#and hey i wear glasses so it represents me better!

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 14 | Parker's Place

Chapter Fourteen | Parker’s Place

For the past three years, Parker had been a completely virtual student on a medical conditional pass signed off on by his pediatrician and his mom.

His first day of school was a terrifying one. Parker’s mom had set up a special classroom area with a camera for him to be seen as well as a computer for him to watch the lectures on. Perhaps it was because it was a private school versus a public school, but Parker felt like he was just like any other student.

Mr. William Tamplin was a great teacher and he always made sure everyone was seen and heard if they had questions. He was a curious man with black rimmed glasses that reminded Parker of the ones Clark Kent would wear. He had sandy blond-brown hair, like Parker, but he had pale blue eyes like glacier ice. He was a young teacher, but he knew the answer to everything, even though he usually taught English.

Parker’s other teachers were nice, but they weren’t the same as Mr. Tamplin.

On that first day, Mr. Tamplin had Parker introduce himself and talk a little about what he liked and what he wanted to learn. All of the other teachers had Parker do the same thing as the camera and screen that represented him was shown to the class.

Parker had never seen so many children his age before, and he was both excited and terrified. When he was in Mr. Tamplin’s class, however, he felt safe, especially when it came to questions about why Parker couldn’t come to class. That was another thing Parker liked about Mr. Tamplin. He, unlike the other teachers, didn’t request that Parker explain anything about his condition.

Parker and his mom went over the details in depth every day to make sure Parker didn’t say too much. For whatever reason, Parker’s mom seemed uneasy about Parker sharing the name of his condition and details about it. It was weird, but the small child figured that it was such a rare condition that not much was known about it and that he wouldn’t be able to answer the questions he would receive.

“So, Parker, if anyone asks…”

“I know, mom. I just say that I have a special medical condition that is still being explored. It’s not contagious, but it just makes me a little fragile, so I have to stay put at home until we find a better solution,” recited Parker.

It was the same thing he told everyone in his classes and to his teachers.

There were a few who asked further questions when he was in private group study sessions or if they had free chat time and one of the kids came up and decided to talk to Parker, but Parker’s responses were always the same, and so the topics were changed.

Through his fall and spring of his first year, Parker made several friends. There was Bailey, a black haired girl who loved to draw, and Billie, a kid who couldn’t hold still to save his life. The three of them were fast friends because of their love of the same cartoons and, with Amanda’s permission, the three of them had phone calls and video chats outside of school hours.

Neither of them seemed interested in Parker’s condition and, for them, it was cool having a virtual friend. Sometimes, they even called Parker “the spaceman,” pretending he was in some kind of protected facility that was doing research on Mars or whatever.

In the end, it didn’t matter. They had continued to be friends all through his classes, even as he excelled in nearly all of his subjects and jumped grades. Parker was good at making friends and learned quickly how to socialize without bringing up his special circumstances and condition.

Now, for the first time, he was getting an actual birthday party.

True, it was still virtual for all of his friends to log in, but it was going to be the greatest thing ever!

“Hey, mom? I know it’s a little early, but could I go ahead and log into Discord?” asked Parker as he tapped on the mouse. He was so close, tantalizingly so, to spending a great afternoon with his friends. The mouse danced across the screen over the camera image, highlighting it every time it traced over the icon.

Amanda approached and looked at the camera and its placement in Parker’s room. It looked like everything was set up to avoid showing too much about him and his room. The thought of someone seeing Parker for the size he was felt close – too close, but she wanted to give Parker this birthday.

He was thirteen after all.

She thought of the gifts she had prepared for him and hoped she was doing the right thing with it.

Years passed and now he was officially a teenager.

The time really had gone by so fast.

“Sure,” she replied after a moment. “I don’t see why not. If you have any problems with the program or camera, just let me know. And remember…”

“About my condition and what we talked about. I remember mom. Thanks!” Parker clicked on the camera icon so fast that it made Amanda’s head spin. She carefully tiptoed away and listened as Parker began calling out to his friends.

The moment his mom gave the go-ahead, Parker saw that Billie and Bailey were already online and ready for him. He eagerly entered the “Parker’s Party” channel he created and watched as his friends’ faces flickered onto the screen.

“Hey spaceman!” greeted Billie. He leaned forward so his nose was blown out of proportion. The grin he had on his face was absolutely priceless.

“Sup man! How’ve you been?” asked Parker as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the camera at his friends.

“Hey! What about me?” asked Bailey. She was dressed in a pretty pink dress and folded her arms in a full body pout.

“Hey there to you too Bailey,” Parker said with a wave. “You guys are the first online. Any word from Spencer or Selina?”

“No, not yet.” Billie’s connection garbled his response but cleared up shortly after. “But you know them. Twins dude. They’ll be online together or never.”

“I hear ya on that,” Parker replied. Just then, Spencer and Selina’s icons popped into the chat followed shortly by ten other friends Parker invited.

The chat and the cameras were filled with cheering and kids talking over one another, creating jumbled connections and amusing breaks in conversation. Games began of Among Us, Speed Racer, and a few other odd ones that Parker was able to access on his device.

After games and other discussions of the fun, nerdy things they were watching or reading, they took a break to sing happy birthday and open the cards they all made for Parker. Because of his condition, Parker requested that his friends make cards for him that they could send to him later.

They were all hilarious.

Parker was rolling on the ground laughing, as was everyone else, and they decided to have an impromptu competition for whose card was the best.

Selina won, naturally. Her sketching abilities were unparalleled, and her use of humor was worthy of the Sunday funnies. The image was Parker in a spacesuit hovering over planets with Mars in the background. It looked like he was outside of some big space station and the caption read, “Comet me, bro!” and underneath read, “I wanted to have a space-themed birthday party, but there was no one to planet. Happy Birthday Parker!” What really caught Parker’s eye was the little heart next to Selina’s name.

“Wow, Selina. That one is fantastic,” Parker complemented.

“Awww! Thanks Parker! Thanks guys!” said Selina with a wink. For whatever reason, Parker felt his heart flutter and his insides flip when he was Selina staring directly into the camera right at him. It was like she was right there looking into his eyes. “Only the best for my bestie.”

“What!” Billie roared. “He’s my bestie!”

“Uh, I talked to him first, so he’s my bestie,” retorted Bailey.

“Can’t you all be my besties?” asked Parker, recovering

Hours passed and, eventually, everyone was called away for dinner or some other activity. Parker waved his hand and wished his friends a great day, and all wished him a happy birthday.

Finally, it was just Bailey and Selina left.

“Well, Parker, I hope you had a great birthday,” said Bailey. “And don’t worry! I’ll be sending you my card A.S.A.P!”

“Yeah, same here,” chimed in Selina. The look the two of them gave one another made Parker’s hair stand on end. It was like there was some unspoken rivalry between the two of them that, for one reason or another, involved him. Parker wasn’t sure really what was going on, but he didn’t want to get in the middle of it.

There was that instinct in him to back away slowly and hide under something big and tall, but Parker held his ground and swallowed his apprehension, addressing his friends

“Well, I can’t wait to get them,” said Parker. He stared into the faces of his friends for a little while longer before Bailey’s mom could be heard in the background calling for her. She huffed dramatically and leaned forward.

“You’ll be getting mine first, so message me as soon as you get it, okay? Talk to you soon Parker! Bye!” said Bailey as she disconnected. Parker looked back at Selina, now realizing she was staring right at him. Her cheeks were a little rosy and the light hit her eyes in a way that made Parker’s insides flip.

He swallowed dryly, but Selina spoke first.

“I’ll be sending mine first, but I wanted to ask if it’s okay if I post it on my Tumblr account before I do. I wanted it to just be for you, but it would be good for my portfolio. I’m applying to the Visual Arts program and want to get some traction,” Selina requested. Parker nodded, but a curiosity tugged at his mind.

“Sure, I don’t have a problem with that, but what’s Tumblr?” asked Parker.

“What? I’m surprised you don’t have one for your writing and everything,” Selina replied. “It’s just a place online for you to submit your stories, poetry, art, and all of that stuff. You should totally make one! I’ll be your first follower!”

Parker hadn’t really thought about publishing his scribblings. Mr. Tamplin was always complementary of his work, encouraging him to do more, and his other writing teachers and tutors said he had a gift for the written word.

Maybe it was worth a shot.

At the very least, it would give him a chance to make more friends.

“Sure. I mean, I have to double check with my mom and everything, but I’ll send you the link if I get one. Sound good?”

“Great! Well, I’ll talk to you soon! Bye Parker!”

The connection was cut and, once again, Parker was left alone in his room, his camera being the only one facing him. He stared at the lens and at his own reflection in the shaped glass. He wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel the slightest bit lonely.

Despite having friends and being online with them for hours, it didn’t change the fact that he was still completely and utterly alone.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.”

Parker turned around to see his mom approaching with a cake with two tiny candles labeled “1” and “3” on top. It was his favorite, a strawberry cake, and he stepped out of his room to the bedside table to greet her.

“Thanks, mom,” smiled Parker as he gazed up at her. She balanced his cake, which was about as big as his torso, on the tips of her fingers as she smiled at him.

“You’re so welcome,” she said, her adoration clearly audible. “Now, you know the rule. Take a big breath and make a wish.”

She held up her phone camera and hit record. Parker took a few deep breaths, unsure of what to wish for, and stared at the melting wax as it dripped down the edge of the candle.

What did he want?

What was his desire?

He had friends and time at school. He had technology and knick knacks as well as all of the books he could possibly want.

The only thing he would really want was to actually go outside and play with his friends, but that wasn’t possible. It was too dangerous for him, as his mother explained on numerous occasions.

Parker knew the wax wasn’t dripping any slower so, without a wish ready and writing himself a rain check, he blew out the candles.

“Yay! Happy birthday, sweetie,” Amanda said as she set Parker’s cake over onto the small table she brought with her. “Now, do you want cake or presents first?” Parker knew the answer already and, leaving his momentary sadness behind, he decided to enjoy the day rather than be brought down.

“Presents please,” he said as he stepped onto his mom’s awaiting hand. His mom’s smile broadened.

“I hoped you would say that. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to start with the biggest one first. Otherwise, the others aren’t going to make sense,” said Amanda. She carefully stood and walked out of the bedroom and toward her office.

Parker leaned forward to look down over the edge of his mom’s hand at the vast distance below him. Something about the height was enticing and thrilling to him. It made his mom anxious anytime he was near the edge, but something inside him said that he could fall and be fine.

“Okay, I really hope you like it, but do not feel pressured into liking it,” said his mom. Parker felt confused as he looked away from the ground and toward the table by the side of the room. Immediately, his mind went blank as he looked at the thing on the table.

It was a miniature house.

It was made of pale blue panels and even had light brown shingles and white trim on the windows and doors. From what Parker could tell, there was nothing on the inside except for a few wrapped presents. It was three stories tall and had a little porch area with a gazebo.

He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of it until his mom asked, “Do… you like it?”

Parker, still unsure, gestured to the front door and his mom carefully set him down. The miniscule boy stepped up onto the porch, noticing how the steps were perfectly set for him. There was a wooden sign on the door that caught his attention immediately, adding to his swirling emotions.

“Parker’s Place”

He reached out and pushed the door open, noting the hinges were just like the ones on the big doors, just smaller.

When he entered the main area, he spotted a set of stairs on the left hand side as well as two entryways leading to two rooms. The rooms themselves were massive, to the point where Parker could run from one side to the other, spin around, and stretch without fear of hitting anything around him.

The outside world shifted as the house spun effortlessly around and the far wall opened up into two separate panels. His mom knelt down and watched him intently as he walked over to the right and into the kitchen. There was a box which had a bit of a hum to it and, when Parker opened it, the air was cold.

Parker, fascinated, turned on his heel and ran into the next room, seeing some old looking wallpaper and several large windows that led to the gazebo.

He needed to see more.

Adrenaline and curiosity fueled him as he sprinted up the stairs, each fitting him perfectly, as he found three new rooms with large windows all around. Still, there was another set of stairs. Parker glanced into the other rooms and found what looked like a miniature bathroom and what could be a bedroom before running upstairs to the top floors. Parker didn’t even mind that he ran past a stack of presents to continue his exploring.

There were two smaller rooms with a narrow entryway to get in, but it was still a massive space.

Now practically at eye-level with his mom, he turned around and looked into her eyes, his words finally manifesting.

“What… is this?”

“It’s a little house made for you,” she replied. Parker spun around in the space, mind still wrapping around the concept.

“For… people like me? But… how? Why?” Something felt odd about this place; like some kind of trap. Parker couldn’t explain the feeling, but something about this place didn’t quite feel right – like he didn’t quite belong there.

“Yes, something along those lines. Do you remember our conversation the other day about how you’re getting older and… things are going to be changing a bit?” asked his mom. Parker nodded vaguely while his mind processed how perfectly everything about this house fit him and why it didn’t feel right.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, you’re getting older now and I think it’s time that you had a larger space to call your own,” said Amanda. “It’ll let you gain a little independence and give you a little more freedom and privacy. You can decorate everything how you’d like, and we can set up the hot and cold water and lights together if you want.”

Parker stared around at the vast space.

Except for his room, he had always been surrounded by things that were immense compared to him. His tablet. The books his mom borrowed from the library. The camera he used for class.

Everything was big…

And now it wasn’t.

Parker finally pinpointed the feeling swirling inside him that overrode the sensation of this place feeling like a weird trap.

Normal.

He had always felt normal, but now the world around him felt like it fit him.

“Parker?” His mom’s voice pulled him back to the moment. “Do… you like it? Remember, you can say no. I just tho-”

“I love it.”

Amanda couldn’t be more relieved. She had been holding her breath the entire time Parker explored the dollhouse she purchased online for him. It was a miracle he didn’t find it sooner, but thankfully she had only had it for a few days. Dragging the package through to her office while Parker was in class was her saving grace.

Now, seeing the smile spreading across his face, it made it all worth it.

Yes, she felt an immense guilt for buying a dollhouse when Parker obviously was a person but keeping him in a shoebox on her bedside table felt wrong now that he was officially a teenager.

“You really like it?” asked Amanda, her voice choking up as she looked into those thoughtful brown orbs belonging to her son.

“Yeah, this place is sweet! I mean, it kinda has a weird smell and will need some stuff, but I’ve got so many cool places to go now! I can have a library and book area over on the gazebo in that side room. Bedroom is above that. Upstairs here is the recording, writing, reading area. I get a kitchen and my own bathroom too?” Parker felt himself geeking out.

“Well, I’m thrilled you like it,” said his mom, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Anyway, your other presents are related to this place, so I hope you like them.”

Parker could barely contain himself.

He sprinted down the stairs, reveling in how they were perfectly sized just for him, and tore open the presents. Some of them were games he had wanted to buy and the others were gift cards. One gift card was from a place called “Tay Models” that really intrigued him.

“It’s an independent company that makes furniture and accessories for people like you,” replied Amanda. A pang of guilt hit her, but she disguised it behind a smile. Tay Models came up during a search for dollhouse accessories and furniture, but nothing on the website indicated that it was meant for toys and dolls that were Parker’s size.

It was the best solution she could come up with without telling Parker more about the condition she had fabricated to keep him – both of them – safe.

“No way!” Parker was overjoyed and eagerly leapt down out of the house and onto the table to hug his mom’s fingers. “Thanks mom! When can we start working on the water and motors and lights?”

Amanda swallowed hard and nodded. “Today, if you want.”

Parker beamed at her and nodded.

“Yes, please. And… momma… could I sleep in here tonight? Move some of my things in here?” asked Parker. The question made a lump form in Amanda’s throat. This would be the first time Parker would be sleeping in another place instead of right beside her.

It made Amanda feel hollow but also reassured at the same time. She knew it was probably unhealthy to have her son sleeping in the same room within arm’s length of her for the majority of his life, but only now did she feel like she could leave him to his own devices.

Parker was a trustworthy boy, and now he was going to be able to practice his independence at a safe distance.

“Of course, sweetie,” she replied as she turned her hand and Parker leapt on, ready for the next phase of his life.

The rest of the evening was eventful to say the least. Both Amanda and Parker had accidentally soaked themselves while getting the water running in both the kitchen and the bathroom, which was the essential if Parker was going to stay in Parker’s Place.

The two of them had dinner and cake while reading the manual on how to set up the electricity of the house but elected by unanimous vote to work on it tomorrow in favor of watching a double feature before bed.

Parker drifted off to sleep at one point through the movie, leaving his mom to carry him to bed, but woke just long enough to give his mom a kiss goodnight and tuck himself in under his blankets. He stared at the ceiling that, for once, didn’t tower above him.

Things were different, both weird and good, and Parker was excited for the things he was going to get to do with his place.

He drifted into a dream filled sleep of far off adventures and worlds beyond comprehension. When he woke, he hurriedly scribbled down his thoughts and what he remembered about the dream, realizing that it would be an amazing plot for a story.

He suddenly felt like it was a shame to keep all of his ideas to himself. He stared at the countless notebooks that were scattered on the ground and, suddenly, it hit him.

Parker knew what he wanted for his birthday – to be able to publish his ideas.

So, as he stood and stretched, one of his objectives of the day became crystal clear.

He was going to start publishing, just like Selina said, and it was going to start today.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Beginning

[ryuichirou]

Hmmm, any headcanons for twst boys in nebula college? Saw your drawing of Lilia in the Dragon house and it opened up a whole avenue of possibilities for me :3

Omg Anon!! Yeah, this is exactly what happened to us when I was drawing it, well not this exact sketch, but the one similar to that. The realisation that Nebula College is already thought out enough to have a crossover of sorts really hits hard lol So ironically, we did end up discussing which houses the twst characters would be in. And now you’ve given us the opportunity to share those thoughts, so thank you so much for your ask and for your interest <3

For those who don’t know: Nebula College is a project that Katsu writes (and I illustrate)! Katsu also wrote a post about the cast of Nebula College in NRC a couple of months ago, so it’s only fair to link it in this post >:3 Also, here is the description of all the houses and what they represent.

Riddle – the Dragon house; it’s debatable whether Riddle’s love for discipline and rules is something that is natural to him and not just his trauma lol but he would fit perfectly there: “organised, yet impulsive and loud” sounds like the most Riddle thing ever. He would be great at patrolling the school, plus he is technically a sporty boy.

Ace – the Snake house; the other option was the Unicorn house, and he would really prefer the latter because he would be super excited to be surrounded by rich and dazzling senpais spoiling him for being such an adorable charmer. The boy can dream all he wants, but he is destined to be a Snake because of his slyness and opportunism.

Deuce – the Dragon house, and he would probably be so honored. He would always do his best during the patrols… And also think about how being surrounded by reliable and organised people should be a good influence on him.

Trey – the Snake house; Katsu made two notes about him: the first one “asshole/knave I mean snake”, and the second one is “he’s a boa snake wearing glasses”. I think it describes Trey perfectly: he really is like a large calm and collected boa (the image of a boa snake in glasses is related to some of the cartoons we used to watch as kids lol), but at the same time the man is a liar and a hypocrite, he would fit right in with those fake bitches lol Even though he would probably consider himself a Dragon.

Cater – the Snake house; he is similar to Ace in a way, and I can picture him trying to befriend some of the Unicorns and maybe even succeeding at that, but ultimately he is kind of a poser. He is very good at communicating, but he is even better at knowing things about other people.

Leona – the Unicorn house; he is a prince, so it’s kind of a given. Falena probably graduated from this house as well, so Leona thinks that him being there is kind of a joke; it’s obvious that they people compare them all the time… but hey, at least the Unicorn colours look good on him.

Ruggie – the Snake house, this one is easy lol He also probably hangs out close to the Unicorns (this isn’t how Snakes usually act, it’s just the NRC Snakes are fucking leeches I guess), but that’s because he runs errands for Leona, to whom it’s much easier to talk to Ruggie than to fellow Unicorns.

Jack – the Dragon house; he would probably have a good time there surrounded by those who aren’t just as sporty as him, but also as responsible and earnest. Damn, Deuce would be his dormmate instead of Ace’s 😳

The Octa-Trio are from the Snake house;  there are some meta reasons for that, but also it’s just pretty obvious come on look at these lying bitches lol They are everything a Snake should be: smart, cunning, sociable when necessary, great at making connections and getting information, they’re also good at business and stuff. Azul would probably advocate for connecting with other dorms more though, and Jade would be intrigued by others too. Floyd probably doesn’t really care which dorm he is in, but don’t get fooled: he is one terrifying and dangerous snake…

Kalim – the Unicorn house! Nothing to add here, he is just there. People think he is a good-for-nothing princely type, but he is actually surprisingly good at communication. He is probably well-liked by everyone there.

Jamil – the Snake house, at least until Kalim enrolls and somehow Jamil gets transferred to the Unicorn house for some reason. He would hate it though because he really felt at home surrounded by Snakes, and now… now he is surrounded by Kalim-adjacent people who are amused by the fact that Kalim managed to get his servant to live at his dorm….

Vil – the Unicorn house; he has very strong charisma and amazing leadership skills, he is also charming and stubborn at the same time. He probably wasn’t necessarily expecting to end up there, but he fits in perfectly. But he is kind of a Dragon at heart when it comes to discipline and stuff… similarly to how there are some similarities between Pomefiore and Savanaclaw.

Rook – the Dragon house; his demeanor is a bit off, but honestly Rook could pull off being at every single House successfully, and his demeanor would always be off lol Now this is someone who loves patrolling. When it’s his shift, some students probably make a mistake of assuming that if they can’t see the patrolling guy then he isn’t there. But Rook is always watching…

Epel – I’ll quote Katsu on that one: “Epel is an idiot. The Dragon house, his dream came true” lol He shouldn’t get too happy about getting into the sportiest and “manliest” of dorms though because they are super serious about discipline, and no one is going to allow him to look like a hooligan. Brush your hair, Epel.

Idia – the Raven house- WOW, IS THIS OUR FIRST RAVEN? DANG so much for Night Raven College lol but yeah, Idia is definitely a Raven, and this is the only dorm he would survive in: he’s introverted, but very knowledgeable, perceptive and honestly surprisingly good at reading people for someone who hides from them all the time.

Ortho – the Unicorn house; he probably wanted to join Idia just so they could be together, but he is such an obvious charismatic leader when he wants to be. Considering that this is likely human!Ortho, he would also work as a kid from the Shroud family... Idia and him could be a great example of the Unicorn + Raven alliance.

Lilia – the Dragon house; there are some meta-reasons for that as well, but even without that, Lilia is very organisation-oriented, and he would be very comfortable in a structure that is the Dragon house. He is a great leader, but a different kind of leader, a war general, if you will.

Sebek – the Dragon house; pretty self-explanatory, look at this boy.

Silver – the Dragon house, but a Unicorn at heart. Sometimes it feels like he is in the wrong place, but it’s absolutely not because of how he acts: he does everything he is supposed to very diligently and tries very hard to be an honorable Dragon student. It’s just that if he stands near the Unicorns it just feels… right somehow.

Malleus – technically he should be in the Unicorn house, but he we couldn’t decide: he is kind of a mix of Unicorns and Ravens lol He has a lot of charisma and he is a good leader when he needs to be, and he sure as hell knows how to persuade people, but the overall vibes and architecture of the Raven house + their attitude is very close to him…

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The President’s Son - Bob

Pairing: Bob / Fem!OC

Word Count: 1.6k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only!

Warnings: Bodyguard AU; Sassy Bob; Threats of Violence; Referenced Past OC Death; Excess Sarcasm; Tension

Summary: Threats are made against Bob’s life. Venus is not looking forward to being a babysitter.

Master List

Being part of the First Family of the United States was not all that it was cracked up to be.

Constantly being watched and monitored and told what to wear, what to say, how to smile and wave was not what any kid wanted to deal with. And Bob might have been twenty-eight now, but he had been in the public eye practically his whole life, ever since his dad won a seat in the House of Representatives when he was eight years old.

And ever since then, Bob’s entire life revolved around his dad’s career.

Bob loved his dad, he really did. But there were some times when he just wanted to be able to go outside and be a normal human adult. There were times when he just needed his dad, not Rep. Floyd, or Senator Floyd, or President Floyd. Just regular old Bill Floyd. Husband, father of three, and a huge baseball fan. Bob needed that guy a lot of times over the last few years.

And Bob didn’t want the news sites—though Bob didn’t think that they qualified as “news” based on what they reported—talking about his glasses or his choice in tee shirts or God forbid that he, a legal adult, drink a beer while at a beach with his friends.

They stalked him when he was already pissed off with his day. They stalked him when he was grieving over his mom. They took photos of him as he consoled his sisters as their mother’s funeral. They tried to get him to talk about it a week after the fact.

He was sick of it. He was sick of the microscope. He was sick of all of it.

And a death threat—an actually credible death threat—really pushed him over the edge with it.

“Why the hell are they targeting me?” Bob demanded from his dad, getting up from his seat.

It was late at night in Washington DC and he had been picked up by the Secret Service from his private apartment and dragged over to the White House just an hour ago. They brought him straight to the Oval Office where his father—the President—and his father’s Chief of Staff were already waiting for him, both looking grim.

“It’s not like I have any political weight. I’ve announced publicly a thousand times that I don’t want anything to do with politics. So, why are they targeting me?”

“Hey, hey,” President Bill Floyd assured his son, walking over to him and grabbing his shoulders. “You’re going to be okay, Bobby. We’re taking this very seriously and we’re taking every precaution imaginable to make sure that you’re always safe.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Bob replied, trying to keep the tension out of his voice. “What the hell do they want with me? And I mean, are they going to go after Suzie too? Or Anna? I mean, should Grandma get into a bunker?”

“No, but everyone in our family will be seeing an increase in security,” Bill Floyd explained, somehow managing to remain calm. “And besides, Suzie and Anna still live here where they’re safe and where they’ll be looked after.”

“So, I’m just the unlucky bastard who got picked out?” Bob huffed, more than annoyed now.

“More than likely,” Tom Kazansky, the Chief of Staff, spoke up from his spot on the couch, “it’s about exposing weaknesses in your father’s administration and the security of the US government. You’re simply the easiest target on the list.”  

“Oh, gee, thanks, Tom, that makes me feel so much better,” Bob snapped sarcastically.

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Bill sighed, mediating between them. “It’s just that you don’t live here and your security isn’t as tight as everyone else’s. But that’s going to change right now.”

“How? You’re going to install cameras outside my door?”

“We’re sending you to a safe house,” Tom stated, causing Bob to whip around to face him.

“What?” he demanded, nearly hissing. Turning back to his dad, Bob’s brows furrowed. “I can’t leave DC. I have a life! I have friends! I have my degree and—”

“—All of which can take a brief pause until we’re sure that you’re safe,” Bill Floyd cut in, causing Bob’s jaw to clench shut with clear frustration.

“So that’s it then? I don’t have a choice?”

“Not if you want to live,” Tom continued, causing both Floyd men to shoot him near identical glares. “What I mean to say was that until we have identified and captured this threat, you will not be safe in your normal life. All you have to do is follow our steps and you’ll be safe, Bob.”

“And what steps are those exactly? Locking me up in some bunker?”

“A house,” Tom corrected, walking over to Bob.

“Where?”

“Montana.”

“Montana? What the fuck is in Montana?”

“The safe house,” Tom filled in, causing Bob to roll his eyes. “You and your bodyguard will remain in the safehouse until we catch the perpetrators. There may be certain events that you will need to show up for to give the American people some more confidence regarding the situation, but those will be thoroughly investigated and require my own personal approval."

"My bodyguard?” Bob repeated, clearly frowning. “I have a bodyguard?”

“A personal bodyguard. She’s an FBI agent hand picked by me and the Director.”

“Well, do you have a copy of her resume on hand? I might want to look through it,” Bob replied sarcastically, setting his hands on his hips.

“We’ve already sent Secret Service back to your apartment to pack your bags. You’ll need to hand over any devices that can be used to track you,” Tom continued, holding out his hand to Bob. When Bob glared defiantly back at him, Tom added, “Unless you want to compromise the safe house.” Begrudgingly Bob handed over his phone, which Tom stowed in his pocket for now. “Alright, you should be all set for your departure.”

“Which is when?”

“Tomorrow morning. 3:55 a.m., if you want to be specific.”

“Well, thanks for the heads up,” Bob muttered, glancing down at his watch. “Nearly a whole four hours.”

“Bobby,” Bill sighed, causing Bob to turn to his dad.

“What, Dad?”

“Everything is going to be fine. The operative assigned to you is one of the best of the best. And I’m sure that you’ll really get along with her.”

“Who is she anyways?” Bob asked, glancing between his dad and Tom.  

~~~~~

Venus did not work this hard to make it this far her career to become a babysitter.

She did not study all of those hours, train for all of those hours, pass every single test with flying colors and still crave for more, to end up as some over glorified babysitter to the First Son of America, as the stupid tabloids always called him, while the other agents in her squad got to arrest the dumbass with the gun who was threatening him.

“Why the hell am I up for the babysitter position?” she complained to Maverick as they walked quickly through the halls of headquarters. Maverick sighed and subtly increased his pace, but she kept up with him, fueled purely on spite. “Why can’t Seresin or Machado take it?”

“You blend in better than they do,” Maverick explained to her, leading the way down the stairs.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Venus stated bluntly, causing Maverick to sigh.

“It’s also because if it comes down to it, we can just play the girlfriend storyline and it will slip right under the radar,” Maverick stated, taking the stairs two at a time. Venus was right behind him. “And that’s only if he needs to make a public appearance.”

“So, not only am I his babysitter, but I’m his fake girlfriend too?” Venus complained, throwing her arms up in the air. “Anything else?”

“No, that should cover it.”

Maverick pulled out a thick file from his bag and handed it over to Venus, who took it quickly. She flipped the folder open and read through the front page as Maverick turned back to her. He tapped the top of the pile, causing Venus to shoot him a glare.

“These are your orders. Everything that you need to know to complete your mission. Including your alias and backstory that we’ve already put in place for you. You have the next,” Maverick paused to glance at his watch, “. . . two hours to memorize it, which is when the two of you head out to Montana.”

“Why Montana?” Venus asked, closing the folder.

“Because no one goes to fucking Montana,” Maverick stated bluntly as a black armored SUV pulled up in front of them. “And that’s the chosen safe house.”

“So, I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with the president’s son posing as his fake girlfriend, but really acting as his babysitter? That’s my assignment?”

“Have fun,” Maverick replied, slipping into the car. “And play nice.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Venus muttered, sarcastically saluting him in return.

Watching Maverick drive off, most likely to the White House to brief the President’s son on this shitshow, Venus frowned and kicked the sidewalk with her shoe. She didn’t work this goddamn hard to end up as some babysitter to some rich kid who probably never had to work for anything in his life. The First Son of the US. The Golden Boy or whatever they called him.

Great. It was all just great.

[the-astronomial]

Hey, y'all! Sorry, that I haven't posted in a while. Been dealing with some stuff. Anyways, happy holiday season! Hope, it's a good one. 😆

Have some new spells for you guys, today. I'll put it in a list. Here goes!

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1.) "Gift it Back" Spell: A spell where you don't want to return to sender, but still want to return it (for better or worse). Basically, it's like a Christmas present you get. Obviously, can't return a gift (without being rude). So... Give to them as a present. Like, a re-gift! So, whatever sender(s) sent you, you send it as a re-gift. A perfect loophole, for when return-to-sender don't work! ;)

The incantation:

"What [name of sender] sent to me, it's time to gift it back, three times three! (Repeat three times thrice/9 times).

[This is my will/as above/what ever you use].. So, mote it be!".

It's easy, right? No ingrediants, just words and intentions. You can you this to send back positive or negative energy/magick/things.

2.) Candle spell for a "Golden Year": it's done before the new year, starts! All you need is a gold candle. LED/artificial is fine!

So, cleanse your space and candle, first. Then dress your candle, as long as it represent luxury and new beginnings. You could even make represent the things you want to bring into the new year. Once you're done, it's time to start the ritual. Write down a list of 11 things you want to manifest, during the new year. Even better, if you have gold or green paper! Could even use colored ink.

Once you do it, fold it away from you. Then, put it under your candle. Now at this part, you can get creative! All you need to do is say what it is your bringing into your life, during the new year. Put power and energy into it. When you're done saying this, say your staking your claim to the manifestations and that you're ready to receive.

Light or turn on the candle, immediately. Pay attention, to your flame/light. It'll reveal how your spell is working. If something catches fire and the light disappears, stop the ritual! That means something evil/negative is trying to stop you from bringing these things in. Do your protective measures, if this happens (salt circle, prayer, etc.). Wait, until later to try this ritual, again. If nothing bad, happens leave the candle or candle-light on until it goes out.

Note: It's okay if your list is covered in wax. It needs to do that, so, gives your list power.

Lastly, forget about the ritual and enjoy your New Year! Knowing you'll get what you want ftom it. ^_^

3.) New Job Talisman: As implied, this will bring in new jobs and job opputunities. All you need is a piece of jewelry/accessory you would wear daily. Even better if it's a job savvy accessory (ex.: a watch, reader glasses, etc.) Do this during a waning moon, new moon, or even when the sun is out. I did it during noon hours! The sun is perfect, for this type of intention. Let's get started~! First, cleanse the jewelry/accessory. You could do a salt bath, like I did. Table salt works fine, for that! ;)

Secondly, hold the jewelry/accessory in both your hands. State your intention to turn it into a talisman. A talisman to attract jobs and business oppurtunities. Think about and vizualize the jewelry/accessory being surrounded by a green light with golden sparkles. Visualize yourself putting on or carrying it. Imagine job interview, money, and work-related themes being pulled towards the jewelry/accessory. After your done getting a clear visual, put energy from your hands into the jewelry/accessory. You can make and use your own incantation to use, whilst doing this.

Continue this until you feel you it pulse, vibrate, or tingle. It won't be big, but it will be noticeable. That means its ready. For the final step, leave near the window overnight. The next day, it'll be ready to use.

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Welp, that's it guys! Thanks for reading. I hope, these spells will help you guys out! See ya later, for now and Happy New Year! I'll try to post more, but no promise. Bye, sayonara, and ciao!

[arlequinelunaire]

Verthandi in the Middle Ch. 1.2

<Prev SV

CW: Serial killer and a little blood.

The weird thing about Urth sending me to Athens, now I think of it, is you'd figure the city would fall more under her domain. Sad as it is to say, unless you're Athenian yourself (and maybe not even then), people think more about the city's distant past than its present, let alone whether it has a future. The classical architecture, philosophers, saga- er, I mean epic poets, Urth gets all of those. None of which featured us (and no, the Moirai are totally different), but I'm fine with that, they would've just complained about us if they did.

Meanwhile, the Athens of my present just gets debt, tourists, and even the friggin' Nazis now, you can tell by the Sparta fixation. Okay okay, I know neo-Nazism's hardly an exclusively Greek problem these days. I mean, I've set up shop in Scandinavia, I don't need to be told twice.

But I'm not here right now for any Nazis, no, instead I get a serial killer. Like that's much better, especially when we've already weaved his fate and should be done with him. It then hit me that a Nazi-serial killer overlap would hardly be out of the norm, but I do hope that's not true, I don't need this meeting to be even more miserable.

I knew it was coming. No Parthenon or Agora, Yggdrasill had instead dumped me on the outskirts of Athens. A rickety, abandoned warehouse stood before me, in such disrepair that it looked like even a human could blow it down with a sneeze. The only sound was the whistling of the wind. A rank odour suggested something toxic had been dumped here at one point, and if Skuld could hear my thoughts now I just knew she would've said 'Yeah, you' or something else oh so clever. 

Right on cue, a scrawny, scurrying figure, his eyes darting frantically around, skittered his way through a rusty hole in a wire fence then headed through a dusty crack in a wall. Based on what description the report had him of, I quite quickly discerned this was our 'Scarecrow' Anastasios. Huh, so Ratatosk actually did drop me off at the right place for once, though I got the feeling he wouldn't keep up that track record. The fuzzball had already left too, and true, he personally had no obligation to keep an eye on this guy, but it felt like a dick move all the same.

I hid from the killer's sight behind an old, creaking dumpster, the sheer smell bringing my toxic waste dump theory back to mind. Yeah, he couldn't do a thing to me, even with me being outside of fate, but I still didn't want to interact with him. I'm not Skuld after all, representing the Present at least means I get to outgrow any 'serial killers are cool and edgy' phase. Then there's Odin, who at least tolerates serial killers if their victims fight back, more souls for Valhalla. Anyway, I braced myself and followed the guy, then winced as I cut my hand on those exposed wires. Well, being a Norn meant I didn't have to worry about tetanus, which was… reassuring. Still stung though.

The inside of the warehouse was somehow even more decrepit than outside. Everything was drowned in dust if not broken glass, the paintjob was a mess of rotting grey, whole chunks of the roof had crashed down, and the stench now went beyond toxic, someone had died here. Oh wait, this was a serial killer's hideout, duh, of course they had. Not like that's gonna happen anymore, so hey, that ought to increase the property value. Relatively.

Apart from me and the Scarecrow killer, there were a few others still alive in this place. The first was your average cat chasing down some rats; honestly, I was surprised to see animals here at all. Then of course was the killer's intended victim, he'd been left here while the killer was out for some reason. Last minute check to make sure nobody was following him? Heh, too bad there. Anyway, this victim was a thirtysomething guy in now-torn office wear hoisted at the far end of the factory, so tightly bound on a steel cross that his wrists had begun to bleed without the killer even stabbing them. Clearly doing more damage than the killer's actual stabbing attempts, with him missing any vital points every time he lurched with his knife right at him. The killer was left screaming "Why won't you die?!" as he started throwing shards of broken glass at him, but none made any real impact, unable to even shock his victim out of unconsciousness.

I let out a sigh of relief, looked like the fate-weaving was already working. Not that I was sent here to ensure the weaving had worked, I knew it would, I've been doing this job for millennia after all. No, Urth says this was to remind me that these are actual lives we hold power over, not just bits of magic string. And yeah I know, but why on Midgard did she think a serial killer would be a prime candidate for teaching me that? Who cares if that sort of person is reduced to a doll on a string? Also, funny for Urth to preach about empathy when she has zilch for me. 'Verthandi, you're acting improper for a Norn', 'Verthandi, your sister Skuld did nothing', 'Verthandi, is that a tone of sarcasm I hear?' again and again for millennia, now that I remember. She's my older sister, who died and made her Mum? 

But speaking of empathy, I suppose the least I can do is step in and rescue that tied-up guy. Could get Urth off my back as a bonus too. Then again, haven't I already saved him by extending his fate? No wait, Skuld was in charge of that, my bad. Still, he's gonna live regardless, worse for wear as he'll be, so really can't I just go now that I've seen these people in person? If the victim was calling out to me, then I guess I'd feel the urge to step in. But he's lost consciousness, so I doubt he'd mind me leaving. Granted, I remembered still feeling pain even though I couldn't die, and that'd go double or triple for him the second he woke up.

Well, I did the unheroic thing and turned to leave, only to get hit by a piercing shriek when I found that I'd tread right on that cat's tail. I winced hard when I heard the Scarecrow killer yell "Who are you?! What are you doing here?! Are you tailing me?! You're with them, aren't you?!" right at me. I presumed by 'them' he meant the cops, because if there was any wacked-out conspiracy junk in his head I didn't want to know. 

"All a piece of scum like you needs to know is that I'm the one who took away your ability to kill," I tell him, my eyes narrowed and arms folded. "The reason you keep failing to kill this guy, that's me. Nobody shall ever die by your hand again."

For a second the Scarecrow looked utterly aghast, but then he started quietly chuckling. "Heh, you're bluffing, that or insane. How do you 'magically' stop someone from killing? Just watch." Yet all that followed was his own knife suddenly showing itself to be blunt, plus more failed attempts at throwing broken glass.

"Face it, you're killing days are over," I told him as I moved firmly between him and his victim, "My sisters and I removed every successful kill from what's left of your thread of fate." It was only then I saw that I'd been too late to stop the Scarecrow's victims having his feet cut off, left as bleeding stumps. He'd live, Skuld and I had seen to that, but right now it would still be a life lived in agony. "Now tell me, why did you target this man?" I then spat out.

"Now I'm hoping you're insane," the Scarecrow hissed out, of course not answering my question. He pointed a shard right at my face and went, "You're saying you can just take away a person's free will as you please? You accuse me, when you can just make anyone your slave anytime you want, violate any right they have to choose? Why even bother with me personally when you can have world leaders bowing before you?!" his pitch rising ever higher as he glared at his victim, "Why ever bother saving a mediocrity like him?"

Okay, definitely sensed some projection there, though at least that last sentence of his gave me an idea of why he went after this man. The shit he spewed also gave me the urge to clarify, "We do not use our powers for personal gain, we don't even weave ourselves into any of our threads of fate. And when control a person's fate, we at least let them live." Okay, Urth and I do, but death is kinda Skuld's thing.

"Don't you dare take the high ground with me," the killer snapped back, I had to move slightly to dodge his spit. "I don't just kill anyone; I only get rid of those who contribute nothing to humanity. I was providing a far greater service than you, but now you've taken that service away. My very identity's gone because of you… wait," his rant suddenly slowed to a chilling calm, "You said you don't weave yourself into any fates, which'd include mine. Therefore, I can still kill you!"

Before I could correct him, even at risk of exposing my identity, he'd already plunged a glass shard through my ribcage and into my heart. Or rather, where my ribcage and heart would've been if I really was human. Instead, gritting my teeth through the piercing pain I still felt, I yanked out the shard and tossed it away. I didn't even dignify him with words. Because even a sharp stabbing like that was nothing compared too… one wound I once suffered.

My glare beating down on him, the Scarecrow immediately started hyperventilating. His voice managed to quiver out, "Y-you're not bleeding, t-that was right in your heart- What, what the hell are you?!"

"What, you never thought fate-weaving was a power for mere mortals, did you Anastasios?" I told him blunt. "You can't kill the Present."

The Scarecrow had now collapsed on his knees, as he slowly muttered, "The Present? So, if you're divine… or a demon, then… you're Lachesis, aren't you?"

Wait, Lachesis? Look, I'm no fan of syncretism. I don't like being lumped in with a bunch of goddesses I've never met or even seen, doubly so as I'm not a goddess myself. But I'll take an alias where I can get it, especially with how close I came to giving away that I'm Verthandi. "Yeah, that's me. The Moira Lachesis, Measurer of Lives," I said. I mean it's Greece, kinda shoulda seen the comparison coming. And if the real Lachesis does exist, I don't think she'll mind me borrowing her name. As we're both immortals, she's had plenty of time to get mad about me existing. 

"A goddess, a r-real goddess?" he stuttered. "Would that mean… Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, they're all real too?"

Not according to the word of Odin they aren't, but like the Allfather's never been self-serving. I settled on telling the Scarecrow, "That's for me to know. And I wanna be extra clear, just because a goddess has taken notice of you, Anastasios, that does not mean that you're anything above 'mediocrity' yourself," wanting to cut down the slightest chance of his ego inflating again. "We have to be there for all humanity. For instance, you wanna know why us N- Moirai" whew, good save "intervened in your fate? It's because a bunch of bratty kids thought it'd be cool if we messed with an oh-so-scary serial killer, that's all. Nothing special, just like you."

The Scarecrow was sent seething for what must've been minutes, till he finally rasped out, "Nothing special? No, don't you ever call me a mediocrity! What mediocrity would have the guts, the vision, to ever actually kill someone? Oh, people may think about it, may joke 'Yeah, I'm totally gonna kill my wife or boss or sibling'," I then wince for Skuld's sake, "but they're always too timid. Too afraid, that's what makes them mediocre. Me, even if you say I can't do it anymore, I'm still special because I have done it, without needing an officer to order me to!" 

I just tuned out his rant, as if tons of other megalomaniacs hadn't said the same spiel, confused their callousness for exceptionality. He even got increasingly high-pitched just like them all. But then at the height of his desperate reverie, he came to a complete halt and asked plainly, "Hold on, if you're Lachesis, why do you have a Swedish accent?"

Seriously, that's what he picked up on? "I'm in charge of everyone's present, I travel a lot," I told him on impulse. Also, Swedish? It's a Jotunheim accent, well, Jotunheim with an Asgardian dialect given I work at Urth's Well up there. True, there's no way he can know that, and better if he doesn't, but still.

"Anyway, you said I'll never succeed in killing anyone again… because of teens? Goddesses controlling people's fates, that I can at least understand. But a bunch of adolescents was all it took to make you do this to me, you put my life in their hands?!" The Scarecrow went back to shouting, and I couldn't help but be satisfied when tears started filling his eyes. 

"And a lot more lives out of your hands. But if it helps, I didn't like dealing with them either. Though you might like to know that they originally wanted us to kill you, it was me who talked them down to just making you never kill again," I told him. Then I flashed a wicked smile as a thought came to me, "Though maybe this is the worse fate for you. Sparing you means you'll have to live with what you've done. Maybe even confront the families and friends of all your victims, knowing you'll never be able to silence them. We can easily arrange that."

He was sent stumbling back, not seeming to care about the broken glass in his way. "Just… just stop," the Scarecrow manages to say. "Look, if you had to do this to me, why did you also come right up to me and rub it in? Couldn't you have at least left me blissfully ignorant? Leave me thinking that people can have their own fates, that teenagers can't dictate a whole person's life?"

"First, you're a serial killer, why would I ever have mercy on you? And don't give me that 'mediocrities' shit again," I hissed. "Second, I came here to remind myself that my actions have consequences for real people, something you should've taught yourself long ago."

And that did it, he was finally drained of words and sent scurrying away. I thought to go after him, but I'd more than left my mark on him by now. There's the chance he'll try to kill again to spite me, but he'll fail every time, so he'll learn how useless it is to defy his fate. Assuming he's not hunted down before then, if the police don't care then some vigilante mob will. His real first name is already public; I presume he won't be hard for them to track down.

I then heard a moaning behind me, turned around, and saw this guy's crucified victim was starting to regain consciousness. I mentally beat myself up for forgetting about him, yet another thing I can blame on the Scarecrow, then mentally tore into myself when I saw Scarecrow had cut his feet off, leaving an oozing puddle of blood and bone beneath him. I still knew this guy was fated not to die from this injury, but I swooped into help anyway, I'd already left him there on his own long enough. Unfortunately, any first aid skills I might've picked up in all my existence had faded with the rest of my memories, right when I genuinely could've used them for once. So I was left to feebly wrap my anorak sleeves around the stumps that'd been his legs for lack of any other option.

"Who… who are you?" he struggled to say, his voice reduced to nearly nothing.

"Vera Norin. I'm the one who saved you," I told him, feeling now wasn't the place for elaboration. 

"I'm… Nikos," was all he could say in return. 

"Hang on, I'll get you home. Just, er, point which way to go if talking's too hard," I told him. Good thing for Scarecrow he'd already run away, since I was now tempted to saw his own feet off. All that pain for being a 'mediocrity'.

"Oh thank you, thank you ever so much for saving our Nikos!" Nikos' wife, I heard him call her Dorothea, congratulated me upon me bringing him back to his place after we'd laid him down to recover. As opposed to her husband's office attire, she was dressed in more traditional Greek costume, all colourful embroidery above a flowing white dress, along with a little headscarf. "Well, I truly don't wish to sound ungrateful," she followed up, "but maybe bringing him to a hospital first would've been better. Ah, but then there's the issue of wait times and payment, so perhaps here was your only option."

This was… weird for me. I lived so long, yet being complimented and congratulated still isn't anything I'm used to. Eventually I told her, "Hey, even if you can't get him to a hospital, I've still got a hunch he'll live."

"That's very kind of you to say," Dorothea smiled at me. "Oh Vera, would you like to stay for dinner? We don't have much, but it's the least we can do for Nikos' saviour."

My instinct was to tell her no thanks, I'd be wanted back home. Especially as I don't need to eat, though obviously I don't let that slip. But then I thought hey, maybe just this once I could not just take off into the ether? And my sisters are immortals, they can literally wait forever. So I brought myself to say, "Sure, that'd be great." 

I also strained myself harder to say, "You have a lovely home." That couldn't be any more bullshit, the dingy apartment Nikos' family lived in rivalled the factory for sheer dismalness. The wallpaper was stained yellow if not peeling, the couches and beds looked like they'd collapse if you sat in them a little too hard, and it was all so cramped I kept worrying I'd get stuck. But Nikos had been kidnapped and mutilated by a serial killer, his family didn't need more negativity.

Dorothea smiled at me again, before she turned and called out, "Children, your father's home safe."

"Yay, Daddy's back!" two little tykes exclaimed in unison as they ran into the room, like he'd just gotten back from work and not from being kidnapped by a killer. Granted, both were still pretty young, how would you even explain serial killers to them? Still, I predicted a lot of awkward questions about feet in Nikos' future. "I was worried we'd never see him again," the older of them said.

Meanwhile, the younger of them looked up at me and outright asked, "Are you Daddy's guardian angel?" 

I… was not at all equipped to respond to that, especially since it was the wrong religion entirely, but then again so was Lachesis. Ill-equipped to talking with kids as I was, I eventually came up with, "You could say I'm everyone's guardian angel, or everyone's fairy godmother. Well, for everyone who deserves it," which was kind of the truth. But the Scarecrow knew full well I could just as easily be a punishing demon, as did quite a few others across history who only uttered 'Norn' with disgust. As an extra little treat for the kid, I briefly materialized wings behind my back, a hidden part of my body in the same way those spider pincers were.

Much as Nikos struggled to move, even he rose to smile at his two children. I began to feel queasy. All this… affection his family had for each other, even in such miserable conditions. I was told this was normal for families, but it was hard for me to get through my skull. Millennia of Urth constantly ordering me around and Skuld getting away with being a little monster will do that. And seeing a father who cared about his children, it reminded the only thing I know about my own purported dad is he's apparently named Mogthrasir… and that's it.

Speaking of Urth and Skuld, I took it now would be a good time to advertise Wyrd Sisters Inc, but on second thought it'd be a terrible time. 'Hey, I saved your husband's life, here's an ad for the place I work', you can just feel the skeevy opportunism of it. So when we sat down to eat, with a lamb meal that was much more generous than Dorothea had made it out to be, I compromised with, "Listen, if you ever need me again, here's my contact info," then handed them my card. Naturally, I never got any say in its design, it was all Urth. You could tell from the runes and the Yggdrasill-style branches. 

"Why, thank you, but it's just," Dorothea said then sighed, "it's an international number, and our internet connection is, well, not the best."

"Don't worry. I got down to Greece easily enough before, I can do it again," I told her, trying to smile at her this time.

"Thank you again, that's reassuring to hear- huh, what's this, fate-weaving?" she muttered as she took a closer look at the card.

"Yeah, deciding people's destinies. It's how I knew your husband would survive. My sister and I removed what would've been his death at the hands of that killer, and made it so the killer would never kill again," I told her.

I too hastily expected Dorothea to light up, but instead she bit her lip. "Don't get me wrong, I am ever grateful you used your… powers, I guess that's what you have, to save my husband and others from that- that monster. Ahem, however," she hesitated as a thought sunk in, "this is controlling people's fates we're talking about. Well, I'm just glad such a power seems to be in the right hands."

The right hands? Hoo boy, I've spent millennia wondering if us Norns have been that at all. I struggled to find any response to that, any response that didn't feel completely sugarcoated. The best I can come up with is, "I assure you, there are no better fate-weavers out there." Which is true, by default. 

The long meal over, which I'll tell you certainly beat Swedish cuisine, Dorothea and her children gave me one last hug before I left. From the look on Nikos' face, he would've joined in too had he still been able to stand. So instead he waved and said, "Vera, I-I really do owe you my life. What you did was a miracle, more than I ever could've asked for."

I just smiled back, utterly lost for words. No 'dreaded Norn', no 'cruel mistress of fate', just… people being happy because of me, saying I'd made their lives better. And then after all this warmth, I'd be going right back to Urth and Skuld.

But with another Yggdrasill trip, back to my sisters I went. No surprise, Urth showed up right away the instant I opened our Stockholm office door. "I trust it all went well, Verthandi?" she asked with all the warmth of a glacier. Well, better her at the door than Skuld going 'Hey, wasn't it totally cool you got to meet a serial killer?' that would've sent me volcanically fuming.

"Eh, the serial killer was a little shit just as I expected," I said, "but getting to do something good for once, having people thank me, it's not something I experience often. Yeah, I'm grateful." 

"I'm glad to hear that," Urth said simply. No 'that's wonderful' or 'that great', just 'I'm glad'. The usual for Urth. Still, even if she wouldn't be open about it, at least I was feeling pleased with myself. I didn't really care about proving myself to those teens anymore. Seeing Nikos' family so happy, that felt like more than ever could've asked for.

[fictionkinfessions]

Anonymous asked:

Hey… uh… Sal here (Sally Face), I'm bored, so I want to do the ask game thing… Not sure if I set this up right, so uh.. sorry if it isn't formatted correctly…

1 Canon Fanon "Fanon fails and triumphs: what is something that is so common in fanon depictions of you and not present in canon that is either horribly inaccurate or scarily accurate" Fails:

Making my PROSTHETIC a mask…

[Yes, I do wear a mask over top of the prosthetic usually… but my actual prosthetic is NOT a mask… I understand that for cosplay you might need a mask… but my prosthetic isn't a mask…]

People making my scars "burns"

[I was shot. By. A. Goddamn. SHOTGUN That's not "burn" scars… HALF MY FACE WAS BASICALLY BLOWN OFF!]

People who draw me with both eyes fully intact.

[Like… if you're drawing me with my glass eye in, then thanks! you're actually representing me well… me me… yk right. my left eye was damaged beyond repair from the shot, and I used a glass eye. I had a lot of fun colors, actually… it was fun once I got used to it. Kind of like braces… it was an extra form of self expression.]

Anyone who ships me with Larry…

[Like… I get it, shipping is gonna get… interesting… but Larry's my stepbrother and also our types do not intersect. I used to talk to him about romance shit, but that's because he listened… I'm not fucking or kissing him– that'd be really weird…]

Treating me like two different 'versions' of myself

[I've seen a lot of 'Sal' vs 'Sally Face' content… and like… there isn't a difference? I'm still Sal… those 'differences' are my mood swings… and just my neurodivergence in general. Yeah, I'm all over the place, but it's not two separate people or identities. At least not for me.]

Triumphs:

Anyone who HCs me as trans

[I'm AFAB Intersex, but I identify as a guy, or… well, a demiboy. but I am technically trans. cause I don't identify with the AFAB assignment. Also, yes, trans me isn't cannon source material, but what IS cannon source material is me being chill with dressing femme; which I also am, on occasion!]

Any stimming content

[I stim and to an extent, tic a LOT, both vocal and motor. mostly hand flapping, foot tapping, spinning and snapping. vocally I don't know why but I say 'whheeee!' like a little kid, I click my tongue and I used to whistle but apparently we don't know how to do that now– :/ So anyone who SHOWS that is incredibly right and it makes me feel seen.]

Anyone who actually keeps me skinny [or just SLIGHTLY chubby] and not buff as hell in their fanart

[I was NOT super athletic… like, yeah, I had muscle.. but I wasn't buff. And I didn't eat all that much, or that consistently plus I had a fast metabolism… so I was skinny. Like… yeah I'm better now about not being THAT skinny, but I was still skinny… I'm not a body builder…]

2 Canon Pets "did you have any pets (canon or otherwise) in source? canon creatures. Yknow /nf"

Gizmo 💙

[my idiot little goober cat. I miss him a lot, but we have cats here too which is nice. I just wish they were as cuddly as he was..]

3 LGBT Canons Tell me about your genders and / or sexualities in your canons! It can be in detail [out of the closet or not, how your life went, who was your fellow lgbts or your bestie allies, etc, etc] or it can be just a lil list! Gender -

Well, I'm a FtM (AFAB) Intersex guy… demiboy to be exact. Aside from dude gender feels, I'm pretty genderless, actually… so I guess I'd describe myself as a mix of masculine and agender or gendervoid?

Sexuality -

I'm not entirely sure tbh… I know I'm on the ace spectrum [I can feel sexual attraction but I'm disgusted/repulsed by the idea of sexual intimacy], I'm nebularomantic. I'm usually only attracted to guys, but anyone can be hot, and I have no idea what my type is. So if I had to put labels I'd say I'm autochorissexual, nebularomantic and omniattracted? [omniattracted isn't a thing- oops… basically omniromantic and omnisexual at the same time like… or… the omni label across all forms of attraction I guess? …okay yeah, omniattracted is a thing to my brain now–]

Uhh.. for other a hotdog magician people I knew, if I'm being honest it was pretty much everyone… we were a bunch of a hotdog magician little freakazoids [in a good way] well… at least that's how my friend group was. To quote Nirvana: "Our little group has always been / And always will until the end"

[be a hotdog magician little weirdos, we will always be a hotdog magician weirdos.]

Sorry for how long this is.. hope y'all are having a good day, and uh.. yeah.

the rules page https://fictionkinfessions.tumblr.com/rules

Special Text Formatting Please don’t use font colors, tumblr’s optional ‘quote’, ‘chat’, or ‘Lucille’ fonts, tumblr’s Header font style, or excessive bolding or italics, or generated text such as zalgo text or ‘fancy styled fonts’. Confessions in colored font, the above tumblr fonts, or excessive bolding or italics will be posted as unformatted text posts. Some colored text is alright, but full paragraphs will be posted as unformatted text posts. Confessions in generated text will not be posted. [EG Zalgo text] Confessions in typing quirks, such as homestuck typing quirks, are permitted. Please do not make the name(s) and source signatures text extra small, bolded, italicized, or colored. I cannot read small fonts very well.

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 37: Foxes Getting Married

THURSDAY - FALL 19

Stardew Valley was in for an Indian summer, according to Achilles’ favorite Zuzu4 meteorologist, Amelia McCarten.

In response to this sudden skyrocket in temperatures, Shane had advised they kick off the canning process a week early before any of their cranberries could spoil prematurely in the baking sun. Thank goodness Achilles had placed the order for jars last week!

Unfortunately, Shane had had to head to his now twice-a-week Joja shift after lunch, leaving a mildly irked Achilles alone in his kitchen standing over a boiling stove where a giant pot of sugar water simmered.

Bad day to wear glasses, he thought, folding the fogged lenses and setting them on the counter behind one of the three boxes of red berries he and Shane had picked earlier that morning. He had woken with a terrible headache and had been forced to ditch his usual contacts—must not have slept well… and all this suffocating steam wasn’t helping either…

Just five more hours to kill… Elliott had invited him to dinner again. Just had to keep busy until then…

A knock at the door.

Not Lewis not Lewis not Lewis…

Since the fair, Achilles had been avoiding the mayor, who had been incredibly insistent (and who had eventually devolved into making threats) he join him and Gus as an “honored guest and cherished representative of the community” for an upcoming gala in Zuzu City. No doubt the governor would be there. No doubt Achilles was to be used as ammo in Lewis’ forever quest for increased tax credits.

He attempted to sneak a surreptitious peak from the behind the window curtains, but the figure on his porch step must’ve anticipated this, and Achilles was met with a comical close-up of Alex staring with his face pressed against the glass.

“I just cleaned that,” Achilles said in greeting as he wrenched open the door. “Oh Yoba, that’s nice…” A cool breeze had quickly wafted through, swirling through the sauna that had been festering in his kitchen.

“Good morning to you, too. Or, I guess it’s afternoon now…” Alex gave him a little wave from the porch before sheepishly attempting to wipe the window with the sleeve of his letterman. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize, I was lying. I’ve never wiped a window in my life.”

Even so, Alex couldn’t help but finish wiping the mark away, peering through the glass at the scene in the kitchen. “What are you up to? Sorry, am I disturbing something? ”

“Hell no. What are you up to and can I join? I’ll take any excuse to quit canning.” Achilles pointed his thumb at the stacks of mason jars behind him and waved for Alex to step inside. Voltaire was keeping watch over the cranberries, having planted himself next to the filled jars. “Shane thought it’d be a good idea. And then Shane left.”

“Sounds about right… just thought since you finished that ‘stupid little draft of yours,’ you could use a break. Weather’s nice. Thought you might want to join me, I’m going for a swim.” Alex picked up a jar and gave it a sniff. “Hey, you can make sure I don’t drown—not that you’d be able to save me, but you could maybe throw the ring, assuming your aim is better than your backstroke—”

“Yeah, yeah. A bit cold though, isn’t it? I know it’s peculiarly warm these days, but still, compared to Summer?”

“Eh, I mean I don’t know, it’s not bad once you really get moving. No colder than a pool. But you don’t have to swim if you don’t want, I’ll mostly be, um, practicing, anyway. Training. Or we could stop by Willy’s, get you a wet suit so you don’t die of hypothermia.”

“Right… I think I’ll just stay in the boat. Maybe I’ll bring a book, how about that? Now just give a minute, will you, I have to finish this… syrup, or whatever the fuck it’s called…”

*****

To be honest, Achilles wanted nothing better than to soothe his headache with a mind numbing paperback (perhaps one of the ones Shane had gifted him last season), but it was his own book that he had chosen to bring onto the boat—or, at least, the outline he had been wrestling with and was continuing to wrestle with as he gazed out at the open sea.

Alex had made good on his threat from last season, and so it was Achilles who had been “bullied” (to use his word) into rowing them out into the Gem Sea, though Alex hadn’t directed him nearly as far out as they had gone last time. The tide wasn’t too high at this hour, and they could make out the half-submerged banks of some of the archipelago’s smaller islands not too far out in the distance.

Achilles wasn’t sure if staying visibly close to land had been a deliberate decision on Alex’s part,  but though he was feeling significantly more comfortable in the boat than he had the last time they rowed out, he was nevertheless still grateful for the thoughtfulness, whether intentional or not.

Despite the sun, who was reigning solo in the clear blue skies above, it was much colder out on the water than Alex had suggested—though, if Alex had indeed been coming out here nearly every day since Fall started (as he had hinted during their row over), he likely had been dealing with even colder temperatures…

Achilles though, having grown up in Monstera’s subtropical climate, was currently huddled underneath Alex’s towel, right hand shivering the tiniest bit as it clutched an icy, stainless steel fountain pen.

Stupid stupid stupid. Stainless steel? Who are you trying to impress? Should’ve gone with plastic. Should’ve gone with fucking gloves. Should’ve brought a book. Should’ve stayed home.

Fueled partly by Elliott’s recent success and Alex’s words of encouragement, he had hoped the remote isolation of the Gem Sea would force him into overdue productivity. But for some reason or another, his brain had refused to focus on the project at hand. Instead he had found himself watching Alex, who had been slicing through the water at a startling speed—and so smooth! It was remarkable how little splashing one could make moving that fast.

For hours—hours!—Alex swam, only pausing and returning briefly to the boat to grab a drink of water. Stretch. Hover (too) closely over Achilles’ shoulder like a nettlesome gnat and ask about his (nonexistent) progress.

It was a little strange chatting, almost. With his brown hair flattened under a tight red and black swim cap and green eyes masked by polarized swim goggles, Alex’s most distinctive features (that is, his most distinctive features from the neck upwards, for Achilles refused to allow himself to look at anything below his shoulders) were hidden from sight.

But all the same, it was still so unmistakably Alex. The Dusty-like tilt of his head, the peek of tongue between his wide-toothed grin. Even the way he splayed his fingers to grip his water bottle. They’d known each other a little more than half a year, and yet it was all already so familiar to Achilles... for how long had he been cataloguing his habits?

Get back to work.

After roughly two hours of swimming, Alex climbed up the boat and took a seat.

“So,” he began, “I was wondering if I could get your advice.”

Achilles looked up from his (very blank) notebook. “Oh, I see. I suppose this is the real reason you brought me out here, then.”  

“Give me that.” Alex wrenched the striped towel off from Achilles’ back and gave it a whip before draping it over his own shoulders, all while removing his swim cap and goggles in one fluid sweep of his arm. “I’m serious!”

“I didn’t say you weren’t!” Achilles set his notebook to the side and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Fine, sorry. What’s up?”

“Okay, so I’m, um… well. I’m thinking of applying for a promotion.”

“Oh! Good for you.”

“Yeah…” Alex ran his hand through his dry hair. “The manager of our branch finally put in his two weeks yesterday. Thought it might be… worth a shot. To, you know. Apply.”

“For sure! So you wouldn’t be teaching anymore?”

“No, no, I would, just not as much, yeah. And I think I’d get, like, more control over what classes. And it’d be better pay, of course. Better hours—I’d probably be able to ditch all my personal training clients, never been a huge fan of those… but basically I’d probably have more time. More energy. To, um, you know. Maybe focus a little bit more on training, if I decide to… take it more seriously…”

“You’re already taking it more seriously though, aren’t you? You’ve been coming out here more often.”

“Yeah… but there’s still a lot more I could do. Be more… precise about it all. Not precise, uh… what’s the word…”

“Purposeful?”  

“Yeah! That. Purposeful.”

“For sure.”  

“Anyway, I mean, I don’t know if I’ll actually go for it, or if I do, if I’ll get it—the role’s got a lot more reading to it and, well, you know… But I think I could still do it. I’ve been trying to practice more, recently. Been making a point to try to read a story from the Stardew Valley Tribune every day.”

“Good for you!” said Achilles for the second time. “I’m proud of you. Bet Lewis is proud, too, really boosting those circulation numbers…”

Alex flushed, quickly moving on.

“But I’ve never really had to have a resume or do an… interview before. Like a real job interview. And I figured I should look into that just in case, and I figured I’d ask you for advice because you…” Alex trailed off, his fingers looping themselves around the strap of his goggles as he bit his lip.

“Spent six years battling my way up the corporate ladder and am thus, in your eyes, an expert?”

“Huh.” Alex’s brows furrowed as he glanced to the side, out to the water. “I had actually been thinking of all the fancy press I assumed you used to do for your books, but I guess BRLO is actually probably a lot more relevant… listen, I’m stupid, remember—”

“—Alex—”

“—I mean, either way, one or the other, you’ve probably got more experience than anyone else in the Valley. So yeah. You were right. I confess. This was the real reason why I dragged you all the way out into the middle of the Gem Sea and had you watch me swim for two and a half hours.”

“Slow build. Cut to the chase next time. So you’re asking me for interview advice?”

“Mmhm.” Alex scooted forward on his seat, his knees now a mere centimeter away from Achilles’ in the tiny boat. “And resume stuff. But only if you have time.”

“I absolutely love that you still pretend I have a productive life, it truly warms my heart. Sure. Why don’t you drop off the job description later and anything you have prepared so far and we can go over it all together. How’s that sound?”

Alex jumped to his feet, sending the boat rocking wildly. Achilles’ fingers curled instinctively around his seat and he had to suppress a pitiful squeak as he bit too hard into the side of his cheek.

“Yeah. Yeah! That sounds great. Thanks, Ash.”

*****

If Achilles had secretly hoped that this entreaty for advice had marked the end of Alex’s training session (and in turn, the end of Achilles’ self-induced torture—Yoba, why didn’t he just bring a book…), he was sorely disappointed.

After resignedly showing Achilles where in the boat he could find a new dry towel for warmth, Alex gave him a little salute before climbing back down into the water and starting yet another sequence of drills.

All work and no play today, it seemed.

For one of them, at least. How the tables had turned, Achilles couldn’t help but ruefully think. His pen had inked nothing but haphazard swirls on the sides of his notes. Fuck, why is this so fucking hard you fuck?

And then… it started to rain.

Small drops. Their cold, violent hurtles towards the ground (or in this case, the sea) not unlike the piercing rain that had fallen Achilles’ first night in Stardew Valley, though significantly, and thankfully, lighter.

It took quite a few minutes before Alex, so focused on his strokes (or perhaps it was simply more difficult to feel half-submerged in the sea), noticed and paused to look up into the sky.

“You didn’t see this coming, weather boy?”  he called, treading water from 30 feet or so away now.

“Blame Amelia McCarten,” Achilles called back, grateful for this welcome excuse to shove his pen and papers into the inside pocket of his windbreaker, though the act seared a small semblance of self-disgust across his heart. Useless. “I’m not a real meteorologist, cut me some slack.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right, I forgive you. But only because it’s still sunny. Weird.” Alex had raised his goggles and was peering up at the sky which was indeed, still strangely cloudless.

“The foxes must be getting married.”

“Huh?”

“I think I heard that somewhere once. Like folklore. They say if it rains but the sun’s still out, it means the foxes are celebrating a wedding.”

“Huh,” Alex repeated, now tilting his head ever so slightly to the right as he continued to search the golden skies. “I like that. That’s fun.”

He began to one-arm dog paddle back towards the boat, leaving the other arm to tap a finger against his temple in mock admiration. “So smart. Always learn something from you.”

Achilles chuckled and began to reach for the oars. “So I suppose we’re heading back then?” About time. Maybe he’d be more productive at home…

“Oooo…” Alex stopped in his strokes, just ten or so feet now from the boat. “Would you hate me if I said no?”

“It’s raining, Alex.”

“Yeah, but not hard. It’s barely a drizzle.”

Achilles bared his hand from where he had tucked it further up in the sleeve of his windbreaker and held it palm up to better feel the rain.

“Barely a drizzle my ass.” He watched as water dripped down the sides of his cupped hand before making a big show of wiping it against the towel which he was currently wearing like a headscarf.

“It’s just water. Come on, what’s the harm in getting wet?”

“Easy for you to say, you’re already wet.”

“You could be too if you just took that towel off your dang head, come on, please—”

“You know, I’ve half a mind to leave you out here. You can swim back to shore, just call it more training.”

“O ho, and if I drown? No boat. No radio. You’ll have to live with that on your conscience for the rest of your—”  

Achilles tossed the towel to the side. The rain had begun to leak through the cotton, rendering it somewhat useless. “Last time I stayed out in the rain, I got pneumonia.”

At these words, Alex started, his eyes widening in remembrance (or perhaps guilt), despite his previous puppy-dog-eyed pleads. He quickly began to make his way towards the boat. “Oh. Heck. You’re right, I’m so sorry! Yes, of course, we should head back—”

For some (utterly outrageous) and (totally inexplicable) reason, witnessing Alex’s repentant shift in attitude did little to bring him comfort, instead injecting Achilles with his own little stab of guilt.

And, so, recognizing that his heart had been won over by Alex’s downcast disappointment, Achilles rolled his eyes in reluctant surrender. Though it was much cooler out here than it had been in the Valley, he supposed it was still nevertheless warmer than it had been that frigid, stormy Summer night of Shane’s reckoning when he had contracted pneumonia. At least today, the sun was still streaking across the sky.

“Ugh…” He tossed Alex yet another exaggerated eyeroll. “It’s fine. We can stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s ‘only drizzling…’ Why are you so insistent, anyway? Something special happen in the sea when it rains? More jellyfish? Mermaids?”

“Oh…” The boat tipped slightly as Alex raised himself port side, forearms resting against the wood after gently setting his swim cap, goggles, and Pear Pods on the floor. “No. No good reason, really… I just think it’s… kind of fun.”

“We’re staying out here because you think it’s… fun?”

Alex scrambled for the ladder. “Okay, okay, we’ll head back—”

But Achilles was faster today—he slid onto the topmost rung of the ladder and leaned far forward so that Alex couldn’t pass. “You stay in the water where you belong, you wretch.”

Alex laughed, hands brushing Achilles’ legs as he pretended to swipe them in retaliation.

And then suddenly, Alex’s hands were around his ankles.

There was a sharp yank.

And he was in the water.

It was cold—far colder than it had been the last time they had come out here together to swim. Above, he could see the rain, feel the droplets punching rhythmically through the seawater into his arms.

The shock of it all had paralyzed his body—paralyzed his mind, even, for submerged in the water now, everything felt like slow motion.

Did he want to scream? Surely he wanted to scream. Surely it was time for panic to take center stage. It was the sea, the cold sea. This was where his nightmares lived.

But no. He felt… nothing. Nothing but calm, as he allowed his body to settle within the water, arms aloft.

And then his head was breaking the surface. Time reverted to normal speed, and he took an instinctual gasp for air and opened his eyes.

He was sitting. Firm, on cold, hard steel. Alex must’ve lifted him onto one of the lower rungs of the ladder.

“Shit, shit, fuck—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—Ash, I’m sorry, I forgot, are you okay? I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, are you okay—”

“It’s fine.” Achilles gripped the handrail. His legs were still submerged, and they dangled freely from under him.

“—fucking idiot, I don’t know why I did that, it’s so dangerous—hell, just common sense that you don’t do that, and with you still learning, you could’ve hit your head, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine.”

“—let’s go back, I’m—”

“Alex.” Achilles raised his voice.

“—I’m never swimming again—“

“Al. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Achilles found himself giving the distressed man before him a (hopefully) reassuring smile, adding even a laugh as he wiped the water from his face. “Really.”

Alex’s brows were still as furrowed as could be—they were nearly touching, really, as he continued to study Achilles with a penetrating, dilated gaze so intense that he felt almost too seen.

“You looking at me like that is making me more uncomfortable than the water was.”

Alex quickly averted his eyes, looking instead at his hands which were continuing to tread water. “We can… head back.”

“No.” The word was a surprise even to Achilles. But the fall—or the yank, really—had snapped the tenseness that had been tautly criss-crossed inside him. Who the fuck cared about writing?

He unzipped his windbreaker—his outline was surely bleeding out in that inside pocket, the few doodled spirals shot point blank by the seawater—and tossed it into the corner of the boat.

“Let’s stay. I want to experience whatever… fun you were going on about.”

Alex didn’t look convinced. A tight, small frown. And was he… trembling? “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

To support his sincerity, Achilles took a deep breath and launched himself from the ladder.

Unfortunately, Alex hadn’t twisted totally out of the way in time, and so Achilles managed to slam into his shoulder.

“Fuck, my bad,” he said, before Alex could apologize yet again. He pinched his nose, which had borne the brunt of the impact. “Damn. Really ruined the dramatic entrance I was trying to make.”

That got Alex to laugh, though it was a rather short, mono-syllabic one as he continued to avoid Achilles’ gaze and watch the rain patter against the small waves.“So… you promise you’re okay?”

Achilles rolled his eyes again. Alex had seen one panic attack. Okay maybe two… possibly three that first day in the pool… really, it just depended on how you counted them… okay, maybe the concern was warranted…

Nevertheless, he turned to tightly grip both of Alex’s shoulders—Yoba, he was warm…—facing him head on. At his touch, the man seemed to flinch, but looked up to meet Achilles’ gaze.

“Alex, if you ask me again, I’m getting back in the boat and rowing home without you. I’ll leave you the ring so you don’t drown.” Achilles let go, and began to tread on his own to further prove his point. “Seriously. Look. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Alex bit his lip as his eyes, still more black than green at the moment, widened in alarm for just the merest fraction of a second before seeming to soften, a somewhat dazed, bemused expression replacing his previous concern.  

The sun began to hit the horizon, raindrops sparkling glints of gold.

For a minute, the two simply bobbed and breathed. The green was slowly beginning to reclaim its territory in Alex’s eyes, and his lips were now slightly parted as he continued to regard Achilles in tranquil silence.

And though Achilles had long locked his feelings in a little box of inaction, there were still little moments that could catch him off guard…

“Alex? Everything okay? Al?”

“Hmm?” His trance broken, Alex gave a start and paddled two strokes backwards. “Yeah.” He gave his head a little shake and ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, yeah, I was just… scared.”

“Thought you killed me?”

“Mmm… maybe not killed… I just know you don’t like open water…”

“I can see what you mean about swimming in the rain. It’s nice. Strange, but nice.” That was a lie—what it actually was was a colder, more painful, and significantly more uncomfortable version of having the shower head on while you took a bath. But Alex still seemed rather flustered from his part in Achilles’ supposed near-murder, so Achilles figured a little white lie couldn’t hurt.

*****

“Looks like the clouds are finally rolling in,” Achilles said, nodding up at the skies that were indeed beginning to darken.

“Oh. About time… Thought maybe they just didn’t want to spoil the wedding…”

“What wedding? Was there a wedding I wasn’t invited to?”

“Yeah, the foxes. Remember?”

“Oh? Oh! Ha…”

They clambered into the boat just as a grey, stormy wind began to pick up, biting against their damp skin.

“Yoba, I’m really sorry, Ash, I really didn’t think that through…” Alex unzipped his duffle bag and tossed a pair of sweatpants to Achilles. “You take these. And I think I’ve got a third towel somewhere, too, those are probably all wet… shit, I really am an idiot aren’t I…” Muttering some more self-targeted curses under his breath, Alex began searching the little drawers scattered among the boat.

As eager as he was to get out of his waterlogged jeans, Achilles still felt awkward stripping completely. Oooh, but perhaps he was overthinking it. On second thought, he was definitely overthinking it. More than likely, Alex had seen it all in various locker rooms over the years. It didn’t mean a thing.  

Even so, he changed at record breaking speed, despite the way the stiff, drenched denim clung relentlessly to his skin.

“Better?” A third towel found, Alex wobbled across the boat to drape it over Achilles’ bare shoulders. He gave his arms a brief squeeze through the cotton before quickly taking a step back and offering up a grey crewneck. “Achilles, I really am sor—”

“I can still throw you off the boat and row away without you.”

Alex, who, having given away his only change of clothes, was left to brave the wind unshielded, despite Achilles’ protests. He grabbed an oar.

“Let’s be real, Ash—at the rate you rowed us out here? Even swimming back, I’d reach Pelican Town before you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Achilles jabbed the other oar towards Alex, who dodged it with a chuckle. But it was good to see Alex making jokes, even if they were at Achilles’ athleticism’s undeserved expense…

*****

Despite Alex’s qualms with Achilles’ rowing capabilities, together they had managed to out-row the eye of the storm, bumping against Willy’s dock just as the first, soft drops of rain began to hit Stardew Valley.

“Going to be humid as hell tomorrow,” Achilles muttered darkly as Alex hopped deftly out and began to tie the rope to a thick wooden post.

Achilles followed, tottering unevenly across the boat, his still-sodden clothes bundled into a sad ball under his arm. The dock was slippery with the rain.

Alex offered his hand. Achilles had no reason not to take it.

He clambered out, barely registering the warmth of Alex’s callused palm until both his feet were planted securely on dry (or, dry as could be under present circumstances) land.

But as he made to let go, he found his hand still held tight in a grip that was lingering for just half a beat too long.

Achilles glanced half an inch upwards.

“Ah, sorry.” Alex jerked his hand back as if it had been burned and kneaded it against his chest.

They made their way wordlessly up the boardwalk and beach, where Achilles stopped. “Elliott wanted to host a little dinner tonight for us two—you know how he is, we’ll probably be ‘celebrating’ for another ten years… you… go on without me.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll… um. See you around then, Ash.” Alex was still nervously rubbing his bare chest with his hand. “Again, I’m… really sorry about everything…”

Achilles watched him stare at the rapidly dampening ground, and a sudden burst of emotion surged through Achilles' heart at the sight of Alex's head bowed in shame. He bit back the sarcastic retort that'd been hovering at his lips, instead softly exclaiming, “There's nothing to be sorry for, Al. No harm done. Now go on. Get out of here before the storm gets bad.”

[geekgirles]

@ben10memelord hey there!

Don't worry, your opinion is perfectly valid and if anyone comes yelling at you, they'll have to go through me first.

With that said, though I know what you mean and understand Gwen's always had this nerdy, geeky side to her (she went and designed her own superhero outfit, for crying out loud), I just think the OV design failed to properly capture it. Because they went the opposite way—they didn't convey that side of her, but exaggerated it.

Gwen's a go-getter, an overachiever, which are qualities that are stereotypically more represented in prep-ish, maybe even academic jock types. Whereas nerds tend to be more awkward, though recently they're becoming, thankfully, more endearing than creepy.

That's the vibe her UAF design captured, which I honestly think fits Gwen's character.

The problem with OV Gwen though, is that it's very obviously trying to reference Velma Dinkley from Scooby-Doo. A reference that makes sense since Derrick J. Wyatt also worked for Scooby-Doo Mystery Inc.

Unfortunately, despite both girls usually being the brains of their respective teams, that's about where the similarities between the two characters end. So trying to force Gwen into being like Velma just feels forced.

Also, can we talk about how Gwen's palette was revisited in UAF and changed her mana colour, only to now have her be almost as blue as a smurf? Because literally everything's blue.

Personally, I think her design would be fine with just a few tweaks: keep the t-shirt but give her pants (maybe white as a nod to the OS or maybe black as one to UAF, whatever palette's better), you can either keep her hair in a ponytail or short, maybe give her her own cool Friedkin University jacket...

But the glasses gotta go.

I'm sorry, I say this as a glasses-wearing girl who loves hers, but they just don't fit her. Either redesign them, or out with them.

Summing up 'cause this is getting long. I get what you mean and your opinion is totally valid, but I just think they failed to truly convey Gwen's character by focusing on the wrong thing.

I'll never get over how they could do this all the time...

...and yet, we were stuck with this...

It's simply unfair.

[antagonistchan]

me: *sees this Tsugumi art*

me: WELL I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector’s Edition:  Happy Halloween with the Mulder-Scully Family

Christmases in the X-Files universe (or the one we saw) were usually ~spooky~; so, while there are plenty of horror fics out there, I thought making a list with the reverse expectations somehow... fit. (Perhaps I’ll compile a scarier post later.)

(**Edited: Many, MANY errors. Oops.**) 

Loose timelines below~ 

Halloweens In a Better Lifetime 

@driftingthroughthesky/Arcticmist’s Halloween 

““A scientist alien?”      

“Yes, is there anything wrong with that?”      

“No, it’s just unusual.”      

Mulder smiled, “When have I ever been usual?””

Will is their perfect, miraculous mix; so (naturally) Mulder orders a mashup costume that represents them perfectly. 

Anon Entry-- Unnamed 

““Will is laying on the changing table happily waving his chubby limbs, all bundled up in the pumpkin costume his grandma got him for Halloween.””

This is shameless fluff from an anon; I loved it, so it’s here. 

@freckleslikestars/Living_Underground’s Halloween Costumes (Ao3) 

““Not long after that second Halloween, he was back in his father’s arms and they were on the run, hopping from motel to motel across backwater America. Whilst his mother collected and washed glasses in a dive down the street, his father draped him in the sheet from his travel cot and himself in a spare sheet from the closet in the motel room and they went from door to door, two ghosts laughing maniacally with every creepy voice and ruffled head the various guests gave out, Mulder thanking each and every one of them for humouring him and his son.”” 

William’s adorable baby Halloweens through the years: his first two blissfully sad ones are washed away by subsequent happier ones with a reunited family (on the run and at the Unremarkable House.) 

theficisoutthere/pen-paper-aliens‘s Boo! 

““He giggled and bumped right into his father’s legs. Mulder picked him up and swung him around. “Hey, what’s this, an alien!? What are you doing down here on Earth?!” William giggled again. “Daddy! We always come down for Halloween!”” 

Scully recalls Mulder’s words in Requiem after little Will the alien has passed out after trick-or-treating and too much candy. 

Christine Leigh’s (Ao3, LiveJournal) Little Boo

““So, tell me, Little Boo, is there a Big Boo, too?" He felt like Dr. Seuss.

Mulder couldn't see it, but through his mask Little Boo was giving him his 'Daddy, don't you know?' look.””

Little Boo and his father go trick-or-treating. Even sweeter than their candy stash is Will’s matter-of-fact and unthinking inclusion of his father in all aspects of his life, and how it touches the FBI’s Most Unwanted. 

@contrivedcoincidences6/Spooky66/geektime66‘s Growing Up (FFN) 

““On Halloween William was dressed in all black wearing an old FBI jacket and holding a matching hat. Mulder paced around him with a playfully serious look on his face, “Hummmm…. It’s missing something.” Scully watched from their couch, amused.””

Will’s first date is a school Halloween dance (perfect for this family); and his parents casually enjoy it from their lofty heights as mature adults. 

Headcanon from this fic: Mulder’s fashionable side only comes out when he pulls together costumes or perfectly recreated looks (eidetic memory, after all.) 

Girlie_girl7′s Arc about Mulder’s costume letdowns (out of timeline order)

Man to Man Talk 

““Mulder for the last time, you are not dressing our son up as the avenger of death. If he has to go, he can go as a kitty.”"

Mulder is dismayed that his son is not going to be spooky for Halloween. 

A Day In the Life, Trick or Treat 

““That's the one," Mulder says as he reaches down to grab the box that Will is offering him.  "These will look really scary above the door, don't cha think?" 

Will looks at the string of lights Mulder is untangling and frowns. "Day don't scawe me.”” 

Mulder continues to be disappointed because both his kids still won’t be spooky for Halloween. I’m sure he’s fine. 

Halloweens Post Revival 

Just a warning: all of these are mostly their second baby’s birth, which seems to a popular idea in this fandom (especially in the light of how the show ended without any resolution or happiness all around.) Might be cheesy, but I’m a big fan of quality dairy. 

Rose Thornhill‘s Spooky Mulder: The Revenge 

““These names all sounded very familiar to Scully. She rolled them around in her head until she realized where she had heard them. "Mulder, are you just naming off all the female characters in Halloween?"

"Um... no..." he said unconvincingly.

"Mulder!"

"She's going to be a Halloween baby!" he exclaimed defensively.””

When Scully tells Mulder about her scheduled c-section on Halloween, he is DETERMINED his spooky daughter will have spooky nursery and a spookier name-- from horror movies, no less (because this man loves his videos.) 

@atths--twice‘s (Ao3, Alt. Ao3, FFN) The Ninth Month 

““Mulder,” she began.

“Scully, I know what you’re going to say,” he said turning toward her. “You’re going to say that I’m going out of my way to decorate for a baby who will have no idea nor care that I did it. You will say that not until she is much older, will she have a memory of decorating for holidays.

“She raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth to answer him.

“To which, I will say that it’s the gesture that matters, Scully. As for memory, how do we know for absolute certainty what a person remembers and when?””

Scully is trying to hold out for a 31st due date, while Mulder stashes a porch witch and hay bales everywhere.... Basically, this is a “will they won’t they” but for married couples who have a deadline to keep. One thing is certain: the porch witch only ever scares Mulder. Every. Single. Time. And it’s glorious.

@leiascully’s (Ao3) Little Bigfoot (Ao3) 

““She slips her finger under the tape and unfolds the paper, retrieving a fuzzy brown bundle.  “It’s a…onesie?”

“It’s a Bigfoot costume,” Mulder says. “I thought we might be home for Halloween, but she took her own time, didn’t she?””  

Little squatches for Halloween and Armani white onions for Thanksgiving-- Mulder and Scully are soaking up their little holiday baby.  

@monikafilefan’s (Ao3) 

Just Breathe (Ao3) 

““Won’t be long now with this being your second baby. But it is 11:42 now, so it looks like you won’t be getting a special Halloween treat this year. Sorry, Dad.”

Nurse Valerie quickly entered Scully and the baby’s stats into the computer and offered up a genuinely sympathetic smile to a weary looking Mulder. 

“Be right back with the doctor’s orders for pain meds, Dana,” she promised with a wink and slipped out the door, not realizing how quickly things could drift into the unknown with Mr. and Mrs. Spooky involved.”” 

While the nurse is fetching an epidural, Halloween girl makes a break for it (with her parents already scrambling in her wake.) 

One Spooky All Hallow’s Eve (Ao3)

““In hindsight, Mulder, maybe having your pathologist wife, whom carves up things for a living, would’ve been a better option to do the pumpkins.” She stared up at him through her lashes with a tilt of her head, teasing him back.

“Oh no way, Scully,” he huffed and shook his head. “Halloween is Spooky Mulder’s holiday.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Spooky has been my nickname almost as long as Spooky Mulder has been yours.”

“And you love it,” he told her with a lopsided grin.””

Mulder slices his finger; and the ensuing horror, scolding, patching up, and joking is cut (eh? get it?) short when a flustered and disgusted Jackson gets decorated with vomit courtesy of his baby sister.

lsbnreinaa’s Squatching Goblins 

““She gushed, finally moving out of the way to reveal her creation, the image making Mulder nearly leap with excitement. She was adorned in a forest green onesie, covering her tiny toes for warmth, keeping in mind the time of year. Soft fabric leaves were hot glued to the surface of the onesie, along with the matching baby beanie atop her head.

To their surprise Evelyn remained composed and reached out eagerly for her costumed father, sitting proudly in his arms for Scully to take in.””

Mulder’s all-out plans are temporarily squashed because his daughter is frightened by Halloween masks. But Scully has a little surprise to make up for it. 

@baronessblixen ‘s (Ao3) Cookie Monster 

““Why can't she wear this to kindergarten? She looks adorable." Scully sighs. If it were up to Mulder - and Katie - she'd only wear her tiny Knicks jersey, her little Spiderman costume or now, she presumes, the Cookie Monster jumpsuit.””

Halloween-adjacent, at least-- Mulder and his daughter bought a Cookie Monster onesie instead of school clothes; but they bought Scully socks, too, so that makes it okay. 

WordsSpilledFromMyOpenVeins_89′s Squatchin’ In the Backyard 

‘“It had rained quite a bit... earlier that afternoon, so it wasn't too difficult for him to make convincing Bigfoot tracks on the ground. Instead of turning the back door light on (so he didn't wake up Scully and Hope), he used a flashlight to see what he was doing and make sure that everything looked.. just right, for tomorrows special event.””

Mulder sets up a Sasquatch hunt for his daughter’s Halloween, complete with a cookout and a Big Blue remembrance. Scully loves watching her investigators. 

Halloweens Assorted and AUs 

Jamie Lyn’s (other Gossamer) Full Moon, Near Death, and Other Things Unsaid

““Well… Yeah.  Typically, when spirits remain bound to old planes of existence or corporeal bodies, it indicates something left unfinished.  According to the literature, at least, and I’ve read it all, the soul harbors an insatiable desire to tie up loose ends.”   “What literature, Mulder?  Stephen King?” “Close.  Dean Koonz.” “Oh, brother – “  “Seriously, Scully.  Look at this rationally… Dead or not, we’re stuck on the side of this road until either we finish what we haven’t finished, or a toe-truck from the great beyond comes and finds us...””  

Post IVF Failure-- Mulder and Scully find themselves on a rainy highway, without working pulses, phones, or exit strategies. He concludes they died but can’t pass on without making peace with any unspoken regrets. The two exchange tidbits and banter; but it leads them to more meaningful admissions. 

@all-these-ghosts/all_these_ghosts‘s Poltergeist (Ao3) 

““Silence. Then giggling. A flashlight blinks on, then off, and a voice hisses “turn that off!” and another voice says “shut up!”

Scully sighs. “It’s just kids, Mulder. I’m going back to the house.” She turns and walks away. He considers following her, but instead he continues toward the woods.””

Pre-IWTB Mulder and Scully hear screaming in the woods; but upon further investigation, they conclude it’s just teens scaring themselves over their “haunted house.” He spooks off most of them, but strikes up a temporary friendship and interesting conversation with the last girl, a disbeliever.

campaignofmisinformation’s Unnamed 

““He knows that if he can present the evidence he’ll find in the house, it might help people make sense of the things he’s been saying for years. This thought drives him to keep walking despite the fear rising in his chest. If he can just make them understand, everything will get better. He won’t be so lonely anymore.””

Pre- or Post- IWTB Will arrives solo at the Unremarkable House, hungry for information about himself and why he doesn’t fit in. 

May you have a cheery, spooky holiday! 

Enjoy! 

[nobodyfamousposts]

Helluva Deal (Miraculous X Helluva Boss)

Well, since Miraculous crossovers with Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel are a thing now, I figured I’d write my own on how I think it would likely go. Since this IS the Helluva Boss universe, expect mentions of death and the afterlife, allusions to violence, innuendos, and general inappropriateness:

“Let me get this straight.”

Blitzo stared down the demon before him.

Said demon simply looked back, unimpressed. The little thing was small with blue skin, dorky-looking round glasses, and uneven horns. It wasn’t even a notable demon. Just a random weaker demon who somehow got the funds to pay for their services.

And normally, Blitzo was hardly one to turn down money—or a job that offered money. But this…

“You want to pay us to kidnap someone from Earth—not murder, which is in our company’s name, but kidnap. Which is decidedly more difficult and less fun.”

“Yep.”

Blitzo steepled his fingers together and held them up to his face. “And you want this person kidnapped—not so you can kill her yourself for whatever issue you may have, but because you want her to make you a jacket.”

“Yep.”

“A plain old jacket you could just get anywhere here in Hell.”

The demon gasped in offense. “It’s not just ANY jacket! It’s an MDC original piece and I want one!”

Blitzo took a breath, getting the feeling he was going to regret this. 

“Why?”

This…made the demon pause and eventually shrug. “Well, I did say I would have died for an MDC jacket. And I’m dead now, so…gimme.”

Well, who was he to argue with that logic?

Although…

“That is going to require quite a bit more effort…” He started, obviously leading…

The demon gave a flat look. “I’m not paying you double. I need the rest to pay her for the jacket.”

“Why would you want to pay for it?” Blitzo demanded. “This is Hell! You’re a demon! Just steal one!”

“It’s a commission! I have to pay for it!”

Blitzo would have spit out his drink if he’d had one.

“What are you even in Hell for, anyway? You won’t kill. You won’t steal. You just want to pay some human for a jacket you could get anywhere. What’s the point of that?” He asked, giving the other demon a strange look because really, what kind of demon WANTED to pay for things?

The demon stared flatly at Blitzo, his tail flicking against the chair in apparent increasing agitation.

"Are you saying that a commission shouldn't be paid for?” The demon asked curiously, sounding a little...too polite. “Because the last guy who tried to skip out on paying for a commission died. Eyes stabbed out and everything. Do you want to risk that kind of thing happening to you?"

…

Blitzo paled.

“Oh.”

The silence lingered to the point of long past uncomfortable as the demon continued to wait for an answer and Blitzo’s not so subtle attempt to desperately press his secret security button under his desk had no effect.

This would turn out to be because of Loona disconnecting the thing due to her hangover. Though in the moment, Blitzo would choose to blame Moxie.

After a good minute of no response from his team, Blitzo started to sweat when the determined artist demon seemed to grow bored and pulled out a pencil.

He jumped to his feet.

“We’ll take the case!”

And immediately fled the room.

_______

Once on Earth, the problem came up rather quickly that they had no idea who MDC was or how to access them. The client only knew the target was a fashion designer in Paris, which narrowed it down to one city at least but still was little help when the city in question was one of the fashion capitals of the world.

Blitzo, naturally, took the lead in trying to work out a means of information gathering.

And by “naturally”, what was really meant was “horribly failing”.

“I’m telling you, the plan is foolproof. We hold someone for ransom until MDC trades herself.” Blitzo said with apparent glee.

“Sir, that would be the exact opposite of subtle and get us the wrong kind of attention!”

Moxie, for his part, was trying to come up with what he would call “sensible plans”. Millie was simply scouting the area while the two argued. Ever faithful Loona stayed behind to try using her own connections…a magazine.

Needless to say, Blitzo was the one carrying the team. Or at least in his not-so-humble opinion.

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “I don’t see you coming up with any plans, Moxie.”

The smaller demon gave his boss a disgruntled glare. “I already told you! We should just go back and ask the client for more information!”

“Hmm…” Blitzo paused, before pulling out his phone. “Hey, Loona. The client still in my office?”

“Yeup.”

Blitzo immediately closed the phone. “Yeah—nope.”

“Sir—”

“He gouged a guy’s eyes out, Moxie! I need my eyes! I’m too pretty to lose them! They frame my face!” Blitzo exclaimed, bringing his hands up to his head in a fit of dramatics. “Is that what you want, Moxie? Do you want me to lose my precious, precious eyes?”

Moxie stared at the man like he was insane. Granted, Moxie had long had doubts about his boss’s sanity, but still...

“Hey, fellas?” Millie called, interrupting the two as she waved them over to the side of the building they had set up a temporary base atop of. “Listen to this!”

Blitzo immediately headed over, with Moxie following along behind looking annoyed. As they got closer, they heard what Millie had called them over about. Blitzo leaned over and peeked into the room in question.

Below them was an open window of the building where apparently a number of teenagers were gathered within for some inexplicable reason. And in this specific room, a group of the teens were gathered around one particular girl with a large forehead and hair that appeared to be made of meat. It was this girl who had their attention.

“—really friends with MDC?” One short blonde asked, looking overly excited like Blitzo did when he got a paycheck.

“Of course!” The meat-girl replied, looking smug. “We go way back! I was even the one who encouraged him to start in fashion and inspired his Heroes line.”

Blitzo looked back up at his team. “I thought MDC was a girl?”

Moxie shrugged. “If no one knows their real identity who's to say if they're a boy or a girl?"

“What else are they saying?” Millie asked, which returned the focus to the room.

More talking from below, using words that none of the demons really understood or cared about.

“—which was why he even made the Fox outfit for me!”

“Wasn’t that design based on Rena Rouge rather than Volpina?” One other girl with blue hair asked from the doorway of the room. She appeared to be rather annoyed for some odd reason.

The meat-girl looked somber. “Well, that was before he had to change it. After all, as bold as he is, not many people would support an akuma line, even if he had kept my idea to donate the funds to charity for the victims.”

The group “oo”-ed over the girl and praised her for her thoughtfulness. The meat-girl preened at the attention. The bluenette rolled her eyes. Some other blond guy looked on in disappointment.

“How amazing!” The little blonde exclaimed, clasping her hands to her cheeks. “I’d love to be able to meet MDC!”

“So would we!”

All eyes fell to the window which Blitzo, Millie, and Moxie used to make their entrance.

Honestly, he thought it was one of his better displays of dramatics. It certainly warranted some applause. Or screams of fear. Maybe one fainting.

“Akuma!”

Honestly, he was rather disappointed by the underwhelming response.

“I know we're demons and all, but I thought this place was French, not Japanese!"

“Nevermind that.” Blitzo replied to his workers before stepping forward to face the students.

Or rather one student in particular.

“Greetings! I am Blitzo. The two behind me are Millie and Moxie.”

The class stared as one of the two glared at them while the other waved cheerfully—or would be considered cheerfully if her teeth weren’t so razor sharp.

“We represent IMP, a for-hire group out of Hell. We take contracts, complete tasks, and make wishes come true!”

The teens looked at the demons in wariness and confusion.

“That sounds nice…” The little blonde in pink said.

“Those wishes generally involve murder.”

“I take it back! That sounds horrible!”

Blitzo grinned. “We are the ‘Immediate Murder Professionals’, dealing with the unfinished business of those poor wretched souls who are seeking some small vindication in their current status in Hell.”

“Then…why are you here?” The bigger male demanded.

Blitzo ignored him in favor of his true target.

“You! Ugly girl!” He shouted, grabbing the meat-girl.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, insulted.

He shook her. “Take us to MDC and we’ll rip out those sausage-links you call hair!”

“…don’t you mean ‘or’?”

He grinned ferally.

“No.”

She shrieked in fear.

“Lila!” Others cried out in horror.

Ah, yes. There was the fear. This, Blitzo was good with. It made him feel better about the previous lackluster response to his entrance.

“Why do you want me?!” The girl—Lila shouted, looking panicked. “I don’t know where MDC is!”

He raised an eyebrow at this. “But you said you were friends.”

She glanced around, taking note of the fact that her cohorts were still in the room. Though he didn’t know why that should matter for her answer.

“We are! But…I don’t know where he lives now! He’s moved since his name got out there and hasn’t given me the address yet!”

A glasses-wearing girl frowned in confusion. “But didn’t you just say that he invited you to his house for fittings?”

“Yeah, you said it was for the latest line that just came out.” Another girl with multi-colored hair added.

“That was months ago. Before he moved.” Lila replied quickly. “So I can’t help you.”

“Sure, you can!” Blitzo replied jovially. “We can just use you as ransom until MDC agrees to hand himself over.”

Moxie approached the two, keeping his gun leveled at the other kids. “We can save some time and see if she can’t call him.”

“Hey, yeah!” Millie agreed, grabbing Lila’s bag off of her and searching for her phone. “If they’re friends, she’s gotta have his contact info!”

“It’s not in there!” Lila replied quickly. “I was worried someone would steal my phone to get his info so I don’t keep his number in my phone!”

Millie frowned, before holding the now open phone up to Lila. “Then just type in the number yourself.”

Lila glanced around the room in growing agitation. “I can’t! I don’t have it memorized!”

“Then where did you write it down?”

“I lost it!”

The demons were looking particularly vexed.

“When and where?”

“It was a while ago. I don’t know where.” Lila replied.

A girl with glasses looked at her in confusion. “But didn’t you say you just called him this morning to congratulate him on the new line? And that he promised you a free outfit as thanks for all your help?”

Lila paled. “I—”

“Then the number should still be in the phone under its call history.” Moxie noted. Millie grinned and looked back to the phone screen to look through the data.

“I deleted it right after!” Lila shouted desperately.

Millie looked up at her in irritation.

Then promptly crushed the phone in her grip.

Lila shrieked, though it would be up for debate as to whether it was in shock at the loss of her phone or in fear that she may soon share that same fate.

Blitzo seemed similarly put out, but ended up shrugging it off as he pulled Lila closer to him. “Then it’s back to Plan A to hold her for ransom. Or torture her to see if she can’t remember the details.”

“No, please!”

“Lila!”

“Let her go!”

Lila grabbed at the arm holding her, panicked but not enough beyond reasoning. She couldn’t afford to reveal she lied now. She could only hope that these monsters would take her somewhere private where she could manipulate them with less witnesses.

Marinette, for her part, was also analyzing the situation.

These were three unknowns. Definitely not akumas. If they were to be believed, they were actual demons. From Hell. Which existed, apparently. And was where Lila would likely find herself in the next hour if she kept this up.

But from Lila’s expression, it seemed she was insistent on staying tight-lipped about her lies. Marinette figured as much due to her history. But she would have thought that Lila would have had some measure of self-preservation. Though perhaps that only applied to the preservation of her lies and manipulations rather than her own well being.

It was clear that Lila wasn’t going to get herself out of this. Not in any way that would spare her and everyone else in the room, at any rate.

As it was, the classmates were about to rally in Lila’s defense. While they had stood their own against akumas in the past,Marinette didn’t want to see how well they would fare against demons. Nor did she want to have to test if the Miraculous Cure would be enough to fix whatever would be left of them if they tried.

Marinette looked to the doorway.

No one was paying any attention to her right now. She could escape. She could go out, find a place to transform, and come back to deal with these…demons.

But by the time she returned, who was to say what could happen. The demons could kill Lila. They could kill all of her friends for being witnesses.

Ladybug may not be able to fix this.

But Marinette…as Marinette, she could.

“I’m MDC.” Marinette admitted.

Everyone froze.

“Come again.”

“MDC.” Marinette enunciated. “It stands for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. My name. I’m MDC. I’m the one you want.”

Alya stared. “Girl?”

Moxie looked at her in consideration. “That would fit with the client’s report of MDC being female.”

Millie, frowned in suspicion. “How do we know she’s really MDC?”

Marinette took a breath and slowly pulled out her tablet. “Well, my signature is in the clothes, so if you’ll let me pull up one of the shots, I can point it out and—”

Blitzo cut her off, grabbing her arm. “Yeah, I think we’ll just take you both and let the client sort it out. Sound good? Good, because we’re leaving.”

“Bye all!” Millie said, waving to the group. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

Moxie rolled his eyes. “That’s a pretty short list…”

Blitzo ignored them an opened a portal, dragging both girls after him. Without a glance back, both Millie and Moxie followed him through the portal. Before anyone else could move, the gateway closed behind them.

A long pause followed.

“Not so fast!”

Suddenly, the door was kicked open as Chat Noir burst into the room.

The much less enemy-filled room.

“Um…did I miss the party?”

_______

The room they soon found themselves appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely normal. It looked like an office of the sort they’d find anywhere in Paris. Complete with a secretary’s desk, a few chairs, and a table littered with magazines.

The difference was made quickly apparent, however, through the view out the window. The landscape the deceptively quaint room was mostly a collage of red and black, with a sunless sky above and a myriad of strange buildings. Also of note where the various denizens of…distinctly non-human appearance wandering the streets outside.

“All right, ladies! Welcome to Hell!” Blitzo announced with a flourish, causing the girls to pale.

Lila fell back with a screech, landing on her butt and immediately attempting to scuttle back away. Her path was quickly halted as she bumped into something. Looking up, that “something” was actually a wolf monster, making Lila panic even further.

Loona, for her part, was not having a good morning—ignoring, of course, that it was actually the afternoon. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that her hangover still hadn’t cleared, now some…thing had shoved into her, followed shortly by an ear-piercing shriek that only made her head feel worse.

Seeing the way the wolf demon growled, Lila opened her mouth, possibly to scream even more when Marinette quickly shoved a hand over her mouth with a smile to Loona.

“Oh my! Your hairstyle is quite lovely!” She lied. Blatantly lied to the wolf girl’s face.

“It’s bed-head.”

“I couldn’t even tell. It looks so sleek and shiny!”

“Whatever.” Loona grumbled and stormed off to the break room, slamming the door behind her (and then immediately regretting it due to the noise agitating her headache).

Marinette decided to take the initiative. “So…what do you want with us, anyway?”

“Our client paid us a pretty penny—”

“Basic contract.” Moxie interrupted.

“Pretty. Penny.” Blitzo continued as if he hadn’t heard. “For a chance to meet with MDC.”

Okay, they had mentioned that before.

“Then what?”

“If you are MDC, you can do whatever the client is wanting. If you’re not, you’ll at least make for a decent distraction while we escape and blow up the building.”

The humans in the room blanched at that.

“WHAT?!”

“I know. She was a beautiful building.” Blitzo said mournfully as he actually wiped a tear from his eye. “And I just got my office arranged how I like it, too. But it

Marinette stared.

Lila whimpered.

“I second that ‘what’.” Moxie interrupted. “Nobody at any point discussed blowing up the building!”

“It was on page 3 of the handout I gave you this morning, Moxie.” Blitzo exclaimed, covering his eyes in exasperation. “At least read the mission briefings!”

“Sir, the ‘handout’ was a paper napkin. There was no third page!” Moxie insisted.

Beside him, Millie for her part was looking over the aforementioned napkin for the part that was supposed to mention the circumstances in question…or really any of the plan.

“We’ll discuss it later.” Blitzo said over his shoulder to Moxie as he proceeded to grab both human girls and drag them over to a previously closed door.

“Hey wait—!”

“Hang on!”

Within seconds, Blitzo opened the door and proceeded to shove both girls through before slamming it shut behind them, the last thing they heard being him mentioning where to buy explosives.

_______

So.

Recap.

Hell was real. Demons were a thing. And the two human girls were getting a first hand view of the less than pleasant or holy side of the afterlife.

Marinette was…actually taking it all in stride.

Lila was less so. She was sitting ramrod straight in the chair, keeping a tight grip on her knees and trying very hard not to move as her eyes glanced quickly around the room at the assembled demons.

Marinette actually felt bad for her. And probably should have been panicking herself, all things considered. Maybe she would have been had it not been for her extensive experience as Ladybug.

Sure, it was Hell, but floating gods and people turning into monsters had already broadened her horizons of the possibilities of the universe. Plus despite the name of the company that had kidnapped them both, murder didn’t appear to be on the table. All in all, despite the circumstances, Marinette didn’t feel that scared.

The fact that the “client” in question who hired the group was actually a fan of hers wanting a commission helped quite a bit with that.

As did the flattery.

“OMG! OMG! I can’t believe it! It’s you! Can I get your autograph?! No—wait! I need to focus! Can I get a jacket with your autograph?!”

“Thank you.” Marinette said, somewhat flustered. Honestly, she hadn’t thought she had gained THAT much fame. Especially not enough for someone to want to commission her from the afterlife.

…was that a thing? Could that be a thing?

“What I don’t get is why the other girl had to tag along?” The demon asked, curiously. “Is she your assistant or something?”

Lila brightened, looking ready to speak—likely to try to lie her way out of this. Or mess up what little peace Marinette had managed to create.

“No!” Marinette interrupted quickly, ignoring Lila’s petulant glare. “No, she’s not. There was just a mix up since they didn’t know where I was or who to bring.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Well, how were we supposed to know?!”

“You could have asked me when I contracted you.” Said the demon, somewhat annoyed.

“I have a website, you know.” Said Marinette, very annoyed.

They paused.

“…the fuck’s a website?”

Silence.

Marinette coughed. “In any case, you wanted to commission me?”

“Oh, yes!”

_______

It didn’t take long to make the arrangements. Marinette named her prices and the demon was more than willing to pay her for her services. They made use of Blitzo’s office to negotiate and fine tune some details regarding the arrangement. From determining the materials to writing up the contract to negotiating the costs, it was all pretty professional.

And ultimately involved the humans not being murdered and the building not being blown up, which was always preferable.

It finally came down to determining just how the demon customer wanted the jacket to look, and Marinette started drawing out some sample sketches on spare paper in the office that may or may not have been important documents for Blitzo which she may or may not have particularly cared given the whole “kidnapping and being used as a sacrifice” matter.

The only issue seemed to be that the demon customer wanted the jacket to be made of materials that were only available in Hell. Which made sense, she supposed, since she wasn’t sure how long anything she made on Earth would last in this environment. Millie and Moxie had been sent out to gather the necessary material in question, and what they returned with was a strange sort of leather. It was unique and of a color she had never seen before, and part of her really wanted to get a bit more detail about the make.

…given how pale Lila had already gotten, Marinette kindly decided to refrain from asking questions.

“Well then, let’s go over a few sketches and determine which one you like.”

The demon looked almost giddy at the prospect. The IMP team looked relieved. Except Blitzo, who still seemed to be pouting over their takeover of his office.

Lila was…less enthused. “WHAT?! What are you thinking?! He’s a demon!”

Marinette shrugged. “Well, I do have a non-discrimination clause.”

“That shouldn’t apply to demons!” Lila hissed lowly.

“The demons who have brought us to Hell and are currently our only way of getting back.” Marinette pointed out, dryly.

Lila huffed and went back to her chair.

So, with Blitzo and his team begrudgingly kindly being forced willing to donate their office for her use, Marinette sent to work to try and design a jacket to the client’s taste as quickly as possible.

The sooner she got done, the sooner they could go back to Earth.

…hopefully.

Lila, for her part, was terrified and miserable and just wanting to go back to Earth. Immediately would be preferable. Even without Marinette.

Yeah, thanks Lila.

“Why do I have to stay here? Why can’t I go back home? Or do anything else?”

The client tilted his head. “Are you saying you don’t like art? Because the last person who told me they didn’t like art had their eyes stabbed out. With pencils. Would you want that to happen to you?”

“…can’t I like art and not stay in Hell?”

“No.”

Lila paled and sunk lower in her seat, where she remained quiet for the next couple of hours while Marinette worked.

It was mostly in silence as Marinette drew one sketch after another. Asking occasional questions about preferred length, how many pockets, special embellishments, and which parts of the various jacket styles did he prefer. Eventually, they had come to an agreement about the set look he wanted, the materials needed, and when he wanted it completed by. And from there came the matter of payment…

“Um…I’m not sure what the exchange rate is for Hell currency.” Marinette said, looking at the coins he handed her.

The demon frowned, tilting his head in consideration. “I could always rob a human bank and pay you with that.”

Marinette paled.

“This is fine. Really. I can probably buy some things from Hell with this.” She said with a forced smile.

“There are tons of things you can only find here.” Millie said, brightening. “We could deliver them for you!”

Well, that was a good point.

“That’s true.” Moxie agreed. “You could make other things with the fabrics here. Hats. Shirts.”

He paused, looking over his shoulder at Millie who was busy chatting with the customer regarding the fabric he chose. Seeing she was suitably distracted, he turned to Marinette. “So…how much would it be to make a dress. Just out of curiosity.”

Aww. Even in Hell there was love.

She smiled. “We can certainly discuss it.”

The moment was ruined as Blitzo stepped in and slung an arm around Marinette’s shoulder.

“How about one of those sexy maid outfits for the bedroom? You’re French, right?” He asked before giving Moxie a nudge. “You could stand to have a little more fun in the bedroom.”

“Sir, I’m 14.” Marinette replied dryly.

“And what we do in the bedroom is none of your business!” Moxie rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t we just have a discussion about this last week?”

Marinette coughed as the two started to argue. “So…um…are we going to return to Earth so I can start working on this?”

Blitzo sighed. “Fine, fine. Killjoys.”

Lila heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God.”

_______

With an agreement forged between Marinette and IMP to have the customer’s order completed and delivered within two week’s time, Marinette and Lila were safely deposited back in their classroom no worse for wear.

…well, physically. Mentally, there were probably going to be a few scars.

Several of their classmates had apparently remained since the earlier incident. Perhaps it was out of worry? Or maybe classes had resumed after their disappearance—akuma attacks and strange circumstances had become rather common, after all.

Still, it was Alya’s cry of surprise and then being pulled into a hug that assured Marinette she was, in fact, back home.

“You’re back!” Alya exclaimed, relieved. “We were so worried!”

It wasn’t every day your best friend and classmate was dragged to Hell, after all.

“—and I’d been trying to reach out to Ladybug and Chat Noir, but only Chat showed up and Ladybug must be busy or maybe she already knew? Did she help you? How did you escape?”

Part of her wondered if Alya had even stopped to breathe. The rest of her was just basking in the happiness that they had made it back safe and nothing too terrible had happened in the meantime.

The absolute LAST thing she needed was to come back and find out Hawk Moth had let loose another akuma that destroyed Paris while she was gone.

Alya suddenly gasped as though struck by a thought.

“Oh my god, Marinette! I can’t believe you did that!”

Marinette smiled. “Well, I had to—”

“You claimed to be MDC just to protect Lila! And here I thought you hated her!”

Happy feeling gone. Gone like a punch to the face. Knocked out. Dead, even.

Alya beamed. “I’m so proud of you, girl! I knew deep down that—”

“Nope!” Came a quick interruption. “That’s not what happened. It was just a lie. Completely and utterly.”

The interruption was half expected.

The fact that it came from Lila was not.

Everyone froze.

“What?”

“I never met MDC.” Lila explained, wasting absolutely no time with subtleties and just blurting it out. “I never knew Marinette was MDC. I just lied about knowing him because I thought he was the next big thing and I knew you would all believe me.”

“…what?”

Lila sighed. “I lied about knowing MDC. And being the muse behind his fashion line—well, hers. Since Marinette is MDC. She never lied. I did.”

The classmates were startled, but seemed to be taking in the information.

Rose, for her part, tried to be positive. “Oh...well, you didn’t have to lie about knowing MDC—”

“No, I mean about everything. Ever. In fact, there’s probably not a single time we’ve known each other that I was ever honest with any of you.”

Everyone stared.

“I’ve been lying since the moment we’ve met.” Lila continued. “I am a liar. Always have been. I am a horrible lying liar who lied about everyone I ever claimed to know and everything I ever said I did just to get you all to admire me because it was easier to manipulate you that way and get you to do things I wanted. From interviewing me for the Ladyblog to carrying my lunch tray to buying me things. I lied about having tinnitus just to get to sit next to Adrien and lied about not being interested in him to manipulate Nino into guilting him into letting me come to his house. Ladybug herself even called me out for lying. And when Marinette got upset that day I came back over the seat change? I threatened her in the bathroom because she was wise to me from the very start.”

A few stares were sent Marinette’s way. She didn’t have any explanation for them though. She was just as surprised as they were. More, even.

Lila shrugged. “Everything I’ve said. Everything I’ve done. All lies. Ever.”

Everyone gaped in shock. Nobody even really knew what to say.

Marinette started. “But why—”

“Because that was Hell, Marinette. HELL. The bad place you go to after you die, reserved for bad people. And until today, I didn’t even think it was real. Or that there could be a chance I could end up there. But I imagine if anything would warrant that, it’d be lying, manipulating, and trying to get revenge on a superhero.”

Nino blinked. “Wait…what was that last one—”

As if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders, Lila sighed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go join a convent to try and save my soul now that I know I have one.”

With that, she promptly exited the room, leaving the group staring after her in complete bewilderment.

Alya gaped. “...what?”

_________

Epilogue: 

Marinette completed her commission to the demon and later for Moxie. Her fame increased in both realms and she eventually did open up her own design house. The only issue came in the customers who wanted to pay her by removing her competition, which she was mostly able to prevent until IMP took a hit on Gabriel Agreste. While Marinette did stop the attempted murder, this did still reveal his secondary identity of Hawk Moth, allowing the Butterfly and Peacock to be recovered and peace to return to Paris.

The classmates were shocked at the reveal of Lila’s true nature, but were more bewildered than anything given how it happened. They did all feel foolish and embarrassed for trusting Lila, but considering what could have happened, they all chose to take it as a life lesson to be more cautious in the future. They all remained friends and moved on to live quite fulfilling lives.

IMP formed a contract with MDC and gained a secondary job of delivery service as well as assassins, which increased their profits.

And Millie loved her new dress.

Lila Rossi convinced her mother to send her to a convent, where she became one of the most pious and devout members, spreading the message of being good in life more than any other.

[fire-fist-ann]

Ussop x sanji :  Flower shop AU

@cyborg-franky @secretsnailor thanks for the pick up lines guys!

@cipher-p0 @childofblackmaria @simp4ace

Ussop stared across the street at the local bakery, with a heavy sigh as he twirled some camellia flowers between his fingers. How fitting he thought, camellias were supposed to represent desire and longing. He touched one of the petals. "There's no way he would like me," he mumbled as his head hung down. 

The flower shop door opened. He looked up as the cute bakery boy walked in. His heart started to race, his palms sweating. He could practically feel the dark red blush on his brown cheeks. He gulped, why was he so handsome? As if he didn't know how he had affected him.

The blonde baker walked up the counter with an infectious smile, 

"Hey, Ussop! I thought you were working?"

"Hey, Sanji! Been a while aha, have I ever told you about the time I wrestled a sumo wrestler?" He blurted out in a panic, he had to look cool in front of him after all. Sanji's lips curled up. "Oh, did you now? You should have invited me." Winked Sanji. 

Ussop's mind was spinning. Was he wrong, or did he just flirt with him? Did he have a chance?! He was the great Ussop, of course he had a chance! He would put everything on the line, all or nothing. 

"Well uh, what can the great Ussop get for you?" He said grinning

"Oh? Well if the great Ussop would be so kind, I would like some daisies"

"You know if I was a daisy I would let you.. uh.. uh… hold on I got this.. Uh, pick me?" He stammered.

Sanji stared in silence at the poor, flustered man "I-I’ll go get those daisies!" He yelled as he ran out to the back trying to control his breathing. "So stupid," he said facepalming

Sanji stared at the back door with a fond smile, "That was cute." He whispered to himself, pushing his hair out of his eye for a moment.  Sanji was jolted, hearing loud crashes and cursing, and what sounded like glass shattering. The door opened and Ussop came out, flowers sticking out of his hair. Ussop grinned, handing him a bouquet of gardenias. 

"Uh hey Ussop, I asked for daisies but… Don't gardenias mean secret love?” Inquired Sanji. 

Ussop was starting to pray to whatever gods existed that he would be struck down by lightning about now. Death was sounding like a much better option than the catastrophic mistake he just made. How could he forget Sanji knew just as much flower language as he did?

"Haha oh uh yeah they do I... I'll go fix that!" he said, turning only to slip on a dropped flower. Crashing hard onto the floor knocking over the stack of flowers he had left on the counter, spilling all over him.

Sanji leaned over the counter, seeing Ussop sprawled out covered in various flowers. From red roses of passion, to the delicate purple tones of lilacs embedded in his dark brown curls.  Sanji moved his hand covering his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Upon seeing the bold red chrysanthemums sticking out of his mouth, Sanji stepped around, "You know I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure you’re supposed to sell the flowers. Not wear them" 

"Haha, I meant to do that!” Ussop said, sitting up as a bunch of flowers fell around him

"Oh, did you now? Can I tell you something?" He said as his strong hand brushed over Ussop's. For a second time that day his heart was beating ridiculously fast. 

"Uh yeah, sure?"

"Roses are red, violets are blue-" 

"Actually they're purple."

Sanji opened his mouth, "As I was saying-" 

"It's important to me that you know this. I know that's a popular saying but it's factually inaccurate." Sanji stared at him before he took a big drag of his cigarette, he would have try again.

"I’m missing half of my heart and so are you."

"That's not possible, I think I would know if I was missing half a heart."

Sanji wanted to cry at this point when he hit on girls they would get all flustered. But for the first time, he was falling at flirting, this couldn't be happening to him right now. No Ussop was just a bit slow, but he would get it with the last pick-up line he had in mind.

"You know if I had a garden, I would plant your lips and my lips together."

"You can't plant lips?"

"Oh my fucking god."

Ussop’s brown eyes glanced at him in worry as he was pretty much just chain-smoking at this point. He seemed really stressed about something.

"Er, uh, is something wrong Sanji?"

"I like a total idiot is what’s is wrong with me."

Ussop stopped and stared, slowly blinking at him which caused Sanji to somehow smoke even harder. 

"Have you tried telling them?" He said as he brushed his pants off and stood up

"I'm trying to right now." 

"Just say I like you."

"Ussop I like you!"

"Yeah just like that!"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, why would I be?" He said, forcing a smile. He was right, Sanji wasn't in love with him, he was just being friendly.

Sanji inhaled deeply before he grabbed Ussop's hand, "Ussop what are you doing tonight?"

“Huh? oh uh nothing." He stuttered, his face heating up by the second. 

"Good I’ll be back at the closing time, we’re going out."

"Going out where?"

"Ussop, I am literally asking you out on a date right now." Sanji had to, rather painfully spell out for him. If the curly-haired man didn't understand he was going to start ripping his own hair out in frustration.

Ussop’s eyes went wide, "I think I misheard you?"

"I asked you out."

"No offense but why, have you seen you me."

"Ussop, I swear to God," Sanji hissed out. Ussop raised his hands in defense 

"You really want to go on a date with me? but what about the person you like?"

"Listen, the person I am in love with IS you Ussop!" He said frustrated 

"This is a prank right?" 

Sanji moved his hand brushing it over his cheek "No prank, I really like you. So let me take you out to dinner."

Ussop felt the tears welling in his eyes before they ran down. “Oh shit, Ussop!" 

“S-sorry I'm just really happy" He grinned with the biggest smile on his face as Sanji brushed his thumb on Ussop's eyes, wiping his tears away 

"So is that a yes?"

"Yes it's a yes."

"Great, I'll pick you up at 7 pm here, and I’ll make you a nice dinner. Then we’ll go out to the town and maybe see a movie or two. How does that sound"

"I like that a lot."

"Great," Sanji looked at his watch. "Ah I gotta go see you later!" He said, pale. Zeff was going to kill him; he was an hour late for work. Ussop jolted as Sanji bolted "Sanji your flowers!" He called but the blonde was long gone.

Ussop looked down at the daisy in his hand, "You're supposed to mean new beginnings." He said with a fond smile. Maybe just this once he would give in to his desires completely, for the cute baker boy across the street.

[mcheang]

Exclusive

Edna Mode was a renowned designer, famed for her harsh but accurate critiques, her fierce and practical lines, and of course, being the designer of the majority of superheroes.

And now she was hosting a fashionista gala, inviting those worthy of a Mode gala. As for those asking for an invite, Edna just asks who they are and calls security.

Lila, as the self-proclaimed BFF of Ladybug, and Gabriel’s muse, had already boasted of receiving the glamorous invitation. It didn’t just come in an envelope, it came out of the sky in a rosewood chest, accompanied by a bottle of wine and canapés. (Or so she says. Adrien and Marinette rolled their eyes. Chloé wasn’t paying attention)

Alya: Girl, I’m so jealous. But hey, maybe this will be a good thing. After all, Adrien is going with Kagami. Chloe will just stick with her mom. That means it’s a chance for you and Marinette to know each other better.

Oh yeah, did I mention that everyone knows Marinette is MDC?

Lila forced a grin but didn’t want to make any promises.

Imagine Lila’s rage to know she wasn’t given an invite because she was just a model. Adrien was the heir to a fashion company. She was not.

With all the bragging Lila did, she can’t back out or Chloe and Marinette will call out her absence. (Chloé learned about Lila being a guest from Sabrina later from gossiping)

So, she stole Marinette’s invitation. She did some editing and made her own customised invite, brandishing it for her class to see.

Marinette saw her invitation missing, rolled her eyes and reported the theft to Edna. Plz, everyone knows Edna invited her. She didn’t really need a piece of expensive paper.

The day of the gala arrived, and Lila brought out her invite.

The guard looked at his clipboard. “You’re not on the list.”

Lila: No, but I do have an invite. Obviously someone must have made a mistake with your list.

The guard snorted. “If that’s the case, then your fingerprints and eye scans should have already been registered. That’s what opens the doors.“

Lila gulped and thought about sneaking in with the next guest. But no such luck. Security made sure one person entered at a time.

As the security guard moved to push Lila back into the crowd of fans, Lila cried out that she knows Ladybug and Gabriel.

Guard: what’s your point?

Lila: You’ll be fired for this!

Guard: Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard this all before.

Another guard just scoffed. “You’re only a model. One of many in the industry. Miss Mode doesn’t care for models.”

Lila: what are models if not the face of fashion?

“Spoiled, stupid little stick figures with poofy lips who think only of themselves” Edna herself was at the entrance, wondering what was causing the disruption in her guest entrance flow.

Lila: How can you say that? Then why would Ladybug be my Best Friend?

Edna: the day Ladybug says she is your Best Friend is the day I wear crocs. And I don’t mean crocodile leather.

Edna points at a random guard. “You, get this so-called model out of the way. She is blocking the queue.

Oh by the way, Edna calling out Lila was caught on camera by the reporters.

One of them questioned why she was kicking out Gabriel’s muse when his son, a supermodel himself, was invited.

Edna: I did not invite the boy because of his face. I invited him because I saw potential (basically she realized he was Chat Noir. She would never invite Adrien otherwise. As seen from her quote, she doesn’t have a high opinion of models) That is, if he ever gets out of his father’s shadow. Because, let’s face it darling, what can Adrien do besides look pretty and play with swords and piano? You would think the boy would be in part of business meetings, but no. At this rate, Gabriel needs this gala to get out of that stuffy house. Realize that maybe his parenting methods are flawed compared to some other talented figures here. Look at Miss Kagami, focused on upholding her family legacy of fencing. MDC already knows how to run her own business after learning a bit from her parents. Even Audrey’s daughter has been joining in on becoming a fashion critic and throwing parties for political parties. But I must go, my guests await.

Back inside the party, guests were avoiding a seething Gabriel’s eyes. He had come to scout out the superhero guests, only to be called out by Edna on live tv.

Marinette went up to Edna and asked one of her fashion idols why she burned the Agrestes in public.

Edna: do you think Gabriel would change his parenting ways if we did not expose them to the influential figures of this industry, as well as the public eye? I guarantee you Adrien will be allowed more freedom of choice, lest Gabriel wants his son to be known as a coddled boy who can’t even make his own decisions.

Edna didn’t bother softening her sharp voice as she says these words.

Adrien flushed.

Quickly changing the subject, Marinette asked why Edna hated models.

Edna: it’s not that I hate them personally. I just hate their jobs and what they represent. Models nowadays are beautiful only according to the world standards. People who see them want to be like them, never mind that the models they see on the screen are airbrushed to unrealistic and impossible perfection. Now models focus only on their own appearance, trying to maintain their beauty as time ages them. They go on diets and become superficial. Whereas outside the modelling industry or such like, you don’t need to be stereotypically beautiful to be worthy. Where your worth is measured in kindness and bravery and talent and intelligence and anything beyond superficiality.

Adrien overheard and he frowned, not liking the idea where his appearance on ads is not exactly right. He only joined the company to make his father happy. But maybe it’s time he stepped into the business side of things and exit the modelling world. Bonus: no more Lila!

Edna snorted, “Though I must admit Gabriel surprised me with his newest model. Her attitude is lousy but she doesn’t strike me as a model. She just doesn’t have that model walk. But enough about the old man, my dear MDC, let’s talk about you. I love your gender-neutral line. And was wondering if you would like to join me in creating my next line of clothes for the Incredibles. A rare opportunity but I like style. Now take this offer before I change my mind.”

Marinette: wait, do I have to fly over or-

Edna: you are too excited, darling, but don’t worry, my assistants will send you the details.

Why are the Incredibles getting a new look? The kids are growing up and Edna wanted to move on to new styles.

As Marinette was flabbergasted, Audrey congratulated her for landing the job. Kagami and Adrien also beamed at her good fortune.

Even the Incredibles admitted they looked forward to working with her. Violet was a big fan.

Gabriel was seething and thought about akumatizing himself but come on, one villain against a room of superheroes? No thanks.

Drinking a glass of wine, he eventually admits that Edna had a point, however loudly and rudely it had been announced.

He would not be around forever and he wanted to leave the company in Adrien’s hands. In order for that to happen, his son needs to know business (if he can’t design, he can hire designers)

And yes, Lila was a lousy model. She survived by shooting with professional models who managed to overpower her mediocre work. But a deal was a deal. Besides, her contract was only for a year.

After the gala, Adrien happily quit modelling (aka Lila) to spend more time with his father, learning about how to run a company.

Marinette and Edna proudly claimed credit for the fashionable Incredibles.

Violet also became the talk of the school for her MDC exclusives.

Lila had been humiliated on air. Alya hesitated but finally did her research. At the end, she collapsed over the ruined credibility of her blog. But she can still get revenge by informing the principal, Ms Bustier and Mrs Rossi what Lila lied about. The perks of being a class vice president for a busy class president is that she also has the contacts list for emergencies.

Considering how Lila framed Marinette, there would be no suspension or detention. Only expulsion. Good luck finding a new school when Edna’s gala was a global topic.

When Lila returned to school for her last week (it takes time to gather evidence and get the attention of busy adults), nobody wanted to talk to her or even exchange glances. She quietly kept to herself, hoping for this to blow over soon. She was still a model working for Gabriel. She could befriend other supermodels (as if. Like they would want to befriend her after Edna called her out)

Hell, even her jobs were down. Gabriel just told her to take test shoots to fill up her portfolio until the hype died down (aka her contract expired)

When Lila was expelled, she was ready to be akumatized into Chameleon again. Except one problem. Everyone avoided her like hell so how could she kiss her target. Even Adrien was told to stay away lest his reputation be tarnished.

Ok, I admit it. I was hit by “I’m no Angel” quotes as I wrote this. But seriously, does anyone feel weird at the idea of trying to become thinner when your weight is just right, all the while you know there are people out there even thinner than you are and are starving, not because they want to be stereotypically thin, but because they cannot afford food?

[dreamingofaizawa]

Powerful Ch. 1

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU* Quirkless as well

Warnings: Arranged (sort of) marriage, brief mention of champagne, mentions of violence (nothing too specific). In later chapters: Probably smut

Word Count: 3.4 k

Author’s Note: ALRIGHTY here we go. I just had a fixation on Mafia AUs and, of course, it’s Shouta. What else did you expect? I’m a sucker for arranged relationships. Also he’s a little ooc in here, more confident, more ‘I want it I got it’. Hey, he’s the most powerful man in Japan, might as well have him act like it right? Anywho, I have no clue how many chapters this’ll end up being. Let’s just say this is ongoing for now.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Enjoy~

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25 years old and you haven’t been married off yet. This was strategic on your father’s part. As a rather low-ranking clan he’d purposely saved you, his eldest daughter, for marrying into a higher ranked clan. You’d bring immense honor to the family name. If only you’d known what you were getting into, maybe you could have been better prepared for your world to flip on its head.

The black velvet gown you wear is tailored perfectly to your form, accentuating every curve and dip on your body. The skirt fanned out around you gracefully and a short train trailed behind you as you stepped through the grand doors of the massive mansion. Tonight is the annual celebratory ball, held to celebrate successful unions and achievements. This one was particularly special, you just didn’t quite know it yet.

Since the event wasn’t mandatory, you were told to go in alone as a representative of your clan, while Mother and Father attended to more important matters. Before you even stepped in you fixed your posture and schooled your expression, keeping your form humbled. Heavens know what could happen should you irk the wrong clan.

Inside you were met with an onslaught of mixed everything, mixed drinks and colors and styles. Some wore traditional Japanese kimono, others more modern versions of the garment and others, like you, wearing more extravagant european or western style clothing. Though a rather interesting mix, nothing quite clashed which you were slightly grateful for, since there was no possible way you could make it through the night without a headache if there was an unpleasant mix of visuals.

You strode through and instantly met several lower clan heads that you respectfully bowed to and engaged in pleasant small talk with, moving from person to person, couple to couple and paying respects to all of them. You kept a small smile, a pleasant facade as you waltzed over the hardwood flooring. It took almost two hours of endless conversation before you managed to catch a break in the madness, snatching a small flute of champagne from a waiter and leaning up against a wall for a breath. 

You still hadn’t noticed the pair of dark eyes that studied you from the moment you arrived.

____

You struck him as intriguing at first. From the moment you walked over the threshold his eyes drank you in, studying you, observing and judging just as he had with many other women before you. No one here knows it, but the man is looking for a bride. Someone who could stand by his side,improve and uphold his image, help him wield the power that is the Yakuza. Yes, rank is important, but Shouta is too picky to care about rank. He is looking for a specific type of woman, one that can hold untold depths of power without crumbling under the pressure or getting swept up in the rush of it all.

A woman, he decides, like you.

You held yourself with grace, pride and humility. You seemed to understand your position, your probable low rank, while also not undermining your importance nor worth. A woman like you is hard to come by in this world, most just as power hungry and ruthless and greedy as their husbands, all while putting up a cotton candy sweet mask and using it to disguise their conniving ways. 

But in truth, that’s what it took to live this kind of life, isn’t it?

It was clear you knew that, while still managing to feel genuine in everything you did, even with an action as simple as sipping champagne. At the same time he can’t deny you are quite beautiful, soft lips and softer eyes, fingers gently grasping your glass with unmatched elegance and an unwavering strength in your posture. You’d bowed before many this evening, and yet you stood taller than even the highest ranking clan heads without challenging a single one of them. Bamboo in this forest of tall, unyielding trees. Capable of wielding so much power.

For a split second his mind wandered to other things, filthy moments shared in the privacy of his chambers, shared breaths and shimmering sweaty skin. He wondered what you would be like underneath him, if you would be a brat or willingly submit yourself to him. He hopes it to be the latter, but wouldn’t completely deny the chance to tame someone difficult. How would you look pinned under his weight, completely helpless to his hands that have killed and tortured? Would you claw at his shoulders or grip the sheets instead? What would you sound like? Your image plagued his mind even if only for a moment.

He’d studied many women over the few hours since the event started, none of them giving him a good enough first impression for him to continue watching further than a minute. There was no question in his mind now. You’d be returning home with him tonight.

____

You had just finished your drink and set the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray when suddenly the ballroom fell extremely silent. All heads turned, eyes focused on the man that began his descent from the balcony overlooking the floor. He’s gorgeous, long black hair pulled into a low bun and exposing the light scruff on his chin and impossibly sharp jaw, a deep scar curved under his right eye. The full black satin suit is fitted to his form, strong shoulders and rolling muscle evident even under the thick materials. Ink peeked over the collar, a hint at what was definitely intricate sleeves and detailed artwork. His steps were measured, calculated and purposeful as he made his way down and across the floor, the entire room bowing down at his presence. 

You know who he is, as does every person here. Top rung of the ladder, Oyabun of the most powerful clan in Japan, his name widely known through the entire organization and yet almost never spoken. Shouta Aizawa, a name both respected and feared, holding unknown power and strength. His reputation is enough to make anyone feel small in his presence, known for his cold demeanor and the violence he’d committed, many losing their fingers, loved ones, and their own lives for misdeeds against him. He’d done most of that himself, marking him as a very dangerous man to be involved with, and an ally everyone wanted backing them.

You bowed down respectfully just as everyone else did, waiting patiently for a release, whether it was from the man himself or a collective understanding that it was alright to rise once again. The former was the first to come to fruition, though you didn’t expect him to be so close to you as he said it. Your eyes met with sharp onyx as you fixed yourself upright. It made you freeze in place, not quite tense, not quite relaxed, your expression hopefully not showing the utter shock you were feeling.

“What is your name?” You blinked only once before your mind caught up, and you willed your voice steady as you responded. What had you done to piss him off? What punishment awaited you for what you didn’t know you’d done? Despite fearing what may come, you don’t dare speak out of turn, even to beg for your life. His next words were addressed to the entire ballroom, you included, his smooth, deep voice booming out and yet somehow not loud at all.

“Any transgression against this woman is a transgression against me. As my future wife she is untouchable, and will remain that way until I explicitly state otherwise.” A collective hushed gasp sounded through the massive hall, your own eyes growing wide and your heart damn near stopping as your brain dissected the information. He just made you his fiance, with no warning, no hesitation, and full confidence. You are now engaged to the most powerful man in Japan, and you have exactly zero say in the matter. Really though, you never expected to be able to voice any opinions considering the patriarchy of the organization, so that bit of shock was quickly overlooked.

“It’s time to retire, little one.” His hand was held out to you, waiting for your own. You blinked, deciding it was best that you saved your shock for later you focused on the here and now and what to do in this moment. Taking a breath, you schooled your face into a pleasant smile and placed your hand in his waiting palm, allowing him to tuck you into his side as you both walked out the front doors and climbed into a black limouzine.

You didn’t allow yourself to relax, sitting silently next to the man as trees and telephone poles whizzed by the vehicle. It was tense, to say the least, his hand possessively sat on your knee as his eyes remained fixed in front of him and yours did the same. Neither of you talked, you slightly out of fear, of respect, and slightly out of sheer shock, your mind just barely able to keep itself together. He remained silent for a purpose. He would talk when you were alone, or when he felt like talking. Which isn’t right now.

You let your mind whirl a bit, worrying about what this meant for you. Worrying about how this powerful man would treat you, how he acted behind closed doors and if he even cared about you or what you might have to say. It’s nerve-wracking, suddenly bound to a power such as him, not knowing what could happen next, not knowing what to do next. There was nothing that could have prepared you for this.

The car slowed as it pulled up to the gate of the enormous estate, shaking you out of your thoughts, and once it opened the drive to the main house took nearly five minutes on its own. It’s a modern home, several stories tall with the top clearly penthouse-style with a full glass wall that overlooks the landscape, the rest of the huge inner home hidden behind crisp walls.

At a full stop, a man opens the door for you, the Oyabun having already exited and held a hand out for you to grab once again, strong muscles pulling you up with ease and leading you through the building and into an elevator. The silence is stifling as you wait for the machine to come to a stop, the soft chime indicating you’ve landed. 

Now you’re completely alone with him.

He leads you in and stops in the center of the large main room, stepping away and turning his scrutinizing gaze onto you. You do your best not to tense in front of him, not to show fear, partially for his comfort though you’re sure he’s used to it. His shoes clack softly, rhythmically on the polished wood floor as he begins to circle you, like a predator eyeing its prey, eyes burning paths up and down your form. You barely keep from squirming under his intense gaze, managing to keep still from sheer willpower. He stops suddenly behind you and you feel his warmth as he leans in close before a hand presses into your mid back and another gently grasps your shoulder, gently making you straighten even more, stand even taller.

Once he’s satisfied with your posture he rounds you and tilts your chin just a tad higher with a hooked finger. He’s silent as he shapes you, adjusting your body to his liking. You let him tenderly push and tug, grab and knead and trail those deadly fingers over you until he stops before you, studying you once again. 

“You’re my fiance now. You will hold yourself as such, radiate power as I do and command the attention of a room with only a glance.” The reminder of just what was happening made your breath stutter a little, and his hand came up to grasp your chin, making you look up into his dark eyes.

“You will learn, little one, to be the powerful woman I see.” He was so close, the heat from his body rolling over your skin and his breaths fanning over your face. Then he was walking away, motioning for you to follow as he led you to his chambers and bathroom to get cleaned up. You’d be sleeping with him from now on, he said, handing you a robe to change into after you’ve bathed and guiding you into the bathroom before closing the door and leaving you alone with your thoughts as you set to cleaning yourself.

Given you don’t screw things up, you are going to be the most powerful woman in Japan, solely because of a sudden arranged marriage dropped seemingly from out of nowhere. But the longer you think about it, it isn’t really out of nowhere is it? The Oyabun is 30 now, and until tonight hadn’t named a wife, nor any love interests, and therefore no possible heirs. If the man were to die for any reason, those chances only increasing the older he gets, the power vacuum his absence would create would be absolute madness. You’re part of a strategy, just as before. Just as always.

Yet there was no denying he’d struck something inside you. Of all the women in that hall he approached you, a woman he didn’t know from a low ranked clan, for reasons you could only barely begin to guess. He’d called you powerful earlier, the sincerity in his voice making your mind spin. Did he really see you as powerful? And the name he’d used for you felt far too tender on the tongue of such a dangerous man, though you understood the nod toward your previous rank. 

Father and Mother must be either confused, shocked, or overflowing with joy right about now. Confused as to why you haven’t returned, shocked, happy, or both at the news had they learned it. With your mind processing everything, your body finally begins to feel fatigued. 

You shut off the water before drying yourself, patting your hair in the towel before pulling on the fluffy robe. It was clearly meant for him, the fuzzy black garment large around the shoulders and sleeves engulfing your hands, the garment nearly touching the floor where it’s meant to hang several inches from it on his frame. Despite swimming in the robe, you couldn’t help but feel a bit vulnerable. You’re bare beneath it, not having planned to not return home. Still, it’s late, and the Oyabun needs to shower as well. With a steadying breath, you step out into the room.

He’s standing near the bed, the top half of his clothing discarded and bare skin exposed, along with the heavy tattooing and scars along his body. Dragon scales decorated his skin, along with delicate swirls heavily resembling smoke and clouds that followed the curves of his corded muscles. He is undoubtedly a beautiful man. You don’t realize you’re staring until a miniscule smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Enjoying the view, little one?” You blink away your daze and shift your eyes to the side, feeling the slight burn in your face at being caught. Instead of answering the cheeky question you choose to change the subject.

“I’m finished with my shower, Oyabun.” He hums, a low sound you can feel in your chest.

“I can see that, little one. And you call me Shouta.” You take a quiet, sharp inhale and nod.

“Yes, of course...Shouta.” His name feels heavy on your tongue, a name that people didn’t normally dare speak. He’s silent as he gathers his things and moves toward the bathroom, stopping momentarily by your side. You’re confused a moment before his calloused fingers gently grip your jaw and turn your head, his lips pressing softly against your temple for a split second before he’s disappearing into the bathroom. 

You stand in shock, the tender touch unexpected. Shaking your head, you decide it’s best to lay down. Hopefully you’d fall asleep by the time he finishes bathing, but you doubted it. You’re proven right when, in the midst of mulling over your own thoughts, he emerges in nothing but sweatpants, dark hair still damp as it fell around his shoulders. You managed to avert your eyes before he could catch you staring for a second time tonight, and it wasn’t long before he slipped under the blankets next to you.

There wasn’t a single word shared between you as he flicked off the lights with a remote and settled into the plush mattress. There was no movement from the man as you lay with your back to him. You aren’t entirely sure if the lack of movement unsettles you more than if he were to be shuffling around. It felt like hours had passed in the darkness, your eyes had adjusted and you couldn’t sleep despite how exhausted you felt. 

Your mind raced with questions. What happens now? What happens with your clan and parents? Would you have clothes soon? How would he treat you? How were you supposed to act around him? When is the wedding? Is the engagement already official? What if you disappoint him and fuck everything over? The entire situation makes you anxious, for more than something as trivial as your own safety. You shift onto your back and listen to Shouta’s soft snores, signaling his sleep. As silently and gently as you can, you slip out of bed.

You have no clue what you were going to do or where you were going to do it, but you had to get away from him if only for a moment, to let yourself breathe and think. Almost mindlessly, you find yourself staring out of the glass wall and out into the night. This far out, you can see the stars in the night sky clear and bright, and it was a sight you missed having lived in the city most of your life. Right here you have room to think, space to spread your thoughts and calm your mind to keep from jumbling everything in your brain and stressing over it more. 

From what you can tell there is a very small chance Shouta would treat you maliciously, so for now you don’t have to worry about that. Considering his power and status, you won’t be without clothing for long. The thought was silly in the first place, but stress tended to make you question even the most ridiculous. As for how you’re meant to act, well that would have to be tested. He’d already told you how to appear to the public, so that shouldn’t be too hard, but being alone with the man was driving you insane.

Soft footsteps broke you from your thoughts. You spin around, suddenly very much on guard, before Shouta’s voice broke through the darkness, his figure slowly approaching. 

“What are you doing up, little one?” You bite your lip and turn to gaze outside again, hugging your arms tight.

“Just thinking. I apologize for waking you, Oya-… Shouta.” His warmth hit you before his skin did, chest pressed into your back and large rough hands gripping your shoulders firm but gentle. His breath is hot on your ear and neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Such an intimate action from him only hours after he’d made you his fiance was quite the shock in and of itself, only enhanced by the fact that this man is known for his cold nature.

“Thinking about what?” His hands smoothed down your arms, following them around your waist and encompassing your hands in his, tugging you into him further. Unnatural as it may seem, it feels good, his warmth. In the arms of such a dangerous and powerful man you should feel small and scared, but you don’t. You aren’t entirely sure what it is you feel. Truthfully, you don’t have the energy to answer his question properly.

“About a lot of things. Too many things.” Right now, the only thing you want to do is melt into the man’s arms. His presence is suddenly comforting, instead of worrying, and you feel safe in his embrace. You sigh and lean into him, fatigue finally beginning to tug at your body and mind. Strong arms scoop you up like nothing, and suddenly you’re being placed down on the bed before he climbs in and pulls you onto him. An arm circles your waist while the other cradles your head, a tender kiss placed at your hairline.

“Sleep, little one.” His fingers thread through your hair, massaging your scalp lightly. It’s a soothing action, especially after nearly giving yourself a headache from stress. It isn’t long before you’re nodding off, relaxing into his body and letting his steady heartbeat lull you to sleep.

[riffheartsgraziella]

I’m not sure if you’ve written about this fully, but I’d love to see what happened when Riff punched the Emerald for Graziella at a dance.

A/N: I've been meaning to write this one for a while!

Warnings: Use of a couple slurs against Italians, language, and some violence.

The theme for the dance that night was “Spring Fling,” so the girls had gone all out to dress the part. They were still wearing their customary blues and greens to represent the Jets, but in various pastel shades, flowers and polka dots adorning most of their dresses. Some of the girls had even put tiny flowers in their hair, which had been Velma’s idea. Graziella was wearing a sleeveless light green dress that cinched at the waist with a belt, tiny white flowers circling the hemline. Riff had told her multiple times how much he loved it on her, but she was starting to regret her choice in clothing when she realized just how many Emeralds were at the dance that night. It wasn’t as if they owned the color green or anything, but it certainly was a defining feature of the Irish gang members and their girls, who were currently crowding on the dance floor, much to the Jets’ annoyance. The Emeralds were starting to get a little too free in their use of the Jets’ territory and that was a problem. The tension was clear for anyone to see as members of the Emeralds kept purposely bumping into the Jets as they danced with their girls, a few of them nearly coming to blows on a couple occasions. If the gym wasn’t crawling with cops, they probably would have. Graziella glanced down at her dress with a sour taste in her mouth. She was definitely regretting the green.

“This punch is nasty,” Rhonda sighed, leaving her glass on the table. She and Grazi were hanging out by the refreshments table while Riff and Action did a quick scan of the gym and the bathrooms, always on the lookout for trouble and spoiling for a fight. “Snowboy’s really gotta get better at spikin’ the punch bowl.” Laughing, Graziella opened her mouth to reply when a somewhat familiar Irish brogue suddenly came from behind her. “Care ta dance, darlin’?” It was Seamus O’Sullivan, a tall and muscular redhead and one of the Emeralds’ top fighters. He was currently smirking down at Graziella, holding out a hand to her. Crossing her arms over her chest, Graziella looked him up and down with a frown of disdain. “With you? No,” she said firmly, making it clear what she thought of the invitation. Beside her, Rhonda scowled as well. She’d briefly dated a couple Emeralds before meeting Action and she didn’t have fond memories of her time with them. “Aww, c’mon, one dance. I don’t see that boyfriend o’ yours nowhere,” Seamus insisted, stepping closer to her, which made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. So he knew she was Riff’s girl and he was still trying something. The Emeralds really were pieces of work. “Get away from me. I ain’t gonna tell ya again,” Graziella sneered, crossing her arms more tightly over her chest and stepping closer to Rhonda. “Feisty, huh?” Seamus replied with a sneer of his own, suddenly reaching out and grabbing at Grazi’s arm with one of his meaty paws, causing Rhonda to gasp in surprise. “Hey! Let go o’ her, asshole!” Rhonda exclaimed angrily. Suddenly, Action was by Rhonda’s side, his expression looking anything but pleased, while Riff appeared on the other side of Seamus and Graziella. His expression was calm, amiable even, but Grazi knew better. Beneath the surface, his blood was boiling. But he knew how to keep it hidden. For now, anyway. “What’s this? My buddy an’ I go ta hit the head an’ yer tryin’ ta move in on my girl?” Riff asked, his blue eyes as cool as ice as he looked into Seamus’ face. His gaze flicked down to where the Emerald’s hand was still forcibly resting on Grazi’s arm. “Get yer fuckin’ hands off her,” he added, his voice quiet, but deadly. “Ya gonna make me, boy-o?” Seamus asked tauntingly, squeezing Graziella’s arm as she attempted to pull it free from his grasp. “The fuck did ya just say?” Riff demanded, both he and Action moving in closer, clearly ready for a fight. “Riff,” Graziella hissed in warning, her eyes flicking towards Krupke and a few other cops who were keeping a focused eye on their group. “Yeah, Riff,” Seamus smirked. “Wouldn’t want Krupke on your case, now would ya?” Without warning, he let go of Graziella’s arm and pushed her in Riff’s direction. “Here ya go. I’m not really in the mood ta dance with your dago girlfriend anyway.” From her spot nearby, Rhonda gasped in offense for her friend. Graziella didn’t let much phase her, but even she stiffened angrily at the slur. Glancing up at Riff, she saw something shift in his eyes. Something raw and dangerous. Something Seamus wouldn’t see coming. “She had me fooled at first, ya see. From a distance,” Seamus continued, the big dumb idiot not knowing when to cut his losses and run. “It wasn’t until I got close enough ta touch her that I realized she was just a greasy guinea,” he explained, smirking at the insult. “Fuckin’ piece of shit!” Riff exploded, quickly pulling Graziella behind him as he launched himself at the Emerald. Without so much as a second thought or a backwards glance, Riff sent his fist flying into Seamus’ face, knocking the other boy into the refreshments table and spilling the spiked punch. Amid screams from the crowd and shouts from the social workers, Riff continued to punch Seamus as hard as he could, knocking his red head into the gymnasium floor a couple times for good measure. By that time, some Emeralds had arrived for back-up, but so had the Jets. Velma and Mamie pulled Rhonda and Grazi out of the way as both gangs prepared for an all-out brawl, fists flying freely until Krupke came barreling through with his whistle.

“Enough! Enough!” he shouted, grabbing at his side. “What’s the matter with yous? Can’t yous ever just let it be a nice evenin’?” The cops quickly separated the Jets and the Emeralds, girls from both gangs immediately running to their boyfriends’ sides. “Let’s go,” Riff told the Jets with a tilt of his head, slinging his arm around Graziella’s shoulders as they all turned to leave the gym. “Riff,” Krupke began, but Riff ignored him as they all made their way out of there. Graziella could tell that he was still angry. She wordlessly leaned into his side, silently reminding him that she was there for him. Once they were far enough away from the gym, Riff turned to look back at the Jets, a gleam in his eye. “Time for a rumble with the Emeralds, buddy boys. I’m tired o’ their shit.” A chorus of cheers went up from the Jets, who began hooting and hollering in excitement. Riff turned back to Grazi, cupping her face in his hands. “I’m sorry, girly girl,” he told her softly, brushing a calloused thumb against her cheek. “I’m fine,” Graziella assured him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. “More than fine. I got you,” she told him with a wink, smiling as the Jets made their way through the soon-to-be-Emerald-free streets.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Small Actions (Create Big Ripples) CC!Plat!Ranboo x GN!Reader

I've been thinking lately about this little drabble and it makes me a bit upset? Like.. I'm in this position high key but theres nothing I can do about it...

(R/R/n) stands for Ranboo's real name. Also if you're really tall.... No you're not. Shhhh. For plot purposes

You stayed away from social media as much as possible. Now, don't get me wrong, you used to love watching Youtubers play their games and happily interact with their fans.. But growing up, you never seemed to have enough money to donate when they streamed, or go to events where they were.

You had always wanted to tell them how much they've helped you through life, or shaped your personality.. Or saved you. But... They get told that every day by over hundreds of people.. So there would be no real sentiment behind it..

You'd probably just get a simple, "Aw. Happy I could help." Before turning back to their game without blinking twice.

So, you just watched silently. It hurt, you know? Wanting to thank them, or send them something to show your appreciation.. But you never seemed to be able to send it, with the thought that 'it won't really matter to them after five minutes.. You'll just be brushed over. It's pointless.'

Eventually it hurt too much to keep watching the content creators that raised you, so you just stopped and went on with your life.

It was hard, but at least you didn't have to deal with the fact that you would never be able to thank the people you watched for making your life that much better.

As time went on, while you still heard about the creators, it was just... less. Now people were non stop blabbering about these people from something called the DreamSMP?

Your sister was obsessed with it to say the least, and you always heard her mumbling about strange people like Technoblade? Or Sapnap? And apparently some people had children with inanimate objects?! Like a Samsung Fridge and a salmon?! Yeah you didn't even bother trying to understand what she was rambling about most of the times. It just spun your head in circles.

"Okay, I gotta take my mutt to the vet," Your sister and closest friend, (S/n), tilted her head towards the backseat to her dog as you sat in the passenger seat. "You think you'll be good to do the shopping for two or so hours? I'll call when I'm finished, and plus I know how you can get distracted with looking at some things."

"Yeah, I think I'll be good." You nodded slightly, going over the list in your hand of things to get for your classes, food and just some clothing for the changing seasons.

(S/n) pulled into the parking lot and looked you over briefly, "You forgot your mask didn't you?" She watched as your hands flew up to your face to feel for the fabric, but you didn't find it so you fished through the pockets of your sweater before smiling nervously at the driver. "Uuugggggggghhhh. Of course. Okay, I got a new one from the merch store that you can use, but do not damage it! I spent a whole $30 on it!"

Scoffing as you rolled your eyes, you snagged the half white and half black mask away from her, "You and your merch. Honestly, (S/n), your obsession scares me. But anyway, thanks. I won't get it damaged, I swear." You pulled the mask onto your face after giving her a smile and walked into the store as she drove off.

Sighing slightly, you walked in, sanitized your hands, and set off on your journey to find the things you needed. Surprisingly, today seemed to be a good day as you miraculously pulled the card that didn't have the busted wheel!

Humming a soft tune to yourself, you paced up and down aisles in search of (S/n)'s favourite coffee. Pausing for a moment as you scanned the shelves, you finally spotted it and made a noise of anger as you realized it was on the very top shelf. "Oh, I hate it here..." You mumbled, a phrase you had picked up from your sister who was really big on trends like that.

Grumbling to yourself, you stood on the tips of your toes, jumped up and down, even climbed the shelves a small bit, but it just seemed to brush by your fingertips every time. Apparently it had been long enough to the point where someone had wandered into the aisle as well.

"Hey... Uh.. Nice mask? You need help?" A male voice asked very hesitantly making your head turn towards him. He was t a l l and literally could tower over you if you got close enough. He had fluffy dirty blonde hair possibly? It looked a little damp so you couldn't really tell. Rain had been in the weather report, but guess it couldn't hold off long enough. Oddly enough, he was wearing dark sunglasses and the exact same mask as you?

'Maybe he's a fan of one of (S/n)'s fandoms?' You stepped back with a sheepish smile and a blush. "Oh! Yes please! Uhm.. Also, could you tell me about what these masks represent? This is my sister's... And I kinda want to make sure I'm not looking like I'm part of some gang or something."

The tall boy reached up for the coffee before pausing midway through and looking at you in surprise. "You don't know who... Oh, it's just from a Twitch Streamer.." He murmured rather softly as he got the coffee down for you.

With a cheerful "Thank you!" You placed the container in the cart. "Oh? Yeah that makes sense. My sister loves that kind of stuff. Are they... A good person?"

"I-I'd like to think so." He nodded quickly. "Are you not.. Like, a fan of content creators? Like.. Uh.. Dream or (P/F/C)?" (Past favourite creator)

"Well... I mean I used to really like (p/f/c) when I was younger. But it kind of... Saddened me, you know?"

He looked at you again and tilted his head a bit, "Saddened you? Did they do something bad?"

"No no! It's just... I try to avoid joining fandoms, even if they make me really happy while in them despite the toxicity. I really enjoy the people who create content, and I like watching them have fun... It's just.." Were you really gonna spill some personal stuff to some stranger who showed you the slightest bit of kindness? Not originally. But he kept watching you, patiently waiting for you to continue the sentence. "They'll... Never know.. How much they saved me."

"Oh.. I see. Yeah.. I've had that happen a lot. When, I watch this guy's streams," He pulled at his mask for a moment, "People always donate money and tell him how much they appreciate him for getting them through rocky times.. It's heartwarming to say the least but he does sound genuinely thankful."

"Oh that's sweet.. What does he do? Or what's he like?" You asked with a smile, although he couldn't see it, as you crouched down to get something from the sheleves. "Unless you have places to be of course!"

He looked a little surprised at first, "Ah... I got time. It's just.. Kinda nice being able to talk to people again after quarantine..." He trailed off briefly before taking something off the shelf as well and putting it in his basket, "Uh.. The streamer is a popular minecraft player. He recently hit a record during a stream and everyone lost their minds. He's a little painfully awkward at some points but he enjoys playing the games and interacting with his chat."

"Oh he sounds nice! I would definitely want to friends with someone like him!" You chuckled softly before frowning and glancing away. "Oh.. Popular.. So I'd be another comment in the flood of a chat.. Damn. I got a little excited. Oh! My bad, I'm (Y/n). Nice to meet you!" You laughed softly in an attempt to brush off the sad atmosphere you made.

"(R/r/n). But everyone just calls me Ranboo. Nice to meet you too." He sounded as if he was smiling but there was a soft sadness in his tone. "Do you not like popular streamers then?"

"No, it's just... that I had always wanted to tell them how much they've helped me through life, or shaped my personality.. Or saved me.. But... They get told that every day by over hundreds of people.. So there would be no real sentiment behind it.. I suppose it just left me feeling a bit hopeless and like a broken record of every other fan of theirs. So, I just watched silently. It hurt, you know? Wanting to thank them, or send them something to show appreciation.. But I never seemed to be able to send it, with the thought that 'it won't really matter to them after five minutes.. You'll just be brushed over. It's pointless.'.."

Ranboo seemed slightly more upset and he shifted his basket into his other hand, "I don't think it's like that at all.. I believe that streamers and creators truly cherish anyone who even interacts with their videos, and even though they know there's some people in the world who can't say anything or buy their merchandise, the creators still know that they're there. They appreciate everyone who comes along their path, whether they support them by giving them money, criticism or their attention!"

You blinked at how... Passionate your new friend was about this topic before smiling softly. "I guess... It never passed my mind.. Thank you Ranboo.. Hey, you wanna be friends and get to know each other more?"

His expression was unreadable due to the fabric covering his mouth and nose, and the glasses covering his eyes. "Oh! Sure!" He sounded quite happy, so you were guessing that you weren't being too awkward. "Here's my number, as long as you promise to never give it to anyone. Even if someone wants to get to know me, okay?"

You took out your phone and looked at him with a strange expression, but quickly nodded. 'Maybe he is just really strict about his privacy.' Once he gave you the number, you sent a quick text to him to give him your contact in return. "Great! It was wonderful meeting you, I hope we can hang out more often! After.. covid of course."

Eagerly nodding, Ranboo finished writing your contact into his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "Oh yeah definitely! I'll see you soon, (Y/n)!"

Parting your separate ways, you looked down at the newly added contact, 🤍Ranboo🖤 (Platonic hearts), with a smile.

Maybe small actions weren't as useless as you thought...