#also hastings has the audacity to look good in anything

[tinta11e]

#what a little FAMILY#why is japp in a trench coat on the beach I hate him#jimmy japp: idiot#this polycule is my everything#miss lemon is the lesbian who manages them all

Agatha Christie’s Poirot 2x01 “Peril at End House”

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: pretty girl Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: : In which you finally meet the perfect girlfriend of Miya Atsumu and he starts to slowly accept the fact that whatever happened between you two is long gone (or is it?)

authors note: 

here to give my thanks again, literally feels so surreal with how much love this story is getting despite the angst sjjsdjsjd i-

also ive released the prologue for my first ever smau! its a more lighthearted one compared to this one between sakusa and an older gn!reader, if you’re into that check it out here uwu

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You’ve never actually seen Miya Atsumu and his girlfriend.

This was your first time today during Sugawara’s house party, Daiki had forced you to go and insisted that the three of them needed to have their manly bonding time (it actually only consisted of stuffing themselves with junk food and watching shounen animes), “...Also don’t you want to bond out with your ex-boyfriend that you chose over me? I’m hurt, I didn't know you like fake blonde volleyball players.” he fake-sniffled, in which you replied with an arched brow.

You didn’t know how he ended up knowing about Atsumu, you were expecting a talk from him but he simply shrugs it off and says, “No matter how much I tell you that you should tell him, you won’t listen. So I won’t bother wasting my breath, just know that you’re being selfish by denying these boys the right to have a father and you're denying that blonde shrimp to be a dad too.” 

“Y/N-san, I’m surprised you came!” Sugawara grins.

“Daiki took charge of the kids.” You replied, fiddling with the keys in your hand.

“He looks very reliable.” the teacher exclaims, handing you a drink in which you completely deny because you weren’t very good with alcohol, “You guys would make a great couple!”

“Oh,” You voiced, you were very familiar with those words, many people had always thought you and Daiki would make a good pair. It was definitely a shock to many when they found out you were pregnant and that the basketball player was not the father despite being there most of the times, “I’ve never seen him that way.”

“He did mention that, he even openly confessed to Miya-san that he’s jealous of how he was your first boyfriend.”

You choked on your saliva, that fucking sly bastard-

“Anyways, make yourself comfortable! I have to go say hi to my old friends from college!” he exclaims, patting your shoulder. You immediately turn around to find Miya Atsumu cozying up with a beautiful girl in his arms.

Ah, that must’ve been the beautiful model with legs for days.

“You’re kind of staring.” comes a very familiar voice.

You want to roll your eyes but you decided against it, “I didn’t know you and Sugawara-san were close, Inunaki-san.” you greeted your annoying senior.

“Suga-san’s a friend to the whole team…” he grins, “Also, I’m just here to warn you that Osamu might be here later, he’s not as nice as Atsumu towards you.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” 

“Come to think of it,” Shion Inunaki paused, tapping his chin in deep thought, “Atsumu still follows you around like a lost puppy. He’s been spending his off days with you instead of his girlfriend. I’m actually surprised he even brought her here today.”

“What are you implying?” You reply, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, L/N-san. I love how you still don’t care about my kohai’s feelings up till now.” He grinned, sarcasm oozing out of his sentence.

“Don’t be silly.” You glazed,“What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” he turns to you, hand on his hip, “Even I don’t get why he’s so into you after all this time and the shit you put him through. He’s got someone better in front of him. Physical looks and emotionally speaking, Ri-chan’s a whole lot better than you… No offense…”

You knew he was rubbing salt to the injury but you couldn’t really bring yourself to argue with him, after all, he was right at the most part (you technically considered yourself as the big bad villainous ex in Atsumu’s life) 

“You sound like those girls who used to threaten me back then when I was dating Miya-san.” You replied coolly, Inunaki even notices the amusement dripping in your tone, it's as if he hadn’t insulted you right at the face and called you a lesser being, “It’s almost pathetic.”

You ended up on the balcony right after, so much for trying to socialize, who were you kidding? It’s good you manage to escape the scene before Osamu could see you there, you couldn’t handle Inunaki and the grey-haired twin together. Thank god that Aran wasn’t around the area.

“Figured you’d be here.”

You turn to find the one and only source of all your problems these days, Miya Atsumu, you narrow your eyes in annoyance, “You should leave, people will get the wrong idea.” You simply replied, “I’m not in the mood to be in the middle of that.”

“I just came here because I wanted to apologize about that night with your brat.” the blonde casually leans against the doorway, “It was my fault for riling him up.”

“Yuuto has a temper, he’s more of his otosan than me.” 

“What was he like?”

“Who?”

“The bastard that you miss, those brats father…”

You tilt your head and press your lips together, surprised by his choice of words, “Special.” you openly-confessed as you gaze at the very man in front of you. Oh, the irony of it all. 

How you wish it was that easy to let go of all your fears and anxiety, if you had told him six years ago about your pregnancy, would your life probably be different? What if you told him now? How would he feel?

“He’s lucky,” he admits, gaze fixed on you, “I mean - other than the part that he died  - he was a lucky guy, Y/N.”

It dawned upon you that moment that this had been the first conversation you had with your ex that held no hatred, malice, or anger. He seemed to be slowly accepting the fact that you wanted to do nothing with him. Like you, he had no choice but to move on.

“ ‘Tsumu! What the fuck you moping around alone for up there? You got a girlfriend here!” Osamu calls down from below. You both snap back to reality at his brother's voice, “Guess that’s my cue to leave, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” he uttered softly and as he turned away, you suddenly spoke out.

“I’m sorry.” He freezes in place, somehow this apology seemed different than the rest, “I know I’ve said that a lot these past few weeks and that night but I want you to know that every apology was genuine. I just, I’m not very-”

“I know.” He suddenly turns to you, the very familiar and warm grin that you're accustomed to decorates his features and you feel like its that night in fall and you're back in college again, “I guess I was so wrapped up in wanting to get an emotion out of you that I hadn’t  realized, it’s not you if you did that. You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

You feel your insides clamp and your lips tremble lightly, you feel the air turn heavy around you. How is that he was always the one pulling the strings and doing all the work between you two? How could he forgive you this easily?

“Don’t be silly.What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” 

“I’m proud that you’re trying hard for your kids though,” He chuckles, “Those brats are lucky they get to see all sides of you everyday.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” you muttered, watching his figure walk away and vanish in the dark, leaving you all alone in the night of spring.

“...I now pronounce you husband and wife…”

You stare at your father and his new wife looking at each other with complete love and adoration, something you never saw when you were growing up. It sickened you to the point that you turn slightly pale and feel the bile on your throat rise. You watch them exit the church as sakura petals fall, the idea of a picture perfect wedding and happily ever after like the fairytale books you used to scorn when you were a child.

You loathed it.

He even had the audacity to invite you and your mother. She ended up not going and was probably drowning herself in cheap saki at home.

You sat at the back during the reception, along with the people who were not exactly ‘close’ to the bride-groom. You feel like an utter fool, why were you even here? You should’ve gone home or attended that stupid party and get stupid drunk with people you barely knew like your mother.

Yeah, that’s right.

You’d rather be there than here.

“Ah,” you hear a glass clink, you saw one of your dad’s friends stand up, ready to make a speech, “First off, I’d like to congratulate my friend. Finally!” laughter resonates throughout the room but you don’t follow suit, instead, you hold onto the wine glass tightly as if you don’t like where this was going, “I know how unhappy you were back then but ever since you met Yui-chan, your life seemed to have become better. I could never be more proud!”

You could feel yourself getting sicker by the moment, especially after you heard the words you dreaded to hear the most, “Let’s not make anymore mistakes shall we?” he jokes.

All you could see was red right after, grabbing your clutch on the table as you made a haste exit. Was this the reason he invited you? To shove it on your face that you were a mistake made?

That you shouldn't have been born?

You ended up breaking a heel and tripping on your own feet soon after, shakily, you adjust your posture and sat at the concrete for a few moments, trying to gather yourself but desperately failing, "I didn't… I didn't ask to be born too, you know?" You murmured to yourself bitterly.

You let it all out, it shouldn't have hurt to be called a mistake. You were an adult already for crying out loud! Yet when they toss that word around like it was nothing especially at that wedding, you feel like you're eight years old again and you're hearing your own mother curse at you for being born into this world, the harsh words she said were as clear as the day, "if you probably hadn't been born, we would've been happier. We'd have better lives, Y/N. So don't go around and cry and think you got it bad, you hear me? Your sadness is nothing compared to ours. It's nothing, Y/N. So stop being ungrateful."

You ended up at the frat house that night, people would occasionally glance at your disheveled state but you just downed the alcohol, ignoring their stares as usual  and when you get a text from your mother asking why you left the wedding so early in such a manner, you feel the pent-up emotions bubbling within you again. 

Blocking her number and taking one last swig of the cheap vodka in your hands, you head up to one of the rooms upstairs. You hold it all in well, you don't want to showcase such things to strangers.You feel the alcohol and emotion about to hit you when you open a door that you thought would be your safe space for the next ten minutes but you're immediately greeted by two people on the bed, ready to hit it off and have a good time.

"O-Oh sorry… I-Wrong room...” you stammered, lips quivering and small tears escaping since you couldn't hold it in anymore.You immediately bolted out the door, So much for sobering up and crying by yourself for ten minutes, you might as well call Daiki, maybe he was available-

“Hey! Y/N!” a very familiar and a very unexpected voice calls out your name on the quiet street.

You hesitantly turn only to find your project partner and classmate standing there, a bit out of breath as if he had just squeezed through the very crowded party in a hurry, you're confused by his actions. You weren’t exactly close? What was he doing?

“Hey.” he softly says, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket to hand it to you. You hesitantly look at it and take it from his grasp as you try to get rid of the runny mascara. You're taken aback by his kind actions so far, although he had always been nice and tried to make conversations with you, you weren’t exactly very participative and it had always been one-sided on his part. 

When he suddenly stopped talking to you recently, you didn’t bother to initiate anymore because you didn’t want to get more involved with people like him.  It’s not like he was a bad person, per say, he just had such a loud presence that made everyone stop and stare. You weren’t exactly a big fan of those kinds of people (save for daiki since you grew up with him)

“Come on, Y/N.” the blonde sighs, taking off his jacket to place it on you, “Let's take you home.”

"You don't have to."

"You look like shit, Y/N. I’m not takin' no for an answer" Atsumu points out forwardly, "Actually, before we head home lets disinfect that wound, yeah?"

"Miya-san, I-" you tried to tell him you were fine but he didn’t seem to be having it.

"Atsumu." He corrects, despite his forwardness and brash attitude, you know he means well, "You let me call you by your first name so please don't call me Miya-san, sounds fuckin weird coming from ya."

You're thankful that he doesn't pry or ask questions about why you looked like this. He just mumbles throughout your whole journey that you shouldn't wear heels when you can't even walk on them.You also start to notice the slight accent from his tone when he got annoyed by your insistence that you were alright, you had always thought that he was a city boy with the way he carried himself.

When you arrive at the drugstore, he pays for the necessities himself despite you protesting again and even buys you a sugar-free treat on top of that, "You said you were diabetic one time." He shrugs off as he lets you sit on the concrete steps.

“Oh,” You faltered, “You remembered.”

“It’s one of the few things you said. You don’t talk to me that much so it's not hard to remember the things you say.”

“Sorry.” You tried to apologize, brows furrowed in deep thought and the only reply you got was a gleeful laughter from the blonde setter.

“You don’t really mean that do you?” he observed but he didn't look insulted by it at all, instead he seemed amused by it, “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. My twin told me I could be an annoying shit at times.”

“No,” you mused, “Not at all, you’re not annoying.”

Atsumu stares at you right in the eye, his corners crinkling just a bit as the amused smile never leaves his features, you’re starting to like it when you see him smile that way, it reminded you a lot of the youth you craved for, the problematic-free youth that you wanted and wished, “Is it safe to say that you don’t mind my company?” he guessed.

“Well, you’re here now and I haven’t left you.” 

He doesn’t reply,  instead he bends down to your level and takes the antiseptic and band-aids from your hands. Before you could object, the setter dabs it on your wound and as you seethe quietly in pain, he blows on it. You’re getting more and more perplexed by his actions tonight especially with the words he says next, “I may not be close with you to know what happened tonight but I hope I made you feel a little bit better, Y/N.” 

The next time you see the professional volleyball player is at work,You’re tasked to send out some documents to your boss again and it just so happens they’re wrapping up the shoot for the advertisement at the studio.

Something’s different now. 

After your little talk with him at the terrace, the air around you doesn’t feel tight, your anxiety around him seems to decrease, and your feet doesn’t get cold anymore. Of course, Inunaki would throw in a jab or insult but you took it like a good sport and didn’t bother with him.

“Ah, L/N-san! How are the boys?” Hinata jumps up and down excitedly as he sees you enter the studio, you still couldn’t get used to this big (small) bundle of energy.

“They’re doing fine, Hinata-san.” 

“Oho, L/N-san, you’re looking better these days.” Inunaki teased, you gave him a brief nod and just ignored the jab, Atsumu slaps his seniors back in retaliation, “You’re not the one she broke up with Inu-san.” he joked, “Hey L/N-san.”

“Miya-san.” You greeted.

“Does Yuuto still want to skewer me like a kebab?”

“He feels sad that he wasn’t able to say sorry to you before you left.” You replied, a hint of amusement laced on your tone as you recalled Yuuto frowning on the dinner table the night before because Sugawara had informed the club members that Hinata and Atsumu wouldn’t be visiting as much because training was about to start.

“Shame, wanted to see that brat say sorry too.” He let out a grin, your conversation is cut short though when a new presence joins the room.

“Oh, Riku-chan!” Inunaki calls out.

You lick your dry lips as you see the very beautiful and tall raven-haired woman approach you, wow, Miya Atsumu outdid himself with this one. You recalled her being on Vogue magazine once and on tv a few times as a fashion model of an underwear brand.

“Oh, hey babe.” Atsumu greets, you note how stiff he became. He probably thought this would be an uncomfortable situation. The woman, unlike you, was very open with her affection. She gave him a brief kiss on his jaw.

Hinata greets her and you’re left wondering if you should excuse yourself before you could make Atsumu more uncomfortable by your presence but Inunaki, being an asshole, decides to make the choice for you, “L/N-san, this is Miyazaki Riku! I’m sure you know her, she’s a supermodel!” he introduces you to her.

“Good day.” You greet the model.

She tilts her head slightly, “Have we met before? You look very familiar.”

“She was my kohai back in Uni and Atsumu’s classmate!” Inunaki grins, patting your back, you hold back a glare since you didn’t want to make it more awkward than it was.

“Oh?” she chirped, immediately letting go of Atsumu’s hand, she grabbed onto yours, “What was he like? I bet he was so cool and chic back then too!”

Chic and Cool?

Memories of a rather clumsy and corny Miya Atsumu in college slowly wormed its way to your head and out of nowhere, you burst into a low chuckle. Inunaki was startled by the sudden reaction and Atsumu feels his insides mush up when he hears that very rare sound, “Yeah,” you croaked, shortly after recovering from your small laugh, “Definitely chic and cool.”

“That’s so cool! I definitely want to hear stories about you back in college, baby!”

“Maybe some other time,” you voice is back to its smooth and cool tone, realizing that you needed to leave from this uncomfortable conversation and start your job, “I have to finish up my work here and get home early.”

“That’s a shame, I could definitely tell you guys were close.” a frown tugs her lips as she notices how quick you were to say goodbye to her, “Bye, L/N-san!”

After that rather dry and one-sided enthusiastic conversation, you finish your work quickly and Daiki messages you just in time that he and the boys would pick you up, you say your goodbyes to your director, the staff, and the volleyball team. You don’t notice the lingering gaze of Atsumu as you left nor do you notice Inunaki telling him that he’s got his girlfriend right in front of him and he shouldn’t look your way.

They shortly wrap up right after and they’re ready to go home. After deciding that they’d all grab a good meal together (much to sakusa’s dismay), Atsumu feels his mood lighten up as they exit the studio to see you standing there along with Yuuto, unwrapping his onigiri. As he’s about to call the brat to talk to him and even drop in to say hi to you, he sees a familiar tall figure emerge from the convenience store with Youta in his arms.

The blonde decides against it.

“...You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

He watches the interaction from afar and notes how easy it was for the man to interact with you, he even catches on an amused smirk from you as the man tries to tell you a joke, “Is that L/N-san?” he hears Riku ask, “I didn’t know she had a family, that’s so cute!”

Atsumu doesn’t really know what to say as he watches the domestic scene unfold in front of him, he was trying to move on, wasn’t he? Yet why can’t he look away? 

“Baby? You alright there? You’ve been staring at the empty space for a while.” Riku calls out, sounding a bit worried as she snaps him out of his daze. You were already gone, probably far off with that scrub and the brats.

“I’m good.” he tried to affirm himself, wishing it was true, “I’m good.”

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[ponyrepress]

Prompt: AruYuki + Pink in the Night

"And I know I've kissed you before, but

I didn't do it right

Can I try again, try again, try again"

Rewrite verse bc if I did canon adjacent I don’t think I could Take It. Also u know its bad when after all the other essays ive typed out i put a readmore on This One.

To begin with it’s… nothing much. Or at least that’s what they both try to think. Yuki sits at the side of Aru’s hospital bed at two in the morning still trying to process why they’d ever take a knife to the back from Yuki’s own father to protect his mother. And Yuki doesn’t know at all how to feel about, well, Anything. He’s grateful but at the same time he’s… concerned. If anything he doesn’t want Aru to suffer the fallout of his own family’s personal issues despite the fact Aru probably saved his mother’s life. And… fine. Maybe just maybe Aru has wormed their way into Yuki’s heart and thoughts and the blood rapidly pulsing through his veins as he takes their hand in his. “Thank you,” Yuki says aloud in nothing more than a whisper to make sure they don’t wake up. A coward as always, he thinks to himself as he thanks Aru in the only way that feels right to him: a kiss on the lips. And it tastes like a hospital and their lips are unnervingly cold against his, but it’s gentler and longer than anything he’s given Yuno, who’s been disturbingly quiet as well as respectful of Yuki’s space since Aru found her alone in her house after the kidnapping fiasco, to the point of allowing him time alone with Aru “your mans a hottie” Akise. And maybe it’s more than just a thanks. Yuki allows himself against his better judgment to brush some of their hair out of their face and hold their hand a little longer. He remains at their bedside but makes sure there’s no indication of his actions should they wake. And of course Aru’s been semi conscious the whole time but so out of it on pain meds they think the whole thing is a sick dream; a fabrication of a reality they could only ever pray for. So neither of them speak of it, despite the fact Minene saw the moment of truth but figured it would be best for the two to figure it out on their own accord.

The next time it’s Yuki slumped unconscious in Aru’s arms after having been thrown back into a wall by an explosion while distracting the mayor’s men so Yuno could snipe him in the vault. Blood runs from the corner of his mouth and his nose as Aru runs their fingers through his hair and mutters desperately “please wake up please wake up please Yuki… please don’t leave me” with no avail to the point where, even with Minene and Nishijima and Mao and Hinata and Kousaka looking on, they cup his cheek and choke out “I never got to tell you that I…” and they close the narrow gap between their lips and his, tears mingling with blood as Aru barely audibly says “I love you, Yuki; I’m completely undone without you. Please just… know this in your heart.” And with that Yuki coughs and shakes and his eyes flutter open to make out the dust in Aru’s hair and the blood smudged against their face from his; it tones down their otherwise borderline angelic appearance in Yuki’s eyes between the crimson eyes and halo of a mess of hair against their skin marred over with scars like constellations. More tears, a genuine “Yuki you’re alive!” that outdoes their last given after being kidnapped, a thousand thoughts in a mind still buzzed from being unconscious interrupted by a single clear I don’t care, a thumb numbly caressing their cheek and wiping a smudge of blood off of their pale skin, a pair of lips clumsily colliding with theirs but they’re so relieved and downright ecstatic to the point where the taste of coppery blood and dust means less than nothing to them, a quiet “I love you too; I think I have for a while now,” an embrace that threatens to crack his ribs and a few barely contained sobs. Minene ruefully tearing her eyes away from Nishijima for a brief second to say “let’s get a move on, lovebirds” and a flash of Mao’s camera are the only thing that breaks the two of them apart from an embrace best described as “if I let my grasp loosen I’m sure you and this moment will both disappear.”

Yuki watches his beloved torn apart at the seams before his eyes and all he’s allowed to do is hold what remains of them as Kousaka desperately punches something into their phone as for once Yuki is rendered speechless. Silence. They begin to mend back together. Tears begin to flow freely from his eyes as he waits for them to say something, anything. When their eyes flutter open as Yuki’s tears fall onto their face and they say with wide eyes and a shaky voice, “I-I’m…. Yuki do you mind cutting the waterworks for a second I don’t need rain for the theatrics at the given moment,” Yuki cutting them off with a firm kiss and a “don’t you EVER pull that on me again I swear to fucking god” and the second Aru regains their breath they say, “Speaking of which, I-I’m not human. Deus created me to spy on this game of his without my will or consent and the second I faced him he decided I had lived beyond my usefulness and that’s why I… I’m not. I’m not real.” And Yuki just says “Damnit Aru you’re the most real person I know, nobody else would put themself in harms way over and over for their friends and help out a terrorist who was starving in a river and… and bother to try to respect me and understand me and…” and this time Aru sits up and turns around to face Yuki and smiles at them with such fondness despite the tears in their eyes and cups his cheeks in their hands and earnestly says “Deus asked me for any proof I was a real being with any will of my own; he asked what my strongest emotion was during my existence. And do you want to know what I responded with? You; my love for you, Yuki” and with that they gently pull Yuki in for a genuine kiss; one without the haste of the threat of death. One without the aftertaste of blood. One that promises that there will be more regardless of where the future leads, so long as the two of them are together it doesn’t matter. “You really are an angel, Aru.” “I can make you regret that statement so so quickly, but thanks for the sentiment.” “Fresh from the grave dug by gods hand and you still… I stand by my sentiment.” And Aru has the audacity to laugh and that in itself makes Yuki realize just how… natural his thing for Aru is. It lacks the “is this repayment is this real is this just out of what I believe to be obligation” that he had with Yuno, who converses with Mao and Hinata intently in the corner. Aru is Aru and that in itself is enough to tug at Yuki’s heartstrings.

When they’re in the final stages of their plan to kill Deus, the remaining diary holders, Hinata, Mao, Kousaka, Nishijima, and Aru are all gathered together in the cathedral of causality with the same intent: to put an end to the game that’s costed countless lives. Aru’s hand is firmly held in Yuki’s, Yuki knowing damn well just what is probably going through their head and trying to ground Aru despite the fact his own fingers tremble and his entire body feels numb. Aru puts their free hand on Yuki’s shoulder and gazes into his teary eyes; vermillion into indigo; blood into water. And they say “just in case this should go horribly wrong, given that we’re literally facing off against fucking God of all things…” they trail off. They hesitate. Their lips tremble and their eyes burn and their throat closes in emotion but they still manage to do what they intended to: place a final kiss to Yuki’s lips despite they can barely feel it from the numbness of their lips and they can narrowly register Yuki’s hands moving to their hair and their neck and they feel as though they will collapse as Yuki wraps them in a bone crushing embrace the second they pull away. “We’ll be fine; we’ll make it and that’s a promise.” “Since when are you one for confidence?” They manage to joke despite dedicating all of their attention to memorizing Yuki’s embrace and Yuki’s voice and Yuki’s horrible taste in fashion and Yuki’s awful blue eyes and— “Since you refused to let me happily race to my own demise and I couldn’t get rid of you in the same way a stray cat follows you around; plenty of space but a fondness you can’t shake that starts to take root in your heart and—“ “Did you really just try to, with romantic intent, compare me to a stray cat” “Aru what the fuck do you want from me” Yuki laughs through his tears “I don’t know, another kiss couldn’t hurt” “if this doesn’t kill you I will” “You prommy?” “Forever and always, asshole” Aru buries their face in the crook of Yuki’s neck for one final time “Good.”

And after the killing game is out of the way they’re basically inseparable; Yuki sneaking into Hinata’s family manor, which Mao, Yuno, Nishijima, Minene, and Aru moved into thanks to Hinata not wanting to wander its extensive halls like a ghost anymore and figuring you know what why shouldn’t she let her two gfs and their lameass gay detective friend and their weird bisexual parents move into the otherwise vacant estate, nearly every night his mother is at work which is a great majority of them. So Yuki will sneak in at midnight despite Aru giving him a key nearly every night with him usually falling asleep on the couch and Aru falling asleep on top of him like an oversized cat an hour of pacing later. And finally one night Aru finally remembers what they’ve been haphazardly planning out for months and drags Yuki to the roof on a particularly clear night and they go “I know it’s not much and I plan to one up this inevitably but you always said you wanted to look at the stars with a loved one and I’d hope you’d consider me a loved one because good fucking god Yuki I’m positively enamored with you and I—“ and Yuki cuts them off with a kiss that knocks the wind out of their lungs. “Of course I consider you a loved one, you asshole,” Yuki teases tearfully and Aru pauses and blurts out “Oh so I hit this one out of the park huh” and yes they’re the Worst and more than a little rough around the edges but the way the starlight faintly illuminates their white hair into a halo and makes their constellations of scars glow just a little bit and fine maybe the way their scarlet eyes widen and soften at the sight of Yuki makes him equate them with the equivalent of Yuki’s personal guardian angel. “Enjoying the view” they taunt goodheartedly, knowing damn well Yuki’s been staring at Them for the past minute straight. “Fuck you, maybe I am gayass” and Yuki wraps his arms around them and lets his head rest on their shoulder and god maybe just maybe after Everything they’ll be ok.

[handlewcaare]

art by: kajuhz

The concept of Justice was a profit.

Oftentimes would Beaut replay the scene in his head. Not the ones in which he would portray the handsome knight or the chivalrous prince, but of his own savior; he who was bestowed a graceful light atop of his crown. His physique but a mountain compared to Beaut’s shuddering frame, cowardly under what he assumed to be his final hour.

“It’s fine now.”

The baritone resounded as divine as cathedral bells. A voluminous tone that held no wry contempt of what monster curled in front of him. There was no rehearsed spiel of what justice was, but it left Beaut to determine his own interpretation of it in his stunned awe.

Many would have called justice a caped Crusader, many would have called it a quivering hand that held the knife they used to impale their abuser, many would have called it the rope that suspended the guillotine’s blade. In the end, it was but a trophy to be won over the carcasses of villains Beaut would periodically encounter.

Justice was as fine as wine in his perception. It was the promise of dictating who would be fit to surpass him in the top of the A-Class threshold, it was the champagne dinners he would hold at every New Years or the awards he would win in for a role he partook when the hours were slow. It was not a gruesome lifestyle, outside of what brutality he enacted upon his villains, but it was profitable.

Until it came along.

It coming in the form of a walking cadaver draped in an old beige coat that was rancid with nicotine and whatever disease it caught this week. It’s shoulders were hunched and it never enacted in a spatting match reserved between Tatsumaki and Metal Bat. Rather, it kept to itself and only periodically placed its input in a phantasmic and haunting tone. Ironically, it ran a detective agency down in F-city and was quite renowned for its capabilities. However, what irritated him most was not because it’s regeneration, not in truth anyways.

“Why wasn’t I notified about his recruitment?”

It was often that the H.A. would negate Beaut about new recruits, especially one whom had made headlines about his week-long war with a conflagrant dullahan Griffin. Though, the sole purpose of his presence at the threshold of A-Class was to prevent lesser men to weasel their way without proving their worth. He knew that Kamikaze’s disciples attempted to do so numerous times with their false valor.

“Well, he has a high amount of endurance,” Sitch clarified. The portly man hastily patted his temple with a handkerchief. Without a doubt, Amai knew how to intensify the ambiance with but the sneer of his tawny glare. “Not just that, but I don’t think he’s human—“

When veins bloomed at the nape of the idol’s neck, Sitch hastily continued, “our intern, Iwaizawa, tried to recruit him the first time and his wounds healed while he refused. Poor man was horrified when his arm just fell off and grew another one.”

Regeneration was nothing of a unique feat, but it was one in which Amai specialized in. Clean cuts to his appendages often wrought nonchalance when he secured it back on. The muscle fibers would make haste to keep his tendons and bone secure. The carbon of his skin would shatter into a spiderweb fracture, but it would never quake under the pressure. Yet, he could only find offense that they would insinuate his was not just as good—if not, better.

“And like I can’t?” He could probably do so while performing a live concert.

“He survived numerous injuries; burns, teeth, claws—the whole nine yards—he didn’t stop walking either.”

If there was anything Amai was, he could be rational at times. His lip nearly turned stiff with a grimace, though the aspect of someone possessing a similar ability than him was enough to curdle his stomach. It was a hideous, warped perception of himself that he faced; the Beaut he was prior to his body enduring so much stress that it became a diamond. Who gave this thing the audacity to be the very thing he couldn’t withstand?

He felt his blood curdle in private rage, though he knew better than to lash out at someone who could potentially hinder his reputation. Tabloids would shrill about his monstrous temper and equate him to nothing but another Terrible hero; a spoiled brat who should have been proud of the golden spoon in his mouth.

He would have told them his spoon was spray painted, but that was too worthy of a risk.

“I want to interview him,” Amai said as he briskly stood up from his seat and collected his pristine coat, his voice stiff to bottle up his frustration. “If he’s abnormal, I want to make sure he doesn’t have ill-intentions.”

“I... highly doubt he would,” the reluctance to correct Amai was prevelant, as he was the reason they were even able to make a fortune off the expense of strong heroes with exaggerated sob stories. “He refused to enlist initially.”

“Maybe that’s what he wants you to think.” Something evoked the creature to come back, be it that someone fed it on their porch or gave it a promise didn’t matter. It was worthy of an investigative welcome.

——————————

Hounding after the cryptic amidst F-City was hardly an issue. What with the newest talk circulating the nicknamed ‘deadman detective agency’ and tourists seizing photo opportunities, Amai could only wonder what made it worthy for the city to nestle the gemstone close to its chest.

Was it being a little hole in the wall? Was it the fact that it held some nostalgia to the Griffin’s demise? He didn’t particularly care either way, other than it lived in an absolute shithole. The windows were makeshift plastered with wood and duct tape.

Not an environment he would imagine himself being in, but it was better than visiting Puri Puri Prisoner.

Knocking on the door only fueled his muted irritation. What he was greeted with was a pallid being, one who barely looked passable for an anemic. Along its lips balanced an unlit cigarette and his gaze flickered briefly to the branching sutures underneath its clavicles. The aroma it carried however was rancid, vile nicotine and ink seemed to manifest itself through the partially opened maw of the door.

For a moment, Amai brought a knuckle to clog one of his nostrils discreetly, “hello,” his Hollywood smile couldn’t have been anymore amiable than it was. His smiling equanimity easily masquerading his suppressed resentment, “I wanted to say congratulations on passing your Heroes Entrance exam.”

One could weigh the loss of interest along the creature’s stern countenance, “usually, I am involved in the recruitment process. However, I was a bit busy and I missed my opportunity to get to ask you a few questions.

“My name is Handsome Kaimen Amai Mask,” he informed as he extended a hand for the cryptid to take, “you can just call me Amai Mask.”

It was glacial, the way the detective’s hand clasped his. There was not a semblance of rough, course callouses or warmth to radiate under the skin. He shuddered under the grasp that could only be best described as rigormortis. What it lacked in conversational pieces, it compensated for in its uncanny valley of humility. He supposed not all monsters slammed their doors in people’s faces.

“It’s nice to meet you, Amai Mask,” it’s phantasmic murmur was reserved to the spirit that haunted its shell; a conch that knew too many secrets. When Amai withdrew, he felt the itching need to investigate whether he was as humble as he appeared to be. If he truly did do investigative work for the good of others and not himself.

“I would like to talk to you privately,” he said, “after all, your thoughts are very important to hear.” They weren’t, not even the H.A. Could deny that blatant fact.

The reluctance in It’s pause was also uncanny (he could never fathom why there was always a hint of hesitation with him), however the carcass gradually complied by opening the barely stable door wholly open. “Leave your shoes by the door, if you don’t mind?”

He could feel his gums bleed under his clenched teeth, only releasing them when he cheerily complied. “Not at all.”

————————————————

The office was illuminated by a single bulb. It’s jewelry but the rotating fans above and a single chain within length to pull. The interior wasn’t much in the way of impression, as half of it was hastily constructed.

Tarp laid sprawled over one side of the office, only being held down by a jar of plaster for the jagged trauma across the masonries. If that wasn’t enough of an indication there was a skirmish, the creature’s desk was haphazardly concocted with duct tape and splintered wood. The remnants of burnt petals remained prominent under the sprawled files of evidence.

Along one (partially) unblemished wall was the map of F-City’s tri-state area. Polaroids pinned to each segment as they caressed scrawled notes pertaining to specific cases. Few even had a red string connected to one another.

“You really are a detective, huh?” The idol mused as he gingerly laid his coat atop of one of the chair cushions—the one that wasn’t nearly as collapsible as the other—before he sat down, “I assumed it was just part of the aesthetic.”

“Old habits die hard,” the walking cadaver remarked. The way it settled into the seat in front of Amai reminded him of something of an old soul. Its sigh fluttered when it leaned back, “though, I can’t say I’ve done much investigation work nowadays.”

“It’s a nice hobby to have,” he didn’t want to stay too past his curfew however, especially if this reanimated corpse wouldn’t want to talk shop. Fortune came in toast master’s, “what are your thoughts on the exam? Was it too difficult?”

“Do you want my honest answer or the one you want to hear?” It asked as it flicked the lighter to ignite the end of It’s cigarette. The sizzle of tobacco and paper evoked a hint of irritation that Amai’s vocal chords were not taken into consideration.

“Preferably both,” it was unbearable the way it implored. If it was an attempt to get on his good side, it was certainly a poor one.

An eventual drag from Zombieman’s cigarette accented his robust quip, “it was stupidly easy,” he said, “though I dunno why you have questions about traffic safety.”

It was a typical query, aside from the essay questions many heroes skimmed past with a few haphazard answers. The idol simply crossed his knee over his leg, “we had a lower rank lose his lisence,” he elucidated, “ironically, he passed the exam with flying colors.”

Whether he spoke too much or there was too much perception in that thing’s brain, it raised a brow, “and why isn’t he in S-Class if he’s lower rank?”

“He’s simply not strong enough to surpass me,” he was rather pathetic in all honesty. Save for his valiant speeches and his ability to look for lesser people, the C-Rank gatekeeper wasn’t much to write home about. “If I’m being honest with you, very few people manage to get into S-Class.”

At that moment, Amai knew it wasn’t the same as the others; there was no petulant demand for higher paychecks or an un breakable instrument. It was a blind gamble he didn’t anticipate for something that looked like it could find more entertainment staring blankly ahead.

“—and you’re telling me that a ten year old is physically stronger than an adult man?” The Zombieman didn’t bother to suppress his snarl this time. His lip curled underneath the plumb of smoke, “that’s bullshit.”

“No, but he’s not physically stronger than me,” Amai clarified once more. It wasn’t in the matter of everyone else, but of whether he deemed them worthy to surpass him in rank. He felt his brow twitch when the rancid odor of nicotine whisped as dangerous as a threat. Fortunately, his furor could only bubble a laugh, “What, would you prefer us to hire podcasters to try and placate a rampaging bull from killing civilians?”

“I dunno,” the horrible cardboard cutout of a detective said as its russet glare punctured through Amai’s tawny ones, “you seem to like the sound of your own voice pretty well.”

The hospitable charade melted from the heat of his aggrevation. Hot wax of a pristine neighbor dribbled off the exposed veins along his nape and down his chest, “excuse me?”

“In one of your interviews,” oh, it knew him already, “you said that justice isn’t something wholly to a hero, that everyone has their part somehow,” it never once deviated its intrusion to the far corridors of Amai’s glare. It was dauntless, especially when it knew that his neck and shoulders began to grow slightly larger. Yet, it talked as passive as it would in front of a criminal; as if it had the right to accuse him of anything.

“Here you are, however, saying that someone needs to be beyond average in order to be adequate for saving people. Be it that they’re a kid with a high IQ, an angry jock or a chaotic pixie,” the detective paused as it obstinately clenched it’s cold hand around the partially finished cigarette. The fire snuffed out without a protesting burn to it’s skin, “makes me wonder what you’re hiding if you’re only letting ‘strange’ people in.”

Should Amai be allowed to be Beaut once more, he would have never been accepted in. Beneath the masquerade of a teen girl’s fantasy was a hulking, grotesque beast who could only watch the rose petals wilt from the outside. It was as if this thing, this abomination, was aware of that. As he abruptly stood from his seat, he felt his gloved hands clench at their sides.

“If you want to be kicked out from the S-Class, I can make it happen,” the threat did nothing to provoke the pathetic punching bag out of his seat. Rather, it only prompted him to scoff a scalding hand to rub more salt into Amai’s wound, “my regeneration can best your’s. If you really want a satisfying exam, I am more than happy to oblige.”

Eventually, the mild irritation that highlighted the creature’s glare subsided for a slight revelation. What one would have envisioned to be a skirmish only halted midway when it stated something of a reflection to his dare.

“You’re projecting.”

What?

The incredulous look that stained his handsome features only prompted the thing to resume casually, “you’re projecting. You didn’t come here for a warm welcome; mentioning strength, the regeneration, what justice means.

“if I join a pop idol group, that just about ticks off all your boxes, doesn’t it?”

Being relevant was what rusted justice. In an instant, Amai seized ahold of It’s neck, its skin nothing but cold rubber under the pads of his fingertips. There was not a pulse to drum, not even when the harbinger of beautiful reckoning sneered. His eyes wide as they attempted to search wildly for a semblance of absent fear.

What he didn’t comprehend was that there was a barrel nestled close to his sternum in the same movement. Just as he would try his hand on how effective this monster’s regeneration was, he snapped out of his blind haze when there was a subtle knock to rap along the office door.

“Mr. Zombieman?” The voice was small, a little too petite to be a woman’s, “it’s me, Dr. Hajime, can I come in?”

It was a gamble neither wanted to try their hand in. For one that it would have gotten Hajime involved and the other was that it was a sure fire way to have Amai Mask’s reputation be tarnished. What reality of him being the harbinger of rightful justice would have dispersed by his own lack of control. He would have been no better than the monsters he hunted.

As the two reluctantly withdrew, the detective made no attempt to mouth “get out” at the sneering idol.

When prohibited to enter, Child Emperor’s eyes bloomed in awe when he discovered Amai Mask simply retrieving his coat from the chair, “oh-!” The boy squeaked, his shoulders jolted and there was a tighter hold along the tiny trey of chocolate cake, “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”

“Not at all,” the detective said. Had Amai not known better, he would have assumed it could actually smile, “what’s the cake for?”

“I just thought we should celebrate you getting in and all!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t stay to listen to their futile conversation.

—————————————

Relevance rusted Justice.

As Amai skulked away to leave the two be, he could only glower at how the creature allowed Child Emperor to join him. His lip turned stiff at the revelation that there was hardly any private celebration he would have. It was never homely, but a grandiose party with strangers who didn’t know him by Beaut.

He’s a stupid kid.

No, Dr. Hajime is actually quite brilliant. It was his counterpart, his pseudo-father figure that was the idiot. To insinuate that he would even bother projecting his envy on the likes of some insolent vigilante was something worthy to laugh at.

When he meandered home into his mansion, there was no one other than himself to occupy the space; no one with a cake or to press a kiss along his cheek in greeting. His phone would blow up with useless messages and notifications from strangers, but it wasn’t warm. It was as cold as the handshake he had.

He didn’t bother to change out of his clothes when he went to bed.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

secret son part 3

A/N: please let me know what you think! If anyone has any requests please send them to me! 

Summary: Matt is performing for his schools talent show, which Myra will also be present for.  

It’s excruciatingly hot in the car, sweat dripping down Richie’s face making his body feel clam and gross, while he’s almost panting like a dog. It’s not summer yet, but it’s June and that means that it is summer in Richie’s mind, but even he hadn’t been able to predict this type of weather. 

The sun is shining scorching hot, burning almost anything she touches, not a giving way to even a slight breeze, and it fucking shows. Normally, the trip from their house to Matt’s school is only a half-hour, but today, it seems all the odds are stacked against them.

Everyone collective decided to go on a trip this weekend apparently, causing a blockage of cars as far as Richie can see it, and they were late to begin with. Eddie’s gripping the steering wheel between his fingers like a vice, vibrating and his face a dark shade of bloody red, but that might not have anything to do with the heat. For a moment, his mouth turns into a sneer again, opening his mouth to yell at the drives before them, but then he shakes his head and takes a few deep breathes.

Richie contemplates calling Myra again, to let her know that they’ll be late so she can let Matt know, but that will most likely send her into another tirade, and that is the last thing they need right now. As they stop for the third time in 3 meters, Richie vows to buy Matthew a phone, whether it be against Eddie’s wishes or not.

The twenty-first annual middle school talent show is hosting its show tonight, and Matt had asked Richie and Eddie to show up. They said yes, of course, both of them more than excited to see their son perform on stage, even if the show itself will just be a bunch of middle-schoolers, dancing and parading.

Their son, a voice repeats in his head. Not deter by the atmosphere hanging around him and his boyfriend, Richie’s heartstrings pull together, making Richie feel breathless for a second. Cause that’s what Matt is to him now, his son. Maybe not biologically, but in every way that it counts.

Matt called his pops a few times as a joke whenever Richie would mirror Eddie’s ministration, like warning him to be careful in the park, or not to go with strangers, a testimony to how many times he had overheard Eddie say it, and a habit developed from there.

Sure, Matt still calls him; ‘Richie’ sometimes, mostly when Myra is around, or when they’re taking playful jabs at each other, but all in all, Richie has become pops. The name suits him, Eddie told him, but it still seems a little unreal to Richie, that he trashmouth Tozier, is a dad to a wonderful kid. Said kid also wants to spend as much time with him as possible, spending every week and weekend with them, expect a weekend every two weeks with his mother.

That’s a fair deal in Richie’s books, considering that it was Matt who wanted the arrangement to be like that, but Myra had to audacity of claiming that Richie poisoned his mind against her, and that he was the one manipulating Matt to make these claims. He hadn’t expected her to forfeit like that straight away, but he also hadn’t expected her to do everything she could to make Matt have to go to her. She fought Eddie for full custody, ignoring all of her sons own pleas to her.

She lost, but the whole thing resulted in Eddie being more aggravated to her, for trying to take away his son, whereas before, he was content to leave her be as long as she didn’t interfere in his life.

‘Motherfucker’, Eddie mumbles under his breath angrily, a grunt-like sound originating from him as he watches the car in front of them skid to a halt again, his face turning more sour by the minute.

Experience has taught Richie that he best lets Eddie rage inside his mind for a little way, at least until he has inwardly yelled at everyone and everything in his mind, before attempting to talk him down.

They’ve both gotten much better at that, both Eddie and Richie. Richie so he can stop his motormouth running a mile a minute, spouting out whatever comes to mind to stop the situation from exacerbating, usually leading to the situating exacerbating, and Eddie has accumulated hos behavior, not lashing out at people who don’t deserve it.

‘Hey fucker,’ Eddie seethes when they reach a crossroad, a car coming in from the left and cutting them off, even though that won’t make him get to his destination any faster, the flow of traffic still blocked like Eddies mom’s underwear.

‘Was that so worth it asshole? What you gonna do now? Speed away?’

Richie places his hand on Eddie’s arm that’s still wrapped around the gear stick that’s off no use, rubbing what he hopes are comforting circles on his upper arm.

Eddie’s eyes turn to his, a sigh escaping him as he takes his hand of he wheel, one of them interlocking with Richie’s hand.

‘You’re right, you’re right Rich. But I don’t wanna be late to my sons performance. You know how Myra is going to have him agitated, and I wish we could be there to calm him down.’

Richie does know, which is why it sucked balls that Matt was going over to her house this weekend of all times. Compromising had been no use, Myra kept insisting that it was her time and they weren’t going to take that away from here, even when Eddie promised her that Matt could go the weekend after.

A call from Matt’s teacher had informed them that Matt was in fact not present during rehearsals on Friday after school, and that told Richie and Eddie all they needed to know.

Contacting Matt was off no use, since he had no phone and Myra refused to let them interact with one another. Again, Richie made a mental note to gift Matt an iPhone or something alike, and no one was stopping him.

‘I know Eds, but that guy is not responsible for that. Stop reacting to other people in daily life like you do during our sexy times.’

The punch to his arm is hard, but he sniggers regardless.  

Taking another peek out the window told Richie they were getting nowhere, so he exhaled harshly, preparing himself for the worst.

‘Okay, do your best Eds, give it to the speeding brake like I gave it to your mom every night.’

Richie expects a retort back, an angry fuck you maybe, or a middle finger, but instead he is gifted the sight of speechless Eddie, his mouth open in shock.

‘You’re serious?’ He asks, even though Eddie has already made up his mind, and is fastly shifting into speed gremlin mode.

With his head thrown back, Richie releases a loud groan, rumbling from all the way in his chest. ‘Yes, now hurry up before I regret it, lay it all on me Jesus.’

A menacing smirk that threatens to overtake every other feature in Eddie’s face, Eddie presses a short kiss to his mouth, pulling back before Richie even has a chance to reciprocate, and speeds off to the emergency lane on their right side.

Eddie is a monster while driving, which is why it’s Richie that drives most of the time, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The clocks ticks on unforgivably, striking three pm exact when Richie looks at it, and let that be the exact time when the show is supposed to start.

They’re too late to wish Matt good luck, but at the very least he’ll see both of them in the audience in their designated seats, right next to Myra. If he doesn’t, Richie fears that he might panic.

Driving on the emergency line is highly illegal, but Eddie brushes that aside as he propels his way to the parking lot.

It takes the barely five minutes after that. They got honked at countless of times, but they made it on time, so Richie counts it as a win anyway. Jumping out of the car before it has even come to a complete stop is dangerous, but discarded on the side when they rush inside the school.

The show has started, but Matt was not the first one on, thankfully, so all they’ve missed is the speech that the principal always gives at the beginning of these kind of events, and a kid who thinks she can play the flute, but really all she’s doing in blowing air into the instrument.

Richie claps animatedly anyway, her moment over when they get in, since he knows what it feels like to be laughed at for something you like the do, and she’s also a kid, so she deserves a pass.

Eddie claps too, snorting when he sees the absolute ridiculous movements his boyfriend is making.

‘What the hell are you doing Rich?’

‘I’m just granting this little girl what you and the rest of the losers deprived me off. Validation for my talents.’ Eddie whips around lightning fast, his laugh loud and uninhabited while he raises his middle finger to Richie.

‘Do those talents include humor?’ While they’re talking, both of them carefully tiptoe around other parents and grand-parents, trying to find a way to get to their seats. He nearly steps on someone toes, offering them a short apology and hopes they except it, but he is too busy avoiding every one else to see if they’re angry or not.

‘Well yes of course Edward. You as young lad should have seen the absolute hidden potential that was harvesting in me.’

Eddie laughs so loud that his knees nearly buckle, several people shushing him even though there’s no one left on stage, and they’re waiting for the next person to make an appearance.

‘Oh please, you’re still not funny now what makes you think you were then?’

In their haste, the knowledge that they would have to spend the entire late afternoon with Eddie ex-wife had disappeared off into the background, but then Richie makes eye contact with her, and it back with much vigor.

Richie wants to slouch, dread already pulling him down towards the ground, but he refuses to let Myra drag him down, and he has Eddie with him anyway, so it’s not that bad.

As soon as their eyes meet, Myra, like a cliche, turns her nose up and looks away, acting as if she is the one that is ashamed of them. There are two empty seats next to her, who will be occupied in a second by them, but Richie still searches for another vacant spot, without luck.

It’s ridiculous anyway, since the seat were granted two weeks before today. It’s a mystery to Richie who organized the seating arrangements, but man did they fuck up bad.

Eddie, who is walking in front of him, reaches out to grab Richie’s hand, squeezing two times for strength and asking Richie for protection, despite him not needing any. His not fearful of his former wife, but she gets under his skin, and not in the good way that Richie can, make him struggle to remain his composer.

Remorsefully, Richie says goodbye to his sanity, a polite and cheerful face covering him like a mask, even when all he really wants to do is yell in her face.

He stills Eddie by placing two of his large hands against his arms, effectively stopping him from walking any further, and moves to stand closest to her.

Someone else has made his way on stage, this time the kid is dancing, and his music is loud enough that Richie can speak in a normal voice, which still means he has to keep it down.

He ploughs down in the middle seat, right in between Myra and where Eddie will be in a second, like a wall between the two of them. Eddie shoots him a grateful smile, sitting down in his chair much more gracefully than Richie, with his hands in his lap.

‘Hello Myra,’ Richie greets her, to establish to her that they were not planning on being rude to her. If anyone was going to start a ruckus, it would be her.

‘Richard’, she greets, followed by ‘Edward.’

Hearing his full name sound absolutely ridiculous to Richie, but he ignores to avoid creating an argument, god knows Myra only needed one slam word and she would blow off.

‘Myra’, Eddie too nods at Myra, Richie bites his lips to stop himself from making a fool of the situation, but by the knowing look in Eddie’s eyes, he knows that Eddie knows what he wanted to say.

After the boy, there are two more children, then a group, and then a little girl comes up. Boredom is starting to take it’s toll on Richie, who can’t sit still if it could help save his life, so his knew has been insistently bouncing since the dancing act.

Eddie helps somewhat by hooking his leg under Richie’s, their ankles linked while his hand plays with the bracelet on Eddie’s wrist, made by Matt when he was being babysit by Ben and Bev.

The girl is shaking all the way through her body, the microphone she’s holding swaying dangerously. Her face is ashen white, and she looks about two seconds away from vomiting, which Richie can relate too. Being on stage is scary, especially when you’re that young, a pang of sympathy for the girl embracing him in it’s warm hold.

The song she has chosen to sing was let it go from frozen, but she only made it past 1/4 of the song, when she forgets her lines and makes up her own lyrics.

The lyrics do not make any sense, she’s mostly naming things she can see, ranging from things like curtains, to teachers, the mortification on her face revealing how embarrassed she is.

It’s that that makes Richie stand up resolutely when the final note dies out, leaping to his feet to applaud her as much and as loud as he can.

‘This is I folks, the best act of the night. Nothing can top this. The way that she improvised is a talent that is rarely seen in anyone ever before.’ Richie whoops, preening when other parents join in on the applause, and the little girls face lits up like a Christmas tree.

He’s only half kidding. He’s going to find Matt the best no matter what, call it a part of fatherhood, but the girl was really inventive, and she did not give up. Besides, seeing the tears in her eyes blinked away is enough to make Richie smile in delight.

When everything dies down and he retrieves his seat again, a woman taps him on the shoulder. She’s holding a camera in her hands that she puts away and grins.

‘Thank you. That was my daughter, I can’t tell you how happy this will have made her.’

Richie is touched, but he also can’t take credit for something he has nothing to do with.

‘It was all your daughter ma’am, she’s a natural.’ Eddie presses a kiss to his cheek, conveying what he’s not saying out loud; ‘I’m proud of you.’

‘Are you always like this?’ Myra inquirers curt, her face stuck in a permanent sneer. Eddie tenses beside him, but he won’t allow her to ruin the afternoon before they have even seen the person they came for.

‘What do you mean Sonia?’

‘My name is Myra.’

‘Same difference. Am I always this awesome and funny and caring towards others?’ He’s not being serious, but to Myra that doesn’t matter. She opens her mouth to say something else, but Richie has already turned his back sideways to here, his entire being focused on Eddie when the latter taps on his arm.

Eddie is staring at the stage however, and when Richie follows his gaze, he sees why. It’s now Matt’s turn, the boy scorching over every head in room, until he finally spots Eddie, Richie and Myra and grins from ear to ear.

He never told Eddie nor Richie what his act would be about, saying that it was supposed to be a surprise, so Richie has no idea what to expect.

His clothes, a yellow t-shirt with a cat on it, and blue jeans that look a bit to dirty to be knew does not seem like something Myra would have let him wear. If anything, Richie was expecting to see  him in something not unlike a suit.

His suspicion is conformed when he hears Myra complain next to him. ‘That’s not what I dressed him in.’

‘Hi, my name is Matt, and today I’m going to be telling you a bunch of jokes my pops taught me.’

Even though Richie will adamantly deny it, and Eddie will confirm it to anyone who asks, Richie starts crying.

He hasn’t even heard any of the jokes, but he already loves them and he loves him.

‘Jean goes on a walk with grandma in the park’, Matt begins his story, ‘and on the way back from the park, he sees a banana peel. When he goes to pick it up, his grandma tells him that he can’t do that, because everything that’s on the ground is dirty and he shouldn’t touch it. Two days later, Jean and his grandma go back to the park, and his grandma trips over the banana peel. When jean’s grandma asks him to help her up, Jean says that he can’t do that, because everything that’s on the ground is dirty, and he can’t touch it.

It’s not even that funny, but Richie loses his shit regardless. The laughter pours out of him relentlessly, making him shake from trying to hold it in.

When Matt thanks the audience for listening, indicating that his act has come to an end, Richie still can’t stop cackling. Eddie is in the same state as him, holding his stomach like it’s hurting and actual tears stream down his cheeks. They’re a stark contrast to Myra, who’s sour look has only worsened, and is just clapping politely like the rest of the parents.

Matt has never been prouder of himself, bowing once and then waving while he gets of the stage, just like Richie does.

When he gets himself under control, a few children later, Myra is has yet to stop her dead glare which is pointed his way.

‘Pops? He calls you that? You are not his father, you’re nothing but filth that has corrupted my Eddie bear and my son. A boy should spend more time with his mother, not with a confused father he thinks his’, she chokes over the words. ‘gay.’

Richie is stricken, hurt despite him knowing that that is just the person Myra is. A hurt emotion that he tries to keep under wraps at all times peaks it’s head up from the darkest part of his soul, but before it has any chance to come up and out, his head is turned, and Eddie connects their lips.

It’s a bit messy, Eddie having knocked his lips on the first area he could find, causing the kiss to be a little off balance, while he brushes at the nap of Richie’s neck. Richie replies by setting his arm on top of Eddie thigh, not high, just above the knee.

They’re in the same position as they were in when they shared their first kiss, and it makes Richie a little dizzy with love and devotion.

Eddie pulls back first, chuckling when he sees the hazy look Richie’s eyes have, and then steels his expression to address Myra.

‘I’m not confused. I’m gay, and yes Matt calls Richie pops, because he wants too, not because we asked him too. Why don’t you wake up Myra? Neither Richie not I are trying to replace you. You’re his mom, no one can do that, but if you continue to be disregard him, he might not be as friendly in the future.’

Then, Eddie stands, pulling Richie up with him, who still dreamily is unaware off what’s happening, his brain not being up to speed yet.

‘Come on Dickwad, pull you head out of your ass, we’ll wait outside until Matt comes.’

He shifts his gaze to Myra; ‘I’ll see you in two weeks.’

Outside, Richie laughs breathlessly. ‘I can’t believe you just did that in front of all these people.’

It’s still insanely warm, but it gets ever warmer when Eddie leans up, and presses his forehead to Richie’s.

Suddenly, Richie is transported back to many summers ago, when Eddie and him were still kids and they had yet to confess their feeling for one another. They shared a moment like that one too, where it was so hot yet they still huddled together.

Richie had thought then that that would be the peak of his life, smelling the scent of warm water and grass, and Eddie colon that stuck to every piece of clothes item he was wearing.

He was wrong, adding Matt to the equation, made it only better.

They must have been there for a long time, but Richie was unaware of that, until he heard Matt call out to them.

‘Dad, Pops, I missed you.’

He leaps into Eddie’s awaiting arms, just small enough for Eddie be able pick him up, while Richie envelops both of them in his arms.

‘We missed you too bud.’ We’ve missed you our entire lives.

[vgckwb]

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 31: Some Assistance Required

Thursday after school, Ren was on an important mission. She headed down to Dr. Maruki’s office. She stood in front of the door. Morgana popped up. “Are you going in?” he asked.

“I was planning on it,” Ren answered. “But…”

“You’re still worried about what happened with Sumire, huh” Mrgana finished. Ren nodded. “Well, she said herself that Dr. Maruki was fine.”

“I know,” Ren said. She took a deep breath. She knocked.

Dr. Maruki answered. “Oh, are you here from yourself or for business?”

“The latter,” Ren answered.

“Well, either way, I appreciate it,” Maruki responded. “Come on in.” Maruki invited her in. They both took a seat.

“Do I need to be here?” Morgana asked.

“Where would you go?” Ren asked. “Besides I’m only here for metaverse stuff.”

“Hm. I was hoping you’d be ready to open up a little more” Maruki said. “But I suppose I should take what I can get. So, what is your question about the metaverse?”

Ren glanced at him. “I don’t know how deep your research went, so you might not even have the answer, but it’s better than nothing.” She got serious. “We found a new big target. However, their would be assassin has a peculiar trick up their sleeve.”

“Go on,” Maruki instructed.

“They’re in possession of this sort of ink where if it is slathered on the shadows, it takes one hit to destroy them” Ren continued. “I don’t want to bring my team into a fight like that. Venturing in and out of the metaverse is exhausting as is; to bring them into a one-sided fight like that... I couldn’t bear the thought.”

“I see,” Maruki said. He went into a deep thought. “Well you’re right in that I might not have as much in the way of specifics, but I still think I can help you.” Ren looked pleased. “First, I’m going to need to know more about the target, and why the other person targeting them might think it’s effective.”

“Well, I don’t want to give away too much,” Ren said. “But I will say our target is a very prominent figure, whom a lot of people adore. The person wishing to kill them wants to make it known that this person is rotten to the core.”

“I see,” Maruki replied. He thought some more. “You say it makes the shadows so weak that they cannot take even one hit?” Ren nodded. “In our research, we had brief interactions with these creatures. We didn’t learn much, however, in our limited interactions, we discovered that these shadows are disjointed.”

“Meaning?” Ren asked.

“I think he’s referring to how they gather around powerful pressences, like those with palaces” Morgana clarified.

“Precisely” Maruki pointed out. “They aren’t whole, if that makes sense. As powerful as they are, I think they’re at a disadvantage with that ink. From what you’ve described, I think this ink makes weaknesses more pronounced. A shadow doesn’t have any real strength, aside from its raw power. But you have the power of your Personas, which are an extension of yourselves. You are whole. So I don’t think that ink would do the same thing to you as it does those shadows.”

“Well that’s a relief” Morgana said.

“However, if at all possible, you should probably not get hit with it anyways” Maruki added. “I mean, it won’t kill you outright, but it will make you weaker.”

“I see,” Ren replied. She smiled. “Thanks doc.”

Before she could leave, Maruki shouted “Wait!” Ren sat back down. “Um, this might seem a bit sudden, but would it be possible to use our interactions for a paper I’m writing?”

Ren was curious. “Are you publishing something about the metaverse?”

“Well, no,” Maruki said. “But I am doing a study related to the strength of one’s heart, and I feel like the information I gather from you, as well as other students or faculty, would be great for that. Which reminds me, I’ve gotta talk to someone else about this.”

“But we’ve only talked about metaverse stuff today” Ren said, getting slightly more passive aggressive.

“Well, that might be true, I can’t help but get a little analytical, especially when I’m on the job,” Maruki explained. “So, I may have gathered some insight into you. Of course, I won’t write about you if you do not wish.”

Ren smirked. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Of course” Maruki answered. “I’m always serious about respecting my patients.”

“And yet you didn’t want to respect Sumire for who she really is?” Ren asked.

“Oh my” Maruki responded. “I figured you would still be upset about that.”

This didn’t help. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ren snapped.

“Woah” Morgana exclaimed.

“Heh heh. Sorry” Maruki apologized. “I figured provoking you in that moment would get me the best response.” Ren was not amused. “If I’m honest with you, it might make what I say next more believable for you. I really, truly, only wanted to help Sumire out the day she came to my office. She told you herself that she was hardly able to function, and who could blame her? Anyone in her shoes would not take what happened easily. I wanted to help her function again.”

“So why make her think she’s her sister?” Ren asked.

“Well, that’s confidential,” Maruki answered. “I can’t tell you anything about a meeting without consent.”

“Hey” Morgana said, getting Ren’s attention. “Do you think maybe it has something to do with what we saw before her awakening?”

Ren thought about it. They witnessed what Sumire had witnessed the day Kasumi died. They also heard Sumire’s thought. Her self-doubt and her jealousy of her sister. Ren also thought about her previous interactions with Sumire. I guess I can see her wanting to act more like her sister.

“Based on the information given, I suggested she start thinking like her sister,” Maruki explained further. “Of course, you broke her out of that, which also makes me curious about you. What is it about you that shook her out of it?”

Ren was confused. “What makes you think I would know the answer to that?”

“I guess that’s true,” Maruki said. He laughed.

Ren looked at him. “You are very peculiar, you know that?”

“I do,” Maruki said. “You’re not the first, and you probably won’t even be the last to say that.” He cleaned his glasses. “Now, do you want to know what I know about you?”

Ren was a bit hesitant, but she did want to know. “Very well.”

“Hm” Maruki cocked a grin. “Well, before getting to know you formally, I was made aware of your arrest record. People told me to be cautious around you.” Ren got a little frustrated. “But after meeting you, I feel like you’re kind, understanding, and selfless. You’re fairly smart, and aren’t afraid to be yourself. Which does call into question your arrest. I don’t think someone like you gets arrested without a good reason. So, would you mind telling me about how you got arrested?” Ren hesitated. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Ren looked at Maruki. Well, he’s independent from the school, so he might actually believe me as well. Plus he already knows about me being a Phantom Thief. I doubt this would actually do much. She sighed. “Very well. One night, I was on my way home when I overheard some commotion. A man was trying to force a woman into his car. I stepped between them and he fell over. He blamed me and said I hit him. When the police came, they believed him and he had me arrested.”

Maruki was stunned. “My. The audacity of some people, huh.” Ren was a bit surprised by this. “I’m sorry, but I’m human too. And as good as I am at identifying what makes people tick, it does not make me immune from getting ticked as well.”

Ren reflected on what he just said. “And I guess that means you’re also human enough to make some rash decisions.”

“Exactly” Maruki said. “I knew you were smart. Ah. Sorry. I did it again.”

“It’s… alright…” Ren said. “You know, you’re actually really good.”

“Well, I try” Maruki said.

Ren sighed. “Here I am, trying to deal with many complicated things, while still being unable to really figure myself out. And yet you seem to have me down pat, despite only conversing with me twice.”

“Hm” Mruki said. “Well, I’m sure you know more about yourself than you might think. I doubt you’d have a Persona otherwise. And I think your other friends might know you well too. But I will always be here to help if you want it.”

Ren smiled. “I like the sound of that. And I guess you can use whatever you can glean from our conversations for research. Just don't give me away if you go and publish anything.”

“Duly noted,” Maruki said. “I can also teach you how to fortify yourselves better in the metaverse as well. Ah, in fact, I have something that will help right now.” He fished around through his papers. “Here” he said, handing it to Ren.

She looked it over. “Really?”

Maruki nodded. “Think of it as a thank you for helping me out. As well as a thank you for understanding that I mean no real harm.”

Ren put it in her bag. She sighed. “To be honest, I’ve been wanting something like this, but I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. So, would you mind if we met again?”

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” Maruki said with a smile.

Ren giggled. “Thanks.”

I am thou... Thou art I… Thou hast acquired a new vow...

It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity.

With the birth of the Councilor Persona I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power.

Councilor-Takato Maruki-Rank 1

“Oh, um, if I need to contact you about metaverse stuff in the future, it might be easier to do it via phone” Ren said. “You can give me a heads up on availability and stuff.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Maruki said. He and Ren exchanged contact info. After that, Ren left the room.

While she was on her way to the subway, Morgana popped up. “So, I’m a little confused about what just happened there,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Ren asked.

“Well, it’s not often that I see you go through so many emotions and yet still come out of it feeling fine” Morgana explained. “You were so distrustful of Maruki when you entered, but you trusted him by the end of it. Why is that?”

Ren stopped. “Partially because I probably need something like that.”

“But you have us,” Morgana said. “He even said we might know you better.”

“Which is another reason I kind of turned around on him,” Ren explained. Morgana was perplexed. “He was incredibly open and honest. He easily admitted his faults and made his intentions known throughout the process. The people I tend to keep at arm’s length are dishonest, or at least won’t tell me things.”

“Huh” Morgana thought. “I guess that makes sense. Everyone I know who you’re close with seems like they’re willing to be themselves with you.”

“Yeah,” Ren said. “I guess they are.”

Ren got a message on her phone.

Dr. Maruki: Oh, by the way.

Dr. Maruki: I know you say you have a big target lined up already.

Dr. Maruki: But if you’re looking for a smaller target as well, I have information.

Dr. Maruki: Recently, an old man has been causing all sorts of mischief in Kichijoji.

Dr. Maruki: Whenever he gets caught, he says he’s either lost or confused, and people let him off with a warning.

Dr. Maruki: But people in the area say he’s doing it on purpose.

Dr. Maruki: I don’t know if you go after that kind of thing, but I figured I’d share it with you.

Ren messaged back.

Ren: What’s his name?

Dr. Maruki: I guess you would need to know that.

Dr. Maruki: The person I heard this from says his name is Heiji Ono.

Dr. Maruki: Be careful. I feel like there may be more to this than he’s letting on.

Ren: Thank you. I will take this up with my team.

“Huh” Morgana said. “That was unusual.”

“But it’s the kind of thing we need, don’t you agree?” Ren asked.

“Yeah,” Morgana said.

Ren got another message on her phone.

Mishima: Hey, can we meet tonight?

Mishima: I have a surprise.

Mishima: Also, I want to talk about the Phansite a bit.

Ren: Sounds like a plan.

Mishima: Great! See you on Central Street!

Later that night, Ren caught up with Mishima. “Hey Mishima,” Ren said.

“Oh hi,” Mishima said.

Ren finished walking up to him. “So, what’s this surprise?”

“Get this” Mishima said, excitedly “I got us each a DATE!”

“What?” said Ren, panicking.

“Yeah” Mishima continued. “I found them on the Phansite. This one girl said she was lonely, and this guy said he recently got dumped. So I decided to help them out and offered a double date to the two of them. Oh, but they just think we’re ordinary people. They don’t know I run the site, let alone that you’re a Phantom Thief.”

“Well, that’s good at least…” Ren said. “But what made you decide to do this?”

“Well, they needed help,” Mishima said. “But I don’t think changing hearts to make them happier is exactly ethical. So I offered this up.”

“Well… you know that at least…” Ren said.

“Don’t worry,” Mishima said. “I did some check on them. They’re both fine people. And I will also admit, the guy is incredibly handsome.”

“...Thanks?” Ren said, sweating bullets.

“Don’t worry, we have an ice breaker,” Mishima said. “We came into contact on the Phansite. We can talk about our adoration for the Phantom Thieves.”

“Yay” Ren said. She was dying inside.

Suddenly, Mishima got a call. “Huh? … Oh hey!” He put his hand over the speaker. “It’s the girl.” He went back to the phone. “How’s it going? Are you almost there yet? … Huh? ...Oh! Well that’s neat. … I see … Huh. No no, that’s great. … Right, well see you on the forums then.” He hung up and sighed.

“What was that about?” Ren asked.

Mishima smiled. “It turns out that on their way to meet us, our two dates met up with each other. They clicked right away, and are now going on a date with each other. Crazy how that worked out, right?” Ren sighed. “Wait, what was that for? Do you not trust me on this?”

“Well, in all honesty, no,” Ren said. “Although, I don’t really trust too many people to set me up with someone. I’ve gotten severely burned before.”

Mishima was concerned. “What happened?”

“Well, someone said they would get me a date…” Ren said. She remembered an incident at her old school where someone said that this one girl also liked girls, and would date her, but what ended up happening was a mean trick where she was actually outed, some dudes tried “turning” her, and in the end, she lost some of her friends. “But it turned into a huge public shaming where they embarrassed me. So yeah, I don’t really like getting set up with anyone.”

Mishima got made. “Man, fuck whoever did that to you! You’re a good person! You didn’t deserve that!”

Ren smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “Besides, I’m kind of interested in someone currently.” Even if she isn’t interested in me.

“I getcha, I getcha,” Mishima said. “So that’s a no on any further dates, huh.” Mishima seemed sad. “And she was so cute too…”

Ren looked at him, “Well, you could still try.”

“On my own?!” Mishima said. “I couldn’t. I’d get too nervous.”

“Mishima, look at me” Ren said. “You can do this.”

Mishima looked at Ren and got pumped. “Heh. You’re right! I CAN do this!” He pointed to Ren. “And you can get the guy you’re interested in! I know it for sure!”

Well, he doesn’t know. “Yeah…” Ren said.

“So, that’s a ‘no’ on getting dates for you,” Mishima said. “But what about anything else the Phansite can provide?”

“Hmmm” Ren thought. “Well, to be honest, I’m not sure. Maybe just start running things by me before you jump head first into whatever you’re thinking.”

“Ohhhhh” Mishima said. “That’s an excellent idea. Heh heh. I will.” His stomach growled. “Oh, um, would you like to grab something to eat anyways?”

“I’d like that,” Ren said. The two of them ate at the diner.

“Ah, that was great,” Mishima said.

“I’ll say,” Ren said.

“Hey,” Mishima said. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight. It didn’t go like how I imagined it would, but I think it worked out for the best.” He sighed a happy sigh. “Before all this happened, I had no one.” He turned to Ren. “But now I have you. And even though you said you wouldn’t date me, I still like hanging out with you. You’re like my best friend.”

Ren smiled. He doesn’t quite seem to get it, but he has the spirit. “You might want to work on your delivery a little if you want to get a date from the Phansite” Ren pointed out.

“Oh” Mishima said.

“But your heart is in the right place,” Ren continued. “You wanted to help someone in need, and you took action to do so. Just maybe think things over a bit before you do anything.”

“Done and done,” Mishima said. “And sorry about setting up a date for you. I didn’t know you had that experience.”

Or a few other things. “It’s OK. Just don’t do it again.”

“Aye aye!” Mishima said.

Ren smiled. “I like hanging out with you too.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Mishima said, flustered.

Moon-Yuuki Mishima: Rank 2

Ren and Mishima went home for the evening.

[tysonrunningfox]

Two Night Stand AU: Part 6

Ao3

I’m...chasing the ever illusive feeling of accomplishment upon finishing things.  Heard it’s possible.  

“How was…how was that?”  Hiccup asks, flopping back onto the bed with more force than his skinny shoulders should be able to produce. 

They’re a few experiments in, a couple of failed hypotheses closer to the truth.  Her hands are shaking, her skin twitching when he pulls the sheet up her chest, a fond gesture that she should tell him to stop.  But they’re being honest, and she honestly likes it, enough that she scoots sideways to rest her head on his shoulder. 

His hand finds her hip, stroking in a lazy, exhausted way that makes her chest throb even though it’s somewhere beyond the middle of the night and there’s no way they’re doing that again.  Because there’s no way they have energy to do that again. 

Maybe if he did all the work. 

“That was good,” she adjusts to get comfortable, her temple against a sweaty collarbone that doesn’t quite do the trick.  He’s the close kind of bony, like he has less of a buffer, and she can see why his personality is as oversized as his hair. 

He might kiss the top of her head.  She’s not sure.  She should ask, in the name of honesty, but she doesn’t know how much she cares about honesty if he’ll touch her again in the morning. 

Like there’s a limit, obviously if he started spouting racist slurs or required a pledge of allegiance first, that would be a no-go, but a little hair kissing?  Forgivable. 

Corny, but forgivable, given the circumstances.  Given how if she thinks about it, it feels like there’s no one else on the planet.    

“I’m…” He trails off, nose in her hair.  Nuzzling her hair.  And Ruffnut said no one would bang her pre-shower.  Ruffnut just doesn’t have a mind for the science of it all.  “I’m…”

“You’re…” She half-asks, half-ignores, eyelids feeling heavy as his warm palm settles on her waist. 

“Hungry.”  He laughs, stubble evident on her forehead. 

Her stomach growls. 

He laughs.  He kisses her head.  She should ask why he keeps doing that and also ask if there’s a pizzeria in the basement that she didn’t notice in either her haste to get up here or her haste to leave.  A 24-hour pizzeria.  Open during a blizzard. 

“We should go figure that out.” 

“I was thinking take out,” he laughs, voice still low, kissing her head again, and his boniness shouldn’t be so soft.  This shouldn’t be so ok.  “Or we can eat here.”  His hand migrates down, tickling her stomach, and she twitches at the memory of the last hour even as she grabs his fingers. 

“I’m literally hungry,” she laughs, “for calories.  Not jokes.” 

His stomach growls.  And he earned it, and that makes her laugh, which makes him laugh, chest reverberating like it’s bigger than it is.  Big hand on her waist.  Lips in her hair. 

“Me too.” 

“Well, let’s go do something about it.”  She sits up, taking the blanket with her, and he has the audacity to be groggy as he sits up slowly and fumbles for his leg.  Before his boxers.  It feels intimate.  And he looks up at her through his eyelashes, adjusting his stance, everything out. 

And penises are weird.  And she feels like she can’t look at anything else.  Maybe it’s allowed though, for science. 

It looks hungry too.  Not for calories, necessarily, but it has also driven the show for the last few hours, so maybe it’s someone else’s turn. 

“Here,” he tosses her the shirt he’d been wearing before pulling up his boxer briefs and it’s easier to pull it on than it is to emotionally fund an archaeological expedition to the site of her strip tease that wasn’t a tease. 

It was an appetizer. 

And he ate. 

And they’re still hungry. 

Because scientific endeavors don’t have any calories. 

“Food?”  He looks at her like it’s really a question.  Like her answer isn’t ‘forget the food and get back here because I’m cold’. 

Her stomach gurgles and he grins, holding out his hand and pointedly ignoring her eye roll.  He pointedly ignores a lot of things, among them, how obvious it is that there is no food.  He lets her look through every cabinet and find mustard, a pack of gum, vitamin C supplements, and a single packet of fruit snacks. 

And it’s snowing. 

And she’s wearing his shirt and nothing else and she knows what she can do with his hands and she swallows hard as she turns to face him. 

“We have to ration the fruit snacks.  Who knows how long they have to last?”  She tosses the packet at him.  He drops it.  He bends down to pick it up and his ass is right there.  She wonders if she’s allowed to tell him that his ass is more distracting than his leg, but even asking that of herself ruins the game.  “Also why don’t you have food?” 

“I did, until we got high.” 

“Fair.”  She tucks her hair behind her ear.  “Fair.” 

“Why…why don’t you just go back to bed?”  His voice dips as he asks the question and she wonders how asking him to do all the work would really come across as his fingertips glance across her thigh.  “I’ll be there in a minute.”  

“Are you weighing the fruit snacks?”  She backs into the doorway and pauses, elbow on the doorframe, “because as the person who just got off more, I could make a concrete argument for getting the bigger half of the fruit snacks—”

“You can have the whole packet.”  His lip twitches like a warning he tries to squelch and she takes it, for once, shuffling out of the room.  Badly moonwalking, almost. 

His awkward is contagious. 

She has the feeling there’s a vaccine, and she should have acquired it socially at some point, but she didn’t.  And she’s here.  Badly moonwalking out of a kitchen over a fruit snack victory. 

Sometimes rock bottom isn’t so hard.  Sometimes it’s padded with expired fruit snacks. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” she mumbles before turning and shuffling off, refusing to hold the shirt down. 

The longer she sits in it, the more comfortable Hiccup’s bed becomes.  His bedroom is homey in a way hers never has been, disorganized enough to feel lived in, the blanket well-worn and soft around her waist.  Her bedroom was always so clean, everything in its place, until the last few months.  And even now, it’s not really comfortable, it’s more just…messy.  Like she lost interest in everything before it made it back to its place.  It feels like lethargy, like sleeping until three, and staring at a computer screen until her eyes burn and she’s forgotten all that she didn’t get done. 

She likes Hiccup’s room.  She likes thinking about last night, about being tangled together in a web of constant communication.  She flushes when she remembers that she probably shouldn’t be thinking about it, adjusting Hiccup’s shirt around her waist and curling her knees to her chest. 

Hiccup comes in a moment later, holding a suspiciously laden tray, the all too familiar smell of Kraft macaroni and cheese wafting towards her. 

“Where did you get that?”  She shifts, accepting the tray as he slides back into bed next to her, quickly thumbing his prosthetic off and hiding his leg immediately in the blankets.  There’s a full, expired packet of fruit snacks on her side and she wonders if feeding anybody anything has ever been sexy and if that’s enough of a concept to turn into an experiment. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Astrid takes one of the bowls from the tray and frowns, because where Hiccup’s skin is touching hers it’s warm, and he didn’t go outside and—

“This is your neighbors’ food, isn’t it?” 

He avoids her eyeline just enough to prove her point and she grins, “you were such an asshole about me breaking that window, and now you’re breaking into their apartment and stealing their food.  Hypocrite.” 

“They will understand,” he shrugs, stirring his food and taking a bite.  “I’ll tell them it was life or death, that if I didn’t feed the crazy girl I met online, she was going to go all Donner Party on my ass.” 

“I still might,” she’s suddenly too aware that it’s his shirt warm and soft on the back of her neck.  “You did witness me breaking and entering, I probably shouldn’t let you live.” 

“But I fed you,” he elbows her, shifting slightly closer to her in a magnetic way she wishes she didn’t notice.  “And for the record, I thought it was pretty badass when you broke that window.” 

“I agree,” she takes a bite, and Kraft has never tasted so good.  The muffled moan at the taste of fake cheese is embarrassing and she clears her throat, “I’m glad you came to your senses.  It was badass.” 

“I have to say,” he slows down, stirring his mac and cheese and looking at her, eyes narrowed.  His eyelashes are ridiculously thick, dark in the half-light of the room, and she wonders what she would have thought about him if she’s met him anywhere else, in any other way.  “I really don’t get you.  Like, one moment you’re unemployed, looking for a booty call online at midnight, and the next you’re just…this go-getter, take-no-shit-even-from-windows-or-laws rebel.  Which is it?” 

Astrid should be angry, and some remnant of who she used to try and be stirs in her chest, offended at the idea of being a rebel.  The rest of her is…well, she’s flattered he asked.  That he noticed. 

“I don’t know, both?”  She takes another bite, mulling it over for a while.  “I was valedictorian in high school.  Graduated college at the top of my class.  I had not the requisite three, but six letters of recommendation ready to be sent off to medical school but…” 

The way he’s looking at her makes it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to remember that she’s damaged goods, doomed to keep that never-healing injury close to her chest until it scabs over and becomes some knotted whorl of scar tissue. 

“I was engaged once,” she can’t look at him as she says it, and her hands suddenly look like they should be attached to someone older.  Like they’re her grandmother’s knuckles.  “Sounds like I’m writing a memoir.  I was engaged recently, up until a few months ago.”  She shrugs, “he cheated.  I wanted to work it out, he didn’t.  You know, typical…whatever, bullshit, but…”  It’s hard to talk about in a way she can’t explain, hard to form the words on her tongue even while they’re surging through her brain. 

Harder when he looks at her, more curious than sympathetic, chin tilting to the side. 

“I thought…” She swallows, thinking about rebellion, and how maybe after months of listening to the reality of her shit situation, she needs to push back against it.  “I thought that maybe getting back out there, getting back on the metaphorical, dick-shaped horse might make it sting less and maybe that’s stupid, but—”

“Did it work?”  He’s too quiet to really cut her off but she was so hoping to hear him talk that she pauses when he does. 

And he has those earnest eyes. 

She shrugs, wishing she’d grabbed her own shirt while also being glad that she didn’t.  His is softer.  The kind of shirt a girlfriend would love to steal, and she’s never thought of being that person again.  All paths forward were cul-de-sacs to be walked alone in fits of depressive pacing. 

She bites back a smile.  She feels tired.  A bit sore.  Her stomach more than the rest of her, because it was hilarious when he tipped backwards off of the bed.  She’s lost, but no more than usual, in fact she might have re-discovered the concept of North, as an idea.  A theory.  A constant that exists separate from whatever direction she’s facing. 

“I don’t get how someone could be there through…I mean, it used to feel like everything.  Like life stopped at college graduation and everything since has been limbo, but anyway, I don’t get how someone could see what I was working towards every day for years and then suddenly, it was too much.  I was too much.” 

“You?”  He raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the bedframe with a snort, “never.” 

“Apparently he just couldn’t take me ‘obsessing’ anymore.  That was the word.”  She hasn’t told anyone this.  Not her mom, not Ruffnut.  She’s held it close like an infection, fearing a diagnosis that would require an emotional surgery so invasive it would be more exorcism than excision. 

“Obsessive,” he nods, “I’ve heard that one a few times too.  Mostly from people who think I’m in the way or I will be soon.” 

“The thing is, I was always like that.  I was the twelve-year-old with a five-year plan, I was the eighteen-year-old with a plan for my second promotion at forty, it didn’t show up out of nowhere.  You think he would have told me my ‘obsessiveness’ was a deal-breaker before he bought a ring.”  She sighs, “like he never did anything else he was ‘supposed’ to, why did he suddenly start?  And who told him that I thought he was supposed to propose?” 

“No, I—the way I see it, people need to realize that refusing to make a decision is a kind of decision.”  Hiccup’s fork clangs against his bowl as he drops it on his lap, freeing his hands up to talk, “people spend their entire lives either trying to avoid the flow or completely immersing themselves in the flow until they freak out at the lack of decision in their lives and it’s the same on both sides.”  He gestures at one corner of the room, eyes bright, “you’re either thirty or forty or fifty, flitting between random part time jobs or you get a job straight out of college and then you have to get an apartment and you can’t lose the job because of the apartment, and then you have to keep houseplants alive to prove you’re an adult because the standard is impossible—”

“I don’t really know where you’re getting your standards—”

“And ‘obsessive’?  As an insult, it’s—being a little obsessive is the only thing that cuts across it, so of course people hate it.  Because it makes them realize that they’re either drifting down the lazy river of life, or they’re fighting the current just to brag about it.  And that they’ve never actually thought about what they want, versus what they’re supposed to have by now, on some imaginary timeline.”  He looks at her, cheeks red like he forgot he had an audience for his rant.  “And really people are just jealous that they never thought of wanting something that hadn’t already been sold to them, so then it’s your fault for making them realize it.” 

She doesn’t think that ended up where he wanted it to.  She’s not sure it ended up at all, it just spiraled higher and wilder, but she liked it.  The limitless-ness of it, the fact he found the energy for it. 

“Wow.” 

“Blacked out for a second there,” he tries to put the energy away but it crackles between them, “high on my own dulcet tones.” 

“We should go like…write to our senators or something,” she laughs, punching him in his skinny arm. 

“Right,” the cynical mask doesn’t fit under his bed-head and she nudges his shoulder with hers, taking another bite of stolen mac and cheese. 

“No, you’re right, it’s…he couldn’t care about anything enough to decide on it.  It’s not just me.  He liked the concept but the reality of choosing what his forever looked like didn’t sit well.” 

“I feel bad for him, honestly.”  He laughs and she tries to resist the cold fingers that curl in her chest as she raises a judgmental eyebrow. 

“What about this story makes him seem like the one who should be pitied?”  Except she doesn’t want his pity either, but she knows she doesn’t need to tell him that from the way he smirks at her.  With her.  Conspiratorial, not confrontational. 

“Because he’s so stupid and he doesn’t even know it.”  He finishes his food and sets the bowl aside on the bedside table next to an empty condom wrapper that didn’t make it into the trash.  Because this isn’t the environment for a heart to heart and he’s not the person she should want one from, but here she is, watching the snow fall outside the window over his shoulder.  “He thinks you’re just one example of some milestone girl and when he thinks he’s ready, he’ll find another one, but that’s not—you’re not.  You’re—of all the girls I could have met on that dating site--”  

His face softens, and the hazy potential in his expression amplifies the energy that she doesn’t want to name.  To name it is to acknowledge it, and to acknowledge it cements her place on top of the podium for ‘worst one-night-stand-haver’.

“What are those?”  But she’s never been good at keeping quiet. And maybe sometimes, at the end of a long, winding losing streak, any win counts as a win. 

“What are what?” 

“Those mushy, lovey-dovey eyes you’re looking at me with right now.”  She punches his arm again, lighter this time, then jokingly points her thumb over her shoulder.  “Get those out of here.” 

“It’s like three in the morning, my contacts are dry.”  He’s not wearing contacts.  She knows because she tore apart his bathroom looking for a plunger.  She knows because he’s close, like he’s going to kiss her again, and she can see every fleck and striation in his eyes.  “So, this is really your first one-night stand?” 

“Yes, I told you that,” she tucks her hair behind her ear, “why would I lie?” 

His shrug verges on an attempt at confidence as he leans to half-whisper in her ear, “they usually don’t last this long.” 

“Well,” she bites her lip and lets it go slowly, glad there’s no one here to assess the optics of the move, “that’s too bad.” 

“I’m going to go destroy the evidence of my…grocery run,” he takes her empty bowl and stands up. 

“And deal with your contacts?”  She just wouldn’t be herself if she let him have that inch, and she feels more like herself than she has in a while. 

He blushes and rubs the back of his head with his free hand, “yeah, contacts, I don’t need reminding.  Not with how…itchy they are right now.” 

“Whatever,” she stands up to size up his closet, trying to determine where something warmer would be.  Probably in the back, and he’s left-handed, “it is actually cold in here, so I’m going to grab a sweatshirt.”  She opens the left door, “I promise I won’t steal it, I don’t need any souvenir aside from the psychological trauma of…Stockholm Syndrome.” 

Her words trail off to nearly nothing.  Words not worth saying, because they don’t apply anymore.  None of this applies. 

She’s staring at a closet full of women’s clothes.  Young clothes.  The kind of clothes she might wear if she wore more black and if she went anywhere.  Aside from this apartment on a whim. 

This one-bedroom apartment where a young woman clearly lives. 

“Astrid,” Hiccup’s voice skips and she turns slowly to face him. 

“Those aren’t your grandma’s coats.”  She states.  Accusing isn’t necessary.  “You may have played me for a fool, but I’m not one.” 

“I didn’t—” He practically drops the bowls onto a desk and gets between her and the closet, like if he’s in the way she won’t remember what she’s seeing, “look, Astrid, I can explain—”

“I don’t need to hear this side of the story!”  She can’t look at him anymore, not with the stack of picture frames staring at her from the closet shelf.  He covered his bases, hid anything suspicious.  Made sure to offer his guest use of the back-stabbing knife.  “I’m familiar enough with the other half, I’ve put this one together pretty well.” 

“Astrid, please, it’s not like—”

“Who is she?”  She hates that she just said that.  She hates that she’s said that before, when she was crying more than yelling and watching her carefully registered future fall apart.  “No, never mind, I don’t care.  I just—thought I was better than getting roped into this, but I guess not.” 

“Can you please just listen to me?”  He follows too close as she retreats to her pile of clothes, hurling his shirt at his face as she gets dressed.  “It’s—her name’s Heather.  She’s a DJ.  The storm cancelled her flight back—”

“Not my problem,” she sits on the edge of the bed, tugging her socks on and hating herself for wondering what Heather looks like.  For knowing that Heather is going to spend hours thinking about the same thing.  For how petty and small she is because even now, in the moment, she knows that this is better than being on the other side of this coin. 

“Let me explain myself,” he fumbles through a dresser drawer.  A dresser drawer full of bras and underwear, and if Astrid didn’t have a vendetta against that stupid toilet, she might throw up.  “Here.  Just—read this, please.” 

He holds a letter out to her.  Written in girly handwriting on college rule. 

Her hand hovers above it for a second before curiosity wins over and she snatches it from him with a glare. 

Hiccup,

Being direct in a letter feels ironic, I guess, but I don’t know how to say this any other way. 

It’s not working out. 

I know we just got the place, and I know that I met your Mom, and I love you but I just don’t see where this is going.  I don’t know if it’s living together or if I’ve just been on tour too much, but the connection is I feel like I’m pretending when I’m with you. 

I think we’re just growing apart.  Or we already grew apart.  I don’t know. 

I’m on the lease, but maybe you can stay with my brother.  You have a cousin in town, right?  I should know that.  We live together, I should have met your family.  I’m not trying to get rid of you, I just need some space on my own right now.  Have for a while. 

Heather. 

“See?”  Hiccup asks, voice quiet and husky as she carefully folds the letter back along its worn seam. 

“I—no, I don’t see, if she gave you this Dear John letter and asked you to leave, why are you still here?”  She hates that she asks, that she’s still sitting on his bed, that she’s wondering how hard it would be to find Heather on social media. 

Not hard, probably.  But she doesn’t think the comparison would accomplish anything. 

“She hasn’t given it to me yet.  I don’t know when she wrote it.”  He wrings his hands together, knuckles white, and he looks familiar in a way she shouldn’t have let happen. 

“You snooped.”  Another not-an-accusation. 

“I didn’t—ok, it fell and I picked it up and saw my name but—”

“What does this have to do with me?”  She asks even though she knows the answer.  Which is ‘nothing’.  This has nothing to do with her, and her involvement is her mistake even if it’s not explicitly her fault. 

“I didn’t think it’d be you.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense—”

“I wanted…I wanted something to hold against her when she finally gave it to me.  I wanted an a-ha, I thought—I didn’t think,” he looks at her, green eyes wet and pleading, “I went on a dating site to have something to throw in her face when she dumped me with a note after we’d moved in together—”

“And I fit the bill?” 

“Yes.”  He says it like he means it, reaching for her hand with both of his, and she jumps to her feet.  She shouldn’t feel betrayed.  She used him too.  She used him first.  Using him was her idea at every turn but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel like she clicked Accept before she read the Terms and Conditions. 

“Well that’s—”

“Astrid,” he says like he hopes her name is a balm, but it doesn’t really work, and she hates that they’re out of sync even though he’s awful and she hates him.  For real this time, on purpose.  Not just an imagined, convenient hatred.  He’s everything that hurt her and more.  In fact, he put in the effort to make her believe he was different before he ripped the rug out from under her.  “She’s right, ok, it hasn’t been working.  It’s not—I thought I was getting some preemptive revenge but instead it’s you and—”

“So, I messed up your revenge for you?” She snorts, stalking out to the living room and grabbing her jacket.  She checks for her phone, her keys, her purse, because no one could pay her enough to come back here.  “Good, it’s what you deserve.  I hope it’s…sweet,” she scrambles, “sweet and sour, actually.” 

The opposite of bittersweet.  Or maybe adjacent on the color wheel.  He doesn’t get to feel bitter, either way, he gave that away. 

“You—I don’t want her—”

“Clearly,” she glares at him and she wishes it worked, that he hadn’t seen how easily removable her outer layer is.  Plate mail rather than greaves.  Something that holds its shape no matter how long you leave it alone in the dark. 

“I didn’t even know you existed, Astrid.”  He says her name like it has value, like it’s a coin under his tongue that will curry favor in the afterlife and she wishes she couldn’t see his leg right now.  She wishes that his vulnerability didn’t feel like trust, or that she didn’t want the trust.  “If I had I would have ended it so long ago, before I got the note, before—I thought she was—we were—If I’d known about you—”

“You would have what?” 

“I—you’re the one I want to be with.”  He was probably high school class president.  Or worse, runner up who bet on something lame like saving the world instead of getting everyone a new vending machine. 

She would have voted for him. 

The lump in her throat feels like it’s going to explode. 

“Astrid, the last forty-eight hours—I,” he swallows hard, risking one hand against her jacketed arm as he steps between her and the alarmed front door.  And she believes him.  She’s seen him vulnerable enough to recognize his honest face.  And it doesn’t matter, it can’t, because he lied.  Systematically.  While making it feel like he didn’t lie at all.  “I—last night, tonight—sometimes I forgot that other people even existed.” 

He reads her mind like a stolen book and she feels the loss of proceeds. 

“I’m leaving.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dredge anything up—”

“You’re just some funny guy who knows how to write a dating profile,” she clears her throat and stands up straight, shoving his front door open with enough preparation that the alarm doesn’t make her blink, “I think I’ll live.” 

“Astrid—”  

She races down the stairs and to the door.  Against who, she’s not quite sure. She doesn’t think he’d follow her in boxers at four in the morning and she wouldn’t let herself care if he did.  Because emotions are that easy, right?  When they’re big and confusing and stupid, you can just turn them off until you’re equipped to handle them. 

You can just pause. 

She’s so sick of being paused.  She’d rather fast-forward at this point, through the tears and confusion and the listless hours of staring at the ceiling and trying to finagle herself into being blamed for other people’s shitty decisions. 

But it doesn’t work that way. 

She feels every shove of her shoulder against the door in real time.  Feels the heavy snow shift inch by inch, tumbling onto the walk that someone managed to plow at some point in the last two days. 

They were a pause, in a way, the long, lingering moment that stretches out before disaster. 

The walk home is freezing.  Her hands are numb as she fumbles with her key, opening the front door and barely noticing the scene on the couch. 

“You’re home!”  Ruffnut fumbles with a blanket, slapping at something suspiciously firm where the gap between her legs should be.  “Ah!  N—how was it?” 

“Is that from my bed?”  Astrid doesn’t wait for an answer before yanking the blanket and revealing Snotlout, scrambling to cover himself with a pillow that Ruffnut tosses him. 

“You’re back!”  He yells, like it’s normal for him to be naked on her couch, and she realizes all at once that it would be if she hadn’t camped out here for months, feeling sorry for herself. 

Which she does.  Still.  Maybe more than ever, but admitting it is different than spending all of her energy trying to hide it. 

“You two are impossible.” 

“So are you!”  Ruffnut calls after her, “it’s been two days, quite an extended sexcapade, I’m proud of you—”

She slams her bedroom door so that she doesn’t have to hear anything about pride from someone so happy and pulls out her phone before she can think twice about it, deleting her profile from that stupid dating site.  She’s done waiting for her mistakes to blow over, at least this one is shallow enough to shower off and be done with it. 

[turquoisephoenix]

Eye for an Eye

A Skylanders one shot Every evil villain has to start somewhere. For Dr. Krankcase, his villainous career unfolded in the most classic of fashions - with a petty act of revenge. Saw a post somewhere saying that no one writes the villains being the villains so I decided to fill that void and write a little something involving Dr. Krankcase doing what a villain would do and ruin a bunch of people’s lives. Minor content warning for violence. Rating: T for violence. Characters: Dr. Krankcase, the Evilikin ————————————————-

It had been a crisp, uneventful summer night when Hawkthorn Keep fell to ruin.

Like most structures built by the Drow, the elves of Skylands that had turned to The Darkness and considered themselves the true leaders of the skies, Hawkthorn Keep was built purely with function in mind with none of the frills expected from the elf race. It was a small fortress - unremarkable by evil fortress standards really - made entirely of black stone and shaped by Earth magicks. Not a single tree was harmed in its creation; the drow may be evil, but they were still elves through and through.

The Keep had one purpose - protection. Like a panther made out of brick and mortar, it sat hunched next to the enchanted forest that shared both its floating island and its name, guarding it from harm and wordlessly marking the island and Hawkthorn Forest as Drow Territory.

The only other building on the island was a tiny structure that sat on the opposite end of a forest, far newer and far less imposing than the stronghold. Several months ago, an invader had landed on the island and had built a small makeshift factory there in order to experiment on the raw timber from the forest. He had made a bold attempt to keep it all a secret - he had even tried to argue that he wasn't going to be there long - but the drow saw to it that his operation was stopped before he could turn any more of the forest's trees into wooden monstrosities. Already the forest was reclaiming the sad burnt out husk of a building, with vines and tree roots snaking through the cracked stones and shattered timber. New growth was already forming in the tiny place near the factory that was clear cut for raw materials.

"Commander, you've received this message via carrier bird."

Commander Florin didn't even look up from his desk as he worked on the Keep's accounts, his fingers stained black with ink. Like any dark elf worth his mettle, he dared not to trust anyone else with the calculations of his keep's treasury. Instead, he tallied all the gold that went into his coffers by hand, mumbling to himself and scratching his chin. His war armor hung on the wall behind a display case, its well-polished steel catching the light from the candles that illuminated his room.

Like Hawkthorn Keep, he was rather unremarkable by drow standards. He was lean and well-toned, a middle-aged drow that had seen the sting of combat many times. His hair was already fading to grey in places, the light in his white glowing eyes was already starting to fade, and retirement was now something that floated in the back of his mind. He knew that he was stationed here not because of anything extraordinary done in his life but because no one else was; Hawkthorn was so far away from any major base of drow operations that the other Commanders often cracked jokes on how long it'd be before the trolls, the other species of elves, or even the Skylanders claimed it.

And, in his mind, that made his job even more important. He alone made sure that Hawkthorn Forest was in the hands of the superior race of Skylands.

After standing there in silence for a good minute, the young elf cadet realized he wasn't going to get a verbal answer, cleared his throat, and began to read from the scroll out loud. "To whom it may concern, the suspect responsible for cutting down part of your forest has escaped. We don't believe he's dangerous, but he sees you responsible for his accident and might try to retaliate. If he attacks your fortress, please capture him alive and send him safely to us. Fond regards, The Mabu Defense Force."

Florin still didn't answer, leaving the younger elf to fidget in place.

"The subject they're speaking of is the inventor we apprehended more than a month ago." the cadet added with a hesitant smile.

Ah yes, Florin remembered that day well. A scout had alerted him of a troll-like beast that had set up shop in his forest and was chopping down his trees, so he sent a squad of twenty elves to bring them to justice. The intruder, a miserable-looking creature with blue hair, green skin, and yellow eyes, took one look at the spears pointed at him and fled as fast as his webbed feet could carry him.

They didn't carry him far.

In their haste of ridding their land of the terrible blight that the intruder had brought them, the elves had accidentally made the roof collapse. They found the trespasser pinned to the ground, sobbing in pain and weakly clawing at the several tons of metal and timber trapping his legs. Had it been up to Florin, that would've been the end - a swift spear to the throat would've been an act of mercy at that point - but then Master Eon and the Skylanders, who had picked up a distress signal from the intruder, intervened. The green creature escaped with his life, but now missing two of his limbs. An appropriate punishment for harming a drow forest.

"Hmph. Only Mabu would lose a prisoner with no legs." The Commander answered with a dry chuckle. Florin, like most elves, had nothing fond to say about Mabu. But then again, he had nothing nice to say about anyone who wasn't a drow.

"Toss the scroll in the garbage and return to your post. Dismissed." he barked. The cadet quickly saluted and hurried out the door, his armor rustling in his wake.

With a snort, Florin's head bent over the many papers littering his desk and he began tallying the accounts once more. As he sipped idly on some mint tea (previously stolen from a Mabu airship that had sailed too close to the keep a couple weeks prior), the dark elf was confident that there'd be no more interruptions.

He was wrong.

Fifteen minutes later, the door to his office suddenly exploded inward in a lime green flash and crashed in an awful heap of metal and glowing green goo on top of his desk, ruining an entire day's hard work in mere seconds. Suddenly, tallying up the keep's books wasn't on Florin's mind as he leapt to his feet and watched as a sinister wooden and flesh monstrosity with a gun in each hand and clothes the color of dried blood slowly scuttled into his office on five wooden spider legs.

"Knock knock." hissed a very familiar intruder as a Cheshire cat grin split his face in half.

It was the same intruder as before - the creator of the tiny factory that Florin ordered to be destroyed - but there was something...different about him. Something had changed in the frog-like creature, something that unsettled the drow. He wasn't thinking about how the bottom half of his body was now a madman's facsimile of a spider's legs made out of wood and hydraulics. Nor was he thinking about how the intruder got a costume change in the short time that had passed, switching from a simple workshop ensemble with an apron to a classy red top hat and coat.

No, what really made Florin's flesh crawl was the utter madness glittering in the creature's eyes. He was grinning wildly like a wolf, lips drawn fiercely back away from his bottom tusks, as he locked eyes with the dark elf. A darkness had claimed this creature's soul where there had just been quiet meekness before, and inwardly Florin wondered just what kind of monster he accidentally unleashed onto Skylands that fateful day.

"Hello there! I don't believe we've been properly introduced." The intruder said in a cheerful voice that didn't match the bloodlust that glinted off his eyes. "My name is Dr. Krankcase and you are Commander Florin, Head of Hawkthorn Keep. I do believe the two of us have unfinished business, don't we?"

Florin, despite his many years of training, could feel fear creep into his bloodstream, freezing him in place. 'So much for the Mabu believing he wasn't dangerous,' he thought grimly. "How did you get past my guards?" he said, keeping his voice even. Oh how he wished his armor wasn't hanging uselessly behind glass...

Dr. Krankcase looked casual, conversing as if he had met his best friend at the local farmer's market.

"Oh you know, I'm a pretty versatile doctor. A kick to the face here, an explosive there, and everyone got their own helping of sleep medication." Florin's eyes quickly darted to the creature's legs again, and he noticed with horror that there were droplets of blood on some of them. "Speaking of which-"

Dr. Krankcase shot Florin's hand with a bullet of green acid as it reached for a spear that was hanging on the wall. The elf screamed in raw agony.

"No weapons while I'm making a house call." he said in a cheeky tone as if scolding a child.

"Why are you here!?" Florin pleaded desperately as he crouched behind his desk, one hand grasping the other as he clawed vainly at his knuckles in order to tear the sticky goo from his flesh. An acrid smell was filling the air as the awful scientist's concoction sizzled and popped on his hand.

"I'm operating with the three R's. Retaliation. Reimbursement. Revenge!" he said eagerly as he moved closer, his legs clanking noisily against the stone floor. He leaned in closer to the dark elf, savoring every moment of Florin's agony.

"The destruction of my factory - among other things - put me behind schedule and also put a dent in my savings so I figured that you'd make a humble donation of-" he quickly mimed counting on his gloved fingers. "All of the gold and valuables in your keep."

Anger replaced pain and fear, so shocking was the audacity of the intruder. Did he really think he could march into his keep, fancy new legs or no, and steal from him? Florin's back went rigid as he shouted in the monster's face as he still clutched his burnt hand. "Vile dog! And how do you plan on doing that!? My soldiers outnumber you 100 to 1!"

The damned wolf's grin never left Dr. Krankcase's face.

"Ohohoho, I was waiting for you to ask that question..." he chuckled, happily rubbing his hands together.

It was then that Florin noticed that there telltale background noise of war outside his keep. Dr. Krankcase had kept him so distracted that he didn't even notice until now. The clash of steel rang through the air like church bells on a wedding day and Florin could feel the bottom of his stomach plummet to his knees as the intruder laughed.

"You...might want to turn around." Dr. Krankcase said.

Numbly, the elf did what he was commanded, turning his back to the mad inventor and slowly walking to the window behind his desk in a sleepwalker's daze. His injured fingers lightly grazed stone as he gripped onto the windowsill to keep himself from falling over in shock. What Commander Florin saw outside defied explanation.

Hundreds of monsters (for what other word could he use for these things?) made out of wood, hideous constructs of a mad scientist, shrugged off every spear attack and arrow with ease, their eyes glowing yellow in the darkness of night. They were swarming the keep in a pincer formation, engulfing his small battalion of trained soldiers. Most of his soldiers were already either laying in a senseless heap on the ground, bound by the wrists in rope, or had surrendered. Weapons were effortlessly seized and carried away to one of the many small ships moored at the floating island's edge.

"Did you really think that I would attack your keep first?" came a mocking voice, inches away from his right ear, as he watched a giant made out of wood smash open the door to the treasury and lead smaller clockwork constructs in. Their wooden talons were greedily snatching away any treasure chest they could find. Fistfuls of gold coins gleamed in a creature's claws. "When all of Skylands is just full of poorly maintained troll factories and lumber yards? You will find that this new model of Evilikin is not so easily destroyed."

Even without looking behind him, he could feel Dr. Krankcase shrug. "But look at me, I'm forgetting the real reason why I'm in your office!"

Without missing a beat, Krankcase punched the middle-aged elf in the face, sending him crashing backwards and laid him flat to the floor. The Commander of Hawkthorn Keep didn't even try to get up.

"Do you know how good it feels to be able to finally do that, Commander!? After waiting so long for my chance while I recovered in a hospital bed, hearing from doctors that I would never walk again!?" Dr. Krankcase yelled, his everlasting smile finally dissolving and revealing the bubbling fountain of rage that the scientist had kept bottled in all this time. He slowly advanced, legs clicking against the floor. He was practically shaking in rage as he placed a spider leg on the commander's chest.

"Like 'em? Had to build them myself after you so graciously destroyed my previous pair!" he hissed. The other four legs maneuvered themselves until Dr. Krankcase was standing on top of Florin, pinning him down like a juicy fly in a spider's web. Wisps of smoke were now rising up outside; Dr. Krankcase paid it no mind. He wanted to relish in this moment.

"Do you know how many days I went without sleep, trying to prove those doctors wrong? At first I tried to rebuild my two legs with wood and metal, but then I realized that I could do something far more creative." A spider leg crept to his neck and began applying pressure there. Florin lightly sobbed in terror. "Why create duplicates of my older legs when I can create something more powerful? That's when I had an epiphany and went with nice, dependable spider legs. They leave a lasting impression, don't they? Certainly proved everyone wrong!"

The drow didn't answer and Dr. Krankcase kept standing there, perched on his prey, sizing him up. The scientist opened his mouth to say something - whether it was more gloating or a threat on his life Florin would never know - when the sound of heavy footfalls made out of gears and timber came crashing towards them, causing the mad scientist to turn his head towards the hallway.  

"Yo Boss, we've found every shiny thing and valuable we could find!" called a heavy voice behind them, emerging from a jaw with loud metal joints and rotating clockwork parts. From his position on the floor, Florin couldn't see the owner of the voice, and honestly, he was grateful for that. All he knew was that the creature dwarfed both of them.

"Great job, Scrap Shooter!" Dr. Krankcase said, answering him fondly like a long-time friend. He crawled off the elf commander and casually brushed the dirt off of his coat. "Load up the ships, we'll be leaving very soon!"

He turned his head to look down at his captive, fingers idly playing with the two guns strapped to his waist. "Now I'm a pretty friendly guy so today, I'm going to let you off with just a stern warning and a slap on the wrist. Everyone in your keep gets to stay alive, and all you get to lose is a couple buildings and-" he paused as a series of explosions rocked the island, sending dust cascading down from the ceiling. "-and all of your valuables. Lucky you!"

Dr. Krankcase's arm, quick as chain lightning, suddenly shot out and he grabbed the drow by the throat. He lifted him off the floor until their eyes met and he smiled, bottom tusks glimmering under the candlelight, as his gloved hand started crushing Florin's windpipe, cutting off airflow. Rigor mortis set in the scientist's grin as choking sounds filled the air, turning it into a grimace laced with venom.

"However...if you so much as send a scout after me, I will chop off their legs and mail them back to you gift-wrapped. You try to take revenge yourself, and I'll see just how many bones I can break in your body before you start begging me for the sweet release of death."

He brought the elf closer, his voice dropping in volume until it was barely louder than a whisper.

"Do I make myself clear, Commander?"

The Commander of Hawkthorn Keep's only response was a faint wheeze. The world was starting to turn black. Stars began to burst in his vision but still he managed to nod.

"Gooooooood..."

He dropped the elf to the floor like a piece of trash, leaving him to gasp helplessly for air.

"Farewell, Hawkthorn Keep! May we never meet again!" Dr. Krankcase called, and with those words, he crawled out of the window like a giant insect and jumped, landing effortlessly on his feet and rushing to meet his creations.

Numbly, after laying on the floor gathering up his final reserves of strength, the disgraced and beaten commander shakily rose to his feet. Using his ruined desk as balance, he could only look out the window and watch as the small fleet of ships flew away from the floating island, leaving behind only chaos in their wake. It was this small action that allowed Florin to see that Dr. Krankcase left him one final parting gift - one final twist to the knife in his gut - to complete his act of revenge.

Hawkthorn Forest was on fire.

------------

Dr. Krankcase crouched next to several open treasure chests full of gold as his airship cut through the night sky with several smaller vessels filled with Evilikin trailing behind him. Hawkthorn Keep was now nothing more than a glowing red dot on the horizon, already fading into the clouds, its purpose in his life fulfilled.

His fingers rubbed a gold coin idly as he stared off into the endless skies that unfolded in front of him, lost in thought and the gravity of just what he did sinking into his bones as the roaring sound of the ship's engine filled his senses. He was still getting used to his diminished sense of touch in his fingers, which were now scarred at the fingertips from when he tried to claw himself free from several tons of wood and metal.

In his mind's eye, he could see a future that would never come to pass - a future where he had made exactly one hundred Woodikin, submitted them for peer review to his fellow scientists, and then received a giant grant to begin mass-producing them so that they could benefit every race in Skylands. In this future, he'd be a well-respected scientist, an inventor of a household brand of robotic assistant. He would've brightened the lives of many.

A couple months ago, Dr. Krankcase, a young inventor fresh out of school with a brand new doctorate and a bright idea shining in his clever little brain, would've been horrified at what he did tonight. Now, he was surprised at how good he felt. He flexed the hand that once held the elf's throat. That level of cruelty came so naturally to him and a mixture of emotions overwhelmed him. Was he revolted? Yes. But he wasn't ruling out the possibility of doing it all over again either.

His hunger for vengeance was satisfied - he had no desire to keep holding onto a grudge against an entire race or even against that specific commander - and he had built more than enough wooden creations to prove that his newly invented goo concoction could bring things to life. By all accounts, the Skylanders should see him as a hero for bringing down a drow keep like that. He was a smart man - he could come up with a very convincing excuse to sway the Skylanders to his side.

"Boss, what's your next command?" said the wooden robot at the ship's wheel.

But then again, he thought to himself as darkness wove its tendrils around his soul, why should he play by the rules? He was through with playing nice - after all, playing nice was what cost him his legs. Perhaps this was a more fruitful job opportunity. He closed a fist around the gold coin as he thought about the many more gold coins he could see in this bright, new future - more alien and darker than the one now closed to him - unfolding in front of him.

He turned to face his wooden subjects, smile on his face. They all gazed up to him, their master, in raw adoration. Perfect.

"Fly to the nearest settlement! Town, keep, castle. Troll, Drow, or Mabu. It doesn't matter who or what we attack so long as they have gold and lumber!" he yelled to his Evilikin with his fists clenched in triumph.

A rousing cheer - inhuman and terrible but still music to his ears - filled the air as his wooden creatures screamed towards the sky in exhilaration.

Dr. Krankcase beamed in pride and then let the gold coin fall from his hands. He made his choice now.

"It's time for me to make a name for myself."

[imagine-loki]

Packless Monsters

TITLE: Packless Monsters CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 47/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a werewolf who ends up in the company of Loki in the Avenger’s tower after saving Pepper’s life RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

     You reclaimed your position standing at the head of the table. Confident, though your outfit currently consisted of sexy lingerie and Loki’s cloak. Loki stood protectively behind you, a reassuring presence. He didn’t know what you were going to say, but he would support your decisions.

    You turned your attention to Samuel and Fenrir, though you addressed the room at large. “Though I killed Jareth, I have no intentions of taking over as Alpha myself,” you heard the sighs of relief from the others. While it was your right to take over the pack, and could definitely do it with Loki at your side and defend your position, you had no intentions of living in this hell or staying here a moment longer than you had to. “Samuel, will you make the announcement that anyone wishing to be considered to be the new Alpha is to meet in the courtyard in an hour’s time?” Samuel was technically in charge until the next Alpha was chosen. He had been sent here by Fenrir to watch over the pack while they decided if Jareth could be left in charge.

    “I will. Rachel and I have been staying in the Alpha’s house. You are welcome to make your preparations there,” Samuel replied. He really meant ‘please put on real clothes before your boyfriend kills us all for seeing a single centimeter more of your skin than he deems acceptable’

    You nodded and took Loki’s hand. “I will see you in an hour’s time,” you told the room. You turned, grabbed your combat boots from where they’d landed when you’d shifted forms.

    “Are you sure I should not just kill them, darling?” Loki asked mournfully, reminding the group at large that you were protected very well from moronic overgrown dogs.

    “I’m sure. The sooner I pick one of them, the sooner we can go home to our family,” you replied and kissed his cheek.

    “Your family is here bitch,” the third snarled. You whirled to face him, to face his accusation. “You’re the one who turned your back on us, on your duty to the pack. Now you come back here with this… false mate and claim rights to dictate our lives?” He was complaining you weren’t married to Loki too, but that wasn’t the part that pissed you off at the moment.

    “I turned my back on you?” you snarled at him in indignation. “I didn’t do my duty? You all have failed in your duty to those weaker than you. You have all failed as dominants. I left to escape blatant physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, which you all turned a blind eye to. My only crime to deserve that abuse, those correction as Ferris like to call them was not being able to give peace to the pack. You all know damn well that a tortured Omega has no peace to share and none of you did anything. I saved my life by leaving this hellhole and now you have the audacity to claim that I turned my back on you?” you growled.

    He opened his mouth to speak again, his eyes narrowed in challenge, when you realized his fatal error, and fatal it would be. He had questioned your relationship with Loki. He didn’t realize yet that he was a dead man. Loki turned calmly to you, tucked his cloak more firmly around you protectively and kissed your forehead. “One moment, my darling,” he told you warmly, but too courteously, too pleasantly. Before you could do anything, Loki had moved from your side and was holding the wolf by the throat against the wall. He didn’t even say anything to the terrified wolf, just killed him viciously, splattering his blood all over the walls. He dropped the body to the ground, disgusted.

    “You had all been warned,” he told the horrified wolves in the room as he returned to you and wrapped an arm around you, tucking you safely against his side. “Allow me to make the warning explicitly clear so no more mistakes are made. Y/N is mine. She is under my protection, under my care, and my love. Official marriage or no. She. Is. Mine,” he growled the words at the wolves with such deep malice in his words that you’d never heard before. “I have the power and training to kill you all without breaking a sweat and you all, Samuel and Fenrir excluded obviously, deserve it for your crimes against my lady. The only reason any of you are still breathing is because she believes your actions were due to a corrupt leader and has too big of a heart. I do not and I shall not allow insults upon my lady to go unchallenged. Do I make myself clear?” he demanded of the room at large.

    The wolves, dominants all of them, and all the strongest in the pack bowed their heads to him and muttered “Yes, sir,” like obedient puppies.

    You leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Come along, love, let’s let them get this mess cleaned up. We’ll see them and the others who wish to petition to be Alpha in an hour,” you told him warmly. Dominance challenges and displays of violence had been your life for 18 years. His display didn’t affect you.

    “As you wish, darling,” he replied and kissed the top of your head. His arm still around you, he walked out of the room with you. There was an audible sigh of relief from the occupants of the conference room as the tension and danger left the room. Loki stopped you a few steps outside of the room. He gestured to your outfit. “Allow me, little wolf,” you nodded and he kissed your forehead. You sneezed as his magic shimmered around you and you were dressed again in your outfit from earlier, including all of your daggers.

    “Thank you,” you told him warmly and kissed him.

    “Are you sure you would not like for me to just kill them for you?” he asked again.

    “Not yet. They get a chance,” you reminded him. He sighed and pouted.

    “Very well,” he grumbled.

    “C’mon, we have an hour. Let me show you around.” He didn’t want to see any more of this place than he had to, and you didn’t want to really show him either, but he needed to see the hell you grew up in.

    So you gave him the tour of the compound, showed him the cafeteria, the school which was empty at this time of day, training room, the bachelorette wing where the unwed females lived, and finally stopped in front of an apartment. You hesitated, staring at the familiar door. “What’s in here, love?” Loki asked softly. His anger and temper had been rising throughout the tour. He couldn’t believe that anyone had been raised here and he hated that you had.

    “The closest thing I had to home,” you finally said and raised a hand to knock on the door. You waited, fidgeting with nerves for the door to open. You relaxed and actually smiled when Dan opened the door.

    “Y/N!” he exclaimed and wrapped you in a hug. Loki stiffened behind you, but didn’t kill your brother on sight. “Come in! I heard you were back! Samuel told us you came for the Choosing. Hey, Loki!” he called over your shoulder. “Come in! You’re looking a lot better than last time I saw you. Knew sis could fix you up,” he grinned. Loki actually gave him a small smile, the first smile given to anyone besides you since he’d been here.

    You walked into your old home with Dan and realized how…small it was. You hadn’t noticed compared to a dorm room, but the apartment was tiny, dingy, old. Ethan came running in from their shared room and nearly tackled you in a hug. You grinned and returned the hug. “I missed you,” you told him. “You grew,” you accused. He laughed.

    “It’s been four years, sis, of course I did,” he teased.

    “I’m sorry I had to leave, kiddo,”

    He growled. “I’m not a kid anymore.” You rolled your eyes.

    “Sure you’re not,”

    “Dan said you had to leave, but…” his eyes were sad, haunted. You pulled him to you in a hug.

    “I did have to leave. Jareth was just going to keep hurting me if I didn’t,” you told him softly.

    He nodded against your shoulder. “That’s what Dan said. Mom… wasn’t as nice,”

    “She kept your room the way you left it,” Dan said, drawing your attention away from Ethan and painful memories. “She kept insisting you’d be back. If there’s anything you want to take with you…”

    “You’re not staying?” Ethan asked.

    You shook your head and pointed to the Avengers magazine on the coffee table. “You know I’m working with the Avengers. Loki and I can’t live here. We have a lot of things to do on the outside. And work for Fenrir too,” you told him. Plus, you couldn’t live in this hellhole again, but you wouldn’t tell Ethan that. For all that he was a teen now, he was still your kid brother and didn’t need to know about that. “So you can have my room,” you told him. He jumped for joy at that. You gave him a small smile and took Loki’s hand, leading him to your old room.

    “You lived here?” Loki asked, horrified still. You nodded. The room was smaller than your dorm room, the tiny window was barred, the walls undecorated gray concrete. The room was nearly barren besides the small bed and the belongings you’d left behind in your haste to leave.

    “Yep, this was home,” you told him sadly, looking around the small sad room that had been your refuge.

    “Never again,” he snarled, pulling you into his arms and holding you too tightly. “Never,” he growled. “Whatever it takes, whatever I have to do, you are never living like this ever again,” he swore, anger and sorrow in his tone.

    “I won’t ever have to,” you reminded him. “I’ll have earned my degree in a couple months. I have a good job with Stark Industries, a place in the Avengers, I have a place to live, and more importantly, family and home,” you reminded him. He relaxed and kissed the top of your head. He finally let you go and you gathered up a few belongings you’d had to leave behind the night you left, digging under your bed for trinkets and a couple old well-loved books. You’d chosen clothes over anything sentimental the night you left. You packed a small bag of sentimental things you’d had to leave behind. “Would you do me a favor?” you asked softly, hesitantly. He inclined his head. You handed him the bag. “Mind sending that home for me?” you didn’t want to carry it around the compound, didn’t want anything to happen to it.

    “Of course, love,” he replied and the bag vanished. You sighed in relief.

    “Thank you.” You hated asking him to use magic on your behalf and avoided it as much as possible. The fact that you had told him how much it had meant to you. You knew he appreciated that you didn’t use him for his abilities. “That’s everything in here,” you took his hand and dragged him from the room before he could blow it up out of anger that you’d lived here. “We need to get going to the Choosing,” you told Dan and Ethan when you left your room.

    “We’ll see you there,” Dan replied. You hugged them again, they shook hands with Loki, and you and Loki left the tiny apartment. You opened the door to leave the apartment anyway, and saw your mom about to open the door to come in. You stepped back into the living room, thinking optimistically that she’d want to see you.

    She looked shocked for an instant before she glared at you. “You dare show your face here after what you did?” she demanded, stepping into the room after you. She slapped you hard across the face. “You ruined all of our chances!” she shrieked. Loki swept between you and grabbed her wrist when she raised her hand to slap you again.

    “You get one pass because you’re Y/N’s mother,” he snarled at her, squeezing her wrist so the muscles creaked in protest and she cried out. “And that is only because she cares. You have never cared for her beyond using her as a pawn for your own schemes. You ignored her pain for years and I will not forgive you for that. She killed Jareth, yes, and he deserved it many times over. If you harm her in any way, shape, or form, again, I will kill you despite the fact that you are her mother. Are we clear?” he growled. She whimpered a protest. His hand squeezed on her wrist and you heard the bones shatter. Loki moved, turning so she was in the room and you were backed through the door. He pushed your mom toward Dan. “Do not let me catch sight of her again,” he told Dan, who nodded his agreement.

    Loki swept you both through the door in the next instant. He placed a cold hand against your cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked, using a touch of power to heal the bruise before it could even form.

    “I’m fine,” you told him with tears in your eyes. He snarled at your tears and took a step back toward the apartment to kill your mom. “Leave her be, Lo. She’s never going to change and I never have to see her again after today.” He growled, but kissed your forehead.

    “This is her only pass, love,” he told you softly.

    “I understand that. I’m sure Dan will press that information upon her too. We’ll never see her again,” you reassured him. He nodded and you took his hand to finish the tour. You showed him the Alpha’s house and Rachel greeted you both warmly. The Alpha’s house was basically a mansion in the middle of the compound, at the edge of the outdoor training yard/park that was in the middle of the compound, surrounded like the prison-like building. Loki’s temper was on edge again that the Alpha lived here while the pack was in the prison.

    “Children, come along. The dominates are going to be playing out here soon,” the pack nanny called across the park. You grinned and stepped away from the Alpha’s house into the park proper and howled a greeting to the pups.

    They howled back and ran over to you, swarming you and Loki in happy wagging tails. Some of them had been running in human form. “Mega! Omega!” they called happily. Most were boys of course, but there were a couple of girls in this puppy pack. You grinned and petted and greeted all of the puppies. Loki was right there beside you, happy around the children.

    One of the guard wolves announced the hour with a howl. Your time was up. “Puppies, go with Nanny now. We have to play with the dominates,” you told them kindly, but firmly. There were sad puppy noises, but they obeyed and ran over to the nanny. You waved to her and went to go face the applicants for the position of Alpha. You kept your hand in Loki’s. His temper was too volatile right now to be left to his own devices.

    You saw the assembled men waiting for you. Fenrir, Samuel, and most of the pack were there as well. They wanted to see who would be chosen for the new Alpha. Your brothers were there too, though thankfully no sign of your mom. You stepped up onto the platform set up for outdoor meetings. Loki followed, a threatening dominant presence. Plus you still weren’t letting him go to slaughter all of the wolves. The crowd in front of you silence at once. “You all know me. I am Y/N, Omega, formerly of this pack, now of the Alpha pack. Samuel has told you the tale, leading to why I’m standing in front of you on this day, but I retell it now. Hear the truth in my words. Jareth challenged me to a dominance battle. I won the challenge. Afterward, he attacked my mate in wolf form, and infected him against his will. As was my duty and right, I killed him for breaking our laws. Our laws are clear now. Either I must take up the mantle of Alpha myself, or choose someone worthy to rule the pack,” there were murmurs, surprise that a tiny Omega had won a dominance challenge against an Alpha, surprise he had even been dumb enough to challenge when it wouldn’t benefit him, surprise that you had killed him for hurting your mate. There were more whispers about old myths of the Omega’s rage. You raised a hand to silence them. “Would any who wish to be considered for the position of Alpha of this pack, please step forward now?”

    The men who had been in the conference room all stepped forward (besides the one Loki had killed of course), a couple other ambitions young men, and… Dan. You hadn’t expected Dan to submit himself for consideration, he wasn’t one of the most dominates, but… that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You glanced over at Samuel, who nodded. Your decision was made, but you had to pretend to give them a fair shot. You leapt lightly down from the stage, waving to Loki to wait up there for you, and went to question each man on his motivations, intentions with the pack.

    You stepped back to the stage when you had finished. Loki reached a hand down and lifted you easily back up onto the stage. You kissed his cheek in thanks. “My decision is made,” you announced to the crowd. “The next Alpha will be under the guidance of Samuel and his mate Rachel, as they have agreed to remain here until he is trained and ready to rule on his own. He wants to lead the pack into a new era that aligns with Fenrir’s plans and goals for the wolves and is the best man for the job, caring not only for the pack as a whole and power, but also for her people. With that said, my decision is that the next Alpha is Daniel,” you gestured to your shocked brother.

    There were some surprised whispers, but the proper applause came. You leapt lightly from the stage again to hug Dan. “Congratulations,” you told him.

    “Just because I’m your brother?” he asked softly so the others wouldn’t hear.

    “You heard my speech. It’s because you’re the best man for the job. Do me one favor, though. Move Ethan into the Alpha’s house with you and not mom,”

    “Done,” he told you firmly.

    You kissed his cheek. “Then my work here is done.” You hugged Ethan, Samuel, Fenrir, and Rachel goodbye. Loki said his goodbyes as well and actually congratulated your brother. You took his hand to leave and escape this place for good.

    “I’ll invite you home once we get this place in proper order!” Dan called after you. You waved in reply.

    “So, where would you like to get ice cream from?” you asked Loki after you’d climbed back in Tony’s car.

    “The little place near the tower,” he replied automatically. You grinned and drove straight there. That shop knew you both and were no longer surprised when Loki turned Jotun while he ate his ice cream. They were polite and didn’t pressure you just because you were famous. You stopped in front of the ice cream place and told the car to drive itself home. You could walk back to the tower from here.

    “The usual dearies?” the lady behind the counter asked when you walked in.

    “How about the Bad Day Special instead?” you asked as you stepped up to the counter with the still emotionally compromised Loki. He kept a step back, his arm wrapped around you to reassure himself that you were ok.

    “Coming right up. Go find a table. I’ll bring it over to you,” the lady told you kindly. She would add it to your tab. You smiled, thanked her, and took Loki’s hand to lead him to your usual table. You frequented this place a lot.

    “Calm down, Lo. The pack business is over. We never have to go back there again,” you reminded him once you were both seated.

    “You were raised in a prison worse than the dungeons on Asgard, you were insulted by those…men, and your mother hit you, and you expect me to be calm?” he growled, frustrated, angry, sorrowed by your life before you’d escaped.

    “Yes, I was raised there. Yes it was awful. I ran away from that life. The man who insulted me is very much dead. I’ll never see the woman who birthed me again,” even you growled at that.

    “When I take you to Asgard, I’m sure Mother will adopt you as her own,” Loki said, a fond smile appearing when he thought of Frigga. “It’s what she does. She’s gentle and kind and loves everyone, and she will love you, my darling,”

    “I’d love to meet her someday,” you told him warmly. “I love my life now. I love every minute that I get to spend with you. I love my work, I love the team and the weird, crazy family we’ve built together. I love my life, but more importantly, I love you,” you told him firmly. He smiled truly then, relaxing since you were properly happy, safe, and out of that hell.

    He was still smiling when the ice cream lady brought you two overflowing bowls of the chocolatyest ice cream she had. Loki turned Jotun the second the ice cream touched his tongue, but no one commented on it. It embarrassed him, but if no one said anything, he could ignore it. Plus he loved ice cream, desserts in general, but most especially ice cream.

    “I love you as well, little wolf.”

[fruitynancywheeler]

Crash Into Me: Chapter Fourteen

Title: Crash Into Me

Rating: M

Pairing: Beca/Chloe

Words: 1,509

Summary: When the president began getting threats regarding his only daughter, he hires Beca Mitchell, ex soldier and close friend, to protect her. Beca never expected the job to be such a difficult task. And she really didn’t expect to fall in love with the president’s daughter.

Read on FF.net

Read on AO3

24 hours earlier

I waited in my car a few houses away from where I now knew Justin Hastings resides. I first had to make a trip to a gun and ammunition store, and for the first time ever I was grateful for the lax gun laws that America had. I purchased a few handguns, all assorted in different sizes to hide in different places on myself in case I was in a predicament where I couldn’t utilize the heavier weapons I bought.

Loaded in the duffel bag that I had in my car was also two automatic assault rifles because I didn’t know how many people I’d be up against. I also had a sniper rifle with a couple attachable scopes on them, as well as some wire just in case. I made a mental note that if I made it out of this alive I’d talk to Jason about enforcing better gun laws, because nobody should be able to walk out of a store with as much weaponry as I had, but it was going to be necessary for what I needed to do.

I had been parked for over an hour waiting for him to arrive. I didn’t have much of a plan when it came to my confrontation with him. I didn’t know if he would submit and reveal the location of the others involved in this fucked up scheme against Chloe and I, or if he would put up a fight.

As I was contemplating my plan, a beat-up Chevrolet pickup truck pulled into the driveway, and I saw Justin emerge from the vehicle. His brown hair a little longer than it had been when I first met him, and his beard had gotten bushier as well. He walked into the house, and I waited a few moments before following him.

I stood in front of the door of his house, gathering the courage to do what needed to be done. My hands were sweaty from nerves, and I wiped them against my pants in hopes that would instill some kind of determination in me to knock on the door. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before lifting my hand to rap my knuckles against the door.

It didn’t take long for him to open the door, and when he locked eyes with me I could see the recognition hit him. His brow furrowed and his stance became more defensive.

“What do you want?” He growled, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead.

“I just came to have a chat,” I smirked, the confidence in me growing as the memories of our last encounter flooded my mind. He was going to be a challenge just like he was last time, but the situation hadn’t been as severe. Now, he was a threat to the people I have come to love, as well as myself, and I wasn’t about to let him get away with what he has done.

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say,” he muttered as he began to shut the door.

I lodged my boot in the door frame before he could close it. I pushed my weight against the door to give me the advantage of slipping inside the house. His eyes flashed in anger at my intrusion, and I knew that if I provoked him anymore he would snap.

“You’re trespassing. I’ll call the cops on you,” he threatened.

“Go ahead,” I goaded, knowing he was bluffing. “I’m sure they would just love to hear about your involvement in the terrorist attacks against the president and his family.”

His mouth opened as if he was about to speak, but then he closed it, opting to stay silent. I couldn’t help the sly grin that spread on my face. I had him exactly where I needed him. It was just a matter of if he would be willing to divulge the information I needed.

“That’s what I thought,” I chuckled humorlessly. “Now, you can either make this easy on both of us and tell me what I need to know, or you can make this more difficult.”

“What do you want?” He snarled.

“I want to know who you are working for and where they are located.”

“That’s not going to happen. You have no proof of my involvement.”

“You sure about that?” I challenged. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened up the video of him planting the tracking device on my car. I turned the phone to him and watched as the realization hit him that he had no other options. “I mean, that is you, correct? Sure looks like it.”

Before I could process anything, he had me pinned to the door of his house, his forearm pushing against my throat to stop the oxygen flow to my lungs. He was strong, that was for sure, but I’ve faced more challenging opponents before.

“I’ll kill you,” he grumbled, his face mere inches from mine. “I’ll kill you and nobody will ever even know you were here.”

I brought my knee up and hit him as hard as I could in the groin, causing him to stumble back away from me. I didn’t want to have to resort to violence, however I had a feeling it would come down to this. I brought my foot up again and kicked him square in the chest to knock him onto his back. As he was on the ground I planted my foot against his chest and applied as much pressure as I could without causing injury to keep him there. I pulled one of the handguns out of its holster on my hip and aimed it at his head.

“I didn’t come here to fight you,” I huffed, a little out of breath from the lack of oxygen. “But I will end you if it comes down to it.”

“She’ll kill me if she finds out I told you,” he cried out, tears starting to flow, and for a minute I felt kind of bad for him. But I wasn’t going to let my sympathy be a weakness. Who was this she he was referring to? I needed to know, and I wasn’t going to leave until I had the information I needed.

“If you help me figure this shit out, I can protect you,” I explained, hoping he’d be more inclined to tell me if I promised his safety.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause you’ve been so good at protecting Chloe.”

Anger coursed through me at the mention of Chloe. He had some fucking audacity to bring her into this. I pushed down harder against his chest, not caring if it hurt. He wheezed out a cough from the pressure against his ribcage.

“Don’t you dare bring her into this,” I seethed, pushing down harder as my anger was getting the best of me.

“Struck a nerve, I see,” he chuckled bitterly.

“You have two options here, Hastings,” I muttered, easing the pressure I was putting on his chest. “Either you tell me where these people are located and we can put you into witness protection, or I will kill you right here, right now.”

The words tasted bitter in my mouth. Killing wasn’t something I liked doing, it haunted me every day. But time was running out, and so were my options. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do in order to protect those around us. The longer this went on, the longer Chloe would be in danger. She was my top priority, and if that meant losing a piece of myself then so be it.

“There are abandoned buildings in Richmond, Virginia. They’ve taken residence in one of them. That’s where all their planning happens,” he explained. I was surprised he was willing to divulge these details to me. I expected him to put up more of a fight, but maybe he realized that this was the end of the line for him. I wasn’t here to play games. I took my foot off his chest, allowing him to sit up to speak now that he was willing.

“How many people do they have?”

“About fifty, give or take. They have four snipers on the roof, one at each corner of the building. Two people guard the front entrance, and two people guard the back entrance. They have about ten others on each floor. It’s a relatively small building, only four or five floors.”

“Who leads them?” I asked, engraving this new knowledge into my memory.

“I don’t know her real name, I just know what people call her,” he whispered. His eyes looked fearful as he thought about this woman who has been the cause of so much death and destruction.

“What do they call her?”

“The call her… Kommissar.”

[klaineanummel]

just a kiss on your lips (in the moonlight) 3/6

After months on the road in search for his future husband, Kurt Hummel has finally found somebody he can see himself spending the rest of his life with. The only problem? Blaine isn’t the one being presented to Kurt; it’s his older brother.

A love story told in stolen moments.

Here is chapter three! There’s some smut in this one ;) I’m hoping to get chapter four out soon, but I’m not 100% sure of when “soon” will be. Sorry about that :/ Hope you guys enjoy!

Read on AO3 |  Read Chapter One  |  Read Chapter Two

Kurt knows he just made a terrible, impulsive decision. He knows that he’ll have to do damage control tomorrow. He knows that Mercedes is going to kill him. He knows all this.

Right now, though, he doesn’t care. Right now he is frustrated, hands clenched at his sides, muttering under his breath as he stalks through the halls of Castle Westerville.

The night had been going well. Kurt had only danced with each of his suitors once, and he’d managed to keep his eye on Blaine for most of the evening. Then, he was able to escape Baron Kiehl and Prince Cooper, finding solace with Princess Sunshine, second in line to the Westerville throne.

The conversation was flowing easily. He wanted to make a good impression on the Princess, as he knew they would be ruling simultaneously at some point in the future. Any precautions he could take to avoid a war with Westerville, he would take. It also helped that Princess Sunshine seemed far closer to Blaine, personality-wise, than she did to Cooper.

Then, of course, everything fell apart. Prince Cooper approached Kurt and Princess Sunshine, wrapping a far too possessive arm around Kurt’s waist.

“I’m surprised you’re smiling so much, Sunshine,” he said, a bite in his voice that Kurt didn’t like one bit. “I would have thought it would be absolutely destroying you, knowing that your silly cousin, eighth in line for the throne, is soon going to have more monarchical power than you could even imagine having.”

Sunshine’s eyes widened in shock, and Kurt turned to Prince Cooper, jaw already dropped. “Excuse me?”

“She’s always thought she was better than me, because she’s going to be queen and I’ll never be king,” Prince Cooper says to Kurt, loud enough for Princess Sunshine to hear. “Must be unbearable to have the tables turned, eh, Sunshine?”

“I have never thought I was better than you,” Princess Sunshine said through clenched teeth, at the same time as Kurt pulled himself out of Prince Cooper’s hold.

“You presume too much, Prince Cooper,” Kurt said, voice cold. “I can assure you that I have not made a decision yet on who will be my groom, and this display of pettiness has done you no favours. You would do well to apologize to your cousin for your rudeness, and to myself for your presumption.”

With that, he turned and stormed out of the ballroom, fully aware of the sheer number of eyes watching him.

Kurt shakes his head as he reaches his guest quarters, throwing the door open and then slamming it shut once more with far more strength than necessary.

“Your Highness,” his personal servant, Mike, stands from where he’d been eating a bowl of soup. “I’m surprised you have returned so early.”

“I’d had enough for the night,” he says, hands clenching into fists. “The nerve of some people… to be so bold as to presume…” he shakes his head as he starts to pace.

There’s a knock on the door, and Mike hurries over, though not before sparing Kurt a worried glance.

“Hello,” the voice is Blaine’s, and Kurt toward the door in an instant. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that-”

“Mike,” Kurt says, cutting Blaine off. Mike turns to him, a questioning look on his face. “Please go to the ball and inform Mercedes that I do not wish to be disturbed, no matter how angry she is at me. There will be no need for you to return with haste, so please, enjoy the ball. You’ve been cooped up in this room for too long anyhow.”

Mike simply nods, though he does smirk as Blaine passes him. Kurt knows that he will be in for one hell of a teasing later, but for now, he just wants to be alone with Blaine.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, shutting the door behind Mike quickly. “Are you alright? I saw what happened.”

“Your brother is a buffoon,” Kurt spits out. “To be so bold as to presume to know my heart, especially when he has been nothing but obnoxious since I met him.” He shakes his head. “The utter audacity…”

“Please, don’t hold it against him,” Blaine says. “He’s rash and impulsive, and rarely thinks before he speaks, but he means well. He just… he wants to be king. Always has. I think his ambition has blinded him.”

Kurt stares at Blaine for several moments, trying to process his words.

“Why are you defending him?” he asks, eyes narrowing. “Do you… do you want me to marry your brother?”

He must admit, the thought hurts. He thought they’d had a connection, the previous night. To have it flipped so soon, for Blaine to practically beg Kurt to give Prince Cooper a second chance…

Blaine glances down at his feet. He is quiet for several moments, and then, quietly, says, “If you married Cooper I would get to see you on occasion. You would not disappear from my life forever when the festival ends.”

Kurt hurries to Blaine’s side, wrapping the man in his arms. Blaine melts into his embrace, and they hold each other for several moments.

“I will not disappear from your life,” Kurt promises. “Not unless you wish me to.”

“I could never wish that,” Blaine whispers.

“Then I never shall,” Kurt replies.

Blaine stares up at him, lips slightly parted. He is far too tempting, and Kurt cannot help but lean down and press their lips together, remembering how wonderful it felt the previous night.

Blaine kisses back for a second, then pulls away. “We shouldn’t,” he says quietly.

“Why not?” Kurt asks, remaining close, but keeping a safe distance.

“My reputation,” Blaine whispers. “I told you yesterday, I may not be marriageable, but it still matters. The southerners won’t respect me if they see me as a hussy.” He blushes as he looks away. “Besides, you’re here to find a husband. Is it really wise for you to be… philandering with me?”

Kurt presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. “Philandering?”

“You know what I mean,” Blaine says, still not meeting his eye.

Kurt smiles at the blush on Blaine’s cheeks. “Blaine,” he says, squeezing Blaine’s shoulder lightly. “I have not met a single man on this entire journey that has captivated me even half as much as you do.” Blaine glances at him, and Kurt can see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. “I would much rather spend the remaining three evenings philandering,” he rolls his eyes as he says it, and Blaine chuckles, ducking his head, “with you, then out there with them.”

Blaine chuckles again, looking up at Kurt from under his eyelashes. “Prince Kurt, you sure know how to sweet talk a man,” his tone is teasing, and it makes Kurt grin.

“Well, what can I say. I’m a philanderer, apparently,” he winks, and Blaine laughs.

This time, when Kurt leans in to kiss him, Blaine doesn’t pull away. Instead he kisses back, softly at first, but slowly becoming more assertive.

Kurt drapes his arms over Blaine’s shoulders as they trade lazy kisses, heart pounding quickly in his chest. He clasps his hands together behind Blaine’s neck, pulling the man closer. Blaine tilts his head up to kiss Kurt better, slipping his tongue into Kurt’s mouth and making Kurt moan.

Kurt can feel himself becoming aroused, but he doesn’t want to push Blaine into anything. He pushes Blaine away carefully, and quietly says, “We can stop, if you’d like.”

“Why would we stop?” Blaine asks, breathless.

Kurt raises an eyebrow, then rolls his hips forward, his erection meeting Blaine’s thigh. He bites down on his bottom lip to stop from moaning at the contact, especially when he feels Blaine’s erection against his own thigh.

“Oh,” Blaine whispers, eyelids fluttering shut. His lips part, and his head tilts back slightly. “That’s, um. Not a problem.”

“Really?” Kurt asks, tightening his hold around Blaine’s neck.

Blaine shakes his head, opening his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, and Kurt’s heart skips a beat. “Just… we can go slow, right? It’s been a while.”

Kurt smiles, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want. You set the pace.”

“That’s not a very philanderer thing to say,” Blaine says, and Kurt chuckles.

“What can I say, I’m a new type of philanderer. The type that respects the desires of my partner.”

“Me,” Blaine whispers, a breathless awe in his voice. Kurt knows exactly how he feels.

“You,” he repeats, just as breathless as Blaine had been.

They move to Kurt’s bedroom, which makes them both blush. Kissing on Kurt’s bed feels different than kissing in the common area of the guest chambers, and it barely takes any time at all before Kurt’s erection begins to grow desperate in his breeches.

He rolls his hips against Blaine’s, and Blaine moans. “Can we…” Blaine rolls them over, so that he is straddling Kurt’s lap. He moves his hips down into Kurt’s, and Kurt’s eyes roll back. “Just like this?”

“Of course,” Kurt says. He leans his head up and kisses Blaine again. They find an easy rhythm, and even though Kurt knows this would feel much better without their trousers in the way, he doesn’t want to push Blaine into more than he’s ready for. Although he still thinks it absurd that Blaine does not feel as though he should be allowed to indulge in this type of pleasure, he also wants to be respectful of Blaine. As far as he knows, the last man Blaine did this with betrayed him and ruined his reputation throughout the kingdom of Westerville.

Kurt refuses to repeat Prince Sebastian’s mistake.

“I know I’ve already said this,” Kurt whispers against Blaine’s lips. “But you are unlike any man I’ve ever met.”

Blaine blushes, though his hips never stop moving. “The implications of that statement better not be that no other man would do this with you only three days after meeting.”

Kurt’s hands fly down to Blaine’s hips, stopping their movements. “Blaine,” he says, voice soft despite his desire. “You are unlike any man I’ve ever met because you are kind, and honest, and you don’t treat me like a gateway to the crown of Lima. I feel closer to you after only three days than I have with any of the men I’ve met on this journey after two weeks.” He tilts his head up to kiss Blaine gently on the lips.

“Oh,” Blaine replies. “You… oh.”

Kurt smiles, bringing Blaine’s hips down against his. “It was a compliment. I promise.”

“I believe you,” Blaine says, kissing Kurt.

Kurt wants to keep talking. He wants to tell Blaine about how he hasn’t stopped thinking about him since they met. He wants to tell Blaine about how desperately he wants to reject all his other suitors and beg Blaine to be his husband. He wants to promise Blaine that sexual impurity means nothing, literally, and that if he married Kurt, nobody would ever look down on him for doing something as common as sleeping with his fiancé ever again.

He doesn’t, though. Not yet. Instead he starts moving his hips in tandem with Blaine’s, creating the most delicious friction.

Blaine moans into his mouth, grinding down quicker, more erratically. “I’m not going to last long,” he whispers. “It’s… it’s been a while.”

“I won’t last long either,” Kurt admits. “It’s okay.”

Blaine’s entire face goes lax, and he rolls his hips down one, two, three more times, and then he’s coming against Kurt.

The pleasure written all over his face makes Kurt’s cock throb, and it isn’t long before he is coming as well, all over the inside of his breeches.

Blaine manages to roll over so that he falls onto his face next to Kurt instead of on top of him. He sighs, and Kurt hopes he isn’t just imagining how pleased he sounds.

“That was wonderful,” Blaine says, turning his head so that his cheek rests against the pillow. He smiles at Kurt, who shifts closer to him, moving to his side.

“It was more than wonderful,” Kurt replies. He stares at Blaine, at this wonderful man who has come into his life so unexpectedly, and knows he never wants to let him go.

“What are you thinking?” Blaine asks, running his fingers over Kurt’s cheek.

Kurt’s eyes flutter closed at the action. “About you,” he whispers. “How I want you to be in my life forever.”

“So… you’ll marry Cooper?” Blaine asks. Kurt can’t tell if he looks hopeful, or worried. There is yearning written in his eyes.

Kurt bites down on his bottom lip. “You… you don’t wish to marry? Ever?”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Blaine replies.

“I know,” Kurt says, looking deep into Blaine’s eyes. He imagines them being the first thing he sees in the morning, and his heart skips a beat. “Answer mine, and then I’ll answer yours?”

Blaine exhales deeply. “No. I don’t wish to marry.” He removes his hand from Kurt’s cheek, letting it fall to his side. “After everything that happened with Sebastian I knew nobody would want me. It was hard, at first, but I eventually grew accustomed to the idea. I don’t need a spouse to run the Southern estates, as Santana has been trained her whole life to run them as well as I have. It’s better like this.”

Kurt swallows thickly. Blaine is staring at him, clearly wanting him to answer the question he posed him. “I don’t know if I’ll marry Cooper,” he says. “I want you in my life but… Blaine, I know he’s your brother, but he’s not really…” He thinks of the scene Prince Cooper caused earlier and cringes. Could he marry a man like that just to ensure that Blaine would remain in his life?

“I understand,” Blaine says. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something you don’t want to just for me.”

His heart aches as he says, “I would do anything for you.”

They lean in for a soft kiss, and Kurt wishes he could stay in this moment forever.

He can’t, of course. Reality comes knocking on his door, literally, making him pull away from Blaine.

“Um, Your Highness?” It’s Mike, and Kurt sighs.

“Yes, Mike?”

“Several people have mentioned Prince Blaine’s disappearance,” Mike’s voice comes through the door. “And Mercedes desperately wants to speak with you.”

“Of course she does,” Kurt grumbles.

“I should return,” Blaine says, sitting up. He glances down at his lap and pulls a face. “Maybe I should change first, though.”

“I should do the same,” Kurt says, registering the disgusting mess in his trousers.

“I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Blaine asks.

Kurt smiles. “Nothing could keep me away from you.”

They share one final kiss before Blaine scurries from the room, bidding Mike a soft goodbye.

Kurt looks up to the door to see Mike leaning in the doorway. “Thank you for your discretion,” he says.

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Mike replies. “But, Your Highness, are you sure you’re being wise? I mean, sleeping with the brother of one of your suitors…”

“I know,” Kurt says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know.”

Mike winces, and Kurt sighs.

“Mercedes is waiting for you. She’s on the warpath.”

“Right,” Kurt says. “Just… let me change first. Send her in in five minutes.”

Mike raises an eyebrow, then smirks. “Yes, Your Highness,” he says, exiting the room and shutting the door behind him quietly.

As Kurt changes, he thinks of Blaine. It is just his luck that the only man he wishes to be his husband doesn’t want to marry anybody, ever.

Next Chapter

[pllrocks]

7x12 review and thoughts

How is no one talking about the secret passageway on the game map?! They do no analysis of this board game at all!!!

“Her help is dead, his head rolled over your feet remember?” - Hanna

‘What about Sidney? ‘- ‘Oh please let's not go there’ - Emily

‘Em you’ve already been there!’ - Spencer. Omg this made me laugh so hard

Emily is the one that wants out this time..interesting.

“I may have been the one driving this car but we have to be in this together  ”- Hanna

I bet A.D didn’t know that the only new information being given this episode is to A.D! Obviously the game is insane and has a recording device, they know A has always stalked them, why do they talk right there? Why not ditch their phones and talk somewhere out in the open?

“Nicole Gordon was never his fiance, I am! ” - Aria. Oh Aria you wonderful crazy thing

Addison Derringer is not A. She probably got manipulated or bribed by Jenna, or another A minion, even the minions need minions in this A game.

Addison is just like Alison in high school, and Alison now.

I am loving Spencers dress and Arias' hair!

I can’t believe Veronica still backs up Peter..it infuriates me.

“Wow, so only you and dad could appreciate the bitter irony of me checking into the same mental hospital where I was born ”- Spencer-

I really feel bad for Veronica, I do. She adopted a child who was born because her husband was cheating on her, she covered for his ass all these years and Spencer never felt like anything but a Hastings, I think Spencer is being pretty horrible to Veronica. I get that she hurting but she's in her twenties not she isn’t a child. What did she want Veronica to do? Discuss the fact that Peter is a cheating bastard and that Spencer is the result of an affair?

So..does Hanna make her own clothes to wear? Hence the ‘you went through my closet!’

Does she sew them? Design and send them somewhere to get made? Does she buy the materials?

Emily benches Addison for missing a practice, Addison is pure attitude, not even looking up from her phone.

“My head was throbbing, listening to your rusty whistle wasn’t going to help” - Addison, reminding us of old Ali.

Alison is in pay attention to me mode...what if I have one like her..or me... She has not decided if she is keeping the baby

So are Spencer and Marco together?

Spencer tells Marco about Mary and shows the letter, changes one detail..she found the letter rather than she was given the letter after playing a crazy board game

Hold up…if the beading, the belt, the collar was Hanna’s bosses idea that Hanna took then what did Hanna design? A plain black dress with a tutu skirt?

Addison is a little psycho, she goes to Paige, accuses Emily of hitting on her and other girls on the team then shows Paige a photo of Emily being’inappropriate’ with Alison, hoping to anger Paige. Addison's eavesdropping has paid off, she's overheard Emily and Paige, and Emily and Alison.

I find Holden really attractive this time, also he’s so damn normal, and nice, and sweet.

Aria taking off the ring, foreshadowing?

“Did Ezra propose to her first?”- Aria

Holden reminds Aria that everyone has a past, that even Aria has had other men tell her they love her, and she doesn’t talk to Ezra about that so maybe Ezra wouldn’t tell her if he had proposed to Nicole before she disappeared

“Just because you met him when you were in 11th grade doesn’t mean he’s frozen in amber” - Holden. Holden is so anti-Ezra but not in a tell Aria to ditch his ass way.

Emily tells Paige she will go tell Hackett about what Addison is doing, Paige tells Emily she will handle it before it gets worse and Emily is accused of hitting on students

Marco has a lead in. Mary..Lead out of Scranton! Mary Drake works at Dunder Mifflin!

Spencer has enlisted Marco to help find Mary

Tap tap tap Jenna is coming!!!

Jenna can identify Spencer by her breathing? Come the fuck on now. Jenna can see, at the very least she can partially see

So we know Jenna has been told to say all this, she does it convincingly, so convincingly that I question all the other times I’ve felt bad for Jenna when she has a sob story.

I think Jenna has always wanted revenge for the liars blinding her, and Noel for him getting suspended for cheating, and perhaps other things we don’t know about.

Jenna tells Marco that Noel was the psychopath that lured Jenna to the blind school to kill her, and he had her work for him so she could have money for eye surgery.

Not sure why Marco didn’t take Jenna aside, to begin with..it’s unprofessional and ridiculous to let Spencer stand there as Jenna makes her statement

Hanna tries to call Claudia about the dress...

“She has balls the size of church bells.” - Omg Spencer..just omg.

She hasn’t told Marco about the game but seems to want to.

Sparia discusses Spencer wanting to find Mary. She wants to get to know Mary, not as someone to fear but to forgive.

Jenna walks in with 2 other blind people, flanking her on either side..or..’‘bookends’ -  as Emily would describe it.

Jenna sends a text and Emily hears Addison’s phone go off at the same time

Spencer tells her Veronica she won't be working with her anymore. I'm really disappointed with Spencer right now, Veronica does not deserve this treatment, I get that she is upset but to take it all out on Veronica instead of Peter is unfair. Veronica continues to tell her she loves her and has never felt they were not a family and Spencer is just cold. I really feel for Veronica, and find Spencer irritating and a little much right now. I usually love Spencer but she’s 23, not 13. This woman adopted you and raised you as her own, not telling you you’re the product of an affair her cheating husband had with a mentally ill woman sounds like the safer thing to do.

Spencer has the audacity to sound upset about the house being sold after she’s outright said Veronica isn’t her mother and after she’s been nothing but cold to Veronica since she found out Mary is her mom and she seems to want to forgive Mary but punish Veronica.

Arias dress is cute

Aria gets an article on Ezra reuniting with his fiance Nicole Gordon. The article talks about Nicole’s kidnapping and being held by guerrilla forces. They show pictures of Ezra and Nicole before and after the reunion. I am low key shipping Aria and Holden. I get the feeling that Ezra won’t be able to leave Nicole. He will tell Aria this in a way that makes him seem like some white knight to Nicole and how Aria would always feel guilty for Nicole not getting Ezra.. he will make it seem like he’s doing her the favor. He’s everyone’s white knight.

Mona seems to be working like crazy on this fashion business and Hanna is too busy waiting to eat with Caleb to even look at jewelry designers Mona is showing her right this minute? She asks Mona to forward them to her. Hanna this is your business, get yourself into it, Caleb can eat by himself, you can see him later. I don’t get this too busy for a career and relationship thing.

Catherine is going to BORROW shoes from Hanna? Why wouldn’t she buy a pair like them? Hanna is having these shoes fixed.It’s not like Hanna designed the shoe, it's just strange to me.

OMG Jenna walks in wearing Hanna’s dress but in white, and I must say it looks better in white, and great on Jenna

Mona flips out, more so than Hanna, who acts rather meekly, wtf where is crazy Hanna right now? Mona confronts Jenna with a..’Yo Jenna! ‘ Omg Mona is amazing

Jenna claims the dress was a gift, Jenna says she and her posse have an uber waiting and she tap taps the fuck out of there

Hanna says it’s all part of the game and Mona is left asking what game.

Mona is getting left behind again. I don’t want A to be Mona again because I feel Mona has gotten past that and is a strong and confident woman now.

Emily wants to get into the barn to see the Game to play it because she is convinced Addison is working for A.D

Emily reminds the audience A.D took a final exam for her

“I'm living proof, once you invite the devil in, horrid little seeds start to sprout” - Alison.OMG

Jenna and her posse meet at the cobbler place where Hanna’s shoes are Caleb wants to handle Jenna

Jenna smells Hanna on Caleb, and guesses it is Hanna behind her. Caleb questions why she is here, and where she got the dress. He even grabs her by the cane and threatens her. She reminds him only Noel could contradict the story she told the police and he’s dead.

Hanna gets locked in a caged off room at the cobbler's place, someone obviously closed that door, it didn’t swing randomly closed on its own, and someone shut off the lights.

lol @   #benchme lol Addison is taking bong hits with her boyfriend in a car behind the brew.

Aria the greatest liar convinces a nurse to let her in after visiting hours but telling her she's brought her good friend Nicole some salt water taffy.

317 is Nicole’s room number.

Holden stops Aria from going in to see/confront Nicole. He’s such a sweetheart and really mature!

The sander thing is going off, something swings from the ceiling tries to punch Hanna, she's having pure flashbacks of being tortured in the barn with that cattle prod. She gets a text from A.D and A.D really seems to hate Hanna, like a lot.

‘Wait your turn, Bitch, It’ll come. And you’ll be ready - A.D

A.D seems to hate Hanna more than anyone, Spencer gets clues about her mother, Aria just has Ezra drama and Emily gets help from A.D in dealing with Addison. Why the major Hanna hate? Spencer twin would hate Hanna for the Spaleb mess. HMM.

Caleb rescues Hanna

Emily confronts and threatens Addison with the bong video, Paige intervenes and tells Addison she's in trouble for gloating about getting rid of Emily in an email they found. Her parents and principal Hackett have been informed

‘Why? you gonna smack me? “- Addison. 

“No I can’t do that, but somebody should have a long time ago”. - Emily

Aria asks Holden if she should give the ring back and Holden tells her not to expect Ezra to be on her timetable, if he needs time give it to him and that he’s probably more torn up than she is.

Emily is given another puzzle piece, still black and white, still scrawly lines and an abstract feel. Spencer theorizes it’s a map but I still think it could be a sonogram or a collage that includes a sonogram picture.

So that’s my live watch review..I’ll try to post some more thoughts later!

[trinxlisa]

No One’s Truly Invincible

@trinxkik

Lisa was beyond pissed. The night before was an absolute disaster. Jennie promised that they would go out yesterday and have fun. Lisa hadn’t done something of the sort in a while and she was so excited at the prospect, but Jennie being Jennie fucked that up for her and went missing after she said they were only going to be in that house a minute or so for Jennie to take care of something. Lisa should have known better after finding out Dean was involved in that ‘something to take care of’, however, Lisa didn’t think Jennie was scandalous enough to ditch her for a quick fuck in the bathroom. 

Apparently, she was and Lisa really has to reevaluate who she befriends for the near future, but Jennie’s lucky she’s already in love with her eccentric friend -- she forgave her quickly. What is she still pissed about? What she endured while her friend went MIA. Zenko -- more recently known as Kikwang. The name felt weird to say, or think about, because of Lisa’s past of having met the man, however, no less disgusted. What she had to go through yesterday was nothing more than she’s had to endure for over 12 years. Maybe it was the audacity of this Kikwang that pissed her off more. 

He acted so entitled to people, to submission, to power that he did whatever he wanted. Lisa still didn’t understand his abilities and she still didn’t want to. She just knew it was such an obstacle, and it gave him the ammunition to feel as if he’s invincible. No one’s truly invincible. Lisa learned that from Tanaka being shoved into a lower place by the man, Kikwang, himself. Lisa wondered what his weakness would be. 

In other news of anger, Lisa also dropped her mother’s pendant in the man’s house. She remembered her mother having given it to her on her 9th birthday, telling her that her ninth birthday was the oddest, therefore, good luck and riddance of evil was needed from here on out. She placed the necklace upon Lalisa’s neck, snapping the metal together gracefully and telling Lalisa that she looked absolutely gorgeous with such a stunning rock hanging from her neck. Lisa had agreed, and when she was taken, it was something she made to hide most of the time. It was too stunning and she’s sure it would have been taken by some sleazy man eager to make thousands of profit by stealing years ago, had she not been as cautious as she was. She only wore it when she knew it’d be safe, and going out with Jennie, she presumed it would be safe but it was quite the opposite. 

After the almighty male forced her under his wicked juju magic, his men were unnecessarily rough with her, jostling her so much to the point her delicate jewel slipped right off her neck. Due to the submission, she couldn’t do anything about it, and only minutes passed before Kim and his men located her through her phone, and found her frozen on Kikwang’s porch, they yanked her into her car for work, not even bothering to figure out the cause of her odd behavior, and for hours she sat with the knowledge of her mother’s necklace laying on the ground. The possibility of it being stepped on, or stolen plagued her heart until she remembered that man had it in his hands. She remembered that suddenly, and all new anger flared in her chest. 

That’s how she found herself storming into his throne room, uncharacteristically wild in comparison to others who fell before Kikwang. She wasn’t much like other people when it came to the divine human, and she was very different from her old self who had met Kikwang first. She wasn’t afraid of much of anything anymore, especially not of men who turn their nose up at the world. Just like Lisa liked to think of herself, maybe Kikwang knew the world so little, but the world knew Kikwang too well, and that’s why he was so uptight, and emotionless. To avoid being conquered, but everybody had a weakness. 

Pushing the doors open to a growing familiar room, Lisa marched up to Kikwang (as far as she could go without being too close to his radius that is) and seethed, “where is my necklace? I know you got it and I want it back -- now.” She briskly ignored the haste of the guards as they were stunned by her abrupt presence, and rushed to do something about her, but she was in a horrible mood, and the first one to touch her suffered against her caress, her life touch activated, and made the man that tried instantly weak until he fell onto the floor, legs turned to jelly. Lisa knew from watching many men subject to her touch that it was extremely painful, like getting the life sucked out of you, literally, therefore, he screamed -- as much as a man could.  He simply squirmed in agony next to her, it made the other guards stop and think their actions through as an example, their brows furrowed, wondering if Kikwang really wanted them to end up like their brethren and looked to Kikwang for their next instruction, though, Lisa knew they worried for their outcome. She would too. 

“I want my necklace.”

[watercolourferns]

Dorcas Outline! Might be long too...

I’m ready to type down Dorcas’ outline.

Dorcas is the tallest of my Apprentices maxing out at 159 cms (62.5in) barefoot. DON’T CALL HIM SHORTY OR MAKE FUN OF HIS STATURE, he will have your head on a silver platter and eat it with gusto if you do. Lucio will help... he’s the only one who can make fun of his shortness...

He can be sassy af, specially when crossed. Only one that can top his sassiness from the Apprentices is Zayn. Lucio is proud of his sassiness, too.

He’s mute and partially deaf. He was born mute, he’s never been able to speak. He can make some sounds, but that’s about it. He also can partially hear, as in if you speak to him in a very deep voice he will hear you perfectly. I guess he will be able to hear Muriel’s voice no problem as long as he enunciates his words and doesn’t murmur. If all fails he will read lips, though. Just speak a bit slower than usual, he will have no problem understanding you. He can feel the vibrations of music, too, and will play it at ungodly volumes because of that. Nobody really minds, except maybe Nadia due to her migraines. Lucio certain loves the ruckus. 

He’s got a dirty mouth-er-dirty finge-He curses a lot!! No but really, if you cross him he will sign in such a way that Asra will cover Faust’s eyes. Of course Lucio adores that, having a foul mouth himself. They pick up words from each other and just... they are disaster together in that sense, specially if they are both angry.

Salty AF? Salty AF. But only because he hates to be told no. He can’t remember it, but his parents were over protective with him, they confused being mute and partially deaf with being completely unable to do anything and would make him remain in the house, unable to play with his peers, amongst other things like not letting him dress on his own or even cook himself meals, etc. He does retain a hate for the word no when applied to him and his needs, though. So if he expresses the want to do something and is told no, he will blow a raspberry in their face regardless who it is,  sign “You’re no fucking fun...” regardless if he’s understood or not, and will be salty all day to that person. He just needs to learn that everyone’s “no” is very different from his parents’ “no”. Lucio isn’t good with boundaries either, so it’s a 50/50 “we have to grow together” situation.

HE LOVES ANIMALS. If you think Zayn loves animals, oof, you need to see Dorcas with Lucio’s menagerie. He would sleep in there if he could. He will sleep with the puppers in bed, yes or yes. He loves to snuggle with them and hear their breath. It makes him feel safe, specially if Lucio is too busy with work and can’t come to bed early.

He’s an early bird, gets up at the crack of dawn, goes to bed around 9pm sharp. He’s a very heavy sleeper, nothing will wake him up, but for some reason he will wake up as soon as it’s dawn. He says it’s because of the smell, it changes when it’s dawn and his body knows and wakes him up, that’s why he sleeps with windows open. As such, on rainy days he will not get up until someone wakes him up. Nobody will contest him on that. Lucio doesn’t appreciate being rattled awake at such an ungodly hour by this ball of energy climbing down of the tall bed, though. 

Where Zayn is chill and Malakie is shy, Dorcas is an outgoing ball of energy and always on the move. Tour through Vesuvia even though he knows it like the back of his hand by now? Sure. A walk through the forest? Let’s make it a trek at a very energetic pace. Go camping with Lucio? Go camping with Lucio. Want to swim around the docks? He’ll beat you to it and you will have to pull him away from it as swimming is his passion. He doesn’t really understand exhaustion and WILL exercise himself to it if you let him. Lucio keeps a very close eye on him because of this and when he sees signs of exertion he will put a very firm stop to it. For someone who has problems with boundaries he can enforce this one pretty well. He will make sure Dorcas is well fed and well hydrated too, because in his haste to have fun and move and discover the youngster will forget to drink water or have his hourly snack. Volta and him are kitchen buddies as he has to eat a lot to keep up with his energy level; they will exchange their favourite recipes, as he’s also good at cooking, and will have snacks gifted by each other on their person’s at all times. 

Due to his energy he has great stamina in bed. And will be more than happy to jump in if Lucio shows any signs of wanting to have... fun.  He’s not a flirt like Zayn, but will match Lucio’s innuendos and keep up with him until he doesn’t understand one and will go all “Uh...?” about it. He doesn’t have a filthy mouth in bed like Lucio, but he loves that in Lucio so he doesn’t mind.

If he cares about you he will be eager to please. He’s not puppy-like like Malakie, but he will do anything in his power to see you happy and will go beyond expectations: He learned Lucio liked sword fights and wanted to spar with someone, so he went out of his way to learn sword fighting AND fencing AND kenjutsu just so Lucio could have a sparring partner in him. He learned Volta liked crunchy snack? He’ll go to Selasi and asked to be taught how to make the crispiest cookies, the crunchiest pretzels, the crackiest chips to keep her fully stocked. He’s just really extra that way.

He can be extra when dressing too, but the accessories and things get in the way of his energy, so he will put them aside in favour of comfortable, loose clothing. He will dress up for Lucio every now and then though.

Even if he can be salty, sassy, really extra, and have a foul mouth... he has no mean bone in his body, and will not be mean to you and he’s very polite. He’s a ball of sunshine and smiles and silent laughter, and will ask for stuff with a smile and an energetic please and thank you then throw a “FUCK this is amazing!!” in there somewhere, so if you ask him to look mean and intimidating he will sweetly and comically fail, he just can’t look or act like that, even when salty he’s not mean about it... until you hurt Lucio, be it verbally or physically. Then he turns from a ball of energy to a ball of rage and evilness. And woe the person who had the audacity of doing such a thing, they will regret it the rest of their lives. The moment Lucio’s silvery eyes look hurt or sad he will have their revenge and he will be happy about it. 

On that note, he’s possessive as fuck about Lucio. He hates Valerius because of his past physical relationship with Lucio, and he only tolerates Nadia around Lucio because she’s nice to him and she’s the Countess and he’s polite. But if you so much as look at Lucio with a smidgen of interest he will cling to him for dear life and sign “He’s fucking mine, back off, you little shit!” as many times as it’s necessary for you to get the point across and leave the vicinity maybe even Vesuvia for good, and Lucio loves that. He will react a little bit like that with Volta, too, but he understands their just best kitchen buddies, and will let Vulgora whisk her away when needed. He’s just really possessive of the people he cares about very deeply. Don’t get me wrong, he cares about Asra as well, but not on the same level as the other two.

He loves Camio, and is very sad he can’t teach him how to say stuff to Lucio nor can he understand him when he’s squawking too shrilly. Regardless they share a weird bond Lucio is sometimes jealous over.

His favourite colours are jeweled tones of blue, red, and green. He doesn’t like wearing silver nor gold, but will wear brass and copper. He has matching pyjamas with Lucio, but mostly will wear the top of any pj’s Lucio is wearing, no questions asked. They are huge on him, but he loves that.

He hates kale with a passion. Does’t care who serves it to him, he will always give it to Volta, ALWAYS. Lucio could’ve spent hours cutting it up for him and he will only take a minuscule bite of it and then pass it to Volta. He just can’t stand the taste. 

He loves junk food though, the saltier, spicier, greasier it is, the better. Wanna get this kid to eat his veggies and fruits? Bribe him with fried shrimps, there’s no other way to do it. 

His magic is electric. As in he can channel electricity, create bolts with his hands, turn on bulbs, you name it. He’s a walking Tesla bobbin. Very apt for this ball of energy. He can lose control of it if he’s too stressed out, though, and if you touch him he will zap you a bit, like static electricity zaps. His hair will stand on end on those days, also in rainy days... so it kinda makes it hard to know which day it is unless you either ask him or can read his face. If he gets too too angry... well he hasn’t gotten THAT angry, but I don’t think it will be too good for anyone.

He’s got a familiar, who is a chocolate mitt ferret. His name is Sedendum, means lighting in Latin. He just loves his ferret, and they match each other in energy. He always carries it on his shoulders.

Dorcas is bidemisexual. He likes both binary genders, but can only have sexual attraction to people he can create a strong bond with first. He isn’t sexually attracted to Volta though, it’s a strict, kitchen buddy business there because he figures she’s with Vulgora, and he can’t figure out how polyamory works due to his possessiveness. As such, he’s strictly monogamous, so Lucio is his and he’s Lucio’s. No other way around it. Yep... longer than I expected as well...

[iamastrongchristian-blog]

Six Manifestations of Disloyalty

To manifest means “to ‘demonstrate’, to ‘display’, ‘exhibit’ or to ‘show forth’” something. People show disloyalty in many ways. In this chapter, I want us to study a few of the common manifestations of disloyalty.

Why do we need to look at the manifestations of disloyalty? Because loyalty and disloyalty are things of the heart and things of the heart cannot easily be seen. Like many diseases, it is best detected by watching out for symptoms.

Let us now look for these important symptoms and signs of disloyalty.

1. Disobedience

The first important manifestation of disloyalty is disobedience. Disobedience is an outward manifestation of a disloyal heart. Watch out for disobedient people, they are probably disloyal at heart. God disposed of Saul after he disobeyed him.

And Samuel said, Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams. For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry. Because thou hast rejected the word of the Lord, he hath also rejected thee from being king.

1 Samuel 15:22, 23

Disobedient people often have a rebellious streak. It is the spirit of rebellion that gives them the audacity to disobey.

2. Scorning

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the SEAT OF THE SCORNFUL.

Psalm 1:1

Scorners are people who mock at you. They do not believe in you or in what you are doing. The Bible very clearly tells us that we must not associate with scoffers. According to Psalm 1:1, we are not even supposed to sit in the same chair with the scornful. How can somebody who does not believe in you be your assistant pastor? How can someone who despises you be an associate to you?

Yet, this is a situation existing in many churches today. The scornful are sitting in the same chair with you. Can you understand why your ministry is not blessed? The Bible says; blessed is the man who sitteth not in the seat of the scornful. Blessed is the pastor who does not sit next to a scornful assistant.

What must you do with a scornful person? Should you pray about the scoffers? Should you fast for a week? The answer is NO! There is a biblical remedy for dealing with scornful people.

CAST OUT THE SCORNER, and contention shall go out; yea strife and reproach shall cease.

Proverbs 22:10

According to Proverbs 22:10, the biblical remedy for dealing with scoffers is to cast them out! In modern English, to cast out means: to dismiss, to expel, to eject, to banish, to fire, to sack, to discard, to unseat or to lay off. If you are wiser than God, you can pray about it. If you know more than God, you can handle scornful people in your own way. I prefer to trust the wisdom of God. I will dismiss, expel, eject, banish, fire, sack, discard, unseat and lay off any scoffer in my set-up. That is the biblical way to deal with disloyal people!

3. Inflexibility

Inflexibility is a manifestation of disloyalty. An inflexible person is stubborn and defiant. Watch out for inflexible people in your set-up. Such people do not want to work overtime. They do not want to go beyond what is stipulated in their contract. They are not prepared to adapt to any new situation. They will always point out to you that work ends at 5.00 p.m.! They are unwilling to do anything extra for the organisation. Woe to the manager if he asks them to do something new! A sulking face is the trademark of such inflexible workers.

Inflexible church members are not prepared to stay on if the church service goes beyond the stipulated time. An inflexible and unyielding person is difficult to work with. He can become disloyal to you when things no longer suit him.

Stubborn people are also not prepared to take correction when they are confronted. You will see this in the life of Saul. When Samuel confronted him about the war with the Amalekites, he argued with Samuel. He was inflexible and unyielding in his discussion with Saul. He insisted that he had obeyed the Lord. The evidence of his disobedience was obvious and yet Saul argued with Samuel.

And Samuel came to Saul: and said Saul unto him, Blessed be thou of the Lord: I HAVE PERFORMED the commandment of the Lord. And Samuel said, WHAT MEANETH THEN THIS BLEATING of the sheep in mine ears…

1 Samuel 15:13, 14

Some years ago, I had a worker who misused some church property. Initially, he denied everything! Because of this, I collected a lot of documentary evidence to prove that he was actually misappropriating the equipment and the church’s money.

When I had gathered all the documents, I called for a meeting. I presented all the documents that showed unambiguously that this gentleman had disobeyed instructions. Would you believe that in spite of the evidence in black and white, this man argued with us for three hours? I watched as an inflexible and unyielding attitude was flagrantly displayed. I said to myself, “How stubborn can a person be?” Indeed, it was only a matter of time before this stubborn individual became openly rebellious. Truly, stubbornness is a manifestation of disloyalty!

4. Lies

I am convinced that if demons could have twins, then the twin of the spirit of lying would be the spirit of stealing. Lying and stealing always go together. Anybody who lies to you is not loyal to you. His heart cannot be with you.

Watch out for liars, they are very dangerous people! Do you know how to catch a liar? Let me share with you a little secret I use. Listen to people as they speak casually. When they jokingly tell you about how they lied to someone and got away with it, take note! Since he is capable of lying effortlessly to other people, he can do the same to you.

I believe that truth is an integral part of your character. If the belt of truth is absent, you are exposed to demons. If God hates a lying tongue, it must be the duty of every Christian, leader or manager to hate the same thing.

These six things doth the Lord hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him: A proud look, a LYING TONGUE, and hands that shed innocent blood,

Proverbs 6:16, 17

Liars are disloyal people!

5. Tale-bearing

…and he that soweth discord among brethren.

Proverbs 6:19

There are people who have the ability to create stories and recreate events to suit themselves. They can spread stories and make things sound interesting. Have you noticed that newspapers often have tragic or scandalous events as their headlines? Bad news is sweeter to the gossips than good news.

Watch out for people who have endless tales about others. They know every bad event that has occurred in the church. They are ready to give you a complete rundown on any story you request. They know the details and they have inside information. Watch out for such people. They sow discord and division within the camp.

6. Rudeness

And Moses sent to call Dathan and Abiram, the sons of Eliab: which said, WE WILL NOT COME UP...

Numbers 16:12

Dathan and Abiram were openly rude to Moses. They refused to come when he called for them. Most people express their animosity behind the backs of their superiors. People who lash out at you openly with their tongues can lash out at you in other ways.

Rudeness is a manifestation of disloyalty. Watch out for it!

by Dag Heward-Mills

[areswriting]

a x e : xx

Jason and Sophie crane their necks to look at Elise, who holds a broken plastic fork between her fingers.

“Babe?” says Jason, reaching out to touch her face. He pushes her fallen, choppy hair behind her ear. “Are you okay?”

“I think she’s a little shocked,” Sophie says. We all look at her to see her smiling, pointing her intact fork across the table at Elise. She turns the utensil on herself and looks at Jason. “The reason that voice sounds so familiar is because it’s mine.”

Jason’s mouth falls open and he turns his attention to me. “I thought you said you two weren’t together—”

“Please,” says Sophie, wrapping her arm around mine. “We all know you don’t have to be with someone to, well, you know.”

“But you said…” Jason’s voice trails as he stares between Sophie and I, his eyebrows knitted, his mouth still hanging open.

“Come on, Jase,” Sophie sighs, exasperated. “It’s not like you went and told Abe the very moment you and Elise had sex.”

My eyes dart to Elise, who looks at Sophie with a resentful glare.

“That’s because we haven’t,” Jason says. I look at him. His entire face is red, and he looks only at his half-eaten dinner.

“Aw, Elise, I’ve never known you to hold out,” Sophie says sweetly.

“Some of us don’t drop our underwear the second a boy looks at us, Sophie,” Elise says.

“Yeah,” says Jason. “Some of us want to wait for the right moment.”

Now it’s my turn to look down, ashamed.

“That’s sweet,” Sophie says, and surprisingly she sounds sincere. “I think the important question is, who recorded us.”

“I mean, that is creepy,” Jason says. “Do you guys have any idea who is might be?”

I shrug, while Sophie says, “It could be anyone.”

Then it dawns on me—there are two names written all over this.

▲ △ ▼ ▽

I leave dinner early and head straight back to my room, my eyes focused on my phone. After a few seconds of scrolling through texts, I find the thread I’m looking for—but instead of sending a message, I hit the phone icon and the line begins to trill. Once, twice, three times before you’ve reached the voice mailbox of 802-555-9811.

I end the call with haste and start typing a message.

I know it was you who sent out that recording.

Hi, I have no idea what you are talking about.

Who are you? How are you spying on me?

Lol, ok I know I’ve been mysterious but trust me, Abram, I’m not lurking in the shadows spying on you. I’m hundreds of miles away.

Why should I believe you?

Because I think deep down you know that I’m not to blame for whatever happened?

I set my jaw. As much as I want Sylvia—or whoever she is—to be responsible for the recording, a big, growing larger by the second, part of me somehow knows that she isn’t. Even if all she has ever done to me is lie, I know her, and this isn’t her style.

But it could be someone else’s.

I thumb through my contacts until I find Ellie and I press the call button with more force than necessary.

Ring.

Ring.

Ellie’s face appears on the screen and she’s rolling her eyes. “Kai, if you’re calling about Brody—”

“Ellie, I need you to be honest, did you record Elise and me…indecently?” I ask.

There is a long pause that is followed by laughter. “Do I look like Gossip Girl to you? What are you talking about?”

I study her face for tells—but I’m looking at the girl who once said; it isn’t staking, it’s called fierce journalism. She doesn’t have tells.

“I know you are angry at me over Natasha—”

“First off, don’t say that name,” Ellie says with a look of disgust. “And second, I was angry, yeah, but I’m not anymore.”

“Look, you and I both know that you’re vengeful, so if you could just admit that this was your way of getting back at me—”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Kai,” says Ellie, “I haven’t seen you since you and your brother Mason—”

“Jason,” I correct her.

She rolls her eyes. “Since you and your brother Jason were here after Thanksgiving, and the only time I’ve seen you and Elise together was during that facetime call back in December.”

I go from pacing to sitting on the edge of my bed, defeated.

“What happened?” she asks. “You look worried—and is your lip cut?”

“I took a high stick at practice,” I lie. “And someone recorded Elise and I...”

“Save the gory details, I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down,” she says.

“They sent it to everyone at school,” I say.

“That is pure genius,” Ellie says fondly. “I mean—that’s terrible for you, but that’s one way of getting information on there. You have no idea who it could be?”

I shake my head. “I thought maybe it was you, you’re the only person smart enough, and had a reason to.”

“I can’t believe you think I’d actually do that to you!” Ellie says, offended.

“I can’t believe you have the audacity to think you wouldn’t,” I say back. “You made YouTube videos bashing our English teacher in the ninth grade for giving you an A minus on a paper.”

“Touche.”

▲ △ ▼ ▽

A tall girl with long, curly, strawberry blonde hair eyeballs me as she walks through the classroom. Mr. Grant greats her as she passes him and slides into the seat beside mine.

“We haven’t met yet,” says the girl after she pulls a Tootsie Pop out of her mouth. “I’m Dominique Wesley.”

“Abram,” I say, watching as she suggestively places the sucker in her mouth, then against her cheek.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she says brightly. “I think everyone does after that video. I also think that we should get together sometime.”

“Excuse you.” I look up to see Sophie glaring down at the girl beside me. “That’s my seat.”

“I don’t see your name on it,” Dominique replies. “But there are a few empty seats in the back just waiting for you.”

“I’m going to give you five seconds to get up before I—”

“Before you what?” says Dominique, “Finally move and leave Abram and I to our conversation? I’m not going anywhere, babe. But you probably should. Class is starting soon.”

Sophie’s cheeks are the color of her hair and she turns her nose up at the girl before walking around us and to the back of the classroom.

“Where were we?” she says, tilting her head. “Oh, right, you were just about to ask me out.”

I laugh because I don’t know what else to do. Girls never gave me this much attention before and I honestly don’t know what to do with it.

“Did I say something funny?” she says, eyebrows raised.

I shake my head. “No, I’m just trying to figure out why we never met before. Are you new?”

“I was taking pre-calc last semester, but I had to take it with the other freshman,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“You’re—you’re a freshman?” I say, eyes wide.

She sits up and smiles proudly. “I’ll be fifteen in March.”

My breath catches in my throat and I feel dirty enough to need a bath in bleach.

“Wow, ok,” I say. I swallow hard. “It’s uh, impressive that you’re already taking Calculus. I think I was hardly passing pre-algebra when I was fourteen.”

“I’m extremely advanced for my age,” she says, smirking. “And not just with schoolwork.”

“All right, everyone,” Mr. Grant says. “Quiet down.”

The room falls silent as he takes his place in front of us holding a stack of papers. “We’ll be having a pop-quiz today. I know, I’m awful, but the good news is, you’re free to go when you’re done.”

He counts out enough quizzes for each row of students and hands them out, face down. “You can start once you get yours and you have until the end of the period to finish it.”

I flip my paper over and get to work on the first of ten questions.

I’m only on the third question when I hear a pair of heels clicking, and I look up to see Sophie making her way to Mr. Grant’s desk. I glance around the room to see everyone else hard at work, while Sophie hands her quiz off, completed.

She winks at me as she walks across the front of the room, quietly opening the door. I want to ask how she managed to cheat—then I realize just how much everyone seems to underestimate her; she didn’t cheat. She is just scarily intelligent.

Fifteen minutes later I find myself on my feet, offering my paper to Mr. Grant, who takes it with a smile. I feel several pairs of eyes on me as I walk to the door, but I don’t dare look back—because I don’t want to see that little girl put anything else in her mouth.

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(texts Brody & Abram)

dude why is ellie so petty?

she brought me coffee to school, saying it was a peace offering. well she put salt in it instead of sugar and when i took a drink and spit it out she said oh, was that salt im sorry it was an accident, kinda like how you accidentally kissed Natasha

lmao bro she’s the queen of petty she always has been

I’m following in those petty ass footsteps because here I am passive aggressively drinking it and looking at her from across the cafeteria.

i didn’t raise no bitch. You drink that bitter AF coffee ♥

i am. wyd.

Just got out of calc, about to find somewhere to baptize myself in bleach.

did you hook up w a bootleg looking girl or st?

no dude worse i got a semi talking to this hot girl in my calc class she was deep throating a sucker and then says lol i’ll be 15 in march omg fkin gross

omg right these children are out here catfishing us in real life wtf what happened to young girls having snuggle teeth and acne?

idk but I honestly feel like I need to go to church and apologize.

lol i miss you man.

Miss you more pookie

I wasn’t gonna tell you but I’m too excited not to. I’m gonna come to your game on Saturday.

I’m mid key smash when I feel someone sit beside me on the fountain. Locking my phone, I look up and I immediately scoot away from the girl who looks at me like I’m a four-course meal and she hasn’t eaten for days.

“You know, I’m impressed with how fast you finished that quiz,” says Dominique as she crosses her legs toward me. “Maybe I need some tutoring.”

“I’m sure Mr. Grant wouldn’t mind helping you if you’re having problems,” I say and I lean farther away from her.

“I’m not interested in his help,” she replies, smirking. “I was thinking maybe you could help me.”

“Abram—oh.” I look over my shoulder to see Elise rounding the fountain, her lips pinching into a thin line as she studies the girl beside me. “Never mind, I would hate to interrupt.”

I stand and grab my backpack. “You’re not—I was actually looking for you.”

She glances back at Dominique. “Are you sure, because you looked pretty cozy—”

“Please, save me,” I whisper against Elise’s ear.

She pulls away and smiles back at Dominique. “Sorry, sweetie, but he isn’t available right now. You can try again later—maybe once you’ve hit puberty?”

“I think she already has,” I say as Elise urges me away from the fountain and my dignity.

“Oh my God, Abram,” Elise snaps. “That girl is like twelve.”

“I know,” I bite back. “She was trying to show me how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop earlier.” I can’t help but cringe as I think about it, and I will myself to think of something else.

“I think she probably want to know how many licks it’ll take from you,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You seem to have a fan club now.”

“I think I’ve had one since that party—”

“God, shut up!” she says, walking in front of me and throwing her arms out. “What makes you think I want to hear about that? Or any story about you with any other girl?”

I stare at her, eyebrows creasing together. “Oh, but it’s okay for you to flaunt your relationship with Jason in front of me?”

“I don’t do that, Abram—that’s Jason. Besides, that’s different, I haven’t—we haven’t—we’ve barely even kissed!”

“So that makes it fair?” I say.

“I didn’t say that—”

“But you’ve implied it plenty of times,” I say. “Did you just want to fight with me? Is that why you were looking for me?”

“No, but I wasn’t expecting to find you with some freshman skank!” she shouts. “I thought you had standards—but I guess if you’d be into Sylvia, you’d be into anyone.”

I laugh dryly and shake my head. “Obviously I don’t have standards,” I say, holding my arms out toward her. I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, but I’m too angry to say sorry, even after her face falls. “Because if I did, I wouldn’t put up with your neck-breaking mood swings.”

Her lips part, but words are forestalled—because I’m not done yet.

“You know what? Never mind—forget that I was looking for you. I’m going to go find Sophie, because at least she is constantly a bitch and doesn’t lead me on!”

Without giving her a chance to respond, I walk away.