#idk what’s goin on there but it’s certainly silly

[starcrossedandstupid]

Joel and Etho never got off that boat istg

[prettyboypistol]

Mercs comforting m!reader who had an absolutely godawful day at work/on the battlefield?

Tf2 Mercs Comforting You After A Stressful Day! || TF2 x Male! Reader

Readers job is ambiguous, but I imagined he has a job a lot like Ms Pauling

Scout

Notices how exhausted you look as soon as you walk into the room and immediately drags you to the couch to snuggle.

Super attentive, eager to please. (He especially loves praise from you when you're tired.. idk!!! It just makes him so happy for you in your tired voice to thank him!!!)

Gets your favorite snack foods alone so you have time to yourself.

Wants to cheer you up by talking, but he knows that the last thing you need rn is more chatter.

Bro the leg bouncing of trying not to talk is STRONG

Medic

"Oh dear, wanna bitch?"

Lets you complain and shittalk your co-workers and totally not gossiping with you noooo (he is the nosiest mf alive)

FOREHEAD KISSES FOREHEAD KISSES

He has a bit of a temper if you talk on and on about how your job is hard and will snap that being a Medic isn't exactly a cakewalk either, but apologizes.

Lets you sleep while he makes dinner for you.

Soldier

He.. well, he tries.

You walk into your room and flop down on the bed with a groan and he immediately asks what's wrong and if you're sick.

When you say you're not and just tired, he waves it off and goes back to what he was doing, ordering you to be at ease.

When people knock at your door to pester you, he shouts at them for you to fuck off 🥺🥺🥺

Doesn't snuggle but absolutely gives you space to de-stress.

Engineer

THIS MAN RIGHT HERE IS THE BEST LISTENER. BEST.

He sees you walk in and hugs you, sits you in his lap for snuggles, and just listens to you vent as he tinkers against your back.

He kisses your shoulders a lot and hums Lil tunes to calm you down.

Mans will put you to sleep with one lullaby I swear to god

Back scratches!!!! He is the best!!!

Spy

Offers you booze and is sorta like medic in the shittalking regard, but brings up more dirt on the people you're pissed at.

Coos at you in French, calling you a tired boy and mon petit roi (my little king) as baby talk. Yeah it's a little demeaning bUT you're too tired to care.

Little do you know he has been up for 36 hours and hasn't eaten since breakfast but he won't tell you that.

Massages with lavender oil!

Orders your favorite takeout and puts on your favorite show for a relaxing night in

Pyro

Gets like... scary protective of you.

They clearly glare at anyone that tries to bother you. There is a sense of 'if you talk to him, I'll gut you with my axe.' Goin on.

Pets and caresses on your back and head! You know that Pyros lap is all yours to lie your head on!

Makes you little origami things to amuse you, making silly little stories to dull your senses and entertain you.

They love taking care of you, actually. They find it grounding and relaxing to just focus all their energy on you.

Heavy

Picks you up and keeps you nestled in his arms.

"No talking to little man! He is very tired!"

Calls you a baby, but like, /affectionate

God he's so warm! Like a heated and weighted blanket! Heavy wouldn't mind keeping you in his arms forever and you certainly wouldn't mind staying there

Has tried to convince you to leave your job before bc it stresses you out.

Demoman

'Aye lad, bring it here!'

Offers you scrumpy and kisses. Def if you're visibly mad he starts kissing you a lot like 'aww~' *kiss* 'what's wroooong~?" *kiss* 'hmmm?' *kiss kiss kiss*

Jokingly offers you to "take out your frustrations on him" ;>

Like, if you agree that's great, if you don't that's great too that means more time for tea spilling

'Yeah! Teresa IS a bitch!'

Sniper

He can tell by how you open the camper door that you're pissed and tired.

"Aww hell, that bad huh?"

Likes playing with your hair while you lie on his lap. You've fallen asleep and woken up to elaborate braids a few times lol

Kisses your neck and intentionally slows his breathing so that you mimic him and calm down

Doesn't really like when you talk about your work, because it upsets him how much you get stressed about it. But he cares more about you more than he dislikes hearing about work.

[queenlua]

Ace Attorney case tier list

so, in the past year, i finished replaying games 1 through 5 for the first time in forever, and also played game 6 for the first time ever

so here’s where i ruthlessly rank each of the cases based on that most scientific metric of all, My Opinions:

OPENING CASES

S-tier: Turnabout Trump (4-1).  I already knew this case, and I still gasped with surprise when Phoenix showed up, and when Kristoph showed his true colors, and when Apollo realized OH SHIT OH FUCK I REALLY AM ACCUSING MY BOSS OF MURDER HUH... what a wonderful, splashy, shockingly concise case to open up the post-O.G. trilogy world.  Marvelous.

A-tier: Turnabout Memories (3-1).  Seeing Mia Fey (finally!) in action is a long-awaited delight; seeing Phoenix being a total dumbass was an unexpected-yet-perfect and fitting delight.

B-tier: The First Turnabout (1-1).  Solid lil’ case with some conventional-but-well-executed humor.  I’ve got a soft spot for Larry Butz.

C-tier: The Lost Turnabout (2-1), The Foreign Turnabout (6-1).  The former’s fine but a little forgettable; the latter has some fun gags (Payne’s ridiculous new outfit, dude absolutely shredding on the mandolin, etc) but is marred by how uh... kinda silly the game’s core conceit is, lol

E-tier: Turnabout Countdown (5-1).  The context surrounding this introduction is just sloppy (badly handled in media res + let’s lowkey retcon game 4 isn’t a great setup), and also the case itself is just. irksome. ted tonate is just fundamentally irritating to look at

FINALE CASES

S-tier: Bridge to the Turnabout (3-5), Turnabout Goodbyes (1-4).  No explanation needed.  God they fuck so hard

A-tier: The Cosmic Turnabout + Turnabout for Tomorrow (5-4 + 5-5), Turnabout Succession (4-4).

The former two cases are what makes AA5 worth it, and they make for a tremendously fun ride.  It fumbles the execution in some notable ways (Apollo’s sudden j’accuse moment feels a little forced/awkward/inadequately foreshadowed, and damn it sure would’ve been nice to know Clay Terran at all before he died, and also The Phantom’s final meltdown could’ve used a bit more emotional heft)... but okay let’s be real, I’m here for Simon Blackquill, and this case gives me so much of him so who gives a shit.  (And Aura!  Condescending obnoxious engineering queen!  I love her!)  

As for Turnabout Succession... while I earnestly wish the game had explored more of Klavier’s feelings about this whole setup, and some more emotional beats for Apollo, the case still makes for such a satisfyingly twisty and fun investigation overall (the poison stamp! what a ridiculous murder method! I love it!) that it’s a more-than-worthy finale.

B-tier: Turnabout Revolution (6-5), Farewell, My Turnabout (2-4).

The former does some cool stuff—I particularly like the opening half, where Apollo’s being real snippy and coping with Frankly Bizarre Dad Feelings, and giving Apollo a chance to finally throw down against Phoenix is a blast.  The latter half of the case starts feeling a little... ridiculous? cramped? idk? like, they didn’t do nearly enough foreshadowing about Nahyuta’s whole deal for me to care about his drama, this justice system is so obviously silly and the manner in which the revolution is playing out strains my already-suspended-sky-high disbelief... fun, and flashy, but more noise than signal in the last part, I guess.

As for Farewell, My Turnabout: of course I love Edgeworth rolling back into court goin’ through SOME kind of bizarre emotional arc of Hey I’m Totally Healed Now and obnoxiously preaching about Truth TM.  And it’s cool that the game set up a case where you want to lose.  But the net result is a bit strange tonally—it’s trying set up some kind of message about It’s Not Just About Winning, It’s About Pursuing The Truth, but it feels really muddled when that’s combined with Okay But Maya’s Literally Being Held Hostage Like Right Now, Surely A Reasonable Justice System Has A Process For Dealing With This Obviously Complicated Situation, Right?

but also Franziska takes a fucking bullet (how did I forget about that) and then gets to roll in like Ms. Save The Day so, really, lots of good shit here

FILLER CASES

S-tier: Reunion, and Turnabout (2-2), Turnabout Beginnings (3-4).  Look, the first one gives me all the Fey family drama a girl could ask for, and the latter gives me young Edgeworth being a total shit in an obnoxiously shimmery outfit.  The whole enchilada is here

A+ tier: The Magical Turnabout (6-2).  DELIGHTFUL!  MAGICIAN!  SHENANIGANS!  Like you get to guess the trick behind a magic act as part of the case, how fucking fun is that, and also the Apollo & Athena duo’s chemistry is perfect, the villain is a FANTASTIC bastard, and even the bit characters you meet during the investigation are total delights... Probably the best “standalone” case in the series, in that it doesn’t rely on any emotional connections to previous cases (unlike 2-2 and 3-4) to still totally and completely rule.

A tier: Turnabout Samurai (1-3), Turnabout Reclaimed (5-DLC).

For Turnabout Samurai, I remembered before this replay how delightful the TV SHOW STUDIO investigation and actor-fandom stuff was; I had TOTALLY forgotten Vasquez calling in her mob connections to try and wreck you.  What a fantastic villain; what a fun case.

Turnabout Reclaimed is just good solid goofy nonsense.  Probably receives a boost for me in particular because, yeah, Simon Blackquill.  But then again who isn’t giving cases a boost on that account; they are MISSING OUT

B tier: The Stolen Turnabout (3-2).  Ron and Desirée are so great sighs into hands

C tier: Listing roughly in order of preference: Turnabout Academy (5-3), Turnabout Serenade (4-3), Turnabout Sisters (1-2), Recipe for a Turnabout (3-3), Rite of the Turnabout (6-3), Rise from the Ashes (1-5).

Four of these (5-3, 4-3, 1-2, 3-3) are perfectly solid cases; I just don’t love them quite as much as “thievery hijinks” or “Hollywood hijinks” or other such particularly delightful flavors.  Everyone has a favorite flavor of Jolly Rancher and all that.

Rite of the Turnabout is interesting and connected with the larger themes of the game in a cool way, and makes good use of the divination mechanic.  However, the last bit gets twisty enough to actually be kind of confusing, and said larger themes of the game are... kinda hard for me to take seriously... which, yeah, leads to it feeling a little stilted when it really should be singing.

Rise from the Ashes landed awkwardly for me.  I know it was added well after the first game’s release, and it does a good job of continuing some of the cool stuff from that game—it’s neat, in isolation, to see Phoenix and Edgeworth working together (while still sniping at each other!), and some of the DS-specific mechanics are neat.  However, I just didn’t feel like I learned quite enough about Ema and Lana to care about them like I should, and retconning “(almost certainly true) rumors that Edgeworth was involved in Shady Shit TM” into “actually Edgeworth was totally ignorant of Shady Shit TM, like at worst his crime was willful ignorance / incuriosity, he was just been manipulated by the Police Chief”... makes Edgeworth less interesting to me!  Like, it’s cool to see Edgeworth caught off-guard and under pressure, but I wish the circumstances had been different?  Also Gant’s theme song is annoying as shit, which is petty but hey this is my blog post so

D tier: Turnabout Storyteller (6-4), Turnabout Corner (4-2), Turnabout Big Top (2-3), The Monstrous Turnabout (5-2).

Turnabout Storyteller has some fun gags with My Dude Simon and also Taka, but was heavily marred by Everyone Talking Down To Athena The Entire Fucking Case Oh My God Can You All Just Shut Up.

Turnabout Corner has... lots of fun elements but... look the fucking stolen-panties setup just grates ok

I don’t think I hate Turnabout Big Top the way most people seem to, but I did find the final murder setup more annoying that I remembered this playthrough—bro you were really sure the dude was going to conveniently stand right there and the heavy statue was definitely going to strike a killing blow and not just give the guy a concussion?  ok lol

The Monstrous Turnabout suffers mostly from poor puzzle/investigation design, being too hand-hold-y, and also having a core gimmick/setting that just wasn’t really my thing.  Alas!

[doyouevenshipbr0]

gruvia dabble

author's note: bruh. yall knew i had to write SOMETHING!!! these last couple weeks have been CRAZY for us gruvia lovers ughhh im so happy!!! and ok im probably eventually going to write what i think will happen in the upcoming chapters before they come out, but i usually don't like to write fics based on like what i think will happen in the next chap. cus then when my fic is just completely disproven by the following chapter im kinda like "eh thats kind of a waste." u know what im saying?? ik theyre called "fan fiction" for a reason but idk. i like to write things that could actually be in the realm of possibilities for the canon. ok does that make any sense??? ok well this fic is heavily inspired by our beautiful chapter 26. also it is soooo like 192727 other drabbles ive already written hehe. also this literally doesnt rly make sense tbh. i just wanted gray telling juvia his thought process like he did w juvina. so. enjoy❤️❤️❤️

*

"Gray-sama would you like to-" Juvia eagerly approached her dear Gray. Since the guild was finally up and running again after the Alvarez war, she couldn't wait to spend actual quality time with Gray. They hadn't really gotten to since they were so busy with the construction of the guild.

"Nope. Goin' on a job." Gray casually walked passed Juvia with his hands in his pockets.

"Eh?!" Juvia snapped her head around and watched Gray leave. "So soon?! Can Juvia at least come with?!" She called out as he continued to walk.

"Nope. Talk to ya' later." Gray didn't turn around. He just stuck a hand up and waved, still heading straight out the door.

Juvia was taken aback for a moment, but she understood. As much as she loved to shower Gray with affection, she knew he was a lone wolf at heart. And with constantly being surrounded by his guildmates as they all fought for who would get to use the hammer next, he was certainly drained.

Juvia nodded with determination. "It's alright. Next time." She said with certainty in her head.

However, over the next three weeks of Gray taking mission after mission and constantly dismissing Juvia, she was frustrated to say the least. She watched him walk out that door with hardly acknowledging her for the last time.

Without even thinking, her feet began to strut their way to catch up with Gray. She picked up her pace and finally caught up with him before he could leave the grounds of the guild.

"Gray-sama." Juvia called, and Gray paused. She used the time to catch up with him, and there they stood in the courtyard.

"What's up?" He simply asked.

"Juvia was just-- well--" She began to get nervous. She cheeks reddened as imagery of she and her beloved Gray danced through her head. She shyly put her hands behind her bag and wiggled her foot a bit. "Juvia was hoping to spend some time with Gray-sama, now that everything's finally calmed down."

"Yeah. We can later." Gray turned right back around and began walking again.

"Wait!" Juvia reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. She let go after a brief pause and Gray looking back at her with his piercing eyes.

"It's just-" She looked away, her eyes saddened. "Juvia's been trying to talk to Gray-sama for about three weeks now, and you've done nothing but ignore me." She pouted a bit. "Just when will later be?" She finished.

Gray sighed. "I dunno'"

"You don't know?!"

"Yeah. I don't know when later will be." His voice was firm.

Juvia was startled at the harshness of his voice and sheepishly caved in a bit. "Has-" Juvia stammered, clearly nervouse. "Has Juvia done something?"

"Huh?" Gray rasied a brow.

"Has Juvia done something to make Gray-sama mad at her?" Her eyes were suddenly glossy with tears, and Gray's eyes reacted by opening up.

"N-no! Not at all! You said it yourself, we haven't hung out in weeks. How could I be mad at you?" Gray was guilty for his tone.

"But why haven't you spent time with me in weeks Gray-sama?" Juvia pried, almost begging. "There's got to be a reason."

Gray's face regained composure. He remembered his purpose. He looked away. "I'm busy."

"Busy with what?"

"Busy with work."

"Well, you don't have to be so busy. And if you need to work so badly, you can always bring Juvia with you on-" Her voice regained its spunk as she began to form a new idea, only to have Gray shoot it down.

"No." He was harsh again.

"No?" Juvia's voice quivered.

"This doesn't have anything to do with you." Gray still looked away.

Juvia's heart sunk. "Oh." Tears began to well up again. "Well." She was looking for the right words to say, but she was at a loss. "Juvia will just mind her own business then." Just as she turned away to sulk back to the guild, Gray caught a glimpse of the tear that rolled down her cheek.

"Wait!" This time, Gray was the one reaching for Juvia's wrist. "I'm sorry." His voice was smoother.

"N-no..." Juvia's voice was timid. "Juvia is the one who is sorry for-"

"Stop it. You don't need to apologize." Gray loosened the grip on her wrist, but pulled her back a couple steps.

"I was lying." Gray said as Juvia finally faced him again, tears glassing over her eyes. "This does have to do with you." He blushed.

"Then why can't Juvia come with-"

"Because, that's not why it has to do with you." As Juvia cocked her head to side, clearly confused, Gray realized that what he was saying sounded silly.

"Gah!" Gray called out and hit himself with his palm, feeling frustrated for bot understanding how to form the thoughts in his head into words. "Do you wanna' sit somewhere?" He finally asked.

Juvia was still confused, but of course nodded in agreement.

The two found a nearby bench that was sitting right in front of a big, clear lake. The sunset reflected on the water, and created an image almost as beautiful as the water itself. They looked at in admiration for a moment, and Juvia turned back to Gray.

"So how does this involve Juvia?" She finally asked.

"I-- I--" Gray remained looking at the lake and ruffled his hair. "I gotta' keep going on missions."

"But why?" Juvia asked, sweetly.

"I... have to get stronger." Gray grumbled as he leaned forward.

"Stronger?" Juvia chuckled. "That's silly! Gray-sama is already the strongest man in the whole world! There is no one thay can compare to you, dear! Why would you think a few missions could improve that?" Juvia swooned.

"If I was the strongest man in the world you wouldn't have that scar." Gray finally said something clearly. Juvia choked on her breath.

"Eh?" She said, softly. "Juvia gave this scar to herself."

"And it was to save me." He seemed like he was growing angrier.

"Yes, but-"

"If I was strong enough, I would've been able to break his chains before that happened. I would've been able to stop it and save you." The composure in his voice was clearly wavering.

"Gray-sama..." Juvia reached an arm and placed it on Gray's back.

"I'm sorry Juvia." His voice shook, and he still did not look at her. "I know I promised you an answer, and at the time i meant it. I still do. It's just-"

Horrible images flashed in Gray's mind, making his skin crawl. "After Invel, and almost losing you, not begin able to protect you... it--it killed me." Gray gritted his teeth, almost like he was biting back tears.

"Darling... You know Juvia is just fine protecting herself." She reasoned.

"Yeah, but you don't understand." He spat.

"Juvia is trying to understand."

"I need more confidence in myself. I need it. I need to know I can protect you when the time comes. And I need to know with 100% certainty." He finally looked at her, and Juvia swore she could see tears trying to break loose from his eyes. "I thought I knew back then, but I was wrong. Just like I was with Ur, Ultear, my dad, and anyone that I've ever loved, but wanted to protect. Just when I thought I could, it was too late. I thought it was too late with you, but it wasn't. This is my second chance, Juvia. I need to know for certain that I'll be enough."

Juvia scooted a bit closer. "Gray-sama, there is always going to be something out there that will pose a threat to you or me. It's inevitable. All that matters is that we do everything in our power to protect one another. As long as we try, our love will always prevail. You were more than enough for me from the moment we met, and Juvia would think you would see that by now."

"I know how you feel about me, and I know how I feel about you. I just need to make sure I'm the best version of myself for you. Please, understand. I have to do this." His eyes were beckoning for her.

"Gray-sama, Juvia just-" She paused when she saw the desperation in his eyes. "When will it finally be enough? When will you know you're strong enough?"

"I've decided I'm going to take the 100 Years Quest. After that, I'll be ready. I'm certain of it." Determination was plastered in his face once again.

"This is so unnecessary." Juvia sighed. "But if this is what Gray-sama must do, Juvia will wait. Juvia understands that you must do this for yourself, but I just wish Gray-sama can see that he is already more than enough for me." She put her hand atop of his and gave him a reassuring grin.

"Thank you." Gray smiled back and gave her hand a little squeeze. "I know I'll be ready soon, and once I am, I'm gonna' go after you." Gray gave a smirk, Juvia's face became flushed with his sudden forwardness.

The two shared a heartfelt gaze, as they looked in each other's eyes and finally understood one another. They gave calming smiles, finished by another hand squeeze from Gray.

"No matter what."

[chuckling-chemist]

Everybody Needs Somebody

((They say a picture’s worth 1000 words so I wrote 3750 because I can’t draw and then rushed the gag itself. Also probably the only thing I’ve really written of all this that I’m posting, be it here or anywhere, since my interpretation of the ball being at a swanky hotel was incorrect, but also everything else is only like....debatably relevant? All 1.5 other pieces, that is. idk, might another short piece or two but this one was certainly a vanity project written in the early hours of the morning in post-Stardew Valley Christmas hazes that is only getting posted to make myself feel better, for some sense of “welp did the thing I said I was going to write 6 months ago and here it is” type of thing.

Anyway there’s a lot of silly references in here so kudos if you pick them all out))

Joilet tapped his foot impatiently from behind their practice room. He hadn’t meandered much around the crowd of the ball -- ignoring the current charges against him, high class crowds weren’t his scene -- but current security was still enough to make him worry. Brownblood host or not, he knew enough have true highbloods stalking around as guards. Bouncers who Joilet’s certain were watching him and recognized him the last time he did a sweep of the temporary hivestem. After their performance, Joilet and Akroid were going to have to peel out immediately.

At least they were paid upfront this time upon meeting him in person the night prior. In cash.

Though, to be fair, the Blue Brothers shouldn’t have been paid. A friend of theirs in similar line of work, a brownblood named Elliah Fagane, performed last sweep and she was slated to perform again. She was perfect for the job, a good little songbird who kept complaints she had about anything to herself and was the perfect paragon of elegance and grace -- lowblood or not. The Blue Brothers, meanwhile, were two midbloods (Joilet was a stocky cobaltblood while Akroid was a lanky tealblood) who both had a penchant for getting into trouble. Under normal circumstances, the two of them alone -- much less the whole band -- would ever be asked to perform for a traditional socialite of any caste. But, they needed the money and so Joilet was able to pull a quick favor from her to have her drop her spot while simultaneously recommending them as adequate replacements. He accepted, playing as if he knew who the two of them were the whole time. He told them how much of a fan he was of their “country and western band”, how Elliah “just wasn’t the sound he wanted”, and how excited he was to get some “representation of their own people’s music, in a more palatable fashion” in the setist. 

He was partly right: once they performed a cover of Stand By Your Rail at a dive bar, pretending to be an actual western band. He’s pretty sure this guy wasn’t aware of that, but an attempt was made. At least.

Their tight, uniform appearance also helped matters. Despite the different castes and heights, Joilet and Akroid looked the part of a two person midblood group with a backup lowblood band. Same black sunglasses that cover up half their face, same black fedora hooked onto their respective short horn (Joilet’s left horn, Akroid’s right), same unruly hair covered up by said hat, same black suit and skinny black tie. Sure, Joilet’s other horn broke off during his stint in prison while Akroid’s just hooked off again and Joilet’s sideburns were unkempt, but otherwise? Perfectly uniform. If the host had any questions of their legitimacy, they were quickly quelled after seeing the two of them in person the other night and, to Joilet, that spoke just as much as their actual skill level.

Joilet glanced over to Akroid. Damn teal looked as unflappable as ever behind those dark sunglasses. It was him who got them in this whole situation in the first place. Akroid, the idiot who picked him up from the big hive at the start of the perigee with a pipe dream of getting the band back together. The idiot who resisted arrest for public intoxication from the drones all because he was a former felon himself, starting them on this stupid honkbird chase in a desparate bid for cash. Akroid, the idiot who helped get his ass out of prison in the first place, all due to whatever strange desire for the other’s companionship they developed over the sweeps.

Fuck him.

Akroid must have caught his gaze because he gave a short smile and a thumbs up. “We’re doing good,” he said. “Remember, we’re on a mission from God.”

Right. The mission from God. Joilet found himself relaxing almost instantly. He distinctly remembered the out of body experience he had upon visiting one of those criminal infested freeports before departing; where, if he hadn’t talked to the God (Joilet didn’t believe the clowns held any sort of stranglehold on the concept of godhood), he certainly talked to a god. If nothing else, they made it this far without a single hiccup they couldn’t solve in their plans. It’s hard to believe someone’s not looking out for you when you escape a chase by driving through a busy mall and still make it out on top. Without their current employer hearing any of it.

“And what if God lets y’all get caught again?” their saxophonist, Marini, asked. He was a skinnier rustblood, long curly hair that went down to his mid back and oddly pointy teeth for such a red caste. “Leavin’ us high and dry again like when Joilet got hit.”

“We’ll be fine,” Akroid said. He shifted the sleeve of his suit, pausing in his speech to check the time on his watch. “Just follow our lead and look like nothin’s wrong.” 

The rustblood let out a huff with a brief shake of his head, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he asked, “How much longer do we have anyway?”

“Ten minutes,” Joilet answered. “We got ten minutes.”

“Well good.” He removed his saxophone off the neckstrap and set it on the stand. “I drank way too much Faygo. Gotta piss.”

“Then go piss!” Akroid’s stone face cracked into a distinct scowl. “Geeze, you don’t gotta announce everything. Just get back before we perform.”

Their drummer, another rustblood by the name of Barkay, stood up as well. He looked about the same age as Joilet, with curly hair partially that was obscured by his dark green visor. Barkay looked about as respectable as anyone of his caste could, with a dark red dress shirt and black tie.

“I’m goin’ with him.”

Joilet blinked harshly behind his sunglasses. “Okay? It’s the damn ablutionblock. Do what you need to.”

They apparently didn’t need to be told twice. The two trolls were out the door before Joilet had a chance to add anything else.

“You’d think his bulge was on fire,” Joilet finally said. His gaze swept around the rest of the band rapidly. They were quiet. Somber. Hell, if he didn’t know any better he’d have mistaken the lot of them going off to war, not performing for big money at some fancy gala-thing. “You think he’s gonna bail?”

“Marini? Nah. He was the only guy we didn’t have to pester who was workin’ at that diner. Been itchin’ to rip on that sax.” Akroid smirked wryly. “And doin’ it here? In front of all those rich pricks? I’d worry more ‘bout yourself. You gonna choke?”

Joilet snorted. “ ‘Course not. We’re in too deep.”

“Didn’t seem like that a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah well….” Joilet trailed off. Akroid wasn’t wrong. Joilet had panicked. It seemed like every jackass out to get them were outside waiting for them. And Akroid, bastard he was, simply reminding him that those jackasses hadn’t got them during the rest of the sweep brought him back. 

Not like he’d admit it out loud.

“Had a moment of panic’s all. Then I remembered this kid’s probably being a nervous wiggler about staffing with his first year. Nothin’ else.”

“Uh-huh.” Akroid’s smirk widened a bit, giving Joilet the sudden urge to punch it right off his face. But not now. They were too close to their goal.

They stood in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a new figure came out from the curtain, an indigoblood with short, cropped hair in a suit matching his caste walking next to Manini and Barkay. That was the guy who’d be ushering them on, sure, but he’s almost certain it hadn’t been ten minutes. Did something happen?

He glanced back over to Akroid, who just shrugged. Figures.

“Are you ready?” the indigoblood asked. He had some smile plastered on his face in some attempt to be friendly, but it didn’t look friendly. The offset, sharp teeth broken off at odd angles gave off a distinct predatory vibe.

“I dunno, did they get their break?” Joilet said.

Barkay grinned, giving the two trolls a thumbs up as he walked seat. “I got what needed done. No worries.”

The indigoblood’s face split wider, if that were even possible. He beckoned Joilet and Akroid with an open hand, unmoving until the two of them actually started following him through the narrow hallway. “Excellent. Let’s get moving then. Your stage is set, guests are waiting...you wouldn’t want to disappoint such eager crowds I’m sure. They could get aggressive.”

Joilet refrained from mentioning he passed time in prison by performing old classics, and just how dangerous some of those trolls were. Hell, he even learned a few new songs thanks to an actual country musician of a brownblood involving being stuck in prison. Aggressive wasn’t a problem. It was authority. 

“Got it.”

“Good.” He stopped in front of a door, giving them a nod. “You can go ahead and enter through the door. Hopefully you don’t need any final warmups?”

“We’ll be fine,” Joilet said.

The indigoblood nodded. “If you’re certain. I shall return at the end of your set.” He opened up the door. “Best of luck.”

The two of them exchanged a look. “We don’t need luck,” Akroid said before disappearing through the door.

Joilet followed suit, giving the inidgoblood a curt nod of acknowledgement before adding, “We’re on a mission from God.” 

As he walked through the door, he was immediately greeted with a dark blue curtain in front of them with a short opening to the left of them where he could catch the smallest glimpse of the piano on a raised platform. Nothing else. The piano obscured most of the view of the crowd beyond them. He imagined it was exactly the same on the other side.

It was a small exit. But it would be perfect for escaping out.

He wondered if Akroid was thinking the same thing. Probably. There was no way to tell, no way to properly read his expressionless face their last moment of respite before their performance and subsequent frantic escape before anyone did a serious background check about who they were. Still, there was a twinge in his gut that his partner in crime agreed.

When they exchanged one final nod in solitude and took their places in front of two microphones, Joilet had a feeling he was right.

As soon as he made it, he did another quick scan of the room. It was blue. Blue tablecloths covered the guest and dessert tables. Blue curtains shuttered the ball off from the outside world. Blue lights in the punch bowl made the ice snowflake sculpture inside look blue. And if it wasn’t blue, it was white. White tree sculptures adorned with white lights twisted around each marble pillar. Vases of white flowers topped every table. A white rug ran down the center of the ballroom. Small, white lights dotted an otherwise dark ceiling to give the loose impression of stars or snowflakes down onto the dance floor.

Even the trolls did nothing to break it up. If the dress didn’t match the owner’s blood color, it was a distinct blue or white with sparkles or shimmers. White lacing and white boas perfectly match the white boots and white dresses. The flashes of gray due to the high cut of many of the dress slits managed to break up the coloration more than anyone matching caste color. 

Thankfully, the heavy blue-white combination made the distinct pinks, purples and blacks of those on their tail easy to spot. And oh boy, were they available -- even more so than earlier. Joilet wouldn’t be surprised if their host figured out about them at some point, but not early enough to cancel and reschedule so he let these brutes in instead. Burly indigo and purplebloods in suits stood along the edges, away from the crowds with their arms crossed in rapt concentration of the two of them. Standing next to the dessert table were a series of inidgobloods all dressed in formalized cowboy outfits, complete with stetsons, glaring at them -- the very same western group the Blue Brothers once impersonated. A few particularly annoying “seadweller master race” types in colorful gowns and military pinks stood in the back next to cobalts in military regalia, quite possibly from some local, non-drone law enforcement they managed to pick up to defend themselves. On the other side of the cobalts were a few subjuggalators who definitely were full into the “highblooded landdweller supremacy” in full face paint and religious purple clown robes. Both were groups the Blue Brothers have antagonized, whether it be intentionally with the seadwellers (they deserved it), or accidentally (turns out subjuggalators don’t like lower castes hearing the voice of their god, whatever god answered Joilet and Akroid notwithstanding). It was, however, the first time Joilet’s ever seen the two work together for a common goal. Traditionally the two groups go at it worse than a bad kismesis. He was almost proud that they were able to perform such a feat, though he wasn’t sure if the pride was directed at the supremacy groups or himself for bringing them together.

He let out a slow breath. Only one thing to do at this point. Start.

“One. Two. One, two, three, four.”

The band kicked off with the sound of upbeat horns while the two trolls gave a short dance around the mics for a few bars. After which, while the intro kept repeating, Akroid grabbed his micrphone and said, “We’re so happy to see so many of you lovely trolls here tonight. We would especially like to welcome the esteemed members of Kilran’s hired law enforcement who have chosen to join us at the 12th Perigee Ball here tonight. We hope you all enjoy the show and hope you remember that no matter who you are and what you do to live to try and survive, there’s still some things that make us all the same. You, me, them--” Akroid looked directly toward the back of the room toward the cobaltbloods assisting the supremacists with a disappointed shrug “--everybody. Everybody.”

And from there, it was Joilet’s turn. With the second mic in hand he started singing their opener, Everybody Needs Somebody to Love. It was a speedy tune, possibly a little too fast for what their host was intending, but they sounded perfect and that’s all that mattered. The band’s hits fell right within the pauses in Joilet’s vocals, and Akroid knew exactly when to come in to accent with his deep baritone. Each transition into the next part of the song was smooth, from pointing to various people in the crowd at the you, you, you, to Akroid seamlessly whipping out his harmonica to accent Joilet’s singing the pre-chorus.

There were a few scattered cheers of appreciation, but for the most part these people weren’t dancing. Only one way to change that.

As they gave a pause in vocals to allow for a harmonica solo, Joilet started through a complicated dance twisting around the band members, ducking and weaving through saxophones and trombones while he turned this way and that. It was finished with a cartwheel across the front end of the stage, landing him right in front of the microphone for the next verse.

It was the opening some of the trolls -- lower castes mostly, but he caught flashes of higherbloods in the mix -- needed. The dance floor segment had all sorts of trolls, be it single or paired off in some fashion, dancing in whichever way they fancied. Akroid must have led them into a rhythmic clap too, judging by the trolls unwilling to dance instead clapping and even chanting at every repeat of you, you, you. He caught the leader giving them a death glare. Joilet ignored it.

At the next verse, Joilet swung on his heel back toward the band. He pushed his outstretched arms down toward the floor in an overemphasized quiet down for the crowd, and every instrument dipped off except for a cymbal hat to keep time and the grooving bass guitar.

It was Akroid’s time again. He moved right toward center stage, mic in hand and announced, “You know people when you do find those special trolls for any quadrant, you gotta hold that ‘rail, hold that ‘sprit, love him, squeeze him, love her, please her. Signify your feelings with every gentle caress or angry glare. Because it’s so important to have that special somebody! To hold. To kiss. To miss! To please and squeeze!”

Akroid dropped into a kneel on the stage, as if enraptured with his statement, as Joilet finished out with the chorus. He didn’t stand back up until the harmonica came back in. He rejoined Joilet in the back for the end, and the two mimicked each other dancing on the balls of their feet as the band played out.

When the last note struck, the two of them landed simultaneously on one knee, head down with their hand holding the brim of their hats.

Two songs left. Then they bolt. They could do this.

Their performance of Soul Man was just as energetic. This song was pretty much entirely Joilet’s, so he let Akroid dance around the stage now. He could catch the other troll jumping up and down, legs moving so loosely and briskly they may as well be jelly. He only cut in for parts of the chorus, letting that deep baritone accent Joilet’s raspy vocals.

In only a few short minutes Soul Man ended and their final song, Sweet Home Gusthollow opened with swift guitar licks in a short solo. As the rest of the band kicked in and Joilet sang out the first few bars, Akroid raised his hands up to lead those listening in a clap. Barkay joined in as well. He raised his own drumsticks high above his head, tapping off the beats until those in the crowd kept time on their own.

As the first verse ended, Akroid took hold of Joilet’s mic. “Six and three is nine. Nine and nine is eighteen. Look there pupa partner and see what I’ve seen.” He nudged Joilet and pointed toward the cobalt in the back standing between the supremacists. Shit. Another look and Joilet realized he knew that troll. He was one of the wardens of the prison he was released from. But he also noticed at his angle, with the growing crowd of dancers and listeners, they might be able to slip away. After all, the stage wasn’t raised. The only reason he could still see the warden was thanks to the gaps down the main walkway.

The two of them waved confidently at him as they continued through the chorus. Even with the distance, he noticed the cobaltblood drag a thumb across his neck.

It struck Joilet numb for a few seconds. Good to know where he stands, he supposes. 

The two finished out the chorus with a flourish, letting the band take over. Joilet turned over to Akroid, offering out his hands to dance. The other troll accepted, and the two pranced right off the stage and into the crowd, swinging around as Marini moved center stage to crank out a solo. With the focus off them, they were able to swing right back onto the stage and through the small opening to the area behind the stage. He could still hear the band, but it was muffled. 

“You think that creep’s waitin’ for us back here?” Akroid asked. 

“I sure fucking hope not. Could do without running from his slimy ass too.”

Joilet whipped open the door, ready to run from whoever Kilrun left to deal with them back here. What they were greeted with instead was a troll leaning on the nearby wall wearing a tight, long sleeved red dress that pooled onto the floor. Yellow and orange flowers, though Joilet wasn’t sure what kind, outlined her skirt. A large, black wide brimmed hat wrapped outlined in string lights covered her whole face. When the door closed, they looked up, revealing a noticeable pair of fins and tyrian pink eyes. 

A fuschiablood.

“So...you must be the two trolls I was informed of.” She gave the two a grin filled with those sharp seadweller teeth, just as predatory as the indigoblood earlier, but for some reason it didn’t feel directed toward either of them. “Ran into your two bandmates earlier. He gave me a heads up you might be headed back this way before you run off.”

“Who the hell’re you?” Joilet asked.

“Call me Mayola. You two pissed off those buncha entitled rich fucks who think they’re better than everyone else right?”

Joilet and Akroid glanced at each other in silence. “What about it?”

“I’d like to bring you and your band on for Sandyhorn’s next festival. You two would make a great fit.” She pulled a thick envelope, quite obviously stuffed thick with cash, out of seemingly nowhere and handed it to Joilet. “Consider this a down payment. You’ll get the rest when I see ya there.”

Joilet thumbed through the money, eyeing her. This was a lot. More than he they could’ve gotten from this gig alone. “Yeah sure. Sounds like a deal.”

“Hey, just one problem.” Akroid jutted his thumb out toward the direction of the ball beyond them. “All those goons seem to have caught on our tail and we can’t perform unless we get outta here without goin’ to prison.”

Her face brightened. “Oh well that’s an easy one. Here, follow me.” She pushed herself off the wall and sauntered toward the door, that red dress almost appearing to shimmer in the dim lighting. With a quick motion of her wrist, she opened the door into the back of the stage. Only a few further steps in, and she leaned down and pulled at a small hitch in the floor. A trapdoor immediately popped up without a sound.  “Found this out the other day when I couldn’t sleep. Should lead outside without a hitch, though you might have to go through some sewers.” 

She looked up at them, eyes wild and filled with pride, catching the two troll’s equally bewildered and ecstatic expressions. “You’re brilliant!” Akroid exclaimed. “Amazing! Fantastic! Wonder--”

She held up a hand. “Save your praises for later. For now...just think of me as today’s savior.”

[ilovereadingandilovebreathing]

Just Keep Swimming

Sorry not sorry. Also, this version has a read more. I swear I put one on the original post. :p

Summary: Virgil is the new kid (adult? kind of?) in school, and he’s still trying to navigate in unfamiliar waters. Thankfully, some more experienced fishies are more than willing to help.

Word Count:

1954

Genre: Teacher!Human!AU; slice of life

Characters: Virgil (Anderson), Logan (Foley), Patton (Thompson), Roman (Prince), Sleep (Remy Cordova), Deceit (Declan Anwir)

Warning for DECEIT and a lot of dumb teacher humor. School stuff. Self doubt. IDK what else.

Twain uses syntax. Twain also uses many different types of sentences- “Oh my god if I read this repetitive garbage one. more. TIME.” Virgil Anderson threw down his pen, sighed, and leaned back in the plastic chair, roughly running his fingers through his hair.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Roman Prince queried from the copy machine across the sizable work room.

“Apparently, Mark Twain uses syntax. Of course he uses syntax. Syntax is sentences. My god-” “I hear he also uses diction and chooses his words.” Roman teased as he strode past his co-worker with a mountain of copies in his arms. “So I hear.” Virgil mumbled, allowing the grin nipping at his lips to come to light. Roman could win every once in a while.

“How long have you been at that?” Roman paused at the door, cradling his papers on his hip like a baby. “Not too long. Just long enough to be fed up already. These are honors kids, for crying out loud. I know they have better thoughts than this.” “They do. They just don’t know it yet. Who’s giving you trouble?” “Giselle Wilson.” “Oo yeah, I had her last year. She’s a smart girl, really, but very much a verbal processor. Try doing writing conferences and talking through her thoughts. She does better that way.” “I don’t have time for that though. We’re already behind as it is-“ “Lesson plans are a formality, Virge. Lighten up.” “Says the man who’s been teaching for 5 years already.” “You’ll get there.” Roman flashed him one of his obnoxiously bright smiles. “I suppose losing your classroom during your planning period doesn’t help, but…it all settles in after the first few years.” “Yeah, if I last past the dropout stats. What is it? 20% in the first 3 years?” “It doesn’t matter because you won’t be one of them.” Roman replied shortly but not unkindly. “As I said, you’ll get there. As for me, I must get back to my domain before the serfs run amok.” “Oh my god, Roman; you left them alone?!” “Just for a few minutes.” Virgil eyed the precarious stack he was hauling. “They’re fine. They’re seniors. Some of them can vote and serve; they can handle themselves for 10 minutes.”  “Whatever you say.” Virgil rolled his eyes as the other sauntered away, turning back to his grading with another sigh. “Another day, another assignment to grade.” Virgil had just lapsed back into the flow of grading when the tap of footfall pulled him from his focus. “Oh, hello, Virgil.” Logan Foley paused inside the doorway. “I forgot you do your planning in here. I can come back later if you are trying to concentrate.” “No, it’s fine. I need a break anyway. Papers are painful.” “I understand the sentiment.” A shadow of a smile graced Logan’s lips as he sat across from Virgil. “My AP Language students are writing responses to past AP Examination prompts, and reading through them is taxing. My students often do well, but…I do always worry.” “That’s fair. But hey, Mr. Teacher of the Year, I think you’ll be fine.” Virgil nodded slightly. “They couldn’t have anyone better.” “Unless they have me.” Virgil visibly tensed as their red-headed colleague slunk into the room. 

“Your students’ scores have certainly been quite comparable to my own.” Logan conceded. “Of course.” Declan Anwir chuckled. “This place needed me desperately. You’re doing great and all, Logan, but one man can only do so much. Especially after all of that-“ “Do you mind? I’m trying to grade here.” Virgil snapped, gesturing to the papers spread out in front of him. “Not all of us have the luxury of a classroom during all periods.” “Of course. My mistake. I thought this was the teacher workroom, after all.” Virgil rolled his eyes after Declan rose and turned his back on them. “Anyway, I have a lot of grading to do. Those AP essays won’t score themselves.” He gave them a sharp wave and went out. “God, that guy gets on my nerves.” Virgil filed below his breath. “Sure his AP scores are high, but the kids hate his class. He’s a dictator. One of my past honors kids from last year broke down in Anime Club because of the workload in his class. It’s nuts!” “His methods may be…strict-” “Tyrannical.” “But the data is unarguable. His students get top scores.” “And that makes it all the worse…” “He is not a bad teacher, Virgil.” “He’s not a good one, either, though!-” Virgil caught himself and snapped his mouth shut; he inhaled deeply through his nose and unclenched his fists. “…So anyway, how is everything going? With….you know-“ “Clear as of the last check.” Virgil physically relaxed, his sharp gestures softening. “Good. Glad to hear it. But don’t hesitate to let us know if things aren’t good.” “Of course. I cannot thank you enough for everything you did for me when-“ “Well, hello, gentlemen!” Patton Thompson breezed into the room. “No one told me we were having a planning party!” “Not a party, Pat; just…a chat.” “Nice rhyme, Virge; you just might be a poet after all.” “Never again.” Virgil’s lip curled, and Patton exploded into giggles. “You teach English, silly goose; you’ll have to deal with it eventually.” “Yeah, Yeah-“ “So how are our freshman, Patton?” “Oh, they’re fine, as always!” Patton laughed as he headed toward a copy machine. “My precious babies. Still adjusting to high school life. It really is so hard.” “Pat, they’re 14, not 6.” Virgil muttered, the grievance not at all expressed in his expression. “They’ll be fine.” “Ooooooh I know, but I just want to scoop them up and take care of them, you know? They’re so helpless-“ Logan sighed. “They play on your kindness like a harp, Patton, and you know this. Yet you still give in.” “It’s just because they need the push, but they’re too scared to ask.” “Sometimes, I think you’re too soft for your own good, Pat.” Patton flashed his co-worker a grin before removing the warm papers from the finishing tray. “Soft inside; tough outside.” “Soft inside; soft outside, is more accurate.” Logan interjected seriously. “We’ll work on the tough part, Pat. I’ll teach you how to do a teacher scowl.”

“Don’t need it, but thanks for the offer!” Patton saluted. “They’re just fine with me as their Captain-”

“Don’t.” Virgil quipped.

“What?” Patton peered at his co-worker with his signature doe eyes.

“Don’t do it. I heard ‘Dead Poets Society’ through my walls yesterday. How many times a semester do you use that movie, anyway?”

“I use clips every chance I get! It really is a versatile film. I thought you liked that movie?!”

“I do, but hearing it quoted weekly makes it lose its appeal.” Patton’s jaw tightened, and Virgil backpedaled. “Sorry, Pat. I didn’t mean to go off on you like that. I just….It’s been a day.”

“Mass grading. I counseled you against such practices, Virgil.” Logan interjected. “It is not only harmful to you, but to your students’ grades-”

“I know. I know! I just….god, I agonize over grading. I start out so harsh, but then I worry that I’m too soft, and it’s all just so much.” Virgil slumped dejectedly, eyeing the stack of essays with malice. “And I have no one to blame but myself because I assigned them.”

“True that.” Patton shrugged. “That’s why I assign stuff that I’ll enjoy grading. And that meets standards and is good for the students, of course!” Patton giggled, swiping up his copies from the tray. 

“But you’re experienced and just…talented enough to do that. I’m not there yet.”

“But you will be one day.” Logan replied softly. “It takes time. Remember, you just got your Bachelor’s Degree. Patton and I both have our Doctorates and years of experience to drawn upon. You will get there. Be patient with yourself. Besides….if your students’ reactions to your activity last week was any indication, you are already off to a satisfactory start.”

“What was your activity?” Patton called over his shoulder.

“Nothing that great, really. It’s basically four corners. I put a scenario up on the board, and they go to one place or the other depending on their opinion. I try not to let them be in the grey area, and they have to argue their points to each other. It’s like an informal debate, and they get really into it.”

“I do not believe I have seen or heard your honors students be so rambunctious.” Logan commented.

“Yeah, sorry about that. They’re really passionate about Of Mice and Men, apparently. And the death penalty.”

“That one can definitely get people stirred up!” 

“Shaken or stirred, Patty, because there’s a difference.”

“Hey, Rem!” Patton greeted their sub-turned-part-timer. “Ready for the day shift?”

“You know it. I’m joe’d up and ready to flow!” Remy snapped a finger, the other hand grasping a coffee cup, as per usual. “Whatchya got goin’ on here, Toddler Teacher?” Remy gestured to Virgil’s piles. 

“Honors Lit. essays. This batch hurts.” 

“And so did the last one, but surely they’re getting better!” Remy pulled out a chair and sat backwards, resting his chin on his arms. “Shoot.”

“Twain uses syntax-”

“That’s all I need. You’re in for it, baby boy, but it’s normal. They’re still adjusting.”

“It’s week 3.”

“And they’ll be adjusting at week 13, too. They’re teenagers. It’s normal. You just gotta know when to hold their hands and when to let ‘em go.”

“You talk like you have teaching experience. Or parenting experience.”

“We’re their school parents, in a way, you know. Or at least, we can be.”

“I don’t think I’m at that stage yet. I think I’m still in the ‘weird older brother stage.’”

“Now don’t you say that, Virge!” Patton cut in. “Your kids love you!”

“Yeah because I’m…unconventional, I guess.”

“Because you’re a good teacher who does your best and cares about them! That’s all they want and everything they need.”

“True dat, Patty Pat.” Remy sipped at his frozen coffee.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.”

“It is. Trust me.” Patton smiled warmly and jumped a bit when a sharp ringing sounded overhead. “You’d think I’d be used to that darn bell after all this time-”

“Well, they did change out the system this year. The pitch is higher and more shrill than it has been in the past.” Logan sighed, hauling himself from his chair. 

“It does it’s job, though.” Patton left with a wave, easily weaving into the sea of students in the crowded halls. 

“Time to get to it.” Remy slapped the back of his chair and rose, shouldering his laptop bag before placing a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Have a good one, kid.” He gave it a squeeze and disappeared into the mass of bodies as well.

“Are you managing well, Virgil?” Logan asked in a low tone, making direct eye contact. “Really?”

Virgil sighed deeply and gathered his papers and pens. “Yeah. ‘Well’ is a relative term, but I’m managing, that’s for sure.”

“Remember to inform me if that changes. We are here for you if you need us.”

“Thanks, Logan.” Virgil’s smile reached his eyes as he fell into stride beside the older teacher. “So, what were your kids doing yesterday? They got pretty loud, too.”

“Peer editing argument papers.” Logan replied, traces of a grin gracing his lips. “Some of them had opposing stances on the same topic, so I paired them together to gauge the result.”

“You’re a mad genius.” Virgil laughed out loud as they merged together into the current of teenagers, chatting until they reached their shared hallway and parted ways into their respective domains.