#He actually didn't spill any ink. He just..

[sciencestarlo]

------☆☆☆☆☆-------

Starlo read this carefully, he appreciated every detail with care. He sighed, seemingly wanting to write another. After seeing a certain human on his cameras this week, he wanted to check on Dalv..

☆

Dear Dalv, I'll send you another email later on, I have been..busy. Are you okay? I really Hope so. There's something unusual goin' on, a human fell down here and they're on the dunes. Tell me, are they okay? Did they hurt you? I Hope not, I would be D̶e̶v̶a̶s̶t̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶. Terrible to me. I made this, for the Next time we visit..

P.S I don't draw often, I spilled some ink..

Dear Dalv,

How have things been goin' this week? Mine have been normal and all. Lily chased me around the Steamworks for stealing her oil lemon juice last Friday. I haven't been resting, something..kept me awake. It's been goin' on for weeks now and I can't figure out why. I see..a shadow, HER shadow. It just makes me tremble and feel true fear. I don't know what to do with that.

Anyways, I've sent you a small thing I've built for you, did I tell you that my favourite flowers are lavander? Just like Lily's scent, that's how I keep track of her mischeif. I really..hope you had a nice day, Dalv. I need to go and see you soon..it makes me happy when I think of it. Anyways, this letter is too long.

A Big hug,

@sciencestarlo

✩ ─── 「༻ ☪ ༺」─── ✩

Pops has been excited to have you visit! He's a bit of a nerd science geek himself, though not up to your level of course. As I'm writing this letter he's working on unboxing your gift matter of fact. I told you, you don't need to keep giving me things. I don't know if you're giving me your charity out of pity or to be nice, but I don't have much to give you in return, and it makes me feel horrid! Well- That's not entirely true. I can give you a sneak peak an upcoming song.. But I take that sort of thing doesn't really peak your interest. It's not much, but it's better then nothing, no? That gives me an idea. I'd do it myself, go outside and pick up some Lavender seeds from Snowdin, but just last week I was almost seen by Terabyte and Tearshell. Have you heard of the two before? They're quite the hotshot in Honeydew Resort.. Anyhow anyway, I'm not going to leave the Ruins again for at least another week until commotion calms down in Snowdin. But you can still go outside, and if you wish, you can pick up some Lavander seeds that we can plant all over the Ruins! That's rather corny, isn't it? You don't have to of course, it's just something for us to do during your visit. Unless you already have plans when you visit, then disregard this I suppose. I need to updated my emergency friendship flashcards. They're outdated. Sent from the cosmos and back,

☾ ⋆ ᗪᗩᒪᐯ.

[kitscutie]

hush (eric, a quiet place x fem!reader)

pairing: eric!aqp x reader

warnings: injuries, blood, just general pain but comfort too!!

summary: after you obtain an injury which requires stitches, you do your best to keep absolutely silent.

a/n: requests for eric open :)

word count: 744

You and Eric emerged from a hole in the ground beneath the church, the water you had just escaped seemed stained red as you turned, pulling yourself up and onto the marble flooring.

You knew you were hurt, would be stupid not too seeing as there was a burning coming from your shin though it was diluted through shock.

You were pulled from your focus on the pain as Erics arms wrapped under your armpits, lifting you until your legs were completely out of the ground.

You turned to face him as he lifted a hand to his lips, reminding you to be quiet. As if you'd forgotten.

He lay you down gently against a pile of rubble, quickly searching through the group of others in the church for help, 'doctor?' scribbled onto the back of his hand in the ink of a pen he found at the churches alter.

Finally after minutes of staring at the ceiling, eyes drifting in and out of consciousness he returned. Stood behind him wearily was an older woman, maybe sixty five-ish? In her past life she was a nurse, before the monsters came crashing onto New York City.

She seemingly collected a dust covered first-aid kit, hung on the wall near the entrance. You prayed there was actually enough in there to save your leg, though you doubted there would be blood- of which you were losing by the litre.

'The quicker it's closed, the better." He wrote onto a note pad, handwriting scribbled in his hurry.

"Closed?" You mouthed, under the impression you would simply need bandages. Lifting your head up you watched as the woman threaded string through a needle. You knew what that meant.

You began frantically shaking your head at Eric, 'No, no, no.' being mouthed repeatedly as your pupils dilated in panic.

"I'm sorry." He mouthed back moving you to lie between his legs, head in his lap. Your efforts to escape proved helpless as your pain emerged through any shock left over though you were confident stitches would hurt more.

He wrapped his own arms around yours, effectively tying them down. Your breathing turned rapid and shallow, panic setting in as you accepted all the pain you were about to feel.

The first time the needle went in you felt nothing. And then whit, hot burning pain. Your back shot up off the ground, a silent scream leaving your mouth as tears spilled from your eyes uncontrollably.

Eric did all he could, shushing you silently, eyes dark and filled with guilt. Though it didn't ease the pain- nothing could. No amount of sweet nothing and comfort that you couldn't actually hear would help.

He watched in his own emotional pain as your fists turned white, breathing only getting quicker, and quicker as each stitch pierced your skin.

He could no longer bear it, leaning down so his forehead touched yours in an attempt to give you solace. Your cries grew heavier, soft sobs leaving you. Panicked that soon enough they would become loud he put his mouth so close to your ear you could feel every hair on his chin as he spoke.

"You're okay, it's okay." He repeated like a prayer. Were you okay? It wasn't truly clear. Hearing it from him though, Eric with his soft British twang brought you back to reality, even if it did come in the form of a shaky whisper.

This time when he shushed you with gentle care it was audible and soothing. Your breathing slowed but the tears and pain never ended, you could only hope the stitches were almost complete.

He kept his forehead against your own but brought a hand away from your arm, instead reaching up to wipe your burning tears away, thumb moving back and forth smudging ash into your skin.

As he moved away, your eyes stayed locked with his, attempting to disassociate from this moment and focus instead on him. His curly hair, brown eyes, dirty collar which looked pristine and ironed fifteen hours ago. It all brought you pain to think of now- the simple things like clean clothes which didn't smell like smoke but nothing hurt more than the look on his face as he starred at you, as though you were broken.

You never liked that term, never like being viewed as weak or vulnerable though in this moment you had never been so grateful to have someone like him by your side, protecting you and you him.

[bones4thecats]

Could I request Azul, Silver, and Jamil with a baker reader?

What If Their S/O Was A Baker?

Type of Writing: Request Name: What If Their S/O Was A Baker? Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Silver Vanrouge, and Jamil Viper Requester: Anonymous

A/N: This is slightly shorter than my average piece, but I have like 6 other requests to get through so, bite me😑

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🐙 As we all know, Azul loves to eat sweet foods. It falls into the category of unhealthy foods (which he loves) vs healthy foods (which is canonically his least favorite)

🐙 When he had first seen you bake, he had come back from a housewarden meeting and smelled both a sweet and a more fungal-like scent lingering in the air, and that mix made him slightly fearful but more curious

🐙 He had walked into Mostro Lounge's kitchen and saw that you and Jade were cooking together while Floyd sat down and slept at the counter

🐙 You had looked up from the cookies you were frosting to look like small underwater creatures such as stingrays, clownfish, sea slugs, and even a small bundle of eels like Floyd and Jade, and smiled

" Azul! Come here, I made you something a little bit ago! You came right on time too, it's still a little warm. "

🐙 Walking up behind you, you had reached into a basket with a sea-shell printing that Azul had gifted you a couple weeks prior for your personal usage, and you had pulled out a small cookie

🐙 But not just any cookie, one that was molded at the bottom to look like small tentacles. And as if led upwards, it began to form a small body, the body of a slightly purple and blue octopus

" Since I was making little sea creatures and I thought that you'd be tired from the meeting, I figured I could make you something to heighten your mood! " " Well, you did your job well, my Pearl. "

🐙 Before Azul could actually take a bite of the baked good, you had shook your finger in a 'not-so-fast' way and lifted the rest of the basket's cloth, revealing a small litter of baby octopus in various positions. One even was spilling ink!

🐙 Chuckling at the gesture, Azul laid the sweet inside the basket and hugged you before kissing your forehead with delicacy

" I love you, Y/N. " " And I love you, my little octopus~ "

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⚔️ Let's be honest here; Silver definitely falls asleep when the aroma of your sweets enter his nose. No doubt.

⚔️ Whenever you had started baking and your boyfriend began to catch a whiff of the baking items, he would close his eyes and begin to let his mind wander as his eyes began to close

⚔️ But, when you had baked while he was out training, you had taken a small bag of them outside and noticed that he was sitting on a bench, sleeping of course

⚔️ He wouldn't be your boyfriend if he didn't catch his 29th nap of the day

⚔️ Holding the bag as you smiled at the silver-haired male you called yours, you heard your name being called out by a familiar voice; Lilia Vanrouge, Silver's adoptive father

" Y/N~ I just so happened to notice that you have a bag of delectibles. If I may ask, who are they four? They better be for my son. " " They're for Silver, I noticed that his naps seemed to be getting in the way of having literally any kind of food in his stomach, so I decided to just make these and have him get something in during a break in training. "

⚔️ Looking at your resting boyfriend, you chuckled;

" Though, it seems I was a hint late for that. "

⚔️ Lilia smiled and thanked you for considering his son's meals in balance with his training, as he held that in high regards. And as he floated away to train Sebek for the time being, you laid the treats in your boyfriend's bag and kissed his forehead before walking away

⚔️ Unbeknownst to you, Silver had opened his eyes once you left and smiled. What did he ever do to deserve such an amazing S/O as you?

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🐍 This guy. This guy- he literally does everything in his dorm. And it drives you insane whenever he has to start rushing around to bake and cook for a surprise party that Kalim decided to throw

🐍 So, when you had spoke to Kalim and learned hours prior, while Jamil was away grabbing stuff from down the mountain, Kalim got news that one of his siblings was dropping by and he wanted to throw a party

🐍 And at that party, he wanted a lot of baked goods. His sibling, he said, had a very large sweet-tooth

🐍 You took this opportunity and told Kalim that you were going to bake up some stuff and wanted some recommendations from the person closest to the guest, making him smile and ramble for a little while

🐍 So, when Jamil came back into the dorm and smelled a strong scent of sugars and spices, he had thought that Kalim tried cooking again... or maybe Lilia came back to destroy his kitchen

🐍 Speed-walking to the area in particular, Jamil stood in shock seeing you wearing Scarbia-branded oven mitts as you took out a small tray of freshly baked pistachio baklava

" Y/N? What are you doing in here? "

🐍 When you smiled at him and told him that you had taken care of all the long-time desserts and began to time the long-time main courses and sides for the impromptu party for the Al-Asim sibling, Jamil both sighed in annoyance at Kalim and he slightly chuckled at your appearance

🐍 You had flour on your pants and some batter on your face with frosting and a few sprinkles, and seeing the normally clean you look like such a mess made him laugh. This must be why you laugh when you visited him in the kitchen week prior during the last large-serving party of Kalim's

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

HLC REACT TO MC HAVING AN OUT OF CHARACTER OUTBURST

Requested by: @ma1egamer

MC had a bad week. The worst week. An awful horrible week. But they still smiled. No one could know what was broiling just beneath the surface. They were the cool popular kid at Hogwarts, they had a reputation. If they just kept up appearances until the end of the day, they could go out after classes and fight a few dark wizards. That would help them de-stress.

They were lost in thought when someone accidentally ran into them, knocking their bag off their arm and causing it to spill its contents all over the floor. One of their ink bottles smashed, staining what was a lengthy essay they had just completed the night before for astronomy.

MC lost their carefully collected shit. "WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING!? IF ITS NOT ONE THING, ITS ANOTHER!! EVERY! SINGLE! DAY! But, if we didn't have bad weeks, the good weeks would be so amazing." It was like someone flipped a switch. MC was entirely calm again while using their wand to clean up their stuff.

The hall was dead silent. The whole crowd of students and faculty watched MC pack themselves up and walk away smiling.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: "Welp, I feel sorry for any dark wizards or goblins that cross MC's path today." This included himself. He steered clear.

OMINIS GAUNT: "What happened? Why did they shout like that? Are they okay?" He needs context. He's worried.

ANNE SALLOW: She avoids eye contact with anyone in the crowd. She doesn't know what's going on, don't look at her.

IMELDA REYES: "What, in the actual fuck, was that?"

NATSAI ONAI: She marches after MC. They clearly aren't okay and she wants to know what's up.

GARRETH WEASLEY: MC's outburst made him drop a jar of pickled slugs. Now he was having a bad day too. The smell was awful.

LEANDER PREWETT: "They're cracking under the pressure. Sad."

AMIT THAKKAR: He has shrunk away from the noise. He doesn't deal with that kind of energy very well and removes himself from the situation.

EVERETT CLOPTON: "Merlin's beard, and here I thought Kogawa had a temper."

POPPY SWEETING: "Yeesh, I knew MC had fangs but I've never seen them take it out on a random student. I wonder what's bothering them."

ELEAZAR FIG: "Oh dear." He shuffles through the crowd and shepherds MC away. "What was that about? Are you alright? Please, don't lie to me."

MATILDA WEASLEY: She bristled at MC's volume. She could take house points for that, but instead ask MC to come to her office. She wants a word.

CHIYO KOGAWA: "Move along, everyone. You all have places to be." She shoos the crowd and stops MC from leaving. "Let's talk. My office."

AESOP SHARP: He gets it. As far as anyone is concerned, he saw nothing.

ABRAHAM RONEN: He's immediately by MC's side, helping them with their books. "Can you spare a moment to chat?" He wants them to be actually okay.

MIRABEL GARLICK: She walks quickly to catch up with MC and hands them a colorful bloom. "Here...it's Worry's Blight. It'll help you feel calm. You seem to need some more than me today."

MUDIWA ONAI: She invites MC up for tea. A special blend and good conversation is what they needed.

BAI HOWIN: Everyone has a bad day. There was no confrontation about the items dropped, so she let it go.

DINAH HECAT: "You shouldn't be shouting the halls, MC. However, instead of taking points, I have an assignment for you." She gave them a small price of paper with a location. "This is an ashwinder camp I heard wind of in the Three Broomsticks. It's a big one. Use this information as you may."

CUTHBERT BINNS: He just ghosted on out of there. He had a lecture to prep.

SATYAVATI SHAH: "No shouting in the halls. That's five points, MC." She didn't notice the vein fit to burst on MC's neck when they just smiled back at her.

PHINEAS NIGELLUS BLACK: "Children. Always whining about how hard life is. They know nothing of the real troubles life can throw at you."

[kore-arts]

Au where Janet Drake lives

Tim was relaxing with Dick on the hedge between their houses when they both heard it.

Now Tim had a grin, knowing he wasn't the Drake who released that growl and shriek as he heard the click click of the heels he and his mother favored. Now if he could just figure out what she said, his mandarin being rusty. He giggles as he jumps down with grace to follow the beautiful fury his mother trailed

But Dick's hair rose on his arms. His eyes wide as he watches what had to be a demoness push open a gate that even he never knew was there. No alarms, no surprise yet to be seen on the gardener's face.

But Tim's reaction was… reassuring. As he follows his brother by emotion and vigilante bond his heart races.

Tim knew his mom. Janet Drake, the Dragoness of Artifacts and Business. Her eyes honed in on the sunbathing Bruce as she steadily walked with grace. Ah she screeched Bruce's name. He hides a grin as he perches on a chair, his mother long used to his eccentricity while in a comfortable place. Bruce's eyes are wide, truly caught off guard as Janet taps her nails on the seat she took. Her hat shading her face with her blood red lips twisted in displeasure.

“Do tell me dear Bruce. Whenever were you going to let me know my son is following you officially” Janet's nails click as her fire like tone wrapped around her words.

Tim… did not expect that. He already told her. His eyebrow raises as Janice grins

“I- wait. Tim, you didn't tell me that your mother was Jannie?!” Bruce exclaimed “whenever did you move back?”

Tim mouths ‘Jannie’ the nickname, feeling weird. Dick does the same and they look at each other.

He blinks slowly before it hits him

“Bruce. Please don't tell me you thought I was just a random kid named Tim Drake” Tim groans as Janice looks even more disappointed

Bruce's eyes look away.

Tim decides to be a menace and his mom nods in approval “Bruce. Bruce, did you even think about where I learned my detective skills? My ability to stalk you for years?”

Dick's little ‘’what the fuck' goes ignored

Bruce does look ashamed. His face red but not from the sun “I thought you just were a natural”

Janice and Tim both laugh at that. Both knowing that talent was earned not given at birth.

Tim presses on “oh and what about my knowledge of the Arkham Family? or how I already knew tiny bits of the league?”

“History hyperfixation?”

Tim blushes, yeah thats true. But he still shakes his head “No you Deaf Bat!”

Janice shakes her head “I understand you keeping me away because of the night activities Bruce. But no calls? I just have to see our boys on the hedge like the family version of Romeo and Juliet?”

“Hey! The hedge is comfy” Tim and Dick say at the same time. Tim winning the Jinx and getting handed ten bucks as Bruce sputters

“Jannie! No no! I thought you cut me off! Jack said so”

Janet's scowl deepens into something murderous. Her hair spilling out like black ink as she takes her hat off and holding it as she holds back her fury.

Dick's confused shout startles her “Uh! Little explanation here?”

Her eyes blink slowly as she looks at a shrugging Tim.

“Oh. That's right, you never actually met me. My maiden name was Janet Arkham-Woosan. I am one of Bruce's cousins. Albeit what most would say I am a Bastard born out of an affair in a very tiny village. Not that my sister is any different.” Tim giggles as Dick's face slowly cycles throughout emotions. Janet gently ran her hand through both boys' hair.

Bruce shoves his hands in his face and slowly drags them down “Jack's lucky to be dead.” It's a whisper before he straightens “well. It's lovely seeing you Jan. But yeah, This is my son Dick, The rest are inside”

Tim smiles and helps her stand “you gotta meet Cass! Oh and you'll adore Damian! He's such a serious little guy, almost killed me three times! Oh and Babs!”

Dick stares at Bruce as Tim practically drags his mother into the Manor

Bruce shrugs “Janet and Sandra were probably the two most important people to me other than Alfred. I did wonder where Tim got his penchant for the more subtle things. I am glad to see her. Honestly it wasn't even us finding out we were blood related that connected us as teens.” Bruce looks happy and haunted at the same time “we separated still, I was still out to discover myself and train. And they had a different path to that.”

Dick nods as he walks alongside Bruce “and that was? She looked weirdly familiar”

Bruce hummed. “Let's just leave it as Janet was not her birth name and Barbara is going to be even more surprised then I was to see her”

Dick startles hearing a shriek

“Lady Shiva?”

“Oh you've worked with my sister!”

[dandelion-wings]

Re-reading the Kaeya de-aging fic this morning and a comment made me think about the external, longer fic idea that it came from and I am never writing. But in that larger framework, this scene, from Diluc's perspective, is actually crucial to the overall arc:

"And now I've injured him, and frightened him badly enough that he tried to run away. Jean certainly won't be impressed."

"I'm sure you can apologize," Adelinde says soothingly.

"And tell him I won't do it again? That would be a lie."

"Master Diluc-"

Diluc holds up a hand to cut off Adelinde's protest. He takes a deep breath and tries to swallow down his anger before he can frighten his employees. Not that either of them look frightened. They know the only person he's angry at is himself.

That night in the rain--he's still not sure if Kaeya deserved the lashing-out he so cruelly and deliberately provoked. Diluc has lost sleep for years now to that question. But right now Kaeya is only a child, and doesn't deserve any injury at all.

Even if he's seemed to expect it. The way he looks at Diluc even before Diluc hurt him, when he wasn't making a heartbreaking pretense of being harmless and helpful and happy to see him.... And now that injury, however accidental, has confirmed all of his fears.

"Was he always this scared of me?" Diluc asks aloud, only barely managing to bite off the follow-up. *Did I deserve it?*

He thinks perhaps he does. His memories of his youth are faded, jumbled, too many fading into a yawning blackness that had spread over them like spilled ink, the blot growing wider every step he took away from his abandoned Vision. But he remembers resentment, even fury, at seeing Father so delighted in another child. As if Diluc wasn't *enough*.

The memories linked to that feeling exist only in snatches, now. Smashing Kaeya's fingers in a drawer knowing that he would bite his lip to stay quiet and never tell Father. A locked closet and telling Jean he didn't know where his new brother went. Kaeya covered in mud and hunching his shoulders as Father scolded him for ruining his new jacket, which Diluc had been very careful only to tear, not to scorch.

Fierce satisfaction when Kaeya vanished in the chaos of a new business endeavor, simply *gone*, out of Diluc's life at last. Sickening, aching regret as Father grew pale and anxious and people started to whisper about hilichurls and bandits and business rivals, and the worst things that could happen to a small scared child if those who took him didn't even know the ransom in their hands. Guilt, when he realized how thoroughly he'd failed at all the responsibilities his future knighthood demanded.

"Not always," Adelinde says, soft and gentle and looking at him with so much understanding, so much *confirmation* in her eyes that Diluc wants to tear his gaze away. She holds it, though, as she goes on, just as gently, "He did get over it, given time and care. He will get over it again, if you give him the chance to do so."

Even as Diluc's gut twists with regret, there's relief in Adelinde's calm assurance. Diluc trusts her more than he trusts himself.

"I intend to," Diluc tells her, and is rewarded by her proud smile.

[zzoomacroom]

Hey guys, soooo I have never written fanfiction in my life, but this just fell out of my brain for some reason. I don't know what came over me, but here's a little crackfic drabble for ya. Just a thousand words of Matthew being a complete idiot. Enjoy! (Yes, I know this premise has been done to death, but I'm having fun so shhhh)

Edit: now on ao3!

.......

So there Matthew was, just minding his own business, catching up with Merv in the gardens outside the palace, when a goddamned nuclear bomb went off.

"JEEZUS FUCK!" Mervyn bellowed, his cigarette dropping from his open mouth and into the pile of leaves he'd been raking. Matthew squawked and catapulted himself ungracefully to the top of the nearest tree.

Oh, so not a bomb then, thought Matthew as he watched the stunning display of fireworks that had erupted above the palace, gold and crimson embers now drifting lazily towards the ground. Still, what the hell was that all about? He would have to ask the boss--if there was some kind of celebration happening in the Dreaming, he wanted to join the party! Hopefully he'd be off his feathery tits on dream champagne before the day was over.

Matthew launched himself from the tree branch, ears still ringing as he made his way up to the palace. He soared through an open window to the throne room. Hmm, empty. So where was the party? He made his way to the library--Lucienne would know what was up.

"Heya, Loosh," he called as he circled down to the table where Lucienne was occupied with cleaning up a puddle of ink that was spilled all over the yellowed scroll she had been writing on. "What was up with the fireworks?"

"Hmm?" she glanced over to him, preoccupied. "Ah. That sometimes happens when...actually, it's probably better if you don't know. For your own sake," she adds pointedly, peering over her glasses at him.

Uh, wow. Ouch. "What? Aw, come on, don't leave me out of the loop. Ravens aren't invited to the party? Wait, why aren't you at the party?"

Lucienne stared at the raven, confusion and irritation mingling on her face. "What party? Lord Morpheus is in his private chambers, there is no--"

But Matthew was already hopping off the table and flying towards the nearest window. So it was a private, VIP kinda thing, then. He was a little hurt that he wasn't invited, but no matter. He would slip in and infiltrate the event, just in case the boss needed protecting from a disgruntled fae or something. And if he managed to dip his beak into some unattended booze, he felt he was sneaky enough that no one would be the wiser.

"You really don't want to know!" Lucienne called out exasperatedly as he flitted away, not looking up from her work. "Don’t say I didn't warn you!"

Yeah, yeah, he'd been to parties full of snooty elites before. Whatever weird shit they were into couldn't be any worse than what he'd seen during his recent trip to Hell. He circled upwards towards the highest tower and perched on the balcony outside the boss's private chamber. There was definitely something happening in there, judging by the noises coming from inside. It sounded like things were getting crazy--a shout, glass breaking, a thud like a body hitting the ground, a screech that may or may not have been human. Shit, the boss man might be in trouble! Good thing Matthew was here to...well, he wasn't really sure how he could help, but he'd figure something out. And he just really, really wanted to know what was going on! Curiosity may kill the cat, but the raven should be fine, right?

He darted into the darkened room and blinked as his eyes adjusted. Oh. No party, then. The boss was standing in the middle of the room, looking even more like he'd just sucked on a lemon than usual. His robe flicked around him and drooped off one shoulder, like he'd just hastily pulled it on (was that...a tentacle peeking out from under the hem?). And was he sweating? He didn't normally sweat, did he? And hold on--did he have cat ears?? Matthew stared, and just as he noticed the ears they receded down into his disheveled mop of hair and disappeared.

"What is it, Matthew?" the Dreamlord demanded icily.

"Uh...sorry to interrupt whatever...this...is, but I thought maybe you were in trouble. And I was just wondering what was up with the fireworks. Scared the bejeesus outta me and Merv," Matthew explained.

The boss looked confused for a moment before answering. "Ah. My apologies for the disruption," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm even as Matthew failed to get the hint. "The matter has been handled. You need not come to my defense."

At that, a poorly-stifled chuckle sounded from behind a marble pillar. "Sorry," the pillar mumbled sheepishly. The boss shot a withering glare at it and the pillar instantly dissolved into a pile of sand, revealing...

Ohhhh. "Um...hi, Hob," Matthew said with an awkward wave of his wing, wishing very much that he could dissolve into sand right about now. Hell, that may very well be his fate soon enough, based on the way the boss was glaring at him.

"Hey Matt," Hob replied with a bashful smirk. He was mostly naked except for an Elizabethan ruff, white knee-high stockings and a pair of 18th century shoes with little bows on them. And he was wearing the boss's helm. But not on his head (cool, cool, not like Matthew had followed the boss to Hell to get it back or anything). Oh, and he also had cat ears. Wonderful.

"Ya know, I better get going, I think Merv may need some help with--oh, yep, he set the garden on fire." Matthew peered out the window down to where Mervyn was currently shouting at no one and flailing around a steadily growing conflagration. "So I should go deal with that. Just wanted to check in, glad everything's good here. Uhhh nice to see you Hob, Boss. Not that I, uh, saw anything. Okay bye!" Matthew zoomed out the window before either of them could say anything else. God, he really needed a drink now.

.......

Morpheus continued to glare at the spot where Matthew had been perched as Hob came up and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Right. So where were we?" asked Hob, apparently unphased by the whole incident.

"I think we should take this to the Waking if we wish to avoid any further interruptions," Dream replied through gritted teeth.

Hob chuckled and started to massage the knots out of his lover's shoulders. "Yeah, probably. Kids, right?" he sighed.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow at him. "Matthew is not my child."

"Isn't he, though?" Hob replied with a grin, peering over Dream's shoulder to watch Matthew and Mervyn frantically darting around the flaming pile of leaves, making no progress whatsoever in putting out the blaze. Morpheus merely sighed in exasperation.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

1) as someone who goes feral for a mag/Kurogiri ship it's so fucking nice to see mag actually get someone to be shipped with- cursed or not my girl deserves some action

2) I've been wondering, what did Shigs think when dabi turned from Oni to a person and admitted that he loved him

I think they deserve to be passionate fucked up little weirdos together, I'm glad you enjoyed them!

2.

The others were right, you were right that Onigiri wasn't like any other cat in the world. They were right when they said he sounded too human. But you'd already made up your mind then. Onigiri could have been a person, he could have been a nomu, and you wouldn't care. You would keep him anyway because he is everything to you. He is the first thing you've had in your life that is really yours. He is the only thing that has ever made you want to be more than what your Teacher told you to be. You wouldn't be who you are now if you didn't have him and you love him for that.

This man with his skin stapled together and scars running like ink across it is not the same as your cat though, and with a lump in your throat you have to offer, have to let go of him.

"But I won't force you to stay. If you want to leave--" 

"No. I don't want to leave. I want to be here, I want to be yours--" The confession spills from his throat, "I love you." His hands cling to your sleeves and the bright blue eyes you've come to know and adore so much are set into a human face. A human face, human words, human emotions spilling messy and broken past his lips.

You take his lips for your own, trying to stop him from falling apart, trying to cling to him as hard as he's clinging to you. You will be everything that this man needs if it just means that he won't stop being your entire world. It's not what you thought you were signing up for when he barged into your life, but you would rather have this and everything else than lose any of it. You need him here.

You kiss him harder and try to give him everything he needs in turn.

[gyrovagi]

"Do you think," Eloy asks, his smooth, even voice a shock in the stillness of the night air, "that I'm like Loghain?"

Zevran can only blink, at first, having already prepared himself to fall asleep in anticipation of an early departure tomorrow morning. He wasn't sure what to expect when Eloy swept back into camp, quiet but possessed by a strange, frantic energy. Wynne was hardly forthcoming about the events of their scouting expedition to Ostagar, save that they'd seen and done what they had to, and approaching Loghain with questions about his return to the site of his great betrayal seemed unwise. He'd decided to watch Eloy clean the darkspawn blood off his armor, instead, and wait for him to speak when he felt ready.

This question, Zevran never saw coming. He props himself up on his elbows, tilting his head. "I... am not sure what you want me to say."

"I want you to be honest with me." In the low light of their shared tent, Zevran can only just make out El's silhouette, sitting hunched over herself. She's looking at Zevran, to be sure, but her face is void, any hint of an expression blotted out by an ink spill. "I don't know if anyone else will be."

It is no small request. Zevran sits up properly and allows himself a moment to consider its weight. "I imagine you don't want me to begin with the obvious dissimilarities between you. You were mortal enemies until very recently, after all."

El snorts. Not past humor, then. "You know what I mean. I think that, after actually speaking with him, I—understand him. Why he did what he did."

"Yes, you do that. Try to understand how other people think. It's a rather admirable trait of yours. Along with your willingness to spare those who try to kill you," Zevran adds meaningfully.

"I would never have put you through the Joining," Eloy says with surprising conviction. "There's a reason that it's an alternative to execution. I can't say that I didn't hope he would die."

"If that was truly your wish, you could have simply lopped his head off on the palace floor. I am sure no one at the Landsmeet would have protested much. They may have even called you a hero for it. That is what Loghain would have done, I'm sure."

This does not appear to have the reassuring effect Zevran intended; El curls in on himself further, hugging his knees to his chest. He says nothing for a long moment.

Then: "You should have heard him and Wynne, at Ostagar. Whenever we could catch our breath between the darkspawn, she was trying to get a rise out of him." El scoffs. "He refused to even act apologetic."

There is something approaching admiration in her voice, beneath the scorn. And—yes, in this Zevran supposes Eloy is much the same. His Warden holds within him a cold, clear ruthlessness, a cutting edge tempered by a mind that refuses self-doubt and the indulgence of regret. Zevran admires this, as well.

He does not know what El wants him to say. He is unsure of how to be honest.

"If I had been in his place," Eloy says, "on that battlefield, I think I would have done the same."

"I was not there myself, but from what I have heard, it sounded quite hopeless. No matter what they may say, I think many would choose to save themselves, myself included."

"Does that make those who would have charged anyway fools or heroes?"

"I suppose that depends on whether they won."

El laughs softly. "And King Cailan?"

"Well." Zevran can only shrug. "I was not there; I never met him. What would you call him?"

"A fool," Eloy says without hesitation. "If he had any sense, he would never have been on that battlefield in the first place, to be strung up by the darkspawn like a trophy."

Zevran's mouth goes dry. "I did not know you stumbled across the young king's remains."

"Stumbled is one way to put it." El brings her hand up to her face. In the following silence, Zevran realizes she must be biting her nails. A nervous habit for years, Eloy has told him with some irritation, that he's never been able to kick. "They do look alike. Cailan and Alistair." Eloy pauses, corrects himself. "Did. It seems obvious in hindsight."

With that, something finally clicks into place. Zevran feels quite stupid, which does not help him think of something to say.

He'd been surprised, when he was making the first careful steps into integrating with their eclectic party, to learn that Alistair and Eloy had known each other for less than a month before his attempt on their lives. Though an odd pair from any perspective, they conducted themselves like old friends and comrades-in-arms, even siblings, Alistair falling into step behind Eloy's confident leadership so naturally it seemed a lifelong habit.

Without Alistair behind his back, an ever reliable presence, Eloy has seemed—smaller. She is too self-possessed by far to reach for an absence, to forget that calling a familiar name will get no answer, but Zevran is sure this has only been achieved through excruciating effort. He can only imagine how Alistair has fared, alone in an unfamiliar palace with the widow of the half-brother he never knew.

Zevran cannot say that Eloy made the wrong decision. That does not mean Alistair will ever forgive him.

"Thanks to you," he says, at length, "Alistair may make a better king than his brother yet."

"Zevran," Eloy says miserably. For a terrifying heartbeat Zevran thinks she may cry, a sight so unimaginable that he's glad for the darkness to hide it. When El falls forward to press her face into his shoulder, though, her eyes are dry.

Somehow, this is worse. It is not quite an embrace, their positions too awkward, El's arms limp at his sides even as Zevran opens his to hold him. Eloy makes a noise Zevran's never heard from him before, something too starved of air to call a sob or a laugh. "Zevran, I don't know if he will."

[alexthefly]

Spilling Tea

This was supposed to be an entry for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial, but life got in the way and I went really over time (😅), so it's just a silly little something now, bringing a well-loved TOS character to the TAG universe. Enjoy!

Fandom: Thunderbirds/Thunderbirds are Go

Content: mention of Pen & Ink (canon events only)

Spoiler warning for TAG episode 1:10, Tunnels of Time

Or read it on AO3

**********

Lillian and her trusty scouring pad had just reached a particularly stubborn bit of baked-on sauce at the back of the oven when she heard the kitchen door go, followed by a great clattering of boot and chair.

“Cor Lil, do us a cuppa would ya? H’I’m gasping, I am!”

Of course, she thought. There's only one person in the world who could make that much noise just entering a room. 

Master thief my backside…

“You’ve got legs, haven’t ya? Get it yourself,” she called, not looking up. “Can't you see I’m busy?”

“Aww, but I’ve ‘ad an ‘ard day. H’I’m dead on my feet!”

“You’ll be dead under my feet if you keep carrying on,” she grumbled. “Though on second thought,” - she extricated her head from the oven and took off her marigolds - “I'd better do it for you. Who knows what you might set fire to if I left you to it.”

She clambered slowly to her half-asleep feet and finally looked over to see Nosy Parker seated at the kitchen table, covered in dust, trying and failing to stifle a chuckle.

“Looks to me like you’ve been burning a few things yourself, girl. Get a look at your face!”

Eh?

She limped over to the hob and checked her reflection in the shining silver kettle there, only to see a grime-smeared ragamuffin staring back at her.

“You could be an extra in H'Oliver!” Parker chortled, clearly delighted with his joke.

She just barely resisted the urge to fling the kettle at him - she had only just polished it, after all - and instead wiped her face with a nearby tea towel before flinging that at him instead. He spluttered some sort of outrage at the assault, but she noted that he never actually stopped smirking at her.

“Whatcha so ‘appy about anyway?” she asked, filling the kettle and setting the hob on. “I thought you was bone-tired.”

Parker yawned and stretched, kicking his boots off under the table, which earned him a royal scowl.

“I am. Been traipsing round a bleedin’ temple all day, ‘aven’t I? I’ve been shut in, shot at, gassed, nearly buried h’alive…”

“Well that's bad luck. Still, perhaps they’ll get you next time.”

He glowered at her, but carried on.

“Frankly I’m just glad we made it out in one piece. No thanks to Gordon Tracy of course - ‘e was no ‘elp at all. All that equipment ‘e brought, and what good did it do us? ‘Er Ladyship said the same thing. Well, not in so many words…”

“Is she alright?” Lillian asked, leaning casually on the countertop. Her Ladyship was a tough lady indeed, but for all his catastrophising it sounded like they'd had quite a time of it.

“Oh yes, right as rain,” replied Parker. “Save perhaps for a smooshed nose, courtesy of that great fishy lummox.’

“Gordon did that?”

Lillian quickly scrolled through her various kitchen utensils in her head, considering how they might best be inflicted on a young Tracy’s sensitive bits. A jaded old bird she may be, but she didn't mess about when it came to Lady Penelope’s wellbeing.

That was one thing she and Parker had in common.

Perhaps sensing impending bloodshed, Parker held up his hands in an attempt to placate his companion.

“He never meant any ‘arm, Lil. It was my fault really, setting off that booby trap like that - he was jus’ trying to save ‘er from a fatal stabbin’. And ‘Er Ladyship gave ‘im a right ol’ earful over it, so I reckon the poor lad’s suffered enough.”

The kettle whistle blew and Lillian straightened to go and make the tea, still quietly plotting.

“The truth is,” he continued, “I think ‘e might be a bit sweet on her."

She was so surprised she almost dropped the kettle on her foot.

"Really? Gordon?"

He nodded. "Like a puppy, ‘e is, following ‘er around, trying to h’impress ‘er, like; he’s like a little blond labrador.”

“A dogfish,” she suggested, grabbing a packet of biscuits from the overhead cupboard.

“Ha! H’exactly!” he chuckled. “Wet nose and wet behind the ears, that one!”

Carefully, she balanced the full cups on a tray and took it over to the table.

“But ‘e’s not that young though, is he? Twenty-four?”

“About that,” replied Parker, shovelling a hobnob in his mouth. “Seems younger though, somehow. Too young for ‘er, anyway.”

“You would say that though, wouldn’t ya? Nobody's ever gonna be good enough for her s’far as you’re concerned.”

He grinned sheepishly and reached for another biscuit.

Lillian stared into her teacup, thinking.

“You don’t think she might like ‘im too, then?”

Parker’s biscuit fell in his cup.

“You wot?”

“Well I was just thinkin’,” she said, handing him a teaspoon to fish his biscuit out, “all this talk about how annoying he is and ‘ow he’s always getting into scrapes ‘n’ all that…” She took a sip. “It just seems that if she didn't like ‘im, she might not care quite so much what ‘e does.”

“Don't talk soft, woman!” exclaimed Parker, forgetting all about his slowly-disintegrating hobnob. “She’s fond of all those Tracy boys, Gordon included. It's part of her nature to worry after ‘em. Nothing more than that, I'm sure.”

“Hmmm. If you say so…”

They sat in silence for a minute, pondering.

“Though…” Parker started. “...Nah.”

“What?”

“S’nothing.”

She picked up another teaspoon. “I’m going to stick this somewhere painful if you don't come out with it.”

"You wouldn't dare," he scoffed.

"...Sideways."

A gulp.

“A moment?” She leaned forwards.

“Alright, alright, keep your ‘air on! It's only that I was just thinkin’, back there, there was a… a moment.”

“Between the two of ‘em, when we were up on that stairway, starin’ death in the face…”

He paused, waiting for sympathy.

She brandished her spoon at him. “And?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Well, we all thought that might be it - ‘The H’End’, as it were…”

“Uh-huh?”

“An’ he was saying something about us not having much time, and it being now or never…”

“Yes?”

“And the way they was looking at each other, it was like…”

“Yes?!”

She was right on the edge of her seat, tea and spoon both entirely forgotten.

He shrugged. “Well anyway, then next thing I knew, we was grappling into the air and out the roof to safety.”

She blinked.

“...What? That's it?!”

She picked up the tea towel off the table and threw it at him again.

“You almost ‘ad me then, you bleedin’ tease! Gettin’ me all invested like that…”

“What? That's what ‘appened!”

She was fuming. “I thought you’d at least say he kissed her hand or something. ‘A look’, he says!”

He flushed. “It was more than that-”

“Load of nonsense. You’ve been watching too many of those serials on telly!”

She got to her feet and stormed over to the oven.

“I can't be sittin’ here listenin’ to this rubbish all day. Got things to do,” she grumbled, pulling her rubber gloves back on.

He folded his arms, glowering. “Well that's just fine then! Last time I tell you anything.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

And so they retreated to their respective corners to sulk; her scrubbing the oven, him harrumphing in his chair, stormclouds hovering between.

A minute passed. Then two.

“...You can finish up your tea before ‘elping me with the dinner, if you like?”

“...Yeah, alright then.”

[katsukikitten]

Tw: Suicidal themes and description of attempt. Pt2

The American Hero commission is just as shady as Japan's, if not worse. Run in an obvious front to hide the "classified" floors that ran deep beneath the city, right under the feet of unsuspecting or uncaring citizens. The government is so desperate to hide secret divisions that not even heroes should know about it.

But Katsuki does.

Only because he can't let sleeping dogs lie.

Remembering Izuku spilling his guts to him one day, figuratively and literally, having had far too much to drink at his own birthday party. Izuku excused himself outside, vomiting up his anxious feelings that didn't mix well with his twelve shots of tequila.

Lady Nagant

And all that Izuku knew of her before that dumb ass passed out into Bakugou's arms. It wasn't unusual for this to happen when Izuku drank too much, hell even sober he'd call Bakugou in the middle of the night to tell him some dark secret he couldn't bear to keep with himself any longer. Katsuki was used to hearing things he shouldn't, normally he'd file it away and hardly gave it second thought.

But the name rang in Katsuki's ears until he searched it up himself, finding that she was part of something the hero commission tried so desperately to both cover up and "disband." A division that took care of threats to hero society no matter who or what the person was.

Any threat.

Bakugou was sure he fell under the category of any. Especially with his big mouth, accidents could happen, even to the strongest heroes.

Or so the virtuous society claims.

The irony of the city skyscraper isn't lost on Bakugou. Named after some long since dead hero who's estate paid for the construction of it but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that not a single cent went to anything that would actually help the community.

Instead living and dead hero's families all did the same, desperately clawing to ingrain and immortalize a hero into society in hopes to make a killing in profits.

Times like these Bakugou realizes why asshole villains like Shigiraki and Dabi wanted to send it all to hell.

Hero society was just another form of capitalism which bred nothing but greed.

The fuck was he fighting for anyway?

Nothing was going to change it and it was obvious every move he made was the wrong one.

Bakugou's leg bounces as he sits in the corner of the embassy lobby waiting to be called back into the shrink's office. Right arm pressed snugly into the wall before he grips onto his knee tightly to make it stop moving. Mind jumping back and forth between the day's earlier events with the hero, who's name he still didn't bother to remember, and how everything seemed to be askew.

Tilted, blurred or blacked out in globs of sticky ink, his view on life turning that much more nihilistic with each passing year while everyone around him felt the opposite.

He digs the heel of his palm into his left eye as if that will help him adjust. Spiced caramel scenting the air and he can feel eyes on him again.

Listen not with your ears but here.

Stupid fucking woman, why was she popping up into his head now as his heart races. Right eye burning, giving him a throbbing headache as he tries to force sight into it. Tries to will it.

But as it has been for the past eighteen years he can't see any more than he could yesterday.

Until he holds his breath to count and then for a fraction of a second he can see it. Can see the rough outline of a person, like a black silhouette on an even blacker backdrop.

"Bakugou Katsuki." He opens his eye with a squint as he stares up at the last minute appointment the old hag insisted he take. The doctor was young, around the same age as him, his thick file in her manicured hands has him grinding his teeth.

He hadn't had a mandatory session in years, probably since Kirishima couldn't hold up the rubble any longer, passing out while Bakugou watched him faint, his jagged cliffside skin turning soft and smooth before being nearly crushed to death under a half standing building. Kirishima was in the hospital for weeks and Katsuki struggled to eat.

It was the first instance of quirk failure, of losing his grip on the tightly wound fuse of his temper.

He leveled an entire block.

The second was with Izuku, when the emerald haired man was stabbed through his solar plexus, blood flying from his mouth, staining his chin and throat. And what did that dumb ass Deku say, "Are you alright, Kaachan?" before falling to his knees, further impaling himself on the rod that lodged in his body.

Katsuki blacked out after that. Not that his body fell from the sight, oh no. His mind switched off and Katsuki worked on rage and instinct alone.

The crater Bakugou created is still there today, record breaking and comparable to that of an atomic bomb or sizable meteor from space.

The media dubbed him nuclear after that.

But they didn't fucking know what it was like, watching your friends cheat death over and over again. In more horrific ways than the last.

But how many times could his friends win, even with a padded hand? Each time they cheated the meticulous god they raised their chances of losing the next time.

Katsuki knew from experience, with each brush with Death, he became closer than the last.

The ignorant public, the apathetic hero commission, they didn't understand.

Couldn't understand that Bakugou has an undying need to win. Not for bragging rights or to be the best, although those were welcomed, but because Bakugou Katsuki refused to have blood on his hands.

He needed his complete victory.

And having it since his first year at UA. Of saving his friends, his co workers time and time again over the decades despite the doctor's speaking of him never being able to do pro hero work again.

He saved them, he had to save them. Denki, Mina, Ochaco, Shoto, Kirishima, all of them. Yes, even Shitty Deku, especially shitty Deku, idiots all of them, pushing themselves too hard and never asking for help.

"Bakugou Katsuki." She repeats and this time Bakugou stands. His presence already making a hush fall over the lobby, more eyes on him except this time he could glare from his good side.

Snarling his teeth at their eyes fixated on him and their mouth agape like dead fish. They suddenly find the floor or their phones interesting as he stops in front of the woman.

He has to look down at her, even in her four inch heels, she gives a tight smile but turns in her long pencil skirt until they reach her office. She's smart and enters first, letting Bakugou stand by the door while she comes around her desk and sits.

Her hand gesturing for him to shut the door and take a seat, silently he obeys. But not without a suck of his teeth.

It smells like cinnamon and paper in the office, it's sparsely decorated, her degree and accomplishments hanging on the same wall as the door, had Bakugou's eye not wandered around the room he wouldn't have seen them.

So she liked her accomplishments but didn't wanna brag? Or was it one of those psychological tricks therapists do?

A box of tissues sits on her desk, a small crystal candy bowl that looks more like it belonged to an old woman. He snorts seeing the assortment of random candy. There was a three musketeers for Shitty hair, a twix for Icyhot and Deku, the couple always wanting to split, and even a lemon warhead for Dunceface.

He leaves the sweets alone as she settles.

"Coffee Mr. Dynamight?" She asks as she places her reading glasses near the tip of her nose.

"No." He spies the keurig, knows he doesn't want any of that shit.

"Well, I'm glad you're here today, when Clair-"

"Clair?" Bakugou scoffs, leaning back in his chair. She lets her dark eyes rove over his relaxed body language. How his arm slumps over the back of a chair and she almost misses his calculating eyes.

"Clair, Clairity, your hero mentor." She tries to keep the bite out of her tone, tries to remember Bakugou would sometimes use arrogance as a defense or wall but something tells her he really didn't bother to remember this time around considering the circumstances.

"Hmm." A non committal hum, a milky and sharp eye coming back to look at her. Burning gaze making even the professional shift in her seat.

"I'll get straight to the point then and won't waste your time but I believe we should start you off on a low dose of your old prescriptions again. Just to try to level you out."

"Why? I'm not suicidal?" He scoffs, glaring at his thick file, he hates that goddamn thing. Most doctors like her pushing for drugs first, although he'd never had it happen so quickly before.

Guess she could take the record for that.

"You were at one point, that doesn't just go away." She flicks through the papers, pretending as if it was a small thing she could have misread before looking back up at him. He returns her glare, snarling lips before he shifts in the chair, a more defensive stance, feigned arrogance thrown out the window in favor of full on agitation.

It wasn't like Bakugou thought medicine was pussy shit, he knew it wasn't. Was happy to hear it was working out for Kaminari's anxiety and especially Izuku's panic attacks but almost every brand he was on made him feel worse.

Less than.

Less than a hero.

Less than a man.

Less than Bakugou Katsuki.

Even if he'll never admit he set the bar at an impossible height.

"Maybe for me it did." Ironic he would lie when he hates a liar the most. Maybe because they remind him of himself sometimes.

Spreading half truths that he was fine when he wasn't. His blistering anger burns everyone around him, especially himself. Although he was on the mend until this past year.

Soon Katsuki's scent overpowers the cinnamon candle in the room. She gives him a long knowing look.

"Medicine paired with talk therapy is quite effective. It put your outbursts in remission and -"

"No." He barks, "I ain't taking shit. I'll talk to you til the fuckin sun explodes before I ever take another god damn zombie pill. Drop it." His quirk flares at the end, the smallest pop on his chest and several down his right arm. He stands, giving her his back as he leaves since he had nothing more to say.

Typical of Bakugou's luck it pours down sheets of thick freezing rain and there wasn't an umbrella in sight.

Not that he wanted one, hands angrily in the pockets of her hero suit that clung to him even tighter now thanks to the wet weather. Pressing his face in the high collar of his winter suit as he lets gravity pull his posture downward. Feeling as if he was walking through sludge, as if the steel of his knee plates and boots were attracted to the Earth's magnetic core making his legs feel as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

Still he pushes on, slowly as the cold sinks into his bone marrow until he's home.

The apartment complex smells worse when it rains, the old heating system of the building smells like it's burning something. Most likely the hair or paws of the scurrying rats Bakugou had heard last night and all he can think about is how badly he wanted a long hot bath and to never wake up when he went to bed.

Or at least be able to sleep in til noon, if his internal clock would allow him.

On the bright side his couch should be here, needing to be assembled but there none the less. As he comes into the narrow hallway of the sixth floor he snarls when he doesn't see a couch or a mattress, frame or box spring, anywhere to be found.

Quickly he pulls out his phone, droplets of water from his hair making it difficult for him to navigate the sensitive touch screen before he's biting off his thick gloves to tuck under his arm. Pulling up two emails. One saying his couch was delivered and the other claiming his mattress was delayed.

What the fuck? Delayed and delivered. Where the fuck was his couch?

He thinks maybe he should try to ask a neighbor if they'd seen any delivery guys or who walked off with his package.

He hears shuffling coming from apartment 6D and figured he'd start there.

Your door opens slightly before he can even knock.

"Oh my friendly neighbor." You let the sarcasm shine through, "I-"

But before you can finish Bakugou's already spying the oversized cardboard box propped up against the wall by your kitchen, a picture of the couch he ordered plastered on the side.

"Why is my fuckin package in your apartment?" His voice is a growl, strong hand gripping the door just above the chain. He's broken plenty of stupid little door chains and this cheap one that was probably on its last leg was going to be the last thing that stopped him now.

"I took it from the hallway so it wouldn't get stolen????" Your voice goes up at the end in disbelief.

"By you ya mean?"

"Wow." You bark out a humorless laugh as you unhook the chain, "I was trying to be nice. I was going to buy us takeout at the only nice place round here and help you build it but nooooo!"

"Noooo! Now my neighbor gets to try to build this complicated as fuck couch by himself, get frustrated, quit and sleep on the couch cushions wishing he'd been nicer to me." You hold open the door for him to drag the couch box out. He rolls his eyes as you speak. His gloves fall from under his arm onto the floor of your apartment as he grabs onto the box and lifts. Carrying the heavy and awkward couch on his own with ease before you slam the door the second the last of that cardboard clears your threshold.

"Asshole!" You call through the front door before he's fighting with his own to get it open.

Not even bothering to change as he rips open the box, flipping through the instructions. There were only pictures, the words in a language he wasn't familiar with.

"Fuck." He separated everything the best he could. Easily holding up the heavy metal as he tries to assemble but somehow the wrong leg or screw is used and after his fifth attempt at step four he loses it.

Letting it drop with a loud thud and a cuss. His downstairs neighbors quick to bang on the ceiling with their broom and he hits his fist back in response.

Rising to take a shower like that may be the solution and when he comes back the couch will be built on its own. Letting the hot water burn into his skin as he stands under the stream, using the last of his travel sized shit and thinking about the train stops from hell he'll have to take to find what he needs.

He comes back to the project at hand after dressing in a long sleeved shirt and boxers. There was just no way in hell he was going to be able to have the patience to do this tonight. His right eye and arm burning before he digs in his small bag to place two numbing drops into his eye to hopefully last him until he finally falls asleep.

"Sleep on the couch cushions"

Growling at how true your words turned out to be as he rifles through the box for the soft portion of the sofa.

He lies on the dark cushions on the floor. The half put together pieces of furniture, mostly incorrect, sits facing him. As if mocking him with a half smirk to remind him of another one of his failures. Because who the fuck couldn't put their couch together, the soft linen of the dark couch already suffering from a hand print singe or two as he needed to put the couch together for something to sleep on.

He checks his phone again and the mattress is still very much lost in this hellscape of a city. Makes Bakugou toss his phone roughly and the screen cracks even more.

What the fuck am I even good for? Can't even build a fuckin couch.

The late night thoughts creep in as they always do and now he's regretting not asking for those sleeping pills he used to get. Although she probably wouldn't have prescribed them considering what happened the last time he had them. Taking the orange bottle out of the medicine cabinet with blurry vision, reading his useless name before he titled the full month's worth into his mouth and swallowed thickly. Apathetic to the bitterant coating that stuck to his tongue and back of his throat. Forcing him to swallow mouthfuls of saliva as the small white pills struggled to make it down past the lump in his throat.

He only did it because he felt his double dose wasn't going to cut it, far from able to get a peaceful sleep. And it sure as fuck wasn't going to stop the sour, toxic voice in his head that monologues about everything he'd ever done. Forgiven or not.

Remember when Shoto got fuckin skewered because you couldn't respond fast enough? The pills made you sluggish as hell and icy hot almost died cause of it.

Remember when you had to tell Mina that Kirishima might not wake up because she was too hysterical to understand the doctor? You just had to take the weekend off because of your 'mental health' didn't you. Couldn't hold it together long enough for the doctor to clear you for the week.

Remember when you let yourself get taken by Touya and your friends put themselves in danger and almost got expelled because you're too weak?

Remember that little girl you couldn't save? It couldn't have been that hard to catch her, she was only four blocks away.

Remember when you were the downfall of Allmight?

You know you're not living up to Edgeshot or Beat Jeanist's legacy, they wasted their time and lives on you.

Remember when you told Izuku to take a swine dive off the school building cause he was quirkless? It should have been you, you worthless piece of shit.

What's the fucking point? Why fight? It never ends, just lie down and die like the pathetic dog you are.

Oftentimes Bakugou found himself agreeing, he wasn't living up to their legacy, his chest scars screaming at the thought. He picks at the fabric of the cushion as his mind marinates in his failures. In the fallen faces of his friends, of the quiet nights of sitting with their unconscious bodies and how he should have been with them and not on another mission. Of the aftermath of unspeakable shit and knowing exactly how the human body shouldn't bend or break.

Tears prick his eyes and slowly fall from his nose but he does nothing to stop it, he feels numb if anything, hollow feeling in his chest where the anger rotted away everything until his chest cavity was empty.

Nothing but a weighted nothingness, a void, or black hole that gnawed away at his insides, sharp cold teeth scraping at his bones until there was nothing left.

The smallest part of him, the part that took decades to give a soft voice to, whispers that he's glad he didn't have the pills right now. Because he would tip the bottle back and take as many as he could.

And this time Izuku wouldn't have a weird feeling to come check on Bakugou in the middle of the night.

Even if he did, he wouldn't make it in time thanks to the massive ocean and land mass between them.

The thought brings him some comfort as twisted as it was but at least he wouldn't have to gag around Izuku's panicked fingers just to vomit all over his friend again.

Stupid fuckin Deku.

Bakugou's phone rings once, then twice. Illuminating the living room with harsh artificial light, Bakugou waits for it to go to voicemail. If it's important they'll leave one and if it's from Japan they should be smart enough to do the math for the time difference and realize he was probably asleep.

At least he should be.

Fingers grabbing at the broken glass and letting his faceid open the phone. Palming his right eye where the tears burn when they escape in fat drops. Wiping them away with a stone cold face as he plays the one voicemail

Izuku: Kaachan, I just wanted to check on you, you don't have to call back. I know it's late. I'm just having a weird feeling. Eijirou-kun said he hasn't heard from you either. Which isn't unlike you but I know how you can be. Well not how you can be. Just- just you usually check in with one of us or you text fuck you in the group chat and-

Izuku's laugh rings out in the small space when he realizes what he's doing.

Izuku: I'm rambling! I know you hate that. …… I'm just worried about you, ev-everyone is. Anyway just a call or text away! Bye Kaachan. I love you. Oh uh that's weird I know but Dr. Yuki suggests I be more open about what I'm feeling, so I'm telling my friends I love them now. Since that whole thing with Shouto-kun. Hopefully it won't make you too uncomfortable. ….. even just a middle finger emoji, to let me know you're alive, would be enough. Bye Kaachan, I'll see you soon.

Finally that nerd shuts up, Katsuki's fingers moving against the fractured glass finding Izuku's direct chat at the way at the bottom of his logs. He clears his throat before tapping the mic symbol to send a voice memo.

Katsuki: Dumb ass Deku, do you know what time it is? Course I'm livin'! Ain't shit gonna kill me. Now fuck off if ya don't have anything better to do.

Three dots pop up quickly making Bakugou think that Izuku is glued to his phone while Shouto prepares cold soba for the pair.

Izuku: Sorry Kaachan I know it's late. Thank you ❤️

Katsuki: ❤️

Katsuki: 🖕

Katsuki shoots Kirishima and then the group text a quick reply, telling them America was as shitty as all the other times he's been here and that he hadn't had time to find a new hole in the wall restaurant to tell them about.

He locks his phone.

Thinks as he is shrouded in the darkness under the comforter he bought on the way home, couch cushions trying to slip as his hulking frame turns.

He thinks he should buy you coffee as an apology for his asshole behavior.

And maybe, just maybe, he won't choke on his pride as he asks you for help.

[sphireath-wisp]

#Your Universe

Sypnosis:: What Steven Universe song matches the vibe/feel about your established relationship with them <3

Warnings: Possible mischaracterization, 90% of the space is taken up by lyrics, not proofread

Featuring: Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Sae Itoshi, Meguru Bachira x GN! reader

Credits: All songs are credited to Steven Universe, the creators of Steven Universe, and Rebecca Sugar

"Here Comes a Thought"

"Here comes a thought that might alarm you, What someone said and how it harmed you Something you did that failed to be charming Things that you said are suddenly swarming"

Rin had always known that your relationship with him was a shaky one, or so that was what he thought. He never knew how to express his feelings to you, he knew his words had such a strong effect on you. So, then why did he have to storm out like that? Why couldn't he just control his mouth for once and actually let you speak?

The whole situation escalated and suddenly the both of you were hurling insults at each other. Yes, when you began to break down in tears, he hesitated. However, he couldn't bring himself to comfort you or be there for you or somehow stop your flow of tears - he didn't know how to.

"And, oh, you're losing sight, you're losing touch All these little things seem to matter so much That they confuse you That I might lose you"

He feels the guilt eat him up from the inside, that uncomfortable churning feeling that he drags with him every practice, that unbearable voice at the back of his brain that reminds him about just how horrible of a boyfriend he is to you.

He's terrified. Terrified of another restless night of sleep without you, the missed phone calls he can't bring himself to answer back. Why is he even bothered by things like this? What's wrong with him?

"Take a moment, remind yourself To take a moment and find yourself Take a moment to ask yourself If this is how we fall apart"

With shaky hands, he finally musters up the courage to see you again. Both of you can tell just how hard the fight affected you. In a moment of hesitation, he breaks the silence by asking.

"Are we... going to break up?" Rin's almost revolted at the idea, physically flinching at his own words, a scowl on his face.

Rin was logical. He knew it would be better for the both of you to fall apart. You wouldn't have to always break down over him and he wouldn't have to feel that ache in his chest ever again. It would be a lighter weight to carry and he wouldn't have to risk breaking your heart.

It was for the best... right? You had to know it too.

"But it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay You've got nothing, got nothing, got nothing, got nothing to fear I'm here, I'm here, I'm here"

Without any words to reply to his question, you pull him into a hug. "I'm sorry... for distracting you from your practice - I knew you were busy and I... sorry, I won't do it again if you don't want me to." You didn't exactly want to reply to his question, unsure of you would be able to let him go.

Silence cuts through the air like a sharp blade for a split second.

"I'm sorry too. I... didn't need to storm out like that." Slowly, Rin hugs you back, feeling a sudden sense of relief washing over him. He crumples the scripted apology in his hand with his emotions spilled out to you in ink, afraid he would let a harsh remark slip out again.

"For the missed calls, for the ghosting, for everything, I'll make it up to you... I'll win the next game for you, I promise." Of course, Rin's mind darts right back to soccer.

"Take a moment to think of just Flexibility, love, and trust."

The whole fight seemed insignificant in a second. What was haunting him became dwarfed by a simple apology from both of you. Something about finally having that weight lifted off of his shoulders made him miss having you around even more. You were such a relief to be near.

"Is that... a good enough apology?" Rin whispers to you, unsure if something so short could make you forgive him. His heart is still racing in his chest, nervously reaching his fingers out to intertwine them with yours, handling your hands as if they were glass.

"That's enough of an apology for me."

"Love Like You"

"If I could begin to be Half of what you think of me I could do about anything I could even learn how to love"

Sae had never been one to fall in love. He spent his precious minutes on something that would push him closer to his goals. If he was involved in any sort of dating rumor, one post will immediately shut down any suspicions. He wasn't flattered, if anything, he was annoyed.

He was confused, puzzled even as to how he arrived here today with a wedding ring adorning his finger. How he had fallen in love and how you welcomed his then immature feelings and inexperienced love.

Whenever he hears your cheers, your wishes for his future, and your support for someone like him, it motivates Sae to work even harder for his dreams and become someone you want to live the rest of your life with. He knew his goals were his to achieve and have pride in alone, but it felt... better to know someone always had his back.

"When I see the way you act Wondering when I'm coming back I could do about anything I could even learn how to love like you"

Every time he returns from his matches overseas, he loves to see you spamming his phone because it tells him how much you really missed him. Your eager replies and constant need for updates are adorable to Sae.

Something about the way you always know what he needs after a long trip makes anywhere he goes with you feel like home. Why yes, he did feel like getting some hot chocolate, you must have read his mind.

"I always thought I might be bad Now I'm sure that it's true 'Cause I think you're so good And I'm nothing like you"

"Am I holding you back?" is a question he despised to hear slip out of your mouth despite the neutral expression on his face. "No, what made you think that?" Sae asks, seating himself next to you, watching you fidget with the diamond ring on your finger.

"It's just that, I'll forget that my husband is this super talented and hardworking soccer genius that really went to great lengths for his goals. In comparison, I'm not really all that awesome." You would laugh to yourself in spite of how dispirited your voice sounded.

Sae wasn't great at handling feelings, so he was a little stumped by your answer. You knew that and had hardened yourself for something blunt to escape his lips. "You're only comparing things that make me great. When it comes to anything outside of soccer, I'm horrible."

"It took me years to properly communicate my... feelings to you, and I'm still pretty shit at it. You had the patience to actually help me - something I doubt I'll ever have. You can't compare soccer to basketball, you can't compare me to you." His words, while not directly comforting you, did reach a soft spot in your heart. A hand knocks you lightly on the head, "Don't think about crap like that."

"Look at you go I just adore you I wish that I knew What makes you think I'm so special"

Sae doesn't mind seeing you do what you're passionate about. Whether it's music or art, as long as you know what you're doing, he'll be supportive. Sae's not the type to fangirl about how he's your #1 fan (at least not in front of you), but he definitely has that adoration to see you engrossed in a hobby.

When he really takes notice of your work, it makes him wonder why you think of him so highly. Yes, he's persevered to get to where he is today, but from your work, your life, your career, and hobbies, so have you.

"Escapism"

"I guess I have to face That in this awful place I shouldn't show a trace of doubt."

Nagi, at his very core, is lazy and unmotivated. While his frustration towards losing is his driving force and passion for soccer, he would love to live a laidback life if he had the choice.

The whole competitive aspect of soccer is fun, but it can become exhausting sometimes - which is when you come in. You're another key motivator for him to reach his dream, even as egotistical as it may be.

Every practice will result in a worn-out Nagi melting into your embrace the moment he reaches home, lacking the energy to do another other than spend the rest of his day with you.

You are his soothing agent, his medicine, and he'll be expecting his well-deserved reward of kisses for the day as well.

"But pulled against the grain I feel a little pain That I would rather do without."

Every single time, the same scenario of him having to part ways with you to perhaps go overseas for a match or perhaps your schedule has gotten busier than before.

Being accustomed to your presence, home just becomes a house without you, filled with the buzz of background noise and nothing but his own hums and thoughts. He's not the type to weep, but he certainly does feel more... numb.

The quiet of no one disturbing his free time used to be a comfort to him, and it was at first, but it slowly spiraled to something... miserable.

Returning home without greetings, accidentally pouring an extra cup of lemon tea for someone who isn't here, and being forced to roll around in bed without the warmth of a special someone with him.

Nagi would love to settle down one day. He'll save up money that would never run out to sustain both you and him so work won't separate you from him for so long. It would be great, wouldn't it? No more need to wake up early in the morning, no more late night shifts, and no need to see you so stressed out.

"I'd rather be Free, free, free... from here."

"Wouldn't it be nice to run away somewhere?" You wonder, unintentionally asking the question out loud. "Like maybe, travel by boat through the sea?"

"Like pirates?" Nagi's eyes are still focused on his games, but he's listening.

"Yeah! It would be sort of cool, minus the seasickness. Would you want to go anywhere? Or live anywhere?" You shift yourself closer to him, watching over his shoulder as he's mashing buttons and you assumed that he was winning.

"It's a hassle to think about it." You chuckle at his response, then he opens his mouth again, "Anywhere's fine as long as I can go with you, and it has to have wifi, so a ship is a no for me."

"An arcade maybe?"

"That'd be cool." Nagi's eyes glance over at you, "A bunch of games to choose from."

"And high electricity bills." You joke. Nagi pouts at you, almost as if you ruined his view of living at an arcade. He focuses back on his game as you continue, "But, yeah. I think I'd be fine with anywhere as long as I'm with you too. Our house isn't all that bad."

Nagi lays his head on your lap, mentioning, "Only if you're in it with me."

"I'd Rather be Me (with you)"

"I'd rather be tall, I'd rather be smart I'd rather be sure you know I care Wherever you go, whatever you start I'd rather be sure you know I'm there."

You always notice Bachira's efforts to cheer you up. Just like glue, he'll stick to you constantly and keep you company when you need it. His enthusiasm is contagious, you feel as if your day has brightened up the moment he talked to you.

This guy is an overthinker, trying his best to ensure you know he really cares. He doesn't mind lending a helping hand, especially if he can show you off - like yes, this my significant other you're looking at!!

"I'd rather I always be a part of whatever you do I'd rather be me with you."

While Bachira is his own unique person, he feels - in an intriguing way - more complete when you're with him. This chemistry that the both of you have after being mashed together is unexpectedly amazing. You can just naturally talk to him without any worries, a thread of questions can lead to a fruitful conversation.

It warms his heart to see you put in the same effort he does to help you. Something about bandaging up his wounds during practice, softly caressing his face, and showing that same bright exuberance whenever he's around makes him feel like the both of you are so different, yet so similar.

Artistic dates and stupid things, dancing the night away and forgetting about the world around the both of you, this bubble you've created that only included the both of you in it was enchanting to be part of.

"Wherever we go, I already trust I'd know what to do if it were us I'd know what to say, I'd know how to be I'd know your entire syllabus"

As time passes on, your understanding of each other improves. Through petty arguments or heated kisses, both you and Bachira understand just how strong a relationship based on trust is. You know just what he wants to do and you'd usually accompany him - he does the same too.

One glance at each other makes you burst out loud, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around. You can't ever take each other seriously and it makes him feel safe.

He doesn't feel any ounce of anxiousness when he's with you. He isn't worried to say something wrong because he knows what to say to see a smile on your face, he knows how to joke with you - aware that you wouldn't judge him.

While Bachira isn't sure if you feel the same way, he tries to reassure you to just be the purest, rawest, most unfiltered version of you whenever he's around. You don't have to force a quiet giggle for him, a real laugh would make him feel so, so much happier.

"I can't think of any other thing in the world I would rather do If I could be, I'd rather be me with you."

His teammates hear his whines and complaints all the time. Absolutely, Bachira is motivated by his dreams, but being away from his source of light and energy - also known as you - is just going to drain him.

He doesn't really care where he is or what he's doing. As long as it's with you, Bachira knows he's going to have a great time.

His happiest, best version of him is a version you've seen often. You've seen all sides of him - serious, upset, frustrated, but most importantly, elated. Bachira practically emits a sense of euphoria for you despite his eccentric qualities.

While he isn't the most romantic, while he can't dance and sleeps at the strangest times, he hopes you've fallen in love with all versions of him, exactly like how he has for you.

[lamentingocean]

JAHA X READER

The dark clouds of the sky but only a memorable day of potentially dangerous rejection and love can occur into the streets of China, jaha didn't know what to do since he had always been the smartest in every situation and in every battle.

of when his clothes are bathed in the blood of powerful fighters and soldiers along his path to his goal, and to a world of bliss for rules to not be followed by such a class of martial artists,

Throwing their yuan away in such a cocky mentality, the master of the black rabbit clan knew how to take care of threats like that, even if it means having shards of a enemy's sword getting scattered in the ground of class, even if it means protecting ilyang, even if it means protecting Y/N from the dangers of this world, the dangers of China and therefore their path to power and vengeance leading to destruction and wars,even if it means the essence of insanity scraped his soul.

yuan rattled on his hand as he surveyed the remaining gifts to buy for Y/N. It was pure ruby earrings. It was a beautiful chinese dress, it was perfumes of the finest caliber of scents. there are so many options.

A flashback banged into his head. He suddenly remembered what you like, and what you like mattered to him even if he's a cold-blooded killer with an aura called the definition of danger.

"I actually like blue earrings, I like the way they shine, and they look like the ocean to me? Don't you agree?"

he came inside the shop where the earrings were stored at, there were many shades of color, blue, green, white, black, gray, orange. the blue one on the side caught his blood red eyes.

the beautiful earrings looking into his eyes were called.

The forbidden city of the ocean, it all spelled out in Chinese, and a rare Chinese ink to make it stand out more. he picked them up in slight awe. thinking: Would they look good on her? a voice interrupted his thought process. it was a man in the first desk.

with an angry look on why he dared touch a fine piece of jewelry, wearing his hands like an illuminating necklace, jaha questioned in his ordinary sass.

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

"You're touching a rich peice of jewelry? If you aren't going to pay for that, then get the hell out of my shop?"

he picked up the jewelry anyway and walked up to him. The intimidation scared the man that insulted a master terrified him to the brink. like it went through his thick skull. a large amount of yuan slammed onto the desk.

"I need to pay for this."

"First of all, you don't come up to my shop like that sir, most people treat the jewelry with respect."

It was at this point that this man was pushing him to the brim, even the vein on his forehead shown it as a sign to stop talking before death kisses him in the face into the afterlife. the man hesitated on spitting out the next words that will spill in the next second.

and if he did, then he had a 30 chance to be alive. His red eyes took his mind into a terrified panic. his words spit out orchestras of fear.

"FINE. IT'S FREE. TAKE IT. JUST DONT HURT ME.."

his sweat soak his armpits, the filling shit of his system kept pouring down out of fear of whoever this man is.

"W-who are you?"

his footsteps walked to the door, and jaha didn't want to speak to him any longer after his terrified voice almost gave him a nearing headache. He looked at the real price of the earrings.

"Hmm..50,000 yuan."

he went to a place he knew you would be at, since that's a place that stored the most memories of you inside that insane head. It was raining blossoms.

he saw you near the lake, looking beautiful as ever, with (whatever chinese outfit you like) somehow. he felt happy and a sensation of peace in his aura. like he felt like he was in heaven with you. Blossoms coated his void black hair cutely.

you turned with a bag of desserts on your arm, happy to be spending time with jaha after all the missions and drama you two have gone through.

From the demonic cult, the martial arts league, the light faction, and the dark faction.

you saw him with an existing happiness and popped a strawberry, chocolate cake that is small as a kitten in his mouth.

"COME ON♡ LETS GO TO THE QIXI FESTIVAL!"

(my comeback era for writing came back)

[justgleekout]

The Purrfect Crime

Summary: Kurt and Blaine were, as you say, “partners in crime”, but like, in the opposite sense… They were a long standing duo at the CIA. Headquarters knew they worked best when they worked together, so they just always did.

On their most recent mission however, their professional partnership is being tested as they go undercover as a married couple.

Rating: T

Words: 3,625

Additional tags: Fake Dating, spies!klaine, Friends to Lovers, crack elements, I really tried to be funny, smitten!blaine, Pining, oblivious!kurt?, Or Is he?, Alternate Universe

Notes: This work is a secret santa gift to @spaceorphan18! Merry Christmas!

First of all, I know this is a little late and I'm so sorry! I was struggling (to say the least) to get this done on time. As you can see, this is chapter one, because I just couldn't finish the whole thing and I didn't want you to wait any longer. I was so busy with work it's litereally not funny. I was pulling days from 7am til 9pm at some point. Then, when I started writing my first idea, I came to the realisation that I was including a very significant trope that was the oposit of what you had written on your wish list, so I had to start over... my own stupid mistake. Then, to make matters even worse, I spilled soda all over my laptop and it broke down completely. So I had to continue writing on my phone and ipad with a broken keyboard (I do NOT reccomend). I know, excuses excuses. I'm just bummed I didn't get it done on time. Also I now have to buy a new computer...

All that aside! I hope you like what I've got so far! I got really excited when I saw you wanted spies!klaine! A trope I absolutely love! Just note that I have never really written crack before, but I tried my best to make it fun add many silly elements! And I promise there are a lot more to come in the next part!!

Chapter: 1/?

Read on Ao3

They walked up to the gates of what could only be described as a palace (if America had those). The long and broad driveway behind the gates lead to a building so large and fancy looking, Blaine instinctively straightened his bowtie and readjusted his cufflinks. He knew he looked the part. Headquarters never sent out their agents in anything less than appropriate attire, but he couldn’t help it. He then glanced over at Kurt, who looked like he was a regular at this place, clad in a striking powder blue suit that perfectly brought out the colour of his eyes- no, Blaine, you are on a mission and he is your friend. He had to remind himself more and more frequently of the fact that they were partners in the professional sense only. No matter how gorgeous Kurt looked and how kind he was and how many flirty remarks he made at Blaine. 

“Did you get any information on what we are actually attending?” Kurt asked.

“No, chief Sylvester only gave me the location and this invitation.” Blaine held up a piece of royal blue parchment with a broken red and gold wax seal. The text on it was written in golden ink and read: 

“ Dear guest, 

Recently I received some incredible news concerning someone close to me that has enriched my life. I would like to share this news with you. Therefore, I hereby invite you to attend a celebratory party to join me in my glee on the evening of the 22nd of may at my residence. I would love to share with you a grand revelation that not even I know the outcome of. All that I will say is that it will be an evening full of surprises. 

Sincerely,

Hunter Clarington”

“What do you think it means?” Kurt asked as he took the paper from Blaine to inspect it further.

“I don’t know. But he is clearly up to something. Chief Sylvester said they got a hold of this invite right after they found suspicious signals and radiation coming from the address. They tracked all the vehicles going in and out of the vicinity. All transporting materials to build some sort of weapon… a powerful one.”

Kurt worried his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded, mulling over the information.

Blaine couldn't help but stare at Kurt's mouth as he licked his lips in thought. Blaine swallowed thickly and his breath hitched for a moment.

Kurt eyed him a little suspiciously. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Are you?” Great save, Blaine. Clever. 

Kurt shrugged. “A little, I guess.” 

Blaine didn’t actually expect that answer. “What? Why? You’re never nervous .” 

“Well I just don’t really fit in at these kinds of events… ”

Blaine frowned at Kurt. “What makes you say that?”

“Everyone here is rich, Blaine. I don’t know any of these etiquettes and inside jokes. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb…”

“Kurt, you are a spy for the CIA You are literally trained to fit in anywhere. I’ve seen you act. You’re a natural! And your suit looks incredibly expensive.” Better than mine anyways…

Kurt smiled at the compliment. “Thank you. I tailored it myself, actually.”

“A secret agent with secret talents. Seriously, Kurt, what can’t you do?”

“It’s not “Kurt” tonight, Remember?” 

“Right. Yes. Sorry, Mr. Ralph Murray, what can’t you do?” Blaine said to Kurt with a smile.

“Some secrets I don't dare share, not even with you, Mr. George Murray, darling. ” Kurt winked at Blaine.

And there it was; the reason Blaine was nervous in the first place. Tonight Kurt and he were Ralph and George Murray, husbands of five years, millionaires, and most importantly, on the guest list. It wouldn’t be a hard part to play; Kurt’s husband. Blaine had played that part often enough in his head. But Kurt didn’t know that, and Blaine would rather eat his bowtie than have Kurt finding out and Blaine making a fool out of himself. He just couldn't help but blush at the pet name Kurt gave him. 

Then, a sharp noise pierced his ear. Blaine flinched. This damn earpiece! And then a voice, “Hey guys, I’m glad to hear you are getting into character, but you better get in there. We have no clue where the signal is coming from within that building. And we need to find it fast. 

Right. Blaine thought. The stakes were high tonight. The nation was in danger and it was their job to secure its safety. “We best get in, then.”

“Oh before you do, I have hidden some gadgets for you in that bush over there on the left side of the gate.”

“Hold up. You have hidden our top secret, highly dangerous gadgets… in a bush?” Kurt said exasperatedly into his earpiece. 

“I figured they would be easily accessible…”

“Yeah. To literally everyone , Sam,” Kurt hissed.

“Oh… yeah…”

“Look, Sam, just tell us what you got us,” Blaine said as he crouched next to the bush, pushing the branches aside to reveal a suitcase. He opened it and Sam continued, “Alright. There is of course your trusted grenade pen, anaesthetic darts-watch and bulletproof handkerchief, but I have also added a few of my newest inventions.”

To this, Kurt shot Blaine an apprehensive look. They were a little too familiar with Sam's “ inventions” to say they were always a raging success. They looked into the suitcase and saw, beside their usual gadgets, something that looked like a small beauty case, an umbrella and a pair of sunglasses. “What the…” Kurt whispered under his breath.

Blaine frowned. “Sam, the event is inside… how are we supposed to casually pull out an umbrella or sunglasses?” 

“You're worried about the sunglasses? How do you reckon we are gonna be able to pull off using a, what is this, a lipstick ?” Kurt said as he held up a small golden tube. 

“I- hadn’t really thought about that,” Sam confessed.

Kurt looked like a vein was about to pop in his forehead as he pinched the skin between his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

“What do they do, Sam?” Blaine offered.

“Right, so, the umbrella is not only completely waterproof, it is also fire resistant and creates a perfect shield once unfolded. The sunglasses have infrared night vision and the lipstick is my personal favourite. It releases a toxic fume if you press that button on the back there, but that won't affect you when you are wearing the lipstick as it neutralises the toxins as they come close to it, so when you inhale, you're totally safe,” Sam said proudly.

Blaine had to admit the inventions sounded pretty incredible had they been more practical. “Alright,” he sighed. “Thank you, Sam.”

Kurt side eyed him and Blaine offered a shrug in return. 

“Well, we’d better get going, now. We’ll tune back in when we need you, Sam,” Kurt said and tapped on his earpiece once to hang up. Blaine followed. “Honestly, I can’t with him sometimes. I know you guys are friends, but he sure gets on my nerves.”

Maybe Sam didn't always have the best ideas, but he really wasn't bad at his job. Blaine thought. “He tries his best, though. And he is actually really great once you get to know him,” 

Kurt shook his head. “You’re too kind for your own good,” he said, but there wasn't any actual judgement in his voice. 

Blaine smiled and the blush he was sporting a minute ago returned faintly to his cheeks.

They walked through the gate towards a grand wooden front door in front of which a big woman was standing behind a podium with her arms crossed. "Names?" she said as she was eyeing them up and down suspiciously.

Blaine put on his most charming smile. “George and Ralph Murray,” he responded.

She looked at the register in front of her and her expression changed. “Ah! Splendid!" Welcome to the Clarington residence. All guests are expected in the ballroom for the welcome speech at 8:00 pm sharp. In the meantime there will be beverages and appetisers served in the grand foyer. Please enjoy your evening Mr. and Mr. Murray.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said and nodded to the woman. They walked past her as the doors opened. 

“Ballroom? Really?” Blaine whispered at Kurt as they made their way up the steps leading to the front door. “What is this place? Versaille?”

Kurt sniggered and gave Blaine a pointed look. “Play the part now, Blaine,” he said as they stepped over the threshold. 

They entered an incredible marble room with two grand staircases with golden railings on each side. Large pillars reached to the high ceiling on which, in the middle, hung an enormous crystal chandelier. Blaine’s mouth fell open and he heard Kurt release a low whistle. They quickly pulled themselves together as they were approached by a young handsome waiter. “Welcome, gentlemen. Can I offer you a drink? A glass of champagne perhaps? Cocktail?”

“I’ll have an old fashioned, thank you.” Kurt said with a confident, charming smile. See? Blaine knew Kurt had nothing to worry about. He was a natural. Blaine might have come from money, but Kurt just radiated class. 

“For me a negroni, please. Let’s save the champagne for later after the great announcement, don't you think?” Blaine said with a wink.

The young man blushed. “Certainly, sir.” 

“Say, do you happen to know anything about this speech?” Blaine asked him.

The waiter's eyes grew wide for a second. “I- I’m sorry sir, but it’s supposed to be a surprise.” 

“Of course. I’m sorry,” Blaine gave the waiter an understanding smile. The young man bowed his head gratefully and dashed away to get their drinks.

Blaine leaned into Kurt’s side, “You reckon he didn't know? Or he didn’t want to say?” he asked.

“Not sure… Would you share your secrets with the waiting staff?”

“I don’t know. I never had waiting staff.” 

“Hm.” Kurt gave him a considering look that lingered a bit too long. It made Blaine feel a little hot in the face.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Kurt shrugged. “I’m just trying to paint a picture of you.” When Blaine didn't respond immediately he added, “It's a good picture, don't worry.” There was something suggestive in the way Kurt spoke. Blaine looked at him as if to try figuring him out. Kurt was just good at playing his part. Blaine told himself. Though no one was looking at them at the moment so there was no direct reason for it.

“Let's ask around some more, shall we?” Kurt suggested, breaking the tension.

"Yeah. Good plan.”

The young waiter had returned with their drinks and they started moving through the crowd. They asked multiple people if they had any idea what they were doing here, but no one seemed to know or want to tell them anything. 

“This is hopeless. We are wasting valuable time.” Blaine slumped against one of the pillars. 

Kurt opened his mouth to respond but Blaine motioned for him to be quiet when he heard a woman speak; “See, I told you he was weird. Who hosts a party for their cat?” 

They turned to look where the voice came from. A latina woman with long dark hair in a fitted, red, velvet dress was talking to another woman. This one with blond hair styled in a stylishly messy updo and a mint green dress. 

“I would,” the blonde woman said solemnly. “And I have in the past.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different. You’re cute about it.” The dark haired woman flirted and the blonde one gave her a quick kiss. 

“Excuse me,” Blaine piped in.

The dark haired woman gave him a once over, clearly judging him.

“George Murray, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand and the woman took it with only slight reluctance. “This is my husband, Ralph Murray.” He gestured to Kurt who then also shook the woman’s hand. Blaine noticed that the look she gave him was a lot less disapproving. Though Blaine couldn't blame her when Kurt was wearing that suit. 

“Santana Lopez,” the dark haired woman introduced herself. “This is Brittany Pierce.”

The men shook Brittany's hand as well. “I’m sorry, we just couldn’t help but overhear… Do you happen to know what this event is for?”

“I’ve only heard rumours,” Santana said.

“I see. Where did you get these rumours from?” Blaine asked.

Santana crossed her arms. “Well aren’t you the little detective. What's it to you, anyways? 

“Just nosy.” Kurt’s smile turned a little more devious than polite, matching her energy.

“They say it’s his cat’s birthday, but that doesn’t explain the great announcement. Maybe his cat got nominated for an award.” Brittany said

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other in disbelief, and back at the women. “You can’t be serious,” Kurt said.

Santana crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Deadly.” 

“He can't be that passionate about a cat?”

“Wanna bet?” Santana challenged. “How do you think we know him?”

The men shrugged.

“We know him from cat shows.” Santana rolled her eyes. “Brittany’s cat, Lord Tubbington, often runs against his cat, Mr. Puss. So believe me when I say people are passionate about their cats. Anyways if you really wanna know, we heard it from Sebastian Smythe.”

“Who is that?” 

“He is one of Hunter's closest friends .” She grinned as if to imply something.

“Do you think Hunter told him about his plans for the night?” Blaine asked, trying to hide the eagerness in his voice.

“I’m sure he did. I overheard them talking about half an hour ago. Something about ‘getting it ready in the basement.’ ” She shrugged.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a meaningful look. “Do you know how we can get in there?” Kurt asked.

“I'm sure Sebastian has a keycard to the elevator. But hold up, why do you want to know so bad?”

“Never mind that. What does he look like; Sebastian?” Kurt asked.

Santana smirked. “Oh you can’t miss him.” 

Brittany then took Santana's hand and whispered something in her ear. They giggled. “Look we’d love to stay and chat, but we, er, we gotta go.” Santana said before she was pulled away by Brittany. Santana managed to add a “good luck” as they disappeared into the crowd. 

“What do we do now?” Blaine sighed. “We have no clue where to find this Sebastian character,”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Kurt said and pointed over Blaine’s shoulder. 

Blaine turned to look, and there, in the middle of a group of people, stood a handsome man who was clearly the centre of attention. The people around him were laughing at his jokes and basically fawning over him. “You reckon that’s him?” Blaine asked.

“ Oh my god, Sebastian! You didn’t!” one of the guys closest to him laughed and flirtily touched the man’s arm. 

Sebastian petted the guy’s hand and smirked. “You should hear what I did with his father,” he said and winked at the woman next to him. The people around him all laughed.

Blaine snorted. “Well that answers that,” he said.

“He looks incredibly obnoxious,” Kurt said and narrowed his eyes. “He is flirting with literally everyone in his little group.” He grimaced.

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage?” Blaine thought out loud. However he didn’t really feel like watching Kurt chat up another man. He would just have to do it himself. “I will go and talk to him!” 

“Wait, maybe-” but before Kurt could protest, Blaine had stepped into the circle of people. Sebastian's eyes were immediately on him. 

“Well hello handsome,” Sebastian said and extended his hand towards Blaine. “I don’t think we’ve met. You look like someone I wouldn’t easily forget.” He grinned.

Despite his better judgement, Blaine blushed. The man was handsome, alright. And definitely charismatic, judging by the effect he had on the people around him. “We haven't. My name is George Murray. Are you Sebastian Smythe?” Blaine asked as he shook the man’s hand. 

“Matter of fact I am. To what do I owe this pleasure?”  

“I was talking to some friends of mine and you sounded… interesting” Blaine smiled a what he hoped was a seductive smile. 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and turned away from Blaine for a second to make a dismissive gesture to his followers. “Could you give us a moment please?” 

The small crowd looked annoyed, some even jealous, but they obeyed, leaving the two men to themselves. Sebastian turned back to Blaine “Interesting, hm?” he grinned. 

Now that they were talking Blaine realised he didn’t actually have a solid plan. He couldn’t straight up ask Sebastian to give him the key. He would never just hand it over. Maybe Blaine could convince Sebastian to take him to the basement? But he needed Kurt with him. So he had to think of something else.

“They said you were close friends with the host,” Blaine said, trying to imply exactly whatever Santana was implying before. “I can see why he would like you,” he flirted. Apparently this was the right move, as Sebastian looked him up and down let his gaze rest on Blaine’s mouth. 

Sebastian leaned in closer. “You’re cute, George Murray. How come I’ve never seen you before?” 

“I- I’m usually very busy with eh- work. Don’t-“ Blaine swallowed. “Don’t often have time for parties.” Out of the corner of his eye Blaine noticed movement. He glanced over Sebastian's shoulder and saw that Kurt was miming something. “Back pocket!” He mouthed. What about his back pocket? Wait. Sebastian’s back pocket! The keycard was in sebastians back pocket!

Sebastian, who luckily didn’t seem to have noticed anything, spoke again, “Ah, so you're Mr. Professional, hm? Do you always obey the rules or are you capable of letting loose every once in a while?”

“Er, yeah sure,” Blaine said semi on auto pilot. How the hell was he supposed to get the key-card from Sebastian’s pocket? “What about you?” he asked. “Are you a rule breaker?”

“You could say that,” Sebastian quipped. 

Blaine laughed. He needed to get very close and personal with this man but whilst he was doing so, he might as well find out some more information.

“I was wondering,” Blaine said and trailed his finger over Sebastian’s chest. “As you’re such a bad boy, would you mind telling me what tonight is all about?” Blaine looked up through his eyelashes. 

Sebastian inhaled through his teeth. “Oh babe, I can’t tell you that. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” 

“I thought you didn't play by the rules.” 

“Why don’t you come upstairs with me where we can have a little more privacy and I can tell you all you want to know.” Sebastian said and slipped an arm around Blaine’s back. 

This was his chance. He could take it now and Sebastian wouldn't notice. He just didn’t know how to get out of the situation once he made his move. Blaine looked over his shoulder in search of Kurt and found him looking at them. Blaine gave him a quick pleading look, hoping Kurt would understand. Here goes nothing. He put his hand on Sebastian's back and slid it down to rest over his butt. “Sounds amazing...” Blaine felt the card in Sebastian's pocket. “...but I forgot to mention…” He slid his fingers into the pocket over the card, trying to pull it off as a caress, and as he retreated his hand he pulled the card out. Got it. “...that I'm married.” 

As if on cue, Kurt stepped in front of them. “Darling! There you are! I was looking for you.” He smiled a bit too sweetly at Blaine. “Who’s our new friend?” he asked and shot a murdering look at Sebastian. 

“Woah, what the hell?” Sebastian took a step back, letting go of Blaine. 

Blaine quickly slipped the key-card into his own pocket and stepped closer to Kurt. “Ralph, honey, this is Sebastian. He is a close friend of Hunter’s. Sebastian, this is my husband, Ralph Murray.”

“Husband? Wow,” Sebastian said. “Was not expecting that.” 

Kurt held out his hand. “Pleasure,” he said through gritted teeth.

Sebastian took Kurt’s hand and shook it once. 

Kurt turned to Blaine again. “Well it’s almost 8 o’clock. We should get going, darling.” 

“Right.” Blaine nodded. “Maybe we can talk later?” he offered innocently to Sebastian as if nothing had happened. “It was very nice meeting you.” 

“Sure was,” Sebastian said and winked at Blaine, clearly recovered from the initial shock. “I am looking forward to seeing you again, George.”

Kurt then pulled Blaine away by his hand through the crowd, leaving Sebastian behind. 

“Thank you for saving me,” Blaine said once they had found a quiet corner.

“You didn't really seem like you needed saving,” Kurt said coldly.  

“What do you mean? If you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have been able to get away!” 

“I mean, ” Kurt said. “It didn't seem like you had such a terrible time with him. I know you needed to get the card, but how are we supposed to come across as a happily married couple when you are feeling up all the other guests.” He crossed his arms defensively.

Blaine stared at Kurt for a second. Then it dawned on him. “Wait, Kurt, are you jealous?”  

“No,” Kurt snapped. 

“Oh my god, you are totally jealous.”

Kurt’s cheeks turned red. “Shut up, I'm trying to take this mission seriously. Did you at least get the key?”

Blaine couldn't help but grin as he presented it. “Got it right here.”

“Great. Let's go try it out before he finds out it’s missing. We need to get to the basement before it’s 8 o’clock.” 

[jq37]

I'm really glad you've seen Starstruck, because it means you have the context for this. Every disastrous decision made this episode, were THOSE the stupidest things these people have ever done? I thought 'my farts smell awesome' was the lowest they could go, but look at that, they collectively found another layer beneath that. This has to be the biggest L the Intrepid Heroes ever took. Outside of a TPK, losing a Mcguffin is as rough as it gets. The RNG giveth and the RNG taketh away.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OK, now that I have that out of the way, holy hell that last episode took a full year off my lifespan I think. Murph saying that it was like Fabian's Bad Day on a loop was right. I've never watched an episode of a ttrpg and thought, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" so consistently. Even after watching the Adventuring Party I'm not 100% confident I understand what some of those moves were about. I am going to try and break down by thoughts on each interaction, roughly in order from least to most baffling to me.

*Red and the Beast*

If this was as crazy as things went, it would have been a pretty normal episode. I fully understand why Ylfa would want to talk to the Beast being a monstruous princess and all. And Emily's side-motivation of wanting to maybe get some potions that would help them travel without freezing to death made sense as well. Sure it was a little awkward, but in the way that all pre-teens are sort of awkward around people who they think are cool. She didn't spill any serious beans or burn any serious bridges. This one gets a pass from me. 

*Ger and Elody*

It probably feels like I'm ranking this pretty low. And I am if we're talking in pure terms of cause and effect. Because loudly and weirdly spilling the beans the way that he did was a TERRIBLE move tactically and DEF alerted the princesses to their plan. BUT I wasn't CONFUSED about why it happened. Ger had a thing to do that made sense--find out if his wife was in on the erase everything plan and fill her in if not/try to convince her to switch sides if so. He had a reason to get frustrated and do something stupid. This was, in my eyes, a good plan that went poorly because of bad dice rolls and Murph's commitment to character. So while it was VERY unfortunate, I'm not actually confused about why the desperate frog man who is known for being awkward was weird and awkward to his wife in a dire situation so it didn't really frustrate me in the same way that some of the other scenes did. We also got one of one only pieces of new information in this episode--that it doesn't seem like Elody is in on the plan (though with his trash Insight rolls, who even knows). I wish he'd taken Roz with him to back up his story right away (and give him advantage of dice rolls). I also wish he'd brought Roz with him so she wasn't able to do her own solo mission. Speaking of...

*Roz and Snow*

This is not a conversation that needed to happen tactically. I was like, why is this going on? Just because everyone is having a little chat doesn't mean you have to have a little chat too. I will admit that by the time I got here, I was feeling so much second hand cringe that I missed a bit of the conversation. But I do know that Roz told Snow that she told the entire group about their chat and that they were fine with it. WHY TELL HER THAT??? The plan was clearly told to Roz with the understanding that it was for her ears only. Why immediately be like, "So I talked it over with the squad..." You're showing your hand! You're telling Snow you're not really aligned with the Daughter's of the Crown. If you were going to talk to Snow, why not try to figure out what the actual plans are wrt the erase the world endgame? They really don't know anything about the specifics of the plan. Just some nebulous talk about spilling ink. Why is no one asking questions about this? How are they supposed to stop a plan they don't understand?  Anyway, I think this conversation didn't need to happen and while it wasn't as disastrous in effect as Ger's convo, his had a good reason for happening while I don't think this one did which is why it frustrated me more. 

*Pinnochio and Cindy*

OK so this one frustrated me a TON because it had so much potential for getting information and moving the story forward but that's not what happened at all! As a sidenote, I was surprised but excited when they showed up at the castle and the Snow Queen fight was already over offscreen because I was like, "Man! We're going to get so much good information next episode!" Haha, nope! This conversation started off really strong with Pinnochio saying that they're kinda step-sibs which I thought was a great opener and something I hadn't really considered. I thought he was going to maybe bring up how the stepmother's goal seems to be fucking with stories (in a similar way to what they want) and seeing how she reacts. Or maybe following the thread about how she ALSO feels like she doesn't have agency in her story because she's a puppet of a narrative without even a name. And I don't want to assume but seems like Brennan was giving him the opening to go there like when Cindy was talking about "her own story" and Pinnochio was like, "She doesn't have one" Cindy seemed willing to talk down that thread but it was dropped really quickly. And this whole conversation had such a dissonant vibe where it was like Cindy was in Crown of Candy and Pinnochio was in Fantasy High or even Starstruck in terms of seriousness. Which, from a comedy standpoint, was extremely funny but from a narrative standpoint was like, Pinnochio...I'm begging you...please...ask her one direct question. Lou said he was playing up Pinnochio's childishness because he's a child in a weird situation which, sure I guess. But man. It was a very funny scene but not very narratively fulfilling.

*Pib and Cindy and a Window*

Pib readying the horses? The most competent move of the session! Pib unilaterally deciding to try to push her into her book? Why???? Like, OK. I wouldn't have told her about the book if I was Pinnochio--at least not without consulting the group. BUT once the proverbial cat was out of the book, why not let her have it? It might give her some perspective she doesn't already have and you might be able to sway her into being an ally. I feel like Cindy and Snow while true believers in the plan, aren't beyond reason. They don't strike me as gung ho about the entire situation. They give me the energy of people who are exhausted and on their last resort. I honestly feel like there is a world where this is all salvageable if they'd let her have her book without going full hostile. Maybe it's not the most LIKELY option. But I think there was a chance. But nope. Initiative. Even if they'd gotten her in, what's the next move? You're in a palace full of her allies and none of you have rolled more than a ten all session! Were you going to hold her hostage and run? Like, bruh. If they wanted to leave, they should have just left! Why did they make a whole production about it? I swear, they stayed in the castle the exact worse length of time. Not long enough to get any info, but too long to leave gracefully. Anyway, I thought this was a wild decision to just make. 

*Princess Interlude*

This isn't a part of the breakdown. This is just something I wanted to talk about. We really don't know how much the princesses know about The Situation and that's a big piece of the puzzle for us to know how BAD of a plan this is with the info they have. Because one of the few things we learned this episode is that Cinderella is surprised that the Stepmother doesn't have her own book. If they think that each person has their own book and they can write themselves out of existence without it affecting anyone else then this is actually a suicide pact and not a murder-suicide pact which still isn't GREAT but it's not WORLD ENDING which is decidedly less selfish. I still think it's an insane thing to try without having a full understanding of their world but if you're only playing with your OWN lives, then that's your right. 

And wrt to the PCs, since they were spilling the beans left and right, why not be like, cool. Ink spilling. Great plan. Now what about the Auroratory?  Because their stories don't just exist in ink. They're oral tradition, baby. I'm sorry you don't like your lives but ink spilling isn't going to solve everything. 

Finally, I need to go back to past episodes where the princesses are lamenting to be sure, but I'm honestly not 100% sure what it is they're so distressed about. There is an element of fighting for free will but I'm not sure what it is they think they don't have control over. Because surely if they had no free will, they wouldn't be able to fight their stories at all, right? And if it's just that they're stuck with all their memories from all their lives, Witches do that all the time, right? Can they just not handle the Everything, Everywhere, All At Once lifestyle because they're not inherently magical and they're cracking under the pressure? From what I remember from the previous episode, it sounded like Cindy and Snow were distressed over the *existence* of dark versions of their story which is why they wanted to destroy everything completely. But also, isn't darkness just a thing you have to accept if you're going to have free will? And also, I don't know that it makes sense to destroy the entire world just because there are timelines where bad things happen (especially when the worst things don't even happen to them). Who awakened these princesses in the first place? Based on the introductions, we're led to believe it's Cindy and Snow who were the first ones, but now that we've met Rapunzel, I have my doubts. And speaking of her, back to the list.

*Tim and Raps*

Tim what were you THINKING?????????

God, where to begin. Ally said they weren't sure if Raps was in on it or not two APs in a row which is baffling to me because I thought Brennan telegraphed it pretty hard that Raps was both very clever and very fake. We first hear about her trying to deceive the Baba Yaga (one of the SCARIEST NPCs who even DEATH doesn't fuck with) and getting away with her tongue intact. Then, on a really high insight check, the party learns nothing about her, except that she's so shiny you can't really read her. Suspicious as hell. THEN, we learn that she has hair that's everywhere that can potentially be used to spy on people. And when she describes murdering the Snow Queen, she says it in the most politician-y, obfuscate-y, side-stepping culpability way possible. YEAH. I THINK SHE'S IN ON IT. I am floored that it wasn't obvious that she was full team nuke everything. The twist to me would be if she was secretly GOOD. I was wondering if the was the actual mastermind, I didn't even realize we were discussing whether she was IN ON IT.

But like, OK. That aside. Whether you are going in thinking she's good and misled or fully in on it, THIS WAS AN INSANE WAY TO HANDLE IT.

DIRT IN THE SHORTBREAD???? TIM!!!!!!

If she's GOOD and just awkward from how she was socialized you're being weird and aggro to her. 

If she'd BAD and being manipulative you're being super clumsy and antagonizing her. 

AND THEN SHE STOLE THE BOOOK!!!!!!!

My heart SUNK when Brennan revealed that. Like, GOD I didn't think that could have gotten worse and then it did. 

And it's made worse because this is 100% a conversation that didn't need to happen. If I walked in and Raps was there, at most I would ask her about how her hair worked so we maybe knew for tactical reasons. That's not a crazy question to ask a person with magic hair that's everywhere so she wouldn't necessarily have a reason to be suspicious. And then guess what? I'm GONE. Just, based on second hand embarrassment and mechanical effect (LOSING THE BOOK), this is by far the worst conversation all episode and that's saying something.

(Also, RIP Mira who's going to wake up to a VERY different situation than when she went to sleep.)

The last thing I want to say about this episode is I kind wish that either Roz or Ger or both had died in their rescue plan. Not as a punishment mind you. While it was a tactically bad move, I think it's totally in character that Ger would have tried to go back for his wife and that one of his friends would have joined him. But we haven't had that many deaths this season and I feel like some more death exposition might give us more about what's going on. Because I feel like we only have a small piece of the puzzle, and there's not that many eps left to go. You know how in Stranger Things, the plot always ends up split between three groups and none of them actually know what's going on until they all communicate in the penultimate episode? That's how I feel right now except it's the PCs, The Princesses, The Faries, and the Librarians.

It's also potentially illuminating for Elody if the princesses are willing to kill Roz and Ger (I assume they'd bring back at least Roz). And if they were split up from the main party, that's an interesting place for them to be story-wise.  (Also, if they brought back Ger but were like Elody he's in the dungeon, don't talk to him he'll fill your head with lies. But she visits him anyway, just like when he was a frog at the pond...but I'm just writing mental fanfic now.) My point is there was potential there for us to get interesting info (and story beats) there which is why I was kind of rooting for it. This whole episode was a big bust with regard to moving towards any sort of goal and they really just made their situation severely worse to no real end. And now the princesses who want to end the world have the most powerful device in all of story. 

Yay. 

(Coda: Where is Scher with her "We're real enough" energy to talk the princesses out of their spiral? For the love of story, I am losing my mind here.)

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Instrument of Surrender

It's not quite late enough for us to get the evening light bonus on the wall. Let's come back to that later.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - The sight of bullet holes stirs something in you, making you forget the lieutenant's surname.

Look closer first.

"Kim, look, bullet holes!"

[Discard thought.]

ESPRIT DE CORPS - The fading marks are too degraded to draw any forensic conclusions. Just chips in the sandstone.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] - They look pretty ancient...

"Kim, look, bullet holes!"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Where?" He looks around.

(Point to the chips in the wall.) "Someone has been shot! We're cops, we should solve it."

"Nothing, forget about it." [Finish thought.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "There?" He looks to the wall. "Those are *old*."

"Oh, you mean like from the Revolution?"

"What do you mean old?"

"Oh, okay then." [Finish thought.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes, the one that happened half a century ago." He blinks. "Those bullets were fired during the Revolution and do not warrant an investigation by officers of civil law."

"Okay. What can you tell me about this Revolution?"

"Alright then." [Finish thought.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "Not much. I don't have a *fresh perspective* on it. Shall we go?"

Not sure why that didn't trigger before, but it would have given us +1 to the Visual Calculus check to reconstruct the execution scene.

Anyway, we actually didn't quite finish our conversation with Gaston and René before.

GASTON MARTIN - "It is such a pleasure to see you again, officer. How may I aid the Citizens Militia on this fine day?"

"You mentioned Jeanne-Marie Beaulieu. Who is that?"

GASTON MARTIN - "Oh, sweet Jeannie..." He gets a dreamy look in his eyes. "She was the finest woman in all of Revachol. Maybe the entire world."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Do not *defile* her memory, Gaston." There's an almost imperceptibly small tremble in his voice. "Let her rest in peace."

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] - His tone lacks its usual intensity, like he doesn't feel he has the right to speak on the matter.

"So you both know her?"

"What happened to her?"

"Sounds like this is between you two. I have other matters to address."

GASTON MARTIN - "We knew her, alright..." His friendly face lights up. "Lived on the same street our entire lives, just two houses apart. The three of us have been best friends since we were four."

"She was René's first girl, back when the prick was sixteen." He looks at the carabineer almost gently. "They were courting till he decided he'd rather die for some great *idéal* than just be hap---"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "AND THEN YOU STOLE HER FROM ME!" He jerks forward, but then grabs his chest and stops.

"Easy fellows, no need for this to get ugly."

Do not intervene.

"Sorry, but I *really* wanted to just ask some questions."

GASTON MARTIN - "Oh, officer..." Gaston is unfazed by the outburst. "It already got ugly nearly eighty years ago when the three of us were just learning to walk and talk."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "You stole her from me," René repeats, trying to steady his breathing and still clutching his chest.

GASTON MARTIN - "Well... technically *you* stole her from *me*, because we'd been pretty close ever since you two had that falling out over the ink you spilled over her pretty yellow dress..."

+5 XP

RENÉ ARNOUX - "We were just boys, then. This was different. *You*..." The tall veteran looks at you and nods.

"No point starting this all over again, for the thousandth and the first time. Especially when we have company." He turns to you: "Officer?"

2. "What happened to her?"

GASTON MARTIN - "She died of pneumonia two winters ago. It was a quiet passage. Peaceful." He smiles faintly.

"René and I were both by her bedside when she..." He pauses, searching for the right word.

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Died," he sharply fills the silence and adds: "No use sugar-coating it. Won't bring her back, will it now?"

GASTON MARTIN - "Departed," his partner finishes his sentence, then chuckles: "Until the very end she couldn't decide between us. The most indecisive woman I've ever met."

3. "Why do you think she was indecisive?"

GASTON MARTIN - "She could never make up her mind about anything. What to have for breakfast, favourite colour or which one of us to marry." The look in his eyes is happy and distant.

"She was always leaving one of us for the other, but never long enough to actually get married."

"Nothing wrong with weighing your options first."

"That's a bit odd."

GASTON MARTIN - "Heck," he says with a chuckle. "*Technically* we're both still engaged to her."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "You always confused her, couldn't let us be happy..." He says with heavy resentment. "Seduced her with your fancy words and *pastries*."

+5 XP

He suddenly remembers *you* are still there, falls silent, and turns away.

4. "Thanks for sharing." (Conclude.)

GASTON MARTIN - "Of course, officer," he says with a smile. "Memories are all we have left."

+5 XP

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Vigilance, officer!" He salutes you. "What can this old carabineer do for you?"

2. "I understand Jeanne-Marie meant a lot to you?"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "There's nothing for you to *understand* here," he snaps. "It is not *her* death you are investigating."

"Were the circumstances of her death in any sense...*unusual*?"

"Where was the photo of you two taken?"

"What happened with you, Gaston, and Jeanne-Marie?"

"Alright, let's back up to a less sensitive subject, okay?"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Absolutely not." His voice is coarse. "She died of pneumonia in her bed at the age of 79. This is highly... usual."

2. "Where was the photo of you two taken?"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Revachol Fair of '91 in the Faubourg district." His eyes turn to the sea. "A parade was held to honour Guillaume *Le Lion's* name-day. And the carabineers marched in the place of honour."

"You looked happy in the picture. Smiling."

"Okay, thanks."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "This was the happiest day of my life." This is said in such a matter-of-fact tone, it leaves no room for doubt.

3. "What happened with you, Gaston, and Jeanne-Marie?"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "I was 22 when I returned from King Guillaume's Ikeira Operation in the south and found my sweetheart in the arms of this wretch..."

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - 'The Ikeira Operation' was a seven-year campaign during which Suzerain Guillaume's army forcefully united the people in the southeastern part of Le Petit Continent, collectively known as the Ikeira tribes, under the Revacholian banner.

RENÉ ARNOUX - He gives Gaston a hateful look. "I won her back, but while I was dealing with some... issues..."

GASTON MARTIN - "You were like a dark cloud sucking the joy out of every living thing around you, and you..." He quickly glances at you. "You... *hurt* her."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Dark cloud? That sounds unpleasantly familiar...

RENÉ ARNOUX - "I... uh... I..." He looks down at his boots, lips moving, but the words are inaudible.

GASTON MARTIN - "Those days and memories are gone." He nods and looks René with something resembling compassion.

RENÉ ARNOUX - The old soldier says nothing, but when his glance quickly runs over Gaston's face, there's an odd look in his eyes.

+5 XP

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] - Could it be... guilt?

COUPRIS KINEEMA - In the cabin you see a set of steering levers, a radio on a hook, a pull-out toolbox and the soft glow of the fuel pre-heater gauge.

4. Tap on the fuel pre-heater gauge.

COUPRIS KINEEMA - As you tap on the gauge, the indicator pin jerks as if startled. It's in the large orange sector, indicating the engine is warm. Next to the gauge is a red switch labelled HEAT.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Now-now. That's enough fun with the foldable headlights. I know they're mesmerising. They're also fragile. I'm not going to turn it on for you again."

Pick up the radio again.

ALICE - "This is Precinct 57," the operator greets you through the static. "How may I assist you?"

"Alice, please connect me to the 41st again."

"Please connect me to Sylvie again."

"Connect me to Jamrock Public Library."

"I need to report a dead body on the Martinaise boardwalk."

"I'm done with the radio for now." (End call.)

ALICE - "One moment..." You can hear her shuffling through some papers.

"Can you please describe the body -- age, sex, cause of death?"

"An unidentified middle-aged man. Height 170-175 cm, dark hair, medium build. Looks like he slipped, fell through a hole in the boardwalk and hit his head against the metal bench."

KIM KITSURAGI - "We suspect he might have been inebriated when he fell -- there were bottles all around him, and traces of vomit on his shirt."

ALICE - "Any signs of violence?"

"No, seems like it was an accident."

"Someone might have… pushed him?"

"There might be a *sequence killer* on the loose."

ALICE - "No field autopsy necessary..." she repeats.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - You can hear her quickly typing in the background.

ALICE - "What about his belongings? Did you examine his clothes?"

"He was wearing boots, trousers and an old leather jacket with a bright blue lining. I found a library card from his pockets."

ALICE - "Any information on the library card?"

"It's from Central Jamrock Public Library. It belongs to someone named Billie Méjean."

ALICE - "Good, you have a lead."

"Do you and Lieutenant Kitsuragi want to take the case or should I assign it to someone else?"

"We're taking the case."

ALICE - "I have assigned the case to Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi. Please follow up on this library lead to identify the man. We'll send someone to take the body to the morgue."

"That's all for now. Thank you for reporting in. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

3. "Connect me to Jamrock Public Library."

ALICE - "Hold on, officer."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"I've got Central Jamrock Public Library on the line and I've already introduced you to their librarian. Connecting the call in 2... 1..."

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Yes, this is Central Jamrock Public Library here." A male librarian answers the call. "How can I help you, officer?"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - He sounds worried, yet ready to assist. This is how people get when the police call.

"I'm looking for any information that you can provide on Billie Méjean, a reader."

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Billie, Billie *Méjean*, you said? Give me a moment, I'll have to check our database." He puts down the receiver.

"..."

"..."

"..."

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - On Meroe drive in Central Jamrock -- in a darkened hall lit by orange desk lamps -- far away from the noise outside -- a middle-aged man taps commands into an old radiocomputer. A printout falls on the desk. Behind him, a lonely reader scours some dusty bookshelves, looking for a paperback...

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Yes, hello, are you still there?" You can hear him fiddle with the printout. "I found Billie Méjean's home address, is that alright? No phone number unfortunately."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - They're too poor to have a phone line.

"Yes, home address is fine."

"I'm not really that good with addresses."

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Here we go, sir: Rue de Saint-Ghislaine 33B, apartment no 20. It's in Martinaise, I believe... Capeside Apartments, it says. That's all."

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] - That's where the smoker on the balcony lives, isn't it?

A couple doors down, I believe.

"Do you have any other information on Billie Méjean?"

"Thank you. That's all from me, I have no other questions." (End call with the library.)

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "It says here that they returned their last book just a few days ago, but I wasn't at work that day."

"Do you know someone who was?"

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Marie?" He covers the phone with his hand and yells out into the room behind him: "Marie! Do you remember a reader named Billie Méjean? They returned a Thibault book the other day..." You hear someone answer from afar.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Challenging: Success] - "Maurice, what?!" a woman yells. Then: "Yes-yes, okay, if it was the police..." She starts explaining something.

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Yes, it was my colleague Marie," the librarian is speaking into the phone again. "She said that it was Billie's *husband* who returned the book. He also asked for this new sci-fi release "Loos, Radio City '87", but we don't have it yet."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - Good. You have a name now.

"So Billie Méjean is a woman, not a man? How did your colleague know that it was her husband?"

"Do you know the husband's name?"

"Can Marie describe to me what the husband looked like?"

"Thank you. That's all from me, I have no other questions." (End call with the library.)

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Marie knows Billie, she's been working here longer than me. Sometimes her husband returns some books for her."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - And then goes for a little drink later, on the lookout...

2. "Do you know the husband's name?"

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Sorry, no -- Marie only knows him by sight."

3. "Can Marie describe to me what the husband looked like?"

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Marie..." A moment passes.

"She said it was an older man... And that she's pretty sure he had had a drink or two the last time she saw him."

"What was he wearing?"

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Uh, one second..." The librarian turns away from the phone again and relays the question.

"Sorry, Marie wasn't really paying any attention to that."

4. "Thank you. That's all from me, I have no other questions." (End call with the library.)

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Happy we could help. Good bye, officer." The librarian hangs up and the call gets redirected back to the station with a soft click...

+5 XP

Level up!

ALICE - "Anything else you need from me?"

3. "I'm done with the radio for now." (End call.)

ALICE - "Fifty-seventh, over and out." Her voice disappears into the void.

One more small task to attend to while we're still out and about.

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Hello hello! Let me know if I can help you with anything."

"Hey, do you know how to fix this?" (Show him the bundle of magnetic tape.)

BIRD'S NEST ROY - He looks at the bronze-coloured bundle in your hand. "You mean re-spool it? Yeah, I do, but..."

"Great! Could you do it, please? This is important, I need to be able to play this tape for someone."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - He slowly finishes his thought: "...but I'm not some Mr. Fixit, I'm a pawnbroker. If you want to pawn the tape, sure. Although it looks pretty... worthless."

SUGGESTION [Trivial: Success] - Just explain why you need this so much. He's bound to understand.

"Wait, but you tinker with film tapes all the time. Isn't that the same?"

"Worthless? It's not worthless, Roy. This could be the next big thing for the local dance music scene."

"Hmh, maybe you can help me some other way, then."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "No, it's different... those film tapes actually *mean* something to me, but this is just a worthless bundle of old tape."

"Worthless? It's not worthless, Roy. This could be the next big thing for the local dance music scene."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Huh?" He slowly taps his fingers on the counter. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know that old church down the coast?"

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Yes. What about it?"

"I met some young ravers near the place. They want to turn the church into a nightclub and play some weird neo-disco beats there -- they call it *anodic dance music*. I promised to help them with that."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Is it any good? The music, I mean."

"No, that's the thing -- you can't believe how unbelievably thin the beat is. There's nothing to it, no bass! It just goes *bzoot-bzoot-bzoot*. But this tape could make it *hard core*.

"Not very. I need to funk it up."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Man, you're really invested in this." He looks at the bundle of tape in front of him. It shimmers under the shop's dazzling light show.

"Okay, I'll help you out. It's going to take a moment though, so just sit back and relax..."

You take some time to look around the store… The play of visuals all around the pawnshop is mesmerizing. Suddenly, Roy turns back to you with a reel of tape in his hand and coughs.

(Look at the clock.) "Wait, this took more than just 'a few moments'. That was at least fifteen minutes!"

"Well, thanks for the help." (Proceed; take the repaired tape.)

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Yeah." He nods. "It was. Re-spooling isn't that difficult, although I had to mend the tape in a few places."

"Anyhow, it's yours now..." He slides the tape closer to you on the counter top.

2. "Well, thanks for the help." (Proceed; take the repaired tape.)

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Yeah. My pleasure. I do what I can for true passion projects... Just try not to use this tape for negative photon emissions. Take responsibility, okay."

The bronze-coloured tape found in the branches of a hawthorn tree has been reconstructed into an usable reel of magnetic tape. It's pretty fragile and in an odd format which doesn't fit into any portable tape players. Nevertheless, Egg Head will be stoked.