#dunno what he’s gesturing in the 1st i just liked the hand

[time-slink]

assorted iskalls <3

[luv-assangiebatch]

Mendax Undercover - Chapter 5: SATC?

^^ Kat talking about her interaction with Julian. ❤️‍🔥

I wrote another chapter! The next one is gonna be more difficult but it should also have some good stuff in it.

After the five friends met at Astrid’s desk on the 1st floor, they decided on a place to have lunch.  There was a quaint Indian food restaurant called Tandoori Palace Gate that was near Santé Genomics.  It had great food, a lunch buffet, was decently priced, and offered a calm, relaxing atmosphere.  This was a typical go- to for many people in the biotech sector, and these friends quickly made it a favorite mid-day hangout where they could socialize and catch up.  Once they were seated and settled, they soon ordered and then began their chat session.  The topic of the hour was Kat’s new story regarding the latest interaction with the otherwise elusive bioinformatics VP.

“Okay so what is this story, what happened?”  Bethany inquired with playful excitement.

The other three focused on Kat with a curious air.

“Oui, tell us!” Astrid echoed.

Kat fanned herself a little bit as she exhaled, trying not to blush too much like a giddy schoolgirl.  However, it may have been a bit too late for that.

“Okay well—we ran into each other at the coffee station again…” Kat began.

“Ahhh coffee…” Marilu mused.  “I bet you needed some after last night—I know I sure did!”  The others laughed in agreement.

“Yes, that was fun, but we can’t make a habit of staying out that damn late—not unless we all call off the next day or use PTO or something…” Juniper added, rubbing their tired eyes.  “Oh but you were saying, Kat…?”

“Ah yes, so the coffee station.  Well, he has this habit of sneaking up on me and taking me by surprise…he’s like some sort of sneaky ninja…”

“Or sexy ninja…” Astrid added with a smirk.

The others groaned and nodded in agreement.  Even though Marilu and Juniper were asexual and aromantic, they could still appreciate the allure of a handsome man.  Plus by now, all of the friends were emotionally invested in Kat’s new crush.

“Anyway—so he startles me again and I of course fumble my coffee cup, thank goodness it wasn’t full.  It just kept bouncing off my hand until it flung towards him and he caught it!”

The friends giggled.

“Right, so then we just started chatting a bit—he made a crack about me going for the caffeinated stuff…oh!  Then I offered to pour him a cup and then he had to run off to a meeting, and asked me to bring it to his office…”

The friends leaned in, interested to hear what came next.

“Have you ever been to his office before?” Marilu asked.

“I hadn’t!”

“What’s it like?” Juniper asked.

“Oh…I dunno…it’s nice.  It’s big.  Large windows on the far wall, and a conference table in front of those.  Then bookshelves and cabinets behind his desk…I dunno, looks like a typical executive’s office...”

“Nothing personal in there?  Décor?” Astrid asked.

Kat tilted her head for a moment.  “You know, no—I didn’t really notice anything… I think he had a small fridge in there, maybe?  Behind his desk…but that’s it…”

“Not surprising…” Juniper began.  “I was talking with Otto in bioinformatics and he said Julian hardly talks to anyone…you have probably talked with him more than anyone on his own team has!”

Kat shook her head. “No way, that can’t be right…”

“He seems like the type to keep to himself,” Marilu noted with a slight nod.

“Takes one to know one!” Bethany teased.

Marilu shrugged. “Yeah, fair…”  They were being amusing in their own way.

“Ooooh, but I haven’t gotten to the good part yet!”  Kat exclaimed, getting a bit giddy.  “Okay so… I go into his office thinking I’m just going to drop his coffee off and leave—but then he’s like, ‘hey my meeting was canceled,’ and I was like, ‘oh that’s cool,’ and then he was all, ‘why don’t you stay and chat a bit,’ and I was all, ‘bpbpbpbpbokay!’”

Laughter filled the table.  As Kat continued, her speech and hand gestures were becoming more dynamic as her cheeks flushed slightly.  She was beaming.

“Anyway, so yeah, we just chatted a bit about how we ended up at Santé, and I told him about a couple of fun pubs around for dancing and stuff and then he was all, ‘maybe you can show me sometime…!’”  Kat started to fan herself again.

The others expressed surprise with dropped chins and more leaned in gestures.  “Whaaaaat…” they sang in unison almost.

“He is so into you—he has to be!” Bethany exclaimed, then taking a sip of her Lassi.

“But you guys, it gets even better…  After that, he asked about my graduate research, and then, well, long story short—he said that the company is on him to do some research so he asked if I would like to work on my research with him!”

“Woooooah!”  the friends chimed.

“I know!”  Kat brought her cold glass of water to her cheeks and forehead for a moment, trying to calm her excitement.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little jealous,” Juniper responded.  “I wouldn’t mind some hot VP wanting to help me further my graduate research…”

“You could end up publishing a manuscript with him!” Bethany exclaimed.

“And presenting together at ASCO… Oooh overseas trips together…?” Marilu mused.

“This could also mean lots of late nights together, eh?” Astrid inquired with a raised eyebrow.  “Wouldn’t you have to do research after the normal workday?”

“Ooooh…” the others chimed in unison, agreeing with Astrid’s thought.

“Yeah…maybe…I guess we’ll see!  But yeah, I am pretty elated about this, you guys…  I really don’t know why or how this is happening, but I guess I’ll try to enjoy it and not screw it up by doing something stupid!”  Kat scoffed at herself.  “Hopefully I can control the clumsiness around him if I have to see him more…”

“Awe Kat, you’re so hard on yourself,” Juniper said, being a supportive friend as they often were.  “You are so passionate about precision medicine and what we do, and I bet he sees that in you and knows you will take it seriously.”

“Thanks, my friend,” Kat nodded to Juniper.  “So yeah, that’s my big news for the day…how is everyone else doing?”

“I’m so fucking tired…!” Astrid growled.

“Didn’t you leave with that businessman last night?” Bethany asked.

Astrid chucked. “Ah yes, I did…upper-class connard,” she added with disdain.

“But he was handsome—was he not very nice?”

“Bof… he was fun for a night—to dominate, you know…but they are all the same.  Thinking the pretty French girl is so exotique…it’s so…ennuyeux, non?”  Astrid rolled her eyes.  “But I give them what they want, a show, eh!  It’s fun for a night.”

Bethany grimaced.  “But what about finding a real nice man and falling in love?”

“Pfft—l’amour, c’est la guerre,” Astrid quipped.

Bethany looked at Marilu and Juniper.

“Don’t look at us, we’re ace…” Marilu noted, crossing her hands back and forth a bit.

“That’s not to say we don’t believe in others finding love, “ Juniper added.  “I just think it’s very tricky, and rare to find a good one.  Most of the time it’s just too much hassle, and who has time for that nonsense?”

Bethany sighed, then looked hopelessly at Kat.  “Kat, what do you think?  Do you believe in love?”

Kat shrugged.  “I am generally a skeptic… However, deep down I do want to believe, wish for it… It’s been a long time since I met anyone who made me think of stuff like that though…”

“Until now…?” Bethany inquired with a hopeful smile.

Kat cracked a shy smirk, almost feeling like she were caught with her hand in the cookie jar.  “Yes…Mr. VP…well…he is giving me the feels for sure.  He is just so…enchanting…”  Kat sighed hopelessly, then immediately scolded herself in her head for being such a silly schoolgirl.

“Oh my God, I just realized something…” Bethany added while covering a giggle with her hand.

“What?” the others asked.

“We are just like the ladies from Sex and The City…!”

“Huh?” “What?” “How do you mean?” the others inquired simultaneously.

“Oh my God, yes!  It’s so obvious!”  Bethany laughed, so proud of herself for discovering this parallel.  “Sex and the City—the biotech version!”

The others just looked back and forth at each other, then back at Bethany for further explanation.

“Okay so I’m totally Charlotte—the one with the more reserved and traditional outlook on love…”

“Ohhh…” the others began to nod as she continued.

“And Astrid here is Samantha, feeling power in her sexuality and having fun with it.  Then we have TWO Mirandas!”  Bethany gestured toward Juniper and Marilu.

“Ah yes, the romance skeptic!”  Juniper laughed.  “I even have the short red hair!”

“And Kat…” Bethany motioned toward the variant scientist.  “Well, she’s our Carrie of course…and Mr. VP is her Mr. Big!”

The table roared with approval.

“God…” Kat sighed.  “He’s even elusive like Mr. Big was…”

“Oap, there she goes…” Marilu waved a hand in front of Kat’s eyes to bring her back down to earth.

The table giggled as they continued to finish their lunch before heading back to the office.

And just like that… Basel was starting to show Kat there was room in life for friendship and potential romance as well as a successful career, and maybe having it all wasn’t as rare as most people thought.

[jubilantwriter]

It All Began with a Big Crash

(AO3)

Summary:  It's the one year anniversary of Boyfriend and Girlfriend's growing relationship, and Boyfriend absolutely, totally, DID NOT forget that today is that special day. And yet, that one single DID NOT FORGETTing leads to a domino effect, resulting in quite possibly one of the best nights of their lives.

After all, what's the point of a performance if no one's having fun during it?

Word Count: 7154

(A/N:  Happy 1st Anniversary of Friday Night Funkin’!  I literally wrote and edited this all in one day.  Got home at midnight, started writing, and then I posted it at 10 am, took a nap, went to work, AND NOW I’M HERE ON TUMBLR :D  Anyway, FNF has been a big comfort for me these past months, so it’s only fitting that I put myself through hell to get this little bit out.  I hope you all enjoy!)

\\\\

Now, Boyfriend isn't a forgetful man.  This thought crosses his mind as he stands up abruptly after paying for his lunch and racing for the door.

"Be-!"

"Eep!"

CRASH .

But sometimes things... slip from his mind, and while he's not one prone to panic, THIS is something worth panicking over.

"-EP.  SHIT.  SORRY!"

"My dishes!"  A blonde server kneels on the ground, surrounded by the clumsy carnage created by Boyfriend inadvertently crashing into her on his rush out.  She glares accusingly at him as the boy jogs in place.  "Again, really?!"

"Sorry, sorry!"  He waves his hands in front of him before looking over his shoulder.  "I'll pay for the dishes and shit uh, later!"  He dashes out the door as she calls out behind him.

"That's what you said LAST time!"

Well, last time he was dirt poor, but now that he's pretty famous around town, he's actually got the moolah to pay for damages!  So yeah, next time!

...Is what he meant to tell her, but he's already busting into the conveniently placed flower shop, panting as he looks around wildly for help.  The florist in question glances at him completely unbothered by his entrance.  

"Forgot an important date again?" she quips, staring back down at her phone as she drapes herself over the counter.

"BAP!" he says defensively, because he DIDN'T forget!  It just... slipped his mind a little.  In his defense, he'd gotten so used to being with Girlfriend that it felt ... normal!  Like they've been together for YEARS and being with her just felt so right, and every day was the greatest day of his life because he had her by his side.  So yeah, maybe the days slipped past him in a blissful sort of way, like when he gets super focused on his music or some arbitrary task, and the hours slip by and suddenly it's the next morning!  It's kind of like that, but with a girl who makes him smile and laugh and forget that life is supposed to be difficult and hard, and not fun and invigorating.  And to think they've only been together for a year...

...A year.

...Wait.

Shit.

SHIT.

He's doing it again!

He bustles over and slaps a fifty on the counter.  "Bop!" he announces in a rush, tapping his fingers impatiently as the florist holds it up to the light. 

With a low whistle, she puts it back on the table.  "Wow, you're really going all out this time, huh?"  Before Boyfriend can respond to her sarcasm, the florist calls out to her partner in the back.  "Flower!  Miku's lil bro is back at it again, dropping a fifty and hoping for the best."

"Again?"  A husky voice makes its way over as a familiar bush of thick hair pops out from beyond the doorway.  "Boyfriend, you should know by now that apology bouquets are at least a hundred."

"Ba- skida- AUGH!  It's not an apology bouquet!"  He stomps his foot, irritated to break out the English but knowing full well it’s a matter that needs clear communication.  So not really a waste of words, just a waste of energy on two ladies who will give him shit regardless of the noise he makes.

"Oh yeah?  What's the occasion?"  The taller florist - Lily, hilariously enough - leans forward with a smirk as Flower keeps her deadpan stare.  

"It's for my anniversary!"  He crosses his arms and harrumphs as Lily whistles again.

"Damn, and you didn't invite us to the wedding?  Harsh."

"No, not that-!  Ugh, you know what I mean."

"Do we?"  Lily and Flower exchange a look before Lily's smirk widens.  "I dunno, you don't give us the dirt anymore.  Remember when you'd come in here all the time, red in the face trying to get apology bouquets for that one boy?  What's his name-"

"Pico," he answers, a bit flustered as the memories rush through his mind before shaking his head, "and he liked them all, by the way!  But this isn't about him-"

"No, it's about your new girl, right?"  Flower cuts in, leaning against the doorway with a bored expression.  "What's her favorite color?  It's not green, is it?"

"It's red, and please can you make it quick?  I dunno when she wants us to meet up, so...!"  He flashes them two thumbs up and is about to bounce, but Lily grabs the collar of his shirt with a chuckle.

"Not so fast, dumbass."  She pulls him back to the counter as he whines pathetically.  "You really think a fifty is enough for an anniversary bouquet?"

Oh no.  He starts to sweat, feeling his wallet tremble in fear.  They're doing it again.  "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean, Flower?"  Lily turns back to the shorter florist as the other makes a thoughtful hum.

"One hundred, at least."

"Yeah, at least one hundo."  Lily holds her hand out.  "C'mon, cough it up, shorty."

This is beyond unreal, but at the same time, it is completely expected from people who teased him relentlessly since he was a kid.  "If it wasn't for Miku, you guys wouldn't even be here!"

"We're only here because of convenience, please."  Lily snorts as the boy continues to struggle.  "So you aiming for an apology bouquet or an anniversary bouquet?"

"Just cut me a deal, please?  For old time's sake?" He clasps his hands together and bats his eyelashes.  "I'm still that cute little kid who used to pretend to be like Miku!  Who could forget good ol' Mikuo?"

"One hundred."  Flower cuts off the potential reminiscing and steps up to the counter.  "Or it's an apology bouquet."

Grumbling miserably, Boyfriend digs around in his pocket and manages to snag something.  He pulls out his hand and counts out four quarters.  Quietly, he puts it on top of the fifty.

Flower and Lily both look at it silently.

"...Well," Flower begins, slowly taking the money, "I did say one hundred."

Roll with it roll with it roll with it-

"Yeah, and uh, four twenty-fives makes one hundred, right?"

"What, are we speaking French now?"  Lily asks with a sneer.

"No," Boyfriend begins, blinking slowly, "pretty sure we're speaking English." 

"Oh my god."  She slaps her hand over Flower's.  "We are not doing this."

"I gave you one hundred," he argues, sweating miserably as he turns up the confidence.  

"He did give us one hundred," Flower agrees.

"You are not giving this to him.  You know he didn't even plan this!  He's too stupid to pull a slick move like that!"

Boyfriend just smiles and gives them a double thumbs up.

"It's not like anyone else is gonna be coming in to give us another job."  Flower hums and stows the money in the register, much to Lily's chagrin.  "And besides, if I get bored making it, I'll just take a nap."

"Flower-!"  Before Lily can protest even more, Flower disappears into the backroom, no doubt to either work on the bouquet or take that nap.  Lily turns back to Boyfriend and glares, jabbing a finger against his chest.  "Be back here in a few hours.  You're taking whatever the hell she makes for you, stingy little bitch."

"That's all I have on my person!"

"We accept credit and debit."

"I have bills to pay."

"You're such a little-!"  Lily makes a strangling gesture with her hands before grabbing and shaking him.  "You better give this girl a helluva anniversary."

"I'm trying!"  He backs up and shoots the tall florist finger guns before vacating the premises.  Okay, one thing down.  Next: chocolates.  Easy-peasy.  What place sells heart-shaped boxes of chocolates and other cutesy, anniversary items?

Boyfriend makes a beeline for the local grocery store and spends only a total of thirty minutes there, making the proud purchase of a box of chocolates, a little teddy bear holding a heart, and even a balloon that says, "I Love You".  Score!  Damn, he's doing great so far.  And it was such a quick purchase!  Maybe Miku's friends could learn a thing or two about making quick sales instead of harassing him over every little thing.

What's next, what's next...

A place for dinner, right!  Girlfriend loves the local bar.  Great food, a nice atmosphere, open mic nights, a server who's familiar with them...

A server that he crashed into and made her drop all those dishes to the floor... like that other time he did it to her and held up the service for a sizable amount of time...

He gulps.  Hm.  She's probably still mad at him too.  But uh, huh.  He's not sure what to do.  Maybe, maybe...

He takes out his phone and dials a familiar number.  It rings only twice before a gruff, annoyed voice answers on the other side.

"I'm busy, the fuck you want?"

Without missing a beat, he gets on his metaphorical hands and knees.  "Pico, can I ask a favor, please please pretty please?"

"Wow, English.  Must be desperate."   There's a loud crash on his end before Pico's voice yells at a pair of playful, young laughter.  "Hey- hey!  Watch it!"

"Pico, so uh, could you-?"

"Hey- give me that!"   More raucous laughter fills the line as Pico sighs.  "Sorry, Bee, don't think I can help ya today.  I was supposed to just watch these two kids 'til Lila came back, but then I got a call from a pal who needs help at her joint and- Skid, Jesus fucking Christ -"   There's some shuffling and a grunt as a playful squeal rings a little too close to the phone.  Pico continues as though nothing happened on his end.  "-and so basically I'm double booked for the night."

"Oh, okay."  He tries not to let the disappointment seep into his voice, but another sigh from Pico suggests that he heard it regardless.  

"Look, I'm real sorry, wish I could help, but a line's formin' and I can only do so much."   Pico grunts and a soft thump is heard.  Two voices chatter away distantly in the background, but Boyfriend focuses solely on Pico.  "Why?  What happened?"

"Well, today's me and Girlfriend's anniversary, and I wanted to take her out but-"

"Can't figure out a place to take her?  C'mon man, you- Jesus, you two, slow down, I'm comin'- you already know one."

"Yeah, the bar but-"

"What, ya worried about 'bout lines or somethin'?  I know it's busy and shit, but I'm sure Serv will get ya guys' a table easy.  It's just you two, you'll be fine."

"Okay, but-"

"Oh my GOD, what the HELL is THAT?!"  

A faint, childish voice answers Pico's horrified question as Boyfriend listens in.  "That's Moloch!"

"...MOLOCH?"

A roar sounds from Pico's side of the phone call.  The voice - uh, Skid, was it? - laughs excitedly.  "Yeah!  He's our friend!"

"He lives in Skid's attic!"

A demonic voice nearly blows out Boyfriend's eardrums.  "GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"...Does your MOM know about this?!"

"Sorta!  She thinks he's a rat."

"Hey hey HEY, back OFF-!  Sorry, Bee, I'll call ya later!"  

The last thing he hears is another roar before the line hangs up.  Pico will probably be fine - he's handled worse after all, and even Boyfriend's faced off a demon or two!  Maybe three, if that Lemon Man those two kids were friends with counted as well.  Man, demons are just everywhere, huh?

...Speaking of demons.  There’s one demon he really should be focusing on.  Like getting their dinner date set up at her favorite bar in town.  Even though he’s probably on that bar’s shitlist for knocking over their number one employee again .

But Girlfriend really does love going to that bar, and if it's for her...  Fuck it, he'll suck it up and take whatever Server-chan's got against him.  He'll just challenge her to a quick rap battle, win, and THEN they can have a nice dinner!  Yeah, that's what he'll do.  Lily's words replay in his mind as he walks off to his apartment to change into something nicer.

"You better give this girl a helluva anniversary."

Fuck yeah he will.

"Damn, after all these years, you still can't tie a tie."  Lily frets over his outfit as she helps him tidy up a bit.  A colorful ribbon now decorates the box of chocolates, tying it together with the teddy bear with the balloon also tied around its wrist.  He grabs the tied together present after she rolls his sleeves up to his elbow.

"Bouquet?" he asks hopefully as Lily dusts off his shoulders for the hundredth time.  

She huffs and shakes her head, blowing a stray hair out of her face.  "You're lucky Flower didn't take a nap halfway through.  It's her best work so far!  All for the low, low cost of $51, tax not included."

"There's tax?!"  He almost falls over, but Lily grabs him by the collar of his dress shirt.

"Chill out, we'll charge it to Miku's account."

"Oh, thanks."  He swats away her hands when she tries to tuck in the other half of his shirt.  "Fuck off, it's part of my style!"

"What, being sloppy?"

"The ladies love it."

"Your lady deserves better."

"But I'm the best there is!"

"Oh, God," Lily groans as her expression falls into despair.  "Egotism really does run in the family."

"Enough about the family ego," Flower pipes up, her hands full with a large, beautiful bouquet.  "These flowers need to be appreciated."

"Holy shit."  Boyfriend takes the entire bouquet, admiring the reds, pinks, and whites.  There's a smattering of small, lavender flowers here and there, making the other colors pop.  "Roses!" he points out, the only flower he recognizes.

"Yup, and there's also lilies, alstroemeria, and-"

"Don't waste your breath," Lily cuts in, covering Flower's mouth before she can list them all out.  "He won't remember any of the names."

A disappointed sigh escapes Flower, so he gives her the biggest grin he can muster.  "Yo, I still think it's hella bomb to look at.  I really think she'll love it!"

Flower perks up a bit, a small smile forming on her usually stoic face.  "...Cool."

"Alright, get outta here."  Lily shoves him back to the door with a grin.  "You got a hot date, yeah?  Go give her the night of her life!"

"Yeah!"  He waves to the pair before leaving.  "Gonna have a great night at the bar!"

Lily's smile falters as Flower's smile immediately disappears.  "...The what?"

"See ya!"

"Wait, Boyfriend!  You're taking her out to the fucking BAR?!"  

He doesn't have the time to turn back and answer Lily, so he goes along his merry way, bouquet clutched tightly against his chest with the bear.  Hopefully the incident from earlier today has been swept away.  He really doesn't want to have a rap battle with Server-chan, but if he has to...

"Boyfriend!"  A sweet, melodic voice pulls him from his thoughts as he looks over to see his beautiful, wonderful Girlfriend.  Her iconic look now sports a sleek, black jacket reminiscent of her mother's own jacket.  It looks stunning on her, and a soft, longing "beep" escapes him as she giggles and kisses his cheek.  "Hey, hun.  Happy anniversary!"

"Happy anniversary!"  He holds out his gifts for her to take, and he delights in her unabashed joy as she takes them.

"Oh!  This teddy bear is so cute, and these flowers are lovely!"  Another giggle escapes her as she points at the bouquet.  "Roses!"

"That's what I said!"  They both share a laugh before her smile settles into something soft and relaxed.

"Now I wish I got you something too..."  Girlfriend pouts a bit, but he kisses it away with a grin.

"Hey, don't sweat it!  Lemme spoil you for the night instead."  He offers her his arm, and she happily loops hers with his.  They walk into the bar together and are met with a familiar face standing behind a podium.  Despite being the hostess, Cassette Girl keeps her iconic cap on as she notices them and greets them with a lazy smile.

"Wooow," she drawls out, giving Boyfriend a knowing grin.  "Back again so soon?  And after that huge fuss you made."

"Fuss?"  Girlfriend gives Boyfriend a curious look.  

"Uhh, beep bah."

"Didn't tell her about your mishap, huh?"  Cassette Girl raises an eyebrow and shakes her head.  "Well, if you wanted to know, Serv got it figured out.  Called in a favor last minute, and luckily he was nice enough to help out."  

"Sorry about that," he says sheepishly, and Cassette Girl merely shrugs.

"It's whatever.  Not the first time you messed her up real good.  And besides, you're not even the first person to make her crash and burn for a hot minute."  

"Is this still about the fuss you guys are talking about?"  Girlfriend looks between the two as Cassette Girl chuckles.

"Yeah, but don't worry about it.  Lemme take ya to your seats.  Bar or nah?"  

"Nah, it's our anniversary date today!"

"And you guys are spending it here?”  She pauses for a second in thought before shaking her head.  “Alright."  Cassette Girl takes it in stride and seats them near the miniature stage.

"Oh, is it open mic night tonight?"  Girlfriend sits down, already excited for the night as Cassette Girl chuckles and hands them the menus.

"Nah, originally we had a band booked tonight, but their back-up vocalist got injured, so they called it off last minute.  It's gonna be a quiet night instead."

"Aww."  The pout on Girlfriend's face lasts only a second before her smile returns.  "Oh well!  Sometimes quiet is nice too."

"Right you are.  Anyway, your waiter will be with you guys in just a sec, so take your time.  We're not too busy tonight, so feel free to cause more havoc."  She flashes a grin before walking back to her station.  

Girlfriend waves goodbye and turns back to Boyfriend with a smile.  "Cassey is so nice!  I wish we could talk to her more."  

"Maybe we'll catch her on the street one of these days."  He cracks open the menu, perusing the contents before deciding on getting his usual.

"Maybe!  Should I try something new tonight?"

"Wouldn't hurt."

"But I don't know what to get..."

"Maybe we can ask the waiter?"  He looks around for their supposed waiter, but all he sees is an unimpressed Pico standing at their table.  "Oh!  Pico!  You're dressed like a waiter!"

True to his observations, Pico is dressed similarly to Server-chan; a black long sleeved shirt replaces his usual green sweater, and a pair of black slacks replaces his usual beige cargo pants.  The only splash of color on his outfit is the bright orange apron that all servers seem to wear as per uniform, and it absolutely clashes with Pico's own bright, red hair.  

"That's because I am the waiter, dumbass."  The bite from his remark is lost from the tired slump of his shoulders, and the ginger begins to resemble Server-chan with each passing second.  "At least for tonight.  She called me in for a favor, and I agreed to help."

The conversation from earlier today pings in Boyfriend's memory.  "Is this what you meant when you said you were double booked?"

"Yeah.  Told me some blue-haired douchebag steamrolled her on his way out, and she ended up breaking a whole buncha dishes.  She went out to go replace the whole set, so I'm coverin' for the rest of her shift while she takes care of it.  Now that I think about it," Pico fixes him with a stern, knowing glare as Boyfriend shrinks under his sharp eyes, "I kinda already know about a certain blue-haired douchebag."

"I'll pay her back, I promise."  

"You fuckin' better."  Pico looks over to Girlfriend and offers her a tired grin when she waves cheerfully.  "Hey, Red, he treatin' ya well tonight?"

"Yup!  He got me chocolates, a bear, a balloon, AND a bouquet!"

"Really spoilin' ya there."

"Only the best for Gigi, right?"  He nudges Pico playfully, the earlier irritation already melting away from his expression as he rolls his eyes and ruffles Boyfriend's hair.

"Yeah yeah.  Ya guys ready to order?"

Pico takes their orders and departs quickly, the couple watching him disappear somewhere in the bar as their collective thoughts gather on one thing only.

"Mm, Pico should wear uniforms more often, huh?"

"It definitely looks flattering on him."  They both hum before taking sips from the water Pico had set down earlier while taking their orders.  With no ginger to distract them, Girlfriend's attention centers back on Boyfriend as she smiles.  "Thanks for taking me out here for dinner!  I know it's not easy for us to go out on dates since my parents still hover, so I'm really happy that we went out like you planned!"

"Oh yeah, totally."  His easy grin hides the absolute panic he had for the entire half of his day when he realized he had nothing planned.  "I wish I could treat you out for something better, but nothing else is really happening around this time of year-"

"Except for Spooky Month!"  Two voices pipe up out of nowhere as the costumed duo surprise the couple.  

"Oh, goodness, hello!"  She laughs as Skid and, uh, Pump?  Stand by their table looking curious.  "How have you two been?"

"Okay!  Mr. Pico has been babysitting us since Mom's been busy with her work stuff."  Skid bounces on his heels as Pump looks up more calmly.  "We wanted to introduce him to Moloch, but..."

"He didn't like him too much.  He said Moloch is more scary than spooky."  Pump sticks his tongue out and laughs.  "Silly Mr. Pico!  He does not understand that Moloch is our friend!"

"Moloch?"  Girlfriend hums as bobs her head in thought.  "That name sounds familiar.  There was a demon that went missing months ago by that name..."  

"Oh, weird!"

"Moloch came to us months ago too!  But now he stays in Skid's attic."

"It's like a sleepover every day!"

"That sounds like fun!"  She giggles as the kids bounce around her.

Boyfriend watches with a smile before remembering that “double booked” thing that Pico mentioned earlier.  Were these the kids he was watching when Boyfriend called…?  "So why are you guys here?  If Pico is supposed to be babysitting you guys, but is working here instead..."  Boyfriend wonders how Pico manages to balance so many jobs at once.  He himself can barely handle the one!  

"Mr. Pico said that he didn't trust Moloch and wanted us to stay somewhere safer."

"Which is weird, because Moloch is our friend!  But it made him happier, so we came here with him."

"It's boring here, so Pump and I have been teaching lots of people how to spooky dance!"

"Oh?"  Girlfriend indulges them and smiles as they crowd closer to her.  "Can you show me too?"

"You don't know the spooky dance?"

"We should show her!"

"It goes like this!"  The pair of children do a little dance for her, and a happy laugh escapes her as she watches.  Boyfriend leans back and enjoys her happiness as the kids continue to chat with her.

"That looks like fun!"

"You can do it too!"  Skid tugs on her hands, and it's enough to get her to stand up.  "Just hold out your hands like this-"

"-and then you move like this!"  The two of them demonstrate one more time before looking at Girlfriend expectantly.  It takes her a few times, but the kids are surprisingly patient and more than happy to show her as many times as she requests until she gets it right.  The sight of her having so much fun melts his heart, and he sighs as he watches her enjoy herself.  

"Damn, look at you, meltin' into the table."  

Boyfriend nearly slams his face against the table, making Pico guffaw as he puts their meals on the table.  "Dude!"

"What?  Just spittin' facts.  Hey!"  Pico's hands come to rest on his hips as he glares at the kids.  Both Girlfriend and Boyfriend exchange a look, hiding their amused grins behind their hands as Pico takes on his caretaking role.  "Skid, Pump, what did I say 'bout botherin' the customers?"

"Uhh..."  The two kids freeze in place, looking at each other before looking at Pico.  "Don't?"

"And what are you two doin'?"

"Bothering your friends!"  Pump grins as Skid nods in agreement.  "They are not customers, right?"

A puff of a laugh escapes Girlfriend as Boyfriend nudges Pico.  "Yeah dude, we're your friends, not customers.  We should get a de-"

A glare is enough to silence Boyfriend, but Girlfriend's composure quickly falls apart as a fit of giggles escapes her.  Pico ignores her as he focuses his attention on his two charges.  "They're still customers."

"But it's boring here!"

"Yeah, it's too quiet.  You said there'd be music!"

"But there's no music, except for the soft elevator music."

"But that's boring too."

Both boys pout as Pico sighs and massages his temples.  "Look, I didn't know the band would cancel today.  After I'm done here, we can do something fun , okay?"

"Like getting candy?"

"Yeah, like gettin' candy."  The two kids cheer and run off somewhere before Pico can stop them.  "Hey-!"

"Damn, Pico, I didn't think you'd be good with kids."  Boyfriend snickers as he eats a fry, watching as Pico sighs for the umpteenth time.

"You call that bein' good with kids?"

"It's better than I'd ever expect outta you."

"Rude little bitch."  Pico snatches a few fries and chomps on them, ignoring Boyfriend's protests.  

"When do you get off, Pico?"  Girlfriend spins her fork around in her pasta before feeding the first bite to Boyfriend, keeping her eyes on Pico as the ginger hums thoughtfully.

"Technically nine, but I gotta watch the kids 'til ten.  That's when Lila comes back from her shit."

"Do you wanna come over for movie night?"  She looks over to Boyfriend who nods in agreement.  Pico laughs and shakes his head.

"Ain't this supposed to be ya guys' anniversary date?  Why the hell am I bein' invited?"

"'Cause it's more fun when you join us!"  Boyfriend pipes up, making his eyes go wide with hope, knowing how much of a sucker Pico is for his puppy dog eyes.  Like he predicts, Pico grumbles and looks away, a slight blush to his cheeks as he tries to regain his composure.

"Touchin', but nah.  It's y'all's day.  It's not my place to interrupt."  

"You wouldn't be-!"  A ringtone goes off in the middle of her sentence.  Girlfriend pauses, taking her phone out as her smile vanishes.  "Oh, just a minute."  She leaves the table quickly as she answers her phone with a faint, "Hi, Daddy..."

"Hm."  They watch her go outside before Pico turns back to Boyfriend.  "I hope you have somethin' really good planned for tonight."

"Well, I don't have anything planned, per se-"

"Oh for fuck's sake-"

"But!  Movie night is gonna be a thing!  Or, was."  Boyfriend frowns, not liking how it was her dad who called her.  Knowing him, he could be asking her to come home earlier than planned, ruining their romantic movie night.  "I was gonna play it by ear, y'know, in case something like that happens."

"Fair."  Pico crosses his arms and fixes Boyfriend with a stare.  "So how are you gonna save this night then?"

"Dunno yet."  Boyfriend bites his lip and scratches at the table.  "Like I said, I don't have much planned, so like..."  His eyes wander over to the stage.  A keyboard is the only instrument present on the stage alongside the stereos.  He blinks slowly at the sight of it, a hum low in his throat.  

"What?  Ya suddenly got an idea?"  Pico follows his gaze and whistles low.  "Gonna sing a love song?"

"What?  No."  A pause.  "Maybe.  I dunno."

"You dunno?"

"I don't really have a song lined up."  But it would be perfect.  She loves it when he sings.  Or raps.  Or does anything really.  And she did seem a little disappointed when she found out that there wasn't going to be a show tonight...

"You're a rapper," Pico supplies easily.  "Just freestyle."

"But I don't have any beats."  Which is true, unless he gets some help.  His eyes wander up to meet Pico's gaze.  "...Can I ask a favor?"

"Shoot."

"You still beatbox?"

And Pico smirks.  "Only if ya got a plan."  

Boyfriend looks around the bar, his eyes landing on the Spooky Boys and Cassette Girl.  Music flows behind his eyes as he maps out the beats and flows on the spot.  Fingers tap out the rhythm he wants to follow, and Pico taps his foot in tandem.  "I think," he says, watching as Girlfriend comes back into the bar with a gloomy look on her face, "I've got a plan."

Pico leans forward, and Boyfriend quickly whispers it to him before shooing the ginger away.  When Girlfriend takes her seat, Boyfriend takes it upon himself to buy some time for Pico as he keeps Girlfriend's attention on him.

"Something up?"

"Oh, it's just Daddy."  Her frown deepens, and Boyfriend can feel his heart drop from the sight.  She shouldn't be unhappy on their anniversary - of course her dad would ruin things for her.  "He wants me to come home early, says he doesn't want me to stay over too late since he doesn't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Tch.  Your old man needs to lay off."  From the corner of his eye, he sees Cassette Girl wander to some backroom, only to reappear with a few more coworkers as one of them takes over her position by the podium.  Pico follows her next, helping her set up a couple of mics as she tests out the keyboard.  The noises catch the attention of the patrons, including Girlfriend as she turns in interest at the ruckus.

"What's going on?  Oh, is there a show happening after all?"  A small smile forms on her lips as she watches the prep.  "I wonder who they managed to get!"

"Yeah, I wonder."  Boyfriend lets her watch them for a second longer before taking her attention again.  "So how long can you stay out?"

"Mmm, at most, maybe an hour?  Daddy's imps will come and pick me up, regardless of where I am."  She puffs her cheeks out, which would normally be cute if she wasn't so distressed.  "Mommy was okay with me spending the night!  But Daddy won't even let me stay before midnight, so that ruins movie night..."

"Hey, don't worry about it.  We can always have movie night whenever."  He reaches over and takes her hand, giving it a firm, comforting squeeze.  

"But today was supposed to be our day."  She frowns again, holding onto his hand as she sighs softly.  "We were supposed to have a nice night doing whatever we wanted.  And now that's going to be ruined because my dad is being... himself again."

Random beats start playing.  It takes them both by surprise as they turn around to see Pico messing with... some kind of pad?  Is that a launchpad?  Cassette Girl shakes her head and points to some buttons before Pico nods and- ah.  So he didn't steal it from someone.  Clearly, it was Cassette Girl's own device.  

"What are they doing?"  Girlfriend watches with more interest as the two kids clamber onto the stage, Pico talking to them softly as they nod along to whatever he's saying excitedly.  He wags his finger like a metronome, and the boys both follow its movement before nodding furiously as he grins and pats the tops of their heads.  As Pico looks up from the boys, he meets Boyfriend's gaze and gives a small nod before standing up.

"They're getting a show ready for you."  Boyfriend grins when Girlfriend looks over to him bewildered.

"What do you mean, for me?"

"Heeeellloooo, everyone!"  Cassette Girl speaks into the microphone with her familiar drawl, getting the patrons to quiet down as they watch with rapt attention.  "Now, as you know, our booked gig for tonight ended up cancelling, but at the very last minute, we managed to snag another performer instead!  You may be familiar with his bright blue hair and obnoxious voice," a rumble of laughter rolls through the crowd, but he takes it all in stride as he waits for the intro to end, "but he's gotten pretty famous throughout these parts for his amazing freestyle rap!  Dedicated to his lovely Girlfriend of one year, we have Mr. Boyfriend, here to perform for one night only!"

"Boyfriend?!"  Girlfriend's eyes widen in excitement as he stands from his seat, grinning confidently as he winks to her.  It's not often he gets to perform for the sake of performing, so he wants to make this the best performance she's ever seen.

"You better give this girl a helluva anniversary."

As if he wasn't.

He takes the offered microphone from Cassette Girl as she takes her place behind the keyboard.  

"Heya, folks!"  He waves out to the crowd as the people who recognize him from his many rap battles cheer him on.  Girlfriend cheers from the crowd, for once enjoying the show as just a normal person, instead of being in the thick of it.  "Like Cassey said, this show is dedicated to my Girlfriend.  I started this whole career for her, and if it weren't for her, I never would have found this flow in my life.  I love her more than any song can convey, so I hope a show's worth of songs can get the message along.  Now are you ready to get funkin' lit?!"  

The crowd erupts into cheers as Girlfriend stands and cheers the loudest, her smile wide and bright as she pumps her fist in the air.  They wait for the crowd to calm down before Pico starts his beatboxing.  The beat begins slow, the notes sounding familiar as recognition settles on Girlfriend's features.

"Yo," he begins, holding the microphone close to his lips as he gets into the beat, "it's the remix."   Pico's beatboxing continues before Cassette Girl joins in with her keyboard.  The beat plays from the launchpad as the beatboxing ends, and that's his cue to start rapping.

"Don't look complacent, wearin' those rags, you ain't adjacent.  Lookie, I'm fly, and you look basic.  Look in her eyes, and I feel like takin' it for the win."   He meets Girlfriend's gaze with a grin as he waves his hand back and forth, pumping the crowd up as he continues to rap.

"Her dad be evil, no twin.  Skin purp' like the Sprite, sippin'.  He open his yap and you wouldn't believe it's the sound of an angel when he spittin'."   At Pico's cue, Skid and Pump join in with a chant of, "Go man go!  Go man go!"   They keep it up as Boyfriend continues to rap, the energy high and exciting as he performs for fun.

"Even though he look like a demon, hold my blue nuts as I battle for the takin'.  Of this girl, I just wanna hold her hand.  Look in our DM's and it's like candy land."   Boyfriend kneels on the stage and gestures for Girlfriend to come closer.  Without missing a beat, Girlfriend makes her way over, her head bobbing in time to the rhythm as she smiles blissfully.

"Yo, I really can't bust when her evil ass dad tryna make my ass be grass.  So I got one shot, learned to spit real hot, and it might just go like this."   As he takes her hand, he pulls her onto the stage and the Spooky Boys go quiet for his next lines.

"I don't mean no disrespect, but there's something about her I can't let go.  Baby, you know that I love you, even though my balls are blue."   The joke gets a giggle from Girlfriend, and it takes all his willpower not to stop rapping just to kiss her right there.

"I want to spend my life with her, even if her dad is evil or some shit.  Now spit it like this: we gettin' freaky on a Friday night, chyeah!"  The crowd goes wild as he scoops Girlfriend up in one arm, cradling her against his body as he continues to rap.  Her arms wrap around his neck as she leans against him, warm and happy in his embrace.

As she should be.  

The Spooky Boys return with the chant, pumping the crowd up some more as they cheer loudly with the rap.

"I just want to hold her tight, chyeah!  Her hair, her eyes, her thighs, yeah.  If I die, it'll all be worth it.  Just to get a chance to show she's worth it!"  He sways with the beat, watching as the crowd gets into the performance.  Besides him, Cassette Girl is grinning, nodding her head to the beat as she plays the mellow tunes on her keyboard.  Pico meanwhile focuses his attention alternating between beatboxing and playing the right beats on the launchpad, all while paying attention to the song and directing when the boys start and end their chant.  Despite the amount of tasks on his shoulders, he holds himself high and proud, enjoying himself with a smile as he moves with the beat.  Even the kids are enjoying themselves, bouncing on the spot and watching Pico intently for his cues.  A part of Boyfriend wonders if they're even paying attention to the lyrics or if they're too engrossed in the beats and sounds coming from the keyboard and launchpad to even care.

Not that it matters.

All that matters is that they're all having fun .  He looks out into the crowd and sees smile upon smile as they're all enjoying themselves to the music.  This.  This is what performing is all about.  The energy, the enjoyment, everyone losing themselves to the music and forgetting their woes and worries for even just a minute-

That's what makes it all so worth it.

He raps the chorus one last time before letting the beat peter out, Pico ending the song with his beatboxing increasing in tempo before ending it abruptly.  The crowd continues their cheers as Boyfriend yells into his microphone.

"You guys ready for more?!"

There's no doubt in his mind that he will absolutely be banned from the bar after this show, just with how rowdy the crowd is getting.  But it's all worth it in the end as he nods to his friends to play whatever beat that comes to mind.  He'll come up with the lyrics on the fly, all of them dedicated to Girlfriend as he sets her down and holds her tight to his side as they sway together.

He doesn't know how long they go for.  All the hype and excitement pushes him to continue, and when he looks over to see if Pico or Cassette Girl or even the boys look just a little tired, he's surprised to see them too excited to even consider taking a break.  The night is filled with raps filled with jokes and love as the clock finally strikes ten.  

Time to end the show.

"Alriiiight, everyone!"  Cassette Girl takes the microphone back from Boyfriend, panting slightly as she gestures to the crowd that grew during the performance.  "Unfortunately, that's it for this show!  Thanks for watching, hope you enjoyed your meals, and please, come back again when we host another gig or open mic!"  The crowd applauds as they all bow.  Cassette Girl pats his shoulder with a grin and turns back to help Pico clean up.  Girlfriend clings to his side, giggling and burying her face against his neck.

"Ohhh, that was so much fun!"  Her giddiness makes him laugh as he hugs her tight, covering her face in kisses as he breathes for the first time since the performance began.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Are you kidding?!"  She laughs and picks him up, twirling them together in a circle before cuddling him midair.  "That was the most fun I've had in ages!"

"I'm glad," he admits, relief washing over him that their night was a success after all.  "Sucks we didn't finish our dinners though."

"I can get boxes for them."  Pico shows up next to them, both kids curled up in his arms as they cling to him.  "Or, uh, I can get Cass to get 'em for ya."

"Aww, are they tired?"  Girlfriend sets Boyfriend down to take a look at the kids.  "They did a really good job tonight!"  Skid lifts his head up, a tired but bright smile on his face as he giggles.

"That was fun!  I wanna do it again, Mr. Pico!"

"I'll think about it.  Remember what we promised before the show?"

"No repeating the bad words around mom," both boys respond, although Pump's words are muffled against Pico's shirt.  He chuckles and nods towards the couple.  

"I gotta get these kids home.  You guys get some rest too."

"We will."  Boyfriend stretches, feeling worn out from the show.  

"See ya."

"Bye, Pico!"  Girlfriend waves as Pico walks off, the two kids waving from Pico's arms.  "He really is good with kids, even if he won't admit it."

"He's always been protective of them."  They both hum, the thought sobering them a bit as they watch the ginger disappear in the crowd.  "We should visit him later and make sure he's okay too."

"Sounds like a plan."  Girlfriend smiles and takes his hand, swinging their arms between them.  A waitress comes by quickly, helping them pack their barely eaten dinners and shooing them out of the bar.  As they leave, Boyfriend passes by Server-chan, her expression still looking exhausted as their eyes meet.  But despite this, she smiles when she sees him, and he hopes she had fun too during his show.

He and Girlfriend walk for about five minutes before a limo pulls up beside them.  She sighs and turns to hug him tight, her face buried in his shoulder before she kisses him softly.

"Thanks for the lovely night," she whispers, soft and tender as the warmth from her cheek seeps through his shirt.  "It really was the best night of my life."

"I'm glad then," he whispers back, pressing a kiss to her temple.  "'Cause I'm gonna make sure I make every night the best night of your life from now on."

She giggles, pulling herself away reluctantly before climbing into the limo.  He watches as it drives away into the night, leaving him alone.

The night air is cold and brisk, but he finds himself warm regardless.  A smile wide and bright on his face as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, a tune coming out in the form of a whistle as he walks home.

What a night to remember.

[diavolodigitale]

L’appel Du Vide: 00 Despicable Him

It took me a whole goddamn year to finally win the fight I fought against myself and start posting this story. I have 7 complete chapters written already but now cannot seem to find the strength to continue, so I was hoping releasing it into the world would give me a nice boost. Anyway, my friends enjoyed the story so if in reality it turns out to be bad, it’s obviously their fault, not mine ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Rhys is the CEO of Atlas and Jack's AI is back, surprise, surprise! Now Rhys is dismayed, Jack doesn't care much, and the events of Borderlands 3 are just beginning to unravel. Is there any way to fix the plot of this game? Would it be any better if Rhys had to cooperate with Jack this whole time? Well, this is your chance to find out!

Spoiler: yes, dammit, it would. Everything's better with a bit of Handsome Jack in it.

Genres: Fix-It, Developing Relationship, Alternate Canon, POV Third Person, Humor, Drama, Plot-driven (kind of? well, it has plot)

Pairing: Handsome Jack’s AI/Rhys (this is only the 1st chapter so don’t expect much yet)

Characters: Handsome Jack’s AI, Rhys

Rating: M for Mature but not in this chapter lol

Size: around 2500 words (chapter 1/11)

Rhys’s office was great. He liked to sit in his big executive’s chair and dreamily look outside instead of doing the paper work. The view was also great. Well, kind of.

What did not seem so great, however, was the war he had been recently dragged into by the Maliwan corporation. He didn’t like being involuntarily involved into global affairs, especially those that had something to do with fusions or takeovers. The situation his company was in was bothering him at the moment, so he took a deep thoughtful breath and continued staring into the window.

“Hey, kiddo,” said the voice of somebody who definitely could not be in Rhys’s office neither at this given moment nor at any other time. Rhys was almost sure in his sanity so he proceeded to ignore the not-uttered words, although he, for some unknown reason, became visibly shaken.

“He-e-ey,” said the voice with those familiar little notes of annoyance that would let the hearer know that the person speaking clearly didn’t like being ignored.

A half-transparent blue hand waved in front of Rhys’s face, and he totally lost it.

Still somehow managing to remain seated in his chair, Rhys jerked back and rolled right through the blue figure formerly standing behind him.

“Wha…” muttered Rhys, barely able to speak at all, “Jack? What are you… I mean, how… I mean, is that really you?”

“Calm down, Rhysie,” said Jack with the same smug expression on his face – perhaps, the only thing that was unchangeable apart from his self-confidence, principles, self-esteem, disrespect for the others, sly nature, and, well, many, many other things really. “I get it, you’re happy to see me, but gosh, have some self-respect!”

Rhys was still confused, so after a few seconds of silence Jack felt the need to add, “Of course, it’s me”.

“But I thought you’re…”

“Dead? Gone? Dead and gone?” Jack clicked his tongue three times. “I thought, you knew me better, Rhysie. I thought, you’d welcome me with your arms wide open. Are you not happy to see me?”

“I am,” Rhys started nodding zealously and clenched his fists tight, hoping that Jack wouldn’t notice he was shaken. “But I don’t understand. What happened…”

“What happened was a mistake. I was gone for a while, but now I’m here to stay.” Jack leaned towards Rhys’s face and smiled. It was in no way an amiable smile. His glowing eyes reminded those of a vulture watching his prey. He already started to smell fear in the air.

“And where exactly is here?” asked Rhys with the last glimmer of hope fading from his voice. More than anything now he wished for the story not to repeat itself, but it was not like he had a choice or something.

Jack only tapped on Rhys’s temple with his index finger and leaned back. Rhys didn’t feel the touch but the gesture itself made him uncomfortable. He knew what it meant, unfortunately.

Jack jumped onto the table of the CEO of Atlas and crossed his legs and arms, waiting.

Rhys swallowed loudly. This was not great at all. He was sure his head was clear from this phantom and there was nothing to worry about. He was sure he would never again be convinced to go against his nature and pursue the world domination. Or any kind of domination. He was sure, but whenever it came to Jack, he was a defeatist.

“This can’t be true. I don’t believe you came back. I must’ve hit my head or I’m just seeing things…” Rhys’s voice quavered in disbelief when he spoke.

“Now-now, honey, no need to worry so much. You know I don’t like it when you wince, it makes you look older. Seeing me here must make you feel sorry for what you’ve done, but you should know that I don’t hold any grudge. Actually, I’m kida proud of you, you know. It only proves I was right all along,” said Jack roguishly. His manner of speech made his words sound benign, as if he was forgiving sins during the confession. Rhys was still not buying it.

“I did what I had to, what you made me do! If anything, it was YOUR fault, YOU betrayed me, so don’t you try making ME responsible for everything! I don’t know what kind of mind game this is, but I know you can’t be here.”

As Jack opened his mouth to yet again say something pricky, Rhys, still sitting in his chair and tightly gripping its arms, yelled at top of his lungs, “Begone! Begone, foul apparition!”.

The apparition sat on the table, sandbagged and with a dropped jaw, for a few moments and then uttered “Wow. Just wow. I’ve always known you’re weird, but this is just… wow. Are you on drugs or something? I’m not judging, you just seem really… deranged? I wanna say deranged, but I’m not sure it’s the right word.”

Rhys snuffled resentfully and looked at Jack with a brooding expression on his face. “You won’t go?” he asked, not really hoping anymore.

“Nope, kiddo. Everything’s gonna be just like the good old times – me as a hero and you as a… as a… I dunno, a less attractive sidekick?” Rhys quietly sighed, holding his head in his hands. “We’re gonna hang out, kill bandits, save the world, and I will always, always be at your side. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I killed you, Jack. I destroyed you. I ripped you out of my body, tore you apart and threw you away from my memory. Nothing’s gonna be the same anymore, you know that.”

“No, Rhys, I was killed by some OTHER goddamn crappy bags of… ugh, I’m not even gonna bother with that. You and me just had a misunderstanding. Often happens between two forceful promising personalities, like between me and the previous Hyperion CEO. Oh, wait, no,”–Jack scratched his head and furrowed his eyebrows–“no, I killed him, that’s a bad example. Anyway, you know what I mean.”

“I smashed my fucking arm to get rid of you! You,”–Rhys pointed his cybernetic finger at Jack–“are the only one who is insane here if you think that’s nothing. We both know what we did, Jack. Whatever you want, I’m not helping you. The last time I tried, you took control of me and tried to end my life.”

Jack’s expression turned from stolid to menacing as fast as gray clouds cover the sun and it starts raining in summer. He wanted to be good, he really believed that he did.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” he hissed at Rhys. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me to. No matter how much I don’t want to admit it, I’m dependent on you, you little whiny coward, so do me a favor – be a good boy and listen to what daddy has to say. You kept your eye implant, didn’t you? Don’t even try arguing with me, I know you did. It was your decision to leave it be, so it’s you who brought me here. I’m grateful for that and I promise not to be nasty. No taking over bodies and no homicidal tendencies. Well, at least when it comes to you, pumpkin.”

“…Okay,” fumbled Rhys. Even though he didn’t believe this was really the case, he knew disputing with Jack never solved anything anyway. “Although… I didn’t really use the chip afterwards. I don’t know how you’ve found out I had kept it, but I surely wasn’t that stupid so as to put it back into my head after what you had done. I really want to know how you’ve managed to–”

“We all have our secrets, Rhysie. But enough about me, let’s talk about you.” Jack gave Rhys a wink. “How’ve ya been? Must admit, I fell out of the loop and now need an update,” he said petulantly. Now he was idly looking around as if he had lost all interest in what was happening.

Rhys decided to let go of his worries for now. If he couldn’t make Jack talk, his only option was to gain his trust once again and find out how he survived. Or if he did at all. Just be composed, not the worst scenario you’ve ever been in, he said to himself.

“Um, actually, I’m great. This is my office and… We’re doing fantastically if you disregard the fact that we’re at war with Maliwan and currently I am occupied with this new–”

“Yeah-yeah, okay, what was there about a war? I don’t remember Maliwan scum being at least somehow dangerous. How did you even manage to mess this up?”

Rhys stood up from his huge chair, arms akimbo, eyes disdainfully narrowed, and went on with his story, affronted and even a little peevish.

“As I was saying, I’m working on a new plan right now. At this point I’m pretty fed up with Katagawa, this new CEO of Maliwan,”–definitely peevish right now–“Oh, in fact, I just hate him so much!”–now even irate–“The day he murdered all his siblings, he just mobilized his fleet and went straight to my planet! Who in the right mind does that? Could’ve sent a message at least. Anyway,”–Rhys hid his hands into his pockets and sunk back into his chair, having lost all his righteous anger–“he wants our corporations to merge, to fuse, as he says, to become one.” The irritation on Jack’s face was becoming more distinct with every word Rhys said. “He wants me to sign the deal and share my developments with him, can you believe it? That greedy bastard!”

“Proposals like that don’t just come out of nowhere. Seems like he’s been watching you. This Katagawa guy, what does he offer you in return? Money, contacts, tech?”

“Himself, I guess,” said Rhys without any second thought.

“What?” asked Jack contemptuously. He was already close to seeing red. Rhys forgot how it worked with him.

“He said we would become partners, but I think it’s all lies to make it seem pretty. I suspect he will simply take control of Atlas and our new shiny guns, and all my work will be wasted.”

“I see, no one can trick our Rhysie,” said Jack, grinning. “Thank god, at least some good news.”

“That’s right!” said Rhys, perhaps, more enthusiastically than he should have. “No one,” he added more quietly. Except for you, you snake, muttered the inner voice inside his head.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something this whole time. Funny how I really haven’t been here for long, but you know. May I?”

Jack’s incisive manner of speech was absent, so Rhys took his guard down for a moment, getting the feeling that this conversation was like one of those they used to have before – unbraced and at times even innocuous.  

“I know what’s on your mind, Jack,” he said, heartfelt and certain.

“You do?” Jack undoubtfully seemed surprised at his interlocutor’s insight.

“Yes. I’ve noticed how you look at me and I know exactly what you want to ask.” Rhys made himself more comfortable in the chair, crossed his legs and sat straight, in a more business-like manner. “This,”–he made a vague hand gesture around the area of his mouth–“is a siege mustache. Shh, let me finish, you can’t say anything I haven’t heard about it before. My troops love it, and as a good commander, I do what I can to boost morale on the battlefield. Of course, I don’t go out there, but they are happy enough when they see my hologram. A-a-and, now you can talk. I guess. If you want to. By the way, I don’t care if you hate it, it’s my face so–”

“You know what? I love it. Love it. Never thought I would say that, but I am saying it right now, so here you are. The second rule of a successful boss – do what the fuck you wanna do with your face. The first one is murder the previous boss, of course.”

“Really?” gingerly asked Rhys, who, in reality, had never heard anything good about his poor moustache.

“Really. But I must upset you, Rhysie. This is not what was bothering me. You see, there’s this other little thing, pretty close in its significance to your moustache.”

“Oh,” uttered Rhys nonchalantly, “what is it?”

“Hyperion. What’s with it? What’s with MY Hyperion, Rhysie?”

At the sound of that very word Rhys hunched in his chair and felt as if he was reducing in size under Jack’s cold gaze.

“After what had happened… the Helios was destroyed and everything collapsed and…”

Rhys sat silent, not able to go on, and this was the last thing he should’ve done. Jack was not in the mood for such a behavior.

“Look me square in my fucking translucent eyes, Rhys, and tell me – what is with my Hyperion?” yelled Jack.

He still sat on the table quite far from Rhys, but it seemed like the room suddenly shrunk and he was right in front of him. Jack was a ghost, a phantom, not able to do anything, not able to inflict any damage or even touch him, but Rhys sensed the danger. No matter in what form, Handsome Jack was still Handsome Jack.

“I don’t know. I guess, somebody took control of it after I left. The weapons are still being manufactured, but I didn’t bother to find out who was the next in line after Helios was… after I destroyed Helios.”

Rhys exhaled loudly and averted his eyes from Jack. Oh, yes, making Jack angry is much easier than making him proud, how could I forget, he thought.

“I see. I didn’t doubt for a second you would do that to infuriate me. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’d rather be disappointed. But you know what? It doesn’t matter now. Now we’re bonding,” Jack sucked the air through his teeth, “now we’re rebuilding what was destroyed like a family we are. Isn’t that great? Look at us, two best buddies exchanging the latest news.”

“And you promised not to be nasty this time...?” Rhys made a feeble attempt to save himself and remind Jack about the terms under which he was allowed to accompany him.

“Yes, Rhysie, and you know damn well I keep my promises.”

And he did. But only when he promised to kill somebody.

[in-tua-deep]

Inktober day one: Birthday

Prompt list by @totallyevan​, here ;3c

below the cut bc long

“Happy Birthday to us!” Klaus cheers loudly, passing out the party hats that Five suspects he’d stolen from the dollar store. Klaus himself is wearing two, having explained unprompted that clearly he was wearing Ben’s hat for him as well.

“I’m not wearing this.” Diego tells them all severely, glaring at the bright paper cone. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, D.” Klaus rolls his eyes, “Be a good sport!”

He’s inching closer to Five as he says this, causing the boy to squint suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. The fact that Klaus is gripping another party hat in his hands gave more than the necessary hint as to what he was up to.

“If you even try,” Five informs his brother serenely, making Klaus freeze in place, “Not even the buzzards will find your body.”

“Five,” Vanya says admonishingly. He gives his sister a scowl and crosses his arms. He’s not going to bow to this idiocy just because his favorite sister is looking at him like that. He’s not.

“If Diego doesn’t have to wear one then I don’t have to, either.” Five declares, and as one the entire family swings around to stare at Diego, who pinks at the attention and hunches his shoulders defensively. 

“If I have to wear one, everyone has to wear one.” Luther scowls, and he really does look ridiculous with the tiny party hat against his big body. However, this input has the opposite effect of getting Diego to fall in line and he tosses the hat onto the table.

“Everyone has to wear one anyway, because it’s our birthday! Birthdays! We have to celebrate!” Klaus exclaims, leaning so far over the table that it’s a very real possibility that he’s going to tip over and crash. “We’re all together! For the first time in ages! Together birthday bash!”

“It’s not even your birthday.” Five’s voice cuts through the noise, making everyone blink and turn to him. Not expecting the attention, Five takes a small step back. “I mean - Klaus was in Vietnam for ten months. Technically his 30th birthday was… ten months ago. His 31st is in two months. It’s not today.”

Klaus blinks as the rest of the family turns towards him. “Hey hey, that’s not fair. That’s not what a birthday is! A birthday is the day you were born, and I’ll thank you all to remember that I was born on October 1st just like the rest of you.”

“A birthday is the celebration of surviving another 365 days,” Five rebuffs, “Otherwise people born on leap years would be legally toddlers their whole lives.”

“Is it the days that your mind has gone through or your body?” Vanya interrupts, looking contemplative. “Because you ended up in your younger body, Five. Does that make this your 59th birthday or your 14th?”

Five sputters with incoherent rage, as he always does when his physical vs. mental age is brought up, but the other siblings are picking up that thread now.

“If he has the body he left in,” Allison muses aloud, “And he left in November, right? We’d only just turned thirteen, right? So from April 1st to now is what, six months? So wouldn’t Five still be thirteen?”

“I am not thirteen!” Five hollers and is generally ignored by the rest of the family. As he always is when he tries to protest against being treated like a child.

“Your body is still thirteen.” Luther attempts to soothe, “We know you’re not actually thirteen.”

Five does not appreciate this. Five has never appreciated this argument. No one is sure why Luther thinks it might work this time when the evidence against it is so strong. 

“I think everyone is getting off topic right now!” Klaus yells, slamming his hands on the table enthusiastically, right before he picks them up and rubs at them with a small whimper. Probably not his best idea, but at this point he’s committed. “What Five was really saying - is that I’m totally the oldest sibling now and by rules of oldest sibling I get to make everyone wear a party hat.”

There’s a short pause as they digest this information, and then absolute chaos as everyone immediately starts protesting as one. 

“Absolutely not,” Allison is saying, shaking her head and looking vaguely horrified at the fact that technically Klaus is the oldest of them.

Luther and Diego seem to be attempting to compete with one another with sheer volume of their arguments against Klaus’s claims to the point that no one can understand either of them. 

“I’m the oldest!” Five howls in outrage, slamming his own hands against the poor table and not even flinching. It’s much more impressive than Klaus’s earlier similar gesture.

“Nuh uh!” Klaus shoots back, very maturely. “In body! I have the body of an almost-32-year-old! Everyone else is 30, and you’re 13! That makes me the oldest!”

“He has a point.” Vanya, the only sibling still sitting calmly in her party hat, shrugs. Since coming off her meds she’s kind of become a little shit - giving the illusion of a neutral party while absolutely stirring shit within the family. Everyone figures it’s only fair after everything that’s happened though. 

“No he doesn’t!” Five looks a little bit like he’s going to hurl himself across the table and physically fight Klaus, just that tiny mad gleam in his eyes, “I did not spend fucking decades in the apocalypse to be delegated to youngest siblings because of a fucking math error!”

“Well maybe ya shouldn’t have made the error!” Klaus shoots back, sniffing and crossing his arms like he’s the offended party in this discussion. 

Five makes a strangled noise and then does launch himself across the table. Klaus yelps and stumbles backwards, tripping over his own two feet (albeit helped somewhat by the long rainbow feather boa that also looks like it came from dollar tree) and lands with a thump on his ass. He only has a few seconds before Five is making a grab for him and he starts outright screaming.

“Five!” Allison shouts, which Luther takes as his cue to at least try and resolve this situation. Of course, he does it in the worst possible way by scooping Five up by his armpits and physically trying to yank him off of Klaus.

This might have worked, if Five didn’t have a death grip on the brother he was currently most furious with. As it is, Klaus is yanked up alongside Five. Klaus was still screaming. 

“What is going on in here?” A voice cuts through the insanity and everyone freezes.

Grace stands in the doorway with a cake in her hands, blinking at the absolutely chaotic scene before her.

Luther is halfway through folding in pain because one of Five’s sneakered feet is buried in his gut, while Five holds Klaus in a chokehold and refuses to let go, and Diego has come around and has his arms on Klaus’s arm to try and yank him away from their feral brother.

Allison is standing with her hands on her hips, mouth snapped shut where it was previously yelling at everyone, and Vanya is balancing precariously on two legs on the chair that she hasn’t yet moved from as she contemplates the insanity involved with being included as a member of the family. 

“Hi mom.” Vanya offers into the silence.

“It’s Klaus’s fault!” Five bursts out before Grace can even answer.

“Is not!” Klaus shoots back, slapping at Five’s arm that is still wrapped around his neck.

“Is too!” Five shoots back, tightening his grip and making Klaus yell. This almost sparks into an entirely new scuffle as Diego starts to move and Luther unfolds - but thankfully they are interrupted.

“Boys,” Grace tuts, looking almost disappointed. “Can you not all try to get along, on today of all days?”

That makes Five finally release his grip on Klaus. Unfortunately, Klaus was not expecting this and shoots into Diego, making them both tumble to the floor. Luther was also not expecting the sudden loss of weight and Five shoots up in his arms like a jack in the box and is very nearly tossed across the room, and would have been if Luther’s grip had been any less secure. 

“Five!” Diego snaps, hauling himself to his feet and bringing Klaus along for the ride. Klaus now only has one party hat perched precariously on his head, the other one having vanished to places unknown. His remaining one looks like it has seen better days.

“Diego.” Five shoots back, mockingly.

“Boys.” Grace says firmly, making them both look abashed. “Luther, put Five down. Diego, Klaus, why don’t you two take a seat. You can all tell me what this was about.”

“Klaus was trying to get us to wear his stupid party hats.” Five offers as soon as his feet hit the ground and he pulls out a chair. 

“They’re not stupid!” Klaus squawks in outrage, “And Five said it’s not my birthday!”

“It’s not my fault you time traveled that first time! You did that all by yourself.” Five shoots back, leaning forward to better engage in the argument, but pauses when he sees the looks Grace is shooting all of them. Disappointed. He slumps back down in his chair and crosses his arms resentfully. 

“Klaus,” Grace says gently, “Why are the party hats so important to you?”

Klaus crosses his arms as well, looking at the table. “‘Cause it’s our birthday. An’ it’s our first birthday together for seventeen years. I just wanted it to be special, and we never got proper birthdays as kids.”

The table is silent for a minute before Diego sighs loudly and snatches up his previously discarded party hat and jams it on his head. “Happy now?” He demands gruffly. 

Klaus gives him a watery smile in response.

“Five?” Grace asks, “Why is it so important for you to not wear the party hat?”

Five shuffles in his seat, not making eye contact. “‘S childish and dumb.” He mutters under his breath, but the silence at the table means that it’s heard loud and clear. 

“Why?” Grace asks again, gently. 

“I’m not a child.” Five says, scowling at the surface of the table, “The others all want to - I dunno, vicariously live their childhoods through me or whatever but they don’t care that it’s not what I want. I’m not a kid and I don’t want to be childish.”

“Everyone else is wearing the dumb hats and none of us are kids,” Diego points out, rolling his eyes. The other faces at the table look a tiny bit more thoughtful. Allison’s is going through some interesting mental gymnastics in the corner. 

“None of you look like kids. It doesn’t matter if you’re childish or whatever because no one is going to mistake you guys for dumb kids.” Five scowls.

“But,” Grace interrupts, raising a finger, “Everyone here is well aware that your physical body does not match your mental state. So no one here would mistake you for a real child for partaking.”

“Except they do!” Five protests, voice cracking embarrassingly. But he forges on regardless, “They’re constantly treating me like a little kid! And every time we go out and someone says something they all tease me like it’s all one big joke to them, but this is my life! This is reality for me, and it sucks!”

Deafening silence follows this outburst. 

“Five…” Allison says, but the sentence doesn’t go anywhere. 

“You don’t have to wear the party hat.” Klaus offers after another beat of silence.

“It’s not about the stupid hat at this point, Klaus.” Diego hisses, elbowing Klaus none too gently. 

Grace holds up a hand and everyone quiets down. “Five,” She says, “Is it just the hat, or is it something else about all this that makes you feel childish.”

Five’s shoulders are up around his ears and he hunches down in his chair even further. “I dunno. The hat yeah. And the decorations. And the stupid paper plates. And the cake. It’s all just… stupid.”

“The birthday party itself is childish.” Grace clarifies. 

“Yeah I guess.” Five shrugs. “I mean, I haven’t celebrated my birthday since I was…”

“Since you were thirteen.” Grace supplies softly. 

Five can only shrug again. “I mean, I didn’t exactly know when I landed - only that it was after April 1st I guess. I only really counted like, summers and winters? Instead of months that is.  Because there weren’t months or days or whatever anymore. So it’s not like I knew whenever October 1st rolled around.”

“And the Commission?” Grace asks.

“The Commission was - ” Five frowns to himself, “It was timeless. There weren’t really seasons? And when I went on missions there were seasons but there weren’t constant seasons, or months, or days, or anything. I’d have a missions one day where it snowed and the next week I was sent somewhere in the height of summer. It was weird. I think they do it on purpose though, to keep everyone off balance.”

“So this is your first real October 1st in a very long time.” Grace nods sympathetically. “So, do you know what an adult birthday party looks like?”

Five pauses, frown deepening. “No one in the Commission celebrated their birthdays and they were adults.”

“But you’ve mentioned you didn’t socialize within the Commission,” Grace points out, “So isn’t it possible that there were birthday parties you just didn’t get invited to?”

“I guess.” Five concedes.

Grace presses on, “So isn’t it possible that all of this,” She gestures at the paper plates and the party hats and the cake she set down with the delicately frosted letters, “Is in fact typical of an adult birthday party and that key features between child and adult birthday parties don’t change?”

“Diego didn’t want to wear a hat.” Five maintains his stance.

Grace tilts her head, “Is Diego your role model for adult life, Five?”

Five instantly is sputtering out denials and the others are laughing into their hands. Diego, for his part, looks incredibly offended by the direction this conversation has taken. 

“If you had to pick one of your siblings to say who was the most adult,” Grace continues on easily, “Who would it be?”

Five actually looks thoughtful at the question. He looks up in thought before finally offering, “Vanya, I guess? She actually has a steady job. And a home. And she pays taxes.”

“Is Vanya wearing a hat?” 

Vanya is indeed still wearing her bright and colorful birthday hat. 

There’s a beat of silence, before - “Fine, I’ll wear the stupid hat. But if anyone says the words cute or adorable or young man or anything along those lines then I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“No one is going to treat you like a child today, Five.” Grace assures him, giving the rest of the family a look which there’s no arguing with. They sheepishly nod their heads in agreement, even though there was almost certainly teasing planned at the beginning of the day. 

Grace smiles benignly at her children and claps her hands, “In that case, it’s time for the cake! I have the candles here, though I’m afraid since there’s only one cake you’ll all simply have to blow out the candles together.”

The kids gather round as Grace dims the lights to make the fire of the candles stand out all the more brightly. Mercifully, the group as a whole elects to skip the birthday song since it’s pretty much everyone’s birthday.

“Make a wish!” Grace commands, stepping back. Without needing further prompting, the group leans forward to blow, and the candles flicker out as quickly as they were lit.

Diego brings out a knife and starts a debate to the side about whether his knives should be allowed to doubly function as food knives. Allison stands up so she can straighten Luther’s party hat where the earlier fight knocked it off kilter. Grace moves to stand behind Five, placing a kind hand on his shoulder.

He looks up at her, looking contemplative. “Aren’t wishes for children?” He asks her, even though he participated along with the rest of them.

“Wishes are for everyone.” Grace informs him with a smile, leaning down and and pressing a kiss against his forehead. He made a face at her, so reminiscent of when he was younger, but didn’t move to scrub the kiss away like he might have done back in those days. 

“Happy Birthday, Five.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

[thoughtsdying]

I’m remembering instances where I was weird in my childhood. The distance makes easier to recognize if I’m weird. Dunno if I’m weird now, but I bet you nothing I am someway. Two come to mind:

Once when I was 7 (I think. I could’ve been 8) after a week and a bit more I think, of doing mew sounds intercalated with my words I went completely non-verbal only mew and gestures on my father (may he go to therapy soon) and all my fam from that side.

 We went to a beach an hour from father’s home to pass the Saturday. I think on the whole it was 2 days not three (satur-sunday) in which I communicated by the tones of my mews and gestures and facial expressions. I still don’t remember why. Except that I was really determined to be a cat and do mews, and I was super easy to understand anyway why did you get mad?? Even then I didn’t stop until next day at goodbye.

YEAH. My girl brain thought it was obvious. And I think maybe I was punishing him?? For something, but I don’t remember the why. He deserved it, I bet. I just really wanted to try being a cat. Just a bizarre moment overall. 

The other time was continued through school until Fourth Grade of Primary, when I was 9 and the last time it happened I think. Maybe another las one at 11? When the professor scolded me or yelled at me I just, went under my table closed my eyes, and with my arms and legs laced through the table legs I blocked my ears. 

And from there not even God was gonna move me. 

I think I did that bc there’s a moment when I just couldn’t with what they were saying. Felt like they didn’t listened to me, that everybody laughed bc oh, there it goes the always outstanding marks is causing a ruckus again. And I had such an uncontrollable temperament. Still have. Still is my first reaction to avoid conflict.

Before launching myself at someone or kick anybody or break things or just like, scream, I went under my table and made the world disappear absolutely seething with anger and sadness. 

The most memorable one after math class in second grade, which cause I don’t remember but whose success damn well did. My row with the religion prof in 4th grade when she said my parents couldn’t be good christians bc they weren’t married and they even separated.

It was illogically inconsistent with the image of God and Jesus they painted in school. If he was supposed to be all-loving and all-knowing then I was convinced that a sincere believe and being a good person was all that was necessary to being a good christian. 

And the year before mother had already convinced me to not go to catequesis just bc I wanted to be a better friend to Jesus. (I can’t believe child-me was like that) She told me softly and firmly and clear that religion professors worked for the church and wanted people to go to church. But that a ceremony wasn’t necessary to be near God if I didn’t consider it necessary. 

It shocked me hard and I was so embarrassed to fall for lies. Bc I immediately realised it was true. It cost me lots to open up, bc everybody was saying: I want to do communion bc the gifts, and the dresses and my family wants it. 

And I felt ashamed of my reason, and mother asked me again and again. And told me she would understand if it was for a material reason and we would go to do it. I told her in paper why, bc I couldn’t stand saying it aloud or to her face. And she hugged me and said the above and I then wanted nothing to do with the Church. 

(QuickASIDE: I entered Catholic Religion Class by accident in 1st of Primary. I stayed until 4th of Primary bc theatre and pictures and reading. I think. Confusing memories)

SO. Back to fourth grade and my meltdown of epic proportions against a close-minded religion prof. So I interrupted class, politely hand up and all. And told her that. She said, but the Church says... And I said the Church  and the Bible are wrong then. And she kept trying to convince me, and I said something to the meaning of: then God isn’t good and I don’t want him for my parents either if that is so bc he is a liar and it doesn’t make sense to say one thing and do another. 

And she got angry. Disproportionately so against a school-girl. And we started screaming and she wanted to throw me off class, and I said YOU WON’T YOU DON’T HAVE THAT RIGHT YOU DON’T MAKE SENSE YOU WON’T LISTEN YOU DON’T HAVE THAT RIGHT. I feel that in my soul even now, viscerally.

And then I stopped listening to anything. I went under the table and I clinged to table and chair, and it was mildly comforting, and I think I had started angrily crying frustrated by then. They called my tutor from the class besides mine, but I wouldn’t move. And I wouldn’t and I wouldn’t and they got me by the legs and started dragging me and the chair through the floor of another two classrooms before we got out to the hallway and I got up on my feet.

Then my tutor took me to direction or school management, whatever, where they put a notice/report of bad conduct in my expedient. 

Years later even know I want to know what the hell were they thinking. My mother got furious with the school. They didn’t do anything just took me out Religion class until the end year when I officially could just not go, I think. But I don’t remember well any of it beyond that.

Shit.

PD: That I’ve renounced christianity comes to the surprise of none after this episode I think lmao

[misc-headcanons]

1st Place Prize: NS.FW Scenario (Law/Reader) 1/2

For @hyakira, a scenario involving Law and a rival/enemy Reader stranded on an island together. I decided to make it a two-parter: this one is the setup, and the next piece will be the smut! 

Like love, an intense rivalry can make you do some stupid things. You and Trafalgar Law had been taking shots at each other’s ships one minute when an intense storm had flown both of you wildly off course. Not wanting to miss an opportunity to beat the bastard once and for all, you had ordered your crew to pursue the Polar Tang before they managed to escape underwater. Your second-in-command pleaded for you to reconsider. “We need to focus on escaping, Captain! We’ll find another way to track him down, but–”

“Fine,” you snapped, catching one of your other crew members as they slid across the rocking ship; they were a hair’s breadth away from falling over the side of the deck and into the icy waters below when you reached over and yanked them back behind the banister. You angrily shoved him and your second-in-command in one of the indoor cabins before rushing to your quarters, your hand clenching around your sword’s scabbard. “I’ll just go after him myself.”

Inside a hidden compartment under the floorboards was one of your secret weapons–a small but sturdy Waver originally made in Skypiea, perfect for solo missions. You still couldn’t believe you’d managed to steal it from Mad Monk Urouge and survive after encountering his crew a few months back. It was worth it though, especially in times like these. You dragged the Waver out of its hidden compartment and onto the deck of the ship. The torrential rain immediately soaked through your clothes and chilled you to the bone, but the sight of the Heart Pirates’ Jolly Roger caught your eye and lit your chest on fire; he was not getting away this time.

You positioned yourself on the Waver and leaped into the sea, determined to follow the Polar Tang. It hadn’t gone underwater and it looked like the ship was headed for a nearby island that was across the horizon. As you followed behind them, a strong tidal wave launched the ship forward, tossing Law overboard. His crew quickly tried to change the ship’s course to turn back for outside to the outdoor deck to assess how stuck they were. Law’s second-in-command–a large bear Mink you vaguely remembered was named Bepo–was desperately trying to call out to his captain. Law yelled something at him as he used his Devil Fruit to switch places with random pieces of driftwood, seemingly ordering the others to get out of danger and leave him behind. Bepo reluctantly agreed, and Law found himself alone on the beach. Perfect.

You stealthily rode up to the beach, going slow enough to avoid having the Motor Dial rise over the sound of the rain to give away your presence. Once you made it onto the sand, you hid the Waver behind a few large bushes and spied on Law. He was still alone underneath a large tree, and you thought you could ambush him from behind if you were quiet enough. You made a few steps towards him when you noticed him wrapping his left arm with a spare bit of gauze kept in his jacket; he had sustained a nasty cut that stretched from his left shoulder to his chest, ending a few inches past his left pectoral muscle. Your eyes widened as you watched him wince in pain, and your fists clenched; an injury like that wouldn’t kill him, but it’d definitely impact his ability to hold a sword and fight for a while.

“Are you kidding me!?”

Law flinched at your sudden outburst and rested his hand on his sword’s handle. When he recognized your face, his grip on his sword slightly tightened. “Where’s the rest of your crew?” he demanded. “There’s no way your ship could have passed us, so you can’t have landed here before we did.”

You scowled and walked forward, crossing your arms. “The rest of my crew didn’t have the guts to follow me,” you spat. “But I’m not dying before I get a chance to beat you.”

Law rose up to face you, and blood started to seep through his gauze. “Come on then,” he replied. “Once you’re out of the way, I’ll be able to see what repairs the Polar Tang needs.”

You rolled your eyes and put a hand on your hip. “I can’t fight you now,” you replied heatedly. “Not when your arm’s injured like that. It wouldn’t be a fair win!”

Law raised an eyebrow. “That implies I wouldn’t be able to defeat you with this injury,” he replied with a slightly mocking tone. “I never struck you as the honorable type.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned and sat down under a large palm tree with a huff. “And now my crew and my ship are…God knows where they went to escape the storm. I finally get you alone and I can’t even fight you.” You sigh and run your hands through your hair. “…Aaargh!”

You toss a large rock next to you onto the sand, and it lands with a strange thump; it sounded like it had hit something hard underneath the sand. Curious, you get up and find where the rock had landed. After scooping away a few handfuls of sand, you found a large wooden crate buried under the sand. “What the hell…?”

Law followed behind you, wondering what you’d found. He assumed this island was abandoned, considering the overgrowth and brush that made up the rest of the island around them. He knelt down and peered at a few words carved into the top of the crate. “Property of the Rumrunner Pirates,” he read out loud. “Fuck prohibition and fuck the King of Drybone Island.”

You managed to open the crate and find a large number of bottles stacked inside–rum, whiskey, bourbon, beer, and a few bottles of red and white wine. “No way…” You reached inside and pulled out a bottle of bourbon to show Law. “Well, at least this hasn’t been a complete waste of time.” You dangled the bottle in front of Law, and he reluctantly took it from you. The two of you settled under another nearby palm tree and you uncorked the bottle before taking a large swig. After you wiped your chin, you handed the bottle to Law.

“After all the years you’ve spent chasing me, I’m surprised you’re fine sharing a drink with me,” Law remarked. He drank a bit and winced as he felt the liquor burn in his chest.

You laughed and took the bottle from him to have another drink. “I’m surprised you’re cringing like a choir boy having his first sip of wine,” you teased. You took a few large swigs without flinching. “Never figured a pirate like you would have such a low tolerance for alcohol.” “A pirate like me?”

“A Supernova,” you said, already feeling a bit lightheaded from the bourbon. You gestured wildly with one of your hands. “A-A captain of the Worst Generation, The Surgeon of Death! There were even some rumors I heard about you becoming a Warlord soon…” You sighed and took another drink. “I saw your wanted poster and I instantly knew that you were gonna be the next Pirate King. And I only want to fight the best.” You handed the bottle back to Law. “And now I can’t fight you, and we’re both stranded on a random island with nothing but some palm trees and a crate of booze.”

Law leaned back and took another drink. “So you only started this rivalry after seeing my poster? With how relentless you were in following me around, I would’ve thought there was more to it than that.”’ A ghost of a smile passed on his lips. “Your instincts on who’ll find the One Piece are spot on, at least.”

“Well, it was more than just that,” you said defensively. Your words were starting to slur a bit, and Law smirked. “You’re just…so…” The warmth of your cheeks from the bourbon intensified as you tried to explain why you were so fascinated with him. “Agh, I dunno how to explain it. I just wanted to fight you so I could get you off my mind for once.” You scowled at the ground. “I mean, I’m a pirate captain too. I’ve got so much shit to think about, but you’re always in the back of my head. And I figured once I fought you, it’d stop…”

Law blinked and tried to wrap his head around what you were saying. Making coherent thoughts seemed a bit more difficult, thanks to the bourbon. He found himself staring at you, watching your lips move as you talked about him. His mind started to wander. How long has she been trying to fight me? Feels like forever. And this is the longest conversation we’ve had. He saw you blush and describe how he was always on your mind and felt a strange feeling stirring in his chest. There were a few times aboard the Polar Tang where he’d have strange dreams about you, usually after the two of you clashed: you’d be fighting fiercely, he’d disarm you and grab your arm, and the two of you would stare at each other silently before he kissed you roughly. When he’d wake up, his boxers would be uncomfortably tight and he’d hastily justify the dream as being a random wet dream; nocturnal emissions were just part of being a man his age, but he wondered why they’d only ever come about after encountering you again.

Law noticed that you were still talking and tried to snap back to reality. He wasn’t used to feeling this unfocused. Maybe he had a concussion from being thrown overboard? No, he didn’t exhibit any other symptoms… He was silent as you continued talking and he took a few more swigs.

“And I know it sounds stupid, being so focused on you,” you continued. “But…The more I fought you, the more fun I was having. I was…exhilarated. Yeah, that’s the right word–exhilarated.” You giggled and reached to grab the bottle from Law. “That’s a funny word. ‘Exhilarated.’ ‘Ex-hillll-ahhh-rayyyy-teeeeed…’” You stumbled and fell forward, and Law’s dulled reflexes still managed to spur him to action; he caught your arms and the bottle fell into the sand. You two were closer than you’d ever been, even when your swords had clashed so many times before. The two of you stared silently at each other, and Law’s breath hitched–for once, this wasn’t a dream.

You bit your lip as you tried to push out the stream of lewd thoughts entering your mind; the two of you were so close. He stared up at you, trying to keep his composure as he thought of what to say. “You…” He took a deep breath. “You want me out of your system, right?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“I…I do too,” he confessed. “I keep having these dreams. About you. And–” He looked away and felt his cheeks burning. “You’re distracting. And since you’re distracted by me, it’s just logical that we…We move on from it.”

His grip on your arms relaxed, and you leaned forward slightly as your arms sank into the sand on either side of Law’s body. You shifted your hips and slowly sank down until you were resting on top of him. You leaned down and roughly kissed him, and the muffled moan that came from his lips was filling you with a warmth that definitely wasn’t from the bourbon. The two of you pulled away, panting.“Then…” You slowly lifted your shirt and tossed it into the sand. “Let’s move on.”

[chaossmagic]

fic: in bloom

Aaron goes to visit Grace on what would be her 1st birthday, and finds that someone else is already there.

Because I wish we’d got the scene of him visiting the grave, and because of the lack of Robert last week, here’s what I imagine might have happened.

It goes without saying but warnings for infant death, grief and loss. Dedicated to @robertsdingle, because her URL speaks the truth and Robert deserves to be properly recognized as one of the clan.

~read on AO3| buy me a coffee?~

The sun was shining, warm enough that Aaron only needed a light jacket over his jumper as he made his way to the graveyard. He’d opted to go alone, leaving his mum and Paddy to themselves for bit, to mark the day in their own way even though they’d done the little tea party the day before. He knew they’d want to spend some quiet time together today, and anyway, if he was honest, he wanted some time alone with his little sister, too. There was a lot on his mind, and he had a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

The way was familiar, and wet grass clung to the bottom of his boots as he picked his way over to where Grace lay resting. Her headstone was directly under one of the brightest patches of sun shining through the trees, making the surface gleam as Aaron approached it.

To his surprise, though, there was someone already there, someone Aaron knew so well that he would have known him with his eyes shut and all his other senses taken away too; Robert. Bundled in a navy winter coat inappropriate for the day’s weather, the sun turning his blond hair golden, he cast a dark shadow across the grass and looked lost in his own little world - he always did these days. Tired, distracted, nervous. Whenever he caught sight of the faraway look in his husband’s eyes, Aaron’s heart squeezed painfully, knowing that he was helpless to take away the worry about the inevitable that plagued him. 

“Hey,” he called softly when he reached him, pressing his hand to his arm and a kiss to his cheek by way of a greeting; Robert’s lips turned up in a small smile as he leaned into it, tinged with an air of mourning that clung to him like dew. “Didn’t think I’d see you here today.” Aaron nodded in the direction of Grace’s headstone. 

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to come,” Robert said, rocking back on his heels. “I knew what today was, and I knew that you and your mum and Paddy would want to do your own thing, but it didn’t feel right not to - come and see her. To say hello.”

 Aaron slid his arm through Robert’s, linking them together. “I’m sure she appreciates that you came, y’know. You’re her big brother, too, y’know?”

“And she’s my sister,” Robert replied, swallowing hard. Aaron could feel the lines of tension in his body, the hesitance. “She’s as much my sister-in-law as Liv is, and I just....wanted to see her. Wish her a happy birthday. Your family, Aaron, they’re...” He stopped, steeled himself, took a breath. “You have no idea what they mean to me.”

“Rob...” Aaron started, squeezing Robert closer, wanting him close. “You are part of this family. They’re yours too, have been ever since you drank from that welly and nearly keeled over.”

“There was a lot of ale in that welly,” Robert chuckled at the memory, nudging Aaron’s side affectionately. “Dunno how I stayed standing up.”

“I was there,” Aaron said simply. “I wouldn’t have let ya fall. Even if it would’ve been funny to see in front of everyone.”

“Oh, thanks,” Robert snorted. He turned to the headstone, eyebrows raised. “Hear that, Grace? Your brother would’ve let me fall on my arse in front of everyone we know because he thinks it would’ve been funny.”

“Gangin’ up on me, are ya? Charmin’,” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Thought you were my husband.”

“I am your husband,” Robert said. “I just like winding you up occasionally.” 

“Seriously, though, Robert,” Aaron began, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder, “don’t ever think you’re not a part of my family, alright? ‘Cause you are. You’re one of us crazy, off your rocker misfits now.” He smiled, and Robert leaned in to rest his cheek on top of Aaron’s head. “You’ll always belong with me, with us, whatever happens. That’s what us Dingles do. We stick together.”

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it,” Robert mumbled. “I don’t deserve to be Robert Sugden-Dingle.”

Aaron pulled away, then, his hands coming to rest on Robert’s waist, his expression serious as he gently turned Robert’s head so that he was looking right at him. “Robert. Robert,” he said, his hand coming up to cup his cheek briefly, a faint brush of his thumb across his cheekbone. “You are a Dingle. You are. Look at where you are, what you’re doin’! You’re here because it’s my little sister’s birthday, and you wanted to pay your respects. You’ve supported my mum with her second pregnancy, you got Charity and Marlon rootin’ for ya, last year you saved Belle’s and Sam’s lives. And you’ve fought to protect your family, Vic and her new baby, and that’s what Dingles do.” Aaron sighed, smiled, his eyes wet. “You’re more like us than you know. You have to believe that.”

“Well, I’m going to prison, aren’t I?” Robert said. “Dingles do that too, last time I checked.”

“Then you’ll know that you’ll have an army of people on the outside just waiting to support ya,” Aaron insisted, “all of us. We’re here for you.” He cast a glance to the gravestone, to Grace. “Grace, too. She’ll keep her eye on ya, till you come home to me.”

“I love you,” Robert whispered earnestly, his eyes shining bright with tears in the autumn sun. “I love you more than you’ll ever know. All of you.”

“Stop it, you’ll start me off, ya muppet,” Aaron said, smacking Robert lightly in the chest and rubbing at his own eyes. “These last few weeks have got ya so soppy.”

“Well, it’s been an emotional time,” Robert admitted. “But you got me through it, like you always do.”

Aaron raised himself up onto his tiptoes to press a kiss to his husband’s forehead, squeezing him around the waist for good measure. He looked down, by Robert’s feet, and saw a bouquet of flowers he hadn’t noticed before; half were bright yellow, the other delicate and purple, tied together with green twine. “What are those?”

“Oh!” Robert said, like he’d just remembered they were there. “I, uh - I brought them for Grace.” He bent to pick them up, cradled them in his arms like they were an infant. He fingered the delicate petals daintily. “I got these ones because - well, you’ll think it’s stupid, it probably is, but see these?” He indicated the yellow ones. “They’re marigolds, they’re the flowers that represent October, for the month she was born. They can mean cruelty, and grief, but also sunlight and passion. And these,” he pointed to the smaller, purple ones. “They’re violets. They represent February in flower language and, well, that’s when your mum’s birthday is,” he shrugged. 

Aaron stared, in awe; his eyes widened, his throat burning with the effort of not crying, again. “And what do they mean?”

“Faithfulness,” Robert said. “Virtue. Otherwise known as-”

“.....chastity,” Aaron finished on a shaky breath, his gaze huge and transfixed on Robert. He couldn’t get the words out for a moment or two, he was so surprised and so overwhelmed with emotion. “That’s - that’s incredible, Robert, I - you’re wonderful, you know that?”

“I got a matching one for your mum,” Robert said. “I was going to drop it off later, with a card, a birthday card that I signed to be from Seb. You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Too much?” Aaron asked, his voice cracking slightly. “Robert, it’s perfect. It’s kind, and thoughtful, and both mum and Grace will love it, I know they will.”

“It was the only thing I could think of to do,” Robert said. “Chas’s been really good to me, and she deserves this, something special.”

“It is special,” Aaron reassured him. “And so are you. There’s no-one like you, Robert.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Robert asked worriedly. 

Aaron smiled, taking the bouquet from his hands and inhaling deeply, pressing his nose to the petals. “Definitely a good thing from where I’m standin’.”

He paused to lose himself for a moment in the flowers’ scent, before turning to place them carefully on Grace’s grave. “There you go, sis,” he said, touching his fingers to the smooth granite surface. “A present from your annoyin’ - but still very sweet - big brother-in-law.”

Robert copied Aaron’s gesture, lingering a little longer than he had to on the stone. “Happy birthday, Grace.”

“We love you,” Aaron added. He reached for Robert’s hand, linked it tightly with his. “C’mon. Want a cuppa at home? We can go see mum and Paddy afterwards, if ya want.”

“I’d like that,” Robert agreed. He let Aaron lead him out of the graveyard, back onto the familiar main street of the village, back towards home.

When he’d been doing his research, he’d discovered that the flowers for January were snowdrops and carnations. They meant admiration, hope, love. They meant rebirth. 

Just like he hoped that flowers would bloom on Grace’s grave year after year in her memory, he hoped that his and Aaron’s relationship would continue to return and blossom, maybe not as fiery or as intense as it had once been with the passing of years, but still there, still in the background, still anchoring them together over everything else. It was the one thing he had to hold on to. He hoped it wouldn’t let him down.

[a-simple-lee]

Summer Sledding

**************ENDGAME SPOILERS*************

Scott Lang, Peter Parker, Cassie Lang, Morgan Stark

Description: Peter, Morgan, and Pepper are over for the afternoon. Scott just so happens to be making up for some lost childhood time with Cassie via reconstructing an old classic.

A/N: requested by an anon. I had no idea what to do with this prompt since it's been sitting around for ages but then I sat down and this fluffy idea occurred to me so we're rolling with it

_____________________________________

Silence. Well, not quite. A summer's day in New York means music, thus the gentle thrum of daytime radio fills the golden air. Everything's honey-tinted, warm, rosy - peaceful. Each breath of air carries the scent of ice creams and joy and liveliness.

A scream. Then, a clatter. Several thumps follow, the screaming continuing. A cardboard box carrying two girls comes careening down a DIY helter-skelter. One young, wearing metal red and gold helmet - the other, a bit older. Though the light in their eyes is the same as they screech with joy, their worlds all a blur until: after a brief eternity, their cardboard track out of the 1st floor window comes to an end.

"Oh my gosh!" Cassie breathes, holding Morgan by the shoulders as they both giggle. Pepper shakes her head from her chair on the lawn, turning to say something about safety to Hope, but pausing and settling for an exasperated look instead.

"Again!" Morgan beams, pulling up her father's mask.

"Are you guys coming down? Morgan wants to go again!" Cassie yells. A hesitant voice yells back from the window.

"Uh- is it safe, Jellybean?"

"Nope!"

"Perfect!" A scuffle is heard from above, with a hushed pair of voices arguing back and forth. Cassie rolls her eyes and takes Morgan into the kitchen for a juice pop, telling her round two is postponed for five minutes.

Meanwhile, in the attic, Peter side-eyes his slightly larger cardboard cart with disdain.

"I-I dunno, it sounded cool when we were building it, but-"

"Dude! You're spiderman! If the girls can make it down, so can you!" Scott wants to laugh at the situation. He refrains for Pete's sake.

"It's high! And steep! And- you said you did this before under house arrest?"

"Yeah! And this is the improved version!"

"Uh- y'know, maybe I'll just stay up here, you can go down, and-" Peter seems hesitant, but not too scared. Scott decides maybe some creative persuasion wouldn't go amiss.

"Pete-" he interrupts, looking the teen in the eye. "I'm not going until you get in that sled. It's gonna be fine."

"I'm not sure I want to…" nonetheless, Peter gingerly steps into the rather oversized box, not at all pleased.

"Hey, Antoinette?" Scott turns away for a second, and scans the room for his ant friend. She's disappeared - they're alone. "Shit, she took my cart. We gotta go down together."

"Are you kidding? That-" Peter sits down, gestures wildly to the makeshift rollercoaster track outside, "-will not take both of us."

"Ouch," Scott remarks, though whether his engineering skills or his self esteem are under fire is unclear. He nudges the box to the edge, and clambers in behind Peter.

"No, no, we're not-" the sled rocks back and forwards previously, Peter quickly freezing up to stop them going down the ramp. "I'm not moving."

"You need to move, Pete. We can't move unless you do."

"Exactly!" He mutters, very happy with the fact that the cart's slightly too far back for Scott's shuffling to do anything.

"Alright," There's a sigh of resignation from behind Peter, and he wonders if he's won.

Scott's forced to place his arms around Peter's torso in the tight space, which earns a twitch on the teen's part.

"careful, that tickles!" Peter's too oblivious sometimes; a fact that many of his friends agree on. Scott considers this moment to be Exhibit A - because unbeknownst to him, Scott is grinning like the Cheshire cat in light of this new information.

"Thanks for mentioning that little detail." He locks his arms around Peter's midriff, immediately wriggling his fingers against the kid's t shirt.

"Hehey! Hehey, wahahait!" Peter starts squirming instantly, leaning backwards into Scott to get away.

"Well, that looks promising!" Scott immediately changes tact, skittering over his sides instead, and- bingo. His victim scrambles forwards, giggling wildly, and the cart tips.

Down, down, and down they go, Scott still tickling Pete for the sheer fun of it. Cassie's getting to the age where she's 'too old' for such shenanigans, but he's known Pete for a while now and is confident there won't be any hard feelings.

"Scohohott!" Peter's torn between mild panic and hysteria, trying to see past the whirling kaleidoscope of the garden when they suddenly skid to a halt at the bottom. Scott withdraws his hands, and smiles sweetly as Pete turns to glare at him. Morgan giggles from the stairs, juice pop in hand.

"Sorry, Morgan, Peter was scared to go down."

"He's not scared any more though, is he? it's fun!" Morgan states matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, it is." Peter grins, climbing out and sitting in between her and Cassie.

"Wanna go again later?"

[seenashwrite]

The Cupid Complication

Word Count: 5.2K Category: Humor, Fluffersnark, Romance, Friendship, Behind-the-scenes canon compliant, Holidays, Valentine’s Day Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, You, a Cupid Pairing(s): Be surprised - stop wanting to know the endings at the starts, my loves Warnings: None Author’s Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day! More post-story Overall Summary: During the Valentine season this year, complications arise for you & the Winchesters due to a cupid who could use some more practice at her job. A lot more practice. A *supreme* amount of practice.  

The slow, methodical rapping sent a sharp, scolding noise into the air each time fingers hit desk.

THRRRUMP

THRRRUMP

THRRRUMP

Sinking lower into her seat, the cherub waited as her supervisor finished scanning the report.

The high-ranking angel behind the desk closed her eyes. The rapping stopped. She brought both hands up, now rubbing her temples. She sighed.

The cherub gulped.

"On your latest mission, your first arrow hit a statue, then your second, a tree, before successfully striking a human target upon your third attempt.”

"Y-yes, ma'am."

“To be precise, with the third, you managed to hit three of them.”

"Uh... yes, ma'am. That’s funny, huh? But it only nicked the woman, I don’t think she was affected. See, what happened was----"

“None of which were the assigned targets, that's what I'm to understand?”

"Well, yes - I mean, no - I mean, yes, ma'am."

"Octavia, I've repeatedly instructed you to not call me that."

"Yes, m.... Okay."

“Can you tell me why it is that we’ve navigated all the drama that is constantly plaguing heaven? Why we remain celestially adjacent?”

“Because we bring love to the world?” Octavia guessed.

“Because we - along with the muses and the reapers - specialize in the three things that will always be: life, death, and relationships. Those three things cannot be stopped, no matter how great a power may try to do so. They just are. And what keeps things running smoothly amidst all the chaos?”

“Being good at our jobs?”

“Are you telling me, or asking me?” the supervisor snapped.

“I’m… I’m telling. That’s why.”

“That is why. We coordinate. We make sure the looms of the fates have nothing time-sensitive in store for our targets. We cross-check that they aren’t in the reapers’ queue. It is a finely-tuned machine. It is a flow. It is a rhythm. And you, Octavia, have continued to disrupt that rhythm, despite your missions being limited to the month of February, the easiest, the simplest month on the calendar for making matches.”

Octavia hung her head and picked at her glittery pink-polished fingernails.

It did not go unnoticed.

“While I have you here - I’ve let it slide, but your appearance----”

“You told me I couldn’t be invisible except when I’m firing my bow! I’m trying to be festive for the season!” Octavia interjected, and was met with a stern look.

“If you hadn’t materialized when you were marking that poor woman’s heart and grabbed her breast right there in the middle of that coffee shop----”

“I wasn’t grabbing!” Octavia again interjected, and it was met with an even sterner look. “It was a really soft sweater,” she mumbled sheepishly.

“That righteous ruckus, I remind you, is what got you downgraded back to arrows. And now I find myself wondering what to do with you, if you can’t even manage what new recruits seem to execute with accuracy!”

While her supervisor began adding notes to the sizable file on Octavia, the cherub caught a glance of herself in the mirror on the wall behind the desk. She thought she looked the part - her style was cheerful, and when she was visible and surveying, it made people smile, and she didn’t care what her co-workers said, not about her heart-patterned shirt, or the shiny red shoes, or the nail polish, or her hair.

"It's pink!" they’d cried.

Octavia disagreed. Regardless of her form - big, small, skin tone, eye color - she always had wild, curly red hair. And not of a hue typically seen in nature; less ginger, more actual red. Actually, burgundy. Actually, it was possibly on the pink end of things. Fine, it was pink. But only in certain lighting. Besides, her clothes were needed - being naked was uncomfortable what with the oft-chafing quiver, so the clothing may as well match the hair - and besides that, Octavia was fine with the whole being-more-visible-than-not requirement. She liked being able to get to know her targets; even though the intel was always spot-on, it made her heart swell to know for sure she was making a good match.

They just didn’t understand. Most all cherubs - the cupids, at least - were less than enthused about Valentine’s Day, and Octavia couldn’t imagine why; after all, it was the holiday of love! And hopefully it was not spent alone, not if she had anything to do with it, despite the fact that Octavia herself often spent it alone. She didn't have many friends... really, she didn’t have any friends. And so, her companions were her targets. And she loved them, all year ‘round.

Octavia was shaken from her thoughts when the file was slammed shut, and her eyes met the steely gaze of her supervisor once more.

“Your targets have been reassigned. You have a new assignment, which - if you succeed - means I won’t transfer you to…. to…. Oh, I don’t know where, but you’ll be gone. Do you understand?”

“Ma’am? I mean, what? What is it? The assignment?” Octavia asked, nervous.

Her supervisor leaned across the desk, pointing a finger. “You are going to fix this.”

“How?”

“Think, Octavia. Who saw her first? Which of these----" A pause as the file was opened and papers were shuffled, followed by a huff when the sought information couldn’t be found immediately “----humans saw her first?” 

Octavia blinked, not following.

“The woman! You say she was only nicked, and if that’s true, you must focus on the other two - so Who. Saw. Her. First?”

"It seemed both of them at once. They do lots of things in unison. It’s kind’ve weird."

“Then I suppose you’ll have to figure out how to untangle this weird one by weird one. You have approximately twelve earth days - I want this done by sundown on the 14th. And without the bow, I don’t want to hear of any more stray shots.”

“But then how do I----”

“Fix it.”

“But if you don’t want me to----”

“FIX. IT. Dismissed!”

Octavia stood, held out her arms for the customary goodbye handshake, but when the gesture was most decidedly not reciprocated, she slunk from the office.

After the door closed, the supervisor muttered under her breath as she dug around in her drawer for the small bottle of liquor she kept handy for such situations. Situations that most always involved Octavia. And as she sipped, she glanced back through the file. And then she blanched. And then she dropped her glass with a thunk onto the desk, causing the liquid to slosh across the paper, across the last names in the universe she’d have ever wanted to see.

CONFIRMED HUMAN SUBJECTS INVOLVED IN INCIDENT, FEBRUARY 1st

WINCHESTER, DEAN

WINCHESTER, SAM

~ Almost twelve days later ~ .

"Can you help me with something?"

I glanced up from my research at the sound of Sam's voice. "Of course," I said, removing my glasses. "I need a break, anyway."

In the kitchen, there was a small box on the table, wrapping paper, tape, scissors, and a ribbon lying next to it. And there was crumpled wrapping paper on the floor. A lot of crumpled wrapping paper. I looked from it to Sam, amused.

"I keep getting one side right, then the other side comes out all uneven when I fold it," he explained. "And forget the bow, I wasn't even gonna try."

"No worries, I got you," I told him, and plopped onto a seat. He sat across from me and watched as I picked up the paper and began to unroll it to judge the size. “So, is this for who I’m thinking?” I took a peek at Sam, caught the blush rising to his cheeks, and I grinned, having my answer. “You’ve been talking about her a lot since the last hunt.”

“Yeah, I guess I have,” he said. “I don’t know why, I just… started looking at her differently, you know?”

“Oh I know, and I get it, she’s great. And it’s nice to see you happy,” I said, about to lift the box - but then I stopped, met his eye. "Sam… this is leaking."

"What?"

I pointed to the moisture trail the box had left when I'd pulled it closer. "Did you... you didn't cook something, did you? I mean, that's fine, it's just we may need a different type of box, and no sense in wrapping it yet if it needs to be refrigerated, and----"

Sam cut me off. "I didn't cook anything - it's a chocolate heart."

We stared at each other for a moment, then stared down at the box, bewildered.

Which is when it jumped.

To be specific, it pulsed itself into the air, though only a tiny bit, shifting its position on the table slightly every time it came back down. Two successive plops, a brief moment, then it repeated. And it kept repeating. And it was on its fifth cycle before we came out of our shared daze, both putting our hands on the top to stop the movement. It vibrated under our palms.

“We gotta open it,” I said.

“What if it’s a cursed object?” Sam asked in response.

“Where the hell’d you get it?”

“Candy shop, same one that’s been on main street for forever, a little old lady owns it.”

“Witch, maybe?” I suggested.

We looked down as the box became a touch more aggressive in its pushback, the sides straining slightly - something thick was beginning to sneak out of the corners.

Sam shook his head, bewildered. “I dunno.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s pissed off!” I announced and, as if it wanted to confirm my assertion, the box managed to knock our hands away, sending itself clean off the table and onto the floor, where it resumed its original soft bum-bum… bum-bum… bum-bum...

“It’s beating,” Sam said. “The heart.” A pause. “I can’t give her that!”

“THAT’S your concern?!” I shouted, then took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, trying to quell my annoyance. “Okay. I’m opening it.”

“Wait! We should---” Sam began, but was interrupted.

“Hey, whoa - what’s going on, why’re you guys yelling?” Dean asked as he walked in, frowning.

The box performed its routine for him.

“Wow,” said Dean. “Never mind.” He looked to me. “I was gonna ask your opinion on something, but since you’re busy…”

I gave him a look. “You’re in this now, too, bud.” I dropped into a squat, did a mental 1-2-3 count, and took the lid off the box.

“Gross,” Dean said, his nose wrinkling. “I mean, cool, but gross.”

“That’s not what I bought!” Sam said, pointing down at the cool-but-gross.

It was an actual, for real, no denying it, right there, in the box, human heart, and it was pumping out a brown, viscous fluid with every beat.

“Is that….” Sam said, but trailed off, and he squatted beside me, then dipped a finger into the goo. He held it to his nose, sniffed. “I think it’s chocolate.”

“Lemme see,” Dean said, and now he squatted, too - then to our horror, he dipped his finger as well, and immediately brought it to his lips, giving it a lick.

“Dean!” Sam and I exclaimed.

“Mmmm,” Dean hummed, his eyes closing briefly. “Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff. Good stuff. Is the rest made out of candy?”

“No!” Sam and I exclaimed.

Dean’s face went pinched again. “Gross,” he repeated, then promptly stood and began walking to the fridge. “I need a beer.”

“’I need a beer’, he says,” I commented, shaking my head.

Sam and I straightened ourselves, still watching the heart pump-pump away, but we looked back to Dean at the sound of chuckling.

“You may as well give it up, brother. I got you beat. Heh. Beat,” he said with a smile, popping the cap off the beer.

“Beat at what?” I asked.

“Yeah, beat at what?” Sam echoed, and the look on his face and his stiff posture and the way he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes made me think he already knew what Dean meant.

“I mean, it’s creative, I’ll give you that - but chocolate’s not her favorite. Which you’d know, if you knew her as well as I do,” Dean replied, cool as could be.

It hit me then that Dean had also been talking about our hunter colleague an awful lot in the recent past, and it prompted me to ask, “Dean, what was it you wanted my opinion on?”

He swallowed a mouthful of beer, then replied, “I wanted to see what you thought about how my Valentine’s gift turned out.” Looking to Sam, he added, “Which I wrapped by myself.”

Sam looked like he wanted to smack the smug right off Dean’s face. “You did this!” he said. “You put some sort of hex on that heart - you’re trying to sabotage me!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to sabotage you, she’s not into you.”

Sam turned to me. “Years ago, over an autopsy, he passes me a human heart, just like that one---”

“No chocolate,” Dean pointed out.

“---and he said ‘Be my valentine’.”

“Dean... asked you... to be his valentine,” I said slowly.

“Not like--- that’s not--- it’s his sick sense of humor!” Sam explained. “And he’s doing it again! Trying to split us up!”

“Split who up?” I asked. “You’re not dating her! Neither of you are!”

“Not yet,” Dean said, still with the smug.

“What did you get her? Show me,” Sam demanded.

“Like I said, I got her favorite candy. C’mon,” Dean replied, setting down his beer and gesturing for us to follow.

As we walked down the hall to his room, they kept fussing, and as Dean was opening the door, I said, “You’re both acting really weird, I’m honestly getting concerned because---- good lord.”

A gift bag was tipped over on his bed, and what had to be dozens of worms were happily crawling around: on the bed itself, on the pillows, on the floor, on his desk, and - to his horror - over the stack of vintage porn mags on the nightstand.

“What the hell?!” he shouted.

Sam snickered.

The worms were fat, and glossy, and each segment was a color of the rainbow.

“Gummy worms?” I asked.

“Gummy worms,” Dean confirmed.

After a shared look - the same one we’d share during hunts when we knew it was time to cut out and regroup - we all left the room, shutting the door behind us.

“You believe me now? That I’m not sabotaging you?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Something’s up.”

“Finally!” I said. “We have to retrace our steps, figure out what caused this. Now, you two started talking about her on the way home after that hunt, I think, so----”

“Something’s trying to keep me from her,” Dean and Sam stated in unison.

I groaned. “No, that’s not it - it’s that something’s, I dunno, infected the both of you, to make you want her. You know, want-her, want her.”

“I’m gonna go see her,” Dean said, determination all over his face and in his tone.

“Not if I get there first,” Sam replied, equally determined.

When they both began to move to, I assume, race each other to the car, I stood in the way. “Stop, okay? Isn't she still up at Donna's, going over traps and sigils with the girls?”

Dean got a moony smile on his face. “Man, she's so freakin' smart.”

Sam went dopey, too. "Right? So smart. Smartest person we know, definitely."

“And the prettiest.”

“Pretty? She's gorgeous.”

“Totally the hottest chick we know.”

I raised my hand. "Hi? Right here, remember?"

Dean gave me an up-and-down. “You’re all right, you got nothing to worry about.”

“I’m. Not. Worried,” I said through grit teeth.

“And you’re good with the lore,” Sam offered halfheartedly.

“I know. Look, if you’re gonna go up to Donna’s----” I began, but they cut me off by going around me, headed toward the garage at what seemed like light speed. “I’m coming with you!” I yelled, hot on their heels, pausing only to snatch my jacket off the back of a library chair.

.

.

Thankfully, the road trip conversation was less argument and more fawning over the object of their mutual desire, and as much as I liked our friend, I got bored, which meant I got sleepy. In what felt like a blink of an eye, I suddenly found myself in the next county over from our destination. The slamming of the car doors had jolted me awake - according to my watch, they’d driven all through the night, the maniacs, and now it appeared a side mission had emerged.

We were parked in front of a liquor store.

It was surprisingly empty for Valentine’s Day, at least in my estimation. I’d have thought people would’ve been buying out the joint, last minute prep for their sappy candlelit dinners. I shuddered at the thought. That was me: Not Romantic, party of one.

When I entered, the gal behind the checkout counter gave me a polite smile and a small point in the direction of the refrigerated areas at the back of the store, to the only other occupants besides ourselves. But she didn’t need to - I’d heard them already. And it sounded like the most recent bout was about to hit a fever pitch.

“It’s the last one, and I got to it first!”

“Yeah, well I saw it first!”

Dean and Sam were yanking a bottle back and forth, and when I came up to them, I noted it was champagne. Pink champagne. I rolled my eyes, then reached in and snatched the bottle away, which earned me two dirty looks.

“Guys, I have a idea about what might’ve happened - is it possible this is a cupid situation?” I asked.

They both stared at me for a couple of seconds, and then smiles began to appear on both their faces.

“That explains it,” said Sam.

“It sure does,” said Dean.

I eyed both of them, suspicious at why they were pleased to hear my theory, but went on. “We should call Cas, see about doing a summoning spell.”

“We could do that on our own, I don’t wanna bother him while he’s spending time with Jack,” Sam replied.

I was instantly relieved - at least Sam was getting some sense.

“Why should we summon a cupid?” Dean asked. “If it is a cupid, that must mean I’m meant to be with----”

“Whoa, hold on,” Sam interrupted. “I’m supposed to be with----”

So much for sense.

Now I interrupted. “What makes you think either of you are supposed to be with her? Regardless, both of you can’t be meant for her! This is obviously some sort of mistake!”

Dean's lips curled into a smirk. “You jealous?”

My eyebrows shot up. “Jealous of what? Not being on the receiving end of leaky organs and creepy crawlers? Can we focus for a second? Back on the hunt, did you two see anybody that shouldn’t have been there? Before or after the salt and burn?”

“Nope,” Dean answered.

“Same here,” Sam agreed.

I sighed. “Me, neither.” I thought a few more moments, then asked, “Anywhere else? Anybody new? Anybody unusual?”

“Well, I mean… I guess the girl that sold me the heart was a little different. Different for Lebanon,” Sam said. “I’ve never seen her around town before, and I’d have noticed - she had pink hair.”

Dean nodded. “Uh-huh. Same girl sold me the worms. I’ve never seen her before, either.”

“Okay, so, pink hair - what else?” I asked.

“She was just… really Valentine-y. I thought it was just part of the sales shtick,” Dean answered.

“Yeah, her dress was patterned with these little lips, like kisses,” Sam said.

Dean gave him a look for remembering that piece of info, and I hid a smile.

Sam ignored him. “And she had a name you don’t hear often… it was Opal… Olive… Ophelia?”

Dean snapped his fingers. “No, no - it was, like, Octopus or something.”

“Octop---- Dean, what?” Sam said, exasperated.

I ran a hand over my face, looked skyward for a second, briefly turning over in my mind how my life had come to this point, then brought my eyes back to them. “Was it Octavia?”

They were mildly stunned.

“How in the hell could you have known that?” Dean asked.

“Because I’m a hunter, and I’m observant, and I’m not in some whack-a-doo crazy cupid coma,” I replied, and I sounded snide, because I was being snide. “I know the name because of the name tag.”

“I thought you didn’t see anybody at the cemetery,” Sam said, brow furrowed.

Dean frowned, as well. “And cupids wearing name tags? No they don’t, they’re naked. Where would they put it?”

“Oh my god, the stupid has to end,” I announced, and stepped behind him, grabbing his shoulders, shifting him so he was facing down the aisle, to the front of the store. I pointed. “Checkout girl? Up there? Pink sweater with white hearts? Pink-and-white striped skirt? Pink tights? Pink hair?!?”

At that moment, the shelves began to tremble - specifically, the shelves lined with the not-pink champagne bottles. Glass clinked as they bumped into one another. The ones stored upright tipped onto their sides.

And then they fired.

Corks shot out like bullets, and we dodged and weaved, getting popped here-and-there, but other than sticky, bubble-coated boots, we managed to get out of the store unscathed. And on the sidewalk, we found her. There, the cotton candy-colored cupid stood, fidgeting, a hesitant smile on her face.

We stared.

“H-h-hi?” she managed.

We continued to stare.

“I screwed up,” she admitted. “And unless I fix this, I’ll be kicked out of the cupids.” Tears sprang to her already shining eyes. “I don’t even know what other cherubs do! And I don’t want to, I’m a good cupid, I am.”

“Oh no. You suck,” Dean stated, and I frowned at him, gave him a sharp elbow, then looked to the source of our troubles.

“It’s Octavia, right?” I asked, glancing at the name tag.

She nodded. "I wouldn't lie, I promise."

I nodded in acknowledgement, and said, “Okay, then, keep that going. Tell us what, exactly, you screwed up.”

“I got the address backwards. I was supposed to be across town, not at that graveyard.” She paused, a contemplative expression coming to her face. “Now that I think of it, that isn’t a romantic place.”

“No,” Sam responded flatly. “It’s not.”

And then Octavia told her story, confirming what I’d guessed. “I thought all this would discourage you, but seems my arrows were more potent than I realized,” she finished. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. You mean so much to me. Every one of you.”

Dean and Sam and I looked at each other, all of us softening - we believed her.

“Octavia, what else can be done?” Sam asked. “Because I’ll be honest, all I want to do right now is tackle Dean and steal the keys and leave him in the dust and go to her.”

“Awesome. Let's see you try,” Dean shot back, eyes narrowed, fists clenching.

I looked to the cupid with what I knew was desperation on my face as I moved to stand between the lovesick idiots.

“I could use something else on my arrows—-” Octavia began.

“NO ARROWS!” the three of us shouted.

“—-but it should work if you use it on yourselves.” She pulled three small bottles from the pocket of her skirt, all filled with a shimmery red liquid that gave off a slight golden glow.

“So do they drink it?” I asked.

Octavia shook her head. “It needs to be applied to where I hit them - well, Sam can maybe drink his, but…”

“But what?”

“But… butt. I hit Dean in the butt, then it kind’ve curved up and hit Sam in the cheek. Not one of those cheeks, I mean----”

I held up a hand. “Stop, I got it.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “You’re--- you’re telling me it went through his ass then in my mouth?”

Dean leaned over, gripping his knees, laughing so hard he was gasping for breath in no time.

One of the bottles was smaller than the others, and after Octavia handed the first two to Sam and Dean, and they went back into the store to use it, she handed the tiny one to me.

“Give this to her, just in case. It’s for her arm. The arrow lost a lot of steam by the time it got to her, I think most of the juice was off it. Has she been calling a lot or did she show up at your place or anything?”

“Ah, that’s a big fat no,” I answered. “All the crazy has been with these two. Lucky me.”

“You are lucky,” Octavia said. “My aim is so bad, I could’ve hit you, too. Then two of you could’ve been mismatched, along with that other woman, and it would’ve been worse.”

“Yeah… worse…” I said under my breath, my mind wandering for a moment. I shook myself out of it. “Well, look - no harm was done. Maybe a few bruises from your artillery in there, but otherwise we just have some clean-up to do back on the homefront. The candy stuff was pretty genius by the way.”

Octavia blushed. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. And listen, I’m sure where you come from, they’ve got practice areas for shooting, right? That’s all you need. Hell, I had to practice every day for a long time before I got good at throwing blades. You’re creative, and you’re clearly passionate about your job. I don’t know what else heaven could ask for.”

A bright smile came to the cupid’s face. “Thank you. So much. I mean it.”

“So what’s on deck for you tonight, since you pulled this off? You gonna celebrate?” I asked.

“I don’t have any plans, it’s not like cupids have matchmakers, so… But I like being around love. I think I’ll hang out at that little restaurant around the corner, the people seemed happy there, and there’s paper hearts all taped on the windows, and I think I even saw some balloons. There’s no balloons in heaven.”

“Okay,” I said, and I smiled back, but I felt a little sad for her.

I didn’t have time to think on it for long - Dean and Sam emerged, and we all said our goodbyes.

.

.

The would-be paramour was packing up her car when we pulled up to Donna’s place, and after a brief round of rock-paper-scissors, Sam got the honor of explaining what had happened - a win or a loss, hard to tell.

But she was laughing through the whole story, and when it was done, she gave me a big hug, saying, “Bless your soul, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.”

I laughed, too. “Honestly, it wasn’t so awful. Plus, I get to bring this up every Valentine’s Day for years to come.”

“Great,” Dean said, not meaning it in the least.

“Do any of you have anything going on tonight?” she asked. “Should we go get a pizza or something on the way back to Kansas?”

“Nah, I think I’ll pass,” Dean said.

“Um, yeah. Me, too,” I said.

She turned to Sam. “How about you? I mean, why not make the best of it? And we don’t have to do pizza, we could do a movie, maybe?”

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Sam asked hesitantly, which got another laugh out of her.

“Yes! If these two party poopers are out, that means we can watch something artsy they’d hate.”

Sam smiled, relieved. “Yeah, that actually sounds great.”

While they discussed their plans, Dean turned to me and said, “That's not a half-bad idea.”

I was surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Making the best of it. We can go make with the best.”

“You wanna spend Valentine’s with me? I figured you’d… what happened to celebrating Lonely Ladies Getting Laid Day?”

“It’s Unattached Drifter Christmas. And I don’t mean anything fancy, or… stuff... It’s just... you know, as friends.”

That’s what he’d said, but he’d taken a step closer, and his voice had gotten a little softer, and if my eyes didn’t deceive me, the expression on his face held something I’d seldom seen on him: uncertainty.

“Friends?” I clarified.

“Well friends with be----”

At my raised eyebrow, he cut himself off and course-corrected.

“Beer. Friends with beer.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Sure.... sure, as in.... you'll....”

“Sure, Dean. I'll go.”

“You’ll go. Okay. Okay! That’s… that’s good, that’s…”

“Do I get flowers?” I asked casually, and at the near-horrified look on his face, tacked on a wink to let him know I was anything but serious.

He grinned. “You get a burger.”

I brought a hand to my chest. “Oh, Mr. Winchester - be still my heart.”

We were ready to get going, but after I filled him in on the rest of my conversation with our clumsy cupid, we agreed we had a quick stop to make before our Valentine’s Day evening got fully underway.

Octavia was at the bar nursing a cosmopolitan when the maître d' approached.

“Miss? Might you be Octavia?”

She swallowed and said, “Yes? I mean, yes. That’s me.”

“This was just dropped off for you,” he said, handing her a plastic bag with a drugstore’s name across it. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Octavia took it, mumbling a thank you as he walked off, completely distracted; she’d never received a gift before. And it was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. She knew well that most all the cards had long been sold, and she was glad, because this was much more special.

There it was, in her hands, her very own valentine, handmade with what materials were at their disposal. It was a cut-from-newspaper heart, trimmed in cotton balls, with random stickers that weren’t holiday-related but were all pinks-and-reds, stuck here-and-there around the writing. And that writing said:

. Have a happy Valentine’s Day, Octavia. You deserve it. - Your favorite hunters .

After swiping a few tears away, Octavia left money on the bar and upon exiting, scurried around to the back of the building so she could disappear. She needed to drop her valentine off back home. And she also needed to pick up something while she was there.

When she reached her final destination of the night, the cupid watched through the window of the burger joint for awhile, drinking in the happiness before her. It could mean trouble, what she was about to do, but in this case there wasn’t need for an assignment, or cross-checking with the fates or the reapers, because she felt it was right. She knew it, sparkled tips to shiny toes.

Tonight’s arrow was smaller, and coated delicately. Concentrating, Octavia aimed carefully. She didn’t blink, and she didn’t wobble, and for the first time ever she hit precisely the targets she intended.

It sailed clean through both their hearts, and Octavia smiled. They would have an amazing night. As for the rest, well - she’d leave forever up to them.

Author’s Notes: This is not only for Valentine’s Day, it’s also for the Galentine’s celebration hosted by @spnfanficpond and my secret Galentine is fellow Pondie @bookshido (who I cannot tag, but have arranged for them to be tagged, cross my heart!) Hope you enjoyed!

...And a quick PS: While you'll notice standard divisions for change of scenes, the intro and ending are separated from this first-person perspective tale by the heart dividers, and are in third person for the purpose of giving the audience information that the main characters don't know/don't need to know - just FYI so you don't think I've lost my mind... or my perspective, as it were. ;)

See Nash Write : Master  /  See Nash Write : Mobile

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The Nashooligans...

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[anthony-kate]

***Well... clearly a lot has happened during this on-going hiatus, huh? I mean, I could maybe go on another rant of this absolute nonsense but I believe you are just as tired as me. Besides, there are way better things to spend your time with---reading Malec fanfics, for example. I dunno about you but those fics always cheer me up and put me in a better mood, so I hope this will be the case for you, too.

Anyway, thanks so much for all the love for the previous rec’s and I hope you enjoy this 8th(!) edition of Malec fanfic rec’s as much as the other ones. As always, I am curious to know what you think of it, so let me know. Even more so, leave a comment or/and kudo for the authors---we all need the validation and it is just a nice gesture after their fics kept you entertained for a little while.***

Volume 1

Volume 2

Volume 3

Volume 4

Volume 5

Volume 6

Volume 7

MR CONGENIALITY by @stupidnephilimlove [ M | AU | 28.7k | complete ]

When a terrorist threatens to bomb the Mr United States pageant, FBI Special Agent Alexander Lightwood is chosen to go undercover. His partner, Jace Herondale, thinks he's doing Alec a favour by choosing him, but Alec's disgruntled. He considers the idea of a male beauty pageant - hell, any pageant - degrading.

As he progresses through the rounds, Alec struggles to fight a growing attraction to pageant consultant Magnus Bane, forms unlikely friendships with contestants, and learns that Mr United States is much more than just a beauty pageant.

But with limited time, can he uncover the person behind the threat before it's too late?

BEST LAID PLANS by @superficialpeasant [ E | 74.2k | WIP | Best Laid Plans #1 ]

When a High Warlock looking to end his celibacy streak meets a Shadowhunter after no-baggage thrills, the two make a deal: anytime, anywhere, no strings attached.

CASUAL WIN by @superficialpeasant  [ E | 6.5k | complete | Best Laid Plans #2 ]

Alec tries new things, and Magnus rediscovers the joy of laughing during sex (a ‘Best Laid Plans’ one-shot).

SET ME IN MOTION by @lemonoclefox [ M | AU | 132k | complete ]

“Is that your way of asking me to cook for you sometime?” Alec says. “'Cause I will.” The moment the words escape his mouth, Alec finds himself slightly panicking. Because he does not talk like that, ever―in a way that might even be considered flirting―and he still doesn’t understand what it is about Magnus that brings stuff like that out of him. More importantly, he has a boyfriend. Magnus, however, just looks mildly surprised as their eyes meet. “My, my. Master chef, good family name, and charming?” Magnus tilts his head ever so slightly. “Careful, Mr. Lightwood,” he says in a low, teasing voice, mouth curving up in a smile. “You’re gonna make me swoon.” ---

One night, Magnus spots a handsome stranger in the elevator of his apartment building – which wouldn’t be a big deal if said stranger didn’t turn out to be dating Magnus’s neighbor. The stranger soon becomes Alec, and their paths end up crossing more than once. A tentative friendship develops as they slowly get to know each other, and they both find that it’s effortless in a way neither of them has ever known. It's only when other kinds of feelings start getting involved that things become a bit more complicated.

ON STRANGER TIDES by @lecrit [ E | AU | 53.7k | complete | A Pirate’s Life For Me #2 ]

Alec kissed him like he had the first time, desperately, but tenderly, with all the rashness of a man in love. It was Magnus who pulled back, thumb gently brushing over Alec’s cheekbone. “I’m going to miss this,” he said, voice pitched low, “when we get back to Alicante.” “As will I,” Alec allowed, bowing his head to rest his forehead against Magnus’. “But I know we can show them how it’s done, you and I.”

As long as he had this, the unconditional love of an extraordinary man, the gift of his passion behind closed doors and the tenderness of his eyes in the secrecy of his mind, as long as there was their burning bodies melting together to express what words couldn’t, Alec didn’t need to worry. What was the worst that could happen?

A TINY SPARK by @magicandarchery [ E | AU | 55.7k | complete ]

As a firefighter for the FDNY, Alec Lightwood and his battalion respond to an emergency call for an apartment fire. After rushing a young, soon-to-be mother out of the burning building and to safety, Alec must deliver her newborn baby.

He never expected the little girl to spark an inexplicable bond between them. After a prior adoption fell through in a devastating way, should he and Magnus even hope they might be able to adopt her?

EXIT POLLING by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 14.7k | complete ]

You can have ambition or love, but you can’t have both. ---

a political au: magnus is a political fixer, and alec is the poor fool hoping to be mayor.

STARS IN YOUR EYES by @carmenlire [ not rated | 2.1k | complete ]

Huh. His door is standing open but there’s no one in his office. He’s about to stand up and close the door when he hears a giggle. Alec smiles, and leans back in his seat waiting for-- Ah, there it is. A pair of big blue eyes are peeking around the corner of his desk. Alec makes a show of focusing on the inventory spreadsheet in front of him. He silently starts counting to five in his head. He barely makes it to three before an enthusiastic body launches itself at him. Alec has help with his Head of the Institute duties.

THE ONE THING (I CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF) by @floralegia [ M | AU | 28.7k | complete ]

Alec wasn't expecting to enjoy this summer locked away with his family at a posh resort in the Catskills, just biding his time until he can go home in the fall and then finally, finally move out and escape to college. He was expecting to alternate between bored out of his mind and frustrated with his father's heavy-handed attempts to set him up with Aline, whose parents own the resort, as a last-ditch attempt to pretend Alec didn't come out six months prior.

Enter Magnus Bane.

OR: a Dirty Dancing AU.

I NEED YOU (DO YOU NEED ME?) by discoveries [ T | AU | 6.5k | complete ]

“I am your ex, you are a cop, and I just got arrested for being drunk and disorderly."

THE ANSWER IS “NO” (BUT BABY IT’S COLD OUTSIDE) by @la-muerta [ M | AU | 9.3k | complete | A Game Of Pitch And Catch #1 ]

It's Christmas Eve, but instead of being home with his siblings watching cheesy television and eating pizza, Alec Lightwood is stuck in a small town in the middle of nowhere because of a snow storm. Worse, he's going to have to share a room at an over-priced B&B with his sister's annoying boss, Magnus Bane. They'll be lucky if this Christmas doesn't end in bloodshed.

OUT OF LEFT FIELD by @la-muerta [ E | AU | 13.5k | complete | A Game Of Pitch And Catch #2 ]

Alec and Magnus didn't expect this attraction between them, but they'd agreed to give it a chance. And if this was going to be more than just sex, then it made sense to take sex off the table for now... or at least that was the game plan.

Well. When life throws you curveballs, there's only one thing to do - knock it out of the park!

WELL AT LEAST SOMEBODY NOTICED... by @the-burning-tiger [ G | AU | 2.7k | complete ]

Alec Lightwood is seriously regretting his life choices. If it weren't bad enough that he was on the blind date from hell, his work nemesis Magnus Bane just walked in.

IT’S GETTING HOT IN HERE by @astudyinfic [ E | PWP | 4.9k | complete | Institutional Series #1 ]

When Alec is late for date night, Magnus goes to the Institute to retrieve his workaholic boyfriend.

But it turns out that Alec is cooking up a lot more than dinner.

STUDYING HARD by @astudyinfic [ E | PWP | 5.1k | complete | Institutional Series #2 ]

Magnus wanted a chance to pay Alec back for the kitchen incident, as he liked to refer to it, but work kept getting in the way.

But when Alec gets stuck in the Institute library doing research, Magnus eagerly offers to help. However, it appears very little research will actually get done.

Revenge never felt so good.

HAPPY SHINY PEOPLE EVERYWHERE by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 18.1k | complete ]

Alec emerges from one of the bathroom stalls already fully dressed in a gray suit, plain white dress shirt, and hair neatly combed.

He looks like he always does, which is to say: painfully handsome and angry at the world.

A week into his new living arrangements and Magnus has realized that no matter where Izzy goes, she wears towering stilettos that hurt Magnus just to look at them, Jace is a mostly harmless douchebag, and Alec is a big mystery, their very own Phantom of the Loft.

VITULA by @lightwormsiblings [ G | AU | 1.9k | complete ]

Alec vaguely registers that he’s standing in the middle of the sidewalk and blocking people’s path but he can’t stop staring.

He’s beautiful. Not just because he’s outwardly gorgeous, but because of the way his eyes slip closed whenever he crescendos and the way his body seems to move fluidly to the music he’s creating.

Or the one where Alec becomes particualarily enamored with a street violinist

THE STORM, THE WHIRLWIND, THE EARTHQUAKE by @alecsgideon [ G | AU | 1.4k | complete | Small Town Verse #2 ]

Lightning has a way of changing Alec's life

CALL IT LUCK (CALL IT FATE) by the_crownless_queen [ not rated | AU | 17.5k | complete ]

When Izzy rents out a house in Corsica, the last thing Alec expects it to meet the man of his dreams while running on a beach there.

THREE TO MAKE A PAIR by @like-a-bucky [ M | AU | 47.8k | complete ]

Magnus is a good friend and the absolute best roommate in the world, so of course when Jace begs him to pretend to be his boyfriend for his family's 4th of July barbecue, he says yes. Enters Alec, Jace's gorgeous brother. Aaaand Magnus is screwed.

EVERYTHING HE COULD NEVER BE by @alecsgideon [ T | AU | 21.7k | complete ]

In between jobs, Alec and his son, Max, move to Alec's mother's country home where they meet Magnus and his son, Rafael - the small family Maryse rented the 1st floor out to. As a big city MD and single dad, Alec finds himself fascinated by Magnus' eccentric healing practice, parenting methods and deep brown eyes.

And while preparing for the move to London, finally spending time with his son, and juggling his growing affection towards Magnus, the ghosts of Alec's childhood threaten to disturb the peace he'd found surrounded by his family.

BLUE JEANS AND BLUE SKY by @like-a-bucky [ M | AU | 57.6k | complete ]

Magnus was seven years old when he arrived in Colorado to start his new life - with new parents, a new language, a new everything. Making friends would have helped him, except that his first encounter with the neighbours' kids didn't go too well, and Magnus vowed to hate the Lightwoods forever.

Forever. No matter what.

IT’S US AGAINST THE UNIVERSE, BABY by @la-muerta [ E | PWP | AU | 12.9k | complete | The Universe is Conspiring Against Us #5 ]

Magnus and Alec have been happily married for seven years now. They've started their own law practice, and they have three beautiful children together. They should have known the universe wasn't going to leave them to their happily ever after.

Then again, nobody messes with Mr and Mr Lightwood-Bane - not even the universe.

YOU KNOW WE’RE GONNA DO IT RIGHT by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 26.7k | complete | Happily Ever After, Kind Of #1 ]

"So, like, this is--what? A pity date? Good press? Take the poor college kid out, let people see you mingle with the commoners?"

"No," Magnus says, "I like you."

Alec shakes his head. "You don't even know me."

"Does anyone ever really know another person?"

"Boy," Alec says, fiddling with his napkin, "I love philosophy."

---

A royalty au. Magnus is a prince. Alec is perpetually stressed out.

THE CHEMISTRY BETWEEN US by @astudyinfic [ M | AU | 42.2k | complete ]

Izzy's parents will never accept her new boyfriend, whom they expect her to bring home for the holidays. Enter her best friend and colleague Magnus. Sure, pretending to date is a terrible idea in the movies but as neither of them harbors any secret love for the other, Magnus figures this should be a simple weekend in the Hamptons with his friend.

Until he meets Isabelle's brother and Magnus knows they have all the elements of a chemical reaction that is about to blow up in his face.

MIGHT AS WELL by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 3.1k | complete ]

The two of them stare at each other for long minutes. Alec doesn’t know if Magnus is waiting for him to speak first but now, laying here with Magnus just inches away and feeling like it might as well be an oceanic chasm, he’s too tired to keep the words from slipping out.

After all, what’s the worst thing that could happen? He’s already staring down the face of his world imploding, just because he was stupid enough to fall for someone who wouldn’t ever be interested in him like that.

GOING DOWN by @lecrit [ M | AU | 6.7k | complete ]

Of all the days in all the years Alec has worked here, and of all the people who work in this building that he could have found himself stuck with, the Universe chose to trap him in an elevator with Magnus Bane on the day his sister is giving birth. Well, fuck you too, Universe.

[sometimesimawriter]

The Day He Died (pt 1)

Hey everyone! This is my first imagine: basically you were a late addition to the Academy and you control blood! Pretty cool! Lots of mentions of Ben and switches from past to present back to past. You talk about how you met the academy and what happens leading up to the reunion of the Academy. Let me know if you like it and feel free to reblog it, or don't read it- whatever.

Warning: description of blood; minor language

You first came across the Umbrella Academy when you were 16. Your (step)father was a high-ranking politician, a US Ambassador, who married your mother, a famed social justice fighter. Together, they made a great team that aimed to change the world, and you as their prodigy. So, it was at this boring, A-list, political "party" you came across the Umbrella Academy. The party itself was impressive. A large ballroom with giant, shiny, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A pianist struck away at some chords, filling the room with a sweet melody that blended beautifully with the roar of chatter from the hundred or so politicians that flouted about the room. Men were dressed in their finest of suits, eager to shake one another's hands. Women wore elegant dresses that fluttered as they walked. Their earrings reflected the bright light of the paparazzi's cameras. Gentle laughter floated through the air and voices overlapped one another. It kind of sounded like the relentless crashing of waves along the shore. You were sitting on a decorative, high backed leather chair, that stuck to the royal blue silk of your ball gown dress. Your mother forced you to dress your finest at these events, saying that one day "you'll be a professional in this field, Y/N!" Your father insisted that you left your phone at home, saying it was "unprofessional" and you had to "socialize", and so you were people-watching.

So far, you had seen some senator walk in with his wife and leave with his mistress, a really old Democratic presidential nominee get very drunk over two shots of whiskey, and a Republican House Representative make fun of a Democratic Representative's ugly yellow blouse. Really professional. What an exciting life these people led, one that you wished never to be a part of.

But you scanned the room one more time and noticed a group of kids around your age walk in, following a man that seemed old as dirt, who was wearing a monocle.

Who the hell wore monocles anymore?

Five kids walked behind him in a single line, each wearing what looked like a school uniform, along with a mask that hid their eyes.

The paparazzi left their respective scandal of the night and swarmed the school children. Cameras clicked away and the flashes looked like fireworks had erupted around the mysterious group.

What really peaked your interest was all the major political heads came rushing over to shake Monocle Man's hand.

"You know who they are, right?"

You jumped a bit and looked over to the only other guy around your age here. Jackson was 18, but he acted more or less like a 40 year old. His brown hair was always shaved to a militant buzz cut, but he was fairly attractive- all cut features and soft brown eyes, and he towered over you. If you two weren't so close, you'd call him cute. You two met years ago when your parents decided you were old enough to attend events with them. Jackson had three years under his wings by the time you joined him, but he was ecstatic to have another kid there with him. Together, you two grew up, surrounded by press conferences, political affairs and bombshells, and both experienced what little of a normal childhood you could have.

Back to the present.

"No, but it looks like the Speaker of the House is about to start squealing like a little girl."

Whoever these guys were, they attracted lots of attention. All eyes in the room looked at them and the journalists swarmed them, snapping pictures at every angle.

"That is the Umbrella Academy," Jackson said, flourishing his arms.

You gave him a blank look. "That's a comic book, Jack."

He clenched his jaw at the nickname. He hated it, so you used it to tease him.

"It's not just a comic book. All those kids were born on October 1st, and get this- their mothers weren't pregnant before they gave birth. Total mystery."

"It's total bullshit. That's not possible."

You looked over to the kids again. They seemed to be around your age. October 1st was your birthday as well, and you never knew your biological father, but that was all coincidence.

You felt Jackson nudge your leg. "I think one of them noticed you."

You looked closer and saw one of the kids, a boy with messy black hair, was staring at you. Well, it looked like he was. You couldn't really tell with the mask covering their eyes. What a weird thing.

"You should say hi."

You looked back up at Jackson. "Why would I do that?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. Make some friends. You cling to me way too much anyway."

"I do not!"

He gave you a bland look. "You haven't spoken to anyone else here."

"Because they're all old and political and boring."

He smirked a bit. "I'm glad you think that." He grabbed you arm, lifting you up. "Come on, lets go make friends."

Jackson dragged you across the room towards the Academy kids. He stopped ever so often to shake hands with a senator or stop to playfully flirt with some old governor's wife. Gross.

Eventually, you both made it to the other side of the venue. Before Jackson pulled you over to the group, he turned and faced you.

"For President's sake, fix yourself."

He fussed with your hair, patting down the strays, and pulled your dress down a bit to flatten out the wrinkles.

"There. Presentable."

Again, he ushered you over to the Umbrella Academy. Jackson approached the tall, blond guy first and playfully tapped his shoulder. The blond turned around and his impressive stature made Jackson look tiny.

Jackson extended his hand. "Hello! My name is Jackson Henderson. This is my acquaintance (Y/N) (Y/L/N). We wanted to formally meet you all!"

The blond smiled a bit, and quietly said hello, then turned back to the curly haired girl he was previously talking to. She was utterly gorgeous and she made her uniform look fashionable. You were a little jealous.

You saw her huff at the blond and she moved past him, extending her hand towards you.

"Hi Jackson and Y/N, my name is Number Three, but you can call me Allison."

I shook her hand. And she continued.

She jabbed her thumb towards the guy, "This is Number One, but we call him Luther."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

She moved down the line.

"This is Number Two, or Diego."

He intrigued you. He was around your height and he was your age, but the scar on the right side of his head and his eyes made him seem way older. Like an old soul. Diego said nothing and just nodded at you. You returned a small smile.

"This is Number Six, Ben."

Ben seemed very timid, raising a hand to you in a small gesture. He kept his chin tucked and shied away. The poor kid was probably freaked out by this boring political party, you thought.

A boy with the ruffled black hair ran up and flung his arms around Ben's shoulders. Ben winced at the touch.

"Who's this, Benny Boy?" He asked.

You extended a hand to him, putting on your diplomatic face. "My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). And yours?"

He released Ben and looked you up and down. His eyes settled at your hand and he shook it. "Name's Number Four, but please, call me Klaus." He bowed his head towards you, unable to conceal his grin. "It would be an honor to know you." He put on a fake British accent, his tongue rolling with the words.

He was funny. You liked that.

Klaus's goofy smile quickly faded as he looked behind you. A cold hand clasped itself over your shoulder. It turned you around and you were face to face with the man with the monocle. He looked angry- unless that was just his neutral face- and his eyes studied you.

Your father popped out from behind him, all cheery and kind like he normally was.

"Y/N! So happy you decided to join the party! This is Sir Reginald Hargreeves, and Sir this is my daughter: Y/N!"

Hargreeves continued to stare at you, his hand tightening around your shoulder.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. Now please, you are beginning to hurt my arm." You nodded your head towards his grip. You hated unsolicited contact.

Your father's mouth gaped at you. You could just hear him bitching at you in the car later:

Be nice. Be friendly.

His cold hand slowly released you. "Your father has told me much about you. Your birthday and lack of resemblance to him is remarkable."

What?

You glanced towards Jackson and he shrugged. This dude was weird.

Hargreeves continued, "I think it would be beneficial if you returned to the Academy with my children and I."

You stepped back from him, shocked. "Excuse me?"

He began to repeat himself, "I said, I believe-"

He was cut off short by the ringing of a loud bang, like a giant balloon had popped. The chatter in the room stopped and you frantically looked around the room. Everyone stood still, wide eyed.

Then, a second shot. You heard a woman scream and people began to run. You tried to take a step forward, but something felt hot on your stomach.

You looked down and saw the front of your blue dress begin to turn black with blood. Your father pushed Hargreeves to the side and grabbed you, lowering you to the ground. His hands pressed into your stomach and he was yelling something, but the ringing in your ears drowned him out.

Jackson appeared above you, concern drenching his face.

Your head lolled to the side a bit and you saw Hargreeves staring down at you, as if he were studying you, and he calms adjusted his monocle.

What the fuck was he looking at?

Anger pierced through the fear. Your father tugged your head back towards him. His eyes were pleading, and you reached up to him.

Before you could reach his face, he was thrown to his side. Your head slammed against the floor from being dropped, and through your daze, you lifted yourself up a bit. Jackson sat on his ass, staring at your father, who lied in a puddle of his own blood that was seeping through the white of his suit, eyes fixated on nothingness.

No no no no. This wasn't happening.

Panic flooded through your veins. Jackson pushed you back down onto the floor, his body pressing down on yours. He yelled into your ear.

"Stay down!"

Life was going by in a blur.

Jackson suddenly was off of you, landing a few feet away.

A man in a mask stared down at you. The lower portion of his face was covered by something that looked like a skeletons mouth, all teeth poised in an eternal smile.

He held a military grade gun and pointed it down at you. You stared down the barrel, remembering a similar gun that hung on the wall of one of your father's business associate's office. Time felt like it slowed down. The chaos in the room subsided, and all that was left was the barrel of the gun, the man in the mask, and the blood surrounding you. Who would have known your final moments would be so tragic? A politicians daughter, who died in a dress she hated, at a party she hated, but died next her father whom she loved. You closed your eyes, and an image of your father's puddling blood appeared in your mind. So much blood. So much...blood.

Why hadn't he pulled the trigger?

You opened your eyes and the man still stood above you, shaking violently. Whenever he shuddered, it felt like some ripple of it went through you. So you embraced the ripples, like it was natural. The ripples crescendoed into waves, and the man shook even more violently. Blood began to drip from his nose. Then his eyes. And finally, through red tears, he looked down at you and red dripped through the skeleton teeth of his mask. He finally collapsed, the gun clattering next to your head. The waves came to a halt, and the pain you should have felt earlier came crashing down on you like a tsunami. Your stomach was on fire, but the rest of you was cold. Screams of politicians wives pierced your ears, and the glaring lights of the banquet hall grew brighter. Then, it all turned black.

You awoke the next morning. Early sunrise flooded through the slated blinds and your eyes blinked open, adjusting to the light. The bed you slept on was very soft and molded itself to your body. Silk pajamas rubbed against your skin. Perfume flooded your nostrils and you felt like you woke up in a Bath and Body Works. You tried to sit up, but pained stabbed at your stomach, forcing you back down.

"Oh don't move too much, darling. It will ruin the stitches."

You whipped your head towards the doorway of the room. A blonde woman, dressed in 1950's housewife attire, stood there. Her red lips turned upwards into a dazzling smile and sweetness and kindness emanated from her. She took a step into the room, her heels clicking off the wood floor. You tried again to prop yourself up on your elbows, but the woman moved to your side and propped pillows behind you.

She brightly smiled again and patted your head.

"My name is Grace, but feel free to call me Mom, all of my children do."

You were still dazed from sleep. Did she just offer for you to call her "mom"?

"I apologize, but where am I?"

She clicked her tongue in a playful way.

"You are at the Academy, home, whatever you would like to call it. I don't believe I got your name?"

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N. Why am I here? What happened?"

She sat on the bed next to your legs and crossed her legs. She then clasped her hands together above her knee.

"Oh darling, there was an accident at that party you were at last night. Some bad men came in and hurt you and some others. The other children fought off a bunch of them, but from what I hear, you have some abilities! Yay!"

Her cheeriness was soothing, yet something didn't sit well with you.

"Abilities? What does that-"

You cut yourself off. An image raced through your mind. Your father. The blood. The man. The man's blood. The gun. Jackson.

"My father- is he okay? Where is he?"

[timeisacephalopod]

Post Averages pre everything else, Tony's having a bad day, 1st the team is crashing at his tower, the media is adding to the rumor mill and to top it off is Arc Reactor if shorting out in the middle of dinner and peppers not around to help him change it out really he just wants to bang his head against the table, knocked himself out and end this god-forsaken day but when the team goes into panic mode over him he can't help but laugh...What is his life, this is apparently.

I’ve got you lol. I threw in a little Tony/Rhodey in regards to the rumor mill part of this prompt mostly because I dislike pepperony (no hate to people who like them!), so there’s that. The team doesn’t really freak out so much as notice that Tony is a frazzeled boi, but there’s team bonding and whatnot! Movie Night cures all :)

*

Tony remembers all those horror stories people used to tell back when he was in college about terrible roommates and he thinks he really lucked out rooming with Rhodey given his situation now. Some of the Avengers, they’re clean, but Clint? The man is a fucking shit storm of mess and Thor isn’t much better. Natasha and Steve are, thankfully, very much sticklers for cleanliness and they mitigate the damage quite a lot but he still had to give his cleaning staff a good raise because he felt bad for them. Cleaning up after him is enough work, cleaning up after Clint should earn them a six figure annual income.

He pulls fuck knows what out of the sink of the shared Avengers floor, staring at it for a moment before he recognizes coffee grounds at least. “Who stuck coffee grounds in the sink? What, am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?” he asks. No one seems to hear his comment and he rolls his eyes. He throws out the… whatever that was with the coffee grounds on it and decides hiding in his lab is a necessary thing for the day.

They’ve got a dinner event later, but for now he can hide with his machines and they don’t leave mess all over that require him to give workers raises and they also don’t leave coffee grounds and other mysteries in the sink. Time off is necessary so he makes his way down to the lab, smiling when Dummy rolls up, claw spinning happily. He’s three steps into the room when JARVIS speaks.

“Sir, there are rumors of you and Miss. Potts dating again,” he says and Tony rolls his eyes. Poor Pep, she deserves better than this.

“That’s not really new,” he points out.

“There’s a picture,” JARVIS tells him. “Doctored, obviously.”

Yeah, obviously, but Tony lets out a long sigh and throws himself in his desk chair. “Call Rhodey,” he tells the AI. Rhodey is off doing… something, Tony has a hard time keeping up given that Rhodey is constantly on the fly, literally, with the suit. He doesn’t think he’d believe any stupid tabloids anyways but its always good to check in.

When Rhodey answers the phone he’s laughing. “How the hell did you convince Pepper Potts to kiss your sorry ass?” he asks and Tony relaxes a little, pleased that Rhodey has maintained his sense of humor.

“I didn’t, obviously,” he tells Rhodey.

Rhodey lets out a small hum. “Well okay baby, but this looks pretty convincing. Does Pepper know yet?” he asks.

“She’s currently in Japan so probably not, no. She isn’t going to be happy,” he says. She’s forever annoyed that people can’t seem to accept that sometimes women can be good friends with men and have no desire to sleep with them. She claims that she’s spent too much time cleaning Tony’s messes to find wanting to become one of his messes appealing. Tony knows that doesn’t really matter if someone is interested thanks to Rhodey not that people really know about their relationship. Its been an on again off again thing for years, since they were kids really, but after Afghanistan something changed.

And really, the media deciding Rhodey was just a good friend after risking his entire career to spend three months tracking Tony down? That’s probably one of the biggest romantic gestures Tony has ever seen and somehow people managed to ‘no homo’ it. Pepper finds that annoying too but mostly only because people have made her the love interest. At first Tony thought it was kind of funny because he used to have a bit of a crush on Pepper. Now both he and Pepper find it annoying but Rhodey still keeps a sense of humor about it. Maybe its because of all that time spent in the military or something- Tony knows he’s had to deal with a lot of shit and he tends to use humor to do it. Not as much as Tony, but his endless optimism is one of his finer qualities.

“Well,” Rhodey says, “guess she will also be unhappy to hear about your summer wedding.”

Tony sits straight up and lets out an irritated noise. “People are fucking seriously saying we’re engaged? Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks. So much for his day getting better.

“Aw, don’t be like that baby. We can get married in the summer if you want to,” Rhodey jokes.

Neither of them would want to sweat their asses off in a suit in the damn summer so absolutely not.

*

After dealing with the social media mess on both his and Pepper’s end Tony figures maybe, maybe the food will cheer him up. Yeah, maybe Steve is being more annoying than usual and yeah, maybe Clint chews with his mouth open and it makes Tony want to crawl back into that worm hole his nerves are being grated so hard, but food is food. Its comfort and it tastes good, can’t go wrong there.

That lasts all of five god damn minutes when he feels that familiar loss of energy around his heart and fucking great. He’s got three hours before the reactor dies out completely and half that time would be spent getting back to the lab. And Pepper isn’t around to help him change it out either so… well fuck, he doesn’t know.

He excuses himself to the bathroom so he can try and figure something out or, hell, he has no idea. He’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it.

He’s there for five seconds when he turns around and jumps when he finds Natasha there. “Did you not notice the lack of a dress on the door’s stick figure?” he asks.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “I know where the women’s bathroom is, and I also happen to know you’re probably not likely to hang out in there so here I am. What’s going on?” she asks.

Like she cares. He bites back the snappy response though because its not really helpful right now. “The reactor is dying, I need to swap it out in the lab except I’m pretty far away obviously and I don’t have small enough hands to replace it anyways so I guess I’ll die,” he says. It’s over dramatic and ridiculous but he’s tired, okay. Its been a shitty day.

“I have small hands,” Natasha says, holding up hands that might actually be smaller than Pepper’s.

“No offense but I don’t want you near my heart. You might rip it out,” he says. There’s no real malice in his voice and sure, after the stunt she pulled he’s not overly trusting, but its Natasha’s general personality that drew him to that conclusion rather than their past.

“Please, Stark, I have bigger fish to fry. Lets go, you don’t have a whole lot of time to get that thing replaced,” she says.

He considers saying no but beggars can’t be choosers.

*

Natasha is subjecting him to some Russian shit when the rest of the team gets home. Clint looks a little sheepish, Steve has got that ‘aw shucks’ look on his face, and Bruce looks a little constipated. Basically, as far as Tony can gather, they look like they feel bad but he has no idea why. He decides to ignore them in favor of watching his heart for any signs that Natasha somehow tampered with the reactor for funsies.

“I’m not guaranteeing that stuff won’t end up in the sink,” Clint says, shuffling a little awkwardly. It takes a moment for Tony to realize he’s talking to him.

“Clint, what the fuck is this?” Steve asks, holding up what looks like an honest to god squirrel. Frankly the fact that Steve has resorted to swearing speaks volumes.

Clint examines the strange sink object and then shrugs. “Dunno.”

Steve throws the mystery object back in the sink. “No wonder Tony is pissed off at you,” he mumbles.

Tony frowns at this and Natasha lets out a soft laugh, “Stark, you’re not subtle. clearly something has been pissing you off all day and it wasn’t hard to look through the camera footage.”

When the hell had she done that? He’ll ask JARVIS later and make it harder for her to get into his systems. “I’m not pissed off at anyone,” he mumbles. Its mostly true, he’s just frustrated because he’s had a bad day. If they were mostly the ones to cause it, well. Okay so today it was mostly Clint but still.

“Are so,” Steve says, “you’ve been avoiding us all day.”

He has not. Which he tells them but even Bruce looks confused. “This morning you gave us all a bunch of dirty looks and then went and hid in your lab to call Pepper,” he says.

Tony squints, “why would I call Pepper?” he asks. Actually he has to call her to find out how her meetings went but she’s better at remembering these things than him so for all he knows she’ll call him before he gets around to contacting her.

Steve frowns, “well, you’re you know… together,” he says, turning a little red as he says it.

He opens his mouth to tell them all that no, he and Pepper are not together but Natasha speaks instead. “You two are horrible at reading romantic cues. He’s with Rhodes, not Pepper,” she says.

Tony narrows his eyes at her, wondering when the hell she figured that out because he damn well knows he hides it well. For Rhodey’s sake mostly- the military might be a lot less homophobic now but its hard to forget what that oppressive environment is like and also Tony doesn’t want to ruin Rhodey’s career over something so stupid.

‘What?” Bruce asks, frowning. “When did that happen?”

“Why are you looking at me, Bruce? I don’t know,” Natasha says.

Tony opens his mouth, shuts it, and then sighs. “Please stop leaving questionable objects in the sink, Steve clean the fucking work out equipment- you might be attractive sweaty but the damn equipment isn’t. Natasha, stop using all the coffee and not replacing it and Bruce, stop putting the milk back in the fridge empty. I have had people do literally everything for me my entire life, if I don’t have any of these bad habits you can all be broken of them,” he says. He doesn’t mention the fifteen years Rhodey’s mom spent breaking him of the same habits minus the work out equipment.

“I maintain no guarantees with the sink,” Clint says.

Steve gives him a look, “there will be no more road kill in the sink. Its unsanitary,” he says like that should be the primary concern.

*

Bruce and Steve are fighting over the empty milk carton when the elevator makes that irritating dinging noise that Tony, for some reason, thought it was a good idea. He turns and finds Rhodey standing there grinning at him. “Hey,” Tony says, walking over and, mostly out of habit, dragging him away from prying eyes.

“You know the easiest way to solve the Pepper Problem is to just… tell people we’re together,” Rhodey tells him and Tony stops.

“What?” he asks. “Wait, when did you get to America?” As far as he knew Rhodey was overseas. 

Rhodey snorts, “for a genius you’re always slow to pick up on things. I flew here, obviously. Suit’s faster than a plane,” he says.

Yeah, Tony knows. Neither of them have ever been fond of planes and travel time so he’d purposefully made the suits fast. Also he likes going fast. “I… you… what’s with the change in heart?” he asks and Rhodey frowns.

“What change in heart?” he asks.

Tony frowns, “you’ve never wanted to come out with our relationship,” he says and Rhodey gives him a funny look.

“Baby, I’ve always wanted to be out with it. I thought you didn’t.”

Tony rubs his temples because his day has been long and not good and apparently now its ending with a fucking twenty year long miscommunication. “And the military problem?” he asks.

Rhodey snorts, “we’re actual ass superheroes and if they want access to that suit, and they do, they need me. No idiot will fire me for being bisexual no matter how much I know a few will want to.”

Okay, good point. “Well, that’s the reason I thought you wanted to keep things quiet. You’ve worked hard, seems like a shame to ruin it all over a stupid relationship,” he says.

He knows he’s said something wrong when a few beats of silence go by. He sighs, guessing this is his day taking another turn for the worst. “Tony,” Rhodey says softly. “I don’t think this relationship is some kind of stupid fling and I know you don’t. I love you Tony, have for most of my life,” he murmurs.

Tony smiles and presses his face into Rhodey’s chest. Usually he resents being so short, but at times like this its kind of nice to be the small one. Rhodey wraps his arms around him and they remain like that for a moment. “You know what sounds a lot better than ‘we’re dating’? ‘This is my fiancee, stop acting like I’m dating my assistant’,” he says and Rhodey snorts.

“Is this a proposal, Stark?” he asks and Tony nods, pulling a ring out of his pocket and Rhodey’s eyebrows shoot up.

“How long have you have that on you?” he asks.

He grins a little and looks away. “Sine ‘98,” he admits. Thankfully Rhodey thinks its funny and takes the ring.

*

“No horror movies, I do not like those,” Steve tells Natasha, looking somewhat like a frightened golden retriever.

“I’m with Cap,” Rhodey says fast. Natasha looks at him and Tony wrinkles his nose.

“Not for me,” he says. Steve looks shocked that they’ve agreed on something but he doesn’t know about that time he and Rhodey thought dropping acid and watching Nightmare on Elm Street was a good plan. They might both be geniuses but they aren’t fucking smart, that’s for sure.

“All of you minus Tony a little bit have been in wars but you’re afraid of horror movies?” Clint asks, shaking his head.

“Wars don’t involve demonic possession, Clint,” Rhodey says, shaking his head.

“Well, some of those Nazi experiments… Horror movies are creepy,” Steve settles on, changing the subject before things got overly awkward. “We should watch Matilda! Sam says its good,” he says.

Rhodey wrinkles his nose, “no. We should watch James Bond, any Bond will do,” he says.

“We should watch The Sound of Music,” Clint says and Bruce gives him a look.

“No, we should watch Gravity. Sandra Bullock was good in that,” he says.

“We’re watching Sharknado,” Natasha says and Clint lets out a noise of excitement as the rest of them wrinkle their noses.

“Natasha, I forbid that,” Steve says, apparently throwing out a desperate bid for leadership over movie choices.

“Eat my ass,” Natasha tells him. “JARVIS, play the movie.”

Rhodey sighs, “I should have stayed in Egypt for the layover,” he mumbles.

[3laxx]

Hello previous anon here who send you prompt that you put title "love square rejected" here is my request prompt. An AU where adrien and marinette is married but 1day lila came to adrien life to steal him from marinette. She(lila) will do anything to get her adrien no matterwhat even erasing his memory. Ofcourse in the end marintte will die. (I am sorry i am suck in english. This is not my 1st language anyway Just make more angst between mari and adrien hehe)

Hi Anon, that’s right, I remember!

It’s just-… That’s an awfully specific prompt? I mean, I wrote it, sure, but I don’t really like antagonizing Lila like that? She doesn’t really give me a reason to dislike her, the character itself, I mean, and even in an AU I find it really hard to make her a villain?

Anyway, I wrote something and I hope you like it regardless.

(Also, a little advice to you and all other followers who wanna request something:I’m always linking the two prompt lists under my prompts. It’s a thousand times easier to write to a number + ship suggestion than to such a detailed storyline that gives me little room to really write but rather work off plot points. That being said, I’d appreciate if you could check the lists out and send me a number + ship suggestion with a little idea in which direction it should go ;P And a please would also be nice after all I’m writing something for you)

Ao3 / FF.net

“Aaaaaaand,action!”

  Marinette groaned as she sleepily reached out to the other side ofthe bed.

“Mmmmh Adrien?”, she mumbled, not bothering to keep her eyes opensince her eyelids were too heavy, “Adrien… Please… Emma’s crying…”

The cries of the baby sounded eerie in the dark night butMarinette was used to it. Normally she got up just fine just-… Today, her legswouldn’t move.

“Adrieeeeeeeen…”, she whined, now finally opening her eyes with asigh as her hand still patted over the empty mattress. He couldn’t lay this faraway from her…

Instantly, her mind switched to worried as she didn’t find Adrienon his side but still heard Emma crying. Was he having problems with the baby?With another groan she sat up, swinging her legs out of the bed and yawningbefore standing up. She swayed and caught herself on the wall in front of her,furrowing her eyebrows. She was feeling dizzy and uncoordinated. But she hadn’thad any alcohol in the evening, she was still breastfeeding.

Hm, maybe just her circulation, that could happen sometimes.

She took a minute to steady herself, then slowly straightened up.Somehow, she felt drugged but that couldn’t be. Emma’s cries still soundedthrough their apartment and she slowly inched towards the door, rubbing hereyes while walking on shaky feet.

“Mmmh, don’t worry, sweetie, Maman’s on her way.”, she huffed,then tried again after another glance back to the empty bed, “Adrien, are youalready with her?”

Leaning against the doorframe she listened into the hallway.Emma’s cries began sounding weird and instantly, Marinette’s worry woke her upentirely. Sleepy or not, she was a mother and her baby needed her. With fasterbut still wobbly steps she walked down the hallway, reaching the nursery theyhad made for Emma. One glance into the dark room made an icy shiver run downher spine.

Adrien wasn’t here.

She stepped inside and to the crib to look down at her daughter.The infant screamed and cried, somehow in weirdly high-pitched tones so shequickly reached inside and lifted her up, laying her against her shoulder tocuddle her tightly and bounce her up and down a bit to calm her.

“Shh, shh, kitten, Maman’s here. I’m here, sweets, I’m here, noneed to cry, shh…”

The baby only slowly calmed down, to the point where hiccups shookthe little baby, until then Marinette was fully awake and had shaken off theheavy feeling. With careful steps she explored their apartment, the babysecurely pressed against her chest. Adrien was nowhere to be found.

Now scared she jogged back into their bedroom, about to grab herphone and call him but before she could reach her nightstand she stepped onsomething. It cracked and suddenly a hot pain stung up her leg, causing her tocry out. In an instant, Emma began crying again and she softly placed herdaughter securely in the middle of their bed before switching on Adrien’s lampon the nightstand to inspect what had hurt her.

Dimmed light enabled her to kneel down on the floor and make out ashattered syringe, small glass shards lying embedded in the carpet.

With furrowed eyebrows she sat back and looked down to her barefoot, grimacing at the blood she saw on her sole.

But before her mind could even switch to caring for her wound herhead shot up, realizing what’s happened here. Adrien and her went to bed in theevening after bringing Emma to bed. He wasn’t here anymore and she found asyringe on the floor. She felt drugged when she woke up.

Oh-… Oh god…

With a swift movement she sat on the edge of the bed again, onehand finding to her daughter’s stomach to calm them both again but also to makesure she was still there. The baby still cried but it had turned into softsniffling and helpless flailing.

After she was sure Emma would be okay she grabbed her phone andcalled the police.

“And you’re sure he’s not just run off? I dunno, maybe he had a weirdvibe in the middle of the night and just had to-…”, Alya made a helplessgesture with her hands, “… Go?”

Marinette sighed tiredly, shaking her head while leaning back onher best friend’s couch.

“Alya, I already told you, I stepped into a syringe on the floor.He left his phone there and nothing of his clothes is missing. Plus, we had togive up our career for Emma months ago and we both don’t miss it. I doubt the urgeto-… I dunno, go out at night hunting stayed. It’s-… It’s just so obvious…”

“I know, I know…”, the brunette huffed and let her head fall back,“I just-… Tried to find a nicer option than kidnapping…”

The woman shook her head and shrugged.

“Well… It’s-… I know he has some people who’re not really fond ofhim, with being a model and having a famous dad and all that.”, she sniffledand brushed over her eyes another time, “I just-… I never thought… I thought wewere… And I n-never, I mean-…”

Alya quickly slid closer and wrapped her arm around her bestfriend’s shoulders, snuggling her closer. They leant their heads against eachother so that Marinette could still watch Nino walking around with the tinybundle that was her sleeping daughter, trying to make her sleep for another fewhours after tonight’s happenings. Before a tear could roll down her cheekMarinette managed a small smile as Nino cooed down to the slumped bundle in hisarms, fully unaware of the two women watching him.

“It’s gonna be okay, Mari…”, Alya mumbled, fondly watching herhusband take care of her best friend’s child, “We’ll find Adrien in no time.I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Marinette sniffled another time before hugging Alya back, buryingher face in her best friend’s hair.

“I-… I hope so…”

Nino came over to the couch and readjusted Emma to lay snugglyagainst his chest, steadied by his arm while brushing over her back with hisnow free hand.

“I know so, Mari. It’s gonna be okay.”

He leant closer, wrapping his arm around both women and lettinghis hand come to a rest on Alya’s shoulder, resting Emma’s legs on Marinette’sthigh. The young woman huffed a snort and turned a little away from Alya toplace a hand on Emma’s knee, smiling at the contact with her daughter. It wasreassuring to have her friends caring for both of them like this.

“… Thanks, you two…”

They stayed tightly entangled on the couch until Marinetteeventually passed out on Alya’s shoulder as well.

“Still nothing?”, Marinette sighed. Adrien had been missing forthree days now and the police still didn’t find a clue.

“We’re very sorry, Mrs. Agreste, but we’re doing the best we canto find Mr. Agreste as soon as possible.”

Marinette remained silent for a moment, feeling a tear roll downher cheek. Then she straightened her shoulders and nodded.

“Alright, thank you.”

The policeman hung up and the woman slumped against the kitchencounter, rubbing over her face with both hands after putting her phone away.Alya stepped into the room, Emma securely in her arms, and pressed her lipstogether as Marinette shook her head.

“… Oh…”

The two remained silent until a little sniffle sounded fromMarinette, causing Alya to turn to her and carefully place the baby in herarms.

“It’s gonna be okay, Mari, promise. We’ll find him and if we haveto turn Paris upside down.”

The woman solemnly cuddled her child close, burying her face onEmma’s tiny shoulder as the infant chortled and flailed around a bit. She heldher closer before lowering her down to lay in her arms again.

“I-… I just don’t know where I should take the hope anymore. Thepolice don’t have a clue, Adrien would never leave me and-… I-… I just don’tknow how to raise a child w-without him…”

“Hey, wow, wow.”, Alya’s stern expression startled Marinette alittle, “Nothing is set in stone yet. We’ll find that idiot and you’re gonna behappy with him and have at least two more children and everything’s gonna bealright. You don’t know where to take the hope? Well, take it from myreassurance. If I’m telling you it’s gonna be okay, it will be. Understood?”

She hesitantly nodded, carefully bopping Emma’s tiny nose to makethe baby smile. As she giggled the corners of Marinette’s mouth rose as well.

“Thanks, Alya…”

It was three in the morning when Marinette got startled out of hersleep because of a knock on the door. With a dizzy and sleepy mind, she got upfrom the couch, stretching and yawning before taking a step.

She wasn’t really sure if she should go check the door since itwas still her friends’ apartment but a glance into Nino’s and Alya’s bedroomtold her they were still sleeping.

Before she went to at least check the spyhole she went to throw aglance into the makeshift nursery her friends had set up in Alya’s office. Emmawas comfortably tugged in and Marinette smiled when she gently brushed over herdaughter’s cheek. The baby sighed in her sleep and her little fist twitched,causing the woman to bend down and press a little kiss to her forehead.

Only then, she approached the door, unsure at the hour. Maybe shehad misheard? Surely there wouldn’t be anyone out at three in the morning, especiallynot wanting something from them so early. But maybe it was the police? Maybethey had found something!

Forgetting the spyhole in her eager hope, she opened the doorafter hearing another knock sounding. But when she recognized who stood infront of her door, her heart stopped beating momentarily. The blonde hair wasthe first thing jumping at her with full force. Then these radiant green eyes.

“Adrien…”, it fell from her lips before she could restrainherself. Tears welled up and she stepped forward but froze immediately at acold, hard thing pressed against her temple.

“Not another step.”, a female voice warned and Adrien shrugged,smiling.

“What-…”, Marinette forced out, trying to look to the side to see whowas holding her at gunpoint.

A cold wave washed over her back as she recognized Lila, smirkingevilly.

“… You.”, the woman heard herself say, her voice suddenly turninginto a hateful snarl. Lila laughed as she stepped between Adrien and Marinette,the gun staying pointed at her head.

“Yes, surprise.”, the brunette grinned as she squared hershoulders, “After all that you’ve done it’s finally my turn. Do you reallythink I wouldn’t be able to sniff you out after you put down your hunter careerto become a mother? Do you really think I’d be that dense? But I gotta say, yourcover was even good enough to fool your friends.”

“My friends know of Adrien and me.”, Marinette growled, her fistsclenching, “Speaking of, why’s he here and-… So-…”

“I erased his memory.”, Lila shrugged, “He doesn’t have a clue whohe was or who you are. But I wanted you to see him while I destroy you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek as Marinette’s attention drew back toher husband who dumbly smiled at her.

“Adrien-… Adrien, please-… Emma’s inside. You-… You’re a father. Ineed you, please, please snap out of it…”, she pleaded but Lila merely cackled,shaking her head.

“Not a chance, hunter. And now say goodbye to him. I’m sick ofseeing you in this world.”, she grinned, “Bye, bye.”

And then she pulled the trigger.

The empty clicking signaled Marinette to loosen her shoulders andshe waited for a little moment, then she grinned.

“Holy shit, you scared me.”

Lila laughed, lowering the prop and immediately going to hug her.

“Gosh, you scared me!Your acting is sometimes too well for your own good.”

Adrien chuckled, patting both women’s heads as he was taller thanboth of them.

“I seriously had a shiver running down my spine as you two saidyour lines. It was so hard to keep smiling!”

“Pfft, says the model boy who literally smiles to earn money.”,Marinette mocked as she parted from Lila, jumping off the set, closely followedby her two co-actors.

“Hey, that’s something entirely different!”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Lila breathed through and rolled her shoulders, giving the prop toa set assistant and thanking them.

“Woah, what a season finale. Get the squad together and go for adrink now? I really need to celebrate this.”

Adrien grinned, slumping his arms over both women’s shoulders.

“Yeah, killing is hard, isn’t it?”

Both women rolled their eyes and laughed, Lila quickly spinningout from under his arm.

“Don’t tempt me, Agreste. And now let’s go celebrate the finale!”

Feel free to send me a prompt! Own list, reblogged list or anything you’d like!

Wanna buy me a coffee?

[rennyji]

June 30th and 29th tweets...

June 30th and 29th tweets...

June 30th tweets…

on my way home after lunch hour, &close 2 my neighborhood, a ripped tan white guy without a shirt &kiwi green shorts gestures “if I want 2 fight him from the side of the road” & walks toward the road. now I don’t know him, have been living here for yrs, minding my own-so random.-

- once again I would have to suspect the orchestrators are passing something off as me, relaying something they’re not supposed to, or filtering my writing. When people get on ur case out of the blue, does that bacon fueled animal think in any shape or form he’s part of my life?-

- I guess that’s why so many of my friends are south or East Asian- like Indian, Pakistani, Chinese, Korean…and then there are the Greeks or the Mediterranean variety of people…I feel these groups are less aggressive and randomly looking for a fight…

Now I come home, gotta deal with the village personality of my Indian father & the overly Christian nature from Biblical times of my “pretending everything’s okay with life” parents. Seeing them for 30 years made me want 2 leave my the background they hail from, their religion.-

- I contemplate marrying out for mixed race children…but now America has teamed up against me as one team leaving me with no one. Just the crazy random people on the street.

- one ray of sunlight is the Chinese woman who held my hand in passing, or the tall blonde with the dog crossing the street in Bronxville, from in front of my car, who went out of her way to wave at me twice…-

- amidst the “situation”, the stupidity in my home till I can afford an apartment, the crazies gesturing me if I want to fight, the people at work with misconceptions…it just never ends…Thank God for my morning coffee or when I go for a massage…

Yeah, for one reason or another, just putting this out there, real men get men’s pedicures and manicures. Who wants flaky skin on their fingers or rough feet?! Got the idea from Will Smiths character on one of the episodes in The Fresh Prince of Bel Air…

i like christina aguilera, in terms of looks, when she first started out...now she's too...too...tough looking...

msn dot com has a lot of interesting stories that catch my eye, in my old, obese age...stories like whats trending and about pop culture...

Have you ever been around someone who randomly and alone, develops the habit or ability of chewing out loud...I think I’ve heard those three words together out loud before: “chew out loud.” I think it’s a thing.-

- I mean, to make every sound behind eating audible is just a ridiculous habit. What is the benefit for those who eat like that?! I eat without making a sound and I’m still able to enjoy the taste of my food. -

-Is it just an old habit that kept repeating with no real origin or reason? I saw a friend from long ago on Facebook yesterday with his beautiful wife and child,living as lawyers, and a “classy life”, a “life of standard”, at that. -

-People who chew/ or eat out loud for that matter have got to be because their parents didn’t give them an a*s wh*pping and spoiled them for being the baby in the family.-

-Mother probably did everything and now that child has that expectation of others in his/her life. I’ll bet these same people, while innately smart, just sit around, while their spouses, siblings, or roommates have 10x the activity in the same time frame of their day.-

- I’ll bet their perception of life is on the unconventional side too, siding on ideal scenarios and not a life of meaning, probably more along the lines of how people of your world see you. I mean things like that, it affects who you associate with or go out in public with. -

-It’s not about freedom. Whatever the age, practice decency...don’t be an animal...that’s just my thought on eating out loud...probably the only way to get it through to some, in the spirit of patience, not practiced in actual conversation..-

-I mean literally, every sound from sipping the drink into the mouth-if it’s drinking- to expressing satisfaction upon swallowing, to burping when digested...geez...learn from the point, rather than seeing it as some cultural insult from another world, -

-or seeing it as humorous that someone you know is talking about you...it’s disgusting and there comes a time to snap out of it...-

-when those of ur world put you through actual tormenting procedures over the course of eleven years, excuse you for bringing up a real concern/issue over what actually is stubbornness or lack of ability to comprehend.

but moving on...just bumping into random behaviors all day from random people...

doctors...i think theyre among the people you say/hear are out to get your money. Not accepting insurance, charging $350 per visit is one thing. But then simply to discuss an email or one phone call's worth of change and charging $350 for that...geez...-

-then theres the not-understanding-what-ur-going-thru &ur mental energy taken 2enforce a decision..the 1st $350 proved worthless, as that doctorProbablyDid more harm than good, &now an additional $350 4 a minor detail?! Hippocratic Oath my a*s. Even doctors lie 2me despite oaths.

the world is an ugly place, save for a few people...like that innocent pale blond riding her bike who apologizes for running into you with her bike, a couple of weeks ago...rest of the world is filled with attitude and things they see you through and simply foolishness...

On Amazon, they sell the " Nitrofit Pro Limber Stretch Machine " or U can search stretch machine, but it looks like Nitrofit brand's version. It costs $500. I wish morePeople would buy this stuff, so prices would go down. its an E-Z way 2 do essential stretching 4 tired muscles.-

- I mean you just have to get on top of it, in the prescribed positions, rather than using one of those straps...but then at the same time, if you go to a massage place for someone to stretch your muscles for you, it's $80 at discount pricing-and how often can you spend $80?-

- a one time investment of $500 could allow you to get the $80 benefit daily at your own comfort.

so they say vibrating foam rollers are good 4 tender muscles.has any1 noticed that some versionsVibrate more against urHands or theFloor, then the targeted area of ur chest or leg muscles? so how is it helping if most of the vibration goes 2the floor? or is it just 1 or 2 brands?

When I make it big, on really warm days, whether Im on that floor of my house or not, Im going  2turn on the central AC 4 all floors inTheHouse? Why? I find it annoying &disgusting, when I have 2 make that trip 2 the floor where the AC isn't on, & Im smacked w/a burst of heat.

So I'm experiencing that moment when one realizes he/she has everything on their bedroom L-Desk, with the exception of a pen and some paper to write on...but mostly a pen...how did that happen?!

June 29th tweets...

Came home after being in the heat, was thirsty. Had a cup of raspberry soda water from my soda stream. It felt so right for the opportunity…felt good going down my throat…

While out and about, kept seeing smoking hot Hispanic women…these women all, whether it’s good genes or makeup I dunno, have flawless, non oily, glistening skin…is the source some product from your native places and/or good genes? Share the knowledge…

Heard a song I downloaded long ago, on my car’s cd playlist…YouTube “Gained the World” by Morcheeba (I think that’s how it’s spelled…) - I heard it when channel 11 was WB11 and not The CW…anyone else remember that?!

“Will You Be There” by Michael Jackson…heard it for the first time in “Free Willy” and kept on listening to it…beautiful song…

Tired of plugging in ur iPhone or whatever else phone?! You can just put it on a stand to charge wirelessly. Works even with the case. On Amazon, search “ Anker 3 in 1 Multi Device Charging Station “.

U know whats also a good product 2 relieve fatigue in place of caffeine? A hand massager. LifePro has a version with some good intensity, but I prefer the highTech looking Chinese made ones. Just sharing the knowledge. Finding something good takes buying them all & trying em out.

Has anyone else tried Shawarma? Heard it for the first time in Iron Man from the Tony Stark character. It came off to me as a healthy version of the Indian “ biryani “ dish, minus the spices and butter. Now I can cross that off my list of things to try…

U know whats good? - Arabic food… “kibbeh” (an appetizer) comes off 2 me as something 2 remind me of Indian kababs w/an edibleCovering around the powderedMeat. Then theres the dessert, “Kunafa”-like sugary lasagna minus the tomatoSauce &cheese but w/something like cream inside.

[twowish]

Chapter 3: Moldinator

The inside of the mansion is a sea of green. The floor, furniture, walls, and ceiling only exist in splotches among the fungus blanketing every surface. It gives the home an overgrown feel, as if its wealthy inhabitants left some time ago and now all that remains is rotting away, neglected and forgotten.

From the shapes beneath the mold and the bits of interior that are visible, the decorations and furnishings look about what Noelle expected from a mansion: expensive, lush, and elaborate. There’s fancy looking fixtures, and large picture frames - maybe paintings - that are now obscured by fungal infection.

Scattered around them are clusters of mushrooms, mostly small, but a few large, and all brown, white, gray, or pale red - though it’s a little hard to make out in the darkness. They aren’t as prevalent as the mold and there seems to be no rhyme or reason to their placement.   

They’re standing in a foyer now, and Noelle wonders what Rita’s mansion must have looked like before the mold makeover. It’s current state makes her shudder. It’s just like the set of a horror movie. Sure, she liked watching them, but being in them? No, she’d much rather be in her apartment with one on her TV, crocheting, with no one to complain about the subtitles.   

Claude is panicking on Felix’s shoulders. His paws grip harshly onto Felix’s scalp as he screeches.

“Buddy, what? What is it? Chill out. You - you want what?” Felix tries to comfort him, but Claude is inconsolable.

Noelle watches Felix struggle, unsure how to help and feeling guilty for dragging both him and his raccoon into this.

Claude’s still in a panic when Felix trots past Noelle to catch up with Moldinator who’d wandered ahead of them.

She follows, scanning all around her for any sign of Rita or the auspice. With the size of this place and the mold covering so much would they be able to find either?

Moldinator still has the water gun drawn when Felix reaches him. “Quiet!” he warns. “We want the upper hand on the fungus witch.”

“Uh, maybe you do,” Felix says, regarding Moldinator with suspicion. “Listen, you got any more of those masks? Claude’s kinda, you know, breathing too.”

“You want to give a mask to that pest?” he says turning around.

“Pest? Claude’s not a pest, he’s-”

“I know a guy who’d fix your raccoon situation right up, yessiree. Make you a hat so fast! Want me to spray it? Chase it off?” He lifts up the water pistol as if it were actually a handgun.

Felix removes Claude from his shoulders and holds him protectively at his side. “You do anything to this raccoon and a fungus witch is going to be the least of your problems.”

Moldinator doesn’t respond. He’s still got the gun trained on Claude as Felix glares at him. Then he lowers it, and waves a hand dismissively. “Got bigger things to bust than your personal infestation.” He finally gives Felix a mask before turning away from him. “Just keep it out of my way.”

Felix shoots him what is probably an incredibly dirty look that’s hidden by his face mask as he tries to fit Claude with his own.

“Is he okay?” Noelle asks.

Claude visibly calms as Felix adjusts the mask. “Yeah, he’s just, you know, particular.” Felix huffs. “Doesn’t mean he’s a pest though.”

Not a great start for Moldinator. Noelle hopes they run into Rita before he does. The way he’s talking about the “fungus witch” doesn’t exactly inspire trust within her either.  

Moldinator crouches low, slowly moving forward through the mansion with both hands on the water gun, like a policeman moving in on a suspect. They follow after.

“Hey,” Felix says in a harsh whisper she’s only just able to catch. He waves her closer to him, keeping his voice low as she approaches. “I don’t-” she misses the next couple words. “We should-” more inaudible whispers. “Right?”

Noelle shakes her head and reaches for her phone, her hand bumping against the pocket watch auspice she’d been unwilling to leave in the car. She opens up a note taking application and hands it to Felix.

He stares at her for a moment, confused, before everything registers. Then he takes the phone and taps away at it as Claude climbs back to his shoulders, pressing raccoon paws against his new mask.

Moldinator’s still advancing up ahead. Felix hands her the phone as they move forward, straggling behind him. At least typing is quiet.

This guy’s got some personal vendetta against Rita. Also he’s kind of an ass. I don’t know if we should stick around him. What do you want to do?

She types back, Maybe we should try to find Rita on our own. Tell him see ya later, Moldinator?

Felix nods. “Hey Moldy!” he calls. “So, thanks for helping us illegally enter a home and all, but-”

Moldinator whips around, a finger to his lips “Shhhhh. And don’t you ever call me that again.” He squats near something, staring at the ground. “Now, come see this.”

Felix makes an obscene hand gesture at Moldinator’s turned back as they approach him.

Movement catches Noelle’s eye. There’s a line on the floor that seems to be shifting - a thick, black streak weaving along the ground. She leans closer, eyes squinting.

It’s ants. What appeared to be one mass is actually a bunch of ants all moving in the same direction like a tiny river of little black bodies - but there’s something off about them.

Ants always seemed automated to her anyway, with the way they function in colonies, but these ones seem downright robotic. They’re marching forward to some unseen goal in uniform lines, no ant out of step.

Most peculiar of all is what’s sprouting from their heads - tiny mushroom stalks rise from each; little radio antennas forcing them forward. The endless parade of small soldiers goes down the hallway and up a large, ornate flight of stairs.

Noelle has seen this before. This looks so familiar, but she can’t quite place why.

She hears the memory of Aunt Darcy’s voice. “Oh, well, now that’s just awful.” In her mind’s eye she can see her aunt covering her face with her purple shawl in the movie theater seat beside her. Up on the screen a mushroom stalk is erupting from a newly turned zombie’s head.

“Cordyceps!” She says, louder than she intends to.

Moldinator and Felix turn to look at her.

“At least, that’s what they called it in The Walking Fungus. Turned those it infected into zombies.”

Felix backs away from the ants.

“Don’t worry, outside of B movies, it can’t affect us,” she tells him.

“Ophiocordyceps unilateralis,” Moldinator says. “Fungus witch is pulling out some new tricks.”

“Have you,” Noelle hesitates. “Have you got something against Rita?”

“Got something against the witch spreading some foreign fungi around, yeah. Take a look at this place! She ain’t Rita no more.”

“What does that even mean?” Felix says aggressively.

Moldinator gestures wildly around. “Look at all this! Look what she’s done! Look at these ants! If you were hoping to find Rita, you might as well leave. All that’s left is the fungus witch.”

“What are you planning to do?” Noelle asks. She might only know Rita through her messages with R-da-1st, but Moldinator’s grudge is making her feel protective.

Moldinator hitches up his utility belt. “Whatever needs to be done to bust this mold.” He turns back towards the line of ants. “Starting with this mess.”

As he draws the water pistol, Felix looks alarmed. “Hey - Hey wait! Don’t!” He moves toward Moldinator, arms outstretched, ready to stop him from firing on the ants.

Noelle watches him, confused before she wonders with sudden panic: Could Felix feel the pain of the ants?

Moldinator sprays a stream of the liquid on the ants just as Felix shoves his arms, making him lose his aim. Claude clings to his head and shoulders, nearly flung from him in his sudden movements. The heavy chemical smell wafts over them again.

A handful of ants twist and writhe on the ground, covered in the liquid, and eventually go still. The rest of the insects seem undeterred, simply dodging around their fallen members in neat, ordered lines.

Felix winces, eyes screwed shut, but nothing appears to happen. He blinks, staring at the dead ants, then sighs in relief.

“What the hell was that about?” Moldinator demands.

“You know what you could have done?” Felix yells.

“My job!”

Noelle ignores their arguing and asks, “Can you even talk to them?”

“Talk to them?!” Moldinator says. “Is that what your problem is? You got some kinda varmint vocals?”

“Sure do!” Felix says. The fur on Claude’s back bristles. “And what wish did you get, huh? To be the textbook definition of ‘asshole?’”

Moldinator finally holsters the water gun again. “No. Wished for a steady office job at twenty-four and I got it.”

“So why aren’t you there now?” Felix still sounds angry.

“Because,” Moldinator points a finger at him. “The building I was working in was infested with mold. The company did nothing about it, and eventually faced numerous lawsuits. The office was condemned and destroyed, along with my wish. Poof! No job! I could’ve whined about it, but no! I chose to be Moldinator.”

“That’s the worst origin story I’ve ever heard, Moldy.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“I will-”

“Felix!” Noelle interrupts, and both men turn to her. “Can you talk to the ants?”

Felix runs a hand down the side of his face, shoots Moldinator one more nasty look, and crouches beside the line of ants still continuing up the stairs. “Talking to bugs is always so weird. They don’t really… speak. It’s more like, I dunno, impressions.”

Noelle kneels beside him. “Still, think we can get any information out of them?” Currently her most pressing concern is how dangerous the fungus witch - Rita - really is, and stopping Moldinator from doing anything rash.

“Guess we can try.”

Claude leans as far away from the ants as he can on Felix’s back. Like the mold, he’s clearly not a fan.

Moldinator folds his arms and watches, his posture emanating indignation, even with a face hidden by the mask and sunglasses.

“Hey ants, what’s the deal?” Felix says as the ants continue their march.

Claude’s tail swishes back and forth in the silence that follows.

Felix stands, shaking his head. “These guys are gone. Whatever that fungus did, well, they’re not home anymore.”

Moldinator sighs. “What do you think Cordeyceps-”

“Wait, wait, I’m getting something. It’s just - it’s just one though.” Felix walks down the line of ants, searching.

Noelle follows behind scanning for any ant that looks out of place.

Felix continues, stopping every once in awhile to ask, “Hello?” or “Where?”

They follow the river of ants until they reach a small hole in the wall that the ants are pouring out of.

“There,” Felix points.

A single ant without a mushroom stalk is milling about the hole. As they watch, it runs from ant to ant, wriggling antennas at them, but they give no response; just continue to march in their relentless procession.

“It’s not infected.” Noelle says.

“Maybe he’s immune?” Felix asks.

“Maybe. But I think most ants are female.”

“What’s it matter? You gonna name it?” Felix says sarcastically.

Noelle considers this. “Yeah, we’ll call her Antgelina.”

Felix groans. “You couldn’t pick, like, Sally, or something.”

Noelle huffs. She has to admit that she finds his exasperation at anything even slightly resembling a pun amusing. “Sally’s no name for an ant.”

“Fine, we’ll put it to a vote,” Felix says. “All those in favor of ‘Antgelina’ raise your hand.”

Noelle raises hers. Behind her, Moldinator sniffs and then raises his as well. Claude gives a small bark atop Felix’s shoulder and much to his human’s clear annoyance, puts a paw in the air.

“Okay,” Felix says, rolling his eyes. “Antgelina it is. I guess. Antgelina, what’s up?”

He listens for a few moments.

Moldinator taps a foot. Part of Noelle wishes he would go on without them, as she and Felix had planned, but another part of her can’t help but feel they should be keeping an eye on him - for Rita’s sake.

Felix stands. “Ant gal knows nothing. All I got was, ‘glass home, broke, sick, follow, why big ant.’”

“Big ant?” Noelle asks.

“She wants to know why I’m a big ant and- hey I told you talking to bugs is weird.”

Noelle sighs, not sure what she expected. They’ve seen no sign of Rita and there’s still so much of the mansion left to search. “I suppose we’ll just... see where the ants lead.”

“Yeah, well, uh, Antgelina wants to, uh, come along.” Felix says, looking as if he feels as silly as the words he’s saying.

“This just what y’all do? Pick up pests?” Moldinator says.

Noelle reaches in her pocket for the copper watch. The ant might be useful around the mansion; their own tiny tour guide. Besides, who wants to be left alone when all your friends are zombies? She opens the cover and hands it to Felix, “Think she’ll climb in here?”

Felix takes the pocket watch and sets it down beside the ant. “You wanna come along? This is your ride,” he tells her.

She twitches her antennae and crawls aboard, settling down on the watch face that had long stopped ticking years ago.

Felix picks up the pocket watch and carefully closes it. “Antgelina has joined the party.”  

______

Back at the bottom of the staircase, they gaze up at the mold-encrusted flight. Moonlight emanating from skylights catches the threads of mold on it every so often, almost glistening as it weaves along every step and around the banister. The stairs look rotting and foreboding, like a ship sunk to the bottom of the sea. The only movement on them is the steady line of ants continuing their solemn advancement upwards, hugging the right side.

Moldinator now has not one, but two squirt guns full of that harsh chemical out and in front of him.

Felix has Antgelina’s pocketwatch clasped in both hands, glaring suspiciously at Moldinator as Claude rests around his shoulders.

Noelle is wary and exasperated. All she wanted was to talk to Rita and find the auspice. Moldinator, on the other hand, is poised to attack.

“Stay low,” he says, progressing on the wide, elegant staircase. “And stay behind me.”

Felix gives her a pointed look.

How were they going to play this? As much as she just wants to find the racket, she can’t do it at the possible expense of someone else. Rita had seemed perfectly fine and reasonable in all their correspondences leading up to meeting at the cafe. Moldinator on the other hand? Less so. “What are you planning on doing with Rita?” Noelle asks, taking one careful step up the stairs, Felix following behind.

Moldinator uses the tip of one of the water pistols to push up the brim of his hat just a fraction, and looks at her. “I’m taking out the fungus witch any way I can.”

“Take out?”

“Eliminate. It’s what a Mold Buster does.”

“You’re going to kill her?” Felix snaps.

Moldinator lets out a small, sarcastic laugh. “No, no, just the mold.”

“But, what if you can’t eliminate one without the other?” Noelle asks, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. Sticking with Moldinator is growing unbearably uncomfortable.

His voice lowers, threatening. Noelle can barely hear it when he says, “Well we’ll just find out, won’t we?”

Noelle swallows. “We could try talking to her first? Instead of going in guns ablazing.”

Moldinator whirls on the staircase, coming face-to-face with her.

Felix bumps into her as she halts in her tracks, startled.

Moldinator holsters one of the guns, the liquid inside sloshing, and wrenches the sunglasses from his face. One angry, bloodshot eyeball stares at her, while the other is an empty socket - there’s no roundness to the closed lid. Pale scars dart around the outside of the missing eye.

“You think this is the first time she’s gone green?” he says.

“Gone green?” Noelle asks, confused and unable to break her own two eyes from Moldinator’s one that’s so full of self righteous fury.

“That’s their little nickname for it. Last time it happened she took my eye. You understand now? Do you get it?”

“Do you get that you’re ridiculous?” Felix says behind her. “Walking around here with water guns and-”

Moldinator interrupts him “If you don’t understand the gravity of-”

There’s a voice suddenly from up the stairs - a woman’s voice. She yells something, but it’s too echoey for Noelle to make out. Whoever it is sounds desperate and afraid. A door creaks.

Moldinator glares at them a moment longer before jamming his sunglasses back on his face and dashing up the stairs. He takes them wildly, like a man possessed, two at a time, footsteps pounding away from them and reverberating off the mildewed walls.  

Noelle begins sprinting after him before she can even properly assess the situation. What was once simply retrieving an auspice has suddenly turned into a rescue mission.

Felix appears beside her, tearing up the stairs, one hand running along the banister, the other still gripping the pocket watch. Claude clings for dear life to his head.

Noelle’s pulse pounds in her ears, eyes fixed on Moldinator. He’s too far ahead and getting so close to the top of the stairs. She can’t remember ever having to scale a staircase so fast. She’s only able to ignore the protest of her muscles with the adrenaline rush.  

Felix is gaining on him, but it’s too late; Moldinator reaches the last step.

“Moldy!” Felix yells up after him.

Moldinator loses his balance, slipping on a streak of green at the top of the stairs, and falls face-first on the landing, his gun sailing away from him.

He struggles to get back up, sliding again on the mold underfoot, panting and struggling.

He manages to get to his feet just as Felix tackles his legs, sending him sprawling to the floor once more. The pocket watch chain slides down Felix’s arm and collides into the tile with a smack.

Noelle reaches the top of the stairs to see Claude run from Felix’s shoulders to Moldinator’s head. He snatches the sunglasses off Moldinator’s face, and tosses them aside, letting out a triumphant raccoon screech.  

She carefully avoids the obstacle course of appendages. Moldinator’s water gun rests by a railing overlooking the first floor of the mansion and the ants are making a neat curve around it. Her eyes follow them down a hallway to the right.

There’s a door ajar, a vertical line of moonlight radiating out of it. Was that the creaking they’d heard? Was the woman’s voice Rita? She’s so close to finding out.

Moldinator makes desperate grabs for her feet as Claude bats his hands away. She makes it past them, sprinting for the door, the ends of her scarf trailing behind her.

Noelle can hear Felix and Moldinator yelling and scrambling after her, but she doesn’t look back. All there is, is that line of moonlight and the stream of ants flowing into it. Even when she can hear footfall catching up to her, she focuses only on that glowing, thin, pillar of light.

Noelle throws herself into the door, and there, bathed in moonlight from an enormous window, and surrounded by a ring of mushrooms and ants is Rita Cardoso, the fungus witch. 

She’s holding a very old tennis racket.  

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