#if you don’t know the cat with hands boy fucking howdy I’m sorry

[nonhumancultureis]

Nonhuman culture is sometimes forgetting what your body looks like and having the first thoughts seeing your hands be “omg I’m like the cat with hands”

-Ere

Tw: do not click if you don’t wanna see an image of a stop motion cat with a hand. Or the horror animation that goes along with it.

[waytoobsessed]

Howdy

So I was scouring the internet for any trace of your lost and found au cause I feel like I’ve heard that name before and the ask blog name you were using sounds like a blog I’ve read through, but that blog is no longer showing up

Long story short,  please give me all the information you have on the lost and found au you’ve created because I am losing my fucking mind and must know if this is the au I’m thinking about

LMAO I’M SO SORRY I DELETED THE ACC BUT I WILL GLADLY RAMBLE ABOUT LAF BOYS

So in most separated aus, the boys end up with bad guys like Big Mama or Draxum, I kinda wanted to stray away from that so theres lost and found!

In this au the boys are raised with Hueso, April and her mom, a pair of human parents and in an orphanage!

Mikey is with April and her mom, working in a cafe and street painting at night! (Ngl the cafe part is inspired off of aunt cass and her lucky cat cafe from BH6)

Donnie lives with Hueso as a sort of in denial about being his son, he can cook but he doesn’t prefer to, and he lost his arm :((

Raph lives in an orphanage with a few ocs and a baby Casey! Because I can do that. His guardian Or well like the person who runs the orphanage or that side of the orphanage is actually Leos mom! They call her Mama Caterina <33

Leo is a famous rockstar! >:3 He lives with two human parents, his drummer is Yuichi Usagi and I can’t decide who is bassist might be, might end up being an oc :p

The boys are the only ones with proper designs/ref sheets!

I just realized is Donnie.. has a Gobber hand ngl actually— *gets shot*

If you’d like a fun fact, Raph and Donnie are the only two who are aware of the hidden city, and Raph is the only one who doesn’t know Leo exists

Since Leo is famous they’ve kinda played Leo being a turtle off as a “costume” along with Yuichis! And Mikey they just kinda ignore it tbh, they do not see.

Or well at least regulars, Carol, and April don’t see, the rest are always wondering why Mikey is cosplaying Leo but orange /j /j

And Hueso still runs run of the mill pizza, with Donnie occasionally helping.

[saturnsstufff]

howdy, i’m here to help feed all my fellow techno simps. with that being said, techno x reader, but ranboo asks them to babysit michael 🥺🥺 im thinking a walk through the forest together and Michael keeps picking flowers for techno and the reader. and when they get back, reader goes to fix some lunch, but when it’s done techno is asleep on the couch with a little michael on his chest— just the thought of that makes me so soft

also if it isn’t already taken, can i please be 🤠 anon? i love your writing btw <3

You all are hitting me with dad techno and im so fucking in love, its such a weak point i swear. Also of course you can!! Welcome to the cult!! And thank you so much sweet pea🥺🖤🖤

Technoblade- Babysitter

   Living in the Tundra was amazing. You had your lover, his friend, and even a neighbor Enderboy. It wasn't hectic or loud, rather instead it was always quiet and cold. The only heat coming from the lit fireplaces. Even visitors were sparse.

   So as you can imagine, well making breakfast, the last thing you expected to hear was a couple of knocks. Of course being in the middle of making French toast, your hands were a bit full of egg.

   "Come in!" You called out, quickly trying to wipe your hands free of the remaining egg. When you stepped out into the living room you were slightly shocked to see the Enderboy Ranboo with a small Child in his arms.

   "Oh hi (y/n), Sorry to interrupt you. I was uhm- just curious if Technoblade or Philza was around." He held the little boy close to his chest as he shifted his weight the movements obviously very protective.

   "Tech's up in the bath right now, and Phil's on a mining trip hon. Is there anything I can do for you?" You watched as Ranboo's ears drooped a bit. His thoughts collecting up.

   "Mining trip... right... right-" the Enderboy looked to you. "You uhm.. your familiar with Piglin behavior right?" You smiled a bit more.

"Of course Ranboo. I married a Brute" he went pink a moment before glancing away in embarrassment. He must have forgotten Techno was a Hybrid.

   "Right.. right...- Well you see I have to go with Tubbo and do some mining. Foolish is building around our house right now, so we don't have a babysitter... I uhm- k-know that Phil, and Technoblade are familiar with Michael's species so... I was kind of hoping they were free..." you nodded slowly to his words.

   "Well Phil's a tad busy, but Techno and I were planning on staying home all day. We can watch him if you would like" you said softly, watching the Enderboy's face light up.

   "That would be perfect- I would really appreciate it" his thankful tone coming through. He set his son down carefully. Watching the small Piglin child look about the room in wonder.

   "He’s got that curious look Tubbo gets" You mused. Ranboo chuckled gently.

   "Mhm! Yep!- Ok Michael I'm going to go ok?" You watched as Ranboo kneeled down, trying to be eye-level with his son. "This is (y/n) their going to be watching you, be good ok?" You watched as his little boy nodded. Ranboo smiled gently and gave his son a hug before standing. "Thank you (y/n) it really means a lot..." you smiled softer and nodded.

   "Of course Ranboo... Anything to help, best of luck on the mining trip" you waved to the tall boy as he stepped back out into the tundra. Leaving you with the small Piglin toddler.

   "Techno is up in the bath right now bud, are you hungry at all?" You asked, watching Michael turn to you. He gave a small nod. "Want to help me cook breakfast?" He gave a small nod again so you offered your hand to him, letting his small hand take it.

When Techno finally walked down the steps he was easily surprised. The last thing he expected to see was his lover with a child on the counter. Well you happily ate with Michael, you turned when you herd tech.

“heh?” his face shown how baffled he was with the moment. “Darling when you asked for a baby I didn't think it worked that quickly” you giggled gently at his side comment. 

“Ranboo dropped him off, It’s his son. He just asked if we could watch him, he’s a Piglin like you” Techno’s brow lifted in question as he strolled over. You watched the adorable scene play out in front of you. Techno sat looking down at the little Piglin boy. His face didn't convey anger or over joy, he looked a bit uninterested.

“I see...” Leaving the conversation at that, Tech simply rested his hand on the boys head. Patting it gently before he looked for a clean plate.

The morning was quite simple really. Techno kept on with his daily things with a small shadow following. Of course if Michael needed anything he just came to you about it. But it was very obvious that Techno was much more interesting and appealing then you in his mind.

When Tech made comments about leaving to the nearby village, you offered the idea that he should take Michael with him. With some loose grumbling the two left. You could tell Tech enjoyed having a child around the house, the small new change was warmly welcomed.

Maybe it meant it was time to ask techno for one of your own.

When the boys came back you at first didnt hear them. To be fair your book was really good, so it didnt suprise Tech too much when you didnt hear the door.

When Techno saw your occupied behavior he simply set the little toddler down. Whispering for him to run over and suprise you. With a quick happy nod Micheal ran over to you.

When you herd the little patter of hooves you subconsciously put your book down. Smiling brightly when you saw Tech. Of course you couldn't miss Michael either. Your heart could have melted on sight. Michael was proudly standing infront of you with a handful of wild flowers. The thing that made it even more adorable was how he slightly puffed his chest out.

"Awh Michael... are those for me?" You kindly asked, your hand gently outstreched to take them. As a responce you herd a quiet 'oink'. Techno's soft smile never faltered well he watched. When you took the flowers you couldn't help but gently hug the little boy.

"We saw them and Thought of you" Techno said well walking over. He sat next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as a show of love. "Micheal had fun, he was playing with some of the cat's well I traded" your hand rested on Technos leg, a soft sign of your gentle affection for him.

When you let Michael go he was all smiles. Of course he wanted to join the affection huddle tech and you had going, so he climbed his way up into Tech's lap. All three of you relaxed into the couch, letting the warm fire mesmerize you both into a soft state of comfort.

After a while you did end up departing from Techno's arms. It was nearly dinner, and you didn't feel like sending Michael home on a empty stomach. So well the boys relaxed in the other room, you mixed up somthing quick.

By the time it was done, you went to retrieve the boys, but instead you were met with somthing else. There, on the couch, was Techno. He was asleep with little Michael on his chest. Both happily asleep.

Techno's hand was gently on the boys back, offering up support for the small boy. Honestly the sight absolutely melted your heart. Things like this is what made you fall for Technoblade. Not his blood thirsty side, but instead you adored his soft compassionate side.

The side you fell in love with.

[from-seas-to-skies]

Farm Grown / Hawks x Reader ♕︎

uwu, I had the lovely @weirddpand4 draw this picture of cowboy Hawks for this work!!!

warnings: NSFW, spanking, cream pie

words: 4,802

-

“Oh, wow! Look at that! I’ve never seen grass so green before!” your friend, Urakaka Ochaco, exclaims.

Glancing up from your phone, you follow her line of vision; gracious hills of rich green grass stretch out far into the horizon, meeting with the brilliant shade of blue. It’s so unlike the skyscrapers and closely-knit houses you’re used to seeing. No, this is what pure beauty looks like, Mother Nature in one of her most wonderful forms. Although the fields are dotted with wildflowers and corn fields, you don’t miss the dirt road further up ahead, a large wooden sign planted next to it.

When Ochaco originally came to you with the idea of being a farmhand, you thought she was crazy. You’ve finally graduated from high school, got the title of professional hero, and this is the first thing she wanted to do? However, as she further explained, it was a family friend who needed help during the summer months, and what were heroes for? Granted, you wanted to run around the cement jungle and provide help that way, but this “almost vacation” didn’t sound too bad – plus, with the puppy eyes Ochaco flashed at you, it was impossible to say no.

And so, here you are, sitting in the passenger side of a coupe with Ochaco behind the wheel. You have to admit; the surrounding atmosphere is beautiful, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to run barefoot through the grass. Clouds of dust rise as the car eventually comes to a stop outside of a weathered farmhouse. Ochako flashes you a smile, her large eyes twinkling.

“Look at how huge this place is! I know Uncle Iroh said he had a couple people helping out, but this is incredible! We’ll each have our own room!”

You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Ochaco’s always been easy to rile up, and the fact that she’s genuinely excited to spend quality “bonding time” with you is heartwarming. As the two of you step out of the car, the front door to the farmhouse opens, revealing an elderly man with a long beard and a kind expression. His face cracks into a smile when he and Ochaco make eye contact; the two hurry towards each other, warm greetings and bone-crushing hugs being shared between the two. It’s no wonder Ochaco was so excited to spend the summer here; with a relationship like that, you’d be happy to see the man too.

“Oh, come, come!” Iroh says, hurrying around the car and popping the trunk open. “You must be Ochaco’s friend, yes?” he asks, looking towards you. A wave of pleasant warmth washes over your being as he sends you that charming smile. “I appreciate the help! I only have my nephew and another man working here already, but the extra hands will come in handy.” He pauses then to chuckle at his own joke. “But I think it’s about you two get settled, yeah?”

“Right!” you respond, pulling out your own suitcase.

As you walk up towards the wraparound porch, you glance to the other trucks sitting out in front of the farmhouse. Iroh said two others were already here, so you figured the trucks must be theirs…

“Zuko!” Iroh booms. “Our guests are here!”

After a moment or so, a boy around your age staggers from the kitchen, a tray in his hands. From the looks of it, a teapot and some cups line its surface.

“Tea is our specialty, here,” Iroh says, nudging you with your shoulder. “Get something to drink and then we’ll show you your rooms.”

-

Later on that evening, you’re gazing out your window, watching the sun fall. Hues of orange, peach, and lilac paint the sky, bidding the world goodbye for the night. It’s definitely different to experience it here than back home, back where silhouettes were outlined by the golden glow. A steady breeze carries on, carrying the scent of wildflowers and musk; your curtains flap from the sheer force of it, but you pay it no mind. It’s like Ochaco brought you to a slice of paradise, even if it’s with the intention of putting in labor.

In the distance, you hear calls and the distinguished moos of cows. Shifting your gaze, you catch a herd of cows being moved towards a barn; a man riding a brown horse wrangles them in, a border collie by his side. The way he pulls it off is smooth, and it’s clear that he’s used to pulling such a feat. However, what really catches your attention is the pair of magnificent scarlet wings protruding from his back. Now, you’re used to seeing some rather flashy quirks, but this guy’s is just… Wow.

“Hey, Uncle Iroh wanted me to come get you,” Ochaco’s voice says suddenly. Turning around, you see her standing in the doorway, a pleasant expression playing on her face. “We’re having oyakodon for dinner! Doesn’t a hot meal sound delicious?” And, as if to amp up your spirits, Ochaco licks her lips and pats her tummy. “I’m so hungry from a long drive!”

You huff in amusement. “Yeah, I am too.” Turning around, you catch a glimpse of the cows disappearing into the barn, that mysterious cowboy stationed by the doors. “Hey, Ochaco,” you start before realizing it, “but who’s that other guy that lives here? The one with the wings?”

Walking over to where you stand, Ochaco peers out the window, following your line of sight. “Oh, him? That’s Keigo. Uncle Iroh says he’s only been here for the past year or so, but he’s really good at what he does! I heard all the animals like him a lot – maybe it’s because of the wings?”

“Don’t you think it’s… odd that’s only a farmhand? With a quirk like that, you’d think he’d be doing something else.”

Ochaco shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe you should ask him sometime? Oh, but I’m really hungry! Can we go eat, now?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just got distracted…”

And so, you soon find yourself sitting at a sturdy wooden table, a bowl of oyakodon sitting before you. It smells utterly delicious - and paired with the tea Iroh brewed, you know you’re in for a treat. Just then, you hear a door opening and closing; there’s a chatter of some sorts, but then there he is, right there in the flesh.

Strong build, wide shoulders, blond hair that looks permanently tousled, and oh yes, those magnificent wings. Perhaps you shouldn’t be staring so much, but the sharp line of his jaw and intense eyes make it nearly impossible to look away. You’ve heard of such things, read about them in stories, but maybe, just maybe, you might’ve fallen for the guy at first sight. That, or he’s just too damn attractive for his own good.

“Howdy! Oh, shit, who are these two cuties?”

Or maybe not.

“Oi! Keigo! Can’t you be respectful for once in your life?” Iroh barks, popping around the other. He scowls as he slaps a wing out of his way. “Make a good impression for yourself. These two are going to be here for the rest of the summer, so don’t be an ass.”

“C’mon, gramps,” Keigo drawls, “you know I’m better than that. Plus, if they don’t like my attitude, then it’s not really my fault, huh?”

“Nothing ever changes,” Zuko says lowly, his words followed by a deep sigh.

You and Ochaco share a look. It seems like your Prince Charming is nothing more than a sarcastic asshat. How befitting.

“Liven up, birdies,” Keigo says, sliding into the chair directly across from you. “I don’t bite.” He winks at you. “Yet.”

Your entire body jolts at his proclamation. This guy really is shameless, isn’t he? Still, you can’t help but feel undeniably attracted to him. Curse his charisma, dammit.

“Aw, sweet! Is this oyakodon? Hell yeah.”

To the side, Zuko facepalms. Iroh merely chuckles and shakes his head, much like he’s way too used to this kind of behavior and has accepted it as it is. Hell, even Ochako cracks a smile. You, on the other hand, stare at Keigo in confusion. He has a bird-based quirk, doesn’t he? Does it not bother him to not eat chicken…?

Keigo puts up a hand, an amused glint in his eyes. “Look, I already know what you’re gonna ask, kid. I can practically see the gears spinning in that pretty head of yours. I fucking love chicken.”

Oh… Well, that takes care of that, doesn’t it…

-

After that first fateful encounter, you’ve grown used to Keigo’s ways. It’s funny, though, how he and Zuko’s personalities basically sit on either end of the spectrum, yet Iroh treats the both of them like they’re his children. While Zuko is serious and straight-laced, Keigo is more of a chatty free spirit. That said, you’ve also gotten used to Keigo’s flirty side. You suspect it’s because he likes to get a rise out of everyone. Whether that’s the case or not, your eyes often wander after him, stare down the hard lines of his back. Even better, you itch to trail your lips over the scruff lining his jaw. The guy’s too damn hot and he knows it.

Over the past month, a game of cat and mouse has started between the two of you. Him, trying to act all chummy and overstepping numerous boundaries. You, trying not to give into the weird relationship that’s bloomed between you and him. Sure, you might have flirted back, but what were you supposed to do? After all, Keigo’s proved himself to be a rather cool guy.

“You can’t keep spacing out like that, kid,” Keigo says, snapping you from your thoughts. Glancing down at him, you attempt to suppress your embarrassment, but Keigo’s too smart for that. Despite his relaxed attitude, he’s surprisingly intelligent and quite observant.

Hands tightening around the saddle, you scoff. “I wasn’t spacing out…”

Keigo cocks an eyebrow. “You know, if I wasn’t holding onto the reins, Nugget would’ve bucked you off a long time ago.”

This time, you snicker. You know that he has an undying love for chicken, but every time he refers to his horse as Nugget, you can’t help but laugh. This guy really is like a child.

“Pffft. Laugh all you want, birdie. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s how to ride.” Narrowing his eyes, he flashes you a sultry look. “If you want, I can show you.”

All laughter dies on your tongue. A spark of heat erupts in your stomach, makes your heart thump against your ribcage. He always manages to fluster you, to plant naughty little thoughts into your head. You swallow thickly. “I think… I think I’ll stick with Nugget for now.”

At that, Keigo shrugs, his expression turning into something more nonchalant. “Suit yourself. Seriously, though; you should always keep your focus while riding a horse. Anything can happen, and you’ll only know you’re fucked until you’re being crushed. Better yet, you’re flying overhead and end up snapping your neck. Hate to break it to you, but you don’t have wings to break your fall.”

“Keigo.”

He looks back up at you. “What?”

“Your wings. It’s just that… Well… Why help out on farm?”

Keigo blinks at you, no words slipping out. “Hah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Shit,” you say quickly, mentally cursing yourself out, “that’s not what I meant. You can fly, can’t you? It just seems like you could’ve made a name for yourself…”

“And become a hero, right?” You wince at his words. He hit the nail right on the head. “Heh. Yeah, I guess you’re right. I could spew a whole bunch of shit from my mouth and call it a day, but that’s not my style. I’m a hero in my own right.”

You furrow your brows. Remaining silent, you wait for him to carry on.

Keigo sighs at your implication. “Not all heroes wear capes or whatever. What about cops? Firefighters? Nurses? People who help put food on your table and help that old man out? Just because I’m not stopping some robbery doesn’t mean I’m not important.”

His words come as a slap to the face. He has a good point; actually, scratch that. He has a fantastic fucking point.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a moment’s silence. “That was selfish of me.”

Keigo waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t beat yourself up, kid. Nugget gets nervous if you get into a bad mood.”

Absentmindedly, your hand drops onto the horse’s neck, giving it a couple of reassuring strokes. “He’s a beautiful horse.”

“Yeah – well, until I bathe him. Getting up close and personal to horse cock isn’t fun. A bit degrading, actually.”

Slapping a hand over your mouth, you try to muffle your sudden laughter. Air streams through the cracks of your fingers.

Instead of his usual smirk, Keigo flashes you a genuine smile. You’ve only seen it once or twice before, but it never fails to make your heart stop. His whole face scrunches, his pearly teeth a startling white compared to his sun-kissed skin. Okay, so maybe you’ve fallen in love with this guy. It’s no big deal; you’re only here for the summer, so there’s no point in chasing after something you can’t have.

“What, did ya find that funny? I’m here all week, folks.”

“You saying you’re a standup comedian now?” you shoot back. “I didn’t know they accepted clowns on farms.”

“Ohoho, so you do got a mouth. Where’s that been all this time, huh? Would’ve made things a lot more fun.” Reaching up, he knocks his cowboy hat further back, revealing more strands of sandy hair and bronzed skin. “Listen here, partner. This town ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

“Oh my god,” you say with a snort. “You’re such a dork.”

Keigo snickers. “You know you love me.”

Heh. Yeah…

If only he knew.

-

Maybe you should’ve taken his words more into consideration.

Your instincts are more attuned to what could happen in battle, not for words. Besides, Keigo is a sneaky bastard. Most of the things that spew from his mouth are innuendos and pure sarcasm. He doesn’t really come off as a genuine type of person.

It’s whatever. You don’t like to read into things too much, and maybe that’s your fault, maybe it’s not. Who knows?

Even so, your eyes continuously drift over to where he stands. He busies himself with hanging Nugget’s saddle and harness away, his body lax. If one’s thing for sure, he definitely seems a lot more comfortable around animals rather than actual human beings. You can’t blame him, but what about you? Is he comfortable around you?

Clearing your throat, you turn back to the task at hand. Brushing Nugget down, you trail your hand over the coarse hair, the hard muscle. You meant it when you said he’s beautiful. Shiny brown coat, straw colored hair – he seems like the perfect match for Keigo.

“Cowboy Keigo,” you mutter. “Tell me, Nugget,” you begin, “does Keigo treat you right? Feeds you apples and lumps of sugar? A pretty horse like you deserves to be spoiled.” At the mention of his master’s name, Nugget whinnies. “Is that a yes? You’re avoiding the question, man.”

“Are you seriously trying to sweettalk my horse?” Keigo pipes up. Stepping over the stall, he hoists himself up onto the gate and straddles the wood. Wings sweeping behind him, he flashes you a peculiar look. “Didn’t they teach you in school that you shouldn’t seduce a horse? I don’t know about you, kid, but bestiality isn’t smiled upon around here.”

“Then what does that say about you, bird boy?” you quip. “Surely you don’t put yourself in that category?”

“Ooo, degradation. How did you know that was one of my kinks? Were you looking through my search history?”

Rolling your eyes, you set the brush to the side and join him at the gate. Climbing up, you mimic his movements and straddle the wooden beam. “Kinky cowboy, huh? Kind of has a nice ring to it.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve got the bedazzled white boots and everything. I mean, I’m already wearing the assless chaps and everything.”

“You sound more like a stripper rather than a farmhand. What do you think, Nugget?” you ask, turning towards the horse. Nugget merely snorts and shakes his head.

“Hey, hey, don’t agree,” Keigo tells him. “I’ve got to keep my secret life a secret, you damned horse. Help a guy out.”

“I guess your partner would rather throw you under the bus,” you say with a chuckle. “Good horse.”

“Now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.”

“Cry me a river, bird boy. Or do I have to kiss your booboos?”

At that, Keigo falls quiet. The look in his eyes is unreadable, but the way his body tensed tells you something else entirely. Abruptly, he swings his leg over the gate and hops back down onto the ground. Aw, shit. Did you take it too far? It was only lighthearted flirting and yanking on his leg-

“C’mere,” Keigo says, offering you his hand. His voice is a lot more… soft.

With little to no hesitation, you take hold of his hand and get off the gate. You’re about to ask him what he wants, but then he’s abruptly pulling you to the side, further away from the stable’s open doors. Birds are singing outside, their sweet melody carrying along with the sweet summer breeze. It almost seems like an entire world away. A grunt escapes your lips as you’re shoved against the wall, the smell of straw and musk filling your senses. Keigo steps in close, the heat radiating off his body sending shivers down your spine.

“Listen here, pretty little birdie,” he drawls, his lips pulling back in a smirk, “but I may just have to take you up on that offer.”

Wait, what?

“What the hell, Keigo? Where is this coming from?” you question. It’s not like you’re against him being so damn close, it’s just… unexpected.

“Oh, right, like I’m supposed to pretend that you don’t gawk at me at any chance you get. You’re not very subtle, you know.”

Embarrassment heats up your insides, crawls up your neck. So this bastard is really going to rub it in your face, huh? Seems just like him.

“Then why didn’t you say anything about it before?” you hiss. “If it’s such a problem, don’t stay silent. You’re not the type to let things like that slide.”

“Who said it was problem?”

Keigo: 1 / you: 0

Spluttering, you try to gain control of your whirling emotions. This is not how you were expecting this conversation to go. Actually, you weren’t expecting this conversation at all!

“I know for a fact that you can’t get enough of me,” Keigo continues. “And if I’m being completely honest, I like it. You look so cute when you stare after me, birdie. Then you have the audacity to pretend like nothing happened whenever I catch you.”

“Is that what this is all about?” you huff. “Okay, fine. I admit it. Maybe I watch what you’re doing more than what’s necessary. It’s not my fault you walk around all the time without a shirt on or anything…”

“Normally, I’d say because it’s because I get hot when I’m working, but knowing that you were watching made it all the better.” He winks at you. “Gotta hand out a treat here and there, you know?”

“You really are a clown!” you squeak. Keigo laughs as you weakly shove at his chest. “You’ve been leading me on this entire time? What am I, a joke?”

“Hey now, don’t get ahead of yourself, kid. It’s not my fault you couldn’t come up to me like a civilized adult.”

Okay, now you’re fuming. “Keigo, you fucking idiot-“

Swooping in, Keigo cuts you off with a kiss. Unsurprisingly, his lips are soft; he tastes like citrus and salt, and before you know it, you’re looping your arms around his neck, knocking his hat off in the process. A huff of laughter fans across your lips as Keigo pulls back, his mouth hovering over yours. “Shit, I’ve been wanting to do that ever since your pretty ass sat at the kitchen table for the first time.”

You sigh. “You really do have a bird brain…”

You kiss him, again and again. Perhaps you should be ashamed that you have your tongue shoved down somebody’s throat rather than working, but there’s no way you’re stopping now. Like him, you’ve been waiting for this moment. The two of you have been tiptoeing around each other, rolling the tension back and forth like a goddamn snowball.

But fuck if it doesn’t feel good.

His hands aren’t shy, not in the slightest. Fingertips map out the ridges and dips of your body, seek out the spots that really make you tick. You bite back a giggle as he drops his mouth down your neck, the scruff covering his jawline tickling your skin. Your own hands trail over his body, tracing over the hard lines of muscle that hide beneath his clothes. Time and time again, whenever you’d see him without a shirt, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands all over him. This is your chance, now, and you’d be damned if you didn’t take it.

“Shit, shit, shit, not the wings,” Keigo pants into your neck. The scarlet feathers feel like silk beneath your fingertips; skimming over them, you follow their shape, feel how they get fluffier the closer they are to his shoulders. “Oh, fuck. You know just what you’re doing, huh, birdie? Playing around with me like that. Two can play at that game.”

Another grunt slips from your lips as he pushes you against the wall, harder this time. His hands shamelessly drift underneath your shirt, warm palms sliding over your skin. Your shirt comes off before you know it, being unceremoniously thrown to the ground.

“Fuck, birdie, aren’t a pretty one,” Keigo purrs, his nose bumping against your throat as he sucks another mark into your flesh. “I bet you’re real pretty down here, too…” Making quick work of your jeans, he easily slips them down your legs and you eagerly step out of them. “Don’t mind if I do, kid,” he murmurs into your ear before nipping at the lobe.

A weak moan breaks from your throat as a hand slips into your underwear and cups your sex. His hand is just so warm, and the roughness of his callouses causes your head to spin. Within no time, wet, sinful noises sound from between your legs, mixing with your heavy breaths and Keigo’s encouraging words.

“Yeah, you like that, birdie? My fingers feel good, huh? Wait until you get a feel of my cock.”

Spurred on by his words, you hastily unbutton his shirt, pushing the fabric to the side and running your hands over the swell of his pectorals, the ridges of his abdomen. A faint dusting of blond hairs covers his chest and arms; and, if you look close enough, more sticks out from the waistband of his jeans. Keigo hums as you continue to feel him up, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek.

“Like what you see? I bet you’ve been wanting to do this for a long time… Fuck! Not going to go easy on me, huh? I like someone who can bite back.”

“Has anybody ever told you that you talk too much?” you breathe. Fingers wrapped around his cock, your movements catch up to his in speed. “You should consider yourself lucky that I like your voice.”

“Oohoohoo, feisty. That mouth of yours is saying a lot of mean things today, isn’t it? Guess I’ll have to put you in your place.” He pauses, swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. “But, if I’m being entirely too honest, I don’t think I have the patience for that.”

“Keigo,” you pant, “I swear to Christ if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“On it, on it. Don’t get your panties in a twist, your majesty.” In hurried movements, he strips you of your underwear and shucks his chaps and jeans down. Large hands grip onto your thighs and then you’re being hoisted up, sandwiched between his rigid body and the wall. “Why, won’t you feel that,” he purrs, “I’d say it’s high noon.”

“Don’t talk about your dick like that, you dork,” you scoff. “Oh, fuck.” Another pleasured noise slips through your lips as you grind down against him, his cock just barely teasing your hole.

“What was that, birdie? You know what they say – sweetie on the farm, a freak in the barn.”

“You’re anything but sweet. Just – Keigo, please?”

“Alright, I get it, enough teasing.” Adjusting his hold on you, he flashes you a tiny smile. “Hold on, partner.”

A choked groan breaks free from your throat as his cock slides in, your velvety walls sucking him in greedily. That damned smirk of his stays on his face the entire time he fucks you, along with that devious glint in his eyes. His façade only cracks after you start stroking his wings and squeeze around his cock; if he wants to act like a cocky son of a bitch, then so can you.

“Shit, you’re fucking tight,” he pants. The smack of skin against skin fills your ears, right alongside Keigo’s breathy moans and muttered words. “Keep squeezing like that, birdie, and you’re gonna make me cum quicker than I want to.”

“You almost sound like that’s exactly what you want me to do,” you breathe. “A cowboy like you has got to have some stamina, right? Don’t tell me all of that work goes to nothing.”

“Jesus, and you called me talkative. Fuck, I can’t wait to shove my cock down your throat and shut you the hell up – I said don’t squeeze like that, holy hell. Dirty little head you got there, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumble, yanking him back into a kiss. Keigo only moans loudly as you continue to play with his wings, quickly finding out that the spot where they protrude from his flesh is the most sensitive.

“Milk my cock, birdie,” he mutters between broken kisses. “You’re so fucking good to me, oh yeah. I should’ve done this weeks ago.” A startled squeak bursts from your throat as he abruptly strikes your ass. Sucking air through his teeth, he does it again, relishing in the desperate noises spilling from your mouth. “That’s right, birdie. Come on, make me cum. I’m gonna cum so fucking hard for you, fill you up until your belly’s bloated.”

“Keigo-“  You moan as his hand drops down, fingers furiously rubbing at your sex.

“That’s right, say my name. Let the whole fucking world know who’s fucking you this good.”

“Keigo-“

Smack.

“KEIGO!”

The knot building up inside you snaps; with a cry, you cling even closer to him, your velvety walls spasming around his thick cock as you cum.

Slamming a hand against the wall, Keigo fucks into you harder, faster, the wet noises sounding from between your legs almost deafening. “Oh fuck yeah, oh fuck yeah, oh fuck, fuck, fuck – ah- ah- ugghnn…” Burying his face in your neck, his hips erratically jerk as warmth fills your insides. “Still… cumming… fuccckkk…”

Your eyes flutter as he shallowly thrusts into you, the sinful squelch of his cum leaking out around his cock filling your ears. Slowly, he comes to a stop, his hot breath fanning over your neck and the side of your face. Gingerly, you let him go, completely unaware that your fingernails had dug into him in the first place.

“Well,” he starts, lifting his head and flicking away sweaty strands of hair, “that was eventful, wasn’t it?”

You scoff. “Tell me why I like you again…?”

“Oh, darling,” he drawls, leaning in and pecking the corner of your mouth. “I don’t think you like me. I think you love me. You aren’t very subtle.” He laughs as you smack him on the chest.

“Okay, fine. You’re lucky I love you, bird brain. Don’t go rubbing it in.”

“Silly birdie,” Keigo hums, his face scrunching into that wonderful smile of his. “I may just love you too.”

Wait, seriously?

“And no, I’m not joking or being an ass,” he continues, as if reading your mind. “What’s it called? Love at first sight? I dunno, seems like cheesy bullshit to me, but I… I like the appeal of it. It sounds nice when you’re involved.”

Your heart thumps against your chest.

Oh, fuck.

[rodeoxqueen]

Can u make hcs DMC boys x s/o who lost her memory after an accident in a battle? Like 'I don't remember your name but I remember I love you so much' ^3^)

Howdy Anonymous,

I am quite fond of when love surpasses all circumstances. I am even more fond of writing those moments; This is one of them. 

Thank You For Requesting,

Rodeo 

Dante 

“Oh god oh fuck.” 

He’s panicking internally and blaming himself for not protecting you. At least you’re not dead, but now you can’t even remember your own name. 

Everyone feels so bad for Dante, seeing how his eyes lose their spark at the realization you don’t know who he is. You’re the love of his life, and he’s just lost you in a way that might even be worse than death. 

He’s always by your side though. When you awaken and question why there is such a good looking man holding your hand. 

Even when you have amnesia he’s a flirt. 

“Do you remember me?” 

“No, not at all.” 

“Do you know my name?” 

“No. I’m sorry.” 

He sighs, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. This was harder than he thought. Dante looks down at the ground, thinking of all the memories of you and him. His blue eyes almost well up seeing you next to him in bed, kissing his cheek and holding him in your arms. Is this all gone? Is he forced to see you have to start over and forget everything you’ve done together? 

 Suddenly, he feels your grip on his hand tighten. He looks up to your uncertain expression. There’s something in your pools of (eye color), a dim spark. 

“What’s up, sweetness?” He asks. 

“I-I don’t remember you.” 

“Yeah, we’ve been over that.” He bites back calling you Finding Dory, knowing you might actually think that’s your name. He shuts up immediately when your other hand reaches over and cups his face. 

“But..but I remember that I must have loved you very much.” A semblance of your old smile ghosts your face, and he almost sees you as you were before again. 

Dante instinctively covers your hand with his and presses his grizzled cheek against your palm, the loving touch soothing his mind. 

“I’ll always love you more, babe.” 

Once you regain your memories, Dante will be more protective. If you never do, Dante will gladly walk the road to recovery with you, your love a constant despite the circumstances. Either way, he’ll never forget that moment of vulnerability between you two. 

Vergil 

He will be inconsolable if you lose your memories of him. It was already so hard for him to open up again and now he’s lost you. 

You wake up confused and sometimes you see a white-haired man in blue reappearing and disappearing by the door. He will have a hard time seeing you gaze at him like a stranger. When you sleep, he sits nearby you and thinks of the times you used to have. Only the moon is the witness to his grief. 

Dante and Nero ain’t having it. 

“Come on, Verg. She needs you right now.” 

“Dante, she doesn’t even know her own name. There’s nothing I can do.” 

“Dad, don’t be a deadbeat with your own girlfriend/wife.” 

“Please do not say that. It is already a very difficult situation for me.” 

One day, while bedridden, you watch as the flirty middle-aged man and his punky but polite nephew drag the man in blue into the room and lock the door. 

“Ah, I never got your name.” He sighs. 

“Have you known yours?” 

You say the unfamiliar name and his sorrowful gaze intensifies. 

“I am Vergil.” 

The two of you stay in silence. 

“Did we know each other?” You asked. Vergil sat on the chair, hands on his lap. He seemed uncomfortable. 

“We did.” 

He thinks of all the times you would look at him with that loving and warm gaze. Nothing good in his life truly lasted, didn’t it? 

You scooch to his side and he returns your eye contact. He stills when he sees a sense of recognition in you. 

You hesitate at his cold eyes. But it seemed whoever you were before liked the chill. He seemed more withdrawn, less intimidating to you than he was trying to show the rest of the world. This man, this memory in flesh, seemed to mourn you. 

“I’m sorry my lost memories gave you any grief.” 

“It is not your fault what happened.” 

Blurry memories flashed through your mind. All of blue, white, and of shared warmth. You grab his arm. Your words found their way into the air. 

“You loved me, didn’t you?” He looks at you with half a smile. He shifts himself so he is facing you. 

His fingers slowly tuck your stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I did as I do now.” 

“I think I do too.” 

Vergil never leaves your side again. To see that your love is ingrained and stored in your heart and not your mind, gives him hope that perhaps you will never truly leave him. He protects you like a treasure and it doesn’t matter if your memories come back or not, he will love you forever. 

V 

“Oh, woe is me. I am made to fall apart but why does my Little Wanderer need to suffer?” 

When he finds out you don’t remember him, he cries a few tears in his lonesome. His Little Wanderer has strayed too far and like Orpheus, he cradles your ghostly form and sobs for his love. 

He will never leave your side as you rest, his cane against your bed. 

Even his familiars are affected by this. Griffon has lost his witty playmate and Shadow her beloved giver of pets. 

“Damn, Shakespeare. Shorty can’t remember jack shit.” 

You sit, eyes blank as you admire the bird and the panther by your side. 

The lanky and tattooed man who sits by you is very soft to you. You remember him mumbling poetic words to you as you half-slumbered, his fingers tracing your face. 

Nico and Nero do their best to leave V alone, knowing he needs peace after what happened. 

“Are they yours?” You gesture to Griffon and Shadow. 

“They are. But they are also yours.” You scratch Shadow’s chin. V smiles. At least you have the muscle memory of knowing where your “darling little kitty cat princess” likes to be pet. 

“Have we met before?” V nods. 

“Little Wanderer, we have met and our roots intertwined.” 

You are quiet at this statement. V offers his hand to you, your own joining his. 

“Oh shit, Shadow. They’re having a moment. Let’s dip.” The bird leaves, riding the big cat out of the room, the intelligent feline’s tail closing the door on the way out. 

“May I demonstrate?” 

“...alright.” 

Your hand is taken by him as he presses your embraced palm to his chest, his crying heart beating sadly under his palm. As your skin touches him, you feel his pulse speed up. Almost as if his heart begs to be felt under you. 

The sensation recalls your own. Who you used to be would lay her cheek upon his chest in the rising sun’s company, the birdsong an encore to his lulling heart. 

V lets out a small noise of startlement as you place his own palm above your breast, your own muscle thudding and joining the duet. Your face is slightly pink, eyes widened in shock of your shared affections for one another. 

His green eyes light up with joy as he understands your silent words. 

“Oh my beloved Eurydice, how you have yet to truly leave me.” 

The two of you embrace, a constellation not yet smitten by the universe. 

The lovers will not wane in their union, and they will defy all the stars to find each other again. V knows very well he will accept either path you take. Whether you remember who you were or not, you will always look at him the same. 

[trashyswitch]

Dark Interrogations (With a Light Spin)

Roman gets interrogated for the robbery of a hoodie, a hat and a deodorant. Remus, Janus and Virgil work together to make Roman confess to his crimes and admit as to their location...

This has the 'tickle interrogation' trope going for it so if you're uncomfortable with that, I am very sorry. There are also some swear words, so you have been warned.

This fanfic goes out to @smileheart110 on Tumblr. Link

This fanfic also goes out to @kennabelee because I wanna. XD

So Smileheart and Kenna, I hope you both (and others) enjoy!

A pair of high heels could be heard echoing through the room...a paper was shuffled with...and a pencil was heard being used despite the pitch black darkness.

“Roman ‘Princey’ Sanders…” Someone said.

The name called, hummed in confusion as he registered who the voice belonged to.

“...What in royalty are you doing, Library boy?” Roman asked.

“Oh...Right I forgot he could recognize our voice.” The person admitted.

“We have the same voice.” Someone else said.

“I’m gonna turn on the liiiight~” someone else said before switching on a lamp. Roman squinted at how surprisingly bright the lamp was. He expected one of those modern lights with the slow build up to brightness. You know, the eco-friendly ones? But nope. Not here. The voices of the ‘strangers’ didn’t always have a green thumb.

Roman looked up at the faces that were staring him down. One of them was holding a clipboard and a pencil. Another one was holding pieces of paper. And the last one was giving him the death glare with a small box in his hand.

“Welcome to the interrogation room. You can refer to me as Deceit...Or Janus, if you want to.” Janus started.

“You can refer to me as Virgil...I prefer it that way. No ‘emo’, no ‘panic at the everywhere’, and no ‘kitty cat’ either. I’ve heard you and your list.” Virgil warned.

“And I’m starving.” Remus admitted.

Virgil sighed. ���Remus we know.” Virgil growled.

“Can we hurry this up?” Remus asked. “I haven’t had my hourly deodorant because SOMEONE STOLE IT!” Remus smacked his hand onto the desk to scare him.

But hilariously enough, Roman didn’t even flinch. “Awww, boo hoo.”

Remus looked at Janus. “Can I slap him with your heel?” Remus asked.

“NO.” Janus and Virgil both shot back.

“Dammit…” Remus muttered.

“Heel?!” Roman looked down and sure enough, Janus was wearing heels. “...Huh…”

“Eyes up here asshole.” Virgil ordered. “Where are our things?” Virgil asked.

“What things?” Roman asked, pretending to be naive.

Virgil slammed a paper onto the table, revealing the hoodie...But the picture used to represent it, looked really poor quality.

Roman smirked. “Did you get that from clipart or something?” Roman asked.

Janus sighed. “It was the best we could do. Please stay focused.” Janus told him.

“Where is it?!” Virgil asked.

“Chill out man! I didn’t mess with your hoodies!” Roman reacted.

“It’s ONE hoodie, and it’s MISSING. And you’re the only one dumb enough to take it.” Virgil spat.

“Emo.” Roman spat back with a smirk.

“Prick in my ass.” Virgil shot back.

“Oooooh! Okay, boogeyman~” Remus teased.

“Ew!” Virgil turned to Remus. “Don’t you dare use your serial killer references on me!” Virgil ordered.

“Sorry, sorry…I’m just hangry…” Remus admitted.

“Really? What a surprise…” Janus muttered.

Roman chuckled. “Someone should make a tv show based on all of you.” Roman reacted.

“Brooklyn 99 is the equivalent of that already.” Virgil reminded him.

Virgil placed another paper down. “What about this? Where is it?” Virgil asked.

Roman sighed and looked down. This time, it was a picture of deodorant...but it had a leaf on the label with the word ‘Peppermint’ on the front. Roman guffawed. “No, I haven’t seen Remus’s ‘peppermint’ deodorant!” Roman laughed.

Janus blinked and checked the label. “Oh...Oops.” Janus admitted. “Anyway-” Janus placed the paper down. “You know what we really mean in this situation. Where is it?” Janus asked.

“I don’t know. I thought you hid it with your magic?” Roman replied, looking at Remus.

Janus sighed. “And as you can tell, this:” Janus showed a colored picture of Roman holding his hat, with the bowler hat circled with a red marker. “Where is my hat?”

Roman giggled and changed his voice. “Look! I’m Woody! Howdy Howdy Howdy!” He imitated.

Janus snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “AHA! So you DID steal it!” Janus declared. “And that means you stole everything else TOO!” Janus yelled.

“Whaaaat...if I was simply making a reference?” Roman asked.

“You weren’t.” All three interrogators said at the exact same time.

Roman’s smirk dropped. They really could read through his tricks…

“Where’s. Our. Stuff. Roman?” Janus asked, leaning forward to glare at Roman closely.

“Up. Your. Scaled. Tushy.” Roman spat back.

“Alright get the tools.

“Tools?! Seriously?!” Roman reacted.

“Yes, of course! We need to scare our thief into confessing to their most evil crimes known to man!” Remus told him. “Stealing. Our. Precious. Props.” Remus told him.

Virgil pulled out a toothbrush and clicked a button to turn it on. The electric tooth brush started humming and vibrating, leaving Roman confused. “You’re...gonna brush my teeth to death?” Roman guessed.

Virgil giggled evilly. “Think again, Ro.” While Janus held Roman’s hands behind his back, Virgil walked closer to Roman, pulled up a stool and brought the humming toothbrush closer to Roman’s belly button.

The toothbrush had only lowered a couple inches from his belly, when Roman started whining and biting his lip. “Ohohoho noho, you’re worse than yzma.” Roman muttered with a slight wobbly smile growing onto his lips.

“So...Where...is our stuff Ro?” Virgil asked.

“I-I don’t know!” Roman replied.

It was then that Roman SCREAMED and wiggled around as the toothbrush landed right into his belly button.

“I hope you like tickles, Princey~” Virgil teased. “Cause this is gonna last a while if you don’t confess.” Virgil added.

“WAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE! NOT THEHEHEREHEHEHE!” Roman begged already.

“Woooow! Begging already?” Remus reacted. “I’m surprised! You can defeat a giant dragon witch, but you can’t handle a little tickwing to the bewwy button?” Remus teased.

Roman tugged on his arms to try and get out as his belly button was tormented with only a single little circular toothbrush. Man, being ticklish sucked right now!

Virgil stopped the electric toothbrush, but kept the toothbrush in his belly button. While this was happening, Janus leaned into Roman’s ear and clicked his tongue. “You gonna tell me where the stuff is?” Janus asked softly.

Roman felt tingles down his spine from both the hot air against his ear, and the super soft voice Janus was using.

Roman looked towards the ear Janus was whispering into. “Jeez, you could do an ASMR video or an ASMR channel if you wanted to! Holy crap!” Roman reacted.

“Answer the question.” Janus ordered with a more stern voice.

Roman looked at Virgil and Remus. “Guys...I seriously don’t know.” Roman told them.

“He’s lying. Vir-”

“Way ahead of ya, Jan.” Virgil pulled out a huge fan brush, turned on the electric tooth brush and used both items on Roman’s belly button region.

“NOOOOOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHA! VIHIHIRGIHIHIHIL STAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Roman pleaded.

Janus smirked as he leaned in, and blew cold air onto his neck. Roman squealed and curled his neck, throwing his head back in the process. “JAHAHAHAN!” Roman begged.

Then, Janus grabbed a feather and started tickling up and down Roman’s spine. “EEEEEK! WAHAHAHAIT NOHOHOHOHO! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!”

“Hey Remus...Do you wanna have some fun?” Virgil asked before turning off the toothbrush. Janus stopped the feather and looked at Remus with curious eyes.

Roman took the time to breath in and out as much as he could before the tickling started up again.

“Sure! And I know just the spot~” Remus grabbed a foot rest, placed it between Roman’s lower legs, and tied Roman’s legs to the bars on the sides of the foot rest.

Roman shrieked and tried to lift the foot rest, but a 50 pound dumbbell had been tied to the bottom of the foot rest as well! “NO! YOU’D BETTER NOT PULL THAT ANKLE-BREAKING MOVE FROM MISERY!” Roman shouted at him.

Virgil and Janus widened their eyes at each other while Remus wheezed. “Look around the room, you dumbass! There’s no sledgehammers anywhere here!” Remus reacted through his laughter.

“Except for in the closet…” Virgil muttered.

Remus hummed. “Wait what?”

“There actually is one in the closet…” Virgil muttered again.

Roman let out an ear-piercing SCREAM in horror. “OH FUCK! OH SHIT NO! REMUS YOU DO THAT, AND I’M DIVORCING YOU AS A FUCKING BROTHER-”

“Hey Janus, do you have an extra hand to cover up his mouth?” Remus asked casually...too casually.

Janus nodded and covered up his mouth. With Roman’s screams covered up enough to focus, Remus got up to do his thing. He walked to the closet, grabbed out the sledge hammer and made a large portal. Roman was still breathing heavily and freaking out. But Remus gave the sledgehammer a heave, and threw it into the portal. A loud “OW!” could be heard from within the portal before it was closed up.

“There! No more sledgehammer, and no more scared Roman.” Remus told him.

Roman’s scared face lessened dramatically as he registered the lack of a sledgehammer.

“You can uncover his mouth now.” Remus told Janus. Janus nodded and uncovered his mouth as Remus walked back over. “Now what I was ACTUALLY gonna do...” Remus sat down onto the foot rest, and scooted a bit closer. “Was this:”

Remus reached his hand out and started tickling the inside of Roman’s thigh. Roman widened his eyes, gasped in surprise, and leaned his head to the side as the craving to laugh filled his lungs. Roman tried to hold them back as best he could...But the moment the fingers reached the lower thigh, it was all over.

“EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEK! NOHOHOHOHO! NONONO! NOTTHETHIGHS! HAHAHAHANDS AWAHAHAHAY!” Roman begged.

“Only if you confess to taking our stuff…” Remus reminded him as he moved his fingers to the other thigh.

“BAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OKAYOKAHAHAHAHAY! FIHIHIHINE!” Roman finally yelled.

Virgil smiled eagerly as Remus stopped his fingers. “Well?”

“Fihihihine...Yohohou wihihihin…*huff* I… *huff* I took ‘em…. *huff* *huff* Took ‘em all.” Roman finally admitted.

Remus smiled proudly and cheered. “YAAAAAY! I did it!” Remus declared.

“Totally didn’t see that coming…” Janus lied with a smirk.

“But wait:” Virgil looked at Roman. “Where did you put them?” Virgil asked.

Remus stopped cheering and looked at him. That was a good question! Where DID he put them?

Roman shook his head. “You said you’d let me go if I confessed. I confessed, so you need to let me go.” Roman told them.

“That’s why we have a tape record-” Virgil looked over at the tape recorder and noticed there was no tape in the tape recorder…

Virgil growled in pure frustration and anger the moment he heard crunching plastic on the other side of the table. Remus had moved himself to the other side of the table and…

..was eating the cassette tape.

“Whath? I goth hungryyy!” Remus reacted. “I’ff been hungry’fr hourth!” Remus added.

“And you couldn’t ASK FOR A BREAK?!” Virgil shouted.

Remus swallowed. “Mm mm. Go on. Keep going.” Remus told them, waving his hand to move them along.

Virgil sighed and looked at Roman. “Are there times you don’t associate with him?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded. “All the time.” He replied. Rokman yelped as the circular spinning piece from the cassette tape smacked against his forehead. “OW!” Roman yelled.

“Thorry!” Remus reacted.

Virgil grabbed out another item from the tool box. “How about some oil?” Virgil asked.

OH HELL NAW!

Roman squeaked and wiggled around. “Uh uh! No way! Absolutely not! Get that stuff away from me!” Roman threatened.

Virgil giggled and poured some oil into his belly button.

“NOOOOOO!” Roman begged. Virgil grabbed a silicone oil brush from the tool kit, and started brushing and spreading the oil across his whole belly. Roman giggled and snorted as the brush moved everywhere across the regular skin, AND the shiny oiled skin. Whenever the brush would go across the oiled skin, Roman’s laughter would increase 10 fold, or even 20 fold! The oil made so much of a difference on Roman’s belly.

“And now for my new favorite part:” Virgil grabbed out two- TWO separate back scratchers. The metal back scratchers had paws on them rather than the usual fingers, which gave the back scratches metal claws rather than dull nails. Virgil handed one of them to Remus, and got ready to attack.

“NO...NOO PLEASE NO…” Roman pleaded.

“Where are they~” Virgil asked as he and Remus both brought the bear scratchers closer and closer to the belly.

“VIRGIL! REMUS! PLEASE! I DON’T KNOW! I! DON’T! KNOW! AAAAAAAAH!” Roman screamed and fell into loud cackles as the bear claws started scritching and scratching all over his poor, oiled belly.

“Where is it, oh ticklish prince of-”

“IHIHIHIN MYHYHY NIHIHIGHTSTAHAHAHAND! NIHIHIGHTSTAHAHAND!” Roman shouted.

Virgil widened his eyes. “Nightstand?!” Virgil reacted.

Remus got up, placed the bear claw scratcher down and sprinted to Roman’s bedroom. Roman took this moment to breath like his life depended on it. “Yohohou’re...lucky...I’m a side...otherwise...I will have...p-perished…” Roman said slowly.

Virgil laughed. “You wouldn’t have died, you drama queen.” Virgil fluffed his hair.

Janus smiled as he let go of Roman’s hands and wrote down the thief with the location of the items. “A criminal has pleaded guilty today. I say a job well done.” Janus told him. “And I mean it.” Janus clarified, telling him that he wasn’t lying.

Remus sprinted into the room with their stuff, and a mouth full of deodorant. “Hoodie!” Remus threw the hoodie to Virgil. “Hat!” Remus threw the hat frisbee style to Janus. “And MMMMMmmmmm!” Remus dug right into his deodorant like a mad man.

Virgil and Roman both bursted out laughing at Remus’s face, while Janus fixed his hat and hair. “There…” Then, Janus whipped off the high heels. “Finally! My feet can rest happy without these stupid heels!” Janus declared.

“FREE HEELS!” Remus declared, picking up the heels and sprinting out of the room.

Virgil shrieked and sprinted after him. “REMUS GIVE ME THOSE HEELS NOW, YOU ARE NOT HITTING PEOPLE WITH THEM!”

Roman bursted out laughing at their silliness and looked at Janus. “So...You gonna start that ASMR channel?” Roman asked.

Janus leaned into his ear with a smile. “Maybe~” He whispered.

Roman giggled nervously and covered his mouth. The teaser was already a huge indication that he was gonna DIE listening to Janus’s voice!

...A loud “OW! VIRGIL!” could be heard from all the way down the hall…

Those silly dark sides...

Also YES, 2 FANFICS TODAY! AREN'T YOU PROUD OF ME??? :D

[chemiste]

Voicemail. ~one-shot~

a/n: howdy babes, last night i was reading through @toothpastekissy​ masterlist, basically gobbling up everything and came upon Leaked Feelings! I loved the concept of it so I decided to write my own version :) lmk if y’all want a part two!

ALSO, i recorded myself singing both songs i wrote for harry,,,, if ya want to know the tunes i was thinking for them, comment if you want them and ill post em.

my masterlist

There they were.

The leaked files.

When you got a call at 4 am this morning, you did not expect your publicist to be telling you some of your exes songs were leaked.

“What’s that got to do with me?” You asked, still half asleep.

“They’re about you, Y/N.”  Well now you’re awake.

“What?” You shot up out of bed, padding over to your white desk, fuzzy pink socks on your feet. You opened your laptop and jumped onto twitter, scrolling through with one hand while the other held your phone. #StylesLeak was trending worldwide, as was #Y/N.

HarryUpdates tweeted:

OMG OMG RED ALERT WE GOT LEAK SONGS Y’ALL

FineFuckinLine tweeted:

OOF, what the fucccccck did harry do to Y/N? These are all apology songs!!! No wonder the break up was hush hush

E!News tweeted :

Hey everyone! We know Harry Styles and Y/N L/N stans are up early this morning! Leaked songs from Harry sales have been put out on the web for everyone to see. The two singers had called it quits 3 years ago, but now they’re the trending topic again! #shipname is now trending #1 worldwide, I didn’t ever think we’d see that one again! Go to our website for more!

You heard you publicist let out a big sigh, you put your phone on speaker and set it down on the desk next to you so you could keep looking.

“There are 7 songs, and each one has your name in it or as the title.”

It was a bit of shock, to say the least.

You had hung up with your publicist a while ago and were now debating on whether to listen to the songs or not, you had found a fan account that had the leaked files all ready to go for your entertainment, but something made you hesitate clicking the url.

“You Bastard!” You screamed, shoving him back into the wall. 

Mascara was streaming down your face, the satin red cocktail dress you wore now crumpled as your crouched to grab your suitcase from underneath the bed.

“Please listen, it’s not what you think—“ Harry started, you whipped around to the man before you, fire burning in your eyes.

“Oh, really Harry? How is me hearing you say ‘yeah Y/N is alright, but gotta keep the media happy ya know’ on a voicemail I probably wasn’t supposed to get not what I think?” 

Quickly, you zipped the bag closed, kicking your heels off and shoving your feet into your beat up converse. He let out an exasperated breath, tears starting to shine in his eyes.

“I—I was drunk Y/N! I was with some friends just joking around and—“ 

“Drunk words are sober thoughts Harry.” 

You snapped back, slipping your tench coat on and racing for the stairs, luggage in hand. You rubbed away the endless tears running down your face as you made it to the living room, collecting your keys.

H raced down after you, mumbling over words—

‘Excuses’, You thought.

Right before you opened the front door, he grabbed your hand that was wrapped around the handle of your suitcase. 

“Please Y/N, can’t we just sit down and talk this out—“ 

“There’s nothing to talk about Harry, you made that perfectly clear when I had to listen to you compare me some ‘other models’ while at a very important record dinner! I had to fucking sit there, eyes on me, and act like you weren’t ripping my heart out one word at a time!” 

You snatched your hand out of his and moved out the door, 

“Don’t call me,” was the last thing you said before slamming the door shut.

Bringing back those memories was something you didn’t want to do, it had been 3 years since the break up. Harry didn’t come after you, even though a part of you wished he had. Wished he had tried harder to get you back. But alas, shortly after, he started dating a model, Camile or something, and your relationship was tossed aside like yesterdays newspaper. 

You moved back and forth with your mouse on the link, eventually you closed the page. Instead of fully chickening out, you decided to go to your favorite platform for celebrity gossip, tumblr.

“At least one of his die-heart fans must have the lyrics written down already.” 

You mumbled to yourself, logging into your secret side blog about cats, Captain America, and cute outfits. 

After not that much digging you found a blog, harrysmygod, (you definitely rolled your eyes at the name) had a whole posting written out about it already.

“They’re sure on top of everything, I’ll give them that.”

You started to read.

Hello my harries! 

So if you’ve been up these past few hours, something big has happened! HARRY STYLES HAD SOME FUCKING SONGS LEAKED!!! And no, I don’t mean songs that could have been on the FineLine album, I mean OLD songs! 

And they’re about, you know my fav girl, Y/N! Now, we know their break up 3 years ago was very quick and hush-hush, not much details ya know? 

BUT WE GOT THE JUICE NOW LADIES!! 

The boy wrote 7 songs that got leaked, and you wonder why I know they’re about her? Y/N is a lyric or title word used in all of them! Thats right, all 7 songs. I’ve done the best thing for everyone and written out the lyrics for you to look through, I’ve only kept one chorus and each new verse, if you listen to the song and its repeated I only wrote it down one for you, blah blah you get it? 

Great! Heres the first one, it’s called Voicemail.

You took a deep breath and scrolled down.

The look on your face,

The hurt in your eyes,

Made me realize, my lover was gone,

I never got to say goodbye.

Oh, Oh, Ah, Oh.

The words I had said, not true,

I’m so sorry you heard them too.

When you came home in that dress,

Mascara dripping onto your chest.

I knew I had fucked up,

One voicemail turning us to dust.

If you ever hear this song,

Know that I was wrong,

You were the best thing in my life,

Now those flames have turned to ice.

Oh, Oh, Ah, Oh.

Y/N, please remember the love we once had together,

So I know I am real

And then maybe, we could try to heal.

Heaaaaaaaaaal.

Wow you guys, this SONG! Totally sucks that harry didn’t mean to release them cause totally invasion of privacy (sorry harry), but lucky for us we’ve got some info on what happened between Y/N and him! 

I’m thinking maybe a voicemail gone wrong? They could have been in a fight and he said something that cut too deep? Lmk what you guys think, heres the next on called Gone.

You scrolled through them, you read all the songs. Lover’s Funeral, Drunk Thoughts, Empty Seat, Your Sock Drawer, and then finally, Y/N.

Alright, we’ve made it to the last song my dudes. And personally it’s my favorite!!!! This was the last song leaked, but I feel the most important. Here’s Y/N.

Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,

You make my heart fly,

I feel as though I could touch the sky,

I only need your love to try.

My love, love, love

You shine brighter than any star above.

Make me count everyday,

I should have tried to make you stay.

Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N

I know we can agree

That I’m a bastard

Im a flake,

You made the right choice

Walking out on me

But could I have

A second chance,

I know it would be worth it

In the end

Because I’d get,

On one knee,

And promise myself to you

For all eternity.

Oh, Y/N Y/N Y/N

My love, love, love

Oh, Y/N Y/N Y/N

My love, love, love

You gasped, basically jumping away from the computer like it was on fire. Thoughts raced through your mind, you grabbed your head, trying to keep it all together. 

He wanted to marry you? Impossible. 3 Years ago this man was thinking about proposing, then how could he say all those horrible things about you?

“He’s not worth another heartbreak, stop it, stop it!” You chanted to yourself.

While you paced back and forth making a dint in your soft white carpet, you had tuned out the notifications for instagram, twitter, and calls coming through to you. 

But then a certain dial tone popped up that you had only set for one person.

Ding!

Ding!

Ding!

You glanced to your phone on the table and froze.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Sent you a message.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Sent you a message.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Sent a voice file “Mrs. Styles.”

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Sent a voice file “I Should Have Fought.”

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Sent a voice file “I’m Sorry.”

<3

here’s part 2!!!!!!!!!

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Do No Harm, Take No Shit; Chapter 2

Oh sweet mother of god, he had to see her. His princess. His Lady. The girl with a devilish smile, frightening intelligence and the biggest heart he’d ever seen in one person. The girl who brought him surprise croissants on bad days and made the lucky charm that lived in his breast pocket, resting above his heart.

He had to see her. He had to tell her he was sorry and beg her forgiveness for being so useless. For not seeing her before.

“Do what you have to do.” Plagg sighed from his desk.

“Plagg, claws out!”

He didn’t care that he was in track pants and an old shirt, or that wet hair dribbled down the nape of his neck. As soon as Adrien’s mask manifested he leapt from the window and into the chilling night air.

In only a few minutes Chat Noir reached the hospital. Room number, room number. Alya had mentioned it over the phone when she’d visited Marinette in the afternoon. Adrien hadn’t been allowed to go.

He landed on the windowsill with shaking breaths. Chat Noir tried to peer inside but all he could see was a dark room, equipment and a nondescript hospital bed, all in shades of night-vision green. There was someone in the bed but he couldn’t see who it was under the blanket.

She was sleeping. Even in this was her room, Chat Noir had come during the night. Of course she was sleeping! It was dark and she must be tired. Chat Noir couldn’t wake her up for a stupid visit. He hadn’t even thought about what to say.

He turned to leave, kicking himself, and then he heard a click.

Chat Noir looked around slowly to where Marinette sat up in bed staring at him, a lamp illuminating the room. Chat Noir felt his cheeks flush and he pointed to the window.

Marinette nodded. He eased it open and landed lightly on the sterile floor.

“Chat Noir.” Her voice was so achingly familiar. Why had he never seen it before? He tried to study her face but all he could see were bruises, dressing, and the heavy pink cast on her arm. Her lower lip was swollen. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Chat Noir’s eyes burned, and Marinette looked concerned.

“Chat?”

Chat Noir walked over to her and knelt shakily to kiss her non-broken hand. It was small and cold, terrifyingly so. How had he never noticed how small she was before? Ladybug had always seemed big – her confidence made up for any lack in stature, but now she seemed very little in a big hospital bed.

“My Lady, I – I’m so sorry. I should have been there.” Tears blurred his vision so he kept his gaze on the bed sheets. “I should have done more. I’m sorry, Marinette.”

Even now, her name tasted sweet on his lips. Marinette’s breath hitched – then she sighed and squeezed his hand. “It wasn’t your fault, Kitty.” He didn’t look up to see the smile he could hear in her voice. “But how’d you figure me out?”

Chat Noir wiped his eyes with his other palm. “You – you kept asking for Tikki.”

“Oh.” Marinette said dumbly. “Huh. How about that?”

“Can I…” Chat faltered. “Can I stay for a bit? I don’t want to go yet.”

“Of course.” Marinette scooched over, giving him room to crawl up next to her. He laid his cheek on the warm pillow and Marinette smiled at him, bruised and beautiful.

Some time passed, and then Chat Noir said, “So now that I know the identity of our resident Ladybug, am I permitted to know the name of the boy who has captured her heart?” Marinette flushed adorably. The words tasted bitter, but Chat Noir forced a crooked smile. “A certain blue-haired musician, perhaps?”

Marinette blinked. “What, Luka?” And that wasn’t going quite to script, leaving him even more confused than before. He was sure Marinette and Luka were a thing – they had a double date together at the ice rink!

“But…” He said dumbly. Marinette shook her head firmly.

“No, I don’t love Luka. We’re friends. Not that it’s any of your business, silly cat.” She whacked him lightly on the shoulder and Chat Noir snickered.

“So, what’s the lucky boy like?” He teased. Marinette groaned and hid her face in her one useable hand. “Oh come on Milady, I won’t tell anyone. Cat’s honour.” He crossed his heart for good measure. She paused for a moment.

“He’s… kind. And so sweet. He isn’t very good with people but he tries so hard, anyone can see. Naive,” She chuckled, “but so adorable.”

Chat Noir bit down a sting of jealousy. “He sounds like a great guy.”

“He is!” Marinette gushed. And even though it hurt him, he could watch her talk about this boy for hours. Her eyes sparkled and she glowed with happiness. “At first I didn’t like him, I thought he was just another rude rich kid, but we talked and I just… fell for him. And he’s so gentle, Chat. There’s this girl in our class who keeps hanging off him and it obviously makes him uncomfortable, but he doesn’t want to hurt her by telling her off, which is kind of upsetting because Adrien deserved to have his boundaries respected but it’s not my place to tell her to back off.”

She continued, but Cat Noir only heard static. Adrien. Like, his name, Adrien. Did Marinette know another Adrien who attended their class? Because if not then she could only be talking about...

“Chat, you can’t tell anyone about this.” Marinette continued seriously. “Ugh, when Adrien’s around my heart absolutely melts, I can barely get through a conversation, let alone confess. As much as Alya tries to get me to.”

“Adrien?” Chat wheezed. “Like, Adrien Agreste? From the perfume ad?”

Marinette peered at him suspiciously. “Why the face? Do you like him too? That’s understandable, because he is adorable, but-”

Chat Noir burst out laughing.

Once it started it didn’t stop and he sat up, loud peals of laughter exploding through him. Of course. Of course it was like this. He cackled until his stomach and cheeks ached, and then he dissolved into a fit of giggles at the sight of Marinette’s face.

“If you’re quite done?” Marinette said dryly. Evidently he wasn’t because that got him started all over again.

When Chat finally got a hold of himself, Marinette was frowning at him. He ran a hand through his hair.

���Oh Mari, you won’t believe how stupid I’ve been. This is priceless.”

“What?” Marinette demanded. Chat Noir giggled into his hands and managed, “Claws in.”

Marinette let out a strangled yelp as his costume dissolved in a flash of light.

“OhmygodChatwhy – ADRIEN?”

Adrien grinned sheepishly at her. Marinette fumbled for words with a very panicked expression on her white face.

“You’re – you were – OH SHIT I REJECTED YOU!”

Adrien cackled again. “You see?”

Marinette clapped her hands over her mouth – then she too started giggling. “Oh my god, we’re both idiots. But – but Aspik!” She pointed at his face accusingly. Adrien rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I was flattered that you chose me – civilian me, I mean. And anyway, what about Multimouse? I swear I saw Ladybug and Multimouse standing side-by-side.”

Now Marinette flushed. “I, um, used Trixx’s power for that bit. I couldn’t have you figuring out my identity, and – stop laughing!” She grabbed her pillow to pummel him one-handedly.

Adrien wheezed through cackles, “You could have just said something like I did-”

“I WAS BEING CAUTIOUS!”

“Ugh, get a room.” Plagg groaned from behind Adrien. The pesky kwarmi had been sitting there the whole time, hadn’t he? Adrien’s face burned.

Marinette ceased her ruthless attack to bury her face in her hands and mumble, “Hi Plagg.”

“Howdy.” The kwarmi replied dryly. “Finally. Do you know how annoying it was to watch you two dance around each other?”

A bright red blur zipped from under the bed to bump against Plagg affectionately. Tikki herself. Adrien waved to her and she beamed back, but it only lasted a second before shifting to something serious.

“While this is sweet, I think we have bigger things to talk aboit right now – mainly Lila.”

Damn, Tikki’s voice was squeaker than he remembered. “Lila?” Adrien echoed, noticing as Marinette flinched. “What about her? Oh, you’re Ladybug, so her claiming to be your best friend is kinda messed up. Especially since everyone knows I’m–”

He broke off as Marinette lifted a hand for quiet, biting her lip.

“Did I miss something?” Adrien looked between kwarmi and wielder. Marinette’s eyebrows were pulled tight and she looked uncertain, an expression he didn’t often see on his Lady’s face.

Marinette took a breath and Adrien waited for her to talk. She did, slowly. “I don’t remember most of what happened today. But… Tikki does, and she says that Lila tripped me. And it isn’t the first time she’s done something like this.” She mumbled almost to herself. Adrien’s ears roared.

“She what?” He snarled. Marinette looked away. “She. Tripped you? What the fuck is wrong with her? Wait wait wait, what do you mean this isn’t the first time?”

Marinette flushed, her eyes locked on the bed sheets. Adrien took her hands.

“Marinette, please, talk to me.”

“She… threatened me.” Marinette mumbled, making Adrien’s blood burn. “Told me she’d take you, and all my friends. And she spills coffee on me and when I get upset she makes it seem like I’m in the wrong. And she keeps shaming me for asking to be paid for commissions, and she ruined my art project and got me expelled and she trips me when we’re alone and once she threw a book at my head and,” Marinette looked up with tears in her eyes, “And she’s taking Alya away from me. She’s making everyone think I’m a liar.” Marinette’s voice cracked, as did Adrien’s heart.

“She threatened you?” Adrien whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Marinette hiccupped. “I-I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me-”

Oh, no, no this wouldn’t stand. Adrien pulled Marinette to his chest and buried his face in her hair as she shook. “I’m so sorry, Marinette, that you’ve had to do this alone. I’m sorry I made you think I wouldn’t take your side. I’m so sorry I told you to ignore her and left you to deal with her all by yourself, and I promise, I will always have your back, I will always believe you. Please don’t feel like you have to keep things from me.”

Marinette sniffled and wrapped her arms around him, which seemed like a good start on the road for forgiveness. Oh fuck, he had messed up so badly. Marinette could have died. He owed her so many chocolates and flowers and get well soon cards, and as for Lila…

“That girl is going to pay.” Adrien growled into Marinette’s hair. She pulled back enough to meet his gaze, and there was something steely in her tear-filled eyes.

“Way ahead of you, kitty. I have a plan.”

“You know I’m all in.” Adrien kissed her forehead, making her squeak in alarm. “Whatever you need.”

“…though it may take a while.” Marinette admitted. “I’ll need to be out of my cast so no one gets suspicious.”

“In the meantime, we can prepare. And – if my lady permits it – I might be given a second chance?”

“Second chance?” Marinette echoed. Adrien winced. She was so sweet, she didn’t even know what he was talking about. She’d probably already forgiven him. He didn’t deserve her – none of their classmates did, either.

“For being a terrible partner.” He explained. Marinette’s eyes widened.

“Chat Augustus Cornelius Noir, you take that back right this second.”

He blinked at the ferocity of her tone. “But-”

“No buts. You didn’t know about Lila, how could you have done anything about it?”

“But I let it happen right under my-” Marinette’s glare made Adrien choke to a halt. They stared at each other for a moment before she poked him.

“Enough with the self-deprecation. It’s been disallowed. None of this was your fault. Okay?”

“Okay.” Adrien echoed.

“Good.” Marinette said severely. Oh, he loved her.

“Will-” Adrien blurted out. “I mean – um – would you – can I get you lunch some time?”

Marinette’s eyes widened comically, her cheeks flushing. “Er. Yes. I’d really lo – like that. To get lunch.”

“O-Okay.” Adrien stammered. Wow, real eloquent. He could hear Plagg snickering at him.

There was a shuffling through the wall, and they tensed. What would happen if a nurse walked in and found a strange boy in Marinette’s room? From the look in Marinette’s eye she seemed to be having the same thought.

“I’ll come back tomorrow.” Adrien whispered. Marinette nodded. “Claws out.”

Chat Noir leaned down to kiss Marinette’s hand before ducking through the window and into the Paris night sky, feeling lighter than he had in years.

[acrobaticcatfeline]

Of Books, Brothers, and Broadway (Creativitwins College AU) Chapter Two!!!

Word Count: 3814

TW: Remus, Janus, ocean creatures, I.E. octopus, swearing, I think thats it?

Pairings: pining logince and dukeceit right now, mentioned established moxiety.

Notes: This is pages 4-11 of a current 24. I can like, literally not stop writing this it is a stream of consciousness and I haven’t felt this productive or creative in such a long time. We meet the other 5 in this finally! At this point with 24 pages I think the title should be Of Books, Brothers, Broadway, and Boys. So there’s a little hint. Listen I’m just desperate for soft.

Summary: Roman and Remus are trying to write a musical all while juggling their college courses and jobs. Remus and Roman both inadvertently end up introducing their friend group to their brother and two are pining hard for their brothers best friend. Meanwhile, Remus talks to his boss and gets some news that makes his day.

“Hiya Roman!!! Hey wait up a sec!”

Roman was walking through campus when he heard Patton trying to grab his attention over his headphones. He pulled the headset off his head and turned towards the energetic friend who was racing to catch him.

“Howdy Popstar! I missed you last period, where were you?”

Patton panted softly as he tried to catch his breath. He finally smiled up at Roman.

“Oh yeah, my boyfriend is at home sick and I lost track of time. I didn’t even think about it until his phone alarm went off for his online class, what did I miss?”

“Oh nothing much, another duet skit, lucky for you, you got paired with me!”

“Oh boy, what skit?”

“I’ll give you the packet when we get to class, but it's from midsummer nights”

“Ohhhh I love that play!!!”

Roman was just about to bring up the musical he and Remus had started, being called the magicians notebook, when JJ walked up. He gave a casual peace sign and Patton waved.

“What's up with our favorite preps today?”

“Well actually I was just about to tell Patton about this musical-”

Jay decided to jump in front of them, now walking backwards as he stared at Roman with barely restrained joy.

“Musical you say? What’s it called? Who made it? Do I know about it?”

Roman chuckled.

“It's actually one me and my brother are making”

“YOU'RE MAKING A MUSICAL!?”

Roman couldn't hold back the loud laughter at JJ’s response, he doubled over laughing, still smiling widely as JJ was bouncing on his heels and Patton stared at him in awe.

“Wow, you and your brother are making a musical?”

“Roman I don't think I have to explain to you just how mother fucking rad that is, I think you know that already, but whats it about? Do you have any songs yet? Do you have a name yet? Who's your brother? I have so many questions Roman I can't believe I wasn't the first person you told!!!”

“You were you dork! You and Patton are currently the only ones who know about it!”

“I need answers Roman!”

“Salutations Remus. I presume you got your portion of the assignment done… 2 minutes ago?”

Remus rushed to his seat as their professor started class. He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously.

“Am I that obvious Shakespeare?”

Logan stared at him emotionlessly. He looked him over then leaned his head on his hand.

“You are barely on time, cluing me in that you were preoccupied with something and lost track of time, your bag is still open, likely due to you shoving your laptop in it hurriedly without double checking the zipper, and of course, you looked sheepish as you sped in, hinting that you were doing something you weren't supposed to be doing slash doing something you were supposed to have done earlier last minute, instead of proud like you do when you were wasting your time on something you felt justified in taking your time on”

Remus shrunk. Logan could always read him like an open book, though it was his fault for befriending the psychology major he supposes. He felt ready to be completely humiliated as Logan smirked and pulled up his phone.

“And of course, the text I got from you an hour ago warning me that you might run late because of the assignment was a nice bonus”

Remus felt his cheeks redden as he remembered messaging him. He probably shouldn't be so surprised and attacked and yet he turned his face towards their professor with a huff as he pulled out his notebook and textbook. He was startled out of his thoughts as he heard the hall door open suddenly. He turned towards the noise and snickered as he saw Virgil clambering towards them as quietly as possible.

“Mr. Storm I would appreciate that if you are late to class you attempt to cause less of a distraction to the rest of your peers”

“Y-yes sir, I’ll keep that in mind”

Remus had to cover his mouth as Virgil squeezed past them and took the spot on the other side of him. He gave him a quick look and went back to the text. A small piece of paper slipped in front of him as Virgil unpacked that asked if he had missed anything. Remus shook his head idly. The three kept quiet until the teacher released them. As they packed up, Logan started a conversation.

“What made you late Virge?”

“Huh? Oh, I'm not feeling great, I woke up feeling like shit. I was originally going to just stay home sick, but I remembered our project so here I am I guess”

“Oh, Vee, you could've texted us, you didn't have to come if you were dying”

“Meh, I spent too much on this class to miss it. Especially since it's one of my prereqs. I’ll survive”

“Well I guess if you're gonna be here we might as well take advantage of it. I don't have any more classes today, you guys want to get some writing done?”

“I suppose that would be amenable”

“Sure, but I need some caffeine first, haven't had any at all today”

“Good god how were you able to drive here?”

“I can function without coffee if I get enough sleep. I also am simply not addicted”

“Well that is ridiculous, you must not be human. But I could go for a soda right now. Want me to take orders and meet you guys at the library?”

“Lit. you know what I want”

“Oh my god, somebody needs to take your flashcards”

“If you like having 5 fingers on each hand I would recommend you not do that”

Remus was getting annoyed with his brother. He was quietly ranting on the phone at him in the study room he had booked with Logan and Virgil.

“Roman, I literally could not give a shit if you told your friends about the musical idea, I was gonna tell mine as well. … so fucking what if its my final? None of your friends are in any of my courses, I'm not scared they're gonna plagiarize me, you trust them, I'm sure that you have half a decent taste in friends. … Listen, I can't deal with all of you right now, I have a collaborative story I'm supposed to be working on, we can deal with this when I get home. Just like, have a glass of your shitty wine and maybe you'll calm down. I gotta go, i’ll see you later”

Logan smirked at him as he hung up. He did the lean again and god Remus could throw him into the wall.

“What's this about a musical I hear? I didn't take you for a song and dance guy”

Remus sighed, brushing his hand through his hair as he sat down in front of his computer.

“I'm not, but my brother is. When we were younger he said that we should make a musical together. And as a man of my word, I've been working on a book for a musical for him. He's already got a couple of songs written up for it and we’re working with it. It's actually not half bad. He may drive me insane, but he's talented at what he does”

Remus had just started typing when his phone alarm went off. His eyes widened and he scrambled to pack up again.

“SHIT!!! I have a meeting with my boss, they're giving me an octopus to care for I can't believe I forgot I'm such an idiot oh shit I'm gonna be late and they won't-”

Logan stopped his hands. He looked him calmly in the eyes with a small smile.

“Hey, we’ll pack for you and drop your stuff off for you, just go and get that octopus Remus”

Remus smiled gratefully and after checking he had his phone and keys, he ran to get home.

“Hello Dr. sanders! Please come in!”

The doctor smiled at him as he stepped inside. He glanced around the area idly with a smile.

“With how energetic and, well, chaotic you are at work I didn't expect your home to be so immaculate!”

“Heheh, yeah I prefer a clean canvas. Sorry not everything is in place, I kinda forgot about this until just a bit ago and had to rush out of a study group. It's usually cleaner than this, well, at least most of it is, my brother is a mess, but he has a completely separate space. Oh boy I’m talking a lot”

“It's fine kid. Mind showing me where you'd be keeping her?”

Remus nodded and led the doctor into his room, and suddenly he felt a little self conscious over all the terrariums in his room. Dr. Sanders paid his full attention to the fish tank.

“This is impressive, it's a nice little ecosystem for all of them, are you sure Cephy won't disrupt them all?”

“Oh! Yes, I did a little research on her breed and none of the fish in there are food for her, nor is she food for. I know she's super friendly and all these guys have been very receptive to new members in the past, my newest one is the angel fish but she doesn't seem to be bothered by bigger creatures. I also have a back up tank for worst case scenarios, and the fish don't bother my brother!”

“Only thing I'd say is, maybe add some driftwood or floating objects for her to lay on”

He then turned to look at the other tanks. He smiled as he saw the lizards scatter a bit. Remus felt like he was about to die.

“These are pretty nice! You have a nice assortment of reptiles here, where'd you get them?”

“Oh, um, just uh, just outside. A good amount of lizard friends come to our patio, and every once in a while they'll like, crawl up to me. My family says I’m the reptile whisperer heh”

“That's intriguing. Most of these species are loner types, were they hurt?”

“Um, some of them were, got beat up by a local cat or something I think”

“Huh. that's even more fascinating. Anyways, back to the point. You know the rules with Cephy right? You aren't in charge of buying her food or medication until we decide whether or not she can be released. If she doesn't cut it, we will likely have you keep her rather than attempt to remove her from familiarity and then she will become your responsibility alone. She may have an attitude the first few days from moving around, but for the most part she will integrate well I think. If any complications arise, you have my personal number, and I think that's it! We will send her home with you tomorrow with a week's supplies. Any questions?”

“No sir! Thank you so much, you won't regret this, I swear!”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you last week! We were asked to lower our number of interns!”

“What? Wait why are you telling me this?”

“Well, due to that we had to make some changes, and i'd like to formally offer you a full time job! And of course, by full time, I don't plan on changing your hours unless it works with your school schedule. We would love to keep you as one of our marine biologists once you graduate!”

“I- sir, thank you so much, I, I am so grateful! Wait, does that mean I can get even more hands on experience with the critters? Oh thank you so much!”

“Heh, you're one of our best workers, I figure it might be helpful to have a proper wage. But on that note, I really should be going, I have an appointment in an hour and it's a 45 minute drive from here”

“Oh, yeah! Yes, of course, here, I’ll show you out!”

When Roman got home he didn't expect to have Remus tackle him.

“Whats up Remus?”

“I PASSED!!! SHE'S COMING TOMORROW!!! AND I GOT A PROMOTION!!! ROMAN I GOT A RAISE, I'M GETTING AN EXTRA 5 DOLLARS AN HOUR I CAN'T BELIEVE MY LUCK!!!”

“Holy shit man, maybe you should be paying all the bills now, you make way fuckin more than I do at the cafe!”

“Oh, wait, fuck, Logan and Virgil are coming by fuck I gotta clean”

Roman just about died laughing as Remus ran around trying to tidy the place. It was only a few minutes before there was a knock on the door. Roman got it as Remus made a pot of coffee.

“Hello!”

“Hello Remus! We came to return your bag and your soda that you left at the library”

“Logan open your eyes, that's not Remus. Remus has a mustache you fool”

Logan opened his eyes to see Remus. But not Remus, Remus was more scruffy, and he was shorter, Remus was only a little taller than him, but the not Remus in front of him towered a good several inches over him. And the biggest difference to Logan, was Remus had auburn eyes, almost red, the not Remus in front of him had bright green eyes. Logan felt his cheeks redden. He looked down sheepishly after having stared.

“My apologies, you must be Remus’ brother. My name is Logan and this is Virgil”

“Well hello there Logan and Virgil, my name is Roman. Please, come in”

“Roman STOP FLIRTING!!!”

The two stepped in and laughed as Roman shouted back.

“I LITERALLY JUST SAID HELLO AND MY NAME OH MY GOD”

Logan and Virgil wandered in, meeting Remus in the living room, greeting them with a smile and cups of coffee. The two took them graciously and sat down at Remus’ request. While Remus stayed in the kitchen as he searched for snacks in the cabinet, Roman leaned against the wall, giving the guests a quick look over. He smiled faintly as he saw the glasses clad one, Logan he reminded himself, turn red at the attention.

“Roman did you ever go to the store and get what I asked you for?”

“Of course not, you didn't give me a list and I prefer to keep our phone calls to twice a month and I was out of calls”

“You're an idiot”

“Yeah I sorta went into the least brainy major I could find. You're supposed to be the brainy one”

Remus sighed as he brought out a plate of fruits and chips and dip. He shot a glare at Roman's smirk.

“What are you smirking about now?”

“Oh nothing, just a little offended that you hid your cute friends from me”

Roman nearly sputtered after the words left his mouth as Logan turned bright red. Virgil just rolled his eyes at him and Remus looked just about ready to smash his glass of coffee over Roman's head, but he stayed resolute.

“Roman, can't you just go flirt with a random tree? Or one of my lizards! Keith would love a boyfriend!”

“I would rather make out with an octopus”

“Well duh! Octopi are great kissers!”

“God you and Jay would get along so well I really need to introduce you two”

“Yeah sure I would, with one of your theatre nerd friends”

Virgil then sat up a bit. He looked between the twins with a grin.

“Oh wait, theatre nerds? You wouldn't happen to be the Roman my boyfriend keeps telling me about?”

“Depends, who is he?”

“Patton Corwyn”

“Oh fuck yeah! He's one of my best friends!”

“Then I agree with him, you would love Jay”

Remus grumbled something into his coffee. He sent another glare towards Roman as he set down his cup.

“Roman I know you don't know anything about courtesy, but you are making my friends uncomfortable, could you go do your messy things in your room or something?”

“Wait we aren't-”

“Lucky for you I've got a shift at the cafe in a bit, I just gotta change. Nice meeting you Logan, Virgil, see you later rem”

Roman gave a finger salute before diving into his room. Logan almost felt sad at his departure. He tried to focus back on his coffee and his computer screen but Virgil nudged him and sent him a knowing smirk. He glared at his screen instead.

“Does our bookworm have a crush?”

“Oh please do not have a crush on him he’ll be so cocky and dumb!”

“I, I don't have a crush, shut up, your apartment is just really warm. Shut up!”

He angrily typed away as the other two giggled at his bright cheeks. A door opened and Logan turned to see, and he really shouldn't have turned to see. Roman was wearing black slacks, a red button up shirt and a black half apron. And who said he was allowed to be so attractive? Roman gave him a quick wink before looking over at Remus.

“Is it my night for dinner?”

“Yes”

“K, I’ll text you when my shift is done and get your order. See you later”

“Cool, k, leave! I'm trying to study!”

“Ok ok!”

Logan wasn’t free of the teasing until he finally left.

“Good afternoon! Welcome to Dream Bean! What can I get for you today?”

“Hiya Roman! Strawberry acai with extra whipped cream large please?”

“Ah, Patton, I see your taste remains a slave to the pink drink, it'll be right up!”

“Don't shame me! It's sweet and healthy!”

“And has no caffeine, but I’ll leave it be, promise”

“Oh, and a blueberry muffin!”

“Alrighty! That'll be 7 dollars!”

Roman loved his job. The dream bean coffee shop had higher prices than the local Starbucks, but they had better drinks and food in his humble opinion. The college students in the town were spoiled, they got discounts at the place and most alumni swore by the little shop. It was a staple of the town, and Roman had been coming to it for as long as he can remember. He paid no attention to the fact that both his friends had decided to nestle in a corner of the little shop far longer than they were technically supposed to. That is, until he clocked out, making himself a cafe mocha before popping over to the booth the two had stolen away to. He raised his eyebrow at them as he took a sip of his drink.

“What brings you two here?”

“Can't we just want some of the best coffee in the world?”

“Considering Patton didn't get coffee, and from the looks of it you got a hot chocolate with a shot of espresso, no, no you can't”

“Ok so we wanted to know more about your musical! Sue us!”

“Hmm, how about I tell you about it on a walk, if Patton tells me why he didn't mention that his boyfriend is friends with my brother. And why you didn't introduce me to Logan”

“Deal!”

Patton giggled as he brought his new cup of coffee to his lips. He and Virgil stood and followed Roman out the door.

“I didn't know your brother and Vee were friends! He must be Remus then right?”

“Mhmm. whole family of mythology names, my uncle's name is Romulus”

“Hmm! I haven't actually met him, Virgil doesn't bring his friends over a lot. But why are you more upset about not knowing about Logan?”

“I mean, hes hot as fuck, would’ve liked to talk t him more but I had to leave for work before I could say much more than hello or goodbye. He looks smart. Wouldn't take him for a creative writing guy”

“Oh he's a psych major, he wants to write scientific journals and studies and stuff. There wasn't a minor choice for journalism, so he figured creative writing would fulfill the same things. He's actually really talented, he writes lots of sci-fi and fantasy things, he's a huge nerd, but he's really sweet”

“He blushed at like anything I said, it was adorable. Remus almost killed me”

“Ok as much as I love hearing your tea on guys, I do not care about this near as much as I care about this musical”

Patton and Roman both devolved into a mess of laughter at JJ’s insistence about the musical. Roman pulled out his phone with a grin and gave Jay a sympathetic look.

“Ok, let me text Remus for his dinner order and then I’ll tell you all about it”

Remus just about groaned when he heard keys jingle in the door. He was sprawled across the couch, legs over the top of it and his head and arms draped on the floor. He was even more tempted as he heard more voices mix with his brothers. He shouted across the apartment when the door opened.

“YOU NEED TO STOP EXISTING, LOGAN WOULDN'T STOP THIRSTING OVER YOU THE WHOLE TIME HE WAS HERE!”

“Too bad, he's kinda cute!”

Remus fell off the couch as Roman and his friends walked in. mostly because one of them was hot as balls. He hoped beyond hope that he was the Jay Roman had mentioned from earlier. Jay had a face full of scars on one side of his face, and wore a pastel yellow shirt with a jean vest covered in pins. He also wore a deep yellow beanie. Remus couldn't look away as he stood up again.

“Oh! Uh hello! Roman’s friends!”

The other one smiled brightly, just about as bright as his pastel blue jumper and white suspenders. He held out one hand, the other filled with bags of food. Remus shook his hand.

“Hiya! I'm Patton! And you're the Remus my boyfriend keeps talking about!”

“Hello! That must mean that you are Jay?”

Jay stuttered after actually getting a good look at him. He nodded and smiled back at him.

“You can um, you can call me Janus! If, if you want that is! Um, Roman told us about the musical you two are writing and it's really cool! I uh, I know it's gonna be great!”

Remus grinned, and let out a giggle as Roman leaned on him. Janus hissed at him and swatted at Roman’s arm.

“Be careful not to corrupt this one, he's a baby”

“I AM 19 YEARS OLD YOU MOTHER FUCKER!!!”

“And a freshman. This makes you babey. Regardless, I know you are also a weirdo who loves reptiles, and my brother has a collection that i'm sure he would be delighted to show you”

“repTILES?!”

At that, Janus started bouncing and god, Roman was right, he is babey. Remus grins and nods excitedly as well.

“I can do that! I'd love to show off my babies! But dinner first, I've been begging Roman to let us have Thai food for weeks!”

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @tacohippy56900 @analogical-mess @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @angels-and-dreams @fandomloverangel @booklover223

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing!!!

Thank you for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

[dedicatedfollower467]

DIRK’S PESTERQUEST ROUTE REACTIONS AS THEY HAPPEN

spoilers etc. yada yada yada i’ve been waiting for this for fucking EVER.

this is fucking massive, for the record.

“The one and only” lmao suuuuuuure whatever you say dirk.

i fucking adore his metal scuba suit though holy SHIT

“[talking in meatspace] isn’t exactly my forte” akdfsljkadsfhksadf you bet your ASS it isn’t mr. strider. (at this point i’m assuming this is actually hal, wouldn’t be the first time that we met “dirk” and it turned out to be hal)

the power of his own “voice” is almost too much for him MY CHILD.

OH HELLO HAL. GOOD TO SEE YOU USING YOUR USUAL RED. LOVE THE THEME MUSIC CHANGE TOO. IT’S GOOD MUSIC.

i fucking KNEW it i fucking knew that was hal lmao

so in that case HI DIRK HELLO MY ASSHOLE BABY CHILD.

“The use of the speaker system is new, but it makes sense he’d up his game for interfering with relationships I’m busy forging in 3D. I guess I should go ahead and be proud of him for it.” god i really wish dirk and hal could get along but they both hate themselves and therefore each other way too much for that...

“Every line of muscle in his body is held in excruciating placidity. You’ve never seen a jaw so purposefully unclenched” dIRK!!!!

“you’ll prove it to him with your deeds. it seems like that might be his love language” BOY FUCKING HOWDY IS IT. also how did i never put that together before ofc dirk’s love language is acts of service practically everything he does is an attempt to serve his friends in some capacity and he’s SO BAD at telling them with words.

(his secondary love language is gifts, evidence: brobot and detective pony)

god i’m so excited and so nervous lmao

i love this sprite with the verrrrrry slight smile he looks so sweet.

hell yes the fucking ROCKET BOARD.

“this is a much more comfortable thing for him than the conversation was” I’LL FUCKING BET IT IS.

“with Dirk it’s almost like he’d be less penetrable without [his shades]” oh well now THAT’S an interesting thought/observation.

holy shit that’s a cute fucking smile holy shit holy shit look at that grin AHHHH I’M DYING MY BOY IS SMILING.

“Not sure how well my deep, personal beef with the imagery of the sea will land for you, but there it is.” WELL THAT CERTAINLY MAKES THAT ONE LINE FROM HOMESTUCK 2 A LOT MORE EMOTIONAL, WHICH IT ALREADY DEFINITELY FUCKING WAS.

“Ace Attorney monologue” OMFG HAS DIRK PLAYED AA??? WHO’S HIS FAVORITE CHARACTER? WHAT’S HIS FAVORITE GAME?? i mean he’s definitely got the hair to be a fucking ace attorney character especially in pesterquest lmao

OH MY FUCKING GOD IS HE HOLDING BACK A LAUGH. IS THAT WHAT THAT MOUTH IS. HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. I LOVE HIM. I LOVE THIS ALKJADSFLADHADS

“He’s leaning forward, laughing, dimples carved into his freckled cheeks. There’s a small twist in your heart about it, and you can’t place why.” A *SMALL* TWIST? A SMALL TWIST? TRY A TWIST THAT’S WRENCHING MY HEART WIDE FUCKING OPEN AND SPILLING ITS CONTENTS ALL OVER THE FUCKING PLACE.

“At least make me try and earn it first.” THAT’S THE MOST DIRK THING I’VE EVER HEARD AND ALSO FUCKING HEARTBREAKING WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

“I can just fold [my hand] and hope your shit works out instead.” Ah yes, dirk’s incessant and almost pathological need to be in control at work again.

“I want to be the only one in charge of endangering my own life. You got me.” oh dirk. oh honey.

“How much has this boy wanted to be known?” oh okay yeah that’s fine i didn’t need my heart anyway pesterquest, you can have it.

oh. hi ultimate dirk. i fucking knew this was gonna fucking happen.

“i can’t believe i was ever this pathetic” LEAVE HIM ALONE. (but also i know you can’t because you fucking hate yourself and it’s fucking tragic)

OH. OH OKAY WE’RE NOT JUST GONNA BE FUCKING NARRATIVE WE’RE GONNA BRING THE ACTUAL FUCKING DUDE HERE.

AND WE’RE GONNA PLAY AN OMINOUS-ASS VERSION OF "BEATDOWN” HOLY SHIT. CHRIST CAN WE GET ANY MORE HEAVY HANDED HERE????

also holy shitting christ ultimate dirk is swole. ‘twink ass bitch’ my ass, he’s at least a twunk.

“You fuck off and let people live their arcs.” NO FUCKING WAY, NOT IF HIS IS GOING TO END UP AS YOU, DICKHEAD.

“Oh fuck.

You remember it.

You remember Homestuck.”

well, probably not all of it, it’s pretty goddamn long, and very hard to remember all the details. i should know, i’m currently re-reading it.

oh no.

oh no, this looks like regular dirk but ominous “beatdown” is playing which makes me very fucking nervous.

“You cared about him before you knew every tiny fucked up detail about his life, and now, with a reminder of where his story leads leaning smugly against the railing, you find you still do.” YOU BET YOUR FUCKING ASS I DO!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!!!

“He’s intense and pushy and profoundly complicated, and right now he is helping you to your feet, his hand steady and firm on your back as you find your balance.” I’M CRYING.

“This isn’t as simple as an evil Dirk and a good one. If you’ve learned anything from your travels it’s that everyone has the capacity for hurt inside them, and everyone the capacity for love.” I’M STILL CRYING.

“The combo of all splinters of Dirk, fermenting in his flesh container and not holding onto his shit nearly as well as he likes to pretend” an apt and succinct description of ultimate dirk.

“No, I can see it. If anyone was going to pull off an “I’m you, but stronger,” it would be all of me, combined.” DIRK I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

“Your allegiance is not to the story, but to the people within it.” A-FUCKING-MEN MSPAR!!!

“The ends always justifies the means, Dirk.” I feel like that’s the breaking point there. IDK what’s going to happen next but that line sure was a line about philosophy, aka one of Dirk’s biggest special interests.

“[Ultimate Dirk] doesn’t have to work overtime to create more pain just so he can feel like he’s in control of how much punishment he gets and how badly he deserves it!”

oh.

oh wow.

oh WOW that’s hitting it on the fucking nose, MSPAR.

“He’s going to drown in [longing and loathing and Ultimate Dirk] if you don’t do something” STOP COMING BACK TO THAT GODDAMN LINE PESTERQUEST YOU’RE FUCKING KILLING ME HERE.

“You know how he loves -- though it’s fierce (to a definite fault), he does not do it easily.” STOP MURDERING MY HEART WITH PERFECT SNAPSHOTS OF DIRK AS A PERSON EVERY TWO SECONDS MSPAR I CAN’T HANDLE IT.

AHHHHHHHH IT’S DAVE!!! IT’S FUCKING. CANDY DAVE. I JUST. I CANNOT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. HOLY SHIT!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!

“you look like someone ironed the mayor so that’s a million more points in your favor” DAAAAAAVE!!!!

“Dave pulls him into a short, back-thumping bro hug which Dirk weathers like a wet cat not trusting a towel to dry him off.” AAAAAHHHHHHHH I’M FUCKING DYING I’M DYING I’M DYING HELP I’M DYING GOD HELP HOLY SHIT, FIRST OF ALL, THE SPRITE/ILLUSTRATION, SECOND OF ALL, THAT DESCRIPTION OF DIRK, THIRD OF ALL I’M FUCKING DYING

CANDY DAVE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

you deserve so much better than the raw hand the candy epilogue dealt you jfc.

“Bringing fucking guns to a knife fight here.” I mean, did you really expect MSPAR to play fair when the health and happiness of all their best friends is at stake, UD?

SAD ENDING IS SAD.

“Be good to that me, will you? Treat him right?”

dirk, this is yourself. you’ve never treated yourself right. ever. tbqh you probably never will. ultimate dirk is absolutely no different.

(but also this makes me wonder if we’re gonna see “Trust yourself” timeline Pesterquest Dirk showing up in Homestuck 2? That would be fucking wild I’d love to see that.)

“are we anti-ocean here”

“Oh yeah, extremely.”

YES, WE FUCKING ARE, AND AGAIN WITH THE REFERENCES TO HOMESTUCK 2 JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

oh, of fucking course ultimate dirk’s a sore loser, he’s ultimate dirk, fucking duh.

“You did it. You got him a good end.” i fucking love that this game is literally just. explicitly saying exactly what i was freaking over and desperately wanted.

like i’m just gonna take a moment here to admit that i was really nervous that dirk would end up like candy timeline dirk and just off himself. i was really afraid that a good end just straight up wasn’t possible.

i love that it’s not. and i equally love that the game acknowledges that a FUCKTON of us really wanted to give him that.

“Maybe [Doc Scratch] and Ultimate Dirk were working together the whole time.” maybe doc scratch has been ultimate dirk this whole time. or vice versa.

“There are just so many details to remember” lmao i made that point like a dozen paragraphs up.

i.... do not recognize the text style of whoever just say “hey. we can talk about this.”

IT’S HUSSIE. HOLY SHIT. IT’S DEFINITELY 100% HUSSIE.

i....... don’t know who that is? the woman?

is this like. the person who’s been running pesterquest?

it totally is.

i don’t know who that is i don’t know enough about the homestuck machine to know who that actually is.

lmao ultimate dirk and the irl director are fighting over how incredibly self-indulgent this metanarrative is, which is fucking amazing. i kind of love this? i really kind of adore this.

i can’t help but notice that the director has blank white eyes.

i.e. the Author is already dead, yo.

“They’re just an artifact of the medium” HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS FANTASTIC. I AM HAVING SO MUCH FUN HERE.

“I’d say thanks but I feel like you all got more out of it than me” I’M DYING I LOVE THIS HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY.

“Stop flirting with my audience you anime ass motherfucker” LMAOOOOOOOO

“I wouldn’t look like this if you didn’t want me to” I KNOW I’M JUST QUOTING BASICALLY THIS WHOLE THING BUT LISTEN I LOVE IT, I FUCKING LOVE IT, IT’S FUCKING PERFECT, GOD. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THIS IS SO GOOD.

“I actually let the artists have a lot of creative license” somebody’s horny for ultimate dirk.

eridan DESERVES that gender arc and i’m excited for him.

“Happy people don’t get stories told about them.” I’m sorry, I’ve read enough Domestic Fluff fanfic to tell you that’s just blatantly not true, Ultimate Dirk.

wait.

wait wait wait wait.

pesterquest is a RETCON???????????

THAT was not something i was expecting

you click “don’t” betray your friends and pesterquest just fucking closes like this is fucking undertale jesus fucking christ.

but....

i don’t wanna betray my friends.

but i wanna see what happens....

god dammit this is exactly like the murder run of undertale, i don’t wanna do it but i have to know.

“Andrew Hussie would never do this to me” yeah well, Andrew Hussie barely ever interacted with you soooooo...

and if i throw the beta in the sewer again pesterquest quits. again.

i mean, i knew it would but... *sigh*

that’s a fucking depressing ass ending.

... except that “Savior of the Waking World” still hasn’t been unlocked...

Huh.

I’m... gonna see what happens if I start John’s route over again.

oh duh, of course it’s a retcon, MSPAR touched the Homestuck juju. i forgot about that.

(a big part of me wants to look up the process of getting the true ending. but a bigger part of me wants to figure it out for myself.)

hmmm. okay so replaying john’s ending once didn’t do it.

i guess i coooooould try replaying the whole thing? that sounds. like a lot of effort.

or i could try not betraying my friends approximately five million times let’s see what happens if i do that.

i’m going to do that experimenting in another post cuz this is already huge. see ya in part two.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Situation Normal (baon)

Summary: This wasn’t at all what Stretch expected from a simple knock at the door.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: Why let the Fell brothers have all the fun? The Swap bros deserve a chance.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The knock on the door wasn’t exactly ominous or anything. People did stop over to the house from time to time during the day, actual adults, even, not just the neighborhood kiddos. Undyne, Toriel, even Alphys sometimes although that was usually for her to run a test and boy, howdy, was Stretch loving a chance to play test subject in his own living room.

He suspected Edge and Alphys thought they were being kind by keeping him out of the lab, so he was gritting his teeth and bearing it, but damn, guys, no.

Anyway.

Stretch was perfectly capable of playing host to anyone who stopped by, thanks. Especially if there were some of Edge’s cookies to plate up for the latest gossip sesh; he might not have Red’s little network of spies, but Tori hopped up on coffee and sugar always had some tasty dirty laundry to share.

But having a brisk knock interrupt his nap wasn’t exactly putting him in the mood to pull out the cookie tray.

Stretch dragged himself upright with a yawn, kicking the blanket back towards the sofa. It clung stubbornly to one foot, resisting his attempts to get free until he shook his foot hard, almost falling as it finally let him loose.

The knock came again, harder, and Stretch groaned, scratching at his pelvis as he wandered to the door. It took him two tries to unlock it, because of course it was locked, Edge would sooner leave the house without his skull attached before he’d leave Stretch in an unlocked house. It clicked on the second attempt, the door swinging open to reveal his brother, beaming up at him with starry eye lights.

“bro?” Stretch said, sleepily confused. He scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand, trying to wake up enough to go through his mental calendar. It wasn’t their normal day to have lunch, they hadn’t made any plans, so what was…?

“Good morning!” Blue chirped crisply. He pushed past Stretch into the house, wiping his feet in the door rug.

“well, hey, come on in,” Stretch said dryly, biting back another yawn and closing the door after him.

“Thank you, I will. Glad to see you’re enjoying the lovely fall morning!” It was just this side of snarky and that made Stretch grin. Far too many people saw his brother as endlessly sweet, maybe even a little naïve. Stretch knew better, thanks, his bro could be a shit when he wanted and today looked like one of those days.

Blue stood with his hands perched on his hips, surveying the room. Probably taking in the crumpled blanket on the sofa, the half-full coffee cup thankfully set on a coaster. That first moment Blue came in always felt like one of Judgement, his brother looking at their home and deciding its worthiness.

It prickled a little, every time, but Stretch wasn’t sure how to quantify it. If he said something, Blue would probably say he was imagining things. He might not even be wrong, who the hell knew, but it was how Stretch felt, damn it.

Whatever he saw, Blue seemed to deem it worthy. He turned back to Stretch, his starry eyes lights sparkling and said with mock sternness, “I’m hurt, here I am, an uncle, and I haven’t met my chicken nieces.”

“haven’t you?” Stretch said, surprised. He wracked his memories, but yeah, that seemed possible. Any time he’d been sick or otherwise indisposed, Stretch asked Papyrus to take care of the ladies for him, a task he managed with great enthusiasm and probably volume. Not that he didn’t trust his bro, but when Stretch was in the hospital, Blue tended to be there. Any other time it was a habit to call Papyrus as a chicken-sitter was all. “guess you haven’t. sorry, bro, must be agony for you.”

“Terribly hurt,” Blue said solemnly. “Deep inside, except we don’t have any insides because we’re skeletons.”

Stretch snorted. “yeah, bro, and you can’t play an instrument in church cause you’ve got no organs. come on, i fed them earlier, they should be ready for some attention.”

His sweatshirt was a heavy one, but it was pretty chilly out despite the sunshine, so Stretch pulled a jacket out from the closet and slid it on.

“Papy, a hat!” Blue scolded.

“it’s not that cold, i’m fine, bro.” Except for a sudden itch for a cigarette. Stretch ignored it, stepping into his untied sneakers and leading his grumbling brother out the back door. He had a pack upstairs but smoking in front of Blue wasn’t going to be worth the lecture.

The chickens were out in the little fenced yard of their coop and they perked up eagerly at the sight of skeletons and possibility of scritches. They barely waited for him to open the gate, already gabbling. Stretch sat down right on the ground in the fallen leaves, ignoring the dampness creeping through his jeans and laughing as all three of them made a beeline to him.

“So you’re the ones who’ve been making the eggs Papy brings me.” Blue didn’t sit on the ground, crouching instead. His first hesitant stroke over Dumpling’s vibrant feathers firmed as she immediately saw potential for extra affection and turned his way. Blue laughed softly as Nugget jealously pushed in close, trying to impose herself between her flock mate and Blue’s hand. “They’re very friendly, aren’t they. When you first told me about them, I wondered what Edge was thinking, giving you chickens, but they seem like nice pets.”

“guess it is a little odd,” Stretch shrugged a little. Noodle was happy to have his complete attention and he patted her fondly. “but they work for us. not like i was getting a kitten anytime soon.”

Blue didn’t usually care for reminders of Stretch’s little issues, but to his surprise, his brother smiled, a touch sadly, “No, those go to Red, don’t they. I would have thought him more unlikely than you to take on a cat.”

“heh, i think cats suit him just fine.” Matching teeth, Stretch thought with a private shudder. “edge says he’s taking good care of the fuzzball.”

“I’m sure he does—“ before Stretch could parse his brother’s tone, Noodle decided she’d had enough of being ignored by the newcomer and hopped onto Blue’s knee. Her weight was enough to knock him off-balance and he yelped as he fell back into the leaves with Stretch, laughing as Noodle immediately clambered onto his chest to inspect him more thoroughly. Two more chickens joined her and Blue giggled as the three of them walked over him with their scaly little chicken feet.

“heh, looks like they like you.” Stretch reached over to take Nugget before she could settle on Blue’s skull as if it were a giant egg. She settled into his lap amicably enough, crooning blissfully as he smoothed her feathers. ”they like edge, too. try to hop all over him whenever he’s out here.”

Blue shooed the other two brats down enough for him to sit up. “And he allows that?”

Yeah, there was that tone again and this time Stretch frowned. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not a thing.” As if his sudden breeziness was going to fool his own brother? “I’m only surprised, is all.”

Stretch sighed, rubbing a thumb beneath Nugget’s little chin. If he could thank his therapy for anything, it was he’d learned that trying to dance around a subject only worked if your partner was willing to boogie. And he definitely wasn’t, not about Edge. “you know, you and edge used to be good friends.”

He could see the surprise in his brother’s face, quickly masked as he said, “We’re still friends.”

“no offense, bro, but you sound as friendly as the bubonic plague. i mean it, you two used to hang out, cook together, do your stitch and bitch,” and when Blue opened his mouth to object, Stretch didn’t stop. “don’t try to tell me you both are busy or some shit. you used to be tight, so what happened?”

A kaleidoscope of emotion crossed his face and what it settled on was not one he easily recognized, not on his brother. “Our friendship was a little disrupted when he crushed my brother’s heart and yet somehow still managed to convince you to go back to him, anyway.”

Stretch could feel his own mouth dropping open because what the fuck? “okay, leaving aside that it was none of your business even then, that was years ago. we had a rocky start, yeah, but we’ve been together for a while and we’re married. why the fuck are you bringing that up for now, sans?” And it felt odd, calling his brother by his real name. Stretch couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it and he wondered how it felt for him to hear it. From the way his shoulders hunched, maybe nothing good. “mind telling me what’s going on, little brother?”

That was a deliberate goad. Blue seemed to forget sometimes that Stretch was the damn older brother and he’d managed pretty well when they were younger, back before…well. Before everything. Going through a bad patch didn’t mean he lost older bro privileges forever.

“Nothing is going on,” Blue said hurriedly. He swallowed, too hard, like the taste of it was bitter. “I’m sorry I brought it up, brother, you know very well I’m happy for you. I wouldn’t have stood up at your wedding if I wasn’t.”

Stretch was starting to wonder about that, but anything he might have said went winging out of his head at the first tear that fell from Blue’s socket, trailing down his cheekbone. He watched dumbly as it ran down his jaw, hanging from his chin in a translucent jewel of magic before falling to splash on Noodle, disappearing into her feathers.

Okay, fuck this. Stretch pushed Nugget off his lap, ignoring her outraged squawk, and grabbed his brother, hauling him into his lap despite the protests of the other two chickens. That turned the waterworks on full-force and Blue clung to him, sweatshirt fisted in both hands as he buried his face into Stretch’s chest and wailed like he hadn’t since he was a child.

His brother’s weight wasn’t exactly insubstantial, he was short but he was damn solid. Stretch didn’t give a shit, ignoring his protesting femurs and joints as he held his brother close, rocking him gently. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he knew how to handle this, even if it’d been years since he’d done it.

He hummed softly, as automatic as breathing, a wordless song of comfort that hadn’t changed since Blue, Sans, had been so much smaller, his starry eye lights eager, ready to join the guard and capture a Human.

Yeah, maybe that was a memory best forgotten.

Slowly Blue’s sobs eased into hiccoughs and all too soon he drew away, his face drenched in teary magic. Stretch wiped it away with his sleeve like he had when Blue was only a baby bones, drying his cheek bones. It sent a fresh wash of them down, Blue’s eye lights shrunken to dots as he looked up at Stretch.

“I miss you,” Blue blurted suddenly. He choked out another sob, trying to stifle the tears that kept falling. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t, but I do! I miss waking up and seeing you, I miss coming home and not having you there! It’s so selfish of me, I should be used to it by now, but I miss you, Papy!”

“sans…” Stretch whispered, shocked to his marrow. He didn’t even know what to say. Blue was cringing miserably, like he expected him to be mad, but how could he be? Blue wasn’t wrong, not at all; when he’d started dating Edge, they’d gone from mornings and nights together to not so much, and when he’d moved out, it was even less. They had lunch together once a week and Stretch stopped in more often now that Jeff was living there, but. He grabbed hold of his brother’s shoulders, hauling him in for a tight hug.“i’m so sorry, kiddo. i didn’t mean to abandon you like that.”

“You didn’t,” Blue said with some asperity and wasn’t that his bro all the way, trying to protect him, even from himself. He drew back and scrubbed at his face with a hanky he’d pulled from his inventory. “You didn’t, Papy. You were sad for so long and I suppose I got used to taking care of you. I told you I was being selfish and I am. You were finding yourself and I wanted to hold you back.”

“you didn’t, though.” Stretch scrubbed his knuckles lightly over Blue’s skull. His brother’s grin was watery, but he leaned into the touch.

“I hope I didn’t. I didn’t mean to spring this on you either, only—“ his sigh was deeply conflicted. “Jeff won’t be staying with me long, I think. He and Antwan seem to have gotten over whatever was troubling them and he’s so very happy. Like you were right before you moved in with Edge. I am happy for him, truly. I suppose I was only enjoying having someone living with me again.”

Well, that was a concoction of happy and shitty, wasn’t it, and not a problem Stretch really knew how to fix. Wasn’t like he could put out an ad for ‘Roommate wanted. Must allow mama bear-ing and be willing to eat pasta. No smokers.’

Blue stood up, dusting leaves away briskly. “It’s all right, brother, it’s my problem to deal with.” He grimaced, a trace of shame crossing his face. “Please don’t tell Edge what I said? It was unkind and he doesn’t deserve that.”

“tell you what, i’ll keep mum if you come over for dinner tonight.” Edge wouldn’t mind and if he did, well, Stretch would remind him of Red’s invite earlier that week. If he could do chili dogs with the gremlin, Edge could manage playing nice with Blue. Probably wouldn’t need to manage if they got to talking about recipes.

But Blue only looked unhappy at the offer. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, Papy. I really shouldn’t have said anything.”

Yeah, that wasn’t gonna fly. “come over,” Stretch insisted, “bring andy and antwan. c’mon, mettaton has a new special tonight, right?” mettaton was no napstatton but he could see Blue wavering and he added the kicker, coaxingly, “i heard it’s a musical.”

That stitched it. Blue glanced down at Noodle, who was inspecting his shoelaces in hopes of finding a wormy snack, then said uncertainly, “If you think Edge won’t mind…?”

“he won’t,” Stretch said firmly. Or if he did, he wouldn’t say. Stretch wasn’t a bad host but Edge would put Martha Stewart to shame when he wanted.

His smile wasn’t quite the starry happiness that Stretch lived to see in him, but it was hella better than crying. “Okay, then, I will. Let me go home and clean up, and I’ll come back over tonight.”

“sounds good, bro.” Before Blue walked off, Stretch caught his arm, hauling him in for another tight hug. Blue returned it with equal ferocity, clinging for a long, long moment. Then he let go, offering a happier smile, and went out the gate to the front.

The second he was gone, Stretch took a shortcut upstairs, then right back down, cigarettes in hand. The tip wavered as he tried to light it and Stretch had to chase it with the lighter flames til it caught, breathing in a cloud of nicotine-laced smoke. He smoked the whole thing, then lit another before he texted Edge.

okay if my bro comes for dinner tonight?

The reply was almost immediate. Of course. I’ll text him and see if he’d like to bring an appetizer.

His soul constricted in his chest, so filled with love that it ached. Because Blue would be happier if he could contribute and Edge knew it, and wasn’t that Edge all the way? Even if his friendship with Blue got sort of derailed by their relationship, Edge never hesitated to be kind.

Fuck, but Stretch loved him so much.

But he only sent a thumbs up emoticon back along with a string of hearts before dropping his phone back into his pocket and focusing on the task at hand. Namely smoking half this pack before going in to scrub down so no one would be able to smell it.

He’d fucked up, fucked up bad, Stretch thought grimly. Made his brother feel abandoned level of fucked up, yeah, that was par for his course. Didn’t mean he couldn’t do better, damn it, and if he felt like shit about it, well, time for damage control.

He wasn’t stuck in a revolving door of resets anymore and his brother deserved to be happy, too. They’d figure it out, he was sure of it.

But after his third cigarette, he went ahead and sent a text to his therapist’s office to set up an extra appointment this week.

Somehow, he got the feeling he was gonna need a chance to talk.

-finis-

[beautifulbuckys]

From WORSE to GREAT

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Howdy! Sorry this kinda sucks, I realized I’ve been such a bad writer recently and haven’t written in months. I hope this fluff makes up for it?

(I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF!)

To say the least, it's been a long day.

It all started when you dropped the paperwork you stayed up until 2 A.M polishing up into a puddle. After that, it's like the day snowballed from "bad" to "worse". You spilled coffee all over the new shirt your friend got you, and it wouldn't come out. Karen from HR was hopping on your dick about an office rumor that you had no part in. The cherry on top, though, was that you left your lunch at home, sitting on the marble countertop where you'd prepared it.

The time passed slowly, but when your shift ended, it felt like time was passing too fast. You just wanted to shriek into a pillow, today was a shit day. You just needed it to be over with so you can sit with your cat and vent about the roller coaster of a day you experienced.  Your cat may find your planned temper tantrum immature, but at this point, nothing could cease your childish plan.

You sauntered over to your car, fumbled for the keys, then dropped them. "Shit," You mumble angrily, "fucking perfect. What else do you have in store for me? Just run me over with a bus!"

Your exclamation caught the attention of a colleague that worked a few desks over. You'd seen him a few times around the office when he wasn't at his desk. He'd started small talk with you at the copier when he was copying mission reports for the Avengers. He was cute, his blonde hair gelled back to stay out of the way. You'd consider the small crush a burden to your work relationship, but as long as he didn't know, it would be okay. Him not knowing didn't cause a strain to the relationship. His name was Steve, Steve Rogers. He had introduced himself like James Bond and was confused when you giggled at the involuntary reference. Of course, he wouldn't have gotten it, he was in freaking ice for 70 years.

"Looks like you're in a pickle," He said in between a chuckle.

"How sweet of you to notice," You laughed. "Who said chivalry was dead?"

He smiled at the comment. He was always a gentleman to you and every other person in the office. Of course, he was still being a gentleman, even when he wasn't at work. How could he not? He was America's golden boy, it's treasure.

He bent down to grab the keys which were still at your feet. "I don't know what you're talking about! There are still plenty of gentlemanly men out there."

"Yeah right!"

He sighed playfully, "Give me one example,"

"Charles from Weapons Management."

Charles was a dick. If you looked "dick" up in the dictionary, Charles would have a picture in place for a definition. He treated you and a few other women in the SHIELD office like crap. Multiple reports and complaints have been filed against him in Human Resources, but nobody listens.  

He sighed again, more frustrated than the last sigh.

"Ah, yes. Good point, he is a major jerk,". You chuckled and nodded.

Steve didn't like when he saw Charles mistreating you, or any woman for that matter. Charles treated you like shit, you were a superior to him, yet he acted like you were incompetent when it came to your job. You were intelligent and fully able to perform well when it came to your job, and Steve adored that about you. You never had work piling up, you were always on top of everything. However, that was one of the millions of things that he adored about you. He adored the laugh that filled the room when Natasha told a shitty joke was music to his ears. He loved the way you carried yourself despite all the comments you received. You were also the most beautiful person he'd ever met, but he was well aware looks aren't everything in a partner.

"Just thinking about him makes my day worse, and I've had the worst day known to man,"  You babbled.

"Then let's not think about him anymore," He assured, which made you blush. "I want to make your day a tad better if it's been that horrible. Let me get you a coffee!"

Was Steve asking you out, on a date? It couldn't be a date. Steve Rogers wouldn't ask a coworker on a date. Plus, you think, I'm pretty sure he's dating Natasha! I can't get in the way of that. You don't know what to do, either accept or deny his offer. The logical side of you is telling you to say no and leave it at that.  In opposition, your heart is saying to go for it! Maybe it'll lead to something more...maybe.

"Wouldn't Nat be upset?" You managed to stutter out, you were nervous as hell.

"Why should she? It's not like we're married, she shouldn't care," He said, looking confused as to why you'd take concern.

Boom. Y/N, you fucking idiot. You just made yourself look like a complete and utter jackass in front of the man you liked. He thinks you're a fool! Can that bus you requested earlier arrive now? You look down from his eyes, the beautiful sky blue eyes you'd looked into a billion times before. For you, looking into someone's eyes meant a lot. It wasn't an anxiety thing, or maybe it was? But the only thing you knew is that you knew you trusted someone when you looked into their eyes. Looking out of Steve's eyes, you felt you lost his trust, you made an assumption about him. You felt guilty of something, but you weren't sure why.

"That's cool," You whispered.  

"You shouldn't have to worry about Natasha, she's rooting for me anyways,"

"Rooting for you?"

He met your eyes, his stare showing both passion and fear. The corners of his lips curled into a small, shy smile. What was he doing?

"Rooting for me to ask you out," Now it was his turn to whisper.

Your mouth opened, wanting to respond, yet nothing seemed to flow out. Steve Rogers, Captain America just asked you out! Holy shit! With your gaping expression, Steve assumed that you took his reveal a different way than what he wanted.

"You don't have to say yes. God, it was so stupid. You don't have to say anything at all, I just wanted to make my feelings known," He takes a deep, anxious breath before continuing, "I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or if I just ruined a nice friendship."

He ran his hands through his perfectly gelled back hair. He messed it up, but he somehow made it look even better.

All you could spit out was, "You didn't ruin the friendship,"

He looked shocked, surprised.

"I-I didn't?"

"Nope," You insist, popping the P. "I'd gladly accept a coffee date with Steve Rogers. Not Captain America."

There you go, adding another thing to the list of things he loves about you. You see his as Steven grant Rogers, son of two Irish immigrants. The Steve that hopped on a grenade he thought was live, the Steve that wanted to fight for his country before he was boeuf. You didn't see him as Captain America.

And he loved you for that.

[peachofyourheart]

How To Be A Professional Author And Not Die Screaming And Starving In A Lightless Abyss

Your reading today comes in the form of this Medium article by Heather Demetrios: “How To Lose A Third Of A Million Dollars Without Even Trying.” It’s a good article. I feel deeply for the writer, because this shit we do comes with no real map. No creative map, no story map, no industry map, no money map. “HERE IS A BUNCH OF MONEY,” a sinister shadowy figure says in an alley. “IN SIX MONTHS, WE WILL EXTRACT FROM YOU A BOOK, AND THEN THE DEAL IS COMPLETE.” And then the shadowy figure is gone, and all you’re left with is the crisp smell of burning paper and a mysterious whisper in the well of your ear that says, “deckle edge.”

But, the good news is, there exist answers to a lot of these conundrums, and so I’m going to do some painting-with-shotguns here and try to broad-stroke some thoughts and answers about the challenges this writer faced in her Authorial Journey.

Your Agent Is There To Help You

You need an agent, and a good agent who will explain to you this stuff — an agent who answers questions you don’t know to ask and who also (obviously) answers the questions you do ask. Now, an agent isn’t psychic, and I’m gonna guess a lot of them default to expecting you know some of this stuff, or they’re so brined and pickled in the industry they’re like fish swimming in water who don’t know what “water” even is anymore. Which leads me to highlight the next point:

Definitely Ask Questions

Deeeefiniiiiitely totally utterly absoflogginlutely ask questions. All kinds of questions. No questions are foolish, especially when it regards your career, your finances, your future. Ask your agent. Ask your editor. Ask anybody you know in the industry. Ask other writers! I have found other writers to be a wonderful well of fresh, clean water when it comes to that sort of thing. Certainly I must acknowledge that I feel the SFF genre is an embarrassment of riches when it comes to industry folks willing to share their experiences and offer answers. Oh! Speakawhich, may I recommend Dongwon Song’s PUBLISHING IS HARD newsletter?

Definitely Ask Questions From Multiple Sources

Crowdsource better answers by getting multiple answers. That’s it, that’s the deal. One answer may not be comprehensive. Also, authors are not always right about how things work. Hell, I’m probably wrong about stuff in this very post. Also, if your agent isn’t clear on this stuff, or won’t answer questions, fire that agent out of a cannon, and into the mouth of a great white shark.

Publishing Money Is Fucking Weird

Publishing, particularly big publishing (sorry, Big Publishing, aka Big Book, or The Bibliodeities of Mannahattan) pays advances ahead of your royalties. Smaller advances mean you’re likelier to earn out, but a small advance also does little for you up front. Larger advances mean you’ve got a considerably larger “cost of life” cushion, but are less likely to earn out.

Your contract likely stipulates you get paid a certain amount up front — a third of the contract, let’s say — upon signing, and then you get paid the rest of your advance usually in chunks when you meet certain milestones. Turned in first draft, or final draft, or upon publication. I have found these milestones to be different at different publishers (and I’ve worked with a lotta publishers).

You owe 15% of that to your agent/agency.

Earning out is a theoretically straightforward affair — calculate how much you make per book based on the percentage royalty driven by format. Let’s say 10% per hardcover sale, or 25% of an e-book. But there, we enter into squirmy, less certain territory already. If Amazon discounts your book, do you make the 10% on the cover price, or the sale price? (My understanding here is, it depends on who initiates that sale. Amazon initiates, you get it on full. Publisher initiates, you get on the publisher’s choice of price.) So, every sale of a book is earning you a specific amount of money —

So, if my book Wanderers is a hardcover at $28.99, I theoretically make ~$2.90 per sale of that. And an e-book at $13.99 earns me ~$3.50, so from there I should easily be able to calculate what it would take in this round to “earn out,” but I’ve done that math on other books, and I’ve never found it particularly accurate. Why? Because it actually isn’t that simple. Between audio sales and library sales and less traditional sales channels and then book returns (yes, bookstores return unsold stock sometimes and that can ding you), it starts to become a bit of occult calculus that only sorcerers can understand. You can kinda eyeball it? You can make some educated guesses as to how many books you’ll have to sell to earn out, but even then, how many in what format? Some books sell 75% in e-book. Some sell only 25% in e-book. Wanderers, to my shock, has had a rough split of 33/33/33% across print, e-book, audio. Could I have foretold that? Nope.

If you know how many books you sold, that would help, but —

It’s Hard To Know How Many Books You’ve Sold

Publishers are starting to catch up to the fact that authors want to know how well they’re selling (weird, who knew?) — Penguin Random House has a pretty robust, snap-to-it site that has daily updates to your book’s sales. It’s nice to have, if not necessarily useful at every step. And it’s not always wholly accurate, either, which honestly isn’t their fault — we imagine an age where every strand of every industry is plucked with every sale, neatly and nicely updating the total, but as with every industry, it’s less an elegant web and more a clumsy knot. Retailers are independent and not plugged into one another. Each store is not lightning fast in how they respond to things. Even Amazon on the back-end is, from my understanding, kind of a hot mess.

(It’s funny, I’ve met with Amazon multiple times under the auspices of, “Tell us how to help authors more.” Arguably because they want to help more than publishers do, making friends of authors directly, beyond publisher relationships — which, ennnh, okay. Still, I always tell them one thing: GIVE AUTHORS MORE DATA. Tell us our sales! Tell us our Kindle sales in particular! Tell us when people quit reading our books! And they say OOH YES GOOD POINT and then it never happens and hahaha good times.)

Treat Your Publishing Money Like A Demonic Bargain

You should always be fairly dubious of that money. Not that it’ll disappear — it’s just, it’s wildly inconsistent, as I hope I’ve made clear. It’s inconsistent in its timing, in its amount, in everything. It’s constantly shifting ground, and that unsteadiness of the financial earth should leave you particularly touchy. The ground can crack and fall out at any point, which is why you need to budget. Planning is key for a writer’s life, and that’s hard, because we’re a sack of cats, mentally. But you gotta know how to portion it out, and you have to see down the road to where the money is coming from. (As a sidenote, it’s why it’s vital not to give up too many rights — foreign, film/TV, other licensing opportunities — to the publisher. Those random drops of money, while totally not-count-on-able, can be helpful just the same.)

Oh also ha ha ha the taxes are killer.

You’re gonna pay taxes on that.

And they’re not fun.

Budget, budget, budget. At any meaningful levels of money coming in, GET THEE AN ACCOUNTANT, and possibly even hie thee hence to forming an LLC, which can, at high enough income levels, drop your tax burden a little bit. Others will sell LLCs as also being able to defer liability but most lawyers and accountants I’ve asked about this suggest it’s a bit of a myth.

It’s hard to get a mortgage as a writer, if you’re the only income.

Trust me when I tell you that. Doesn’t matter what you earn, you don’t fit into a box that they can neatly check on the application, so you’re a strange animal to the mortgage broker, like a Zebra who fucked a Dolphin and who is also from the future? We’ll talk more about DAY JORBS in a minute.

Cost Of Living Is A Real Thing

The cost of living is tied to where you live. And so, your Publishing Dollar goes a lot farther in places where the cost of living is lower. In other words, if you’re going to choose to live in The City (that city being NYC, SF, whatever), you are almost certainly fucking yourself in every uncomfortable position.

Now, the opposite of that is, sometimes you get advice that amounts to demanding you live in some unpleasant nowheresville — and that’s fine, if you’re fine with it. I’m not. My publishing money could go much farther if I lived, say, 100 miles to the west, but instead, I live where I live. It’s not a profoundly expensive place, especially compared to, say, NYC, but it’s also not as cheap as, say, Ohio. But (nothing personal) I do not want to live in Ohio, I want to live where I live, because of culture, because of education, because of access to places like NYC or Philly or the Lehigh Valley, and so here I dwell, even if my Publishing Dollar would go farther in Nebraska or even in the middle of my own state. As writers, I find we do thrive a little bit based a little on the place we live — and so, live where you want to live, just be aware that there are concessions to be made if you do, and costs for that choice. But also, probably don’t live in NYC or SF. Live near them, ok. In them, not so much.

Back To Those Pesky Advances

I have been fortunate enough to have a somewhat gentle arc to my career — a nice hill of slowly advancing advances. I started small, with four figures, and have added zeroes as time went on. It’s been a slow boil but I prefer that, because it demonstrates what I hope is an increasing audience and quality of books. The worry is when you jump through the gate and someone hands you a fat sack of six figures and it’s like — boy howdy, you’ve probably got nowhere to go but down. Debuts tend to get an almost weird amount of attention (same as how the first book in a series nearly always gets 1000% more publishing attention than the second or third), but even with that, it’s hard to see how a New Author is going to just Rocket to the Moon on a first, big book. It can happen! It has and will again. But just know that opening big is a trickier gambit. It’s like, you wrote some songs and have a guitar and OOPS now you’re headlining Coachella ha ha good luck I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Wait I Didn’t Even Talk About Bucket, Or Joint, Accounting

Back to the tricky calculus of “earning out” — it gets trickier when you realize that some deals don’t just demand you earn out one book, but rather, all the books in your contract. The advances-per-book are put in a bucket, and so you must out-earn the bucket amount, not the per-book amount, before you start seeing royalties beyond your advances. This can be tricky with a series, let’s say, where the first book does well, and where no subsequent book is likely to do better than that first book — it robs you a chance of earning out with one book even if you don’t on the next two, let’s say.

How Marketing Is Tied To Advance

In general (and nothing is ever universal in this industry), the higher the advance, the more money the publisher has in their budget to support the book, particularly in terms of marketing, advertising, and publicity. On the one hand, this makes sense, right? Your book is an investment, and so they don’t wanna invest a bunch of money and then just have it fail — so they contribute more money and infrastructure toward paying off that investment. But it also means that lower advances can mark you in the “uhhh let’s throw it at the wall and see what sticks!” category, which is tough. It puts a lot of burden on you. And that burden is often unfairly thought of as being high effective buuuuut

You Are Never As Effective As A Publishing Budget

Trust me when I say, you can do a lot as an author to encourage people to read your books. But also trust me when I say, a publisher’s efforts in this realm is multiplicative compared to what you can achieve. Stay in this industry long enough — and so much of this industry is exactly that, just staying in the goddamn game — and you will reliably detect when a publisher is spending money on a book. You can tell because it’ll have buzz, it’ll get media placement, you’ll have appearances, and so on. You can also tell when they haven’t done shit for your book. Even if you yourself have done a lot!

Do you need a website? Probably. Doesn’t need to be fancy, but shouldn’t look like a half-ass botch-job, either. Should work on mobile and all that.

Do you need swag? I’m of a mind that it moves zero needles, and I’ve never seen data that it moves needles, and it just seems to be a thing authors have internalized that they need?

Do you need a tour? I mean, I dunno. At a debut level, I’d say no. As with crowdfunding anything, you need an audience already in place to make that make sense. Better to do cons and conferences, I think, at earlier levels, though other authors may disagree.

This is part of the trick, by the way: advice for a debut author, and for a mid-list author, and for a mid-career author, and for a hugely successful author, are very, very different. It can in fact be as individual as writing process. It’s all broad strokes, so take everything even here with many many grains of salt.

A whole salt lick, even.

Your Day Job? Don’t Quit It

This will be the 1000th time I’ve said this and I’ll say it a million more: don’t quit your day job. When do you quit your day job? When the work is at such a level that you either have to quit writing, or quit the day job. That’s it. When you’re up against the wall and you see, “I can’t write these books and also still go to work every day,” that’s a signal. (And ideally it’s a decision made easily because you’re making enough money at writing that it makes both financial sense and is a financial necessity.)

But otherwise? Hang tight. You’ll have no health care. As I said, mortgages will be harder to get. Everything is a little harder when you’re a ROGUE AUTHOR FREELANCE MERC out there in the PUBLISHING WASTELAND. Bonus: have a spouse who has health care and a steady job.

Note, again, I’m fortunate enough to be the sole income for our household as a writer. And I’m doing okay, and am comfortable. But I also still have these difficulties, and the erratic payment schedules can be brutal. All of it adds up to:

Have Plans On Top Of Plans

It’s like, if you live in the PNW, you probably have an Earthquake Preparedness Kit? You need that as an author. (Er, metaphorically speaking. Authors are not subject to actual earthquakes in particular.) Squirrel away money. Have plans on top of plans. What if your genre collapses? What if your agent quits? What if your next advance is way too low to survive upon? What if the economy shits the bed? Have a plan for next year, for five years, for ten. Envision how you remain in this game. A writing career is, as I’ve noted before, a CLIFF MITIGATION EXERCISE. You are eternally speeding toward the cliff’s edge. You might careen off that edge and into a ravine and crash in a spectacular fashion at the end of every contract. And so you need to imagine how — before it happens! — you’re gonna build a ramp or a bridge or some rocket boosters or shit. You gotta Evel Knievel that cliff somehow — but how? New genre? New age range? Break into comics? Some self-publishing on the side? Have plans inside plans inside plans. Especially if shit goes sideways. My day to day is spent thinking 50% about what stories I want to write and 50% what I’m going to do to keep my career going. Which leaves me little time for like, BASIC LIFE-BRAIN FUNCTIONS, so uhhh oops?

To Add In, And To Sum Up

– Publishing is fucking nuts, and trying to understand it is like trying to win a staring contest with the Eye of Sauron, but you gotta try, or you’ll die

– JESUS CHRIST ask some questions, seriously

– Publishing is not a lottery, and you need to treat it like a serious business venture where you’re given the squalling baby of a writing career and your job is to keep that thing alive and somehow get it to college, and if someone wants to put that writing career baby in college before it’s learned to walk, you should be very very wary of that

– Drink the fancy cocktails when you visit NYC, but don’t live there, for Christ’s sake

– Not every publisher is the same, some are fucking amateur hour karaoke, and some are well-trained machine assassins who never miss their shot

– You don’t control what a publisher does; get me drunk and I’ll tell you STORIES

– You should definitely know when your book is coming out and not via Google Alert, like, just ask, just ask your editor or ask your agent to ask your editor (your agent can be a very good “bad cop” if you need them to be, and they should be eager to fill that position, because a good agent is working for YOU, not for their relationship with the publisher), AHHH ASK QUESTIONS

– Art and Commerce are fiddly, uncomfortable fuck-buddies, they’re always fucking, but they’re always fighting too — but that doesn’t absolve you from cleaving only to the art and failing to learn about the commerce side of things

– You’re never dead in this industry until you stay dead, otherwise, get up, claw your way out of the grave, write the next book, change your name if you have to, change an agent, change genre, whatever; you do it because you love this thing and being undead is cooler than being regular dead

ANYWAY

There is probably shit I’m missing.

Feel free to ask questions — I may not get to them quickly, as I am dealing with lots of LIFE STUFF right now. (I wrote this post in a bit of much-needed down-time.)

If you like this post, and find it helpful, don’t buy me a cup of coffee.

Buy WANDERERS. Or tell your friends. Or leave a review.

Lest I die starving and screaming in a lightless abyss.

[incorrect-vrains-quotes]

You should do something where Kusanagi reacts to how much Ghost Girl risked for Aqua.

prediction for next week’s episode (?)

   The final confrontation was brewing and, in his infinite wisdom, Kusanagi decided that he and the team needed all the ground level allies - swords - he could get. Especially since their last, grand sized confrontation, the Tower of Hanoi, probably could have gone a lot better. So, it was time to a pull some reasonable strings whilst the team stormed the castle. 

   He decided to start an audio-only, pinged through several discrete service providers call.

   “Howdy, howdy, remember me?” he asked when it when through.

  Ghost Girl laughed. “Yes, I remember you; Playmaker’s eye in the sky. So, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

   “Doing some scouting, trying to fill in the gaps in the timeline, I take it you plan on tailing your protege, Blue Maiden?” Kusanagi asked.

   “Of course.”  Ghost Girl replied.

   “So, uh, you can trust me, right? Like Playmaker, Soulburner, and I’re bros, we can be tight as too. we’re all on the same side.”

   “Where are you going with this, hm, Daddy Long Legs?” Ghost Girl asked, her voice was not necessarily suspicious or scrutinising but it was still straightforward.

   “I was hoping for some catch-up. I need to know why Blood Shepherd was tailing Blue Girl. I’d go straight to the source but Blue Maiden is only, like, peripherally aware of my existence. Don’t wanna phone her and freak her out because, well, with the company she’s in, the boys’d just complicate things. They’re tactless.”

   “Teenage boys tend to be.” Ghost Girl mused, agreeing.

   “So, reckon you could give me the low down?” Kusanagi asked.

   “I tracked Blood Shepherd who was tracking Aqua. In the nick of time, we intercepted him. Don’t worry, I didn’t use my cute little protege as bait. That was my job. And I set up a few traps to help buy them time. Blue Maiden’s childhood friend, her first friend, was a victim of the Lost Incident. It’s to my knowledge, said friend is currently in a coma, something by the Light Ignis’ designs.” Ghost Girl explained.

   “You got a name for the friend?” Kusanagi asked.

   “Only a given name. Miyu.” Ghost Girl replied. 

   “Excellent, I’ll check hospital records for girls named Miyu who checked into a coma ward.” 

 “You’re not going to creep on her, are you, Daddy?” Ghost Girl teased.

   “Don’t ever change.” Kusanagi huffed. “So, anything else happened or is this where your intel runs dry?”

   Ghost Girl sighed. “There is a little bit more. And it’s a touch embarrassing, I ought to have you pay for this call.”

   “Please don’t.” Kusanagi murmured.

   “But, we’re friends. Friends can tell friends this sort of thing. Blood Shepherd challenges me to a PK Speed Duel-”

   “PK?!” screamed Kusanagi.

   “Ow, ouch, don’t yell!” Ghost Girl shouted back.

   “Sorry, sorry. But a Player Kill Duel? Does that mean you won? Blood Shepherd’s out of the game? Fuck yeah.” Kusanagi rambled.

   “Not exactly.” Ghost Girl murmured. “I lost. But, Blood Shepherd, deep down, he’s a sweetie when it comes to girls. His mother raised him right. Even though he detests my very existence, he knows better to raise too strong a hand against a girl.”

   “Wait, what? What did you do to cross a guy like Blood Shepherd? He’s the bastard who trapped Soulburner in a trap which was supposed to trigger his PTSD; thank God, he’s got coping skills...” Kusanagi said.

   “I’m his baby sister.” Ghost Girl replied, her voice sing-song. “His Dad walked out, no divorce, no nothing, on him and his mum and hm, about three years later - perhaps a bit less - my mother came into the picture instead and I was born. blood Shepherd didn’t take that well...”

   “Aw man, Ghost Girl, that’s awful.” Kusanagi said. “Also I’m sorry for saying dickish things about your brother...”

   “Nah, it’s fine. He is a dick. But he’s got a good heart... somewhere underneath all that.” Ghost Girl replied.

   “Well, thanks for the update. I reckon I could get you a quick pass to catch up to the rest of the group, if you like. Or, I could give you tit for tat. It’s a private line, you know. If there’s something you’d like to know, I’ll try to give it to ya. Only fair, just promise not to use it against us in the future.”

   Ghost Girl laughed. “I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep and I don’t want to pry. This isn’t as intimately my place as it is yours or Playmaker’s or hell, Blue Maiden’s either. But I’m good. I want to keep back. Just in case someone starts trailing our group.”

   “Good idea, alright. Well, I’m going to go rendezvous with the rest of the team. God, it’s like trying to herd cats.” Kusanagi complained.

   “You’re doing well though, Daddy Long Legs.” Ghost Girl said, her voice soothing.

   “But again, can’t stress this enough, it was really courageous of you to put yourself in harm’s way like that. Especially since the Link Vrains is your main cash cow.” Kusanagi said.

   Ghost Girl blushed. “I’m flattered.”

   “Well peace, I’ll keep you in the loop.” Kusanagi said.

   “Got it, over and out.” Ghost Girl replied and she kept pushing forth on her D-Board.

   The line then went quiet with a dramatic zipt first.

[killerserials-blog1]

Season 1-Chapter 1-Part 1

There is a leaden something that hangs heavy in the air during the fading days of the Phoenix summer, threatening rain, and violence. A sort of wild magic that a body can feel crackling against the skin.

Lydia Thomas sat in her worn office chair, swirling ice around an empty glass. The room was filled with the rhythmic scratches of a record needle that had run its course and not much else. The office had been empty for two weeks, and it had begun to feel more like her second living room than a work space.

According to the holy phonebook, Thomas investigations was open until 8:30pm, but lately she had taken to locking up around 6:00.

Not tonite though. Tonite, something was going to jump off.

She fixed herself another 7&7, and settled in, slipping out of her patent leather pumps, and letting the b side of In a Silent Way meld with the sounds of rush hour slowly fading on 7th Avenue, and the rising wind.

Two drinks later, it happened.

It was 8:35 when a sharp rap interrupted the flow of the music. Lydia was considering just ignoring the knock until she heard a voice that hadn’t graced her ears in nearly a decade.

“Ray, are you in? It’s Jack Morris, from central high.” Lydia tensed up. Jack-fucking-Morris. “I know you’re probably closing up, but Rikki is missing and I don’t know where else to go.”

Lydia let out a sigh, checked that the seams of her boat neck dress were straight, and strode across the room. She had always had a soft spot Rikki Morris, and if she was honest, for Rikki’s older brother as well. So she gripped the handle of the door tight, balling her left hand into a fist. She drew a deep breath, and swung the door wide to her past.

“Howdy Jack, it’s been a while.”

His mouth dropped open for a second before he drew himself up, apparently searching for words.

“You...you look...you look so...”

Lydia interrupted his stammering fit,

“Different.”

“I was gonna say beautiful, but different works.” His mouth split in a smile that Lydia had never forgotten. he was always smooth. She smiled back and extended her hand.

“Lydia Thomas, nice to meet you again Mr. Morris. Why don’t you come in and tell me a little about what’s going on with your sister.”

Jack stepped into the office, and looked around for a tick before Lydia lead the way to her desk and repositioned her chair. Jack dropped into one of the chairs that sat across Lydia’s desk from her, and fished a crinkled Christmas card out from the pocket of his blue suit jacket. Lydia studied it in silence for a second. Suddenly she felt unfriendly eyes on her neck, she shook her head and tried to put it out of her mind.

A pretty, dark skinned butch with the same close cropped hair cut that her brother wore was holding a rumpled red head in paint stained overalls, with a very grumpy looking orange cat in a blue bonnet supported by the pair of them. The girls were smiling up at her from the card. The reverse had no return address and only a short message. ‘Happy Christmas to our favorite boys! Love from Rikki, Miranda, and Pickles”. Jack had remained silent while Lydia had studied the photo.

“Rikki cut her hair really short. It’s a good look on her. Catch me up on her, will you? I can’t get the image of her in that awful sequined dress she wore to homecoming the year we graduated out of my head.”

Jack chuckled in his low, rumbling way.

“She graduated at the top of her class, and decided to go to NAU after that. Rikki brought Mel, short for Melanie, home for thanksgiving her sophomore year, and announced that she was changing her major from political science to theatre. Dad didn’t say a word about it, but mom wouldn’t stop. And then she did, and they haven’t spoken since. Dad really liked Mel because she was a great horn player. she even sat in on a few sessions with him while she was still with Rikki.”

“So, Mel and Rikki didn’t last, judging by the card.” Lydia lit a cigarette and offered one to Jack, who seemed thankful for the pause.

“No, she broke Mel’s heart, and took off for LA after she graduated. I thought she would have gone into stage acting, but she wanted to do tv. I saw her do this far out comedy piece while she was in school. It was half in Spanish, and she has a killer timing in either language. She played this young Puerto Rican street guy, opposite this chick who was like 7’ in heel. She was in this killer suit that was all trimmed in peacock feathers, and her beard looked better than mine. It was absolutely brilliant man, it blew my mind! She did a few pilots after she moved, and a few commercials but nothing panned out. Rikki came back last February, and told us she was moving in with Miranda. Mom flew off the handle, and Dad couldn’t get her to calm down for days. They called Dad every week, mom ignored it every time. I think Miranda was a contractor, and Rikki was teaching an acting class for retirees or something like that.”

“So it seems like you guys aren’t as close as you used to be.” Lydia put a point on that.

“Well no, but not for lack of trying...we both grew up, got jobs, and bills. I haven’t heard from her in 2 months, and Dad says she hasn’t called him in 3 weeks.” Jack sounded desperate as he finished.

“Do you have her address?”

“No, she didn’t want mom to cause any trouble with it. They did just buy a new place though, that’s what we talked about last time she called. She said it was old, and she and Miranda were renovating it, so I figured that she was probably somewhere downtown.”

Lydia saw where this conversation was headed, and prepared for the worst.

“And you don’t know where either of them worked, do you?” Lydia’s tone could have frozen salt water.

“Well no, it never came up. Your mom told me you were working down here as a pi, and since you guys were in the same kind of circles, I thought you might be able to help me find Rikki.”

“Because I’m gay.” Jack had been smiling until Lydia said it.

“No, I just thought...you know, you’re in the Neighborhood, you might go to the same bars or something...” Jack was chuckling nervously now.

“Because I’m gay.”

“No...I just...” He sputtered, looking for another explanation. When he couldn’t find one he grinned an apologetic grin, and said, “Because you’re gay, and I’m an ass. I’m sorry.”

Lydia had already decided that she would forgive him, and softened, but she certainly wouldn’t forget it.

“You were. I hear that kind of shit from asshole parents looking for their runaway sons twice a week, and I tell them to shove off.” Lydia gave Jack a look that made him stare at his shoes, “but you’re not here to drag an 18 year old kid back to the sanitarium, you’re here to make sure your sister and her girlfriend are okay. So, you hungry?”

“Wait, what’s up?” Jack looked up, flummoxed, “why are we making dinner plans?”

Lydia was already slipping her shoes back on and throwing her things in her evening bag as she explained,

“Well I haven’t ever run into her, but we do bat for different teams, to put it bluntly. I’m also three drinks deep, and need a taco, so We’re gonna go see a friend of mine.”

“I’m still not entirely clear on why were getting dinner.”

“Trust me, I know a good place.” She winked and smirk cracked her lips, “Papa Joe knows a little bit of everything that goes on down here, and he makes a mean tamale.”

“Well then, that sounds good to me. My ride or yours?” Jack still looked a bit confused.

“Do you still have that moldering old Buick?” Lydia laughed a little louder than she meant to. The feeling of eyes on her that she had felt since Jack handed her the Christmas card had grown stronger and she was still trying her best to shrug it off. She usually felt like people from her past were staring at her, but this was different, stronger almost.

“Hey now, be nice to the old girl, Sylvia is older than either of us by about half a decade. I just finished repainting her actually.” Jack’s ever present smile helped ease a little of her paranoia. “It looks like rain, you should grab yourself an umbrella.”

“Mine is in my car, I’ll just grab it and we’ll be off?”

“Sounds good, I’m parked around back.”

[artificialqueens]

Courtney’s Infinite Search for Love Ch. 11 (Witney) - Grinder

A.N: I hope you guys enjoy this update! Don’t forget to leave a like, reblog or comment. It does go a long way. Enjoy!

I went home and cried in the dark living room for what seemed like hours, taking intervals to listen to sad music and cuddle the puppy. And I don’t mean pretty crying. I was full on sobbing, making gross choking sounds as loud as I could. I had hoped that Alaska would’ve heard me and came running to my side, providing me comfort in my time of guilt-riddled misery. But I guess she was out as she hadn’t come to me at all. This only made me feel even worse realising how alone I was.

The puppy seemed awkward around me. Usually in movies when the titular character is crying, their dog comes running to their side trying to cheer their loving owner up. But in my movie ‘Courtney’s Infinite Search for Love’ (or ‘Courtney’s bad life choices’ or 'The Selfish Act of Courtney’), it doesn’t include the scene in which the dog helps. I suppose it’s because he doesn’t know me. Or maybe he felt Alyssa’s pain.

I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling with blurred vision, whimpering and holding the poor puppy tightly to my form. My head is pounding and my eyes sting in their now red form. I rub at them wearily, feeling more drained than I have ever been. I know I said that before. But this is rock bottom. I’ve fucked up. I’ve messed with an innocent persons head. Someone who deserves far better.

A vibrating in my pocket grabs my attention. I loosen my hold on the puppy and pull my phone from my pocket. It’s Adore.

'Hey, man! How did it go with Alyssa? x’

As I read the last word of the text I let another gross sob sound arise from my throat and out through my mouth. It’s so loud it startles the poor dog. I briefly pet him to let him calm before clicking on Adore’s number and holding the phone to my ear. After a brief set of dial up tones, I hear rustling followed by her voice.

“Howdy. I guess you saw the text!” Adore exclaims cheerfully, too cheerful.

“Ummm…Adore. I really want you to come over.” I whimper.

“Holy shit. You sound like shit. What happened? What’s wrong?” Adore questions in a concerned manner.

“I just…I just…don’t want to be alone right now.” I sob.

“'Kay. I’ll come as fast as I can.” Adore states. “I’m leaving now. While you wait, get yourself some chocolate or something to cuddle or listen to sad music. I’ll be there soon.”

-_-_-_-

As soon as Adore had walked in I flung my arms around her, sobbing into her shoulder. As if everything’s already been said. I try to speak, but can’t find words. She rubs up and down my back, speaking to me softly.

“Hey, it’s OK, girl. You’re OK.” She soothes pulling away and holding my hands. She guides me to my sofa, gently pushing on my shoulders to sit. She quickly gives the puppy a weird look before picking him up and placing him on my lap. “Gimme a second and I’ll be back.”

Adore makes her way to the kitchen area leaving me oblivious to what she is doing with my back to her. I hear the tap going. Then silence. Then the kettle flicking on. Something tearing (maybe a tissue). And she’s back in front of me.

“Here.” She kneels in front of me, dabbing at my face with what was indeed a tissue.

“Thank you, Adore.” I say with a cracked throat.

She gives me a smile as she sits next to me on the sofa now.

“So, I’m assuming it didn’t turn out how you expected?” Adore asks, petting the puppy.

“No. It didn’t. She seems really torn up.” I reply, trying my hardest not to sob again. “Hearing her cry was awful. I just feel awful. I made someone cry today. I’ve never made someone cry.”

“Actually, remember that time we were drunk and you told me how I was your best friend and I got all emotional?” Adore smiled slightly. “Sorry. Time and place. But yeah, I understand. Making someone cry always feels like shit.”

“I just…feel like my whole life I’ve been wasting time, trying to find true love. And it’s made me into this awful person. I should just…give up…and just go back to hooking with people I meet at bars.” I say, sighing heavily.

“OK, that won’t help anything.” Adore said shaking her head.

“Oh, what’s the point? Everything was fine before Willam and I started our thing. I had no worries, no guilts and no troubles.”

“Girl, listen to me. Life isn’t easy. Do you think if it were it would be as fun? Life is like that one question you get in a test that you can’t figure out. You just feel like you can’t solve it. But you don’t leave it blank. You think about it. You think about what you can do in order to get the answer. You try and figure out different ways to solve it in order to achieve a better outcome. What I’m basically saying is life is all about solving problems. You can’t just leave them and give up. Courtney, do you remember what I told you months ago?” Adore gently takes my hand in hers.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “What did you tell me?”

“There are plenty of fish in sea. As cheesy and cliché as that sounds it’s true. Not everyone is a heartbreaker like Willam. There are good people out there who want to feel love as much as you do. You just gotta go find them. Or let them find you.”

I nod taking in her words. “I know. But I hate waiting for it to happen.”

“Well tough luck, girl.” Adore shrugs her shoulders. “It could take a day – a week – month – year – decade- -”

“That sounds promising.” I reply sarcastically.

“I know, right?” Adore drawls, her eyes widening as she stresses how irritating her last statement was. “But when it does happen, trust me. It’ll feel so good and you’ll regret ever planning to give up on love. And you’ll forget about what happened with Willam and Alyssa.”

“Really?” I say hopefully.

“Yeah. And I know you, Courtney. You’re not a quitter, never have been a quitter and never will be a quitter.” She says, stroking her thumb over my hand.

“Thanks.” I lean into her embrace as she opens her arms, gesturing for a hug.Her fingers trail up and down my arm in a comforting manner allowing me to relax.

“So, I hate to change the subject but I never knew you had a dog.” Adore states.

I pull away, wiping at my eyes once more. “Believe it or not, Alyssa gave him to me. Right before I told her the truth.”

“Oh…well. That’s kinda awkward.” She replies, one corner of her mouth drawing to the side. “What did you call him?”

“I haven’t. All I’ve done since leaving Alyssa’s place is cry and feel sorry for myself.” I reply, shaking my head.

“Not even a cute little baby like him could cheer you up?” Adore smiled down to the puppy, talking as if she was a child. “Actually that makes me feel 10 times better about myself.”

“To be honest I don’t think he likes me. He just keeps getting awkward when I hug him and sometimes he wriggles like he wants to escape.” I shrug.

“Maybe 'cause you’re crying all over him and it’s gross.” Adore smirks.

I stifle a laugh, drying my eyes with my sleeve. “Well, do you want him?”

“I wish I could, but I can’t. The place I’m living at doesn’t allow pets. It kinda sucks. I always wanted either a dog or a cat.”

“Well…I guess I’m going to have to deal with a dog that thinks I’m weird.” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“He’ll come around. Don’t forget, this is a new experience for him. He’s obviously gonne be sad and afraid of the new situation. But he’ll learn to adapt to all of this. And he’ll be happier in the end.” Adore says, looking away from the puppy to give me a meaningful smile.

“Is that a metaphor for my current situation?”

“It wasn’t intended to be but I guess it is now. Wow, I should do poetry or some shit.” Adore laughs.

Upon learning Alaska wasn’t coming home, Adore agreed to stay over. The rest of our night was spent drinking tea, thinking of a name for the dog (to which we agreed on Bailey) and watching guilty pleasure reality shows. As entertaining as the night was, I thought about what Adore had told me. Not to give up. But not to actively seek a love life; because it will be worth it.

-_-_-_-

The next morning, I had awoken on the sofa, guessing we had fallen asleep during one of the TV shows. Adore was already awake and had made breakfast. She even had the time to briefly run out to get food for Bailey. It’s not even her dog and she’s got her shit more together than I do.

While she waited for me to wake up, she played with the puppy who seemed more open and excited.

After eating, we went shopping for more dog food and supplies before paying a brief visit to the bar Adore performs in for a meeting. After he had called her, Adore insisted Dick wouldn’t mind me being there.

“6.00 every week is kind of a no-no for me, man. I got my shift at the station.” Adore replies, playing with her nails while I just listen.

“Well, it’s either 5 evenings, everyday next week at 6PM, for two hour gigs each or a 3 hour gig on the Friday night.” Dick wagers while petting Bailey who pants as he sits in his lap. God, this dogs charm is infectious.

“Eww, no! From what I’ve seen only teenagers go out on Friday nights. Well the ones who look old enough to go places. And drunk teenagers are messy.” Adore groans, leaning back in her chair and playing with her long black hair. “They throw up everywhere and get into fights. I’ve even watched teenage boys try and climb up on stage with singers, man. It’s too whack for me.”

“I know but…I don’t know how much you know about Indie week but no one comes here. They go down town to Filthies instead 'cause that’s where the talents at. If I have entertainment this year then more people will come. I already have 2 other guys, but not as good as you. You are one of the best performers I’ve met. You’re the perfect match, Adore.” Dick pleads.

“But the teenagers…” Adore groans.

“Please, Adore. It’ll make my life a bit easier. It’s not just entertainment I gotta get. I need to find other staff too. And that’s hard! Wade quit a few days ago to go to college.” Dick says defensively, pointing to the door as if to make a point.

“No way! Wade the bouncer?? He was my homey!” Adore says jabbing a finger into the table. “The betrayal!”

Dick’s eyebrows knit together. “No that’s Jerry. Wade’s the bartender.”

Adore’s mouths an 'oh’ while sighing with relief.

“Well you’d be surprised by how many people who have experience with bartending, Mr. Dick.” I add, stifling a laugh at his name. God, am I 12? “Sorry.”

“It’s OK. Also, it’s just Dick.” He also laughs. “Well, know anyone who’d be interested?”

“Maybe you should join us, Court’.” Adore suggests leaning an elbow on the wooden table and looking directly at me. “You bartended briefly in college, right?”

I don’t even have a chance to answer before Dick’s hand falls on mine. “Yes. I need staff. Please.”

“I don’t know if I can. I also work at the station.” I reply with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, but you only work there for like 10 minutes a day or something like that.” Adore smirks.

“Courtney, please. You’ll be paid well. And it’s only for a week.” Dick asks again.

“Yeah, Court’.” Adore agrees, her hand falling on my free one. My eyes bolt to her now as she looks at me with puppy dog eyes. “We’ll get to spend more time together and who doesn’t want that?”

I sigh out, thinking of my decision, while Adore just strokes her thumb over the back of my hand.

Maybe I should. It would definitely keep me busier than I usually am at the station considering I only work there for up to 2 hours a day. I wouldn’t have to sit around thinking about Alyssa or Willam. No room for feeling sorry for myself when I have to focus. And besides, it was only for a week. And I would be doing it with a close friend.

“OK, I’ll do it.” I say beaming a smile to Adore and then to Dick.

“Fuck yes!” Adore exclaims, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to her. “We are gonna have the best week, bitch.”

Dick just laughs as I look to him for help while Adore smothers me. But hey, who knew being squeezed to death could feel so nice.

Holy shit, that didn’t sound right.