#honestly I make her say mama in my fics because mom is too casual for me and mommy obviously isn’t gonna work

[katnissmellarkkk]

also I wanna add Peeta said in Catching Fire “my dad” so apparently it’s just Kat Kat who’s stuck in 1893.

One thing I can't get over is that canonically, Katniss calls her mom "Mother" like some sort of repressed upper class Victorian child.

[lovelyirony]

the much anticipated second part for the amnesia-related fic. 

A wedding ring. 

This doesn’t mean that he and Tony are married except that he hasn’t seen Tony with a wedding ring and he hasn’t mentioned a wife and he doesn’t sound like he has a wife and if Rhodey-if Jim had a wife, then wouldn’t he know about her? Wouldn’t they have met by now? He may not know Tony yet, but he doesn’t think that he would be that cruel. 

“Colonel Rhodes-” 

“Friday, don’t,” Jim says, swatting at the air. “What-why did you hide that from me?” 

“Sir believed it would be best,” Friday answers, tone almost quieter. “He...wasn’t sure that you would understand.” 

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why would I marry him of all people? He’s not exactly my type.” 

“Since I am a learning program, I cannot say for sure. Humans do a lot of illogical things.” 

He’s trying to wrap his head around it and avoid Tony at the same time. 

Friday won’t let him see any wedding pictures, not until he remembers more. 

- 

Even though he’s been (mostly) successful at avoiding Tony for about a week and a half, the man is still so nice. 

He’s still operating under the assumption that Jim has no idea that they’re married, and he does stuff like leave out a cup of coffee and offer breakfast up or ask if he wants pizza for dinner.

Jim reads too much into it. 

And he doesn’t know why, because it’s not like anything has really changed, except for the fact that Tony won’t call him Rhodey. 

Jim gave him permission to, saw how much it killed him with every correction and every reminder. Told him “you can call me Rhodey, if you want.” 

And he doesn’t. 

Tony never does. 

He still almost says it, but Jim is quicker on the tongue, and he doesn’t make a move to try to push any memories at all. 

(Even though he remembers how happy Tony was to hear that memory about grocery shopping and Dum-E’s code source.) 

He does want to remember. He wants to remember why he apparently married Tony and was genuine about it, why Pepper and him are best friends and never were anything more, why he’s...why he’s so different from what he wanted. 

-

Tony knows that Jim’s acting differently. He’s not sure why. He’s not sure he wants to know why, because that might complicate everything. 

And he doesn’t want another thing to be wrong. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him except for the one damn person that probably should be, but Rhodey’s never been good at following rules. (But he’s good at fooling people.) 

Pepper talks to Tony a lot. Asks him how he’s doing, if there’s anything she can do. 

Repair someone’s memory is a little bit outside of her area of expertise. 

“It’ll be okay,” she says, putting her tiny hand over his. “Things will work out.” 

They both know that in Tony’s life, luck has never been quite what it seems. Or existent at all, at times. 

-

Ironically, it’s their anniversary of the wedding when Jim remembers something else. It actually comes in the form of looking in the fridge and not finding his apples. 

“Quit leaving honey-crisp off of the list just because you don’t like them you asshole,” he calls to Tony. 

Tony almost yelps. 

“Out of everything in your life and that’s what you remember? Your stupidly sweet apples?” 

“Are you gonna get them?” 

“Why don’t you come with me?” Tony asks, “just so that you can get your apples and maybe get out of the house for once.” 

“Hmph. Fine,” Jim answers. “Where’s my coat?” 

“Uh...” Tony trails off, trying to find the words. “Third peg on the...right, I think?” 

“You’ve known me for years, and you don’t know where my coat is?” 

Rhodey is always the one to hang up his coat, and then put his arms out for Tony’s. 

“To be fair, I am important and fancy and a big deal,” Tony scoffs. “Come on, go get your coat and then I’m going to show you what horrible things you buy from the store.” 

“It’s not that bad. And what, you don’t like good apples?” 

“As sour as can be, sourpatch. As sour as can be.” 

-

Grocery shopping with Tony is...interesting. He didn’t think it would take so long. 

“This is why you don’t usually come,” Tony teases him. “I take so long and you end up sitting in the car and cursing at Pepper or Happy about how much time I spend dedicated to snack-judging.” 

“And I put up with that?” 

“You do,” Tony says, grabbing the cart. “Because you love me and you deal with a lot worse from me.” 

“Like what?” 

“Best not to talk about it,” Tony says. “We’re in public after all, honey.” 

“Ugh, boo,” Rhodey teases. “Give me the list. I bet I can speed-run this.” 

“How? Technically, you don’t think you’ve ever been to this store before!” Tony exclaims with a gigantic, shit-eating grin. 

“Way to rub it in you bastard,” he says with a laugh. “Now come on, I wanna see what kind of salad you think we’re gonna get.” 

“Not you thinking you’re going to be eating junk food,” Tony sighs. 

“I lost my memory!” 

“That would’ve worked, like, two weeks ago. Now I know better.” 

Grocery shopping is...fun. They make fun of foods and different products, and Tony shows him which things he might like. 

“I like...I like fruit salad?” 

“Yes, yes you do Rhodey-dear,” Tony says. “Your favorite thing in the world for fruit.” 

“Seems suspicious.” 

“You’ll have to try it again, then.” 

Rhodey watches him as they’re shopping. He’s easy to be around, honestly. He has that sort of energy that makes you feel like he’s just happy to be in that moment. 

Tony also has very questionable taste in everything. 

“Quinoa?” 

“What? You’ve eaten it before! It’s not your least favorite thing that I’ve cooked?” 

“How is it not? Is it because I’m old?” 

“No, not because you’re old,” Tony scowls. “When you’d come back from the service, you’d eat literally anything I put in front of you. I once gave you a block of cheese and you just sat there. Eating it.” 

“There’s no way I did that.” 

“You did! Ask Pepper, she has a picture of it!” 

He goes back to quiet after that, remembering the picture. 

-

Jim isn’t even sure he wants to bring it up. He’s not even sure if he could love Tony again, and somehow that thought makes his head hurt. 

He knows that apparently, he fell in love once. 

So he needs answers. 

-

Jim had talked to his parents, but he hadn’t really had an opportunity to talk about anything important. Try as he had to get more information out of them, they weren’t giving much up, except for parts about his military achievements and funny stories that he’s written to them about. 

When he gets back home and he sees Mama, she knows. 

“Come here baby,” she says, putting him into her arms. “Let me answer your questions.” 

“Why him?” 

Mama laughs, grinning up at him from her place on the couch. 

“You reacted like this when you first started rooming together, too. I was worried that I’d be involved in a court case for attempted murder!” 

“And you weren’t?” 

“No,” Mama answers. “Instead, I get no phone call from you for three weeks, until the day before your holiday break started, and you told me that you were bringing who you used to call ‘the biggest nuisance since fruit flies’ home to Thanksgiving.” 

“Why did I...why did I bring him?” 

“I didn’t get that answered until he fell asleep,” she says. “I’m making you some coffee, alright dear?” 

“Okay, so long as I get an answer.” 

“So impatient,” she mutters as she makes her way to the kitchen, Jim following. 

He watches how easily his mom pours the coffee, and remembers in a brief flash that Tony always would bring the fancy, flavored creamer to the holiday events. 

“Oh come on,” Tony said. “You have gotten too used to my kindness, and there’s no reason to stop being kind. Besides, remember last year when you nearly cried because I bought creamer from the store? Yeah, not having a repeat of that.” 

“And would that be so bad?” he teased Tony, wrapping an arm around his waist, and-

He blinks. 

That was...that was definitely a new kind of memory. 

“James, are you alright?” His mother is looking at him, and maybe she knows, maybe she doesn’t know that he just remembered something. He’s honestly not sure. 

“Uh, yeah. Fine. I’m good.” 

Mama looks across the room, smiling. 

“He was a timid little thing when he got here. Fixed up the washing machine when it broke, just in time. Nearly wore a suit to dinner, said you didn’t tell him what kind of ‘casual’ we were going for...” 

He snorts as he slowly remembers that one. 

“What do you mean you didn’t mean a suit?!” Tony had wailed, gripping Rhodey’s shirt. “You said I had to dress nice!” 

“I meant literally anything but your Black Sabbath shirt!” 

“Why would I have worn my Black Sabbath shirt? Your mom would probably think I was a Satanist!” 

They both look at each other for a moment, and Rhodey’s the first one to break and laugh. 

“Listen you idiot, it won’t be so bad. We can just ditch the coat, ditch the tie, and you’ll be...okay. A bit nicer than most of us, but hey. That’s what I get for not telling you that suits are weird.” 

“Suits are not weird, you’re just uneducated in what is sophisticated,” Tony says, turning his nose up as Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“Oh yeah, sure, because knowing which one is the dessert spoon is going to help me save people abroad. My bad.” 

Tony looks back at him, and his heart skips a beat. It does. Really, it does. 

It almost feels like someone’s reading back to him what he already knows at this point. 

His mom squeezes his hand, smiling. 

“You remember at least some of it, don’t you?” 

“Well...uh, yeah? I-I do.” 

“Does Tony know that you know that you’re...married?” 

“No,” Rhodey says. “I know some, but not enough.” 

“Give him a chance,” she says. “And get back home, I’m sure he’s missing you.” 

Rhodey embraces his mother, and prepares for the drive home. 

- 

Being missed is a weird concept to deal with. 

He also did not exactly think of that. So he’s currently driving back and checked his phone to seven missed calls from Tony, three from Pepper, and one text from Happy that simply reads “lol ur dead hahaha good luckkkkk” 

Well shit. 

Tony, understandably is pissed and scared and a tad upset. 

Not a tad. 

“Where were you?” He says as soon as Rhodey appears back in the kitchen. Tony’s hands wander close, and he almost leans in. 

Almost. 

“I was visiting my parents,” he responds. “Sorry, forgot to text.” 

“Please remember next time, your-well, Tony’s annoying when you leave,” Pepper says. 

(Okay Rhodey doesn’t know how they got away with this for so long, it’s really, really obvious that they’ve been covering it up.) 

“I will,” Rhodey says. “Did I miss anything?” 

“I’ve elected that we’re going to cook tonight,” Tony declares. “I am absolutely sick to death of takeout, and I’m pretty sure that with your lack of knowledge on recipes now, I have you beat in the kitchen.” 

“I can still read recipes, you dumbass. Besides, I just remembered your stupid ‘bake’ hack for your stupid casserole dish, so...” 

“Out of everything, and that’s the thing you remember today?!” 

“Well, I also remembered that apparently you wore a suit to my house for Thanksgiving!” 

Tony stops. 

“What else you remember from that, or was it just that?” 

He doesn’t want to say anything in front of Pepper, doesn’t want to say anything just yet. 

“I remember that you were weird about your suit!” 

Tony deflates a bit, but still smiles. 

God, he looks gorgeous. 

Rhodey blinks. Shakes his head out of the thought.

“So. What are we cooking?” 

- 

Tony and cooking is a very interesting concept because it shouldn’t work. 

He never stops moving, can lose interest quickly, and Rhodey would think that he could burn water. 

But he doesn’t. Tony hums along to music, and he tells him all about his favorite songs and why. 

It’s not any rock music, any heavy metal. 

“I don’t listen to that all the time,” Tony says. “You always think I do!” 

“Oh right, because someone who personally has Angus Young’s number just casually isn’t someone who listens to the band all the time, sure,” Rhodey says sarcastically. 

Tony grins, and it’s probably the best damned thing he’s seen all day. 

His heart zings at the realization that Tony smiling is what makes him smile now, what makes him want to stay and learn so much more about how they came to be, what they’ve done together. 

-

Dinner is fun. Tony tells him all about college and what they used to do, and what Rhodey had done. 

Memories are coming back easier. 

“You totally emailed the professor really petty responses!” Tony cries, laughing. 

“It wasn’t that petty,” Rhodey said, huffing. “He was an asshole anyway, he hated whenever we would come late because we wanted coffee, and your order was too complicated!” 

“It wasn’t that complicated!” 

“Oh I’m sorry, them having it written down behind the register for when you come in?” 

“Oh, like they didn’t have a description of you.” 

“Yeah, as your long-suffering companion,” Rhodey teases. 

“You’ve always been,” Tony says. “Because you’re the best.” 

Rhodey stops stirring the pot for a moment. 

“Rhodey? What is it?” 

“I...” 

Tony stands there, grinning. He’s nervously fidgeting, and it’s his move to say the vows. 

“You know, I wasn’t ever sure you’d be up to marrying someone like me,” Tony confesses. “Especially since I almost burned down our dorm room one time.” 

“Wasn’t just one time,” Rhodey teases. “But carry on.” 

“You loser,” Tony says. “Even now, interrupting my heartfelt moment.” 

There’s a ripple of laughter from the small crowd that’s gathered. Rhodey smiles at him, feels tears prick up around his eyes. 

“But I knew that I loved you ever since you would always buy my favorite ramen even though you hated it, and you were the one to get the pizza when I was sad. I knew I wanted the chance of seeing you every day, coming home to you at the end of the day. You’re home, Rhodey. You’re it. No one else could ever possibly hold a candle compared to you.” 

Rhodey startles, looking at Tony. 

“I...I remember. I remember!” 

“Remember what?” Tony asks cautiously. 

(He can’t be let down. Not again.) 

“You smashed cake in my face at our wedding!” Rhodey yells. “And we got married! We got married! Where the fuck is my ring?” 

Tony laughs, scooping Rhodey into a hug. 

“I can’t believe you remember.” 

“Well I was bound to at some point,” Rhodey says. “I can be smart, doofus.” 

“Don’t call me ‘doofus’ during an emotional outburst you absolute nimrod!” 

“I’ll call my husband whatever I want,” he teases, “although I still wanna know where my ring is.” 

“Come with me and get it,” Tony says. “I hid them in my room, just in case.” 

It’s all coming back, the steps they take, the way that Tony supports him as he moves slower. 

Iron Man, for one. War Machine the next. The dates they went on, the proposal. 

The rings are simple. They’re also not wedding rings. 

The class rings. 

Rhodey remembers getting them, remembers getting his initials and Tony’s on the inside, remembers how Tony made some “adjustments” after they received them. 

“You know that you got me,” Tony had told him. 

It slides on, and it feels right. Feels like something was missing. 

He looks up at Tony, smiling. 

“Show me the pictures, Tony.” 

- 

Pepper walks in to find Rhodey absolutely terrorizing Tony about the decor choices from the reception. 

“So I agreed with red and gold? I had no problem with it?” 

“Well, I did do some major convincing, so...” 

“What does that mean?!” 

"You’ll remember later and be sad,” Pepper says. “Or happy. But please don’t tell me if you remember it.” 

“You loved the color scheme,” Tony says. “Because you love me!” 

“Now I am doubting,” Rhodey declares. “I loved you enough to have those colors?” 

“You lost a bet, Boss,” Friday interjects. “That’s why there were those themes.” 

“Friday,” Tony whines. “Why snitch on your creator like this?” 

“I am not programmed to have loyalty, Sir.” 

Rhodey laughs, taking Tony’s hand in his. 

“Well, I guess I’ll still love you. Even if our wedding theme was weird.” 

“It wasn’t that weird!” 

-

It takes about another month before all of the memories are all back to normal, and in that time Rhodey learns (and relearns) a couple of things: 

1.) The best feeling in the world is waking up to Tony, who sleeps very lightly and also wacked Rhodey in the face a total of ten times. (That’s not a new thing, he remembers.) 

2.) He special-orders peppermint-flavored coffee creamer. 

3.) Tony was lying when he said that Rhodey’s new favorite movie was The Goonies. 

(He mostly forgave him for that one.) 

[achliegh]

Bronze

Alright, I had this wonderful idea come into my head about Clayton, honestly he deserves his own fic. So here is his version of events! Lots will tie together with Golden so I recommend you read that as well. But you don’t have to of course.

Explaining:

Before Letter is the present.

Letter is updating the lives of the people back home, of whoever wrote it mostly.

After Letter is memory.

The first few letters will be very awkward because writing letters and not being sure what to talk about and what not to talk about is hard and confusing. Stick with me! Yes, this prologue is just a letter.

TW/CW: Discussions of death, miliatry training, smut, cringy jokes, underage drinking, dumb choices, swearing, and more later on.

Beta: @walking-crisis

Some Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Chapter 2:

For You

Chicken Fried

It was silent besides the radio humming faintly over the walkie attached to his vest. Every breath he took in filled his lungs with dust.

Nothing felt real.

The mission was to take out a target. Clay left it at that because he hasn’t been in the military long enough to be able to consider targets… people. He felt sick anytime he put the two together but he knew this is what he signed up for. This target has taken many lives and he was watching through his scope, gun pointed at the door of the building where the target operated.

He had to put himself in the headspace where he couldn’t think about anything other than the trigger where his finger flinched whenever the door opened.

He didn’t have the signal so he didn’t shoot.

His partner sat next to him, completely relaxed tapping his thigh to the beat of the music. Every hit of his thigh almost made Clay flinch. This wasn’t his first mission where he had to take a target out, but this was the first where he didn’t see them actively doing something horrendous. The slight breeze felt like it could push him over with just the right amount of pressure. Everything was sensitive… yet he felt numb.

The door opened for the fifth time in the last hour and an old woman waddled out of the building, she smiled at a small group of children who ran past. She has aged with stress from the lines of her wrinkles. Her baggy clothes looked homemade.

She was sweet, reminding him of his own mother.

He relaxed when he saw her, knowing she couldn’t be the target. Watching her talk to a man on the street he hears the signal. His partner rolls over to lay next to him and takes out his binoculars to look at the woman and gives Clay the signal to get ready.

Two Fingers Pointed Up: Get ready.

Two Fingers Pointed Out: Shoot.

Hesitating for a moment, his partner notices and gives him a look to get his shit together. Swallowing his hesitation. He takes the safety off his gun and ready's himself for the shot.

One he would hear forever.

Dear Honey Bee,

How's my baby doing? Making friends I hope, that’s the one thing you always amaze me with. The way you make friends so easily. I could never, shy little thing like myself. I was terrible at breaking out of my shell. Your daddy always convinced me to go out though.

Which reminds me! You remember Miss Bell down the road? She is pregnant with triplets, and no one knows who the father is. How scandalous! I always thought she would end up with that farmer Micheal across the river but she never liked him much.

Your lovers stopped by last week and Little Miss… what do you call her? Sparky or something. She was absolutely glowing when we gave her a photo album of you and Leo from when you were in middle school. The hunk you managed to catch had hour long conversations with your daddy about the latest sports which I didn’t understand so I did what you always tell me to do.

Smile and Nod.

It’s odd writing letters to you, I remember writing to my family when I first moved in with your Daddy because we didn’t have the email or the phones. But I am so used to writing to you over the phone that writing on paper is odd. I hope you’re getting these letters, everyone has said you haven’t responded but I remember when Wyatt was in the military and Eloise was a mess, long before you and Leo were around. So, I’m not too worried.

I am sending you and your Team the best wishes for safety. Praying y’all all get home safe and make lots of babies. We need more kids, I want grandbabies and I made sure your lovers know that.

Now, on a more serious note. Your Daddy is still upset with you for just leaving like that. He wishes he could have convinced you to stay because he wants you safe. I want you safe too but I know this is something you need to do. From the calls I've had with Leo he is also still angry with you.

I keep trying to convince your Daddy to write but he says it hurts too much. So know that He sends his best anytime I write to you. Anytime you think of us.

We love you so much Clayton London Bruss. Now get some rest, I know you’re tired.

Love,

Your Mama

He knocks on the window of Leo’s truck, horny fuck can’t control himself. Clay doesn’t mind it much though, walking over to Ashley who hands him his phone that she was routinely checking.

“Find anything interesting?” He takes his phone and puts it in his back pocket, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“Nothing besides your terribly gay nudes.” She rolls her eyes. “Just because Leo is a faggot doesn’t mean you have to sink that low.” Clay furrows his brows and is about to say something back when Finn walks over to them, looking like he just had a great make out. Clay smiles.

“How was the truck?”

“Warm, I forgot how hot it gets in the south.” Finn pulls his shirt to get some airflow and Clay nods while Ashley scowls a little at the redhead in front of them. The music starts to play over the speakers. Logan joins them after a couple of minutes.

Clay has gotten a few… interesting vibes from Logan when Leo isn’t looking. He notices the hesitation that Leo can’t see. He sees the way Logan wants to tell Leo to back off and to pull him closer at the same time.

Leo doesn’t deserve that.

Clay likes Finn better because Finn definitely likes Leo, and Logan probably to a point where it's bad for himself. But Finn is someone who cares with all or nothing.

Leo does deserve that.

They start heading over to where Leo has parked, a Bronco in between their trucks, Clay notices Logan hesitate reaching for Finn’s hand. So, it wasn’t only a Leo thing. Lots of people think Clay is an oblivious idiot but that would be sort of wrong. He is very observant when it comes to people, maybe not so much when it comes to safety.

“CLAY!” He looks upt just in time to see Leo chuck a BudLight, yuck, at him. Obviously needing to get rid of it, he pulls out his keys and punches a whole to shotgun it.

Way to start off the night.

Lot’s of drinks later, one of his favorite songs came on over the speaker. Chicken Fried by The Zac Brown Band, it's a great song. Casually singing the lyrics he turns to Ashley who is on her phone, he shrugs not caring and runs over to Leo and jumps on his back. Hopping off after Leo lightly elbows him in the ribs, Leo turns around and joins him in singing the lyrics.

Dancing like idiots he looks at Leo’s infatuations and sees them with sappy looks on their faces but he knows Leo won’t notice them.

As the night goes on they do more stupid shit, crawling into the passenger side of his truck he let’s Ashley drive him home. The blind trust he puts in her is something he will regret later. About 20 miles from his house they see flashing red and blue lights behind the truck. Ashley pulls over and sighs annoyed, crossing her arms.

Clays anxiety is off the charts, he knows he isn’t sober and underage. If this is who he thinks it is then there is a 100% chance he will be taken down to the station. Of course, they would get pulled over when Ashley’s dad knew she would be at a bonfire with her “degenerate” boyfriend.

“Hi Daddy” Ashley smiles a little at the officer as he shines a flashlight into the cab of the truck right into Clay’s eyes.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle. Hi Ash, can you drive your car home after you drop his truck off? I’m gonna book him down at the station.” Clay gets out and about falls over and neither Ashley or her dad is impressed.

Getting thrown into the back of a cop car after an aggressive handcuffing and pat down is not how he wanted to spend his night. He honestly just wanted to go to bed.

Having been arrested for no reason so many times he knows the process by heart now. So well in fact that the officers don’t even have to tell him what to do. He just does it and goes to sit in his favorite cell. Where he can throw pieces of paper at the Sheriff’s desk.

He calls his mom with his one phone call and tells her what happened. She is out of town with his dad for a conference about cattle prices in the south this year so Clay gets to spend the night in the cell. Great.

Just what he wanted.

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 6

Hello, and once again, I introduce you all, to a world of fantastic imagination! Welcome, to Midnight Striga!! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

“Well that was a waste of time.” Amity grumbled, as she and the others broke away from their circles, disappointed at the lack of response.

“Aw, look at the bright side, Ams,” Skara said, slinging an arm over her friend’s shoulder, “At least we gave it a shot, and we’ve had a pretty great time overall, Conjuring or no!” Her peppiness was almost infectious. Scratch that, it was infectious, as a small grin fought its way onto Amity’s face.

“Please don’t call me Ams,” Amity sighed, choosing not to hide her smile. Skara just gave her a cheeky wink.

“But it suits you so well, Ams!” Skara laughed cheerfully, even as Amity gave a good-natured groan. “This is nice.” She said, a look of content on her face.

Amity nodded. “Yeah, it is.” She smiled, before a conflicted look crossed her face. She sighed. “Skara, I’m sorry.”

Skara cocked her head. “Hmm? About what?” She asked.

“That it took you getting hurt for me to start treating you like an actual friend, instead of someone my parents made me hang out with.” Amity confessed, even as the eyes of Skara and the others widened. “I let my issues with my parents define my relationship, and I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am for that. Can you forgive me?” She asked. She didn’t honestly expect to be forgiven, because what she did was nothing less than crappy.

She wasn’t expecting Skara to snort, and laugh in response. “Oh my Titan, is that why you’re always on edge around me?” She asked rhetorically. “Amity, there’s nothing to forgive. We all just got a little look at how… difficult your mom can be, and my family definitely has its own issues.” She explained, lightly pressing her hand against Amity’s shoulder. “While it may have been a lame thing to do, you owned up to it, and were there for me when I really needed you to be, and have done your best to be a real friend ever since. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a great friend.” She finished, pulling a surprised Amity into a hug, which she tightly returned, eyes misting.

“While learning that you didn’t want to be friends with us is a little painful,” Amelia added, drawing glances from Skara and Amity, “Skara’s got the right idea. You may not have been the best friend, but you did what none of us ever has,” She said, gesturing to herself, Cat, and a sheepish Bo and Selena. “You were there for her, and stood by her when she was hurting. You didn’t just walk by and ignore it. You even apologized when you were in the wrong!” She exclaimed, throwing up her arms.

“Yeah, wasn’t expecting to hear that.” Cat said, a sardonic grin on her face. Her face fell into it’s usual stern look. “We all just stood on the sidelines and let Boscha do whatever she wanted, and went along with even her worst ideas. You never did that, even when Boscha really wanted you to. You may have hung out with us, but looking back? It was pretty clear you were only there out of obligation, and you never went along with anything that had even a hint of getting you into trouble. Out of all of us, you were by and large the best.” She stated, a proud gleam in her eyes.

“You pulled Skara out of her funk, and got her to start living again. She was starting to backslide after the Covention, but then you did all this!” Bo exclaimed, gesturing to the party setup surrounding them. “I can never repay you for that.” She finished, bowing.

“I’ve always been a face in the crowd.” Selena stated, her face finally regaining some color after her prediction. “But you took a chance and let me come here. Because of that, I’ve met some really cool people, and had a lot of fun. And while I am now utterly terrified about my imminent future,” Everyone gave her an odd look at that,” for the first time, I can say that I’m living my life without regrets, and I’m going to keep doing that!” She gave a beaming grin.

“Ahem!”

The group turned, looking sheepish at the sight of Gus and Willow standing just a few feet away from them. Skara cleared her throat, blushing. “Um, sorry for ignoring you.”

Gus rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.” He sighed. “Look, Amity?” He began, causing the girl in question to go ramrod straight. “I don’t know you. Not really. I only know what I’ve seen, and some of what Willow’s been willing to tell me about you and her.” He gestured to the two of them, causing both girls to clench their fists in nervousness. “Still, you took a chance and let Willow come here and hang out with all of you. That’s never happened before. So, I’m gonna give you a chance, and while I’ll never forgive you if you mess it up, I don’t think I have to worry about that.” He finished, a half-smile on his face.

“Amity, you hurt me. Badly. In ways that any and all of Boscha’s taunts never could.” Willow said, Amity’s eyes turning to the ground at her words. “But I’ve never hated you over it.” That caused Amity to whip her head up so fast she almost felt her neck hurt. “I was sad, and lonely, and a lot of times I just wanted to scream and scream and never stop! But… I always remembered how, even after we stopped being friends, you never had a real smile. But lately, that’s changed. You’re enjoying life again. And I’m happy for you.” She finished, giving a tearful Amity an honest smile.

“I think we should go check on Luz and the others.” Skara said in a choked up voice, enthusiastic nods following her suggestion. As they walked over to the humans, they instantly took notice of the murderous look sported by Luz and the guards, and Neon’s tear-stained face. “Um, what happened?” Skara tentatively asked.

“Let’s just say that Neon’s dad is an even bigger piece of trash than I thought.” Luz bit out, cuddling Neon closer. She gave Neon a meaningful look. “Do you want me to tell them?”

Neon bit her lip, visibly conflicted, but nodded. “Yeah. If you trust them, it’s okay.”

Luz sighed, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed. Turning to the group, she gestured to Neon’s arms, exposing the heavy bruising covering them. “As you can tell by his handiwork, Mr. Nostrade had a nasty temper, and a liking for using Neon as a punching bag.” She growled, trying to resist the urge to bundle Neon up and scream at them all to leave.

The Witches felt sick. This man, whoever he was, had used his own daughter as an object to take his anger out on? Something to attack and scream at, and blame for whatever problem was plaguing him at the moment? As the sickening feeling built, so too did a surge of blistering hate. “You know,” Willow began, her voice far too casual, “I’ve always wondered how good a living body would serve as plant food.”

“That sounds pretty interesting, Willow,” Gus chimed in, his voice also way too casual, “I’ve honestly gotten invested in this one spell I found. It was apparently based on Grometheus, in that it mines a target’s memory for their deepest fears and most traumatic memories, and traps them in a labyrinth composed of those same memories and fears!”

“That’s fascinating!” Bo chipped in, a toothy grin stretching across her face. “It honestly makes me think of this one spell I read about that forces the body to heal wounds it doesn’t actually have! It’s supposed to be agonizing, ripping the flesh open as extra material and limbs forcibly claw their way out of your skin!” Cat nodded along with her words, a bloodthirsty smile on her face.

“Really? That’s super similar to this one spell I heard of that lets an Oracle summon a spirit directly into a person’s mind!” Selena added, an ominous gleam in her eyes. “It’s incredibly painful, and has a one-hundred percent rate of madness inducement.”

“Personally, I’m rather fond of the idea of using Bard Magic to extract a target’s blood through their pores, deliberately taking as little blood as possible for as long as possible. You know, to really draw the experience out!” Skara chirped, looking far too perky at the mental image.

“Mmm… I don’t know, I think I’d have to go with Willow’s plant food thing,” Amelia maliciously stated, glancing towards Amity. “What about you Ams?”

“Firstly, don’t call me Ams.” Amity said, before an absolutely remorseless grin crossed her face. “And secondly, I always wondered why my textbooks said not to use living beings as Abominations ingredients, and what better way to find out than to test it?” The Witches started cackling, tenting their fingers and rubbing their hands together in malevolent glee. Oh yeah, they would make that monster pay, big time.

“Uuuhhh… are you guys okay?” Luz asked, honestly a little weirded out at the turn the discussion had taken. The Witches blinked, surprised at her confusion, until Amity face-palmed.

“Luz, we’re talking about ways to kill Neon’s father.” Amity bluntly stated, a look of comprehension finally dawning on Luz’s face, along with Neon’s and her guards.

“Oooohhhhhhh!” Luz exclaimed, flushing in embarrassment. “I’m surprised you jumped to that so quickly, not that I disagree, really.” She stated, rubbing her head.

“It shouldn’t be that surprising. Children are precious, and one of the greatest duties a parent can have is to look after them, to care and guide them for their future.” Amity said passionately, a fierce light burning in her eyes. “Of course we aren’t going to stand for someone who treats his children as things to walk away from what he’s done. That is,” She glanced at Neon, who was watching them all with an unreadable expression, “if that’s alright with you?” She asked tentatively.

“Papa never said he loved me. Mama always did. Papa didn’t like it when Mama did that.” Neon stated hollowly, staring into the distance. “I always hoped Papa would tell me he loved me. But he didn’t. I’m never going back. If he has to d-die,” She choked briefly, before soldiering through it, “then I’ll be okay.” She finished, giving a look of gratitude to Luz.

Amity gave a considering look. “Neon, what happened to your mother?” She asked. She felt that she had an idea, but…

“Hmm,” Neon began, pressing her finger to her chin in thought. “Mama and Papa always fought a lot. Mama was always really mad that Papa kept me in my room. She used to yell about leaving. Then, one day, Mama screamed, and I ran out of my room and over to her. Papa said she fell down the stairs and hit her head really bad. I tried to kiss it better, but Papa told me not to, that it was stupid and I was stupid to try it. Mama went to sleep, and never woke up.” Neon finished, a look of sad acceptance on her face. The Witches and Humans all exchanged looks of understanding about what had REALLY happened; Neon’s father had killed his wife, either accidentally or on-purpose, made it look like an accident, and assumed total control over Neon’s life. And with that, they now had another reason to kill the bastard.

“Well then,” Amity stated, her flat tone doing nothing to hide the icy rage in her voice. “If that’s settled, I believe I have a solution for you and your guards’ residency issues.”

Neon and her guards instantly stilled. “W-what makes you think we don’t have a place to live?” Neon nervously laughed.

“I never said you didn’t have a place to live, but thank you for confirming that.” Amity’s reply instantly choked off Neon’s laugh, causing the girl to sigh in embarrassment.

Amity gave a light laugh. “Don’t worry about it too much, afterall, I have a plan.” She gave a daring grin, the type normally found on her mother’s face when she was about to take a high-payout risk. “Simply put, out of all of us here, I am the best equipped to host you and your guards, so it makes sense for you all to stay with me.” She stated, relishing the shock her offer elicited.

“You… you would do that for me?” Neon asked incredulously, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes.

Amity nodded, now solemn. “Of course. I am the best option, logically speaking, and...” her face screwed up in frustration, “I do owe you for my mother’s conduct earlier, and can use that conduct, as well as your skills and the strength of your guards as a counter-argument for whatever risks or concerns she may use as a reason to refuse.” A calculating gleam peaked into her eyes. “This situation honestly presents a perfect opportunity for loosening some of the… restrictions my mother has placed upon my life. That is, if you aren’t upset at the thought of my offer having such a selfish motive.” She finished tentatively, only to get an annoyed eyeroll from Neon.

“I may not have a lot of ‘weal rorld’ experience, but I’m not a dummy.” Neon stated, lightly thumping her knuckles against Amity’s forehead. “You are still doing something really nice for me when you don’t actually have to. That’s all I need to know.” She pouted, getting an flushed look of reluctant acceptance from Amity.

“Well, if that’s all settled, I think it’s safe for me to share a little tidbit with you all.” Luz said, the Witches puzzled at her mischievous look.

Alador braced his arm, tightening the internals of his project, one ear carefully tuned to his wife’s frantic rantings.

“And it could be the end of it all!! The Blight name, gone for good!! We have to prepare, we have to ensure the children have all the resources they will need to survive the fallout!” Odalia shouted, a frantic look in her eyes. Alador absentmindedly nodded along; he perfectly understood where Odalia was coming from, as the thought of even a fraction of the implications of that prediction coming true being more than enough of a reason to necessitate… drastic actions. Oh for sure, if their back-up plans ever came to light, they would instantly be branded traitors, and most likely be petrified, but that was a risk they would need to take.

“Calm yourself, Odalia.” He announced, feeling a hint of satisfaction peek through as his wife forced herself to center and focus. “While the implications are certainly worrisome, we have more than enough contingencies in place to ensure the Blight name will endure and thrive… no matter who stands at the top.” He stated, an ominous note entering his voice at the last words.

Odalia sighed, forcing herself into her chair. “You’re right dear. It’s just so frustrating! I can’t believe I allowed myself to act so unbecoming in front of the future generation!! What if they tell their parents!? That Porter boy’s father is a reporter, what if they tell the media!?” She ranted, a look of anxious horror on her face. She brought her face to her palms, groaning. “Ugh, and I just know Mittens is going to use this against me somehow, I just know it! Why must she be so ungrateful for the effort we’ve expended to see her succeed?”

“Uh, it may have something to do with you making her wear that stupid Oracle Necklace and choosing her friends for her? You know, just a suggestion. Also, Edric keeps singing off-key in here, and I am THIS close to throwing him out the window!!” Emira’s voice spoke up from the panic room, irritation and amusement coloring her voice.

“~Oh, Butter Town, Like Creamy Streets of Gold!! Oh how we Love you soooo~!!!”

Alador and Odalia blinked at their daughter’s words. “Hmm… you may have a point,” Odalia conceded, before focusing on something far more pressing, “But how would you throw your brother through a window, the Panic Room is a solid block!”

“I have my ways, Mother Dear!” Emira mockingly called back.

“It’s true, she once twisted this one dude from Glandus who wouldn’t take no for an answer so that his face was inserted into his butt! I was watching, and I still don’t know how she did it!” Edric threw in, his voice colored with amusement.

Alador blinked, scratching his chin. “Hmm… that could be an interesting feature for one of my inventions.” He muttered, instantly scribbling the idea down.

“Right!?” Odalia exclaimed, just as intrigued at the idea for one of their self-defense oriented products. She frowned, considering. “Still, I’m unsure just how Mittens intends to use my… earlier indiscretion against me.”

“She could attempt to use it as leverage to allow the Nostrade girl and her entourage to stay here.”  Alador stated, calmly resuming his work on the project before him. His wife’s explanations of those… conditional spells were certainly intriguing, and if he could successfully implement it into his line? Oh, the possibilities…

“Yes, that is the most likely possibility.” Odalia conceded, tapping the table in thought. “I merely do not wish to close off alternatives.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Alador replied, lightly nodding as he resumed his work. “Still, whether she attempts it or not, we should move to offer Miss Nostrade shelter.”

Odalia smirked in understanding. “A girl with an incredible talent for prediction and a bevy of loyal guards? We would have to be fools to turn that away.” She chuckled, sipping her tea, only to grimace. It had gone cold.

“I am only understanding half of what you guys are saying, but I’m grudgingly willing to agree with you two!” Emira called out. “Having more bodies around to protect Mittens is never a bad thing!”

“Then it’s settled!” Odalia cheered, her earlier dread pushed aside for the moment. “Whether Mittens pushes for it or not, we will move to have Miss Nostrade and company stay here, under our protection.” Alador nodded in agreement, a faint smirk rising to his face.

“WWWWHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTT!?!?!?!?!?!?”

The two paused, clapping their hands to their ears at the raging shout. Odalia blinked. “Hm, it seems the children learned something rather frustrating.”

“Really mom?” Emira asked through the door.

“Indeed, I am most familiar with such sounds, considering my own experience with making them in response to Edalyn’s childish pranks back in school.” Odalia grumbled.

“I still say you looked adorable in that butterfly costume.” Alador interjected.

“~Oh~! Tell us more!” Edric called, engaging in the conversation at the thought of parental humiliation on the part of the parents for once!

“Alador!” Odalia cried, face flushed.

Eda shouldered her way into the stand, grunting in annoyance. King skipped in after her, warily glancing around the environment. Marching up to the counter, Eda roughly hammered against the counter top with her fist. “Hey, I’m looking for a guy named Grimm Hammer for some potions! Whoever he is, he better get out here now!” She shouted, unconcerned with disturbing someone. If anyone had the guff to complain around a place like this, she’d just knock their head, or heads, off their shoulders.

“Oh, coming, coming!” A higher-than-expected voice called out. As she and King exchanged raised eyebrows, they stepped back, watching as a small, Pig-like demon climbed onto the counter, clad in a dapper little vest. He would’ve looked harmless and charming… were it not for the cold, calculating gleam in his eyes, and the naked greed that danced at the mere sight of Eda. “Oh, and what can I do for you fine individuals today?” His politeness was undercut by the almost menacing undertone, as if he’d been expecting them.

“You’re Grimm Hammer?” Eda questioned. He probably was, but getting confirmation was always best, and it would help her and King get their bearings.

“Yeah, you seem a bit different than what talk made you out to be.” King added. He was totally bluffing of course, they’d heard NOTHING about this guy beyond his name, but the more they could twist out of him, the better of a position they’d be in afterwards.

Neither missed the slight narrowing of the Piggy Creep’s eyes. “Indeed! I am Tibblet-Tibblie Grimm Hammer III, better known as Tibbles!” He explained, grin wide and welcoming, eyes cold and considering. “I must say, I never thought I’d see the day the Owl Lady herself found her way into my humble little shop!” Eda and King instantly smelled a rat; something about this wasn’t adding up, particularly in how he’d side-stepped their little bait to get him talking about himself.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s nice and all, but I’m in need of some potions, and word is you’ve got the kind I need.” Eda brusquely stated.

“Yeah, so fork ‘em over!” King chipped in, trying to make himself look bigger.

“Now, now! There’s no need for such aggressiveness!” Tibbles chuckled, ducking down to retrieve the potions in question. He popped up, a cheerful smile on his face. “And here we go! One stock of Curse-Suppression Potions!”

“Hey that’s great-! Wait a minute, how’d you know what kind of potions we needed?” King questioned, hackles raised.

Tibbles chuckled. “Considering your infamy, very few don’t know about your curse, so there are very few reasons you’d be in search of this elixir for any other reason.” He explained calmly, arching an eyebrow in mocking challenge. King growled, marching forward, only to be held back by Eda’s grip.

“That’s great, really it is. How much?” She asked bluntly, wanting to get as far from this creepshow as she could.

“A thousand snails.” Tibbles stated, an amused grin on his smug face.

“For this whole thing!?” Eda demanded incredulously, eyes panning over the box.

“No. A thousand EACH.” Tibbles grinned, relishing the look of rage building on Eda and King’s faces.

“You slimy little-!” King’s impending death threat was cut off by Eda, whose face was shifting into grave calculation, details clicking into place as she stared at the potions. Her hand whipped out, yanking one of the potions out of the box.

“Hey! You can’t just-!” Tibbles protested, only to reel back at the angered glare Eda sent his way.

“I thought this looked familiar.” She growled, eyes roving the container in her hands. “This is Mort’s work, I’d recognize it anywhere! You bought up his stock to resell at a price hike! That’s low, even by my standards.” 

“Hmph! The fool should’ve been more concerned at someone placing such a large order when his most prominent customer is the known bearer of a rather vicious curse.” Tibbles spat, yanking the potion back from Eda. He gave her a glare, grinning maliciously. “I’m honestly surprised no one has attempted this with you before.” He said slyly.

“Most people aren’t stupid enough to provoke the most powerful Wild Witch of our time.” Eda said, honest to Titan murder coating her voice. Her eyes focused on Tibbles sleeve, fixating on an image peaking through. “Hey, what’s that on your wrist?” She asked calmly, a malicious bit of satisfaction slithering to the surface at his face going pale. Before he could scuttle backwards, her arm whipped out again, lifting the little menace off his feet. She roughly yanked back the fabric, staring in hate at the familiar symbol inked into his arm. “Oroboros.”

“Why yes!” Tibbles grinned, abandoning all pretense of civility. “And you should know, this is supposed to be a trap.”

Eda and King blinked, before rapidly turning pale. Before they could respond, a massive blow slammed into Eda’s side, sending her flying. A violent chuckle echoed through the air.

[okay-what-if-rumir]

What if Porridge learned to talk? What if Porridge learned to SING?

While The Two Princes Discord was on the topic of languages...

Rupert learning dragon from Porridge by randomly repeating sounds Porridge makes while Porridge gets more excited and starts teaching Rupert.

Rupert and Porridge having growling fits while Amir is just: insert concerned mom face

Rupert, to Amir: Turns out our dragon child can talk and we just haven't been listening right.

But like the reverse too, so that at some point Porridge just casually goes "Hi Mom" to Amir one day.

Rupert: He told me some things you've told him, btw. Just so you know I heard it from him.

Amir: When did Porridge learn English? Rupert: W h a t

They have to be very careful what they say around him because he's like a toddler who's just learned how to mimic adults…

Porridge: @#%*!

Rumir, looking at each other in horror: Cecily! (Because KCS said Cecily would be the most likely to swear)

Gasps Porridge singing

Well that's something I didn't know I needed until today.

Omg. Somewhere Out There by Porridge

Porridge has a really gravely voice

Proud of Your Boy by Porridge though despite the gravel

Surprising big range, maybe a little breathy but definitely has the gravel.

Yes

And his low notes make you vibe

Could impersonate a didgeridoo

Or a vuvuzela

Oh my god he sounds like a didgeridoo

Instead of a rooster crowing, it's Porridge imitating a didgeridoo

Such a beautiful sound to wake up to

I need a fic on this now.

(art by @spoopdeedoop​)

Morning Mood by Grieg but it's interrupted by Porridge and his didgeridoo noise

What if he played the Theremin while he sang as a didgeridoo?

Goosebumps Theme by Porridge

Porridge singing alongside an actual didgeridoo

Yes

Definitely

Absolutely

They use Porridge to tune the didgeridoo

Do you tune didgeridoos?

I… don't think so?

They use the didgeridoo to tune Porridge

Ride of the Valkyries but it's Porridge in a Viking helmet

(Which is just a regular helmet with holes for his horns)

Porridge playing the piano with his tail spikes

Porridge is MVP honestly

Rupert and Amir can finally resign as parents; Porridge has reached the peak of talent.

Atossa grills them on how they've been training him for battle etc, but they're like "No! We're letting him follow his passions."

Yes

A one dragon band but with obscure instruments.

Porridge with a Theremin at his left claw, bongos at his right claw, a piano at his tail ready to impersonate a didgeridoo: "This one goes out to my moms. I love you!"

Yes. They're absolutely his Mamas and no one can convince me otherwise.

Rupert and Amir are recording with tears rolling down their faces.

Amir is the one behind the oversized camcorder.

Rupert is the one unconsciously mimicking the dance moves from the audience.

Rupert is that one teacher orchestrating a first grade dance, except he didn't teach the moves

Jamila makes an interpretive dance to it

Porridge: Up on stage with all his instruments, looking out nervously at the audience, his fear is palpable. He looks out at the audience and sees his mamas. Mama Rupert is smiling and giving him the thumbs up. He takes a breath and starts to play. It's warbly at first, but evens out, his confidence grows and… The audience is stunned, it's incredible. Then from stage left: Jamila tumbles out and begins her dance.

With ribbons

The audience gasps. It's the most awe-inspiring piece of art the Heartland has seen.

Percy Jr writes the review in the papers, and it has people talking for months.

It gets nominated for all awards ever and wins.

Porridge and Jamila up on stage getting their medals. Porridge is just stunned and crying and Jamila directs the applause to him.

Porridge becomes an international pop star

NOW Rupert and Amir can officially resign as parents because Porridge has reached the peak of talent.

What do you y'all think is the extent of Porridge's English? Do you think he knows as much as a three year old would?

Yus.

I mean it'd make sense

That'd be so cute

Porridge speaks fluent uwu language

 @oftheflamingheart​ @chinesetakeout16​ @spoopdeedoop​ @dailydoseofrumir​ @fwufferson​ @cloudcover23​

[ronoken]

Fic Snippit

So, I read tow lovely comments this week and saw someone was kind enough to give me a shout out on Tumblr. So... A quick epilouge piece?

A quick epilouge piece! Comment on this, dammit.

*** 

In the really, really far future... 

Caline M. Bourgeois, age 13, stood in the wings of the Francois Dupont auditorium and wrung her hands as the act in front of her finished up. Olive was twirling the crap out of that baton and the blacklight admittedly looked awesome, but she was winding down and that meant Caline was next.

‘Fuck,’ she thought to herself.

She was in a white dress with some (but not too much) frill, accented with two bows holding her sandy blonde hair back in a ponytail. One bow was red, the other yellow. She didn’t want two bows, but her mother insisted this was the best way to keep the peace.

Caline glanced into the audience from where she was hiding, and sure enough, the whole Goddamn family was there. Grandpa, all three Grammas, dad with his phone ready to go, Aunt Emilie, Aunt Camille…

And an empty seat.

Caline frowned and felt her stomach start to knot up. Olive was bowing as the audience politely clapped. Behind her, two stagehands were wheeling out the beat-up school piano for Caline’s performance.

“She didn’t come,” Caline said.

She felt something rustle in the frills on her shoulder.

“Aw shucks, girly,” a voice with a thick, southern drawl said. “Y’all just need ta have some faith. Yer mama may be a bit flighty, but that dere woman ain’t one ta miss her own kin’s recital. No ma’am. She’ll be here. Y’all see.”

Caline smiled and patted the tiny lump hiding in her frills. “Thanks, Ziggy. But,” She looked again at the empty chair. “She’s not here.”

Ziggy popped his head out and patted Caline on the shoulder. “She will be. Jus’ give her time.”

“But I’m going on now!” Caline said, slightly panicked. Out on stage, Ms. Beauréal was going on ad nauseam about how hard the students had worked for the talent show this year, and how excited she was to introduce the next performer. “Ziggy, what do I do?”

“Ya get out there and ya play fer everyone, of course. Yall gonna let yer dad and yer grammas and grampa down?”

Caline bit her lip. Of course the whole family was there. Of course dad was recording. Of course this had to happen today.

“She knew this was important to me, Ziggs. She knew.” Caline muttered as she walked on stage. From the audience, she heard two voices cheering for her.

“Go Caline!” The first one cheered.

“You’re gonna do great! Gramma loves you!” The second one chimed in.

“I love you more!” The first voice said.

“I love you most!” The second one screamed.

There were sounds of a scuffle. Caline ignored them and turned to face the audience. Her eyes drifted to the empty chair…

And sitting there was a woman with short, light brown hair and glasses. She had her phone out to film, and she was waving.

Caline’s eyes went wide. “Mom?” She asked under her breath.

Beside her mom, Caline’s father looked practically spooked. At least one of her Grandmas was frowning and had her arms crossed while her Grandpa was busy laughing into his shoulder. He was doing his best to cover it with a cough.

Caline smiled.

“Toldja,” her shoulder whispered.

***

Out in the audience, Caline’s mom grinned as she watched her daughter being playing Nocturne No. 2 by Chopin. Caline had worked for two months with her Grandpa on the piece, and the dedication had paid off.

It didn’t hurt that Adrien was a good teacher.

“Where were you?” Marinette quietly hissed beside her daughter.

“Work,” Gina whispered back. Her eyes never left Caline as she played.

“You were almost late,” Marinette growled. “How can you of all people be late?”

“But I wasn’t,” Gina rebuffed. “And she saw me. You think I’d miss today?”

Gina didn’t have to turn her head to see the glare her mother was shooting her. She could feel it.

Gina felt a hand squeeze her shoulder. She glanced back to see Aunt Chloé smiling at her. “Ignore your mother. She’s just mad because she lost a bet.”

At that, Gina did look to her mother. “You bet I wouldn’t be here?”

Marinette blushed and crossed her arms. She turned her attention to her granddaughter on stage. “When they closed the doors, I might have been overly upset.”

Gina nudged her. “Hey, it’s me.”

“I know,” Marinette sighed.

“Shh!” Sabrina shushed them both from behind. “I’m trying to enjoy my granddaughter’s performance!”

They shut up.

Caline had barely finished up when Marinette and Chloé both rocketed to their feet, cheering and applauding wildly. Caline visibly recoiled on stage from the outpouring she was receiving from her grandmothers, but she was still smiling. Mainly because beside Gramma Marinette, her mother was also standing and applauding louder than everyone else put together. She was cheering and whistling and making a scene, and Caline was 100% loving it.

Afterwards, once the other nineteen acts were done (Aurore refused to cut any students that wanted to be on stage. Something about it not being right to deny a student their moment in the spotlight), The family group headed out for a walk by the Seine to grab some dinner and gush about the performance. All three grandmothers had argued over where to eat, but André settled things quickly by loudly asking Caline what she wanted.

So, chilidogs it was.

“Hey,” Gina said as she took a large bite. “You did great up there, sweetie. I am so, so proud of you, you don’t even know.”

Caline blushed and grinned. “Thanks. Um, hey. So, like, where were you? I didn’t think you were coming.” Her eyes drifted to Gina’s green blouse. “Um, there’s some blood on your collar.”

Gina’s smile fell a bit. “Work was a bit much tonight. Sorry about that, but I was doing my best to make sure of things. I, um, I panicked and got the time slightly wrong. Otherwise I would have been in my seat sooner. Sorry.”

Marinette’s eyebrow went up at that. “What things, exactly? Is everything okay?”

Gina nodded. “Everything is fine. Nothing interrupted the recital, and nothing is going to interrupt our dinner. We all get a nice, normal, uneventful evening to ourselves.”

Marinette was the first to catch on. “How many times did you have to go back?” She asked.

“Seven,” Gina fired right back. “It took me over four hours to figure everything out. There were gonna be two akumas tonight, and don’t get me started on the werewolf.”

“Werewolf?” Caline asked.

“There wolf,” Gina quickly replied. “Seriously, how does Aunt Alix do this?”

The group went quiet.

Gina quickly read the room. “Sorry. I know that’s a sore… Look, I know it’s weird, but I’ve honestly seen more of her since she died than I ever did before. It’s nuts in the Burrow. She was super active with monitoring time. In fact, I’m pretty sure she lived in there. Like, right before I got to the school, I ran into her.”

Adrien bit his hip. “Is she okay? Was she okay? Geez, I don’t know what the best wording is for this.”

“She was good. She was in her PJ’s and brushing her teeth. I think she’d been sleeping in a side portal again. Oh,” Gina turned to Marinette. “She also told me to tell you not to worry about your appointment next week and that it’s just a clump of fat cells. You’re okay.”

Chloé laughed a little while Marinette blushed and smirked. “That sounds like her,” the bluenette said. “But did you have to say that in front of everyone?”

Gina shrugged. “You wanna drag me for my punctuality in front of my daughter again?”

Marinette glanced at her daughter. “Touché.”

“I’m just glad you came,” Caline said. “It meant so much.”

Gina smiled and kissed her daughter on the head. “I know, sweetie.” She glanced to her husband and smiled. “I wouldn’t miss tonight for the world.”

***

Later that night, after Caline had been put to bed, Gina snuck out to the patio for a moment and slipped into a waiting portal.

“Sup, kiddo.” Alix called out from the center of the Burrow. She was transformed and kicked back in a recliner. Even though her hair had long since gone from pink to red to silver, she looked as feisty as ever. She was slurping down a smoothie and swiping through floating ovals, each showing a different moment in time. “You make it on time?”

“Would you please explain to me how the wall clock in the center of time itself is six minutes slow?” Gina huffed. She gestured to a clock floating in the void. “Seriously! I was almost late!”

“But you weren’t,” Alix pointed out. “Look, changing it means going all the way over there and taking it down and fiddling with it, and that’s just a lot of work. I’ve just gotten used to the difference, you know? And if I did it now, then that would completely mess me up going forward. I mean, I’d look at it and be off by six minutes. Screw that.” She slurped her drink.

Gina shook her head and sighed. “You were more tolerable before you died.”

“Which time?” Alix asked with a grin. “Thank you again, by the way. You’re really not supposed to redo things that often, but I do prefer being alive to dead, so no complaints.”

Gina smirked as she stood beside her favorite aunt and watched the portals with her.

“Thanks for your help tonight,” Alix said casually.

“It’s my job,” Gina replied. “You know I won’t say no.”

Alix glanced to her. “You ever get upset that I, um, that you got drafted into all this?”

Gina didn’t answer for a moment. She crossed her arms and settled in place as she thought.

“I used to think being Ladybug was the hardest of our jobs,” Gina said. She glanced to Alix. “I was so wrong.”

“Well, regardless? I’m proud of you, Gina. I always have been.” She considered Gina for a moment. “Hey, I’ve got tonight, okay? Go spend some time with your family.”

“Oh, did you see the recital?” Gina asked.

Alix smiled and swiped the portal in front of her. An image of Caline appeared as she sat at the piano. “You think I’d miss it?”

Gina smiled at her aunt and patted her on the shoulder. “Try not to stay up too late, okay?” She leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Love you, Aunt Alix. Please get some rest. Please?”

“Psssh,” Alix said as she waved her off. “Get out of here. I’ll give you a holler if anything pops up. Promise.”

Gina smiled and turned to leave. Someday, she’d have to tell this version of Alix that her version, the one that had… That wasn’t here anymore, preferred electric blue slushies, not cherry. Still, it was sweet of her to keep popping in and pretending.

Gina wasn’t sure what timeline this Alix was even from, but it didn’t matter. They were all her Aunt, after all.

Gina stopped at the entrance to her portal and glanced back to the woman who was casually kicked back in the recliner, a familiar ghost that if Gina squinted, was enough to help her to forget for a while.

“Good night, Bunnyx,” Gina called out.

“G’night, Time Bandit,” Alix called back. She toasted her with the half-finished slushie.

Smiling, Gina slipped through the portal, and back to home.

[choupichoups]

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.15 (FINAL)

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post.

Epilogue will be posted soon! Thank you so much to everyone who’s supported this fic ♥

::::

Whoever thought of going to the skate park in this weather is down right insane. It was probably Basile. Yeah, it was most definitely Basile’s brilliant idea. 

And Lucas is a downright moron for agreeing to it. 

He hears Yann whoop loudly after Eliott does a successful trick— Lucas has no clue what it was even though his eyes have been glued on his boyfriend since they arrived. Eliott refuses to put his jacket back on, saying that he runs way too hot to be wearing it to the park, so Lucas finds himself clutching the jacket in between his arms, looking for the perfect opportunity to throw the damn thing over Eliott’s stubborn head. 

Because apparently this is his life now. Chasing after an errant boyfriend to protect him from getting a cold. 

“Eliott,” he calls out for the umpteenth time, feeling a brand new appreciation for his mother; this must’ve been how she felt like whenever he’d ignore the sound of her voice from the play structure way back when. “Eliott!” he repeats, louder now. 

Thankfully, they’re the only ones stupid enough to be there so Lucas doesn’t have to worry about any dirty looks thrown his way for causing such a ruckus. 

Eliott skates up to him eventually, grin wide and arms held out as if he hadn’t been ignoring Lucas’ voice for at least half an hour. Lucas dodges an attempt for a hug, huffing as he reaches around Eliott to place the jacket back over his shoulders— the slant of the shallow bowl Lucas is standing over thankfully makes up for their difference in height. 

He feels extra vindicated when Eliott is unsuccessful in trying to hide a sniffle. “I don’t care if it’s cramping your style,” Lucas says, tugging on the lapels of the jacket until Eliott’s properly covered in it. “You’re not going to wear just a shirt in negative degree weather.”

“It’s not in the negatives yet,” Eliott mumbles but obediently slides his arms into the jacket either way. A thoughtful look falls over his face the next second and then Lucas finds himself being subjected under an exaggerated pout, complete with sad eyes and hunched shoulders. “Actually you’re right, I am cold. Keep me warm?” 

Lucas stares at him with no ounce of pity. “Go do another trick then, I’m sure the adrenaline will warm you up.” 

“But Lucas,” Eliott whines, kicking his board up when it rolls down to jostle his ankles. “I’m too tired for that.” 

“Sounds like a you problem.” Lucas ducks down, hiding a smile behind his scarf, and moves away from Eliott’s grabby hands again. He hears Eliott huff out a laugh but looking up only has him catching an eyeful of Eliott’s soft gaze, pink lips upturned into a crooked smile. Lucas doesn’t realize he’s stopped blinking until his eyes start tearing up from a cold gush of wind. 

“It is a me problem.” With one hand in his jacket pocket and the other casually holding up his board, Eliott looks every bit the professional model he could be. Lucas tightens the hood thrown over his head and tries not to think about how he must look like some dweeby sock puppet and larva hybrid in comparison. “So hug me.” 

He shakes his head, his entire upper body moving with the act from how bundled up he is. 

Eliott tilts to the side, looking wholly amused. “Please, Lulu?”

Lucas lets out a grunt, hoping Eliott can see his eyes narrowing at the use of a nickname— how dare Eliott use Lucas’ weakness against him?

“Lu?”

He hesitates but stubbornly stands his ground.

“Bab—”

Lucas barely suppresses a squeak before throwing himself at Eliott, effectively shutting him up before he could do something as dumb as calling Lucas baby right in front of their rabid friends. Well, Yann’s still out on the giant bowl teaching Basile how to skate but Arthur is right there, head buried under a scarf and a winter jacket, but there nonetheless. 

Eliott has the gall to chuckle as he basks in the embrace— given under duress, thank you very much, but warm enough what with Lucas’ gazillion layers piled on one after the other. 

“You’re so—” Eliott’s voice is muffled from where his face is buried in Lucas’ shoulder. “Squishy.” He squeezes his arms tight as if to prove a point, like he’s squashing a teddy bear rather than a human being. Lucas feels that he’s in the right to smack his boyfriend upside the head, Eliott’s pitiful yelp notwithstanding. 

“That’s cause I dress for the weather unlike a certain idiot.” Standing on his toes makes him taller from where they’re at so Lucas moves his arms until they fall comfortably around the back of Eliott’s neck, preventing the wind from getting through the exposed skin there. He feels Eliott shiver before a smile is pressed into his neck and lets himself be used as a human heater. 

“If you skate with us, you wouldn’t be so cold.” 

Lucas knows that but he also resents that notion. “No thank you.”

“Does Lucas Lallemant not know how to skateboard?” 

“Does Eliott Demaury want another smack to the head?” 

Eliott laughs, starting to swing them side to side. “Just admit you can’t, Lucas.”

“Can so.” Lucas watches Basile fall on his butt for the thousandth time that day and winces in sympathy. Yeah, no, been there done that. There’s a soft rustling from under him and frankly, Eliott’s arms tightening around his waist should have been a clear warning, but Lucas doesn’t actually react to anything until Eliott hoists him up clear off the ground with a satisfied cackle. “Hey! Wait, what are you— Eliott?!” 

Lucas, rather afraid for his life, clings onto Eliott’s shoulders, screaming close mouthed when he hears Eliott drag his skateboard back by his feet. 

“We’re going for a ride.”

“No the fuck we are not, put me down right now!”

“Come on, just a little bit, it’s gonna be fun.”

“Falling and cracking my head open isn’t my idea of fun.” He squirms in Eliott’s grip, feeling kicking out in hopes of feeling the gravel back underneath them. “If you get on that board right now I swear you’re… you’re grounded.” 

That gets a delighted laugh out of Eliott. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Time out too.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

“No, but I’ll tell my mother that you attempted my murder this very day if you don’t put me down.” 

Grumbling protests aside, Eliott’s pretty quick in relenting after that. He walks the both of them up and out of the ramp and only then does Lucas’ heart stop fucking palpitating. God, he’s going to get a heart attack from one of Eliott’s stunts one day. 

Eliott does bring his board up with them, however, and Lucas hears the scratch of its wheels as he kicks it up the pavement. To his credit, Eliott puts him down as per demanded, but the unsteady surface below his feet clues him in that his asshole boyfriend didn’t quite place him on the ground. 

Thankfully, being best friends with Yann ‘Skater Boy’ Cazas does come with perks; Lucas hadn’t been lying about knowing how to ride a stupid skateboard. 

“I’m sorry, please don’t make your mom call the cops on me,” Eliott apologizes, leaning close to steal a swift kiss from Lucas’ cheek and of course Lucas readily forgives him because he’s apparently weak against cute boys who rightfully fear his mama. Very, very weak. 

He pretends to think about it though, biting back a grin as he slides his hands down to fold his fingers between Eliott’s— he’s standing all wrong on the skateboard and his balance is off so he keeps a tight grip on their connected hands to prevent any accidental wipe outs. “Hmmm, I don’t know…”

“Please. It’ll be awkward if my dad has to visit my place only to arrest me.”

Lucas pauses at that, wobbling on the board enough to probably fall over if it weren’t for Eliott’s steadying hands. “Uh, your dad’s a cop?” 

Whatever lighthearted expression had been on Eliott’s face is gone now, which is unfortunate really. Lucas and his dweeby hybrid self had been enjoying it. He knows there’s probably a conversation to be had there somewhere. Just— preferably not in this minute.

But Eliott simply nods, his calculating look melting away into a playful smile. “I let that one slip during a live once, you don’t remember?” 

And thank god for sensitive boyfriends. Lucas takes the smooth misdirection and runs with it. “Alright, let me clear this up.” He pauses for maximum dramatic effect. “Contrary to popular belief, I have not seen every single one of your posts and stories and lives. Okay, maybe I’ve seen all of your posts but I swear I’ve only seen your live once.”

“Uh huh.” 

“It’s true!” Lucas tugs on their hands, rolling himself closer to Eliott that way. He digs his chin into Eliott’s chest, looking up into those dreamy grey eyes. 

He can’t believe he just unironically used the word dreamy.

“Okay, so you’re a fake fan then.” Eliott’s smile is too soft to back up his teasing. 

Lucas straightens up, lifts his heels that minuscule bit until his lips are level with Eliott’s. “Sorry this fake fan tricked you.” 

Eliott takes it upon himself to brush the tip of their noses together, the perfect balance of gentle and fleeting that has Lucas tilting up for more. “And how is this fake fan planning to apologize?” 

Lucas huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head before slotting their lips into a small kiss. “How’s that?”

“Mm, no, do it again maybe.” 

There’s a sharp flapping sound by their feet and it distracts Lucas enough to delay the second kiss he’d been planning to deliver. He looks down only to see Arthur staring up at them, phone in hand, evidently unimpressed. Lucas had honestly forgotten about him. 

“Do you guys mind?” Arthur gesticulates between the three of them, the vague hand movements has his jacket sleeves flopping about and hitting the pavement. Lucas thinks he gets the gist of what he’s trying to say. Doesn’t mean he cares all that much though. 

“No we don’t mind, actually.” Eliott retaliates, all cheeky and faux oblivious. Lucas bursts out laughing. 

“Just like, take ten steps away from me.” Arthur sits up, shooing them away with one hand. “If I take off my glasses I won’t be able to see how loud you guys are being.” 

It’s a testament to how Lucas is trying his best shot at maturity when he doesn’t roll his eyes immediately. 

“He’s so bold.”

“It’s okay, Imane likes him back.”

“Yeah but I mean, isn’t it a bit intimidating crushing on your best friend’s younger sibling?” 

Lucas shrugs, head perched on Eliott’s shoulder as he absently looks down at Eliott’s phone, where Emir’s cataloguing exactly why he needs to be the most handsome guy at the party later so that Imane would pay attention to him. “Not if it’s Abe. He’s super nice and Emir’s a good guy too so I don’t see why they’d have a problem with it.” 

Eliott takes a moment to respond to Emir, snorting at the immediate barrage of responses he gets. “Still though, what if things go wrong? It’s scary.” 

“Shit happens.” Lucas shifts until he’s able to lay down on Eliott’s lap instead. “So you mean if Lucas 324 is Eliott 324’s best friend’s brother, he wouldn’t go for it? Cause it’s scary?”

The rapid texting above him stops, and Lucas peeks one eye open to watch the disapproving frown on Eliott’s face. “Well if that’s the case, then Eliott 324 better step up.” 

Lucas scoffs, “I’m sure every version of you is charming and perfect and ideal.”

“I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm but thank you either way.” He leans down and rains kisses all over Lucas’ face until a giggling Lucas pushes him away, insisting that his words are a hundred percent sincere. “You have way too much faith in me and my alternate selves. For all we know, Eliott 324 is a massive jerk.” 

“That’s tragic.” Lucas tugs on Eliott’s hand until he has it buried in his hair, fingers carding through the strands in soothing motions. Eliott laughs at his content sigh but he doesn’t care about the inevitable cat jokes when he’s the one who’s really winning here. “Lucas 324 doesn’t like jerks.”

“Very tragic.”

The sound of shoes hitting the metal staircase is loud in the empty building. The footsteps gain in volume the closer they approach, but Lucas doesn’t bother to open his eyes. Doesn’t move even when he hears the fire exit door unlatch with Yann’s familiar laugh following after. 

“There you are!”

“Congratulations,” Lucas says from where he’s still laying down. “You found us.”

“Shut up,” Yann grumps, leaning his board against the wall before plopping onto the floor beside him and Eliott. “Bas and Arthur are getting food, do you guys want anything?” 

Lucas only has enough energy to emit an incoherent groan, rolling over to grab his phone from where it had fallen on Eliott’s other side earlier. “Nah, we have to get going to see mama soon.” 

“Wait, Eliott’s going with you? To see her?” 

He nods, sending off a text confirming with Marie and his mom what time they want them there. “We have to bring Champ back to Marie and mama’s there with her so.” 

When Lucas turns back around, Yann’s wiggling his brows at Eliott. That combined with the giant grin splitting his face is starting to look more disturbing the longer Lucas looks at him. 

Eliott seems to share the sentiment, and he starts laughing a few seconds into their little stare off. “What?” 

“Nothing man, just glad you guys are at meet the parents level.” 

Lucas rolls his eyes, kicking at his best friend’s heel once before resting his ankle on top of Yann’s. “It’s just a casual supper thing.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Shut your face.”

And because he’s dumb, Yann mimes putting a hand over his face, expression blank when he next uncovers it. Lucas throws a balled up thread he’d ripped off of his jeans earlier and sneaks a glance up at Eliott. They make eye contact, what with Eliott already looking down at Lucas with a large, amused smile.

“Let’s head out then?” Eliott says, then turns to address Yann, “we’ll walk with you to where Arthur and Bas went, don’t worry, can’t have you being all lonely now.” 

“Thanks, you’re so nice, Lucas would never.” Yann dodges another kick to his leg. 

“I thought I told you to shut your face?” Lucas lazily hauls himself off the floor, dusting his pants a bit before turning a confused look at Eliott when he notices him pull out a leather jacket from his backpack. “Why do you have that in there?”

Eliott eyes him like Lucas is the one acting strange. “Babe, I have to look good when we get there, first impressions are important.” 

Lucas can feel his cheeks heating up. He can also practically feel Yann’s googly eyes at the back of his head and the internal screeching reverberating through their shared braincell so he’s resolutely not looking back in that direction. At least Arthur and Basile aren’t present. 

He lets the nickname slip, though, choosing to unwind the scarf around him to wrap Eliott up in it instead. If his boyfriend insists on being unreasonable then Lucas would just have to take care of the missed details. 

The missed detail here being the fact that it’s way too fucking cold for a leather jacket, hot as it may look on Eliott. 

“Mama’s not gonna care if you look like a Calvin Klein model, Eliott.” Oh yes she will. Lucas would probably have to endure a few hours of brow raising and elbow nudging. But Eliott doesn’t need to know that. “But if you’re putting that on then you’re also wearing this scarf and that’s final, mister.” 

Eliott snickers, tugging the scarf off his neck and throwing it around Lucas before pushing the leather jacket back inside his backpack. “Okay, okay, fine, I will. And I’ll change later so it doesn’t get too cold. Happy?” 

Lucas grumpily ducks his head down into his scarf until only his narrowing eyes are visible. “Satisfactory.” 

“You know you guys act like a married couple, right?” Yann pipes up, hugging his skateboard to his chest as he leans back against the exit door.

Lucas shoves the door open and watches Yann tumble backwards with a crash. 

Lucas feels like he’s been holding his breath throughout the entire trip to Marie’s house. He’s not nervous, no, he can’t imagine his mother disliking a single thing about Eliott. But it’s not like he’s had a golden track record of significant others to introduce to his mother so he doesn’t know how these things are supposed to go. Casual as he convinces himself this whole thing is, nothing about it feels all that casual to him.

“You look like you’re about to launch yourself into outer space.” Eliott places a hand on the low of his back once they reach Marie’s front porch, thumb brushing back and forth. “I’m supposed to be the nervous one here.” 

“I’m fine,” Lucas squeaks out, highly unconvincing. At least Eliott finds it hilarious so maybe he wouldn’t be a stuttering mess. 

Marie opens the door on the second knock and immediately takes a wiggling Champ into her arms. “Come on in, boys!” She steps back to open the door wider. “Hello my little Champagne, oh I missed you too, I missed you… just leave your shoes anywhere you can find. Lorraine’s in the kitchen,” she whispers the last part with a wink towards Eliott before walking off. 

Lucas laughs a little, easing up under Marie’s presence. He waits for Eliott by the door and notices how his boyfriend’s moving slower than usual, evidently delaying the actual first meeting part of the meeting. He holds out his hand before it gets too ridiculous. 

“She’ll love you,” he says, raising his hand higher when Eliott looks up at him like a deer in the headlights. “Come on.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s right. 

His mama folds Eliott into a warm embrace the moment they’ve exchanged names, endeared as Eliott does stutter through the introductions. 

“He’s handsome,” she says to Lucas when they pass each other in the living room. And there goes the elbow nudging Lucas had predicted earlier. “Very handsome.”

“I know, mama.” He rolls his eyes, sitting on the piano bench where Champ is napping under. Eliott and Marie are deep in conversation as she shows him a photobook of her family back in Jamaica so Lucas occupies himself with the piano, quietly hitting a few keys while his eyes roam over the top for a music book. 

What he finds instead are papers with his mama and papa’s names on them. 

He snatches them off the top of the piano, skimming through the documents to try and inch out what they’re for as quickly as possible. A hand on his shoulder stops his frantic reading and Lucas looks up at his mom with eyes wide in question. 

“It’s not about the transfer if that’s what you’re thinking.” She sits on the bench beside him and flips the papers until she settles on a page with big letters jumping out from the rest. It goes without question now. 

Application (Divorce)

Divorce Order 

When Lucas remains silent, she takes the papers away from his hands and puts them back where he found them. “I think it’s time, don’t you? I brought it over for Marie to read through so…”  

Lucas still doesn’t say anything but he manages a small smile in her direction before tucking her hands in between both of his. They sit there for a bit, just looking at each other, all teary and holding hands. Lucas thinks that yeah, they really are mother and son, getting all sappy at inconvenient times of the day. 

That’s before she laughs again, clear and carefree, and untangles their hands to play a familiar tune on the piano. She glances up at Lucas with a daring smile, one eyebrow raising as if in challenge. 

Lucas bristles, sitting up properly to prove that yes, he can still give her a run for her money. He takes a deep breath, fingers landing soft on the smooth ivory, letting his hands familiarize themselves with the instrument— it’s been a long, long time since he's last played. But here, sitting beside the woman who’s patiently taught him one echoing tune at a time, there’s no doubt in Lucas’ mind that he could never forget a single piece they’ve played together. 

And it feels so good to be doing this again that it almost pushes him over the edge, almost has him straight up crying. Only almost though. 

There’s complete silence in the living room only seconds after they start, and Lucas’ skin prickles at the feeling of eyes on his back. He doesn’t let it distract him, focused on hitting the correct notes as four hands dance around the length of the piano. 

Riopy’s I love you has always been his mama’s favourite. She’d altered the tune slightly so that both her and Lucas could play it together and for him, right now, it’s never sounded better.

Later, watching Eliott enthusiastically converse with his mama about possibly joining the culinary classes she’s attending (thank god), Lucas thinks it only makes sense for Eliott to be present the moment Lucas plays that particular piece for the first time in years. 

They head out with only a few minutes to spare before the bus to Eliott’s apartment arrives. Both of their group chats are blown up with reminders that they’re all supposed to wear costumes to the party, with explicit mentions of how Eliott and Lucas are specifically not allowed to ditch the party until at least two hours into it. 

“What was that song you guys played?” Eliott asks as they settle into the back seats, huddled together for warmth. 

Lucas hides his face inside the fabric of his hood. “I don’t remember,” he says, biting his lip as he wills for the blush to die down. Maybe they should’ve played one of Chopin’s pieces instead. “I’ll look it up later.” 

Yeah. Much, much later. 

Abe had met up with them at Eliott’s so they could walk to the party together. It was apparently the only way to ensure that Eliott doesn’t cancel at the last minute. He’d complained all the way through about being left out and had even called Idris so they could ‘share their experiences as a third wheel’. 

His actions are made all the more ridiculous considering Abe is wearing a fucking banana suit to the party. 

Lucas secretly thinks that he wouldn’t have minded staying in, just him and Eliott on the couch with a movie and some snacks. 

But now he’s standing by the walls at this party, alone with the one drink he’s been nursing since the start, watching his friends jump around on the dance floor as the strobe lights cut through the dark to illuminate the wide smiles they share. 

It’s not that he’s bored. He’s just a little tired from the day he’s had and he could probably only dance as rigorously as everyone else for about five minutes before throwing the towel in. God, he’s getting old. 

Eyes searching, it doesn’t take very long for him to spot Eliott— he stands out after all. Tall and handsome even in a simple hoodie, messy head of hair bobbing along to the bass of the music. Eliott’s been swept into conversation by many, many people all night long and of course his boyfriend’s too sweet to snub them all. It seems like everyone’s constantly vying for his attention, just like that first party they’d attended together, and Lucas is still a little baffled witnessing it. He’s very quickly understanding why Eliott isn’t too fond of attending parties if this is how they always go for him. 

A loud whoop from the dance floor steals his attention and Lucas laughs at the sight of Basile flailing around in a dance battle against Abe of all people. It’s really not a good look to lose a dance battle against a walking banana. But Abe’s unfortunately just that good. 

Imane and Alexia are on the floor, collapsed in laughter. Beside them, Manon and Adam start clapping and cheering when Yann jumps to Basile’s rescue, flailing into a more acceptable dance routine that has Abe jokingly backing off, pulling Idris and Omar into the center of the circle for their turn at the dance off. Daphne is making wide eyes at Emir, poking him in the ribs hard enough to have him flinching closer to where Imane is slowly regaining her wits. Emma is at the bar struggling to balance a tray of drinks in her hands. He certainly hopes those are for the whole group rather than for her alone. 

Lucas hides what he knows must be another dumb smile on his face, watching his friends and Eliott’s friends interact like they’ve always been a huge messy group of idiots rather than only having met each other recently. Never did he allow himself to imagine that his and Eliott’s lives would merge in this way.

“What’s a beautiful guy like you doing here all alone?” Eliott whispers in his ear and Lucas is so startled he almost spills his drink on the both of them. 

But he recovers quickly, snorting at Eliott’s words. “I’m not alone, actually.” 

“Oh. No?” Eliott’s leaning on the wall beside him now, and Lucas thinks he’s the beautiful one here, so beautiful even the lights are shy as they strike flitting colours over his hair, his cheeks, his radiant eyes, his smiling lips.

“Mhm, I have boyfriend but he keeps ditching me for other people. You’ve probably seen him around.”

“Sounds like a terrible boyfriend,” Eliott says, “I suggest you break up with him and run away with me.” 

“What, right now?” Lucas plays along, discarding his drink on the first steady surface he finds. “I don’t know, he’s kinda cute.” 

“I’m cuter.”

Lucas laughs at that, hands anchoring themselves on Eliott’s shoulder as he stands on the tips of his toes. “I can’t see you clearly.” 

Eliott leans down to meet him halfway, catching his lips in a sweet kiss. Literally. He tastes like Fruitopia and somehow, that’s a funny enough thought to have Lucas melting into a heap of giggles. He feels Eliott’s amused huff against his hair before Lucas is being dragged back up, breath catching into a deeper kiss, and all thoughts of fruity drinks are quickly gone from his mind.

Warm hands insistently pull him off the wall and into Eliott’s chest, but it isn’t a hard feat anyway— it’s not like Lucas has any plans to fight against it. He brings his own hands up, sliding from shoulder to neck to the back of Eliott’s head where clumsy fingers tangle themselves into the soft strands they find there. He pulls away soon after, heartbeat off rhythm and lungs begging. His next inhale is an intoxicating mix of cologne and alcohol and Eliott. 

“Can you see me now?” 

Lucas smiles, hands moving to rest on either side of Eliott’s cheeks. Even in the dark, he’s the most precious thing Lucas has ever seen. “I see you.” 

And maybe, just maybe, Lucas number 1 did alright in this universe after all. 

[ngame989]

“Brew” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 6

Writing: @ngame989​

Art: @toxicpsychox​

Editing: @toxicpsychox​, @seddm​, an IRL friend

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: After close to a year on Earthni, Tom's been dragged back into the princely life, and it's a lot less exciting than he'd expected. With Star and Marco away on urgent business, can Janna help him turn a boring errand into a fun adventure?

Comic Page

Masterpost

This one’s a nice change of pace from the last two chapters, I think. TGG’s still a Starco-focused work, expect these to be the exception not the norm, but I think it’s important to strike a balance. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“No results.” Huh? Three eyes narrowed at the screen in frustration. Maybe a different search term? “No results.” Alright Tom, no big deal, man. Maybe you just spelled something wrong. Annnnnd… there. “No results.” How could there be nothing?

Tom leaned back in the chair and sighed, exercising restraint over the little anger demons inside him as he’d trained himself to do. In the past he’d needed a physical bunny to pet if he wanted even a hope of keeping his cool, but at this point suppressing the urge was such reflex that most would think he just had a regular Mewman quick temper and nothing more in all but the most extreme of conditions, but he was getting pretty close to that point now. Grandpa Relicor’s study had everything, or so he thought, but this was the first time he could ever remember being here where it come up short. He’d checked every shelf, everything he could think in the computer, had even fireblasted a few of the shelves just to see if there were any hidden switches or anything. Even Relicor had been at a loss and had been screeching in distress on the floor for long enough that Tom’s brain had graciously tuned it out. What could be so important about this book his mom needed? He hadn’t even had time to change his casual graphic tee from a cartoon he liked, simply tossing his maroon jacket over it before heading out at his mother’s behest. He wasn’t one to say no to her, but it had been hours since he’d shown up here and he was no closer to figuring this out than he had been this morning.

Suddenly his phone buzzed, displaying the familiar beaming face of his ex-girlfriend close up to the camera. A toothy grin erupted as he picked it up, holding the phone up for a video feed. “Heya, Starship.”

“Hey, Tom!” Star beamed into the camera. “How’s it hanging? Long time no see. So,” she rambled out in one breath, “I may have a teensie weensie wittle problem.” She backed up to reveal her hair in complete disarray, sans horns, and black marks all over her light blue dress. Before Tom could even ask the question, her other hand held up charred fragments of her headband. “Someone still hasn’t learned how to use an Earth oven properly!” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“Look, gurl, I said I was like, so sorry! All the Cloud Kingdom kitchens are powered by glitter and horn blasts, like that’s just how ovens are supposed to be, that is all I am saying here,” Ponyhead’s indignant voice chimed in from behind, punctuated by a snort.

“Anyway, we just finished putting out the fires and I need a new headband and their website says they’re almost out of stock and I’ve wanted to show Marco around the Underworld for a while and- wait, is that screeching in the background? Where are you?”

Tom shuffled away from the elder demon still writhing on the floor and cleared his throat. “Just in Grandpa’s study trying to find something for my mom, she really wants it today. I don’t know if I can go- but I can still send the carriage for you guys, if you want.”

“Do you need help with that?” Marco inquired as he peeked his head into the frame, casually wrapping an arm around Star.

“Naaaah, no big deal,” Tom shrugged. “You two should go, though! I can just fly over whenever I finish this.”

Star and Marco looked at each other hesitantly. “Alright,” she said. “Carriage to our house in maybe five minutes?” A fire alarm went off behind her followed by a scream from Ponyhead and an even girlier one from Marco. “Maybe ten,” Star sighed, burying her face in her free hand.

“You got it,” Tom chuckled.

“OK, bye!” Star said with relief before hanging up. He rolled his shoulders from inside his jacket and ran his hands through his hair before stepping into the main foyer, taking advantage of the space to summon the carriage and its horses, the incantations coming effortlessly to him. Demons had been fortunate enough to retain their powers on Earthni, but the location underground and the relative lack of portaling methods available left them even more isolated than previously. While most of the other kingdoms had dissolved or integrated into a loose coalition of government covering all of the Echo Creek area, the Underworld had been content to stay completely under the banner of Lord and Lady Lucitor, and Tom found himself pitching in more and more in his role as Prince. In truth, he would have appreciated the company his friends were offering, but he knew how much it had meant to Star to be able to give this life up, and he didn’t want to drag her - either of them, really, considering Marco had earned an official title on Mewni himself - back into the boring thick of regal errands. Was Prince Thomas Draconius Lucitor really going to let some stuffy old book collection get the best of him? Hah, as if.

With a flick of his wrist, the half-demon shuttled the carriage to the surface in a pillar of flame, barely looking and instead pulling out his new phone. He was still getting the hang of the new and improved Reflectacorp’s Earth tech integration, but he’d at least learned how to open yesterday’s text conversation thread from its new message notification.

Janna: anti-gravity potion attempt 4 failed. affected bottle glass itself and launched into sky. note to self: work under roof. star and marco’s suggestions didnt work either. not all bad though, it went towards cloud kingdom lol

Tom: careful, don’t hit pony’s ego and make it fly even higher ·;) btw pony + starco are going shopping in underworld soon. im stuck working for mom though.

Janna: stores r lame. even in underworld. and srsly dude u gotta stop using starfans dumb name for them. otoh it bugs them so actually nvm go 4 it

Tom: it was mine first >·:( it saves letters when they’re together!

Janna: which is always

Tom: exactly. speaking of which, they’re here ttyl

Star stepped out of the carriage in a nice white polka dotted green dress, quickly followed by Marco, the pair’s fingers remaining intertwined until they gave him a hello hug, and Tom honestly wasn’t sure they’d stopped holding hands even then. Ponyhead burst out a moment later with her phone floating in front of her pointed at herself, and she was in the middle of a monologue to no one in particular.

“-so yeah anyway as you all can see we have now arrived in the Underwoooorld. So yeah this is, like, basically the best place on all of Earthni to go shopping as I’ll be showing you today. Oh yeah, I guess some demon boys live here too. Oh my goodness, say hello you guuuys,” she rolled her eyes as she butted in between Star and Tom, side-eyeing him for a split second before grinning back into the camera. After all this time Pony still hadn’t dropped the passive aggression over his and Star’s messy history; Tom had to admit it was a bit understandable, but did she really have to keep it up in such an annoying way? He rolled his eyes - it was Ponyhead he was thinking about here. “OK, the Ponyhead Experience will be taking a short break. Tune back in soon! Love y’all, buhbye!” She snapped the phone shut and caught it with her tongue. “Ugh, why do all of my vlogs with you dorks get like ten times as many viewers? Tom, you were in the shot for like three seconds and do you know what happened? 2000 more people tuned in! What the heck! It’s like, just because I have one less horn and one less eye I’m not exciting to you? But I can’t stay mad at my adooooring fans.”

“Must be the Lucitor charm.” He flashed a toothy smile and a pair of finger guns at her, accidentally flinging his phone across the room in the process. “Totally planned,” he blurted out with a much less authentic grin. Marco chuckled and picked it up, handing it back and patting him mock-sympathetically on the shoulder while holding back a smirk.

Star giggled but tapped her foot impatiently, looking around the room nervously. “OK, great catching up, but on the way here I checked the website and the headband shop is almost out of stock! We have to go, now! Let’s move it, people! Tom, can we borrow the carriage for the day?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine by me.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou, you’re the best!”

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Marco inquired again.

“You heard the girl, Marco, my audience wants to see us get our shop on!”

Tom blew a raspberry, pushing them towards the carriage. “Relax, it’s nothing. I’m practically done already! Tooootally almost done!”

Marco finally relented, nodding his assent. Star was bouncing up and down so much that she looked ready to launch around the room. He giggled as she wrapped both her arms around his middle and kissed his cheek before hauling him the rest of the way into the carriage. “C’mon boo, mama needs a new pair of horns. Plus we can get whatever you need, too! I saw a few things in the catalog that would look preeeetty good on you,” she sing-songed, walking two fingers up his chest to boop his nose after they plopped down onto the seat together. Ponyhead mimed vomiting at Tom, who silently laughed in response; they were so engrossed with each other that Tom was fairly certain they wouldn’t have noticed even if he’d shouted his laughter, though. He blankly stared at the spot the carriage had been for a few seconds after it exited in a blaze.

“Pretty gross, right?” Tom started and launched a fireball in the direction of the voice, hovering away from the intruder. A split second after, his vision caught up with his instincts and saw Janna in her usual green shirt and beanie and yellow skirt, sans jacket, nonchalantly sidestep the flame. “You do the same thing every time, you really need to work on that,” she chided with her arms crossed and a devious smirk on her face.

He rubbed his temple and gestured at her in sullen disbelief. “How did you-”

“Roof of the carriage.”

“Huh.” An eyebrow up in surprise, studying her expression. “You never usually, you know, answer that.”

She shrugged, kicking a boot into the hard stone floor. “Whatever, guess I’m just bored. Besides, half the reason I do that is to get a rise out of Marco,” she slyly snickered, and Tom couldn’t help but join in. “Alright, demon boy, what adventure are we going on today?”

Tom crossed his arms apprehensively. “Just trying to find a book for my mom, not really much of an adventure.”

“Like I said, dude, I’m bored and shopping is dumb. I don’t mind hanging out here for a study session or whatever, your family’s got great taste in decor.” She picked a skull off the ground and tossed it back and forth between her hands. He grinned back at her, grateful for the company. “So what kind of creepy curses are in this book?”

The pair started walking back into the study as their conversation continued. “Don’t think there are any. It’s called ‘Historia Homewnum’, according to my mom, so it’s probably a history book but that’s all I know.”

“Darn. Demon history’s bound to be pretty cool, though.”

“You’d be surprised how little actually happens down here, it’s just a lot of maintenance. Last month the most important thing I did was a ribbon-cutting ceremony at a new boba cornshake shop, it’s really caught on here since the Cleaving. But man is it good! Marco was right, the little pearls are just so tasty, I like the creamed corn version best.”

“What is it with you and corn, seriously...” Janna shuddered.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” He knew he’d gotten distracted thinking about the delicious creamy beverage, but that didn’t seem like an adequate reason to look so horrified, especially coming from Janna. Not able to figure out any other reason she might be disgusted by his comments, he got his thoughts back on track. “Really don’t know why she wants this thing so much. Anyway, I already checked the entire study for it, and the search archives don’t have anything either. Oh well, what can you do, might as well just give up and-”

“Found something,” Janna piped up, somehow already in the computer chair with her feet on the desk.

“Really? How?” he asked incredulously, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“OK, I didn’t actually find the book, but maybe we should check this place out.” He leaned into the screen to see a Mewgle search for ‘how to find weird book in underworld’ on the screen.

“I already tried that, Janna!”

“Yeah, but your antivirus was blocking this link to some place called the ‘Librarinth’.”

Tom slammed his palm into his forehead. “Of course, the Librarinth! How could I not think to look there, that’s where all the oldest books are. Why was it getting blocked?”

She clicked on the link and both recoiled at the sight: an abhorrent patterned background with almost unreadable randomly colored text and low quality cartoon images scattered all around the page. “Yeah, it’s awful,” she said in response to his obvious horror. “Seriously, whoever must made this website must be, like, a thousand years old.”

“Probably , yeah, but why does that have anything to do with-” His eyes widened in realization as he clapped his hands together in contemplation. “Right, humans and their lifespans. Go on.”

“Look.”

She scrolled past the despondent, blurry faces of demons of all shapes and sizes in the staff section until she arrived at the catalog, folding her arms triumphantly. Tom excitedly butted in, typing into the search box and being greeted with a loading wheel. “Uh, Janna? It’s not working.”

“Pfft, yeah, I might actually be dead by the time the search finishes. But that doesn’t matter because they have our book. It’s the header image for the whole catalog.” He squinted and brought his face closer to the monitor, and to his surprise the title was clear as day on the cover of the book, although all the other information was too difficult to make out. “Alright, let’s go. Main page says the Librarinth is on Floor 216.”

With a snap of his fingers, the demon elevator was summoned into a bookshelf much as it had been the day they had dealt with the Blood Moon. Relicor’s shrieking, which had slowed to a whimper since they’d left, resumed in full; fortunately they began descending, which quickly put them out of earshot. Tom awkwardly stretched his arms, unsure what exactly to say. She was his friend, yes, but he was never the best at small talk, and Janna being Janna didn’t make that any easier. After long, messy years of broken hearts and misguided feelings, he finally felt comfortable forging friendships, but even though they got along quite well there was something about Janna that made that vibe a lot less effortless than with Marco or even Star. Thoughts of his other friends reminded him of something. “Uh, by the way… how did you even know about the carriage earlier?”

“A girl’s gotta keep some secrets.”

“Pony was posting about it every 15 seconds,” he guessed, calling Janna’s bluff.

“Touché. Every 10, though,” she coolly responded. “Ha, now she’s just flipping out because Star and Marco have way more likes than her selfies.”

“Figured you’d have him bugged or something,” Tom chuckled as he scooted over to get a look at Janna’s screen, and sure enough there was a picture collage of Star sitting in Marco’s lap with tens of thousands of likes and comments already. They were laughing their butts off at themselves in a mirror in front of them with novelty sunglasses, fake mustaches, goofy props, and even a few absurd full-body costumes; Ponyhead joined the fun for a few but just as often butt in trying to take over the mirror by herself.

“Ew, no, I disabled it all months ago. Boyfriend Tom was already too cutesy for me, and you two just had a little flirty fling. Do you think I’d really want to see or hear whatever Star and Marco have going on? They’re, like, deeply in love, or whatever, and it’s gotten even worse in the last few weeks.”

He murmured in tacit agreement. Now that he thought about it, they had seemed even more affectionate than usual, but he wasn’t too keen on uncovering why that might be. The ding of the elevator saved him from any further speculation, and he and Janna stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, which was empty with cobwebs coating most of the weathered stone walls. Janna looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Anyway, so the Librarinth is basically a combination of a library and a labyrinth-”

“Right, I got that,” she curtly retorted.

“The legends say that some ancient librarian demons wanted to challenge any who sought knowledge, so they hid all the books in a giant maze that only the worthy could navigate. But everyone who made it still decided to organize it thoroughly for some reason, and you still had to check out the books and bring them back and all that.”

She ran a finger over the dust on the front counter, and the surface of the desk sizzled in response, causing her to pull her hand back before poking the bubbles that formed with a curious smile. “So why is it completely empty?”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “Weeeeeeell, after a few people went missing or insane, everyone realized it really wasn’t a great way to, you know, run a library. Grandpa actually started collecting books to try and get them away from this place. No one really knows what goes on in there, but as far as I know it’s still maintained even though no one uses it. The kingdom stopped staffing the lobby but they could never just shut it down because anyone who tried, well-”

“Went missing or insane. Sounds cool, I’m in.”

“You sure?”

“Dude, you brought me to a wicked hell maze filled with psychotic demon nerds. Maybe there’ll be bottomless pits or a wicked dungeon boss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Mr. Lucitor,” she purred, running a finger up his chest and flicking his nose.

“Haha, very funny. And it’s Prince Lucitor,” he sarcastically chided, poking her arm in response before crossing the room with her following, but he couldn’t help but hide that he was flustered. Seeing Star and Marco’s relationship in the past year had reinforced his already-firm convictions about romance: he wanted someone with whom he could be life partners in all ways, not just handholding and rooftop picnics. Otherwise, what would be the point? He’d made that mistake enough times, and even just a light jab at the notion of him casually flirting struck made him feel self-conscious about that past. Finally his reflection was halted when he found what he sought: a large wrought iron door furnished with ornate demonic symbols and various carvings of mythological creatures dwarfed them both. With a soft, steady flame for light, he brought his hand up and ran it over the rusty engravings. He jumped back with a gasp as the fire spread into the lines of the door, lighting up the patterns on it and causing it to creak as it slowly opened.

“Nice,” Janna muttered in awe before strolling inside, with Tom hesitantly following. She was the most eager of their little group to dive headfirst into the unknown, even more than Star most of the time, but he trusted her gut.

They started walking down the long, cramped hallways, hearing only the sound of their own footsteps on the cold floor. Janna peeked her head into a small doorway that appeared to their left, earning herself an explosive blast to the face and getting knocked onto her butt. Tom slammed the door shut and leaned in to read an inscription next to it. “Incinerator for any books too damaged or damaging for further use. Probably not the right place.”

Janna huffed, brushing herself off and finding scraps of paper among the char. “I can see that. Seriously, what kind of labyrinth labels its doors?”

“Maybe one run by book nerds,” Tom offered, gripping her hand to help her up.

“So it’s just as bad at being a labyrinth as it is a library. Neat. Great adventure.”

Tom pressed on, keeping his focus ahead of them. “Hey, I’m just here to help my mom. You’re the one that said you were fine with anything.”

“Fine, fine. Just saying, I could be working on my potions or something.” She pulled a glass bottle full of purple liquid from her skirt pocket and casually tossed it at a wall. Janna snickered at Tom’s yelp when it shattered, but found herself joining him in backing away when a chunk of stone quickly deteriorated and slammed into the ground at incredible speed. She went over and carefully kicked a pebble, finding it impossible to even budge. “See, this was just a stupid pro-gravity potion. Worthless.”

He leaned against the stable wall opposite the hole, sighing. “I’m sure there has to be something interesting here. What if we, I dunno, make it a competition or something?” His frustration with both the situation and Janna were there, yes, but he still wanted to try and get something fun out of the day.

“Go on,” Janna said, eyes flickering up from the bottle that she was tossing between her hands nonchalantly.

OK, maybe he should have thought further ahead. His arms flailed as he scrambled to come up with an idea. “OK, so, uh, whoever finds the weirdest thing in this place in the next hour wins. Just call them out if you think you found something. Or whoever finds the book, whichever comes first, yeah. Mom still needs it.”

“Momma’s boy. I respect that. You’re on, Tom.” Janna cocked an eyebrow, staring at him for a second before pushing off the wall into a sprint, opening the first door she could find. “Empty. Another empty. Three empties, dammit.”

Tom used his flight to travel more smoothly from door to door on his side of the corridor, but still found himself losing ground as he took the time to read the sign posted by each threshold. The ‘Demonic Studies’ room had a very ornately ghoulish aesthetic, with macabre skeletal models throughout. Definitely something to show Janna on the way out just for the aesthetic, and it’d have been weird for most humans, but it wasn’t any more abnormal than what the two of them were used to as a daily routine. Another room for astronomy had an exquisite planetarium dome, but it turned out to be rather useless as the Underworld did not, in fact, contain any stars since it was underground. There was, however, a plentiful selection of guides to stalactites stocked on the shelves. The next four whole sections were devoted to anger management self-help books, which only made him waste precious seconds cringing at old memories.

His pace picked up as he kept going from door to door finding nothing but normal library fare, although he had to admit it was certainly well-maintained. On any other day he might actually enjoy some of the things here, but today he was on a mission to get out of here so they could actually have fun elsewhere.

‘Bookworms’... now that had potential. What sorts of hybrid creatures could lurk behind the inches of wood? “I think I might have found something!” he shouted, throwing open the door only to receive a harsh shushing. Within were only elderly demons in cozy sweaters reading by candlelight, all now glaring at him with an intensity that reminded him of his mom’s own rare reprimands. “Never mind,” he loud-whispered back out into the hall as he gently closed the door and found Janna in a nearby corridor. “Ugh, why is there nothing interesting here?” Sparks trailed behind him from his mounting anger as he paced.

“Tell me about it, even ‘Wormbooks’ was just a bunch of regular novels, somehow,” she sighed. “I was hoping for a big long chain of open books slithering around on the ground, now there’s a party.” She slumped down against the wall next to the streak of flame he’d left on the ground, idly stamping it out with her boot until Tom sat down beside her.

“Wouldn’t a wormbook be the opposite? A big fat worm in the shape of a book?”

“Nah, it’d totally be a book made of a bunch of little flatworms all working together, duh. Still pretty lame.”

OK, now he knew something was up with her. “Janna, is- is something wrong?”

Her body slouched further down until she was almost horizontal on the cold floor, staring ahead of her like a zombie. “Being weird has just felt so pointless lately. Everything’s weird now, all the time! I’m wasting all my time trying to brew potions when there’s a shop that sells them on every corner. I got so bored that I even passed that same dumb test Marco did and now I’m done with high school, like, for real this time.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s easy if you know who to blackmail.” Tom blinked a few times, not sure why he’d expected anything different. “Everyone else is moving on with their lives, but I’m still feeding the same old possums and picking up the same old tennis balls. The whole point of my routine is that it’s different, it’s me, it’s my Jannanigans or whatever Star calls it, but it’s just not the same. I’m still into all that stuff, and Earthni’s actually really cool, but… ugh.” With that, her head fully sunk to the ground.

Tom brought his palms together over her head, opening and shutting his hands while wiggling his fingers around. “It’s a wormbook,” he said hesitantly, not really sure what he was doing. It was silly amusement, but perhaps that was just what she needed right now. Janna frowned and rolled her eyes, so he snapped at her arm with his hand puppet wormbook a few times.

“Alright, I get it,” she barked out, but her sullen demeanor slowly cracked under the onslaught of frivolity as she sat back up with an unusually ponderous look at him.

“Remember that time you took me bootsledding?” She nodded. “You told me that I needed to find a life outside of Star, and- and it was really great advice. Didn’t mean I still couldn’t like spending time with Star or anything, heck, I still do! But I just needed to get out of that rut of depending on it. Maybe you just need to do that, too. If doing your weirdness by yourself is normal, then adding something normal might be kinda weird.”

“That’s it.” Janna leapt to her feet, looking very suddenly invigorated. “That’s it!”

“Well, uh, glad you liked it. It was nothing, really, just trying to be a good pal-”

“Yeah, yeah, that too,” she waved dismissively, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit scorned. “If weird is normal then normal is weird. We were looking for the craziest things we could find here, but everything that should have been weird was normal, so we should be looking for the most painfully boring room here!” All three of Tom’s eyes blinked a few times as her words sunk in. Could it be…? “Tom, over here!” He hustled over to a particularly plain wooden door. Janna pointed at the plaque on the wall, which was far more faded than the others had been. “Look. ‘Government Records’.”

A burst of energy coursed through Tom’s blood, sparking life in him once more, and he could see the same reflected in Janna’s determined brown eyes. “And the book Mom wanted has something to do with history. Maybe it’s political history! Janna, you might be a genius!”

“Pfft, ‘might’. Now we just gotta…” She grabbed his arm, aiming it at the door, and he looked at her incredulously. “C’mon, dude, who knows what’s behind there. We’re gonna bust in with a demon blast, duh. Pew-pew!”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip turning up in a begrudging smile gave away his agreement. The pair aimed at the door and blew it off its hinges before charging in through the smoke.

“I see you two have finally solved the grand riddle of the Librarinth!” A deep, booming voice greeted them from the smoke. “Janna Ordonia, Thomas Lucitor, you certainly took your time. I expected you to book it here much more quickly. No matter, for this room shall be your tome!”

“How do you know my-” Janna stammered.

“Uh, don’t you mean tomb-” Tom started at the same time before realizing the wordplay and groaning in misery. Wait a second… Epic threats, an obvious personality quirk…

“Dungeon boss!” the teens cheered together, glancing back and forth between each other and the remainder of the room in front of them obscured by shadow.

“It is I, the bookkeeper of this place. I guard the most sacred treasure of all… knowledge!” Paper rustled loudly, echoed throughout the cavernous space, far taller and wider than Tom had noticed when they first entered with a massive array of bookshelves many times taller than him in a single row near the back wall. The ground beneath them began to shake and Tom tossed a puff of light in front of him, exposing the wide chasm that had just opened up in the ground, swallowing all the shelving in the room. Neither were prepared for the sight that greeted them: a coiled mass unfurled from the abyss and slithering with purpose along the ground, finally raising itself up to stand at fifteen feet tall, swaying back and forth with enough force to create an artificial wind within the space. A closer look showed that the body was made of some peculiar segments of… books, of all shapes and sizes. The volume at the top of the chain was much larger and far more ornately embossed than the others, and on the blood red surface of the cover Tom could make out a set of eyes. As the picture became more and more clear, he could finally see what they were up against. Now THIS is a bookworm.

“Aren’t libraries supposed to be, like, public and free?” Janna blithely inquired.

“You are correct, child, but perhaps try reporting that to your friend there! The Lucitor family is the sworn enemy of this great Librarinth! That fiend Relicor pilfered our collection for his own use for millennia, and the rest tried to shut this place down for good. But worst of all, in the most egregious display of contempt I have witnessed since the dawn of writing itself… Prince Lucitor and his ilk have amassed twenty-six dollars in unpaid fees!”

The tension in the room nearly evaporated in a heartbeat as Tom and Janna paused momentarily before bursting out into raucous laughter.

“Seriously, dude? I could just, like, repay it.” He fumbled in his pockets for his wallet for a moment before being interrupted once more.

“Do not condescend to me, children! It is far too late to make up for these sins with mere currency. Revenge is my fee most overdue, now prepare to meet… Overdoom! I shall harness the power of the written word to spell your demise!”

Books were hurled from the depths of the crevice en masse. Tom stepped in front of Janna to blast them away, but they had taken on a life of their own and homed in on him, covers flapping in the air like wings. Behind Tom, Janna snatched one out of the air to thwart a flank attack. She grabbed his left arm and pointed it up, tapping his elbow frantically. He spared a glance and saw the paper tornado coalescing, and understood her intention. Demon flames surged out of both hands with Janna calling the shots for the left side and Tom focusing on his right. They used the opportunity to back up to a wall, letting them cover every attack vector but creating a stalemate they were sure to lose in time as the seemingly endless offense droned on. Overdoom for the time being simply floated out of the abyss, glaring harshly at them as more and more papers kept emerging.

“Wait, Tom, look…” Still using his hand, she pointed to a shelf that had fallen at an odd angle and hadn’t collapsed into the abyss. There was a large, torn-up poster on which he could barely make out the word “Historia”.

“That might be it,” he breathed out, starting to feel the burn from minutes of nonstop vigilant defensive demon blasts. Oddly, none of the books in that corner were joining the assault. Almost as if...

“It’s making them magical in the chasm.” Tom’s heart leapt up in his chest at the revelation, hope and adrenaline mixing in his veins to keep him fully alert. But charging in was a suicide mission and they clearly couldn’t win on raw firepower.

“Have you had enough? Are you children yet ready to come scrawling on your hands and knees to a-tome for the sins of your forefathers?” the imposing figure growled, bristling impatiently.

“Did it seriously just use the tome pun again?” Janna griped, running her hands past her eyes and down her cheeks in disgust. “For a word nerd, that’s just awful.”

“Yeah…” Tom absent-mindedly responded. He knew she was right, though. Book, tome, scrawl… even if the creature’s summoning powers were off the charts, and it wielded them with calculated ease, its cocky wordplay taunts left something to be desired. It struck him then: what if they’d been approaching this all wrong? If the battle couldn’t be won by blows, then they had to find another option, and Tom was ready to put his plan into action.

He quickly shook off Janna’s rather tight grip on his arm and stepped forward, mustering up a confident expression masking any fears he still had left. “Nice try, Overdoom. Your words aren’t scaring us. Learn to read the room!”

Its “body” immediately began wiggling violently in the air as it crawled a bit forward towards them. Tom paid careful attention to its back end, which had climbed a few feet out of the ground in the move. “How dare you! Petulant brats!” Literary fire and brimstone rained down upon them with more fury than ever, and the two backed up into a corner which was the best they could do in a room largely devoid of any cover.

“What the hell-” Janna whispered through gritted teeth. Tom wriggled his tail out and waved it in front of Janna’s face momentarily. “Now is not the time to-” She was cut off when a barrage of index cards launched at them with enough force to somehow chip the stone behind them on impact. Tom forcefully nodded his head towards the worm’s tail, waggling his own once again. Her eyes lit up much like his had and she nodded in understanding.

“Come on, is that the best you got? I’ve heard them all before, at least give us something novel!”

Janna stood beside him, and her grimace even managed to spook Tom a bit. “I’d alphabet you couldn’t do better even if you tried!” Not what he would’ve gone with, but hey, if it helped tick Overdoom off then who was he to say no?

“You can talk up a storm all you want, but no matter what volume of air you blow, all I feel is a not-so-rough draft!”

“ENOUGH!” Overdoom’s tail launched out of the chasm faster than either could follow, crossing the room in a heartbeat. Tom shoved Janna out of the way before it wrapped itself around him, dragging him much more slowly towards the abyss. His jacket and jeans mercifully protected the paper edges pressing into him, but it was still a painfully tight squeeze that left him gasping for air. His arms were uselessly pinned inside the embrace as he was dragged headfirst, but their hypothesis had been proven correct as all the books around them had dropped to the ground lifeless.

“Tom!” Janna called out. He strained his head to see she’d removed her beanie and had something purple in her hand that she lobbed at that moment. Through the haze of pain he recognized it as another of her potions. The arc was due to miss until he summoned his energy reserves and redirected it with a weak burst of flame from his boot. Though the glass was durable enough to not melt or shatter, the demonic heat changed the potion into a bubbling olive green milliseconds before it contacted a random segment of the behemoth they were fighting. All at once, its hold on Tom and the rest of its body went limp as it began floating lazily into the air before bouncing off the ceiling a few times like a balloon. Janna ran over and helped Tom up as Overdoom screamed inarticulately from many feet above. They traversed the chaotic mess towards the pile they’d spotted previous. After some digging around, he found ‘Historia Homewnum’ miraculously unscathed and protected by a large, sturdy slab of mahogany that had fallen flat on top of it. “I got it!”

“Cool, potion is wearing off. We need to go.” Janna calmly stated. Twin jets of fire erupted from his feet as he swiftly passed the book to Janna and scooped her up in his arms, carrying them across the room towards the door. After setting Janna down, he hesitated for a moment as she stood in the doorway.

“Do you think I should still pay the late fee? I feel kinda bad and-”

“TODAY MAY HAVE BEEN YOUR VICTORY, BUT TOME-ORROW WILL-”

Tom sighed in resignation with a very unimpressed expression. “OK, yeah, never mind.” And with a quick slam of the door, they were both out scot-free. They didn’t stop running until they arrived back at the elevator. Once inside, they slumped down onto the ground as they began the journey back up to the main surface of the Underworld.

“Woo!” Tom was caught off guard by Janna expressing visible joy, and it was immediately infectious. “Now that’s an adventure. Of course, demon fire is what makes the potions work. Makes a lot more sense. Stupid ink smudge, I burned all those lemons for nothing.” He belly laughed, falling over to the floor and clutching his gut as Janna kicked him in the arm.

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it.”

Her foot backed off after one last good hit. “So now you just have to give that book to your mom?”

“Yeah, should only take a minute. Want to come with?”

“Dude, she’s half a story tall and cries lava. I’d be honored. Oh crud, Pony’s current stream title is ‘WHY Y’ALL CARE MORE ABOUT EARTH TURD AND B-FLY THAN ME?!?!’” Janna showed him the notification on her phone. “That can’t be good.”

Tom pulled out his phone and called to see what was up. Pony picked up after only one ring and didn’t even bother with a greeting as she screamed so loudly that he lost hearing for a moment in his right ear. Her voice carried through the elevator car even without being put on speakerphone. “Yo Tom, why do all my Pony Pals just want to watch those two idiots kiss and cuddle? What is up with that? I even gave my fanbase a stupid nickname, they eat that stuff up, so why won’t they looooove meeeeee?” Business as usual with Pony, it seemed. “An-y-way, this whole shopping spree was amaaaazing, I am all kinds of extra fabulous now. B-Fly and Earth Turd took over the stream cuz the viewers, like, wanted a Q&A sesh but I’m only giving them twenty minutes! Hmph!”

“Might as well just make a whole show about them,” Janna chimed in, rolling her eyes a few times for good measure.

“Wait, demon boy, is Janna there? What the heck have you two been getting up to? Don’t tell me you too are getting your freak on too, I could not handle that T.M.I.-”

Yeah, there was nothing more to gain from that conversation. Tom flipped his compact shut, disconnecting the call. Wait, ‘too’? Did she mean- he shuddered involuntarily. You know what, nope, just not going to think about that one.

“So glad I turned off the cameras,” Janna mumbled, curling up into a ball on the floor, clearly not wanting to touch that whole situation either.

He opted to make contact with the other group via Marco instead - why he hadn’t just done that in the first place, he’d never know - and sent a quick text. “Marco wants to get dinner at the Waterfolk Kingdom in, like, an hour and a half. Apparently Star found some earrings she wanted at the last minute, and Pony got arrested for shoplifting three seconds after I hung up.”

Janna cackled in response. “Let’s just meet them there. My jacket got ripped to shreds by the possums last week, might as well get a new one while I’m down here. Been thinking about changing it up. I kinda like that style.” She lifted up his arm and poked at a button on the sleeve of his own.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can show you where I got it.” He stumbled over his words, still caught off guard by this new normal-person-Janna. The elevator dinged and the teens began their trek through the Lucitor castle in search of the queen. “So, the Librarinth... we’re definitely going back there at some point, right?”

“Totally, bet’s still not over. We should do this more often, you’re not so bad a friend.”

“You too, and yeah, we should.” Looking back on the day, it had honestly been one some of the most fun he’d had in a while, despite almost dying at least once. Tom still wasn’t sure what to make of this friendship brewing between them, but if it meant more days like this to look forward to? Maybe he could get used to that.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: second one to know, adam page

Notes:

This is another fake fic title ask sent to me by @adampage​ on my old writing blog (which is now my main) It’s part 1 of a 2 part thing, so the second part will be posted right after this.

Summary:

Giselle and Adam are best friends. Also helplessly, hopelessly in love with each other. Giselle gets dumped by a shitty boyfriend and is left without a date to go home for the holidays. Enter Adam. 

Pairing:

Adam Page x OFC, Giselle

Warnings:

Uhh, none.

“Now princess, don’t get upset. I told you from the beginning when you asked me to… Do that.. That I might not be able.” Sean stared her down and took a few deep breaths. Just the prospect of her getting upset and making a scene and making him look like the bad guy.. When he saw her tearing up, he grumbled. “Don’t make a scene. We’re in public for God’s sake, have some class.”

Giselle stared up at him, a hand in her hair as she took a few long and deep breaths. When he told her to have some class, she gave a hollow laugh because suddenly, it hit her.. He was just saying that work was the reason he couldn’t make the trip to meet her family. In reality, he felt like he was better than her family. Better than her.

Suddenly everything he’d said to her became clear as crystal and she realized she was essentially nothing more than a plaything to him. She was a rung on the ladder of his career. Having her on his arm drew him attention, gave the illusion that he had his shit together and he was what a successful company needed.

“Have some class, hmm?”

“Giselle, don’t start. I don’t have the time or the patience for one of your tantrums. Now I’ve said I’m sorry. And you need to accept that. In relationships, we compromise.”

… no, I give and give and give and forgive and you do NOTHING… the thought as it hit her prompted her to finally say something.

“I don’t accept it. And what we have isn’t a relationship, Sean, c’mon..”

“It is?” Sean eyed her, a brow raised and an irate look on his face as her voice raised just a hint. Giselle stepped closer and she snatched at the necklace around her neck. “Go find yourself a new fucking toy to play with.”

She turned to walk away, intent on finding her friends or finding a quiet place and calling her mom to explain what happened -and hear her mother say those dreaded words, and as she did, he gave an amused chuckle. “Are you really breaking up with me right now?”

She tilted her head slightly and pretended to think it over. “Yeah. Actually you holier than thou piece of shit, yeah I am.”

“Just know that I set the bar. You’re never going to find anyone who can bring what I do to the table.” Sean called out after her but she continued to walk, shoving through the crowd as she focused on keeping herself reasonably together until she could find a quiet and private area to fall apart in.

She felt drained and yet, somehow as if a huge weight had been lifted off her. She wasn’t dreading his excuses or lies anymore. She wasn’t having to listen to his little casual remarks about her or her upbringing or her job or anything he liked to nit pick about.

“How the hell was I so stupid?” she wondered aloud, shaking her head sadly as she sank into a seat.  She bought her knees to her chin, listening to her flight boarding and yet not rushing to it immediately.

… I’ll get a later flight, it’s not like I don’t know what they’re all gonna say when I show up without Sean anyway… they all told me he acted like he was too good for me…

XXX

Hangman tensed as he watched the whole thing go down. He stood there a second or two, torn between going after her and going after her now ex boyfriend and throttling the guy.

“Don’t waste your time on him, buddy.” Kenny spoke up, nodding in the direction Giselle disappeared to instead.

“Yeah, go find Giselle, she looked really upset and they’re calling her flight now.”

Adam took off after his best friend rather than go pull her ex out of line for his flight and beating the guy senseless. He found her sitting in a lesser crowded waiting area, staring out the window and for a second or two, he worked on calming himself down.

… if she were with me that would never have happened… I’d never do that…

… well, man, here’s your shot… you gonna shoot it or stand here and think about shootin it all night…. That last thought spurred him forward and he made his way over to where she sat.

After a few seconds of just sitting there, he put his arm around the back of her chair, resisting the urge to comment on how soft the jet black curls were as they brushed his arm.

He cleared his throat, trying to think of just the right thing to say at the moment. She shifted to lean against him and wiped at her eyes, laughing and shaking her head. “I can’t believe I ever thought that guy was the one.”

Adam shrugged and muttered something about the way love makes people crazy sometimes because he couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t the truth.

“Yeah well there’s crazy and there’s plain stupid, Hangman and I’m afraid that right now, I fall into that second category.”

“C’mon, hon, don’t say that. I happen to think you’re pretty damn great.” Adam leaned in, wiping at her eyes with his thumb. He noticed that the flight she was supposed to be getting on was already departing and he swore, quietly.

“It’s okay. I’ll just.. Take a day to pull myself together.” Giselle shrugged as if it were nothing, and Adam nodded.

“At least call your family. Tell ‘em.”

“Don’t remind me.” Giselle gave a weak laugh as she took a few deep breaths and then stood. “C’mon. I’ll walk  you guys to your flights.”

“We’ll walk them.”

Giselle eyed Adam and he stared right back at her. “I am not gettin on a flight and leavin you here alone.”

She bit her lip, starting to protest, but Adam plugged his ears. “I’ll stay until you get a flight. We can get a hotel room and have a sleepover or somethin’.”

“Okay, fine. But I’m gonna warn you now. I’m probably not going to be much company.”

Adam chuckled and gave her that grin of his as he shook his head. “I’ll keep ya entertained. Promise.”

Somehow, Giselle didn’t doubt it, but she still felt guilty, making him delay his own plans to return home. “You don’t… have to do this.” she tried again to protest, to talk him out of staying behind just because she was. But Adam wasn’t hearing it, pressing a finger into her lips and cutting her off mid sentence. They wandered over to where Cody and Brandi stood talking to Kenny and the Bucks, saying their last goodbyes before their flights departed.

Kenny flashed a knowing grin as he set sights on them. “Finally.” he mouthed as Hangman gave him a warning look and mouthed back, “Not right away, damn.”

Adam slipped his arm around her and despite herself, she leaned against his side, staring up at him. It didn’t surprise her at all he was doing this. Adam was just that kind of man.

“They’re calling our flights. See you around, Page.” Matt and Nick gave their friend a hug and Kenny eyed Giselle and Adam. “Don’t both of you have flights?”

“We’re catchin a later one.” Adam answered as Kenny chuckled and nodded, stepping up to hug Adam and using the hug to whisper to his friend, “ If you keep waiting on the perfect time, you’re gonna miss out, buddy.”

Adam nodded and then turned his attention to Giselle as their friends boarded their flights. Clearing his throat, he nodded to the parking lot. “If we want a hotel room, we might wanna leave now.”

“Yeah, true. I just hope we can find one.”

Her cell phone rang and she eyed her mom’s number, finally sighing and muttering “Best to just get this over with.” as she stepped away, answering her mom’s video call.

“Darlin? Why are you still in the airport, hm?”

Giselle honestly meant to answer her mother, but before she could, her mother was swearing under her breath and then sighing. And naturally, her mom went there.

“That guy of yours blew ya off. See, this is…” her mother started to say it but Giselle spoke up calmly, “Yeah, look. I missed my flight fighting with him and breaking it off between us, so if you’re about to say I told you so, get it over with because I am so exhausted, Mama.”

“Where are ya? You’re not alone, right? Because you don’t make the best decisions…”

“I’m with Adam right now. He missed his flight too, so we’re going to catch the first ones out in the morning I guess. What the hell do you mean I don’t make the best decisions? Nevermind, mama, don’t answer that. I… I’ve gotta go. I don’t want to argue with anyone else tonight, especially not a literal brick wall.”

She hung up and Adam chuckled quietly from behind her as he dragged his hands through his hair and eyed her in concern. “You okay, Ele?”

“My mama being herself, of course.”

“Yikes. Let me guess, they adored that jerk?”

“Oh, no, she hated him. Hindsight being what it is, I can’t hold that against her, but you know how she is… Treating me like a child no matter what I do. It’s a mess.. Can we just.. Go now? Please?”

Adam nodded, picking up her bag as he slung his across his shoulder and Giselle went to take the bag from him. He shook his head. Their hands brushed and Giselle stared up at him, biting her lip and staying totally silent for a few seconds.

“What’d she say that got you all wound up, hon?” Adam asked as they walked out of the airport and towards the rental car that luckily, she hadn’t returned earlier. Giselle sighed and looked up at him, giving a sheepish laugh. “She’s right, I mean.. I don’t make the best decisions.”

Adam stopped them in the doorway of the airport and looked down at her, shaking his head. “She’s not right. You just thought ya loved the guy. There’s nothin wrong with that.”

“I think she was referring to all my other so called mistakes. She gets like this when my sister comes home with all the grandbabies, starts trying to meddle in my life because it’s not EXACTLY what she wants it to be.” Giselle sighed and shivered in the cold. Adam held out his jacket and she eyed him. “It’s freezing out here, are you insane? You need that. I’m fine, the car’s not far.”

“Take it, woman. Stop being so damn stubborn!”  Adam chuckled, holding the jacket out again. This time Giselle took it, snuggling down into it, letting the smell of her best friend fill her nose because he always smelled so good and it always made her feel better somehow. She pressed into his side and peered up at his phone as he muttered, “There’s a hotel not even a block away. We’ll try there. You eat anything tonight? I’m starvin.”

Giselle’s stomach growled almost on cue and she shook her head sheepishly. Adam eyed her and she admitted with a shrug, “I was running behind. I thought I could just grab something when they came around on the plane.. Then get actual food when I found a hotel on my all night layover.”

“Woman, what the hell? Look, we’re goin to find an Applebee’s or somethin.” Adam chuckled, shaking his head at her as he put his arm back around her and they walked towards the yellow Challenger she’d been so excited about snagging when they all rented cars earlier in the week. Giselle put the keys into his hand and Adam unlocked the car, opening her door. As she went to lower herself into her seat, they brushed against one another and Giselle found herself just… Sort of staring at him.

She took a deep breath. It was that feeling she seemed to get a lot lately around him. The one she couldn’t quite pin down. The one that had her tingly all over.

Adam caught her gaze, fingers tucked beneath her chin to make her look at him. “Hey… it’s gonna be okay, darlin. What you did was the right thing.”

“I know. Honestly? It doesn’t really hurt. I’m… More disappointed in myself than anything. Like… how did I not see that about the guy?” Giselle shook her head and sighed, taking a few long breaths as Adam pulled the car out into traffic. They were pulling into the parking lot of an Applebee’s near the airport and he snickered quietly, realizing that she’d just really started to doze off. Reaching out, he tapped her shoulder and cleared his throat as he leaned in.

“Hey.. we’re here, Ele.”

Giselle sat up, rubbing at her eyes and stretching. Adam was getting out and walking around, opening her door for her and again, as she got out, she wound up standing close to him, the jacket he’d given her to wear beyond big enough to swim in. Adam laughed when he caught her staring up at him, making the joke that he had to have something in his nose and she shook her head, choosing to stay quiet.

“We goin inside, or?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Adam couldn’t help but ask again and Giselle shrugged, but gave a half smile. “I don’t honestly know right now but I think.. Maybe.”

Truth be told, she just felt relieved to an extent. It hurt, but at the same time, it didn’t. Then again, she reminded herself, this is just the night you finally had enough. There’s no telling how you’ll feel about this in the morning.. When it actually sinks in.

She tried not to think about it. Just like she fully intended to continue doing. She didn’t want to think about any of it, from how stupid she’d been to choose a guy like Sean to begin with, to just how blind she’d let herself become while she’d been with him, to how more than likely everyone -from her family to her co workers, could see right through him.

Adam nodded, staring at her intently while also trying not to do it. “That’s good, darlin. I mean it, you’re gonna be okay. You’ll see.”

“You say that like you don’t know what a mess I am.” Giselle hugged against him for warmth and Adam tensed slightly, arms tightening around her. His nose lingered in her hair and he took a few deep breaths. “You’re not a mess.”

“I kind of am.” Giselle argued. Adam shook his head at her no and she sighed. “Fine. I’m starving. Let’s just go in and get food.” it was her way of changing the subject because suddenly she was picking up on this heavy lingering tension and realizing that tonight was not the first time it had been present.

That it seemed to hang heavily in the air whenever she was around Adam.

Something Riho said earlier in the month, when they’d all gone out for Halloween, it came rushing back to her.

.. no, that’s not it… i mean, i am attracted to him but like… that’s all it is, it has to be, I’d know if it were more than that, right?… she thought to herself as they found a back booth and scanned the menu.

XXX

“ I will… Never try to eat that much again, fuck.” Giselle groaned as they stepped into the hotel room they’d just gotten. Adam’s lack of a laugh at her comment and the way she went about being overdramatic about it immediately drew her attention to what he was currently fixated on.

The room they’d been given only had one bed.

Giselle’s mouth opened and closed and before she could stop it, that feeling was back, fluttering through her insides, making her heart race a little. She dragged her fingers through her snow dampened hair and opened her mouth to say something but Adam had apparently been thinking the same because he blurted out with a shrug, “You take it, darlin. I’ll be fine, I’ve slept on worse than that couch thing.” he nodded to a loveseat that despite it’s upscale design, looked about as comfortable as a boulder.

Giselle started to shake her head, but Adam was grabbing a pillow and stopping in front of her, a hand lingering close to her hip as he stared down at her. “It’s fine. Take the bed.”

She didn’t argue - it wouldn’t have done a lot of good, Adam was a stubborn guy, she knew it from experience as his best friend, and she flopped onto the bed, letting out a long and slow breath.

“Are you sure? I mean..”

“Darlin, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.” Adam reassured her, even as he sank down and grunted because the little two person sofa gave… Nothing at all. The so called cushions felt like brick covered in black pleather.

And given the fight he’d been in earlier at the arena, it wasn’t the best feeling.

Giselle tried to settle into the giant King sized bed after wiggling out of her clothing, but watching him toss and turn and try to get at least a little comfort left her feeling guilty because what the sofa lacked in the way of comfort?

The bed was like a cloud covered in pale blue sheets.

After turning out the lights, she tried to go to sleep and she just… Couldn’t. Everything from the day so far was rushing through her mind only to fleet just as she’d try to grasp one solid thing, one tangible thought.

Until the most unexpected one of all crept in..

… You’re both adults and Adam is not comfortable over there… Sharing the bed… Nothing has to happen and you do feel really comfortable with Adam…

This was the one solid thought she grasped onto and as if she were on autopilot, it’s the thought that had her sitting up in bed and reaching for the switch to the lights. Adam grunted, shielding baby blue eyes from the harsh flourescent overhead lights because he’d been just about to finally fall asleep.

“Everything okay over there, Ele?” he called out.

The tone of his voice half asleep had her gasping quietly. She sat there a second or two, trailing her fingers lazily over the thin blanket on the bed. “No. It’s not. I…”

“Yeah?” Adam was on his feet and making his way across the room to her, sitting just at the edge of the bed, his back to her.

His eyes met hers and she swallowed hard, nodding to the bed. “We’re adults and watching you over there barely fitting onto that fabric covered boulder.. I’d just feel better if you slept on the bed too? Please?”

Adam eyed her. Everything inside him insisted that he should protest -especially given the way he felt about her and what she’d gone through earlier, but one look into those eyes of hers had him nodding. “Okay, fine.”

She smiled and patted the empty side of the bed and Adam pulled back the sheets getting in and getting as comfortable as he possibly could, all things considered. He tensed a little when she slipped her leg between his, an arm going over him as she cozied right up to him from behind.

“Adam?”

“Y-yeah, hon?” he stammered out, taking a deep breath, trying to resist the urge to roll over and just kiss her already, no matter how shitty the timing might be for it at the moment.

“Thank you for being there. Thank you for being my best friend.”

… Darlin if you knew just how much I wanted to be so much more than that… The thought came and Adam tried to push it to the back of his mind. After a few seconds, he answered quietly, “You deserved better anyway. As far as tonight, and bein your friend.. I want to because you’re an amazing person. You don’t have to thank me.”

“ I know,” she yawned, her cheek nuzzling right against his bare upper back as she moved even closer, “but I wanted to. Because I.. You don’t know how much it means to me. How much you kinda mean to me, Hangman.”

“Night, darlin.”

“Night, big guy.”

XXX

Adam woke up to the sun streaming in the windows and to discover that during the night, he’d rolled onto his back. And that apparently, Giselle draped herself across his body. He took a deep breath and watched her sleeping for a few seconds. He carefully reached out for his cell phone on the nightstand and when he caught sight of the fact that the sun was so bright for a very good reason, he sat up, rubbing his hand through his hair.

On the one hand, she was sleeping so well.. As upset as she’d been the night before, he’d honestly been afraid that she’d have a rough night full of tossing and turning.. On the other hand, they both had flights to get on.

… or A FLIGHT.. Because it’s not like you have anything in particular to go… the thought snuck in before he could stop it, and he shook his head at himself.

He leaned down and gently shook her awake. “Hey, Ele? We have exactly ten minutes to get dressed and get over to the airport for check in.”

Giselle shot up in bed, biting her lip as doing so as fast as she had led to the sheet wrapped around her upper body very nearly falling down. She blushed a little and Adam turned his head.

After grabbing the shirt she’d taken off at some point during the night and tugging it down, she tapped his shoulder and yawned. “I was sleepin so good. Parts of me are really dreadin this whole goin home thing..”

“Yeah?”

“Well.. I know how my mama is.”

She fidgeted and Adam felt his breath literally catching hold in his throat, found himself hoping despite it all that she was about to hint at what he felt like she might be.

Giselle took a deep breath and caught his gaze. “ I don’t.. Nevermind, it’s dumb.”

“No, no.” Adam tilted her chin, making her meet his gaze.

“You’ve probably got plans and the last thing you wanna spend Christmas doing is hangin out with me..”

… you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried… he thought to himself as he chuckled and eyed her, a teasing hint to his voice, “Ele, are you tryin to ask me somethin?”

“I was, yeah.. But it’s dumb. I mean you’ve already done this..” Giselle gestured to the room they’d spent the night in and she took a deep breath. “It’s just I… When you’re around, I feel better.”

… and maybe I just want to… i don’t know, give myself the chance I’ve been too afraid to take before and get to know you better….  She realized she’d gone silent and she added quickly, “We don’t have to tell them we’re dating or anything, I promise..”

Adam chuckled, staring at his hands as he pulled himself together. What she was asking was… a huge deal for him. And there was something a little different about her this morning, in the way she kept looking at him, and all the little touches.

She leaned against him and sighed. “Sorry.” - followed by an awkward but cute laugh. Adam chuckled and turned to the side so that he held her gaze. “You don’t have to be sorry. Yeah. I’ll come back with you.”

“Wait, huh? R-really?” it caught her off guard and she bit her lip, catching his gaze, feeling relieved when she saw that smile of his.

“That bein said, darlin.. We’re kinda down to 8 minutes.”

“Shit.. But I don’t wanna get out of this bed.” Giselle pretended to whine, pouting even as she looked up at him as he stood. She turned away quickly when she realized just how little happened to be covering his body.

Her cheeks heated in a blush and despite looking away, she may have peeked through her fingers, sucking in a sharp breath.

“It did feel really comfortable.” Adam sighed and gazed at the bed -and her, as he grabbed his discarded jeans and tee shirt. He’d just finished dressing when she slipped out from between the sheets, grabbing her own jeans, tugging them up her legs. It called entirely too much attention and Adam had to turn around completely.

Even that did no good because the mirror over the dresser gave him a view. He coughed and called out, “About done, Ele?”

Giselle tapped his shoulder and waved up at him, nodding to the door. “Yeah. We should get going now.”

“We should.”

In her hurry to get dressed, she’d grabbed one of the tee shirts he had out the night before. He chuckled and she looked down, palming at her face and quietly groaning before giving a mumbled “Fuck it. I have zero time to change. And it’s comfy.”

“Looks cute on ya too.” - it came out before Adam could stop it, making her blush all over again. They stood there, migrating closer and closer for a few seconds until finally, Giselle grabbed for her backpack.

“ You can’t say I didn’t warn you in advance. My family is a little.. Out there.” she told him with an amused laugh as Adam smiled back at her and held the door open for her, “I can’t wait to meet them.”

[din-skywalker]

blood on my hands

eeeeyyyy another yancy fic! this one is super violent and bloody, and has some mild gore, as well as someone with unstable mental stuff happening, and a child killing their parents so like??? careful!

lemme know what you think!

—–

Yancy has had a bad day. Okay, no, scratch that. He’s had a horrible day. Every little thing has annoyed him to no end, causing his blood to boil and his teeth to grind together as he tried his best to tune out the world around him. That is what his therapist has told him to do when he was feeling angry; take deep breaths and think about something else. Ignore what is making you angry.

But he has had no such luck doing any of those steps, and now the palms of his hands were bleeding because he was digging his nails into them a bit too hard. He curses as he enters his home, wiping the blood off on the black and white shirt he was wearing. That is probably going to make his mom annoyed with him- she had just bought this shirt for him, and it was one of his only nice shirts left- but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too angry to focus clearly, and so he doesn’t even notice the way his palms sting every time he wipes them down the front of the shirt.

Man, he could go for a nice plate of spaghetti. He’s pretty sure that’s the only thing that could turn this day around for him. Spaghetti was, after all, his favorite meal. Especially if his mother cooked it; she was the best cook that he knew.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, smelling something cooking in the kitchen already. He always got home around dinner time because of his tutoring after school keeping him in later than most other students. Though, today, he was just too pissed to focus if he’d actually gone, so he’d instead hung around the school campus until the late release buses arrived to take them home.

That bus ride did nothing but raise his anger and stress levels. Everyone on it was just so loud and annoying, screaming at one another and making the air thick and hot and sweaty. Yancy had situated himself near the front- the back is where the loudest and most crazy kids regularly sat- and tried to block all the noise out by plugging his ears and leaning his head against the window. But, that proved futile, and his world got blurred together as he went into what his therapist calls “sensory overload”.

He didn’t know what that meant really, or did he care, but he knew he was going into one now. He could recognize the feeling of his muscles tensing and his head banging and his palms sweating and his eyes burning as the world around him collapsed in on itself. It made it difficult to breathe, and his lungs ached for fresh air.

He was only able to breathe again once he ran from the bus, two blocks away from his usual stop, and took deep breaths. It helped the overload go away after a few minutes of breathing, cold air prickling at his skin, calming him, but it did not make his anger go away. That stuck around, curling in his gut like a snake waiting to strike.

He walked the rest of the way home, and by the time he arrived, his feet were aching and the snake had traveled to his chest, coiling around his heart. He was fuming, ready to snap at the first person or thing that got near him.

Now, he was stepping into the kitchen, calming himself down as he went. The food smelled great- he hopes it’s spaghetti. The snake remains, but he’s calmed it down enough to speak with his mom. He hates snapping at his mom. His dad, not so much, but never his mom. She was too sweet, and always believed in him even when he seemed like a wasted basket case.

“Hey, Mama,” he greeted, clearing his throat to rid it of its tightness. He walks to the table and hops up on it, swinging his feet as they hang just above the ground. He frowns. His growth spurt hadn’t made him as tall as he would have liked.

“Hello, Yancy dear,” his mother replied, smiling down at the pot she was stirring. Yancy takes another deep whiff of the smell, grinning. It smelt like spaghetti, alright. The snake lowers its head. “How was your day?

The snake raises it again at the question, hissing at the thought. But Yancy shrugs, picking at one of the cracks in the ancient wooden table. They hadn’t been able to get a replacement for it in years, and they were overdue for one. This one was falling apart and covered in cracks. It probably didn’t help that Yancy was sitting on it, but he didn’t are too much. He only worried about taking care of the things his mother gave him specifically or the things she told him to care for. If she were to tell him to get off the table, he would. But she hadn’t, so he leaned back on his hands.

“Not the best, honestly,” he replied, kicking his toes together half-heartedly. His shoes, which he’s had a couple of years, have stayed in pretty good shape. He’s done his best to keep them looking good, after all. “Everyone was annoyin’ as hell.”

“Language, dear,” his mother reprimanded without looking up. He says a quick apology. “I’m sorry it was such a bad day for you. Tomorrow should be better.” She always said that.

“How was your day, Mama?” he asked, and then finally notices the blood he’d gotten on the front of his shirt. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing to his feet and walking to the sink. He hadn’t even realized he’d done that! His blackouts were getting worse by the day. He’d have to speak to his therapist about that next.

“Language,” his mother said again, throwing a glare at his back. He says another quick apology and starts wetting a paper towel, trying and failing to wipe the blood stains from the white parts of the shirt. His mother frowns. “Did you already ruin the new shirt I got you, Yance? I told you that one was expensive.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Mama,” Yancy said, and the snake was rearing its head. How dare she speak to him like that when he already knew he’d made a stupid mistake? He was already beating himself up over it, she didn’t need to do the same. That was just wrong! “I’m not sure how I did it.”

His mother moves to stand beside him, and her eyes widen. “Is that blood?” she asked, and quickly snatches his hands, turning the palms over so she could see them. She looks up at him, her eyes wide. “Yance, what did you do?”

Yancy pulls his hands away and waves her away. The snake is snarling, its teeth bared. He clenched his own jaws, teeth grinding together, head beginning to pound. He needed to calm down. “It’s nothing, Mama,” he said, keeping his tone flat. He would not snap at her. He could control himself enough to not snap at one person in the least, goddammit. “Was an accident.” He pauses, and smiles at her, though they both know it’s forced. “What’s for dinner, though? I’m starvin’!”

She frowns up at him, but she must see the desperation in his eyes, because she turns and returns to the pot she is stirring. She’s learned over the years not to push him on matters like these, especially if he didn’t want to talk about it. It could easily trigger an episode, and those were fun for no one.

“Nothing special,” she said, forcing her own casual tone back into her voice. Yancy appreciates that.

“Your food is always delicious, Mama!” Yancy exclaimed, trying to be happy. He could be happy. His head wasn’t pounding, his blood wasn’t boiling and his teeth weren’t flattening from his hard he was grinding them. He was happy! “I hope it’s spaghetti tonight! I’ve been looking forward to having some of your spaghetti all day!”

His mother glances at him through the corner of her eye, her shoulders suddenly stiffening. Why was she acting like that? Like she was scared of him? Didn’t she know he was happy, and that he would never hurt her even if he wasn’t? The snake tightens its hold on his heart, and it’s becoming hard to breathe, his own muscles tightening. Why did it suddenly feel so tense? Weren’t they both happy?

“I was making fettuccine…” his mother said quietly, trailing off.

The room is filled with silence then. Yancy’s eye twitched, and the snake strikes.

He grabs the nearby knife, stabbing it in the counter surface. His mother jumps as he drags it across, dropping the ladle she’d been holding. He lifts his gaze to her face, her features beginning to blur, the edges of his vision clouding with red. Why was she still acting scared? Why was she so fucking scared goddammit!

“Why the fuck… would you make… fettucini…” he snarled, his words as sharp as the knife he was yanking from the hole he’d made in the counter. When had he made that hole? He’d thought he was just slicing it back and forth. The blade reflects the light pouring in from the window, and he could see the fear growing in his mother’s eyes. That just makes him angrier. Why would she be afraid of him! He’s nothing to be afraid of for fuck’s sake!

“Yance… puh-please calm- calm down,” his mother stammered, a sob breaking her words apart. Tears were streaming down her face as she takes a step back from, stumbling as he steps towards her, the knife hanging at his side. Why was she fucking crying? Why was she backing away from him? Why the FUCK is she afraid of him?! “You need- need to calm down, sw- sweetie.” Her voice is turning to begging. “I- I can make you- spaghetti, if- if you want it!”

“Stop acting scared!” he screamed suddenly, and he doesn’t miss the way she flinches, the way more tears explode from her eyes. His heart is racing, hammering against his chest, causing his blood to burn, his entire being to burn. “It’s pissing me the fuck off!” He slams the knife into the counter again, and his mother yelps.

That was it.

“I-I’m so-”

She didn’t get to finish.

The knife was acting on its own, lodging itself in her throat. Her blood sprays onto his hand, onto his face, onto his shirt. The shirt he’d just cleaned, too! Fucking bitch. She was screaming, pleading, and quivering under him, her back digging into the counter as he pins her there, twisting the knife further into her flesh. The red was fully filling his vision, and he couldn’t see. He couldn’t feel or think.

She didn’t get to be scared of him. She didn’t get to stain the shirt he’d just cleaned. She didn’t get to act like a fucking coward towards him, when he was doing everything in his goddamn power to be good.

The knife sinks further, and he drags it downwards, closer to her chest. He pulls it out, and then brings it down against, directly into the ribs in her chest and the heart beneath. His mother sputters on her own blood, chokes on it, her body quivering and arching, before it goes still, limp in his hold.

How dare she make him hold him up, like she was better than him!

He stabs the same spot repeatedly, the blood splashing on him, on the floor, on his sanity. It was warm and thick and sticky, and it was covering his arms and chest and face. But he kept going, until a large, gaping hole was left in her chest, sliced flesh and broken bones sticking in the middle of the mess.

He leans backwards- when did he end up on the floor?- and draws a deep breath through his mouth, some of the blood- why was there so much?- slides into his mouth, onto his tongue. He spits it out, and drops the knife- how was it so coated?- leaning against one of the cabinets, the spilled pot of noodles forgotten beside him- when had he knocked it over?

It takes him an hour to calm himself down.

And when he does, his eyes landing on the dead, mutilated corpse of his mother- how did that happen did he do that why did he do thath0ow did he do that how did he not realize he did that what the fuck what the fuck what tfukc oh god oh god oh god- he screams at the top of his lungs. The scream tears at his throat, causing it to bleed, but he doesn’t stop, until he sobs, crawling to the body. He cups both of her cheeks, throws up when he sees the holes in her neck and chest and stomach- oh god oh god he did this he did this he did this- and cries and cries and screams.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he sobbed, burying his face into his mother’s hair, body trembling, heart screaming.

His father comes home shortly later, finds him cradling his mother’s body, sees him covered in her blood, and the knife coated in the red liquid. He screams as well, points an accusing finger at him.

“I knew you would do this!” he yelled, and the sound tears at Yancy’s ears. Why couldn’t he just be left to mourn his mother? He already knew he’d done this. “I always knew you were a fucking monster!”

Yancy screamed, hand flying to the knife of its own volition, and tackles his father. Years of anger built up explodes in a single moment, and he cuts into his father’s stomach, lets the guts spill out. Watches his father choke on his blood. Watches him bleed out and die, a crumpled mess on the floor that had been clean seconds before.

He was covered in blood.

So much of it was drying on his arms and legs and face. It was making it hard to move, to breathe, to think.

He did the only thing he could think of doing.

He calls the police.

—-

REBLOGS>LIKES

[emeraldwaves]

Title: What We Lack Part 5 Pairing:  Kacchako, Deku/Melissa, mention of Todomomo Rating: T Word Count:  3,167 Read on Ao3 Summary:  

Quirkless.

They’re the last people anyone expects to have a child without a quirk.

Neither of them can fully wrap their heads around it, but Ochako knows Katsuki is struggling far more than her.

Thank you to @its-love-u-asshole for beta-ing

Full fic under the cut

Ochako made her way to the kitchen and began to set the table, leaving Katsuki to work on the food.

Her eyes glanced up at his back, the muscles pulsing as he cooked, his arms moving quickly while he chopped vegetables.

She sighed, knowing Deku and Melissa were most likely speaking about him right now. He probably knew too, which only made him angrier. Deku was one of her close friends, but Katsuki never got over his rivalry with the boy. They were friendlier, but she knew Katsuki's frustrations would always have some bite to it.

She placed the final plate down and slowly walked towards him. She curled her fingers around his arm. "Katsuki," she whispered.

"Don't," he hissed, immediately tensing under her touch. He moved back away from her.

"Don't what?" she asked softly.

"I can't fuckin' do this Ochako. I can't have you yelling at me about our esteemed guests-"

She frowned, squeezing her hand around his arm tighter. "Then don't, Katsuki. Don't do this. Deku and Melissa are just trying to help, Melissa said some beautiful things to our girl. Why can't we focus on that?" Ochako said, her voice trembling.

"Because they said it," he hissed, turning around. He glared down at her. "They know all the perfect things to say to our girl. Why don't you just give her to them? Since they know-"

 Slap

There was a loud sound as Ochako's hand connected with Katsuki's cheek. She gasped at her own action, quickly pulling her hand back. Her brown eyes trembled as she watched the red trickle onto his cheek from where her palm made contact with his skin.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." she whispered. "I... I... how dare you... suggest giving her to them!" she hissed softly.

His eyes glanced downward and he pressed his own hand to his probably tingling cheek. "You know I didn't fuckin' mean it like that-"

"What if she heard you?!" Ochako growled.

"She didn't," Katsuki snapped back.

"But what if she had!?" Ochako pushed.

"...Let's just get this fucking dinner over with," he mumbled and turned back towards the pot.

"Yes," Ochako whispered, "Sayuri seems happy after speaking to Melissa. That was the whole point."

Katsuki didn't answer her after that, and Ochako's hand trembled against her chest. She didn't mean to slap him, but she wanted to knock some sense into him. He was always so blinded by his rage with Deku...

She knew it was difficult. Of course she wanted to be the one to tell her daughter all the perfect things to make her smile. She wanted to have all the right words sitting on the tip of her tongue, ready to be spoken at a moment's notice. But parenting wasn't so simple, wasn't that easy... and sometimes parents didn't know the right thing to say to their child.

"Food's ready," Katsuki murmured, and Ochako nodded, heading back to the living room.

"Good news! Food is almost done so we can finally eat," she said, clapping her palms together gently, careful not to let her fingers fully touch.

"How is he?" Deku asked, glancing to his wife before standing.

"He's... He needs to learn that we're not always going to be able to fix everything... I think..." Ochako said.

"Of course you're not," Melissa giggled softly, touching her shoulder. "You just have to do the best you can. No matter what Sayuri is always going to love her parents. Especially if you both love her as much as you do."

"I know. Maybe we love her a little too much," she sighed softly.

"There's no such thing," Deku smiled. "I'll go get the kids."

"Thank you," she nodded, making her way to her son’s room. "Shouhei! Dinner!" She swung the door open on him and he stared at her for a moment, his hands pressed together tightly. He pointed his finger up and the handheld game rose up and slammed against his pillow, immediately slipping under the blanket covers. If he thought he was being sneaky, using his quirk like that was the exact opposite. He smiled, trying to look innocent.

"What were you doing?" She placed her hand on her hip, too tired to argue with her son now too.

"'Kay Mama," he said, hopping off his bed. "I'm comin' to dinner!" he said, ignoring her question as he dashed towards the door.

She placed her hand in front of him. "Shouhei. You know you're not allowed to play games until you're done with your homework."

He immediately pouted. "Sayuri got to play with Kazuya!"

She rolled her eyes. "Go take a seat, we'll discuss this when we don't have company."

Ochako followed her son's dejected form as Sayuri and Kazuya zoomed by. "And then later we gotta start looking at math! I think math is the most important subject!"

"What?! No way! It's gotta be science!" Kazuya argued, the two of them hopping up onto their seats.

"No running!" Deku called after them, following them to the kitchen.

"They've technically already stopped," Ochako giggled.

Deku sighed, completely defeated. "I don't know why I even try sometimes."

"Auntie Melissa?" Sayuri asked, sitting up on her chair. "Do you think science or math is more important?"

"Uh oh," Deku laughed, taking a seat next to his wife. "Now you're asking the really hard questions, Sayu-chan."

"Both of them are boring," Shouhei snorted.

"Shouhei," Ochako warned, helping as Katsuki silently carried over some plates of food, placing them in the middle of the long table.

"Hm," Melissa said, tilting her head back and forth while she tried to decide. "Both are incredibly important. Science you have a little bit more... creativity, so I've always found science more fun," she smiled. "However, the two go hand in hand."

"See! So you do have to be good at both!" Sayuri giggled.

"It's important to do well with all your subjects!" Melissa said, turning her gaze towards Shouhei. "Even the boring ones."

"All of them are boring," the young boy complained.

Katsuki placed some food on Shouhei's plate aggressively. "If you don't study, you don't get to play video games."

"Yeah, yeah," Shouhei folded his arms. "I know."

Katsuki took a seat, setting the last plate down. Ochako noticed how he turned his red eyes towards Deku, looking as if he wanted to speak. Perhaps he knew this wasn't the time, not with the children around.

They served the food, and began more casual conversation. The children babbled on about school and what the most important subject was, and Melissa talked about work while the kids were distracted. Her company was beginning work on new tools to assist heroes. She was wanting to start more quirk-related research, but Ochako could tell she was hesitant.

"It's been coming along quite nicely, as I'm sure you're all aware," she nodded. "Izuku and I have been testing lots of equipment. Mei-chan and I were developing something for his quirk, though he just seems to get stronger and stronger. Soon you won't need anything from me!" she giggled.

Katsuki's fingers clenched around his chopsticks and Ochako placed her hand over his, not wanting him to break them.

"That's ridiculous, Melissa," Izuku laughed. "All Might and your father worked together for years, even when he was at his strongest. I'll always need your support." He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"A lot of heroes would be lost without the support from your company, Melissa. Iida-kun is always telling me about Mei-chan's ideas," Ochako said.

Melissa laughed. "Oh yes, Mei-chan is very enthusiastic!"

"Katsuki loves the streamlined grenade gauntlets you made him," Ochako continued and Katsuki shoveled food into his mouth.

"They're easier to use," he grumbled, not wanting to look the blonde woman in the eye.

"I'm glad!" Melissa smiled.

"Mommy! When are you going to make something for my quirk!?" Kazuya said, tugging on his mom's sleeve as he interrupted the conversation.

"Oh! Did you tell Uncle Kacchan and Auntie Ocha about your quirk, Kazu?" Deku asked, and Kazuya's face immediately lit up.

"No!" he said. "Me and Sayu-chan were too busy studying!"

"Why don't you show us now?" Ochako asked, her gaze turning to Katsuki momentarily. Against her palm, his hand curled into a fist, growing sweatier against hers.

Kazuya blushed. "It's... kind of similar to your quirk, Auntie Ocha!" he said, placing his chopsticks down. He held his small hand out over the chopsticks, doing a gentle pulling movement as the objects rose into the air and pressed against his palm. "Tada!" he said. "I can... make objects float to me!"

"Wow!" Ochako clapped. "Very impressive."

"Mhm!" he nodded, looking proud of himself.

"So cool, Kazu!" Sayuri giggled, watching him. "Do it again!"

The two children were immediately lost in their own world, Kazuya showing off for the girl. The excitement didn't seem to die however, the two of them thrilled to be focusing on the small trick.

"My... mother has almost the same quirk," Deku chuckled. "I guess it skipped me and went straight to him," Deku explained.

"We were honestly... surprised," Melissa said. "Genetically, it doesn't really make sense," she paused, "but then again what does!"

"Yeah," Katsuki grumbled. "What fuckin' does..." he muttered under his breath.

"Katsuki!" she hissed, and punched his arm.

"Sayu-chan and I are going to be scientists together and work with my mom!" Kazuya declared loudly, both children laughing.

"Boring," Shouhei snorted.

"Oi, don't talk about your sister's dreams like that," Katsuki growled, pointing his chopsticks at his son.

"Yeah, yeah," he huffed.

Katsuki smirked and leaned towards the young boy. "You're just angry because you know we're not going to let you play games until you finish your homework. Don't take it out on your sister."

"Shut up, Dad!"

"Boys... please," Ochako sighed, shaking her head. "Do you see what I have to deal with?"

"Trust me, I know," Melissa snorted.

"Don't worry, Mommy!" Sayuri giggled. "You have me!" She posed proudly.

"Of course I do, baby girl!" she smiled.

The dinner continued on, everyone seeming to be far more relaxed. Katsuki even cracked a smile a few times, though Ochako could tell he was purposefully holding himself back. She noticed his gaze kept falling on Kazuya and Sayuri, watching as they spoke excitedly about being famous scientists. Ochako silently prayed this wouldn't be a phase... maybe Sayuri would focus on the support aspects of the hero profession... maybe she wouldn't care she couldn't be a hero. Children changed their minds all the time.

With giant yawn, Kazuya leaned against his mother, the conversation having lasted for quite some time. "Well it seems like it's about that time..." Melissa commented, stroking through her son's blond hair.

"Mhm, someone still has homework to do," Ochako teased, glancing towards her son.

"Quit reminding me! I know!" he snapped.

"Shouhei..." Ochako warned, her brown eyes narrowing.

"What? Dad yells all the time..." he grumbled, slouching in his chair.

"Help your father clear the plates," she instructed, Katsuki already starting to clear the table off.

"Fine," he huffed, following Katsuki to the kitchen with a few of the smaller plates.

"Thank you so much for having us over," Melissa said, bowing her head. "Are you sure you don't need help cleaning up?"

"No, of course not! We really appreciate you coming and I'm... I apologize for the outburst," she said softly, walking with them towards the front door.

"It's really alright," Deku nodded. "We know it will probably take a bit of time for him to adjust."

"Come say bye!" Ochako called out, and Sayuri was immediately by her side, wrapping her small arms around Kazuya. "Good night Kazuya!" she said, hugging him.

"Bye Sayu-chan!" he giggled, hugging her back. "Next time we can talk about our science plans!"

"Yes!" she cheered. The two babbled excitedly to each other, laughing innocently about their futures.

"Thank you for coming," Ochako said, giving Melissa and Deku both hugs goodbye. Her arms lingered around her best friend for a moment. "I... I really do appreciate it."

"Oi..." Katsuki mumbled, leaning against the wall by their entrance. He immediately made her jump back, turning towards her husband. He stepped forward, glaring at Deku.

"Kacchan... I-"

"Oi!" he repeated and rubbed the back of his neck. "...You... nerds," he muttered, glancing towards Melissa too. "You said... good... things to her," he said softly, his voice quiet as he struggled to speak. "Thanks..."

Both Deku and Melissa looked shocked by the confession. "I simply spoke the truth," Melissa said softly.

"You know we'll always support you and your family, Kacchan," Deku nodded, bowing his head.

Katsuki cheeks flushed. "Yeah whatever, same, get out of my house," he snarled, rushing the words out. He leaned down and picked up Sayuri, holding her against his hip. "It's time for bed, baby girl." He nodded once more to them, carrying her away down the hall.

"Aw Daddy! I'm not even that tired!" Ochako heard her whine as Katsuki carried her away.

"Thank you," she said once more.

"You're gonna be fine, Ochako-chan," Deku smiled. "She's going to be fine and Kacchan is going to be fine."

"I know," she said, glancing after her husband.

"It's just all new and shocking," Melissa added. "But we're here for you. If you need anything just call or text."

"Of course."

With a bow, she waved goodbye to Deku and his family, and she took a deep breath, leaning against the door once they left. She was thankful Katsuki spoke up at the end, but there was still so much she needed to say to him... apologies which hung on her lips.

She made her way to Shouhei's room first, gently knocking on the door. He sat at his desk, looking disgruntled about doing his homework.

"I'm doin' it!" he snapped, scribbling something down in his notebook.

She laughed, and made her way to his side, kissing his head. "I know you are. My brave man, suffering through math."

"Someone's gotta do it," he mumbled. "But I really don't get why it has to be me... Do you and Dad really do math being heroes?"

"Mmm... sometimes!" she giggled. "If I didn't know math, how would I be able to count how many villains there are?!"

Shouhei's face flattened. "Mom. I know how to count."

"I know you do," she teased. "Homework is just part of life. I suffered through it too," she said.

"Yeah, yeah," he snorted.

"Come say goodnight when you're done okay?" she said, kissing his head one more time as she decided to leave her son in peace.

Further down the hall, Sayuri's door was open, and Katsuki was crouched next to her bed.

"But I don't wanna go to bed, Daddy," she whined. "Shouhei gets to stay up!"

"Shouhei is older and he's doing homework," he said, stroking his fingers through her blonde hair. "Besides, all good scientists need to get their rest."

"Yeah, that's true. I'm gonna make the best things for you, Daddy!" she cheered. "Even better than Auntie Melissa!"

"I'm sure you will baby girl. You're smart. I'm freakin' proud already."

Sayuri gasped and placed her hand over Katsuki's mouth. "Daddy said a swear!"

"A swear?" he mumbled. "What did I say?!"

"Well I can't say it, then I would say the bad word!" she said, giggling.

"I'll... put a coin in the jar..." he sighed, wrapping his fingers around her tiny wrist and he kissed at her palm. "Is that good?"

"Very good, Daddy," she said, her mouth yawning wide.

"Alright, baby girl. Time for bed," he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

"Night Daddy," she said as Katsuki pulled away, walking towards where Ochako stood in the doorway.

"Night sweetheart," she called quietly, turning off the light as she shut her door.

She followed her husband back to the living room and he took a seat on the couch. "Shouhei doin' his work finally?"

"Mhm. I told him to come out when he's done to say goodnight," Ochako whispered, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

"Good," he huffed, folding his arms.

She sat in silence, letting the tension settle between them. Katsuki seemed calmer, but she knew evenings with Deku always stressed him out and made him question a variety of things. She knew Katsuki felt like Deku was always ahead of him... with All Might... in hero ranking... and now, even his son had a quirk while their daughter did not. She knew it must be weighing heavily on her husband.

Ochako felt guilt tugging on her heart. She knew Katsuki would absolutely never give up their daughter. If Ochako was his angel, Sayuri was his princess, and he couldn't live without any member of their family. Still, her knee-jerk reaction, with all the tension building in the room was to slap him. It felt so wrong; they were all hurting.

"You don't have to apologize," he mumbled, his eyes turned towards their carpet.

"Eh?" she gasped, pulled from her thoughts.

"I know you're thinking about apologizing for slapping me. But I deserved it," he said, his red eyes turning to meet hers.

"Oh Katsuki... no... you didn't. I-I shouldn't have slapped you. I just didn't know what to do."

"I was being selfish," he said softly, squeezing his palms together.

"A little," she said, scooting closer to him, her palm gently resting on top of both his hands. "But... I know how you get about Deku-kun... and tonight was a lot... You didn't deserve that."

"I should never have fucking said what I said... I didn't... I didn't mean it. I wouldn't give that kid up for fucking anything... either of them."

"I know you wouldn't," she said, and she stroked her fingers gently over his cheek. "You love them... just as much as I do."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand to his lips. "I love you..." he whispered and she leaned forward, pressing her head against his shoulder.

"I love you too, Katsuki."

He smiled, sitting back to look at her. "She... seems pretty excited about this science bullshit."

"She does... she's a determined girl..."

"Just like you," he said softly, leaning up to press his lips against Ochako's, kissing her softly.

"Just like both of us, though I do hope she stays determined and doesn't get as stubborn as you," she teased.

"A little stubbornness won't kill her," he chuckled, kissing her again. He sighed, his rough fingers stroking over Ochako's round cheek. "We're gonna figure this shit out."

"I know," she said.

"I will never let her suffer. Ever," he said, determination flicking across his red eyes. She smiled, knowing exactly where her daughter inherited the trait from.

"I know," she repeated, leaning against her husband.

She knew, no questions asked or words needed; they both would protect their family with their lives.

[ccurry00]

Princess Principal Spinoff #2: Aunt

Finally finished the second spinoff fic! This one takes place probably a month after the first one. To clarify why I didn’t make them call each other their original names, the way i see it is that they’re used to it by now, and they only use it on special moments. And also yea so its easier for me to write. Enjoy!

P.S To avoid any confusion Mama=mother=Princess/Charlotte, Mommy=Mom=Ange.

P.S.S There’ll be a bit of toddler talk, hope it doesn’t put you off!

Knock Knock

“Amanda, could you get the door please?”

“Okay!”

Not expecting a guest, or at least not informed by her moms, Amanda left the kitchen where she was helping them with dinner. Wiping her hands on her apron as she walked across the short path between the couch and the dinner table, she curiously opened the door.

“Hello there”

“Aunty Dorothy!!” she beamed before slamming into her.

“Whoaaaa hello Amanda” Dorothy kneeled down to give her a proper hug. “It’s been a while hasn’t it. Hows my favorite niece?

"Aren’t I your only niece?"

"That you are” Dorothy chuckled fondly, ruffling her hair.

“Oh good evening Dorothy” Princess greeted, having come out of the kitchen upon hearing Amanda’s delighted sounds.

“Good to see you as always Charlotte”

“Mama, why didn’t you tell me that Aunty Dorothy’s coming?”

“Hmmm, actually both your mom and I weren’t expecting her as well” she turned back to Dorothy with a questioning look.

“Oh I was just from Beato’s place and I figured to pay you guys a visit. Besides, I miss this little one” Dorothy leaned back, her hands squeezing Amanda’s arms.

“Is it me but have you gotten bigger since I last saw you?”

“Oh, it’s probably because Mommy-”

“Amanda, could you please help me set the dinner table?” Ange interrupted, having appeared with platters of food in her hands.

“Oh okay!"

As Amanda scampered back to the kitchen, Dorothy didn’t miss how Princess stared non-subtly at Ange who was pointedly avoiding it and laying the filled plates on the table.

"She’s still spoiling her?”

“You have no idea. I’m quite sure if I’m not around, those two would bring down the house”

“…I’m not that bad”

Dorothy smirked.

“Well, I guess it’s fine Charlotte. It is nice to see her spoil somebody else besides you. Though the fact that she’s her daughter must have helped”

Princess slid her a raised eye, but she smoothly continued.

“Oh Charlotte, please, Ange was all over you back then. The word ‘no’ was nonexistent in her vocabulary whenever she was with you. Thinking back now I should have asked you to make her do things for me."

"Not on your life. But yes Charlotte, Dorothy’s right” Ange joined in.“ And since Amanda looks very much like you, my spoiling of her should be your fault. ”

Princess glanced between Ange and Dorothy, innocent expressions on their faces befitting of former spies. She smiled thinly and called out.

“Amanda! Could you bring out just two sets of dishes and cutleries? Your mom must be feeling ill because she said she isn’t hungry anymore, and your Aunt Dorothy’s leaving. It’s unfortunate, but all the more food for us I suppose”

“Okay, Mama! Bye bye, Aunty Dorothy! Sorry Mommy, but you can’t have the sweet potatoes I made then!”

The small smiles on their faces faded quickly.

“Aaa wait I was just kidding Charlotte, now that you mention it I’m feeling quite hung-”

“Amanda, what do you mean no sweet potatoes for Mommy? You know I love your- wait Amanda-”

“Since when did you became as mean as your mother” Dorothy poked Amanda’s ribs, causing her to squeak.

They seated themselves around the table, signs of amusement still on Amanda’s and Princess’s face.

“I heard what Aunty Dorothy and Mommy were saying, so I wanted to protect Mama!”

“She’s such an angel isn’t she?” Princess gushed, using an arm to pull her in for a quick squeeze.

“Ange, aren’t you upset that your own daughter just made fun of you?”

“Protecting her mother is something she must have gotten from me, so it isn’t that surprising” Ange smiled proudly at Amanda. “Besides, she did make a fool out of you, and that’s always a win in my book.”

“You know, I thought you would have learned to respect your elders better by now”

“Huh, you finally admitted to being old”

“Older, not old, and it would explain why people always want my attention. My air of maturity must have been very appealing, so I don’t particularly mind anymore"

"Maybe, but considering you aren’t married, and I am even though I am three years younger, perhaps it isn’t as much of an advantage as you think”

“You should get your head out of your-”

“Language please, you’re in the presence of royalty here, after all.”

“You know what Ange fuc-”

But before they could escalate any further, Amanda spoke up.

“Sorry, Aunty Dorothy! I was the one who made fun of you first so please don’t argue with Mommy. I’m sorry as well Mommy, and I’ve made extras just for you!

”….I am so glad you are nothing like your mom"

“Thank you sweetheart, and watch your tongue ’ elder’,  she is in fact very much like me”

Having enjoyed watched them bicker like old times, Princess finally interjected.

“Please, you two are setting bad examples for Amanda here” Her daughter grinned. “ If it helps, I think you two haven’t really changed much. As far as I’m concerned, I’d like to point out I was actually more popular than you were Dorothy, and while I am married to you Ange, It sometimes feels as if I have two daughters instead. Now let’s start eating dinner, shall we? Or would you like me to continue?”

Dorothy had helped clean up after dinner despite Princess’ insistence she’s a guest, washing the dishes with Amanda and getting just a little bit wet when they had sprayed each other with small, playful flicks. Sitting on their couch with the girl by her side, she was casually telling her stories of her childhood, when Ange walked into the living room from the kitchen. Dorothy’s face turned slick as she noticed them.

“Amanda, have I ever told you how your mom was like when we were still in the academy?” She started, causing Amanda to tilt her head inquisitively.

Ange, on the other hand, widened her eyes.

“She probably never told you this, but she was a complete mess right before her first date with your mother. She was panicking and had no idea what to wear, and no idea where to bring her either. I had to lend her my clothes. Honestly, if I hadn’t helped her I don’t think it would have gone as well as it did"

Ange started mouthing at her to stop, but Dorothy wasn’t finished, fully intending to embarrass her in front of her daughter. It definitely was childish in hindsight, but this was the only topic of conversation that Ange wouldn’t have any rebuttals.

"Oh, and there was this one time when she drank too much, though I think it wasn’t that many and she was just weak.  She started crying badly and I had to carry her to your mother’s room. Started calling out to your mother and wouldn’t let go of her too. She was pretty much like a baby.”

Ange was looking around, probably searching for something to throw at her.

“You aunt Beato and your mother were very close, but your mom wanted to have her for herself and always asked for my help to get Beato away. You know, I think she was just too scared to talk to her.”

She could see Ange glaring threateningly at her from the corner of her eye, but she ignored it, knowing full well that she couldn’t do anything with Amanda in the room. The girl in question, however, hadn’t laughed.

“Wow! Mommy was already really in love with Mama since back then?”

Having not expected that reaction, she looked at her in surprise. Amanda’s eyes were bright with wonder as she asked, and she couldn’t help but feel touched that amidst her petty attempt of using Ange’s past to abash her, Amanda had glimpsed a part she didn’t know of the love between her moms that was already beautiful to her. Dorothy finally looked at Ange, who was smiling so smugly at her. Shaking her head in surrender, she smiled in return.

“Yea.. I guess she was"

"Aunty? Are you okay?”

“I’m *pant* fine I’m fine *pant*, just a little bit tired” Dorothy was on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

Considering that she was an active field agent in her prime, Dorothy would think that she was physically fit. Years of training, countless hand-to-hand combats and days of stakeout, all accomplished with almost no troubles, but here she was wheezing pathetically with her niece at her back. Amanda had dragged her outside and requested the ride just like how she used to give her when she was younger. She had entertained her, having missed the feeling herself, but the extra weight was something she hadn’t take into account. Or at least that’s what she hoped.

Amanda must have noticed her straining and had slid off, looking concerned.

“I’m sorry Aunty, should I have not made you run?”

Oh, bless this child.

“No, no its okay Amanda it’s not your fault.” She quickly reassured her.

“….Are you sure you’re okay?

"Yes yes, don’t worry. Christ, I must be actually getting old”

Amanda remained silent, before smiling sweetly.

“Hmmm but you sure are still pretty for someone who’s old Aunty”

“…..Oh, you….you got a pretty mouth on you don’t you.” Dorothy raised a finger and tapped her nose. “Thank you, Amanda“

“Then….since you’re tired, let me carry you this time!”

“What? No!”

“Awww you haven’t seen me try yet”

“Amanda, I’m literally twice as big as you are. There’s no way you could possibly lift me "

"But I’m bigger and stronger than I was before!”

“I’m sure you are but your mom would kill me if you broke your arms trying. It’s getting late, so let’s go in okay?”

“Awww okay then”

Dorothy turned towards the house, expecting Amanda to follow her. Unfortunately, due to her prior exhaustion, she never saw it coming.

“AHHHHHH!”

“AHHHHHH!”

Ange leaped to her feet. It was Dorothy’s scream, and whatever scared her would put Amanda in danger as well. Princess must have the same idea as she frantically ran down the stairs.

“Amanda?! Dorothy?!”

They had run outside expecting trouble, but their concern was immediately replaced with a mixture of surprise and horror.

“Amanda! Put me down! How did you even get a hold of that thing!! AMANDA!!”

Turned out Amanda was carrying Dorothy in her arms and bouncing several feet into the air, a feat that should be impossible without the green glow of a C ball. Ange’s C ball.

The more horrified of the pair, Princess shouted.

“AMANDA stop jumping around and get down here! Ange why does she have-”

She was shocked when Ange suddenly broke into hysterics.

“Ange what part of this do you find funny??!!”

“HAHAHA, sorry Charlotte, but Dorothy’s face is priceless HAHAHAHA ”

Amidst her screaming, Dorothy still managed to shout profanities at Ange, which just prompt her to laugh louder.

“HAHAHAHAHA”

“AMANDA!"

Having finally heard her mother, Amanda slowed to a stop and released her aunt. Ange gradually got hold of herself, but seeing the glare on Dorothy’s face looking ready to throttle her, she quickly beckoned to Amanda with open arms. Immediately understanding, she bounded to her, placing her arm behind her mom’s neck as Ange secured her with one of hers. She palmed the C ball from Amanda, grabbed Princess by her waist with her other arm, eliciting a yelp from her, before leaping off into the sky.

"Bye Bye Aunty!"

"GET BACK HERE!”

“Amanda, where did you even find that?! And how did you even know how to use it?!”

“I was helping Mommy clean the basement the other day and I found it. Mommy showed me what it does and taught me”

“She was curious!” Ange quickly defended at the piercing look on her. “Besides since its no longer needed for its….purpose, it could be used for a little bit of fun. Charlotte, you must have missed this as well”

“Well, you should have told me! And Amanda you could have gotten seriously hurt if you had let go of the C ball and fall, I was so worried."

"I’m sorry Mama ”

But Princess remained unperturbed by the combined pleas, her eyes shooting daggers mostly at the more supposedly responsible one. Ange had to turn towards Amanda sheepishly, fully knowing she was right to be upset with her.

“Mama…?” Amanda called softly. Princess’ upset disposition waned when saw the guilty look on her.

“I’m sorry for worrying you. I know I shouldn’t have done that, and I promise I won’t do it again. I’m really sorry Mama ”

“……Oh, it’s okay sweetheart.” She sighed. “You didn’t get hurt, and that’s all that matters. It’s alright if you want to use the C ball again, but just make sure to tell us before you do it again okay?

She couldn’t remain upset at Amanda, but Ange on the other hand…

“As for you, Ange, don’t think you’re out of-”

Ange chose that moment to lean in and interrupt with a soft kiss, catching her by surprise. Even after all these years, her wife’s lips still tasted as sweet as ever, and she melted, as it never failed to make her do so. Amanda simply watched, grinning happily at the sight. As Ange pulled away, Princess can’t help but gave way to a blushing smile.

"Would that be enough to forgive me, Charlotte?"

"Mama you’re blushing!”

“……Oh, you two…..”

Her earlier displeasure having completely receded now, Princess shifted closer, her head nuzzling Ange’s and reveling in her warmth, before tenderly grazing Amanda’s cheek with her fingertips.

“Well, you’re right Ange…I do miss this” she looked at around them, particularly to how close the moon looked from up where they are. “It brings back a lot of memories”

They enjoyed the view in silence for several moments, when a thought crossed Princess’ mind

“Amanda, did you really have to carry and scare your aunt Dorothy like that?”

“I’d say she did a fantastic job"

"Ange, at least pretend to be an adult in front of our daughter .” Princess lightly flicked her forehead, which just produced a wider smirk from her. “I’ve never seen her that terrified before. You’ll have to apologise to her later”

“I will! Oh and umm Aunty was making fun of Mommy earlier, and I know Mommy is strong, but I wanted to prank her just a little bit to help give a little payback. I hope that’s okay”

Ange’s eyes softened as she gazed affectionately at her.

“…..What did I ever do to deserve such a daughter” she murmured, before promptly peppering kisses all over Amanda’s face, causing her to burst into giggles.

“Mommy that tickles!”

“Looks like I have a protector of my own as well!”

Princess looked on, choosing to stay silent once more. She took in how her wife’s eyes were brimming with love, the edges of her lips curling up even as she showered Amanda with quick pecks and the ribbon on her grey hair bobbing along pleasantly. She took in her daughter’s rosy cheeks, her small hands weakly patting away her mom’s face and the way her nose would twitch occasionally as she laughed.

I don’t know if I deserve them, she thought as they faced her and flashed her lovely smiles.

But I’m never, ever letting go.

Dorothy had abandoned her screaming, knowing they couldn’t hear her anyway and settled on gazing at them up in the night sky. From where she stood, it was impossible to listen to what they were saying, but from the loud adorable sounds Amanda was making, and the bright expressions on Ange’s and Princess’ faces, her heart warmed.

Her mind went back to when they had revealed the truth about themselves to her and the others. It was several weeks after safely returning to Casablanca, and they had invited them one afternoon. Dorothy couldn’t forget how vulnerable they looked. Princess’ eyes couldn’t stay still as they fleeted between each of them, her face a far cry from her usually composed features, and Ange had looked the same as ever, but the tight grip on Princess’ hand indicated otherwise. Even if she had wanted to at the time, she couldn’t be upset when she heard the news. Beneath the princess facade of one, lied years of an immense amount of pressure, fear, and suffering, while beneath the unfeeling demeanor of the other, lied a depth of guilt that she wasn’t sure would ever be relieved. Princess was particularly worried of Beatrice feeling betrayed, but she had been nothing but understanding, pointing out that it wasn’t her being a Princess that saved her, but by being Charlotte. Dorothy had simply laid a hand on Ange’s shoulder as means of consolation and reassurance. Gratefulness and relief filled her eyes at the simple gesture.

They’ve been through enough, and the happiness they found in each other and worked so hard for is one she pray will last forever and help preserve.

Her attention was drawn from her thoughts when Amanda waved at her. As she returned it with one of her own, her lips quirk into a smile.

And as for that little bundle of joy of theirs…

God knows damn well they deserve her

[onceabluemoonwrites]

How To Stay Together Outside the Mafia (Thanks, Mukuro)

Summary: There was nothing wrong with needing reassurance, but it had been blowing up lately with all his guardians, and Tsuna hadn’t been able to figure out why. Now, however, it was all crystal clear.

This was a Code Red situation. His angst babies were insecure and he would have to make sure their run-away-with-the-dark-thoughts-because-that’s-a-fun-road-to-go-down  brains would once again understand the situation as it was.

He might be dame, but he had learned. There was only ONE thing to do in a situation like this: Call your mom!

.

.

.

And the rest of his family, because he wasn’t that hopeless.

FF.net | AO3

You can find my fic master list here.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Katekyo Hitman Reborn

‘’BUT I DON’T WANT TO BE DECIMO!’’

Tsuna’s voice shook the very foundations of the house.

Mukuro sighed and pushed another cookie cutter into the dough.

When he moved in with the Sawada’s, he’d narrowed his eyes at Mama- as this woman insisted he call her- who’s flowery aura of… Surprisingly not death, though he had the idea that the woman that birthed Tsunayoshi must have the same strange dual qualities. He was certain it could turn murderous any moment, and yet still smell like fresh laundry and lavender.

…She seemed like the type that would scent her victims with her personal brand of perfume.

‘’What do you want for our boarding?’’

She’d blinked, tapped her lips and beamed. ‘’Well, if you insist, I’d love to have some help with baking! Making treats for the whole family is a lot of work! But don’t worry, I do it with love and I’m sure you will too!’’

Mukuro had flinched away from the disgustingly bright woman, but had accepted the apron she handed him. Frowning, he’d unfolded it. It was a frilly, purple garment. The upper part was shaped like the top-half of a heart, with the lower half having the likeliness of a ruffled skirt. It would have been adorable on Chrome, but this was apparently Mukuro’s apron, and he was going to rock it.

Sure, cute was a no-go, but that was Chrome’s area. Mukuro was the drop dead sexy half of the twin act. He would work Lolita like no man had worked it before!

Cackling to himself, he swung his narrow hips to let the ruffles bounce properly and set out to help his Mama.

…Calling her that was just practice for when he took over Tsunayoshi’s body. Yeah. That was it.

Sawada Tsunayoshi was devil spawn. Literally.

‘’Welcome to THE Sawada Household, Mukuro. Welcome to Hell.’’ He had murmured when he’d come home on Mukuro’s arrival day, before falling over the table in exhaustion.

Mukuro had not believed him. He’d even joked about it! “I’ve already been to hell six times. Not to this particular Hell, no.’’ Sarcasm, so lovely, applicable in every situation.

By now, however, reality had sunk in. The Sawada Household was the seventh Hell Mukuro had landed in, and he wasn’t all that eager to leave. This one taught the deadliest tricks, mind you. Sawada Nana was the greatest Satan he had ever seen.

Top techniques included: The Flowery Aura of Death, Set-the-Table, Mama’s Disappointment, the Guilttrip, Religion inducing Cooking, Yes-You-Must-Go-Bathe and the most deadly of all: Love Makes the World Go Round (Fly, you fools!).

So here he was, a few weeks into his stay at the Sawada household, making little cat-shaped cookies for Chrome, yoyo’s for Chikusa and paws for Ken. The only ones he owned up to making specifically for someone were the paws, of course. He couldn’t help but snigger as he pushed the mini-paw out of the cookie cutter with a fork. Comparing Ken to a dog in any way was guaranteed to get great reactions. Teasing him was just too much fun!

The door slid closed behind him, and an arm reached past him, snatching up part of the dough. Nobody touched the dough.

Mukuro’s fork missed the hand by a hair’s breadth.

‘’God fucking damn it, Rokudo! Let a man have his cookie dough!’’

Whirling around (ruffles rushing, to his eternal pleasure), Mukuro smiled at Gokudera. ‘’Well, well, well, Ha-ya-to~~ Have a little argument with the boss?’’

Gokudera shivered.

Popping a chocolate chip into his mouth, Mukuro smirked. Gokudera’s insecurities were just too easy to play into and those flowery aura of death lessons were paying off. Mama was awesome (No, not a personal meaning, it was a general opinion.

…

Okay, maybe not just a general opinion, but Sawada Nana’s food was Worthy of Worship and Mukuro was pretty sure she somehow managed to enslave him through it, the devilish woman!)

‘’He’s still refusing to talk about the future. Any attempt to talk to him about being Decimo, our future together… It just fails,’’ Gokudera stared morosely at his empty hand as if he were seeing the bottom of a whiskey glass (if Chrome asked, Mukuro had no idea how that might look) instead of a cookie dough-free hand. The way his eyes widened reminded Mukuro of a mutt.  This was probably what people meant when they talked about ‘’puppy dog eyes,’’.

Mukuro handed the white-haired adolescent more dough. A technique to keep him talking. Sympathy was for the weak.

…Tsunayoshi not becoming Decimo was a problem if Mukuro wanted to possess his body and destroy the mafia. Then again, Tsunayoshi being in a relationship with Tsunayoshi 2.0 (the red-headed one) and Cherry-blossom-chan (even just thinking about calling Hibari that made him cackle in glee) meant Cherry-blossom-chan had touched that body. Tsunayoshi was tainted now and possessing his body might result in cooties.

Letting Chrome join the Vongola might be an option after all. She deserved to be happy and being one of Sawada’s guardians certainly seemed to do the job!

Mukuro wanted to wash his mouth out with soap, the sugar was too much.

But, in the interest of Chrome’s future happiness, Mukuro couldn’t let Tsunayoshi go on about not becoming Decimo. Because if he wasn’t Decimo, then what use would he have for a tool like Muku- Chrome?

Chrome would be all alone again, without heating! No more cookies to bake for a house full of people, no more ruffled aprons to wear, no Fran to antagonize about his crush on Le Petit Prince (Squealing? Mukuro? No, that was Chrome! Honestly, you people!) and most of all: No one to love an asshole like- he meant cutie- Chrome.

Leaving the fork stuck in the counter and Gokudera with more cookie dough, Mukuro stalked out of the kitchen. Tying his apron strings tighter, Mukuro clenched his jaw. He was going to do something selfless for the first time in years.

Protect his adorable Chrome’s future and defend Gokudera’s hurt feelings so he could snigger about it later.

No self-interest at all! The things Mukuro did for his subordinates!

Now, on to make Sawada Tsunayoshi cease his attempts to abandon his post as heir!

‘’Sawada Tsunayoshi!’’

A disembodied voice resonated through the room. Mist drifted, engulfing the bed, kotatsu and desk with little effort. The door creaked, the curtains skid closed, the sound of metal against metal.

An eerie silence settled.

‘’If you’re just here to spy on me, get out or be more subtle.’’ Tsunayoshi looked up from his attempts to straighten his tie, completely ignoring the fact that only his upper half was completely covered.

‘’My, my, my, Tsunayoshi, so forward!’’

The brunette didn’t even bother to wave him away. ‘’I’m too used to you guys storming my room at all hours.’’ A tired sigh.

The room darkened. ‘’I heard your fight with Gokudera. As the Socially Inept Person in this household, I must say-‘’

‘’Isn’t Kyouya the Socially Inept Person?’’ Tsunayoshi continued to struggle with his tie. Honestly, the guy was a fashion disaster. How a respectable Madame Murder like Sawada Nana had birthed him… Mukuro had no idea.

Before he could answer, the brunette opened his mouth again. ‘’Oh, wait, Kyouya’s the Social-Skills-Nonexistent-Get-Tetsuya-To-Translate Person.’’

If even Tsunayoshi thought so, then how did their relationship even work? Did Kusakabe just… sit there all the time? Next to them?

…Then again, Tsunayoshi 2.0. doubtlessly had that woman (Adel, the one with the Murder Maniac tendencies) hovering over him, so maybe she and Kusakabe just did well in company.

Mukuro would have to look into that later- the greatest blackmail material ever.

‘’But what were you saying about Hayato?’’

Mukuro’s fist clenched. Tsunayoshi said it so casually, as if nothing had happened. And that was, as even he could admit, absolutely awful in the face of all Gokudera’s work. Mukuro hated do-gooders, but the bomber spent a lot of time with the Sawada’s, and there was no way the illusionist couldn’t notice all the effort the man put into becoming a better righthand man. And this reaction? It was utterly unfair to him.

Damn it. Mukuro had picked up a stray again. Just don’t feed them, and it will be alright, was the golden rule, but he kept breaking it, and the minute he fed them, he was gone! …Let’s just bury that underneath a mountain of denial, ne?

Curse the heavens for creating the Mist with a pinch of Sky flame-alignment! Mukuro pouted.

Appearing from thin air in front of Tsunayoshi’s nose, Mukuro jabbed a finger into his chest and hissed: ‘’Stop saying you don’t want to be Decimo. The fool is trying so hard to do better and you just keep throwing that back in his face every time. How do you think that makes him feel?’’

Tsuna sighed. ‘’You can’t force me into a career just because you want me to be, Mukuro.’’

‘’I said Gokudera wanted it,’’ Mukuro crossed his arms, ‘’He’s never had a safe family before- you can’t take that from him!’’

Tsuna’s mouth fell open. ‘’That is what this is all about?’’

‘’What else would it be about? The cookies? Because there’s sure a hell nothing wrong with those, I assure you!’’

‘’I know, I know, go put them in the oven- we’re going to need them in a bit.’’

‘’I wasn’t making any!’’ Mukuro yelled as Tsuna pushed him through the door opening. ‘’I wasn’t!’’

Slumping against the door, Tsuna rubbed his temples. God. Mukuro was insecure and had a Small and Breakable Heart (…and would probably slit your throat with the pieces left of it but that wasn’t the point in case). He was one of the most reassurance-needing guardians, and Tsuna’s storm was Gokudera.

There was nothing wrong with needing reassurance, but it had been blowing up lately with all his guardians, and Tsuna hadn’t been able to figure out why. Now, however, it was all crystal clear.

This was a Code Red situation. His angst babies were insecure and he would have to make sure their run-away-with-the-dark-thoughts-because-that’s-a-fun-road-to-go-down  brains would once again understand the situation as it was.

He might be dame, but he had learned. There was only ONE thing to do in a situation like this: Call your mom!

.

.

.

.

.

And the rest of his family, because he wasn’t that hopeless.

Sitting on a chair in the circle, Tsuna stapled his hands against each other. ‘’’We’re here today because it has come to my attention that we have a communication problem.’’

Gokudera almost choked on his drink. ‘’What?! How has this not come to my attention before?!’’

Yamamoto patted him on the back.

‘’It has come to your attention. We’ve been fighting about this since forever and I’m done.’’

‘’’Giving up is EXTREMELY not right, Sawada!’’ The rest of the room’s occupants began to talk too.

‘’You have to be Decimo, Juudaime!’’

‘’…Kufufufu, making my dear Chrome cry? She’s Murder Moe, Tsunayoshi, she knows where to find you!’’

‘’LAMBO WANTS TO STAY WITH MAMA!’’

Tsuna slammed his hand down on the table. ‘’This is exactly what I mean! If you would shut up for a second, I could tell you-‘’

‘’Shut up, dame-Tsuna.’’ Reborn jumped down from the ceiling fan, but before his mallet could connect with Tsuna’s skull, the brunet’s eyes flashed a deep orange and he threw Reborn aside. Landing on the table, Reborn opened his mouth, but Tsuna had enough.

"GOD FUCKING DAMMNIT, WOULD YOU ALL LISTEN TO WHAT I SAY WHEN I FUCKING SPEAK?! Not you Chrome, you’re a sweetheart.”

Taking off the ring, he threw it on the ground and stomped on it a couple times. It hurt his feet more than it did the ring harm, but god, that felt good. ‘’I’m NOT becoming Decimo, and if you all would just listen, you’d know this DOES NOT mean the end of us as a family.’’

Gokudera deflated like he was a balloon and Tsuna just stuck a pin in him. ‘’Oh.’’

‘’Yes, oh.’’ Tsuna sat back down. ‘’Though, to be honest, I could’ve handled this better too. I should’ve known this was the problem and just taken it out at the root. I’m sorry.’’

Ken scoffed. ‘’Pretty words, Sawada, but how do you wanna keep us together then? I sure as hell ain’t seeing results here!’’

Tsuna shrugged. ‘’No offence, but you guys were born into the mafia. You might want to destroy it, but it’s hard for you to think in terms of life outside of it. I thought we might be able to come up with something else together.’’

‘’Besides, this house will always be a home for all of you.’’ Nana smiled, hugging Lambo to her chest. The little boy melted into the embrace.

‘’Mama’s the best.’’

Nobody protested. Unanimous agreement there.

It was silent for a moment, the only sound to be heard was Kyouya munching on a tonfa cookie. …Tsuna was pretty sure Mukuro had put poison in there. He clearly was nowhere near Bianchi’s level, though, because Kyouya hadn’t kicked the bucket yet.

Then again, maybe he was trying to give him diabetes. Death by sugary goodness. Mukuro’s evil knew no bounds (according to the boy himself, that was. Though the corner of Kyouya’s mouth creeping up while he was happily munching on the cookies was definitely creeping Tsuna out).

‘’…So,’’ Bianchi murmured, ‘’Just because the mafia threw us together, it doesn’t mean we have to stay in it together. We can go be together somewhere else. That’s what you wanted to say, right? But what’s the next step?’’

Tsuna cleared his throat. ‘’I have a four-step plan and it’s guaranteed to work. This is how it’s going down…’’

‘’Sawada, that plan EXTREMELY sucks.’’

Yamamoto laughed, rubbing his neck. ‘’Sorry, Tsuna, but Ryohei’s right.’’

‘’Of course it sucks!’’ Haru rummaged through her bag and threw keys, pads and a crowbar onto the table, before she found the magazines she’d apparently been searching for. The glossy covers gleamed in the light. ‘’Us, opening up a food factory? Please, we’d sell poisoned goods and be back in the crime business before the day was over- and that is if we didn’t get bored and destroy the whole place! No, I have the perfect solution!’’ Kyoko did jazz hands behind Haru before the effect. Together, they struck a pose. ‘’A fashion house!’’

‘’…Wut?’’

‘’Oh, come on, Tsuna-kun! Don’t be like that!’’ Kyoko bounced up and down. ‘’We have the perfect skillset for it! Hana, we have a chart, right?’’

‘’I thought the chart was going to stay a secret,’’ Hana hissed into Kyoko’s ear, but she did pull an enormous chart out of her handbag.

‘’Mary Poppins,’’ I-Pin breathed, eyes big and starry, looking like Christmas had come early. Lambo squealed, making grabby hands at the older girl.

Hana stared at her for a moment. ‘’Okay, never doing that again. It attracts kids.’’

Lambo pouted, but Nana kept him quiet.

The rest of the room was staring at the charts. Putting on her glasses, Hana began using her laser pointer. ‘’As you can see here, we have thought about the finances. There are several people who would definitely invest in our ventures, especially with young, talented designers like Haru and Mukuro-san.’’

‘’Runway shows wouldn’t be a problem either,’’ Kyoko pointed out, ‘’I know you’ve done a couple of runway shows before, Hibari-san, and distinctive walks like Ken and Chikusa’s would do very well! They’d be able to establish a brand right away!’’

‘’Sasawaga -kun’s energy could also work,’’ Chrome said quietly, ‘’Plus, his athletic abilities give him options other models wouldn’t have. He could easily  maintain his boxing on the side.’’

‘’Ooooh! Good idea!’’ Haru fished a pen from underneath the pads and the crowbar and scribbled it down on the chart right away- ignoring Hana’s grimace at her neat work being messed up.

‘’Also, Reborn-san likes suits and Tsuna-san is the perfect watch model!’’ Haru elbowed Hana, ‘’I mean, have you seen his wrists?! Holy objects, I’m telling you!’’

Kyoko giggled. Tsuna gaped.

‘’Hmmm…’’ Mukuro tapped his lips, ‘’My dear Chrome, you would do VERY well with perfume spots, don’t you think?’’

Chrome hid a laugh behind her hand. ‘’Only if it’s called ‘Murder Moe’.’’

Bianchi cocked her head. ‘’Hmm… Bit of a silly name, but I could definitely cook something up for a fragrance with an atmosphere like that!’’

‘’Hey!’’ Ken shouted, ‘’No making fun of Mukuro-sama’s nicknames!’’

‘’Shut up, Ken!’’ Mukuro threw his trident at him like a mother hen curbing her ducklings by pecking at them until they stood in line. ‘’Anyway,’’ he flicked his hair out of his eyes, ‘’I would only agree to such proposal if I got my own shoe line.’’

Gokudera’s mouth dropped. ‘’Are you mad?! Wait- don’t answer that. Of course you’re getting your own shoe line. I mean, have you seen your shoes? If I knew where to buy boots like that spiky pair you wore yesterday, I’d have gone bankrupt already!’’ He bit his lip, ‘’Um. If we’re doing this, that is.’’

‘’Of course we’re doing it,’’ Bianchi rolled her eyes, ‘’I’m tired of you stealing my crop tops. If we have a fashion house, we might actually be able to satisfy your clothing addiction.’’

Gokudera narrowed his eyes. ‘’Pot calling the kettle black!’’

Nana laughed. ‘’That’s family to you!’’

‘’…Now we’re on the topic anyway, Yamamoto-san, would you be willing to model? We’d love some more eye-candy.’’

‘’Eye-candy, huh?’’ Yamamoto’s eyes narrowed.

Haru smiled like the cat got the canary. ‘’Why, yes, we need someone to dress up like a giant grape so Lambo will sit still during the onesie shoots!’’

Yamamoto’s jaw dropped.

Kyoko appeared behind Haru, tucking a lock behind her ear. ‘’That’s not what you said last night, sweetheart!’’

She winked at Yamamoto. ‘’Don’t worry, Takeshi-kun! Byakuran-san sure won’t be the only one who will enjoy all those shirtless photoshoots!’’

Never mind Flame Fashion™, who the hell let Byakuran talk to Kyoko-chan and how much time did they have left before the world imploded?!

In the end, it all came down to this: No matter what Mukuro said about Tsuna’s fashion sense, Vongola was the final boss, and they defeated it together.

Author’s Note

Xanxus became Decimo and buys Flame Fashion in bulk. Dino is eternally grateful to Mukuro for designing the sexiest heels in existence because Xanxus rocks them.

Interviewer: “Where did your brand name come from?”

Haru: “Funny story, actually! We kept saying our people were flaming!”

Kyoko: *beams and the world falls in love,” So we called it “Flame Fashion” because we’re on fire!’’

Tsuna: *looks at the camera with dead eyes* They set everything on fire. Everything. There is no escape.

I might write some more about the Flame Fashion house, so if anyone has suggestions, don’t hesitate to tell me! Maybe I’ll get inspired because I know you lot- you’re enablers! Also, a fun experiment: send some KHR fashion headcanons through my ask! I’m curious what you guys think what kind of high fashion the KHR characters would wear! For an example of what I’m talking about, I’ve got a post here.

Thanks a LOT to @i-w-p-chan for squealing with me! The line “GOD FUCKING DAMMNIT, WOULD YOU ALL LISTEN TO WHAT I SAY WHEN I FUCKING SPEAK?! Not you Chrome, you’re a sweetheart.” was her first reaction when I told her what I was writing and she gave me permission to use it! :D

Other than that, the moment between Bianchi and Gokudera was inspired by this post by @incorrectkhr ! 

The ‘’Mist with a pinch of sky’’ was inspired by @nightmare-aoife ’s Mukuro from the Cradle ‘verse! 

And also thanks to @operaeagleicelynlacelett for asking me about Mukuro doing chores and Tsuna one-upping Reborn which reminded me of this, and got me writing again!

[dark-unimaginably-stupid-kids]

Not Dreaming of You [Ch 3]

(Because You Won’t Let Me Sleep)

Series- Voltron

Pairing(s)- End Game is Klancelot, with a heavy slight incline toward Keitor simply based on the set up.

Other pairs include minor Shallura, past Rolotor, one-sided Sheith. platonic (??) Plance and even a hint of Heith if you squint real hard.

Characters in this fic in order of most screen time: Keith, Lotor, Lance, Pidge, Hunk, our Lovely Lady Generals, Kuron, Shiro, Allura, Rolo and Nyma

Synopsis: Keith has been tensely living with Lotor for about a year. They aren’t exactly friends, but occasionally they can get along. Suddenly with no explanation their neighbor Rolo moves out and two very noisy whack jobs move in. Somewhere between the loss of Lotor’s old fuck buddy and Keith’s sleep deprivation things start to get a little…odd.

“I’m telling you, there is something wrong with them!”

This chapter: No Lotor or Keith, but a look at Lance and Pidge and how they got where they are today...

---

Chapter 3- Lance is a normal boy with normal problems. Cross my heart and hope to die.

The first thing Lance realized when he woke up was that the light in the motel room was way too bright. Like kick in the teeth glass shards in your eyes kind of bright.

Next, he notices how absolutely parched he is. Lips dry, throat on fire, hell his joints are screaming at him like he’s been dehydrated for days.

When his eyes finally adjust enough to the room another sense comes at him like a pile of bricks.

Everything…smells.

Down to the linen sheets and the small sizzling burn of a cheap lightbulb reaching the end of its life. But on top of that, almost downing him, is the smell of…iron?

… Jeez.

To make his current physical standings worse, he’s alone in the motel room he’d entered the night before with a very attractive partner.

Maybe, Lance hopes, they had some prior engagement to get to in a hurry. Maybe there was a note or something and this wasn’t just a one-night stand.

Though—he doesn’t remember having sex last night either. Though his shirt is off and nowhere in sight…

Lance dragged himself out of bed on wobbly feet. He could see his shoes over by the door where he’d left them, his jacket thrown on the chair—yeah he remembered that too. But then- nothing.

He stumbled over to his jacket and fished out his cellphone. His wallet was still in there too so that was a good sign. It wasn’t like the hot stranger (Who’s name was currently escaping him) had robbed him or anything. There was, sadly, still no note or anything to imply that they ever wanted to see Lance again though.

Maybe he’d done something embarrassing. Maybe he’d drank too much and just blacked out.

His phone reads 5:23AM. Which means, if he wanted to, he could still get home before his mom got up for work if he moved quickly enough.

He’d miss his shirt, but not as much as he’d miss casual family dinners without his mother glaring daggers into his soul for not being home when she says goodbye.

It wasn’t like he’d planned to get a motel room with a stranger but hey, when the opportunity presents itself you take it.

So with one last passing glance over the room, he pulls on his shoes, zips up his hoodie to cover the fact he was shirtless and wanders out of the motel. If he had a little more time he’d probably have made the bed, made sure the bathroom was clean and all that good nonsense because his mother did in fact raise him right but it wasn’t like he could catch a ride home.

Though, again, it really didn’t look like much had happened.

Bummer.

When he was outside he braced himself against the cold and briefly wondered if it was possible to order a Lyft or an Uber home right about then.

Not that he couldn’t make the walk, but this was some extra level chill in the air. Sure, it was March and winter was still just hanging around and he was shirtless under his coat so the cold made sense but this just seeped into his bones and nearly put him to sleep, he felt so damn weak.

Man, the sooner her got home the better. So he decided to jog.

By the time he got home, quietly letting himself into his house, he crawled straight into bed and passed out.

He didn’t hear his mother’s alarm go off nor did he hear her leave, too exhausted like his body was made of lead.

What did wake him up was his sister cooking lunch. She had evening classes at the local community college so this was pretty normal. Lance himself was taking the semester off due to a financial aid mishap so his job was to cook dinner.

He wasn’t sure what it was that had really woken him but by the time he drifted into the living room the smell of his sisters beef patties made his mouth water.

Which was already a feat in and of itself considering how he was still crazy thirsty. He mumbled a quick hello to his sister who rolled her eyes at him for sleeping in so late and let himself into the fridge to get at the Kool-Aid he and his siblings regularly kept stocked.

And, like the gross boy he was against all his mother’s teachings, drank straight from the pitcher.

Veronica shrieked at him and hit him with a spatula, “Asqueroso! Lance, you’re washing that and making more now!”

Lance rolled his eyes affectionately, “Si Mama.”

“Oh don’t call me that,” She hissed before turning back to her cooking. Lance downed what was left of the pitcher and looked her over. She was wearing a long sleeved blue cotton shirt and shorts that, as her brother, he wished she didn’t own.

“You’re gonna change before class right?” He asked.

She blinked at him, “Why? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing! Nothing, it’s just. Cold outside is all.”

“Lance.”

“Ponte pantalones o le digo a mama.”

She slammed the spatula down and gave him the finger before wandering off upstairs shouting about how he better not let her burgers burn.

As soon as she was gone Lance realized quite curiously that the food didn’t smell as good.

How odd.

---

When eating and drinking and taking a scalding shower does not help him feel any better, the lights are still bright everything still smells weird and his skin is still crazy cold he starts to panic.

So he calls his brilliant friend.

If anyone knew what kind of weird shit he’d gotten into last night it would be her. Though, he was a little concerned about calling her up at all since she’d basically dropped off the face of the earth about two weeks ago.

Thankfully, she answered the phone anyway.

“Lance!” She shouted into the receiver. The urgency in her voice almost made him forget his own issues.

“H-Hey Pidge, what’s wrong?”

“Can I come over? Please? Please—your siblings aren’t home right?”

Lance raised a brow but considered this. Marco and Luis were out skating at the park and Veronica was stomping around upstairs like she was getting ready to head out.

“Uh, yeah, Vero is just leaving… Are you okay?”

“I’ll explain when I get there okay? I just. I just need you to keep an open mind okay. And. Unlock the door.”

Lance nodded, then corrected himself by saying so out loud before he wandered over to the door. The light the filtered in through the glass frame landed on his skin and felt way warmer than a sun beam should. Lance almost couldn’t care though considering how cold he’d been just a moment before.

It felt kind of nice.

Until it didn’t. His skin was suddenly very red and stung like a bitch, very clearly a sunburn. How in the hell he managed to burn himself that quickly was anyone’s guess.

He stood there eyeing his hand until Veronica came up next to him.

“What are we looking at?” She asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders and took her hand, holding it in the light.

She raised a brow at this but didn’t flinch at all. That was, until she noticed her brother’s fingers getting red.

“Lance! What—are you okay?” She pulled him out of the light and looked his hands over. He was honestly in too much shock to say much.

“…Tell mom when she gets home, we’ll get the insurance card and go to the doctor tomorrow, okay?”

Lance nods at her before she leaned foreward and kissed him on the cheek, “Maybe stay out of the sun for a bit okay?” She let herself out and told him to lock the door but per Pidge’s instruction he decided not to.

Besides, he was too distracted by the smell.

It was a couple minutes later when Pidge’s bike slammed into the side of Lance’s house and his front door swung open.

The girl practically rolled into the house, covered head to toe in a big green hooded coat, mittens and a scarf.

Lance knew it was cold at night, but the sun was still out and it certainly didn’t need any of that…

“Pidge are you—” he started from his spot on the couch, where he’d curled up with his phone to wait for her.

She didn’t let him finish this sentence though as she launched herself across the living room and onto her friend’s lap. Lance nearly shrieked.

“I’m sorry okay but I promise I’ll explain later and I just—ah…” Her forehead was burned, just like Lance’s hands, and her cheeks were flushed as well. Though whether that was a burn or embarrassment from her current position he didn’t know.

Honestly, he’d never thought of Pidge in this way and really had no idea how he was supposed to respond to the girl’s small knees straddling his waist. Definitely didn’t know how to feel about her hands tugging on his shirt or the way her mouth just hung open like she was the confused one.

“…Oh no.” She leaned into his neck and took a deep sniff of his skin.

“Pidge. Hun. Sweetheart. Please tell me what’s going on?”

She sighed deeply but didn’t remove herself from his lap, “I don’t know if this would still work…it doesn’t feel right…”

Lance groaned, hoping she understood how confused she was making him. Then she made it worse, by removing her mittens and reaching one of her own fingers into her mouth. She winced and pulled out her now bleeding finger, holding it up for him to see.

“What do you think of this, Lance?”

Lance stared at the small bead of blood on her skin.

And honestly…?

“…something is very wrong with us, isn’t there?”

Pidge sighed again and stared up at the ceiling, before letting out a very long and drawn out “Fuck.”

---

Adjusting was… difficult. And honestly, Lance could feel himself losing it day by day. He couldn’t spend too long with his siblings after that first time wit Pidge. He couldn’t enjoy his meals. He couldn’t sleep like a sensible human being.

Something had to give.

So he called her again. She picked up after the first ring, his calls now set to priority.

“Did you learn something?” She asked, not bothering with a greeting per usual.

Lance rolled his eyes and leaned further back against his pillow in his blue walled room. Maybe he’d teach her manners sometime. But considering the fact her current priority was to rid themselves of this ailment they were both suffering from, he wasn’t going to complain. Much.

“Pidgling, let’s go out.”

He could hear the skeptic look on her face.

“Lance.”

“Pidgling. Pidgling I’m serious. Let’s go. Let’s get out. Away from people we care about for a little bit. Just. Find a stranger. Take the edge off.”

He got to listen to her take a deep breath and let it go through her nose loudly. Definitely tempted. Definitely frustrated. Definitely…

“I’m about to reach through this phone and strangle you, we can’t think like that! We don’t know what will happen! What if—”

“What if I find a volunteer?” He hadn’t meant to say it like that, he hadn’t meant to say it at all. But the thought had occurred to him a few times.

After all, they were… kind of living a weird kind of fantasy right now, certain girls had wet dreams about this kind of shit. If he happened to mention it to someone who looked the part and they jumped on it, no big deal right?

He said as much to her and he proceeded to listen to her weigh the pros and cons of such a questionable venture before she made a small short determined sound.

“Okay. You know what? You go. Do your thing. When you’re done come over and tell me everything. I’m just. I’ll be here studying our blood samples.” She said it, she decided it, but she sounded sad.

“Or, and try this on for size Pidglet, you can get more blood samples.”

She groaned into the receiver and it was another twenty minutes before she conceded to be picked up.

Another five to convince her to borrow Matt’s car because Lance intended to drink something.

When they were finally seated around a bar, Lance eyed the crowd and established that everyone looked pretty normal and not fetishy at all.

“I think we came to the wrong club,” Lance offered as he gulped down his second shot of whiskey.

Pidge scrunched up her nose in distaste and turned back to her journal, “Well yeah probably, but you’re the one who chose this place so…”

She read over her notes and tapped her pencil on the spiral. The girl clearly had a problem leaving work at home.

“Well it’s not like we just stop having problems when we walk outside Lance, someone has to fix this mess!” She bit out, looking at him again.

He eyed the empty shot glass and wondered how much it was affecting him because he really didn’t remember saying that out loud. She groaned in exasperation and shooed him off.

“Whatever, go find someone to entertain yourself with while I get some liquid creativity in my system.” She flagged down the bartender and asked for something Lance was sure was very sugary that he’d have to steal a sip from eventually. But, for now, he went to peruse the club goers.

There was an interesting group of girls toward the back, almost looked like the type he’d been inclined to look for tonight if it wasn’t for the fact they were chattering about their missing boyfriend. All four of them. One guy. Lance may have been desperate, but he was not desperate enough to fuck with a guy who had four girls all openly discussing how much they missed him for not coming out with them tonight.

Anyone with that much game should be revered anyway.

Next stop, he spotted a girl with some fishnet leggings, ripped jeans, big thick black choker. Her skin was dark with smattered white patches that appeared to be tattooed on given how they resembled galaxies. As he approached her he realized the white patches were just part of her skin while the galaxies were drawn on every visible inch of her with what was probably the ball point pen sticking out of her back pocket.

Sure, she didn’t scream “bad tastes in wanna-be gothic media” but maybe she dabbled a little.

He sidled up to her, plastered on his most dashing smile and opened with his best line, “Hey there, the names Lance, and you are?”

She blinked up at him, pulling her attention away from her cellphone where she’d been rapidly typing just a moment before.

If Lance wasn’t so desperate, he would have noticed the sadness in her eyes before she seemed to settle on something.

“H-hey.” She shook her head and locked her phone, “Listen, I’m sure you’re a great guy but I’m kind of…not in the mood.”

Lance had been turned down a few times in his life. Came on too strong, too dorky, what have you. But her sincerity surprised him, so he decided to return the favor.

He leaned against the wall next to her and made sure his voice translated this for her. That he wasn’t looking for a hook up anymore and maybe she would appreciate that.

“That’s cool, that’s cool don’t worry about it,” He offered softly, “If you want me to leave I will, but your phrasing leads me to believe things could be…better, is everything alright? Do you need me to call you a ride home?”

She glanced down at her phone but didn’t answer.

“…Or maybe… you could talk to me about it? I promise I’m a good listener.”

He watched the tension leak out of her shoulders and she turned and smiled at him, all previous apprehension suddenly evaporated with just those few little words.

“I appreciate that… my name’s Nyma.”

“Nice to meet you Nyma. So go ahead, tell me about it.”

And she did. In explicit detail. So much so that he had to wonder how much she had to drink despite the fact she didn’t seem to be drinking at all.

Before he knew it Pidge was groaning at his side about how tonight had amounted in absolutely nothing while Nyma continued to prattle on about someone named Beezer who Lance was pretty sure was a dog. Beezer had absolutely nothing to do with the main subject which was how Nyma’s friend had ditched her for the evening but that conversation had ended at some point and Nyma just kept going.

“Tell your girlfriend we gotta go. Man, does she ever shut up?”

Lance shoved her and hissed out a quick, “Rude Pidgeon.” Before turning back to Nyma who’d barely noticed the disturbance.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m really sorry about this but I kind of have to go, my friend here is tired and we came together. We can talk later if you want? Give me your number, I’ll shoot you a text and we’ll meet up some other time, yeah?”

Nyma blinked a few times like she was skidding to a mental halt before nodding sadly, “Oh. Right. Okay.” She held out her hand or his phone and quickly punched her digits into his contacts.

“Cool,” Lance said simply, replacing his phone in his jacket pocket while Pidge groaned again, “It’s a date then.”

Nyma blinked again, as if struggling with the term before smiling, “Well I actually have a boyfriend but yeah, whatever you say, it’s a date.” Her smile was nearly blinding and not at all forced despite what she’d just said.

Lance raised a brow and felt Pidge stiffen at his side before she leaned forward and stared at Nyma, “You have a boyfriend…? But just agreed to go on a date with Lance?”

Nyma didn’t seem phased at all, “Yeah. I mean. I’m monogamous, but there’s just something really compelling about Lance. It feels like it’s okay.”

Lance stared at her in an absolutely horrified silence before Pidge continued their goodbyes for him, “Ooookay! Well, we have to get going, but Lance will totally text you…” Lance heard her mumble “you weird ass sloppy—” which made him hiss loudly to shut her up.

Nyma clearly heard nothing and waved goodbye as the two of them bolted out of the club.

It was a few hours later, curled up on Pidge’s couch feeling so drained and so fucking thirsty, that Lance heard the strangest sound.

The sound of Pidge figuring out something useful about their predicament.

“…Lance.”

“Yeah?”

“You need to call Nyma.”

---

Lance… had no words to describe the date he’d just had.

He just.

Wow.

He and Pidge were currently sitting in a hotel room Nyma had purchased for the evening. Nyma herself was in the shower trying to wash off the mess at Lance’s request and Pidge laid on the floor, half under the bed with her notebook in hand.

“She really let us do that.”

“She really did.”

“All because you said so.”

“…Are we sure that’s why she did it?”

Pidge stared at him for a long moment and he stopped his pacing across the worn grossly patterned carpet.

He’d had the sense to remove his shirt so it was clean and sitting folded on the cushioned chair by the door, but Pidge looked like a demon straight out of hell, her face, her clothes, hell even her hair was a mess. She’d have to shower next and he didn’t care if he had to throw her into the tub it was going to happen.

Not that he apparently needed to go that far though.

“Lance. Lance I can feel my heart beating again do you know what that’s—well of course you do.” She breathed after a moment, still spinning in her euphoria. Lance raked his fingers through his hair and breathed in through clenched teeth.

“We can’t do this Pidge. Can’t just. We could have hurt her.”

Pidge bolted up and there was the decidedly horrific sound of her spine hitting the bottom of the bed but she barely even winced and crawled out the rest of the way, tossing her notebook onto the still clean queen sized bed in the room.

“But! But we didn’t! We need this Lance! We need her—I can’t—I can’t even look at my brother anymore Lance he’s all I have and I look at him and—and I can’t—I can’t even stay in the house anymore I can smell him, please, please I don’t know why you can do this and I can’t but we need this!” Her eyes watered and Lance felt his beating heart seize up in his chest.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if I wake up one morning and find out I hurt him.” Pidge breathed.

Lance didn’t need her to say it. He’d had the same thoughts around Veronica and his younger brothers lately. Hell, his aunt came over the other day and she got a little too close to him when babbling about his taking the semester off and he’d gotten so lost in the idea of—

…

“We need to move. Both of us. We need to move out. And find some other way.”

“Hey guys,” Nyma started, a towel draped over her shoulders while she wore a large fluffy white robe. Lance eyed her neck stiffly and made to wrap a home-made paper towel scarf around her neck.

“Try not to stain the hotel stuff okay, sweetheart?” He mumbled to her.

Her eyes widened as if she hadn’t considered and she smiled at him, “Right! Of course. Will do. Anyway. So, I may or may not have taken a snap getting out of the shower just now and my boyfriend has a couple questions, would it be alright if he came over?”

Pidge eyed Lance like they were about to embark on disengaging an active bomb.

Lance acknowledged this was probably a fair response, but turned to Nyma and figured, why not.

“Nyma, does Rolo live alone?”

[caranfindel]

Recap/Review 12.20: "Twigs & Twine & Tasha Banes"

THEN: Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.

Shit, you guys, they’re taking us back to the pilot. It’s a risky move, showing this particular scene, because it reminds us of how awesome the show was back in the day. This scene has always been one of my favorites, with Sam blowing off Dean’s concern and then Dean repeating what he said but adding the oh-so-telling information (though we didn’t know it at the time) that Dad was on a hunting trip and Sam not breaking eye contact with Dean as he quietly asks/tells Jessica to excuse them for a minute and damn. I love this scene.

Anyway. The rest of the “Then:” hot witch twins, Ketch wants to know the secret behind Sam’s shiny hair, Cas, the Colt.

NOW: A lovely woman who looks way too young to be Max and Alicia’s mother drives up to an inn in a large old house, where she encounters a nasty older woman with a big ring and a big attitude (although I did think “what a delicate constitution you must have” was clever). She offers to cleanse her aura, saying it looks “a little muddy,” and I suspect this is a witch’s version of a southern woman saying “well bless your heart” - they both translate to “why don’t you fuck off and die?” The younger woman is Tasha Banes, here on both business and pleasure (but probably ending up with neither). She does some witchcraft using the order “reveal,” and ends up in an apparently very malodorous cellar, where she’s quickly stabbed through the abdomen. Like I said, neither business nor pleasure is getting accomplished here.

Title card!

Sam and Dean are in the bunker, freaking out about Cas. (Also, they’re both proving my point about Dean being the better dresser, since he’s wearing a nice solid grayish-greenish shirt that probably does things with his eyes when he’s not in a dark bunker, while Sam’s in an unflattering blue and red plaid.) Dean’s venting and chewing on his nails, which almost never happens. Sam’s quietly trying to figure out how to fix it. Dean says he’s always been able to forgive Cas’s missteps in the past, which, well, okay, maybe not but let’s move on. “But last night, I did not recognize the guy staring back at me.” Like that’s a first. Like Godstiel and Leviathan!Cas never happened.

Winchesters in distress. I like it.

Sam decides this conversation isn’t depressing and in fixable enough and unwraps a bundle on the table in front of him. It’s the remains of the Colt. There’s actually more remaining than I thought -it seems like most of the damage was the destruction of the barrel. Dean asks if he can fix it, and Sam answers “I hope so.” That’s actually kind of encouraging. I thought it was gone for good. I’d love to see Smart!Sam figure out how to rebuild it.

We hear the sound of a phone vibrating against a hard surface, but Sam checks his pocket anyway (insert your own hard surface joke here) and declares it not his. It’s not Dean’s either. It’s an abandoned phone, hidden on the table under a book, and apparently it’s one of Mary’s. I’d really like to know where the characters on Supernatural get these phones that hold a charge for weeks at a time (or, in the case of Bobby’s old phone in “Ask Jeeves,” years).

The caller is Alicia Banes, and let’s not ask why she called Mary instead of Sam in the first place because it makes me unhappy and I don’t want to think about it. They do a very cute thing where Max disputes half the things she says because he thinks she’s making a mountain out of a molehill. (Considering that we’ve already seen Tasha Banes get stabbed, I don’t think it’s a spoiler to point out that he’s wrong.) Alicia is worried about their mother because she was hunting a witch and hasn’t checked in as usual.

I did not notice, until now, that it looks like they may be stopped at a crossroads. Coincidence?

To everyone’s surprise, Sam tells her that he and Dean will meet them in Wyoming. Dean thinks they should be concentrating on Cas, but Sam points out that there’s nothing they can do about that right now, Jody’s put out an APB, and rather than sit around banging their heads against a wall, they should get out there, blah blah blah, and then he says this: “Their mom’s on a hunting trip, and hasn’t been home in a week.”

Dean can’t believe Sam is using that line on him. I can’t believe that’s the only reason they reminded us about it.

We get a few extra, quiet seconds of Dean looking… Sad? Undecided? Anxious? Is he thinking of John? Cas? Mary? Apparently it’s Mary, because he takes out his phone and calls her. She doesn’t answer because she’s… strapped to a chair in the BMoL bunker. With huge screws sticking out of her chest?

Well, that was unexpected!

Her phone is buzzing, and Ketch throws water in her face to wake her up. “Please be a dear,” he says, “and shut that bloody thing off.” I spend a second or two wondering if I missed something in the last episode, but then we see Actual Mary in the background, holding the bloody thing. So, the one in the chair is a shifter. Okay then. With her gray clothing, being strapped down by the BMoL, and having water thrown on her, I’m getting a real Sam-in-the-basement vibe. (And don’t forget the screws in her chest. Insert your own getting screwed joke here.) Despite his use of the word “please,” Ketch angrily makes it clear that he wants her to not answer it, so Dean leaves a message. He tells her about the hunt, says he’ll text the info in case she can help, and then does the lip thing and asks her to call back even if she can’t help. Because there’s some stuff going down and it’s got him “spun out” and he just needs to talk to his mama, dammit.

Dammit.

Ketch continues to torture the shifter (and it turns out the things in her chest are spikes, not screws, but my point still stands) and assures her that looking like Mary ain’t gonna make the torture any less torturous. In fact, I think Mary and I are thinking the same thing, and that is that he really seems to get into hurting someone who looks just like Mary. Also, he’s asking for the location of the shifter’s family (pointedly correcting Mary, who calls the shifter he, by referring to it), obviously intending to torture and kill them as well, so. Good luck with getting those answers. He must have learned his interview technique from Toni Bevell. But he promises that the pain will end when the shifter answers his questions.

Shifter Mary laughs at him and says “That eye of yours twitches when you lie.” He responds that his eye twitches all the time, which is probably true, and then punches her. The physical contact allows her to take on his own form, which throws him a little bit. But what really throws him is when it says, in a very non-Brit drawl, “Well then. I guess I know all about you.” Guys. Ketch is not really British.

He reaches for more spikes, but we cut quickly to the Impala, and then Sam and Dean meeting the Banes twins at a scenic water’s edge somewhere. It must be the next day, because Alicia isn’t wearing her cute outfit, and Sam has changed into an even more unfortunate plaid shirt. Dean’s wearing the Red Shirt of Bad Decisions (and now that I’ve seen this name on Tumblr, I want to claim credit for it), so hopefully something awesomely bad is going to happen. Alicia says that their mother was hunting a “borrower witch,” and Sam explains for the audience that this is a witch who gets their power from a demon deal. And in case we forgot Max is a horn dog, he tells us he got the phone number of the bartender at the only vegan restaurant in town.

(Sidebar: I know of people were excited about Sam/Max, and I’ve read some fics in this vein that I found quite enjoyable. But honestly, I don’t trust him. Sure, he’s sweet and he’s hot and he seemed to be into Sam but he told us he used his witchy powers to seduce men. And if that means “to make myself look hot so men will be attracted to me,” that’s okay. But if he means “to make men want me,” or “to make men think they want me,” that’s a little too close to Toni Bevell for my taste, and I would prefer that he keep it away from my precious Sammy. Also, he seems to be kind of a player, and I’m not slut-shaming, but I don’t think a booty call is what Sam wants or needs.)

(Yes, I do spend a lot of time thinking about what Sam wants and needs. Does that surprise you?)

But I digress. Max compliments the car (because, witchy powers or not, Max sure as hell knows how to work a guy) and Dean takes him for a tour of the trunk. There’s yet another shout-out to the grenade launcher. Those guys really need to use the damn thing this season. It’s funny to me that Dean casually discusses their need for witch-killing bullets in front of a witch. I mean, yeah, they’re hunting a witch, but it would be like Max showing Dean his new hunter-killing spell. It’s just awkward to me.

“Is that a grenade launcher, or are you just happy to see me?”

Sam and Alicia stand around looking beautifully windblown and discussing how their lives are parallel. Max and Tasha are “natural witches,” so they’re extra close, while Alicia has “no magic.” Except artificial witch magic, I guess. Sam tells her that Dean and John had the same bond, with hunting. Alicia asks about Mary, and I expect Sam to say “well, she wasn’t around to bond with when I was growing up, because she was dead,” but I forgot that Alicia knows her as the hunter who is in the here-and-now. Instead he says “she gets into a case and just.. vanishes.” (Just like John, huh?) Alicia comments that Mary’s a great hunter, so I guess they’ve done some hunting together? Is that why she called Mary for help? She doesn’t think she seems like much of a hugger, which Sam doesn’t dispute, even though I’m pretty sure their first hug (since her resurrection) was initiated by Mary.

I would hug you, Sam. Just give me the opportunity.

Team Banechester shows up at the inn and spots Tasha’s car. They also spot a peculiar looking guy next to the cellar doors. Max speaks for everyone when he declares him “not weird, at all” and Sam gives him an adorable awkward little wave, which is not returned.

Maybe it’s that shirt, Sammy.

Dean instructs the twins to “stay behind us” and Alicia says “yeah, sure” but I don’t think she means that because she brandishes an engraved blade and storms inside. She’s greeted by the same kindly clerk who checked Tasha in, and then by Tasha herself. Duh duh duuuuuhhhh!!!! Alicia is thrilled, Max is smug, and Tasha announces they can all hang in her room because she has wine.

Up in her room, Tasha says the witch hunt was a bust. And her phone hasn’t been charging, which is why she didn’t respond to Alicia’s frantic texts and calls. Alicia questions why she ignored her protocol to always call on the fourth day of a hunt, and I was under the impression Tasha was a witch and not a full-time hunter. (And do her hunts always take longer than four days?) Tasha struggles to open the wine while apologizing, and then something weird happens and she makes a face. She asks Sam to pour the wine and then turns away to straighten her broken finger. And remember that, because we’re going to talk about it later. So Alicia puts on some make-out music and Sam pours wine and a million fanfics are started but we’ll have to pause that, because as Dean adorably sniffs at his wine, Tasha announces she ordered vegan takeout and Sam offers to go pick it up. He pats Dean on the leg and instructs him to drink, so Dean empties Sam’s glass into his and it’s very, very cute.

AO3 tag of the day: Dean plus wine plus a trio of hot witches equals a fun time for all.

Cut to the weirdly futuristic BMoL bunker. Having finished his torture session, Ketch is “pumping with adrenaline” and would like to work some of that off with Mary. She shuts him down and says they’d agreed it was a one-time thing, and if she’s referring to the conversation they had when we saw her re-dressing and him cocking his leg out from under the sheets in an unappealing way, I don’t blame him for not getting that. Because I didn’t get it either.

She’s mad because his little torture session didn’t get them any intel; “that shifter was never going to be betray his family.” (Hmmm… I wonder if a Shifter!Mary refusing to betray family is going to mean anything.) Ketch is convinced that pain still works sometimes. “For example,” he says, in his fake Brit accent, “seeing you in pain made me want to have illicit hotel sex with you.” No, he doesn’t, but you know that’s what he’s thinking. He actually says “Anyone who tells you torture is never the answer? They have never been under the knife.” (Mr. Ketch, may I introduce Sam Fucking Winchester?) Mary’s still disgusted that he enjoyed it so much, and says she hasn’t seen that side of him (which is a relief, because I hope she won’t hang around long after seeing it) and he points out that she’s not going to become the Jiminy Cricket of the BMoL, because they don’t need a conscience. (Sidebar: Jiminy Cricket reference reminds me of Dean being Soulless Sam’s Jiminy and aw. Soulless Sam. That was awesome for a bit, wasn’t it?) They believe the ends justify the means. Speaking of the means, he snarks that she should feel free to call Mick and write him up, but she hasn’t heard from Mick - he’s not answering his phone or sending emails. Ketch reminds Mary she should call Dean, lest he think Mummy doesn’t love him. Oooh, burn.

Dean’s staring at his phone thinking exactly that. Tasha joins him on the couch and he tells her what a great job she did raising her kids. She says she just got lucky, and asks him about his own childhood. She then gives us this motto: Parents seem smart and perfect, but when you grow up, you realize they’re just people. I guess that’s why Sam went to pick up the food - so Dean could hear this little speech.

Contemplate that one for a while, Dean, since your contemplation face is so pretty.

In the BMoL bunker, we see Mary listening to Dean’s sad message. But before she can call him back, she hears Ketch on the phone. He says “I can’t just send him Economy Comfort” and then refers to a package with a lot number, and apparently Mary deduces the package and the “him” are the same thing, because she looks pretty distressed about it. Her phone then buzzes, loudly, with a call from Dean. Ketch hears it and looks suspicious, because quite frankly she’s acting suspicious. If she’d answered it, as if she didn’t care who heard and had nothing to hide, he might have thought she’d just now arrived at his door. It turns out he’s actually in Mick’s office, and she wants to use the computer to read her email. Ketch rudely stands behind her and watches her log in.

She has messages from Dean (hunt-related but also one that could go either way and another where he’s openly “just checking” from in yesterday, aw, poor baby) and Sam (apparently hunt-related) and oh, look, a message from Mick that just arrived today.

How convenient.

Oddly enough, the new message from Mick is flagged, just like the messages from Biggerson’s and Online Games. But she’s outwardly satisfied with Mick’s message, saying he’ll be stuck in London for a few more weeks.

Back at the inn, Sam shows up with the food and then gives Dean a significant head tilt, which is not all that subtle but I still love the way they respond to and respect each other’s signals. Like, it didn’t even occur to Dean not to meet Sam out in the hall. He leaves his phone on the end table, which will probably matter later.

Sam shows Dean a flyer he picked up at the restaurant - it’s a missing person flyer, for the unfriendly guy they saw at the cellar door earlier that day. The guys head for the cellar, but we don’t. We head up the stairs to the room where the nasty woman from the lobby is humming along as she creates a person-like structure out of twigs, with a big opening where the heart would go. Hmm.

In the BMoL, Mary calls Dean, but he doesn’t have his phone on him. She says she’s been hunting with Ketch, and apologizes for not being there for them. But she will be, as soon as she finishes this. And she misses and loves them. He’ll probably be happy to have that message someday. Let’s just get out of order and carry on with her story. She sneaks into a storage area and finds a trunk with the lot number Ketch mentioned on the phone. It’s not locked or anything, so she lifts the lid and discovers Mick’s body. Which would be in an unpleasant state of decay at this point. Ew. She leaves that room and sees Ketch coming, so she tries to get into a couple of different rooms, but her handprint doesn’t allow her access. Finally someone leaves a room and she slips in while the door is open. On the wall are several computer monitors, showing various information about several hunters: Garth, Claire, Eileen - and her, and Dean, and Sam.

It’s amusing to me that the photo they use for Dean is security camera footage of Demon!Dean.

She touches the Dean screen and plays a sound file of the conversation they had right after Ketch bugged the bunker, about how much they don’t trust him. She calls Dean again and leaves a message, telling him they have a problem. When she opens the door to leave, Ketch is standing there. He cheerfully tells her that her handprint didn’t work on the door because she’s not meant to be there. She asks why Mick’s body is in a box, and he blames an “unfortunate werewolf mishap.” She calls him a psychopath (and when two of your exes call you that, it might indicate you have a problem, Mr. Ketch) and asks if he killed Mick. He goes all evil villain and says Mick was weak and wasn’t “one of us.” Mary punches him and they fight, while he continues with the evil villain monologue and brags about killing the federal agents and “a psychic girl they thought was human.” Ketch says it’s the end of the American hunters, but he can keep her safe. She declines the offer and punches him in the crotch with the magic brass knuckles. Unfortunately, he has a taser, which trumps brass knuckles every time.

Back at the inn, Sam quickly picks the lock on the cellar door (I like that Sam tends to do the lock picking when they’re together) and the Winchesters are assaulted by a foul odor of death. There’s a cute, realistic brother moment where Dean tries to get Sam to go downstairs first and Sam refuses. So, as Max leaves for his date with the hot bartender, Sam and Dean make their way down into the cellar and find the bodies of the missing guy and the cheery inn clerk. And another body, under a tarp. Oh snap, it’s Tasha. Their hearts have all been ripped out. Unfortunately, they turned on the light, which attracted Max’s attention. He comes downstairs and they try to block him from seeing his mother’s body, but it doesn’t work. Oh, poor Max.

Next Max is in Not!Tasha’s room, throwing Not!Tasha against a wall and asking what she is. The Winchesters busy themselves holding Alicia back while Max does a “reveal!” spell and Not!Tasha tells him to go to the nasty lady’s room. Nasty Lady feels this, snaps her fingers, and the desk clerk’s eyes glow white. Missing Guy shows up in the hallway and Max magically tosses him out the window. As Not!Tasha spasms on the floor and Alicia freaks out, the desk clerk shows up and starts punching and tossing Sam, magically repairing himself when Sam breaks his neck.

Speaking of necks, here’s Sam’s. You’re welcome.

While this is happening, Dean and Max burst into Nasty Lady’s room. She recognizes Max as having magic and says maybe he’ll take the deal that his mother declined. She glues him and Dean into place and shows them Tasha’s death. She explains that, since she sold her soul for power, when she dies her soul will go to Hell unless she can find someone to take over her magic. You know, that doesn’t sound like a deal a demon would make. I don’t know why they’d give you an out like that. Since Tasha refused, Nasty Lady cut out her heart and put it into one of her stick creatures, making it come to life with the power of her ring. “That doll has all of your mother’s memories. It’s her, mostly.” She tells Max that if he kills her, all of the dolls will fall apart. But if he takes her power, Not!Tasha will stay around forever.

The kindly desk clerk chokes Sam, as one does, and Alicia leaves Not!Tasha’s side to save him. But then Not!Tasha’s eyes glow and she gets up and stabs Alicia with her own engraved blade.

Max is clearly considering the offer. Dean tells him “your mother is gone; it’s awful and it sucks -” and he’s interrupted by a finger snap from Nasty Lady that immobilizes him. And really, who is Dean Winchester to give this particular speech anyway? She takes the ring off and offers it to Max, but while she’s not wearing it, Dean is able to shoot and kill her. As she falls to the floor, the dolls attacking Sam and Alicia collapse into dust. Sam runs to Alicia’s side and says “we’re going to get you some help” and if that reminds you of Dean saying basically the same thing to Sam as they knelt in the mud at Cold Oak, it’s probably for a good reason.

Dean tells Max that touching the ring would have bound him to a deal with a demon and he would have lost his soul, and then we hear Sam’s panicked call and mmmm, panicky Sam, I like it. By the time Dean and Max arrive, Alicia is dead, and again, if Max crying over the body of his sibling/hunting partner/best friend gives you Cold Oak feels, you’re not alone.

And I should feel bad about it, but I’m torn, because it gives me this.

Aftermath! Max tells the Winchesters he could have saved his mother and sister if he’d just taken Alicia seriously. Sam tentatively offers to “get supplies” and Dean comes right out and says “"we’ve gotta burn the bodies, Max” because yeah, that worked so well on you, didn’t it, Dean? Max tells them to stop talking and go away, and he’ll do it.

We see the Winchesters in the Impala, with Sam telling Dean he did the right thing. As Dean muses that he didn’t save Max at all, and their loving family is gone, we see Max picking up the ring. Because of course Dean left it right there on the floor. Seriously, you told Max that touching the ring would you bind you to a demon deal, and you left it on the floor? What the fuck, Dean? Or maybe that part wasn’t an accident after all, because as we watch Max put his sister’s body on the bed next to the twig doll the witch made, Dean says “we do terrible things all the time to save each other. I mean, that’s what you to for family? Who am I to stop him?” Sam thinks Max will be okay, but Dean, well, Dean knows this side of the equation better than Sam does, so he’s not so sure. And he’s right, because we see Max cut out his dead sister’s heart and put it in the twig doll. Then he’s helping Not!Alicia get dressed and telling her they have to go, now. As they leave, we see real Alicia’s body on the bed. Max takes the witch’s ring and spell book, and magically sets real Alicia’s body on fire. Aw, Max.

Back to the Impala. (This is a long aftermath, guys.) Dean looks over and sees Sam sleeping.

And godDAMN, sleeping Sam is pretty. So is driving Dean.

He sees he has two messages from Mary on his phone, so he plays them; first the one about how she misses and loves them, and then the one about there being a problem. Ominous music plays, and Dean tries to wake Sam up, but Sam doesn’t wake up and Dean tries harder and the music gets more ominous and I don’t understand what’s happening here. Is something wrong with Sam?

We cut away very quickly to actual Mary, strapped into a chair just like Shifter!Mary, getting a face full of water. Ketch is disappointed that she wasn’t as ruthless as he hoped. Mary’s phone buzzes, and a familiar pantsuit-with-an-accent enters and declines the call. She tells Mary she’s an asset, sits down with her familiar notepad and pen, and says “let’s begin.” Yes, Posh Spice is back!

Okay, first, let’s talk about Not!Tasha. Did she or didn’t she know she wasn’t real? Because when she broke her finger, she didn’t freak out. She turned away, so no one else could see her, and fixed it. So did she know she needed to stay undercover? And what does that mean about Not!Alicia? She doesn’t seem to have a clue what happened to her. And yet, if she has all of Alicia’s memories, she’s going to remember being stabbed, just as Tasha should have remembered that.

And now let’s talk about Mary and her complete lack of subterfuge. For someone who went out of the country to hunt, leaving a toddler at home, she’s certainly bad at hiding her thoughts now. When you’re locked in a small room with a psychopath, you don’t say “Hey, I know what you’re up to, and you’re a pyschopath.” You pretend to go along. You say “Yes, dear, I understand what you’re saying about my sons. Maybe we should discuss that later, after some illicit hotel sex. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go get the fuck out - I mean, I need to go powder my nose.” You don’t ask about the body with a bullet in its head. You don’t let on that you know things that will cause the psychopath to want to kill you. You just don’t.

And what about all the parallels? Max lost his parent/role model and his sibling/partner/best friend and made an awful, soul-condemning deal to not be alone. Mary watched Ketch torture her mirror image in an attempt to get information about its family, and now he’s doing the same thing to her. Toni is about to work Mary over just as she worked Sam over. The Colt is unusable but might be made usable again. And Cas is doing the whole Godstiel thing again.

But the thing I can’t get past, to no one’s surprise I assume, is Sam. That was such a weird little bit at the end. Like, if nothing’s wrong with him, and he was just slow to wake up, they hit it way too hard. And if something is wrong with him, they didn’t hit it hard enough. It’s driving me crazy.

Anyway. This episode had a lot more packed into it than I expected. It didn’t have enough Sam (what episode does?) but, according to the Twitter of the actress who played Tasha, Jared’s latest baby was born during or right before filming, so I assume he had some time off. And I’m cool with that. But I need you back next week, Jared. (Do we only have two episodes left? Is this a 22-ep season? Or are there three?)

Please please please help me stay unspoiled for anything past 12.20. Thank you!

[ficdirectory]

Disuphere (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

NOW

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Home: 3 years, 1 month and 5 days

The next afternoon, Jesus, Callie and Mariana wait until Mama takes Frankie grocery shopping before they leave.  Jude and Brandon aren’t home, so there is no one to tell. They file outside and stand by Lucile, the car the girls bought without even asking Moms.  Somehow, it runs.  Somehow, they aren’t grounded forever.  (Probably because their family really did need another car.)

They hesitate in the driveway, all standing there awkwardly.  This is usually Moms’ territory: dealing with Jesus and his massive car trigger.  He’s hoping, though, that not being deathly ill will help in the same way it’s helped his frame of mind.  Still, they probably should have talked this through first.

“So, where’s ideal for you?” Callie asks, wasting no time.

Jesus swallows, aware that he’s standing directly between the passenger and back doors - somehow managing to block both at once.

Mariana clears her throat.  Steps into Jesus’s eyeline.  “Porch conference?” she asks.

“We gotta go, though.  I already emailed.  Told him I was coming.  That we’d be there at 3:30.”

“There’s no rush,” Callie says, like they have all the time in the world.  “Where’s he gonna go if you’re late?  He wants to talk to you.  I doubt he’ll leave.”

Nodding, Jesus walks to the porch and sits.  He’s a little short of breath already.  (That usually happens if he ever tries to be spontaneous (a.k.a. not planning every little thing.)  Taking some time helps.  The girls honestly not being in a rush helps.

“I need to sit in the back, and I probably need you in back with me,” he says, looking at Mariana.  “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods.  “If it’s okay with you.”

He nods.  “And I need you,” Jesus turns to Callie “to be super obvious about what you’re doing.  Narrate, basically.  And don’t reach over the seat, if you can help it.”

Normally, he wouldn’t need to be this specific, but he doubts he has ever been in a car without Mom, or Mama, or both, since he’s been back.  This is gonna take a lot of trust.

“Got it,” Callie nods.  “So, we’re just going to that park, like, five miles from here.  With all the picnic tables and trees.”  She’s getting a head start on this narrating thing.  He digs it.  Offers a smile.

They get in the car with no catastrophe.  Callie, it turns out, is freaking hilarious, and narrates the whole trip as an old British woman, who is going to the park to look for her her lost pet badger.  

It gets Jesus’s guard down so much that he finds himself asking questions, and getting really into it:

“Can’t badgers, like, kill you?  Aren’t they like wolverine-level creepy?” Jesus asks, laughing.

“Oh, not Alfie.  He’s my baby….” Callie intones.

“Callie, seriously, what kind of name is Alfie?” he asks.

“Oh, no, no, my dear!  My name isn’t Callie!  It’s Mrs. Georgina Feathersby Longbottom.”

Mariana has tears rolling down her cheeks from laughing so hard.

“Child, could you keep down all that noise?” Callie snaps, in full British accent, hiding a smile.  “We’re just pulling into Alfie’s favorite park….”

When she turns off the car, though, Callie is back, and all-business.  “You okay?” she asks, checking on him via the rearview mirror.

“Yeah…” Jesus is trying to get his breath.  (How did he go this long not knowing Callie was hilarious?)

They spot Ethan.  He’s the only kid at this park, because it’s literally just benches and picnic tables.  No skating or playground equipment to attract kids.

“Holy shit.  He’s right there…”

“We can go back home if you want,” Callie offers.  “No pressure.  Mrs. Longbottom’s glad to chauffer you.”

Jesus cracks a smile.  “No, I got this.  And, hey, in case I forget to say it later?  Thank you guys both for this.  Means a lot to know I can count on you.”

“Of course,” Callie nods.  “We’re family.”

“So I’ll set a timer on my phone for twenty minutes when you sit down, okay?” Mariana asks.  “Oh, and do you want us to walk you up, or linger casually in the car before we sit on the bench under that tree.”

He nods.  “Timer sounds good.  And, I’m a big fan of you guys lingering casually, if that’s cool.”

“Yeah.” Callie nods. “So, we’ll be here in the car, or over there if you need us before twenty minutes is up.”

“Sounds good,” he says again, taking a deep breath.  “Okay.  I’m going in.  Wish me luck.”

Jesus gets out of the car before he can hear their answer.  He forces himself to walk at a normal pace.  No jogging.  No running.  (And definitely no high-tailing it in the other direction.  He can do this.)

“You can do this…” he mutters.

Jesus slides onto the empty side of the picnic table, looking into the pimply face of now-fifteen-year-old Ethan.  He hadn’t been this big three years ago.  Only twelve or something, and Jesus never actually saw him until After, on the news, at the hospital.

“Hey,” Jesus says.

“Hey.” Ethan returns.

“You got glasses,” Jesus observes, and feels ridiculous.

“Cut your hair,” Ethan returns.

“Yeah.”

Silence.  Then, Ethan breaks it with an honesty-bomb:

“Why didn’t you save me?”

“I told the police, Ethan...as soon as I could, I swear.”

“You were gone, for like, hours, while I was trapped down in that damn basement.  He could’ve come back at any time!  Gotten pissed and just killed me!  Did you even care?  You got all that freedom to walk around and do whatever the hell you wanted.  Why should you care about me?”

“Not at first,” Jesus interjects softly.

“What?” Ethan snaps, furious.

“At first, I was Down There just like you.”

Ethan sneers.  “You’re full of shit.”

“Pitch-black, no windows, chained to a pole?” Jesus rattles off.

“Any idiot can watch the news and all the special reports and pick that up,” Ethan insists, unconvinced.

“Yeah?” Jesus challenges, extending his arms and pushing up his sleeves, showing the scars on his wrists.  “Watching the news can’t do this.  You think you had it so tough being Down There for ten days?” Jesus is standing, leaning across the table.  Ethan’s up, too.  “I was in that hellhole for over two months.  And for a week when his mom died with hardly any food or water!  And for weekends here and there as punishment, or just because he fucking felt like it!”

“Jesus, there you are!” Mariana says, like she hasn’t been in his eyeline behind Ethan this whole time.  

“We’ve been looking for you,” Callie says, breathless.

It takes him a minute, but he steps back.  Gets his bearings.  (It hasn’t been twenty minutes.  They’re saving him.)

“Who are they?” Ethan asks so disrespectfully Jesus wants to smack him.

“My sisters,” Jesus growls.  

“Nice…” Ethan gives them a once-over that makes Jesus rage inside.  He doesn’t know if Ethan’s always been this horrible to girls or if being There did it.  In any case, he can see the hurt that flashes in Mari and Callie’s eyes at being judged as objects, not as people.

“Do me a favor and lose my email address...and our home address…  We’re done.” Jesus says, walking away, flanked by Mariana and Callie.

“What if I don’t?” Ethan calls at their backs.

“Try it,” Callie dares.  “Our Mom’s a cop.  She’ll lock you up in juvie for messing with one of us.”

Jesus doesn’t turn around.  Just goes straight to the car, gets in and locks the door.  Callie has to unlock it to let Mariana in.

“You okay?” Mari asks.

“He’s an ass…” Jesus insists.  “How did I not see it?”

“Probably ‘cause you barely knew each other,” Mariana points out gently.   “Just because He had both of you at once doesn’t mean you’d get along.”

Jesus nods.  He’d pointed out the same thing to Ethan via email not that long ago.  That He’d tried to make them hate each other.

Well, it worked.

“If it’s any consolation,” Callie says, looking in the rearview mirror.  “Ethan?  Looked like he was about ready to pee himself at the idea of Mom arresting him and going to juvie.”

“It wouldn’t be as bad as There,” Jesus says, certain.  “Hey…” he hedges.  “Ma’am?  Did you find your badger?”  He hopes Callie will take the hint.  He just needs to move forward.  Ethan’s no threat.  Just a waste of his time.

“No, dear,” Callie intones.  “I was quite busy taking care of someone else much more important.”

Mariana smiles.

“Who?” Jesus asks (because damn it, he needs to hear her say it.)

Her eyes flicker to his in the rearview mirror.

“You, dear,” she says, and they pull out of the parking lot, headed for home.