “She lives over there.”

And that was when Luka actually looked at the old stockade fence, and while he couldn’t actually see through it…there was just enough of a gap beneath it that he could see the bottoms of folded legs and light-up trainers on the other side.

…huh.

There actually was a kid in Gertie’s yard.

He briefly entertained the thought of Gertie being a possible child snatcher and whether or not he needed to call Captain Roger, but that was ridiculous.

There was no way Gertie had the strength or dexterity in her old, arthritic body to kidnap a fully-grown child.  She barely had enough strength to wrangle her dog most days, and Poochie was smaller than even Dewey yet.

“Well, hello, Mil…dred,” he said, remembering the way she had obviously corrected Melody.

“Hi,” a quiet voice answered.  A tiny hand appeared beneath the fence, little fingers wiggling at them in a wave.  His lips quirked up in a smile, and he crouched down as the hand slipped back under a fence.  He glanced at Melody when she giggled, and they shared a grin as he reached his own fingers under the fence and waved.  Before he could say anything, there was a tiny gasp, and then little fingers were wrapping around his own.  “Oh my gosh!  Your nails are so pretty!”

“Not as pretty as Maman’s,” Melody huffed, and Luka stuck his tongue out at her when she pulled a face.  “But they’re nice.  I guess.”

“You’d like them more if I painted them pink, huh?” he teased.  Melody started to grin again, and he stuck his tongue back out.  He turned back to the fence and wiggled his fingers.  “Thank you, Mildred.”

“You paint them?” Mildred asked.  He felt her run a finger along one of his nails, and his smile softened.  “Like…on your own?”

“I do,” he said.  “I’ve been painting them since I was a little over Mellie’s age.”

“That’s so cool,” Mildred breathed.  There was another moment of hesitation, where she just held onto his fingers and tapped against the nails.  And then, after a bit, she asked: “Can…can you paint mine?”

Melody started to squeal, but Luka frowned.

“I…don’t know if your…if Mlle. Gertie would like that, Mildred,” he said.  “I can if you’d like, but maybe we should ask her first?”

“Granny Gertrude will say no,” Mildred sighed.  “I just wanted to be pretty, too…”

And that was, ultimately, what did it.

Because Luka Couffaine was nothing if not a softie, especially for sad little girls.  A bleeding heart, his wife would say.  And even if he couldn’t actually see Mildred through the fence, Melody was giving him the biggest puppy eyes she could manage, and that was enough to break his heart.  So, knowing full well that Granny Gertie was going to give him untold levels of hell for it later, he squeezed Mildred’s fingers before pulling his hand back.  He patted Melody’s knee, smiling sadly at her.

“What color would you like, Mildred?” he asked.  “We have the whole rainbow upstairs.”

“The sparkly pink one!” Melody cried.  “Oooh!  Oh, no!  The sparkly blue!  Or Auntie Jules’s witch one!  Or the stardust one!”

“I…I don’t know,” Mildred’s quiet voice said.  “They all sound nice.”

He chuckled and reached out, ruffling Melody’s hair.  She stuck her tongue out at him, and he tipped his head back towards the house.

“All right, then, Mels,” he said.  “Why don’t you go pick out a few favorites, and we’ll let Mildred see which one she likes best?”

“She’s gonna love the unicorn one Auntie Rose got me!” Melody screamed as she raced inside.  Luka shook his head and chuckled.  He looked back at the fence with a smile.

“So…Mlle. Gertie’s your grandmother?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mildred answered.

“I didn’t know she had any family,” Luka said.

“We live a really long way away,” Mildred said.  “We had to drive for hours before we took a plane.  Mama and Papa are doctors.”

“Really?” Luka asked, surprised.  Gertie had never said anything.

“In Africa,” she said.  “We travel a lot.”

“I travel a lot, too,” Luka said, “but not for half as good a reason.  I’m sure your parents help a lot of people, Mildred.”

“Mellie said you’re Luke Stone,” Mildred said, and his eyebrows rose in surprise.  “You help people, too.  We play your music in the clinic all the time.  It makes everyone happy.”

…well, shit.

“That…thank you, Mildred,” he said, smiling against the burn in his throat.  “I appreciate that.  I still think your parents have the harder job, though.”

“Are you really gonna paint my nails?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.  “Anything for such a sweet fan.”

“Nuh-uh!” Melody’s voice said sharply beside him.  He looked up to see she had returned with an arm full of tiny bottles.  Just like he’d promised, there was every color of the rainbow there – and then some.  “I’m gonna do it!  Papa, Millie’s my new best friend.  You go get your own!”

…he had one, but the asshole wasn’t half as sweet as the little girl on the other side of the fence.  He shook his head, laughing as he shrugged.  What was he gonna do, though?  Melody’s word was almost law.

“Well, if you insist.  Are you ok with that, Mildred?  If Mellie paints your nails?” he asked.

“Sure,” Mildred said.  “I like Mellie.  Her nails are pretty, too.”

Melody grinned as she held up her thumb.  The sparkly pink paint was already chipped and half-off – she’d need a touchup soon.

“Well, ok, then,” he said, clapping his knees before he pushed himself up.  “I’ll leave you two to it.  It was nice meeting you, Mildred.”

“You too, M. Stone,” Mildred said.

“Couffaine,” Melody huffed, rolling her eyes.  “He’s only M. Stone for the cameras.”

“Be nice, Mellie,” he chided, but he was still smiling when she stuck her tongue out at him.  He leaned over to kiss the top of her head, and then he pushed himself up and turned back towards the house.  “Have fun, you two.”

Marinette found him by the backdoor a short while later, nursing a mug of tea as he watched the girls paint each other’s nails through the fence.  She wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her head on his shoulder, humming when he bent to kiss the top of it.

“What is she doing?” she asked, following his gaze to the fence.

“Making a friend,” he said.  He turned to her with a grin.  “Did you know Gertie has a kid?  A grandkid, for that matter?”

Marinette blinked up at him, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

“…holy shit,” she said after a moment.  “Someone actually procreated with that miserable old –”

“Manners,” he chuckled, tilting her chin up to cut her off with a kiss.  “There’s probably a child present.  Somewhere.  We certainly have enough of them.”

“Don’t you start,” she huffed, squeezing him as she laid her head back down.  “I can’t believe she was ever able to connect with someone like that.”

“She might not have always been miserable,” he said with a shrug.  “Anyway, your nonna connected with Roland like that, and we all remember how miserable he was.”

“Shut up,” she giggled, bumping her head against his arm.  “You’re glad they did.  We never would have met if she hadn’t seen something in him.”

“And now Mellie has a new friend because someone saw something in Gertie,” he said.  She stuck her tongue out at him, then rolled her eyes when he kissed it.  He winked at her.  “…even if she is a miserable old bitch.”

She rolled her eyes and bumped her forehead against him.

(She was less amused a few days later, when she was walking the twins home from maternelle and Louis saw Gertie walking up her front steps, stopped to wave, and cried: “Hi, missable old bitch!”)

[heknowshisherbs]

alright, yes, i confess, i'm actually in love with dewey finn (NO!) yes indeed

pairing: musical!dewey finn x reader warnings: drinking (and getting sick after), cursing word count: 3,070 author's note: hey y'all! this was the first fic i posted on the og heknowshisherbs, so it only felt fitting that it's the first fic i post on the new blog. i'm getting back into the swing of things so please forgive me if the formatting on my first few posts is a little fucked. i hope you enjoy!

Y/N: bRIIANNAN briainanan RBIANNA gota teelll u sooemthing Dewey: ? Y/N: brianana in eeed you to ansnwer EM noW Dewey: …U do know ur texting Dewey right? Y/N: hOWEDYOKNOW THAT whaxts im mltkaing abouyt Dewey: Y/N I have no idea what ur saying Y/N: nreedsu oyu toknow that il ove dwey som mocuh. i wanna kissihis satupid faccw Dewey: Are you drunk? Y/N: onnlyly if oyuwo wants me roi 33343333333333…….;;.;.d.d' Dewey: I’m coming to get you.

    That string of texts was the reason Dewey Finn found himself in his car, on his way to a dive bar, at 03:47. Y/N had tried to get him to come that night with her and her friend, Stella, but he told her he was working on music which was half true. He did need to write some songs for the kids, but he mostly tried to avoid the bar because he didn’t want to be there when she inevitably went home with another random guy. As long as she was safe he was happy but it made him incredibly jealous and he didn’t feel like stewing at the bar all night, so he said he wouldn’t go. He hadn’t heard from Y/N at all up until he got those texts; he didn’t need to see her to know that this was probably the drunkest she’s ever been. She was always kind of a lightweight and even at her drunkest she was (for the most part) aware of her surroundings, but these texts made absolutely no sense. He was afraid someone would pick her up and just leave with her because she wouldn’t be able to defend herself or even say no.

    When he pulled up to the Roadhouse it was still pretty packed, which wasn’t all that shocking for a Friday night. He arrived at the nick of time— someone was leaving. He immediately took their spot which, luckily, was right next to the door. He ran inside and started searching for Y/N, praying she was still there.

    Calling out “Y/N!” elicited no response, but once Dewey finally found her it became clear that he got no response because she most likely didn't even know her own name. She was flopping around the bar, babbling nonsense to random people. Some humored her for a bit, while others ignored her; Dewey was just glad nobody had tried to take her home.

    He gently reached out for her hand, and she almost toppled over after attempting to turn around. Y/N collapsed into his arms and looked up at him with a crooked smile, “Plleased to meeetcha!” Even blackout drunk, he thought she looked radiant.

    “Come on, Y/N, we’re going home, okay?” He tries to lead her towards the door, but she messily snatched her hand away.

    “‘M nOT going home with a sTRANGER!”

    People started glancing over at him, and he began to panic; the last thing he needed was to get arrested while on his obligatory best friend wellness check, “Hey, hey, hey! It’s me okay, it’s Dewey.” Her face remained blank, she knew nothing but booze. “Dewdrop? Y/N, I promise I’m not kidnapping you, I’m just gonna put you to bed."

    The word ‘bed’ seemed to help Y/N register what was happening, and she threw her arms up in triumph. “M geTIN LAID!” she cheered, which earned her confused looks from anyone within a seven foot radius. Maybe she didn’t register what was happening after all. Either way, it was enough to make her go with him willingly.

    If anyone else had been working that night there is no way in hell Dewey would’ve been able to leave with her in that state, but their favorite bartender, Kara, was on and she knew that the pair were best buds. Dewey locked eyes with her to confirm that he was taking Y/N home. Kara just shook her head, shouted “good luck!” over the bar, and turned back to the customer she’d been talking to.

    Dewey helped Y/N throw an arm around him so they could walk to his car, but they only made it about twenty feet before it became painfully clear that she couldn’t make it that far. He scooped her up and walked outside; she, all the while, was babbling about something Dewey couldn’t��decipher. Her speech was so slurred at this point he wasn’t even sure there were actual words coming out of her mouth.

    He gently laid her in the backseat and buckled her in as best he could. She’d started nodding off at this point, which was probably for the best. It worried him slightly because he wouldn’t be able to check if she was breathing for the whole ride home, but he laid her on her side and hoped that would be enough.

    It was only a short ride to his apartment and, in that time, all he could do was pray she didn’t vomit until they made it inside. He lived on the third floor and knew there was no way in hell Y/N was making it up the stairs, even with help, so he had no choice but to carry her again. It was difficult to maneuver the narrow hallway and, while she didn’t feel all that heavy to him, he’d definitely gotten his workout for the next month out of the way.

    He stumbled through the door, almost dropping Y/N in the process. He quickly got her upright, and before either of them had time to register what was happening, she’d vomited all over her dress and the floor.

    Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Dewey really wanted to keep her in her clothes; they were best friends and she’d seen him in his underwear loads of times but this was different. Dewey gently sat her down on the ground before running into his room to rummage through his drawers and find a pair of pajama pants and an old shirt.

    When he made it back to the kitchen, Y/N was passed out on the floor, and she’d thrown up again from the looks of it. He closed his eyes, let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and made his way over to her. Once he was sure she was still breathing, he tried to slip the dress off as gently as possible. It wasn’t too difficult to do, and once it was entirely off he was grateful she chose to wear that leather dress that always made his heart stop; as disgusting as it sounded, her vomit wasn’t able to seep through the fabric so her bra and panties remained clean. He felt much better about helping her change now, and it was only a matter of time before she donned Dewey’s slightly too big clothes.

    He cleaned the mess, ran over her face with a wet rag to get any remaining vomit off, and sat on the floor with her for a moment to gather his thoughts. She looked so peaceful. He ran a hand through her hair and smiled to himself. 

    Dewey had loved her for a while, and he’d always wanted to tell her how he felt, but things just weren’t that simple. What they had going was good, he couldn’t let his feelings get in the way. He’d resorted to pining from afar and supporting her romantic endeavors endlessly, no matter how much it hurt.

    “Nngh…” she mumbled a bit in her sleep, before her eyes slowly opened. “Don’t feel good. Doooooo not.”

    “Are you gonna be sick again?”

    “Mmmmm…. I dunno.”

    'I dunno' was not a good enough answer for Dewey to consciously let her sleep in his bed. Even with a bucket next to her, there was no guarantee her aim would be spot on, and he didn’t want to take the chance. Cleaning your best friend's vomit off tile flooring was one thing, but cleaning a vomit soaked carpet was another thing; even Dewey Finn has limits.

    He helped lead her to the bathroom and sat her next to the toilet, silently thanking whatever deity had given him the motivation to clean his bathroom that afternoon. Upon sitting down again, she immediately vomited, and all Dewey could do was sit behind her, hold her hair, and wish he could make her feel better.

    After about an hour she’d finally stopped being sick, and an hour after that it was almost 08:00 and he could feel drowsiness overtaking him. She’d been asleep on his chest for quite some time and he hated moving her because he knew he’d never get this opportunity again. He bunched up a clean towel and put it on the floor for her to use as a pillow before leaving the bathroom. In an ideal world, he would’ve stayed with her but his bathroom room was far too small for that.

    Then again, in an ideal world they’d be together.

    He laid in bed for about ten minutes before he decided he’d feel better if he was closer to her in case she needed anything. He took a pillow and blanket, and laid himself down on the floor right outside the bathroom door and let the sound of Y/N's soft snoring lull him to sleep.

…

    When Y/N woke up, her eyes were practically glued together with a layer of crust and makeup from the night before. Her head was pounding, and the first thing she did once her eyes were fully open is stick her head right back in the toilet and vomit. Once she's convinced there’s nothing more to puke up she disregarded any logic or sense of cleanliness and pressed her head against the cool toilet seat. It’s only then that the fog clears— just slightly, but enough for her to register where she is. She recognized the unusual, mismatched tiling on the floor to be Dewey’s, but had absolutely no idea how she ended up on the floor of his bathroom. He wasn’t even at the Roadhouse last night.

    She wracks her brain for what could have possibly happened the night before but her mind is entirely blank. She remembered leaving her apartment, taking two shots, and then the rest of the night is a blur. How did she get to Dewey’s place? Did Stella drop her off? She noticed her phone sitting on the counter and shakily reached for it, hoping it could give her some answers. It was 14:37, and the only notification she had was an unanswered text from Stella, who asked where the hell she went last night. Evidently, she hadn't dropped Y/N off at Dewey's place. She quickly responded with “i’m fine, lyk later. puking” before checking her conversation with Dewey. 

    She couldn’t decipher a single text message she sent him, and from the looks of it, he’d been in the same boat. All she was able to gather is that she trying to reach Brianna; it wasn’t until she reached the jumbled message reading "il ove dwey som mocuh” that she realized what she’d done. This brought on a whole new wave of nausea and she quickly found herself, again, retching into the toilet. 

    She decided then and there she needed to leave as soon as she could. She was still a bit drunk so driving was definitely out of the question (she didn’t even know where the hell her car was), but she didn’t live too far and assuming she could stand up she just might be able to walk back home without Dewey ever knowing. She’d leave him a note. Using the edge of the bathtub for support, she shakily stood up. It took a while, and the nausea came back and slapped her in the face as soon as she did, but she remained standing without vomiting for a few moments. Y/N decided it would be okay to try to leave. She made a break for it and opened the door as carefully as she could hoping that Dewey wouldn’t hear it when all of a sudden-

    “Ow!”

    Y/N froze. Looking down from the crack in the door, she could see the top of Dewey’s head— he had been right outside the door all night. If her situation hadn’t been such shit, she’d have found it endearing, but right now all she was worried about was their inevitable confrontation and the potential concussion she just gave him. She slammed the door shut.

    “Uh, I’m out of the way now if you wanna come out...” She wanted nothing more than to remain hidden in the bathroom but he knew she was awake, and there was nothing to do now but go out and face him. 

    Once the door was open, she finally got a good look at him. His hair is sticking out in more directions than she can count and the bags under his eyes are dark. Y/N can only imagine what he went through last night trying to get her here. He was wearing his favorite AC/DC shirt and sweats, which clued her into the fact that she wasn't wearing the dress you left home in last night. She fiddled with the fabric at the hem of the shirt before looking up at him “Dewey, did we-?” 

    She didn’t want to imply anything, but she had no other logical explanation for where her clothes could have gone. Her voice sounds gravelly and her throat feels like sandpaper but that’s something he’ll just have to get past. 

    Dewey's eyes widened in panic, and he ran a hand through his hair “No, no! God, no!” He nodded towards a plastic grocery bag tied up by the door, “You didn’t even know who I was when I picked you up, I would never… I was just gonna let you sleep it off in my bed but when we got here you threw up all over yourself. I-I didn’t see anything, I promise. I just couldn’t let you sit in your own puke all night… sorry.”

    “No, oh my God, Dewey, don’t apologize!” Y/N felt awful, she must have put him through hell last night. Sure, he was her best friend, but that went far beyond what she’d ever have expected him to do for her, “I’m so sorry you were stuck dealing with me last night, you can literally pick the movie for every movie night we have ever again. I’ll help you clean up once my headache dies down a little.”

    He smiled a little bit, “There’s nothing to clean up, it’s okay. You should eat.”

    “I’m not hungry.”

    “I know, but you should still eat,” he made his way towards the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice, “You can have some of this and I’ll make you toast. I’ll make you more food if you’re hungry later but for now we should see if you can even keep that down.”

    “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Thanks.”

    As he’s getting the glasses for their orange juice, she felt her panic start to rise. She knew they needed to talk about the text, but he hadn’t brought it up.

    The silence is deafening, and it all but consumes Y/N as she watches the orange juice fill the glass, and before she knows it, there’s toast in front of her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to even consider eating without vomiting until she got this over with. “ImsorryIdrunktextedyou.”

    “’s okay,” he mumbled between bites of toast, “You could barely function as a human being, I didn’t really take anything you said to heart. I’m not entirely convinced you knew who I was. ‘M just glad you’re okay.” Dewey smiles up at her, eyes twinkling, and her heart melts.

    “Dewey, I-”

    “Y/N, I’m not kidding. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re my best friend, I promise I didn’t take any of it seriously.” Dewey could all but hear his heart shatter, and he just prayed she couldn’t hear it too.

    She bit her lip. Jesus fuck, she just wanted him to understand without having to say it out loud. “I um… I know you don’t think I knew what I was saying and uh... for the most part I didn’t, but that text, um, t-the text was um. I feel like that when I’m sober too.” 

    Y/N struggled getting her words out, and although she knew Dewey was trying his hardest to keep his reaction hidden, his nostrils flared. He never notices he’s doing it but she always did— it's a nervous tick of his. Normally it’s really cute, but right now it just made her want to curl up in a ball and never face him again. "N-Nothing has to change, it’s just… I don’t know. Fuck!” 

    With a loud groan, her head was in her hands, blocking out the light (and Dewey), “I just. Don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

    No response.

    “D-Dewey? Are you gonna say something?”

    “I-” he faltered and she prepared herself for the worst. “How long have you felt this way?”

    “What?”

“Howlonghaveyoubeeninlovewithme?”

    “O-Oh, uh… a year. M-Maybe longer.” Y/N finally looked up at him and he was just staring at her, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. She scooted herself away from the counter and mumbles a quick “thanks for taking care of me last night” before making her second break for the door.

    She only got halfway through the kitchen before she was whipped around and found herself in Dewey’s arms. Shit. He was practically crushing her, and she genuinely couldn't tell if everything felt more intense because she was so hungover or if he was really using that much force. It was probably a bit of both.

    “I love you too,” he mumbled into her hair. 

    Wait. What? 

    “Fuck, Y/N, I’ve loved you for so long and I thought I didn’t stand a chance. And then I got that text and I just— Jesus, when I got to the Roadhouse and saw how trashed you were I didn’t think there was any way you could’ve known what you were saying but… you mean it?”

    She inhaled deeply, forehead still pressed into his chest, “Of course I do, you doofus. How could I not?”

    He squeezed her just a little bit tighter before placing the gentlest of kisses on the top of her head, “I’m really glad you got drunk last night.”

    She laughed quietly, a short huff of air out of her nose that warmed Dewey’s chest through his shirt, “Me too."

[ceo-of-rockopera]

habits . rockopera

umm stims, behaviors and things of the like! (majority headcanon...obviously)

Erik:

nothing was ever diagnosed for him (mentally), due to pretty much everything that had happened in his childhood. because of this he really just grew up feeling less human than he already believed himself to be, which was NOT a lot with how he was treated.

turns out a lot of these habits were just bc of the autism. would've been helpful to know, but nonetheless

following this, as a good portion of behaviors are taught/grown out of with time, there are a bunch of things he just doesn't know how to do due to not having someone to teach him. my dude is barely functioning

he has a very orderly way of doing things, not enough to be considered a schedule necessarily but he'll plan in his head things he wants to happen. and gets upset when these things don't go how he planned them. it never gets any easier either

when walking with anyone (notably shown when with christine . no one else) erik will hold their wrist. the physical contact is a good way to remind himself that person is still there + making /sure/ he doesn't lose them

while not true in the musical he is described as having childlike handwriting and I'd rather believe he's a musical genius than believe he knows how to hold a pen the right way

he plays the organ so aggressively. this isn't leading up to anything i just think it's worth noting. i like it

he isn't very particular with the texture of the clothing he wears but due to . being a very sickly man - he does like covering himself up in multiple layers. that and its harder to identify him. more mysterious, if you would (shivering is not mysterious)

his wigs worn for both cosmetic purposes and to attempt and stop pulling at his actual hair . (trichotillomania? whats that /s)

Dewey:

has absolutely no regard for his guitar picks whatsoever. he goes through like 4 every day and one always ends up being lost in the void that is his jean pockets . at this point whenever he’s in need of a pick he just reaches into the washing machine, surely there’s a ton in there

overall a VERY very excited dude, if that wasn't obvious. just filled with a lot of pent up energy. "stimming isn't enough i need to fucking explode" looking

vocal + physical stims, alot . been commented on a lot but RAPTOR HANDS . he's very dear to my heart

he ended up learning how to sew because the small hole in his favorite jacket ended up turning into a much bigger one from how much he picked at it

likely should have been diagnosed with adhd earlier but his father kinda just shrugged him off as lazy. as soon as he was an Adult who could do Adult Things he figured that out

"we, are the champions........my friends." a good portion of the things he says are quotes or lyrics to things he likes, and whether or not people get it is irrelevant.

good /lord/ if there's a song stuck in his head people will NOT hear the end of it, he will be full on singing (humming? no) BELTING it constantly

prone to infodumping . he doesn't /think/ he knows a lot about music (mainly the history) but then he'll know enough to teach a whole class on it and boom he has a job?? like what???

both very observant and very socially inept . he'll pick up things around him and social cues and just not know how to interpret them, so he sits there just :)

majority of his energy comes from - the void . really unknown how hes hyper all the time. does take naps throughout the day though! any day he wakes up to a classroom that isn't on fire is a good day (which has likely happened on more than one occasion)

i've been practicing a little something *plays all of van halen's eruption*

Misc:

mornings with them are incredibly slow. erik's up around 4 in the morning, likely working off of <5 hours of sleep and already wide awake. dewey on the other hand, will just refuse to lift his head up from the bed until its 9 (classes starts 9:15)

turns out seizing people by the wrist unprompted isn't a very cool thing to do !! erik ends up holding deweys hand when dragging him around

erik definitely isn't a touchy person . when his only experiences with touch have been the abuse he endured it's no surprise that his first instinct is to flinch away when touched unexpectedly

with his partner (who is quite the opposite in that regard) he's eventually gotten used to it, even started to crave these moments after a while

dewey took notice of this after a while and was more than happy to oblige

he'll hold erik's face in place to pepper kisses over his scars (not often, while its something that would comfort him immensely its also very overwhelming)

erik's heard many many rants about The Man™️, whether he understands what it is he's talking about or just chocks it up to rambling is up to interpretation.

he's heard many many rants about anything, really . deweys talkative just in general, and eriks more than content to listen

it should come as no surprise that they're both musicians ,, , duets. half the time dewey'll just start singing something when he's with erik and he joins in should he know the song

[bjfinn]

Since I missed it earlier, how about answering these questions for Dewey Finn? Numbers 3, 23, and 25.

Thanks for asking!

Least favourite canon thing about this character?

This one was tough -- I love everything about him! But if I have to pick something, I guess it would be his tendency to mess up a good thing -- he got kicked out of his band because he forgot it was a team effort, he got kicked out of his apartment because he couldn't pay his share of the rent, he nearly lost his friendship with Ned because he stole a job opportunity, he nearly got arrested for "kidnapping" (even though it was the kids' idea) ...

Favourite picture of this character?

It has to be this one -- the intensity, the passion ... the chonkiness lol

I just wanna wrestle him! Woof!

What was my first impression of this character? How about now?

The first time I heard of Dewey was when the movie came out, but I've never seen it (it's on my list), so I'll go with the musical version. The first thing I saw from the musical was a YouTube video of "Stick It to the Man" -- and my first thought was that Dewey had very high ADHD, and that he wasn't taking any meds for it.

And just as with Beetlejuice, I thought, "This guy is me." It was almost scary seeing Alex's performance, but in a good way -- seeing a character that was that much like me (although I like to think that I have a stronger moral compass lol). And holy crap is he hot! (I like chunky boys lol)

And now? I just love him even more -- he's a great guy, and I'd love to be his pal. I'm thrilled that a guy like him got the hot girl, and I've got my fingers crossed that things work out for him and Rosalie. (I'm gonna do my best to make that happen -- I just hope he doesn't fuck it up!)

[simonlynch]

drabblecember days #19/20 - hot coffee/listening to music

ship: dewmav word count: 722 summary: dewey drives maverick home.

There was something so wonderfully dissonant about the way their voices blended. It reminded Maverick of the chords off of their favorite album. But it'd be silly to say something like that to someone even if it was a compliment, surely?

“Ozzy’s got nothing on you, you know,” they grin.

Dewey glances over as they come to a red light.

“Don't give me all the credit. You're the award-winning frontman.”

“I think we sound the best together. You always know where to pick up when I leave off.”

“Like we're soulmates or somethin’,” he jokes, though his voice wavers in the last syllable -- he feels his face heat, and he drops his gaze from Maverick’s face. He regrets his words almost immediately. Who the hell says that two dates in?

“Or the Beastie Boys,” Maverick jokes, unfazed it seems, leaning forward and pressing the skip button, and into the next track they go.

Dewey watches them carefully, entranced by their every move. Someone behind them slams on the horn.

Dewey startles, flooring the gas pedal; He hopes Maverick doesn't see the blush he tries to hide, or mention the fact he'd been staring. Again. A stolen glance tells him though they probably did not think much of it; They had his CD case in their lap, flicking through the pages lazily.

He takes a deep breath, reaches for the travel mug of coffee in the holder of his dashboard console. He doesn't notice that at the same time, they too are going for the cup.

And their hands brush against one another at the intersection of their paths.

Dewey retracts his first, gripping the steering wheel with ferocious focus.

“Sorry,” Maverick mumbles, eyes following as his hand so quickly was pulled away, “Shoulda asked before --”

“No! No, it's fine. You can have a sip. What's mine is yours, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Not worried about spreading each other's germs?” Maverick smiles, head swaying gently to the music.

“In the nicest way, I don't think it matters. I’m sure our germs have mixed enough already.”

They both chuckle. Maverick continues to scan the collection of music, taking a sip from the coffee as they do.

“Issues…Ten…1984…Pretty Hate Machine?” Maverick clicks their tongue, “All great choices, but you don't have my favorite album, you know.”

“I don't?”

“That’s alright. I’ll grab it from my place when we get there.”

Dewey nods. He almost wants to ask if Maverick sees themselves in his car that often, if they really were willing to give him their copy of their favorite album. But then he stops himself. Maybe it was silly to ask something so stupid.

Besides, he realizes then he wouldn't know how to react if the answer were anything but yes.

“Doyouwannagetlunchtoday?” his words come out much more rushed than he'd intended.

Maverick looks over, noticing his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“Uh…Nervous that I’m gonna say no?”

“I really hope you don't.” Because I really, really like you and I really, really hope you like me too.

The pause between them lingers longer than normal. Dewey feels he's pushed beyond the appropriate boundary for a second. He should give them space -- maybe he was being too pushy, too suffocating.

He means, they'd just spent the night, and he was driving them home, they probably want time alone, and maybe they work tonight, and he probably should meet up with the guys for practice anyways, and --

But then, Maverick nods.

“I'd love to, if you don't mind waiting for me to freshen up when we get to my place.”

“Not at all. I’d wait all day if you needed…That was -- Really weird to say, I don't know why I said that.”

Holy shit Dewey, why don't you just say you're a fucking freak now?

He hits himself over the head mentally, and turns up the music. Where the hell was his confidence? He blew it all last night, probably. Or maybe it was just too early. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been up before noon.

Or maybe it was the coffee, riling his nerves. Yeah, definitely the coffee.

Maverick shakes their head, still smiling.

“You're one of the strangest people I’ve ever met, I think. But you wanna know the weirdest part?”

“I’m scared to ask.”

“I think I’m into it.”

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #15: Broken Dreams

previous | masterlist | next

content: recapture, lab whump, captivity, mind control, self injury, drugging, murder mention, winged test subject whumpee, creepy scientist carewhumper

Dew and Anton have a much needed conversation about stuff (things will only get worse before they get better i’m afraid)

— 

The drive home was long and quiet.

Anton stared ahead as the windshield wipers went fast and rain pattered on the roof of the car. The roads were dark and empty, and thunder boomed in the distance. After a while, Anton turned in to a trail, mud splashing under the tires as he drove through his forest.

He looked in the backseat.

Dewey was sleeping, still and quiet. He’d fallen asleep after only a few moments of lying curled up in the backseat, letting himself drift off to the sound of gravel rumbling beneath the tires. He was weak and bloody and broken. Anton tried to ignore the sound of blood dripping onto the car floor.

God, this had never happened before. Nothing like this had ever happened before. What would Pierce think? If he found out Anton had let his test subject escape?

It hadn’t been a big deal at first. He knew what Dew and Sasha had been scheming, and Anton thought it was cute that the two of them were working together. Anton had just wanted to give him a sense of control, a small taste of a false freedom to latch onto, just something to keep him satisfied. He thought that even if Dew did escape, Anton would easily bring him back. He’d teach him a lesson not to leave, and they could have a laugh about it in the future after everything went back to normal.

But Anton had never expected, not in a million years, for his sweet little lab rat to do something not even Anton himself could stomach; murder. Dew had killed someone, taken a life, just like that. Sure, the clone wasn’t a real person. Anton could easily make a new one. Nobody saw it happen or would ever know about it. Anton wasn’t worried about whether or not he’d get away with it, because he knew he would.

Anton was worried about Dew. Maybe it was his own fault; this was what happened when he chose to let his test subjects have an ounce of freedom. Maybe he should’ve known better. He should’ve known better.

Anton arrived at his cabin and sighed. He hadn’t been one to listen to music, but maybe he should have, it sure seemed to help Dew during his spirals. He was still sound asleep in the backseat, chest rising and falling slowly as he breathed, so oblivious to the world around him. Anton stepped out of the car, ignoring the pouring rain soaking into his clothes and hair, and gently picked Dew up. He ran into the cabin while holding his test subject tightly against his chest, sheltering him from the rain.

Anton went straight to the lab, trying to avoid Sasha and their wandering eyes. They’d find out Dew was back eventually, but for now, all Anton wanted to do was sleep his thoughts away.

He cleaned Dew up, taking care of his bloodied clothes and matted hair. Then Anton dressed him in soft, warm pajamas and gently laid him to bed. He closed the latch of the vents, locking it tight. No more of that anymore.

Anton didn’t even know how to move forward from this. He should punish Dew. He should. That’s what Pierce would have done… Although, Pierce never would have let a test subject escape in the first place. He would have erased Dew’s memories, got rid of his free will, made him a hollow shell of a person.

Anton wasn’t going to do that. But what should he do then? He was growing soft. He had been too lenient, too… friendly. Dew wasn’t his friend, he had made that very clear.

As he lay in bed, staring at the blank ceiling alone in the world, Anton couldn’t help but think. Fuck, Pierce would be so disappointed in him.

. . .

I’m back.

The words repeated in Dew’s head over and over again. In the span of only a few hours, he went from being finally home and safe to finding himself back with the person who tormented him. Back to being a test subject in that horrible lab. Back with Anton.

A wave of terror flowed through him as he remembered last night, and he hid under his bed again. A million questions were flowing through his mind but he felt too tired and numb to do anything but quietly weep under his blankets.

It was most likely a very long drive back to the lab last night, but Dew wouldn't know, falling asleep too early to tell. He supposed it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know the directions to the lab or the way back home; he’d surely never see the outside world again.

After who knows how long of sleeping, he had woken up in soft pajamas, cozied up in warm blankets in his bed. He was so comfy, melting into the warmth. It was as if last night had never happened.

He really thought— he really thought he escaped, that he’d never be back here again. And that only made this all the more devastating.

He had been home, with his friends. They were there and they had been shot with tranquilizer darts by the scientist, so so close to danger and yet so far. It hurt to think about what would’ve happened if they had woken up, Dew bloody and broken, Anton standing there with a smug smile on his face. There was no knowing what the scientist would’ve done to them.

And then he was taken away from them again. He didn’t even get to talk to them before he was whisked away.

Dew knew things would never go back to normal. Not when he lied, tricked, and schemed behind his captor’s back. Not when he escaped and got caught brutally murdering his own clone that had replaced him all these months.

He shuddered thinking about it. Dew killed someone. Not just anyone, but another version of himself— the old him, the Dew who was free, the Dew he had always wished to be again. He killed him. Who could do such a thing? He felt sick— with himself and with the world. But most of all, with the scientist.

Anton. Dew hated him, more than anything. He was filled with so much burning anger that for a moment, he wished his clone had fought back and killed him instead. That would have been revenge against the scientist. Anton would have lost.

But he didn’t. The scientist had won. Again.

And that was terrifying. More than Dew could ever hate someone, he was so, so afraid. He could never be more scared of anything more than Anton. This man could control every aspect of his life easily, he could hurt his friends. At this point, Dew didn’t care what the scientist did to him anymore because he knew he couldn’t escape it. There was nothing Dew could do but cry and hope that whatever punishment Anton was planning for him wouldn’t be too painful.

. . .

Anton walked into his test subject’s room quietly, not wanting to accidentally startle the poor guy awake if he was still sleeping. He clicked the door shut, then realized that Dew wasn’t on his bed where he had left him. Anton looked around, noticing the bathroom door was ajar, light off. Dew wasn’t in there either. Anton’s eyes widened, could he really be…

“...Dewey?”

Anton knelt down beside the bed, lifting up the blanket to peak underneath. Sure enough, his test subject was hiding from him again, skittish and afraid. When he noticed the scientist staring, Dew shuffled deeper under the bed against the wall, trying to create as much space between them as possible. Anton clicked his tongue and let go of the blanket, letting it cover Dew back up, and stood up.

“You’ll have to come out eventually, Dew,” Anton said, setting the tray of food on Dew’s nightstand and crossing his arms. He got no response. “The silent treatment, huh?”

Anton leaned back against the wall and took a cookie from his pocket, taking a bite. “Aren’t you hungry? I’ll give you a piece of my cookie if you come out. As a treat. It’s really good.”

The only response Anton got was quiet sniffles muffled by the blanket. “Dew, I’m not going to hurt you. You’ll be okay, I promise. You’re safe.”

“Your… friends are safe too.” Anton’s voice was soft, as if he was trying to sound comforting. “Everything was taken care of. No blood, no body… no knife. It’s– It’s as if it never happened, okay? Nobody’s hurt, nobody’s sad, nobody knows. Everyone woke up like normal, completely fine, if not a bit tired from that party they threw you— your clone.”

Anton hesitated. “And you left a note, telling them you’d be gone for a few days, visiting distant relatives. They won’t suspect a thing. It leaves me the perfect amount of time to make a new clone and have it take the old one’s place. I have plenty of your DNA samples; you wouldn’t have to give me your blood, you wouldn’t have to do a thing. It was no big deal really, what you did. It changed nothing.”

The silence itself was driving Anton mad. He had no idea what his lab rat was thinking down there. They both royally fucked up this time.

“If you won’t say anything… that’s fine. I’ll just… assume you’re okay with this arrangement then, and I’ll go make another clone.”

There was a whimper coming from under the bed, followed by a couple sniffles. “N-no.” Dew said quietly.

“What was that?”

“No. Please don’t. Please.”

“I can hardly hear you under there,” Anton said. “If you want to talk, you’ll have to come out. You… don’t have to hide from me. I don’t want to hurt you, Dewey. You’ve put yourself through too much already.”

Dew’s breath hitched, failing to stifle a sob. “I-I can’t”

“...Why not?”

“I’m s-scared…”

Anton fidgeted with a pen in his pocket. “I’ll tell you what. I bet you have about a million questions floating through that little brain of yours, right? If you come out, you can get answers. I just want to talk, Dew. Talk. That’s it. You… You don’t have to be scared.”

You’ve been talking, Dew wanted to say, but quickly pushed that thought away. Arguing never worked before, nothing ever worked before. It was best to do as he was told from now on.

Dew timidly crawled out from under the bed, clutching his chicken plushie in his arms. He avoided looking at the scientist, and curled up in a different corner of the room. Anton had never seen him so afraid, so broken.

Anton forced himself to give a friendly smile. “How are you?”

No matter how much he wanted to act strong, Dew couldn’t stop himself from breaking down the second the question was asked.

“I-I didn’t wanna do it,” Dew squeaked, looking up in despair. “I didn’t mean to- to kill him. It- it happened so f-fast— I’m n-not a murderer! I didn’t wanna do it! I didn’t wa–wanna do it!” Dew’s voice broke down into uncontrollable sobs, his chest heaving.

If this was anyone else, Anton would give him something to calm him down, but Dew hated needles, and Anton didn’t want to scare him more than he already was. He sighed. “It was just a clone, Dewey. It wasn’t a real person. I promise, everything’s okay now. You don’t have to be sad.”

“I w-w-wanna go h-home. I was home, I… I got out. M-my friends, I didn’t g-get to talk to them— I d-didn’t want you to h-hurt them. Wh-why did you take me away? Why c-couldn’t you just set m-me free? I was out.”

It was a sad sight. Anton had always tried not to feel bad before, but this… it overwhelmed him. Maybe the only way to calm down and eventually see eye to eye, was to do what Dew always did to calm himself.

Anton dimmed the lights, causing his lab rat to curl into himself at the sudden change. The scientist walked to the other side of the room and picked up Dew’s MP3 player, then he crouched down in front of him, simultaneously caging him into the corner. He grabbed a blanket off the bed and sat it on the floor beneath them, a soft cushion from the cold, hard floor.

Dew stared at him while Anton turned on some music. They sat there for a long time. The only way they could tell that the minutes were passing was when each song ended and a new one began.

“Do you wanna talk now?” Anton asked after a while, when Dew had started to relax.

Dew nodded, taking a deep breath. “You cloned me,” he said numbly.

“That, I did.”

Dew looked up. “That’s why nobody was looking for me.”

“Yes.”

“The whole time?”

“Yep.”

“Nobody knew I was gone?”

“Nope.”

“How’d you do it?”

Anton’s face seemed to lighten up at the opportunity to explain something scientific to him. A small, familiar distraction from the gravity of this situation. “It was quite easy, actually. All I needed was a DNA sample, your clothes, a memory eraser, and the cloning chamber on the other side of the lab. It was on your first day, actually, when I got your blood, remember? It took a few days to make the clone, and once it was ready, I gave it all your stuff, drove down to your old house and set it free. I obviously had to erase its memories of the past day, so it wouldn’t remember me or my lab.”

“After that,” Anton continued. “It was like you had never left. I don’t actually know what it did as you. I could’ve made it so I’d be able to see through its eyes if I wanted, but I didn’t think I needed to.”

Dread pooled in Dew’s stomach. There was so, so much about this man that Dew did not know and couldn’t begin to understand. If he had cloned him without Dew realizing, what else had he done to him?

Dew ignored the fact that he felt so utterly helpless, and swallowing his nerves, he decided to ask more questions. “If– If you could make clones this whole time, why didn’t you just experiment on a clone of yourself instead? Wouldn’t that be… easier?”

“I did,” Anton replied. “For five years before I got you, the only test subject I had was myself— and obviously I didn’t experiment on animals, that’s unethical. Sometimes I would experiment on a clone of myself. But it got to the point where it was getting too dangerous to do that anymore. And that’s why I got you.”

“But—”

Anton shushed him. “I needed a test subject separate from myself. I couldn’t keep experimenting on a clone because, well, he’d be me. He’d know all my weaknesses. We’d have the same strength— he’d be stronger, even; enduring everything I'd put him through. He'd easily overpower me if he could, maybe even outsmart me. I needed someone smaller, and weaker, someone who didn’t know me like I know myself. Like you.”

Dew swallowed down his unease. “Then– then why didn’t you just take a clone of me instead?”

Anton looked surprised at the question, as if it was obvious. “Because… I needed the real you, and a clone isn’t the real you. Unlike my mentor, Pierce, I like my test subjects to be themselves, to be their own person and to have their own personality. I want them to be real. Clones are just… a fake, a facade. Making a clone of someone feels like a cheap, easy way out.

“I couldn’t just keep a clone of you knowing that the real you was out there living your life. Clones don’t mean anything to me. They’re not real people and can easily be recreated and replaced. I wanted the real you, Dew. And I’m so happy I got it.”

“Will you make another clone of me? Like you said?” Dew asked, fearing the answer.

“Yes, most likely. Unless, of course, you want your friends to think you’re dead? They’ll be awfully sad about that I think. It’s in your best interest to be cloned again.”

“How would they think I’m dead? I thought… you got rid of the body?”

“I did, but I could always fake your death. That’s… what Pierce used to do when he got new test subjects, sometimes. I could clone you and kill the clone, make it look like some horrible freak accident. Everyone would think you’re dead and that’d be the end of it. But I don’t think you want your friends to be sad, do you, Dew? I’m giving you a way that’s beneficial for all of us.”

“Except me.”

“...Except you.”

“Fine. Clone me again, I-I guess. My friends will figure out something’s wrong eventually.”

“They hadn’t for almost three months.”

“Well, I don't want them to be sad.”

Anton smiled and ruffled his hair. “Good choice.”

Dew looked down and fidgeted with his hands. So, that was it, then. He’d just given up. He’d just agreed to be replaced by a clone. That entire escape plan, those weeks of crawling through the claustrophobic and cold air ducts, had all been for nothing. He was back where he started, and far worse. He was completely and entirely defeated. He lost.

“Hey, where’s Sasha?” Dew asked, looking for the only friend he’d ever had in this terrible place.

“Oh, they’re upstairs.”

“So… are you mad at them for- for helping me?”

“What? No. I mean, I didn’t realize that they were such a great escape artist,” Anton chuckled. “I guess it makes sense though. They’re a snake, after all. But no, I’m not mad. They were just… doing what was right, I suppose. We’re both their friend, they just wanted to help you.”

“Can I talk to them? Please?”

“Oh,” Anton looked around awkwardly. “I um, I actually didn’t tell them you’ve returned. They were in their room when we got home last night. I just… couldn’t bear to break the news to them? They still think you’re free.”

Dew stood up. “What!?”

Anton stood up after him. “It’s fine—”

“You need to tell Sasha I’m back! You can't keep this a secret from them!”

“But I'd feel bad. I don't want to disappoint them. I don't want them to hate me.”

“Grow a fucking spine Anton! You made this happen! You ruined everything!”

“Lighten up, will you?” Anton said, playfully poking Dew’s stomach. “Where’s birthday Dew? Where’s the Dew that had fun throwing balloons around, or watching TV with me? Or—”

“‘Birthday Dew’ is fucking dead!” Dew hissed.

“That’s a shame,” Anton tutted. “I liked that Dew more than this one.”

“I should have ran when I had the chance,” Dew hissed, hopping over the bed and away from the corner he and his captor had been sitting in. He couldn’t go anywhere, but standing on the opposite side of the room was much better than being anywhere near the scientist. “I should have fucking ran!”

“You wouldn’t have gotten very far, I’m afraid.” Anton’s voice darkened, and he pulled out that horrible device Dew recognised and turned it on, activating the mind-control. “Don’t move,” Anton said.

He watched his test subject’s eyes go wide in horror, the blood draining from his face. “N-No, you—”

“Don’t talk.”

Dew was fuming on the outside. But on the inside, he was more scared than he’d ever been in his life.

“Yes, I made a spare.” Anton waved around that remote as if it was nothing. “Of course I made a spare. Why wouldn’t I, when I knew what you and Sasha were planning?”

Anton walked closer to Dew in slow, deliberate steps. His body was still, frozen in place, once again so easily cornered. Dew couldn’t say anything.

“I think you underestimate me, Dew. And that’s a dangerous thing for you. I feel I’ve been letting you off too easy. It was all my fault, really. I wanted you to have some freedom, because I didn’t want to see you so completely hopeless. But now I realize that it only made you more comfortable to act out against me.

“You’re never leaving this place again. I thought I’d given you enough time to accept your situation, but you’re simply too… too determined to escape me. It’s admirable, truly. But it’s gone on long enough.

“Let me put all this in perspective, Dew. It doesn’t matter if you run away, because the world won’t accept your wings. If you let anyone see them, they’ll catch you and turn you into the authorities, where other scientists will get their grubby little hands on you and perform far worse and merciless experiments than I ever had. Face it, Dew, you know you belong here.

“And if you don’t accept that, I could make you want to stay here. I can control your mind, Dew. I can control your thoughts, your desires and dreams. I could make you yearn for experiments. But I don’t. Because I want you to come to trust me naturally. I want you to choose to be loyal to me.”

“And I thought…” Anton laughed. “I thought you were doing so good, too. We had fun together, didn’t we? I thought we were making progress.”

Anton didn’t want to say the next part, but it might be the only thing he could say to finally convince him. “If you try to escape again, I’ll hurt your friends. And I know you know I’m capable of it. I could erase their memories of you, destroy any evidence of you ever existing in the outside world. There are so many things I can do to make you stay here, but I’m going to continue to give you a choice. I don’t want to resort to those measures, Dew. I want us to trust each other.”

Dew stared blankly. So there was really nothing he could do now. All hope was lost. He’d rather endure an eternity of horrible pain than see his friends get hurt because of him. He had truly lost everything. This was his life now. Of course it was, rang a little voice in the back of his head he had tried to ignore for so long. It had always been, from the start.

Anton shut off the device, and Dew was in control of his body again. He collapsed to the ground and brought his knees to his chest.

“...Will you still let me fly?” Dew asked, quiet and broken.

“Of… Of course,” Anton said. “I won’t ever hurt your wings.”

“Okay.”

“As for Sasha… of course I’ll tell them you’re back. When the time is right. You’re both friends… after all. It wouldn’t be right to separate you.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“I’m thirsty.”

Anton held his hand out. “Let’s go to the lab and get something to drink, alright?”

“Okay.” Dew grabbed his hand and Anton pulled him up. They walked into the lab, Dew unrestrained but obedient. He stayed by Anton’s side as he filled up a glass of water, and Dew slowly drank it. 

“Now, Dewey, I wanted to say I’m proud of you for coming back so nicely last night.” Anton smiled brightly, the praise making Dew’s stomach turn. “But… I still have to punish you for escaping. There’s an experiment I’ve been wanting to do for a while and— hey, don’t worry. It’ll benefit you too, y’know. You just sit tight while I start preparing it.” Anton ruffled his hair, ignoring the tears forming in his eyes.

Dew couldn’t do anything but nod along, numbly watching Anton gather his clipboard and tape recorder. Another experiment? Really? After everything that had happened, Anton just wanted things to go back to normal? Dew felt sick to his stomach.

He should have ran. He should have fought back. He should have murdered Anton too, with that knife, when he could. He should have called out to his friends, screamed for help that wouldn’t have come. He should have gotten away when he had the chance. But instead, he fucking complied. What was he thinking?

The scientist wanted acceptance? Okay, sure! Dew would accept this life. He’d be his test subject. He’d stay here in this lab with that monster, but he’d do everything in his power to make the scientist’s life a living hell in the process.

Dew grabbed a random vial of liquid from a shelf and drank it.

“Dew!” Anton exclaimed, dropping everything and rushing over to him. “What the hell?!”

Dew flinched. “I– I just—”

“Shut up.” Anton picked up the vial his test subject had just drank, and rolled it over in his hands, reading the label. In a split second, Anton’s horrified expression warped into one of concern, then surprise.

“You just— Oh man. I um, I forgot all about this stuff. You just drank something I created a very, very long time ago. It’s supposed to, um, make whoever drinks it extremely happy. Like, ecstatic.” Anton laughed, and to Dew’s horror, he laughed back.

“What?!”

“Remember that first round of experiments I ever did on you? This was the stuff that made you unable to stop laughing.”

“Ser- seriously?! This isn't funny! This isn’t— hahahaha— fucking funny!”

“Why did you do that?” Anton asked.

“I– F-fuck you! Fuck you!”

“No, seriously Dew, why the hell did you do that?”

Dew giggled, almost painfully. “Make this stop!”

“Why did you drink something when you didn’t even know what it was? I have dangerous and deadly things all around my lab, if it was something else, it could’ve killed you. Surely you knew that.” As Dew continued laughing maniacally, Anton’s eyes went wide in horror. “Is… is that what you wanted?”

“No!” Dew cackled. “I don’t want to fucking die, Anton! I want to make every single little thing harder for you if I really am going to be your test subject forever.” He laughed, tears forming in his eyes. “Because– because the experiments are just gonna get worse from here on out right? If I cause problems for you then– then it delays whatever fucked up thing you’re gonna do to me. Because nothing I do to myself could be worse than the shit you have planned for me, I know that.”

“No, Dew, look at me.” Anton grabbed Dew’s arm and pulled him closer, making eye contact. “You don’t know that. And you just told me your whole stupid plan. I can easily stop you from doing any of that. I could keep you sedated permanently, keep you docile and relaxed and completely defenseless. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Fuck— hahaha— you! You would've found out my plans anyway!” He spat. “Just like all the other times! No matter what I do, you always win! If hurting myself is what it takes to get you to open your fucking eyes, that’s what I’ll do!”

Anton never should have played their game. He never should have let Dew leave, if he knew this was going to happen. He had ruined everything. “Stop this.”

“You made me like this!” Dew roared with laughter. “I was– I was happy before. W-with my friends! You took everything away from me, Anton! You ruined my life!”

The worst part was, everything Dew was saying was true. And Anton knew that. But he wasn’t going to admit it. “I didn't ruin your life, Dew. You’re still alive and your life here is just beginning. You’ll come to see that eventually.”

“I’m tired of listening to you, just m-make this stop!”

“I don’t have the antidote. We’ll have to wait until it wears off on its own.”

“Damn. This sucks!”

“C’mon, Dew, let’s… let’s go back to your room.”

Dew slapped his hand away. “No! No, I–I can’t go back there again! Not yet! It’s suffocating—”

“Okay, okay, fine. We can sit out here. Just don’t touch anything else.”

Dew hopped up into the air, flapping his wings rapidly. He curled up in a ball, and focused on his wings beating into the air around him. “Talking makes me laugh less. I need to keep talking,” he said.

“Okay,” Anton said, sitting down in his spinny chair. “You can talk to me about whatever you want, about anything.”

“Okay… Anything. Anything… I-I…” Dew choked back a sob. “I can’t stop thinking about it, I can’t get it out of my head.”

“What?”

“What I– what I did! The screams, the blood, it- it was horrible— and- and it… it was me! My clone! And- and he did everything I was too much of a coward to do. He– he lived a better life than me.” Dew giggled painfully. “And I just ended it… just like that… How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Live with– with hurting people? Don’t you feel remorse? How can you even- even live with the guilt weighing on you like this? It’s torture!”

“I guess I… Never had to worry about that. I’ve lived here all my life with Pierce and his test subjects, and I guess he just taught me not to feel guilty. It was just a fact of life for us. I didn’t know any better.”

“That sucks. What a freak. I wish—”

“Dew, let’s not talk about him right now, okay?”

“...Okay.” Dew wanted to keep talking, though. “My wings are getting tired.”

“You can touch the floor.”

“Sweet.” Dew stopped flying and collapsed on the hard tiles, laying flat on his stomach while his wings covered him like a weighted blanket.

“I cannot believe this is my life now.” Dew giggled into the floor.

Anton felt relief mixed with sadness. He should feel good about this. He won.

Dew sat up, criss crossed on the smooth tile floor, and stared up at the scientist with a grin on his face and tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, A-Anton. I shouldn’t have drank that. I just didn’t wanna be experimented on. I won’t do it again. Please don’t wipe my brain.”

Anton sighed. “I won’t, I promise. And I wasn’t actually going to conduct that experiment today, I was just gonna talk about it. But I think we both needed a break.”

“I think that experiment will be shit. I don’t want you to do it.”

“You don’t even know what it’ll be yet…”

“I guess not.”

“Y’know, Dew… You don’t have to be scared of me. You don’t even have to hate me. We could start over, work together. …Become friends.”

Dew snorted. “I think it’s a little too late for that. Nothing will be normal after what I did, after everything you put me through.”

“...I suppose not.”

“Hey, why’d you even make that stupid laughing stuff an-anyway?”

“It’s not– I didn't think it was stupid, at the time.” Anton sighed. “It wasn’t for me. I wanted to see if there was a way to just, uh, take away someone’s… bad feelings completely.”

“Pfft. You couldn’t just get them antidepressants? Or therapy? Or– or better yet! Set them free?”

“It wasn’t like that, and that wouldn’t have helped. I… I needed something that could have an immediate effect. Something they could drink that would make them feel better, happy, completely ease their pain and mental anguish in the moment. Something that could make them never feel sadness ever again. I thought it would help. As you can see, it backfired.”

“Help who? Help what?”

“That doesn’t matter. I was young and… didn’t have my priorities straight.”

“You said you’d answer my questions!” Dew exclaimed.

Anton rolled his eyes. “These questions have nothing to do with you.”

“Well I’m not fucking happy, Anton. It’s painful as hell. It’s like it’s stealing all the air from my lungs and forcing me to laugh, and stretching my skin to make me smile. And yet I can’t seem to feel upset about it. I feel elated. It’s fucking horrible.”

“I know, they said the same thing.”

“Who?!”

Anton changed the subject. “In any case, I’m glad you drank that instead of… something else. Thankfully this won't have any negative side effects.”

“Well when the hell will it wear off?”

“I don’t know… A few hours?”

“A– a few hours?! Hahaha. I can’t do this anymore!” Dew collapsed to the floor, crying and sobbing in a ball.

“For what it's worth, I really am sorry,” Anton said, voice so soft and genuine. Dew didn’t trust that for a moment, but just hearing him utter those words had affected him more than he would’ve liked. He looked up at his captor. Dew just wanted it all to be over, he just wanted the pain to stop. If this really was the rest of his life now, he’d have to make the most of it. He didn’t have any other choice.

“Can I—” Dew hiccuped, futilely attempting to wipe his never ending tears. “Can I have a hug?”

Anton looked surprised for just a moment. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. “You’re not gonna… stab me in the back during it, are you?” Anton joked.

Dew laughed. “No, I don’t have a knife.”

“Yeah, then um, sure.” Dew ran to him and wrapped his arms around Anton, gripping his lab coat and crying into the scientist’s chest. Anton held him, slowly petting his hair and rocking back and forth. What a long fucking day.

They were all each other had now, all each other had always had. Alone in the world, nothing but the lab. Anton tightened his arms around him and buried his face into Dew’s shoulder. Sitting there like that would’ve felt nice, if it weren’t for Dew’s body uncontrollably trembling and silently laughing and Anton’s intense sense of guilt that never seems to go away anymore.

Dew was the one to break the hug, and take a shaky step back. He smiled even though it hurt, and laughed despite it feeling like a burning fire in his lungs. He was so tired. He stared at Anton as he walked backwards and scurried up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. From the lab, Anton watched his test subject leap under his bed and pull the blankets and plushie underneath with him. Dew put on his headphones and curled up in a ball.

Anton turned Dew’s light off, and began to clean up the birthday decorations that they both had forgotten all about.

— 

i laugh when i’m nervous (sorry for taking literally 2 months to finish this omg i feel so bad y’all!!! tllr will hopefully return to bimonthly updates after this!! i hope!) (also idk i struggled with this a lot and i’m gonna be real y’all i feel like it didn’t turn out very good… the next ones will be better though i prommy! yippee!!)

taglist: @whumpinthepot @shywhumpauthor @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole @sorry-i-spaced @theelvishcowgirl @catnykit @tettlod @delicateprincepaper @rejectedbytheempty @mijajaj @anothertawogsideblog @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox @parasitebunny @bottlecapreader @thecareandkeepingofwhumpees @inkwell-and-dagger @vidawhump @thepotatoofnopes

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

[solar-halos]

basically i’ve been thinking a lot abt lucy gray’s makeup. idk if this is interesting to anyone else but here are my thoughts

• no false lashes only bc idk where she’d even get them. in my mind tho lucy gray has long and thick enough eyelashes for mascara to make them look pretty, even if it’s not something that jumps out to u when she’s actually on stage

• if doing dance has taught me anything it’s to have hella dramatic eye makeup that consist of neutral colors, but i think it’d be rlly fun if lucy gray wore colorful eyeshadow. like a shimmery green! or a pastel pink! or just like close her eyes, point at a spot on her dress, and match her eyeshadow to the color she lands on. i think this would also help balance out the fact that her lashes are naked

• speaking of eyeshadow, i think she’d use black eyeshadow to do her eyeliner instead of an actual pencil / liquid liner. OR, if she does have neutral colors for her eyeshadow, maybe some colorful eyeliner?? 👀

• rosy cheeks!! yk how ppl who wear makeup kinda have a signature look? like for example for me the first thing you’d notice abt my makeup is my lashes, for one of my friends you’d notice how absolutely cunt their contour is, others their cool looking eyeliner etc etc. for lucy gray it’d be her blush. maybe some on the tip of her nose too. like stage makeup is supposed to be rlly dramatic anyway so the audience can pick up on it but i think her blush would be esp dramatic

• speaking of a signature look i think she’d skip out on highlighter / anything that makes her skin look dewey. maybe it was just a me problem but before performances my highlighter would look good but then after performances i would get gross and sweaty and my face would look more greasy than dewey no matter how i prepped it beforehand. but in the event this rlly is just a me problem i think she’d dab some on her brows too i love when girls do that

• also, glitter!! my current fave thing to do rn is take a gold shimmery eyeshadow and brush it across my under eye area. also maybe a white pencil across her waterline not completely sure tho.

• also not completely sure if she’d draw on freckles but i DO know that it would look cute esp since she’s a country singer bc i feel like country music and freckles are literally one in the same

• lipstick! anything that has a glossy finish, tbh she’d rock any color

okay that’s it! disclaimer that i haven’t done this makeup on myself so me being like “this would look so good!!” is purely based on the vision i have in my head and not from actually trying it out. also tbh i’m not rlly sure how restricted their makeup use would be. considering that they’re performers it’d prob be something they’d want to invest in, but idk how much of a market there would be for that kinda stuff in d12. but if anyone else has thoughts on this i’d looove to hear them!!!

[burlveneer-music]

Joy Guidry - Amen - ecstatic spiritual jazz & gospel numbers, including Max Roach's "Members Don't Get Weary", nestled among serene ambient tracks

AMEN is the 3rd release by bassoonist / composer / producer Joy Guidry. Representing a major step up in her ability to fully realize and embody a sound and concept, AMEN moves from rousing, rafter-splitting spiritual jazz and gospel compositions to ambient compositions that create a powerful statement of communal healing and peace. The album features contributions by Niecy Blues, Kalia Vandever, Jillian Grace, and Jessie Cox. Guidry is a visionary. Her keen understanding of how different genres of music can speak to and meld into one another mimics the intricacies and interwoven elements of life. Her releases include commissioned works as well as her debut full-length Radical Acceptance released in 2022. Recognizing her trans identity and embracing the need to make difficult decisions with the people in her life brought forth the heart of Radical Acceptance. “There's nothing wrong with us. There's nothing wrong with any of us, when we look in the mirror, and we see something wrong, that was purely taught,” Guidry says. “I felt like I could never walk into my life. So after releasing Radical Acceptance, it was time for me to truly practice radical acceptance and understanding and practicing radical self love.” Amen is the next step forward, one that calls in the power of community when embodying our true selves. “I wanted to give a voice and give power and provide community to the people I love and truly care for on this record by tackling songs and challenging myself,” Guidry says. “I knew I got the right people, the right community to drive it home, to take my ideas and really bring it together.” Performers: Jillian Grace, Ekep Nkwelle, Jay St. Flo, Niecy Blues, Keiyaa, Alexvndria, Kalia Vandever, Morgan Guerin, Tyrone Allen, Jon Thomas, Jessie Cox, Diego Gaeta, Scott Li, Brandon Cordoba Audio Sample on "Pick and Choose": Pastor E. Dewey Smith Photo By: Nykelle Devivo

[mlmxreader]

Through The Years | Dewey Riley x m!reader

summary: you and Dewey have always been close, a little too close, and when Randy gets fed up of the pining, he comes up with a plan to finally make you and Dewey see sense.

tws: unrequited love but it's actually not, swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking/drunkenness, idiots to lovers/friends to lovers, country music

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

author's note: this is fucking 4k words, and I cried several times.

Randy could remember that when he was younger, his and his sister's babysitter would often be joined by Dewey, along with Tatum and occasionally Sidney; the four of them would play in the living room or in the garden depending on the weather, while you and Dewey would sit nearby talking.

Even back then, Randy knew that there was something going on between you, although it wasn't until he was older that he finally realised - you and Dewey had a crush on one another. But then, there were of course the rumours that Randy often heard when he had playdates with Tatum; the adults would talk, and here and there, Randy picked things up.

The rumours stayed the same as you got older, people complaining to Mrs. Meeks that her babysitter was out of control; that Dewey had caught you throwing up in bushes or crawling out of people's windows in the middle of the night with nothing but your boxers and shoes on, grinning and falling over when you turned back to blow a kiss to whatever lover you had for the night. Even now that you were no longer his babysitter, he still overheard his mother's friends talking about you; the only thing that changed was Dewey.

Now he was Deputy, Dewey had a little bit more push, and no longer had to take you back to the station; it was often said that people saw him ushering you into his car when you had had a bit too much, always giving you his jacket and telling you that he couldn't keep picking you out of bushes.

It was rare that he would take you back to the station, usually he just dropped you off at home, or if he didn't have time, at Mrs. Meeks' house; there had been a few incidents where Randy had nearly screamed when he had gone downstairs to find you sound asleep on the sofa, but he used to think that maybe his mother had asked you to keep an eye on him and his sister for whatever reason. Evidently, he was wrong.

Your reputation was only confirmed to him when he caught you and Dewey at the coffee shop; you looked like shit, and when Randy waited in line, he heard a snippet of what you and Dewey were talking about quietly. He was asking you if you were still hungover, and you were leaning into him and mumbling; wearing his sunglasses and one of his shirts. He heard something about how Dewey wanted you to keep calling him when you were in trouble or needed him for whatever reason, and it was then that it clicked even more.

Even after all these years, Dewey still had a crush on you.

Then again, even when you were sober, you were never far from Dewey; you would always have lunch with him when he was on his breaks, if it was sunny, it wasn't rare to find you sitting in the park with your head on his lap as he leaned back and put his hands behind him. Always so close it was almost sickening; you were inseparable. But that wasn't even the worst of it; although you hadn't been his babysitter for years, you still hung out with Randy and his sister, as to you, they were like the siblings you never wanted but got stuck with anyway.

When Randy asked about Dewey, something in you often changed; you would get fidgety and anxious, biting at your lip and mumbling your words, sheepish and bashfully asking if the Deputy had asked about you or said something. You would talk about how great he was, how much you adored him, and it was evident to see that your crush had not faded with the years, either; even if Randy didn't ask, you would bring up Dewey anyway. You would find some sort of way to talk about him, and from what Tatum had said, Dewey was exactly the same and would blush furiously as he told her about how great you were and how much he loved you.

Only, you and Dewey had no idea; when Randy asked about whether or not you would ask Dewey out, you would always shake your head and say that there was no way that Dewey would want to be with you, or that he was too good for you in one way or another, or that he only loved you in the platonic sense. When Tatum asked Dewey the same thing, he would always scoff and say that there was no way you would want someone as lame as him, that you would never be interested even if he was the last man on the planet.

It was annoying, Tatum and Randy agreed on that much. Watching you and Dewey pine for one another was painful, it was annoying, it made them both want to grab your heads and bash them together so that maybe it would knock some sense into you both; day in and day out, the friends had to hear from you and Dewey about how amazing and handsome the other was, and how it was impossible for you to love the other and for you to even want to be with the other. It was annoying, it was painful, and yet Tatum and Randy were absolutely clueless as to what to do.

Randy, especially, was getting fed up with it; he was the expert on unrequited love, and yet, he knew that you weren't going through the same thing in the slightest. Dewey actually did love you back, you were just too stupid to see it, and he was just as stupid not to see that you loved him back, too; Randy hated it, knowing that you both loved one another but would never say anything about it because you were convinced that it wasn't true.

If any word came to Randy's mind when someone asked what you and Dewey were like, it could only be: stupid.

You were idiots, well and truly.

With no one else to turn to, Randy went to the one person who probably had better advice than anyone else: his mother.

Sat at the breakfast bar, he watched as she got everything ready for one of her famous wine nights that she often had with some of the other parents - like Sidney's father and Tatum's mother. Occasionally the Machers would come, too, but only if they weren't busy wrangling Stu.

He tapped his foot on the bar of the stool, and sighed. "Mum… can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she shrugged, turning to him so he knew that he had her attention. "What's wrong? Did the other kids make fun of you for your silly films again?"

"No, and they're not silly," he grumbled, shaking his head. "I wanted to ask you about Dewey and (y/n)."

"Oh?" She furrowed her brows. "(y/n)'s not in trouble again, is he?"

"No," Randy replied softly, "he's… he won't admit how he feels about Dewey, and Tatum told me that Dewey won't admit it, either. I've seen romcoms before, but Mum… there's no formula."

She nodded slowly, pursing her lips for a moment as she thought. "Have you tried to get them to go on a date together?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they spend a lot of time at the coffee shop together," she explained, "so maybe you could ask (y/n) to meet you there, and Tatum could ask Dewey, and you could… not force, but encourage them on a date."

"Can I use the phone?" He asked. "I'm gonna call Tatum."

"As long as your sister's not using it," she shrugged. "But make sure that you come up with a good excuse."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, they're both smart guys," she replied, "you can't just ask them to go to the coffee shop with you - you never go there together. Maybe say you need help with an exam - he's good at history."

Randy nodded slowly. "He is?"

"Very," she nodded back. "Especially the first world war."

He smiled, making his way over to the phone. "Thanks, Mum."

She didn't acknowledge it, just smiling to herself as she went back to preparing for the night; Randy asked his sister if she was on the phone, but she only told him to fuck off, so he didn't think, and called Tatum.

She answered, and Sidney was with her, and between the three of them, they quite easily came up with a plan; Randy would ask you to help with history homework to do with the first world war and would ask you to meet him at the coffee shop so that he could at least have something to drink. Tatum would ask Dewey to meet her there on her way home from shopping with Sidney, and would ask if he could give them both a lift back to Sidney's house. It all seemed perfect, maybe too perfect, but it was worth a shot.

You agreed, thankfully, and Randy practically ran out of the door and towards the coffee shop; he was lucky that Tatum and Sidney were doing the same, and the three soon arrived there before you and Dewey. They were panting heavily, but Tatum and Sidney soon went off to go buy a few things so that it looked like they had gone shopping; Randy had to admit, he admired their commitment to the bit. But he sat at a booth, and waited with baited breath until you walked in; you went over to him immediately, and cocked a brow.

"So, what is it?"

"Oh, uh…" he tried to think, but then laughed softly. "Do you know anything about individuals during the first world war?"

"Sure," you shrugged. "Who do you need information on? Francis Pegahmagabow? Adrian Carton De Wiart? Alvin York?"

Randy shrugged. "I'm not sure, they just told us to research individuals."

You nodded slowly. "I'd suggest Francis Pegahmagabow - he was one of the most successful snipers of the war… of course, you also have Manfred Von Richthofen, too."

"Who?"

"One of the best fighter pilots of all time," you explained, "he was called the Red Baron."

Slowly, Randy nodded, and when he saw Tatum and Sidney walking in with Dewey, he sighed with relief. "So, you'll help me?"

You shrugged, nodding as you smiled. "Randy, you're like an annoying little brother to me - of course I'll help."

"Thank you," he breathed out. "I'll get coffee, and we'll start?"

"Sure," you agreed, not really thinking much of it as he got up and left. You heard him chatting to someone, but figured it must have been a friend from his school so you didn't think much of it.

At least, not until Dewey sat at the booth opposite you, a quizzical look on his face.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm helping Randy with his homework," you replied, just as confused, "why? What are you doing here?"

"The girls asked me to drive them home," he answered, "they've been shopping and-"

"Those little bastards set us up," you cursed, doing your best not to laugh as you shook your head. "Scheming little shits."

Dewey grinned, trying not to laugh as he leaned forward and rested his arm on the table. "Y'know, free coffee is free coffee."

You glared at him for a moment before you hummed and nodded. "You have a point… get comfortable, Deputy, we're gonna be here a while."

"Gladly," he breathed out, taking his hat off and laying it on the seat beside him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you dared to reach for his hand, swallowing thickly and hoping that he wouldn't realise that every time you touched him, every single nerve in your body suddenly went up into flames. "Yeah, I'm alright… you?"

"Yeah," he gently squeezed your hand. "Yeah, I'm fine… have you eaten?"

"Dewey," you chuckled, shaking your head. "You worry too much."

He smiled, not knowing that he took your breath away, and not wanting to tell you that he didn't just worry. "Well, maybe I do… you do get into trouble a lot, y'know."

You rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh. "When?"

"Always," he laughed softly. "Just last week, you called me eight times to come and get you."

"Well, maybe I just like spending time with you," you pointed out.

Shaking his head, Dewey shifted in his seat. "You don't need to get into trouble just to get my attention."

"Ever considered that maybe I wanted more than that?" You asked softly, tilting your head to the side. "Or maybe I like that you look after me?"

He licked his lips, catching the bottom between his teeth as he hummed. "I'd look after you any time… if you asked."

He was getting nervous, his heart pounding in his chest, and when the waiter brought over two cups of coffee and pointed at Randy, Tatum and Sidney as they sat at a nearby table, he felt like bolting; he didn't want you to find out that he loved you, he didn't want you to find out that he had had a crush on you since you were both in school. You would never see him that way, you would never want to be his and for him to be yours; you would never love him the way that he loved you.

"The kids at the table said if you two don't get together, they're gonna keep you here all night," the waiter said before they walked away.

You stared at Dewey for a moment. "What the fuck was that?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But, uhm, but that jacket, it uh, it really suits you."

"It's yours," you pointed out with a soft laugh. "I may have taken temporary custody after last week's little incident with the baked beans."

He shook his head. "Keep it - it, uhm, it looks better on you."

You wanted to laugh, but you couldn't stomach the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of him, reaching your free hand up to cover your smile as you closed your eyes for a moment; but ever so softly, Dewey grabbed your wrist, and pulled your hand away from your mouth ever so tenderly, like he was afraid that you would run off.

"Please, don't cover your smile," he begged softly.

You cocked a brow. "You're not embarrassed that I'm laughing so much?"

"No," he said honestly. "I… I like it. Your laugh, I mean, and your smile! I mean- I mean I like your laugh and I like your smile."

You couldn't stop yourself from letting out a quiet laugh, shaking your head fondly; he was so cute when he was nervous, but you knew that you couldn't say it. "I like yours, too, don't worry."

"You do?"

"Yeah," you admitted quietly. "Yeah, of course I do, I mean… I mean, it's nice."

But you knew you couldn't tell him that his laugh always echoed in the back of your head and made your chest feel warm and fuzzy, fresh summer grass hidden deep within your ribcage; you couldn't tell him that his smile always made you grin and feel like your knees were going to give out at any moment. You couldn't tell him such things.

"Hey," he cleared his throat, daring to gently squeeze your hand. "Did I lose you for a moment?"

"No," you shook your head, hoping that he couldn't see through your tight lipped smile so easily. "No, you didn't lose me, I just… y'know."

"What?"

"I'm better off alone," you told him softly. "You know that. I can't… I'm not good enough. All I do is get myself into shit."

Dewey frowned, moving over to your side of the booth and putting his arm across the back of the seat; he leaned in closer, shaking his head as he dared to smile, his words so soft and so quiet.

"You're not alone, though… you always got me."

"Do I?"

"Yeah," he sounded so honest, so sincere. "You'll never be alone, no matter where you go, as long as you take me with you."

"I'd take you anywhere," you said softly. "I couldn't go anywhere without you, but…"

"But what?"

"I can't tell you," you admitted. "You'd laugh at me."

"Never," Dewey shook his head. "Maybe once, when you fell into that bin, but that was one time."

You dared to laugh softly, leaning into him as you placed your hand on his stomach and hummed quietly. You reached for your coffee, and took a long swig. "Do you remember when you used to drive me up to the top of the hill? And we'd sit alone together listening to country songs?"

Dewey nodded, letting his arm fall and land across your shoulders. "Yeah, and we'd watch the sky and go out for ice cream after."

"Can we do that now?" You asked. "I mean, once we've finished the coffee?"

"What about the kids?" He asked quietly.

"They can walk home," you laughed. "Or I'll call Missus Meeks, and she'll pick 'em up."

"Alright," he agreed. "But uhm, can… can you sit like this when we go there?"

"I don't see why not," you agreed. "You are… you're quite comfortable."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you hummed. "Makes me wonder…"

"What?"

"If it'd be this comfortable to wake up next to you," you said quietly, but when you realised what you had said, you pulled away, and started to stutter out an apology until Dewey gently pulled you back in, and softly kissed your temple.

"You're more than welcome to try it," he murmured. "If you want to."

You wanted to laugh, but you decided to keep your mouth shut as you swigged at your coffee and leaned into him; neither of you cared to look, but over at the table, Randy, Tatum and Sidney were talking in hushed voices, and were speculating about whether or not their little plan had worked. It was difficult to tell, until you and Dewey got up; but while he grabbed his hat and headed out the door, you approached the table.

"You're all little shits," you told them, but then you grinned, and shook your head. "And I owe you one."

They didn't even have time to react as you walked away and met Dewey in his squad car; his hand rested on your thigh when he started to drive, and you switched the radio to the country music station. Just like the good old days.

But thankfully the hill wasn't far, and when Dewey stopped the car, he helped you out, and helped you onto the bonnet before he sat with you; you were already humming as you leaned into him, your hand on his stomach as he put his arm around your shoulders and kept you close.

"Whenever I chance to meet some old friends on the street they wonder how does a man get to be this way, I've always got a smilin' face any time and any place and everytime they ask me why I just smile and say: you've got to kiss an angel good mornin' and let him know you think about him when you're gone, kiss an angel good mornin' and love him like a devil when you get back home…"

Dewey looked at you, biting at the inside of his lip as you sang along, but then you looked at him, and he didn't miss the way that your gaze dropped to his mouth for a moment; he didn't want to make the first move, but neither did you.

"I can't remember when you weren't there, when I didn't care for anyone but you, I swear we've been through everything there is - can't imagine anything we've missed, can't imagine anything the two of us can't do, through the years, you've never let me down, you turned my life around, the sweetest days I've found, I've found with you... through the years, I've never been afraid, I've loved the life we've made and I'm so glad I've stayed, right here with you, through the years."

His voice came through so sweet, you couldn't stop yourself as you gently prompted him onto his back, his head against the windshield as you clambered onto his lap and laughed softly at how he eagerly grabbed your shirt to pull you closer still.

"Keep singing," you whispered.

"I can't remember what I used to do, who I trusted, whom I listened to before, I swear you've taught me everything I know, can't imagine needing someone so but through the years it seems to me, I need you more and more-"

You shut him up when you planted your lips on his, a little clumsy and rushed and full of both anxiety and excitement, but Dewey didn't waste time in kissing you back; he giggled when your hand went to his hair and tugged at it softly, a deep and hard blush on his face as he tried to keep up with you. It seemed like suddenly everything made sense, and when you pulled away, he was utterly breathless.

His lips were swollen, but he didn't mind as he tugged at your shirt softly.

"Please… tell me you feel the same. Just once."

"Of course I do," you murmured against him. "Dewey… all the shit I've done, all the parties and the… y'know… string of lovers, it… fuck. There's a reason why I only ever call you."

"It's not because I'm the Deputy?"

"No," you shook your head. "It's… it's because you're my Dewey, and I… in my own fucked up way… I love you."

He gently tugged at your shirt again, daring to smile as he lifted a hand up to gently cup your jaw. "Just tell me one thing."

"Anything."

"If we become, y'know, boyfriends…" he cleared his throat and laughed quietly. "Would you sing me love songs every morning?"

You grinned, nodding. "Yeah. Of course."

"And uhm…" he shrugged. "Does that mean we can go on a second date?"

"Yeah," you couldn't help but to laugh, pressing your face against the side of his neck. "We can go on as many dates as you want."

"How about every Wednesday night?" He asked, a little nervous that that wasn't the right day for you.

But you nodded. "Wednesday nights sounds good to me… and how about we come up here and do this every Saturday?"

"Yeah?"

"If you want to," you told him. "I think I have some Kenny Rogers and Johnny Cash CDs somewhere…"

"I'd like that," Dewey admitted softly. "And we're still on for lunch tomorrow?"

"Of course," you pulled away, grinning down at him as you tried to resist the urge to hide your smile and the way you were laughing. "But the next party I go to, you're coming with me."

"I am?"

"Yeah!" You scoffed. "It, uhm, it'd be nice to introduce you as my boyfriend anyway…"

"Oh…" he raised his brows, trying not to grin and laugh. So giddy to hear those words from your mouth that he worried that you could feel the way he shook. "I mean, uhm… y'know, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"Oh, I want to," you told him sincerely. "But there are six people we have to tell first."

"There are?"

"Randy, Martha, their mum," you started, "Tatum, Sidney, your mum."

"Right," he chuckled. "I forgot."

"We'll tell your mum and Missus Meeks first," you mused. "Your mum is going to the Meeks' place tonight, right?"

"I think so?"

"So, we can tell them then," you started, "and then we'll tell Randy. Then I'll tell Sid while you tell Tatum?"

"Sure," he agreed. "But, uhm, first… can I just kiss you again?"

"Yes."

You couldn't stop the laugh that overcame you when he moved you over so that he could straddle you, leaning down and gently kissing you; it was still clumsy, you were both still nervous and excitable, still not sure of whether or not it was actually happening. But he still giggled when you tugged at his hair ever so gently, and he still laughed when you smiled into the kiss; truly inseparable, nothing could come between you and Dewey.

'Without You In My Life' by Kenny Rogers was playing over the car radio, and the sun was starting to make its way down as afternoon bled into evening; nothing else really mattered in that moment. You had your Dewey, and Dewey had you - there was nothing else worth caring about, really.

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (Part 7)

Somehow, these two last POVs turned out bigger than I expected. I think I can keep up the one POV change per day here before I post the full chapter on AO3, but I don't promise anything.

Also, I have plans for how many chapters it'll be! Yay me.

ON AO3 - part one - part two - part three - part four - part five&six

Till was... nervous. For more than one reason.

Firstly, he was getting ready for Mizi's concert. He'd be nervous enough to go to any show, since crowded places made him antsy, but this was a meet and greet. He bought a new jacket exclusively for this, and was trying very hard not to be weird about using perfume and generally dressing up for the occasion.

Secondly, he had Navi's number. He hadn't said anything after that first exchange, too awkward to try and make small talk but he found himself... wanting to.

He refused to let Hyuna send the messages, since she was halfway ready to demand to see Navi's ID. It was awkward but then... Then Navi had said all those things, about how much he liked Till's music, how Till deserved more recognition than what he got...

It made Till's stomach swoop, his cheeks colored red.

It reminded Till of those days when he had only 100 followers, when Navi would send 100$ donations solely to max the character limit as he talked about how much he liked Till's lyrics, how his mixing made him feel, how he couldn't believe Till didn't have a record deal yet.

After that short text conversation, Hyuna had changed her "bored office worker" theory to a "disillusioned producer", and for once Till was inclined to agree.

Still meant he was far from understanding why Navi would send him so much money.

"Till, are you ready?" Hyuna calls out, startling Till out of his thoughts. He gives a last once-over to his outfit, deems it ready, and goes to greet her.

Hyuna is wearing a black tank-top, cargo pants, hiking boots and a leather jacket he's sure once belonged to Dewey when he still ran with a motorcycle gang. She rolls his eyes at his face.

"Ready to go? We need to be in the venue in half an hour if we want to get in at a good time." He nods, checking that the clear bag he's bringing has all his necessary documents.

Tickets? Check. ID? Check. His first Mizi album and custom photocard binder? Check. A handwritten letter for Mizi? Check. Extra pens in case he or other fans need it? Check. A truly unholy number of phone charms he made himself the night before to exchange with fans? Check. He makes grabby hands to Hyuna, waiting until she puts all her stuff in the bag as well before shouldering it.

"You're such a mother hen." She says, grinning. "I heard we might not be allowed in with food, so I sent Isaac to get something from the convenience store we can eat on the way."

"Oh, good idea. He's meeting us there?" He asks, perking up. He really wasn't looking forward to surviving on granola bars for the day.

They end up meeting Isaac in the car, since he and Dewey are driving them and Hyuna wanted to re-touch her makeup. Isaac gets them both sandwiches, as well as a pack of chips to eat in the queue. He also gets two starbucks packaged drinks, black coffee for Hyuna, and caramel frappuccino for Till.

Luckily, the queue isn't too big; the meet-and-greet isn't open for a lot of people, so Till spends his time waiting by chatting with fellow fans, discussing the new album, and even meets one of his own fans, Mizi's Boots, who he remembers as an occasional chatter who mostly comes for his mixing streams.

She's very flustered that he remembers, but eventually they settle into some more normal conversations, Hyuna teasing them both about bringing so many phone charms to trade. He makes sure to put hers on his phone right away, since she takes care to pick one that matches his streaming set-up.

It also reminds him that... he has Navi's number.

He should send a message, right? Just to say he's at the venue. He did a few lives since getting the tickets, and only commented that he'd be going on the last one, so as to not give his fans any time to buy tickets to search him out instead of Mizi.

Navi had said nothing to indicate he was the one who sent the tickets, a simple "I hope hyung has fun!!" was all he sent.

He decides not to overthink it, and takes out his phone to take a selfie of him, with Hyuna in the background talking to a fan of hers. He hunts for Navi's contact.

You [ 4:44 ] On the line to see Mizi. Thanks again for the tickets. [IMG.7347]

He closes his phone, ignoring the flutter in his stomach to focus on the experience at hand. It's almost time to go in.

The queue moves forward,

"Chill, Till. You've watched these events like a thousand times on livestreams, it's going to be fine." Hyuna says, after they're already seated in the auditorium. He's glad his fan was seated far away from them, since he'd feel awful if she watched him losing his cool like this.

"Okay, but what if I trip and fall right in front of her? What then?" Till frets, combing one hand through his hair. Hyuna rolls her eyes, opening her mouth to tease him some more when the lights dim and a manager comes on-stage to announce Mizi.

Till immediately forgets his nerves, leaning forward to watch better. Mizi walks on-stage already waving, a radiant smile on her face. She's dressed more casually than she usually is for shows, with her glasses on. Her long pink hair is left free, bouncing as she moves to say hi to everyone on the first roll.

Till doesn't even see Hyuna settle down, focused on Mizi. She does a little QNA, pointing at people to answer. Most questions are pretty simple, like how's Mizi's doing, what's her favorite song from the newest album, favorite snack, and so on. She even calls on Hyuna, who asks if Mizi likes video games.

(Apparently, she's an Animal Crossing player. Till is so endeared, he loves her, oh god.)

After that fanfare, she sits on the stage, legs dangling closer to the first row, and sings My Clematis with her guitar. She thanks everyone, asks for five minutes to get some water, and the fansign begins.

Till has... a vague idea of the hour or so that happened between then and his turn. He knows Hyuna leans in to talk to him, mindless chatter about their streams and their next collab, about how Luka's workflow is increasing so she's thinking of paying for another chat mod.

In the blink of an eye, he's sliding on a chair in front of Mizi, and out of the hundred times he's imagined this meeting, he'd never have though of this.

She squints at him, tilting her head to the side, and says; "Oh, you're Till, right? The streamer?"

Till's face is so hot he thinks he's going to die.