#I hope my writing is legible

[kuroarimiyazaki]

More Bully OC stuff! Bullworth has a ballet class mmkay? Edit: After literal months of having this up I just realized it's really hard to read on mobile so I posted close ups below the cut!

[heatwa-ves]

do you love them.... i love them..

[museofthepyre]

Adam and Lucille pageeeee I am going to punch them both (affectionate)

[coffinpal]

named after country singers, the teenage mutant hillbilly turtles!

[cloversnstrawberries]

Hi ;-) i read your vox Relation HCs and loved them he seemed so in Character. May i request Head Canons for Sir Pentoius x female Reader? Maybe the reader is kind of day dreamer but super loyal and maybe she tries to ‚baby‘ the Egg Boiz just to annoy Pentoius a bit with a response from him like „My Eggies are fearless warrios - not dolls for you to play family with!“ ?

soft!yandere!sir pentious x fem!reader "mother egg" headcanons ! !

masterlist !

warnings; jealousy, mild possessiveness, this turned out to be tooth rotting fluff, a little bit of arguing (it's quickly resolved), not many warnings that I can think of; but if i missed any, please let me know!

additional notes; i sort of set this in a pre-hotel timeline for him, where you two are living in his airship (sort of? not like the one from the pilot, not a battleship but more like his home), i hope i did your idea justice!! i really did love it. it's a very cute idea :]] i also made him incredibly soft in hindsight, as i can't stop myself when writing him D: I hope it didn't take away anything from your og request :[

w/c; 1.6k

When Sir Pentious took you in as his assistant, he hadn't expected the Egg Boiz to grow so fond of you. He expected them to get along with you, yes, they practically got along with everyone (for better or for worse), but their attachment to you was... different.

You were a great assistant, even if you got lost in your daydreams sometimes. He didn't mind it much, always being gentle when he tapped you on your hand or shoulder, repeating what he said before.

He both was and was not a patient man, as it depended on the situation. He was incredibly meticulous with his work, preferring to take his time; but sometimes, he'd grow tired and restless and just want to be done with it already.

In these times, he did his best to not try and rush it. Instead, he'd stand from his work and take a moment to stretch; most times, he'd seek you out to talk to you while he made himself a snack, or just sit on the sofa beside you, reading his book quietly as you do whatever it is you're doing at the time.

It helps to be near you, he doesn't even really have to speak with you for it to be as calming as it is. It confounds him, how this occurred-- he's a man of science, but he'd long come to realize he's also a man of emotion. He tries not to pry into his own reasonings too much, lest he uncover something he much rather would've stayed hidden, thank you very much.

Something relaxing to distract him from any hiccup he may have encountered within his work, and you always seemed to soothe his frustration; so more and more, he's began seeking you out during these little breaks of him.

During one of those times, where he'd tasked you with watching the Egg Boiz while he worked to repair a broken music box he'd made for you (it wasn't any fault in his craftmanship that caused it to stop working properly, because he's sure that any music box made by the most world-renowned makers would break after an Egg Boi knocked off a high shelf), he was already irritated

(not at you, oh, never at you; his annoyance was pointed entirely at the culprit, one his more rowdy Egg Boiz you'd managed to name 'greg'. it is beyond him why you love naming the Egg Boiz as much as you do, but to his it's just all harmless fun, so he permits it), making it hard to focus on his work. He was getting frustrated, tiny gears never seeming to want to stay in their correct spots making him grind his teeth.

Eventually, when he was oh-so close to just throwing the thing at the wall and making a new one-- he took a deep breath, and set it down. He's sure you wouldn't be very happy if he did that. It's not often that he gets this frustrated with one of his projects or inventions, but the fact he knew exactly who the culprit was behind it certainly didn't help.

Recently, he's noticed that the Egg Boiz hang around you a lot more often than the prior months you'd been with him. Was it absolutely ridiculous that he'd begun to feel jealous of the Egg Boiz?

Why yes, yes it was. And while he wasn't necessarily proud to admit that fact, he was still willing to do so. Maybe even out loud, if he was feeling bold that moment (even though he knows he'd most definitely regret it soon after).

But with how much they were around you, when he could barely get a moment of peace with you anymore because of their constant antics-- ones that you appeared to whole-heartedly encourage, under the basis that "They're basically kids, Pent! Let them play."

It was laughable how quickly he'd backed down when you called him that, Pent. He liked it, it felt so intimate-- and perhaps, that feeling was in part rooted in the time period from which he came, the Victorian era-- the era of etiquette, poise, and trying to maintain an amicable yet distant front. Untouchable, above all others.

Pentious never did agree with those values of his time, and he'd followed them best he could-- though as he did, he only found he'd hated them even further once he'd put them into practice.

But, because everyone else was doing so-- the only way Pentious could connect with others was to act like that. Back then, people only associated with those who were like them, or at least acted 'posh'. He'd found himself falling back on that safety net, decades of teaching himself that behavior had left him hard-pressed to try and undo it in full.

Then you came along-- wonderful, beautiful, and interesting you, with all your daydreams that's leave you head up in the clouds more often than not. The first few times you'd done it, he was offended. Had he really bored you that terribly?

But you were quick to reassure him that, no, he did not bore you; it was a sign of trust that you did that, started daydreaming with him nearby. Being in hell had taught you, forced you, to stay vigilant at all times. Before meeting and subsequently being taken in by Pentious, you didn't even feel safe enough in your own 'home' (if it could even be called that) to slip away into your daydreams.

It caused a warm, fuzzy feeling to find its way into Pentious' heart, his mind-- his very soul, and he was unable to smother it in any capacity, and with every day it burned even brighter.

When he stood from his work bench, stretching his arms above his head before making his way out of his workroom and to the living room, he knew the Egg Boiz would be with you, obviously. He'd told you to keep an eye on them as he worked, because he knew that they'd be coming and going in his workshop if you in there with him.

As he got closer and closer, and they were... eerily quiet, but there was a specific phrase that they just kept saying, usually in the framing of "what happens next, egg mother?" or "i like this story, egg mother!". The Egg Boiz were always a very loud bunch of creatures, and sometimes more fit for parts in a comedy rather than the army he'd created them to be--

It confused him to no end, this new title that he had a sinking feeling referred to you. The Egg Boiz didn't have any set gender, as they didn't care for that sort of social construct. They were just Egg Boiz, not even necessarily male-- they just were.

So, maybe they'd dubbed another Egg Boi as the aforementioned 'egg mother', but he highly doubted it. He moved faster, and when he entered the living room,

You were sitting on the sofa, a children's story book held in your lap and a soft smile playing on your lips. The Egg Boiz, every single one of them he believes-- sat around the floor, quiet and as peaceful as he'd ever seen them (besides when they're sleeping, but even then some of them are rowdy sleepers), as you read 'The Tales of Mother Goose'.

He cleared his throat, and you looked up at him-- "Could you ssssstep out into the hall for a little, pleasssse? I'd like to a have a word with you." You were a little surprised by this- had you upset him? Sure, the reason you played so hard on the fact that the Egg Boiz were practically children was originally to poke at Pentious a little-- but you didn't expect it to actually get to him.

It worried you, but regardless of your shock, confusion, and concern, you nodded, and shut the book. You stood, but the Egg Boiz protested, obviously.

"It's okay, I'll be back soon. I just have to talk with Pent for a little.", that didn't soothe the Egg Boiz by much, but they stopped grabbing at your leg to keep you with them.

Pentious felt his mouth twisted into a scowl, and he turned with a flourish; making his way to the hallway just outside the living room, and you followed soon after.

His back was turned when you entered the hallway, and you quietly asked "Uhm... Is everything okay?", and Pentious, ever one for dramatics-- turned around, arms crossed over his chest.

As best as he could, he tried to stay mad with you, but the edge of his voice softened as soon as he turned around, signaling the beginning of the end for what he'd intended to be a stern talking to.

"My eggiesssss are not children to have sssstorybooksss read to! They are fearle--" It wasn't often that you cut him off, but you'd had this conversation dozens of times by this point-- he'd never pulled you aside for it, always waiting until the Egg Boiz were all gone for one reason or another. "Fearless warriors, I know. That's what you made them for, but all fearless warriors have to have something to fight for, shouldn't they?" You reasoned, and took Pentious' silence as a sign for you to continue your train of thought.

"They act like children-- they'll grow up eventually, even if it's not like how human children do, but for now, I think they should be treated kindly. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, right?"

It was difficult to smother the smile forming on your face at how quickly Pentious gave in, so you didn't even bother to hide it.

"Well... I ssssuppossse you do have a point..." Pentious conceded, and you rushed him with a hug. He forze for a moment, before-- just a bit cautiously, but still happily-- returned the favor.

You asked him to come back and sit with you, and oh, how could he ever say no to that beaming smile of yours?

[torscrawls]

Curbed Hunger

Tucker let out a long breath. “Well. At least we know it’s not going to do anything.” “Yeah. ‘Suppressing a ghost’s hunger’,” Sam mocked, “We’re lucky they’re so stupid.” Tucker laughed and Sam grinned, happy to have managed to break the tense atmosphere, if only for a short while. Then she noticed that Danny didn’t join them, and that he had—in fact— not relaxed when the agents left the room and was still standing facing the bars with his hands balled into fists. She frowned. “Danny?” - Or; Danny, Sam, and Tucker gets locked in a cage meant to curb a ghosts hunger. For once, it might have been better for everyone if the technology actually did what it was supposed to do.

Wordcount: 4,497

Can be read on AO3!

Written for Dannymay 2024 day 9 - Hunger

-

Danny slammed his hands against the cage's wall, yelping and swearing when the anti-ghost field burst into life against his hands.

Sam grabbed his arm to keep him from trying the same stupid stunt for a fourth time. “Danny stop!”

Tucker settled down on the floor. “Yeah, save your strength. Maybe I can break it open from here. Do any of you recognize it? Is it one of your parents’?”

The last question he aimed at Danny, who was eyeing the walls of the small cage they found themselves in as if he considered taking another shot at it. Sam gripped his arm tighter and even though they both knew she couldn’t really stop him if he really wanted to destroy his hands against it, he thankfully stepped back and sat down next to Tucker with huff. “No. The force field is similar, but it feels different.”

Sam sat next to them, the cage being big enough to allow them all the space to sit down, but not much bigger than that. “Different how?”

Danny pursed his lips in thought before slowly saying, “More… Active? Even before I touched it?”

Tucker and Sam exchanged worried looks before Tucker said, “That doesn't sound great.”

Danny shook his head. “Didn’t feel great.”

Sam drummed her hands on the floor beneath them. “Is it safe?”

Danny gave her an unimpressed look. “We’re stuck in a cage in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the night after getting chased by the GIW.”

“I meant the force field you asshole,” Sam said as she punched Danny in the shoulder.

He snorted. “Yeah, I think so? It’s not emitting anything as far as I can tell. It’s more like it’s…”

He trailed off and Sam frowned. “It’s what?”

Tucker looked up from where he had been inspecting what he could see of the control panel stuck to the outside of the cage. “Danny?”

Danny stared off into space with a slight furrow between his brows. Then he seemed to blink back into focus. “I’m not sure.”

Tucker leaned in closer, a frown on his face. “That doesn’t exactly fill us with confidence, buddy. Something wrong?”

Danny tensed when Tucker leaned towards him, at first almost reaching out for him but then he stopped himself and drew back abruptly. “I’m not sure, but I think you should—”

Before he could finish his sentence, they were interrupted by the sound of running feet quickly approaching them in the big and empty room. The approaching people ran through the doorway and Sam wasn’t surprised to see the pristine white suits of the two men who they had been trying to avoid the whole night. Danny got to his feet and placed himself in front of Sam and Tucker.

The younger of the two perked up as his eyes landed on the three of them in the cage. “Look Agent R! It worked!”

Agent R stopped running to level a more assessing look at them, no doubt trying to look professional in spite of the sweat pouring down his face, but he wasn’t able to contain the self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “Of course it did, Agent U.” He holstered his gun, slowly approaching the middle of the room where the cage stood. As if they weren’t any threat. Sam hated that he was probably right.

Agent U laughed and holstered his gun as well. “I just didn’t think ghosts were actually that stupid. I thought you were pulling my leg when you said a pile of rags and a voice-recording would do the trick.”

Agent R laughed with him. “This one just seems unable to pass up an opportunity to play at being a hero.”

Sam got to her feet as well, fuming. “He’s not playing anything. You’re the ones who were willing to pretend that someone was hurt to catch us off guard.”

She knew she probably should just keep quiet; but the anger was bubbling up at their jeers and at the fact that the three of them had all fallen for their tricks. The GIW of all people. They would never live this down.

They just hadn’t expected them to use a voice-recording, simulating a lost and hurt child. Then they had chased them in the direction of the building and trusted that Danny’s empathy would do the rest. And it had. They hadn’t been able to just leave the child alone.

Of course, there was no child and there had never been a child. Just a pile of clothes in the rough shape of a scared child huddled on the ground, Sam thought bitterly as she kicked the small speaker that had continued to emit sounds of crying through the bars and smiled in satisfaction when it hit Agent R in the shin, breaking apart from the force and scattering pieces all over the floor.

He cursed at her, jumping on one foot as Agent U paused with a troubled look on his face. “What should we do about the kids?”

Agent R sent Sam a nasty glare. “Leave them. They're criminals. If they like that ghost so much, let them stay with it. Maybe staying with it until the morning will make them finally realize how evil it is.”

“But what about the force field?” Agent U asked, clearly more worried about innocents getting caught in the crossfire than his colleague. Sam made a mental note not to hit him as hard as Agent R when they managed to get out of here. Then his words registered in her brain.

Before she could do more than open her mouth, Tucker had already taken a small step forward and asked, “What about the force field?”

Agent R smiled, but only in the sense that his lips turned up at the edges; it was devoid of any warmth or happiness. Sam tensed and Danny let out a growl. It just made Agent R’s smile widen. “If the field does what it’s supposed to, they’ll be fine.”

Sam snapped, “What does that mean?!” She was tired of everyone treating her friend like he wasn’t even a person, like he was fair game to try any and all sorts of new inventions on. “What’s it supposed to do?”

Agent R turned to go, but Agent U seemed to feel a bit bad for the two humans caught up in their sadistic game and said, with a reassuring smile on his face, “It keeps ghosts from feeding off of people.”

Sam snorted. “That’s stupid. That’s not something ghosts do.” Then she thought about Spectra. “Most ghosts, anyway,” Sam allowed.

Agent U gave her a pitying look, as if she was just a small girl that was too stupid to see the truth. Sam gritted her teeth against the curses that wanted to escape her throat. It wouldn’t help anyone if she made them angry at them right now.

Agent R gestured for Agent U to join him as they walked away. “Well. This is a perfect time to test it. See you in six hours.”

Agent U jogged to keep up. “But they're just kids. Humans. Can we just leave them in there with a wanted ghost?”

“They're a pain in our side, is what they are.” Agent R waved him off. “Let's see if the field works. And if it doesn't… Well. No big loss.” Then he paused and Sam could hear the smile in his voice from across the room. “Actually. That might be even better. They're known in town to help the ghost, to protect it,” he spat out the words as if they tasted foul. “So if it kills them… Well. People will see it for the monster that it is. And of course, we will step in and subdue it. The town will finally realize that we’re the heroes and stop worshiping this evil trash that’s somehow managed to trick them.” He sent a last scathing look at Danny over his shoulder.

“They will never believe you,” Tucker said, but Sam could hear the fear in his voice. This was bad. Like, really bad. They had to find a way to get out of here, and soon.

Agent R laughed, “Oh, they won’t have to take our word for it.” And then he glanced at the ceiling. Sam followed his gaze and tensed. There, mounted on the ceiling, was a camera. It was aimed right at the cage and the bars surrounding them provided no escape from its relentless recording.

Tucker swore under his breath and Danny tensed even further. The camera meant Danny couldn’t turn human to minimize whatever the force field would do to him. Not without giving away his secret to the whole of GIW, and that was as good as serving himself up on a silver platter.

Agent R laughed and exited the room. Agent U sent them a last look over his shoulder but apparently didn’t feel bad enough about locking two kids in a cage overnight, together with a ghost he thought could kill them, to argue, and then hurried after his colleague.

Silence fell over the three of them.

Tucker let out a long breath. “Well. At least we know it’s not going to do anything.”

“Yeah. ‘Suppressing a ghost’s hunger’,” Sam mocked, “We’re lucky they’re so stupid.”

Tucker laughed and Sam grinned, happy to have managed to break the tense atmosphere, if only for a short while. Then she noticed that Danny didn’t join them, and that he had—in fact— not relaxed when the agents left the room and was still standing facing the bars with his hands balled into fists.

She frowned. “Danny?”

She placed a hand on his arm and he jerked as if she had shocked him. He drew back from her with a slightly strangled, “What?”

Tucker huffed. “Don’t let what they said get to you. They’re morons.”

Danny frowned, lips pressed into a thin line. Sam took in the way his shoulders still hadn’t relaxed, the way he kept the small distance between them. She realized that whatever was bothering him had nothing to do with what the GIW had said. “Danny. The field is actually doing something, isn’t it?”

Danny froze as a look of shame crossed his face. “I—” He hesitated, then turned back around to face the bars. “I’ll get us out of here.”

It wasn’t an answer and they all knew it, but before Sam could call him out on it, Danny had drawn back one hand and slammed it into the bars, once again hissing as the force field crackled on impact.

This time it was Tucker who grabbed his arm to stop him. “Dude, stop!”

Danny tore his arm free of Tucker’s grip, less gentle than he would usually be. “It's my fault we're here. I have to get you out.” 

He sounded frantic. Scared. He didn’t meet their eyes.

“Okay. Stop,” Sam said and managed to inject enough seriousness into her voice for her two friends to pause and look at her. “You have to tell us what’s going on. We’re all in here together and we need to work as a team to get out.”

Danny took a deep breath and then seemed to freeze in place, taking another deep breath through his nose.

Sam frowned and said, “Now, Danny.”

“I—I don't—” He blinked as if trying to clear his eyes.

Sam deflated, worry overtaking her annoyance. “... Danny?” 

Tucker took a small step forward in the small space. “Hey, man. You okay?” 

Danny shook his head, but Sam thought it had little to do with answering Tucker’s question and more to do with trying to fight whatever was clearly affecting him.

“What's wrong?” Sam asked as she, once again, reached out a hand to him.

He jerked away before it made contact, eyes wide. “Stay away from me.”

Tucker took another small step closer, worry clear on his face. “Danny, what's—” 

“Stay away from me!” Danny growled out, the sound of it reverberating through the small space and raising the hair on the back of her neck. She sometimes forgot that Danny was as much a ghost as he was human, and he rarely gave them a reason to remember it; this was the first time she could remember when he had acted so aggressively towards them. It made her realize that this situation might be worse than they had initially thought.

“We’re just trying to help,” Tucker said with a frown, and when Sam reached out to stop him from antagonizing Danny further, Danny must have thought she was about to try and touch him again because he let out a hiss and backed into the corner behind him. Right into the bars and the force field surrounding them.

He let out a scream of pain as the field buzzed to life against his back and jerked instinctively forward, landing against Sam and Tucker both as they caught him.

“Shit!” Sam cursed out as she looked him over for injuries.

Tucker did the same, “Fuck, you okay, man?”

Danny just hung in their arms for a few seconds, panting.

Tucker patted him on the back. “Danny. You okay?”

Danny just panted, leaning in even closer to them. Then Sam felt him freeze. He ground out a pained sounding, “No,” before jerking himself back. It was only Sam and Tucker’s combined holds on him that kept him from throwing himself back against the force field.

They both exclaimed in surprise at the sudden action, even more so when Danny then firmly pushed them away from him with a bit more strength than he usually allowed himself to use when interacting with them.

Sam stumbled back, catching herself on the bars and feeling relief at the lack of any painful force field reacting to her presence.

Tucker righted himself beside her, a deep frown now on his face as he took in the way Danny curled up in a tight ball, as far away from them as he could get in the small cage. “What’s going on with you?!”

Danny didn’t say anything, just kept on panting with his face hidden against his knees.

Sam took a breath to try and calm herself down, hoping they couldn’t hear the fear in her vice as she said, “Danny. You have to talk to us.”

“Yeah, man,” Tucker said with a nod. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s happening.”

Danny groaned, but finally spoke around his harsh pants, “I don’t know what–” He paused, swallowed heavily. “I can’t–” He cut himself off again, swallowing loudly and letting out another groan, his arms crossing over his head as if to hide himself away.

“Can’t what?” Sam said as gently as she could, desperately quelling the panic building in her chest. Something was definitely wrong with Danny.

“I just want to–” He stopped, his hands on his arms gripping hard enough to turn his fingers white. He swallowed again.

Tucker, voice strained with the same fear as Sam felt, asked, “What do you want to do?”

It probably wasn’t anything good, with how he was acting, but if they didn’t know they couldn’t help him.

“Hey–” Sam started as she inched closer, intending to nudge him. But as she got closer Danny tensed up even more and she paused where she was, remembering his earlier reaction to them touching him. “Danny. Talk to us.” It wasn’t a question anymore.

Danny looked up at that, his hair wild and his eyes unfocused, and Sam understood why he had been swallowing so much. He was drooling; green saliva dripping from his mouth, staining his face and soaking into the fabric of his knees. He closed his eyes and licked his lips before managing, in a voice so strained it sounded as if merely talking pained him, “I don’t think the field suppresses a ghost's hunger.”

“You mean that you feel it?” Sam asked incredulously, instinctively leaning slightly away from him. “You want to eat... What? Our emotions?”

He opened his eyes, and it was the first time his green eyes had seemed so utterly inhuman. They were wide and frantic and so hungry. He licked his lips again, green dripping from his fangs. He hissed out a, “Ye—” before cutting himself off with another groan, “No.”

Tucker hesitantly said, “Maybe if you just took a little…?”

Danny jerked as if he had been struck. When he spoke, his voice was gravel and pain and longing, “What if I can’t stop?”

“I trust you. You won’t hurt us,” Tucker said and Sam wished he sounded more confident when he said it.

“Yeah,” she added with a decisive nod. Reminding herself that this was Danny. It was okay. Still, she couldn’t keep her eyes from following a string of saliva sliding off one of his fangs as she spoke. “Just a little bit can’t hurt and you’re clearly suffering.”

Danny hesitates as if he’s actually considering it, his features slackening into something distinctly hungry, but then he abruptly shook his head with a shudder. “No.”

Tucker frowned. “Danny, you—”

Danny shook his head again before tucking his head and curling back into an even tighter ball. “No!” he ground out from between clenched teeth. It sounded like he tried to convince himself.

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look and Tucker was the first one to break the silence, “This is bad.”

“You don’t say,” Sam said as she took in the tremble in Danny’s whole body, his death-grip on his arms.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do?!” Tucker hissed out.

Sam shook her head, overwhelmed and panicking. “I don’t know.” Her friend was hurt and she didn’t know how to help. Her friend might hurt them and she didn't know how to stop him. Ancients. He would never forgive himself. “We need to find a way out of here.”

Tucker threw his hands in the air with agitation written all over his face. “What a great idea. I hadn’t thought about that.”

Sam scowled. “Then fucking do something about it! Can’t you reach the control panel from here? The force field doesn’t hurt humans.”

Tucker opened his mouth to argue, anger and frustration written all over his face, but then he paused and turned to look at the control panel. He took a deep breath. “I’ll try. Please keep him from doing anything stupid.”

Sam felt her own anger deflate, leaving her with only fear as she slumped where she sat. “I’ll do my best.”

Tucker shuffled over to the bars and reached for a metallic piece of the broken speaker before focusing on the panel with a curse and a grunt of strain at the uncomfortable position it put him in. He used the metallic piece like a screwdriver and Sam left him to it, if there was someone who could deactivate ghost tech on the fly it was Tucker. Besides, she had other things to worry about.

She turned back to Danny who hadn’t moved at all during their conversation. “You doing okay?”

There was no answer.

Sam raised her voice slightly, hoping he just hadn’t heard her over his own panting. “Danny? You with us?”

Again, he doesn’t answer but Sam can see his hands flex against his arms; clenching and unclenching, and huh. Has his nails always been that long and sharp? It’s her turn to swallow as she curses under her breath. “That’s a no then.” She turns to where Tucker is straining through the bars. “Tucker, maybe hurry it up.”

“I’m working on it,” Tucker huffs out.

Sam turns back to Danny to find him staring at her. She flinches at the intent look in his eyes and immediately feels guilty when he shrinks in on himself, making the ball he’s in impossibly smaller.

She tries for gentle as she says, “Hey, you doing okay?” Even though he’s clearly not.

Miraculously his eyes seem to clear slightly at her voice and he blinks a couple of times before managing a strangled, “Y—Yeah.”

Sam doesn’t call him out on the lie as she takes in his trembling. “Maybe you should just…” She threw a glance at the camera. “You know. Change.”

Danny bared his teeth as he twitched. Sam frowned in confusion before she noticed the small white lights appearing around his waist like staticky sparks, never staying for long and far from forming a complete circle. The fear solidified into dread in her stomach as she realized that he tried but couldn’t turn human. Whatever was in the force field clearly messed with his ghostly form enough to trap him in this form.

Danny let out a loud groan that tapered off into a whimper, an animal sound that set Sam’s teeth on edge. She cast Tucker a look, and saw him frozen with his hands through the bars and eyes fixed on Danny. She nudged him and he blinked before getting back to work; no words needing to be exchanged to convey the importance of getting them out stat.

Tucker let out a small whoop of excitement. “Hey, I got the outer layer of the control panel off!” Then he froze as he looked down on the metal casing in his hands. “Oh no.”

Sam tried to peer over his shoulder to get a look at it. “What? What does it say?”

Tucker looked up at her with anger and understanding in his eyes. “Fenton Works.”

Sam swore. “Then of course it does the exact opposite of what it's supposed to!”

They were both startled by the sound of Danny’s voice, drenched in static and sounding as if it rumbled out from his core in his chest more so than his mouth, “You smell like fear.”

They turned with wide eyes to see that Danny wasn’t curled into a ball anymore. He was still hunched over his legs, but now he was balanced on his toes and fingers with his head up, eyes fixed on the two of them. He seemed to have given up on swallowing down the green-tinged saliva and it dribbled down his chin.

Something in Sam’s hind-brain screamed to get away and she froze in place. Tucker beside her gave a strangled yelp. “That—That’s because we are scared, buddy. We have to get out of here.”

“Why?” Danny asked with a tilt of his head, eyes empty, as he inched closer to where Sam and Tucker sat. Danny sucked in a deep breath and it was only then that Sam realized she hadn’t seen him breathe in far too long, a reminder that he could go without for far longer than she and Tucker could ever hope to. And it wasn’t until he groaned and involuntarily leaned towards them that Sam understood why he hadn’t; he had tried not to smell them.

Sam gathered her courage and said, as gently as she could since he had seemed to react well to that before “To help you.”

Danny blinked. “H—help…?” He paused, not getting any closer and Sam let out a shuddering breath.

“Yes. We want to help you. We’re your friends.” She swallowed thickly and added a hopeful, “Remember?”

Danny frowned, squinting his eyes as if trying to see them clearly. There was no recognition in his eyes, no sudden clarity this time, but at least he didn’t come any closer.

Sam spoke out of the corner of her mouth, eyes not leaving Danny. “He’s getting worse.”

“No shit,” Tucker hissed out as he slowly reached back out through the bars to the control panel.

Sam gave a small nod. “Now would be a good time to get us out of here.”

“I’m working on it.”

Their whispers seemed to have finally reached him as Danny bared his teeth and started creeping forward again. Or maybe not the whispers; he was probably reacting to their emotions. That was slightly harder to control though, especially considering their situation.

Danny was an arm’s length away, starting to reach towards her with sharp claws and open mouth and Sam let out a panicked, “Now, Tucker!”

“Not helping,” he said, but a split second later the whole cage shuddered and then the distinct sound of a power-source powering down reached their ears. “I got it!”

Sam threw herself backwards, grabbing Tucker as she went and was immensely grateful that the opening to the cage was behind her and Tucker and that the lock had released when the power shut off. The two of them tumbled out of the cage and onto the dusty floor of the warehouse, and Sam felt the hair on her arms stand on end as Danny roared from behind them.

She scrambled over to her back to face the cage just as Danny leapt out of it, landing on her and pinning her arms and legs to the floor. She instinctively tried to buck him off, but he was unmovable as he leaned in closer; long fangs glinting wetly in the dim lightning.

“Danny!” Tucker screamed, throwing himself at his friend and Sam expected Danny to lash out, to swipe at Tucker, to rip her throat out, and she instinctively closed her eyes and—

And the pressure holding her down disappeared.

She blinked her eyes open to find Danny slumped in Tucker’s arms, eyes lost and scared, but focused on her. Focused on her. She slowly sat up, wincing at the twinge in her arms but if bruises was the only thing they brought out of this nightmare she would count them as lucky. She slowly said, “Danny?”

He blinked. And then sucked in a breath. She tensed. But then he did it again, and again and oh. He was crying she realized as green oozed from his eyes, joining the ectoplasm already on his chin.

Sam slumped back to the floor. She had never been more relieved to see her friend cry.

“Hey, hey,” Tucker said, his voice sounding thick, “We're out. You'll be okay.”

Sam took a second to breathe and then forced herself to her feet. She stalked over to where the remains of the speaker was scattered, picked up the biggest piece and chucked it right at the camera still sitting impassively in the ceiling. It hit it with a satisfying crack and Sam grinned as she thanked all the good ghost-hunting had done for her aim.

She turned back around to find Tucker helping Danny up, both of them unsteady on their feet. Tucker laughed, and it was only slightly strained. “Your whole face is green, man.”

“It’s not funny,” Danny said as he wiped his face with his sleeve, only managing to spread the ectoplasm around.

Sam agreed, but she still couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her; too relieved to have her friend back again. She walked over to Danny’s other side, resolutely not hesitating before grabbing his arm and slinging it over her shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

[iamthecomet]

I would offer my firstborn to see mean!Dew out-mean Rain. Maybe Rain doesn't expect it. Getting a taste of his own medicine. He doesn't expect it to be so hot.

Mean!Dew. My favorite.

~~

"Kneel," Rain orders. Dew's barely in the door to his own room. Rain hot on his heels. Rain kicks the door closed hard enough that the window rattles. He glowers at Dew’s back. Persona sliding into place. Dew wants a firm hand—he’ll give it to him. He’ll give Dew exactly what he’s been hinting at all day—he’ll ruin him.

Dew looks over his shoulder, and Rain catches a glint in those copper eyes that makes his stomach twist. Apathy. Annoyance.

Oh.

Dew waves a hand, the embers in his fireplace roar to life. He shrugs his jacket off, tosses it over his desk chair. Busies himself with the buttons on his shirt. He doesn't look at Rain again. Rain says Dew's name, harsh. Another command. Dew ignores him.

Rain feels like the world tilts under his feet. Dew ignores him a lot. Turns his nose up at Rain's orders in an attempt to make punishments worse. He's used to disobedience, at least initially. But this isn't the same.

Dew's, loose, relaxed. Flippant when he shrugs his shirt off and finally turns to look at Rain. Shirtless, uniform pants slung low on his hips. Nipple rings swaying as he takes a step toward Rain. Dew cocks an eyebrow. He looks amused, like he's cat with a mouse between his paws. But then that makes Rain the--

"Dew--" "Shut up.” Rain’s words die on his tongue. There’s no argument in Dew’s voice. No desperation, no question. And Rain is grappling with what's happening. It’s unexpected. He doesn’t know what to do with the way his cock kicks in his pants at the tone of Dew’s words. At the way Dew looks through him. Past him. Like Rain is a nuisance, a burden. All he knows is he never wants Dew to stop. Rain doesn’t know what to do now. Knows if he opens his mouth he’s going to sound unsure, hesitant. And that isn’t going to work. Not if he wants to keep the upper hand. Though, he’s starting to realize that maybe he never had it. Dew's been playing this game all day. Lulling Rain into this comfortable place where he calls all the shots. But really, Rain's walked right into this. He's let Dew play him. He doesn't want to admit how much he loves it. From the minute Dew dragged his hand over Rain’s chest and up to his throat in rehearsal, Rain’s brain has been racing to catch up. And Dew’s been one step ahead of him. Making Rain chase him, making Rain do all the work just to get here. Where Dew is looking at him like he's an idiot and Rain's cock is twitching to life in his pants because of it. “Why don’t you kneel for once?” Dew says. Satanas, he sounds bored. Rain’s stomach twists again. Is this how Dew feels when Rain treats him like this?

No wonder he likes it so much. Dew gives him every opportunity to back out. Questions him with his gaze in a way only Dew has ever managed to do. Like telepathy. Never breaking character but Rain knows this is his chance to bow out. To go back to the old script or something different entirely. Instead, Rain nods, just a little, just enough. And Dew is on him. Long fingers curling in Rain's hair and pulling until Rain yelps. Dew drags him down to his level, so their noses almost touch. Copper eyes boring into Rain's. "Are you too stupid to follow simple instructions?" Dew spits. "Kneel." Rain does. Isn't sure if he actually decides to or if his legs just give out. His body following Dew's orders long before his brain catches up. He hits the floor hard, pain jolting up through his thighs. His hands fall to his thighs, palm down and useless. Rain won't move them again unless Dew tells him to. They might as well not exist. Rain's already dipping. Static crowding into the edges of his brain. He's never fallen so fast. God he wants to sink into it and never come out. Dew never lets go of him. Unclenching his fist in Rain's hair to shift his grip and curl around one of his seaglass horns. He drags a hot claw over the place they connect to his head, oversensitive all the time. Rain's eyes flutter closed, he whines. Leans into Dew's touch. It's a mistake. The sting of Dew's slap is sharp on his cheek, hot. Rain's eyes snap open. The pain goes straight to his cock. Fully hard now, tenting his uniform pants. He can feel himself dripping already--unable to hide what this does to him. How much he likes it. "Don't look away from me again," Dew demands, and Rain promises himself he won't. Doesn't want to. Rain doesn't want to disappoint him, but he knows that he will no matter what he does. It doesn't stop him from trying. Dew nudges Rain's clothed cock with his boot. Rain hisses, hips canting toward the pleasure-pain he knows that boot will provide. Too eager, he knows, he'll never get it if he acts this way. His cheeks burn, delicious shame flashing through him at his own desperation. He can't help it. Rain knows the game but can't catch up. He's falling into traps he knows how to set. Letting Dew bait him into them. It doesn't matter how good he is at this game from the other side--on this one, he's helpless. He loves it. Dew laughs at him. A low chuckle, dark. The promise in it makes goosebumps break out over Rain's skin. "Fucking pathetic," Dew sneers. He pulls back on Rain's horn, tipping his head back. Dew leans down and spits. It hits Rains' cheek in a thick glob. Burning hot and slick as it slides down Rain's face to his jaw. Rain wishes it had been in his mouth. He wants to taste it. Thinks about sticking out his tongue, trying to catch an errant drip of it. Anything to get a taste of Dew--a piece of him. "Please," Rain murmurs. He doesn't know what he's asking for. The word breaks from his mouth unbidden. He digs his teeth into his cheek to try to keep more from escaping. "You want something, water lily?" Dew says, too soft, a trap. There's something in his tone--dangerous--sing-song, that makes Rain throb. Rain knows better than to nod. He keeps his eyes on Dew's face, keeps his head and hands still. "I want whatever you want," he offers and hopes it's good enough. Dew grins down at him, predatory. Fangs sharp. Rain hopes Dew digs them into his throat. Hopes he draws blood. Rain hopes he wears the evidence of Dew's debauchery on his body for days. Dew reaches for his zipper, fingers tightening on Rain's horn. "Right answer. Open up." Rain does, sticks out his tongue for good measure. Eyes still fixed on Dew's face as Dew pulls his cock free and smacks the head on Rain's cheek. Smearing a trail of salty pre over his cheekbone. "You think you're so fucking pretty," Dew chuckles, mocking. It hits, hard. Rain's cheeks flush darker. He wants to look away, he forces himself not to. Dew strokes himself, tapping the sticky head on Rain's tongue. "You won't be when I'm done with you."

[wyn0rrific]

saw @sablebrand do this chart and decided to make one for fulgrim and vitus bc im unoriginal fjdjs

[psychologicalwarclaire]

what's that thing on your chin?

(your little sona-thing's chin, I mean. sorry if this is rude or something you don't have to answer if you don't want to bahaha)

I got this ask a WHILE ago but I decided to make an infographic response rather than a long info dump

Mayo Clinic

TeensHealth

Overview

Yale Medicine

These are just some sources to keep learning, but don't hesitate to research vitiligo yourself!

[nestedfeathers]

Still injured and can't move. Spending my days mindlessly staring at my tv. Decided to try to be productive for the first time in three days KEK.

Also, obligatory Huggy and Catnap doodle

[kuroarimiyazaki]

It's 2023 I'm making a terrible Bully OC and you can't stop me. Edit: Posted close ups of the parts that include text below the cut

[heatwa-ves]

my post canon designs and some headcanons!! this is two years after the end of royal 💖

[omarwolaeth]

Sometimes there are taunts in Duel Links that combine well with utterly unrelated cards, and my favourite of the bunch is Mayakashi Winter combo'd with Yuugo's chilly taunt.

My boy, he is cold.

[floofballsammy]

I HAVE COME TO BLESS YALL WITH MORE VOX DOODLES BECAUSE HE HAS A MONOPOLY ON MY ATTENTION.

HE'S THE CEO OF MY BRAIN NOW, I DONT MAKE THE RULES

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 17

continuation of byakuya's no good very bad worst shit ass day of his life (so far)(!!!)

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

this chapter went a little different from how i originally planned bc I was going to make byakuya much more stupid. but. he needs to fly off the handle several times later so. we can't let loose all at once

to be very fair to makoto he did not want to do that. and yet. here we are

the king of kings!! @digitaldollsworld

Content warning tags: ableist language from various characters, Byakuya's panic spiral, mild self-harm reference

< previous - from start - next >

Time seems to grind to a halt. His breath is still caught in his throat, halfway through a relieved sigh as he had been waiting - expecting - for Makoto to help him. To pull up some vague, hidden piece of evidence to clear him of any suspicion, to cleverly point out some irrefutable proof that had previously lay unseen.

But instead - his heartbeats feel too heavy. His breathing feels too light, deprived of any real oxygen. His head pounds in the same way it did when he was struck earlier, with a dull, pulsing ring that washes out everything around him.

He prided himself, once, on being able to read a person’s intent. To judge just when and why they might choose to abandon him, to cross him, to try and use him for their own intents. For that reason, he supposes, is why this sickly, sticky feeling of dread is so new to him. He’s never known real betrayal before.

His eyes dart around the room, but the others don’t seem to believe Makoto just yet. Even Owada seems taken aback, stock still and quiet. Only Kirigiri seems unsurprised - or maybe, he was only imagining it, the tranquil quality of her silence. As if she were merely observing it all, far out of their reach.

“Seriously??” Syo’s voice is a grating jeer. “You’re telling me this whole time he had no idea what I looked like? No wonder he didn’t fall for me at first sight!”

“I…don’t think that’s the reason why,” Hagakure says, though he seems utterly bewildered. “But, that can’t be right, right? I’ve seen him reading loads of times. And he practically lives in the library, y’know?”

“Yeah, and he can do things just fine for himself.” Asahina says in agreement. “I mean, he does his own laundry and stuff, and he knows this place way better than me at least. I didn’t even know where the A/V room was during the first motive, I just sorta followed him.”

“Yes, this is sort of…” For the first time, Celeste sounds genuinely surprised, her usually unphased demeanor wavering, her accent slipping for a moment. “Ahem. While I did note that he sometimes seemed a bit…eccentric, so to speak, nothing of his actions suggested that he was impaired.”

Their skepticism is a small relief. He nods jerkily, unable to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to verbalize his agreement. But it’s a small, pathetic movement that goes unnoticed, hardly amounting to anything in this large courtroom.

And their disbelief only goes so far. Ogami speaks up now, for the first time since the trial began, her low voice immediately silencing the whispers.

“I performed a concussion test on him earlier,” She says, gruffly. “As Kyoko had asked me to. He was lucid when answering my questions, and he didn’t seem to exhibit any symptoms that couldn’t be attributed to other reasons.” There’s a slight creak of wood, as she shifts her weight on the stand. “However, I did notice that his pupils were…strange.”

“My- what?” He sputters now, too suddenly, too loudly. He reaches up to touch slightly-trembling fingers to a closed eye, feeling the smooth bump of the cornea twitching beneath the thin skin of his eyelid as if he might be able to identify the damage that way. Why hadn’t she mentioned this earlier? Why bring it up now? “What do you mean, ‘strange’?!”

There’s a slight, panicked edge to his voice that he hopes no one catches, but this was the first time he heard that there could be physical evidence to his affliction. “It was a bit hard to test without the proper tools, but I noticed that they do not react much to changes in light.” Ogami explains. “The shape is also slightly…off. If I had to describe it, I would say that there is…a warping around the edges.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?!”

“I assumed it was either due to the head injury, or, it was genetic.” There’s an apologetic note to her words. “Given your usual behavior, I…didn’t think it was important.”

Not important. As if she could know what was important here.

“I. Am not. Blind.” He snarls stiffly. “Obviously, I have never taken a close enough look at my own pupils to notice that deformation, but it has never affected my daily life. I am not disabled, nor have I ever been.”

“I find it hard to believe that you have never been aware of it.” Kyoko remarks, tone clipped. “I can’t imagine someone of your status being ignorant of anything concerning your physical health.”

“Then you can rest easy knowing that I am perfectly healthy.” He snaps back, venom flying off his words.

Distantly, he knows that he is digging a pit for himself. That admitting to this would help clear him of any suspicion at all. But he doesn’t care; he would rather die than suffer such indignity. That was what he’s always known, taught by his butler, and then reinforced by all his surroundings afterwards, his siblings, his father - better to perish and let your enemies cry with relief and count themselves lucky, than let them mock you as you dig your own grave.

“You should just admit it already. You are drawing this out to be unnecessarily long, or would you rather doom us all?”

“I don’t see why I should cooperate with someone who has been making mindless accusations at me all this while.”

There’s a tense, snappish tension between him and Kirigiri. A livewire current. A piece of elastic stretched taut. He glares, and to him, her blurred form looks like that of a reared snake.

“Um…” Asahina speaks up, her hand tentatively raised. “If Byakuya’s really blind, can’t we just test it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I mean! Not saying that you are blind, or anything,” She says this quickly, carefully, like soothing a spooked horse. “But, we’re not going to get anywhere if you two just keep arguing back and forth, and it’ll be really quick! Like, Sakura, can you hold up a few fingers?” She complies silently, one arm remaining crossed across her chest, the other raised to her side. “How many is she holding up?”

He tries not to squint, but he has no idea. Two? Three? It's nothing more that a blurred, brown shape. “You can’t be serious.” He almost laughs, but the sound he makes is derisive and bitter.

“Y-yes, this is-! Unfair!” Now it’s Yamada, speaking up again. “In case no one else has noticed, Mister Togami is lacking his spectacles! Asking such a thing of him…it’s akin to bullying!”

He’s oddly assertive about this, and Byakuya watches as he pushes his own glasses a little higher. For some reason, being considered something of an equal by Yamada irritates him further. “Shut up.” Who asked for his help.

“Yes, be still please,” Celeste sighs dismissively. “We are playing a game with our lives. This is hardly the time to be discussing moralistic issues.” There’s a slight metallic tap as she raps her silver finger guards against her rings. “But you do make a point. Byakuya does not have his glasses at the moment. It would be difficult to try and confirm anything without them.”

Thank goodness for those with common sense. He doesn’t look to his side, where she was standing, but he swears that he can see her eyes glancing at him, the unnatural red of her pupils bright on her pale face. “Yes,” he agrees, seizing upon it. “And they were broken earlier, thanks to Owada. Nearsightedness runs on my mother’s side, and the former Togami head was farsighted. I will admit that much, is that what you wanted? Kyoko?”

He’s rambling. He’s aware of it. But there are a few nods exchanged, and Asahina scratches at the back of her head awkwardly, as if embarrassed. Kirigiri, however, is still unmoved.

“No. When I say you are blind, I do not mean without your glasses. Or there wouldn’t have been a point in bringing it up in the first place.” Kirigiri shifts her weight slightly, the sway of her stance accompanied by the creak of wood. “Even without your glasses, you cannot do tasks such as reading. I imagine you’ve managed everything else by means of careful practice, but this is the one thing you can’t manage on your own.”

“Hey, Kyoko-” Makoto looks nervous, unsure whether to face him or her. “That-”

“And how do you plan to prove this?” Byakuya snarls. He feels a small flare of triumph, even despite everything, the looming threat of death. “As we found before, I don’t have my glasses. Did you happen to pick those up as well? Did you repair them for me while you were at it?”

Instead of offering a retort, or any sort of reply, she sighs. A soft, tired sound.

“Makoto.” She isn’t facing the other boy, but her tone is firm as she addresses him, and a little exasperated. She doesn’t say anything more, but Makoto seems to understand, and his hands drop to his sides.

“There is a way to prove it.” His voice is quiet. Quiet, and…sad, somehow. Defeated. “Byakuya…please show us your handbook.”

The realization sets in slowly. He’s already been betrayed by Makoto twice now, but still, he finds himself stunned, slack-jawed. This one was the worst by far - not only was he actively helping Kirigiri, he was betraying Chihiro as well, risking revealing everything to that accursed bear. And after all the lengths Byakuya had gone through to protect this secret.

“What are you saying,” He says, and his voice has a humiliating tremor that matches how his hands shake, clutching at the rail. Surely, he’s heard wrong. Surely, Makoto would correct himself, take it back-

“Your handbook. Chihiro, he…he put a program on it that lets you be able to do stuff like tell the time. It also reads stuff aloud. And he did it after the motives got revealed, that night when Celeste saw you guys leaving the bathhouse.” He sounds so somber, so sad and grieving. He won’t meet Byakuya’s eyes. “He did it in exchange for you teaching him how to be strong, and self-confident - which you did, by telling him to go around talking to everyone else today.”

Without really thinking about it, his hand goes to his inner jacket pocket, where his handbook sits. His fingers close around the little device, the hard edges of plastic and metal pressing into the creases of his palm. He feels a little like he’s been shot.

But he doesn’t bring it out. He glares instead, furiously, hatefully, at the boy standing just meters away. He - and Kirigiri too, most likely, Byakuya suspected that Makoto had already revealed everything that that woman - knew perfectly well the importance of Alter Ego, and why it could not, under any circumstances, be revealed. And they knew Byakuya was aware of this too, and they were holding this fact hostage, over his head.

(I could, some sore, beaten part of him thinks with poisonous intent, try and claim responsibility for Chihiro’s murder. I could say that they’re wrong. That I lured Chihiro to the bathhouse with the intent of making him less wary, easier to isolate. That he was so weak and trusting and stupid that killing him was a simple manner. That I mimicked Syo’s modus operandi to throw suspicion off of me.)

The mere thought was shameful, but it was his pride, wounded and bitter, that was seriously considering it, if only for some semblance of control. The barest reassurance that he had any real weight at all in this trial. And all he would need to do is open his mouth and say the words.

But instead, he bites down on his inner cheek, hard enough for blood to trickle out the corner of his mouth, hard enough for the pain to rival the buzzing in his temples. And tightens his grip momentarily, just enough to feel the faint, humming warmth of the handbook against his sweating palm, and exhales slowly.

“...Fine. Fine.” He spits, angry, defeated, exhausted. He’s sick of this. He just wants it to be over. “Yes. I’m blind. I have been so since we first woke up in this school. Are you happy now?”

Makoto looks down, his face shadowed by his hair. Kirigiri tilts her head slightly, a motion that’s not quite a nod but more of a bow.

“Wait, so then-” Asahina’s voice, confused and a little hesitant, pipes up. “If you’ve been…y’know, this whole time, but only after we got to this school…does that mean the Mastermind did this to you, somehow?”

“That’s what I would like to know, myself.” He turns to look at Monokuma, and finds the bear lounging across its throne, a bucket of popcorn resting precariously on the armrest. The repugnant toy giggles, and swings itself upright, spilling a handful of white puffs all over.

“Gosh, I wonder?” The thing taps at its chin, voice taking on a wondering tone. “Of course, I want this game to be fair and give you all a level playing field. I believe in equality after all! …Though this has made for so many entertaining developments, so…I figured I’d leave it as is. Besides, you’ve adapted quite well, haven’t you Mister Togami?” It cackles, paws clutching at its belly. “GIven how well you did hiding it from everyone, I think it’s fine if we leave it like this, don’t you think?”

He wants to cross the courtroom and throttle the stupid thing this instant. All he can do is glare murderously, lips twisted into a snarl.

There’s a sharp clap that has most people jumping. The source of the sound is Kirigiri, whose hands are raised, and pressed together. “Let’s move on.” Her voice is firm, with no room for arguing. “All we’ve done so far is clear one person’s innocence. We still need to identify the real killer.”

And that was it. The most disgusting moment of his life, over just like that, ended by her words. He knows that there’s bound to be some kind of punishment in store for those who interrupt trials, but he briefly wonders if he can get his hands around her neck before Monokuma can react.

Owada jerks at Kirigiri’s words, startled out of his own stunned silence. “W-wait,” He sounds panicked now, and of course he would be. His scapegoat is gone. “Then, if it’s not Byakuya, then who…?”

“Let’s consider what we know. Given how it’s not clear where the murder took place, it would have to be someone who had access to cleaning supplies or water, and has no alibi that can be verified when the murder occurred. For the most part, everyone here has an alibi that can be supported by at least one other person, but there are some that do not.” Kirigiri lists these calmly, and Byakuya imagines her cold gaze, flitting between each person in the room. “Mondo. Do you care to explain what you were doing prior to the body’s discovery?”

The effect is immediate. The other boy rears up, instantly furious. “The fuck are you trying to say? That I’m a murderer?!” He thunders. “Like I said earlier, I was taking care of my bro. You know that. Everyone knows that!”

“As you said earlier, Taka is currently compromised. He can’t give a testimony.” She shoots back without hesitation. “Your alibi is flawed.”

“Yeah? Well - well so’s yours!” He sputters. “Like- Syo might’ve been the one to find you in the bathroom, but that was just before Chihiro was found. Toko can’t say that you weren’t there the whole time, a-and even if you were, maybe the bathroom was where Chihiro died anyways!”

Owada may be stupid, but credit where credit was due, he was surprisingly quick to retort and pick at Kirigiri’s excuse. “I could not have cleaned up a murder scene in the bathroom so spotlessly in the time between Chihiro’s last sighting and the body discovery. As Makoto described earlier, the sinks of the bathroom were all dry-”

“There was that sheet, you could’ve used that before smashing Chihiro’s head over it. And there’s water in the toilets, right? And the girl’s bathroom was right next door!”

“...I’ll commend you for recognizing my perseverance. But I did not kill Chihiro.” She shakes her head. “If the only thing that will clear me is secondhand support to my alibi, then the only thing that needs to be done is to ask a witness. Toko?”

And she addresses Syo now, who just cocks her head for a moment, and shrugs. “I keep sayin’ to you guys, it’s lights out up there. There’s no telling when she’ll be back!”

Byakuya has had enough.

“Toko,” He says first, his voice low and hissing. Then, louder, building into a shout: “TOKO. Come out, NOW!”

“I don’t think it works like tha-” Syo’s words are cut off suddenly, and she collapses where she stands, like a puppet with her strings cut.

< previous - from start - next >

[phopollo]

"Mollie!"

At first, both the shout and the throwing open of the clinic's door caused the doctor to jump to her feet. People frequently didn't do either unless there was an emergency.

"Whats wrong? Who's dying?"

"Ah-- no one-!"

"We got you a gift!"

Mollie's eyes drifted down to Liko and Roy's hands, both suspicously closed around something small, blocking the view of anyone who dared try to look.

"... of either of you opens your hands and is holding a cutiefly, flabebe, or any other tiny pokemon, I'm warning you now-- I will not be happy about it."

A look of panic momentarily set over the kids faces.

"No! Nothing like that! We promise!" Roy said quickly.

"Yeah! We just-- we saw these while we were out and they reminded us of you!" Liko assured. Then the kids shared a look and a nod, before opening their hands to present their gift.

It took a second for Mollie to process what they were holding, but when she did, she let out a small laugh. Half relieved that it was in fact, not a small pokemon.

A set of earrings from each. A gift most graciously accepted by her.

"This is... unexpectedly sweet. Thank you." She decided as she studied them, before turning her attention back up to the kids. "I love them." This time was Liko and Roy's turn to look relieved.

"Run along now, I have things to do that I won't be able to concentrate on if you keep staring at me." Mollie shooed them along. After a moment with no verbal protest, they scurried along, leaving Mollie for get back to her work.

---

"Ohh, Mollie! New earrings? I dont think I've ever seen those ones before!" Murdock noted as he set a mug of cocoa in front of her.

"Oh yeah. What do you think?"

"Very cute!"

"Thanks." Mollie smiled into her cup at Murdock's comment. "I think these ones are my new favorites."