#X GONNA GIVE IT TO YA

[himbeaux-on-ice]

arber doing arber things

[pjs-everyday]

*immediately loses their cool* lmao 🤓 // linework >> grayscale // ko-fi

[starry-bi-sky]

danny and officer martinez's relationship in "late at night, when the nightingale sings" in a nutshell:

Martinez: FREAK! GET YOUR FUCKING KID!

Battinson, on the other side of the crime scene: he don't bite

Martinez, with Nightingale firmly attached his arm, visibly biting him: YES HE DO!

*points at them* Danny is the Bugs Bunny to Martinez's Elmer Fudd.

Another Officer: i can't believe you're fighting with an actual twelve year old. Martinez: i swear to god that is not a twelve year old, that is a little hellion that crawled out of batman's shadow one dark and stormy night and decided to dedicate his existence to tormenting me. Officer: Are you really that mad about him putting a sticky note on your back-- Martinez: thats not the point

in danny's defense: the word "freak" is. a mini beserker button for him for.... obvious ghostly reasons, so like, even if its not directed at him, he still very much unappreciates Martinez's insults at Battinson. Danny may or may not be projecting.

he's not going to hurt the guy! not in any serious or permanently disfiguring way at least! But he is going to leave mean sticky notes on the square part of his spine that he can't reach, and stick salt in his 3AM Late Night Crime Scene Coffee, and kick the bottom of his heel while he's walking so he stumbles. And other petty, infuriating things that tally up and boil over, over time.

[malarki]

Some doots

[fantasticalchaos]

The First Thronecoming

Chapter 4: Absence of Leave

Summary: “There is plot” the narrator whispers, typing up this chapter. “More specifically, side-plot!” In which, at the dead of night, there is something else going on in the background. A call for a peculiar leave of absence. But for what? [Crossposted on AO3, Inspired by SayuriCorner’s TWST x EAH AU & LovelyLlama’s Thronecoming Headcanons]

A/N: Sorry for not posting Chapter 4 in the usual format I do here on Tumblr! I was busy crossposting these works onto here cause 1) in case AO3 crashes (which it did) and 2) because enjoyment on other platforms!

P.S: (09/15/24) THE AO3 IS DOWN AGAIN!!! AND I FORGOT TO POST THIS ONE LOL! Also I had to reuse the version that I saved in docs since the website is down 😅

EDIT: WTF ITS BACK WHEN I POSTED LMAOOO 😂

⬅️ Ch. 3 | AO3 | Ch. 5 ➡️

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

[Location: Headmaster Office]

Even late at the dead of night, the elegant beauty of the Headmaster’s Office never fails to impress those in there. The flickering glow waving off the candles and chandelier. The paintings of the Great Seven smiling proudly in their shining splendour and glory. Not even a speck of dust can be found at all here from the top to bottom!

{Such elegance indeed! How befitting for a headmaster of such a prestigious academy!}

“What do you two mean that you are having a break for the next few weeks?!”

And there is the Headmaster with his hands raising in the sky. Crowley blubbers inelegantly through his sobs. Tears swelling and spilling onto his desk. A smooth wooden desk, now dampened by tears.

{Very unfitting his appearance and status as a Headmaster…}

“Why would two members of my dear, respectable staff want to leave?”

Sitting across his desk, is an elderly sorceress and a middle aged man. The elderly sorceress leans over and grumpily says to her colleague. Her cerulean blue eyes narrowed as she watches her crying supervisor.

“I knew we should’ve cursed him or better yet ditched when we had the time, Giles.”

“Now, now Baba Yaga,” the man whispers back gently, placing a hand on hers. “He’s a friend of mine, let me handle this.”

Baba Yaga rolls her eyes, but leans back in her chair. She lets him go at talking sense to the blubbering crow-man. Giles had a point; he and Crowley were long time friends. How far that friendship has surely been taken to the level where Giles is confident in dealing with this crow’s antics. Truly, Giles has the patience of a saint!

Giles turns to Crowley. The latter was touching up his tears with a handkerchief in his hand.

{Where in Ever After did he got that handkerchief?!}

I have no idea either Brooke! 🤷‍♀️

“It’s just a few days Dire, we won’t be gone for that long.” He reasons, tilting his glasses up in one hand. Giles places his other arm on the crying crow-man’s cloak. He gives a quick shoulder rub as his friend glances back up.

“But why?” The crow-man sniffles. Dabbing the last of the few teardrops with his handkerchief, he brings down his hand. “What could possibly be the reason for such a sudden, and long absence?”

{Okay, at this point this is starting to look like a parent consoling a child who’s about to go to work! Or on a business trip… Something along those lines.}

“Well, that is a little more complicated to explain….” Giles rubs the back of his neck. A slight nervous chuckle fell out. “We might as well show you for ourselves; Baba Yaga, the invites.”

He turns to Baba Yaga, who nods promptly.

Baba Yaga places 2 pieces of scrolls onto Crowley’s desk. The Headmaster tilts his head. Even with the upper half of his face obscured by his corvid skull-like mask, his neon yellow eyes glowed with anticipation.

Passing them over the table, the Headmaster picks up one of the scrolls. Indeed, there was a small attachment having both of the formers’ names (separately) on them. The scrolls, embalmed with a stamp in the shade of magenta. Upon the stamp, an etched logo of a mini key against a lock in the shape of a heart.

Unrolling both - one with his hand and the other with magic - the scrolls unwrapped themselves. Inside, the contents were as presentable as it was before. The handwriting, written so pristine and legible in its curves. Their strokes are sharp and to the point. There is even a small illustration of the same logo drawn and painted. Almost, just almost, this rivals that of the style of the Sea Witch.

“But of course, the Sea Witch does it better!” thought Crowley.

Headmaster Crowley began to read.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

To the addressed, Greetings! If you have received this message, you are royally invited to join as a newly appointed member to the Council of Ever After.

The Council of Ever After is founded as a community organisation filled with many fairytale representatives since the exile of the former Queen of the White Kingdom, Snow White.

Our mission is to explore beyond our destinies with new ideas in order to bring more life and freedom to everyone. In order to do this, we royally invite other fairytales such as yourself to help provide us with your enlightenment and wisdom. Moreover, we intend to reverse the damage of the original big bad destiny ideologies created and enforced by Milton Grimm and his associates.

We are well-aware that this will take time out of your schedule. Additionally, your newfound position will also require you to make more than one trip as well as stay longer in Ever After to fulfil your duties. Nevertheless, we have faith in you and your abilities!

Your attendance is fairy mandatory. Our first meeting with you will commence on XX/XX. The meeting will take place in the former Ever After High. Precisely at 8AM, so don’t be late when the bell strikes 8.

Fairest Regards,

Council of Ever After 🩷

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Everything went still for a moment.

It was peaceful. Agonizingly peaceful. All eyes were on Crowley, awaiting the verdict of these invitations. Crowley’s beady eyes blinked through his mask. His head bobbing slightly up and down the scroll a few times. Slowly, he pulls away the scroll, letting it rest neatly onto the table.

“I see…” He muses at last. His talon nails touch and tapped underneath his chin. “The Council of Ever After.. ”

So Ever After has a council to represent themselves now, huh? Not a king! Not a queen! Nor a group contained that of royal blood! A whole community of different tales ruling together!

Crowley remembered on the news that day! The day when King White (husband and Prince Charming to Snow White) refused the offer of ascension since the dethronement (and divorce) of his wife. After seeing what his daughter endured, he believes that they need to rest elsewhere.

Somewhere far far away from home. Additionally, he believes that it’s also his time to reflect on his distant relationship with Apple. Perhaps, by using this time, he could try to catch up and make time with one another. Just like old times once upon a time! For Apple’s sake!

{It was a giant field day for the news back home too, I’ll tell you that much!}

Oh shoot… I can’t imagine how chaotic narrating all of that was like.

{Yeah, and… I’m not supposed to say this here, but… There was also some high tea going around kingdoms about King White.}

Oooh~! What kind of tea?

{That he lack the skills in kingdom management compared to Snow. More speci-fair-ally, the more political and economical aspects of ruling a kingdom. At best, he can look the part, but not act it! There was more to the glitz and glamour towards managing a kingdom in of itself!}

…Oh my gosh. That’s huge!

{I know right?! A total major fairy-fail!

Anyways… The number of royalty that lives in the Ever After World is big, but not too common. Surely, there would have been a royal family willing to take charge in the former kingdom. Or at least siege an opportunity to form an alliance for a kingdom or two to share.

Instead, many tales decided to help one another in ruling. Ranging from those of royalty, to the lowly commonfolk and peasantry. Humans to fairies to mythical creatures that live out in the Enchanted Forest! All different classes, in rank and in species. Working altogether!}

And yet, only one thought racked through the crow-man’s brain.

“Oh Sevens, why can’t my students be more like this?” Crowley’s mind ponders, massaging his forehead. Quivering mentally like a parent lamenting over their own children and their shenanigans.

Even before the flourish of transfers, the NRC kids were a stubborn bunch. They snark at best, and argue or even throw hands at worst. Whenever they join hands and unite, there’s often something to gain for their own interests. Just a simple, personal matter that would benefit them.

Yes, there are a few students who are exceptions to this. Even the Prefect and their tanuki-cat he allowed were in charge (though mainly the former) of rounding up the troublemakers!

And yet, with all of these factors combine, there is high brewing of trouble! He can’t seem to figure out why nor how he can do more…

His students… Oh, his poor students.

{Oh the irony…}

The sweet irony…

Dire’s eyes looking over to Giles and Baba Yaga. Both eyes staring at him. One expectantly. The other impatiently.

“Well?”

“Well… as your benevolent headmaster, I suppose you two can go back to Ever After to fulfil your council duties.” He decreed, “Consider this jury duty! After all, you two were chosen for a reason.”

Sighs of relief came.

“Thank you so much, Dire!”

“Thank you Crowley!”

“Ah, by the way,” Crowley interrupted, “Did you two have signed-“

Plop!

“Already done it.” Baba Yaga stated matter of fact, slamming down pieces of paper onto his desk. “We already wrote our leave request a while ago. I brought an extra copy in case you forgot…”

An offended gasp came from Crowley, his talons touching his chest. How dare?!?

“Of course I didn’t forget! I am a very busy headmaster!” He defended with such emotion in his voice. Surprisingly, the most emotion since his outburst at the beginning. “What makes you think—”

Spritz of water flew onto and over his face.

“AH!”

He stands up from his seat. His talon-hands flare up and out. As he wipes off the excess water that went on his mask and outfit, Giles snaps his head to Baba Yaga. In her hand, is a spray bottle filled at the brim with water.

“Baba Yaga.” Giles placed his arms on his sides.

“What?” She defends herself, bringing her spray bottle closer to her. Her grip on the handle, on the other hand, remains set. “He was asking for it!”

Giles pinches his nose, tiredly sighing before getting up from his chair.

”It’s just plain water! He’ll live!”

“Doesn’t matter; Come on, and help me.”

With a begrudging sigh, she complied. She flew over and grabbed a towel and helped clean up the mess. Unwillingly. The mess that is not only on their boss, but also on his desk. And on the floor.

{Don’t forget his crocodile tears from earlier!}

Oh shoot, almost forgot about that! Thanks Brooke!

{Anytime!}

“So, I’m assuming that is everything?” Crowley asks, patting down the last spill on him. Both of which the two nod.

With a nonchalant wave in his hand, Crowley continued. “That will be all then! You both are dismissed.”

“Finally,” Baba Yaga blurts out loud. Not any hint of shame in her voice. The stool she is sitting on, turns away from her colleagues and towards the door.

Whatever it is telekinesis, magic, or some fairytale magical force that levitates her stool, it pulls the elderly lady up and away. As she enters the hallway, leaving the two behind. Not too far to hear, she makes a slight comment.

“Thought this meeting would never end.”

With the two left in the room, Giles coughs into his fist he made to get rid of the awkwardness. The tension in air, if you will.

“Oh, don’t mind her,” Giles rubs the back of his neck. His eyes downcast onto his shoes. “She means well, I’m sure.”

A curt nod from his friend came.

“Always having something good to say about others, isn’t it Giles.” Crowley complimented.

In his mind, however, another older man forms. That man is draped in a deep blue, one like the night sky devoid of light. A stern expression, one that lacked Giles’s warmth and whimsy. The golden eyes of the crown narrows.

Under his breath, he scoffed, “ Even to those who don't deserve it…”

“Indeed, Dire. You know me so well!” Giles said, unaware of his friend’s muttered quip. He waves a hand, his eyes shifting from his sneakers to the purple carpet.

“What can I say, I’m so kind after all!” Crowley puffs his chest out with a wide grin. His sense of pride swelling once again from such a compliment. His shoulders faltered as he heard his friend yawn.

“Well, it’s getting late!” Giles brushes a part of his hair away. Another heavy yawn escapes his mouth. He turns around, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dire!”

The sneakers padded through the carpet as Giles made his way to the doors. His hand lays itself onto the handle. In a quick swipe, he pulls the door handle.

The door opens.

. . .

..

.

“Giles.”

Giles stops. His feet a moment away from passing the door. He lifts his head over to Crowley. There was no smile on the latter’s face and tone. As if the joy was snuffed out of Crowley. Just a straight-lipped face looked unreadable. He almost feels like a different person entirely.

Hands gripping tight to his staff. Eyes studying Giles form intently from head to toe. Dire said, his face poised, “You and Baba Yaga be safe out there. It is an important job after all.”

The tone, calm and even. Yet at the same time, heavy. An anchor within an otherwise normal farewell. Almost too normal. Not many times does the Headmaster drop the dramatics.

This is one of those times.

And yet… Giles gives out a smile. A small, yet knowing smile underneath his greying beard.

“We will, Dire. No need to worry about us!” Was what came out of Giles as he turned away. With a wave, he added, “Farewell!”

The door shuts, and all is quiet once more. The invites and documents, being Crowley’s only company left. The headmaster sighs, sitting back down at his table.

“Goodbye Giles.”

Glancing out, pass through the painted frames and through the window. The night, clear and shimmering with dots and stars. All sparking at the moon, a waxing crescent with the rest obscured by darkness.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

[Later that night…]

Ring! Ring! Ring!

A grumble echoes as a figure arises from his bed. Their fluffy cat once rolled up like a cinnamon roll, now stirred up and awake. Lights illuminating the once dark room. They watched as their owner left their shared resting spot. Not wanting to be left out, the latter hops off and tails after them.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The figure walks over to the ringing phone. When they reached it, they stopped in their tracks. The ringing continues ceaselessly, prompting the figure to massage their forehead.

“Great Seven… What time is it? Who would be calling at this forsaken hour?”

“Meow.”

Feeling one of their legs being wrapped in soft fur, they look down to see their cat purring up at them. The figure smiles a bit, feeling a sense of comfort and strength to deal with this minor setback.

Kneeling down, they picked up their cat in their arms. Cradling them as they took a deep breath. Their emotional support companion. They picked up the phone, bringing it to their face.

“Hello—”

“Why, good evening Trien!” Cheerful greetings phase on through the phone. Trien sighs at the voice. “How are you doing on this beautiful night?”

“Crowley, you better have a good reason for calling me late at night.”

On the other end of the phone, Crowley stilled. Sweat spilling from his forehead as he fiddles with his white collar.

“Ah, yes! I have an utmost reason to call you!”

“Tell me then, Dire.”

“…”

“Tell me, what could it possibly be to talk about at this ungodly hour?”

Perhaps the Headmaster realised that maybe… Just maybe totally this wasn’t a good time to tell Trien about the increased workload for the next coming days….

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

⬅️ Prev | Next ➡️

A/N: And that’s the last of the current chapters I have crossposted here! I’m so glad I have these here when the crash happened lol

I’ll be continuing on my writing the next chapter, so please be patient until the next one comes out! Thank you for reading! Until next time!

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY: Never Never Gonna Give Ya Up

Ruby: Hmhmmmhmmm. *reading her manga*

Blake: *enters the room* Afternoon, babe~ *turns on Barry White on her scroll*

Ruby: *turns around* Hm? What's up, Blake?

Blake: *cups Ruby's cheeks* 🎶Never, never gonna give you up. I'm never, ever gonna stop. Not the way I feel about you, girl I just can't live without you. I'm never ever gonna quit 'cause quittin' just ain't my shtick. I'm gonna stay right here with you and do all the things you want me to.🎶

Ruby: *mad blush* Oh... my... god...

Blake: *giggles* Dinner tonight at the park. Don't be late, babe~ *kisses her deeply*

[vivisols]

Sooooo... this new fic -tell me something about it (so much or so less you want to share) ;P

EHEHE GLADLY IM SO GLAD YA ASKED!!!! you dont understand how excited i am to talk about it lmao :DDDDDD

so my newest fic is.... a post apocalypse mer au!

ehehe!!! :3c i mentioned it in some of the author notes of claw at the stars and im soooo excited to actually finish chapter 1 of it!!! its only like. 30% done so far bc im playing video games non-stop on my writing break but im chugging along xD

the basic summary is that after a meteor strikes the earth (again), humanity has had to rapidly evolve to survive the harsh conditions of rising sea levels and much harsher temperatures. (id elaborate more on some science and biology stuff ive been brainstorming too but that's SPOILERS </3) more under the cut!

long story short, theres evolved people and creatures evolved from people on land and merfolk evolved from people in the sea! plus theres new languages thanks to evolving and changing vocal chords! (reallyyyy i just wanna get wacky with humanoid designs xD can you tell i like doing that yet???)

as for the fic, here's a quick summary of the very basic plot :3

a few decades after this meteor hits, the daycare attendant wakes up from an emergency shutdown in the ruins of the pizzaplex. with no telling of how many years its been, they have to pick up the pieces of where they left off and navigate this new world. with the help of y/n (dats YOU!!!), a mer who ended up on land, they slowly get their bearings and try to settle in to their new life, scrounging for parts to repair themselves in the overgrown remains of cities.

y/n has never even thought about going on land, but of course, the one time they do they have to drag around a robot that doesn't even understand what they're saying. sun and moon, meanwhile, latch onto you like a lost puppy as they try their best to learn the new language and figure out what you keep signaling to them.

(why were you on land? can't say! since, well, it would be spoilers...)

theres gonna be tons and tons of fluff and mystery and adventure and romance and LOREEEEE! all the tropes im obsessed with! and of course vanessa is here too because i love herrrr :3

anyways, i cant share toooo much besides the basic summary since i love being vague and mysterious hehehe but! im nearly done with the first chapter :3 it will likely be out sometime in january, IF not january 1st! im super motivated :3c

as a reward for listening to my way too long ramble, have this super quick concept sketch i did the other day!

again, really just a quick sketch but! you can kinda see what im going for maybe?? XD

i hope this was sufficient for now! feel free to ask for more if ya want! i LOVE talking about my ideas ;D

[because-she-goes]

waiting for you

warnings: swearing, alcohol, cowboy!matty, bartender!matty, pining for each other, slow burn. Enjoy!

The lights were dim and the air was filled with the smell of leather and smoke. The sound of electric guitar, people talking and glasses clinking percolated around the bar. Neon signs buzzed and hummed above you as you fixed your hat. The staw hat had become slightly more and more crooked as the night progressed and you became more drunk off the rum and cokes the bartender kept passing to you. Today had been a rough day, your boss had scolded you about leaving papers on his desk in front of the whole office, you spilled coffee down your brand new blouse, your heels were digging into your achilles tendon and that’s not even to mention how you had ran out of gas on the way to work and had to call your work friend Mona to carpool you both there. Needless to say, you needed to take the edge off, enjoy your Friday night in peace and forget about your 9-5 for a bit. Taking a long sip and finishing the rest of the rum and coke in front of you, letting the liquor burn your throat.

“How was the drink, darling? Want another or something different?” The voice grabs your attention. Looking up at the bartender, first noticing the chunky rings that adorn his hands. Then the salt and pepper curls being held back by a clump of gel. Then his eyes, holy fuck his eyes. And god his outfit was good, a tight white tank top with a seemingly vintage flannel thrown over it and some baggy blue jeans. Shaking your head to wake yourself up a bit and bring you back to reality, you remember he asked you a question.

“It was really good, but I’ll try something different! Dealer’s choice.” You answer him, eyes now locked onto his.

“Okay, do you like sweet, bitter or sour?” He asks, eyes taking a glance at your lips. You silently thank god you remembered chapstick and lipstick today.

“…sweet.” you reply simply, taking a glace at his stupidly perfectly pink lips. You take a moment to think how they would feel pressed against your pulse point on your neck, teeth nipping. You let out a sigh as he nods and gets to work.

You watch his skilled hands move around the bar as he grabs the different ingredients for whatever he has in mind… vodka, peach schnapps, orange juice, then cranberry juice. In a shaker with some ice, he puts one and a half ounces of vodka, a half ounce of peach schnapps, and then two ounces of each of the juices. You gulp as you watch his biceps flex as he shakes the cocktail around until you notice the condensation form around his knuckles. Oh dear fucking god.

He pours out the sunset-toned liquid into a glass with pebble ice and places 2 cherries on top delicately. “Here ya go, sweetheart. Let me know how you like it.”

You take a sip and barely hold back a moan at how sweet and lovely the drink is. “Oh my god, this is good! What is it called so I can order it next time I’m out?” You ask, going in for another sip.

He waits until the rim of the glass touches your lips and then says “It’s a sex on the beach, babygirl…” Your brain short circuits at that and you cough up a bit of the drink.

He giggles and hands you a napkin. “Everything okay, muffin? You alright there?”

“Yeah… yeah I’m good, just-just took me by surprise is all!” He laughs a bit more as you wipe your mess a little… noticing an orange stain blooming on his white tank top.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry about your shirt!” You damn near shriek, reaching over the bar to wipe it with a napkin before it dried.

“Oh it’s okay, babygirl. I always keep a spare in my car for times like this haha - wanna take a walk with me? I’m due for my 15 minute break now anyways.” He offers, already walking to join you in the front of the bar. He holds out a hand and you take it, walking out to the back with him as he yells to the other bartender to cover him for a bit.

In the parking lot, you see the most beautiful red vintage Ford Bronco. He unlocks it quickly and grabs the extra shirt out of his backseat, silently swearing to himself how the shirt got ruined and he had just washed it that morning. He takes a minute to make sure you’re still okay as you lean against the driver’s side door. He sees your green eyes gleam in the moonlight and his whole body relaxes - he could never be mad at someone so beautiful, so pure, so lovely.

He wipes his hands of the alcohol being spilled while he made drinks, mixed with the dirt under his fingernails from being at the ranch that morning - he helps where he can and plus the extra money doesn’t hurt. You take another look at his hands and arms as he’s distracted and notice the very slight farmer’s tan and warm honey toned skin that graces his forearms. He peels off the dirty tank top and your heart stops when you spot his slight happy trail and abdomen flexing as he stretches.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer, buttercup!” He speaks into the night sky, a laugh hidden under his breath. Swapping the shirts, he places the clean one on and throws on a baseball hat since the gel was starting to come loose and his hair began to fall in his eyes as he worked.

“S-Sorry, you’re just s-so pretty.” You admit bashfully, kicking the pavement below your sneakers. The drinks clearly now affecting your ability to filter your thoughts.

He steps towards you, taking your face in between his palms. Your breath hitches as you breath in his scent… marlboro reds, ginger and vanilla. Warm, spicy, a little sweet - heavenly. It takes everything in you to not just fall to your knees and collapse at his scent and him being this close to you.

“You’re prettier, angel.” His voice rough and thick with desire. You exhale shakily as he presses his body against you. A silence falls between you two, the only other sound cutting the tension being crickets chirping in the woods a stone’s throw away.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @direwombat ❤️

This week's snippet is on the longer side and full of misadventures, but I promise the ending is so freaking worth it, I have never laughed so much while writing a scene and it was at 2 am... All I'm going to say is: John and a bat.❤️ENJOYYY.

John stared at his phone as the car neared Portland, the unmistakable rumbling of his stomach quickly convincing him to grab lunch first before moving onto solving his flight and hotel issues. He knew it was the perfect excuse to text Sabrina, a foolproof way to continue their earlier conversation. Deep down he had hoped she'd recommend a place to eat, maybe offer to join him considering the fact he was all alone. Detectives have to eat, too, after all… Instead she had given him the most emotionless answer possible, like he was asking Google for a good lunch spot and not the woman that had captured his interest. The last part of one of her texts had taken an infuriating hold over his thoughts. "I won't be your girl." He hated the wording, even though she hadn't meant it that way. And since his 'thank you' she hadn't replied anything else, letting him to wonder if she had even gotten the hint. His fingers began typing out a new message, deciding to throw away all caution and subtlety to the wind. Fuck it. What if she refuses?

John: Feeling like grabbing lunch? I'm almost back in town.

There. Spelled it out for you, Detective. All you need to do is say 'yes'.

"Where are we headed, Mr. Duncan?", his driver pulled him back to reality and away from overthinking why she wasn't responding to his invite. He explained away the restaurant's general location to the man, leaving him to figure out how to get there. His phone finally chirped and he tried to not think about how fast he had unlocked the screen, expecting Sabrina would have texted him back, instead it was a message from Penny's work number.

Ms. Hastings: How did the meeting go, Mr. Duncan?

John looked down at the question that would be innocent enough coming from another person, but after the photo incident he just knew he had to keep her at even greater distance than before.

John: Good.

He kept his reply as short and reserved as possible, deciding against asking her to switch his flight back, telling himself that for once he would do it on his own and save on more interactions with her that day.

Minutes later, after finally caving in and asking his driver about his name (Ryan) and him agreeing to be on call for the day, he found himself in front of the small Italian restaurant. The bell above the door drew the attention of some of the customers seated towards the entrance while he made his way to an empty table near one of the windows overlooking the street. He couldn't deny the place had a homey charm with its red brick walls and old wooden furniture, and was different from the spots he usually ended up having lunches or dinners at. The moment he sat down, an older graying woman, wearing a red apron and a small metal tag spelling "Sofia" sent a smile his way as she grabbed a menu and headed in his direction. "Welcome. Always nice to see new faces stopping by.", she began in a friendly tone, a rarity for him in the last couple of days, "A menu, I will give you some time to choose what you'd like." "Thank you." She set a leather bound menu in front of him, making a move to retreat when an idea occured to him.

"Excuse me.", he mumbled quietly before he could change his mind while his fingers ran over the restaurant's name on the front cover. Gentle dark eyes settled back on him, "Yes, honey?" She had uttered the word out so naturally, like she was addressing her own grandson, not a stranger. "I was… I was told about this place by a detective and was wondering if she stopped by a lot." Instead of telling him his question was strange, Sofia just let out a small laugh before saying, "We get a lot of detectives as customers with the precinct being so close by. You'd have to be more precise." "It's hard to miss her.", he ignored the look she gave him at the simple observation, "Brunette, gray bangs-" "Beautiful?" He nodded, "Yes." "I know exactly who you mean. What did you want to ask?" "It might be a strange request… but I was going to order whatever she would usually get." It was a way for him to figure out what Sabrina was like and feel like a part of her was present at the lunch, that he wasn't sitting alone in the middle of a city that hated him. Pathetic? No. Simple curiosity. Sofia accepted the menu back when he handed it over, "Coming right up, honey. And what would you like to drink?" "Water. Thank you."

As he waited for whatever dish he was going to be surprised with to arrive, John occupied his time with trying to get in touch with the airline over the phone and spare a trip back to the wretched airport. Distorted generic hold music sounded in his ear, playing on repeat for the third time when Sofia reappeared and set a plate of bow-tie pasta, covered in sauce and mixed with other vegetables and meat. "Enjoy.", she whispered, noticing he was on the phone and left with that. He sighed, when the song looped again and reluctantly picked up his fork, deciding he wasn't going to let his lunch get cold and he knew he had made the right choice the moment his lips closed around the cutlery, the food melting on his tongue. You have good taste, Detective. He had finished half of his plate by the time a male voice interrupted the melody he feared would be stuck in his head for far too long. "Hello,", he cleared his throat, "I need to change the date of my return flight." "Alright, sir. What name is the reservation under?" "John. John Duncan." "Thank you. And you will be flying to?" "Atlanta." "From?" The question gave him a pause, "Portland."

"Date?" "Anything available after this coming Monday." "I will need your credit card details, sir. And then I will take care of each and everything." That did it, "What company do you work for?" "Uh-", the man on the other line started, taking way too long to respond and when he did it was the wrong airline. "You, scammer.", John gritted out, hanging up and cutting off the man insistence he had it all wrong. He bit back the string of curses that threatened to escape, knowing the other patrons wouldn't appreciate him losing his composure while they were having lunch. Hell. This must be hell. He was glad he had caught up with what was actually happening before getting his bank account drained as a grandiose finale to the week. After paying for his meal, and Sofia asking him to promise he'd be coming by for a meal again, he called Ryan to drive him to the airport.

[...]

"Friday.", the woman at the ticket counter announced matter-of-factly as she stared at the monitor in front of her. "As in two days?", John asked slowly, hoping somehow she had misunderstood his request and was offering him a seat on his originally planned flight. Reality was he was in complete denial about what it would actually mean - staying a whole week in Portland. "As in next Friday, sir.", the clicking of her mouse and whispering somewhere behind him on the line of customers was starting to get on his nerves, "The current booking you have is for this Friday." "Nothing else? Just Friday.", he repeated, then drummed his hand the counter, "Please check again." The woman sighed, "Sir, I said-" "Check again. Could be in first class, for all I care, the price isn't an issue." She shook her head, "Either way, all flights before Friday are sold out." Like hell they are. He tuned out her explanation about him choosing to fly in the month where multiple conferences, expos and galas are taking place. "Fuck.", he blinked as the word slipped out, a frown appearing on her face before she recovered. "If you're in a rush,", her voice lowered as she leaned forward, "you can check with other airlines. But chances are the answer would be the same. They might have openings in economy-" "No.", he basically hissed out, "I'm not flying economy ever again." Her lips pursed, "Would you like me to book the Friday flight for you then?" "Fine."

With his new ticket secured, John left the airport, dialing Penny before he could focus too much on the ever-growing list of reasons why avoiding phonecalls with her was a must. It took one dial ring and she picked up, her sultry voice filling his ears and making him pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "John, baby." "Ms. Hastings.", he gritted out in warning, and Ryan's gaze shifted to him in the rearview mirror. "Sorry. Sorry. How can I help you, Mr. Duncan?" "I need you to clear my schedule for next week and get me a ticket out of Portland before the end of it. Find anyone willing to sell their seat, I don't care what you have to do and how much they ask for. Anything that's earlier than Friday would do." "John,", her next words were but a hushed whisper, he could imagine her cupping a hand over mouth as she sat behind her desk, "Are you in such a rush to see me? Did you like the picture?" "Get me a ticket, Penny. Goddamn it. I'm in no mood for whatever game you're trying to play. I warned you about this.", his voice rose as his hand formed a fist against his knee. He was very close to punching Ryan's headrest and doubted the man would like that, especially after having done nothing to warrant his anger. "I-I will see what I can do.", her tone grew serious, "Did something happen with Mooney? Is this why you don't want to talk about my text? I was certain you would like the picture." "Focus on your job and get me the ticket, Ms. Hastings. And I... will pretend you sent me nothing.", he hung up with that before she had a chance to go on a dangerous tangent that would most likely result in another argument.

John: Feeling like grabbing lunch? I'm almost back in town.

"So, I was right, after all.", Leslie mumbled behind her completely dressed to head out, almost making Sabrina jump as she finally opened John's texts she had successfully avoided throughout the day, thanks to the family members interviews and additional questioning they had to conduct for their latest case. At his height, he could easily glance over her shoulder while she read the replies, making her wish she had waited until she was home to check them. She quickly shoved her phone back in her bag and put her jacket on, feeling glad it was just the two of them in the room, that Oliver wasn't live texting details about her personal life once more, "Don't start." "You're not even going to respond?", he asked in amusement. "No." "It must sting. Poor fucker has been waiting the whole day."

She was the first in the hallway with Leslie hot on her heels as she set for the elevator, then at the last moment she took the stairs, prompting him to pick up his pace so he could keep up, "I was just joking. No need to try to ghost me, too." Sabrina forced a laugh, "I'm not ghosting him." "How long have we known each other, Rina?" She finally slowed down when they reached the lobby, and he fell into step beside her, "Way too long." "Exactly. Which means you can talk to me." "I know." Leslie held the door open for her as usual, allowing her to exit the building first, and when she turned to face him and wish him goodbye, he pulled her in for a quick hug instead. "Don't ignore him if you like him.", he said when she moved out of his embrace. "I thought you were suspicious of him. Now you're my wingman?" He gave her a shrug, "I saw how you smiled at his messages at lunch. All I want is for you to be happy. Who cares if it's because of some schmuck attorney." "Goodnight, Leslie.", she ignored his insinuations and took a step backward, then another as she sent him a smile before she turned and headed for her car. The whole time, she kept her hands in her pockets, telling herself it was because of the cold when in truth it mostly so she wouldn't reach for her cellphone. His laugh paired with a "Goodnight" echoed behind her, and she had no doubt if she was to turn she'd find him still standing where she had left him, that he was waiting to make sure she got into her car safely, just like he did every time they left work together.

John unlocked his hotel room and hung up the garment bag, containing one of the replacement suits he had bought after his stop at the airport, the rest of the clothes were supposed to be delivered directly to the hotel in the morning. Another shopping bag held a second pair of shoes, underwear, sleep pants, his favorite fragrance, and other little things he'd need if he were to actually end up staying for an extra week in Portland. A part of him believed that Penny would find a way to get him on an earlier flight, always being someone to go above and beyond for his approval. He settled for ordering room service for dinner, already feeling too drained and on edge to attempt eating out. The TV across him was on, filling the silence in the room as he ate an average tasting steak with butter–grilled vegetables on the side, yet his eyes remained on his phone that he had sworn to stop checking regularly by then yet still hoped would light up eventually. Just making sure I don't miss any news about my travel arrangements. I don't care that she didn't text me back. His conversation with Clive had turned out to be uneventful, with him affirming the fact that set-backs were to be anticipated with a client like Mooney. As he was washing up in the bathroom after finishing his dinner, he heard his phone ringing and picked up the call in a rush, anticipation of good news and disappointment at the name displayed on his screen mixing simultaneously.

"Yes?" "John.", Penny began in a strange tone, then corrected herself,  "Mr. Duncan. You-you,", a hiccup turned into a muffled sob and swallowed her words. Jesus. "Ms. Hastings, are you drunk?", he snarled. "You think I'm-", she took a deep breath, "lesser than you- that you can just treat me like garbage because I-I like you. Well, you know what?" He sighed in exasperation, wondering what had possessed her to call him and if he should just hang up. "Fuck you, John Duncan. I'm better than this.", her voice rose and something clattered on the other side of the line, "And you-" "Ms. Hastings, last chance-", but she was on a roll, set on finishing her piece, her anger bubbling over before his. "You can fire me, it's not going to change anything or who you are as a person. You're heartless. And you're happy to be that way. You enjoy talking down to people and then you'd just smile at them like nothing had happened…" His hand rubbed at his forehead, regret at picking up her call swooping in. "Well, you can get yourself a ticket, Mr. Duncan.", Penny gritted out his name, "Have fun in Portland." Before he could reply anything the line went dead.

John blinked, staring at his homescreen and wondering if he had imagined the last couple of minutes. For her time as his assistant, Penelope Hastings had never drunk called him, no matter how many passes she would make at him at work, or how many times she'd be turned down. "She's unstable on top of being obsessed.", he noted with a frown, dreading the idea his first task upon returning in Atlanta would be to find a new PA when the last time had been nothing but torturous.

Minutes later, John found himself in the bathroom, sentenced to another freezing shower despite the hotel's claims everything had been fixed. He couldn't deny that he felt not only cold but also miserable and absolutely restless as he quickly soaped his body, rinsed, and stepped out with a towel around his waist. He made his way back to the bed without a glance at his reflection and put on a pair of sleep pants, sprawling on top of the sheets while he unlocked his phone, praying that Penny's drunken state hadn't given her the courage to cross the line again.

Sabrina: Sorry about today.

He didn't bother typing up a reply, instead directly dialing her as he rose to a sitting position and leaned against the headboard, his bad mood seeming like a distant past at her smile. "Hey, stranger." "Hi." "How's Portland been threatening you?" He shook his head as his gaze strayed to the window and the darkness outside before returning to hers, "I had a long, long day." "Long as in… you want to talk about it or is it a case of 'don't make me reminisce'?." A chuckle ripped out, despite the sore subject, "Where do I start… my client stabbed another inmate with a fork.", her eyebrows rose in surprise at the last part, "so now not only do I have to rearrange my whole schedule for him, but I will be stuck here for another week." "Good God. A fork, like for real, you're not pulling my leg?" "Yeah." Her eyes narrowed in consideration, "Did he use a spork? Because it's what they're allowed to have for meals, John…", a giggle left her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth, "Sorry, I shouldn't be laughing. But that visual…" He couldn't help his smile, "Fuck it, if I know. The deputies wouldn't tell me anything. But at least my misery is amusing someone." "I'm sorry." "The wonders of being the defense."

She nodded, eyes still shining with mischief, "On the bright side…at least he didn't stab you." "Were you worried about me?" The way she bit her lip made the cold shower forced upon him completely useless, "Maybe." His smile was a full-blown smirk by then, "Careful, this might be just what my bruised ego needed." "Worrying about civilians is part of the job, Mr. Duncan. Especially considering the luck you've been having quite consistently." Good try, Detective. Sure, a "civilian". "How was lunch?" "Lonely.", he ran a hand through his hair, "But I have to admit, you do have a taste." "Sorry for going dark on you. I was already at lunch and then got stuck in hour-long interviews… What did you get?" The question took him aback, seeing how he had no idea what the dish Sofia had served him was named, "This delicious bow-tie pasta with meat and-" "Veggies?" "Yes." "John?" "Mhm?", he swore he could fall asleep just listening to her voice, the last couple of minutes making him feel more at ease despite how unsure he was about where the call would go. "You ordered it?" "Yes. It was hard to pick from everything they had listed…"

There was a long pause, then she muttered, "It's not on the menu." His eyes widened, "I-", he coughed while she quietly chucked on the other side, "It's not? I'm pretty sure it was." I'm sure she bought it. He couldn't understand why, but anytime it got to having a conversatiion with Sabrina, he ended up turning into a teenager navigating his first crush rather than one of the most sought after attorneys in Georgia. "It used to be, back when the restaurant first opened doors, and now… it's like a "secret" menu item for old customers." John chose the strategy of keeping his silence, hoping she'd change the subject on her own, suspecting otherwise she would see through whatever excuse he'd make up. "Well?" "Yes?" Her eyes narrowed playfully, "How did you know about it?" "I'd rather not explain that one away, Sabrina." "Why not?" "Because I like my current odds more. Plus,", he announced matter-of-factly, "I can always invoke my right to remain silent, Detective." He felt like the last part was a complete mistake simply for the images it concocted in his mind, especially after her mention of interviews. He hadn't exactly missed the handcuffs hanging onto her belt when she finally stripped off the wretched coat as she took his incident report, either. He swore her voice dipped, "That so, Mr. Duncan? Look at me, forgetting who I'm dealing with."

"Any news from the elusive Detective Stockton? Because I'm yet to hear back from him." "Maxwell is one of the best, John. They're just drowning in cases, but I know for a fact he's taking your case seriously, not only to catch whoever that guy is, but to recover your things." "I appreciate that.", he shifted on the bed, "Speaking of which… you don't have to worry about me being cold anymore." "Oh?", she quirked an eyebrow, then made a circular motion with her hand as she scrunched up her face, "I was getting a different impression from your lack of shirt." "By choice, mind you." "Lucky me. So… what does this attorney wear to bed?" His lips twisted into a smirk at her question, "Are you asking what I think you're asking?" Sabrina shrugged, "Quid pro quo, John. You saw my unimpressive nightwear, it's only fair you show me yours." "Quite the opposite, your nightware left an impression." The shirt was making a return that night, though if he was there like she had joked during their previous call, it wouldn't have stayed on her body for long.

"Are you stalling?", she challenged. "No." He absolutely was, knowing his sleep pants were absolutely going to leave an impression as well. A part of him was wishing he had put on underwear, an extra layer that would attempt to conceal his hard-on. Like that would help. Her melodic laugh wasn't doing him any favors, too, "I'm waiting." He doubted that trying to buy more time would have any positive effect, especially with the twinkle in her eyes as she regarded him. What would she do? Hang up? After asking for a look? He sighed dramatically, "So impatient." Before he could talk himself out of it, he switched to the back camera of his phone, strategically cropping out as much as he could. Still not enough, judging by her silence. "I'm dealing with a… situation." Her expression was unreadable, "I can see that." "Roughly estimated, how much did my chances sunk with?", he asked, flipping back to the view of his face. "Who says they did?" She rested her head against her hand, drawing his gaze to the side of her neck that he couldn't help but imagine running his lips all over. "It's a good thing my shower is completely broken and only has one option for temperature: freezing." A small laugh left her, "Now I'm truly worried about you catching a cold. I'm shocked you haven't made them fix it, had the lawyer in you come out to play." "I'm being told they've fixed it." "Hell." "Yes. Portland hates me. Can you imagine me surviving a whole week here?" "You will be fine.", she waved him off. "I doubt you'd say the same if I list you all the things I've been through already."

"You know where to find me if you end up getting yourself in anything but legal trouble. That, I'm sure you can handle on your own." John smiled, "Noted. I will make sure to mention you as an emergency contact. So, about tomorrow…" She gave him a confused look, "Tomorrow?" Here goes nothing. "Go out with me.", the words left him in a rush and he rubbed a hand over his chest, wondering why his heart was suddenly racing. The last thing I need is a hospital visit. Sabrina was back to chewing on her lip, shifting against her pillows, her hesitation putting him on edge. He was used to women quickly making their intentions known upon meeting them, rarely having to work hard on convincing them to agree to a dinner, taking them to bed after always felt like the natural outcome, inevitably becoming a monotonous routine he'd turn to when he would find himself unable to push down his urges any longer. "I'm not sure what you're asking-" Come on, Detective, we both know that's not true. "I'm asking you out on a date, Sabrina. What else do you think my lunch message meant?", his fingers gripped his phone while his heart kept up the same dreadful pace. She tucked a stray piece of hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear, "And here I thought you just didn't know how to use Google and then felt obligated to invite me along." "Go out with me.", he repeated, "I'm asking you out as a woman I'm interested in, no obligation in sight, only the fact you're the first good thing to happen to me in this wretched city and no matter how much I try, I can't get you out of my head."

More than he intended had spilled out in the confession, but it wasn't like he could take it back, and a part of him… didn't want to. "I-", she shut her mouth, stopping whatever answer was about to escape. "Say 'yes'. One date.", his tone was bordering on pleading. Desperation. Never a good look. "I guess I just want to know one thing first…", there was a somber look in her eyes as she considered asking whatever was holding her back from agreeing to a simple meal. "What is it?" "The text. The one you sent on accident… what's the story there?" Are you jealous? Wondering about potential competition like I was the second you handed me your phone? "My assistant. She's,", he knew he had to choose his next words carefully as he held Sabrina's gaze, "been showing interest in me for a while. It's one-sided, I assure you. And when she saw the usual passive remarks didn't do the job, her strategy became bolder." Her nod urged him on, "She sent me a picture today. I had to remind her she's crossing the line. Are you worried about her?" "No.", she pursed her lips, "I guess all I wanted to know was what you see me as, if I would be one among many women in line." "I meant what I said- you're the only one I'm interested in, no matter how many unsolicited pictures Penelope decides to harass me with. Not to mention, you saw exhibit A of that attraction.", his last words cracked at her serious facade, making her let out a laugh, "Help a man out here, I think I've had enough embarrassing moments to last me a while."

"Okay.", she matched the grin that took over his face, "Yes, John. What else do I say after that, really?" His heart did another crazy flip the second she actually said 'yes', giving him a straight answer, "When?" Her fingers rubbed at her mouth absently, not at all helping with his situation below the belt, "I'm not sure where the cases I'm working on would take me, my time is mainly divided between work and well, my sister." The child she was raising on her own. He had read enough on her thanks to the file that one of the firm's investigators had provided for him, and yet he couldn't help but want more. "Wherever you can fit me in.", by then, he had given up on trying to sound even remotely like he wasn't desperate, "Lunch?" "Sounds good." "Tomorrow?" Sabrina smiled, "Depends on how my morning goes… I could perhaps text you?" "Okay, Detective." "I probably should leave you to it, turn in for the night." John didn't let his expression fall despite the disappointment he was experiencing even after his small win, "Goodnight." "Goodnight.", she paused, index finger running over her lips again when she said, "John?" "Hmm?" "I hope you know there are other ways to address matters than a cold shower, especially at this time of the year. Sleep well and try not to sleepwalk into trouble."

She hung up with that, not giving him any time to reply as he slumped against the pillow behind him. Reluctantly, he turned off the lights and crawled beneath the covers. As he lay in the darkness, the air around him felt electrified by her words, too heavy for him to breathe freely. The sheets stuck to his skin, eventually forcing him to crack open one of the room windows to let the cool night air in. He tossed and turned for a good hour, and no matter how much he willed himself to sleep, his body felt high-strung, craving her instead of rest. Her parting words inevitably pushed him to leave the bed and head back to the bathroom, discarding the constricting pants on the floor in front of it. It seems, this "matter" won't be going anywhere, Sabrina. No cold showers, you say? The idea that she was suggesting a "solution" and had a perfect understanding of what he would be doing the moment the call would end teased his senses when the door shut behind him and he grasped himself. His breathing grew labored, bouncing around him while he leaned his head back against the wall, imagining her being the one behind each stroke, because in a way she was. His legs buckled the second his release hit him, his free hand that was braced on the counter providing much needed support. Who would I be to go against your advice, Detective… He cleaned up, then swug the door open, ready to go back to bed, sleepiness creeping in now that he had finally caved in.

As he navigated the darkened room, he swore he registered a strange noise somewhere towards the far end of it, but he told himself his imagination was running wild. Then he heard it again. Flapping of…wings? A crash. Both made him dive for the bed as he blindly searched for his phone and the switch of the lamp on the nightstand beside it. The second light illuminated the space, his eyes anxiously scanned around him for the source of the previous sounds. I'm imagining things thanks to exhaustion. Yes. There's nothing. It was what wholeheartedly wanted to believe until he saw it. A bat. Big one at that. His nude form felt exposed and in imminent danger as the wretched creatures flew at him. In his panic, John slid off the bed, hands still clutching his phone like a lifeline as he crawled under like he was a goddamned commando it in attempts to avoid the attack.

What met him next was dust. A 5-star hotel? 5 stars. When did they clean this fucking room last? He tried to take a couple of calming breaths, feeling a sneeze building up as he unlocked his phone with shaky hands. He was dialing Sabrina before he could think better of the late hour, the idea of having to go back out undoing all the process he had made through controlled breathing. Something about the animal that had chosen to make his room its new home put him on edge more than usual, and he had faced criminals, ruthless attorneys, and awful prosecutors. The dial tones sounded in his ear, each new one convincing him he'd be put through voicemail soon enough and would be on his own. "John?", her sleepy voice called out in confusion at the exact moment a sneeze racked his body, "Did you actually catch a cold?" A sniffle was followed by a quiet, "Fuck." "John? Are you there?", she spoke out again, sounding more alert, "What is it?" "There's a bat.", he whispered like the creature would hear him and put an end to his game of hiding. "A rat?", she echoed incorrectly. "Sure, Detective,", he hated how his voice shook even as he spoke quietly, "but the type with fucking wings." "John? I can barely hear you." "A bat.", the word was loud enough this time, making her exclaim a small 'oh'.

"Where?" "I-I don't know. Fuck.", he screamed out the curse. "John?" "I'm underneath the bed, Sabrina. Hiding away like a goddamned child while it's flying around." His free hand slapped at the wooden underside of the bed, pain shooting across his wrist and doing nothing to dissipate his anger or bubbling panic it mixed with. "I-" "The floor is so filthy, just what you need when you're butt naked. Portland hates me. I can't go home and-" "John, listen to me,", her soothing tone interrupted his frenzied speech, "it got in somehow, and you can help it to get out, too." "No.", he gritted out. "Yes." "Did you not hear the 'I'm as naked as the day I was born' part?" A laugh ripped out of her despite the situation, "Good God, you sure know how to keep a woman entertained." "Sabrina.", her name was a warning. "Sorry. If it's any consolation, the poor thing is probably more scared of you than you're of it." A groan left him, "I'm not scared. But I'm sure glad to hear you're worried about my attacker." "John.", she sighed, "Did it actually attack you?" "Not yet." "You're going to be fine, I promise." "I-, he took another deep breath and inhaled god knows how much collected dust, "I have no idea how to make it leave."

"Are any of the lights on?" "Yeah. I heard a noise and couldn't see a damn thing without them." "You will have to dim them." She proceeded to list off instructions, slipping into resolution mode, her calm voice keeping his panic from rising. "Have you done this before, because it sure sounds like you have…" Sabrina chucked quietly, "You mean, have I talked a nude man into taking on a bat he's definitely not afraid of?" "Very funny." "Sorry. And to answer your question… I have. Dealing with critters is inevitable when you live alone." "I haven't.", and he wished it had stayed that way. "Soo..", she began slowly, "why are you without pants? Don't tell me they got stolen while you slept… was it the bat? Should I call Stockton? Though, I think crimes committed by animals are out of his jurisdiction, you can probably vouch for that." He held back a laugh at her playful remarks, reminding himself he was angry. "Seriously?" "Just trying to take your mind off things." "A challenging task with my doom looming on the horizon." "So why were you?" "Why do you think?", his voice dipped despite his predicament, desire slowly stirring up. "Did you at least manage to finish?" "Really?" "Hey, I'm just making sure I have the whole picture in case another report is needed."

To his dismay, her words were working, making him feel less alone. "Now, come on, Mr. Duncan, time to crawl out of there. Remember the steps?" He huffed, "Dim the lights. Make sure there's only one exit route. Is killing it an option?" "John." "Kidding." Not if decides to attack any sensitive spots. Especially before our date. "Open any curtains in its way and just keep an eye on it. Okay?" "You're going to stay on the line, right?" And what about that date? Still finding it appealing as an idea? "Of course. For moral support, to keep your fear at bay and all that." "I'm not afraid.", he insisted with a frown, "I was just making sure there would be someone present. You know, in case it kills me… at least there would be a witness to tell the story." "I will do you justice with the report, promise.", her laughter teased his ear as he shuffled out from underneath the bed and dimmed the light spilling out from the lamp he had previously turned on in his panic. "Will you avenge me?" "Does opening a bat sanctuary count?" "Absolutely not.", his eyes zeroed in on the bat. "I will think of something else then." "I'm out. I see it. Bad news is, I've left the bathroom door open." "Okay, so close it. Stick near the walls." "Copy that." John moved slowly, every U-shape round the bat made around the room, putting him on edge despite Sabrina's presence on the other line. He was becoming very aware of how exposed he was anytime it dipped lower towards the middle of the room while it sought a way out.

"Closed.", he whispered as he shut the door to the bathroom. "Excellent.", she crooned, and in another scenario he had no doubts about the effect the sound would have on his body. He gingerly went around the bat's flight path, aiming for the open window and pulling the curtain away the second he reached it. He plastered his body to the nearest wall as he watched the animal continue circling. "It's not leaving, Sabrina.", he complained in a hushed voice, knowing any loud noise could spook it further and make his situation worse. "Have patience." "Hard to, when every part of me is on display and within its range." His hand covered his lower regions on instinct as he watched it near the window, but he didn't dare speak his hopes out loud in fear of his usual luck kicking in. "I think it's working, Sabrina." She hummed in response. And then it finally happened - the bat zoomed out of the room, the sight making John rush forward and slam the window shut with a battle cry that most likely woke up his neighbors. "John?", Sabrina asked in amusement, "It's out, I pressume?" "Yes.", the breath he was holding left him as he fell back onto the bed, his body relaxing into the sheets when the adrenaline began to leave it. "Amazing! See, I knew you would manage it." John threw a hand over his eyes, the last couple of minutes replaying in his mind, "Thank you. For the help, I mean." "Of course. A civilian was in danger… it was my duty to assist." A smile finally broke free, "Just because of that?" "Well, you also promised me lunch, so… just making sure you don't die on me before that." "I'm sorry for waking you up." "It wasn't like I was asleep for that long either way.", with the issue resolved successfully, her voice was back to sounding nonchalant. The revelation gave him a pause, a smirk forming slowly as he pushed for more, "What were you doing up so late?" "A girl has to have some secrets, John."

I also finally got around to making an AU themed edit for them, if you have missed it:

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @thesingularityseries @corvosattano @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @fourlittleseedlings @voidika @madparadoxum @poisonedtruth @nightbloodbix @stacispratt @jillvalentinesday @cassietrn @chazz-anova @simplegenius042 @purplehairsecretlair @adelaidedrubman @dumbassdep @theelderhazelnut @strangefable @trench-rot @aceghosts @wrathfulrook and anyone else with something to share this week ❤️

[shortnotsweet]

I stole your fate

No, I stole your fate (I don't understand)

And now you're forced to love a man you hate

I know you don't feel the same

But I burn for you

[snowballthekitteninwonderland]

This is for like, the maaaaybe other 10??? 7??? People who even know this series. And I will most likely still be The Black Sheep™, of this niche fandom, first of all, bc I envision the character both design wise and writing wise completely different from canon, and second, most importantly, bc oh boy.....Amy Gumm, how I hate your canon yet you have such a special place in my heart.... it Dorothy Must Die books have 1 hater that's me, if Amy Gunn has 1 fan that's me.....

I've always had a love-hate relationship with these books. Even when I first read 'em back when I was 15 I was raging constantly at the terrible writing, infantile edginess, rice paper like "deep dark" aesthetic, yet the concept itself was so good, I kept raging and also making my own version alongside it in fury. "no, you author!!! Dorothy shouldn't be the original Dorothy But Now Turned Evil Just Bc™ (and also constantly demonizing femininity and sexyness while at it was and is disgusting and pure hypocrisy bc you yourself are idolizing the color pink, but only doing so via a traditionally masculine lens and demonizing it's feminity), it should be her own abusive mother or at least have her face!! Make Amy all a-ok with committing murder but the moment she faces her she's terrified bc her mother is Her Personal Monster™, make her bi (or better yet, a comphet lesbian) and let her explore her orientation, make her love interest Ozma, the only character that had no ulterior motive towards her and make EdgyBoy n. 173374919172737289 her platonic friend where she can find comfort in as they had similar experiences with abusive mothers gdi", and many more things. God I absolutely despise the ending, it was the rotten cherry on top of a trash ice cream.

But I love Amy. I will always do. She reminds me of my own mom so much, their personalities couldn't be more different, but some of the emotions and experiences she describes within the pages echo so much of the tales she's told me of her youth, of her rage and frustration and fear and depression in her abuse filled past. I wanna give her an ending where she reclaims her autonomy from the emotional chains that bind her.

Also design wise I always pictured everything as some ever so slightly edgy looking cartoon a la old black & white animated shorts. or idk, Cuphead mixed with Bendy. hence the cartoonish like style.

[me-uglypretty]

i wish i was a fictional character then someone can just write me off 😔✊🏼

[neonstatic]

upside is, my zuko impression is almost effortless now! that man rly got that permanent sore throat voice.

[jonathanbyersphd]

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm setting off, but not without my muse No, not without you

Inspired by This Post from @babygirl-jonathanbyers

[aquicksojourn]

*steeples fingers* Y'all didn't ask, but the reason why Vivian has a very strong internal monologue voice that sometimes is not-so-internal is because she got used to talking to herself during her long stretches at the hospital, especially when her grandpa died.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@allvalley100

Prompt: Girls’ Night

Pairings: YasMoon, Samsmine

Friendships: Sam & Demetri & Moon & Yasmine

***

“My god.” Yasmine scoffs at the TV, louder after her third blunt. “Serenading her in front of the entire mall, and she doesn’t even like him. Pathetic.”

She collapses onto Moon in a laughing heap, arm weaving around her friend’s shoulder. Moon doesn’t appear to mind.

Demetri raises an eyebrow.

Onscreen, the hopeless suitor tries poetry recital. It’s even worse.

“Oooooohhhhh! Your hand’s so soft. And pretty!”

Demetri turns. Yasmine’s fingers are interlaced with a baffled Sam’s.

He thoughtfully nibbles his organic ice pop, wondering if his girlfriend (if he’d even call her that) might rather have a girlfriend herself.

***

Another attempt at writing a scene referenced in the Gay Little Road Trip fic!

*Narrator voice* And this, ladies and gentlement, is the exact moment Demetri realized his “dream girl” was a lesbian.