#I’m still figuring out how I want her as a fox to look

[drizzledrawings]

Mattie and her humansona

She has fleas :(

[cloudwhisper23]

Guess who did another art trade with @pixlokita? This one's about their Werebunny AU! Hope y'all enjoy!

Warning: 11k words

Jeremy cursed as he dropped the screwdriver. “I swear, you’re going to be the death of me, buddy.”

He put pressure on the gushing stream of blood coming from his thumb muttering to himself about how dumb he was. Mangle’s ear flopped as they tilted their two heads in confusion.

“I’m okay, bud.” Jeremy tried to flash a smile, but the blood leaking down his wrist was too distracting. “Okay, I need to find a sink or something.”

Standing up made Jeremy dizzy, but he managed to get to a wall and lean against it as he made his way to the kitchen. “I could get fired for this, you know,” he remarked to the animatronic clinging to the ceiling above him as he walked. “We’re not supposed to tamper with the animatronics at all, and clearly, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The beeping and static overhead did not give any indication that they felt anything in regard to his response.

Jeremy stumbled. “Whoa, I think I need to sit down for a second…” He slid down the wall as black spots danced across his vision.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before a heavy weight dropped into his lap and cold plastic pressed against the side of his face. “Augh! I’m okay, Mango! I’m fine!” Jeremy batted at the white plastic with both hands, smearing blood across their face.

“I, uh. I need to get up, bud.”

The mangled (and now bloody) fox animatronic tilted their two heads yet again, seeming to be unable to understand what Jeremy wanted.

“Can you…?” Jeremy tried to shift his weight beneath the pile of metal in his lap.

Mangle’s ears lifted, and they crept onto the floor, offering a paw to help Jeremy get up.

“Um, thanks buddy.” Jeremy still wasn’t sure why the animatronic was so fond of him, but he’d found himself returning the favor whenever possible. The company had long given up on repairing Mangle, but Jeremy wanted to help them look nice. Just like Ramona and Becky for me, he thought to himself.

Shaking away the fondness from the memory, Jeremy let his weight shift onto the animatronic. Static buzzed loudly out of Mangle’s voicebox, but they hardly bent under his weight. Jeremy decided that washing out the wound could wait until he was home. For now, he needed to clean up the mess he’d made in the pizzeria.

The wrapped bandage itched. Jeremy had wrapped a ton of gauze around his hand and refused to explain to anybody what had happened. At least, not in any detail.

Ramona had glanced at it with suspicion the last time they talked, but she never liked to pry. She told him that if he changed his bandage at her apartment, he wasn’t allowed to get blood everywhere. “It will stain the countertops,” Ramona said matter-of-factly.

So Jeremy had gotten away with no one saying anything. But the longer he left it, the more it itched and burned. He flicked through the cameras without really thinking about it, hardly remembering to wind the music box on time.

His hand burned, and when Jeremy got home from his shift, he ripped it free and turned the spigot on, running cold water over his scabby and swollen skin. Jeremy knew he probably should’ve gone to an actual doctor about his injury, but he figured that stitches couldn’t be too hard, and it seemed like the skin itself was healing fine.

Maybe he got an infection from the cut though. Jeremy wasn’t very good at remembering the medical advice Becky gave him, much less how to clean a cut properly. But the skin itself looked fine. There was something shimmery beneath it, which Jeremy could almost ignore if it didn’t make his skin burn so badly.

Jeremy’s dog whined at his feet, impatient for his morning meal. “Just a minute, Percy.” Jeremy tore the thread out of his injury, glad that the skin had started to seal itself back together.

He carefully rewrapped the injury, glad that the itching had gone away a little bit, at least. Jeremy kicked his shoes off and loosened his tie as he went over to fill Percy’s food bowl and check on the water level. “Doing good there, bud? I need a nap first, but I’ll walk you in a bit.”

Jeremy yawned, scratching at his head to loosen the pressure after he removed his ponytail. “Just… one… a quick nap…”

He stumbled forward, faceplanting into the floor as consciousness slipped away. Percy whined, nudging at his face and licking it as his spine started to bend and elongate, fur sprouting from his hands and curled claws burst from his fingertips.

Percy growled at the intrusion of the new characteristics, but he stuck by Jeremy’s side as his eyes rolled back and his ears melded back into the sides of his head to make room for longer, fluffier ears more equipped for a rabbit. And that was what Jeremy’s body was shifting into. He was growing larger, his clothes no longer enough to hold the mass of his entire body.

Jeremy’s claws lashed out at Percy, tearing the fur and skin of his dog. Percy whimpered, backing away to get out of his space as his nose wrinkled and twitched rapidly, taking in the surroundings in a new way. His ears folded back as a deeper growl vibrated in his throat.

Percy scurried away, not quickly enough as Jeremy bounded forward and sank his teeth into the poor dog’s back. Percy barked, a frightened noise as he tried to squirm free from Jeremy’s mouth. Jeremy gnawed for a few moments before releasing the dog, blood dripping down his fur.

Percy escaped and rushed into Jeremy’s bedroom, hiding under his owner’s blankets as he trembled.

Jeremy’s nose twitched again, nosing against his front door. Offended by the obstacle in his way, Jeremy’s claws dug deep into the hardwood, scratching a jagged hole in the floor and part of the door.

When Jeremy finally came to, his clothes were tattered and hanging off his body, and his mouth was full of blood. Dazed, he got to his feet and immediately winced as splinters dug into his bare skin. What happened? He blinked at his surroundings, startled to see claw marks in the furniture and the floor. Blood smeared across the floor by the couch, which was presumably where he’d taken his nap…

Had he ever laid down for the nap? Jeremy couldn’t recall, trying to remember and think about what could’ve possibly happened while he was asleep. He spat the blood out of his mouth, wiping at his mouth, only to realize that there was blood under his fingernails and all over his hands.

“Percy?” he called out tentatively, hating how gravelly his voice came out.

Surely nothing had happened to his dog, right? Jeremy cautiously stepped across the floor as he searched for his dog. The clumps of fur were not a promising sight as he looked around his house.

“Percy?” Jeremy tried to call out again, but his voice failed him.

He felt very ill, flicking the light on in his bathroom to stare at his very pale, bloodied face. Nothing ached or hurt, but he was absolutely covered in blood.

Jeremy splashed his face with water, scrubbing at the blood staining his face and hands, desperate to get the sight out of his head. Pieces of his uniform slid down his arms into the water of the sink.

What had even happened?

The shower afterward was completely necessary, and Jeremy felt feverish from everything that had happened. His memory was beginning to return, although he did not feel that he’d been in control for most of it, feeling defensive enough to lash out at Percy, who’d only been trying to help.

The bloodstained lump on his bed was something he pointedly made himself ignore when grabbing underwear and socks. He needed more time before he could try to deal with that.

Tears built up in his throat as he grabbed his spare uniform from the shelf by the door and made sure it was fully intact for his shift that night. At least there was something that hadn’t completely gone wrong.

I need a cup of coffee or something, Jeremy thought to himself, shuddering. But he did not feel comfortable enough to do much in his own home, not with reminders of his outburst everywhere.

He avoided his apartment for the better part of a week after that, knowing that it wasn’t healthy to cope by avoiding what happened, but he just couldn’t go back, knowing what he’d done to Percy.

By Wednesday’s shift, Jeremy was properly jittery as he clocked in for work and walked down to the office. The music box was fully wound, as Scott sat in the chair, patiently waiting for him with a friendly smile. “Hiya Jeremy!”

“You sticking around today?” Jeremy asked? He knew about Scott’s tendency to kind of just come in during shifts and stick around. Phil said it was because his own work was boring, and besides, Scott loved being helpful, despite being 7 years old.

“Yep! I’ll keep that nasty balloon boy away!” Scott chirped cheerfully.

“Well, that’s fantastic, buddy. Thanks for that.” Jeremy squatted down to squint at the camera screens, his typical habit to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be.

“Is your hand all better now?” Scott asked.

“Huh?” Jeremy glanced up from the cameras, momentarily distracted.

“Well, Dad said you’d done something to your hand, and we could all see the bandages you’d put over it. ‘Course, he said it was none of our business since you didn’t file any paperwork for it, but-“

“You just can’t keep your nose out of it, can you?” Jeremy shook his head, flipping through the cameras again to make sure the toys were in their places.

The familiar sound of Mangle creeping around in the vents was not as reassuring as it used to be. And Mangle didn’t really like the other employees either. Jeremy had no idea if Scott and Mangle got along even.

“Get your mask ready,” Jeremy said quietly, checking the vent light. Sure enough, Mangle peered into the room from the vent as he shoved the Freddy head over Scott’s head.

“I can do it myself!” Scott exclaimed, his voice muffled by the fabric. “Wait, where’s your mask?”

Jeremy crouched by the vent and reached a hand out to touch the cool plastic of Mangle’s mask. The animatronic fox let out a series of happy clicks, nudging harder into his hand before ducking away to presumably wander around the pizzeria some more.

“How did you not die?” Scott asked, tearing the Freddy head off to drop it back on the corner of the desk. He flipped through the cameras while waiting for an answer, stopping to wind the music box.

“Mangle likes me,” Jeremy shrugged, peering at the cameras over Scott’s head. “Looks like a quiet shift today.”

“Yeah, if Mangle counts as a quiet shift,” Scott muttered, dropping the monitor back to the desk. “I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?” Jeremy replied.

“You night guards are so weird. My dad got all affectionate about Foxy, even though he had to pull out the stun gun for him. Masks don’t work on all of them, and my dad had to have all the affection for the one most likely to kill him.” Scott eyed Jeremy wearily. “Kind of like you, actually.”

“Thanks. Maybe Foxy wouldn’t have killed your dad, you know.” Jeremy glanced at the stage camera again. Toy Bonnie was noticeably absent, but there was nothing to worry about yet.

“He would’ve. He tried constantly.” Scott ducked under the desk, and Jeremy heard faint mechanical laughter before a loud clanging noise. Balloon Boy sprinted out of the room with one of the masks in his hand.

“Aw, you gotta be kidding,” Jeremy sighed as Scott stared after the animatronic. “If anything comes in here, you get the mask.”

“But it’s-“

“I’m the night guard, buddy.” Jeremy shook his head, flipping through the cameras. There. Toy Bonnie had slipped into a party room. “I gotta keep you safe, first and foremost.”

“They would never hurt a kid,” Scott muttered, staring into the hallway, hands clenched tightly around his flashlight.

“Don’t even think about going after him, Scott.” Jeremy wound the music box, not sparing a glance at the kid. “There’s too many factors out there, and you know exactly what Phil would say.”

“Yeah yeah.” Scott scowled. “He’s never taken a mask before.”

“First time for everything,” Jeremy sighed, rubbing his eyes. He’d been feeling more exhausted lately, but that was from nightmares. He really needed to get better sleep.

“Bonnie,” Scott whispered, dropping the flashlight to reach for the mask. His hands trembled, and Jeremy was reminded that Scott was still a little kid.

He heard the sound of Toy Bonnie crawling out of the vent, but instead of reaching for Jeremy, Toy Bonnie went for Scott, who hadn’t finished putting the mask on.

“Wait, hang on-“ Jeremy whacked the animatronic’s arm with the camera monitor in his hands. The animatronic didn’t spare him a glance as it pulled Scott across the desk by his shirt. “Leave him alone! Hey!” Jeremy’s yelling turned into a growl as his shirt ripped to allow room for him to grow larger and larger.

The animatronic rabbit twitched backward, seemingly surprised and maybe even a little afraid. However, Jeremy’s transformation did not seem to make Toy Bonnie more inclined to let Scott go. If anything, Toy Bonnie pulled the kid closer as he backed away from the desk.

Jeremy’s own ears flattened against his head as he vaulted over the desk to pry Scott free from the animatronic’s grasp. The sound of ripping fabric didn’t deter the giant golden rabbit. His focus fixed on what he saw as a danger, and his teeth broke through the cheap plastic easily, puncturing fluid containers and severing wires.

Toy Bonnie’s screech echoed, even as it abruptly cut off by Jeremy destroying the voicebox. Black shimmering liquid dripped down Jeremy’s maw as he stalked forward, whiskers twitching as he sensed more animatronics beginning to stir.

Scott got to his feet wearily, tugging his torn shirt back to its place. He silently pressed himself against the wall behind him, knowing better than to make any sudden moves as he placed the Bonnie head on the floor. It would do him no good to appear as a threat.

Scott’s decision to not look like the old purple rabbit seemed to prove right as an animatronic with torn fabric arms and exposed wires stalked his way into the hallway to investigate. His ears seemed to move much easier than Toy Bonnie’s as they swiveled to express fear, even without a proper face to do so.

Jeremy did not seem to recognize the distinction, growling at the new opponent in his space. Bonnie’s head tilted to the side before he turned to race down the hallway with heavy echoing steps. Jeremy bounded after him, much faster as his limbs were more natural, taking on extra power after Jeremy’s transition into a larger, more predatory form.

Bonnie spared no time in his own fearful screech, something that was answered with a deep, ominous growl. Scott, somehow still unafraid, followed the fighting rabbits to investigate.

The giant golden rabbit towered over the animatronic standing in his way, a similarly colored animatronic bear with no pupils. The bear’s ears wiggled as it set in place, a firm grip around Jeremy’s wrist to stop him from striking out with claws.

A pressure built up in the back of Scott’s head as images and unspoken words forced their way into his head. Based on the way the giant bunny was twitching and shaking his head, it appeared he wasn’t the only one. The angry bunny let out an outraged whine as he was tossed against a wall with seemingly no effort. The unspoken command lingered in the air as the rabbit dug into the tiles to launch himself toward the exit door.

The golden bear turned to Scott, who’d finally gained the sense of mind to realize that maybe the animatronic would turn on him. He gasped out a frightened breath before the barely tangible forms of two children roughly his age appeared in front of him. The girl tried to give him a reassuring smile as the boy stared down the hallway where the rabbit had disappeared. He picked up the night guard hat with what appeared to be disinterest, before crushing it into a tight ball.

“Bad rabbit,” he said softly.

The girl nodded. “We’ll keep you safe until 6 a.m., okay?”

Scott brightened at that. Nothing could hurt him now, especially with the animatronics seeming to avoid the back area he’d ended up in. Bonnie peered at him with red LEDs before slowly making his way back into the corridor, presumably to continue nosing around like the rabbit he was.

Ramona hated to be this nosy. She did. Really. But when Jeremy wasn’t around and missed their weekly coffee, she had the right to be suspicious. Especially after that pizzeria started asking for more help again. Night shift position. That was what Jeremy’s job was. Which meant the first step was seeing if he’d quit.

“Jeremy!” Ramona called, knocking harshly at his door.

When she got no answer, she started peering in the windows, looking for some indication that something had happened. The curtains were drawn, though, so she couldn’t see into the house. He’s lucky I keep a spare key, Ramona thought to herself as she let herself into the house.

“Jeremy?” Ramona called into the house, trying not to gasp at the ripped-up floorboards and tattered furniture. “Jer, are you home?”

Stepping over the destroyed floorboards, she peered at the bloodstained carpet, feeling a flicker of concern. “Jeremy?” She knew her voice was getting louder as she became more afraid of what had happened to her brother.

A whimper from Jeremy’s bedroom made her whirl around and rush to the room. “Percy?”

Jeremy’s dog had nestled underneath his blanket, soaking them so thoroughly with blood. It was Percy’s blood, she thought to herself, approaching her brother’s injured dog cautiously. “Hey, Percy. It’s okay. It’s me, remember? Auntie Mona?”

Percy whined again, blinking through the blood on his face.

“Alright,” Ramona took a deep breath. “Perce, how do you feel about coming to stay with me for a while? Looks like you might need it pretty badly.”

This was decidedly not a good sign.

It had to be raining every day this week, didn’t it? Michael glowered at the clouds, hating every moment of the weather that made his skin itch and burn. He couldn’t go outside, not for anything.

It was lucky Michael could even bear a shower anymore.

The bills on his table protested his refusal to go outside, of course. He’d already been fired from two jobs for refusing to work on days when it rained. He’d lost a few more interview opportunities for cancelling last minute because of the rain.

Mike’s eyes drifted back to the newspaper advertisement. Much as he hated to admit it, Freddy’s was probably the only job that would not care if he skipped a shift because of rain.

Still, he didn’t want to work at Freddy’s under any circumstances. Not after the… incident…

Michael ripped his gaze away from the newspaper, the memories already making him feel ill. The letter on the edge of his table sat untouched. He didn’t want to know what his father wanted either. He’d rather stand in a thunderstorm than see what his father needed from him this time.

That might be the only option, he thought duly, eyeing his overflowing trashcan. With a painful sigh, Michael yanked his raincoat from the rack and slung it across his shoulders. The hood pulled tight over his head, making his scalp burn. He retrieved his umbrella from behind the sofa (how had it gotten there?) before compacting the trash to make all of his garbage fit in the bag.

With only another moment of hesitation, Michael twisted the doorknob and stepped outside.

“Well, fancy that! Michael Schmidt out in the rain! I thought you were a witch or something with the way you avoided water!” Michael’s elderly neighbor called out, unphased by the rain like she always was.

“Good afternoon, Miss Wess,” Michael replied politely.

“I don’t know about good,” Miss Wess wrinkled her nose. “Poor Logan just can’t handle this type of weather. Kind of like you, actually.”

Michael forced a smile, glancing at the irritated cat at Mis Wess’ feet. His tail drooped as he glowered at the puddles on the sidewalk. “We can’t all be unbothered by the weather like you are, Miss Wess.”

“We’ve known each other long enough, dear. Call me Beverly.”

Michael didn’t reply after that, opting to walk toward the dumpster on the street corner, knowing she wouldn’t follow him.

“You know, a handsome man like you could find a woman easily! I’m sure she’d be more than happy to handle chores like going outside in the rain!” Miss Wess called cheerfully before heading back into her house for the sake of her poor cat.

Michael did not need a girlfriend. He did not want a girlfriend. He did not deserve to be loved, after all. That ship sailed a long time ago, he thought bitterly, shuddering as he felt his damp hair on his face.

The letter on the table mocked him as he threw his wet coat over a chair, water splashing on the surface of the paper. He ignored it, more concerned about tearing the damp shirt off his body, frantically rushing to grab a towel to dry his hair as well.

The shirt went in the sink as Michael sank to his knees sobbing into the towel. Maybe he should’ve just bit the bullet and opened the letter from his father, but now it was near impossible to even imagine it.

He glanced at the bills again with a pained groan later that night. He really needed to get a job.

It’s my own fault. I suppose Freddy’s would be the only place that would hire me at this point. With a very aggravated groan, Michael dialed the number on the newspaper clipping.

“Uh, hello? Hello, hello?” The voice at the other end seemed distracted and maybe even a little nervous. “You’ve, uh, reached Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. How may I help you today?”

“Hi, this is Michael. Urm. Michael Schmidt. I saw your ad in the newspaper? I was wondering if I could apply for the night guard position.”

“Oh, you were?” The guy chuckled a little. “Well, that, uh. That’d be great! When could you come in to interview?”

“Um…” Michael tried to think. “Do you know when the rain is supposed to stop?”

“Hmm, let’s see…” Michael heard some rustling noises as the guy on the other end of the phone presumably checked the forecast. “Well, it’s uh. It’s supposed to be done raining tomorrow afternoon. Will you be able to come in tomorrow?”

“Yes. Does three o’clock work?” Michael asked.

“Uh, sure! I’ll mark you down for three o’clock. I’ll also ask that you bring a copy of your resume, uh, a driver’s license or passport, and uh. No, that about covers it. You’ll be wanting to look for a guy called Lloyd. I’ll er, I’ll check to see that he’s in tomorrow, hang on.”

There were more rustling noises. “Yep! We’re in luck, he’ll be here. So you’ll want to come in and talk to Lloyd, and he’ll interview you for the job. Sound okay with you?”

“Yes, that sounds fine.” Michael found himself twisting the phone cord tightly around his finger. “I’ll see you tomorrow at three.”

“Nope! I actually don’t work that shift. But uh, I’ll see you some other time. If you get the job, that is.” He chuckled again. “I’ll uh, catch you on the flipside!”

“Goodbye-“ Michael started to say as the other man hung up on him. Weird.

Well, a job interview seemed promising enough. That was how it always sounded though. The trick was keeping the job, really.

Still, Michael had to at least keep this job through a paycheck or two. Maybe the rain would properly let up enough for him to keep the job long enough to pay off his bills.

The next morning, Michael woke up relieved to hear water dripping from the roof. There was no sound of rain pouring from the actual sky, just the leftovers from the day before. Slightly hopeful about how things were turning out, Michael went to brush his teeth and get prepared for the day.

“Someone’s energized today!” Miss Wess called when Michael went for a short walk that morning.

“No reason not to!” he called back. “The rain’s stopped.”

“You and Logan both seem pleased today.” Miss Wess shook her head, smiling slightly. “Michael dear, do you happen to have a bit of time this morning to come have a chat?”

“I suppose…” Michael considered it for a moment. “So long as it’s only during the morning, I think that’d be fine.”

“Great! Come right on in when you’re finished with your walk then.”

Odd… Michael shook his head, continuing his walk while he still felt the light joy in his chest.

When he got to Miss Wess’ house, she offered him a cup of tea. “Freshly brewed!”

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, nothing too crazy. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?” Miss Wess asked, sipping at her own cup of tea.

“No…?” Michael sat uncomfortably with his tea in hand. “Why?”

“Well, I’m going on a trip with my daughter next week, and I need someone to watch Logan here! He’d get so lonely without me here.”

Logan seemed disinclined to acknowledge Miss Wess’ words, instead choosing to jump onto Michael’s lap and startle him.

“Fancy that, he already likes you!” Miss Wess exclaimed as Logan put his front paws against Michael’s chest to sniff his face for a moment before licking it.

“Ah! I can see that.” Michael gently pushed Logan off of his lap. “So you want me to cat sit for you?”

“Only if you’re willing to. I can find someone else if you don’t want to, but I figured this would work out better! You live right next door, so all you’d need to do is come in and make sure he’s fed and has water. Oh, and you’ll need to walk him twice a day so he can stretch his legs properly. Logan loves to be outside.”

“Right…” Michael debated with himself for a moment before asking his next question. “How many days will you be gone?”

“Oh, from Sunday morning until Saturday morning. I should be back Saturday afternoon.” Miss Wess could clearly see that Michael was considering it. “And, it’s only fair that I pay you for your time, of course. I’d say $500 would cover the week, wouldn’t you?”

Michael blinked. That would more than easily cover his bills for the month. He’d have less to worry about with his new job if he already had the bills covered. “I suppose…”

“Or I could say $750?” Miss Wess offered.

“I don’t need that much,” Michael said quickly. “I can watch Logan for you. You said walk him twice a day?”

“Yes, and one of those times, I’d appreciate if you make sure his bowl is full.” Miss Wess seemed happier knowing that she’d sorted that out. “And if you’d like, I could introduce you to my daughter on Saturday when we get back.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary, Miss Wess.” Michael forced himself to take a sip of his tea in order to stop himself from scoffing at the stupid suggestion. She couldn’t possibly be trying to set him up with her daughter, surely?

“Alright, fine, fine. You’d like to take your own pick of the pack, that’s fine. But you will need to stop by anyway to return the key.” Miss Wess’ eyes twinkled as she finished up her tea.

Michael smiled thinly, feeling a bit hollow at the thought. He couldn’t bear to try to meet new people, to try to explain to them that he didn’t deserve their love, that he was a monster and a killer. “Thank you for the tea, Miss Wess.”

“I already told you to call me Beverly,” she scolded gently. “But you’re welcome here anytime, dear.”

Michael nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to say much else. “I need to go…”

“Oh, that’s fine dear. Have a good day!” Beverly Wess watched Michael hurry to leave her house. “Oh, that poor man. He needs someone to comfort him.”

“Mrow?” Logan meowed, putting his paws on her knees, preparing to jump up.

“Yes, Logan. He needs some love in his life. I don’t know what happened to leave such a dark shadow over him, but he’s too lonely for his own good.” Beverly sighed, shaking her head. “Too sad for his own good too.”

Michael left early for his interview, knowing that he needed to make a good impression. Sure, they probably were going to hire him just because he was interested in the job, but maybe he wasn’t the only one interested in the job.

Taking a deep breath, he walked into the pizzeria, feeling the familiar scent wash over him and the familiar site greeting him. The animatronics were different, but that was the only thing that seemed to have changed. What appeared to be a Freddy and Chica model were performing onstage, and he could make out a mangled torso of another animatronic in the corner, surrounded by toddlers. Is that even safe? he wondered.

Shaking his head, he asked an employee where he could find Lloyd. They gestured toward a corridor where the light seemed to flicker. That wasn’t ominous at all, Michael thought, but he entered the hallway wearily.

The music felt more muted in the hallway, and Michael could see party rooms lining the corridor. Party room 2, he thought to himself, reaching for the door handle.

“Hey, you here for the night guard job?” A woman interrupted his thoughts, grabbing his arm to stop him from entering the party room.

“Uh, yeah?” Michael blinked, surprised as the woman yanked him away from the door and pulled him a ways down the hallway. “Hey, what are you-“

“Shut up.” She seemed to assess him. “What’s your name?”

“Michael? Michael Schmidt?” Was this some kind of extra test? To make sure the night guard was up for the position? Michael’s eyebrows scrunched, and he pulled his arm free. “Who are you?”

“Ramona Fitzgerald,” she answered, still assessing him. “Hmm… your clothes are shabby, although you did brush your teeth for this…” She stuck her hand in his hair, yanking him to her level. “Greasy hair though… Are you unemployed right now?”

“Yes?” Michael tried to flatten his hair. “Why are you grilling me?”

“I’m the one asking the questions here, Schimdt.” She frowned at him.

“Well, you’re interrupting my interview time, so we can talk later-“

“Shut up. I’m not done with you yet.” Ramona’s eyes narrowed. “Are you British?”

“I- I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Michael replied defensively. “What is your deal?”

“What’s your deal?” she shot back at him. “Mister distinguished, showing up in a shabby button-down with greasy hair to a job interview.”

“It’s Freddy Fazbear’s. You probably care more than they do.”

“What if they put you on day shift?” she kept going, undeterred by the fact that he was giving her good answers.

“Miss Fitzgerald!” A voice from down the hall called. “I thought I told you to quit interrogating my interview subjects.”

“I’ll stop when I’m dead,” Ramona muttered. “Where’s my brother, Lloyd?”

“Your brother is missing?” Michael asked, suddenly completely interested. “What happened?”

“If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be here.” Ramona glowered at Lloyd. “Go to your stupid interview. I’ll be waiting.”

With that ominous message out of the way, Michael went back to where Lloyd was waiting for him.

“Sorry about her, Mister…?”

“Schimdt. Michael Schmidt.”

“Right. She’s been acting crazy since her brother went missing a few days ago. Seems to think we took him out to replace him.” Lloyd shook his head in disbelief. “Which is utterly ridiculous. Jeremy was an excellent night guard, and he got along with the animatronics better than most. None of that ‘the animatronics are haunted’ nonsense either. No, if we’d had a problem with Jeremy, we would’ve fired him.” Lloyd cleared his throat and started the interview.

Leaving the interview with more questions that he should not have wanted to investigate, Michael was given a pat on the back, a set of keys, and a uniform. Lloyd told him his next shift would be tomorrow night, starting at 12 a.m., which was shockingly early.

“You got the job then?” Ramona asked dryly, following him out.

“Were you standing outside for that entire interview?” Michael asked, somewhat glad that she’d actually stuck around. Maybe she’d have some of the answers he needed.

“Maybe.”

“When you said your brother went missing, I assumed that meant he was an younger brother,” Michael remarked.

“He-“ Ramona stopped herself. “He’s only a year older than me.”

“Yeah, but I thought he’d be like, five. Not twenty-two.”

“Details details,” Ramona replied dismissively. “I didn’t realize this got at you. Concerned about the kids, are you?”

“Someone should be,” Michael muttered.

“Then why aren’t you working a day shift?” Ramona asked.

“The position was for night shift. So I’m working night shift.”

“Yeah, but-“ Ramona paused, realizing that they were just continuing down the sidewalk. “Do you not even have a car?”

“No?” Michael blinked at her.

“Okay, no, we’re not doing this. Come here.”

“What-“

“I’m driving you home, this is ridiculous.”

“I don’t need-“

“GET IN THE CAR, MICHAEL.” Ramona’s tone left no room for negotiation.

“Yes ma’am,” Michael replied weakly.

He pointedly did not address the dog sleeping in the back seat of the car. The dog blinked sleepily as he got in, but Ramona cooed softly at him, telling him everything was fine and he could go back to sleep. The injuries on the dog’s face begged to be asked about, but Michael didn’t think he deserved the right to ask.

“So you wanted the night shift, or you’re just taking the night shift because that’s what they offered you?”

“I’m taking the night shift because I’d rather the night shift than the day shift. I’m not good with kids,” Michael replied stiffly. “Next question.”

“Why Freddy’s? Why now?”

“It’ll pay the bills.”

“Yeah, but why Freddy’s?”

“I’ve been in and out of jobs for a while…” Michael shifted uncomfortably.

“So you wouldn’t be able to get a job anywhere else.” Ramona spared him a glance as she drove. “You’re a mess, no offense.”

“I’m aware.” Michael stared out the window. “Why are you so determined to bug me about this stuff, by the way?”

“Because. You seem almost genuine, but I’m not entirely sure on your motives just yet.”

“Wow, thanks,” Michael said sarcastically, finally facing her. “I’m glad I’ve gotten to the stage of mostly unsuspicious in your books.”

“No need to be rude about it,” Ramona wrinkled her nose. “I just want to make sure my brother is okay.”

The dog in the back seat whined.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Percy. We’ll find him,” Ramona told the golden retriever.

“So, I’m guessing that’s your brother’s dog?” Michael asked wearily.

“He sure is. I went to Jer’s apartment to look for him first, but he wasn’t there. The whole place was trashed, and Percy looked like he’d been gnawed on by a big animal. Couldn’t find it anywhere though, so I have no idea what actually happened. So I went to ask Lloyd if he knew where my brother was and found him conducting interviews.”

“I figured I wasn’t the first interrogation,” Michael observed.

“You weren’t. The others wussed out and just left though.” Ramona shrugged, pulling into Michael’s driveway. “I guess I helped test the proper strength for that job. You know the place is haunted, right?”

“Those are just rumors,” Michael answered, digging for his keys in his pocket.

“Uh huh. No, with the chompers on the Toy Bonnie animatronic? For sure those things get out and attack people. I’d bet either he or one of the other freaks from that place attacked Percy. Which means they probably got my brother too.”

Ramona let Percy out of the car to follow them into the house, something Michael really wished she’d asked him for permission for first. But she seemed the type to just do whatever she wanted to, so he wasn’t too offended. It was honestly just as invasive as she’d been since he met her.

He swiped the bills and his untouched letter from his father off the table and put them away in a cupboard. Ramona raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious. “So, you think the animatronics attacked your brother?” he asked, hoping to distract from his rapid movement.

“Yeah… I think it’s kinda suspicious that Toy Bonnie was removed from the show. Apparently all three of them are typically onstage at the same time.”

“It did feel weird that Freddy was there without Bonnie today.” Michael shrugged, setting the bundle on the table. “But I don’t know that I believe that the animatronics are haunted.”

“How did they get into Jeremy’s house then?” Ramona countered. Percy seemed to agree with that as he paced around Michael’s kitchen.

“I don’t know! Burglars get into people’s houses all the time.”

“But they don’t chew on people’s pets.”

Michael’s mouth thinned. “Okay. Maybe the dog got hurt while they were on a walk or something and that’s why.”

“Jeremy would never mistreat his dog,” Ramona argued. “How dare you imply that.”

“I’m not implying anything!” Michael held his hands up in surrender.

“Mhm,” Ramona glowered at him. “Well, seeing as you seem invested in this, how about we team up? You help me find my brother, and I leave you alone with your questions answered. I get my brother back and you get to do your job in peace.”

“That doesn’t seem like an even trade-off,” Michael muttered.

“Oh, you want to play that game?” Ramona’s eyes flashed. “You really want to play that game with me, Michael Afton?”

Michael stiffened. “You-“

“I don’t know why you’re trying to lie about your legal name on job applications, but I bet they’d like to know that you’re not who you say you are. Especially since a ton of kids went missing a few years ago at this exact location.”

Michael’s mouth thinned. “You’re-“

“A bitch? Please, I’ve heard that from plenty of men before. You WILL help me, or your secret is out.”

They stared at each other, neither happy with the fact that they had to work together.

“Fine. What do you want from me?” Michael asked, resigned to this mess he’d gotten wrapped up in.

“Tell me about your night shifts. If anything weird happens, I want to know.”

“And if nothing weird happens? If there’s no sign of hauntings?”

Ramona rolled her eyes. “Well, you still have to help me find my brother. If it wasn’t the haunted animatronics, then it had to be something.”

Michael scowled. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

They stared at each other for another long moment before Ramona clicked her tongue and walked out, Percy following slowly behind her. He looked back at Michael and whined for a moment before hurrying after Ramona.

Michael rubbed his face. This was not going to be a pleasant experience, he could already feel it.

The week crawled by slowly. Michael got to a certain point where he just moved Logan’s food and water to his house and walked the cat after his shift each morning and then let the cat hang out and wander around his house. He’d stupidly bought a litterbox, but Miss Wess had paid him half before she’d left and was promising the second half after she got back, so it was fine.

Logan yawned, stretching across Michael’s torso.

“Oof!” Michael coiled in on himself as Logan launched himself off Michael’s stomach. “I thought I told you to quit that!” he scolded.

Logan just looked up at him before meowing.

“Nuisance,” Michael muttered. “I’ll feed you in a minute.”

Logan meowed at him again before slipping out of the room.

Sighing, Michael stretched before getting up. He’d given himself a few hours before his shift, just like he usually did, but most of his time came in the actual morning, which was when he’d typically call Ramona to give an update.

He glared at the stormy weather as he fed Logan, not happy that his shift was going to start with rain. He’d tried to get out of it, of course, but Phil, the guy who had the shift before him, had a child who’d gone to work with him. And Scott couldn’t stick around the pizzeria for a 12 hour shift, not when he had school in the morning.

So Michael had to go to work in the rain, something he hated much more than anything else he could imagine. He shoved his hat onto his head and double-checked his tie before giving Logan a thumbs up and walking out the door, his umbrella snapping open.

He’d long given up on being in a calm state of being before work, knowing that the animatronics were hunting him down (thanks for the late word of warning, Phil!) and wanted to kill him. There was no way he was going to be fine at the beginning of his shift.

Discarding the umbrella in the corner of the office, Michael took a deep breath, opening the cameras to wind the music box. Having the music playing loudly in his ears meant he did not hear the footsteps quickly approaching his room until his monitor was ripped from his hands by a golden hand.

Startled, Michael jerked back from the animatronic bear with a stuttered gasp. The combination of the water soaking through his clothes and into his skin and the very angry Fredbear standing before him was altogether too much.

Warmth seeped down his leg, making Michael dimly register that he’d wet himself. The animatronic didn’t leave him much chance to think about it though, as he was hefted out of his chair by his throat, leaving his feet scrambling for purchase on the table’s surface.

He choked out a breath as his hat tumbled from his hair and clattered to the desk, right next to the cracked camera screen. Feebly, he thought this is it, certain that he was finally earning his death for what he’d done to his brother four years ago.

Hot breath left Michael suffocating as the animatronic growled softly in his ear. “We’re taking back what we deserve.”

Michael closed his eyes, knowing that he deserved whatever the animatronic decided to do with him.

“Wait,” a soft voice echoed in his mind. “He’s not doing what he’s supposed to do. Why isn’t he begging?”

“He doesn’t have to beg. He just needs to die. We need to make sure it never happens again,” another voice argued. Her voice sounded harsher, more firm. “No more golden bunnies to hunt us. No more monsters to hurt or kill.”

Michael recognized one of the voices as his brother, but he couldn’t place the other. Weakly, he gasped out, “I don’t deserve to live anyway. Why would I beg?”

“Something’s wrong,” Evan whispered softly.

The tight grip around Michael’s throat loosened slightly.

The girl groaned, but she muttered something to herself before the animatronic completely let go of Michael. Pain flared up his whole leg as he collapsed back to the floor.

He groaned weakly, looking up to see two small children standing over him. Evan, he thought in a daze, trying to sit up. Michael wrapped his arms around his knees and leaned back against the desk, waiting for one of them to say something.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded.

“Michael.” He stared at her. “Who are you?”

“Unbelievable,” she scoffed. “Right. You made this mess, you clean it up.”

“Michael?” Evan echoed quietly, not seeming to hear the girl. “But… Michael’s dead…”

“No?” Michael’s eyebrows creased. “No, Evan, you were the one who died.”

“I know I’m dead!” Evan snapped. “Obviously! But I thought-“ He shook his head. “I guess I was wrong…” He reached out a hand tentatively, touching the side of Michael’s face. “You’re alive,” he said with wonder in his voice.

“Evan, you’re going to have to explain.” The girl crossed her arms. “I thought you said this was our killer.”

“I- Well, they look similar…” Evan looked sheepishly at the girl. “Sorry Cassidy.”

“Sorry Cassidy,” she repeated shaking her head. “Next time you get me all stirred up for something, it better be a golden rabbit, Afton.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Evan tried to smile, but the girl had already vanished, just like the animatronic.

Faintly Michael realized he’d have to tell Ramona about all this. I guess she was right about the pizzeria being haunted, he thought grimly. “You weren’t entirely wrong, at least,” Michael told his brother. “I did kill you-“

“No.” Evan shook his head firmly. “It was an accident. You said you’d be better if I woke up. And I tried so hard, Mikey. I tried so hard. I almost succeeded.”

Michael’s throat dried up. “But you still died. And it was my fault-“

“Michael.” Evan interrupted him. “You did not kill me. You didn’t do it.”

“But-“

“Can you let me speak for two seconds?” Evan shook his head again, this time with a huff of impatience. “Father killed me. He took me off life support.”

“But… why would he… No, that can’t be-“

“I saw him do it,” Evan said faintly. “I heard him grumbling about how this whole mess was your fault, and it wouldn’t go away unless he handled it himself. He killed me, and I thought that meant he was going to kill you too.”

Michael slowly got to his feet, still a bit unsteady. “That’s crazy.”

“He killed a bunch of other kids. I thought it seemed plausible enough. He hates you, Mikey.”

“Great.” Michael huffed out a frustrated breath. “I… So, you don’t blame me?”

“I mean, you didn’t mean it, right? You didn’t try to kill me?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why would I blame you?” Evan inquired, perching on the corner of Michael’s desk as he wound the music box.

“Because it was my fault?”

“It was an accident,” Evan insisted. “And you apologized over and over again, which is more than I can say for Father.”

“I don’t think you should forgive me.”

“That’s because you don’t forgive yourself.” Evan peered at the cameras. “Toy Freddy’s coming.”

“I know.” Michael shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “Are you trying to do my job for me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Evan scoffed, a smile forming on his own face. “You’d get yourself killed if I wasn’t here!”

“I was doing just fine until you tried to kill me!” Michael shot back.

“Liar, you wet yourself!” Evan jeered.

“No comment. Just let me do my job in piece, you crazy ghost.”

“No more crazy than you are for working a night shift here,” Evan muttered.

A thought suddenly occurred to Michael as he sat with his brother. The phrasing made him think of something Ramona said to him when they’d met. “Evan, did you know a guy named Jeremy Fitzgerald? He used to work the nightshift here before I did.”

“Yeah, he was friends with some of the animatronics, why?” Evan’s smile faded slightly.

“What happened to him?”

“I…” Evan hesitated. “I think he’s dead, Mike.”

“Dead? Why do you think he’s dead?”

“We had a break-in that night. And he was wearing a bunny costume. He dismantled Toy Bonnie, tried to kidnap a kid, and…” Evan paused. “Well, he took Jeremy’s hat. So I don’t think he stood a chance against that guy.”

“What got rid of the robber?” Michael asked, shoving the Freddy head over his ears as Toy Freddy strolled into the office.

Evan made a shooing motion, and the animatronic went away. “Cassidy scared him off, I think.”

“Fair enough.”

Their conversation mellowed out and turned into a continuing series of bickering back and forth, Michael narrowly missing death several times. The animatronics seemed unamused by the brotherly banter, but Michael didn’t care. Evan had never seemed this happy in life, and he was glad to have a chance to see him again, even if it was as a ghost.

Michael found himself humming cheerily as he walked home that morning, swinging the compacted umbrella around his wrist. The rain still made a trail down his back, but for once, he didn’t feel the thick blood gushing over his head and onto his shirt.

Logan meowed impatiently at him as he returned home. Michael rolled his eyes, hanging his hat by the door. “You’re so needy.”

Logan meowed again in response, uncaring of what Michael thought of him. Michael rubbed his face, and Logan leaned into the scratches. He smiled faintly at the cat. “Okay, okay, fine. You deserve food.”

Logan meowed reproachfully as Michael took his hand away to get his food ready. Logan jumped onto the counter, and Michael had to shove his face away. “Give me some space, you ridiculous cat.”

“Meow,” Logan replied, licking his hand as he waited very impatiently for his food.

Michael set the food back on the floor and walked away to go take a shower. I’ll walk him after, Michael thought to himself. He needed to change his clothes anyway, not to mention he needed to run his uniform through the wash.

Completely cleaned off with his clothes in the wash, Michael coaxed Logan over for his walk. Logan was not happy to go out into the rain. “Come on, buddy. Just one quick lap and then we can come back inside.”

Logan yowled at him in response, flattening himself against the house.

“Logan,” Michael said, tugging the harness gently. “We gotta do this really quick, and then you can go back inside-“

Logan wiggled free from his collar somehow, shooting across the street and in between some of the houses. Michael cursed, racing after him and stumbled as he went through the tall wet grass. “Logan!”

He lost track of the cat briefly before spotting him near a dumpster. “Logan, I swear-“ Michael cut himself off as a rustling noise came from within the dumpster.

Logan stiffened as well, flattening himself against the ground as he sniffed the air. Michael faintly heard growling and wondered if they’d run into a stray dog or something. The top of the dumpster stirred as golden fur peaked through, and for a brief moment Michael wondered if it was Percy, somehow having escaped Ramona to dig around in the trash.

The next moment changed his mind as giant clawed paws gripped the edge of the dumpster, and the head of the massive golden rabbit was visible. Huge ears flattened against the rabbit’s head as the rain started to soak into its fur.

“Logan, get back here, right now,” Michael whisper shouted to the cat at the base of the dumpster.

The cat replied by slipping underneath the dumpster, somewhere where the rabbit couldn’t get him.

“Um…” Michael trailed off as the rabbit’s eyes zeroed in on him. “Hi?”

The rabbit’s nose twitched slightly, and its head tilted slightly, almost human in its motions.

“You seem… lost?” Michael said, still uncertain about what he was saying. Somehow he hadn’t been eaten yet, and that was lucky in of itself.

The rabbit crept out of the dumpster, definitely towering over Michael. It came close, sniffing him. Michael had no idea how wild rabbits behaved, but suddenly he remembered what his brother had said about a rabbit in the pizzeria. Right. That had happened. Was it this rabbit maybe?

He stared at the chipped paint under the rabbit’s claws, wondering about the light blue coloring. And there was black inky stuff leaking down the rabbit’s mouth and across its chest a little bit.

Tentatively, Michael reached out a hand and stroked the rabbit’s nose. The nose twitched again before it butted aggressively against his hand, almost petting itself using his hand. Oh… it was just a stray bunny. A really big stray rabbit, but a sweet creature nonetheless.

Logan reappeared suddenly, meowing up at the rabbit. The bunny paid him no mind, too busy nuzzling against Michael’s hand to care much about the black cat. Logan meowed again, sounding more irritated.

“Right. Yeah, we gotta get back…” Michael stared forlornly up at the rabbit, a coil of fondness already tangling around him. “Do you… want to go with us?” He retracted his hand slowly, and a small squeak escaped the rabbit’s throat.

“Uh…” Michael picked up Logan, feeling his wet fur soaking through his shirt. “Follow me, I guess?”

The rabbit trailed behind him as he walked back, and Michael felt odd knowing that it had decided to trust him, but he’d already decided he didn’t care. If Logan wasn’t hissing at it, then it was probably fine… right?

Back home, Logan resumed eating, paying no more attention to the bunny who’d barely squeezed through the front door. Michael went to retrieve more towels, quickly returning to start cleaning what he assumed was motor oil from the rabbit’s face and then helping to dry it.

The rabbit nuzzled against his face, seeming happy with the results. Michael knew the fondness in his chest was not going to go away any time soon. He sighed to himself. How was he going to explain this to Ramona?

He’d presumably found the thing that had made her brother go missing, but he’d adopted it into his home, and it seemed harmless so far. In fact, it seemed to love him.

Teeth scraped against his neck, and Michael blinked. “Hey, no biting.”

The bunny tilted its head, jaw twitching slightly. Oh. It needed a chew toy. Glad he’d caught that before it turned deadly, Michael offered one of the dry towels up, bunching it up slightly to make it more firm.

The bunny gnawed at the towel, shredding bits of it off.

“You’re going to make me invest in chew toys, aren’t you?” Michael shook his head with a sigh. He yawned, unable to keep it in as he rubbed the rabbit’s belly.

His body swayed forward, and the fur was so soft, and Michael couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Faintly, he registered the pause in the rabbit’s chewing as giant paws scooped him up to nestle him closer. Michael sighed as he was surrounded by fluffy warmth and couldn’t stop himself from falling asleep any longer.

The sound of a phone ringing jolted Jeremy from his sleep. It was loud, piercing through his head like a hammer. He buried his face in the other man’s shirt before registering what he was doing. Wait, what?

Jeremy sat up quickly, looking around. He was… on the floor. Okay. There was a man beside him, and they were both surrounded by towels. One of the towels looked awfully ratty, and Jeremy found himself wincing as he spat out a piece of fuzz. Right. Apparently, that had happened.

The next realization was that he was completely naked. Oh. Okay. Uhhhh… Panicked, Jeremy scanned the room looked for a bedroom of some kind. A door creaked, and Jeremy flinched, expecting someone else to be in the apartment. Instead his eyes landed on a small black cat. The cat blinked at him, tail rising as it went to go lick the other man’s face.

“Wait, don’t do that!” Jeremy whispered loudly. Panicked, he grabbed the cat who squirmed and meowed in his face. “Shhhhh!”

The man on the floor shifted slightly, muttering something in his sleep. Jeremy went rigid, the cat dangling in his arms as the man sighed deeply and relaxed again.

Jeremy looked at the cat again. “Do you know where the bedroom is?”

The cat meowed in irritation, squirming some more before swiping its claws across Jeremy’s arm.

“Ah! Fuck!” Jeremy swore loudly, dropping the cat with a heavy thud. “Shit,” he whispered as the guy beside him finally rolled over and opened his eyes. Jeremy grabbed a towel and covered the other man’s face.

“What the hell-“ The man tried to pull the towel away and caught Jeremy’s wrist. “Who the fuck-“

“Uhh, can you give me a second, please? I don’t know how I got here or anything, but I’d really appreciate a moment of privacy.” Jeremy blurted out, his face burning over the brief second he’d heard the other man speak. Shit, why’d he have to sound attractive too?

“Pardon?”

“I, uh. I appear to have no clothes. Like, at all. So, unless you want to see that, I would love if you gave me a second.”

“Where are you expecting to get clothes from then?” the other man replied seemingly fully awake now. “Just cover up with towels or something. I’m sure there’s a bloody pile of them on the floor right now. I’ll get you some clothes.”

“Ah, I guess that’s… yeah, okay…”

Jeremy relaxed his grip on the towel, quickly burying himself in the rest of the towels around him before giving the man the go ahead to uncover his eyes.

Bright blue eyes blinked wearily at him, taking in his long golden hair and trailed down his torso. “Hey…”

“Right, clothes, sorry.” He shook his head and got to his feet. “I had to see if you were my size, but sorry.”

Well, that was an excuse if Jeremy had ever heard one. Still, he’d let it pass because he was still gawking at the man as he walked away, entering the room that the cat had come from.

Jeremy wanted to scream. Of all places to randomly wake up after a few nights of being trapped as a monster, a hot guy’s house was not where he was expecting to wake up. And why had they been asleep together? Did the guy have a fetish or something? Oh god, he really hoped not. It’d be a shame if this attractive guy was some kind of creep or something. Jeremy both hated and loved the implications, but the cat didn’t seem to be staring at him too judgmentally, so surely nothing had really been happening.

“Here. I think these should fit, but I’ll give you a second.” The man was interrupted by the phone ringing again. “Uh, bathroom’s that way.” He gestured vaguely before going to answer the phone. “Shit, what do you want Ramona?”

After the initial daze of being handed a bunch of clothes, Jeremy froze at the name. “Ramona Fitzgerald?”

The other man shot him a look before returning to his phone call. “Yeah yeah, you nosy bitch. I do have things to report. Can you give me like, ten minutes? I’ll call you back.” The man pinched his nose and hung up the phone. “Okay, pretty boy. Who are you and how the hell did you get into my house? And why do you know Ramona Fitzgerald?”

“Um. That’s… Well…”

Blue eyes leveled an impatient look at him, and the man slowly approached him. “Well?”

“I’m uh. Ramona’s my sister…” Jeremy scratched his neck. “I.. I’m.. Well, my name is… I’m Jeremy Fitzgerald.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” The man stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Well-“

“No, no, just stop talking. Stop for a second.” A hand covered Jeremy’s mouth. “You’re really going to sit here and say that you’re Jeremy Fitzgerald after everything I’ve had to tolerate because of your sister? Do you have any idea how worried she is about you?”

Jeremy blinked. He couldn’t bring himself to move away from the hand covering his mouth.

“God, you would be a bloody idiot, wouldn’t you.” The man sighed. “Go get dressed. We can finish this conversation later.”

The cat meowed at that moment, too impatient to wait much longer.

“Yeah, I’ll get you some food, Logan, you fucking glutton.”

The cat shot him a look, meowing again.

“I’m getting to it!” The man stood up, clearly exasperated. “If you sit in my kitchen all morning instead of getting dressed, I will kick you out, with or without answers.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Jeremy scrambled to his feet, still nervous about the man turning around again. He hesitated for a moment before bolting to the bathroom to try on the clothes.

His first impulse was to sink his fingers into the shirt, surprised by the soft, worn material. He had so many questions that were not appropriate to ask, so he pulled the shirt over his head before staring awkwardly at the boxers and pants. Shaking the thoughts free from his head, he hurriedly pulled on the rest of the clothes and exited the bathroom to see the other man nursing a cup of… coffee? Tea? Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure.

“Uh, hi again,” Jeremy said awkwardly.

The man raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to just stand there?”

“I was planning on it, yeah.”

“Sit.”

“Okay…” Jeremy perched tensely on the edge of a chair.

The man stared at him for a moment before muttering something to himself. “Jesus, can you calm down enough to be normal?”

“I… I mean, I really shouldn’t be here. I appreciate all the help and everything, but I don’t think me sticking around is a good idea-“

“Shut up for a minute, would you? Ramona is going to be here in 20 minutes. We’ll see if she thinks you are who you say you are.”

“Oh.” Jeremy stared down at the table, afraid of more questions.

“So. I’m Michael.” The man took a sip from his mug of whatever he’d been drinking.

“Okay.” That was a lovely name, Jeremy thought. It suited him too, and Jeremy couldn’t help but sweep his gaze across the man’s tired face and tangled brown hair. “You seem a bit exhausted there, Mike.”

“Michael,” he corrected, frowning slightly.

“Right. Sorry. You seem tired, Michael.”

“What did you do with the rabbit?” Michael said suddenly. “There was a rabbit here before.”

“Uh…” Jeremy pointedly looked away. “I think that should be a bit more obvious.”

“Evan said you were probably dead. The rabbit supposedly killed you.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it,” Jeremy answered bitterly. Flashes of the last few nights flickered across his mind. The cat seemed more afraid than Michael did. The soft gaze from his memories nearly made Jeremy melt. He wanted to find a way to earn that gaze again. Of all the times to have appeared as a rabbit.

Michael stared at him, seemingly waiting for him to say more. A knock at the door made him curse, and he got up to answer the door. “Fucking Ramona.”

Jeremy wanted to smile at the way Michael’s accent made his curse words sound. But he had a feeling that wouldn’t be appropriate.

“Let me see him,” the familiar demanding tone of his sister’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“Mona?” Jeremy blurted out.

“Jerry?” Ramona shoved past Michael to walk into the room. “Oh, you’re okay!” She yanked him out of his chair and squeezed him in a tight hug.

“That’s my end of the deal upheld,” Michael said stiffly, closing the door.

Logan hissed, shooting between Michael’s legs to hide behind the man.

“You can get out of my house now,” he added, crossing his arms. “Ramona.”

“Oh, go to hell, Michael. I just found out that my brother is alive and unharmed, give me a minute to process before you be an ass.”

“Fucking hell,” Michael muttered, walking past them to enter the bathroom.

Jeremy tried to sputter out an apology, but Ramona was squeezing him so tightly he could barely squeak out a breath. “Mona, please let me breath.”

“Sorry.” Ramona released him from the hug, still holding both shoulders. “You’re okay? Nothing broken? Nothing bruised?”

“I’m just a bit hungry.”

Ramona’s eyes flashed at that. “You didn’t feed him?” she shouted at Michael.

“I haven’t bloody well eaten yet! Leave me alone woman!”

“It’s not Michael’s fault. Ramona, please calm down for a second.”

“His father’s a killer, Jeremy. The apple doesn’t tend to fall too far from the tree,” Ramona said quietly.

“Well, he was plenty nice to me. I think you just put him in a bad mood,” Jeremy said sheepishly.

“These aren’t your clothes,” Ramona noticed suddenly. “Oh, Jer, tell me you didn’t…”

“What?” Jeremy blinked, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation. “Ramona, are you feeling okay?”

“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with Michael.”

Jeremy’s mouth fell open. He had no idea how to answer that question. “Ramona.”

“Did you or did you not?”

“I did not have sex with Michael!” Jeremy said a bit too loudly.

Michael scowled at the pair of them, holding his hand up in a rude gesture. “Get the hell out of my house.”

“Fuck you too,” Ramona shot back. “Come on, Jeremy. Let’s go.”

“What- Wait, Ramona, can’t you at least-“

“We’re leaving.”

Jeremy tried to shoot an apologetic look to Michael, but the man had already turned away to resume brushing his teeth. Great. So much for first impressions.

“You’re mean, you know that?” Jeremy said irritably as he dropped into the passenger seat.

[flippinpancakes64]

filming a tiktok with edward cullen

Filming a TikTok with Edward

Okay so I figured that this one would be better suited for a narrative story format yk so here I am trying it once more.

I actually had a lot of fun writing this one lol

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Alice pleaded to you once again.

“Sorry, Alice. You know I would go with you but I’m just way too tired today,” you sighed.

“Pleeeease? Rosalie already said no and it’s boring going to the mall all by myself!” She said, trying to step past you into the entryway of your house.

It had already been what felt like at least 10 minutes of Alice begging you to go with her to the mall. And 10 minutes of you telling her no. She may never need sleep, but you sure as hell did.

“What’s so important at the stupid mall anyway? Don’t you already have enough clothes to cover the entire Pacific Ocean?”

Alice rolled her eyes and successfully pushed past you, dancing her way to sit on the couch.

“What’s ‘so important’ is none of your business just yet. I had a vision,” she said, her eyes staring mystically into space as she waved her hands around exaggeratedly.

You huffed, “You can’t just say that you had a vision for everything you don’t want me to know.”

“Okay well then how’s this; something very fun and important will happen later but only if you let me take you to the mall right now and buy you a new outfit.” A sly smile spread across her face, her eyes appearing fox-like as she giggled quietly.

You groaned. Luckily, your parents weren't home yet. They would have told you to just go a long time ago. That's part of the Cullens' charm, everyone liked them. And you weren't immune to them either.

You sighed, finally taking your heavy backpack off of your shoulders and letting it slide to the ground. You looked up at Alice and saw her staring at you in anticipation.

"Fine, just let me go get my wallet-" and in a flash Alice was gone. Before you could even blink again she was standing in front of you with a huge grin on her face and your wallet in her hands.

"Done. Okay let's go!" she cheers, taking your arm and dragging you out the front door. "You've wasted enough time already."

"Did you forget how to walk or something? Come ON!" Alice sighed as she attempted to drag you through the crowded mall.

"I can walk just fine, thank you," you huffed, trying your hardest to keep up with her as she raced down the walkways.

Alice weaved the two of you through the large crowds. In between couples, over chairs, past crying children, and finally... to a Spirit Halloween.

"..." you stood there, Alice's hand in yours still as she continues her attempts to drag you along. "...is this some sort of joke? Cause I'm not laughing."

"No, it's not a joke. Now come on! You are so slow! We are running out of time!"

You let yourself be dragged into the store. Completely devoid of people, it was even creepier than it was intended to be.

"I have so many questions," you started. "First of all, why? Second of all, why is there a Spirit Halloween already, it's only July? And third of all, why???" you protested as Alice guided you to a corner of the store.

She stopped in front of you, whirling around to face you and getting in close. "Look," she whispered, "I have a plan and I just need you to go along with it. Edward is terrified of clowns. Some traumatic childhood memory or something, whatever."

"So... what, I'm gonna dress up as a clown and try to scare Edward? Yeah, like that'll work," you said sarcastically.

"No, it'll work! I've seen it! Bella will cover your thoughts so that he doesn't hear you approaching, Jasper is going to overload his mind with a sense of ease so that he doesn't suspect anything, and Emmett's gonna call his attention, then- boom! That's when you strike!"

"...How long have you wanted to do this?"

"Years." And with that Alice extends her arm, in it she holds a clown mask.

"Did you remember to start recording?" Alice whispered.

"Well obviously I haven't started it yet," you snapped, "ugh, Alice this thing stinks." You said, pulling the latex mask off of your face.

Currently, you were dressed head to toe in a cheap costume of a ripoff Pennywise the Clown. The Summer sun was beating down on your back as you stood outside with Alice, Jasper, Bella, and Emmett.

Alice tutted and pulled the mask back on your face, "I know it does, but you won't have it on for much longer," she said. "Okay, everyone knows what to do, right?"

Nods and hums of affirmation were heard around the circle. Looking at all of their faces, you noticed the latent excitement in their features. Emmett was jogging in place as if he was preparing for a hunt, Jasper was smirking and cracking his knuckles, and Bella's grin was so wide that it almost looked inhuman.

Alice shot you one look and you sighed, pulling out your phone, and starting the recording.

"Pranking my boyfriend while I'm dressed up as a clown," you said, then laughed. All of you moved into the house. As soon as you crossed the threshold, Bella stopped and closed her eyes, presumably laying her shield over all of you to hide your thoughts.

You ventured through the house, your little pack of helpers following stealthily behind. Through the house, you could hear Edward's piano keys ringing. A soft melody that was not very fitting of the intense situation floated all around.

You stopped right outside of the open doorway to the piano and waited. Inside, Edward was sitting at the keys, plunking away. Jasper closed his eyes next to you and held his hands up as if he was manifesting his ability. Next to him, Emmett sprang to the side door to the room and called Edward's name loudly, bringing his attention to the other side of the room.

This was your shot.

As fast as you could, you ran towards Edward, doing your best scary clown laugh the whole way there.

And if you hadn't caught it on camera, you wouldn't have believed his reaction.

He sprang out of his seat, his knees knocking against the piano. He shrieked a sound that could only be likened to that of a little girl, and flew to the wall, his back pressed up against it. For the split second before he realized what was actually going on, there was pure fear etched onto his face.

Laughter erupted through the house. From Bella at the entryway to the other three Cullens in the room. You couldn't help yourself either. You yanked the mask off of your head and threw it to the ground, laughing so hard that you doubled over.

"What the fuck! You guys are assholes!" Edward yelled, clearly embarrassed that he had been bested. That just made the roaring laughter get louder.

"Oooh! My TikTok has 400 likes!" you said, laying in bed next to Edward as he was rolled onto his side, facing away from you.

"Hmph." he huffed.

"Aw, come on. You're not mad, are you?" you said, turning to place your hand on his shoulder in an attempt to get him to roll over and face you. "You gotta admit, it was funny."

"No 't wasn't." he mumbled, still pouting.

"Edward. Eddy. Baby. Edweird. Sugar plum gumdrops. Hot cakes. Mr Shiny Skin. Big ass. Little ass. Rich Man. Edward. Edward. Edward" you pestered, poking his shoulder.

In an instant, he rolled over and laid on top of you.

"Oof!" you grunted, your lungs wheezing under the added weight. After a second you wrapped your arms around his back. "I really am sorry though. But you do have to give credit where credit's due."

He thought about it for a second. "Fine. You guys did a good job, you really did get me," he laughed, then thought for a second more. "But if this happens again, you're driving yourself to school for a whole year."

"Hey wait we can talk about this-"

[crescentmel]

i watched the x-men films for the first time ever here are my thoughts *spoilers obviously* :D

small backstory: i was going to go watch Deadpool & Wolverine however i have seen the previous deadpool movies but i’ve never watch the x-men films at all, my knowledge of that universe is minimal. my coworker suggested i at least watch Logan before watching Deadpool & Wolverine so i did.

Logan is easily one of the best Marvel films i have ever watched in my life, like top 3 films for sure it was amazing im still thinking about this movie weeks later. so i watch Deadpool & Wolverine and realize im low key obsessed with logan so might as well watch all the x-men films ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALSO I HAVE NO KNOWLEDGE FROM THE COMICS DONT COME FOR ME

The Original Trilogy

Overall i enjoyed the first two films, i think The Last Stand might be my least favorite of the whole franchise im not gonna lie

i’m just gonna say it, i was so not here for the Logan & Jean romance, like im kind of a hater so if this upsets you than this post is not for you lmao

ADORED JEANSCOTT WITH MY HEART AND SOUL !!! THEYRE SO FUCKING CUTE !!!!

Right of the bat, Logan & Jean’s romance felt SO forced. like it wasn’t believable for me, in the first movie it felt like Logan decided he was in love with Jean, not that he is actively falling in love with her, it was kinda weird

Meanwhile you can like clearly tell that Scott & Jean are in love with each other, but it feels like Logan’s character is just disregarding that

I understand in the comics it’s supposed to be a love triangle of sorts, i just think that if they wanted to do that for the films they could have portrayed it better

Ororo is an angel i love her

charles & eric need to make out

scott summers you ball of sunshine

i’m glad the rogue crush thing died in the first film bc ohmygod that was hard to watch

my favorite is X2 of this trilogy i really liked the plot and how it expanded more into Logan’s story

The Wolverine Trilogy

Origins wasn’t like, super terrible? i guess? my least favorite of this trilogy for sure though

i liked the plot twist that his girlfriend of 6 years was manipulating him, i didn’t see it coming, i was like WOW that’s fucked up

was disappointed he forgave her like wtf 😭

deadpool thing was weird i didn’t like that

good film to learn logan’s backstory, his brother was so fucking annoying though

The Wolverine was a decent film, if ur looking for an x-men film that’s more action centric than mutant centric this is your film

it felt like a wolverine side quest lol, nothing crazy going on, but i liked it more than Origins

logan is just tired

snake lady’s powers were cool

this girl is never going to see logan again so at least she got what she could

it goes without saying that Logan 2017 is the best film in the whole x-men/fox franchise

i could definitely make a whole post going into a deep dive of Logan but i’ll just keep it short

Logan’s dedication to taking care of Charles warms my heart in a way you cannot imagine, he truly cares so deeply for that man, charles gave him the opportunity of having a new family and i feel like logan will always be grateful for him

Logan & Laura :’)

it was like watching Logan go from only caring about kids in a “i’m a teacher” way to seeing Laura in a “i’m her caretaker now” kind of way, like there was a shift in his character that he wasn’t expecting

my little family of three that definitely lived happily ever after

my favorite scene of the whole film was when Logan realizes that it was his clone self that stabbed Charles, and his immediate gut reaction was to say “It wasn’t me” and to reassure Charles that Logan would NEVER do that

so that Charles would never die thinking one of his closest friends (AND SON FIGURE) would ever betray him like that and kill him

LIKE THAT WAS SO IMPORTANT TO LOGAN, HE DIDNT WANT CHARLES TO DIE THINKING HE KILLED HIM ;_________;

Logan 2017 the film that you are

X-Men Prequel Films

oh boy here go

right off the bat i’m going to say Days of Future Past exceeds all four of these films, so fucking good, my favorite after Logan

but yeah First Class wasn’t like, terrible per say, i just found myself a little bored ngl

absolutely here for eric & charles love story, they’re literally friends to lovers to enemies to still lovers but they’re still enemies i adore it

i liked the character that mystique brought (& jennifer lawrence) but it was just such a jump from the mystique in the first films

also i just think that if eric wants to kill his abuser then he should go for it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just saying charles it was a lil weird u wanted to stop him

i get the premise, setting up the basis of the x-men, but i just found it a little lacking

DAYS OF FUTURE PAST

amazing 10/10 movie, i genuinely enjoyed every second, actually felt like a superhero movie

great balance of logan not knowing what the fuck is going on vs charles knowing exactly what to do next & logan just going along with it i love it

i’ve heard legends of how amazing quicksilver is in these films and this went beyond my expectations, fantastic character AND amazing showcase of his powers, the writers cooked on this, also makes me want to rewatch wandavision bc i didn’t appreciate his character enough son i’m so sorry

prison breaking out eric sequence was amazing

there’s so much more but just overall amazing film

apocalypse was definitely something? i mean it was probably difficult to follow up days of futures past so i can’t blame them, not like the worst film ever but ….. idk

THINGS I LOVED !! young jean & scott :’) !!!!! genuinely so happy to see the beginning of their friendship & romantic relationship, they’re literally so fucking cute AND young storm omfg a baby 🫶🏾

took me a second to realize it was oscar isaac lol, also OUCH eric’s little family but also like wtf was that death ??? 😭

idk plot was just kinda everywhere, nothing super memorable, also i just found it funny that logan was there for like less that 5 minutes and all he did was grunt lmfao at least he popped off on stryker for the millionth time fuck that guy

uhm dark phoenix

the one and only highlight for me for dark phoenix was once again, jean & scott lmfao

the whole solar flare & alien race thing was kinda weird, they didn’t even explain the alien race thing that well, idk what to even say about this movie

i thought it was weird that hank & eric were suddenly jumping on the “let’s kill jean” train when like they know she didn’t mean to kill raven ??? 😭 like wtf

someone explain the timeline bs to me bc i was surprised that jean “died” AGAIN.

wasn’t the point of futures past that logan now in the present is experiencing the new timeline in which charles, scott, and jean are all alive

so why did jean die in this, does that not defeat the purpose, like she’s alive in the present

or were they trying to plan another prequel film in which she comes back, again. then it’s just a repeating storyline from the og trilogy

anyways it was kinda bad

i don’t even want to talk about The New Mutants i’m gonna be real, it was also bad

and that is my long af reaction to watching all the x-men films for the first time. if you’re reading this and read all my yapping then thank you i really appreciate it lol 🫶🏾 in conclusion, i’m sad i missed out on a whole era of these movies when they were being released (probably bc im avengers obsessed lol) but i’m glad i did watch them now, and now i have a new universe to hyper fixate on lmfao (and logan) amazing movies !! gonna go rewatch Logan now ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

also here is my full x-men movies ranking, deadpool films included:

[we-were-beautiful]

The Fox and The Hounds pt.5

A/N: At long last we finally have part 5 for The Fox and The Hounds. I do apologize for those who have waited so long for this part but here it is and I got to give a huge thanks to @loving-and-dreaming for Beta reading this for me. That being said we are all still human and there may be some errors and I apologize in advance. Hope y’all enjoy  

Up next on my writing schedule is Unraveled ends and I already have about 2000 words already written for that so stay tuned.

Summary: Its autumn court tradition to give your mate a fox kit before your ceremony. after years of knowing the Vanserra’s a mating bond snaps between the Autumn Heir and a well known smoke hound breeder

Warning: none that I know of but if you see something please reach out and let me know.

 WC: 4k

As the door shut, I placed my back to it and gently slid down to the floor. I truly had no idea how to interact with this male. The last two months had been a whirlwind and all of Eris' current behaviors contradicts the information that my cousins in the night court have given me.  Gods I can only imagine the fuss that Rhys and Mor are going to kick up when they hear that my parents allowed this little unchaperoned weekend getaway, but in all reality there is not much they could do without inducing the High Lord of Nights anger. We had been invited to a formal dinner at the night court once word of the engagement and mating bond reached my uncles; the High Lord of Night and Keir, the Steward of the Court of Nightmares(who happens to be Mors father), had been overjoyed that The Night Court would now have ties with the Autumn Court. What the two of them had attempted with Mor they would have with me.

While the High Lord of Night doted on his older sister and her husband for the excellent match between Eris and myself; across the table Rhysand and Mor looked horrified. Rhys had pulled me aside after his father bid the residents of the Hewn city to go play. My dearest cousin begged me to call off the whole thing. Told me what had happened to Mor, and he was so worried that I would become the Vanserras next victim. The heartbreak on his face when I told him it was inevitable, this marriage was happening whether we wanted it to or not. There would have been no place for me to run. Uncle would not have sheltered me in the Night Court, and Beron would have me hunted down. The marriage was far too advantageous for him. He hugged me tight afterwards and seemed reluctant to hand me over to Eris when my mate wanted to steal me away to dance. 

That seemed like so long ago but in reality it was three weeks ago. I move over to the bed and take a seat. This weekend was going to be awkward between the two of us. Eris for the most part is trying; he’s gentle with me in a way that I have only seen him be with his mother. Every morning if we don’t have an event together, he sends me a small sweet note and flowers. He sends them often enough that the ones I have in vases barely have had time to wilt. He’s a good male; it's just awkward since we barely know each other. I had always thought that he was attractive, but with him as Beron’s heir I didn’t stand a chance when there were more political matches to be made. I had figured If I were to end up with any of the Vanserra boys it would have been with Ashton, the second brother. Ashton was a carbon copy of his father always aiming to please the male even if it pushed him to act monstrously. But I guess I have to thank Mor for fucking the Illyrian Bastard, it had saved me from potentially being married off to an abusive male and instead with my mate, even if we did not know it at the time.    

I don’t know how long I sat on the bed going over the events of the last two months absentmindedly stroking Paprikas soft fur but a swift knock pulls me out of my thoughts. 

“Excuse me, Lady Y/N.” A melodic voice flows through the door. “I’m here to help you get ready for dinner.” 

Ah so Eris had already secured a ladies maid for me. I let out a soft groan as I moved to stand. That at least saves me the trouble of having to find one myself. I open the door to see a high Fae standing there. She is pretty if not a bit plain. Her brown hair is swept up into a neat bun at the nape of her neck hiding her pointed ears; the simple oxblood dress is a touch big for her frame. The uniforms I have seen on the servants and slaves at the forest house have been expertly tailored to the Fae that wear them, so she must be new.

“Oh” she squeaks before dropping into a curtsy. “Lady Y/N, I am Melonie, Lord Vanserra has hired me to be your ladies maid.” 

“It's a pleasure Melonie, and please it’s just Y/N. If you are to be my ladies maid then we shall be spending quite a significant amount of time together; so we may as well be on a first name basis.” I move aside to let her in.

“Only while we are in private though at the Forest House we need to remain as formal as we can be.” I tack on. There is a rigid hierarchy in the Autumn Court and while we are in a private residence, such as here, we can act as we please; the moment we step into Beron’s halls everything has to be as formal as possible.

“Understood Ma’am.” She nods her head and steps into the room. “Now we must get you ready for dinner.” 

“Of course. Did my mate say what dress is needed.” I’m certain my family's servants packed everything from casual wear to a ball gown for this trip. I honestly don’t know why, as this is an informal trip for me to get to know my mate better. I’m sure he told my father that there wouldn’t be any major formal events that the two of us would need to attend.

“Yes Ma’am, Lord Vanserra said that it was to be a casual dinner.” She tilts her head a bit “I do believe his words to his attendance were that it is just a simple dinner between my mate and I there is no reason for us to don finery.” I let out a small laugh, that does sound like Eris. There had been a few times when we had been in the forest house after dinner that we had gone on an evening stroll and he had expressed his distaste for the show that we had to put on. Having to put on our finest to awkwardly sit at a table under the scrutiny of our families. 

“So a simple dress it is.” I let out a soft sigh. Thank the Mother, I’m so glad he doesn’t want to stand on formalities. I move through the room to the wooden armoire and shift through the dresses my family's servants had picked, settling in on a simple green dress trimmed with a delicate cream lace.

“That will look lovely Y/N” I smile at her statement and take a step back and allow her to help me get ready.

It takes us about 45 minutes to get me ready for dinner. The dress had been easy enough, I Honestly could have gotten myself into it but help is always appreciated. My hair had taken a bit more time, but soon enough I was headed down the stairs to the dining room. We had passed the room briefly on our tour but now I had the time to take it in. It was large enough that we could easily entertain a party of 18 people, but I had a feeling that would be an extremely rare occasion. The table was a smooth walnut wood polished to a near mirror finish. It was large with many elegantly carved chairs pushed under; it is nearly too large for just the two of us. While I haven’t gotten to explore the house I can only hope that there is a smaller informal dining room for us to use. Eris is there when I arrive, dressed in a simple cream colored tunic and brown breeches tucked into dark brown boots. Upon hearing my arrival he jumps to his feet giving me a short bow. 

“My mate you look lovely this evening.” He moves and pulls out a chair next to the head of the table for me. “I apologize for this. The staff had already set this table before I could tell them that it wouldn’t be necessary.” 

“Thank you.” I say as I gently take a seat in the chair that he had pulled out. “There is no need to apologize. There is an informal dining room?” the question hangs in the air.

“Yes, there is a smaller dining room that I use when It’s just me here; I figured that we would use it while we reside here unless we are forced to entertain.” He responds, giving a nod to one of his staff standing beside a door that I think leads to the kitchen. 

“Oh good. This is a lovely dining room but it feels like it might be a bit much if it’s just the two of us.” A plate is soon placed in front of me, I mutter a thanks, and begin to pick up my silverware. 

“It really is.” Eris laughs as he picks up his own silverware and digs in. 

Conversation flows freely between the two of us as we talk about everything and nothing. I take this time to figure out more about the male that I am bound to for the rest of our immortal lives. I find that he adores his mothers baking. He insisted that I should get her apple strudel recipe from her and that I would love it. He likes the spicy foods that are common in the Summer Court, but he cannot stand the Summer Court's tendency for sour things. I also learn that his father has him acting as an emissary for a few courts including Spring, Winter, and Dawn. It is an eye opening conversation as the two of us go back and forth. We sit at the table telling each other our likes and dislikes long past when we finish our meals. At one point after the table had long since been cleared, save for a few bottles of wine and our glasses, Eris dismissed the staff while we continued talking. It takes one of the hounds whining for attention for us to actually leave the table taking our glasses to the living room. Eventually we have to let the hounds and Paprika out one last time before bed. Sadly the rain hadn’t stopped. It seemed to have gotten worse over the last few hours and what once was a nice steady rain is now a downpour. Ever the gentleman, Eris offers to take them out and wait for them to be done. 

I knew that there would be some paw wiping that needed to be done, but what I didn’t expect was for all of the hounds to come back into the house covered in mud.

“Oh no.” I exclaim as Eris carries in a mud covered Paprika, setting her on the floor only after the door is shut and locked.

“I think we are going to have to give them emergency baths.” Eris sighed, running a hand through his damp red hair.

“What happened?” I swear my eyebrows have probably reached my hairline as the hounds continue to play with each other getting mud all over the living room floor. 

“Well I thought that they would do their business, be done, and come back into the house. Apparently I was wrong and they decided that they wanted to play.” I can see the steam rising off of Eris as he uses his powers to dry off. “Paprika on the other hand accidentally landed in a mud puddle. And I already dismissed the staff for the night.” 

“Shit.” It's always nice to have an extra hand on deck when bathing the hounds “Well looks like we are on bath duty then.” 

We had relocated from the living room up to the bedrooms; the click of nails on the floor followed behind us as the dogs followed along behind us. I let him lead me through the halls my arm laced through his taking in the warmth that radiated through his shirt. The Vanserra’s were known for their fire wielding abilities, but it was like fire ran through his blood heating him from the inside out. I didn’t quite want the evening to end. 

“We probably should have kept some of the staff here when we saw that it was going to rain.” Eris laughs. 

“Probably, I’m sure your housekeeper will skin both of us tomorrow when she sees the mess.” I chuckle glancing behind me to see the whisper of smoke hounds trailing along behind us leaving muddy tracks along the wooden floor.

“Our housekeeper.” Eris’ gently corrects “I hate to say that she is almost used to it. She’s not a fan of bathing the hounds though.” 

“I don’t blame her, it’s a task and a half, and with the lot that we have it’s going to take us at least a few hours.” I try not to pay too much attention to the way Eris uses joint ownership. I should be grateful that he has already gotten used to us being a pair although it is a bit harder for me. 

Since the engagement Eris has always referred to us as a unit. It was “our plans for the mating ceremony” and “Of course we will be attending tonight.” It seemed to come easy to him; however, I am still trying to wrap my head around things. For me this is still just Eris’s home and his belongings and employees, not mine. Although in two weeks, I guess it will partially be mine. I need to get used to the fact that we are now a unit and respond as such. This will be our home that we fill with our hounds and if we are lucky enough down the road maybe a few messy haired faelings that we created. 

We make our way to Eris’s room. The room is not what I had thought it would be and vastly different from his rooms in the forest house. His living quarters in the high lords ancestral halls were cold. Deep emerald fabrics were selected and paired with polished dark wood furniture. We had had tea in his sitting room a few days after the bond had snapped and the whole room just felt impersonal. This room however felt warm. The large bed that dominated the middle of the room facing the window, looked like it was crafted with smooth unfinished red wood and decorated with large antlers. The crimson duvet looks soft and inviting and for a male there is a surprising amount of pillows strewn across the top of the bed  A smaller bookshelf resided along the one wall and much like the massive wall of books in the living room this one is packed with books, but these seemed to be much more loved, with signs of wear along the spines. Next to the window there is a small table that appears to just be a log that someone placed a glass top on and called it good and an arm chair that honestly looked like it had seen better days, if the patches on the arms of the chair were anything to go off of. More dog beds were spread along the floor but I had a feeling quite a few of them slept in the actual bed. Smoke hounds while they don’t shed a ton of fur, still shed, and if the short white hairs clinging to the crimson duvet say anything it is that the dogs are on the bed. Which is fine with me since I typically have one or two with me in my bed on any given night and since Paprika came into the picture she’s always cuddling in bed with me. 

“Come on, the bathroom is through here.” He opens the door on the furthest wall to reveal the massive bathing chambers with a large tub.  

“We might want to shut the bedroom door so that they can’t run off.” I quietly mention once I noticed that all of them were in the room. 

“Good idea.“ Eris sidesteps me quickly making his way to the door. Nineteen sets of ears pop up at the sound of the door clicking close. I move to quickly scoop up Paprika before she has the chance to dart under Eris’s Bed. 

“We need to do Paprika first; she’s still getting used to bath time.” Hearing the word ‘bath’ the fox kit starts to squirm. I quickly manure her in my arms and hold her under her front legs; her bottom and tail dangling limply in the air.

 “You are covered in mud, no amount of wiggling will get you out of it.” I speak to the little kit as if she were a naughty child. Her ears flop as if resigning herself to her fate. 

Bath time is eventful to say the least, Paprika gave us hell once we set her in the warm water. She just about screamed the entire time and only calmed down once she was wrapped in one of Eris fluffy towels. Having Eris around for bath time had its perks. Using his fire magic he was able to dry the hounds and Paprika rather faster than having to let them air dry. The hounds were bathed without complaint; but there were some trouble makers. Once we had shut the bathroom door to bathe Paprika, one of Eris’s hounds jumped up onto his bed and proceeded to cover not only the duvet in mud but Eris’s pillows and sheets. Then one of my hounds decided that I needed a bath as well and grabbed my dress and tugged just hard enough to send me sprawling into the tub. By the time the all nineteen of the canines are bathed Eris and I are drenched; the bathroom is soaked and quite frankly there is pathways of muddy paw prints throughout the house. 

“I know I said we don’t need a kennel, but I would like to retract my statement. We need one if only to prevent things like this from happening again.” I slump alongside Eris resting against the side of the tub. 

“Agreed.” Eris runs his hands through his hair. “We still have to get cleaned up ourselves.” 

“And remake your bed; one of the hounds got on it.” Eris lets out a groan at that statement. 

“Let’s get cleaned up first and then we can deal with that later. Worse comes to worse; I can sleep in one of our spare rooms or the couch.” 

“Please don’t sleep on the couch.” I laugh “Especially when there are perfectly good beds in the spare rooms. 

“I will have you know Dear Mate that the couch is one of the best places to sleep in this house. I have spent many nights on it.” 

“Now that's just sad Eris.” We both end up laughing. 

“Come now let's get cleaned up and off to bed. Eris moves to stand offering me one of his hands to help me off the floor. I end up stumbling into Eris’s chest as I am pulled up; he steadies me, one hand on my hip the other not letting go of my hand. I had noticed in the time we have been courting how much bigger his hands are then mine, they almost completely engulf mine whenever we dance, and they are so very warm. My heart races in my chest, being so close to this male without anyone else around. There is an awkward silence that fills the space between the two of us.

“Well I will leave you to it.” He moves to open the door to the room. Immediately dogs start tripping over one another in their attempt to escape the bedroom. Eris meets my gaze and we burst out laughing at the scene. We laugh for a solid few minutes; we would slow down and when we would look at each other we would start laughing again. An endless loop of pulling ourselves together only to fall apart again and again.

“I don’t know why that was so funny.” I hold my side as a wait out the stitch that I had gotten from laughing so hard.    

“Neither do I” Eris places a hand on my lower back as he leads me towards my room “Here is where I leave you.” 

“Thank you Eris.” I laugh as he takes my hand and places a kiss on the back of it. 

“You are quite welcome.” He releases my hand and steps back.

 “Please let me know if you need anything.” With one last look he walks down the hall presumably towards one of the spare rooms to clean up. 

I turn into my room and see several of my hounds lounging around as if they didn’t just turn bath time into a whole event. I give them a glare before heading into the bathroom to take a bath of my own before getting ready for bed. The Lady of Autumn truly tried to make this suite as comfortable as she could. Various soaps and oils lined the counter and a few small candles decorated the edge of the bathtub. It was a place that one could easily find solace. Maybe tomorrow I will take full advantage and soak in the large tub, but tonight I feel drained. While it wasn’t a super physically taxing day, mentally it was draining. This trip is giving me a golden opportunity to learn just who my mate is. Already had got to see a completely different side of him. 

When we are out on an official engagement or in the forest house Eris has always seemed so cold despite the fire that flows through his veins. He has always seemed closed off to everybody except for his mother and me. I got to hear him laugh for the first time in the 60 or some odd years that I had known him. I move through the motions of bathing and getting ready for bed. By the time I am turning down the bed I am ready to simply relax. Paprika paws at the bed, her way of asking to be picked up and placed on the bed. I grab her and set her down on the sheets. Ramiel and Rosie hop up on the bed unprompted ready to make themselves comfortable on the large bed. My ears twitch as I hear scratching at the door. I quickly glance around the room taking a head count of Hounds that are lazing around the room. All seven of mine are accounted for plus Ichabod who also decided that he wanted to sleep on the bed as well. So one of Eris’s lot wants to stay in here tonight. I move to open the door to let the pup in; my eyes widen once I open the door because not only is there a smoke hound begging to be let in but Eris is standing there with two steaming mugs. The hound darts past me, with the speed that they are famed for, as I continue to stare at Eris. 

“I figured we could have a cup of tea before bed.” I smile widely at him. He had listened when I was rambling shortly after our engagement. I had offhandedly mentioned that I liked to have a nice cup of Herbal tea before bed. And here he stands holding two cups of tea. 

“I would love that,” I step aside and let him walk into the room. He walks towards the bed and takes a seat holding out one of the cups for me to take; I sit down beside him taking the cup from his hand. 

We sit and talk for a long time. Eventually we have drunk our tea, cups sit forgotten on the nightstand, but Eris stayed. We eventually moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to sitting propped up with pillows against the headboard. The last thing I recall before I go to sleep is looking over at Eris who had fallen asleep not ten minutes ago. I don’t have the heart to wake him since he looks so peaceful. I roll over and wrap my arms around Ramiel before letting sleep take over me.  

Tag List @b0xerdancer @imma-too-many-fandoms @judig92 @fall-myriad @j-brielmalfoy @highlady-ofillyria @percyjacksonspeen @nyctophiliiiiaaa @marigold-morelli @azzydaddy @isa1b2h3

[thegreatwizardelwin]

I Won’t Say I’m In Love - Part Three

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Joanne Harcourt x Male Reader

F/N L/N is a student in the Sapphire Owl house at Weston College. For some reason, he keeps running into a Scarlet Fox student in his day to day activities. Intrigued, he tries to learn more about him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was incredible to be a part of the Sapphire Miracle. 

You had been selected to participate for your house in the Weston cricket tournament. By calculations, strategy, sacrifice, and a touch of sheer dumb luck, the Sapphire Owl team rose to victory for the second time in Weston’s history. 

Things had quieted down since then…

Though you were currently being coddled by your family whilst also climbing- soaking wet- out of the water post-capsize. 

After a change of clothes, you and the team attended the closing ceremony.

You were congratulated by many of your family and friends, sipping lemonade and speaking with other visitors. Moore was ecstatic to introduce you to his own family, especially (wink) his sister; much to your dismay. But, as you talked, you found her company pleasant enough to consider her as friend material. 

At your age, it seemed that many boys were enjoying the presence of other respectable ladies. You noticed Harcourt dancing with one of them joyfully. He laughed at something she said, his face lighting up as you’d seen it do countless times.

A pang of jealousy hit you as you watched, feeling a certain hostility toward the girl. It only reminded you of how silly your affection really was. You were both boys, and you could never dance with him like that. 

Honestly, it was unfair for you to be upset about something so unchangeable. 

You convinced yourself to be happy for him. 

Perhaps they’d keep it up and one day you’d attend their…

You sighed, disrupting your own train of thoughts because of how disgruntled it made you. You would just learn to accept this, even if it took some time.

Moore’s sister found you again and noticed your expression was troubled.

“Is something the matter?” she asked.

“No, just a little tired.” you perked up, raising your cup to your lips.

“Oh, tired, I see.” 

You stood in silence, awkwardly watching others dance. You wondered if she wanted you to ask her to dance too, what with the way she idled beside you. 

It would clear my mind if I did… 

So, being the gentleman you were, you offered her the opportunity and she accepted.

You danced with Moore’s sister, her name being Theresa. By sheer accident, you nearly bumped into Harcourt and his partner. You looked at each other with surprise and laughed blissfully at the fact.

The night grew to a close, your mood having sincerely improved by the fun you had had.

You bid your farewells to your family and Theresa and then made your way back to the dormitory like the rest of the boys.

You walked down the halls of the school, chattering away with Moore and Blair.

As you got closer to the dorm, one of the boys poked your arm and gestured towards a figure waiting near the gates of the boarding house grounds.

It was Joanne Harcourt. He was still dressed in his clothes from earlier, fiddling with the boater hat in his hands.

Blair snickered.

“Finally gave in to your secret admirer, huh?” he elbowed you.

You gave him a threatening smile.

“Stop it!” you whispered, smacking his head. 

However you couldn’t just ignore the guy. You diverged from the group. They lowered their voices, muttering on about how close you and Harcourt had become for students in different houses.

Harcourt gave you a shy smile as you approached. You took your own hat off to be polite, tucking it under your arm. You kind of just stared at each other until the other boys were out of earshot.

“I’m really glad you won, L/N.” Harcourt said softly.

You laughed.

“I’m sorry about your teams… unfortunate circumstances. From what I did see, your spin balls were fantastic. I was super impressed!” you enthused. 

Harcourt blushed slightly with embarrassment at the memories of the “unfortunate circumstances” that befell his entire house on the field.

“Please don’t bring it up- ever again.” he hid his face in his palms. “A part of me died in that moment.”

You had to cover your mouth to stifle another laugh. You didn’t want to offend him by suggesting his miserable situation was humorous.

“I understand.” you replied, and then decided to change the subject. “I noticed you had a nice lass hanging on your arm tonight! I would’ve never thought you’d be such a charmer.” you teased.

Harcourt was amused.

“Well I noticed,” he paused, “that you didn’t seem very taken by the girl you danced with.”

You thought for a moment on how to respond. The reason why you had shown such indifference was too secret for Harcourt to know just yet. And it was certainly not something you were going to say outside, even if it was after dark. 

“I see women more as friends, right now. I prefer to focus on my other passions.” you said with a shrug. “What about you? Do you like them or are you just being a gentleman?”

That question caught Harcourt off guard. He froze up a bit, as if he were truly analyzing his own feelings.

“I- forgive me, L/N. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s getting late, I should go back to Scarlet Fox house.” he spilled, putting his hat back on.

Your face fell.

“Right, I suppose you should.” you muttered.

You both stood awkwardly, staring at each other as if you had forgotten the words “good night” existed. He glanced over at the walkway that would take him to his boarding house, then met your eyes once more. He bit his lip with uncertainty.

You straightened up.

“I feel bad that I couldn’t help you earlier.” you admitted. “I felt terrible just standing there on the field like I had grass for brains.”

Harcourt flushed again, crossing his arms.

“I told you not to bring it up again! Besides, if you were there with me I would have disintegrated completely. It was so embarrassing.” 

Taking a step forward, you clasped your hands behind your back.

“I know, but I… I want to help you!” you stressed. “ I just want you to be happy, Harcourt. You deserve it, in my book.”

Harcourt’s eyes shot to the ground. He seemed to relax a bit, taking a deep breath.

“Thank you, L/N. You’re kind.”

You reached over and playfully pulled his hat down over his eyes. He giggled, lifting the brim and peering at you. His smile could melt a glacier with how warm it made you feel.

Your eyes softened, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Your fingers lingered there against his warm skin. He was clearly flustered by it. He reached up and held onto your wrist with both hands.

“If someone were to see us right now…” he trailed off nervously.

You slowly lowered your arm, your index finger curling around his in a promise.

“Until next time.” you murmured, bending and kissing his knuckle.

His jaw dropped, staring at you like he was a deer and you had stepped on a twig. There was a beat of silence as you let his hand go.

“You really just- you really- ? I’ll see you around!” he said quickly, shrinking away from you and hastening away with not another word.

You turned, heading into your dorm. As you entered the building, it was like the air around you was thin. What possessed you to do that? Didn’t you literally just say to yourself you were going to let it go? And what did his reaction mean?

Your smile faltered.

I might have just ruined our relationship with that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I feel like every part of this fic ends with Harcourt running off like a little gerbil or something.

Planning on maybe 2 more parts of Joanne? I wanna write a maurice cole fic where the reader is just as ✨devious✨ 🌺

[lbibliophile-sw]

Proof of ID

Also on AO3 [710w] @ailesswhumptober - day 20: accidental de-aging, "I'm not qualified for this shit" @corrieweek - day 3: "you shouldn't be here"

Fox lets himself slump as he climbs into the covered Guard speeder, finally escaping the top-priority meeting on… whatever it was. Thorn and Thire were also there – a waste, of resources, honestly, thankfully Stone was able to escape – so they can catch him up on anything actually important. It’s not like the natborns listen to their advice half the time anyway.

“Hey Fox, are you ok? Only, you were quieter than usual in there.”

“’m fine, Thire. Just tired.”

And he is, down to his bones. The sort of tired that comes from a multi-day blackout mission that has him ‘waking up’ only to face the entirety of his usual gruelling double shift ahead of him. He wants nothing more than to collapse on his bunk for a solid six hours, but instead, he has meetings, and datawork backlog, and whatever else comes up… Just the mere thought is enough for him to remove his helmet and rub at his aching eyes.

“Trooper!” Fox stiffens reflexively at Thorn’s Command voice, despite having spent the past two years as the highest-ranked clone on-planet. “Why are you wearing Commander Fox’s armour?”

Fox blinks at him, struggling to push his sluggish brain into gear. Why… is he wearing… his armour? Because it’s his? And he’s on duty?

“Oh! Is Fox alright? I mean, obviously not, since he sent you in his place. But I’m assuming he’s with Zontal? Or wait, is he not all back yet after the blackout? It has been longer than usual so I guess that might be a struggle.”

What?

“I have to say, you did a pretty good job of copying his body language. Until you took the helmet off, I really did think that it was just Fox having an off day; most people wouldn’t have noticed anything at all! How would you feel about being on call for a repeat performance? Anything to get Fox to rest occasionally.”

“Thire!” Thorn finally forces his way through the babbling. “Just, shut up. And you’re going straight to bunk when we get back, your triple-shift is showing. Now, Trooper, sitrep. And your name.”

“Uh, Fox?” It shouldn’t sound like a question – his name is the one answer he does have right now – but shouldn’t they know it too?

“It’s ok, you don’t have to keep pretending here. We sweep the speeders for bugs, and we already know you’re covering for him, besides –”

“Thire, enough. Let the shiny speak.”

“I’m not a shiny.” Thorn snorts.

“Maybe not a shiny, then. But you still can’t be more than, what, eight? Nine at a stretch?”

“I’m thirteen. I’m Fox. And you’re being mean. If this is revenge for saving your shebs when you tried to block that Senator’s access because you thought she was her own daughter…”

“What did you just say? No, seriously, I made Fox swear to never tell anyone about that.”

“I keep telling you I am Fox. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Ok. Ok. So, not body doubles, but Force osik. Maybe.” Thorn rummages in his belt pouches as he mutters to himself, finally pulling out some sort of case with a bright metal finish. “Here. I’m having a hard time believing you, because this is what you look like right now.”

Fox takes the case, holding it up so the smooth surface shows his reflection. He twists it back and forwards just to make sure. He raises his free hand to trace the smooth skin of his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, watching the movement in the improvised mirror.

“Thorn. Thorn, someone stole my face.”

Thire reaches back to awkwardly pat him on the knee.

“Look on the bright side, at least you still have your helmet. You keep it on most of the time anyway.”

“But it was my face!”

“Alrighty,” Thorn interrupts the impeding meltdown. He is in a speeder with three-quarters of Coruscant Guard Command, he should not be having flashbacks to Kamino and cadet-duty. “I’m driving us back to base. Then you two are going to go to sleep, while I have an adult conversation with Zontal to try and figure this out. Any further discussion can wait until after those steps are completed. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes Thorn.”

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 28

PREVIOUS

FF does not like being on pain medication.

Everything feels floaty and it is so hard to focus on anything around him.

He’s almost glad that his Gran has given him something to focus on that something being helping her sell her lie to the Foxes that she only knows Polish. Coach Wymack must know but the man is a steel trap and FF finds himself envying his Gran that HER secret keeper is Coach Wymack.

“Smithy! My sweet beautiful idiot!” Nicky cries when Gran gives Wymack the OK for them to come back in. FF finds himself on the receiving end of 2 forehead kisses and a kiss to each of his cheeks from Nicky. “Next time you see a crazy mafia hitman looking to kidnap me you just grab me and RUN.” He orders pointedly, “No more cool guy shit where you take ‘em out in the weird sex alley.” He runs his fingers through FF’s hair and…

Yeah it’s okay that Nicky is the one that knows.

Nicky is so nice.

“What about Aaron?” FF asks.

“If Romero could grab Aaron when he is in whacky inflatable tube mode then I don’t think he’d be taken out by you and Andrew.” Nicky says with a watery smile.

“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is offended.

“Learn to dance at a club already. We’ve been going for years.” Nicky shoots back but never takes his eyes off of FF’s face.

“I dance just fine. I’m better than Kevin.” Aaron argues.

“Hey.” Kevin’s voice is offended.

“You are better than Kevin, but that’s not a real standard of good.” Nicky dismisses, “Regardless, next time grab me and I’ll grab Aaron and the three of us can hide literally anywhere other than the weird sex alley. We could go to the back room with Roland or, if it means you not ending up in the hospital with a stab wound, I would even tolerate hiding down in the straight swingers club in the basement.” Nicky says.

He sees Andrew and Captain Neil tense off to the side.

Oh, that’s right.

Oh fun another lie for him to focus on instead of feeling floaty. Gran always talked about the virtue of telling the truth but the only thing set free would be Nicky in a club that he’s not supposed to know about.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you Nicky.” FF says instead.

Nicky laughs and kisses his cheek one more time. “You’re my favorite family member now. Sorry Aaron, you’ve made me endure the horrors of a heterosexual relationship for too long.” Nicky says stroking  FF’s face as he looks up to where FF assumes Aaron is.

“Hey.” Aaron says in the exact same way he said earlier.

“Andrew-“ Nicky starts but is cut off.

“I don’t care.”

“That’s the spirit.” Nicky says, “Neil-“

“Nicky, I also don’t care.”

“At least you have one another to support each other.”

“Wait, what about me?” Kevin asks.

“You won’t even LEARN the family language Kevin, you were NEVER in the running for my favorite.” Nicky dismisses and doesn’t bother to turn back to the  “So Smithy is my favorite family member now with Aras coming in second.”

Two things strike FF in the wake of family conversation.

First, when in the world did Kevin get here? Why is he here? Is he going to ask the doctors to run tests on FF to figure out stealth mode?

Second, Nicky just used his Gran’s nickname. The nickname that causes FF no small amount of embarrassment. It was a youthful indiscretion! He had thought he understood Lithuanian quite well! He had wanted to impress his Great Gran and his Gran with his knowledge.

“You’re looking pale Smith, do you need more pain medication?” Captain Neil asks.

“No, I’m fine.” He is pretty sure that pain meds can’t numb the psychological pain of his friends hearing about his youthful mistakes and he doesn’t care how bad his stomach is going to hurt he wants to only take the absolute minimum amount of pain meds required to get through this so he can stop floating.

Having friends nearby makes it so much easier.

Conversations go on with him and around him. He’s tired still from everything and when a nurse comes in to try and give him more pain medication he declines. All present in the room except Gran try to convince him to take it but he declines all but the most minor amount to take the edge off.

He finally realizes that Kevin had not been with them and asks why the hell he’s here. He gets an answer that makes him reconsider being on any pain medication at all because it doesn’t really make any sense. Why in the world is Kevin telling him not to trust the nutritionist?

Neil lets him know that the FBI are going to be coming around at some point to talk to him. He says that Agent Browning is a dick but generally fine and that there will be a local agent Iruma Matsumoto stopping by before him, probably today. He looks right at Andrew and says “Yeah, I’ll talk with them about how Romero stabbed me.” Andrew lets out an amused puff of laughter that makes FF feel like he might be doing alright at this friendship thing.

He apologizes to Andrew that he can’t make the pie today and gets a flick to his ear.

He finds out that he slept through all of Saturday and that it is Sunday morning. Finds out that his Gran and Wymack had stayed over at the Columbia house last night and that Wymack has him excused from his classes this week. He also finds out that Nicky has given his grandma a key to the house in Columbia so she could stay there while she’s visiting him.

He apologizes to Nicky for messing up the clothes he’d let him borrow and earns another flick to the ear from Nicky.

Wymack hands him a new phone that Nicky has apparently set up for him. His lip quirks up slightly when he sees that Nicky registered it as ’Smithy’s phone’. Neil shows him some stuff since he has the same phone model but Andrew rolls his eyes.

“You’ve barely figured out how to set anything on your phone Junkie. You still haven’t even set a screen lock.” He says as he pulls Neil back from FF’s space.

“I’ve figured out how to change the notification ping.” Neil argues but lets himself be pulled away and if Andrew keeps his arm around Neil afterwards? No one comments on that.

He translates things for his Gran when it seems important for her to be able to respond to and helps Nicky with some pronunciations.

He falls asleep a couple times and wakes up to his friends and teammates in all sorts of different configurations. Nicky gets him some good sugar-free Jell-O from the nurses while Aaron smacks Kevin upside the head when Kevin complains that it’s not good for him and not part of the diet he’s making to get FF back on the Court ASAP. “He’s gotta be on a clear liquid diet for 24 hours after his surgery.” Aaron hisses.

“Why does it have to be clear? I can put it in a blender but it won’t be clear.” Kevin grumbles.

“He’s not going to be on puree’d food for at least two weeks idiot.” Aaron smacks his head again.

“Stop that.”

He hears from Wymack the other Freshman Dealer won’t be returning and that Sheena is now their only Dealer and she does not do defense well. Kevin’s disapproval for the Jell-O cups only grows stronger in light of this news. His grumbling only stops when Gran looks at him and says “Maybe someone should help you pull that stick out of your ass young man.” In her nicest most grandmotherly voice.

When Kevin turns to FF for a translation Nicky beats him to it, “She said a handsome young man like you shouldn’t ruin your face with worries.” He says without a hint that he’s lying.

Kevin preens at the grandmotherly approval of his looks and FF gets to know that he, Nicky and his grandma all have lying in common.

Eventually it’s lunch time and the natural hunger of college athlete boys trumps anything else. Kevin won’t eat anything at the cafeteria since he doesn’t trust the nutritionist so they agree to head out of the hospital to grab food. He’s more tired than hungry so he tells his Gran to go with them. She pats his face and promises she’ll be back with some clear soup for him per the Doctor’s order and despite Kevin’s grumbling that he could make a clear protein shake.

His Gran kisses his forehead and tells him that she’ll be back soon and that he should rest as much as he can.

***

FF can’t sleep.

He tried.

He really did.

But without the noise of everyone else his mind keeps going back to the last time he was in a hospital. He closes his eyes and he can see Gran’s pale face when she tells him that his dad didn’t make it and the tears when she tells him neither-

He can’t sleep.

So he gets up against medical advice and decides to go on a walk. He’s not been connected to any of the monitoring equipment since he had first woken up, just the IV keeping him hydrated. FF decides he wants to get his dad’s leather back because it would make him feel better. The leather jacket has weight that would keep his feet strictly on the ground and it’s something his Gran had given to him when he went off to college so that he could keep his dad close. He could call a nurse but it feels like he shouldn’t distract them with something as stupid as getting him his dad’s jacket so he doesn’t have a panic attack.

So he lets himself slip into the background and heads towards the nurse station. He thinks that might be where they’re holding his belongings. It’s a good first stop if nothing else.

He can’t help but notice a strange number of men in suits but figures that maybe they’re just there to talk to people who seem to have gotten caught up in some sort of mass casualty incident.

He makes it to the nurse station and when a whole 5 minutes goes by without a single nurse clocking that he exists he considers speaking up until he sees a nurse bagging up some clothes, slapping on a label, and heading away.

It’s nice when things work out for him.

Another suit wearing man comes up and a different nurse sees him there immediately and comes up, “What can I help you with?” She asks.

“I’m looking for someone with the last name Smith, he has a stab wound?” The man asks.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” The nurse responds with exasperation but FF is already almost out of earshot when he hears it because he’s following the nurse with the bag.

He follows her down the hallway and she thankfully takes an elevator instead of going down the stairs because FF doesn’t know how he would have gotten his IV stand down with him.

FF walks in with her and he watches her slump as the doors slide close. Relaxing like most people do when they think they’re alone. Her shoulders go straight back when the elevator opens again and he follows after her.

He follows her to a door that she unlocks and proceeds to enter and FF sees a room full of the same bags with belongs all tagged with a last name and a room number. “Christ, why are there so many fucking Smiths in here right now?” She grumbles but takes him straight to the S section and he sees his own ‘Smith’ and room number.

He grabs it and heads out the door before the nurse and heads into the elevator.

His phone pings with a text message. He opens it and sees a text from an unknown number.

“Come to the Cafeteria. - IM”

FF stares at his phone for a few minutes before the initials click.

Iruma Matsumoto, the local FBI agent who was coming to talk to him today according to Captain Neil. It’s weird to be texted like this but this is the first time he’s ever had to talk to the FBI. Maybe it’s normal? He doesn’t really want to bother Captain Neil about what getting interrogated by the FBI is like since Captain Neil is out at lunch.

He decides to go to the Cafeteria.

FF follows the directory in the elevator and then the arrows that point him towards the cafeteria. He takes a moment to pull his dad’s jacket out and it does help him feel better. He realizes the McDonald’s toy is still in his pocket and thinks that he really should probably turn that over to Agent Matsumoto.

When he gets to the cafeteria he sees even more of those guys in suits and then he sees a well dressed Japanese man sitting by himself at a table. FF has a moment where he thinks ‘Wow that FBI agent sure does look like a member of the Yakuza.’ Before he squashes it because ‘OMG that’s such a fucking racist thing to think. Thoughts from the abyss are the worst and Agent Matsumoto is probably a perfectly nice guy.’

He takes a seat in front of the man who is surrounded by two other of the men in black he’s seen. Oh that guy was probably looking for him to bring him here so they could have the talk.

None of the men seem to notice him and FF realizes that he’s still in stealth mode. He sets the bag with the rest of his clothes to the side and clears his throat.

Three sets of eyes are on him immediately and FF breathes through the anxiety as the two men at either side of Agent Matsumoto seem to reach for something at their holsters.

“Captain Neil said you wanted to talk to me.” He says.

Captain Matsumoto raises a hand and the two men on either side of him return to an at ease position.

***

Ichirou Moriyama could admit to himself that he had been startled when a young man seemingly appeared out of nowhere in front of him without any warning. He sees a bulge in the man’s pocket that says that he’s armed and he could have done anything before bringing attention to himself. He had men throughout the hospital and no one has spotted Wesninski or any of his cohorts but they had their eyes peeled for the uninvolved civilian who had taken out Jackson on his own and had assisted Wesninski’s guard dog in taking out Romero.

Interesting.

Ichirou clasps his hands together in over the cafeteria table.

“Yes, let’s talk.” He agrees.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

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The  requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few  different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I  promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be  something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

If you didn’t get notified on the last part it’s probably because I used tumblr mobile to post and our most beloved garbage fire site just didn’t like that.

[true-blue-sonic]

To Make Amends

In which Silver and Tails talk out what happened in Sonic Rivals 2.

----

This isn’t precisely how Silver envisioned an alleged super genius would live.

The little workshop tucked away in the forest is nothing remarkable. It’s tiny and quaint, made of wood and metal sheets with a large water wheel spurring and prattling around on one side. In the light of the afternoon sun it looks charming enough, if it weren’t for the fact this place is supposed to be Tails’ bastion of knowledge where he invents new creations up the wazoo. The exterior of the place hardly looks impressive enough for that, Silver decrees. But Espio and Amy had assured him that in here, magic could happen: Tails is able to repair anything, they had said.

Hopefully also futuristic Extreme Gears made with materials that the past has never even seen.

Oh well. The only thing he has to lose is a race wherein he’s ended right in the stands with his Gear on the fritz, the hedgehog figures. Either Tails is able to repair the thing and all is well, or he isn’t and Silver’s got weeks left to find another solution before he’s going to partake in the competition. And thus the psychic flies over to the large metal doors on one side of the building, adorned with a logo of Tails’ namesakes. At least he knows he’s at the right place, a firm knock getting bonked against them.

“Coming!” resounds from inside, footsteps running over and the doors sliding open to reveal Tails.

…Whose eyes first widen as they meet Silver’s, before blinking, before furrowing into a deep frown.

“Silver,” the greeting comes. If Silver didn’t know better, he would describe it as icy.

“Hey,” the hedgehog nods back. “My Extreme Gear is broken and Amy and Espio said I just had to go to you so you could help me out.”

“Oh.” Tails makes very few attempts at moving out of the way. “Is that so.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with it. It keeps twisting to the left when I want it to go straight,” Silver explains further.

Slowly blue eyes drop from glaring at him to the Gear in question. “Really now.”

“Yes,” the hedgehog agrees; the beginning of a long, long silence wherein he stands with his Gear under one arm and wherein Tails’ narrow-eyed leer has flitter back up to him to stare. Intriguing, Silver muses. And awkward. Apparently it’s not a custom to invite people into a house in the past, or something. Doesn’t fit with Amy altogether dragging him into her apartment the few times he paid her a visit, but whatever. “Should I put it inside so you can take a look?” he thus speaks up, giving the Gear a little hoist.

An awkward clearing of Tails’ throat follows. “Actually, I’m a bit… busy?”

“I can put it down so you can look at it when you’re not anymore, if you want. Amy and Espio said that you’ve always got things to do, but it’s still weeks before the race.” Manoeuvring the Gear so it doesn’t hit Tails right in the face as he enters Silver walks past the fox cub, studying the interior of the place with a hum. Lots of technology, and tables with gadgets and items galore strewn about on them, and in their midst a bright red vehicle that gives the hedgehog pause. “You own a plane?”

Tails comes rushing closer, all but throwing himself in front of the thing. “Well, it’s Sonic’s!” the response comes, a tad yelp-y. “But, uh… Maybe you should-!”

“That’s cool. I won’t put the Gear close to it, then,” Silver assures him. His Gear is big; he can’t fault Tails for being worried the plane is getting damaged, with how delicate and outdated it looks. So somewhere tucked away it is; like in the corner between two tables, that looks like a nice spot without anything nearby to break if it falls over. “There,” the hedgehog nods, placing his Gear down. “Do you need my help with anything for it?”

Turning around back to Tails he perks his ears up helpfully; except Tails is looking a tad… frazzled. Awkwardly the fox tugs at his gloves, mouth open as if he wants to say something yet nothing coming out. “Or is this not a good spot,” Silver figures the problem is.

“That’s not… Sorry,” Tails mumbles back. “But, uh… Perhaps it’s, well… a bit audacious to put your stuff down just like that while asking- uh, you know?”

Audacious, Silver muses. That means that he’s bold? Or something. “I don’t follow,” he speaks up, Tails swallowing. But something more dour and irked crosses the other’s face the longer he stares at Silver, twin tails flicking most irked behind his back.

“I mean that you’re just waltzing into my lab like this.”

“Amy and Espio said I could,” Silver naturally responds, because they did and told him Tails would be happy to help.

Even if the sight of the fox cub in front of him is, well, very much not that. “I don’t think they meant like this,” Tails grumbles back, whipping around to return to a table with a ton of stuff and trinkets strewn about on it. “Anyway, you’d best leave. The sooner I can concentrate, the sooner I can work on your Gear.”

“Great! Thanks,” Silver nods at him…

And no response follows, other than a huff and a shrug.

And even Silver can tell that’s not the reaction of someone more than happy to lend a hand.

“You’re annoyed, aren’t you?” the hedgehog speaks up slowly.

Tails tenses, just a bit. “Hmh.”

“If you’re too busy, I can just take the Gear to someone else. That is no problem.”

“That’s not… it.”

Right, Silver muses. That tells him absolutely nothing indeed. But there is something going on, and if it’s not the Gear, he can think of a handful of other things: either Tails is so busy that he’s just stressed, or he’s annoyed by Silver. And only one thing is something he can tackle.

“It’s something I did,” the hedgehog guesses next.

A deep sigh follows, Tails shooting a look over his shoulder. “Silver, I appreciate you’re trying to talk to me about this, but maybe you’d really better leave.”

“I want to know what’s going on,” Silver shoots back, arms crossing. How can he solve whatever it is if Tails won’t even tell him? But the fox turns away once more, fiddling with some of the stuff laying on his table.

“You don’t. It’s in the past.”

In the past… This is honestly the first time he’s ever talked to Tails face-to-face, so they don’t have a lot of past together. “Something about when we met?” Silver thus guesses next. Not much remarkable about that, except the fact the world was literally on the brink of destruction and the only person being even remotely helpful in that situation had been Espio…

Yet Tails tenses only more. “It is!” the hedgehog promptly figures. “What precisely?”

Shooting Silver a look that he’s received from many a person before and that always makes him bristle – it’s the “You’re so dense” look, the “Why are you not following us, what isn’t making sense about this to you, stop being so wilfully ignorant” kind of mocking leer that makes Silver see red – Tails scoffs. “I’m just saying that you’re walking in with a lot of audacity asking for me to repair your Gear after you stole my rings.”

And Silver blinks.

Oh, he remembers. Oh, yes. He did very much do that.

“I needed them,” he answers, running a finger over the glowing cyan mark on his other hand. Espio had come up with the plan; he’d looked altogether horrified by how Silver had been shambling along with trembling limbs and body swaying like it could collapse any second, his powers exhausted entirely. That collapse had been mere moments away if Silver hadn’t gotten the rings in time, even if the hedgehog had refused to tell his friend that lest Espio would be too worried. But he has to commend the chameleon for how efficiently that situation had been resolved… even if it apparently still leaves Tails bothered.

The fox’s eyes narrow even more. “And you called me small.”

“That’s not true. I called you a half-pint,” Silver helpfully jogs his memory. “Because you’re smaller than me. That’s quite obvious.”

…And apparently also the wrong thing to say, because Tails is looking altogether peeved.

Raising an eyebrow at the sharp teeth getting bared in his direction and the way the fox’s ears pin right against his head Silver opens his mouth for something to add; before faltering. He also doesn’t like being called a half-pint, and if anyone were to lay a finger on the things he rightfully collected he’d probably just murder them on the spot. Same with anyone idiotic enough to call him a half-pint, actually. “You’re mad about it,” he concludes instead, a scoff following.

“You could say that.”

Right. That is easy to figure out, honestly, but it does leave Silver wondering. “What did you need the rings for, actually?” he prods some more. If that’s not resolved yet, he can just go get a bunch of them right now!

“Knuckles and Rouge asked us for help to collect rings for their Emerald detector. Not that we were able to lend it in the end,” Tails grumbles back at him, whipping around to return to his tinkering and leaving Silver disappointed.

“I see… So getting you rings now to make up for it wouldn’t do much, huh?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” That’s one potential way to make amends down the drain, Silver figures. And asking Tails about what he wants seems risky, considering the altogether murderous way he pokes a screwdriver into his gadget. But then what… “I understand that you’re angry,” Silver tries a new angle. “I wouldn’t appreciate being called small either.”

Tails makes a noise not unlike an overheating kettle. “Then why did you say it?!”

“I was about to collapse and you were in my way,” Silver recounts, twitching his ears as Tails glares at him disbelievingly. “No, really. My powers were completely exhausted. You and Sonic had collected all of the rings in the area already, so taking them from you was my next best shot. It was either that or fainting and then the world would have been completely destroyed because I couldn’t have done anything to stop the Ifrit.”

“…Right.” With his angry movements slowing down Tails stares some more; up and down over Silver’s body before halting at the marks on his hands, brow furrowing. “What exhausted you so much?”

“Running around collecting Chao for days, mostly.”

“Did you not… sleep? Rest?”

“No!” Silver huffs; Espio had asked the same, with his opinion that Silver had been pushing himself far too much clear to even the hedgehog, and yet the agitation inside Silver had spiked up in the exact same way as it does now. “How could I rest, when every moment I’m not working is one wherein more Chao could have been stolen and the chances that the Ifrit would destroy us all could have become bigger?”

A hum follows at that. “I see what you mean, even if you can’t know for sure that would have happened… But then, why didn’t you ask if you could have some rings? If it was that important?” Tails inquires, more pensively.

Promptly it’s Silver’s turn to bristle. “Because we’re not friends? Or on good terms?”

“So?”

“So you wouldn’t have given them to me because we’re not friends or on good terms? And you were already collecting them for someone else?” Silver repeats, spelling it out slowly. Jeez, he thought Tails was smart.

Yet one of Tails’ ears flicks. “Silver, even so, if you tell me that you’re actively dying and need rings, I’d have shared some with you. Maybe that’s hard to see in such a moment, but…”

“It would have earned you nothing.” And it wouldn’t; if anything, it would have earned Tails the ire from Knuckles and Rouge for not having enough rings to help them out, Silver figures. Although now maybe he earned their ire for not having any, even if there’s a reason for that. Hmm.

Slowly Tails shakes his head. “It would have earned me the knowledge I helped someone in need. Is that not something good to achieve? Do you not get happy when you’re able to lend others a hand?”

And Silver’s eyes widen.

“Oh. If you put it like that…” the hedgehog mumbles, gaze flicking up to the ceiling. If he had rings and someone came up to him proclaiming they needed them imminently¸ he would have given them all away… Heck, if he didn’t have rings, he’d have torn the planet asunder if that was needed to find someone. Even for a stranger… “I know what you mean. Knowing that you helped someone… It’s a nice feeling,” he adds.

Something just a bit more warm flickers over Tails’ face, though the tiniest twitch of a smile on there dissipates moments later. “But now you just took them from me.”

“And I called you a half-pint,” Silver recounts further. “And you’re angry about both.”

A scoff follows. “You could say that,” Tails sighs back; and with that, he turns around to return to tinkering once more.

That leaves Silver, pensively staring at the ceiling. Tails is mad, and Silver understands why Tails is mad, and if he’d been in such a situation himself he’d also be mad, and if he’d been mad, he would have appreciated it if…

“I’m sorry,” he speaks up. “For insulting you. And stealing your rings.”

The flicking of twin tails freezes. “…You are?” Tails asks, turning around slowly as Silver nods.

“I hurt you. And especially if you’d just have given them to me if asked, that’s… not nice of me. So, sorry.”

Blue eyes regard him warily, Tails’ head tipping to the side. “Would you have been sorry if I hadn’t told you about this?”

“Probably not. But I am now, and that means I won’t say it again. You’re not even that much smaller than I am, really, so I was wrong about that too,” Silver shrugs back earnestly.

For a few seconds Tails just stares. A prickle of discomfort goes over Silver’s spine at it; was that also the wrong thing to say…?

…But then a snort follows. “You’re a really interesting person,” the fox remarks, with a smile on his face; but this is a true smile, Silver is sure of it. “Apology accepted. Promise that if you ever find yourself in such a situation again, you’ll ask us to help you?”

Ask for help… He didn’t ask Espio for help, not at first, the hedgehog muses. Only after extensively running into each other with the chameleon relentlessly following him did they even get to talking. But he’d asked then: if Espio would help or keep getting in his way, and his not-yet-a-friend had chosen the former. And that had made them be friends, the working together and the aid Espio had given him when he needed it most. “If I ask you for help, will that make us be friends?” Silver inquires, Tails hesitating for a second before nodding.

“I think so. If you’d like that.”

“People in the past are nice,” the hedgehog tells him; not the most competent when it comes to mitigating calamities, clearly, but Amy has welcomed him with open arms and the Chaotix are an altogether amiable bunch. Who is to say Tails isn’t the same? “And is there really nothing I can do to make up for it?” Silver does add, after a pause. “I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least try to do something for you.”

“I’d feel bad for asking,” Tails notes back, screwdriver dropping on his desk as he turns to Silver’s Extreme Gear. “Although… You can tell me everything about your Gear and how it works and what it’s made of, and then it’s okay. Deal?”

Studying his broken Gear too Silver nods. “I’m not a technologist. That’s why Amy and Espio said I had to go to you instead, because you’re the greatest at it. But I can do my best, if you want.”

“Heh.” Tails blushes at that, the hedgehog swears, even if it’s hard to see with how the windows mute the light from the afternoon sun. “The greatest?”

“That’s what they said,” Silver recounts. “And, I mean, you do have a plane here. That’s pretty cool!”

“She’s Sonic’s pride and joy. I’m happy to take care of her until we need her for adventures,” Tails all but beams, the little vehicle getting a few pats on her side. “I can tell you all about the Tornado and the versions I made, if you want…?”

“I’d be happy to listen,” the hedgehog agrees; and Tails’ eyes light up, the Extreme Gear grabbed and hoisted onto a table as a torrent of words about technology and planes and Eggman ploys and gadgets begins bursting out.

Silver can’t follow even half of it, but he listens closely, and Tails marvels at his ability to psychokinetically lift up dozens of items at once to move them closer or put them back in their place, and before he knows it the sun has sunken away in full and all the light outside comes from Tails’ lamps and the stars. “It should work again just fine!” the fox tells him, handing over the Gear with a beaming smile of pride.

“Thanks, Tails. I’ll give it a spin immediately.” With careful touches Silver runs a hand over his Gear; it looks just as sleek and pristine as always, but Tails had found tons of little points and places to improve it, he’d said. Amy and Espio hadn’t lied one bit; he truly does know what he is talking about, the hedgehog concedes. Even if his lab is still a bit on the tiny side as Silver walks out of it, but perhaps also here there’s tons of things hidden that the hedgehog would have no knowledge of. Tails definitely has surprised him today.

“If anything is wrong, just come back and I’ll take a look at it.” Following Silver outside Tails rubs behind his head, a more awkward little cough following. “And if you’ve got any other tech from the future, or maybe something with your powers, ah…”

Muffling a chuckle at the shy but inquiring peek sent at him Silver nods. “You’ll be the first to see it, promise.”

“Thank you!” gets grinned at him, Tails’ namesakes twitching eagerly. That hopefully won’t cause any paradoxes or anything, Silver prays to the gods, but so far he’s been to the past a couple of times already and everything has been a-okay. “Take care in the dark, and don’t do anything reckless,” the other adds, giving the Gear a final pat.

“Will do. And thanks again,” Silver agrees, readying himself to go run with his board before jumping up. But before he does so, he draws a deep breath; leaving matters unresolved is not something he’ll ever accept doing. “And thank you for letting me stay. And that we could talk about what happened,” he adds. He’d never have figured out Tails was angry about it otherwise, probably, and that just won’t do for someone he's friends with.

His companion jolts, just a bit. “Oh! It’s really no issue,” the response comes, almost hurriedly… before it falters, and Tails squares his shoulders up as well. “But, it’s also… kind of you that you apologised,” he smiles. “I appreciate it.”

With a nod Silver returns the warm look. “Of course! I’m glad it made you feel better.”

“Hmh,” Tails agrees, ears twitching… before he peeks up and adds a: “And now you’ll never do it again, right?”

Head tipping to the side Silver studies Tails close; but where his words are sharp, something playful twinkles in the fox’s eyes, head tipped to the side and little grin on his face. So he’s joking, the hedgehog figures. “I promise to not call you a half-pint again and not to steal your rings again,” he thus nods back gravely, a snort following.

“Also for Sonic?”

Quite promptly Silver finds himself overtaken by a dour glumness. “Sonic’s on thin ice. Can’t promise anything about him, sorry.”

“Too bad. Any friend of mine is a friend of Sonic. You two will befriend each other as well, and that is a threat,” Tails winks back. And he remains unrelenting in that statement even as Silver huffs and shrugs him off, eventually leaving the fox in stitches with laughter at Silver’s protests while the hedgehog rolls his eyes and gets ready to blast off on his gear.

But there’s something happy and fuzzy bubbling in his chest as well, that Silver can’t exactly place but which he appreciates. And if befriending Sonic will feel like that too, and if Sonic is willing to have him around in the first place, then…!

Maybe he should go hang out with Tails more often, Silver decrees, and the trip back to where he’s staying at Amy’s is a happy one indeed.

[queer-lovebot]

what do we think about kevin day with makeup? with skirts and dresses? how do foxes react? how do andrew, neil, and jean react? HOw will jeremy react!?

AH! Kevin should always be dressed pretty forever! A sundress or a little skirt. Some sensible heels. Mary Janes. Mesh top. A gentle smoky eye. Sorry I’m getting crazy. I think Kevin dresses rather modestly and that’s part of the charm. As long as he has the illusion of being covered he’s Okay

I think the Foxes are annoying about it in the way they are, but they aren’t judgemental! In fact I think Nicky is going to use this as an excuse to treat Kevin as a dress up doll. I think it’ll make the “princess” comments worse for SURE, but that’s a necessary sacrifice for a Kevin that’s so dressy. Allison is probably the first person to help Kevin navigate his femininity and figure out what looks good on him. Bc of this Kevin is legally unallowed to be mean to her.

Andrew and Jean suffer the worst of everyone. Kevin comes out wearing some nice heels looking for advice and Andrew and Jean share the worst look known to man. Which then makes them disgusted at each other. Same look of horny Intrigue.

Jeremy and Neil? I think they react similarly except Jeremy with more excitement? Neil is like “I don’t get it” until he gets the pleasure of destroying a really cute skirt in a fight and well. The rest is history. He also enjoys how flustered Kevin gets when wearing something pretty.

Jeremy is like “woah kevin is usually so hot and string and now he’s hot and delicate but STILL strong??” He probably wants to put Kevin in lipstick just to have it smeared all over his own face. Jeremy is very appreciative and will also want to dress Kevin up when they see each other. Private fashion show if you will.

[slightlyhozy]

“Through the Cold, I’ll Find my Way Back to You.”

Chapter 2: “All my love and terror, balanced there between those eyes.”

Characters: Púca! Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Original Female Character

Summary: Maisie Quinn, after inheriting a home in Ireland from her late grandmother, slowly learns a dark past about the land in which it was built on.

Word Count - 2,098

Warnings - None except for animal death and descriptions of their bodies

A/N - I’m still learning how to write longer chapters, I will get better!

That day, I had looked into whatever the hell this Púca was. Seeing that it wasn’t necessarily a danger in any stories made my anxiety ease, which was a bit embarrassing since I didn’t even believe that it existed.

Closing my laptop, I looked around my new bedroom, the wooden floors were effortlessly dusty and cracked. Grunting, I opened my laptop again, in pursuit of finding someone in the area to install new flooring in certain rooms.

Settling was getting easier despite the fact Mary was the only person I really knew, On a good note, I already had a form in for a commission out in Dublin; they wanted me to paint a mural in the lobby of their office building. I figured the best way to go about living in a new country was to make connections anyway.

——————————————————————

That night, I lay with Lenny in my arms, surrounded by blankets, as some movie played. I pressed a kiss on his head as we cuddled. My mind kept drifting back to the monster, my mind constantly justifying why it wasn’t real; I knew it wasn’t real. I thought about the property and area surrounding it; there were never any bad vibes; it always seemed normal.

While thoughts scurried around my head, a familiar scratch caught me off guard, making me jump. The fox.

My head turned to the door, sighing, I was tempted to go and feed the fox. Thinking back to my conversation with Elsie, interfering with wildlife really wasn’t a good idea. I had just moved here, I should at least put the effort into making a good impression, if not to anyone in particular.

As my dog growled, his attention turned to the door, and I began to pet him in an attempt to calm him down. I understood he tended to be protective of me but never like this, over an animal. “Lenny, shhh.” Scratching behind his ears, he whimpered towards the door, moving to lay back beside me.

Trying to focus on the movie, I could hear the creature outside screaming for attention, it was borderline eerie. I continued to sit, it wasn’t my place to feed it, that was the fox’s job.

After ten minutes, I couldn't handle it anymore. Turning off the TV, I stood up and walked to the stairs, going up to my bedroom for the night.

——————————————————————

I grumbled, pulling weeds from the gravel of the garden. I had been at it for hours now, only joined by the sound of Van Morrison singing in my ears and the chirps of birds in the trees. Other than the labor, it was therapeutic.

Sitting back, I took a swig of water, looking around the garden. The weather had been nice, it was early September, so the weather had started getting colder than it was before. The sky was white, and the trees were less vibrant. As I pulled out the invasive plants, my eyebrows raised as my eyes fell on a small mouse.

The furry rodent in question was undoubtedly dead, but the only injury was a bloody wound on its side. As I continued to pull weeds, 3 more bodies were found. Initially, I believed that there was a cat that lurked in my garden, but then also the lack of injury or puncture to the bodies made no sense. I felt as though I was turning into a skeptic or just feeling the effects of my disorder. Before I could spiral, I was brought back to life by a bird call.

Looking up into the tree, I immediately recognized the black stripe along its eyes, much like a bandit’s mask. Oh. It was a shrike, I wasn’t even aware they had those in Ireland. Internally, I thanked myself for having a bird phase, otherwise, I would be sent into a phase of paranoia over dead mice. Still, I was puzzled around the fact that the mice weren’t eaten, simply impaled, then dropped.

I wasn’t too sure what could be wrong with the animals in the area, perhaps there’s a disease spreading amongst species. I wasn’t informed enough to really have a clue, but it was almost creepy.

While I pondered, another bird flew next to perch beside the shrike. After a moment, the two began to squawk and fight with eachother, their beaks clashing. Not being interested in watching what could happen to the smaller bird picking a fight with a brutal predator, I collected my garden tools and water bottle, making my way back to the house.

Lenny was sniffing around the yard as I cleared out the mouse corpses, like I had the other animal on my porch. The sun was slowly setting, and all I could think about was getting a proper drink and starting on a personal art project, the subject of which is still a mystery to me.

——————————————————————

Over the next few nights, the fox seemed to only get more aggressive. I frowned as I stared at my front door, this time, a dead rabbit was left. Did it think that I ran out of food? The rabbit itself would be unedible if I even wanted to eat it, it was completely squished, presumably roadkill. The wood along the door had been scratched, deep. A shiver ran up my spine as my finger reached out to trace the marks, the light inner wood going about half an inch deep. I wasn’t even sure how it was possible, but I also knew that I would now have to invest in new flooring and a door.

I was a bit worried that it would attack me if I didn’t feed it; with no evidence to back this up, any creak or sound outside would make me jump. When I slept, I dreamt of it attacking me or Lenny. So now, after three nights of ignoring the animal, I decided to give in.

It was almost one in the morning, finally, my couch had been installed, freeing me from the pain of having to haul my long limbs off the ground. With a small tub of ice cream in my hand, I was binge-watching Breaking Bad. The sound of Walter White monologing went through one ear, out the other as I anxiously awaited the arrival of the fox. I was almost worried it wouldn’t come. Why was I worried? Why wouldn’t I want it gone?

As if it were summoned, a familiar squaking woke me from my thoughts, immediately sending me to pause my show and put my ice cream somewhere Lenny couldn’t reach. I shushed him with my finger to my lips. As I went to look through the window. To my expectations, the small animal stood on the top of the steps, its green eyes gleaming under the poarch light.

Afraid of any chances of Lenny putting himself in danger, I led the dog to the study, shutting him inside, the door muffling his barks and growls.

In the kitchen, I worked to fix a wet bowl of dog food and a scoop of pumpkin purée on top. Opening the door, the fox stood expectantly. I set the bowl down, quickly moving to shut the glass door so I could see it eat. Again, it’s eyes stalked me as it ate eagerly, as if I had starved it. Perhaps it couldn’t hunt, wouldn’t…? If it couldn’t, where were these dead animals coming from?

——————————————————————

Fresh air. Fresh air was what I needed, space, was what I needed.

The morning after the encounter with the fox, I decided to go to the beach with Lenny. Throwing on a grey knit sweater, black jeans, boots, and a beanie, I clip on Lenny’s leash, his tail wagging faster than it had in a long time. As I go outside, I make sure to clean up the brutalized hedgehog left on my porch, the guts splattered across my porch. As I cleaned up the insides, visibly unhappy, I simultaneously fought Lenny back from eating it.

Smelling the sea was a specific kind of nostalgia, the beach itself wasn’t too different than some back in Washington. The air kisses my cheeks as I fight it, the clashing waves soothing my ears. I clutched the leash, hoping he wouldn’t try and run along the beach.

I felt grateful that there was no one in the morning, just me, my coffee, and my dog. I wonder if I was becoming a loner, back home, I seemed to be going out every day, with friends and making them as well. Now, all I had available was Mary. As much as I enjoyed some alone time, I wondered how long it would take until it became too lonely for me, I wondered how long it would be until I found a routine with my work, more clients, and when I would meet local artists.

Taking in the scent again, I closed my eyes, the cool wind making me feel more grounded and alive than I had in a year. Keeping them closed, I continued to walk into what seemed to be a never-ending path, curving around the water.

As if enjoying my solitude was too much, my eyes scrunched up as my shoulder was bumped. My eyes shot open as I helplessly watched my coffee cup fall against the sand, the contents leaking into the grains. Lenny immediately went to investigate, sniffing and licking the spill.

After picking up the cup, I look up the figure that disrupted my walk. He was tall. Around 9 inches taller than me, his nose and cheeks were a dusty pink from the cold, the coloration obvious from the cold weather.

His beard was nicely groomed, but his hair was messy and greasy.  Above his pronounced cheekbone, there was a small, healing cut across the skin. His eyes were cold and endless, not kind but not uninviting. Where the hell did he even come from?

“Sorry… Uh, I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t too sure why I was apologizing, according to my therapist, it was one of my weakest traits. The stranger stepped back, sizing me up.

He didn’t reply, I could hear Lenny by my side, growling lowly. “Really, sorry, he’s just protective... I promise he’s a good dog.”

“It’s alright.” His voice was deep, rich, and smooth like honey, he was hansome in general, just unsettling. He brushed a gloved hand through his brown curls, his green eyes following me.

I wasn’t sure what to do, I was pretty desperate for interactions, and he only seemed 10 years older than me at most. “Nice weather?” I cringed at my terrible use of small talk.

“Alright. Cold.”

“I mean, it usually is... cold.” Awkwardly, I itched at my neck, unsure what to do. “I’m Maisie.” I held my hand out, his eyes just darting to stare at it, not accepting it.

“Andrew. Are you American?”

I swallowed nervously, I didn’t want to come off as an uneducated, arrogant American prick. “Uh, well, yes, I just moved in... I live over..east..” My arm extended to point towards my home.

“I know.” My face immediately grew concerned, he knew? How?

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t reply.

“Andrew… Do you live around here? Or do you like, drive down here for walks.” His brows furrow, as if I were asking something invasive.

“I live near here, I like water.” His hand reaches up to scratch at the scab forming on his face, I notice how one of his glove fingers has the tip torn off.

I nod along awkwardly, maybe he didn’t get out much? “Yeah, me too... It’s nice to live this close to the ocean.” He doesn't answer again. “I lived in Seattle, so I was really far away from the ocean, sometimes, we’d go visit family on the coast.”

His brows furrow. “Where’s that?”

“Washington? Uh, it’s in the Pacific Northwest of America; Kurt Cobain was born there.” He seemed clueless. “Oh…” My face furrows with concern as I see blood, almost black, start to drip down his face. “You…your scab… It’s kind of..” I try to point it out casually, not trying to be rude.

Moving his hand away, Andrew moves to lick his finger, his brows raising. “Oh,” He doesn’t seem too concerned with the color of his blood as he observes it. “Habit.”

“Right,” As I am about to speak more, my phone rings—the flooring installers I had been talking to. “Oh, sorry, I need to take this.” I whisper to him as I back up, pressing my phone to my ear. He just gives me a weak wave as I turn away, waiting for my turn in the cue.

As I turned back around not even a minute later to say goodbye, he was gone. Andrew. The weirdest and one of the rudest men I had ever met.

A/N: ANDREW DOESNT STAY LIKE THIS THE WHOLE TIME I PROMISE HE ISNT BORING

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 2 - A Caring Man

Monster!König x she/her afab reader

CN: patriarchy & sexism, arranged marriage, speaking animals, dead fish, mentions of cannibalism, harassment, ableist speech, woohoo another drowning reference, toxic masculinity village edition

eventuell smut.

Beta-read by the wonderful @queenquazar

Cultural context notes:

I’m basing a lot on central and eastern european fairy tales.

The heron is a figure from an old fairy tale called the heron & the fox.

Masterlist

“What’s it like being married?” the king asked.

“Lot’s of work if you are doing it right.” The old man leaned back and fixed his pipe. 

The wooden ceiling above your bed was familiar and simple. Since you were a child, you had woken up to this sight since you could remember. Now, it was the most fascinating thing to stare at.

Cracks, textures, knotholes in the old planks– all of it was better to look at than to face the world outside of your little room.

You closed your eyes. Maybe you could summon back the night, the past days, the… quite a lot of time actually since you last been happy.

A sunray danced over your face.

Saichiki – as your mother had called them, little sun rabbits jumping around and reminding you that it was indeed day no matter how much you tried to pretend otherwise.

You took a deep breath, opened your eyes and got up.

Swinging your legs over the edge of your bed before-

Wet.

You jolted back and peaked over the edge onto the floor.

A puddle of water covered the ground before your sleeping space. A trail of little puddles leading away from the water at your bed and out of the room. Careful not to step into the water again, you got up and traced the trail out of the room, into the empty kitchen and finally out of the door.

Confused, you looked into the garden.

In the middle of the path was a pile of freshly caught, still wriggling fish.

Quickly, you slammed the door.

König, you thought to yourself while sliding down the wood door, plopping on the floor.

You heard yourself choke as the memories as they returned: Your family was gone, your grandfather had promised your hand in marriage to a strange inhuman being from the swamps, you nearly drowned yesterday, and the people from the village you had grown up with, wanted you gone because bad things happened around you. Maybe they were right and you were cursed.

Maybe you were cursed not like in the old tales but as simple as an unlucky charm, drawing the worst lot out for everyone including yourself.

You buried your face in your hands, allowing yourself an honest moment to cry.

A knock on the door made you jolt back up again, jumping away from the door and staring at the tarnished knob

You listened.

Another knock.

“Go away!” you cried, hoping that König or whoever from the village had come to your house, would just leave.

Another knock.

Groaning, you got up and ripped open the door while reaching for the broom next to the door.

“I said go away!” you cried again, ready to swing the broom at whoever harassed you, before stopping in your tracks, the door bouncing slightly against the wall.

A heron stood before your door, next to the pile of fish.

“Huh?”

The bird looked at you before looking back at the pile of fish.

Confused, you raised the broom to shoo away the bird.

“Shoo! Shoo! Go away!”

It danced a few steps back before returning to its spot and looking from you to the fish and back again.

You grimaced, shivering in only your chemise in the early morning breeze.

“Listen, heron, if you want a fish, just take some. They are not mine!” you tried, feeling out of your debts. Why were you even trying to talk to an animal?

Naturally, the bird said nothing.

“Of course,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to the bird, as you turned to close the door.

The bird rattled, as if laughing.

“Girl,” it cackled, and you froze in horror at the sound of the speaking bird, “I’m not eating the fish the king caught you. He tasked me to make sure you eat them. ‘My bride is so light to carry,’ he said. ‘Make her eat some fish,’ he said.”

Horrified, you kept staring at the bird.

“Take the fish!” it cried, “Don’t make me wait on you, girl.”

You blinked in surprise at the slightly annoyed heron.

“R-right. Sorry,” you mumbled before remembering your grandfather’s tales and warning about speaking animals. Bowing slightly to the bird, “Can I get you something in return for looking out for me, master heron?”

Another rattle from the bird.

“You can leave me a chalice out in the garden with some of the fish you are going to cut. It would be much appreciated.”

“Will do.” You bowed again before putting down the broom and quickly grabbing a big bowl to collect the fish.

As you returned to get the fish, you were alone. The heron was gone. Alone in the garden, you picked up the fresh trout and one big carp from the ground, feeling the heavy weight of watching eyes on you.

You kept inside the house as much as you could for the rest of the morning, only leaving to get firewood and water to wash and cook the fish. The thought of having more eyes watching you made your stomach turn. And having to face one of the same villagers who thought you cursed? The thought alone sealed your convictions to keep to yourself. You traced the wooden chopping board before sliding your fingers over the used counter. Home, it was all home, even the slightest dent felt like it belonged there just like you belonged with this house.

You let yourself fall onto one of the chairs, taking a break.

Why did I take the fish?

You could not help but wonder why you had allowed a bird to intimidate you so much before getting up and filling a chalice with a bit of fish for the heron as promised.

Because it spoke and birds don’t speak.

You grimaced to yourself as you placed the chalice onto the windowsill. Better not test your luck with speaking animals.

The fish König got you was fatty, fresh, and delicious.

You could not help feeling slightly grateful for the food. Maybe König was not as bad as you had assumed, and he did not want you any harm.

Maybe-

You froze at the thought of König feeding and fattening you up only to eat you once it fit him. The memory of one of many of your grandfather's tales rose up in your mind, like the pieces of fish rose up in the cooking broth.

“Open up, Wench!”

You flinched under the harsh words as someone knocked against the wooden door.

“Open up!”It was Ivar. Back in the days, he had been a friend to your father. Now, he was the first to terrorize you as the cursed girl.

“What do you want, Ivar?” you called through the closed door while stepping closer, clutching the broom again. It was better to ask before letting the mob leader in. And it was better to be armed with a broom than regretting not to.

“What do you want, wench?” he shouted, “I told you to leave yesterday. Yet, here you are! Nobody wants you here, bitch!”

Bile rose in your throat. It was bitter to discover the people you had grown up with turned against you so easily.

“This is my home, Ivar!”

He snorted dismissively, “This was your grandfather’s home - an honorable man. And you cursed and killed him, just like you killed all the others! I am not waiting for you to kill the rest of the village!”

“I have not killed anyone!” you cried. Fear, sadness, and anger – a lot of anger – tinting your voice.

“Don’t lie to me, witch!” Ivar spat, “You killed them! You killed them all. And now all that is left is you in this once honorable house. Leave or I’ll make you!”

You flinched.

“This is my home,”you whispered before raising your voice, “This is my home, Ivar! I’ll never leave!”

Cold and hot shivers washed over you as you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“Ha! You are a woman!” Ivar retorted with spite, “Only men can own land. You are so vile that no one even wanted to marry you for your family’s land. You are cursed! Leave before you kill us all!”

Hot tears spilled over your face.

Anger boiled in your stomach. But sadness kept you from shouting back at Ivar, sadness, and betrayal. It was as if Ivar did not need to drag you from your own home to punch all fight out of your body. With shaky hands you gripped the broom, trying to calm your agitated breath.

“Why would anyone marry for land?” a different voice asked.

Your eyes widened in recognition.

König.

“Now, marrying for water that I would understand,” König mused, “but land?”

A confused pause transfused through the wood door to you.

“Are you an idiot?” Ivar finally asked angrily, “Who are you, stranger?”

“König. The question is rather who are you to shout at my fiancé, little man?”

Another powerful pause before Ivar broke with a loud and dismissing, “What? You are lying!”

This was it, you realized, this was your chance of getting rid of Ivar and the villagers.

With a swing, you opened the door, wiping away your tears.

Ivar nearly filled out the door frame, but König easily loomed over Ivar, standing a couple of steps away in the garden. He stared down with an amused smile, cold blue eyes transfixed on the smaller man.

“No, he is not,” you declared while pushing your way past Ivar and stepped close to König, “This is König, my fiancé. Leave us alone, Ivar.”

“As if anyone would marry the cursed girl,” Ivar remarked despairingly.

“A curse?” König peeped curiously while slightly leaning into the space between you and Ivar.

You shifted around uncomfortably. “They say I am cursed because my family died, König.”

He turned his head and eyed you for a moment. You returned his curious gaze, he looked different now – human.

 “Intriguing. I’m a truly lucky man.”

“Are you insane?” Ivar gasped.

A quick smile flashed over König’s face.

“Insane?” he asked with a friendly tone that indicated entirely not friendly intentions, while stalking closer to Ivar, “Tell me – Ivar, right? Tell me Ivar, is it smart to harass the girl that you say is so cursed, she brings death to anyone close? Yet, you can’t get enough of yelling at her from as close as possible?”

Another step closer.

“Or, tell me, is it smart to anger the stranger who is willing to marry this cursed girl? Am I not the dead-man-walking then who has nothing to lose according to you?”

He straightened up, towering massively and glaring down at Ivar. You couldn’t pry your eyes from König, large and imposing, silent as a whisper as he unfolded the foolishness of Ivar’s so-called reasoning. 

“Or is my fiancé not cursed and you have no reason to be here, making you nothing but a petty man preying on those he can target easily? Uh, Ivar, tell me? What will it be?”

Another quick smile danced over König’s face, dangerous, entirely inhuman.

You shivered.

Ivar, feet still firmly planted, had leaned his shoulders from König, trying to create distance, and in his attempts, shifted around slightly, before looking around and finally, to the ground.

“This is not over, Good day,” Ivar mumbled and stepped away before turning around and walking out of the garden.

You both stayed and watched him trott off until he vanished between the trees and bushes, breathing a slow exhale once out of sight.

“What kind of curse is it?”

You turned your head, facing König.

“I’m sorry?”

“What kind of curse is it?” He repeated, “is it by a witch or by another human or something else? And how does it work?”

“I don’t know?”, you huffed, stepping away and crossing your arms before you defensively while fighting the incoming tears. “I am not cursed. I think. I hope. It’s only what Ivar says to make me leave the village. He wants my family’s fields and my home. It could be nothing but a convenient lie.”

“How disappointing.”

You blinked in surprise. Disappointing?

“You would have preferred me to have a curse, König?”

He shrugged, “I certainly wouldn’t have minded it. How dangerous can a little human curse be after all? And it could be practical to have curses to keep annoying men like Ivar away, don’t you think?”

You considered his words. It’s not like you wanted to believe him, but the thought of keeping anyone away with a curse - real or not - felt more comforting than you would have wanted to admit.

“Maybe,” you conceded, “But I would prefer not to be cursed, or have Ivar show up at my doorstep claiming that I am.”

“Do not worry about Ivar anymore, my bride,” König said before turning to the house. “I smell fish cooking. Is that the fish I got you?”

Your head whipped around. The Soup!

“Oh no, I forgot it!”you cried before running back to the house and to the fire. Quickly, you grabbed a rag before taking the hot iron pod to move it off the hot flames. It smelled fine, not too burned. Yet, the bottom of the pot felt like it had started to burn slightly as you stirred and tasted the meal.

At least one good thing today, you thought to yourself while taking a deep breath.

A little knock on the door made you look up. König standing in the door frame, looking all green and tangled again like you remembered from the pond. Briefly, you wondered how he did that.

“Everything alright?” He asked, peeking into the house, his skin shimmering like water reflecting sunlight before appearing nearly human again.

“Uhm,” you tilted your head and looked away, “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

He eyed you silently, clearly not believing you before finally mumbling, “Alright, you are as good of a liar as an otter. Don’t worry, my bride, I’ll have the heron watch your house in case Ivar returns.”

“Oh, so that’s how you knew he was here,” you stated dejectedly. Even the bird was watching. Was there any way to escape all this with so many eyes on you?

He grumbled before stalking into the room.

With a shriek you stepped back but he was before you, bowing down to you.

Terrified, you froze in your spot.

“Don’t worry, bride,” he said, “I may not know much about your human customs. But, I know that I am expected to keep you safe. No harm will befall you anymore.”

You stared up at him.

Blue, watery eyes you did not understand. Eyes, so profound. You felt like falling into deep waters. As you stared, it recalled the calming waters of the swamp, the gentle sway of laping rivers. Waters that carried the same oaths and secrets and security you were almost granted the day before as you stared and stared and stared-

He blinked and smiled, his eyes suddenly just blue eyes, the profane dissipating like fog in the bogland.

You gasped for air, suddenly feeling your lungs constricted and your skin going cold and damp.

“I’m glad you want to marry me,” he said and straightened up again, “I worried that I might have scared you yesterday. But you called me your fiance, so you must not fear me.”

He chuckled darkly while drawing your form into a hug.

“Ivar on the other hand, has plenty to fear now after picking a fight with the king of under the water.”

[darkesttimelinestuff]

Fictober Day 4

Prompt #12 - “did you hear that?” "

Camping in October on Martha’s Vineyard is a crapshoot. Foliage is guaranteed, but the chance that the weather will turn is a gamble. 

And Fox Mulder is gambling man. He opted for a cabin, rather than a tent under the stars. They had spent the day hiking, and even found what Mulder dubbed now as their “makeout spot.” It had been a perfect fall day. The sun began to set and temperatures dipped, so they had made their way back to the cozy one-room cabin to continue their makeout session. 

*****

Back at the cabin, Mulder says, “It’s freezing.” 

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Scully says, but doesn’t look up from her book. 

Mulder shudders, says, “I’m getting flashbacks to Antarctica.”

Scully is not sure how to respond. They rarely talk about Antarctica, because really, what is there to say? “Thanks for saving my life” feels trivial. Completely inadequate. And it’s all wrapped up in declarations of passion, the closing of the X-Files, and the ghost of a woman who almost tore them apart. A sore subject best left in the past. 

Instead, she says, “Oh, stop it,” and swats at his legs, perched on her lap. 

Outside the wind howls, slapping leaves against the living room window. It was an autumnal swirl all afternoon, that descended into a spooky scene with the setting sun. 

Scully reaches behind her, grabs the blanket, and spreads it over Mulder. “It’s these old, drafty windows,” she says, and resumes reading her book.

Mulder’s eyes drift closed and after a few minutes, she adds, “I think it’s actually kind of peaceful.”

Mulder cracks open one eye. “Peaceful?” 

“Well, we spent so much time in the city,” she explains. “Even on our cases, in seedy motels, there’s usually more… noise pollution that I’d like.”

“Are you still mad about that time I book us the by-hour motel? Because I told you that was an accident and -” but he stops and cocks his head. Listens. “Did you hear that?” he says, urgently.

Scully remains very still and listens. “It’s just the wind,” she says. 

“No, I heard something,” insists Mulder. “It sounded like screaming.

Scully continues to listen for a minute and after a minute shakes her head. 

Resigned, Mulder sighs and closes his eyes again, his breathing slowing. Scully picks up her book and marvels at how relaxed he’s been. 

After a few minutes the unmistakable sound of a woman’s scream tears through the night. Scully shoots to her feet, dropping the book. Similarly, Mulder tumbles to the floor, face down, panting heavily. 

He lets out a pained groan.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Scully says, bending to help him up. 

“Do you believe me now?” Mulder asks, rising to his feet.

“That definitely sounded like screaming,” Scully agrees. 

“I told you,” he says, bending to meet her at her level. “This isn’t something I’d make up.”

“You’re right. But we need to figure this out now. Someone is clearly in trouble.”

“Way ahead of you,” Mulder says, already tucking his weapon into his jeans, heading for the door. 

“Right behind you,” Scully says, grabbing her piece.

The full moon provides some light. Scully’s stomach is in knots, heart thumping hard. Dread sets in that this could be turning into a case of swamp monster or night fairies, when all she wants was a quiet weekend with Mulder. 

Their feet crunch twenty feet into the woods and they stand back-to-back, waiting. Listening. Another shrill cry echoes from behind their cabin and they head in that direction. 

“Just one quiet getaway…” Scully mutters, more annoyed than scared. 

“What was that?” Mulder asks.

“Nothing,” she relents, and they continue inching toward the back of the cabin, weapons at the ready.

In the back they stop at a rustling in the bushes. It’s darker here, the canopy blocking most of the moonlight. Mulder places a hand on Scully’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. He takes a step in front of her. “Be ready,” he whispers.

Another scream and something tumbles out of the bushes, a tangle of fur and limbs snarling. One creature rips away, yelping in pain, the other runs into the cover of night. Mulder’s arms fall to his sides. “It’s a… a…” he pants, “a…”

“It’s a fox,” Scully deadpans, lowering her gun. “How appropriate, Fox.”

The animal limps, calling behind it one last time, and scurries off into the woods. 

“Who knew a fox could sound like a woman screaming in pain,” Mulder says, sheepishly.

“Mulder, have you never been camping before?” Scully asks. 

“Uh I must have missed those Scout meetings.” And he gives her a toothy grin.

“Next time I’ll take you to camp among the Redwoods where there have been Bigfoot sightings,” Scully smirks.

“Scully, you know the way to my heart,” Mulder says, clutching his heart.

[ravenalla]

“The hellhounds originated from Gluttony and Beelzebub created them that’s why she looks like that. She’s suppose to be like the animal tamer of Lucifer’s circus.”

Okay but like Viv, none of that is made clear in your actual show. People had to actively ask if she was suppose to be the one and only Beelzebub and now your relying on Twitter fans to make theories on why your characters look certain ways or are allowed to do certain things, people who don’t follow you on social media aren’t gonna know shit about how this world works. I like subtle world building and hints, and I think the ideas of Beelzebub representing an animal tamer is fun (even if wrath makes more sense to me), but when the rules of how the hierarchy system and rings work is already so confusing and relies entirely on you looking it up online it just looks like you wanted to make another random furry design. Why are hellhounds represented by gluttony? We were never shown an instance of this before and the episode doesn’t even say that they’re in the gluttony ring at the start (which is just another Earth with a yellow sky this time how creative).

I’m not saying I want the show to spoon feed us everything, but just a little context and set up in the actual show instead of random things just happening all the time with no explanation would be nice? Like yeah it might get explained more later on in Hazbin, but why then did you make this entire spin-off show come out first taking place in these other locations and with these demon lords if you weren’t gonna set the ground rules of your universe for the audience? That’s exactly what’s causing people online to scramble to come up with explanations for you about why you have discrepancies like Tex and Beelzebub not being a big deal but Stolas and Blitz are, your relying entirely on diehard fans to wave away your shitty writing and world-building cause you never take even a single moment in your show to have a character say anything that would clew us in on how it all works. There’s too much exposition in writing, and then there’s never giving any so you just have to make guesses or listen in on streams to figure out what society your characters are even suppose to be navigating.

Also for the “A bee/fly would have been unoriginal and ugly, she doesn’t have to follow the Bible lore” people, have you considered the fact it’s just a messy design? Like I don’t even hate it on it’s own, she looks really pretty in the fanart I’ve been seeing. But putting aside the fact she’s just a wolf/fox girl, she has so many unnecessary markings, her actual hair combined with the honey hair looks so unnatural and awkward, the bug traits don’t stand out, her outfit is basically only a slight redesign of Loona’s and as people have pointed out makes no sense on her chest with the supposed undershirt. You just can’t tell what your suppose to be looking at when you first see her, it’s just noise, which is fine for an oc, but this is an actual animated show where your suppose to be communicating something. The problem isn’t she’s not fat, I’m glad they didn’t do that for her in a show with everyone else skinny it would’ve read bad, it’s that she only stands out because they slapped bright colors neon colors onto her, nothing about this design is clever. It’s just pretty aesthetics, no substance.

Also I’m sorry, they could’ve made her entirely a bug and still have been hot, why are people assuming we are saying she should’ve been ugly when we say we wanted a more insect-like design? I’ve seen loads of gorgeous bug designs for Beelzebub, people aren’t disappointed cause she’s hot they’re disappointed cause it makes no sense.

[cecilysass]

Shine On (4/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 4: The Art of Profiling

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 20, 2015

The pizza that Fox Mulder ordered isn’t from a pizza place Jackson has ever heard of, like Domino’s or Pizza Hut, but it’s really good anyway. Or at least it tastes good to someone who hasn’t eaten all day. Jackson eats the first piece really quickly, then he grabs for a second without thinking, forgetting his manners. When he realizes what he’s done, he hesitates.

“Go for it,” the older man says, his eyes darting sharply back and forth between the pizza and Jackson’s face. “Eat as much as you want.”

Fox Mulder has been acting much more intense ever since Jackson told him about the red-headed lady.

Jackson’s tired, and he has only barely skimmed the surface of the man’s difficult mind, but he can tell that the guy’s stunned by the news. Fox Mulder’s mind is channeling down a dozen different paths right now: fast, mazelike thoughts, like bobsleds going down tracks. A current of sharp worry running through like a winter chill.

It’s honestly exhausting to try to figure out. Jackson closes off the shine for now, takes another big bite of pizza. This sausage is a little spicy, which is exactly how he likes it.

“I have a lot of questions for you,” Fox Mulder says, his voice low. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. But I … gotta ask some of them.”

Jackson nods reluctantly, his mouth full. He doesn’t feel like answering questions at all. Still, he supposes the more he gets out of the way, the better.

“You said you have visions,” the man says, setting his own piece of pizza down. “Do you have other … abilities?”

Jackson studies him cautiously as he finishes chewing his bite of pizza. He’s not in the habit of discussing what he can do. It’s only really ever been trouble when he has, so he’s almost instinctively secretive about it. But things are different now. And Fox Mulder, well, he seems to know all about this kind of thing.

“Yeah,” Jackson says carefully. “I do.”

The man runs his hand over his mouth. Jackson notices he’s only eaten half of his slice of pizza. Either he’s not hungry, or he’s too distracted.

“You can read thoughts,” Fox Mulder guesses, leaning back, speaking with certainty. He folds his hands in front of him. “You can focus on other people’s thoughts. Not just one person, but several at once.”

Jackson sets his slice of pizza down in shock. “How did you know that?”

“You can move objects, too.”

Jackson blinks at him. “I have been able to do that. Some. I could do it easier when I was little.”

“What else?”

“I can, like, change people’s perceptions. What they see. Not for forever, just for a little while. So, if I, like, need a distraction in class or something, I can make the teacher think someone opened the door and mooned us. Stupid stuff like that.”

Fox Mulder looks undeniably fascinated. “Wow,” he says. “Interesting.” He taps his fingers on the table. Jackson doesn’t have to use his shine to see that the man is thinking this over. “So does that mean you could effectively shapeshift? If you wanted to?”

“Yeah,” admits Jackson. “At least I can make other people think I look like someone else.”

“Huh,” the man says, squinting thoughtfully. He tilts his head, looking at Jackson again. “Are you reading my mind right now?”

“No,” Jackson says honestly.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired,” Jackson says. “It’s work, sometimes. And no offense, but you’re kind of complicated and hard.”

Fox Mulder chuckles. “I don’t know if I should take offense at that or not.”

“I did read your mind earlier,” Jackson confesses. “And the red-haired lady …. she was really easy. I hardly had to try with her at all. It was like her thoughts just flew at me. I was wondering if that was because she was my birth mom. Do you think that could be right?”

The man stares at him blankly, not directly answering. “Her name is Dana Scully.”

“Dana Scully,” repeats Jackson.

“Have you ever heard that name before?”

“No,” Jackson says. “I don’t think so.”

“Did your parents tell you anything about your birth parents? Who they were, where you were from?”

“I don’t think they knew anything about them,” Jackson says. “It was a closed adoption.”

Fox Mulder nods, scratching his chin. “Yeah,” he says. It’s like a cloud of sadness has fallen over him. “Yeah, it would have been.” He fixes Jackson with a curious look. “Do you … have any questions for me? About any of this?”

“Uh. Sure.” Jackson looks around the room, slowly, as if the best question to ask might be scrawled on the walls. The faces peering out of the framed photos draw his attention again, but it’s all so much. He looks away, back at the box of pizza in front of them instead. “Is it… okay if I have another slice, Mr. Mulder?”

The man laughs a little, crossing his arms. “You can just call me Mulder.”

“I think I’m eating more than you, Mulder,” Jackson points out seriously. “It doesn’t seem fair. It’s your pizza.”

“I told you, eat as much as you want.”

Jackson feels like he has been polite enough. He shrugs. “Thanks,” Jackson says, taking another slice.

“Jackson,” Mulder says, watching him eat, his voice suddenly too casual. “Do you have any idea who your birth father is?”

Jackson picks up his piece of pizza and studies it, pulling off a particularly delicious-looking piece of sausage and sampling it. “Well,” he says, through a mouthful, “I’ve got a guess. Based on certain clues. But I don’t know for sure.”

“Clues you’ve read in people’s minds? Or clues you’ve noticed?”

Jackson shrugs again. “Both, I guess.” He gives Mulder a look, raising his eyebrows.

There’s a pause.

“What clues?”

“Well, I’m not stupid,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “That woman, Dana Scully, was here, fighting with you. Lots of big feelings. Then, the way you’re acting now. Like you think I’m a brand new iPhone and you can’t stop looking at me. And how you seem to know things about me. That’s a bunch of clues.”

Mulder has been sitting with his arms crossed, and he hasn’t moved the entire time Jackson’s been talking. But now Jackson can see a tear sprouting in his eye. It surprises him. Wayne Van De Kamp, his father, would never have cried in front of him. Mulder blots it with his sleeve, and Jackson sees his hands are shaking, too.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that so carelessly, kind of flippantly. It’s obviously a big deal to Mulder. Really, truthfully, it’s a big deal to Jackson, too—something he’s wondered about his whole life. But right now he just can’t have everything feel like a big deal all at once. Or he’ll explode or something.

He meets the man’s damp eyes.

“Yeah,” Mulder says roughly, trying to smile. “Okay. A lot of clues.” He pauses, uncrosses his arms, places his hands on the table. “I get the sense you can’t handle a lot more emotional drama right now, Jackson, and I get that, I really do. Believe it or not, I’ve been in that place myself.”

Jackson’s speechless. It’s like the man read his mind, but that’s not possible.

“I just want to say, we can talk about it whenever you want to,” Mulder adds. “No pressure.”

Jackson nods his head up and down, licking his lips nervously.

***

After dinner, they go back into the part of the room with the couch, which is surrounded by all the messy piles of books. Jackson sits on the floor and starts picking up volumes curiously. “The Art of Profiling?” he says. “Is that an art book?”

“No,” Mulder says with a smile, trying to kick piles out of the way. “It’s psychological profiling. Like for criminals.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, making a connection. “Like on Criminal Minds.”

“What’s that? A TV show?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “My parents love it. It’s about a team of FBI agents who profile dangerous criminals.” An exciting thought occurs to him. “Wait, is that what you did?”

“Yes,” Mulder says. “No. Kind of. I was a profiler, years and years ago. But then I was put on the X-files, where I investigated cases that had unexplainable, supernatural associations.”

“That’s why you have books like this,” Jackson says. He lifts the book Sasquatch: Diverse Perspectives. “Or this?” Extraterrestrial Abductions Beyond the Media.

“Yeah,” Mulder says, a self-deprecating shrug. “That’s right.”

“That’s badass,” Jackson says, a root of an idea occurring to him. He belatedly realizes his mistake. “I mean, that’s cool. Very cool,” he corrects himself.

“It was badass,” Mulder agrees, seemingly unaffected by Jackson’s profanity. “Although… it could be difficult. We went through a lot, working on the X-files. Scully and me.”

Jackson absorbs this information. “So you and Dana Scully worked together on the X-files. In the F.B.I.. That’s how you knew one another?”

“We were partners,” Mulder says with quiet precision, like this sentence is very important.

They’re just three words—we were partners—but Jackson can tell they tell an entire complicated story the length of a book or more. His shine cries out to be used, but Jackson pushes it aside.

“Mulder,” Jackson says slowly. “Is it a coincidence that you and my birth mom worked on these X-files … and that I have these abilities?”

“No, Jackson,” Mulder says, sighing heavily. “It’s probably not a coincidence.” He sits on the couch, looking down at Jackson still sitting on the floor. “There are things that both of us were exposed to that could have … caused the abilities.”

“But you guys don’t have them yourselves, right?”

“No. Not like you.”

It’s a frustrating answer. “Not like me? Or not at all?”

“Some things I want to wait to talk to you about,” Mulder replies. “Until we’ve had a chance to talk to your mother, too.”

Your mother.

Jackson inhales sharply, the words sending an unexpected shock through him.

“I meant Scully, of course,” Mulder says quickly, noticing his reaction. “I’m sorry.”

“Dana Scully isn’t my mother,” Jackson says with emphasis. “I have a mother.”

“I know.” Mulder’s eyes look impossibly sad. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I know.”

“I’m not looking to replace my parents,” Jackson says tightly. “That’s not why I’m here or what this is about. They’ll always be my parents. I love them.”

Mulder appears to sink further into the couch. “Yeah,” he says. “I can tell you do.”

Jackson looks down quickly at the stack of books again, playing silently with the cover of Criminology Through The Ages. He knows he shouldn’t have gotten angry. He knows Mulder didn’t mean anything by it, and he’s having to struggle with his shine now to keep from sensing any bad feelings or thoughts coming off of Mulder.

It’s just Jackson feels almost disloyal, sitting here talking to this man, learning this information about his birth parents’ lives, when his parents just died. When they probably died because of him.

“Jackson.” Mulder’s voice is kind. “What were they like? Your parents. Do you want to … tell me about them? I don’t know anything about them.”

Jackson pauses, still staring at the book in his hand. “Yeah,” he says. He tries to find the right words. He has to be the person who remembers them, who speaks for them to the world now. “They were … they weren’t anything like me. But they were great.”

Mulder waits patiently, his soft eyes on Jackson. Jackson puts the book back carefully on top of a pile.

“My dad was the shop teacher at Rawlins High School. He was good at woodworking, cabinetry. He was always trying to teach me.”

“Were you good at it, too?”

“No,” Jackson says with a tiny smile. “I was really, really bad at it.”

“Oh yeah?” Mulder echoes the tiny smile.

“I couldn’t cut straight. I forgot to measure,” Jackson says, shaking his head. “I was always disappointing him.”

“Not really,” Mulder guesses softly.

“No,” Jackson agrees, just as softly. “Not really.” He’s quiet, thinking more about his goofy, sweater-vested dad. “He was always cheerful. He thought you should look on the positive side of things, you know? Really into baseball. He coached my Little League team for a while.”

“That’s good,” Mulder says encouragingly. “It’s good to play sports.” He’s quiet, too. “And your mom?”

“Her job was running the church preschool,” Jackson says. “She was always singing. She loved holiday decorations, and to cook and bake.” He feels tears threatening. “She is just … she was a really good mom to me. Like, she hugged me all the time. I acted like I didn’t like it, but I did.”

“I’m glad she did that,” Mulder whispers. “I’m so glad.”

“She was really Christian. Really into church. They both were.”

“You were raised religious?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Lutheran.” He glances at Mulder wryly. “But I was really bad at that, too.”

Mulder returns the look. “I’m not very good at that myself,” he says. “Scully’s religious, in her own way. But I’ve never been … that kind of believer. It’s just never made sense to me”

Something warm blooms in Jackson at being understood in this way. It’s never made sense to him, either.

“What are you good at?” Mulder asks. His tone is gentle, but Jackson’s shine is suddenly alert, suddenly aware of what’s underneath the man’s exterior. Mulder is hungry to know more about him, desperate for any detail. His need is so overwhelming, Jackson closes the door on it quickly.

“I don’t know,” Jackson says casually. “I’m good at math, I guess. Math comes easy to me.”

Mulder’s face lights up. “Scully’s amazing at math.” Looking over at Jackson, he seems to regret his words. His scolding to himself shines through. —stop making everything he says about me and Scully. “Sorry. You’re telling me about yourself.”

“I like to run,” Jackson continues. “I’m pretty fast, and I think I’m a good distance runner. I was thinking maybe I’d try out for the track team in high school.” He pauses. “But I guess I’m not going to high school now.”

“Come on,” Mulder says. “Of course you’re going to high school. Your life isn’t over.”

“I’m most likely going to prison,” Jackson mumbles darkly.

“Nah. Not going to happen.”

“I don’t even know where I’m going to live,” Jackson adds. “Where I’m going to stay tonight.”

“You’re obviously going to stay here tonight,” Mulder insists. “After that, we’ll figure it out.”

The lightning-fast image of a school building with a sign— Farrs Corner High School—and then another fast image, the two of them, Mulder and Jackson, running side by side on a country road, a road that looks a lot like the road right outside the farmhouse. Then almost instantly, more scolding in Mulder’s mind: Way ahead of yourself. Stop it. Haven’t even told Scully. Need to confirm.

“How will we confirm?” Jackson asks quickly. “What does that mean?”

Mulder’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Sorry,” Jackson says. “That was kind of rude of me, probably.”

“I have to remind myself you’re listening,” Mulder says with a small smile.

“I normally try to hide it more,” Jackson says. He stands up, stepping around the books to sit next to Mulder on the couch. “But I mean … what’s the point if you already know, right?”

“I was just thinking that before we introduce you to Scully, we should run DNA,” Mulder says. “Yours against mine. To confirm it.”

“Why?” Jackson says, frowning. “You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t you tell that I believe you?”

Jackson sighs. “Yeah, I think you do.” He kicks out his long legs and leans his head back against the back of the couch. “But like I said, you’re not the easiest.”

“The people that Scully and I used to be involved with,” Mulder says, “were the kind of people who would go to extremes. Even extremes like convincing a kid his birth mother was someone she wasn’t. Like planting ideas into people’s heads. I don’t think you’re lying, but I think it would be smart to know for sure.”

Jackson swings his head to look at Mulder. “Who were these people?”

Mulder regards him with a troubled expression. “I’ll answer that, Jackson. But I think you need to answer this, too: who drove you here? To Virginia?”

“I told you,” Jackson says, folding his arms defensively, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?” Mulder’s eyebrows draw together in concern. “It worries me a little. Did the person who drove you ask you not to tell me?”

“Yeah, they did,” Jackson admits. “But I don’t think they’re one of these bad people you’re talking about. They were just trying to help me.”

“But Jackson,” Mulder says urgently, “you need to understand that—”

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Jackson insists, and his voice sounds younger than he intends. “Please. Just trust me.”

Mulder rubs his temple with one finger. “Okay,” he says simply. “I can do trust.” He leans forward on his forearms. “But still, Jackson, I think we gotta do the DNA test. If you’re not … the person we think you are—and who Scully thinks you are, it would be too hard for her.”

“She’s been wanting to see me that bad?”

Mulder is surprised. “Of course she has. Of course.”

“But it was a closed adoption. Her choice.”

Mulder opens and closes his mouth, again seeming not to know what to say. “Since the second she let you go,” he says, his voice strained, “she’s been wanting to see you again.”

Jackson’s shine pulls in an image then of a baby in a crib, crying, and then the woman Mulder calls Scully, younger, crying and crying, inconsolable.

It’s all too sad, and Jackson is sad already.

“Okay. DNA test tomorrow then,” Jackson says, shrugging. “No big deal.”

“Great,” Mulder says, standing up. “Now I thought I’d show you where you’ll be sleeping if you want. I’ll have to put sheets on the guest bed first. Maybe you can help me. This place used to be a little more organized when Scully lived here.”

“You have a guest room, huh?” Jackson says. “Fancy.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says in a strange voice. “It’s just an extra bedroom. Small. Not too fancy.”

It was supposed to be your room. In case we got you back somehow. Mulder’s thoughts are suddenly and unexpectedly clear.

“Then I guess I better sleep in it,” Jackson responds flatly, following along behind him.

***

[vrisrezis]

Hii! I loove your Rocket fics if you have time I have a request:

I would love to see a very nervous crushing Rocket that just refuses to accept his feelings for y/n (female) and does anything he can to avoid showing too much interest (with the result that for all the guardians its kinda obvious that he likes her even tho shes the only one that don’t actually get it, cliché)

Rocket has done everything he possibly could. Any lie he could come up with, any excuse, any reason not to see you. He had kept up with this for so long today. Now, the issue was that he did this… all the time. The two of you were friends at one point in time, and while that still proved to be the case, he was noticeably more distant. You had assumed maybe you had done something to upset him, but you weren’t exactly sure how to go about dealing with the issue at hand, you couldn’t possibly think of anything you could’ve done to him. You were always a kind individual, especially to rocket, knowing his temper and how easy it was to get on his bad side. Plus, it certainly helped that you liked him in the romantic sense. You had never told anybody about these feelings, apparently. As your conversation with gamora today proved that.

Gamora was somebody you knew you could ask for advice, as she was the only true sensible one here. And when it came to you, she never judged you. Maybe it was because you weren’t as weird as you thought yourself to be, especially in comparison to the shit quill and drax ask her for, but still.

“Wait… so you mean to tell me you’ve had feelings for rocket this whole time?” she said in surprise, and you let out a sigh of relief. “Yes! Thank god you haven’t noticed… good…” “what do you mean, good?!” she asked, absolutely flabbergasted. “What!?” you said, unsure yourself. “I-it’s just! I don’t want him to know that I like him!!”

She lets out a groan. One of those groans she lets out when she’s done with the guardians shit, namely rocket, quill and drax.

“Why wouldn’t you want him to know that? Don’t you want something out of your relationship? Something more?” and to that you shrug, “I mean sure! But what if he doesn’t like me back? I’m pretty sure he’s mad at me! That’s what I wanted to talk to you about!” you explain, and to that gamora looks even more confused. “What do you mean? Rocket doesn’t hate you?”

“But he keeps avoiding me!”

And to that, gamora takes a minute to answer back before saying upon her own realization, “oh.”

“Oh? What oh?! What are you oh’ing at?!”

“I’m just oh’ing at the fact that I just realized you’re just as much of a moron as the other guardians.”

Meanwhile, rocket had figured he’d done a good job at keeping his feelings towards you a secret. However, quill proved to him on this very night, he was very wrong.

“So… y/n, huh?” quill says with a big old grin on his face, which only gets wider as rocket yells in surprise, dropping his wrench and quickly turning around. “What?!” rocket asks, clearly surprised.

“You heard me. So, when you gonna tell them?” he asks, getting straight to the point. At this, rocket groans. “How did you know?” he asks, not even bothering to hide it. This shocks the Terran for a moment, but what shocks him even more was his question. “What do you mean? Anyone with a pair of eyes can tell you like them. Way to make it so obvious even mantis can tell without needing to touch you.” he says with a laugh, and rocket suddenly feels extremely embarrassed.

“Listen, if it makes you feel any better they haven’t caught on, like at all.”

And upon those words, his ears perk up a little.

“However,” Peter lifts a finger, “because they don’t know, I’m pretty sure they think you hate them.” he shrugs before whispering, “might wanna fox that”

Rocket groans, putting his face in his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Not kidding you dude, I have nothing to gain from lying, honestly your blatant pining is painful for all of us to watch. Just tell them already so I no longer have to suffer.”

“How the hell am I even supposed to-” rocket cuts himself off, groaning once again. “This suuuccks!!” “Tell me about it man, how do you think I felt when I realized I fell in love with a hot girl like gamora.” “Oh shut up quill.”