#I honestly cannot tell you who is more unsettling to me

[best-fictional-cat]

Round 1 Group 15

Blanca (Animal Crossing) vs Tangy (Animal Crossing)

[yan-lorkai]

For any of the empty days, can I request a yandere Headless Ghost Riddle, where the darling finds his lost head? Now, Riddle wants to repay the darling by becoming their ghost husband, without the darling's consent.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Day twenty two: Headless ghost Riddle

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: started writing this as soon as I got your request and honestly, it was so fun. I hope you like it darling!

The day had started like any other. You were out exploring an old, forgotten building that had long been rumored to be haunted. No one dared go near it, but you? Curiosity always got the better of you. Inside, hidden beneath layers of dust and debris, you found an odd, heavy box. You didn’t think much of it — until you opened it.

Inside lay a human head.

Your first reaction was one of horror, but something about it felt... off. The features were too delicate, too pristine to belong to a rotting corpse. There was no decay, no stench, just a strange energy that surrounded the box. It almost felt like the head was waiting for someone to open that exact box.

It was as beautiful as a statue. Red eyes stared at you without blinking. They seemed to examine your soul. You closed the box, uncomfortable, shuddering.

Still, you took it home, not fully understanding why. Maybe to keep as a trophy, a decoration on your shelf, as morbid as that was. Maybe it was the pull of the unknown or the sense that this object was more than it seemed. Either way, you were intrigued.

You tried to search for details about that head but never found enough relevant.

Days passed with the head sitting untouched on your table, its eyes closed, peaceful in a way that unnerved you.

One evening, out of sheer curiosity, you brushed the dust away from its surface, you traced your fingers against his rosy cheeks and plump lips, imagining his story. Was he a noble of any sorts? But why has he beheaded? Why his head was hidden there?

You were curious.

But... The saying does tell that curiosity isn't always the best thing to be.

In that moment, the eyes snapped open again.

You stumbled back, heart pounding as the head came to life before your eyes, red eyes stared back at you, full of grace and amusement as his lips curled into a scary, eerie smile. A figure materialized before you — ethereal, translucent, yet there.

His head was no longer separate but part of a full, ghostly form.

"You—" His voice was eerily calm, yet there was an undeniable possessiveness beneath the surface. He regarded you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "You found me."

You blinked, not sure what to say. Fear crawled up your spine as you backed away, unsure of what you had just unleashed. "Who… who are you?"

Your pulse raced as his presence filled the room, suffocating in its intensity. “Whatever it was, I-I didn’t mean to—”

The ghost moved closer, his figure hovering just above the floor. His pale features were sharp, refined, and cold, with a kind of grace that should have been comforting but wasn’t.

"I am Riddle Rosehearts," he stated with a quiet authority. "And you, darling, have done something few have ever managed."

He cut you off with a ghostly smile, his expression soft yet chilling. “No need for apologies, dear. You’ve returned my head to me. Such a gift requires repayment, don’t you think?”

Repayment? What could he possibly mean by that?

Before you could respond, Riddle’s spectral form drew nearer, his cold, translucent hand brushing against your cheek. “I owe you a debt I cannot ignore. So, as thanks, I will stay by your side for eternity.”

“Eternity?” You barely managed to breathe the word, your voice catching in your throat. "What are you talking about?"

His smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something unsettling, something hungry in his gaze. “I will be your husband, of course. You’ve earned it. After all, you found me.”

Riddle tilted his head, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “It doesn’t matter what you asked for. You found me. You’ve bound yourself to me whether you intended to or not.” His hand lingered on your arm, and though his touch was barely there, you could feel the chill of it deep in your bones.

The room felt colder, the air heavier with his words. “Wait, I didn’t ask for that!” you exclaimed, stepping back, only for him to close the distance easily, his ghostly form flowing like mist.

Wherever you go, he'd follow.

You swallowed hard, panic rising in your chest. “I don’t want this—”

His gaze darkened, and for a moment, his true nature shone through. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. You’re mine now.” His voice was low, filled with quiet menace, but there was an undercurrent of affection, twisted as it was.

You stared at him, heart pounding, realizing that this wasn’t some nightmare you could escape from. Riddle wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going to leave you alone. Not now. Not ever.

“From now on,” he whispered, leaning in closer, his breath cold against your skin, “I will be with you. Always. No one else will have you, and I will never let you go.”

Terror gripped you, but there was no escape. Not from him. Not from this fate you had unwittingly sealed the moment you found his head.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Do What I Cannot

This is based on My Graveyard Song because I was captivated by the idea of Danny’s parents burying him alive. That’s basically the only part I took though. This is about him being confronted with his parents again once freed.

This is unedited so feel free to point out mistakes. Contains graphic description of violence.

-----------

The Justice League’s newest hero has been a wonderful asset, truly! Phantom is a rather powerful hero and even though some of his methods are a little questionable he follows the ‘no killing’ rule more strictly then some of the long-term members. Even if it’s just because he doesn’t want to deal with them as ghosts it still counts. Some of the more magical people have an idea that Phantom is more powerful then he’s letting on, but they don’t push it. After all he’s still just a teenager, they don’t really want to have him dealing with universal threats either.

Honestly even if he weren’t a hero Batman at least would have kept him around for the impressively positive affects he has on Red Hood. Jason had been calmer and more reasonable then he had been since his resurrection since digging up that grave and teaming up with Danny. It was just a little unsettling sometimes honestly, sometimes his eyes would glint with the green of the Lazarus waters and everyone would tense up prepared for an aggressive outburst only for Jason to announce he needed to find Danny and leave. The more suspicious minds found it odd, but they figured it was just because Phantom could calm Jason down and didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Really the only problem was that knowing Phantom had alerted them to a potential new source of threat that they really knew very little about. The JLD knew some but not enough and the ways they had to fight ghosts were clunky and unreliable, they needed weapons that would work on ghosts. Not Phantom obviously, though the overly cautious ones privately thought about him too, just in case you know? And there weren’t many people who specialized in such tech, so of course their search lead them to the Drs. Fenton.

The magic users thought their methods were crude and crazy but had to admit they clearly worked so maybe it would be best to invest in at least some of their tech. At least to study and see if it could be improved on. So they were invited for a meeting, and it was decided Phantom would Not be told. Mostly because they didn’t want to stress him out and also because they’d learned these two were ‘shoot first ask questions later’ types who apparently didn’t believe there was such a thing as a good ghost so they might actually try and kill Danny on sight, which would be awkward.

The presentation they gave to the Justice League was predictably unhinged and they knew well enough to take all of it with a grain of salt, especially the part about all ghosts being evil. Danny had already explained it to them, that ghosts were driven by obsessions which meant they behaved differently then humans but the majority only lashed out when something got between them and their singular passion. Some were different, some had malicious passions and some were more complicated. Diana and J’onn both looked like they were trying hard not to pick a fight but they’d all agreed to smile and nod till they got access to the tech.

There was a familiar sudden chill in the room, looking around Batman could tell a few others felt it too, though Flash was typically oblivious.

“Oh dear,” J’onn whispered before Phantom appeared.

“Hey guys what’s up?” He asked, cheerful but slightly accusatory, they should have known better then to think they could keep the meeting from him. Before they could think of anything to say Danny’s eyes caught on the Fentons and narrowed.

“GET DOWN!” Jack yelled pulling out one of those stupid blasters from somewhere.

“What a perfect chance for a demonstration,” Maddie said, sliding on a pair of gantlets.

“You-you don’t recognize me, do you?” Danny asked, and for a moment he looked hurt, then something happened none of them had ever seen before, his eyes turned red. The toxic green they were used to changed to a deep, blood red and his feet touched the ground as he stalked forward. Jack shot, Danny didn’t break stride, a green shield blocked the blast like it was nothing. Maddie tried to lung and was immediately hit in the gut by one of Phantom’s ecto-blasts, knocking her back against the glass.

Batman leapt up and tried to lung and stop Phantom only to hit a wall that rippled with green, a bubble surrounding the ghost and the two hunters, invisible until struck.

Danny grinned, shark like teeth on full display without any mirth, white hair whipping in an unfelt wind, flowing so it almost looked like flames. “I guess I look a lot different then I did when you buried me alive huh? How long did you leave me? Because you ‘couldn’t kill you son’ so you thought it would be more merciful to lock me away till everything human about me rotted.”

“No,” Maddie gasped, recognition suddenly sharp and painful on her features.

“Yes ‘mom’,” Danny snarled bitterly. Jack tried to shoot again but the blaster was knocked out of his hands so quickly no one was sure what hit him before it could fully charge. “YOU MADE ME! AND YOU ABANDONED ME! You’re lucky someone found me, I would have gotten strong enough to break out on my own eventually and if I had I would have destroyed everything.”

“Oh my god, his parents?” Diana nearly whispered. Batman understood how she felt, Danny didn’t like to talk about how he’d ended up buried ‘alive’, that his parents were the ones who had done it… that was horrific. It made sense why he had never been able to speak about it, but Damn that would have been good to know before they had invited Danny’s abusers to give a presentation on weapons that had no doubt been used to hurt him. And now.. what? They couldn’t get to Danny, it seemed like he had gotten to the point that Raven did sometimes when her emotions overwhelmed her, could they get to Danny? Could they stop him from doing something he might regret?

“You are not our son,” Maddie hissed, her breathing still coming in a harsh wheeze from the blow to her stomach. “Danny is dead! He’s gone. You’re just an acto-entity imitating him, and not even well, you’re just a parasite.”

Danny seemed to be losing some control of his form, it was stretching, getting taller, his fingers curling into dangerous claws tipped with the blackness of the star studded void. “Pathetic mortals, you act as if you will never die, but you will join my kingdom. Perhaps it will be punishment enough to become what you hate, perhaps not. Perhaps I will speed up the process so you can’t hurt anyone else,” He snarled his hands beginning to glow with familiar green of his energy blast.

“Danny stop!” Superman said, hitting the burier to try and get through but not even he could break it. Danny didn’t seem to be responding to them though he was hesitating.

Batman was resigning himself to watching Phantom kill his once parents before Jason walked by him. Batman wasn’t usually taken by surprise, but he was shocked, and worried, both because he could see the green glow of pit madness through the eyes of his helmet, which was worrying, and because he walked through the burier keeping the rest of the heroes out like it was nothing.

He walked to Danny, taking his hand, there was a soft sizzle as the gathered green energy burned Jason’s hand without him even seeming to notice. He pulled Danny down to the ground from where he was floating, pulling the young hero into his arms. Danny let himself be pulled into Jason’s arms, the green energy fizzling out as he wrapped his own arms back around Jason’s waist, hiding against his chest. As the anger faded he slumped against Jason’s chest.

Just as the heroes were breathing a sigh of relief and relaxing Maddie went for the dropped gun. But she wasn’t fast enough as Jason drew his own pistol, the one with live ammo, and put a bullet in her head. Diana cried out in shock and Batman froze as blood and brain matter splattered over the watchtower floor and her body slumped. Before anyone could recover Jack followed, another shot executioner style and Batman had to turn away.

The watchtower was completely silent, enough so that he could hear Phantom’s soft sniffles as he cried into Jason’s chest. When Batman looked back Jason had holstered his gun and was just holding Danny Close. The green had faded enough from his eyes that it seemed safe, Batman approached warily and wasn’t surprised to find that the invisible burier was gone now that both the Fenton’s were dead.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said softly as he heard the approach, without emerging from his hiding place in Jason’s arms where he seemed to feel safe. “I wasn’t actually going to kill them, but I guess my want to, my emotions, were strong enough to make Jason respond. I didn’t mean to call you that way.” He looked up at Jason, his eyes green again though red rimmed from tears.

“It’s alright, I would have done it anyway,” Jason growled, holding Danny even tighter. “I’ve killed people for less, they deserved it.”

Batman took a deep breath forcing himself to keep his cool about his son’s constant flouting of his no killing rule, now was not the time to make Phantom feel worse. “Jason why don’t you take him down to one of the sitting rooms so he can calm down.” No doubt Phantom was reliving trauma, and grieving because even if he wanted them dead they had been his parents.

Jason nodded and scooped Danny into his arm who let out an indignant little squawk and insisted he could walk while making no attempt to actually get down. Jason ignored Danny’s performative complaints and kept the young hero’s head hidden against his chest so he wouldn’t have to see the corpses of his parents while Jason carried him out of the room.

Now, how best to deal with the aftermath of… all this. And later on he really would have to ask Danny and Jason what he’d meant by Jason responding to his energy, because it seemed like there might be something more to their relationship then just Danny calming Jason down and that was worrying to say the least.

Part 2: here

[starhvney]

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏: 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒

𝐂𝐖: story is beginning to diverge from canon, teenage girls being mean asf, corny teenage drama, lucinda insults someone for having a crooked nose hahahahhdha(i also have a crooked nose, do not take offense my crooked nosed sisters!!!)

𝐀/𝐍: I wrote in some unimportant characters that very much fit the “mean popular cheerleader girl” stereotype, cause… plot. if you happen to be a cheerleader: ily, you’re awesome, and i do not think you’re a bitch! i just cannot resist the 2000s stereotype undertones that are littered in PDH, and had to do it to em. ok cool enjoy the reading guys!

𝐖𝐂: 5,900+

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: @arienic

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

the tension you felt for the next few weeks was truly nerve-wracking. as the days grew colder, aphmau raved to you every morning in her warm coat and scarf about how she couldn’t wait for the snow—and while you were excited too, a little buzzing noise in the back of your head bothered you like a mosquito trapped in your bedroom.

when was her next move?

it’s not like you were scared, per se. you have a good strong network of people now, who you were pretty sure would defend you 'til their last breath if anything were to happen. no, you weren’t scared of ivy anymore. but damn, would she not let go of the spot she’s earned in your brain.

was she plotting something that would be harder to refute than just some measly rumors? was she smart enough to do something like that? or was she taking so long for her next move just to reopen your scab just as soon as you thought it had healed over?

honestly, you haven’t seen much of her if at all since the sports festival. which was shocking, because all of your friends—including garroth—had been glued to your side for most of the day, and you’d think maybe she’d at least try to talk to the boy in some of your classes. but now she merely was in and out of the classrooms like a ghost, her two little ducklings following after her.

maybe you scared her off when you threatened her in the bathroom, and she decided to back down for good! that would be the best-case scenario, right? she thought long and hard about her actions, realized her immaturity, and decided to make a change for the better.

“can i talk to you?”

…

how is it that every single time you decide to venture out in the hallways alone, this guy manages to find you?

“what do you want, gene?”

there’s no mocking laughter, or offended scoff, or a wrinkle of his nose. honestly, you hadn’t seen much of him, either. his little trio have continued on in their ways without much care for you or aphmau, and honestly, you kind of respect it. kind of.

once you told him to—more or less—fuck off, he did. unlike ivy, there wasn’t any shit-talking or catty comments or disgusted glares. he truly did leave you alone, as did sasha and zenix. while you still weren’t their biggest fan, it definitely put them on a higher pedestal than ivy in your eyes. they were not the greatest, for sure, but they were at least open about it. and the amount of fucks they didn’t give was honestly a bit entertaining—as long as you weren’t on the receiving end of their antics.

this was the first time you’d talked to gene or even made eye contact with him in what was way over a month by now. so while a part of you was saying to just ignore him, the unsettling calmness in the way he approached you had you curious… and honestly a bit concerned.

“i don’t want anything.” he rolls his eyes with a sigh, looking around. “i just have something to tell you.”

“really?” your disbelief is evident in your tone, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “don’t want to threaten me with those pictures again?”

“i don’t have the pictures anymore.” he pulls out what looked like a burner phone, a stark downgrade from what he had before. “don’t even have your number anymore, my old phone shattered and i haven’t been able to buy a new one yet.”

“wow.” you deadpan. “all that blackmailing and evidence down the drain, huh?”

he wrinkles his nose in distaste. “yeah, well. i wasn’t the one who broke it.”

“oh? finally pissed the wrong person off, huh?”

he rolls his eyes. “how it broke doesn’t matter. i’m actually trying to help you out here, so can you just shut up?”

you open your mouth to shoot something else his way, but honestly, you find yourself at a loss for words and snap your mouth closed again.

there’s a pause like he was expecting a different reaction, before his eyebrows lift in surprise.

“ivy is up to something, but i’m letting you know that i don’t have shit to do with it. i'm not entirely clear on what since she doesn’t have those pictures anymore, but she’s plotting on your downfall.”

“what, you two aren’t buddy-buddy anymore? i thought you would be on the same side.”

he scoffs, genuine offense wrinkling his features. “that is insulting as fuck. of course we’re not “buddies”. i fucking hate preps, the little pricks.”

amusement threatens to quirk at your lips, but you bite down the urge. gene was a prick too, but at least he was funny.

“look,” he sighs. “i know we didn’t have the best end to our friendship—”

“that’s putting it lightly.”

“—but,” he shoots you a look of annoyance, “ivy annoys me more than you, and i hate her style.”

“pink hair not your thing?”

“oh my fucking—” he groans into one of his hands. “i mean i don’t like the way she goes about being an asshole. at least i’m open about it, and it’s funny bad. she’s just… bad in an annoying-bitchy-backstabbing-way. i’m not a fan.”

“so… why are you telling me this?” you shrug. “i definitely haven’t given you any reason to help me out.”

he presses his lips together, straightening his back. “honestly, you’ve earned my respect. i still kinda like you. plus, you’re friends with my little brother, so. you get extra little brownie points from me. don’t you feel honored?”

“not particularly.”

gene opens his mouth to quip something back, though instead flicks his eyes up to something behind you, suddenly looking annoyed. following his line of sight, you look back to see two girls lingering by a turn into another hallway, standing close together and whispering like journalists who had just heard the juiciest gossip. when they notice you both looking their way they scurry off down the hall, whispering excitedly and giggling.

the hell?

“…i’m not trying to get involved in this one, as shocking as that sounds. just thought i’d warn you that you’re not in the clear. and… i’m not the reason for it this time.” he starts stepping back, hands shoved in his disheveled blazer pockets and lazily turning away from you with a wave. “bye.”

…that’s it?

“…thanks?” you call out, lip curled in confusion.

“you’re welcome, kitty.”

…

“i take it back.”

☆

gene’s warning floated in your head for the next few weeks, and you couldn’t let it go. if he of all people reached out, then your paranoia about the situation surely wasn’t for nothing

and it. sure. wasn’t.

it started with a few nasty looks in the hall, mainly from the cheerleaders. it made sense, since ivy was on the team surely they would go with what she said over some rando new girl.

on top of it, ivy was still… unnervingly quiet about it all. and as the days went on, she seemed to behave more and more… depressed. whether she was faking it or truly felt that way, honestly you couldn’t tell.

more weeks go by with more and more weird looks. more people leaning to whisper to their friends as you walked by. honestly, you’d been tempted to stop one of them and ask what the problem was. after all, if a rumor had started, how is it that none of your friends or you have heard?

it progressed to a few cryptic notes left in your locker, from scribbles of random insults to things like ‘everyone knows what you are’ and ‘we know what you did’. honestly, it was more irritating than nerve-wracking like you’re sure the senders intended for it to be, and all you did was scoff and throw the scraps of paper when you saw them. every once in a while someone would “accidentally” knock into your shoulder with theirs in the halls. at first, you didn’t pay it much mind, but once your binder had clattered to the floor for the fourth time, you’d be stupid not to catch on.

it wasn’t until nearly winter break that you finally got your answer. 

everything about the day felt off. from waking up to icy sidewalks and walking to school alone (aphmau went to school early for tutoring), to—for once in the past month—finding yourself alone as you walked through the halls to class. it wasn’t bad, but you felt a strange sense of nervousness.

when you open. the bathroom door to see not one, not two, but five girls from the cheerleading team by the mirrors, you almost consider spinning around and waiting until after homeroom.

instead, you walk into one of the stalls with (metaphorical) balls of steel, not sparing a glance at their pointed stares as you pass by. you take your time, too, hoping they’d be gone by the time you came back out.

silly, shouldn’t you know your luck by now?

once again, you consider just leaving when the girls are still crowded around the sinks taking their sweet time giggling under their breath and typing on their phones. you squeeze your way to the open sink by the furthest wall from the door, stuck between them and your nearest escape.

spider-lashed eyes darted up and down your figure—quite obviously—and a few beats passed like this of you washing your hands while they stared like you were in their way.

your name falling from one of their lips genuinely startles you, however, and you nearly jump in your skin as the sound. you’d expected them to simply stare and whisper like they had for the past few months, so the fact someone was finally speaking up both drove a cold spoke of anxiety into your veins and made you a little eager at the same time.

“…yeah?”

the girl who said your name was one of the seniors, and was model tall. a lot of the cheerleaders were either around your height or taller, but she made you feel short in comparison. it was—truthfully—really intimidating to be specifically called out by her, especially knowing ivy definitely twisted the truth to get all of these girls on her side. she could be really kind for all you knew, but that didn’t matter if ivy had the first say.

she steps forward, a perfectly manicured hand tosses her hair over her shoulder before getting placed on her hip. looking down at you from her tall nose, she fixes her lips in a way that said maybe she wasn’t all that nice.

you should stop giving people at this school the benefit of the doubt.

“that’s your name, right?”

“…yeah.”

“well, i was just wondering about something. you must think you’re pretty sneaky, huh?”

“i don’t.” you raise your eyebrow. “i can’t say i’m following.”

she scoffs, the other girls rolling their eyes and giving each other looks, like they were all in on an inside joke that you weren’t a part of.

“dating both laurance and garroth at the same time? acting like just an innocent friend but playing them behind their backs? we heard everything.” she lets out a short, mockingly dry laugh. “how you’re just trying to add them to your already long body count?”

so she went ahead with that narrative, did she?

“that’s what you heard, huh?”

another girl steps forward, and you vaguely register hearing the late bell to homeroom ring.

“you seem pretty shameless about it. especially now that you’re dating gene. trying to get the best of both worlds, huh?”

“huh?” you respond dumbly, face wrinkling in confusion.

“still trying to play dumb?” she pulls out her phone, tapping on the screen and turning it towards you. “we have the evidence.”

there’s a picture of you and gene leaving the school, and by the looks of his outfit it was the day you went to go meet his mom. she slides her finger on the screen to show another picture, this one your recent conversation with him just a few weeks ago.

damn. no one in this school knows how to mind their business, huh?

it makes you wonder though. did gene purposely stop you in the hall so those girls could get that picture? was he lying to you after all?

no. gene would have no reason to be a part of this. while you didn’t trust him, you believe he meant it when he said he had nothing to do with this.

“okay? those are two pictures of us talking. are you and i going to be dating the next time you talk to me?”

“ew.”

you throw up your hands with a deadpan expression, looking back over to the first girl. “my point proven. so, now that we’ve established you’re stupid enough to fall for amateur level gossip, what else would you like to accuse me of?”

“excuse me?” she scoffs.

“you’re just saying that to get out of the fact that you’ve been caught.” another girl starts. “we’ve seen how ivy’s been acting lately. you’ve been bullying her because of her crush on garroth, cause you want him all to yourself. like you didn’t already have enough attention.”

you narrow your eyes. it is a little over eight in the morning. you’d barely woken up an hour ago, and there’s currently not enough fucks in your head for you to give.

when you fought ivy towards the beginning of school, you told mrs. hwit you wouldn’t get into one again. you’d hate to see the disappointment on her face, but a quick crack to the nose would honestly be less trouble than trying to understand the scattered reasoning they were giving you.

very suddenly you find yourself… at a loss for words. they wouldn’t listen to you anyways even if you did give a solid argument. they just wanted more fuel for their gossip, and whatever energy you had to defend yourself dissipates at the thought.

just as you’re about to try and shimmy away from the group, the bathroom door squeaks on its hinges as it swings open. it reveals a familiar face, the daughter of the very teacher you’d just been thinking about mere seconds prior. she’s boredly looking down at her phone while walking in, half humming half sighing as she twirls a finger curl around her finger…

you expect her to maybe stutter in her steps or seem surprised when she looks up, but as soon as her red irises flick up to the scene in front of her, she saunters right around the group and up to your side without even a flicker of a change in her expression.

“oh, there you are. what’s going on?” she says, leaning between you and the cheerleading group to reapply her lip gloss in the mirror.

“we’re just talking to her,” the senior says, suddenly sounding much more casual than she had been before.

lucinda very softly scoffs under her breath, standing to her full height and spinning on her heeled mary janes to fully face the group and—whether meaningful or not—cuts you off from the girls.

“oh, really? what about? i love a little gossip in the bathroom.”

the girls look at each other with very minuscule grimaces on their faces, like a pest has just run over the tiles in front of them. it was quite obvious they were doing it in a way to single her out—which honestly would’ve worked on a shy or quieter kid—but lucinda’s complete nonchalance and total patience for a reply just made them appear… humorously awkward.

“about how she’s been bullying one of our cheerleaders. she even beat her up!” one finally speaks up.

“oh, did she? that sounds very unlike her.”

“yeah, she did—!”

“can i see the proof?”

they collectively stare at lucinda dumbly for a second.

“uh, well ivy has the pictures and screenshots, so.”

“but none of you do…?” lucinda crosses her arms and curls her lips judgingly, like they had all just told her two plus two was three.

the senior scoffs. “no—”

“so you don’t have proof. have you seen any of this proof?”

“no, not yet.” the girls suddenly look defensive and a bit embarrassed. “ivy was going to report it to a teacher before she showed it to everyone else.”

“so, you haven’t even seen this “proof”? i’ve heard girls whispering about this for a month, and you’re still believing her with no proof? are you serious?” lucinda deadpans, the sultry valley girl rasp in her voice the cherry on top to her total 1 v 5 take down.

“well, obviously we believe ivy over a slut who hangs out with delinquents and dates guys like gene!” the one who had the pictures of you on her phone argues, her face red.

“well i’ve heard the football boys whisper some real interesting things about you.” lucinda reaches back to grab onto your hand, pulling you into her side. “you’re quite the one to be making slut allegations, slut.”

the girl gasps, and lucinda pulls you with her to walk around the group. you think that’s the end, but she seems to have a few more snide remarks up her sleeve as she slows down again, red eyes judgingly piercing into the group.

“all of you are fucking pathetic. pull your heads out of each other’s asses for once, and you may be able to breathe some fresh air instead of regurgitating ivy’s shit you swallowed.”

she turns to the tallest girl—the senior who had confronted you first.

“oh, and by the way, i heard you complaining in class the other day about that crooked ass nose of yours,” she says, hand squeezing around yours as she stares the girl down. “say anything about her again and i’ll break it. then you can get a nose job for free! on me, bitch.”

there’s a few offended protests that echo through the group, though they seem to be grasping for straws as no more insults come from their mouth other than reworded shouts of the same allegations from before. lucinda doesn’t bat an eye, walking right out the door and dragging you along with her into the hall without looking back.

“unbelievable.” she scoffs, ginger curls bouncing as she hastily walks with you down the hallway.

you stare at the tiles, listening to the clicking of her heels on the floor. it’s a while and a few more turns before she stops, and you snap out of your zoned out daze only to realize she hadn’t led you back to your homeroom door. 

“why are you crying?”

where are you now…? mrs. hwit’s room?

you open your mouth to refute lucinda’s strange claim, though shock yourself into silence at the shaky uneven breath you draw in.

oh.

you were crying. 

you guess that’s why the lines of the tiles were a blurred mess under your feet.

“i…don’t know,” you mutter, bringing your blazer’s sleeve to your face with a sniffle. “i don’t know.”

lucinda sighs softly, pulling you into a hug. she smells like a rich feminine perfume, her charm bracelet tinkling by your ear as she pats your hair.

“overwhelmed?”

nodding and gulping down the lump in your throat, you feel a bit embarrassed as you try to gather yourself. crying in the middle of your school’s hallway was not necessarily on your bucket list.

“you’ve had to put up with a lot this year—this semester. it’s okay.”

you’re not sure what it is about lucinda that makes your tears flow so freely in front of her. she wasn’t necessarily scary or heartless, but you definitely never expected to be breaking in front of her out of all your friends. maybe it was her calming voice, or the pure confidence she exuded—but either way, her casualness about it all helped you gather yourself within a few minutes.

“better?” she asks as you pull away, pulling up her sleeves to pat your cheeks dry.

“yeah,” you whisper.

“good. while we wait for your face to… not look like you’ve been crying,” she pulls your arm, walking into mrs. hwit’s empty classroom. “we’re telling my mom.”

“right now?”

“yep.” she pops the ‘p’ as she says it, marching you right up to her mother’s desk.

the gray-haired woman quirks a brow, slowly raising her eyes to the two of you with an almost knowing look on her face.

“can i help you, ladies?”

lucinda unpockets her phone, opening her camera roll and clicking play on a video. the screen is black and for a moment there’s nothing but rustling noise and faint voices.

“…you’ve been bullying… as if… attention…”

there’s a moment of quiet before the familiar squeak of the bathroom door clarifies the scene.

“oh, there you are. what’s going on?”

your eyes dart over to a very smug lucinda.

holy shit, she was recording?

the rest of the video plays as you stand in awe, barely registering hyria’s stern look as lucinda’s threats are replayed at the end. she spares you a wary glance, and after a few mutterings of explanations later, she finally looks over to you with full attention.

“i’m proud of you.”

“…what?”

“i am proud of you. for opening yourself up and confiding in your friends. i can see how close you’ve allowed yourself to get to, not just lucinda, but to quite a few friends. and good ones at that. compared to how… tense you were at the beginning of this year, i’m proud to see how far you’ve come.”

you swallow down the lump in your throat.

“thank you.”

she leans forward, narrowing her eyes. “and we can add on the fact that you didn’t rip any hair or clobber anyone’s faces this time… yes?”

sheepishly, you recall her stern warning from your first fight with ivy, shifting on your feet. “…yes ma’am…”

she taps her hands on her desk. “good. we will talk about this more later, but for now you both need to get to class. i have some reports to fill.”

once again, you find yourself being led in a daze back to homeroom, lucinda scoffing under her breath every few seconds and shaking her head while tapping on her phone. you don’t snap back until you walk through the doors and everyone’s eyes—including ivy’s flick up to you in 

“well, there you are. i hope you have a good excuse for being twenty minutes late—”

“it’s excused. mrs. hwit sent you an email,” lucinda speaks up, just barely slowing in her steps as you both walk to your seats.

“…alright. thank you, miss hwit. these teacher’s kids…”

lucinda barely pays any mind to the last remark, her eyes held on ivy’s with a malignant smile curved up on her lips. you don’t even bother to check ivy’s face, watching the cracks in the tiles before sliding in your spot next to kate. you can hear lucinda take her seat in front of you, 

there’s a very gentle pull on your hair, trying to get your attention.

“what happened?” katelyn whispers, and when you don’t immediately respond she whips her head to the ginger in front. “why are her eyes red?”

slowly the girl twists in her seat, tapping an acrylic nail with a wry look on her face. she offers no context to the concerned teens next to you, instead intentionally flicking her eyes to ivy before leaning closer. “oh, it’s on, bitches.”

☆

every class you went to after homeroom you were accompanied by at least two friends on either side of you, even ones you didn’t think knew of the situation from this morning. you had giggled about your formation of bodyguards and insisted you were fine, but whether they continued to ham up their protective act out of genuine concern or because you found it so amusing you weren’t sure.

while it was definitely entertaining, you had to draw the line when laurance nearly skipped one of his classes to sit with you in yours and travis tried to follow you in the bathroom when none of your girl friends were around.

now you practically had a circle formation around you, and both you and aphmau find yourself squished together between your friends while you all walked to lunch

“i don’t know what to do!” aphmau whines under her breath, tucked by your side. “i mean, why would anyone even spread a rumor that i’m dating aaron? and what does ivy gain from saying you’re dating gene?”

you lift a finger. “one, from what you said, it sounds like whatever… mark or scent or whatever that aaron left on you must be a part of werewolf dating culture. plus there’s the whole thing of everyone calling you the female alpha. you should talk to him about it—”

“i told you, i tried, but i didn’t even get to bring that part up! he was upset when i told him how lily was trying to use him and had the nerve to say he was disappointed in me! like i don’t even like you and i’m looking out for you! i mean… we both haven’t been very nice to each other, but—”

you hold up your other hand, groaning under your breath. “—everything leads back to those three girls. this is such a mess.”

her shoulders slump. “i know… i’m getting sick of it.”

you hold up a second finger.

“to answer the second question, ivy is doing this because she’s shallow and can’t comprehend why a boy would want to hang out with a girl unless it’s out of romantic interest. so she’s “sabotaging” our relationship with garroth so we’re not “competition”—in her eyes at least.”

“…that’s kind of sad.”

you let your hands fall while your mosh pit of a group makes it to a table, sighing as you take your seat.

“yeah, it is.”

“hi!” someone whispers excitedly next to you, and the higher pitch could mean nothing other than…

“oh! hey, nana.” you smile at the beaming meif’wa, who was holding something behind her back.

“oh, and hello, aph!” she says sheepishly, taking the seat next to you and giving a small wave to aph. “i just thought… i would make something for you since you helped me with making friends and i really look up to you. so… i wanted to give you this!”

she pulls out a small pink box with a clear top that had some winter themed cookies inside, and a bracelet with pink beads and a few bows decorated throughout.

“…this is for me?”

she nods, her fanged teeth poking out from her lips as she smiles. “i made some cookies for all of our friends, but i made a friendship bracelet for you and aphmau. i have the matching one, see?”

she lifts her wrist, showing off a bracelet with much more vivid pink hues than your muted one—a show of her consideration to preference despite the still super cutesie design. the amber doe eyed girl next to you leans forward, gasping excitedly when she’s handed a bracelet with purplish-pink tones.

“so… if you guys want them you can keep them.”

“of course i want it! thank you, nana!” aphmau squeals, leaning over to hug her and rounding you up in the embrace in the process.

“yeah, thank you. this is adorable, honestly it made my day.” you smile.

nana’s eyes light up, sparkles shining in the girl's eyes. “you do…? i’m so glad!”

aphmau looks like she’s going to say something else before the attention of the group is taken by lucinda, who rushes to sit at the table while giggling under her breath.

“what did you do?” teony deadpans.

there’s a sudden screech from a girl on the other end of the cafeteria, and after your heart jolts from the startle you quickly turn to look around, lucinda’s snickering growing a bit louder and obvious. a few of the cheerleaders are wiping away at their uniforms and backing away from a familiar head of carmine hair, who was standing in utter disgust and shock while staring down at her hands.

it takes you adjusting yourself in your seat, but you can see the food on her tray was no longer… food. instead it had melted into a pretty disgusting looking goo, almost like snail slime as it seemed to splatter all over ivy’s face and uniform. the girls who had previously been standing next to her were unfortunately subjected to being in the splash zone, the booger substance also smeared on their neat uniforms.

your eyes widen, jaw going slack as you turn back around to look at lucinda. “you… can do that?”

she quirks a brow, shrugging and looking smugly at the scene behind you as it unfolds.

“remind me never to piss you off,” laurance huffs, staring at the scene with a bit of a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

katelyn grits her teeth. “don’t tell her who you like either or she’ll turn them into a frog.”

“that was one time.”

“like, five months ago!”

“oh, whatever.”

garroth, who has been staring at the scene with equal shock to yours leans over, a bit of a grimaced smile on his face. “well, as much as this karma bit seems nice on the surface, i hope it doesn’t cause you more trouble.”

you blink, before slowly shaking your head and laughing under your breath. “honestly, i don’t even care if it does at this point.”

there’s a beat of him looking at you in surprise, before he also begins to laugh. “you know what? fair enough.”

☆

another week passed, and snow had begun to coat the ground. you had begun to wonder if taking the bus would be worth it to avoid the frigid air blowing in from the distant mountainside, a thought aphmau had also pondered with you after one too many slips on the sidewalk just in the past few days alone.

thankfully, pondering on the issue wasn’t something you had to do for long after you’d both mentioned it next to the one and only laurance zvahl.

“thank you so much again for driving us, cadenza!” aphmau beams, tapping her shoes on the floor of the blue volkswagen you both had eagerly scrambled into.

“yeah, of course! i couldn’t live with myself if i left two cute girls to freeze on the streets!” she dramatically declares, grabbing at her heart and clenching her fist.

laughter bubbles from both yours and aphmau’s lips.

“i see where laurance gets it from.” you raise your eyebrows.

“hey! i’m this charming on my own, thank you very much.” he scoffs, turning to face you two. “by the way, did you two hear?”

“hear what?”

he leans towards the backseat, elbows on the middle console. “ivy, lily, alex, and a few of the cheerleaders got busted for everything. they’re in iss until winter break.”

aphmau’s jaw drops. “they got suspended? for real?!”

cadenza nods her head, lips pursed at the juicy gossip. “even the seniors had started to hear all those rumors, but honestly most of us took your side over ivy’s. but the fact that everyone started to know about it means the school had to do something. i think it’s deserved.”

since the beginning of this week, you did notice the girls weren’t really around, constantly getting called out by administration with a gloomy look on their faces. you got called out once, just to give a rundown of everything that happened, but since then everything went… quiet.

turns out while you had been in the counselor’s office, the whole school had an assembly and was given a big talking-to about bullying and how if any teacher heard or got a report of a student spreading rumors, they’d get severe punishment.

that threat probably wouldn’t be taken too seriously, and would likely be ignored by next semester. but at least it worked as a public shaming that would hopefully deter ivy from messing with you again. not surprisingly, gene and his “gang” flew completely under the radar once again, fading into the background while everything else went to shit.

a part of you wanted to say the whole thing seemed like overkill, that it wasn’t that big of a deal. but honestly, the peace you’ve felt this week for the first time in months overrides your embarrassment that this all started over you—and aphmau too.

while cadenza turns up her music and laurance turns to stare out at the snow, you turn to aphmau with a small bit of curiosity in your eye. while one side of the issue had been resolved pretty outright… you’d noticed something really strange about the way aphmau very suddenly quit complaining about her issue with aaron. in fact, you’d noticed them walking very calmly together and even laughing–seeming to get along quite well considering their fiery past.

“so…” you start, narrowing your eyes and lowering your voice.

aphmau looks back, a bit unsettled at your sudden change in mood.

“yes…?”

“about that aaron guy.”

her face shifts to a strangely flustered expression, amber irises flicking away as she slowly shrugs. “what about him…?”

weird…

“you two seem to be getting along now. what happened?”

“uh, well!” she shifts in her seat. “it’s kind of a crazy story.”

you nod expectantly.

she deflates, eyes darting up to the front seat before back at you. “now..?”

you nod, eyebrows impatiently raising on your forehead.

“okay!” she groans under her breath. “so… you know that online friend i told you about? like, the one i’ve been friends with for years now? fc?”

you nod, face wrinkling in confusion.

“well, it turns out that fc… is aaron.”

…

…

“what?”

“yeah. it turns out we’ve actually been friends all this time… and enemies? without knowing it. so, we decided to give each other a try at being friends in real life and start over. turns out he’s pretty nice.”

“he’s pretty nice?”

she shrinks into her seat, looking a bit frightened by your demeanor. “yeah…? i mean, i was pretty mean to him too, so…”

“so… huh?! he’s pretty nice? he was a dick to you for the past five months, and now you’re friends in one week?”

she grins awkwardly, shrugging. “yes?”

cadenza whips her car into her spot, making laurance dramatically gasp and place his hands on the dash–saving aphmau from any further of your scrutiny. with two fingers, you motion from your eyes to hers, before slinging on your backpack and leaning in with a hissed whisper.

“you’re not off the hook, young lady.”

“okay, mom,” she sarcastically responds with an eye roll, slipping out from her side of the car with a dramatic huff. this conversation definitely wasn’t over, but at the very least you could be happy that the situation was… resolved. for now.

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @arienic @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @remiechu @valentique @kalegrinch

[eddies-artofsuffering]

Part I: Sweet Tooth

(Part II)

Eddie stares down at his wristwatch. One minute to noon. Just one more minute.

“Want us to clear the path?” Argyle claps him on his shoulder and squeezes. “It’s almost time.”

“I don’t – I don’t know. Maybe you guys could stand behind the kitchen doors? You can see through the windows, right?” Eddie scrunches his nose.

He can feel it, he’s been conditioned to it by now, the familiar pit of anticipation. Other people may call it butterflies. Eddie thinks it’s more like pterodactyls breathing fire inside his stomach. He desperately needs someone to hold his fucking hand during this hardship.

But he also really, really doesn’t want anyone up close to witness him making a fool of himself in front of Hot Steve - a new regular customer at their cafe. An incredibly attractive guy who works at the bookstore next door.

Eddie can NOT fuck this up. It only happens once a day, for a maximum of three minutes.

“Maybe today’s the day you ask him out,” Jonathan smiles. Dude never smiles with his eyes. It’s kind of unsettling.

“Absolutely not, have you seen Hot Steve?” Eddie groans. “There’s no way he plays for my team. He’s –“

The doorbell chimes. Eddie’s head snaps towards the entrance, mouth falling open. Hot Steve is walking towards him, holy shit. It’s go time. Eddie shoos his coworkers away with a frantic wave, straightens his name tag, and rests his chin on his palm and bends over a little, elbow on the counter.

This is always the way he greets Hot Steve. It’s his signature move. Although, it hasn’t really worked yet. If it worked, Eddie would’ve won Hot Steve’s attention by now. But this is the best he got at the moment, damn it.

“Hi, Eds, how are you doing?” Hot Steve is wearing a baby-blue button-down today, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His name tag pin on the left side of his chest glints.

Eddie loves that Steve came up with that nickname on his own, despite only having seen him here at Cafe Byers for, like, two weeks now.

“Better now that you’re here.” Eddie gives him a cheeky smile, If Argyle and Jonathan were here, they might’ve been impressed with how smooth it sounded; they always comment on the way he flirts, the things he says. If you ever said shit like that to me, I’d be hella blushing, brochacho. You know you got game, right?

What they don’t know is that these lines are rehearsed in his head, so many times. It’s all Eddie ever does: practice pickup lines for Hot Steve.

“Right out of the gate, huh? You're makin' me blush,” Hot Steve smiles, and honestly, it’s hard to tell if he’s blushing at all. Or if he’s even flustered. Hot Steve's always so confident. “I’ll get a latte. With oat milk, please?”

“Oh?” Oat milk? That’s new. Steve didn’t care last time what milk he was getting. Interesting. Or is it? Eddie decides to file that information away for later. “Yea, coming right up.”

“Thanks.”

Another thing about Hot Steve that really does something to Eddie’s overworked pterodactyls, is that he never has a phone with him. Or on him. If it is, it's never visible.

Which is odd, because the entire café is littered with folks who cannot tear their eyes away from their little gadgets and devices, especially their phones; most people can’t even wait for their drinks without looking at them, checking something constantly, emails or texts or whatever. 

And, well, Hot Steve never does any of that. He always waits at the end of the counter, patiently watching Eddie making drinks. It always makes him feel so self-conscious. Eddie’s burnt his hands under hot steam a couple of times, actually.

But these two, maybe three minutes of Eddie making a fresh beverage for Hot Steve – this is the only time he gets to make small talk with him. Each time, he learns something new about him, or confirms something that Eddie’s already inferred. The grand question of the day is: “So, who’s the drink for?”

Hot Steve blinks rapidly, as if coming out of a daze. “Uh – what?”

“Whose drink is this?” Eddie says, tamping the coffee grounds. “I’m assuming it’s not yours.”

“How… did you know it’s not mine?” he narrows his eyes.

God. It’s really telling, isn’t it, that Eddie’s noticed these things? “First time for you to ask for oat milk, so. I don’t know, I figured,” he shrugs.

Hot Steve opens his mouth as if to say something. Then he doesn’t. In the corner of Eddie’s eyes, he sees him nodding with pursed lips, with a hint of a smirk. It’s so distracting that Eddie almost heats up regular milk despite this whole conversation being around someone’s (not Steve’s, apparently) preference for plant-based milk. Oops.

He finishes making the latte and walks over to the cash register, handing over the drink. Steve receives it with a small thanks. 

But Eddie knows Steve's not quite done here today. Because, when you have a tiny (massive) crush on a near-stranger, you just, kind of look for patterns. That’s just how human minds work; Eddie has been carefully collecting all the little information about Hot Steve, just based on the few minutes that he spends at the café at noon.

Which is how that Eddie’s almost certain (almost, because there’s always room for anomalies) what Hot Steve’s about to do when he asks, “Is that it for today?”

“Oh – um,” Hot Steve scans the glass case of assorted desserts and baked goods, subconsciously wetting his lips. “Actually, yea. Can I have the blueberry crumble, please?”

This is one of the very few predictable things about him. Eddie doesn’t know why Hot Steve even looks at the shelves of sweets each time as if he’s ever going to make a different choice, because it’s always the same, the only constant pattern besides his entrance that he’s ever shown Eddie: the house blueberry crumble, the ones that Eddie bakes himself.

And every time Hot Steve asks for it, Eddie has to turn around and flex his arms, letting out a silent scream of victory, because Hot Steve is fucking hooked on those things. It’s truly incredible to know that he wants it. Eddie pours his heart and soul into those.

“Of course, babe,” he swoops down, takes a small square piece out with tongs, wraps it in a pocket of parchment paper. “D’you know I bake these every morning?”

“You – it’s you?” Hot Steve’s eyes widen comically. “Wow. I thought they were, like, shipped over from a bakery or something.”

“We do have an oven,” Eddie points behind the kitchen with his thumb and looks back, makes a mistake of drawing attention to the door, only remembering then that Argyle and Jonathan are probably watching this whole thing. Really hoping that they’re being discreet. 

“That’s amazing. I – I love them,” he says, not at all looking behind, thank God. “Guess you’re good with your hands.”

Eddie could practically hear the angelic chorus from the sky. Holy shit. Hot Steve loves his crumbles. Fuck. He could cry. 

But, you know. Everything always comes to an end, and that’s usually how far their conversation goes. Nothing more than just small talk, and then Hot Steve would pay for the stuff, go back to the next-door bookstore where he works. And until the next day, it’s as if he doesn’t even exist. A mythical creature that only appears during those three minutes in time and space, then vanishes afterwards. 

So he tries, just one last time before he leaves. “Steve?”

“Yea?” Hot Steve looks up, batting his lashes. They’re – so – pretty. So long, delicate. Such a fucking contrast to his muscular arms and chest that his thin blue shirt does nothing to hide, sleeves and buttons ready to pop. It’s sinful.

Fuck, and time’s ticking, yet there are so many things Eddie wants to ask. What is your drink, then? ‘Cause you never get the same drink twice.

Why is it always at noon? Is that your break?

Where are you from? When does your shift end? You do work at the bookstore, right?

When are you free?

All of these are more or less reasonable, if not a tiny bit creepy questions. But any of these would’ve been so much better than what Eddie actually blurts out, so out of the left field that he surprises even himself: “So, uh, how much do you bench?”

Oh, fuck. Where the hell did that come from? Eddie cringes hard inside, unsure how those words, that kind of vernacular even came out of his mouth, please, he wants to rewind time - 

But it's spilled oat milk. Guh. He crinkles his nose to prepare himself to apologize. Sorry. That was so – I’m not a gym bro. I’m not! Look at me! He's about to say, but:

“You wanna know?”

Hot Steve has a shit-eating grin on. That’s a first. There might even be a faint blush on his cheeks. Holy shit. Hot Steve took the fucking bait. Not that it was bait – it was just Eddie being a fucking disaster – but he nods all the same, stupidly. Of course he wants to know. He’s committed, now.

“Let’s see.” Hot Steve’s now circling around the counter to take a closer look at Eddie, eyes travelling up and down. It feels like Hot Steve is undressing him with his eyes. It’s kind of insane that they’re doing this in public.

Hmm. 140, 145 at the most – Hot Steve mutters under his breath. “Oh yea. Easy,” he says, still smiling wickedly.

“What do you mean, easy?” Eddie croaks.

His breath hitches when Hot Steve leans over the counter, inches away from Eddie’s face. “Probably could do twenty reps of you,” he whispers, winking.

Eddie’s brain short-circuits. He stares open-mouthed at Hot Steve, unable to move until he exits the café with the drink and a brown bag, fading away from view. Gone for the rest of the day, rest of the evening. Rest of the next morning. Only to return the next day at noon, like a fucking reverse-Cinderella.

“Why were you guys whispering?” Jonathan appears from behind, nudging him on the arm. “What did he say? Did you finally ask him out?”

“I’m about to ask him out myself if you don’t,” Argyle says lazily, earning a sharp smack from Jonathan. “Just joking, man, you know you’re my main dude,” he squeezes a squirming Jonathan on the side.

“He… “ Eddie gulps, closing his eyes, and pictures Hot Steve’s tantalizing smile. “He winked.”

Continue reading on Ao3

Read the sequel: Savour

[the-exiled-comic]

Hey Katti how many signs were there in previous comic page that showed Firespots true evil nature? Because I honestly feel like Fishwhisker right now: I feel really stupid that I didn’t see those signs before it was revealed that he murdered Cloverfall and stole the prey in the first place. Was that intentional?

it was intentional yeah, i always wanted firespots to have enough plausible deniability so that it would make sense why fishwhisker trusted and wanted to believe in him. their doomed friendship is very blorboscrimbley to me :]

the route of tragic betrayal is something i really like in stories, so i wanted to be careful to never fully incriminate firespots until fishwhisker was able to see it in such an undeniable, no doubt-about-it way i felt like if i revealed he killed cloverfall before fishwhisker could come to that conclusion on her own, then it would just be very frustrating to see him on screen. like "oh this guy sucks he's not her friend get away from him fishpaw nooo why are you trusting him don't be stupid", i wanted to avoid that specifically.

he starts getting more visibly suspicious after cloverfall is murdered, but i still wanted to keep a sense of hope for him. that maybe if he did kill her, it was just in self defense/panic and he surely wont do it again... right?

i'll put a few panels under the cut

most of his interactions with her have at least one "hm. kinda weird" moment which varies from some pretty direct foreshadowing to cloverfall's murder on page 62

to him jumping to complain about crowstar in ways that unsettle fishpaw on 112 (he does this one a lot, which is why she says "I knew something was wrong with you" on 582, she did see signs but wanted to believe he would make the right choices)

and then if it's not firespots himself, sometimes it an outside source like twiggy saying she can't actually tell the difference and that he is always smelling weird to her on 265

and right after this convo, firespots uses cloverfall's death as a way to try to convince fishpaw that it was crowstar or a lackey who killed her.

firespots knew he cannot keep that he killed cloverfall a secret forever, but while he can he takes every chance he gets to reaffirm to fishpaw that crowstar is nothing but an enemy. i think he at first believed that he could keep her trust, but eventually realised after he killed cloverfall that if he kills whisperleaf too, there would be no more kindness between them there's more than just those three panels, i just don't want to link everything LOL i do love the tumblr tag system so if you ever wanted to re-read the pages with firespots on them it has your back https://www.tumblr.com/the-exiled-comic/tagged/firespots

[what-have-i-unleashed]

figure by the window

horror story time again >:3

👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃

this is a story of a time blue and dream encounter a weird sighting.

they are in a rural village of a relatively peaceful universe, helping people around as usual. on an errand, they pass by a three-story house that looks spotless but also kinda abandoned. but blue sees something strange - a figure sitting by the window on the second floor, a curtain flowing in the wind partially hiding them so blue can't tell what they look like. he waves at the person, but they don't wave back. he doesn't think too hard about it - maybe the person is just shy or doesn't know he's waved at them, that's all.

but a couple days later, blue and dream passes by the house again, and the figure is still there, at the exact same spot. and some days later, the same thing again.

and the next day.

and the next week.

every time blue and dream passes by the house, they see the same thing. now a bit worried and unsettled, they ask the villagers what is going on with the house on the end of the street. the villagers are as clueless as they are. the house belongs to a mysterious eccentric owner who doesn't show their face much. maybe the figure by the window is the owner, maybe they are the owner's spouse, maybe they are a relative. it's hard to know, honestly.

blue and dream only look at each other, more confused and troubled by the lack of information. but they still pass by the house, and every time the figure is still sitting there, watching them from the window.

until one day, when they go past the house, blue's bandanna gets caught in the wind and flies through the open window, into the room where the perpetually watcher is.

"excuse me," blue calls out to the figure from outside the gate. "my bandanna is in your house. can you get it for me, please?"

the figure doesn't answer. they don't move from their seat either.

"hello?" blue shouts. "can you hear me?"

maybe they're immobile?

"uhm, can we go into your house just for a sec?" dream asks the figure. "we'll be quick!"

no answer.

"maybe we should just enter...?" dream suggests, unsure.

after a while, they decide to go into the house. the door is unlocked, surprisingly. the house is clean, but it looks unused. not lived in. everything looks untouched, only adding to the uneasiness.

blue and dream quickly move to the second floor. they knock on the door they're sure the mysterious person is in, but again no one answers them. gathering their courage, the duo opens the door to reveal a sparsely decorated bedroom with a bed in one corner. near the huge glass window facing the front of the house sits neatly the figure in an comfy armchair.

dream slowly approaches the figure while blue searches for his bandanna. he's surprised to find another skeleton monster dressed in a slightly oversized nightshirt, their eyes staring vacantly outside the window. the sense of wrongness only intensifies when he cannot sense any emotion coming off the skeleton. nervously, he reaches to touch the skeleton, but they only flop to the other side of the chair, no reaction at all.

"dream? what is it?" blue calls for dream, worried at the anguished and disturbed sounds his friend makes.

"i- i don't know what's wrong! i cannot feel anything at all, but they're... they're not dead, right...?"

blue moves to his friend's side. he touches the small immobile skeleton, surprised to not be able to search for any soul. they're not dead - not dust - but they feel as if they were. no soul, no reaction, no feeling. a corpse, essentially.

"what should we do?" dream asks, anxious.

"... we probably should call the local authority," blue says somberly, carrying the lifeless monster in his arms. "they should know what to do about this."

the duo leaves the house, still shaken by what has transpired. dream looks back at the place, unsure what to think about it. such a lovely place, but with no living person probably except for a lifeless skeleton monster. what happened there?

[avidaraku]

after watching a playthrough of Indika, I think it rly is so interesting seeing how expansive it is - esp after watching the demo ages ago. So many things click, like a cog in a machine, and this game has truly thrown me so many surprises at every turn, including how Indika turned into a nun.

even though I never was raised religiously in my house, there is that cultural understanding of what it means to sin and to be influenced by the fear of death and disobedience. Don't have much thoughts but I loved the ending soooo much - (spoilers!!) but I love that Indika's reflection of God and the Devil are clearly parts of her that have consumed her and that you cannot get rid of the bad if you also want to be good. You need both evil and justice, hot and cold, sharp and round - things that you think can easily exist on its own, cannot be defined by as a universality.

Sometimes I see myself as a walking corpse, and I think about my own death every time I look into the mirror. And honestly - I'm glad I can see a game clearly represent that rotting panic and urge to prove that you are not this bad person, the moments where you just have unending conversations with the worst parts of yourself and somehow everything has made you worse. I fucking LOVE that. We all have devils and gods inside of us, for better or for worse.

it is absolutely devastating when the journey comes to an end with our companion, who we decided to take a bet on, and everything goes to fucking shit. reality is often humbling and disappointing - with Ilya unable to "talk to God" and his arm will never come back. But man, did I love how the perspective of the game shifted from third person (omniscent, out of boundaries of the human realm) to first person (in reality, no longer above humanity) in the ending. It is deeply unsettling how different everything is after Indika manages to escape from her imprisonment, and how it is the devil that helps her escape. You can't tell what Indika is thinking anymore, not when now you can only see through her eyes. Even in the mirrors, when Indika stares at herself in the mirror of the pawnshop - it is the face of the Devil until the very last moment. Then you see how she's permanently changed, no longer wearing her nun habit, all her original thoughts on her journey initially coming to a hush.

it was a very bizarre but also such a cool game, I'm so glad i got to witness this journey! I would highly recommend it if you want to see some very cool displays on faith and doubt - the game gets very philosophical, unsurprisingly, but I also enjoy the Devil's voice. It's very well written and also I really enjoyed that convo between Indika and the Devil where their silhouettes were essentially merging in and out with each other in a pool of red. Probably one of my favs if u ignore the ones with Ilya haha. There's definitely more I could talk abt, but all in all, I do love how full circle this game comes. Very satisfying even if the game takes things in a crazy spin, and im sure a lot of ppl aren't used to that.

[writtenbynath]

The hypno community and good behaviour

I came across a post here on tumblr and it kinda made me foam at the mouth, not in a good way, so let me just make a few points here.

It has come to my attention lately that many of the tists on tumblr are just not being shown the care and respect they deserve.  When subjects vanish without a word. It leaves tists to wonder what did I do wrong?, or what didn’t I do that maybe I should have?  This is most true of newbie tists, but none of them are immune.  Dear Tists/ Spiral Weavers, Faeries? Gods , when your subjects do not communicate there wishes with you, or put far less care into your well-being than their own they are undervaluing the relationship. A relationship is never ever solely one persons responsibility, so please don’t worry yourselves over those who have not put half as much care or thought in as you have.

Are you fucking kidding me? When a subject vanishes without a word, you done goofed, my friend. You did something to scare them off. You did something that made the subject want to never speak to you again. It's good to look inward and wonder what you've done wrong. That path leads to growth. Think long and hard about what you did that hurt them.

Get your act together. Treating your subject right is not rocket science. It's basic human decency. If you give the subject a nice positive experience, they come back for more. If you behave like a good person, they become your friend. If you're a dick to them, they leave. Plain and simple.

The second thing that really bothers me about the hypno-community is subs that claim to be traumatized by the smallest of things, especially when they do this falsely and/or publicly.  Yes hypnosis can be scary, and I’ve had a few experiences i did not enjoy.  Your tist is magical but also they’re not magical. They are not all-seeing, all-knowing. They cannot guess how you feel unless you communicate openly and honestly with them. And accidents happen. They happen all the time. Most commonly the number one thing that goes wrong for me is the motion sickness nausea effect, and there’s just stuff that unsettles me, but guess what? When that happens we go back and fix it. I’m going to apply a rule a Dom taught me here. It was actually about anal sex but it applies very well here too. We prepare as best we can that things are smooth and clean  but sometimes that is not the outcome. If you can’t deal with it being unpredictable, just don’t do it. It’s not for you.

Since fucking when are you the expert on when another person is traumatised? Maybe the subject didn't tell you that you hurt their feelings (their feelings! their! I know grammar is hard, but please!) because they kinda suspected you would belittle the problem and deny that you did anything wrong. Maybe they feared you wouldn't take their feedback seriously because you didn't take their wishes and boundaries seriously either. Maybe that's why they ghosted you.

It's hard to understand what happens when someone is truly traumatised or triggered, it's really hard to empathise if you've never been through that yourself. It's tiny little things that can set it off and that does not invalidate the realness of the trauma. The correct response is not to get defensive. It's to ask how you can help. It's to learn from it and do fucking better.

Are you seriously saying "hey, if a bad experience traumatised you, just go away, it's not for you" is that seriously your response when a person gets hurt? Fucking seriously? It really is no wonder our community is shitty if you can't even show an ounce of compassion for a person who feels hurt.

Online people behave badly. They behave in ways they would never behave in the real world.  Online is the place where you can show as much or as little of yourself as you want.  When you build relationships online they are real relationships.  When you indulge in hypnosis online, that is a relationship, and there is a code of basic honour and decency.

The absolute hypocrisy of saying this after this previous shit is galling. You know what happens the most in our online community? Shitty tists inboxing shitty scripts because they get off on control fantasies. Subjects who just want to get out of their own heads with some online trances getting stuck with suggestions and triggers they don't know how to remove. Subjects who just want to get their trance on but who can't find a decent hypnotist who will consider their needs.

I have zero sympathy for hypnotists complaining that subjects are not being nice to them.

[amethystpath-writes]

Medieval setting villain-in-hiding knight x vigilante undercover-heir to the throne? 👀👀

Embers

NOT A PR0MPT

You speak my language, friend.

******

"I know what you are doing."

Villain looked up. In turn, the orange light reflecting off his black hair and armor shifted in oblong and strange shapes. "Warming myself by the fire?" His eyes found the light again, not paying any additional mind to the blond in front of him.

“Beyond that." The first man rolled his eyes. He seemed upset at receiving such a casually disinterested answer. Truthfully, it should have been obvious. Such an attitude was fitting on these grounds, during times like these.

War.

Revolution.

Starving.

Death.

"Your camouflage is almost convincing, though not efficient enough. Tell me, what is your name, raven-head?" The blond was over-the-top, in his own refined sort of way. His voice carried out like a song, every word a beat too long- as if he were performing, though not very good at it.

Without shifting, or even raising his chin, Villain lifted his hooded eyes. He regarded the blond enough to say his attention was captured, but not enough that he particularly cared- nor did he find the joke funny. Raven-head. He scoffed. "Tell me yours first."

The blond chuckled, taking a seat on a rotting log across from Villain- or, Raven-Head. "See, that is where you go wrong. You act victimized, untrusting."

At this, Villain furrowed a brow, an action which said, 'Keep it down.'

"It might not be obvious to everyone, but I can see the veil you are trying to hide behind. You would have told me your name, otherwise. You would have tried to befriend me, and become a pair that defied death- conquered it."

"What makes you an expert at spotting bunnies in bushes?" As far as Villain was concerned, the blond had as much of a problem blending in as himself. The theatrics were too much, the speech too proper, and the curiosity much too unsettling.

"Are you admitting this"- he gestured at the Villain's attire- "is a bluff? You cannot possibly be a knight."

In response, Villain shrugged. "You tell me. Who am I if not who I say?"

The blond suggested, “A friend?”

The fire crackled between the two knights. They observed each other silently, one suspicious, and the other knowing.

“Most would call me the enemy.” Villain found the blond's gaze before shrugging. "You can decide for yourself."

"If I knew your intentions well enough, I would."

Villain chuckled lowly. "If you would honestly consider me as an enemy, should you be this close?"

"A fire separates us."

"A fire that could be extinguished- or walked around, lunged across, kicked in your direction-"

"I get it," the blond snapped.

It was now that both soldiers looked to the short flames. Villain thought about how else he could weaponize the fire- although it was gradually becoming more embers than spindles of heat.

Giving another shrug, Villain began to stand and walk away. It wasn't long before the blond expectingly stopped him.

"Wait, wait, wait."

Villain waited, neck craning over his shoulder in the blond's direction. He hummed, encouraging the man to speak.

"You are right- I have no idea who you are, but I have reason to suspect you are not who you say. That is enough for me."

"What do you want, then?" Villain faced him fully again, knowing this would be yet another conversation- one he couldn't just walk away from.

"A partner, someone to confide in- I am not sure."

"Give me something to work with, Blondie." Villain wasn't exactly prepared to be someone to confide in- he barely confided in himself. When he did, he found himself questioning the reality of his current blending in with the ranks. ‘What am I doing here, honestly?’ he would ask himself.

"I am the - son," the man blurted across the fire.

Luckily, the fire- if you could even call it such at that point- had popped, interrupting him. Still, Villain knew what he had meant. “You are Vigilante? The- the runaway! The king’s eldest son!” He kept his voice low, secretive.

He nodded, but then quickly corrected, "Second eldest."

Villain stiffened. He'd known the blond was someone, but he didn't think he was a royal. "You have no care for who I am at all," Villain noted. "Why are you here?"

"My father started a war," the prince said uneasily. He avoided Villain's gaze for the most part, opting to watch the fire instead. It was dying out without anyone to kindle the flames. "We need a better king."

"And you think your brother would make a better one."

The prince tossed his hands around awkwardly. "Not necessarily," he almost whined, "but anyone would be better. We are going to war over sticks, you know? Trees. Land. Like it will do us any better. We have no need for wood and we can barely take care of the people we have. I can never imagine having more until we know how to feed the ones who feed the palace."

It was easy to tell Vigilante had been talking to himself towards the end.

"Personally," Villain felt as though he was taking a risk by saying this, that maybe it was going too far. Of course, it was a last second plan, and there were so many aspects which could go wrong, but there were also so many that could go right. "I think you would make a better king than your father and any of your brothers."

Looking at the Prince, Villain could tell he’d said the right thing. The man was beaming from cheek to cheek, and even asked, “You really believe so?”

“I do.” Villain never intended on meeting the king or his sons. The job was supposed to be much simpler. Blend in with the ranks, learn their strategies, devise a plan against them, then do it again to the next battalion. Eventually, he would work his way up to killing the king- but boy was this even better. Not only would he take the king’s life, but he would take the princes out one after the next, all under the blond man’s guise. “In fact, I am even willing to help you become king.”

“You would do that? Truly?”

Villain smiled with a dagger’s edge. “Absolutely.”

******

******

******

Master tag list: @faeruine

To be added to the list, comment on this post!

[lacrimosathedark]

Hazbin Villain Appreciation Post

People can be so weird about people enjoying villains nowadays, so I think I'm gonna take a little step on the wild side and list some things I like about Hazbin villains whether I like the character or not.

Alastor

Yes, he counts until proven otherwise, but also we're easing into it. Alastor is easy to like for a serial killer. I love a lot about him if I'm honest. Him being a clueless asexual really hits home for me as that was me for about half of my life (and then first crush and hey what's this "demisexual" thing?). But I love how he can be so suave and sophisticated and intimidating while also being an utter goof.

Look at this man. He can be so threatening but he also does this shit. He's so dumb. I love him. Stupid fucking deer man.

It helps that how he interacts with other characters is almost always funny.

He's such a little shit. I love him.

Vox

The performance. Both in his voice and the animation. Christian Borle does some amazing work and it makes a character who is by all metrics incredibly unsettling into being funny and charming. But also some of my favorite moments are just him making funny faces.

His face looking at his hand after Val smashes his phone is one of my favorite little moments in the whole series thus far. The animators do a great job having fun with his dumb head. Vox is great. He's such a dweeb and honestly I can see how his powers are hypnotic in nature.

Valentino

You can't look at Val's design sans the bitchy demeanor and tell me it isn't pretty. Moths are great. And that he chirps/squeaks when he moves is a great touch.

He's also a very compelling villain in that he brings more depth and insight into other characters like Angel. But most of all, Joel's little riffs and just some of Val's lines are so funny.

Angel Dust: I'm coming! Valentino: Not off-camera, you're not!

Valentino: Yeah, I'm here all the time, they know me. You're gorgeous, do you need a job? How many dicks can you suck? Ooh, I could make you a star. Yeah, a star. Porn star. OK, yup, bring me another drink or I'll fucking kill you. I said I'll fucking kill you, and I will.

That the latter dialogue was in the background and how it was delivered? LMAO

Velvette

I love her design. How can you not? And all her different outfits she rotates through?

One of the things I love most about fashion-based characters is how fans run with it. Velvette may not be high up in my character tier list, but about a quarter of the fanart I've saved is her and she has her own designated folder. I'm beyond excited to see more of her if just to see her designs.

Adam

He's designed to be a hateable fuckboy, and they do it well, but it's also Alex Brightman so he gets a few really funny moments in there.

Adam: 275? Woah! Badass! Awesome job, danger tits! Pound it. ♫ Bow-now-now-nownow Guitar solo, fuck yeah! ♫ Adam: Uuughhh, "No one but the exorcists can know about the exterminations". I know, fine. *slurps drink* Don't fucking shush me, bitch. Adam: ♫ What up, baby? ♫ Saw that you went to my manager. Low blow, Karen. Adam: Objection, lame and unoriginal. Lute: Rip Vaggie's cunt mouth out her ass! Adam: Would you just-ju-chill, Lute. Fuck.

Adam: The fuck? Lute: They appear to have some kind of shield, sir! Adam: Oh, really? I didn't see this giant fucking shield in front of me, YOU DUMB BITCH! NO SHIT!

Adam: And you're...fuck-fuck you...you red piece of f-too much fucking red...fuck...shut up!

Not to mention Hell is Forever is a fuckin banger. He's horrible in a way that was really fun to watch. Even better was this misogynist pig was taken down by a tiny dainty little lady who can appear as the perfect little housewife type and goes fucking berserk mode for "bad boys". Niffty was really the best person to take him out.

Lute

Not gonna lie, I cannot find a single redeeming quality in Lute. She's only funny when Adam is being funny, she's an uptight unrepentant bitch who mutilated a co-worker for being merciful. I don't like her. That being said, her singing voice? GodDAMN. You Didn't Know blew me away in part because of Jessica Vosk's absolute killer performance. I need a Lute villain song yesterday.

Sera

We have so little of her it's hard to think of things that are unique to her, like wouldn't also apply to Emily like her design both humanoid and angelic. She sings well, but she also didn't blow me out of the water the way Lute did. Though, she does have one of the most intense shots in the show and it leaves a lot of space for interesting conflicted dichotomy in her.

I hope we get a lot more of her to love and hate next season.

Susan

What do yall like about Hazbin's villains?

[peninkwrites]

Karl and Quackity (don't) Date - Ch 14 of ?

Tubbo wants to eat, Quackity doesn't, and both of Quackity's partners wish he would stop lying to them.

[CW: abuse, violence, eating disorders, stalking, neglect]

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 13

Ch 15

Mafia AU

~

It’s not a total 180, it’s not like Schlatt crosses one line and decides it’s open season, it’s more like Schlatt has simply remembered violence isn’t off the table.  Part of it seems to stem from this unsettling resentment Schlatt has garnered for him.  Quackity has gone over it in his mind perhaps too many times.  Schlatt had assumed Quackity was going to hurt him that night.  That seems, to Quackity, fucking insane considering Schlatt’s deadly track record, but undeniably, Schlatt had assumed the man he trusted to sleep beside him would be prepared to take him out at the first sign of weakness.

Not to say that’s totally baseless, but Quackity knows killing Schlatt himself is only feasible as a suicide mission, if not from Schlatt, then in the aftermath of chaos to follow.

So, one moment Schlatt remains doting and romantic, other moments Quackity gets on his nerves enough Schlatt shoves him into a wall before storming off which, annoyingly, is still better behavior than before.  Schlatt simply pushing him before leaving to calm himself is downright emotionally mature for Schlatt.  It’s other little things, Schlatt holding on too tight to his wrist, Schlatt dragging him across the room, physically moving him when he gets stubborn, it’s the snide comments returning on occasion that bother Quackity more than anything else.  Sure, Schlatt sometimes still treats him with a modicum of respect, complimenting his appearance and when he’s clever, but other times it’s sly degradation about his body, it’s dismissal of his complaints, treating him like a whiny brat.  Schlatt hasn’t flat out hit him in ages, but he’s certainly reminded Quackity how to tread lightly, always waiting for the tension to snap.

He hasn’t told Karl.  Thus far he’s had no need to, Schlatt’s backward slide from progress has yet to control his movements.  Quackity can still spend an evening living his own life, as long as when he comes back to Schlatt he acts devoted.  A few times Quackity got nervous, he had to be quick on his feet, going to the townhouse after a quiet dinner with Karl and being grilled for an explanation of where he had been.

“Dinner?  Oh yeah?  Where?”

“Uh, Marco’s, that shithole diner on the West side.  I dunno if you know it.  It was just near the office.”

“Who were you with?”

“A few boys from work.  Boring as shit, honestly–”

“Who?  What’re their fucking names?”

“McKeller?  Jackson McKeller?  He’s a paralegal–”

“Just him?”

“No, no not just him,” Quackity says quickly.  He’d rather not condemn some random associate to death so flippantly.  “Also Nelson Thompson, Judy Eager, and, uh, I think Craig who works the front desk was supposed to join us, but he had to leave early.  Kid had a fever or something.”  A little detail, but not too much.  Nothing worth questioning.

Schlatt always looks for some lie, something he can dig into, and Quackity always remains calm.

“Really, Schlatt, you don’t know these people, why does it matter?  They’re just stupid white collar assholes that I gotta get a little chummy with if I wanna cash in favors, you know how it is.”

And Schlatt always smiles like he’s not a paranoid wreck and says, “I know, sweetheart, I worry, y’know?  Just let me fuss over you a bit.  You know if any of ‘em make a move on you, you tell me right away, and I’ll get it taken care of.”  He ends this threat with a kiss pressed to his forehead, hand brushing through his hair, both a shred of kindness and yes, a claim staked on him, but Quackity cannot deny the kindness is there too.

Thus far, it seems Schlatt hasn’t had anyone follow him from work to verify what he says, Quackity is always thorough to check for a tail before he meets Karl anywhere, and some nights he does go out with coworkers so his lies are always based on old truths, but he knows it’s only a matter of time.

So, Quackity hasn’t told Karl.  As far as he’s aware, Schlatt is still treating him better and Quackity is all the better for it.  If Karl notices some of his old stress returning, he has yet to comment on it.  Quackity doesn’t plan on telling him.  There’s no reason for Karl to worry about him, especially considering Schlatt hasn’t really done anything, save the whole holding a knife to his throat incident, but otherwise, it’s not bad, it’s just not the fucking bullshit honeymoon phase Schlatt had briefly tried to return to.  That was never going to end well.  Better this easy middle ground to let off some of the pressure instead of Schlatt getting so fed up with acting like a Saint he snaps in a way worse type of breakdown.  Again, Schlatt not flat out hitting him has been useful.  He doesn’t show up with a busted lip, there’s nothing for Karl to find out about.  It’s better that way.

Quackity’s practicality doesn’t magically make it easier to hide things from his boyfriend.  No, he doesn’t turn up with bruises ringing his throat or any broken bones, but he’s not infallible.

It’s one of the better evenings of the week, an evening which started with watching a movie curled on the couch together––with Karl, not Schlatt––until during one of the commercials they got distracted by far more interesting things.

However cheesy it sounds, Quackity’s relationship with Karl is just so sweet.  It’s always gentle and giggly and easy.  Quackity doesn’t mind when Karl is on top of him, trailing kisses up his neck, hands ghosting over Quackity’s hips, lifting his shirt and coming to rest on his waist–

“Ow–” Quackity hisses.

Karl sits back, “you okay?”

“I’m fine, Karl,” Quackity rolls his eyes, sitting up to follow his boyfriend and pull him back into a kiss.

Karl isn’t so easily distracted.  Goddamn asexuality.  He gently takes Quackity’s hands from cupping his cheeks.  “Hold on, did I hurt you?”

“No,” Quackity scoffs.  “No, Karl, you didn’t hurt me, I just– It’s nothing, I wasn’t expecting it.”

Karl, grave and serious, goes to lift up Quackity’s shirt, but Quackity grabs onto it and pulls it back down, hoping his flushed cheeks make Karl think he’s bashful rather than ashamed.

“Karl,” Quackity says, trying to sound scolding and lighthearted.

“Q,” Karl says with a far more earnest admonishment, but he stops trying to lift up his shirt.  Karl is looking at him so intently.  Quackity hates it when he does that.  It always feels like Karl is looking at more than just his face.

“Look, I’m fine, I’d be… I’d be more fine if you were kissing me right now,” Quackity says pointedly.

“Yeah, I know,” Karl smiles, but it’s not the usual silly, giggly grin that Quackity so adores.  It’s smaller, sadder.  “Can I… can I just see?  Before we go back to kissing?”  Karl waits for Quackity’s permission.

Quackity feels a lump in his throat, he feels unsteady, even as he nods.  He holds his breath when Karl’s hands brush so delicately against him, lifting his shirt just a little.  Karl stares at the line of bruising just above his hip, Quackity is pretty sure it’s from being shoved against the corner of a table.

“It’s– It’s nothing.  I was just… clumsy.  Stumbled into something.”

Karl looks crestfallen.

“What?” Quackity says defensively, sitting up, once more holding onto the hem of his shirt, like that doesn’t make it obvious he has something to hide, and Karl just keeps looking at him like that.  “Karl, what?”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to lie to me.”

Quackity grins in a way that radiates insincerity.  “Who says I’m lying?”

Quackity’s face falls, guilt piercing, as Karl gently places his hands on Quackity’s hips, barely touching him, as if afraid to break him.  He’s ghosting over bruises in a way that takes Quackity’s breath away.

“He’s gotten bad again?” Karl asks.

“No, no not bad,” Quackity shakes his head sharply.  “Not bad by a fucking mile, he just, y’know, he gets drunk and– and clumsy, and that’s how I end up… y’know, knocking into shit, but it’s not a big deal.”

Karl is so gentle with him, but that look in his eyes, colder and maybe just a shred calculating.  “How long?”

“What?”

“How long has it been…” Karl trails off, a deep frown unnatural on his face.  “Bad again?  I dunno how else to say it.”  A weighted pause, Karl still staring at the line of bruising.  “Was he ever actually better?”

“No, he was,” Quackity sees a lifeline and clings to it.  “So better it scared me, honestly.  This is… this is better.  Better than before, and better than the bullshit of the past few weeks where he tried to act like a fucking saint.  At least this is… this is reliable bullshit, you know?  And I did mean it.  He… he pushes me around a little, but he hasn’t been kicking the shit out of me or anything like that.  Like, when he gets pissed off, if he starts to come at me, he makes himself like, walk it off.  It’s… it’s pretty mature for Schlatt, if I’m being honest,” Quackity tries to say it like a joke.  Karl refuses to lighten up, strange for him.  “Karl, what?” Quackity forces another laugh, nudging him.

Karl isn’t looking at him.  He’s staring at the bruises.  “Better it scared you.”

“What?”

“You said he was acting better so it scared you,” Karl says.

Quackity can’t help but lose some of that forced humor.  “And what of it, Karl?” He turns cold, like somehow that will be easier.  “What the fuck could you say to me right now that changes anything?  Why do you gotta know so bad, when you can’t actually do shit?  You can’t do shit, Karl.  So why bother?”

Karl shrugs.  “I guess… I dunno.  I mean, if we both know I can’t do anything, why wouldn’t you have… have told me?” Karl looks at him with those big eyes and Quackity is so fond it makes him weak.

“I feel like it’s pretty obvious,” Quackity says wearily.  Karl is still waiting.  Quackity sighs.  “I… I didn’t want you to worry about something you couldn't do shit about, alright?  Like, why the hell would I make this your problem?”

“Our problem,” Karl says insistently.  “I’m always gonna worry, Q.  You can’t stop me.”

Our problem.  Quackity is both endeared and hurt.  He knows what Karl meant, but the idea that this is our problem when Karl has spent all of five minutes in the same room as that man and Quackity has spent… a lot more.  Quackity brushes gently against Karl’s cheek.  He sighs, but it’s lighter than before.

“Right… thanks, Karl,” Quackity means it, mostly.

Karl’s hand covers Quackity’s, pressing it to his cheek.  “Y’know I love you, don’t you?”

“Karl,” Quackity is surprised.  “Of course I do.”  Like always, Quackity doesn’t say it back, and he feels awful for it, but he thinks he’d feel worse saying that to Karl knowing that their relationship will hang by a thread until Schlatt is dead in the ground.  

Karl never faults him for it, he just kisses Quackity’s knuckles and lets sleeping dogs lie.

~

Quackity continues to get by, to do his work, to appease Schlatt, and see Karl when he can.  Usually weeknights are okay.  He can avoid going back to Schlatt’s with the excuse that he works late and just wants to rest.  Quackity never rests.  Instead, he uses that precious time for Karl.

Quackity leaves work a little after five on a week day.  It’s relatively early, and he’s excited to spend the night with Karl.

So he gets in his car.  He starts driving.  And a block before the bridge back over to the East side, he spots them.  A fucked up black Ford Capri he doesn’t recognize in general, but he does recognize it from a few blocks back, from the lot across the street from his office.

“Fuck,” Quackity mutters, glancing at his rearview mirror.  He does not turn toward Karl’s place, nor his own apartment, instead, he turns right, and heads South.  The sedan follows.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Quackity snaps, hitting his steering wheel.

This in and of itself is not an emergency.  He’s always careful, always looking out just in case he has a tail, but it’s never actually happened before.  Now, this means it’s an option, that Quackity was right to be paranoid, and that Schlatt must have some suspicion.  Quackity doubts it’s any other party.  It has to be Schlatt sending someone after him.  Quackity pulls up along the beach, near the boardwalk.  He’d briefly hoped to lose them when he crossed into Badlands territory, but whoever Schlatt sent isn’t that much of a pussy.  The Ford passes where he’s parked, but Quackity follows them in the mirror, watching as they park just down the lot.

“God fucking damnit…” Quackity mutters.  He gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and walks up to the front of the car, leaning against the hood.  He digs in his pockets for a cigarette, scanning the area with a semi-casual glance, and there he sees a man get out of the other car.  He walks over to a payphone, still with Quackity in his sights, either pretending to make a call to explain his presence, or currently calling Schlatt to let him know what Quackity is up to.

Fuck, it was so much easier when he thought he was just being paranoid.  He can’t call Karl to tell him not to go to his apartment, and if Quackity goes there now, god forbid Karl is seen outside, or maybe Schlatt’s insecurities will have rooted in deep enough that man will follow him upstairs and search the place before running back to snitch to the Boss.

So what the fuck does he do?!

Karl was supposed to meet him at his place, so Quackity cannot safely go back there tonight.  Quackity almost worries if he goes to Schlatt tonight, Schlatt will expect him to make time for him on weeknights.  

He’s overthinking this.  Schlatt has let up a lot over the past months.   Yeah, let up enough to send some guy following you all over.

Quackity takes a long drag from his cigarette, irritable and anxious.  He’s going to chain smoke a whole fucking pack and then give Schlatt a disgusting fucking kiss, with tongue.

Does he acknowledge the tail?!  Give him a little wave to let him know he knows?  Or will that just incentivize Schlatt to be sneakier somehow?

Quackity already is misbehaving–– misbehaving, what, like he’s a fucking child?––Schlatt wouldn’t want him in Badlands, and he wouldn’t want him smoking.  Is that enough Schlatt will give up the ruse and admit to having him followed so he can corner him?

Quackity just keeps smoking.  He watches the sunset with a vehemence.  He hopes that stupid fucking tail is bored out of his skull.  Quackity looks over his shoulder.  The man still lurks at a payphone.  Quackity almost wants to shout at him snidely, “what, are you made of dimes?!” but he doesn’t.

Quackity throws the cigarette butt into the gutter, lighting another with petty passion, in his irritation he ends up coughing like he’s still 11 with virgin lungs.  “Fucking bullshit…” Quacky wheezes.

He wonders if he can make it out of sight before the spy extraordinaire gets in his car to follow.  Quackity puts out the remaining cigarette on the sole of his shoe before slipping back into the driver’s side.  In the mirror, he sees the man hang up the phone and walk back to his car.  Right.  Real subtle.

Quackity backs out of his spot in time to see the man start his car.  Quackity drives past him, unable to resist flicking him off, and rounds a corner.  He turns down a side street quickly, before cutting onto the adjacent road.  He glances at the rearview mirror almost enough to wreck.  The black ford doesn’t appear behind him.  “Ha! Get fucked you little dicked motherfucker!”  Quackity at least gets to feel smug, but this doesn’t mean he can go back to his apartment.  It’s too risky knowing there’s some prick prowling around looking for him.

So, with more than a little irritation, he heads toward Schlatt’s place.

“No point having a guy follow me to your own goddamn house, right?” Quackity mutters.

Quackity parks outside the townhouse and lets himself in.  He’s lucky in that Schlatt isn’t home, because he’d seriously been about to go throwing accusations at him and asking him what the fuck that was about.  Instead, he’s forced to settle into his agitation in an empty house.  Well, not entirely empty.

“Oh, hey, Big Q,” Tubbo is, reasonably, surprised to see him as he peeks his head over the landing to see who had arrived.

“Hey, Tubbo,” Quackity tries to take the edge out of his voice, he knows Tubbo gets nervous whenever someone seems irritated around him.  “Schlatt’s not home, I take it?”

“No, he’s not.  No clue where he’s gone off to, though,” Tubbo joins him at the bottom of the stairs.  “Are you… are you alright?”

“Me?  Fine,” Quackity smiles.  “I’m fine, Tubbo.  As usual.”

“...right.”

“So,” Quackity sighs.  “What’re you up to this evening?”

“I… I dunno, really.  I was gonna go look for food.  We haven’t had groceries in a bit, so right now the gameplan is toast,” Tubbo says, concerningly blasé.

“Seriously?” Quackity laughs halfheartedly.

“What?”

Quackity shakes his head.  “Nah, nah you’re not doing that.  Come on.  I haven’t eaten yet either.  Let’s go some place,” he nods back to the front door.

“Oh,” Tubbo sounds surprised, hesitating.  “Okay, sure.”

They get in the car, Quackity driving without a set destination in mind.

Quackity once more forgets how to talk to this kid.  “So.  How’s, uh… the… the thing you were working on?  The potato?”

“Oh, I finished that ages ago!  I set up the circuit no problem, I honestly didn’t think it was going to work,” Tubbo laughs.  “But no, seriously.  The potato did it.�� Powered a tiny lightbulb.  It has to do with the zinc, see?  It reacts with the acids in the potato and that’s what creates power.”

“Huh,” Quackity tries to sound interested, even as he’s distracted by the rearview mirror, and any sign of the black car following them.  Nothing yet.  “So… so you’ve moved on from the bio-weapons, huh?”

Another laugh from Tubbo.  “It was… it was a household mold, Big Q, I wouldn’t call them bio-weapons,” he sounds undeniably proud.  That at least makes Quackity feel a little better.

“What’re you hungry for, huh?  Wherever you wanna go, I don’t care,” Quackity nods along the Riverside strip.

“I mean…” Tubbo trails off.

“Come on, what d’you want?” Quackity pushes lightly.

“Could we get like, breakfast stuff?  Pancakes?”

“Yeah!  Hell yeah, dude.  That’s easy,” Quackity turns a corner until they’re outside one of those 24 hour diners that will definitely still be serving pancakes.

They settle in at a booth, and Quackity doesn’t bother with the laminated menu in front of him; he’s busy scanning the darkened windows.

“Get whatever you want, Tubbo,” Quackity says offhandedly.  He requests black coffee, and Tubbo gets his pancakes.

“Are you not eating?”

“Huh?” Quackity looks back over at the kid.  “No, no I’m good.  I’ve got coffee.”

“That’s not exactly dinner, though, is it?”

“Don’t have much of an appetite,” Quackity says dryly.  It’s true, probably in part due to the two cigarettes.

“Alright,” Tubbo shrugs, he doesn’t argue.  “Thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“For getting me food.  I didn’t… I dunno, my dinner plans didn’t feel that weird to me until you said something,” an unsure laugh.

“No problem, man.”

“Are you alright?”

Quackity once more looks away from the darkened window.  “Huh?”

“You’re just a little… distracted?”

Quackity debates telling Tubbo.  What good will it do him?  Although, it’s not like he’s tainting his fucking image of his father.  “I’m pretty sure Schlatt had some guy follow me.  After I left the office,” Quackity reaches for a cigarette that isn’t there and pulls himself back.  He won’t start smoking while the kid is trying to eat.

“He… He had someone follow you?” Tubbo being appropriately surprised and disturbed is oddly vindicating to Quackity.  “Why… why would he do that?”

“I dunno, man, I guess because he’s a paranoid fucking bastard,” Quackity laughs harshly, leg bouncing under the table; another glance out the window.

“Weird…” Tubbo stares out the darkened window too.

Their somber conversation is paused by the arrival of pancakes, as well as bacon, which Tubbo slides to the middle of the table, inviting Quackity to eat something.  Quackity, more for Tubbo’s sake than his own, takes a piece.

“Do you… do you like my dad?  Sometimes?” Tubbo breaks the lull and deigns to blindside Quackity with that.

“Do I what?”

“Like, sometimes you seem… okay with him.  And other times you really don’t.”  Tubbo isn’t looking at him, focused on his plate.

“Huh,” Quackity mulls it over.  It’s not quite like when he’d not-so-subtly asked Tubbo if he would kill his father given the chance, it’s lighter, more delicate, but no easier to answer.  Quackity should lie.  He should say the easy thing.  Of course not, he’s a fucked up bastard, what’s to like?  “Sometimes, I guess.  Sometimes…” Quackity trails off, uneasy.

“But…” Tubbo hesitates, glancing around the deserted diner.  “You like Karl more, surely?”

Quackity ignores the instinctive pang of panic that comes with Tubbo saying that name.  They’re not in the house.  It’s different out here.  “Yeah.  Like, a million times more.”

“Good!  That’s good,” Tubbo almost sounds like he’s trying to reassure him.  He’s clearly thinking over what to say next; Quackity gives him his time.  “My dad won’t let you leave.”

Once more, ignoring this would be easier.  Quackity doesn’t know why he doesn’t.  “No.  He won’t,” Quackity says stiffly; his efforts to sound unbothered are probably obvious to Tubbo, but he doesn’t show it.

“That’s why… that’s part of why he had someone follow you, d’you think?”

“Yeah.  Probably not even part of why, probably the whole reason, actually,” Quackity scoffs.  “Why’re you asking this shit, Tubbo?”

Tubbo shrugs, resuming his focus on his pancakes.  “Just curious,” he says mildly, keeping whatever calculations are going on in his brain to himself.  Quackity knows there’s some other thought process going on there, even if Tubbo chooses not to share.  Quackity sort of wishes he would.  He feels like he’s just bared his soul a bit by giving Tubbo even that small dredge of truth, but Tubbo keeps his silence.

Quackity buries the urge to ask to use the diner’s phone to call Karl, to explain why he won’t show up tonight, because part of him is convinced someone must be watching through the glass, out there in the dark.  Getting up and using the phone, calling someone besides Schlatt after business hours, that’s dangerous.  So he pays for the kid’s pancakes and heads back to Schlatt’s place.

Quackity had planned on dropping Tubbo off and heading back to his apartment; there he could finally call Karl and explain why he’d ditched him.  As with most things in Quackity’s miserable fucking life, it doesn’t go as he’d planned.

“Quackity,” Schlatt is surprised to see him.  “What were you doing with the kid?”

“Took him to get food.  Did you know you don’t have shit here?” Quackity says with more than a little edge to his voice.  He can’t yell at Schlatt for having someone follow him, but he can at least get a little self righteous on Tubbo’s behalf.

Schlatt reaches out and stops Tubbo from hurrying away upstairs.  “Did you ask him to do that?  What, are you fucking begging now?  He’s not your step mommy, alright?  Do you not have two good fucking legs to go get food yourself?”

Tubbo is frozen and unsure of how to defend himself, always so wide-eyed and scared like a petrified rabbit.  Quackity has got to teach this kid how to have a poker face before it gets him seriously fucked up.

“I offered, Schlatt.  Jesus, give the kid a break,” Quackity cuts in.

“Aw, you offered,” Schlatt lets go of Tubbo’s arm, but Tubbo doesn’t go upstairs, now he has to wait to be dismissed.  “That’s cute, you gonna start tying his shoelaces next?  Should I get you a station wagon so you can take him to soccer practice?” He sneers.

“What, so you trying to be better and take him out to dinner and shit is fine, but for some reason it’s weird when I do it?” Quackity says sharply.

“Yeah, because he’s my fucking kid,” Schlatt gets sharper, my kid is staking a claim on him.  It has nothing to do with family.

“Jeez, I thought you wanted us to get all fucking brady bunch or whatever, and now you’re throwing a bitch fit?” Quackity folds his arms over his chest, calm and defiant.  He braces, but the blow never comes.

“And that’s what you feel like you’re doing, huh?  Sneaking around behind my back?” Schlatt is still calculating, more focused on interrogating him than making sure Quackity doesn’t get mouthy.

Quackity grins.  “It was just pancakes, Schlatt.  What’re you implying?”  Quackity dares him to say it, to admit it.  Schlatt says nothing, so Quackity decides to rescue Tubbo.  “Are you just gonna keep Tubbo standing around by the front door or what?”

Schlatt doesn’t look at Tubbo, still watching Quackity, waiting for a lie to appear.  “Get out of here.  Next time don’t be a fucking nuisance.”

Tubbo nods and quickly flees upstairs.

Schlatt smiles, mild-tempered once more.  “I’m not implying anything, honeybun.  Why don’t I make you a drink, and then I gotta step out for a work call real quick, alright?”

“Fine with me, Boss,” Quackity replies coolly.  Work call.  Is the man really so paranoid he’s got to check in with his little stalker right away?

Quackity couldn’t care less at this point.  The guy has got nothing on him, besides smoking a few cigarettes, and Schlatt could sniff that out for himself.  Quackity will just need to keep playing things very fucking carefully.

So the following day, he does not sneak off to Karl’s apartment, despite that being what he desperately wants to do, instead he goes to work, he settles in at his desk, and then he makes a call.

“Q?” Karl answers immediately, and Quackity can hear the anxiety in his voice.

“Hey, Karl,” Quackity speaks softly.  He’s in his place of work, surrounded by the noise of other cubicles, but he’s still nervous, he still keeps his voice down.

“You’re okay!  Oh my god, you scared me, dude!  Where the heck were you?!  You can’t just fall off the map like that, I was about to lose it!”

Quackity sighs, a hand going to his temples.  He hates making Karl worry like this.  “I got… I got a tail.”

Static, as Karl tries to process his words.  “Like… a cat?”

Quackity laughs.  “No, no.  Like a guy following my car to see where I go.”

“Oh,” Karl’s concern is still evident.

“Yeah, so. Nowhere near as fun…”

“Shoot.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for being all freaked, I guess I shoulda known you’d have a good reason…”

“No, no it’s okay, Karl.  I think we just gotta reestablish ground rules, y’know?  I think––especially now––sometimes I might disappear for a day or so, but you can’t let yourself get too stressed if I do, okay?  There’s good reason for it.”  Quackity hates that he has to have this conversation over the fucking phone, but he has no idea what else he could do.

“Right.  Ground rules.  So, if you disappear for 24 hours, that’s no biggie.”

“Threshold should be more like 48,” Quackity grimaces.  Quackity is also aware that if he’s being honest, he could end up stuck or out of contact for even longer than that, but those instances tend to mean Karl should be concerned.  Not that he’s offered explanation for what Karl is meant to do in those instances besides wait in terror.  “And I will always try and get ahold of you soon as I can, alright?”

“I know you will, Q.  I just…” Karl grumbles.  “It’s just scary.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Quackity mutters.  “We’re just gonna have to be extra… conservative, until I get this tail thing figured out.”

“Um, do you think I’m voting Red in this next election?” Karl gasps, as if scandalized.

Quackity laughs.  “Oh my god, shut up.”

“I won’t be silenced!”

Quackity rests his forehead against his desk, holding the receiver tightly, the pause of static feels so gentle, like he can hear Karl breathing beside him.  “Miss you,” he sighs.

“Miss you too, babe,” Karl sounds as wistful as Quackity feels.

~

Quackity hasn’t seen Karl in almost a week.  Every time he leaves work, he sees that black ford down the block.  He doesn’t know how this fucking idiot thinks he’s being subtle.  Maybe some poor civilian wouldn’t have noticed they’re being followed after all this, but Quackity’s vigilance feels ordinary.  He’s getting absolutely fed up with this shit.  So he heads for the boardwalk again, not to park outside and smoke, but to head somewhere the guy can’t follow in his car.  Originally he thought Niki’s, that would’ve constituted as safe, but for what he plans to do he can’t have Niki shooting this guy in the balls for daring to cross her doorstep.  This way, though, he’ll be somewhere innocuous, but public.  Somewhere the guy will have to get out of his car and follow him on foot.

Quackity walks quickly through the spring crowds, he doesn’t look back to see if the man is following, he knows he will be.  Quackity turns a corner, waiting behind a stand smelling strongly of fried food, and as he’d expected, a man walking at a quick pace steps past and pauses, looking around frantically for his charge.  Quackity whistles at him, offering a little wave when the man sharply looks his way.

The man looks quite startled, clearly unsure of what to do now that he’s been caught.

“Smoke?” Quackity offers the guy a cigarette.

“N-No, I– I was just looking for–”

“For me,” Quackity says dryly.  “You’re not seriously gonna keep pretending you’re not, are you?”

The man seems to debate it for about five seconds, before conceding.  “Guess not.”  The guy is way bigger than Quackity, and probably around Schlatt’s age, which makes it feel all the more absurd he’s been given the juvenile task of following him around.  The man doesn’t yet join him.  “How… how long have you..?”

“Known you were following me?” Quackity says for him, lighting his own cigarette.  “Four days?”

The man looks surprised, perhaps offended.

“Let me guess.  You started following me four days ago?” Quackity scoffs.  “I’ll ask again, cigarette?”

The man nods, joining him beside the cheap wooden wall of the pier’s food stalls.

“Look, uh, following you around, sitting outside your office, that’s the last thing I wanna be doing, but you know how the Boss is,” he says awkwardly, before taking a nervous drag from his cigarette.

“Right,” Quackity gives him a look.  “What’s your name?”

The man grimaces, clearly reluctant to share.

“I’m not a fucking snitch.  I have no intention of running back to the boss and telling him I caught you.  Trust me, throwing around accusations like that won’t go over well for me either.”

“So, why’re you..?”

“A name?”

One more reluctant pause.  “Morelli.”

“I haven’t seen you around.”

“I’m… back from vacation, let’s say.”

“By choice?”

“What?”

“Are you back by choice?” Quackity takes a drag from his cigarette, staring at the man.

Morelli frowns, solemn.  “Guess not.”

“Right,” Quackity huffs.  “You know, this could work out for both of us.”

“Is that right?”

“You stop following me, no one has to know.  Keep reporting to him, make up boring shit.  I went to work, I went to my apartment, plain and simple.  Doesn’t need to be any more complicated than that.”

The man laughs.  “If I get found out, I’m a dead man–”

“Fine! Fuck,” Quackity rolls his eyes.  “Then… then call me and I’ll tell you what I’ve actually been doing, so if Schlatt asks, our stories match up, right?”

The man is clearly still reluctant.

“Do you have any idea how much of a creep this fucking makes you?  What happens when Schlatt asks what I’ve been doing, and saying I went home isn’t good enough anymore?  You gonna crawl in my fucking window?”

“No–”

“So, I’m giving you a way out.”

“I’m not choosing to follow you just to fuck around–”

“But you’re still doing it.”

He doesn’t have a retort.

“So, do we have a deal?”

Morelli is still just staring at him, calculating.  “You doing something the Boss shouldn’t be knowing about?”

Quackity laughs.  “If I was, you think I’d tell you?”

“Guess not,” the man is clearly still thinking it over.  “Fine.  You said… you said I should call you?”

Quackity holds out a business card.  “Yep.  Sometime before I leave work.  If that’s a problem, I can give you my home number too.”

“Nah, that’s… not a problem,” he accepts it reluctantly.

“Good to hear it,” Quackity grins and takes another drag from his cigarette.  He loves it when he talks his way out of things.

~

Quackity doesn’t know what to make of it when he comes over to Schlatt’s the next night to find Schlatt has dinner prepared for him.  His first thought is that Morelli snitched on him, but he knows he needs to stop assuming every time Schlatt spoils him there’s something dangerous underneath.  Usually, Schlatt doesn’t waste time with pretenses to punish him.  Quackity’s curiosity wanes into disappointment when he sees the two steaks at either end of the table.  If Schlatt took his steak any more raw it would get up and walk away from the table, hence, Quackity would eat the same thing.

“This is… this is nice,” Quackity says anyway.

“Glad you think so, pumpkin,” Schlatt pours him a glass of red wine, kissing his head before circling to the head of the table.  “It’s been a second since we’ve had dinner, just the two of us, hasn’t it?”

“Right.  So, no kid tonight?” Quackity asks, feeling the need to ease the anxiety that there’s worse reasons Tubbo isn’t joining them.

“For… for steak?  And wine?  Nah, the brat is probably having mac and cheese and watching cartoons or some shit,” Schlatt scoffs.  “So, how was your day, sugarplum?” Schlatt takes a heavy draft from his wine, watching him across the table.

Right.  Probably confirming what he told Morelli.  “Good, y’know?  Just had work, finished up some paperwork for a case I was helping on.  Boring shit, insider trading type deal, but it was good to get it done.” Quackity avoids his steak with his own sip of wine.  “What about you?  Anything exciting here while I was gone?”

“Yeah, yeah a bit,” Schlatt smiles, cutting into his own steak.  “We’ve got another hostage exchange coming up.  That’ll make us a hefty chunk of change, eh?” 

“Right,” Quackity tries to force enthusiasm instead of disgust.

“Would you want to be there?”

Quackity can tell that it’s a loaded question, something prodding there that he hasn’t quite grasped.  “At the… at the hostage exchange?”

“Yeah.  I get it if it’s… uh, if it’s a sore subject, y’know?”

Quackity is still surprised by Schlatt being anything like considerate, but he knows it’s a double-edged sentiment.  “Oh.  I mean, if you don’t want me there, that’s okay, Schlatt.”

“I don’t mind the company, sweetheart,” Schlatt says with a wry smile.  “Maybe I just don’t wanna risk a repeat of last time, eh?”

Quackity laughs, with a slight note of anxiety he hopes Schlatt doesn’t notice.  “Yeah, I don’t think you need to worry about that.  That’s not… that’s not going to be a problem.”

Schlatt nods, and stops cutting his steak, frozen with the knife halfway through the bloody meat, not looking at Quackity, only at the plate.  “You… you didn’t actually know that moron with the ratty coat that night, did you?”  It’s clear that Schlatt isn’t voicing these insecurities easily, but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous.  “You weren’t… you weren’t seeing him, right?” Schlatt asks, tone carefully and unsettlingly neutral.

Right.  Surely, this is what all of this had been building up to.  Schlatt’s paranoia, having him followed, it had been because of this nagging at him all this time.  Quackity doesn’t reply at first, thinking, knowing the longer he waits to answer the more dangerous it gets.  Already, his heart is pounding a little harder, and dinner seems far less appealing.

Schlatt continues when the pause extends beyond a few seconds.  “You can tell me, Quackity.  If you were at the time.  I can understand, clearly things were complicated and not going well between us back then, but I’d like to know.”  Schlatt takes a bite, sparing him a glance, but otherwise an awful mask of calm and mild-mannered interest.

Quackity processes this carefully and buries his nausea.  It’s clear Schlatt has been thinking about this for a long time, maybe just waiting for the right moment to spring it on him, but that’s too much time for Schlatt to talk himself into getting even more paranoid.  Schlatt, even if he has doubts in general, is confident there’s no way Quackity is currently cheating on him, probably has faith in his whole “if I see you with him again, I kill him” threat along with Morelli confirming he only goes to work and home.  He’s also inviting a confession, with the implication of him being understanding.  Not fucking likely.  Quackity doesn’t know what’s more suspicious, saying he truly barely knew the guy, or saying that yes, at the time they maybe had met up a couple of times, nothing excessive, just boring stuff, getting coffee, and then Quackity stopped it.  That wouldn’t exactly explain Quackity shelling out almost a thousand fucking dollars on the guy.  He doesn’t know where the line is, what Schlatt will believe but won’t kill him over.  There’s got to be a better story to get out of this one.  Quackity is good at telling stories, when he has to be.  It’s no different than a courtroom.

“Okay, the truth is, I lost the cash in a game of cards.  Same card game I won the information on Mr. Beast.  We only really knew each other through a group of students I used to hang out with sometimes,” Quackity’s voice remains steady, if a bit nervous, but Quackity can imagine Schlatt would expect that from him.  Schlatt doesn’t reply immediately, clearly thinking, so Quackity continues, wildly aware that despite the calm of this conversation he might as well be begging for his life.  “I’m sorry I lied, Schlatt.  I didn’t want you to think I was irresponsible like that, I… I gambled away all my savings.  I didn’t realize how it would seem to you, like, you know I’d never.   I’d never do that to you, Schlatt.  I– I didn’t even realize that was an option you could consider.  I’d be ruining my own life.”  Ending it.  Quackity is looking at Schlatt, waiting, praying, and the man is just still picking at his steak.

Schlatt nods, but he doesn’t look at him.

“Schlatt?” Quackity tries to get a response, voice a little shakier.

Schlatt chuckles.  “Gambled away all your savings. That’s… that’s good to know.  You’re the same pathetic broke bitch I pulled off the streets, aren’t you?  You got the law degree and the arrogance,” Schlatt says mockingly, “but you’re still the same, eh?  Just as weak, just as stupid, just as… just as fucking helpless,” he takes another bite of his steak, teeth scraping against the fork.

Quackity has no idea how to respond to that; cruel insults he wants to retort to, he wants to get angry, but he has bigger concerns at present, largely for Karl.  It sounds like Schlatt is buying it, but Quackity is still waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Schlatt hasn’t gotten mean like that in a while, that targeted, that petty, at least not toward him.  So Quackity says nothing, he’ll wait for Schlatt to continue.  There’s a lump in the back of his throat, and he feels cold sweat begin to chill his skin.  Alarm bells are going off in the back of his mind, but that warning doesn’t show him the way out.

Schlatt laughs, and Quackity almost jumps.  Schlatt gestures with his fork, looking up at the ceiling, as if lost in thought.  “Although, huh.  Embarrassing or not, in what fucking world do you get to lie to me?” Schlatt leans forward, fist hitting the dining table so the dishes clatter sharply and Quackity does jump.

“Hey, I said I was sorry!  It’s– It’s not gonna happen again, it-it hasn’t happened again,” Quackity’s nails are digging into his palms, anything to keep his composure.  “I’ve– I’ve quit the card games for good, y’know?”

Schlatt points at him accusingly with his steak knife.  “You don’t get to go fucking sleep around behind my back and get away with it with some bullshit excuse about you having a fucking gambling problem,” Schlatt sneers.

Schlatt is not buying it.  Fuck, fuck, fuck he isn’t buying it.

What else is Quackity meant to do but dig his heels in?

“Do I look fucking suicidal to you?!  In what fucking world would I be sleeping around behind your back, huh?  I’m here almost every goddamn night!” Quackity laughs, voice high and sharp.  “When I’m not running myself into the ground in that goddamn office!  You don’t have a shred of fucking proof, and I know that for a fact because there isn’t any, because it isn’t fucking happening.”   A pause which unsettles Quackity further.  He’d expected Schlatt to shout back.  He’d hoped he would shout back.  That would have at least had some predictability with it.

Schlatt raises his eyebrows, now fiddling with the steak knife between his hands.  “Huh… suicidal, big word there, pumpkin… big word…” Schlatt seems to be mulling something over.  He glances down at his plate, and Quackity makes the mistake of glancing down too, at the blood pooled there.  Maybe it was a good thing, because he sees Schlatt throw the plate at his head and has the good sense to get out of the fucking way.

It still grazes his cheek, definitely enough to bruise, damn near enough to knock him unconscious from how his teeth clatter together and his vision goes white from the sharp, sudden pain.  He hears it shatter against the wall behind him and refocuses on Schlatt now circling the table toward him.  Quackity scrambles out of his seat.

“Schlatt, Schlatt come on–” Quackity isn’t sure where he’s planning on fucking running to.  Then he sees the steak knife still in Schlatt’s fist.  “Schlatt, wait!” Quackity screams, holding his chair between himself and the knife.

“All I asked for was some fucking honesty, Quackity!  I already know what you’ve been up to, so, only thing downright suicidal, is you thinking you can continue to fucking lie to me!” Schlatt yanks the chair aside and slashes wildly with the knife in Quackity’s direction.  Quackity throws himself back, barely catching himself against the wall, one hand raised to try and shield his face from the knife, but all Schlatt has done is backed him into a corner.

“I’m not!  I’m not!” Quackity’s face hurts as he pleads, a bitter ache deepening in his cheek and he almost wants to close his eyes.  It doesn’t make any fucking sense.  Schlatt shouldn’t know shit.  If he does, Quackity knows confessing won’t save Karl, so all he can do is hold on while this man finally kills him.

Quackity braces himself, backed against the wall, as Schlatt presses the blade of the knife against his stomach, inches away from spilling organs.  Quackity tries to recede even deeper within himself.  “Honesty is the only way out for you, sweetheart, like… like going to confession!  Right?” Schlatt presses the knife closer and Quackity holds his breath.  Schlatt pulls away, still raising the knife, as if debating stabbing Quackity in the fucking neck, but instead he keeps talking, his eerie smile doing nothing to disguise rage.

“So why don’t you say it?  You’re a shit liar and a pathetic fucking whore, so say it,” Schlatt snarls, raising the knife, and Quackity shuts his eyes.

“Fine!  F-Fine–” Quackity laughs, hysterics blending into terror.  “If you don’t fucking believe me, do it then!  Do it!  I-If you really think I– I did that, if you really think that’s worth losing me forever, then fucking do it.  Do it!”

Nothing happens.  Quackity is not gutted by a dirty knife, he’s still alive.  Quackity opens his eyes.

Schlatt has stopped.  He’d lowered the steak knife.  Quackity flinches when Schlatt reaches toward him, just as tense when he feels Schlatt run a hand through his hair, wrapping his other arm around him, pulling him closer, hugging him tightly even as Quackity raises his arms to try and keep a few more inches between them.  The tension extends, a few seconds passing in agonizing silence, and Quackity waits for Schlatt to snap his neck.  Schlatt kisses the top of his head, exhaling a laugh.  “Good.  Had me a little worried there, honeybun.  Good, I’m glad that’s the case, Quackity.  Worried I was… I was gonna have to Rosemary Kennedy your ass or somethin’,” he laughs.  “Classier than keeping you on a leash, eh?”

Quackity doesn’t move, barely daring to breathe.  He’s shivering, but he certainly doesn’t feel cold, Schlatt’s presence hot and stifling.  Schlatt’s grip loosens and Quackity starts to lean away but Schlatt doesn’t let him get very far.

“Hey,” Schlatt says softly, a hand under Quackity’s chin, forcing him to look up at him.  Quackity knows he’s whimpering, shaking like a fucking leaf, but he doesn’t have the strength left for shame as he looks up at Schlatt and waits for pain.  “You know how this goes, you don’t gotta act so shocked,” Schlatt is patronizing, and dauntingly tender, words soft and crooning.  “You try to leave me, I get even a whiff of you thinking you can jump ship, I’ll..?” He waits.

Lobotomize me?  Bash my fucking face in until I’m so ugly no one else could want me?  Quackity’s head is spinning, he can’t decide if the danger is passed or not.  He thinks he might throw up even though that is the worst thing he could fucking do right now.

“Quackity?” Schlatt tuts him.  “Come on, I know you know the answer to this one, we’ve been over this.  Hell, there are multiple right answers!  I know you can do it, sugarplum.”

He swallows back bile, he balls his hands into fists and tenses his whole body to try and stave off the trembling.  He manages to speak, but not when he’s looking at Schlatt.  He has to look away.  Quackity goes with the old staple.  “You’ll… you’ll chain me to the radiator,” Quackity says numbly, staring at the ground, his voice coming out far steadier than he might’ve imagined.  “Keep me there until I remember my place.”  It’s not just fear fueling the buckets of adrenaline now dumped into his veins, it’s rage too.  Rage is no good to him.

“Oh! That’s a good one, didn’t even think about that,” Schlatt pats his cheek none too gently, ignoring the way Quackity flinches.  “You know I don’t want things to be this way, don’t you?” Schlatt still has a hand tangled in Quackity’s hair, forcing him to look him in the eye.  “You gotta realize that.”

“What way?” Quackity says, that soft mixture of rage and fear still useless to him.

Schlatt seems to debate over his answer, and the one he chooses unsettles Quackity more than a little.  “I can be soft, baby,” Schlatt murmurs.  “You know I can be,” that hand running through his hair, not tugging at tangles, but not quite gentle, “it just… it just gets a little hard to be that way when you fucking lie to me.”

“I mean, if this is how you react, can you fucking blame me?” Quackity says, hoarse and sharp, stunned at his own daring, but Schlatt doesn’t hold onto Quackity’s throat, he doesn’t slam his head back against the wall, he just laughs, almost teasing.

“Maybe we’ll both learn a thing or two from this.  I mean, I would’ve preferred if you hadn’t fucked up in the first place, but next time, eh?  Next time, we’ll both do better, right?” Schlatt waits for an answer.  “Right?”

“Right,” Quackity forces the words out like pulling teeth.

“You doing okay, baby?  Does… does all this make sense?” Schlatt refuses to step back, not until Quackity is the one to reassure him.

“Yes.”  At this point Quackity will do whatever it takes to get Schlatt to let go and back off.

“Good,” Schlatt kisses his forehead.  “Sorry about the mess, honeybun.  You know I’d rather play nice.”

Schlatt finally lets go of him, he pulls away to cough harshly into his sleeve.  “Fuck… come on, sit back down,” Schlatt supports his own weight against the dining table, apparently attacking him has taken a lot out of him, but he makes his way back to his seat, gesturing with the steak knife back at Quackity’s place.  “Eat.”

Quackity, still shaky, still pissed off, still undeniably scared out of his mind, sits back down across from him.  He wipes his cheek when he feels a drop trailing down it, thinking he broke down enough to cry, but his hand comes away smeared with blood instead.  Quackity is convinced, had he confessed to any extent, he would be dead on the ground right now with a steak knife in his gut.  Well, that’s not quite true.  He’d be dying on the ground right now, nice and slow.

Schlatt has already ruined his own plate by throwing it at Quackity’s head, but he remains seated at the dining table, watching him.  “Go on, fucking eat.  What, how much clearer can I be?  Finish your fucking food.  Christ, it’s like you’ve got an eating disorder or something.”

Quackity isn’t used to Schlatt encouraging him to eat, especially after a bout of adrenaline.  The thought of taking another bite of this stupid bloody steak, always too raw, always cooked to Schlatt’s liking, leaves him with the taste of bile rising in the back of his throat.  He does it anyway.  He cuts off a piece with his own steak knife, and he pretends he can’t see his hands still trembling.  He does not look up at Schlatt watching him, he chews and ignores the taste of iron from biting his own tongue and he ignores the feeling of something caught in his throat.  Inexplicably, Quackity thinks of an old story from his brief stint in a hyper-religious foster home run by some old nun, where Quackity had been taught about God and Quackity had naively believed there might be someone out there who gave a shit about him.  He thinks of Adam and Eve, of Adam forever stuck with an apple caught in his throat because the person he got his ribs ripped out for told him to eat.

Quackity takes another bite.

[louthingg]

pls tell me about your favourite horror movies

idk much about the genre tbh because. i was quite easily freaked out as a kid/teenager so i just didnt watch any. but ive been trying to get into it more as an adult so i would appreciate some recommendations :)

i have an irl friend who is also really into horror movies and she gave me a list of them to watch

the crossed out ones are the ones i have watched already. the others i havent got round to yet

ok !!!! so if im going to be completely honest, i havent watched that many for the reaosn you just stated. although the genre is a main special interest, i have always had a really really horrible scare tolerance which sucks. i do best with classic horror movies—ive watched a good chunk of those so heres what i recommend:

i will rate each movie on a 1 - 10 scale and then how scary i found it 1 - 100

american psycho — 9 / 10, 25%, autistic protag, CWs: a LOT of sex ( which is not relvant to the plot so you can skip through it ), blood, mild homophobia, implied cannibalism + torture

midsommar — have not watched but ive heard its good, id look the up the CWs

re animator — already on the list but !!!!!!!!!! 11 / 10, 5%, honestly just gross, my beloved little gay men, literally fits into half the horror subgenres ( body horror weird horror, slasher, etc ) CWs: A LOT OF GORE, 1 sex scene + a sexual assault scene which you can skip through ( neither are relevant to the plot ), has a predatory character

SAW 1 — 10 / 10, 60%, cannot explain to you how horrible and good this movie is at the same time. the budget looks like it was fuckign 0 dollars but OH MY GOD the acting and the plot im going insane. also little gay men again. CWs: mild drug use ( just cigs ) / reference to more serious addiction, child abuse ( not from a parent ), gore, depictions of people being driven to insanity

the birds — 8 / 10, 3%, honestly a really silly movie but i love it. it was slightly unsettling and i didnt trust birds for a few days ! CWs: a few jumpscares, child death, mild gore

psycho — 10 / 10, 20%, definetly was unnerving, made me nervous to take a shower for a bit ( youll see ), also !!!!! SUBTLE TRANSGENDER CHARACTER !!!!! be on the lookout :3 CWs: jumpscares, mild gore, child abuse, stealing ( idk if this is a CW lmao ), reference to drug usage / addiction ( i think ?? i can’t remember )

salad fingers — 10 / 10, 30%, not a movie but !!!!! i lvoe it. youtube horror series made by a single guy, has the craziest lore. i watched all of it in 2 days, very very cool and interesting, was unnerving made me uncomfy + was honestly just gross most of the time . CWs: gore, self harm, mild racism, jumpscares, auto( ? ) cannibalism

zero day — 10 / 10, 40%, very very niche low budget found footage film, literally the MOST incredible acting ever, extremely suspenseful, fed into my hyperfixation on guns / gun laws. CWs: ‼️‼️THIS MOVIE IS ABOUT A SCHOOL SHOOTING‼️‼️ ( and contains relentless talk of them !!!!! ), suicide / self harm, mild gore, depictions of severe mental illness, mention of bullying, child death

and im sure theres more that im forgetting lmao take what you will and let me know what you think !!!!!!! <3

[margridarnauds]

☔

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Back when I was younger, I was even more ambitious than I am now when it comes to big projects. I would come up with these epic, sprawling universes with what would have to have been 40 chapter concepts, at least -- easily 150k fics, and, because I was young and earnest and didn't know what I was in for, I'd commit to them.

And one of them was a fic that was a sort of crossover between Dracula and its Icelandic translation, Makt Myrkanna. Now, Makt is an oddball -- you'll notice that while I said it's a translation...there's a crossover. The reason is that. Well. It seems that whoever was in charge of translating it...took some liberties. A LOT of liberties. A lot of major plotpoints were radically reworked -- Jonathan's time at the castle was RADICALLY different, with a single vampire lady with an epic backstory who talks to him several times instead of the three iconic "Brides" that we know now, a cult of....extremely unfortunate Victorian stereotypes of "less evolved" or "primitive" humanoids who conduct human sacrifice in Dracula's basement, Lucy is not actually killed (because the author of the Icelandic translation, who was working off the Swedish translation...seemingly forgot?), Van Helsing goes to jail, Jonathan's killed. (The cowboy lives.) It's BATSHIT.

And I wanted to write this epic, epic fic around the concept of the Countess, that vampire lady, and Lucy tearing shit up. You know, I wanted to show the Countess stepping in as a sort of makeshift sire/mentor figure and lover for Lucy, who is making the transition from becoming a society girl to a vampire, throwing off her preconceptions about society and morality, seeing them go across Europe (there was actually a brief reference to Polidori's The Vampyre) when they were in Greece, seeing them adapt to the end of the 19th century. Their central conflict would have come from the Countess, who had an abusive husband (in canon! Who might or might not be Dracula himself, the evidence is conflicting) who basically...locked her in her room with her lover until he committed suicide (it's implied she banged him to death, what an icon), not really wanting to admit that she loves Lucy, and Lucy trying to content herself with that. There would also have been a B line running across it of the Crew of Light as they tried to continue hunting them, with a grief-stricken, widowed Mina (because remember: Dracula killed Jonathan in the final encounter) eventually facing down both of them but being unable to finish them off, with the second to last chapter being a note from the Countess (whose name is revealed in the epilogue to be "Dolingen", from "Dracula's Guest") basically telling her that she wasn't a dumb shit like Dracula, she wasn't going to try to invade England, she's sparing her for Lucy's sake, and to leave her alone in turn.

There was a LOT of good stuff with this fic, honestly, there was a lot of potential. Honestly, I think that the initial sex scene between Lucy and the Countess (taking place near a corpse, because, as we know, I Cannot Write A Normal And Non-Unsettling Sex Scene) is still one of the best sex scenes I've written -- I was a 19 year old undergrad, taking classes on Monsters in Fiction, Serial Killers on Page and Screen, Crime in Fiction, Dangerous Journeys in Fiction (which gave me the chance to reread Dracula!) going batshit insane and horny in a way that I was never able to quite replicate as I got older and more self conscious, writing about two hot vampire ladies having sex. I was in heaven. Or Hell. And I did do a lot of research for it, down to checking which operas were performing at the Graz Opernhaus in 1908 just to make sure that, when they were staying there, the selection would be accurate. I read a lot of 19th century vampire lit from the time -- Polidori's The Vampyre, I reread Carmilla, Das Grabmal auf dem Père Lachaise by Karl Hans Strobl (....given the name and that he lived into the 1940s...don't look at some of the other things he wrote), Paul Feval's The Vampire Countess, Eric Stenbock's "The True Story of a Vampire", I really, fully immersed myself in the world of 19th century vampire lore.

And I made good progress on it! 10,000 words! It wasn't like I wrote two pages and was done with it. But the problem was, honestly, as time went on...It felt like it was dragging on too much, like I was dragging the slowburn, which felt artificial for the Countess' character in Makt Myrkanna. She DOES have a tragic backstory, but she is also someone who is clearly here for a good time. Too much angst, too much heaviness between the two of them. It was too...human, you know? In fact, the entire section after the initial meeting/Lucy coming into her own under the Countess' mentorship felt artificial and dragged out, there to fit a certain idea I had coming in rather than anything natural. And the beginning wasn't the part that I had written out. So...I think that there's something redeemable in there, I think it might be able to rise from its vampiric slumber one day, with sections of it modernized to my writing style now, but it's going to be some time, probably. Which is a pity because I do love the two of them together, they are probably one of my favorite F/F relationships that I've written even if I didn't feel like I did the dynamic justice.

[javaelemental]

True Detective: Night Country, Ep. 3

All right, finally got caught up to last week's episode. A few thoughts:

Okay, honestly, if only one thing happens by the end of this season, I'm going to need it to be Hank getting shot or otherwise getting serious comeuppance. That guy is infuriating.

I realize there's a kind of spiritual undertone to what Navarro is experiencing, but considering her family history, I think I'd be getting to the doctor sooner rather than later, y'know?

All right, look, man, if I know that you freeze to death by basically curling up and falling asleep, then I feel like two cops from East Bumfuck, Alaska ought to know that too. This cannot be the first time someone's frozen to death on their watch. They shouldn't need the local vet to tell them "Yeah, you don't die of cold while screaming and thrashing."

One more thing about the end of this season: If we get there and there's a bunch of overtly supernatural shit going on, I'm gonna be irritated. This better be weirdos, mine poisoning, and maybe frozen ice age microbes getting thawed out. Leave the weird culty, supernatural stuff ambiguous. I'm here for creepy and unsettling, not salt circles and Kansas songs.

And yes, I'm still annoyed with that cheapshit jump scare from Ep. 2.

ETA: That "Who's Mrs. Robinson?" line murdered me, LMAO.

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 131- To the Moon and Back

Summary: Josie and Lola have a talk. New info about Narcisse worries the Queen. Haldir comes back empty handed to Josie's dismay. She finally faces the reality. Legolas and Thranduil speak again. Leean's magic begins. Haldir and Josie head to a party in Dorwinion city. Josie dreams of a stranger who has an unsettling word.

*Warnings* language, angst, violence, gambling, grief,

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

You spent an hour soaking in Haldir's bath of healing water while Lola tended to Leean and Haldir was out looking for the phantom of Thranduil like he promised you he would, although you knew he didn't believe that you saw him. Why was it so hard for an elf of all beings to believe something of great magic could occur? Especially after all that you and he had witnessed in your time with him, and all he himself had witnessed in his thousands of years. He knew what Thranduil's magic was capable of as well, so you just didn't get why he was being so reluctant to believe that Thranduil had found a way to visit you spiritually. You still wondered if Haldir knew of Thranduil's stag ability. How could he not? The two were the closest of friends for all of their existence, but you weren't about to ask, for it meant betraying Thranduil's trust in his secret. Maybe that was why Haldir was keeping silent about it too? The code of honor between best friends...although they weren't anymore, all because of you.

You got out and dressed, then went to Lola's room. She was holding Leean and had a prepared bottle of healing water next to her per your request because you were worried that the evil enchantment of the forest's effects on you would pass onto your sweet princess, even though you were now feeling normal again, except for you thoughts of the King.

"Lola...I have a question for you. You are so wonderful to me and my daughter and she adores you, as do I. Besides Haldir and Legolas, I trust no one else with her....but I suppose that's because there is no one else. Anyways, at some point, I will leave here with her and...I was wondering if...you would come with us? Be her nanny. You would be far more compensated than what Narcisse pays you and you would have your own private chambers. No more bunking with two other people and having to share a bath."

"My la..I mean, Josie...I do not know what to say? It is such a gracious offer and I...I adore you both as well. I..."

"Well just say yes then, yes?"

"I..i just don't know how Lord Narcisse will react. I have been a loyal servant of his for so long."

"Well he is not so loyal to you for your service now is he? After all you do and he cannot even give you your own room in this endless monumental structure. You delivered my baby for god's sake." you huffed. You were still very much pissed at him for antagonizing you like he did.

"But..if you go to Lorien, well from what I understand of the magical place, they do not have...rooms?"

You laughed. "They do, they're just not like what you would expect. Are you ok with heights? I mean, I'm not really, but it's not so bad there with it all being inside, what I like to call it, an enormously large treehouse with many tree houses inside of it...if that makes sense. But still, I am not sure that is where I will end up. I so long to go home, but...I'm just not ready yet to face the memories. Don't you long for a place you can truly call home? This can't certainly be it."

"All the time." she said with sad blue eyes.

You didn't know much of anything about her life but you could tell she had had it rough.

"Well, you think about it. I won't pressure you, but I will honestly say, I do not know what I would do without you. So..do you know if Narcisse is still here by chance? There's something important he needs to be aware of."

"No my la..sorry, Josie." she chuckled.

She was so well mannered, like it was etched into her very being and you sometimes wondered if she even knew what it was like to just be herself and not always be so damn polite.

"Narcisse has left for the evening to the city. He checked in with me before he left, but I think he just wanted to see this precious little angel since all he did was hold her...I..I hope you don't mind."

That kind of tugged at your heart strings. No matter what Narcisse had done, you knew he cared for Leean.

"No, of course not. She's taken a liking to him, which is more than I can say for myself right now...never mind, I shouldn't be telling you these things with him being your employer. So, what is this big event in the city anyways? and Lola...Narcisse isn't here. You don't have to be so proper around me. I won't tell if you won't. You can even swear if you want." you assured her with a grin.

She shyly giggled. "Well, it's an infamous gambling event of all kinds. Some good, some not so much. Lots of drinking and partying. All kinds of people attend. It's open to anyone really."

"What's the not so good part?"

"An underground fighting tournament, but that's only for the big wigs per se, people with money and class, like..."

"Narcisse..." you finished her sentence. "Does he participate in that or just make bets?"

"Bets as far as I am aware. There has been an undefeated champion for sometime now. He has joked about taking him on a time or two but I believe he had a bit too much to drink when he said those things."

Her words struck something in you. Narcisse was already knocking the drinks back when you and he had that fight before he was to go to this shindig....and he was angry.

"Lola...do you think he would actually ever do it? Participate in a fight club, which I assume that's what it is?"

"I really don't know. I suppose he may. He has done some wild things and everyone knows of his ego...oh please do not tell him I said that!"

"Don't worry, I will not. I would have to agree with you on that anyways. Arrogant SOB."

Lola let out a hefty laugh and then so did you.

"So...like what kind of fighting is it? I mean, when you say underground, all I think of is clandestine fighting, especially if there's wagers involved."

"It's extremely dangerous. They can use weapons. What is the term I am looking for...hmmm."

"No holds barred?"

"Yes, that would be it. No rules basically. Josie...they fight to the death...."

"Jesus..."

Goosebumps went clear down your arms. You could feel it, the bad vibe. Narcisse was going to do it.

"What time does that start, do you know?"

"The stroke of midnight."

Just then, Haldir came in, and he wasn't smiling....so you knew, he didn't locate Thranduil...but you anxiously asked him anyways.

"Did you see him??"

"No, Jo. I am so sorry. I found the spot you described to me in which I could still smell your scent at too, but I did not pick up his and...I saw no blood, if he was injured like you said. There was no sign of Harker either, although I did smell his lingering odor. Jo..the entire forest was at it always is...dark and dead."

"My god...I...I really was...hallucinating?? But...it..it was real...so real to me."

You began to cry and ran into the hallway so Lola wouldn't have to see you like that and you didn't want to wake, nor scare Leean. Haldir followed.

"Jo, I really am so sorry. I too, wanted it to be real...for you, for Leean. I cannot stand to see you hurting like this."

'Haldir...I don't know what to do anymore. I have good days, and then I have days that are just plain shit and it takes everything in me to go on...and I know that I have to for my child. Thranduil made sure he was clear about that, well, in what I perceived to be real anyways, when it was all just a lie...a stupid fucking illusion due to black magic...or maybe, just maybe, he really did come to me?? To protect me? It's not like he hasn't before. I saw him in the mirror at Lestat's, and I dreamed of him and I could feel him, smell him. Please tell me at least that was all real or I am going to fall apart at the seems."

"Come here."

He pulled you snuggly into his arms and kissed your head.

"I believe it was all real to you. I know how powerful Thranduil was so I am not in any way saying it is not possible that you saw him like you think I am doing. I was just worried for you because you have been through enough. I believe he will always watch over you and Leean."

You abruptly wiped your eyes with a quick sniffle. It was time to put on your big girl panties and try to move on and live a little.

"Lola, will you watch Leean for this night?"

"Of course my...Josie. I am more than happy too..and I will think over your offer."

"Thank you so much for all you do Lola. You are are so appreciated more than you know...So...Haldir...do you wanna go to a party?"

Thranduil stepped away from the door after hearing the three warlock's conversation. He stood at the mirror staring at himself and clutched the vanity as his hands shook fiercely in anger, for he remembered nothing of projecting himself or seeing you, or receiving the agonizing hole in his side. He could not attest to what happened after speaking with Legolas, it was all a blackout. How could he be so careless and cretinous to let that happen, he thought. Now his sacred secret was revealed...and all because of you. His conditioning by the evil warlocks that he was unaware of made him so furious at himself and with you, for he wanted nothing to do with you, and yet he supposably risked everything to be with you...and it was more unnerving to him that he had no control over it, as if his soul had taken over his mind. The two parts of him were inconsistent, his mind did not want you, did not love you, despised you even, but unknowingly to him, his soul had other plans.

"WHY!" he shouted at his image, as if he were calling out his heart for it's betrayal.

"Legolas?? Can you hear me??" Thranduil anxiously barked inside his head.

Legolas sprung up from his slumber at his campsite for the evening. He wanted to be well rested for the next day's journey into Lorien, where he was certain Aragorn was. It would still be a long trip, possibly two more days, for he was only at the fork of the Old Forest Road and the Anduin River just on the borders of Mirkwood, but he would only remain there a few hours and leave before the twilight of early morning.

"Adar!!" Legolas shouted inside his head, for he still had to be leery of the dangers around him, such as Orcs and spiders.

"Legolas, where are you my son??"

"I am on my way to Lorien to gather Aragorn and Gimli. I plan to arrive within two days and be near the goblin forest by 3 days at the most, if no problems arise. Are you alright? After we lost contact, I could not reach you again."

"No, I am not alright to say the least! I have been shot with an arrow and I..."

"Father what? You said you were locked in a room inside the mountain? How did this happen? Is it fatal?!!"

"I will live. It is too much to explain. I am still imprisoned for the time being, but I do not know what Jareth's plans are now. I do know that they are after the moonstones and a book. Do you know anything of this?"

"Ashmole. Do you not remember father? Josie asked you about it once back in Mirkwood to see if you were aware of it and what it entailed...and Caroline, she held Julian captive for 9 years, trying to obtain it herself."

His mind briefly flashed to a memory of Caroline, when he had overheard her and Raven speaking about Julian being alive.

'Yes, yes now I do recall that. The Book of Shadows. A witch's bible. The Book of Life, the Book of Death, it has many names and many uses depending on the hands that hold it. I suppose now I see why Jareth wants it. It carries the only means of his destruction and the power to bring forth that which should not be. It is all coming together now. They wish to recruit me as an ally and to rule along side of him with his army of darkness. The moonstones must be a means to an end for his plans. I assume you have my ring as I asked you to bring to me?"

"Adar...your ring...it is missing. I have searched your chambers thoroughly. I am certain it was here only days ago. Did the crow possibly bring it to you and you do not remember? You said you had been tortured."

"Why would that bird bring my moonstone to me?"

"Because he took Josie's to her, and I believe that he knew you were alive and was trying to aid you."

Legolas had to keep his thoughts quiet of Amara and what she told him, that the bird indeed did know and had informed her. If his father knew he was being coerced into a marital arrangement with her, all hell would break loose when Thranduil returned to Mirkwood...and the King didn't need this kind of news with his current situation. Amara and Thranduil always respected each other, but kept their distance...but this, he would most certainly kill her for, especially because she threatened Legolas if he were to break the agreement.

Thranduil's door then opened. "Legolas, I must go. Travel quickly and safely."

Legolas sat for a moment and pondered why his father never even inquired about you. He could tell something was amiss and decided he had no time to waste. Rest would have to wait. He packed up his things and headed back out, knowing he was being followed.

"Jo, what do you mean go to a party?" Haldir insisted to know as he followed you to Narcisse's chambers where most of your things were.

You stopped at his door and spun around to Haldir with a serious look.

"I must get out of here for awhile and do something normal and hopefully fun or I am going to have a nervous breakdown. I need to clear my head and try not think of what happened today or about Gar...there's a party in Dorwinion city and I have never been there. I would like to go and I don't want to go alone. And besides, this will give you and I some time to spend together that we haven't done in awhile. Wait here while I grab my stuff."

You turned to open the door but it was locked. With a grin, you circled your finger around the door latch and it popped right open.

"There. I'll be right back."

"Jo, why are your things in Narcisse's room?" Haldir quietly asked through the door as he glanced around for onlookers.

You came rushing back out and shut the door, holding a pile of stuff and began heading back down the hall at a quick pace.

"Because I was stupidly going to reside in there with Leean after what happened with Asher and you were pissed at me or I would have asked to stay with you."

You got back to Lola's quarters and whipped around.

"Can you go arrange for our transportation while I get ready?.... Please? Narcisse has many carriages, I have seen them all the time coming and going. A taxi pulled by horses." you chuckled and went inside.

"Jo...I never said I..."

He was cut off by you smiling and shutting the door in his face.

Haldir closed his eyes with a huff and reluctantly went to do as you asked.

"Lola...what on earth do I wear to something like this? I mean, if it's a bunch of rich people, should I be fancy? and this darn bruise on my cheek has to go. I don't know why the healing water did not help."

You sat in your robe, feeling a frightful mess, recalling how the white elk licked you there. How was it all a hallucination? Of course, you could have gotten the bruise due to the fall from the sky when Harker plowed into you and Garrett, but it should have healed after your bath in the magical liquid. You remembered how Legolas once placed a mixture of crushed berries on your face from Thranduil's garden when you were injured before and it healed it right up. How you missed Leggy so. He would know what to do...or even Garrett could fix it but you didn't know if you would even see him again after the way you made him feel.

"Josie...I'll help you with your makeup, it's kind of a secret talent of mine, although I myself don't wear much of it. And...a dress would be fitting for the occasion. Don't worry, you're beautiful. No one is going to be looking at your bruise."

You picked Leean up and snuggled her before you dressed. She was cooing and happy just as she always was when you held her. She loved to play with your hair and was giving it a good pull and then she let go and just gazed at you. She began grabbing at your lips as she was now becoming curious about facial features. You nibbled playfully at her fingers in which she got a kick out of and began throwing her hand around in excitement, then let it rest right on your bruise. Suddenly, you were blinded by a bright light as a tingling sensation traveled through your cheek....and then the light was gone. You gasped as Lola did too.

"M..My lady...Josie, your bruise...it...it's..gone!"

"W..what??"

You raced to the mirror and gawked at yourself.

"Oh my god...Lola...she...she healed me...my sweet little princess, she....it...my god did you see that??!! She..she has his power! Just like I saw in the fountain!"

"I did! and she has yours too." Lola laughed and smiled from ear to ear.

You began to silently cry and kissed Leean all over her supple little cheeks.

"My sweet girl, you are your father's daughter and he would be so proud of you. Thank you my angel. Mommy loves you soooo much, my little star!"

Now you were never more certain that Thranduil was not a hallucination, that he had come to you from beyond the moon and the stars. The bruise was in fact not a bruise, but a celestial kiss and you believed Leean was drawn to it. Maybe it ignited her power? Haldir was right. Thranduil was still watching over you and always would.

It definitely took a toll on her tiny little body and she yawned with a soft smile on her lips, so you laid her in her crib and began to whisper to her.

"Starlight, star bright, the first star I see tonight, I wish I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight."

Leean closed her eyes and fell fast asleep as you closed yours also, wishing for Thranduil.

You were all prettied up and ready to go. Off you went to find the Marchwarden, who you found outside, speaking with some warlock guards.

Haldir's mouth dropped open when he saw you, making you blush.

"Jo...you...you are so...beautiful." he stuttered as he reached out and stroked your chin.

"Thank you, Haldir. You look really nice too."

"I can see you do not need me to do your braids any longer? and...your bruise, it has healed?"

"I confess, Lola helped me with the braids." you giggled. "I assume this is our carriage? Let's go. I have so much to tell you about Leean."

You both climbed into the landau and the coachman drove off.

You informed Haldir all about Leean's newly found magic as you crossed the bridge out of Narcisse's lands. He wasn't all too surprised, for he knew she would be a magical being like you and Thranduil, but he was a bit shocked that it was so soon. You also told him about the kiss from Thranduil, and he now believed that what you saw was real.

After talking with Haldir for awhile, you just sat and enjoyed the views of Dorwinion's beautiful scenery as dusk was setting in. You began daydreaming of Thranduil as you stared out the window, memories of meeting him mostly, among other magical moments in your short time together. Not even realizing it, you began to sing. A Frank Sinatra song your mother used to sing to you as a child when she was a different person.

"Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars. and let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars. In other words, hold my hand. In other words, baby, kiss me. Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore. In other words, please be true. In other words, I love you."

(Check out the new Thransie fan video below with the song from above. It is a beautiful cover by Kaira Rae with no music, which was perfect to sound like Josie was singing it, along with memories of her king.)

Haldir just gazed at you with a smile, taking in your angelic voice. A tear strolled down your cheek as you finished, in which you then felt the silence and Haldir's eyes upon you.

"Oh..gosh. I'm sorry, I was just...lost in thought." you shyly said as you quickly wiped your tear.

"Jo, why on earth would you apologize for singing? I could listen to your voice all day and night. It is so soothing and beautiful...just like you."

"Awww shux." you chuckled. "You're going to give me an ego."

"Could you sing some more, please? It makes this ride with you even more pleasant."

"Umm, well sure, I suppose." you bashfully agreed.

You picked some random song you liked and began again. As the journey went on, you found yourself singing yourself to sleep, for you were just flat out exhausted...and in your slumber, you began to dream...

You were walking down a pathway in a village of some sort that you did not recognize. It was night but people were still out and about. You looked all around trying to figure out where you were. You kept walking through the maze of the cobblestone streets and began to hear echoing footsteps, sounding out the others from the people walking by....and then a figure appeared in a black hooded cloak, walking towards you.

His face came into view and the stranger held a dead stare upon you. You froze as he came up to you, trembling from his ominous appearance. But the man's eyes, they were kind and although you did not know him, there was something familiar about his presence that you couldn't place. His scent, it was overpowering, like a mixture of lavender and vanilla, just like...your daughter's. Is that why it felt familiar?

He stopped and smiled as he towered over you, his eyes mixed with deep blues and greens of a heavenly countryside pasture, his short hair as black as his cloak. You didn't feel threatened but still remained cautious.

"Who are you? Wh. what...do you want?" you timidly squeaked.

The only thing you could do was gasp at the single word his deep voice spoke.

"Leean."