#i just finished cookie's version

[mishkakagehishka]

Also i'm sadly still on a hetaoni kick

[gwydionae]

King's Quest Fan Remakes

After talking about them a bit recently, I felt compelled to play through the old KQ fan remakes (1-3 from AGDI and 3 from IA), and I wanted to share my more in depth thoughts for anyone interested in these love letters to the original games.

King's Quest I: Quest for the Crown Remake from AGD Interactive

A lovely update to the original! While clearly the least polished of AGDI's offerings, it's nice to be able to play KQ1 with KQ5-style graphics and voice acting (the original voice of Graham, Josh Mandel, voices him in all four of the games in this post, ftr). There is an option to turn off any chance of softlocking yourself before you even start the game, which is a welcome feature. Puzzle-wise, this one stays the most faithful to the original out of the three from AGDI with a few updates here and there (like that stupid name puzzle! lol). The vocal performances and sound effects can be a bit fuzzy, but I found them enjoyable nonetheless.

Overall a solid fan remake with limited extra bells and whistles!

King's Quest II: Romancing the Stones from AGDI

Easily the most ambitious of the three from AGDI. Pretty much all of the core elements from KQ1 are further polished here - artwork, acting, music, and sound effects. The story and puzzles, however, have been changed enough that the end product is sizably different from the original. In some cases, this is fun and interesting (more lore and character interactions! new and unique puzzles!), but not everyone will enjoy all the changes. I, for example, find the underwater section kind of fun, but the new content around the count... not so much (for reasons I'll avoid due to spoilers, but know they're more mechanical than anything). There's less freedom in when you can do things, the added story making the game far more linear than it originally was. But then I'm sure many would agree that if any KQ game could do with extra content, it'd be 2, so I can't fault them swinging for the fences, even if not every hit was a home run.

All in all, this version of KQ2 doesn't really work if you're simply looking to experience the original game with updated graphics, but it's a fun playthrough nonetheless, and newcomers might enjoy the added lore/story bits. Just be aware that I could probably sum up the original game's story in about two sentences while this one would take far longer. XD

King's Quest III: To Heir is Human Redux from AGDI

If KQ1 wasn't fully polished and KQ2 was a little overworked, then KQ3 is juuuuuust right! (For anyone who knows the game, yes, this is a purposeful pun. XD) The graphics, sounds, music, vocal performances - all are the best yet (though still with some minor hiccups as any fan game is wont to have - the music was sadly cutting out during the climactic sequence for me). It even has a neat little feature where the timer changes color depending on how close you are to being zapped into oblivion that is not only useful but adds a sense of urgency in it's own way (especially if you forgot the item that makes travel a lot easier for like 2 meals I mean what lol). While it does carry over some of the story threads from AGDI's second entry, this game still works well enough on it's own, with the majority of the new content being added in naturally rather than supplanting whole sections of the original. In fact, personally speaking, I think the added content only enhances the game, your encounters with Medusa and the yeti especially getting a nice boost. And the extra lore only helps you feel for the protagonists plight all the more. The ending is a bit drawn out, perhaps, and I may not agree with the order you're supposed to choose the four items in to get the treasure (insert rant here XD), but those are minor nitpicks at best.

This is easily the best of the three, AGDI having perfected their KQ formula at this point. It works as a remake of the original while still adding in a bit of new content that doesn't feel unwelcome. I would highly recommend it to anyone interested in giving the King's Quest series a try.

King's Quest III: To Heir is Human Remake from Infamous Adventures

Look. I know that it's not as impressive as AGDI's version. The time limit is laughably long, the spells are impossible to mess up, and some of the clickable areas can be a bit wonky. But I really like this version, ok?? I like the design and voice of Gwydion, I like the storybook quality that the cutscene art has, I like that it feels lonely when it should. And as much as some of the changes in AGDI's version were really nice, I like that it's basically just the original game without extra stuff added in.

This is like AGDI's KQ1 - a really solid remake of a game that gives you the feel of the original but with an updated interface and graphics. It's not as impressive as the one above, but it doesn't have to be. The original KQ3 is an awesome game, so an update of just that can't be bad. It can easily be played as a standalone game, and I will continue recommending this version 'til I die, lol.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Since you've mentioned Scarlet Lady in one of your posts, what's your opinion on it?

I've mentioned before that I'm a big Scarlet Lady fan, which is the only reason that I'm comfortable answering asks like this one. I don't publicly criticize the content of hobby creators. That's wildly inappropriate! Punch up, not down.

The linked post was a general discussion of the adaptation process and how @zoe-oneesama did a fantastic job, so for this one, I'm just going to do some general gushing because I do actually like praising and enjoying things!

Scarlet Lady's chosen format (comic) allows it to have this wonderful conversation with canon where it can rely on the framework of canon to tell it's own story while also using canon for jokes and meta commentary. This means that Scarlet Lady is about as close as fan content can get to a direct reboot because it's able to have moments like this one from the comic's first post:

[Image description: Adrien standing in his room after transforming into Chat Noir for the first time. He is beaming and his eyes are shining with excitement as he exclaims, "This is gonna be awesome!"]

A single picture that communicates everything we need to know about Adrien getting his miraculous. When I've done this same thing in fanfic, I had to write out the full scene because that's how novels work. You have to give the full picture. With a comic, you can just quickly acknowledge this thing that we all already know and then move on to the new stuff. A picture really is worth a thousand words! (Or, in my case, more like two thousand...)

This allows Zoe to keep the same akumas that we get in canon without her story feeling like a boring rehash because she can focus on what's different in her version. A novelization of the same content would have to show both the stuff that stays the same and the stuff that changes for it to be coherent. That's a lot less fun to read and write. It's why I basically never revisit canon akumas in my own stuff. It's just too derivative for the written word.

This is one of the big reasons that I loved Scarlet Lady. Because it was able to have that more directly conversation with canon, it was able to take canon and say, "hey, why don't we embrace the tone that you established in season one and retell the story with that vibe?" That's something that I desperately wanted to see, but that is totally unsuited to my chosen artistic form. It couldn't be a novel. It had to be a comic.

If you want to know what a true formula show version of Miraculous would look like, Scarlet Lady is it. It does everything that Miraculous should have done:

Sticks to a lighthearted tone where nothing is ever super serious

Keeps Gabriel entirely unsympathetic

Has slow character development and background hints at a bigger plot as the only serial elements, allowing the individual episodes to be their own story while never feeling incomplete or rushed

Allows characters other than Marinette to shine while keeping Marinette as the clear main character

Makes Adrien narratively important

MAKES THE LOVE SQUARE CUTE SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHIP IT

Understands that Lila and Chloe can't coexist as antagonists

Reverses the love square, which is the best way to tell their story. Yes, I will die on my "love diamond" hill. It's a good hill. Come join me. I'll bring cookies.

I could keep going, but you hopefully get my point. While Scarlet Lady is certainly not the only way to do a formula version of canon, it's proof that a formula version does work! You don't have to go the serious route for Miraculous to be successful.

I want to take some time to gush about the ending, but I don't want to spoil it, so I'll put that gushing under a "read more" in case anyone hasn't seen it. I'll finish out this less spoilerish section with this:

I feel like some people are surprised when they learn that I love Scarlet Lady because - as some of you have probably picked up - it is quite different from my ideal version of canon. I'm not sure why that would stop me from enjoying a thing, though. It's important to remember that our personal ideals are not the only way to tell a good story. There are lots of ways to take what canon gave us and make something wonderful! It's part of the reason that I enjoy being in a fandom.

If I only wanted to see my ideal take on canon, then I'd stick to writing/imagining my own stories. But I don't want that! I like seeing alternate takes, too. Scarlet Lady is one of my personal favorites. It's completely different from anything that I'd ever think to write and that's why I'm so glad that it exists! I like being entertained just as much as I like creating my own entertainment and I don't want to only read stories that look like something I'd write. That's boring!

Spoilers below:

I've mentioned before that there are many, many ways to properly handle Chloe's character and Zoe did such a good job with her take on that! Chloe isn't absolved of all the things she did wrong, but she's also treated as a young woman with the ability to change.

While the comic bares the name of Chloe's alter ego, she was the never the main character. She never went on a journey. The story kept her to her shallow season-one self: a petty brat who just wanted attention. It did this because that's who Chloe was in canon and who Chloe needed to be for the comic to work.

The first time we see any complexity from Chloe is in the comic's final few episodes, which was absolutely the right call for Zoe to make! In a recent post, I talked about how the end of a formula show is the only time when you can break the formula in catastrophic ways and that's what Zoe did. She kept Chloe static until it was time to end the story and that's when the formula breaks. That's when Chloe gets depth because, once she has depth, the formula doesn't work.

That depth is not used to redeem Chloe, but to show us that there's hope for Chloe. That this petty brat who we've been dealing with has some serious issues and needs help. Help that she's going to get far away from the people that she's hurt because her issues aren't an excuse for what she's done. They don't erase the harm that she caused. At the same time, understanding her issues makes us hope that she can be better now and Scarlet Lady took a moment to give us that hope. To show us the START of Chloe's true story.

That is the kind of ending that I have wanted to see in so many properties!!! It was so wonderful to finally get one that did this right. A story that understood that full redemption to the team and damnation to death/suffering are extremes on a scale of possibilities. You don't have to go to extremes! You can fall in the middle and the middle is a perfect, natural place for Chloe to land in this kind of story. Fully redeeming or even fully damning Chloe simply doesn't work in lighthearted formula content. It's too big a lift as canon has already demonstrated.

I also loved Zoe's take on Emilie. I've mentioned that I don't like evil Emilie in part because it makes her revival feel like the start of a new story. She's back and she'd bad, so we have to take her down now! But I don't want that. I want the story to end when Gabriel is stopped. Zoe does this by giving us an Emilie that is another perfect middle ground. She matches canon's uncomfortable implications without feeling like a true villain who is a threat to society.

[orteil42]

i gotta finish this mobile cookie clicker update because it's soooo close to playable and Then i can also make a $5 ad-free version like everyone keeps asking and Then i can get back to other fun non-cookie projects for a while but sometimes i get hit with these days or weeks where i just do not feel productive at all and instead i embrace being a guy who takes things in. food and movies and games and absolutely unworthwhile amounts of nonsense on youtube. i'm so sorry for everyone waiting but doing nothing is so blissful

[wileys-russo]

before the void (fresa’s version) II a.putellas

filling the void (one) filling the void (two)

so many of you sent me cute little thoughts and ideas about what you thought childhood was like for fresa and so to soften the blow of all the angst i've been posting, here they are as some cute little memories before the void (fresa’s version) II a.putellas

with the significant age gap and both her older daughters supposedly responsible eli would often leave you home alone with them when having to work the night shift, the extra money needed now as a single mother of three.

"can i have the one with the red lid now pequeña? por favor." alexia asked holding out her hand as you frowned, staring down at the series of small spice jars by your side.

grabbing the one you deemed correct you held it up to your sister who grinned. "muy bien, gracias fresa!" you giggled as she tickled your stomach and turned back to dinner.

"is it ready now?" you asked eagerly, swinging your legs where you were sat on the counter, at five years old you seemed to have an insatiable appetite and very little patience. "did i say it was ready?" your sister replied with an amused smile, the almost nineteen year old quirking an eyebrow.

"no." you sighed with a frown. "then no fresa it is not ready!" alexia laughed as again you huffed, hungry scowl deepening. "don't you remember hermanita if the wind changes and you're making an ugly face you get stuck like that forever?" alexia warned as you paled in fear and quickly forced a smile.

"much better." your sister ruffled your hair and gently grabbed you, helping you down from the counter. "can you put these on the table?" alexia held out three spoons as you nodded, taking them from her and darting away.

"done! now is it ready?" you collapsed tiredly into your sisters leg whose body vibrated with laughter. "soon. can you go get alba please nena?" alexia ran a hand through your hair staring down at you in amusement as you sagged against her.

"when i come back will it be done?" you asked hopefully as the older putellas rolled her eyes fondly, more than used to your questioning and impatient ways.

"sí pequeña, when you and alba get back it will be all ready." alexia promised as you perked up and tried to run off but the older girls hand held the collar of your shirt. "ale!" you whined trying to push her away.

"beso." your sister squatted down and tapped her cheek as you huffed but begrudgingly kissed her cheek, trying to run off again but her strong arms held you captive.

"did you just roll your eyes at me? no manners fresa!" alexia tutted, grinning as you squirmed and wriggled trying to slip out of her hold, whining and smacking at her arms to no avail.

"finish dinner, i'm starving." you gave up fighting and instead went limp, pouting up at her. "well i know alba snuck you cookies an hour ago so tell your worm to stop eating all your food! then you wouldn't be so hungry." alexia teased, poking at your stomach and kissing over your face before finally letting you go.

"tan impaciente fresa. vamos!" she playfully kicked your behind with a grin sending you stumbling forward as you shot her a glare as mean as you could manage but ran off before she could grab at or kick you again.

reaching up you pulled down on your middle sisters door handle, pushing it open and frowning at how dark it was inside, nose crinkling at the strange smells in her room.

"alba. alba!" you tried calling from the doorway, seeing a large lump under her covers as your fifteen year old sister was taking a nap, something your mami had warned you teenagers did sometimes when they were in a bad mood and going through something called 'puberty'.

"alba." you called again, wandering toward her bed and reaching up for the corner of the duvet, tugging on it as you were only met with an annoyed moan and a hand shooting out to push you away.

"dinners done, vamos!" you huffed impatiently, grabbing her now limp arm which hung off the edge of her bed and attempting to pull her out of bed with a grunt, failing miserably as she didn't move an inch.

"go away diablillo." your sister groaned, rolling over onto her other side as you pulled yourself up and onto her bed. "i'm hungry and we can't eat till you get up." you kicked at her under the covers only getting a tired grunt in reply.

"alba!" you scowled kicking her harder as her arm shot out again to shove you away, almost sending you tumbling off the bed as you caught yourself. "get up!" you shook her shoulder as she pushed your hand away, eyes still closed.

"now alba." you huffed, intending to hit her shoulder only as she rolled over again to try and pull you into bed with her your hand collected against her cheek with a rather loud smack and her eyes shot open as your widened in fear.

"muerto!" your sister growled as you leapt down from her bed, sprinting away and hearing her footsteps thunder after you. "ale!" you yelled as the eldest putellas frowned and you quickly hid behind her.

"nice bed hair idiota." alexia snickered as alba scowled and scraped her hair up into a bun, sending you a menacing glare where you peeked out.

"leave fresa alone and go sit down." alexia ordered pointing at the table, having started to dish up. "but she-" alba began to argue, falling silent at the hard look from her older sister and retreating to the table.

"i can do it!" you tugged on your sisters shorts as she grabbed both her bowl and yours, having already placed alba's down at the the table which the girl was hungrily digging into.

"be very careful por favor." alexia warned as she carefully handed you the bowl and you nodded, holding it in two hands and very slowly walking to the table. "alba!" alexia warned seeing the younger girl about to try and trip you over, her leg retreating with a huff.

"aqui." alexia took your bowl again and put it on the table as you climbed up onto a chair. "gracias." you smiled at your sister who sat down beside you, kissing her cheek and starting to eat as alba mumbled her own thanks among a mouthful of food.

"no you do it." alba argued with a shake of her head, collapsing down into the sofa as alexia held out a towel in her direction awhile later. "i made dinner! we're both supposed to help out when mami's at work." alexia reminded, a sharp crack echoing around the living room as the towel snapped against her younger sisters ankle.

"ow! puta. this is me helping, if i do it i might be tempted to drown her!" alba shrugged honestly as your eyes widened and you tugged again on alexia's shorts. "you do it. i don't wanna drown!" you begged as your eldest sister sighed but nodded.

"make yourself useful and wash up then. now hermana!" alexia snatched the remote where the girl reached for it, tucking it into her pocket as alba groaned but got up and made her way to the kitchen.

"para eso! diablillo." alexia laughed as you stood up in the bath and kicked water at her, soaking her shirt as she dropped your towel on your head and pulled the plug from the bath.

"can't see!" you complained as you tried to pull the towel off but alexia held it over your head, lifting you out of the bath and placing you carefully onto the mat on the floor.

"when's mami comin back? soon?" you asked hopefully once your sister had dressed you, hanging up your towel and hoisting you up onto her hip despite the fact you were old enough and more than capable of walking.

"she'll be back when you wake up tomorrow, bed time fresa." alexia covered your face with her hand as you tried to argue, already well prepared for what was coming as she made her way down the hall and into your bedroom.

"the sun is still up!" you protested, standing up in bed with your arms crossed and a frown making alexia smile, the large shirt you'd insisted on wearing drowning your tiny body and making you look a lot cuter than you were trying to convey with your current scowl.

"because it is daylight savings nena, the sun goes to bed at nine but you go to bed at eight!" alexia pulled the curtains shut as you groaned. "one more hour." you bargained as the older girl shook her head and sat down in the chair in the corner.

"no." "half hour?" "no." "twenty minutes." "no." "sí." "no." "sí!" "no!" "sí."

"n-dios mio why am i arguing with a five year old. bed time, now fresa." alexia sighed fixing you with the best stern look she could manage but it did nothing as you shook your head and leapt out of bed, racing off as alexia threw her head back and sighed deeply.

"sorry for hitting you hermana." you climbed up onto the couch and dropped yourself into alba's lap, kissing her cheek with a charming smile your sister was unable to resist, messing up your hair with a fond roll of her eyes.

"hey! that is not your bed fresa, go." alexia appeared, pointing to your bedroom behind her as you shook your head and grabbed albas arms wrapping them around you.

"come on ale mami isn't here, let her stay up a little later." alba chuckled taking your side as alexia scoffed. "yeah ale, you're not mami." you grinned cheekily as your eldest sister gave in with a sigh, handing alba the remote and sitting down on the other end of the couch.

"one episode and you're putting her to bed then." alexia warned getting comfortable as alba clicked into your favorite cartoon and you grinned happily, wriggling around a little before settling, your sisters hand tangling in your hair.

between the rising and falling of alba's chest and her arms tightly wound around you paired with her fingers scratching lightly at your scalp you barely made it a further ten minutes before you'd gone completely limp.

another five and alexia glanced over with a snicker seeing both you and alba now dead asleep on the other end of the lounge together. with a roll of her eyes she pushed herself up, gently shaking alba's ankle whose eyes fluttered open.

"go to bed hermana." the girl chuckled, gently picking you up as you immediately latched on, alba sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "no its fine you said you wanted to watch that new movie, put her to bed and i'll find it." she stretched out and blinked a few times before grabbing the remote.

"don't you have class tomorrow?" alexia questioned with a raised eyebrow. "relájese mami i have a half day, i don't start till eleven." alba rolled her eyes mockingly and gestured for her to put you to bed.

alexia was grateful you barely stirred as she tucked you in, brushing your hair out of your face and kissing the crown of your head, backing away and leaving your door open just a crack in case you woke up and called out later.

"popcorn?" alba asked with a hopeful smile before alexia could even sit down, the older girl rolling her eyes but retreating to the kitchen none the less as alba clicked play on a horror movie they'd both been wanting to watch.

as they both settled in, fixated on the screen and the popcorn shared between them, neither girl heard your door push open a little more or the soft patter of your feet as you rubbed your eyes and left your room.

as a kid you'd always had eager ears, you might have been loud and outgoing just like your sisters but you also learned from a very young age that sometimes staying quiet was just as beneficial.

so knowing well enough if either one of your sisters saw you you'd just be sent right back to bed you quietly made your way into the living room, ducking down and sitting on the floor by the arm of the couch where neither of them could spot you.

your eyes struggled to stay awake as you leant your head against the couch, but hearing the murmured chatter of your sisters just above your head was comforting as your body sagged and you fought to keep your eyes open.

though that wasn't an issue as suddenly someone was violently decapitated on screen and you couldn't help but gasp, the unexpected noise making both of your sisters jump more than the movie was.

"pequeña! you are supposed in bed what are you-" alexia was by your side in an instant, scooping you up as you hid your face in her neck and alba hurried to turn the movie off as the violently gruesome murders continued.

"hey hey fresa está bien, its just a movie its not real!" alexia felt you tremble and held you tighter, taking a seat again and rubbing your back softly. "come on nena, its way past your bedtime." alexia sighed once you'd calmed a little, standing to her feet.

you glanced toward alba over alexia's shoulder who drew her finger over her throat and flopped her head sideways mimicking the beheading making your eyes widen in fear before she was out of sight.

"your bed." you poked at your sister and shook your head firmly when she attempted to put you down, clinging on tightly with arms locked around her neck. "no fresa, your bed." alexia sighed and pryed you off of her, your hands gripping at her shirt with another shake of your head.

"i told you hermanita it was just a movie, you are very safe in your bed. alba and i are here, mami will be home soon and you need to sleep!" alexia poked your nose and stood, again prying your hands away from where they fisted at her top.

though as she kissed you goodnight and tucked you in again, the moment her back turned she heard you move and glanced over her shoulder as you now stood right behind her.

"you are not sleeping in here tonight, are you?" alexia sighed knowingly as you shook your head firmly, arms crossed across your chest. "vale. go get in my bed and i will be there in a second pequeña." your sister gave in, shaking her own head as you sprinted off toward her room.

alba having headed off to bed it would seem alexia checked all the doors were locked and left the lamp on for whenever eli got home, heading after you to her own room.

"are you mad at me?" you asked quietly with a worried frown as after changing and flipping the light off your sister climbed into bed beside you. "no fresa, you are too cute to be mad at. but go to sleep por favor!" you whined as she pinched your cheeks and you tucked yourself into her side.

over the years your co-sleeping habits had been something that was a point of contention. when you were much much younger and your sisters slept on the floor by your crib you grew accustomed to not being by yourself even as a baby.

as a toddler it was a fight for your parents not to wake up with you wedged between them or curled up on the end of the bed not unlike a cat did, and no matter how many times you were put back in your own bed you seldom stayed there more than a few hours.

but there was one person who would never turn you away the moment you could walk well enough to make it to her room and that was alexia, relishing in the fact you wanted to spend so much time with her and enjoying nothing more than being able to tease alba about being your favorite.

though as alexia grew older she started to want her own space, but without a lock on her door you seemed to arrive near every night tugging on her arm or climbing up into her bed uninvited.

"no fresa, your own bed!" the teenager would groan, removing you from where you'd snuck in, carrying you under the arms to your own room and dropping you back in bed.

but when that didn't work she'd made eli invest in a lock for her door and for a few months you finally spent the entire night in your own bed, albeit a few nightmares where eli took pity and allowed you into her bed.

as you got even older alexia didn't need to lock her door anymore as it seemed the habit was finally broken, but then when your father passed and the house was no longer the bright laughter filled space it used to be, the tides shifted.

"hey pequeña." your eyes fluttered open tiredly, finding your eldest sister knelt down by your bed, bags under her own eyes as you rubbed yours. "ale?" you rasped out as she hummed and pushed your fringe back out of your face.

"can i sleep here with you fresa?" your sister asked as you frowned, confused by the request. "why?" you questioned sitting up a little, but moving over as alexia slid into your bed beside you.

"you are sad?" you asked when alexia didn't answer your original question, slipping underneath her arm as your body slumped tiredly into hers. "sí nena, i am a little sad." alexia confirmed, her feet hanging off the end of your bed but that was the least of her concerns.

"cause of papi? cause he isn't coming home anymore?" you questioned, alexia wincing as everyone had been baring the brunt of trying to explain to you why he wasn't coming home as gently as they could to a five year old.

"sí. but you know what always makes me feel better when i am sad?" alexia whispered as you shook your head. "a hug from you, you give the best hugs fresa." alexia smiled as you looked up at her.

"really?" you yawned as your sister hummed and you shuffled around to get a little more comfortable. "you can have hugs whenever you want ale." you mumbled tiredly, tiny body clinging tightly to hers as the older girl wiped away a stray tear.

"gracias fresa." alexia kissed your forehead, your eyes already closed as you firmly fisted her shirt and she hugged you even tighter.

"but next time we can hug in your bed you're too big for mine." you sighed honestly, alexia covering her mouth to stifle a laugh, something which hadn't left her in what felt like forever.

"oh nena please don't ever grow up."

~

when you were younger you were a bubbly kid, intelligent too and incredibly empathetic and caring. but you did have one fatal flaw, at least to your sisters, and that was your inability to lie.

to eli you were a blessing in that sense, and though she'd always raised her girls to be honest if the older woman smelled anything amiss you were her to go for confirmation.

not unlike the first time you'd caught alba sneaking back in after a night out with friends, your sister hardly sober she'd climbed back in through the wrong window scaring you near half to death and hurrying to throw a hand over your mouth as you almost screamed.

"what are you doing!" you asked wide eyed, heart rate a near million miles an hour as your sister laid down on your floor. "dios mio fresa why is your room spinning!" alba groaned throwing a hand over her eyes as you leapt out of bed.

"no! you can't tell." your sister grabbed at your ankle sending you hurtling to the floor with a thump. "let go!" you grunted trying to pull away as alba clung on, the two of you bickering back and forth before your door opened.

"pequeña? what-" to alba's relief it was only alexia as she relaxed and you managed to yank your ankle free, shuffling away from her. "alba came through my window and now she's being weird and says my rooms spinning and-" you rambled on as alba groaned and alexia quickly realised what happened.

"you're drunk!?" alexia hissed as alba shushed her and you frowned. "whats drunk mean?" you questioned alexia who faltered for a moment, grabbing alba's hands and hauling her to sit up. "nothing. wait here fresa!" your eldest sister ordered firmly, pulling alba properly to her feet.

mumbling angrily at your other sister in spanish alexia very carefully guided alba out of your room and toward hers, wincing as alba's head thumped against the door frame.

but she breathed out a sigh of relief as eli's door stayed closed, practically dragging her younger sister to her own room as you stayed put, getting back into bed where you'd been rudely awoken.

after a few minutes and making sure alba wasn't going to choke on her own vomit alexia returned, kneeling by your bed. "you can't tell mami that alba came through your window fresa." your sister spoke firmly as you gave her a curious look.

"can i say she was drunk?" you questioned, at seven years old not able to know what that meant. "no, you can't tell mami anything." alexia shook her head. "but what if she asks me?" you questioned with a frown as your sister sighed.

"she won't. promise me you won't tell?" the brunette held up her pinky as you gave her a suspicious look. "if you do i'll take you to the beach after school tomorrow." the older girl bargained as you nodded. "will you get me ice cream?" you questioned again as alexia sighed but agreed.

"now go to sleep!" her fingers shoved at your forehead making you huff and swat her away. "i was! till drunk alba woke me up." you rolled your eyes. "not a word about it fresa, i mean it." alexia warned as you yawned and nodded, closing your eyes again.

that next day just as promised alexia picked you up from school and drove the two of you to the beach, alba meeting you there dropped off by one of her own friends.

"can i go get some shells?" you questioned, hovering by where both your sisters laid out in the sun. "sí. alba will go with you!" your eldest sister pushed at the others shoulder who groaned. "you take her." alba mumbled, voice muffled by the cap covering her face.

"no i think you will, or else maybe mami will learn where you were last night." alexia smiled smugly closing her eyes and rolling onto her back, alba pulling the cap away from her face with a dirty look as you tapped your foot impatiently.

but this little interaction didn't go unnoticed by you, and neither one of your sisters could have predicted how it would come back to haunt them as alba sighed and stood up.

"vamos, lets go find some pretty shells then hermanita."

"alba." you spoke up a little later as your sister hummed, busying herself shifting through a handful of shells for the best ones. "what does drunk mean? ale wouldn't tell me." you questioned as the older girl paused.

"uhh it means you feel sick." alba dismissed, refusing to look up and meet your eyes she felt burning a hole in her head. "like when you eat too much ice cream?" you questioned again, bending down to poke at the sand.

"uh sure, like that. oh look at this one!" alba held up a large pink spiral shell as your eyes lit up and as hoped your attention focused elsewhere, taking your sisters hand as you both wandered further down the beach and the topic didn't arise again.

"i win!" you cheered as you beat your sister back to where alexia was now sat up, watching with a smile and sunglasses dropped over her eyes.

"did you find some good shells fresa?" alexia smiled as you and alba returned and you launched yourself at her in a hug, tackling her onto her back making her laugh. "yeah. alba has em!" you nodded to your other sister who was carefully placing them into your bag.

"i think thats enough sun for you today then hermanita." you huffed as a cap was pulled down over your eyes sending the world dark for a moment before you pushed it back up.

"ice cream?" you asked hopefully as your sisters packed everything up. "we had ice cream when we got here, no more today nena." alexia chuckled pulling your hat down over your eyes again.

"i think more ice cream." you announced, pushing the hat up with an innocent smile as alexia gave you an odd look. "well i said no fresa, vamos!" she held your bag and hers in one hand and offered her other for you to take.

"i think yes, or else mami finds out about alba last night." you took her hand and parroted alexias earlier words, alba rooting in spot a few feet ahead and slowly turning. "what did you just say?" the older girl asked in disbelief.

"ice cream or i tell." you shrugged as alba scoffed. "this is your fault. arréglalo!" she pointed at alexia who stared down at you in a mix of shock and fear.

"so, ice cream now?"

another thing neither of your sisters had planned for was eli to suggest you all went to a local carnival which was on for the weekend in the centre of town that night.

both of them hoping the beach ice cream incident was a one off had been unable to say no to your puppy dog eyes that they both come when they tried getting out of it, each of them cancelling plans with friends to go to the carnival instead much to your delight.

and for the first couple of hours, everything was going well.

your sisters argued over who got to hold your hand, bickering over which rides to take you on or whose turn it was to sit with you much to eli's amusement as she trailed after the three of you, one of her friends from work joining you all on her night off.

she'd always been cautious about how her older daughters would react to her news of having another, especially with a 10 and 13 year age gap, but there hadn't been a single second where she'd regretted her decision to have you.

both your sisters fiercely protective from the moment you were born it was now to the point it almost seemed as if they'd had you themselves the way they carried on sometimes, though the more older you got the more they seemed to insist on babying you in sheer disbelief that one day you needed to grow up.

"this one." you decided, sat on alba's shoulders as the three of you stopped in front of some sort of game which looked to involve shooting down some ducks, both older girls now arguing over who could win you a prize first as alba carefully lowered you to the ground.

"ready to lose reina?" alba challenged as your eldest sister scoffed and rolled her eyes, paying the attendant and readying herself as it counted down and you watched on in awe.

though of course and as per usual it was alexia who came out on top, cheering happily as alba dropped the fake gun with a scowl. "which one fresa?" your sister hoisted you up onto her hip as the attendant pointed out which prizes you could have.

pointing out a bright purple stuffed pig your eyes lit up as it was handed to you, alexia placing you back on your feet as you hugged your new friend tightly. "that one? he is so ugly." alba frowned at your choice as the three of you wandered off to find eli.

"you are ugly!" you shot back in defense of your new friend, alba's eyebrows raising as suddenly you bolted, your sister hot on your heels as alexia yelled after you both to be careful with a shake of her head.

this afternoons events were all but forgotten as you shovelled treat after treat into your mouth, still at the age where as the youngest nobody really ever said no to you, least of all your mami.

but on reflection your sisters perhaps should have taken into consideration the two ice creams and multitude of rides and running around you'd engaged in when buying you whatever you wanted all evening.

all but asleep in alexia's arms now your eyes fought to stay awake as eli waved off her friend and the four of you headed for the car, your eyes opening again as fireworks sounded in the distance and you looked up in wonder at the bursting colours above your head.

but as you were buckled into the car, you started to feel a little funny.

"mami i feel sick." you mumbled, alba leaning over with a frown and laying the back of her hand against your forehead. "she's not hot." the brunette shrugged before suddenly you careered forward and threw up all over yourself.

"oh hija." eli winced sympathetically, hurrying around to the side of the car as alexia hunted around in the boot for something to change you into, alba too busy complaining about the smell to be of any help.

having a few small sips of water and changed into one of alexia's old training jerseys she'd pulled out of a bag you were sat back into the car, body sagged against your sisters as she'd swapped seats with alba, running her fingers through your hair.

"ale?" you spoke up as the older girl hummed. "think i'm drunk." you mumbled out as the car jolted to a stop at a red light and your sisters eyes widened, eli whipping around to face you in shock.

"you are what?"

~

from your very first day of school it became a routine that alexia would both drop you off and pick you up, the start and finishing times never clashing much with her training schedule whilst eli was almost always at work and alba at school of her own.

over the years alexia had gone bright red when asked if she was young when she had you, quick to explain she was just your sister as the embarrassed blush shifted to whoever had asked the question, a rambled apology normally following.

though now ten years old your school this year was trialing two half days on a thursday and tuesday for some sort of study, and with this new introduction there was a shift in routine, eli normally taking her lunch break early to quickly collect you and bring you back to work with her.

which is why on thursday when you'd finished around lunchtime you were surprised to see alexia waiting for you instead, barcelona kit on and shifting anxiously from foot to foot checking the time on her watch as her eyes roamed the playground for you.

as they found you and you waved she smiled, gesturing for you to come as you hugged your friends goodbye and raced over. "where's mami?" you questioned right away but upon your arrival something else had captured alexia's attention.

"stuck at work. what happened to your face fresa?" alexia dropped down right away, cradling your face in her hands and turning it side to side to inspect the fresh cut above your left eyebrow.

"and your knee! mierda." the eldest putellas gasped suddenly seeing the nasty gash on your right knee, dried blood already scabbing over. "thats a bad word." you reminded your sister who ignored you, too busy inspecting your knee.

"what happened? did you fall over? were you running too fast? did you have your backpack on? did you forget to tie your laces again?" alexia fired a million questions your way, only stopping when your small hand covered her mouth, sometimes the only way you knew how to shut her up when she got like this.

"i got pushed over. do you think i'll get a cool scar?" you asked excited by the prospect as alexia swatted your hands away to stop you touching the cut on your head.

"who pushed you and why?" alexia asked firmly, hands cradling your face again with a frown.

"a boy. we had to speak about our heros in class and i was telling everyone about you and how you play football for spain and barça and he said girls can't play football. then i told him he was stupid and you're better than anyone in the whole world at football and he pushed me over!" you explained, alexia's face softening for a moment.

"you said i was your hero?" she asked, a little choked up as you nodded and she pulled you into a tight hug. "ale you're all sweaty!" you groaned trying to push away from her much larger body.

"now. who pushed you?" alexia snapped back to the problem at hand as her eyes quickly scanned you for any further injury, frown depending seeing a few small cuts on your palms where you'd clearly tried to use your hands to break your fall.

"him." you pointed out the boy who caught your eye and paled as your sister let go of you and turned, face like thunder as the boy quickly cowered behind his father, alexia ordering you to wait here for her as she marched over to the pair.

you couldn't hear what was being said but watching your sisters hands flail about you knew she was angry, and it seemed the boys dad was angry too, yelling back at her for awhile.

and as much as alexia would have loved to continue to give the man a piece of her mind she knew she was already running late to return to training. so settling for threatening legal action if a single hair on your head was touched again she turned on heel and stormed away, grabbing your hand and tugging you to fall into step with her.

"vamos, you're coming to training with me pequeña."

"cutting it a little fine aren't we ale? going from a half an hour early to only ten minutes?" leila teased as alexia appeared in the change rooms still with your hand held securely in hers even as you tried now to pull away.

"we're late cause ale got into a fight at my school!" you chipped in, succeeding in yanking your hand free and making a beeline right for leila who dropped down to hug you.

"a fight huh?" marta raised an eyebrow as alexia rolled her eyes, sitting down to change out of her trainers back to her boots, still with an outdoor session to go before she was finished for the day.

"yeah she beat up some boy for pushing me over. do you think i'll get a cool scar?" you questioned leila as a few more of the girls came to greet you, your battle wounds quite the topic of conversation as your head was turned side to side over and over and your knee was poked and prodded at before marta gently covered it with a plaster.

"i didn't beat him up fresa!" alexia groaned at the questioning looks sent her way. "no she fought his papi." you corrected as laughs echoed around the change room and alexia hung her head in her hands.

"i did not fight anybody!" alexia huffed as you took your backpack off and handed it to her to be put away in her cubby, your sister quick to smother your face in sun cream much to your attempts to push her off as she explained what really happened.

"well i think that boy is stupid and you will have a very cool scar nena." patri grinned, scooping you up and tossing you over her shoulder. "badass!" you chirped as alexia's head swiveled toward you. "who taught you that?" your sister questioned as your eyes lingered on a guilty looking pina.

"you're not allowed to be left alone with claudia anymore." alexia sighed with a shake of her head, making her way out of the change rooms as patri carried you over her shoulder.

you busied yourself chattering away to mario who hung behind you with a grin at your very animated recount of what you assumed alexia had said to the boys father, your sister now just out of earshot as she walked ahead.

"do you have homework fresa?" alexia questioned with a raised eyebrow at the singular book and pen in your hand once the others had all made their way onto the pitch.

"no?" you tried with an innocent smile as your sister chuckled. "still a terrible liar diablillo." your sister teased as you deflated and begrudgingly showed her the times tables you needed to practice.

"diablillo huh?" a new voice sounded as a girl you'd not met before appeared with a grin. "fresa this is maría, she's my new team mate." alexia introduced the both of you explaining you were her sister as the girl commented on the obvious age difference.

"i was an accident." you stated suddenly as alexia frowned and bent down. "who told you that?" she questioned with furrowed eyebrows. "that boy who pushed me today." you shrugged, not too bothered by it.

"well he is wrong, sí? you are not an accident fresa, do not let anyone tell you that. you were a surprise, and surprises are always good. a perfect little surprise for alba and i, vale?" she pulled you into a very tight hug as you nodded and hugged her back making her smile.

mapi squatted down next and extended her hand toward you as your sister let you go and stood back up.

"cool!" you ignored the handshake and instead marveled at the tattoos littering her arm, tracing them in awe making both older girls laugh. "you can call me mapi, you like these huh?" mapi asked as you nodded eagerly.

"like the ones on ale's back. i tried drawing some more on her but she wouldn't let me!" you commented with an eye roll. "you wanted to draw them on my face!" alexia reminded with a scoff. "yeah your face is boring hermana." you grinned, ducking as her hand reached out to mess up your hair and the whistle blew.

"well anytime you want to draw me some more cool tattoos diablillo you are very welcome to." mapi promised with a wink before running off. "if you need help come get me or ask somebody, go do your math por favor!" alexia nodded for you to go sit in the shade as you did so.

you tried to do your math but found that watching your sister and her team train was far more interesting, book and pen abandoned in your lap after only five minutes as you watched on in awe until the final whistle blew to end training.

most of the girls headed back toward the change rooms alexia wandered over, taking a seat beside you and handing you a water bottle. "nice math fresa." she snatched your book before you could with an amused smile.

"yo te ayudaré." she rolled her eyes, shuffling a little closer and walking you through everything, pausing every now and then as a few of the girls came over to speak with you both.

"my head hurts." you complained, falling sideways so your head was in your sisters lap once you'd made it halfway through, alexia chuckling.

"must be the cut." you nodded pointing it out causing the older girl to fondly roll her eyes, deeming that was enough for now and helping you both up.

"you know fresa, you are my hero too. mi pequeña héroe!" alexia smiled softly as you both walked back into the training centre as you looked up at her in surprise.

"really?" "really nena."

"and mi hermana favorita, but do not tell alba." she winked, foot flicking up to kick you in the behind. "hey thats not fair! my legs not long enough." you tried to do the same to her almost sending yourself tumbling over as alexia laughed and grabbed the back of your shirt to steady you.

"maybe one day fresa, maybe one day."

[dinogoofymutated]

Hello, I love your writing!! And the Kurt taking care of an overworked lover really melted my heart 🫠💕 could I ask for a similar prompt with Logan? He's my #1 X Men man. If this ptompt is too specific no worries, feel free to make it work within your own parameters- but I live with chronic pain/illness, so maybe it could be someone with a condition that flairing up and they refuse to rest/ask for help, making things worse, and Logan finally steps in, maybe scoops them up in his big arms and lovingly forces them to take a break? Logan has such a big protective heart under all his gruffness, and I think we need to see more of it in the Fandom.

💖 Love and Bless You 💖

Wolverine/GN!Reader UGH I love this request!! I hope it's okay that i didn't write about a specific illness, but describe a general chronic pain/mobility difficulty due to it. I need to write soft logan like this more often UGH- also, I was picturing the flirty Logan from Wolverine and the X-men here. He's infected my brain and I need more versions of him like that lol. TWS: Chronic pain/illness. flareups.

If there's one thing anyone knows about Logan, it's that's he's crazy observant, especially with that sniffer of his.

Sure me might not be able to smell when you're in pain, but I 100% thing that he just -knows- when something is off. It's like a sixth sense. Like you move in a particular way or eat your "fuck I hurt" food and he's on you like a goddamn bloodhound.

It doesn't matter how much you protest, or how much you fight him on it, he's not willing to budge when it comes to letting you rest- and if he can sneak in a few extra cuddles, or more time in bed with you, it's just a perk.

    Today has been a rough day since you woke up, and you knew it would most likely get worse. 

    You were having a bit of a flare-up. Well, you say a bit, in all actuality, it was an uphill battle from here. There was just something off the moment you woke up. Your joints were stiff and painful, everyday actions became a chore, and you were hurting much more than normal. But, if there was one thing about you everyone knew, it was that you were certainly stubborn. 

    You’re in the kitchen currently, resting at the table after popping a batch of cookies in the oven. Jubilee had been begging you to make her some sweet treats, and with her coming home from a rather long mission tomorrow, you decided to surprise her. Your body’s timing was… unfortunate, but there was no stopping you now. You were exhausted after making the dough, and rolling it into balls. After you had popped them in the oven you had painstakingly walked to the fridge to put the rest of the dough inside, muscles protesting each and every step. You had collapsed into the nearest chair, leaning your head back with a sigh, which is where you are now. You let your eyes drift closed as you wait for the timer to go off, relaxing into the seat.

    “Hey~” You jump at the sound of the voice, opening your eyes to see a smirking Logan, his arms draped across the back of your chair. You let out a huff, smiling at him. 

    “Hi Logan.” You say sweetly. One of his hands reaches down to run through your hair, and you feel like a cat as you eagerly lean into the touch.

    “How are you feeling?” He asks. You hum, grimacing at the question.

    “Fine?” You respond, an unsure tilt in your voice. Logan raises an eyebrow at you.

    “Don't bullshit me, sweetheart. I know somethings off.” Logan rumbles. You make a face, sitting up from the chair as normally as you can as the timer for the cookies goes off.

    “It's just a minor flare-up. It's fine, I'm fine. I have to finish baking these cookies for tomorrow anyway, so I don't really have a choice.” You say. If he sees the way you stumble a little, he doesn’t comment on it. Logan watches as you take a moment before you open the oven, resting against the counter. You realize that you may have gotten up from the chair just a little too fast as stars spot your eyes. After a minute of rest, hyper-aware of Logan’s eyes on you, you go for it. You barely crack the oven door open before Logan grabs you by the waist.

    “Alright, that's enough.” He says. You yelp as Logan drags you away from the oven. He takes the cookies out quickly before he turns around and immediately throws you over his shoulder. Your yelp is more of a screech this time.

    “Logan! Let me go- what are you doing?!” 

    “I'm not gonna stand back and watch you do this to yourself. I'm taking you to bed.” Logan huffs. He’s already walking you out of the kitchen and into the other parts of the mansion as you hit your palms against his back, trying to convince him to put you down.

    “But- I- the cookies!” You cry out. Logan has already gotten to your door opening it as he carries you inside.

    “I got it. Now just- relax.” He says, plopping you down on the bed. The action has you a little dizzy, and Logan leans in to kiss you on the forehead before he tucks you under the covers. 

    “I'm going to go get you some water and vitamins. Stay. Here.” You don’t have time to protest before he’s gone, having shut the door behind him. You want to get up and chase after him, tell him that you don’t need any special treatment and that you were fine on your own, but you’re not sure you can really run right now- and the comfort and warmth of your bed and covers are calling you like a goddamn siren song. 

    You drift in and out of consciousness in bed until Logan is back, with a glass of water and vitamins as promised. He hands you a flintstone gummy as he sits on the bed, and you can’t help but snicker. Logan rolls his eyes, still having delivered vitamins as promised.

    “What did you do about the cookies?” You ask as Logan peels back the covers to lie in the bed with you. He pulls you close as he settles in, rubbing his hands soothingly across the parts of you he knows tend to ache the most. 

    “I put a new batch in the oven. I’ll smell them when they’re ready.” He says. You roll your eyes at him, resting your head against his chest. 

    “Thank you, you know. Not just for the cookies, but… for caring.” You whisper. He huffs a laugh, leaning down to kiss you on the lips this time.

    “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Just rest.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your area 7

masterpost

Chapter 7 

…Jason slowly put down the book and turned it cover up, shell-shocked from that interaction. He lifted his phone and took a photo. He sent it to Roy. 

“What do you see?” He typed. Jason bit his lower lip and tried not to scowl while he waited for a response. 

It wasn’t that Jason was unused to conflict. Jason was great at conflict. He won every conflict! (Almost.) But what the hell had this shit been? Why had that guy been so pissy about the book? What the hell was wrong with the book that Jason didn’t see?

“Gibberish?” Roy texted back a few minutes later. “It gives the impression of wonky Cyrillic to me. But it's got a terrible energy to it. The hell is that?”

Jason looked at the cover. To his eyes, there was a serif font declaring it Sense and Sensibility Universe D version 5. 

“Thanks,” he sent, ignoring the question and then the barrage of heart emojis. Shit, okay. 

That answered one question. But it didn't answer enough. What the fuck had that college kid been seeing that was so offensive? 

‘And why'd he think we would meet again?’ 

Jason pushed deep, deep down any awareness that he hoped it was true. That had been weird enough that it would bother him forever if he didn’t get answers.

He sort of hated the idea of getting his nosy family involved, but they would ask different and in some ways, less annoying questions than other groups he could poll. They'd know not to lie to him, at least. So he sent the picture on to the family group chat with the same question and grimly finished his tea. 

The elderly proprietor came out then and noticed that her other customer was gone. She looked confused for a moment, scanning the seat to see if his book bag was still there. She picked up the cash he'd left on the table and then started stacking dishes.

‘He’s a regular,’ Jason guessed, honing in on the opportunity to learn more. He flipped the book open but held the apparently offensive cover down towards the table, out of her line of sight. He needed to know what had gone so wrong. Jason wasn’t normally the kind of person that cute college kids had beef with.

He'd never been in this café before, his intuition had just told him to duck inside.

“I think he forgot something,” Jason offered casually, pretending to just look up from his book. “Ran out real quick in a panic.” 

The lady let out a soft “Ahhh,” of comprehension. “Something for his afternoon class, perhaps,” she agreed, looking a little happier. 

“Yeah, it looked like he was getting ready to settle in for a long study session and then he bolted,” Jason lied, watching her underneath his lashes. He had been paying a little more attention than he ought to when the guy came in. He was Jason’s type, aside from the thing where he’d hated Jason’s face for no apparent reason-

‘No, actually, everyone I’ve ever been into hated me on sight.’

Ouch. As Jason digested that embarrassing truth, the owner continued talking.

“He does that,” she agreed, apparently not thinking it was odd at all for them to talk about the habits of another customer. “Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's a sharp cookie, did you know that?” She continued, and oh, she had halfway adopted this college kid, huh? There was warmth and a hint of pride in her tone.

Jason valiantly swallowed the snort. “He looks familiar, but I don't think we have classes together,” he fished. 

“Mm, he's doing some kind of math and engineering,” the lady helpfully supplied. She gave Jason her full attention as she stood up from the table. “And you?”

“Modern language and literature,” Jason said, and sort of wished it was true. He didn't really have the time. Did he? Spoiler was a full-time student, wasn't she? …Huh.

While he chewed that over, the lady had drifted a couple steps closer.

“...Those are two meaningfully different courses?” 

“Modern language is learning additional languages, I'm doing Russian and Greek right now,” Jason lied easily. He was fluent in both already. “Literature is mostly classics, for my purposes. I'm focusing on Regency Lit.” 

She looked very interested, but she detoured away to deposit the dirty dishes behind the counter. They kept up a light conversation about books as she wiped off the table and reset for the next customer. 

When she left, he finally had the chance to check his messages. There was a full-on fight in the group chat. The last message was from Stephanie. She had tagged him and asked, “Is this an optical illusion??? Like that dress?”

Ah, fuck. Jason felt a rock settle in his stomach at the confirmation that something hinky was going on.

‘I can’t read this in public if it’s saying something I can’t control or even know.’

Fucking hell. Jason scrolled back up and checked. Damian listed the correct title. Dick saw what, ‘I thought was Greek at first.’ Stephanie might have been joking but she argued vigorously that it was pictographs that started with a bird. Drake had sent “You rediscovered Minoan Linear A? Cool.” and then not participated in any follow-up discussions. Duke had sent only a stream of confused and tearful emojis.

Cass had marked it read.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Jason muttered to himself. Resentfully he put the book back in his bag. 

What had that guy seen? If he’d just seen something foreign but illegible he wouldn’t have gotten so pissy about it. And who the hell had he been, anyway? Why was he so special?

Well. That was something to do with his afternoon. Jason paid up his bill and gave Phyllis his well-wishes for her doctor’s appointment tomorrow on the way out. Phyllis was a good contact, he would definitely come back for more of her jasmine tea no matter how mad that guy got at him.

…Jason really needed a name.

And found…

He headed to Gotham University and used the student computers to look up departments and then hack into the registrar. Jason flipped through photos until he found his guy: Danny Fenton, 19, sophomore double-major in the Engineering department. Good grades, no notes on his account about academic dishonesty or conflict.

'Little weird to meet two Dannys in a 24 hour period.'

Jason searched the guy online and found…

He let his mouth drop open in disbelief at the batshit insane website design he had stumbled into. The Fenton family had a website, apparently, and they had maybe let a 7 year old design it in 2008. The colors… The lack of centering… The.. the neon choices.

His eyes watered. It took a while to fight down his aesthetic grief and actually start comprehending the text.

He had expected this to be like, an online family newsletter. And it was! The link he had followed detailed “Danno going to college in the big city!!!” The boy himself looked extremely resigned in the attached photo. Seriously, Jason had seen much less mortified mugshots. The thing was, that on the same page, alongside posts about other kids going college (Jazzypants!) and someone called Alicia recovering from “supergout!” with "her eight favorite toes remaining!!!", there was also a lot of mention of ghosts.

Like, a lot.

Jason scrolled in pained disbelief. There were photos that showed extremely weird and dismayed green people obviously flinching away from a camera. A beautiful green woman with her hair halfway over her face snarled through a flood of smoke under the title “Wishywish Ghostie Interviewed: Learn what drives her generous heart!” and an ugly robot motherfucker was seen fleeing under the caption, “Skalker indicates that spook is a GHOST SLUR!”

….Was it a shit post? Just one long shitpost? It had to be a joke site.

Well. No. Jason buried his face in his hands and came to terms with the horrible fact that not only were ghosts real, he was accidentally married to one and this bombastic midwestern family already knew about it. This was his best lead for getting that 'beyond death do you part' separation.

They had been blasting the existence of ghosts for all the world to read, and it hadn’t been news. The Justice League didn’t know about this whole society. The journalism done by– Jason lifted his head to check– Jack Fenton interviewing clearly very unwilling ghosts was the only primary source that he knew of. 

He took a few deep breaths. He came to terms with grief. He decided to block his family from any further involvement in this shitshow, for what remained of his dignity. And he grimly noted down Jack Fenton’s email.

Jason cleared this history and closed down his tabs, feeling a decade older than he had when he had entered the library. He ignored the sultry ‘come talk to me’ eye contact that the student worker was shooting him from behind the counter as he slouched out. 

He stopped for a moment on top of the stairs to watch campus move. He saw the theatre building and the modern language headquarters from his vantage point, along with about half of the student center. There was just a trickle of foot traffic between buildings along paved paths. A few people were hanging out on blankets in the grass. An old man in a suit was taking a phone call next to a crawling rose garden. 

‘Maybe I should go to school.’

Well. After this shit was sorted out. Obviously he could not go to school before he got divorced. It would be torturous to hang out with cute boys his age and be committed to some hot dead mermaid who didn’t even wanna make out with him sloppy. Loser shit on absolutely every level, goddamn.

Jason shoved his hands in his pockets and jogged down the stairs. He kept an eye out for Danny, but had no luck.  

Not that he cared. It was interesting that he had a lead: Danny clearly had some connection to ghosts, and he had been able to read… 

‘Maybe he realized it was a ghost’s property and he thought I stole it?’ Jason realized in a stroke of inspiration. That made more sense. If he knew enough to recognize it as ghost language or whatever, then he might have felt affronted about Jason having it.

He went through his mental checklist to pick out what he did and didn’t know. Once he felt he had a hang on his priorities, he beelined to his own laptop in his favorite safehouse and started looking into the Fentons in more depth.

It was a great lead. It was suspiciously good, in fact, he thought as he found Jack Fenton’s online family newsletter again. What were the odds that he would run into Danny Fenton in a cafe that Jason had never even been in before? It had been a total fluke that he’d entered. He’d been walking past to a favorite place and then just had the urge to try the dark little family cafe.

‘…Ah, fuck’, Jason sighed. More ghost shit. It had to be. Something about Danny Fenton’s ghost shit had registered to him now that he’d been exposed to ghost central.

[lovetei]

Heyyy,

I saw your toxic things the demon bros will do to keep you with them and i absolutely fell in love with. More of, my mental health issues felll in love with- ANYGAYSzz

I was wondering if you could maybe do the same for the side characters¿¿¿¿

Also did you drink water today? Cuz if thats a no here you go 💧💧💧💧

And some cookies just incase 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

Love anonymous 👑

I'm not actually supposed to post anything for tonight, because I don't know? I didn't get to start anything this morning so I crammed this post T_T

But love lots! Hope you enjoy this piece ^^

But seriously, I was like "Oh shit, the algorithm I don't have!" And proceed to finish this.

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

What are the most toxic thing they will do in a relationship just to make you stay with them?

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Warnings: Manipulation, yandere themes, execution, mention of torture, psychological torture, love potions, Mentions of murder, framing, alcohol

Links: Masterlist

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

DIAVOLO will use his authority

He's already so happy to have you by his side

And by staying there you already secured the position of the next ruler that will stand beside him

So, why do you have to leave..?

And the reasons

"I'm not fit enough..."

"I don't deserve this much..!"

"There are more people out there that are more worthy than me..."

Won't cut it.

He knows your worth and he's sure you do too.

So why?

Perhaps you're just nervous that you won't be able to match his grace?

You don't need to.

His grace is unmatched among the demons and yours is too among the mortals.

You both are on the same chapter, just on different pages.

So why make things hard for yourself?!

All you need to do is say yes and everything will be taken care of.

Clothes, food, money, status, security and literally anything.

He loves you and you does too so it's not going to be a marriage with no love...

SO WHY?

You're starting to drive him insane, MC.

And he might just do the same to you

So he'll invite you over for a fancy dinner and a few drinks

You accepted, despite knowing that Diavolo might try something after he got you drunk

Thinking that Diavolo forgot that you can't get drunk by just a basic demonus

Fool

That's what you are for thinking Diavolo actually misses something, anything about you

So he changed the bottle of demonus to an actual human liquor but neutralized it's taste by the help of his one, loyal servant

Barbatos

Not even two hour passed by and you're already putty in his hands

Dancing just like how he wants it on his palms

Then he'll slide a paper into the table to you, together with a beautiful pen

He then point at an empty line with his finger and said "Look at that MC, this line right here wants your signature."

"Hmm, why?~"

"Because it's such a huge fan of you and it needs you to become something, someone better, so why don't you give it a sign?" Is what he said while smirking.

And there you are, signing the papers while your mind is clouded with alcohol

Oh what is it?

Just a marriage contract

You don't want it?

Look into rules and regulations, Claus 5

It's against your human rights?

How foolish, you're not in the human world.

You will tell the whole Devildom about it?

Lèse majesté

And what's the punishment for committing that? Simple.

Death.

BARBATOS and his timeline power

He loves you

So much actually

At first, it was fun to be in a relationship with him

It's fun, slowly opening him up like a present and seeing the gift, a part of him that only you know.

He builds up trust for you and so do you for him

Then it started to get suffocating

He won't admit it openly but you know,

You know that the one who kills anyone who dared act close with you is him

And it terrifies you

You may allow it if it actually harms you, severely

But it's not for your protection anymore

He's doing it out of pure annoyance now

He doesn't like you around the brothers

The angels

Solomon

Thirteen

Or even Lord Diavolo

In fact, he doesn't want you around anyone.

And it's making you feel more unsafe

He's starting to isolate you from everyone and everything

He's trying to isolate you from the world

So you decided to end things with him

And he doesn't seem to take it lightly like how you expected...

How did you know?

Simple.

You woke up weeks before that break up happened

You know how it happened and you know who made it happen

It's none other than your boyfriend of course

You thought that maybe if you talk nicely with him he'll actually understand the problem

But he didn't

He started to get more and more aggressive with you

Then when the week end

It repeats

And repeats

And repeats

And repeats again

And again

But it will keep going on like that until you learn

Until you learn that there's no other option than him

No other ending than him

He doesn't mind driving you crazy if it means you'll continue to love him

So good luck, MC.

SIMEON might just ask Father for help

Ho doesn't understand!

Why would you want to break up with him?!

He did everything, MC!

It's not clear!

Nothing is clear!

You just belive that you two are not fit together..?

You don't want him to end up like Lilith..?

He doesn't care!

He'll burn these precious, white wings for you!

He'll kill for you!

He'd actually prefer to end up like Lilith rather than this!

Because, at least, Lilith managed to be with her love until her life ended...

He'd rather be a demon or a human rather then live like the adored angel he is without you...

...

You'll still leave huh?

Alright then.

I guess he has no choice but to ask Father for help

What do you mean it will cause him to fall? Oh dear, it won't.

It might actually even promote him into a higher rank.

Father wants you in his side.

In fact, the whole celestial realm want you on this side

So when he asked "Father, it seems that we need to take even larger measure to have MC side with us. What do you think we can do?"

...oh?

Luke?

What a brilliant plan.

Now,

Let's see if you can still leave knowing an innocent life, Luke, will be put under danger because of this tantrum,

Because of you.

SOLOMON and his hidden antics

Oh dear, angel

His little devil

His most prized possession

His favorite concubine,

You won't be leaving him anytime soon, dear.

When you told him that "I want to break up with you."

He kept himself quite for a while before answering "Let me give it some thought, MC. For now, stay with me."

And just as he expected you listened obediently.

But then, his grip around your waits became more rough

And the hand he used to playfully wrap around your neck became more tight

It's hard...

It's hard to feed you his love laced cooking

But he found out that you just loves, adored even, Luke's baked cookies...

And since you're a human, he knows that Luke creates special cookies just for you

One that don't contain exotic ingredients that will upset your stomach

And it just made the work of latching love potions easier for him

He'll just add a few drops and it will do the magic for him

So, all he has to do sit tight

And wait for you to crawl back to his lap yourself.

RAPHAEL will use spears for example

Haha...

But he loves you, MC..?

He might just start crying if you say more

"Sure... But I'll make sure you'll come back to me..!"

At first, it sounded like a joke and it's funny enough to make you giggle

The beautiful memories of peaceful separation didn't last long after you saw a dead body pinned by spears though

His spears, to be specific

It doesn't even make sense

You don't even know this guy...

He hasn't talk to you and you don't even know him

Hell, you don't even recognize his face...

So what's the catch?

Why is he killing completely random people...

That's what have been running around your mind

You haven't seen him around RAD anymore

And if you do he refuse to answer your questions

Except his face will lightly flush and he'll even smile a little before sa say "Ah~ It's nice hearing your voice..."

His tone, the way he says it, none of theme are innocent

And he made it known that he knows what he's doing

The curiosity didn't last long

Until you found out that the corpses aren't for you from him as a threat

It was for the families of the victims

You found out that each of them have high power among the nobilities of Devildom

And he killed them to make the families think that you're telling him to do so

It's not to make you feel guilty, it for them to start attacking you

Until you're pushed back to a corner where no one else can save you

Except for him.

MEPHISTOPHELES's way only

Ha...

Man he loves you so much...

But all he do is stare at you blankly after you told him you ant to break up

Staring at you like you're just some kid throwing a tantrum

It's Mephistopheles in front of you, I mean, he's rich, handsome, tall, smart and has good family background

If he's a human everybody would have gone crazy over him already

Plus he wears heels and he has a sexy cane

What more could you ask for?

But yeah...

You don't want to be with him forever?

Sure, he'll talk to Diavolo.

"I'll buy MC's contract and I'll put them under my wing." Is all the reason he needs to say and a few more to have Diavolo selling you

What about your family?

This amount will do right?

I mean...

He paid for what your worth so don't expect it to be much.

Anyways, you're his now

By the eyes of the law, money and his

He'll never let you get away?

And if you did try to?

He'll simply frame you for treason and let's see if you won't come crawling back to him

After finding out that he can choose what type of punishment, torture method, to give you.

But don't worry.

He likes the game cat and mouse

He don't like playing it for a long time though

So be careful

His patience isn't as long as the line of money and connection ahead of him

THIRTEEN basically holds your life

Break up?

"You're not." Is all she said as she holds your candle

She's grinning widely as she let your candle melt, its 's wax falling directly in her hands

"Why would you even want to?" She asked even though she knows, no reason can separate the two of you

And if you did say "I don't care." as she holds you candle

She might just accidentally extinguish one of your loved ones candles

So be careful, MC.

Among everyone

She's the only one who won't joke around.

And just so you know

Her patience is shorter than the amount of time it requires to kill someone's fire off of their candle.

[lohotine]

AN: This is the Shadow Milk version of the Affogato post I made a while back- hahaha .-

(Fem again bc that's all I know how to write smut about. And if you saw me already post this on accident, no you didnt.)

Oh yeah, shout out to @vkxiraa again for help!! (They assisted with the start for this-)

Shadow Milk x Reader

Oneshot

Warnings: Sexual scenes, marking, oral, degrading, choking, swears, mirror fucking, overstimulation, creampie, NSFW, overall unholy,

-Obedience-

….Well, this situation is certainly interesting.

You were now Shadow Milk's 'puppet', as he likes to say.

His very own that would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

You were like some sad excuse of a pet. He even gave you a collar and everything.

Suddenly, the room filled up with light as Shadow Milk Cookie entered, twirling around energetically.

“Doll~! I have a little gift for you!”

Finally; some real light... This is the first time you've seen it in a long time.

You could not screw this up...

"Ah, what is it?" You asked him.

Shadow Milk Cookie gave you his signature grin as he crawled in-between your legs.

A subtle blush would dust your cheeks, "What's this for-?" You asked, averting your gaze from Shadow Milk.

"Just rewarding you for your obedience.." He'd say, slowly slipping off your skirt and panties.

A cold breeze could be felt along your now exposed clit.

Shadow Milk gently pushes your legs apart with his hands before licking a long line over your entrance.

"You always taste so sweet.." he admitted before sucking on your already dripping cunt.

Shaky breaths escaped from your lips as Shadow Milk began to fuck you with his tongue.

"Come on love, let me hear you."

His voice sent a vibration that went up to your core, signaling a moan from you.

Your legs would twitch each time Shadow Milk swirled his tongue around in your insides.

His nails would dig into your plush thighs as he ate you out like he had been starved for weeks.

Loud exasperated moans spilled from your lips as he continued to suck and taste all of your liquids.

When it came the time for your orgasm to finally set into place, you'd leak all of your cum onto his tongue, to which he glady swallowed.

Just when you thought he had finished with you, he'd push you further onto the bed and flipped you over so that your knees and hands were pressed onto the bed.

Shadow Milk swiftly removes his pants before grabbing your hips.

He slowly pressed his tip into your swollen pussy, causing you to tighten around nothing at all.

"So eager for my cock?" He leans in towards your neck and whispered. "Such a needy slut.."

Shadow Milk Cookie finnaly presses fully into you, moving in and out, slowly and teasingly.

"Fuck, you're so tight.." He'd say before quickening his pace.

You pressed your face into the pillows as he'd thrust into you, muffling your moans.

He tugged on the back your collar, pulling your face out from the pillows below.

"Doll, make sure I can hear you while I rearrange your guts, yeah?"

Tears picked the corners of your eyes as he slammed into your already overstimulated self.

You could see yourself in the mirror infront of you, drooling and letting out unintelligible noises.

The pain would quickly turn into pleasure as he managed to hit all of your good-spots, and you'd hold onto the sheets like your life depended on it.

You kept cumming on his throbing cock, again and again, unable to say any words.

Shadow Milk placed a hand on your breast, rolling your nipple and sucking a hickey onto your neck.

You'd tighten around him with each thrust, taking him in deeper and deeper.

"Want me to cum inside of you?" Shadow Milk asked as tugged on the collar around your neck, causing it to become slightly harder to breathe.

"Y- yes-!" you chocked out between screams of pleasure.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you after you said that, before he released his seed deep inside of you.

Shadow Milk would flip you onto your back before pounding into you once more.

"We're not stopping until you've either drenched the sheets or pass out."

《☆》 Fin

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: News from an old friend had you wondering if Eddie's sour mood had turned downright destructive. (4.9k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, misunderstanding, coming out, vandalism, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter seven: offense and defense

Your version of a truce came in the form of wallpaper panels and a bucket of glue. 

You’d placed it on top of the canvas sheets that would protect the floor from any spills, though it wasn’t as if that was presentable, either. Still, you would be grateful for the splash of color rather than the stripped down walls that only highlighted the motel’s defeated aesthetic. 

Like lipstick on a pig, your cynicism taunted, but one that you’ve stuck on a spit to roast. 

Your fingernail picked at a small groove in the desk’s wood as if digging a hole to bury your anxiety. Despite the police sirens blaring in the distance, all you could hear was the sound of the mailbox clanging shut, trapping your acceptance letter and effectively sealing your fate. 

Your breathing sped up and sent your heartbeat into your ears, inching you towards a point of no return where the world became hazy. Suddenly, Eddie’s mood was irrelevant; you just needed a distraction, even if that meant contending with his strangely defensive attitude. 

But when eleven o’clock rolled around, a full hour into your shift. there was still no sign of him. You’d give him another thirty minutes before you knocked on his door; he had a job to finish, after all. 

That was all it was: ensuring he earned his keep, preventing him from becoming the deeply feared charity case.

In the end, there was no need to intrude on him. Eddie shuffled through the lobby not even fifteen minutes later, seemingly without the intention of stopping to greet you. He looked straight ahead as though any eye contact would burn his retinas from the inside out. His tattooed arms were on full display in a black tank top, the holes cut down nearly to the waist. A chain hung off the side of his jeans, gleaming even in the harsh lighting. The whole outfit was a far cry from the sweatpants he’d donned during the wallpaper removal.

“Eddie?”

He stopped but still refused to glance in your direction. There was no use ignoring the confusion in your voice; he didn’t even bother waiting for the formality of a question. “Y-Yeah, I, um…I gotta run some errands.” His teeth dug into the inside of his cheek at his pitiful excuse. 

Errands just before midnight? He certainly wasn’t dressed to make a last-minute dash to the corner bodega, nor would that take all night.

He was lying; that much was obvious. What evaded you was why. Was he embarrassed about his outburst at Eisen’s? Angry at you for freezing him out during the ride home?

“What about the wallpaper?”

“Oh. Right.” He softly chuckled, the kind that someone gives when they’ve been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

He didn’t stick around for further questioning, letting in a cool evening breeze when he barreled out the front door. 

Aggravation clenched your fists. His lackadaisical approach to work was infuriating enough, but the way he’d attempted to sneak past you had you seething. Did he truly believe he could camouflage himself and walk out unnoticed?

The untouched wallpapering materials mocked you, taunted your optimism. Or perhaps it was naivety. You’d all but told him to piss off last night, yet you expected him to flounce into the lobby, eager to work alongside you–and only you–for the next few hours? The thought alone was so pathetic that you were glad no one else had been around to witness it.

You hoisted the panels and glue back to the supply closet, gripping them with palms slick from embarrassment and frustration. Tonight could have been an opportunity to clear the air about the Ben fiasco and resume your usual lighthearted conversations. His brusque laughter didn’t showcase the subtle dimples that pressed from the corners of his mouth into his cheeks, so unlike the genuine smiles that reached his eyes. Those warm eyes like chocolate chips on a summer day, except they melted you with each foray into his past, each glimpse into what made him, him.

Without them, the night was stagnant.

Amy’s Cafe was a favorite among the student population, especially during finals week. The coffee was usually burnt or weak, but it was cheap and conveniently located near campus, so it stayed afloat. Overworked baristas slid filled-to-the-brim mugs and to-go styrofoam cups to the edge of the counter, hissing espresso machines punctuating the pop music that was piped through the sound system. Exactly the kind of music Eddie would hate.

Eddie. He must have had an extensive errand list, because he still hadn’t returned when your shift ended. Your chest ached with a sadness that burned hotter than your curiosity. You no longer cared what he was up to, just that he preferred it to spending time with you.

Ben already sat at a small table when you arrived, the steam from his cup rising up and fogging his wire-rimmed glasses. He offered you a weary smile, one wrought with fatigue and a nervousness you couldn’t quite place. 

It wasn’t until you plopped into the seat across from him, careful not to spill your own coffee, that you noticed the gray crescents below his eyes that weren’t there on Sunday. Stubble coated his cheeks and chin, more five o’clock shadow than beard, and you were hard-pressed to remember a time he’d seemed this disheveled. 

“You look like shit.”

He raised his brows as he blew on his tea, sending tiny ripples through the citrusy-mint blend. “You sure know how to flatter a guy.”

Between the usual end-of-semester stress and whatever issues were simmering between you and Eddie, you lacked the patience to beat around the bush. “Seriously,” you insisted, “what’s wrong?”

Ben’s sigh held immeasurable weight, and you quickly understood why. “Eisen’s was vandalized last night,” he said quietly. 

“What?!” Your blood ran cold. The mental image of the always-pristine shop abruptly destroyed marred your psyche. 

He nodded. “Yeah. We empty the register at night and put the cash in a safe, so they didn’t get any of that,” he explained, a small consolation. “But they smashed the windows and graffitied the place. All of the shelves, our whole inventory…covered in it.” 

“Is everyone…is your family okay?” If the alarm had sounded and Uncle Mo or Aunt Tam came running in…if the intruder was carrying a weapon…

“We’re fine,” Ben assured you. “I mean, we’re all pretty shook up, but no one’s hurt.” His bottom teeth scraped along his upper lip. “I swept up most of the broken glass after the cops left, but it’s gonna take a while to scrub off the spray paint.”

“I can help,” you volunteered without hesitation. “I can swing by on Thursday afternoon.” There were no formal classes this week; you just had to drop off your paper and then you could go to the shop. 

“Thanks.” Ben kept his attention focused on his mug, dunking the bag aimlessly through the hot liquid. “Um, was your, uh, boyfriend with you last night?” When you wrinkled your nose, he elaborated. “That Eddie guy. He’s your boyfriend, right?”

You shook your head and tried to ignore the internal fluttering spurred on by the thought of Eddie being your boyfriend. “No. He just works for us.” Thirty-six hours ago, you would have referred to him as a friend, but you didn’t know if that was still true. 

Ben cocked an eyebrow. “You sure? Because he seemed pretty…” He searched for the right word, “...territorial over you.”

Territorial. As if you belonged to him. The notion was almost humorous, considering his desperation to avoid you at all costs. If you were his property, he must be a very hands-off landlord. 

“It’s not like that. He just gets competitive.” You filled Ben in on the wasp nest saga, even managing to pull a few chuckles out of him. 

“Okay, fine.” Something in Ben’s tone informed you that he didn’t quite believe you, but he pressed on, both of you well-aware that your love life wasn’t the most urgent issue. “But was he around last night? Hanging the wallpaper or something?”

He wasn’t. You wished more than anything that you could offer an alibi, but you didn’t have a clue where he was. 

It’s a big city; there were millions of places he could go besides Eisen’s. And yet you couldn’t name a single one, your throat bone-dry despite just taking a sip of coffee. 

“N-No, but he wouldn’t—”

“I’m not saying he did,” Ben interjected, firmly but not unkindly. “It’s just, I dunno, a little suspicious that this guy comes to our shop for the first time, hates my guts for some reason, and then the place gets destroyed the next day.” 

There was no denying how strange it was, especially coupled with his poorly explained absence. Something inside you insisted that it wasn’t Eddie, and you clung onto that hope. 

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” Bitterness churned in your stomach and crept up your throat, and you knew it wasn’t from the coffee. Was there anything about the way he’d been dressed that provided insight into his whereabouts? Anything he’d mentioned in passing?

Despite scouring the depths of your brain, you came up empty.

Ben exhaled and squeezed his eyes shut like he was actively trying to forget the memory of the break-in. “Everything was completely smashed. Like someone took a baseball bat to it or something.”

You flashed back to last week when Eddie went after the wasp’s nest with Phyllis’s bat. Did he ask her to borrow it again?

Stop it, you silently scolded yourself. It couldn’t have been Eddie. He might be hotheaded, but that didn’t mean he would destroy Eisen’s. 

Except he had trashed that hotel room because the manager issued a noise complaint. He’d seemed proud of it, laughing as he retold the story, like he’d carried out some meticulously crafted revenge plot. 

Shit. 

“You’re sure there’s nothing going on between you two?” Ben asked again, ripping open another sugar packet and dumping it into his drink. 

“Positive.” Certainly not now when you were barely on speaking terms.You didn’t have time for a relationship; school and work kept you sufficiently busy. 

Not that you wanted anything going on with Eddie. What would you even do together–go on dates at six AM after your shift? Hold hands across the lobby desk? Steal kisses in the supply closet? The two of you making out amongst piles of linens and a rusty toolbox? Your fingers tangled in his hair and your lips pressed to his; his hands gripping your waist and tugging you impossibly close? You couldn’t allow yourself to even consider it a possibility, to allow yourself to want it.

You noticed Ben giving you a wry smile, like he knew something you didn’t, and you snapped back into reality to volley a question back to him. “What about you? Meet any cute girls in dental school?” 

His unexpected cloudiness didn’t match your breezy, teasing tone. “No cute girls.” He paused, mulling over his words for a while before talking again, so softly you could barely hear him over the muzak playing over the café’s sound system. “There were some cute guys, though.”

The admission hung in the air for a moment while you slowly absorbed it. Cute guys, not girls. So Ben was—

A soft throat clearing grabbed your attention; he was anxiously awaiting your response. 

Reaching your hand across the Formica table, you draped your fingers over his and left them there. “How did you…know?” You winced at your own awkwardness. “Sorry, I meant, like, is this something you figured out recently? Or did you know back when we were kids?”

Ben laughed lightly, his shoulders sagging with relief. The worry of rejection left his eyes as he spoke. “Part of me always knew, I think. I just didn’t have a word for it.” He sighed, his breath trembling with residual nerves. “It’s not like we grew up talking about these things.”

He was right; you couldn’t recall a single time that his parents or yours discussed non-heterosexual romantic relationships. A man and a woman get married and have babies. The end. No mention of when two men or two women love one another. 

“Have you told your parents?”

“No.” His voice caught, throat blocked with emotion, and he cleared it again. “I wanted to wait until I finished school and got my own place. Y’know…just in case.”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence. 

“Would they really do that?”

He shrugged, his shoulders once again bearing the weight of the unknown. “I don’t think they’d kick me out,” he admitted, “but they’d definitely be disappointed. Like they did something wrong.”

“You know you can always stay with me if you need,” you said. “I’ll set aside a room for you.” Far away from Eddie’s, you added silently.

Ben’s smile was tight but genuine. “After all of these years, nothing’s changed.” He let out a hoarse laugh. “Does it get exhausting, being the best person ever?”

He was joking, trying his best to shift to a lighter tone, but the accuracy of his question had you temporarily reeling. You weren’t the best person ever, but it was exhausting constantly trying to be. He must have sensed that he grazed a nerve, his eyes softening as he leaned in. “You okay?”

You nodded, your head suddenly acquiring the heft of a boulder. The sound of the mailbox clanging shut and sealing your fate reverberated in your ears. And then Eddie had seen, had cleaned your smudged mascara so warmly that your skin simmered at his touch. Those same fingers might have grasped a can of spray paint or and wielded a bat with the intention of ravaging an innocent business. 

“You always were a terrible liar.” Ben said. He knew you too well, a blessing and a curse. “C’mon—a secret for a secret.”

His permission had your own confession slipping from where it had been tucked away and spilling into the conversation. “I’m majoring in psychology and I’m going to study social work at NYU.” When Ben offered you a confused look, you humbly elaborated. “And, I mean, I know it’s not the same thing as your situation, but I haven’t told my parents about it either.”

The shame burned you, flames nipping at your neck. 

Ben drummed his fingers against the mug’s handle, his nails making a soft cling. “The motel…” he trailed off, mutual understanding replacing the rest of his words. 

Neither of you said anything else for a while, only taking small sips of coffee until you mustered up the energy to speak again. 

“I don’t think they’d kick me out either,” you said, “but that might not matter. Without me to take over, they’d have to sell the place anyway.”

Ben thought for a moment. A teardrop of coffee trickled down the lip to the base, staining the white porcelain with a hazel streak. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you.” It was his turn to hold your hand, enveloping it in the comfort that can only come from a lifelong friend. “And if worse comes to worst, you can always bunk with me. As long as Eddie won’t mind,” he added with a mischievous edge. 

You rolled your eyes as the heaviness evaporated. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He raised his brows. “You didn’t see the look on his face when I hugged you. I thought he was gonna knock me into tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” you said evenly, swiftly pivoting the subject to his own romantic endeavors. But the image of Eddie getting upset when Ben hugged you tugged at your mind for the rest of the conversation. You’d initially thought he was irritated about Ben encroaching on his job, but the hug came well before the offer to help. 

Trying to figure out Eddie Munson, you realized, was like jamming a puzzle piece where it didn’t belong. He would remain an enigma until you found the right spot. 

Afternoon bled into night, the overcast skies resulting in a noticeable absence of stars. Rain had been threatening to fall all day, but the humidity still bogged down the clouds when Eddie walked into the lobby at ten-thirty.

“Hey,” he said, raising one hand in an enthusiastic half-wave. His eyes met yours for only a second before pulling away. “I’ll just grab the paper from the supply closet.”

You tossed him the key and he caught it, clenching it in his palm. He smiled, victoriously but fleetingly once he realized it wasn’t being returned. Defeated, he trudged over to the closet. You normally would have followed and helped, but you were held down by what you knew–what you might know, you reminded yourself.

“You, uh, didn’t set up,” he said, shaking out the drop cloth and positioning it against the molding.

“Didn’t know if you had another secret errand to run.” The retort left your lips before you could stop it, and you pinched them together in a belated attempt to quell your anger. 

Eddie bristled, his brush halfway in the vat of glue, but he quickly composed himself and got back to work. You focused your attention on your essay, scanning it for the millionth time in search of misplaced commas or missing words. 

Perfect. It needed to be perfect. 

Silence once again overtook the motel lobby, broken only by the sounds of Eddie slicing the wallpaper at the edges, not bothering to measure before adhering it to the exposed plaster, and the outside traffic. 

You were comfortable with the prolonged quiet, though admittedly less so than before Eddie arrived a few weeks ago, but it must have gnawed at him. He started humming after only fifteen minutes, an unfamiliar tune, smooth in some places and staccato in others. 

“Are you still mad at me or something?”

You loathed the way his voice startled you, your mind too deeply buried in your paper. It caused you to look up and lock eyes with him. His question was wrought with frustration, though you couldn’t tell if it was directed at you or at his own inability to decipher the situation. 

“No.” Yes. 

Eddie sighed and continued working. “Well, if you change your mind, just know that I’m sorry.”

His apology brought back memories of his previous attempt—though ‘attempt’ might be overstating it, and you didn’t want to bite back your response. “It isn’t me you need to apologize to.”

He didn’t bother turning to you when he spoke. “You’re talking about that Bill guy?”

“Ben,” you corrected him, willing yourself to unclench your jaw, “and yes. You were rude to him for no reason.” You pushed aside Ben’s explanation, an improbability in itself. 

“I had a reason.” Venom dripped from each word. “Trust me, I could’ve done worse things than hurt his feelings.” 

And as his grip tightened around the brush, one bluish vein bulging in his forearm, you remembered how gleeful he’d admitted to trashing the hotel. How Ben had said that Eisen’s looked as though someone took a baseball bat to it.

“The store was vandalized last night.” 

All of the oxygen in the room evaporated. Eddie’s unamused chuckle, low in his throat, fissured the silent tension and made it palpable. Real. “And you think I did it.”

“I never said that.” 

But you and he both knew that you didn’t have to; the slight tremor in your voice giving away your true intentions. Even if you weren’t outright accusing him, your tone had too much bite to be conversational.

He threw the brush to the ground and it landed against the cloth with an audible thud. “Whatever.” Another grim laugh, each step towards the desk had your heart sinking further into your chest. “Y’know, I’ve already had a pretty shitty week, and I thought talking to you could turn it around. Should’ve known better.” He wiped his palms on his blue jeans and procured a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, lighting one and taking a long drag. 

You could only imagine the restraint it took for him not to exhale a cloud of smoke directly in your face.

It was a replay of the situation with Izzy’s mother, the assumptions that steeled you against her before you’d ever met and had you painting her as a neglectful parent. Her palpable worry was a slap across your face, and you felt that same sting now with Eddie.

Ruined it. With one stupid comment, you’d obliterated all of the trust built between you. 

“Excuse me, but I have a very busy evening ahead of me,” he said, pointing the cigarette in your direction like an accusation of his own. “I’m supposed to commit arson in fifteen minutes, and if I have time, I might just murder someone.”

No doubt you were at the top of his list.

The realization of your mistake released an anchor of guilt down your stomach. You should have trusted your instincts, should have immediately eschewed any notion that he was the culprit.

You hated yourself for even considering it a possibility, let alone a probability.

“For a sophisticated city girl, you sure remind me of the small-town pricks I grew up with,” Eddie continued, spittle gathering at the corner of his lips. Rage burned in his eyes. “Guess none of those textbooks taught you how to ask questions, huh? Like, ‘Eddie, where were you last night?’ That might’ve been a good start.”

His words were submerged in a poisonous vitriol, purposefully launched with the intent to maim. And yet they weren't inherently aimed at you. Not all of them, anyway. 

In that moment, you were everyone who had ever accused him of a crime he hadn’t committed. You were the security guards who ‘kept an eye’ on him when he went shopping, the middle-aged women who scowled and clutched their pearls at his tattoos, the people in his hometown who wrote him off as a devil-worshiping freak. 

Guilty until proven innocent. 

The fingers on your left hand slotted between the gaps on your right and pressed into your palm, a distraction from the lump forming in your throat. Crying was not an option, it exposed your vulnerability and opened you up to further ridicule. The only thing worse than Eddie using your tears against you was if he took pity on you; there was no way you could handle that level of humiliation. 

“Eddie, I—” 

You’d finally found your footing in the conversation, and it was promptly clipped. “Just assumed that I was off breaking and entering. A little blue collar crime is nothing new for trailer trash like me, right?” He shook his head in faux disbelief. “Is this how you’re gonna treat your clients?”

That final comment was a lit match that ignited a powderkeg within you, and since you refused to shed a single tear, it exploded in the only other way possible.

“You,” you jabbed your finger into his chest, no longer caring about whatever professional boundaries you might be crossing. Those had flown out the window once he’d purposely dredged up your insecurities. “You are the one who bailed on your job with the lamest excuse I’d ever heard and expected me not to get suspicious.” Your heart beat double-time, pumping raw anger in lieu of blood. “And you are the one who bragged about trashing a hotel room when the manager had the audacity to enforce a rule.” 

Eddie took a small step back, your biting reply an arrow to the gut. Perhaps even he felt it, too; the way he’d taken his tirade over the line. Gray flakes fell from his cigarette and onto the desk, the ashy clump having grown too heavy for gravity. 

You weren’t done, despite his apparent surrender. “You’re not my client. And I’m not Nancy Drew, so don’t act like I’m responsible for solving your bullshit mysteries.”

His nostrils flared as he regained his composure. “Asking a question isn’t—” a door creaking open and subsequent irritated footsteps halted his retort. Both of you broke eye contact to watch as Phyllis padded up the hallway and into the lobby. Irritation accentuated her smeared-lipstick frown, and she pulled her robe across her body, tugging on the belt in frustration. 

“I don’t know what this little lovers’ quarrel is about,” she hissed through clenched teeth, dragging an arthritic finger between you and Eddie, “but it’s killing the mood. So if you could wrap it up, we’d greatly appreciate it.”

You nearly choked on your tongue, and pink splotches decorated Eddie’s stubbled cheeks. 

“We’re not—”

“It isn’t—”

But Phyllis had already stalked back to her room, never one to keep a gentleman caller waiting. 

Neither you nor Eddie said a word for a few seconds, the heat of embarrassment still nipping at your bodies. A lovers’ quarrel? Phyllis clearly had a convoluted sense of romance if she thought you and Eddie were lovers. 

Eddie shattered the silence first, mumbling something nearly unintelligible about needing an ashtray. The dam that restrained your snarkiness had apparently buckled and burst, because when he turned to leave, his back to you, you called out, “see how easy it is to tell me where you’re going?”

He stopped, the cigarette between his fingers now ash down to the filter, but he didn’t turn around. His voice was low in his throat, a slight tremor as he spoke. “That’s real rich, coming from the person whose parents think she’s going to school for hospitality.”

That was low, but unlike his comment about accusing your future clients, this one was true. There was nothing you could say in response, no rebuttal would suffice. You hated the way words stilled in your chest, wishing you could fling insult after insult about his failed music career, but you were simply too tired.

You managed to stave off your tears until he had fully rounded the corner, burying your head in your hands to muffle your sobs. Pathetic. That’s what you were: a pathetic mess, bold enough to start an argument but too cowardly to finish it. And so there you stood, elbows digging into the wooden desktop until splinters pierced your skin, the distance between you and Eddie growing with each passing second.

Holding your own with other guests was usually second-nature for you, but other guests weren’t Eddie. They weren’t hanging around the lobby and asking you about your hopes and dreams. They weren’t willingly offering up their most vulnerable selves just to reassure you. They weren’t tagging along on errands and turning ordinary subway rides into small adventures.

They also weren’t sneaking around and making watered-down excuses, then painting you as the bad guy for doubting their intentions.

Half of you ached to apologize; the other half wanted to toss him and his trash bag luggage to the curb and not look back.

Warm tears slid down the slope of your nose until you tasted their salt on your lips. Stopping them seemed an impossible task, your mind hovering above your body like a separate entity altogether. Your breaths were jagged and uneven, an irregular pattern of shallow inhales and strained exhales. 

There was no sense in throwing yourself a pity party, not when you got yourself into this mess. If you were going to wallow in your own misery, you could at least be productive while you cried. 

Eddie had barely started the re-wallpapering, so cleaning up was not a daunting task. You rolled the paper back around the tube, keeping it tightly wound for easier transport. It was clunky; you had to adjust it twice in the short distance to the closet, but you managed to get it there with it unraveling. 

A gentle scrape across the desk made you peek out from behind the closet door, your red-stained, swollen eyes landing on Eddie once again. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lower lip, his fingers clenched around the jet-black lighter you hadn’t noticed he’d left behind.

He saw you, too, his lips forming a tense smile. 

“Forgot this,” he said, holding up the lighter with a little shake. The jaded lines of his face softened when he clocked your tear-streaked cheeks, and that minor show of sympathy had you eager to crawl beneath a rock. 

You waited for him to say something, anything, but he just let his gaze fall to where you were twisting the lid back onto the glue. Tucking the cigarette behind his ear and covering it with a curtain of curls, he hoisted the bucket and brought it back to the supply closet.

“Thanks.” It was safe yet genuine, not an invitation for a conversation nor a dismissal. 

Eddie shrugged. “S’fine,” he lisped, the cigarette placed back between his lips as he lit it. “Needed to clean up anyway.”

Optimism—whatever you could muster up of it—rattled against your ribcage like a prisoner yearning for freedom. If he cared about cleaning up, maybe that meant he was going to finish the job another time. You didn’t dare ask him, only nodding your head in acknowledgment. 

Friends fight, right? Your nagging need for reassurance poised the question on the tip of your tongue, but your fear of looking desperate anchored it there. I didn’t ruin everything, did I?

The flick of the lighter sparked a flame, Eddie’s hand protectively cupped around it. “Well, um, g’night,” he said, giving an awkward half-wave. 

“Good night.” Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. But you didn’t manage that addendum, and Eddie retreated to his room. 

When you slept that morning, you dreamt that he turned back around. 

--

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[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 2]

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 2: Crewel and Crowley)

ie. Mr. Rogerson has awesome dalmatians and his wife makes even better cookies. Meanwhile, Crewel continues to be an emotionally constipated mess, and Crowley is... himself.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

You were met at the door by a pair of over enthusiastic dalmatians—the chaotically cute duo sending you ass-first to the office floor in a merry greeting that was more of a graceless tackle than anything else.

“You brought Poe and Perdy!” you exclaimed, laughing past the face kisses.

“Well, they’d never forgive me if I didn’t,” Mister Rogerson huffed good naturedly. “Do you know how much this little nutter cried when I came home the other day and he realized you’d been by? Ages, I’m telling you. Thought he was going to pout me into an early grave.”

You squished both of them affectionately and showered the lovely, spotted, beasts with every compliment under the sun.

“Oh! Before I forget…” the professor rustled around in his leather messenger bag and retrieved a neatly packaged pastry box all bundled up in a colorful, twine, bow. You accepted the treats happily and removed yourself from the dog-pile to take your usual place on the well-worn piano bench. “Annie made you some more cookies, seeing as you liked the last ones so much.”

“Did you help?” you asked.

“Hmm? What makes you say that?”

You held up the first treat from the pile—half-singed on one side and squishy with raw dough on the other.

“You caught me!” he laughed, and retrieved a second box. “These are from Annie. Those are my failures.”

“Such horrible lies,” you tutted, dramatic. “Trying to trick an innocent victim into ingesting poison just so that you can keep all the good ones for yourself.”

“Hey, they’re not that bad!” he defended, taking a large chomp out of one of the less charred looking of his creations. Immediately his cheeks went nearly green. “Or… maybe they are.”

You pushed a water bottle in his direction which he accepted gratefully. There was always a stash of them just to the left of his composer’s stand, and another hoard in a conspicuous looking storage cube closer to the piano at which you’d perched yourself. There were more sweets hidden in his desk drawers too, for when something stronger than water was needed to wash away whatever awful thing he’d tried to ingest. You knew where a lot of ‘secret’ things were in this room. It felt nice, to be so privy to all its little treasures.

“You know,” he smiled, finishing the last of his water with a final gulp. “Annie keeps pestering me to have you come by for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you hesitated, looking around the room where so many of your little odds and ends had already started to accumulate. Empty mugs, the patch that had fallen off your jacket, the thread which you’d intended to use to fix said patch. Just… little footprints showing you’d been by.  “Well, any more at least.”

“Nonsense,” Mister Rogerson laughed. “You’re more than welcome! But we don’t mean to pressure you, of course! Especially if you’re busy! Just something to think about if you’d like. Anyways, how has your day been?”

And thus began your afternoon ritual. You would sit and split Annie’s delicious cookies as you rambled about your various grievances. Mister Rogerson would inevitably come and take a seat beside you on the piano bench and start playing some gentle strains of this or that—‘just little things he was working on,’ he’d said. Occasionally you’d accidentally lean on the keys, throwing the whole thing into a cacophonous mess. But he would just chuckle and replay whatever the piano had just screeched, calling it a ‘fascinating addition’ and merrily jotting bits of it into his notes. It was nice. Better than nice. And you didn’t realize just how comfortable you’d become in your daily chitchats until you’d become perhaps a bit too comfortable.

“It’s just been so exhausting. And on top of all the other ridiculous things, I’m so sick of that fact that it’s like my job to be their personal punching bags or whatever when they’re Overblotting all over the place, and—”

The piano cut off abruptly.

Mister Rogerson’s hazel eyes had gone wide, as if he was spooked. Immediately you realized that you’d said something that you should not have.

“There are students at Night Raven College who have Overblotted?” he asked, slow, like he couldn’t even believe the words were coming out of his mouth.

“What? No. Of course not!” you lied, like a liar.

“Kiddo,” he frowned, stern. “You just said—"

“—I mean, no one’s actually Overblotted, Overblotted,” you spluttered hastily, rifling frantically through your brain for every plausible excuse you could cough up. “It’s more that I’ve heard a lot about Blot, and how it becomes a—you know—Overblot. Which sounds really scary, and like something that I never, ever, want to actually see! And it’s just that everyone there is a mess, so I guess I should I have said that I’m more just worried about Overblotting.” 

A pause.

“Which, again, I’ve never, ever, actually seen.”

More silence.

“…Ever.”

Mister Rogerson sighed, apparently relieved by your bullshitting, and slumped forward over the piano keys.

“That’s… That’s good. You really scared me there for a moment, kiddo. Overblots are no small matter. They have to be reported to the proper authorities and dealt with accordingly. It’s a whole fiasco, and paperwork and legal proceedings aside, it’s dangerous.” He laid a gentle hand across your shoulder. “I’m just glad you haven’t been anywhere near something like that.”

You swallowed a chunk of wayward cookie, hoping you didn’t look horrifically guilty. But then some other part of what he’d just rattled off stuck in your head and that shame was wiped away by panic.

“They’d be taken away?” you whispered, something unpleasant and nervous curling in your gut.

Mister Rogerson looked down at you with a sympathetic wrinkle to his brow. He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can. Does that make sense?”

You thought of Riddle, crying into his hands after years of emotional neglect—and then of the pair of you sitting in the Heartslabyul gardens after all was said and done, eating strawberry tarts with your fingers like little children. You thought of Leona, miserable and bitter as he was, finally breaking after an entire lifetime of feeling like nothing but a failure who slunk about in his brother’s shadow—and then how just last week the beastman had been lounging in the sun with his head in your lap, grouchily demanding your leftovers. You thought of Azul, and his bullies, and his stupid desire to take on the world just to prove he could. You thought of all the friends you’d made, and of just how many of them really needed a goddamn therapist. You thought about them being taken away to who-even-knew-where. Where you’d probably never see any of them again. And where you wouldn’t even know what was happening to them.

General grumpiness with the lot of them aside, your friends were the one, genuine, beacon of warmth in this miserable, cold, new world. Sure, they were all assholes. Mega assholes. But you knew that they’d stand by you through anything—do anything, if you needed the help.

 And the idea of giving up on them? Just like that? Because it was protocol?

Your stomach roiled and you set the cookies off to the side.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” Mister Rogerson frowned, taking in whatever unpleasant expression was no doubt twisting your face into knots. “We shouldn’t talk about it anymore. It’s not a fun topic.” He slid a new page of sheet music across the piano’s sleek, black, shelf. “Here. I started writing this the other day. What do you think?”

Strains of upbeat jazz threaded through the room and Perdy and Poe came over to mouth playfully at your ankles—no doubt begging for crumbs. Soon enough you were laughing along, clapping off beat and making jokes at the expense of his nonsense lyrics. You still liked Mister Rogerson. You liked him a lot. And you didn’t doubt that he was a genuinely kind person.

You’d just… maybe have to be a bit more careful about what you let slip.

.

.

“It’s kinda like being in therapy,” you explained to a very frustrated looking Deuce. “Like, how you want to say just enough to get help but not enough for them to throw you into an asylum. You feel?”

“What in the fuck are you on,” Ace gaped.

“See, if any of you actually even knew what therapy was, you’d get it.”

“I still can’t believe that’s where you’ve been every afternoon,” Deuce frowned, poking at his lunch with a consternated sort of look on his face. “Don’t you—I don’t know…”

“What?” you asked.

“Feel horrifically guilty and maybe like you should be burnt at the stake?” Ace complained, reaching over to swipe a fry from your plate. Grim hissed and swatted at his fingers—his little mouth stuffed too full of your half-eaten burger to yell much of anything else. “You’re a traitor, that’s what you are. Prancing around with those goody-two-shoes in their stupid, shiny, building every damn day like a—like a—”

“A frog?” Deuce suggested.

“What, no. Dude—”

“Frogs prance!”

“Frogs fucking jump, you ingrate—”

A heavy box landed on the table with a THUD, sending the quarrelling duo into silence. A mountain of homemade chocolate chip cookies stared back at them, nearly sparkling in their brilliance.

“Yes,” you intoned, stern. “It’s worth it.”

“It’s worth it,” Grim and Ace agreed heartily, already busy swapping their lunches for sweets.

Deuce sighed and reached for his own cookie. “If you’re sure...”

.

.

Being called into the Headmaster’s Office was not something with which you were unfamiliar. In fact, Crowley not having summoned you into his gloomy chamber over the past few weeks was more of an anomaly than not. Normally he was hurling new jobs at you left and right—organize this event, Prefect. Pick up my groceries, Prefect. The main hall is looking a little dirty, Prefect. Go stop my students from committing mass murder, Prefect. Maybe your wave of insults had rattled him enough to leave you alone for that little while. Or maybe he’d just been biding his time until he could think of something equally as nasty to say back.

Of all the things you were expecting upon trudging back into that office, a scowling Professor Crewel was not one of them.

You blinked owlishly, taken aback.

“Good afternoon, Professor.”

His lip curled, sour, and you fought the intense and suicidal urge to ask him just who’d pissed in his cornflakes that morning because damn. You hadn’t even done anything. That you could remember. Maybe. And besides, if either of you had any right to be acting all bitter and pissy it was you. Not Mister ���I Have No Intention of Playing Parent to Anyone.’ The memory had your eyes stinging and your blood boiling all over again. When neither of the men deigned to greet you, you cleared you throat irritably and crossed your arms.

“Can I help you with something, Professor? Headmaster?”

“It has come to our attention that you’ve been sneaking off campus in the evenings,” Professor Crewel declared, with all the civility of an off-grid hermit. “Which I’m certain that you are fully aware is against school policy.”

Crowley just nodded, stiff lipped and robotic, and his silence immediately had you suspicious.

“Well?” Crewel snipped. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

You took a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Then another.

You smiled, icy. “Then I’m sure this is just another infraction to add to my file. Which I’m very sure totally exists. Right, Headmaster?”

Crewel’s dark glower swiveled in Crowley’s direction, and you watched the Old Crow audibly gulp.

“Because of course, you keep proper records on all your students here,” you continued, happy to push your luck. “Especially the ones in special circumstances, and whose documentation is therefore not automatically forwarded to you by their previous schools. Right, Headmaster?”

You’d never seen a more apt demonstration of the expression ‘sweating bullets.’ It was intensely satisfying. Professor Crewel looked like he was heavily debating turning Crowley into a feather boa. After a too-long moment where you were pretty sure you were about to witness a murder, the two-toned professor sighed and turned back to you with a stiff sneer.

“It’s not safe,” he said, and you gaped at him.

“What?”

“It’s not safe,” he repeated, practically grinding his teeth. “What were you even thinking? Leaving Night Raven when you know full that you have no other connections in this entire world! Running off with a complete stranger on top of that.”

“Mister Rogerson isn’t a stranger!” you defended, resentment bubbling beneath your skin. How dare he? Now he cared? Now you weren’t just a leech, or a brat, or—or—No. It wasn’t fair. “And it’s not like I ran off into the woods or something! I’m at another school!”

Crowley slammed his clawed hands down onto his desk with a metallic BANG!

“AH-HAH! YOU ADMIT IT!” he howled. “YOU’VE BEEN GOING TO THE ROYAL SWORD ACADEMY BEHIND OUR BACKS!”

“I left you a note telling you that was exactly where I was!”

“YOU’VE BEEN CONSORTING WITH OUR ENEMY! AND AFTER I’VE WORKED SO HARD TO RAISE YOU AS MY OWN!” He wailed, inconsolable. “ARE YOU TRADING OFF MY GRIMOIRE TO AMBROSE, TOO? WOULD YOU STOP AT NOTHING TO SHATTER MY POOR HEART?!”

“I don’t even know what that means, but I wish I was!”

“Enough!” Crewel snarled, cracking his pointer across the desktop. “Both of you!”

“But he—!” you defended.

“Detention!” he barked.

“What?! That’s no fair!—”

“Detention!” he snapped again. “Three weeks!”

“Are you joking?! I didn’t even do anything!—”

“Four weeks,” he growled.

You pressed your lips shut, feeling your mouth wobble and your eyes warm with frustrated tears.

“Yes, sir,” you finally managed to grit out, and then turned without another word and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind you.

.

.

.

‘That may have been too much,’ Crowley had the gall to say to him, after Crewel had just watched the man have an entire meltdown in his desk chair and accuse you of outright subterfuge.

‘That may have been too much.’

The alchemist had watched, carefully stone faced, as your eyes had welled and you’d glared him down with a look that was a step or two past betrayed. Something tightened uncomfortably in his chest, and he refused to put a name to it. Naming things gave them power, allowed them to grow and spread. Like a tumor. This was all your own doing, and the subsequent punishment was clearly for your own good. So, what? He steps a bit too far and says something that’s perhaps just a bit too cold, and you go running off to—to Cliff Rogerson of all people? Pettiness is not an excuse for making poor, stupid, unsafe, decisions. And he would have certainly responded to any other student in exactly the same fashion.

‘That may have been too much.’

Crewel grit his teeth and fought the urge to run his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally he could use Badun as a stress ball, but he’d stopped bringing the dogs to campus when you’d continued to refuse to show up to his office. It had stressed them terribly, and it was unfair to force them to sit through the same, dull, solitude that he had to endure just on the off chance that you may change your mind and come wandering in. Jasper hardly acknowledged him at all anymore—only grumbled at him miserably when he returned in the evenings before curling up by the fireplace for the rest of the night.   

‘That may have been too much.’

It… It really, probably, was. And he really should… apologize, shouldn’t he?

Divus Crewel could deny it all he liked, but he knew well and good that he wouldn’t have treated your classmates in such a manner. That unnamed twinge behind his ribs may have influenced his reaction a bit more than it should have, especially when he himself had so clearly relegated your place in his life to ‘by professional association only.’

So he forced himself to straighten his fur coat and start the trek to Ramshackle. It was a grueling walk, with broken pathways and rivers of mud. No wonder you were always running late to things. Perhaps he should bring this up to Crowley, and—

A familiar face stopped him in his tracks, and a wave of red-hot irritation worked its way through his veins as efficiently and viciously as one of the poisons he was so keen to brew.

“Oh,” Cliff Rogerson blinked back at him, “Divus! Good to see you.” It was not. It didn’t sound like Cliff thought it was either.“No need to call campus security or anything. I’m just here to pick up the Prefect for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Crewel repeated. It sounded bitter in his mouth.

“Annie’s making lasagna,” Cliff stage-whispered, like a secret.

“Can we get going?” you called and Crewel startled, noticing you off to the side for the first time. You looked so… small, for some reason. Hunched, maybe. Just, not your usual larger-than-life self—the Otherworldly Hero who showed up swinging to every fight, always armed to the teeth and ready to duel any monster, every horror. It made something in his gut twist unpleasantly. “I’m starving.”

“Of course, kiddo,” Cliff laughed and tossed an arm across your shoulders.

“How lovely,” Crewel interrupted, trying and failing to force the steel from his voice, “But I think that maybe you should reexamine your professional priorities. That hardly seems appropriate.”

“Oh, come now,” Cliff smiled. It wasn’t friendly. “It’s only dinner. And besides,” he chuckled, and gave your arm a fond squeeze, “Annie and I have always wanted kids.”

‘I have no intention of playing parent to anyone.’

A deep, cold, sort of dread rattled through Divus Crewel’s bones and settled all the way in the pit of his stomach. It was similar to the sensation that had been slowly clawing its way through him these past few weeks—the very same unpleasantness that he had refused to name.

‘You know,’ Crowley’s grating voice swam through his head once more. ‘That really may have been too much.’

.

.

[swordsmans]

oh shit! i made a book.

remember back in september when i said i was going to learn bookbinding. well! weeks of trial and error later, i've finally finished my very first bind! as some of you might have seen in past posts, i decided to focus on my 90k zolu mermaid/mafia au the sea makes bones of bodies and now here we are!

the bind itself is a relatively simple 320 page cased-in flatback with a fabric spine and lotka paper covers and endsheets, but i decided to use it as a "test book" to learn a little bit of everything. so! it features hand-traced gold foil on the cover and spine, a hand-beaded bookmark tipped with a genuine shark tooth (iykyk), and what im calling "cookies and cream" speckled edges (lol)

ive posted some screenshots of the typeset already so i wont go too crazy, but im actually pretty happy with how it looked all put together!! i sewed my signatures together too tightly, i think, so it kind of wants to flop closed (rip) but i tried to take some pictures of how it turned out!

i have a ton of pictures of the text body itself (and fun things like the playlist page, the title pages, etc) but this post is already long enough, haha.

the absolute best, best, best part of this whole project was a huge, wonderful, amazing surprise from @fluffyartbl0g that brought the whole project together!!! they were sweet enough to send some incredible art (!!!!) that i sewed into the front and back!!!

!!! AAA!!!!

overall, i learned so much and i took a ton of notes so i'll (hopefully) avoid some of my beginner mistakes when i do this again. i already have three more versions of the text block printed out and pressing right now! >:3c im going to keep practicing with this story for at least three more binds (because i want to get my technique down and i have some new ideas i want to try), and then switch to typsetting ocean theology and attempt a thinner 40k bind.

shoutout to renegade publishing for their wealth of technical help, and a big huge thank you to the dumbass zone for watching blurry videos of me flipping through printer paper at 3AM and just generally being so, so supportive while i learned all these new skills. you guys are the best!!

now... on to the next one!

EDIT: i've been asked for the typeset, so if you are interested in binding this yourself, you can find all the files here!! :D if you do make your own copy, i would love to see!!! PLEASE TAG MEEE!!!! :DDD

[moonferry]

what type of movies the sdv marriage candidates would watch:

so this is just for funsies, but i decided to brainstorm what types of movies/shows all 12 marriage candidates would watch. there will be a mini-drabble assigned to each one, as a treat. sorry i got a little carried away with some of these. i hope you guys enjoy <3

bachelors:

harvey: he loves romcoms. there is literally no denying it.

i picture him on the farmhouse couch, wrapped in his favorite blanket with a mountain of tissues next to him. you walk in and take "your spot" next to him (which is basically as close to him as humanly possible, your head resting on his shoulder). he leans into your body to acknowledge you're there, but he's too invested in his movie. DEFINITELY a movie crier. "why can't she see that he's the perfect guy for her!!!" absolutely inconsolable during the parts where the love interests are fighting, but then when they finally get together he's like "i knew it!!!" harvey would have a variety of snacks, though most of them are things like apple slices with peanut butter and some assorted nuts. happy to share his opinions about the movie and even ask your input on the love interest(s). for example, if the main love interest has a current partner who is definitely not right for them, he'd be like, "so, you see that persons TOTALLY the wrong one for them, right?" he'd also "take notes" and use what hes learned from these movies to plan romantic dates for the two of you.

elliott: let's all be honest here. he also loves romcoms.

he and harvey have a "book-club" style meeting where they watch a movie and discuss it over tea/coffee. of course, he'd invite you, too. being the romantic - and writer - he is, he spends the entire movie critiquing things and going "oh, well, if i wrote it i'd do it this way-" you love him, even if he does talk over the movie. i also think he'd be the one to bring the most AMAZING array of snacks to a movie night - like full on 3 course meal with dessert. a bit overkill, but what else would you expect? elliott probably gets too invested in the storylines and - if its an ending he doesnt like - will write his "own version" with tweaks. yes, elliott is a part of fandom, sue me! he'd definitely show you the finished script and ask for your input. who knows? maybe elliott will direct his own movie one day - with you as the star, of course.

alex: if you guessed sports movies and gridball games... you'd be completely wrong. i think alex enjoys animated movies - it doesn't really matter the genre. alternatively, i also think he would enjoy westerns.

here me out: everyone always assumes he's like.. sport obsessed, and he is, but thats SOOO boring. i think he does enjoy watching sports, yes, but his favorite movie type is animated. im talking studio ghibli animation. he loves howl's moving castle and makes you watch it with him several times a week. honestly, you aren't entirely sure he doesn't have a crush on christian bale, but like, who could blame him? now for the westerns. from my own personal experience of visiting my grandparents, they watch westerns exclusively. i think living with george and evelyn would have introduced him to the western cowboy film genre and he would have instantly loved it. it's mainly a nostalgia thing - when alex was younger, he'd always sit on george's lap and watch the western movies with his grandfather. evelyn would be making cookies in the kitchen and then bring kid alex a heaping portion. whenever he watches a western now, he feels warm and safe. it reminds him of his childhood. of home.

shane: action comedy

i don't really think this would needs much explanation.. shane just enjoys a good action comedy movie. i think he'd laugh way too loudly. personally, i think he enjoys animated action comedies much more than live action ones (though he'll still watch those). i think his favorite would be kung fu panda, just because he sees himself as po in a way. i think he would supply ample snacks - though most so unhealthy and sugary that they'll make your teeth fall out. he's definitely the type to fall asleep during a movie, cheesy dust coating his fingers and his hands still in the bowl you two were sharing. you just shake your head and place a blanket over him. maybe you even fall asleep, too. that's all fun and games until you somehow knock the bowl off in your sleep and cheese balls spill all over your carpet flooring. oops. it's okay tho! 5 second rule. i also think shane is the type to walk into a room where a movie is playing while he was doing something (ie bringing you something, cleaning, etc), stand at the edge of the room with his arms crossed like he's "not interested", and spend 20 minutes watching before finally sitting down next to you.

sam: thriller movies

oh, sam. sammy sam samson. he's another tough one. theres so many good genres that i think he'd like, so hes sort of a chameleon. he's open to watch any and everything, but he LOVES thriller movies. more specifically, dystopian future thriller movies. he loves anything that's exciting. sorry sam fans, but i think he'd be the type to watch movies EXCLUSIVELY on his busted android phone. he'd also laugh loudly at parts and rewind to show you, but it's not like you can see through all the cracks so you're just like "oh, that's hilarious". sam loves sending you youtube compilations of "funny movie clips" and will be like "yoo, did you see that clip i sent you?" even though sam will watch anything, i think he absolutely despises war movies. even though he knows its just a movie, he can't help himself from imagining his father in that situation. war movies are a definite DO NOT WATCH for him. i think he would buy an entire large pizza for the two of you to share but.. im sorry, but you do NOT get any pizza. boy just eats the whole thing in 2 bites.

sebastian: historical movies

controversial, i know. but i feel like sebastian would love historical movies. growing up with demetrius as a step-father, sebastian always loved learning new things. historical movies allow him to continue to learn new things. now, i don't mean that he loves documentaries, i mean he loves historical FICTION movies. specifically, pirate movies. sebastian definitely is a laptop-only movie watcher. it doesn't matter if the tv is three feet from him, he will not watch something unless its on his laptop. i imagine him sitting on your shared bed, leaning back against the headboard with the laptop on his legs. he'd absolutely lose his mind if you joined him - even letting you hold the laptop, if you want. i think he would melt if you laid your head down on his chest and asked him questions about what he was watching - which he'd be happy to answer. he would definitely start playing with your hair if he seemed to be getting bored of his movie, or maybe he'd just do it without realizing.

bachelorettes:

emily: musicals!!

again, no real explanation needed. girlie loves to sing along - maybe even dance along - to the musical numbers. i think she is a musical theatre fanatic, though she really loves movie musicals. because broadway tickets are like so expensive, she prefers to stay home and watch them with you. she knows all the lyrics and has definitely watched them multiple times. during her favorite numbers, she'd pull you up from the couch and convince you to dance with her. you'd be having the time of your life - even if you didn't really know the lyrics. if you did, the two of you would be singing (well, screaming, really) along to every word.

leah: this one was a bit tough, but i think leah would like fantasy movies.

i really think she would enjoy the movie scenery more than the actual plot, though. like the beauty of the nature, you know? you two would be watching a movie where someone is going on a big, exciting quest and leah would be like "oh, gosh, look at those trees. the coloring is just spectacular." you don't mind, though, because she's right: these fantasy worlds always look so breath-takingly beautiful and it's hard not be captivated by them. i think she'd prefer the artistic aspect to the movies, especially if it's an animated fantasy movie. if it was animated, she'd be absolutely speechless and just in awe of how the animators drew something/someone. what she doesn't realize, though, is that you're looking at her the way she looks at the movie. she just looks so breath-taking and you can't help but smile every time she makes a comment about it. "this movie is so gorgeous" and you would think "but not as gorgeous as you."

maru: mysteries!!!

specifically murder mysteries or whodunit's. while she does love scientific documentaries as well, she also enjoys a good mystery movie. and when she watches them, she gets INVESTED. im talking making her own predictions and even asking you who you think the killer is. of course, she's always right. maybe she has some sort of "detective intuition"? you think it's adorable how she clings to your arm and rambles about her guesses. "how could you think it was THAT person? it's obviously this one!" can and will provide evidence on how she's right. makes you think and really dive deep into the movies. it's fun to watch them with her because it lets you view things in a different light than normal.

abigail: i think abby loves comedies.

yeah, everyone thinks she would like horror movies - and she does - but her favorite? comedies all the way. she loves a good laugh. the two of you have a movie theater date, making sure to get the extra large popcorn to share (but you wouldn't be mad if abby ate it all, since she usually does. but she looks cute with her face full of popcorn.) she laughs super loud and everyone else in the theater is .. glaring at you two. i think she would also have "full body" laugh reactions like she would smack the seat, smack her legs, just anything. she's having a good time tho. by the end of the date she is completely covered in popcorn (yes, it even managed to get in her hair, somehow) and you spend a few minutes picking each piece out.

haley: honestly? i think she enjoys horror movies. not because she's overly interested in the horror aspect, but because it gets her closer to you.

she would invite you over for a movie. of course, she would probably be scared out of her mind (or not, depending on the severity of the movie). regardless of if she was actually scared or not, i think she'd still find a reason to cuddle up next to you "for comfort" or "because she was scared". you don't mind, though, and you're happy to have her feel safe in your arms. eventually, she'd just stop trying to watch the movie all together and just cuddle up next to you.

penny: i think she would like dramas or melodramas.

penny, being calm and quiet herself, probably likes these genres of movies because she doesn't express very strong emotions herself. not that she doesn't feel them, she does!, she's just very soft spoken and doesn't like to speak her mind for fear of upsetting someone. when she watches these movies, she can relate to the characters and their experiences. it makes her feel.. calmer? in a way. i think she is the type to watch movies while in pajamas, probably before bed or at a sleep over type setting. she will defend her movie choices (not that you'd insult them, anyway). i also think she would be the type to bring "easy" snacks - peanuts and saltine crackers are her best friends. penny seems like the type to have a movie on in the background while doing something else (cleaning, trying new recipes, etc). if you two had a sleepover, she would definitely try to get you interested in her movie choice and list any possible actors you may know. even if it wasn't really "your thing", you'd still watch the movie because it makes penny happy.

[literaila]

untrustworthy 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

"are you mad at me?"

"did you get me bologna sandwiches?"

warnings: angst, alludes to depression, lost of interest, pushing people away, this is a pining fic because they’re not actually together, angst, fluff at the end, peter sucks but he’s also great? 

a/n: i haven’t written anything in weeks and this is so terrible but take it or leave it. i am. 

*

if you've learned anything in the past year, it's that you couldn't trust peter parker. 

you couldn't trust him to finish his portion of your shared slideshow for your physics class. and you shouldn't have trusted him to tell you if he couldn't get it done before the due date--sparing you both from the wide-eyed, slightly over-amused gazes of classmates who thought peter's "the end" slide was purely a comedic stroke, and not just laziness, or a miserable attempt to pretend he hadn't cost you thirty percent of your grade. 

and even after, you couldn't trust him not to give you a look--his signature look--sending you plummeting towards forgiveness before he'd even gotten the chance to apologize. 

you couldn't trust peter parker to pick up a mutual friend's birthday cake or get himself home safely without cracking his glasses, or not to eat all of the cookies that may made for you on his way to your apartment. you wouldn't trust him to wash your dishes or sleep on your couch without burning the entire building down. 

it was a dangerous thing, you'd realized, about three months after you'd met him, to try and count on him. 

peter parker would borrow a pen from you, flicking his hair your way and smiling that charming smile, and then proceed to give it back to you at your thirty-year reunion. or never. 

you'd learned not to expect him to show up for anything on time, ask him to pick anything up for you, or let him do laundry in your apartment. 

peter parker was anything but dependable. and if you could give the past version of yourself any advice, it would be not to trust him. 

not to let that foolish hope exist before it was crumbled between strong hands like a grocery receipt, never to be seen again. 

you wouldn't let that faded, reliable version of peter exist. 

you couldn't trust peter parker to do anything or make any promise he would actually keep. 

you couldn't even trust him to stay away from you when you wanted space the most; like now. 

because as soon as you heard that knock on your door, a bitter part of you was scowling at the intrusion, cursing your friend for bothering to exist or always showing up when you didn't want him to. 

and you knew that just like every other thing peter did, he wouldn't take no for an answer. even if you didn't answer the door. even if you threw your phone down into the garbage disposal. 

you were pretty sure peter could pick a lock. and also slightly suspicious that he'd had a copy of your key made behind your back. 

so when peter walks into your living room, hair dripping from the rain, arms full of grocery bags, you aren't surprised. 

you barely even blink at him before returning your attention to your tv, where a couple was viciously debating the cost of crown molding. 

his presence is its own curse because you can feel every movement he makes, just like always. 

"hey," peter says, smiling evilly. he ignores your ignoring. doesn't even mind the fact that you haven't looked at him. "i brought you some stuff." 

he kicks his shoes off--into your living room, of course, mud sticking to your carpet--and heads to the kitchen. 

"just some basics," he continues, not bothering to listen to any reply, verbal or not. "bread, eggs, milk. i got you some disgusting orange jello and a couple of those pre-made sandwiches they make at the deli. they're a bit... flat, but they should be okay still." 

you turn the volume up. 

peter doesn't mind. "there's also some protein bars in there--chocolate--just in case you want something quick," he walks back into the room, holding a glass bottle. "and i saw this banana-flavored soda when i was walking out, for us to try and throw up together." 

he shakes the bottle around, smile on his idiotic face, not even bothering to think about the harsh reality of carbonation. 

"open that over the sink," you mumble to him, still not meeting his eyes. 

you curse your weak willpower for ruining your silent game. and peter, for knowing that he would win eventually. 

peter tilts his head, tsking at you. "not even a thank you for your very thoughtful, handsome--" he plops down next to you, moving your legs so that he can tickle your feet. "and genius best friend?" 

"thanks, peter." 

instead of looking over at the man who was definitely trying to get you to yell at him, you choose to watch the ceiling on the tv crumble over brand-new hardwood. 

you frown. 

peter runs his hand up your calf, goosebumps riding his wake. "are you mad at me?" 

"did you get me bologna sandwiches?" 

"no, turkey." 

"then no." 

peter removes his hand. "what's wrong with the bologna?" 

"they put rat poison in it." 

peter pokes your thigh. "and you've been letting me eat it? you know i love those sandwiches."

you turn even further on your side, wall going up between the two of you, forcing his hand off, mumbling, "wanted to test a theory." 

"what theory?" 

finally, your eyes meet his--stupid brown, caring, auburn, and hateful eyes. "if rat poison would kill you or not." 

peter scoffs.  

you let your lip quirk up, irritated at his perfect mouth and thoughtful grocery list, and warm hands climbing up your stomach, and then look away. back to the house infested with termites. if there's anything to hate, it's adoration. the ridiculous attachment you have to him, even now.

"are you calling me a vermin?" 

you roll your eyes. "well, you're not dead so..." 

and it was all normal. peter sitting this close and trying to mold himself into your skin, the puppy eyes he was trying to give you, and his devious smirk. his teasing and lack of common sense, his stupid jokes, and stupid thoughtfulness, ruining the silent treatment you'd meant to give him. the space you'd been forcing between the two of you.

it was all normal, but you can feel him lurking, waiting for a moment to say something. you can feel him staring at you. 

"what?" you say, sharp and rough, after thirty seconds of it being too much. of peter being too close and too quiet.

his presence is a burden on your heart. 

peter's hands began to massage your legs, forcing you to let him in closer than you want him to be. "what, what?" he repeats. 

your eyes meet his with defenses already prepared. "what are you doing here, peter?"

the words are weapons. one punch to the jaw and a knife shoved into his back. 

you're trying to get him off of you, get him out that door and back into the world where he belongs so that you could stay here and rot, just like you want to.

but peter's eyes stay soft, his hands are kind and his intent is obvious. he isn't trying to fight with you.

he blows out a breath. "what're you doing here?"

you both stare at each other for a moment and then you look away, shaking your head. "i live here." 

"you know that's not what i mean." 

"do i?" you ask, voice sarcastic and mean. and it would be fine--usually. you and peter are mean to each other for sport. 

but he wasn't being anything but easy. careful as he stretched your muscles out like he could tell that you hadn't used them in days. 

trust peter to break your only rule. 

it was silent again; only the sounds of commercials in the background, a woman swearing that aleve changed her life. 

peter clears his throat. "why haven't you been answering my calls?" 

"lost my phone." 

"and class?" 

"i've been sick." 

"you missed an exam," he pushes. "you're gonna have to make it up." 

"already emailed connaly." 

"good." peter swallows, and you can feel his pounding, his questions even when he's not asking them. 

you want to push him off of the couch. you want to push him off of you, leave bruises from the fall, and tell him to find someone who can be his friend. who can do this. 

you want to be understanding, and as careful as he is. you love him enough to not scream, even if you want to.

"peter, i really just want to be alone, so--" 

"when's the last time you ate?" 

you sigh, pulling away from him. 

but peter has a firm hold on your legs, and even if you tried, you couldn't kick him away. 

"when was the last time you showered?" 

"i've been sick, peter, it doesn't--" 

"left the house?" he prods. "or moved from the couch? when was the last time you looked in the mirror?" 

you sit up, looking at him without meeting his eyes. "you should go. i could still be contagious." the words are tense, your face is stone, unmoving, and unwilling to do any of this with him. 

peter moves closer to you, his hands lingering just inches away from your marble face. "what's going on?" he asks, so softly that you can barely feel it on your plastered skin.

his concern and care, his stupid face and stupid eyes and-- 

"i can't do this, peter." 

"you need to talk to me," he says, without even processing what you've said. "you need to tell me what's happening because it's been almost two weeks since i've seen you, and this..." he gestures around the room. 

a place that used to be your home. 

"what happened?" 

and if anyone could get it out of you--pull the secrets you have hidden in your chest, ignoring your screams of pain--it would be peter. he would be the person that you talked to. 

that is if you wanted to talk at all. 

if you wanted to move from his couch and look into his eyes like you had been for months before this. like he was more than a classmate, or friend who had stuck to you. like he was someone who you wanted to care about. 

someone with perfect lips and wonderful eyes and an addicting laugh. 

someone who you might want to tell more, share more. 

the person that you'd been a month ago would've told peter. even unsure if he could keep that secret or stay with you, you would've told him. trusted him that much. more than he deserved. 

but the person sitting on your couch staring into those same eyes doesn't want anything. 

to move or breathe or have to tell peter that you just don't care anymore. 

that whatever you have to tell him is gone, that your words and voice have been ripped from your chest, that this couch, this distance you've been trying to build is the only remedy to fix the hole that remains. 

but you don't want to see him. you don't want to tell him anything. you don't want to breathe his air and risk infecting him. 

"nothing, peter. i'm fine." 

"you look like you've spent the last month in the hospital." 

"well, you look like a goddamn swimsuit model, so i guess we're even." 

you're watching as his serious face shifts, and you can see it as he fights back a laugh, his eyes just barely flickering. 

and you wish that you didn't care. you wish so badly that it didn't matter. you look away, thinking to pretend that none of this exists. 

you've had enough nightmares like this lately. 

"hey," peter says, one fingertip turning your eyes back to his. and you know it's not a dream, because your imagination can never get those eyes just right. "i'm here to listen. whatever it is. we'll work it out. i just need you to talk to me."

"i told you, there's nothing--" 

"and you've got to stop lying to me like i can't tell." 

you scowl. 

peter's eyebrows lift, a fraction of affection appearing on his face. "c'mon, just tell me. i won't laugh." 

you look down, at his hand resting on your thigh, and the hole you've burned into the couch. 

you don't want to look at his eyes anymore. you're tired of trying to look away. and not talking to him. 

you sigh. "nothing, peter. just..." you blink, but it's not enough to push his regard off of you. to rid yourself of the toxins he's breathed into you. 

you were almost immune to them, just a few weeks ago. mithridatism only works if it's consistent. 

and his eyes are more dangerous when you haven't seen them. 

you freeze. "there's nothing," you repeat, defenses falling, hands going to push him away from your face. 

and peter knows what's going to happen before you do. "hey," he says, already soothing. "whatever it is..." 

and peter grabs you before you fall. he catches that first tear, and it's his forever. his arms fold around your shoulder, his strong hands keeping your head up. 

"there's nothing. it's all gone. everything i want, everything i--" 

his hands are tilting your face up to his but you can't look at him. you can't look into his perfect eyes and feel ashamed of yourself anymore. 

you're sick and tired of feeling sorry for yourself. 

"i can't feel anything, peter. i don't want to do anything but sit here and hope that eventually, this feeling goes away. that it all just..." you shake your head, feeling him invade you. 

and then you lean in and let peter hold you up. 

you hadn't even realized that you were crying. hadn't realized how far down you'd pushed the words until they were bubbling up. 

bile crawling up your throat. 

"i'm sorry," you whisper to him, just before he crushes you into a hug, your head buried into his neck. your tears staining his perfect skin. "i'm so sorry." 

peter shakes his head against you, holding you even closer. 

and you can't breathe with how tight he's holding you, but this sort of breathlessness is welcome. much better than the other kind. 

you laugh against him, feeling how sore your body is. how angry you are with yourself. 

"i've got you," peter whispers, into your hair, kissing your forehead. "we'll figure it out." 

you shake your head but say nothing. 

you finally breathe him in, desperate after denying yourself for so long. you don't have to worry about anything as long as peter is right there. 

"god," he says, after a few minutes pass. "i'm sorry i didn't come sooner. i thought..." 

thought you were okay, you can hear. thought that you needed space, that time was a perfect solution. 

"not your fault," you mumble into him. 

peter leans back, just so that you'll look up at him. "why didn't you tell me? you know i would've come," he says, "if you'd just called." 

"i didn't want--" you swallow, looking away. "i didn't want you to know. or see." 

peter scowls. "what did you think would happen? i would leave? or tell you to get over yourself?" 

"maybe."

"are you insane?" 

"maybe." 

peter doesn't even laugh. he makes you look at him again, not knowing how cruel those eyes of his are. "i would've stayed," he tells you, "no matter what. even if you told me that you murdered someone. or run over a squirrel with your bike. i would've been there. i'm going to be there." 

his jaw is tense and his eyes are so serious, but you sniffle, shaking your head. "even if i murdered a squirrel?" 

"i mean... it would be hard. but i'd do it." 

you laugh. 

he swallows, shaking his head. "you need to tell me what's going on, okay? instead of ghosting me for two weeks, acting like you died or something." 

"i answered a couple of your texts." 

peter glares at you. 

"okay. i'm sorry." 

he shakes his head again, almost smiling, if a little bit sad. "are you okay?" 

you fall back into him, suffocating yourself into his shoulder. you don't want to answer that, and hope that peter doesn't push. 

for once, he does what you want, wrapping his arm back around you, pulling you in closer. 

"okay," he says, and breathes with you. 

you sit with him for a few seconds, glad that he's there, and then you ask, "how'd you get in?" voice muffled by his shirt. 

"it was unlocked, you idiot." 

you frown, looking up at him. 

peter laughs. 

"no, it wasn't." 

his eyes return to normal, deviance stuck in his expression. "i used my key," he answers, innocently. 

trust peter to ruin the moment.

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

[orteil42]

i've just published a new mobile Cookie Clicker update! still only an alpha update, but it's a pretty beefy one. notably featuring this guy:

full update notes:

this patch brings the alpha's heavenly upgrades count to 89, up from 25 in the live version. before i can truly consider this update done i still need to add the cookie dragon and polish the new UI graphics. as always you can send your feedback and bug reports in my asks or on our discord server's dedicated channel.

thank you for all your support in 2023! here's hoping i can finish this update early next year so i can move on to Extremely Wacky Projects

[cornkernelle]

You could even say it's pretty a-MAZE-ing! 🥁

A pun in MY inbox? Oh, what a wonderful opening to share my stupidest lil kitty-

Carnival Popcorn Cookie!

A sweet corn snack, buttered to just the right amount to entertain you whilst she makes jokes, throws knives, and juggles kernels! The design on the left is the most current version of her, but the render I made on the right was actually layered to be animated like crk gachas! Never finished, but it holds a lot of value to me as it was the start of a veeery lasting love for the franchise.