#its odd that he makes such a big appearance in what is supposed to be a book about circe

[ladysophiebeckett]

begging people to stop recommending madeline miller's circe to ppl who like the odyssey. like at this point, it sounds like ur tricking them.

[reignpage]

His Loss, Their Gain

Synopsis: in which you get stood up and the jjk men are more than ready to step up for you (pre-relationship) Warnings: a little cursing, vaguely sexual language or allusions, a little angsty, but mostly fluff, crack and comfort, one-sided pining perchance, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Word Count: 3.6k

Gojo

He heard all about your date from Shoko when he took a student to her dark, miserable corner to get all fixed up that morning. To say he was peeved was a massive understatement. In fact, the man had been muttering ‘ooh y/n’s got a date with some non-sorcerer ooh good for her’ under his breath pretty much the entire day. 

The students are both amused and irritated by his constant yammering. 

“I go on loads of date!” He grumbled, flicking a leaf as he leans against a tree, watching the kids spar. “What’s the big deal?”

At lunch, he strolled into the teacher’s lounge and whistled some tune. As always, you were sat by the window enjoying a bento box that made his mouth water — man, what would it be like to enjoy a meal made by you.

Casually, he mused, “I heard through the grapevine, you’ve got a hot date tonight.”

You threw him an unimpressed glower. 

“Who the hell told you about that?”

Satoru shrugged. “Oh, y’know, just the grapevine. So, what’s he like?”

Nonchalant as he may have seemed, he had enough self-awareness to know that he was pretty bothered by how spruced up you’ve gotten for this guy, whoever he is. God, did you have to make your hair all pretty like that? And oh hell, is that a new perfume? 

You didn’t entertain his game, choosing to ignore his thinly veiled attempt to pry, and chose simply to poke his side, tickling him away from the path to the exit he was blocking. The white-haired man rolled his eyes, desperate to quell the smile twitching at the corner of his lips. 

That one interaction, that fleeting touch he never blocked out and that momentary glimpse at your shy smile, smothered the complaints that had been festering inside since he visited Shoko. You looked anxious, embarrassed, but more than anything, excited. Happy.

He was quiet the rest of the day. 

The students didn’t know what to make of his sudden shift in mood; he was contemplative, focused and serious. None of them complained, after all they were finally learning a thing or two but it was an odd sight, him without a smile on his face.

When the sun was lowering, and the students had all headed home, Satoru leisurely exited the school feeling, for reasons he wasn’t ready to acknowledge, more tired than usual. But then he saw you, standing at the gates staring at your phone. Checking his own, he frowned.

You were supposed to be long gone by now. 

When he appeared right beside you, you weren’t the least bit taken aback by his sudden voice. 

“Ugly loser not coming?”

Muttering, you weakly replied, “You’ve never met him. How can you possibly know he’s ugly?”

Satoru threw back a retort that you didn’t respond to. He sighed. With his hands tucked into this pockets, he nudged you. “Alright, stop pouting, let’s go get dinner. I���m starving. God, being a teacher really takes its toll on the body.”

“You barely do anything.” 

Despite yourself, you smiled. 

So did he. 

“Yeah, well, I’m still hungry anyways. So, let’s get going. Your treat.”

And despite his incredibly annoying, pretentious tone, you found yourself walking away from the school, the dwindling warmth of the sun setting behind you, with Satoru. He tried to hide his self-satisfied grin and the slight pep in his steps, and especially the peak under his blindfold at the two shadows you cast. 

For as long as other men sucked, he knew he still had a chance.

Geto

“Got plans?” 

You gave him a side glance, pulling your panties back up your legs. That arrangement of yours was complicated, to say the least. An on and off thing, neither of you could really keep your hands off each other, and all while staying as friends. Of course, the being friends part was easy — he’s fun and you’re sweet. But the staying as friends, and just as friends, was oh so difficult. 

Clearing your throat, you took the bra he was dangling from his finger with a brow raised. And you said, “Yeah. Kinda. Some guy asked me out so we’re gonna get some dinner or something.”

“Sounds exhilarating,” he mused. 

He was always like that — judgemental, mocking, and irresistible. Desperate to not be that weak, pathetic girl, you’d force yourself to move on, to see what else was out there because that thing you had with him?

It was unsustainable. 

With a sigh, you shrugged on your shirt. “Suguru, don’t.”

He chuckled and raised his arms up in surrender. And then you turned to leave but you didn’t get every far, how could you when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to his chest? You were breathless when he brushed your hair back, skimming his lips down the curve of your neck to plant a soft, barely there kiss on your shoulder. 

“Have fun.”

And then you were off. 

Leaving a long-haired man alone and frowning. Truthfully, he was itching to keep you there, to distract you with some more pleasure or a movie, but he knew that wasn’t fair. The unspoken part about the type of arrangement you two was that no one could get jealous or lay some moronic wolfy-claim on the other. 

He focused his attention instead on showering, washing away the remnants of you and even tried to wash away the idea of someone else taking you away. If this date of yours worked out, then that would effectively end your special relationship, devolving back to just ‘friends’. 

How pathetic.

No, that wasn’t the most pathetic thing about the entire ordeal. What was truly more pathetic was that he was sat, in his car, outside your place, waiting for that light in your bedroom to go and for you to leave. 

You didn’t. 

Geto groaned and threw his head back. Relieved as he was that you weren’t with some other prick, he couldn’t shake off that discomfort in his chest at the thought of you being disappointed, embarrassed or anywhere close to sad. He sent a quick text to you. Come out, he said. 

Your reply was, I’m not in the mood for sex.

Good. Neither am I.

'...' danced on the screen for a solid minute or two and he thought you were coming up with colourful ways of telling him to disappear, like 'walk off a cliff' or the classic 'fuck off', but you didn’t. Instead, he got a thumbs up and he sighed. 

Guess neither of you were willing to give up the game after all. 

Choso

He heard it from his brother. 

Who heard it from Megumi and he in turn heard it from Nobara. And the details might have differed somewhat as the information got passed along, like the time and place and with whom, but one thing remained consistent. 

You have a date. 

And man, was Choso distraught. At first, he was speechless, eyes blinking and jaw hanging. Then, he was making odd noises like steam was coming out of his ears. No one knew what to do, no one had ever taught them what the procedure was when a half-curse, half-man suffered from a nervous breakdown.

Eventually, he regained enough life to splutter, “WHAT?”

He fainted.

When he awoke, laid down on a bench, he was very surprised to find you looming over him. You looked beautiful. Positively stunning, and he was certainly stunned. He had a terrible dream, one that left him trembling, but your laughter stilled his shaking hands. 

“Choso, did you actually pass out? That’s so crazy.” 

The man couldn’t even blush. He was just so happy you were there, with him, talking and laughing, and he could pretend nothing was wrong in the world. Because, if you could smile at him with so much warmth and light and familiarity, there didn’t seem a plausible way for things to be wrong.

Pushing himself upright, he said, sheepishly, “Yeah, I think so. Um, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, y’know, just stopping by to check up on you –”

“That’s really nice of—”

“Before I head off to meet my date!”

"...what.”

You blinked at him. “I have a date. Surprised you didn’t know since the kids have been bothering me about it all day. Well, anyways, happy to see you figuratively back on your feet. Gotta get going now. Bye!”

And then you were gone, completely oblivious to the twitching of Choso’s eye and the way his pigtails quite literally deflated. 

There was a pout on his face the rest of the day. 

Only on his way back home did that pout disappear because, there, at the end of the street, was you. Only you could look that pretty when miserable. Oh, he was so happy to see you! 

Sure, you looked upset, and you were kicking a streetlamp, but he wasn’t the least bit discouraged from skipping over to you, pigtails swinging and a big, wide grin on his face. He shouted your name. You looked up, still mad, but brows relaxing ever so slightly. 

“Oh, hey, Cho. What’s up?”

“Nothing! Just heading home. What about you?”

You shrugged. “Well, I was supposed to be on a date, but he never showed up. Didn’t even text me so I guess I’m gonna head home too.”

“Oh, no. That’s terrible.”

The amused look on your face clearly conveyed your disbelief. Choso was many things, a great man, loving brother, fun friend. But a convincing liar? He was not. 

“Well,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “do you wanna just be with me? I mean! Do you want to spend some time with me? Hang out?”

You shrugged again, this time with a smile. And the both of you began walking side by side with no particular destination. He didn’t talk much, just wandered the streets with you. The sun, or at least what remained of it, was warm and the roads were empty. Neither of you could think of a better thing to do than just exist. 

Together.

Toji

“Whatd’ya just say?”

He was staring at his kid, the little boy peering back at him with a look of pure innocence. The father, holding a spoon up to his lips, was pissed the hell off. Immediately, he was calling you, still feeding the baby. Your nonchalant voice on the phone made him even more irritated. 

“Ya going on a date? Whatd’ya mean ‘none of y’r business? ‘Course it’s my business. Mother of my son prancing around with some other guy ain’t a good look on me, is it? Oh, yeah yeah, the divorce didn’t look good on you either, whatever. So? Is it true? Oh, hell. Can I use my veto? Whatd’ya mean I don't get a veto? What kinda bullshit is that?”

The little boy blabbered, rubbing salt in the man’s wound, as he reminded him his diaper needed changing, immediately, and he had blueberry compote all over his face and clothes. How the hell did the kid manage to get food on the window?

You didn't sound impressed at all, but that was always how you talked to him. And the conversation wasn't going anywhere, much to Toji's frustration. Why did he have to find out from a toddler?

Call ending soon after that, the two boys decided to make the most of their day together. 

Sat on his lap, they watched a football game on the TV. Of course, his son wasn’t really paying attention, he was far more interested in the rattling toy in his hand, and in all honesty, neither was Toji. He just kept thinking about the fact that you should be there, with them, cuddled up to his side. Not with some fucking loser. You should be home, comfortable, looking pretty for him and with a ring still on your finger, the way his ring remained on his. 

But who was he to say shit?

It was his damn fault to begin with that you were living apart. If only he had cut back on the bad habits and the dangerous jobs. Regret was a damned thing, like a coin dropped in a well and never hearing it drop. 

And then searching for another coin so you could wish to get back the fucking coin you should have never dropped to begin with ‘cause you weren’t a fucking pussy. 

Ah fuck it. 

“Wanna go piss off y’r mum?”

The kid grinned. 

And so there the two were, showing up at the door, both with shit-eating grins contrasting your stern glower. You were in a dress, a very sexy dress and Toji wasn’t shy about letting his eyes wander, and you weren’t shy about the finger you showed him. 

“Are you kidding, Fushiguro?”

“Kid couldn’t stop asking for ya, so just wanted to let him get a peek before you go off on y’r fancy date,” he replied. 

You let them in and with embarrassment lacing your words, you admitted, “Well, date’s cancelled. So, good timing.”

Grin widening, he assured you, “Ah the bastard doesn’t know what he missed out on.”

And soon, you two fell into old routines. You cooked dinner whilst Toji set the table, kid on his back. The conversation shifted from anything and everything and nothing. And after, he cleaned up as you put the baby to sleep. He followed soon after, looping an arm over your shoulder.

“We did good with him, didn’t we?”

When life was that easy, that simple, and good, one was left wondering where did it all go wrong? When did you, or him, or both start wanting more? Or was it the case that things just didn’t work out? Was there still a chance? Should there be? And for whose sake?

Guess none of that mattered. Whether that piece of paper was still there or not, the core of your relationship would never change. Not really.

“Yeah. We did.”

Nanami

There you were, a vision in your suit, sitting at your desk, the way you did every day. He loved his seat; he had the best view of the entire office. Kento especially loved that, for you to get to the water cooler, you had to walk past him, and every single time you did, you’d always stop by, asking how his day was going and whether he’d like his water bottle filling up. 

Of course, he declined your very kind offer, but only so he could walk to the water cooler with you, and for the five minutes you two had, you’d chat about all sorts of things – he was more of a listener than a talker, but you never seemed to mind. 

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you were the one good thing about this office, and he certainly looked forward to every little interaction with you. 

Until one such interaction became his worst nightmare: you had a date. Oh, and how casually you brought that up to him, as if the fluttery atmosphere between you was a figment of his imagination and the way you gushed about this other man certainly left no doubt in his mind. 

You did not like him the way he liked you. 

That was all he could think about the rest of the day. Even as he wrote up a progress report, attended a client meeting, ate his lunch with the interns he was in charge of, and even when he went to the bathroom to splash cold water on, what he was only then realising to be, a very pale face. Kento must be coming down with something. 

For the first time ever, when you got up from your desk and strolled over to his, heels clacking, and asked if he’d like his bottle filling up, he declined. It came out faster than he could process and the shock evident in both of your faces was like a crack in his glasses. 

Oh, dear. 

You were silent until the end of the day. He didn’t walk out with you, didn’t even get to say goodbye and ‘see you tomorrow’, and he had never been more miserable in his entire life. 

With a heavy sigh, he walked out of the office an hour or so later than everyone else and pulled on his tie. A nice warm bath was all he could think about, at least until he spotted you, waiting on the side of the road. You were restless, shuffling on your feet and checking your watch every couple seconds. Being of above average intelligence might not have meant he was a genius but it sure did mean he was smart enough to figure out what had happened. 

That bastard. 

“Would you like to have a drink or two with me? There are some things I’d like to talk to you about,” he said. Perhaps he shouldn’t have walked up so quietly but it was a habit of his. In that moment, as his pulse was beginning to speed up, all he could think about was how creepy he sounded – he certainly wouldn’t blame you if you ran to HR. 

“What things?” You asked. 

He smiled, a desperately casual smile to show he was sorry for his cold display. “Well, for one, I’d like to make my case clear; I’d never leave you waiting for me on a date.”

And he never did.

Sukuna

“Repeat that for me. Slow.”

You bit your lip, not at all surprised by his reaction. The King of Curses wasn’t known for his calm disposition, in fact, he was known for exactly the opposite. Still, he was nice to you, an ordinary servant in his grand estate doing this and that. One could not put a finger to exactly when this...friendship, should we say... developed but it was one you so terribly cherished. 

Working at the estate of a mass murdering, sadistic monster – your family’s words, not yours – meant you didn’t maintain many friendships. So, to have one with him felt like standing in the eye of the storm, even if that storm was always so fickle and the eye kept moving. 

“I’m. Going. On. A. Date,” you recited, enunciating every syllable loud and clear. When he gave an instruction, you’d found it was always best to be quite literal, lest he tired of your mortal limitations. 

“No.”

Blink. 

Blink. 

Adjusting your robes, you clarified, “No? Sorry, my Lord, but whatever do you mean by ‘no?’”

The tall, hulking man, or rather curse, walked on, his long legs taking him so far within seconds you had to run to catch up. He loved doing that. He thought it funny, you supposed. “Just that. No.”

“But, my Lord, I don’t think you can really interfere with my personal life.”

He stopped. 

You bumped into his back, the smell of sweet death and gentle fire filling your senses. And when he turned, looking down at you with all those eyes, one of his hands gripped your jaw, pulling you upwards and much closer to his face than ever before. 

“Can’t I?”

Then he was gone. 

You didn’t see him the rest of the day. Neither did any of the servants. Perhaps he was mad at you, after all you had no business, and no authority at that, to tell him what he could or couldn’t do. You got complacent, too confident and cocky. You overestimated the depth of your friendship and the limits of his patience. It would be a surprise to no one if you were found dead before dusk. 

There were no texts from your date. Not a single one. Not even after you texted to ask if you were still on for night. And when every call when to voicemail, you were so sure you had been ghosted before you could even meet the guy. Sukuna was right. 

Men were no good.

Living at the estate had its perks: no commute, easy access to your necessities lest you forgot something essential, and the walk over to your quarters was magnificent. The well-kept garden was beautiful and that was really as far as your feeble mind could go in terms of putting into words the glorious sight you saw every morning and night. 

But that evening had been different. 

Your master was there, in his robes, bottom set of arms tucked into the sleeves whilst the top set were crossed. He looked just as regal as he always did, and the sight made your heart clench. One secret you’d take the grave would be that the friendship you so sincerely cherished was one you also sincerely resented; to be a teased with all that you could have but would never get was a torturous pain you wouldn't wish on your worst enemies.

“My Lord, may I help you?”

He beckoned you over. When his hand reached for your head, you were sure it was to slice it clean off, but instead he picked at a fluff and flicked it away with so much disgust, revulsion, and abhorrence you couldn’t help but laugh. 

Something flashed in his eyes. And then his features softened. 

“You did not go on your date?”

You couldn’t even pretend to be sad. “No, he never replied so I guess he lost interest.”

He hummed.

The two of you began strolling again, just as you did most days, sometimes even multiple times a day when he was feeling especially irritable. The tone of his voice held a certain sharpness you couldn’t quite place and when he met your gaze, the soft glow of the lanterns making him look gentler, much more human, more...attainable, you finally spotted a speckle of what you knew to be blood, having cleaned it off the floors and walls yourself too many times. 

And your imagination ran wild, a frenzy of butterflies appearing in your stomach. 

Sukuna really was too sweet for your own good.

[writingoddess1125]

Window Visit

Masterlist <<

>> Kofi cause I'm Poor

Kurt Wagner x GN Reader

Fluffy Fluff Ass Fluff!

Soft snores filled your small one bedroom apartment, you having had a rather long day had been dead to the world- Drool staining your pillow as you were off in the land of fluffy clouds.

Tap Tap...

Why were the clouds making a tapping noise?

Tap Tap Tap..

The Fuc-

Tap Tap Tap Tap!

You wake up from your odd dream with a start, looking around confused as you hear the tapping sound once again. Looking to your window as you just saw- Darkness? Turning on your light quickly you almost give a soft shriek as you see Kurt, AKA The Amazing Nightcrawler and your dear friend on your window seal waving at you with a clearly busted face and cheeky smile.

"Oh my God Kurt!" You rush over falling from your bed and to the floor to the window and slide it open quickly, pulling the blue man inside as he holds his side and chuckles.

"Surprise!" He says far too cheerfully for your taste.

"Why didn't you just teleport inside!? Youre injured!" You hiss at him still a bit asleep as you look over him a bit frantically, luckily you saw only a few scraps and probably some bruising however nothing seemed to serious off first glance.

"Its Rude to just appear in someone's home Schatz" He said with a chuckle before wincing softly, You shaking your head at his antics.

"Think anything is broken or are you just bruised?" You ask, Kurt gives a soft shrug. "Bruised mostly, a few nice cuts. Nothing too bad"

You nod, leading him towards the bathroom.

"Best to get you washed up first, then I can get you bandaged up" You say, Kurt nodding as he followed you, watching you grab some stuff for him.

"Come on, Pop the top" You say as you wave your hand for his shirt, he chuckles and peels it off and hands it to you, being mindful of his injuries. You exchanging it for a fluffy towel, spare toothbrush and a wash cloth.

"Wanting to stare?" He teased as he gestured to his naked torso, You rolling your eyes and giving a fake purr at him.

"Of course Blue~ Now. Freshen Up, You smell" You say sticking your tongue out at him which made Kurt laugh and wave you away. You taking his top with you and close the bathroom door behind you, chucking his shirt in the wash as you hear some water running.

Kurt sighs as he looks around your space- Seeing the different products you kept and such before jumping in the shower to get cleaned up.

He spent a good 20 minutes in the shower, which allowed you time to grab some extra blankets and pillows to toss on your bed. Making sure to also lock the window. When the water shut off you walked back over and knocked, The door swinging open as Kurt stood with the towel around his waist brushing his teeth.

"Vo 'ou 'always ha'e 'xtra tuu'th 'rushes?" (Do you always have extra tooth brushes?) He asked taking time to get his fangs and spitting-

"Yes your suppose to get a new one ever 3 months blue-" His brows raised at this in surprise as he set the brush down.

"3 Monate?!" He exclaimed as you nod.

"Come on, sit on the throne, it will be easier to get you bandaged anyway" You say as you walk into your bathroom turning on the warm water and grab the med kit under the sink, Kurt chuckles as he takes a seat on the closed toilet while keeping the towel around his waist tighter to keep modest, you beginning to take a warm rag to any noticeable cuts, making the man hiss in pain.

"Big Baby- Now why aren't you at Xavier's were Doc Mccoy can give you some proper medical care" You question, cleaning a would would some rubbing alcohol as you placed a large bandage across it.

"Ah Meine bessere Hälfte, you make it sound like you don't want me vere" He said with a cheeky smile, You giving him a playful glare as you began to wrap his torso in a thick bandage.

"You know that's not what I meant Fuzzy-"

"Nein, I was on the way back and we flew near by your place. Decided to stop by and visit" He admitted, while you wanted to be mad at him for doing something like that you couldn't. Instead going and placing some bandages on his face after wiping the blood clean.

"Well- Next time just teleport in, Id hate for you to catch a cold trying to visit" You say, shooting him a smile as you wrap up his fingers last- seeing a few cuts on them most likely from the handle of his sword.

"And All done! There!" You beam a smile at him which he returns, wiggling his three fingers at you.

"Danke"

You slide the med kit back and clean up the bits of trash from the counter. Kurt rolling up with a sigh as he followed you out still in his towel as he saw you chuck his pants into the wash having grabbed them from the floor on your way out.

"Uhh Engel my-" He gestured to his clothes in the wash.

"Ill give you something to wear, besides its late anyway- Just spend the night" You call out from your room, the sound of shuffling going on as Kurt turned to your tiny apartment couch.

"Ah Do you want me on the Couc-"

He was cut off as a pair of your shorts hit his face, Him pulling it off with his tail as he glanced in your direction. Seeing you already climbing in bed as you pat the space next to you.

"Get in the Bed Fuzzy-"

You call out, Kurt seeming to freeze for a moment before smiling- Stepping just out of your view to slip into the shorts before teleporting himself next to your bed.

"Goodnight Engel" Kurt said softly, his tail wrapping around your waist as you yawn closing your eyes and letting sleep reclaim you, a smile now on your lips.

Kurt slowly sliding into your bed as he gave a loud groan- clearly his body exhausted from his mission and a soft bed was more then welcome, Pulling the blankets over both of you as you cuddle into the Blue man, he hesitates but only for a second as he wraps his arms around you with a content sigh.

"Goodnight Blue"

[thekitsunesiren]

Dc x DP #50: Accidentally Kidnapping a (ex) Crime Lord

(I've seen that reverse trope list, so I just had to do it. I might do more in the future. But for now, here's accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss in dc x dp format) Jason awoke with a low groan, slowly lifting his head as his eyes blinked to take in his location.

It had happened so quick. So quick that he couldn't even blink.

There was word going around Crime Alley of a new stray making their way around. Which wasn't new given that it's Crime Alley and Gotham altogether, but there was definitely something wrong with the kid.

Apparently everyone who met him got some odd vibe. Like there was something wrong with him. Many said that he was a meta on the run, but there were others that didn't believe that.

And when Jason found out he was in Crime Alley, it was like something cold walked through him. Like someone was walking over his grave. Figuratively and literally. Something bigger than him was in his territory. Something dangerous. And every bit of him said that it was the new kid.

So Jason set out to look for him. He wasn't going to let the others find out about this, not when it was on his turg. And perhaps if he could figure out what he was, perhaps ask why he calmed the pits in such a way.

He looked into the kid, a Daniel "Danny" Nightingale from the looks of it, and that he was only sixteen. No talk about any parents, but there was word of an older sister, Jasmine Nightingale, that was going to Gotham University to study psychology. But other than that? Nothing. Zilch. As if the two appeared out of nowhere. LIke ghosts.

So, Jason took to tracking him physically. Trying to figure out where he went and if he met with anyone in particular that might raise suspicion. Whether it be some other thugs or a some gang of some sort. But he had no such luck. Not because he wasn't meeting anyone, it was he always lost him. Every corner he turned, he was always gone when Jason walked around to follow him. It was like the kid was a ghost. Did he know that he was being followed?

It was late one night when Jason caught sight of Danny on his own, walking down the street with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Thinking that he was either going to meet someone or head home, he decided to trail him and see if he could finally fill another piece of this puzzle that was Nightingale.

Jason was right on his heels as he turned the corner leading to another street, ready to confront him. But once again, Nightingale was gone.

And before he could even curse or question as to where he could've gone so quickly, a heavy thunk was heard as something heavy hit the back of Jason's head. The last thing he saw before losing unconsciousness was a pair of worn sneakers as as the attacker approached him.

Which lead him to here: tied up in a worn down apartment. Nightingale standing across from him in what he supposed was a threatening manner. A baseball bat with a faded glowing green sticker on its base. Jason could make out the word 'Fenton' on it and made sure to look up that name later once he was out of this mess. But for now, he had to deal with NIghtingale.

Jason turned his attention to him, but with his helmet on he doubted Nightingale could tell whether his gaze shifted to his chosen weapon or not. But the slightest movement was enough to tell Nightingale that Jason was indeed awake from his unconscious state.

But before Jason could speak or make any comment about the situation, Nightingale beat him to it.

"What do you want with me?" He asked bluntly. It was one question that Jason wasn't expecting, so he stared at Nightingale confused.

"What?" Came the robotic reply of his voice filter. Apparently that wasn't the right answer as Nightingale let out a frustrated huff and waved his bat towards him.

"What do you want with me? You've been following me for some time and it's getting annoying? What are you? A thug? A goon? Or are you another rogue trying to make it big. Gotta say; not a good start just by stalking someone if you were."

His words had shocked Jason to his core for various reasons. One: he didn't know who Jason was. Two: apparently he was skilled in knowing when he was followed and Jason couldn't tell. And three: HE DIDN'T KNOW WHO JASON WAS!

Jason let out a dry laugh as he realized that he was serious about his questions. Nightingale has been here for months at least. So how did he not know about the notorious Red Hood? His reputation usually brought fear to those. It was strange for someone in Gotham not to know about him.

"Do you seriously not know who I am?" Jason asked, his eyebrow raised in a question even though his hood covered it, he was sure that Nightingale understood his confusion. His blue eyes shining in confusion as he tilted his head.

"No? Are you a rogue already? Ancients, they keep popping up every week." He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. And while Jason could agree to the sentiment, he needed to get to the bottom of Nightingale and what he was doing here. And whether or not he was a threat to Gotham, or at least Crime Alley.

"I wouldn't call myself a rogue. Not anymore at least. The name's Red Hood, kid." Jason answered gruffly, eyes still focused on Nightingale as he waited for his reaction.

Nightingale titled his head at the name. Recognition flashing his eyes as he heard it.

"Red Hood? But isn't that guy that runs crime alley? Why would that-"

His eyes widened in dawning horror, his already pale skin seeming to get paler as he came to a realization as he stared at Jason. More specifically, his hood.

Jason expected some panic. That perhaps Nightingale might even try to knock him out again or hightail it out of his apartment. But instead he just continued to stare at Jason in ever growing horror as he whispered,

"Oh Ancients, I just kidnapped a crime lord." Now, there was a lot that Jason wanted to unpack from this interaction, but for some reason the first thing that came out his mouth was-

"It's ex crime lord."

[ckret2]

The second dimension has burned (along with half the neighbors) and now there's a bunch of survivors stranded in Dimension Zero; which means the gods have to talk Bill into letting them leave.

Which should be easy, right? They're a bunch of gods and he's just one puny little mortal. Look how small he is.

Puny little mortal. 👍

Here have a fic.

This is part 6 of an ???8-ish??? part plot about the Axolotl meeting this friendly harmless innocent little triangle in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre and then getting repeatedly slapped in the face with all the atrocities Bill's committed. If you want to read and/or look at the pretty art on the other parts, here's one, two, three, four, and five.

####

It hadn't taken long for VENDOR to make preparations to receive another ten million-odd sentient refugees; but then, the Axolotl supposed it wouldn't, considering that THEY could pop out a planet capable of supporting quadrillions at the snap of a finger. (Somebody else's finger, presumably, since vending machines didn't have any.) The most time-consuming part had been determining which gods would be responsible for the refugee shapes currently stranded in Dimension Zero once they were rescued—for speaking for them, for finding out what they ate and supplying it, for finding new suitable 2D and 1D homes for them in dimensions with compatible laws of physics and chemistry. The Axolotl doubted the shapes themselves had been consulted on who they'd like to speak for them.

And then, THEY'd approached the unstable border barely holding the miasmic rubble of half a dozen burned universes inside Dimension Zero, and said, "I hope you're ready to come out of there."

And just like that, the barely visible, twinkling yellow light in the center of the dimension appeared at its border, as if he'd always been there.

Behind the triangle, deep in their "dream realm," the shapes that the triangle had kidnapped/rescued from the cosmic flames, living and dying and undying and unliving, were still trapped in their eternal dance party. How many of them were paying attention to the proceedings through their forced dance? Did any of them understand the negotiations the triangle was making on their behalf? 

The Axolotl was sure their "Magister Mentium" wouldn't allow anyone but himself to speak for the shapes, but VENDOR could find that out the hard way. The Axolotl didn't see any benefit to trying to warn THEM first.

And as expected, the triangle retorted—just as haughtily as VENDOR—"I'm ready to talk. Are you?" The triangle was swirling a drink in a red disposable cup as though he were aerating a fine wine, looking for all the world like he'd been waiting there for hours and VENDOR was the one late to an important meeting.

VENDOR grumbled something that the Axolotl didn't catch besides the word "attitude," and then said, with a diplomatic air that just edged into patronizing, "Well, as long as we're making progress. Come here, let's get started."

"Hmm... nah," the triangle said. "Howsabout you come over here."

VENDOR stared, THEIR camera whirring as its focus narrowed in on the triangle.  "Excuse me? You expect me to get closer to that thing?" (The Axolotl assumed THEY meant the entirety of Dimension Zero.) "Absolutely not. You're already right on the border; just go through it."

The triangle was, indeed, right on the surface of Dimension Zero, like a fleck of glitter stuck on a bubble. He swung back and forth along the dimension's cellophane skin a few times, as though weighing up the thought of peeling himself off of it; and then shrugged, lounged back against the barrier, and sipped his drink. "Naaah, don't feel like it. You come to me! Get cozy! It'll be intimate!" The triangle purred unseductively, "C'mere, big boy, lemme whisper in your... whaddaya got, microphones? An intercom? What are you, some kind of office building?"

"Of all the—! I'm a vending machine!"

"Wooow, really? You're yanking my chain!" He drew a ghostly blue chain out from the esophagus under his eye like a clown pulling a trail of handkerchiefs out of his sleeve.

"It says 'Vendor' on my face!"

"Really? I figured 'Vendor' was the name of the company renting you!"

VENDOR gasped. "You think a god can be rented—?!"

While THEY tried to find adequate words to express THEIR outrage, the triangle's chain disappeared and he squinted at the silver continent-sized logo listing VENDOR's name. "I don't know how you expect anyone to read that anyway; it's all one color," he said. "Well, they make 'em large where you're from! But okay, vending machine, get over here and lemme whisper in your coin slot."

"No!"

"Hey, big as you are, narrow as I am, I bet I could slide right in without even touching the sides!"

VENDOR shuddered hard enough to set off earthquakes on several of THEIR planets. "Is this how you speak to all your gods, mortal?" The two cops at THEIR back bristled menacingly—the crablike cop with two mushrooms for eyes clacking his claws, and the cop made of two interlocked flaming wheels spinning faster and burning higher. 

"Whoa, since when are you one of 'my' gods!" Smugly, the triangle said, "I thought I heard I'm in Lady Morgenstern's district."

Before they could come to blows without ever starting the discussion, the Axolotl called over to VENDOR, "He can't come closer. He's the only one able to keep his dimension from collapsing back into a singularity on the refugees—he has to stay in there in case emergency maintenance is needed."

"Ugh," VENDOR said. "Nevermind, stay where you are then."

With a singsong lilt to his voice, the triangle said, "If you insii-iist!" He settled back against his bubble and took a long, slow sip from his drink.

The Axolotl hated to admit it, but in spite of it all—the horror, the massacres, the cult recruitment, the dancing corpse puppets—he was starting to really like that triangle.

Along with VENDOR and THEIR unofficial police escorts—both of whom seemed content to do nothing but lurk behind THEM and look imposing—several of the gods involved with helping the refugees had assembled to observe the negotiation with the triangle. The storm cloud currently in charge of the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force's operations—who had less to do now that most of the cosmic fires were under control—was drizzling over several other apoc agents, and the tornado in which it carried its personal effects twisted back and forth in a figure 8 beneath the cloud, as though it were pacing in place. At some point, the barricade keeping the reporters from getting too close to the scene had been breached, and now dozens of them—messenger gods, gods of wisdom, gods of truth, twin-headed deities of secrets and revelations—circled the scene with enormous eyes and sharp ears and pens and recorders and cameras.

Until it burned down, the Axolotl had always called Dimension 2 Delta a "wall," because that was always how he was oriented to it during his daily commute—flying home with the dimension to his side—and the now-bloated Dimension Zero where the wall used to be was oriented the same way; but up and down and left and right were arbitrary directions in space when you could just rotate and change them. VENDOR and THEIR accompanying gods had reoriented themselves in relation to Dimension Zero so that it was like a floor rather than a wall—so that they were looking down on the triangle, and forcing him to look up at them.

Even the Axolotl had unconsciously reoriented himself so that he matched the other gods. He couldn't pretend he had any business in this discussion as anything but an uninvited witness; he'd been flying in nervous circles around the group, only just barely within the perimeter established by the reporters, gazing down into Dimension Zero as he did. Even though the triangle was staring straight at VENDOR, his slitted eye felt like one of those trick paintings that gave off the impression that, no matter where the Axolotl was, it was looking directly at him.

He ended up circling near the Time Giant, who was also avoiding the conversation as she worked on her official report on what she'd found in Dimension Zero. As he passed, she absentmindedly patted his head between his frills. Her glove was coated in grease, heavy metals shavings, and stardust.

The triangle said, "So pitch me your big evacuation plan."

"You don't need to worry about the details; it's our responsibility to handle the situation, not a mortal's."

"Humor me," the triangle commanded.

VENDOR valiantly bit back the urge to say something else snide. "Fine. It's a simple process, at least for you. First: you'll all be temporarily relocated to a safe world, where you'll be taken care of. Somewhere... suited to your species's anatomy, as best as we can manage on such short notice." As THEY spoke, THEY began idly flipping through THEIR worlds, juggling them between THEIR coils, apparently mentally measuring up the triangle before THEM against THEIR available selection. The Axolotl had seen THEM do that earlier. A nervous habit, he supposed. The god from the urban planning committee deciding where a few more residents could be moved.

A few of the partiers far below the triangle had apparently noticed the conversation, and had broken off from the party to fly a little closer to the barrier, eavesdropping on the discussion. There was a quiet flurry of excitement at the suggestion they might be getting a planet. (They had so little in there, didn't they?)

"Second: we clean out the rubble that fell beneath the multiverse and ensure everything is stabilized again. Third: we set off Big Bangs to put up new 1D pillars and 2D walls where the old ones used to be, and repair all the standing walls and pillars that were damaged in the fires. We'll likely recycle much of the rubble into the new dimensions. There, that's nice, isn't it? Your new dimension could be made out of what's left of your old one." THEY talked like an adult who didn't like kids trying to persuade a child that this new toy was just as good as one that had been accidentally thrown away.

As VENDOR spoke, the triangle slid off his tall black hat and held it in his hands, looking down at it. No, the Axolotl realized, not at it—into it. He was looking at his speck. The little pearl that contained the scant remains of his universe.

"Fourth: all the refugees are returned to their native dimensions or their replacements."

The grip on the brim of his hat tightened. The triangle looked up sharply.

A few of the shapes who'd broken off from the dance party to eavesdrop looked dubious of this news—the Axolotl noted the line that the triangle had been dancing with earlier among them—but the vast majority looked ecstatic. One of them—a nearly square blue rhombus—rushed back to spread the news to the rest of the party.

But he stopped without reaching them when the triangle demanded, "You think you're going to split us up?"

"Of course! You can't possibly be placed together long term—you're all from so many different dimensions that your molecules probably don't even operate on the same laws of physics." VENDOR pointedly added, "Besides, I know some gods are very eager to have their people returned to them." The Vitruvian Mandala must have talked to THEM about how the triangle got his new followers. (How many of the listening shapes were eager to return to their gods?)

The triangle stared at VENDOR, eye wide and expression unreadable; but for a split second, an inferno of absolute fury raged behind that blank white sclera. "What about me, genius? You don't have a god to foist me off on."

"No, I suppose not," VENDOR sighed. "Naturally, as the last surviving soul from your dimension, you'll be afforded a few more special protections than the others." (The triangle didn't protest the accusation that he was the last.) "Eventually, you'll have the option to move into an afterlife in whatever replaces Dimension 2 Delta, but until then, you'll have to be housed elsewhere, just like the other refugees. Did you have diplomatic relations with any of the neighboring dimensions?"

He said tersely, "No."

(Then that settled the question for good, the Axolotl thought: none of the other shapes came from his home dimension; and he really hadn't known the shapes he'd kidnapped from other universes and called "his" people.)

"Of course not. That will complicate finding another dimension to move you to, but I'm sure he'll help you with that part."

VENDOR tilted in the Axolotl's general direction. Terrific, THEY'd progressed from accusing him of being a stranger's lawyer to volunteering his services.

"Of course, you should expect to be judged and sentenced by the standards of whatever afterlife you join—"

The Axolotl cut in loudly, "I think he'd rather remain a wandering ghost." It was clear the triangle still saw himself as alive. (Maybe, to his species's culture, he was still alive. If the Axolotl had learned anything during his service as a psychopomp, it was that death was as much cultural as it was physical. Most species saw a soul shedding its body as the end, but others saw it the same way as a butterfly shedding a cocoon.)

VENDOR shuddered in distaste. "I can't believe this district still hasn't outlawed letting unruly expired mortals meander around."

Of course THEY were anti-wandering ghosts. The Axolotl didn't know what else he expected. He made a mental note to throw a campaign donation at Municipalitron before the next election. "Yes, it is still legal, and technically isn't illegal on a district-wide level anywhere in the multiverse—wandering ghost legislation is decided at the dimensional level—"

"You can explain his options after he's come out here into civilized space," VENDOR said sourly. "The bottom line is, everyone gets sent home. And that's the plan! All right?" THEY glowered down at the triangle.

With a flick of his wrist, the triangle's hat poofed out of his hand and reappeared above his top angle. "If you want my opinion—"

"There is nothing I have ever wanted less."

"—you're wasting a lot of time creating a worse solution to a problem you invented! Splitting us up, gentrifying our dream realm, forcing us back under gods and locking us up in afterlives? Yikes! We're not refugees, we're liberated—for the first time in our lives! We don't need to be 'sent home'! We're already living in our home!" The triangle put unnecessary emphasis on the word living.

The excitement slowly drained from the eyes of the listening shapes. They looked so tired. How many were already dead? How many wanted to rest in an afterlife?

The triangle said, "Look, I can save you a lot of time on red tape and bureaucracy." He gestured back into Dimension Zero. "Just give us an empty spot outside reality's butthole, we'll pack up our dream realm and fly it there ourselves, and then everything's hunky-dory!"

"Pack your— Fly it—?!" VENDOR scoffed in disbelief. "You must be mad. It would most certainly not be 'hunky-dory'! Your little organic mortal mind can't even grasp how much more difficult, dangerous, and inefficient it would be to relocate and rebuild this wreck instead of simply recycling what's left of it and setting off a new Big Bang. Is it even possible?" THEY'd directed this last question to the Time Giant.

"Hm?" It took her a moment to drag herself from her paperwork and process the question. "Hell, I hope not. It's the worst idea I've ever heard."

"See? I don't even know which district's jurisdiction such a ridiculous project would fall under!"

"So what's the problem?" the triangle asked. "It probably won't be yours! You can foist the paperwork off on some other sucker!" (The Axolotl choked back a laugh.)

"It would circle back around to the urban planning committee eventually," VENDOR said wearily. "We simply don't have room for a—" They turned to the Time Giant again. "How big is this dimension, anyway?"

"'Bout twenty percent bigger than D-2Δ was."

"Oh, what a disaster. Two dimensional?"

"Technically, zero, but it behaves like it has five or six."

"Absolutely barbaric." VENDOR rounded on the triangle. "We don't even have zoning for an oversized zero dimensional property shaped like a six dimensional property! Every last Planck length in the multiverse is already in use; this is a planned community— Are you paying attention?! Don't you roll your eye at me!"

He was indeed rolling his eye as he took a long, slow sip from his red plastic cup. He held up a finger to signal VENDOR to wait until he'd finished. This wasn't doing the triangle any favors, but the Axolotl had the sneaking suspicion he'd decided to ignore VENDOR because VENDOR had started to ignore him.

"Of all the—you're the one who wanted to waste my time finding out how your evacuation will work! You could at least listen!"

VENDOR still thought THEY were giving instructions to a mortal who didn't quite yet fully understand that it was his responsibility to simply obey, and the triangle still thought this was a parley between equals in which he had the option to say no. And, the Axolotl realized, they were both wrong.

A single reality could simultaneously operate on so many vastly different scales. The Axolotl could still hear the triangle saying that he felt every dying thing that fell into Dimension Zero; he could still see the triangle's gaze unfocused from pain and the distraction of holding up a dimension on his back. While a minor local elected official was arguing about zoning law, a mortal was suffering a trillion trillion deaths.

And on a smaller scale even than that, a trillion trillion lives were suffering death—once.

The Axolotl wondered—what justice was there in the fact that the most trivial concerns of gods were infinitely vaster than the worst horror a mortal could ever endure?

(But what justice was there in the fact that one mortal could force so many more to endure the horror with him?)

The triangle finished his drink and sighed, "Yeah, yeah, I'm listening." Like a bored child fidgeting in his seat, the triangle peeled off Dimension Zero's skin and swung backward into his dream realm, so that he was dangling over his eternal party with the soles of his feet still stuck to the bubble. "And all I'm getting out of your yammering is that you want to destroy my dimension because you don't want to deal with a little red tape!" (He stared at the eavesdropping shapes. They flinched and retreated to the party.)

"No," VENDOR said venomously, "I'm saying we can't move the rubble pile you're calling a dimension, because it would require knocking down half of existence to restructure it around your whims."

"Great! Which half do you want me to knock down?"

The Axolotl could faintly hear the click of VENDOR's camera shutter closing and reopening in horror.

The storm cloud had been brooding quietly back with the other apoc agents while VENDOR and the triangle attempted to negotiate, but now it let out a thunderous rumble as it swept like a cold front into the discussion. "Out of the question. The whole point of clearing out the rubble is to prevent any more damage to the surrounding dimensions. We're not going with a plan that causes more apocalypses."

"Oh, for— No one's talking to you, Fog Brain!" The triangle tried to wave the cloud off. "Who do you think you are, the Killjoy God of Stopping Apocalypses?"

The cloud's tornado swerved down to hold its Apocalyptic Threat Task Force badge where the triangle could see. "Yeah, actually."

He gave it a dirty look. "Okay, Officer Fun Police. Here's the deal: me, my people, and my miasma in here are a package deal. I'm not going a-ny-where without them, and they're not going anywhere without me. So if you don't want us knocking the stilts out from under your palafito, then you'd better make an offer better than Coin Slot's little refugee plan!"

"Your people? What gives you the right to speak for them!" The storm's tornado jumped in intensity from F0 to F2, and only grew faster the more it spoke. Through its clouds, the eye of the storm glared down at the triangle. "You mean the people I've watched die all day thanks to your attempts to kidnap them from their own dimensions?!"

The triangle glared right back up into the eye without flinching. "Yeah, and my attempts to rescue them from our world would have a lot better success rate if you incompetent losers didn't keep getting in my way!"

In a startling display of unity, the storm cloud and VENDOR both started shouting at the triangle, one after the other: "Rescued?! The ATTF was already rescuing them! We're professionals! You're the one mucking up all our operations—"

"And you're the only reason these mortals need rescuing! You caused this crisis in the first place; you spread all the fires—"

"—and mangled or cremated half the people you're trying to save—!"

"You're forcing millions of people to float aimlessly in an unstable, barren void! Those mortals belong out here, under divine supervision, on a real world!" VENDOR punctuated this with a rev of THEIR motors and THEIR coils half twisting forward, like THEY were tempted to launch THEIR whole stock of worlds at the triangle in anger. "I am a vending machine full of planets. Any one of these would be better than your colorful cesspit! What are you offering?!"

The triangle was glowing red-hot, trembling with rage. "Everything they were ever told they can't have," he said. "Freedom. Immortality. Utopia!" With a noise like a whip crack, the triangle snapped his arm down (up?) to point at his eternal dance party; and suddenly his eternal party was right there, and he was in the middle of it. "This is what I'm offering! Isn't that right, gang?! We're keeping this party going forever!" A loud roar of voices cheered in response. (It was, the Axolotl thought, nowhere near ten million voices. The shapes that had been eavesdropping earlier had blended back into the crowd. The only one the Axolotl could still see was the blue rhombus, glaring resentfully at the triangle.)

With an impressive synthesized approximation of the sound of speaking through gritted teeth, VENDOR said, "Why would you want to squat in the rubble of half a dozen destroyed dimensions when we could recycle it into a new dimension?!"

In truth, the Axolotl was wondering the same thing. He could understand if the triangle were just trying to maintain his independence from an overbearing god—the triangle clearly liked being in charge—but then why not offer the rubble from Dimension 2 Delta in exchange for the right to rule the new dimension that would be made with it? VENDOR would never agree to that deal—not that THEY even had the authority to agree—but that hadn't stopped the triangle from making even less likely demands. Or why not trade the rubble to the gods in exchange for an equivalently-sized stable universe to throw his unending party in? Hell, why not say he'd take a newly-vended planet as long as he could rule it without any unwanted divine intervention? His people didn't want to live like this. Why did he?

With great dignity, the triangle straightened out his hat, casually swirled his drink, and floated up off the surface of the bubble—and the Axolotl realized that the triangle hadn't been standing "upside down." All along, he'd been doing the same thing VENDOR had done to him: repositioning himself so that the surface of the barrier between the zeroth dimension and the third dimension was his floor, so that the gods he spoke to were beneath his very feet.

He didn't answer VENDOR's question. Instead, he asked his own: "Why would I want to be a dead freak in somebody else's universe, when I can be an eternal god in mine?"

So many things—his insistence that he was alive, his contempt for the gods that tried to assert their superiority, his determination to repair his own reality, his absolute control over his people—suddenly made sense.

VENDOR leaned away from the triangle. "You? Think you? Get to be? A god?" THEIR two police escorts, who so far had managed to stay silent, burst out in mocking laughter.

The triangle stared imperiously down upon VENDOR, THEIR hundreds of worlds, and the countless gods watching. "It seems to me like I already am one!"  Arms outstretched, he gestured around himself at Dimension Zero, at his eternal party. A cacophony of every song at once poured out into the higher dimensions and all lights shone on him like a strobing halo. "I created a universe by myself! A dream realm where ideas and reality overlap, where a thought's just as powerful as an act! A dimension of color and life that's free from all laws and restrictions—even gravity! If that's not godly, I don't know what is!"

Honestly, the Axolotl thought it was kind of impressive that the triangle had spun his failure to get the gravity working into a perk.

The crablike cop hooted with laughter and said to his partner, "How stupid does he think we are?"

"You're no creator god," VENDOR said. "Everything you have fell in from Dimension 2 Delta and its neighboring dimensions—we know that much."

The triangle was silent for a long moment; and the Axolotl got the sense, by the look in his eye, that he was choosing his next words very carefully. Like a creator god preparing to speak a reality into existence.

Voice low and hard, he said, "You don't think it got in here all by itself, do you?"

VENDOR gasped sharply. THEY weren't the only one. A crackle of thunder and a low rumble filled the still space—followed by hundreds of tiny, twinkling lights from the outer ring of gods, the flashes of the reporters' cameras. Recording the mortal who claimed he'd killed an entire universe.

The triangle, glaring defiantly down at them all, seemed to glow a little brighter with each flash.

No. Not that curious, cocky, bright-eyed little triangle. The Axolotl couldn't believe he had wanted to destroy his own dimension.

But... he did believe the triangle had done it. On some level, he'd known.

The storm cloud cut in, "Hold on, hold on, hold on." It seemed to be the only one who could find something to say. The Axolotl was sure it had known, too; it had only been waiting for confirmation. Making a valiant effort to rein in its rage, it retrieved its interview and asked, "How did you destroy your dimension?"

The triangle's hands curled into fists, crushing his cup. "I didn't say I destroyed it. I renovated." He said it so haughtily. He said it like he needed to believe it himself. "It was close-minded and claustrophobic! It needed a lotta work! The whole thing ended up being a teardown! A place like that, the only thing you can do is—burn it down and start over."

The Axolotl could hear the triangle's voice catch and fall quieter as he regretted his choice of words before he'd even finished saying them. His heart broke. No. He knew the triangle didn't mean that. He was torturing himself to keep as many of his people alive as possible, he couldn't have meant to destroy all those lives—

The triangle raised his voice again—not quite shouting, but straining to project his words, to ensure everyone, everyone, would hear him. (Over the next trillion years, the Axolotl would come to think of this as the default way he spoke.) "We're building a better world here. One where we're all finally free. Isn't that right?!" His undead, undying revelers cheered and applauded. This speech wasn't for the storm cloud; it was for his followers and the reporters. He was putting on a performance. What a show it must be through the cameras: the lights, the music, the proud glittering shape in the center of it all.

The storm demanded, "How did you do it?"

The triangle hesitated again, searching again for the right words, the right story. His eye darted to the side, toward his listening people. Like a bad radio signal, the dance music was infected by a rising static hiss.

But before he could come up with an answer, VENDOR snarled, "It doesn't matter; that's all we need to know! We don't need to wait for him to enter the third dimension anymore—" THEY turned to the cops, "—arrest him now!"

The triangle flinched. "Wait, what?" He glared accusatorially between the Axolotl and the Time Giant. "You! You set me up!"

"Did not," the Time Giant muttered resentfully. "I gave the ATTF my verbal report. What they do with the report ain't my problem."

The Axolotl didn't even respond to the accusation. Operating on pure reflex, he'd already dove in front of the triangle, gills flared and curled forward, putting himself in between the accused criminal and the gods of punishment.

"You can't be serious!" His gaze darted in disbelief between the gods he'd spoken to the most throughout this whole wretched incident. The Time Giant's jaw was set hard and she kept her face turned from the scene as she continued to work on her official report; the storm's cloud had darkened and its rain fell heavy and cold; and VENDOR—well, VENDOR still looked like a vending machine, but the Axolotl had no doubt THEY were determined to carry this through. "He's a refugee seeking asylum! You should be worried about getting him and his people to safety!"

The Axolotl felt the triangle's eye on him like a laser. "They can't do that." (He had only heard that nervous waver in the triangle's voice once before. Yesterday—before Dimension 2 Delta burned—the very first time the triangle had ever met a higher dimensional being.)

"We can." VENDOR's camera focused on the Axolotl. "Unless you have any legal objections."

He nearly demanded THEY explain what legal grounds THEY possibly had to arrest him—and then realized what an idiot he was for not seeing this coming. He'd been so blinded by the fact that he was sure the triangle hadn't meant it that he hadn't registered what the triangle had done.

The triangle had burned down multiple dimensions by ignorantly messing with the fabric of reality. He'd selectively targeted entire populated worlds—and accident or not, he'd incinerated them. On the immense scale of crimes this triangle was operating on, personally kidnapping millions and slaughtering billions who got caught in the crossfire was the least of his sins. VENDOR didn't want the triangle shuffled into some afterlife to get him out of the way; THEY wanted him damned.

But the gods had divine laws, and how they judged the mortals and sentenced the dead were among the most complex branches. What you could punish the living for, and what you had to wait until their death to punish; whether a ghost could be allowed to wander; where a psychopomp could escort the dead; when and how gods could reincarnate a soul... Rules, rules, rules.

And one rule was that a god couldn't legally arrest a mortal outside their own jurisdiction, under any circumstances, without permission from a god who did have jurisdiction.

Any gods who once held jurisdiction over the souls born in 2Δ were dead. The only gods who could arrest the triangle now were whatever gods had authority over the territory he was in.

No one and nothing had ever had authority over Dimension Zero.

The triangle had stumbled his way into the only pure neutral territory in all of reality. He could not be legally arrested.

That was why VENDOR had been so eager to get the triangle out of Dimension Zero; that was why THEY were so impatient with his protests and questions. This was all just a ploy to lure out the triangle so they could make an arrest that neither the witnessing reporters nor the neighborhood's most stubborn afterlife lawyer could legally challenge.

However... those were the rules for arresting a mortal. Arresting a god was different.

Any gods that operated on a higher than galactic level agreed that nothing mattered more than preventing divine threats to the multiverse, by any means necessary. Whoever could make the arrest should make the arrest, and they'd figure out who was in charge of the troublemaker later. Jurisdiction was irrelevant when it came to stopping a god who committed crimes against reality.

Which was exactly what the little triangle had claimed to be.

"Well?" VENDOR pressed. "Any problems, attorney?"

The triangle had the kind of eye that gave off the impression that he was always looking at you, no matter where you were; but now it felt different. Now, the Axolotl truly felt the triangle was looking directly at him.

It wasn't one of those creepy being-stared-at feelings that made his back prickle and his gills curl. It was more like the sensation he got in court whenever one of his clients was looking to him for support and protection, when the Axolotl was the only thing standing between them and death, damnation, or worse.

The Axolotl wracked his brain for any reason to object to an arrest. He was sure, he was sure, that the triangle didn't want to hurt anyone... but the Axolotl's opinions weren't relevant. The triangle was a self-professed god who had confessed to deliberately destroying his home dimension. He was more than an active threat to existence itself—the fires were still burning.

But... "You'll have to prove he's a god." Which was more difficult than one might think. A legally airtight definition of what was and wasn't a god was notoriously elusive. "If you cross dimensional lines to arrest him and then can't prove he's divine, any decent defense attorney could get the whole case thrown out." Which was maybe a slight exaggeration—any decent prosecutor wouldn't let a mortal who'd destroyed a dimension go unpunished, even if they had to hunt him down with their own scythes and fangs—but the Axolotl didn't see any judges here to call him out.

"Pinky's right," the crablike cop said—and only then did the Axolotl realize he and the flaming wheels hadn't budged an inch at VENDOR's order. "Shoulda waited for him to come out."

VENDOR spluttered indignantly. "But you don't have to prove he's a god to arrest him, do you? Just—just that you had reason to think he's one? Isn't that how it works?"

The crab's mushroom eyestalks and the wheels' hundred eyes exchanged a look. The wheels said flatly, "If we claim we had probable cause to believe the mortal's a god because the mortal himself said so, we'll be laughed out of the courtroom."

"Hey! Are you calling me a liar?!" The triangle flared red hot. Some of his shapes had stopped dancing again to stare at the argument. "I made a dimension! If that's not godly, what is?!" Frustrated, he gestured again at the party behind him and the dream realm beyond. (One of the shapes who'd stopped dancing waved.) "Were you listening to that part of the conversation? Or didja get too many retinas to leave room for a cochlea or two, Eyeballs?! How about you, Pinchers; is that gunk growing out of your shell clogging your ears?"

The rings' flames blazed a bit hotter as he seethed, but the crab's two mushrooms reeled back in offense and he clacked his claws furiously. "Those are my brains, you idiot!"

"No kidding?"

The Axolotl swore he could see the malice in the triangle's eye as he thought of ways to abuse this new information. Before the triangle had a chance, the Axolotl dove in the way of his line of sight to the cop and hissed, "Shh! Whose side are you on?" Handing his future prosecutor ammo was bad enough; he had to insult the cops too?

"I could ask you the same thing! All I hear you doing is telling them a better way to arrest me!"

"You don't want to be charged as a god—!" 

"Maybe I do!" Growing more heated, he shouted, "Nobody could do this by accident! It's impossible! Obviously I meant to do it, how could it have happened if I didn't mean to do it?!"

Oh, the Axolotl thought. Oh. Oh, no. This poor child.

The crab laughed loudly. "This pipsqueak's funny!"

"You're a mere mortal with some magic tricks," the flaming wheels said coldly. "You probably have a superpower or two. That doesn't makes you a god."

The triangle's gaze locked onto the cops like a prison searchlight on two escaping convicts. His eye darted between them, sizing them up like a predator choosing the easier prey; and then focused on the crab. "You want me to prove it?" He shoved his crumpled red cup over to one of his nearby followers. (In his rage, he didn't seem to notice that he'd shoved the cup into his follower, in the middle of his 2D organs.) The triangle pointed at the crab. "Come over here! I'll show you!"

"He thinks we're stupid," the rings said.

The crab jabbed a claw toward Dimension Zero. "If you were a god, I wouldn't have to come over there for you to pull whatever dumb trick you're trying! You'd be omnipotent enough to just do it!"

"If you're so sure I'm lying, you've got nothing to lose! So what are you waiting for?! Sounds to me like you're scared! Afraid a little mortal pipsqueak might hurt you if you step into his domain? You scared of pipsqueaks, Pinchers?"

The crab clacked his claws angrily. The two wheels' fires flared up, their furious eyes as bright as stars, glaring at the triangle with the force of a hundred steel-melting sunbeams. The crab growled, "Of course I'm not scared of a stupid little—"

"Then what're you waiting for, fungus brain?!" The triangle didn't even squint under the burning ring lights. If anything, he seemed to soak up the light, growing brighter by the second. He slung an arm around a nearby trapezoid (who started as the Magister Mentium somehow gripped her through a dimension she couldn't see) and said, "Everyone here knows that you're a big, scared coward who's too afraid to face down one puny little mortal. You big chicken!" He turned to shout to his imprisoned people, "Hey everyone, look at the big chicken who's scared of a mortal! What a loser!" 

"Fine! I'll show you what a god is—" Claws crashing together like thunderclaps, the crab stormed up to the border of Dimension Zero.

The second the crab stuck his face through, the triangle twirled upside down.

The entire dimension turned upside down with him. It ground against the nearest walls as it laboriously rotated; all of reality shuddered.

The shapes trapped inside shrieked.

The crab wobbled back.

His face was upside-down, the stalks of his mushrooms were tied in a bow, his claws were attached backwards, and his shell was unevenly coated in purple glitter glue. "Well," he said woozily, "I think that triangle's a god."

"Now will you arrest him?" VENDOR demanded.

The flaming wheels shook themselves out of their shock. "Fall back, kid," they said sharply. "I'll handle this."

"Sure, sarge." Trying to get his mushrooms untied, the crab cop stumbled sideways back toward Dimension Zero. One of the other cop's wheels hooked around one of his legs and tugged. The crab stumbled sideways the other direction. 

And then the wheels turned their full attention on the triangle. "It's too bad hubris isn't illegal here." The rings grew, and grew, and grew hotter, and hotter; until, at last, they were vast enough that one ring could have held a supermassive black hole in its circumference. "YOU COULD HAVE LEARNED THE EASY WAY WHY IT'S A BAD IDEA."

The wheels whirled like some eldritch cross between saw blades and pulsars as they approached the border of Dimension Zero. Their countless eyes opened and shut in hypnotic patterns, red and blue, red and blue. The reporters' camera flashes petered out; the ones taking notes into recorders fell silent. The power that poured off the whirling flaming wheels, both physical and psychological, was suffocating. Even as ancient and powerful as the Axolotl was, and even though the display wasn't aimed at him, he could feel it like a pressure on his lungs—feel it like swimming through water without oxygen. This was the sort of god that could incinerate a million worlds with one rotation. 

But the triangle only momentarily flinched back at the red and blue flashing; and then the display made the triangle stronger. Soaking in the heat, the light—glowing brighter, hotter, redder, angrier. "You wanna get me?!" 

The empty space around him burst into flames—pale, blue flames, reeking of burning hydrogen. Several of the more lucid nearby dancers shrieked in terror.

The helpless shapes burned up. But the triangle simply burned.

He grew in size, larger than the Axolotl, than VENDOR, than even the flaming wheels—larger than all the assembled gods combined—filled the entire visible cosmos with light. "Then come get me!"

Lightning and his knuckles both cracked menacingly; and the sound echoed across a dozen fracturing realities. Gouts of fire erupted from Dimension Zero, shooting from the second dimensions into the thirds. The gods froze as the fabric of reality vibrated with trillions of trillions of voices screaming in agony as they were incinerated.

The triangle's eye was wider than the twin rings' circumference. Dimension Zero pulled taut around him. Dimension Zero was triangular. And though it hadn't moved, it was clear that the gods were no longer looking down at Dimension Zero; they were staring up into it.

The twirling rings skidded to a stop as they realized that, in all their million-world-incinerating wrath, they were a matchstick next to this volcano. "Whoa—whoa! Stay back—"

"Whatsamatter, handcuffs? Can't handle the HEAT?!" The nauseating, kaleidoscopic miasma behind where the wall used to be lurched toward them. Every god flinched back as the formless color feigned grabbing at them. "Shoulda thought of that before you stepped into my kitchen! I'll boil you alive!" The triangle let out a terrible, hysterical, shrieking laugh that echoed between the stars. 

Columns of roiling colors, like amoeba-like feelers the size of a galaxy, bulged out of Dimension Zero, curled around the edges of the crumbling husks of the neighboring dimensions—2 Gamma, 2 Epsilon, 2 Zeta—and reached out, looking for somewhere else to get purchase. Whatever had filled Dimension Zero appeared to be trying to crawl upside-down out of its prison and into the third dimension. In all his existence, in his worst nightmares, the Axolotl had never seen anything like it before. Oozing reality dripped lava-lamplike from Dimension Zero, lurching closer to the shaking twin-ringed cop, preparing to crush them like two pieces of cereal in a formless palm—

And then existence itself let out a howl of pain.

Everyone froze.

The triangle shrank back to his usual size with the speed of a balloon popping. His wide eye darted around nervously. "What."

The multiverse was still. The triangle shook it off, pushed against the border of Dimension Zero, and tried again to squeeze his dream realm out of the bloated singularity into the multiverse—and reality screamed again, like the sound of solid metal being twisted and ripped in half. Its echoes continued long after the triangle froze again—followed up by an alarming series of creaks and punctuated by a CRACK that made everyone assembled flinch.

The Time Giant swore and muttered, "That sounded like something important."

The triangle jerked back again, and only then seemed to notice that he was still burning. He looked at his hands, coated in pale blue flames.

The Axolotl couldn't see the trapezoid the triangle had had his arm around a moment ago.

The apoc agents were already a flurry of activity. The storm cloud—so terrified that it had started hailing—shakily pulled a walkie-talkie from its tornado and demanded info on the status of the second dimensions, trying to figure out what had cracked and what they could possibly do to mitigate the devastation. Replies tumbled in, overlapping each other, frantically reporting fires in dimensions the Axolotl had never heard of before. He could already see how the line of blue fire on the cosmic horizon had grown so much brighter, stretching out into space. Please, don't let the fires have spread to the third dimensions.

The triangle was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Trying to sound more confident than he looked, he squeaked, "I think I've made my point! I'll let you losers off with a warning this time!"

The cops had somehow managed to put the entire line of reporters in between them and Dimension Zero. The crab ducked his mushrooms down when the triangle addressed them. The rotating rings shrank a little smaller, but muttered, "Well—we're—we're watching you."

The triangle surveyed the ring's hundred eyes. "Yeah," he drawled, "you look like you're good at that."

Voice shaking, the Time Giant barked at the triangle, "Are you nuts?" She gestured furiously toward the growing line of fire on the horizon; spurts of blue flame were still erupting into the third dimension. "I told you that moving around would damage—!"

"Don't. Don't provoke him," the Axolotl said. "He still has hostages in there."

"Hey!" the triangle shouted, and the Axolotl flinched. The triangle strained against the thin membrane of Dimension Zero to lunge at the Axolotl. "Watch who you're calling hostages! Hey, are any of you hostages?" He whipped around to stare at his people.

None answered. The ones who were lucid and living simply stared in silent terror.

"That's what I thought!" the triangle said. "Now, why aren't you dancing! Is this a party or not!" He whipped around again to face the Axolotl. "If you wanna go too, let's go. Just try to enter my kingdom, see what happens."

"No." The Axolotl could take it. The Axolotl was an axolotl; anything he lost, he could regrow. But the shapes that would be caught in the crossfire couldn't.

"Didn't think so," the triangle snarled. "If you want to kidnap my worshipers, you'll have to come in here and get them." His voice dropped to a deep, booming growl that echoed through the stars. "Because we're staying. Right. Here."

The Axolotl could hear VENDOR's motors whining in stress as THEY tensed up at that ultimatum, but THEY knew better than to argue. The triangle's eye twisted into a satisfied smirk.

The triangle couldn't leave his "dream realm," the Axolotl realized. That was why he threatened to fight anyone who crossed his borders: he couldn't attack them before then. He could crawl out of Dimension Zero, but not without dragging along the entire world he'd built inside of it. No wonder he hadn't even considered VENDOR's plan to move him somewhere else so Dimension 2 Delta's rubble could be recycled. He and his miasma were a package deal.

But—why couldn't he leave his dream realm?

"You know you can't stay in there," the Time Giant said, gently pushing aside the Axolotl when he tried to shush her. "It's too unstable—"

"I'll repair it."

"And I told you the entire multiverse will collapse if you keep making 'repairs'—"

"Your multiverse isn't my problem," the triangle said icily. "I can stabilize my dimension just fine. Maybe you need to get off my hypotenuse and worry about stabilizing your own dimensions." He was speaking past her now, talking instead toward the reporters—talking to the whole multiverse.

"It'll be your problem when the omnipocalypse crunches you, too! What'll you do when all those higher dimensions crash down on yours?!"

The triangle spread his arms and said, simply, "Welcome them to the party."

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 6 of a 7-or-8-or-9 part fic that keeps getting more parts, about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl deal with the fact that the sweet little triangle is, in fact, the bad guy. :,(

It's ALSO chapter 66 of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: tbh this is probably all of you at this point, but I'm maintaining hope that contextless art of Bill & the Axolotl doing stuff will continue to lure in curious new readers until this arc is done lmfao.

At long last, the characters learn what the audience has known the whole time. This chapter had several big moments, looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!!)

[sinofwriting]

Points Have Been Made - Charles Leclerc/Reader/Max Verstappen

Words: 3,363 Summary: Max and Charles find out something happened to their girlfriend. Note(s): Thank you Mak for commissioning this! Mentions of medical stuff, infertility (not reader). One German word, one Dutch word, some French words. Jenson Button appears in this fic, because uh, well, I love him and honestly, I’d like to think (write) him having a weird soft spot for Max (and Charles) after seeing him more recently around Logan.

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“Max.”

He lets out a hum, his focus on the car and racing line into turn nine.

“Box box.”

“What?” His eyes flick up to where a yellow or red flag would be waved but there isn’t anything. “I’ve only done three laps on these tires.”

“Box box.”

His brows furrow beneath his helmet and balaclava at the non-answer.

Pulling off the track and into the pit lane, his fingers tap against the wheel as they pull his car back into the garage. He sits there expecting the mechanics to make some sort of adjustments but instead they start doing what they do at the end of a session, cooling the car down, prepping it for its next use.

He feels a slight pressure to the top of his helmet and then GP is in his line of sight, leaning into his space and car, perfectly helping to cover him with the mechanics and engineers, so the camera can’t see inside. “Something happened, Max. Session is over for you.”

His heart starts thudding in his chest, panic threatening to overtake him. “What happened?” His voice is muffled by the helmet but he knows that GP hears it from the way his frown deepens.

“Out of the car, Max. We’re doing our best to not let cameras see in, but who knows how long that will last.”

Max looks at the mechanics and engineers and only now takes note of how they’re standing. It’s a carefully constructed wall, not allowing the cameras to see him at all. “Alright.” He murmurs.

He focuses on his hands as he disconnects the steering wheel, resting it on top of the car before pulling his gloves off. He doesn’t know why but he expects them to be shaking, but they’re perfectly still, like always. Jaw clenched, he stands, bending at the waist to grab the steering wheel and put it back on before hopping out of the car.

It’s odd to take his helmet off, passing it gratefully to Annie who whisks it and his gloves away.

“What happened?” He asks GP again.

A hand is pressed against his back, pushing him to walk and he does. Undoing the near too tight collar of the race suit as he walks. It’s only once they’ve nearly disappeared behind the wall, where outside cameras aren’t allowed that GP speaks. “It’s about Y/N.” And the rug disappears out from underneath his feet.

—

“I’m okay, mama. I promise.” She says, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she rubs at her head.

“You’re sick. And I know that neither Max or Charles is with you.”

“I will be okay, I’m a big girl.”

“You're my baby.”

Her heart clenches at her mom’s words. All of her friends growing up and even some now all thought of her mother as overbearing, with the weekly phone calls, daily check-ins and texts, but she was her mother’s only child. She grew up knowing that she was supposed to have siblings, that she was never supposed to be an only child, but it hadn’t worked that way for her mother and it had made her protective of her only child.

“I know, mama. But I’m okay.” Her words nearly flatter as a wave of dizziness hits her, but she pushes it away, clutching at the counter with her left hand as her right rubs at her temple. “The weather just changed here in Monaco. Y’know how that goes.”

Her mom makes a noise, not believing her.

“Pascale will be coming over for dinner, to check on me. Charles’ orders. Will you believe her?”

“Oh, kindchen.” Her voice is soft, so reminiscent of her childhood. “It is not that I don’t believe you. It is that you are always the last to notice when you are unwell.”

“I will be okay and she will text you to update you. Now go to your book club. I know that it is today.”

“It’s not a book club!”

“It’s a book club, mama.” She laughs, wincing immediately at the way the movement makes her feel unsteady.

“I’ll call you first thing tomorrow alright?”

“Alright.” She agrees. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

As soon as her mom hangs up, she takes a deep ragged breath. Her hand on her forehead, that’s damp now with sweat which makes her nose wrinkles, grasps at her phone before setting it on the counter.

It’s only when it knocks into something she realizes she’s had her eyes closed and she doesn’t know for how long. Opening them, she blinks at how bright the kitchen is. Turning her head slowly, her nose wrinkles up again at how the sun is positioned in the sky. No wonder it was so bright.

Letting go of the counter and taking a step towards the living room, she swears when a wave of dizziness rushes over again and she’s clutching at the counter again. The edge of it digging into both of her palms.

“Fuck.” She breathes when it’s passed. She watches as a bead of sweat drips off of her onto arm. She needed a shower. She needed to shower before Pascale got here. With the reminder of Pascale coming in a few hours she takes a few more deep breaths before letting go of the counter and walking.

Only it isn’t just a wave of dizziness that hits her, but a tidal wave and before she can catch herself, she falls to the floor, head hitting the tile hard and knocking her out.

—

“What happened to her?” Max asks, feet seeming to be glued to the floor as GP tries to push him deeper. “GP, what happened?”

GP looks around before leaning into his space, a hand on the back of his neck pressing, and Max lets him push his head down. “Pascale found her passed out, she hit her head on the way down. They’re still waiting for test results.”

“But,” His mind is whirling, trying and failing to understand what is happening. “Where is Charles?”

If GP is surprised by his next question he doesn’t show it. “He’s still out there. He just about told Xavi to fuck himself when Xavi told him to abort his lap.”

Normally that would make Max smirk, chuckle but he can’t be bothered. “I need to tell him. He can’t hear it from Xavi or Fred.”

“Andrea was going to tell him.”

Max shakes his head. “She’s in Monaco. Charles can’t find out by himself.” He looks at GP pleadingly and the older man nods.

“I know, go and get out of your race suit and you can go right on over. Fred is expecting you.”

Max quickly claps GP on the shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you.” He rushes to say again as he moves quickly to his room.

—

Charles is grinning as his car is pulled into the garage. He doesn’t know what Xavi was thinking, telling him to abandon that lap. It was amazing. And yes he knew that his session was over, cut short due to a new setup that they wanted to try out, but it was fine. This track had always treated him nicely and with this car, it would hopefully even treat him to a win or he mused considering Max, second place.

Climbing out of the car and pulling his gloves and then helmet off, he doesn’t notice the way the engineers and mechanics are blocking the cameras from seeing anything, or the worried looks from Fred and Xavi. He just notices the worry on Andrea’s face when he catches sight of Max, standing just out of sight if you look into the garage, close to where the drivers rooms are. And he does notice the look on Max’s face, it makes his stomach drop and he rushes to him, not even murmuring a thank you to Jean who takes his helmet and gloves from him.

“Max,” he breathes, hands fluttering before they rest gently on his face. “What happened, mon coeur?”

“Charles,” his name is broken up by a stuttered breath.

“Did something happen to Sophie? Vic? Luke? Leo? Jos?”

Max shakes his head at every name.

Dread fills him even more. “Y/N?”

Max’s eyes close and he nods.

“No.”

“Charles.” Andrea’s voice is in his ear, ushering him forward. “Let’s get you both somewhere private.”

He nods, letting his hands fall away from Max’s face, though he can’t help but to grab Max’s hand, intertwining their fingers, needing the touch, and Max clearly does too with the way he squeezes his hand back.

As soon as his driver’s room door shuts, Andrea speaks again before Charles can ask anything.

“Pascale called me maybe ten minutes ago. She went over to yours for dinner, to check on Y/N and found her passed out on the kitchen floor.”

Charles makes a wounded noise and his already tight grip on Max’s hand grows worse and the barely older man doesn’t even wince or jump. Doesn’t seem to notice.

“They’re at the hospital.” Andrea’s voice is somehow even gentler than before when he says it.

“They are at?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, maman.” He murmurs, feeling tears prick his eyes and Max drops his hand, wrapping an arm around him, bringing him close.

“They are waiting for test results.” Max says. “GP made me box. He told me and I rushed over here.”

“I,” Charles shudders. “Is she okay? I mean she passed out on the floor. How?”

“I don’t know. They only just got there or at least that’s what it sounded like.”

Charles nods.

“Thank you, Andrea. For getting a hold of GP.”

Andrea sends Max a look. “Of course, Max.”

Andrea leaves the room, leaving them alone and Max as soon as the door shuts, wraps Charles completely in a hug, holding him tight as he tries to comfort himself with at least having one of his partners healthy and safe in his arms.

“I,” Charles struggles again. “I should call someone to go be with maman. She shouldn’t be there alone. Not at least till I can get there.”

“Charles,” Max starts to say and Charles shakes his head, pushing away.

“No, Max. I know it is a race weekend. But it is just a two-hour flight away, I can be back before qualifying if it is not too bad.”

“Charles,” he tries again.

“I have to go. I can’t just be here while she is unwell.”

“Charles,” and this time Max is holding his face, making him incapable of speaking. “I am going with you. Fuck the race. If it is bad, it is not like we will lose our spots in the championship. Everyone else is more than forty points behind, we will be fine. Let me call my pilot, the jet will be ready by the time we get to the airport.”

“Merci, Max.” Charles breaths, pressing their lips together. “Merci.”

—

“Pascale?” She mumbles when she opens her eyes and sees the woman sitting beside her. “Did I fall asleep?”

She tries to sit up but her head aches, making her groan, and Pascale is gently pushing her back down. “Lay down, sweetheart.”

“What?” Her eyes wander around the room as she realizes this isn’t her, Max, and Charles shared place. It’s far too clean, sterile. She tries to lift her arm and winces when there’s a tugging sensation. Her eyes fall to her arm and more confusion builds as she sees an IV. “Pascale, what happened?”

“I found you passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“But,” she couldn’t have passed out. Right? Her mind struggled to remember it. She knew she had been feeling dizzy, but enough to pass out. “Are we at the hospital?”

“We are.” Pascale’s hand pats hers. “I will be right back. I’m going to get the nurse, okay?”

She nods and as Pascale darts out the room, her eyes land on someone sitting just outside her room. “Jenson?”

—

“Anything new?”

Charles shakes his head, frowning at his phone. “Like before, they knew that she was dehydrated as soon as she came in but they are still waiting for everything else to come back.”

“What is taking so long? Is it money?” Max runs his hand through his hair, before he looks at Charles. “Call them, the hospital. Throw your name around, prince of Monaco.”

“Max.” Charles hisses. “I am not the prince of Monaco. And I can’t call them. Nothing will happen if I call.” He huffs, slumping back in his seat.

It’s silent for a moment.

“Are you,”

“Yes, I’m sure, Max.” He reaches over and squeezes Max’s hand before tangling their fingers together, lifting them to give him a kiss. “We will be there soon.”

—

She tries her best to focus on the doctor as they examine her but her eyes keep going to Jenson. Now inside of her room and standing in the corner, arms crossed over his chest as he watches intently.

“You have a mild concussion from the fall. The back of your head will be tender.”

“But why did she faint?”

The doctor frowns, “Normally I’d have the answer for you. But our lab is abnormally backed up and we are down to one lab technician. As soon as the results are in, I will be back to give them to you.”

“Take your time.” She smiles.

Jenson shakes his head when the doctor leaves. “How does Monaco, of all places, have only one lab technician working?”

“Jenson, what are you doing here?”

He smiles at her, coming closer to her and bending quickly to press a kiss to her cheek. “Max texted me. Asked me to keep you and Pascale company. I was already here in Monaco.”

She smiles at the older driver. He and Max’s friendship wasn’t too well known, but they talked often. Then she frowns, because Max had asked him. “Max asked you?” Her eyes then look over at Pascale.

“I texted Andrea.”

She nods. “Can you tell them I’m okay? There is no need to worry.”

“Sweetheart.”

“Pascale, I’m okay. I haven’t felt dizzy since I woke up, my head hurts a little from the concussion that’s all.”

Before Pascale can respond her attention is drawn away by the sound of the room door practically being thrown up and two voices on top of each other.

“Chérie!”

“Schat!”

—

“We were so worried.” Charles murmurs, holding her face gently.

“How is your head feeling?” Max asks, sitting beside her on the bed, arm wrapped around her.

“I’m okay.” She smiles at both of them. “My head hurts a bit, but that will go away soon enough.”

Charles frowns, fingers gently brushing over her cheekbones, before he drops his hands to hold both of hers. “Are you sure? I’m sure we could get you some meds.”

“I’m sure, Prince Charles could get you some meds.” Max whispers in her ear making her laugh while Charles sends him a dirty look, though a smile is playing on his lips.

“Don’t listen to him, chérie.”

She smiles at Charles, carefully leaning forward to press their lips together. Before being even more careful as she turns her head to kiss Max.

“Thank you both for coming.”

“Of course.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Charles and her both look at Max, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, I can think of places I’d rather we be.” He admits.

Charles shakes his head, “so silly.” He murmurs, leaning across her to kiss Max. “Now, why don’t we have your test results back yet?”

“There’s a backlog.” Jenson says, grinning when Charles jumps at the sound of his voice. “Max sent me over to keep them company as soon as you guys figured out the game plan.”

Charles’ entire face softens and Max flushes at the look their boyfriend sends him.

“And they only have one lab technician.”

Max lets out a curse. “Did you try bribing them?”

“I could go try if you’d like.”

Max starts to nod, but a knock sounds on the door and it opens.

She watches as the doctor blinks at the two new people in her room but ignores them, focusing on her. “I’ve got your results right here. Hypoglycemia. Low blood sugar and I mean very low blood sugar. When’s the last time you ate?”

Her brows furrow.

She remembered eating Tuesday night with Max and Charles before they left. A nice dinner that her and Max made, Charles pouring them more drinks or chopping and stirring things. But she had eaten something the next morning hadn’t she? Her head throbs as she thinks, but she ignores it, trying to remember and winces from both the pain and the realization that she hadn’t eaten anything since Tuesday night.

“Tuesday night. I was going to eat breakfast on Wednesday but we were out of my breakfast bars and then I got so busy and I just wasn’t hungry.”

“Are you not hungry often?”

“Sometimes. But even then I make sure to eat at least one meal a day, I snack throughout. I’ve never done this before.”

They nod. “As long as this isn’t a normal occurrence, I don’t see an issue. But, you need to make sure you are eating often. You don’t want to be back in here because you forgot to eat and it made your blood sugar drop.”

“Of course. Thank you so much.”

They nod. “I’ll get your discharge paperwork done and as soon as you’re finished with the bag, you’ll be free to go.”

—

“When are you guys flying back?” She asks, Max’s head in her lap, her fingers combing through his hair as she leans against Charles.

Max makes a face. “We won’t be.”

Charles and him had both talked about it as they got Pascale home and she settled in. Their teams would be unhappy, but it wasn’t like they could be overtaken in the championship. They could live. And they had two weeks after this with no racing. Two weeks where they could make sure she was eating, taking care of herself. And she’d be going to the next race anyway. This had been a sort of one-off due to all the things that had piled up at home.

“What do you mean you won’t be?”

“We can miss a race. Max is twenty points ahead of me, I am forty-seven points ahead of Oscar.”

“I have so many questions about that.” She murmurs, because god what was this season. Checo barely hung onto fourth in the championship with George hunting him down, Lewis and Lando hunting down George. Barely fifteen points collectively separating third to seventh.

Charles snorts. “Many people would like to know the same.”

“You should go though. Put more of a lead in the points.”

Max and Charles share a look, a bit hard with their positions but they manage. “No.” They both agree.

“I can survive not even two days. I’ll go stay with Pascale. Have Arthur stay with me. Or Jenson since he’s here in Monaco.”

“No.” They say again at the same time.

“You are far more important than another twenty-five or eighteen points.” Max continues.

She sighs, looking at them both. “Three stubborn people is way too many people in a relationship.”

“I think it’s perfect.”

“Suck up.” Max coughs and Charles flicks him on the forehead.

“Says you.”

“Boys, settle down.”

“Love you.” They chorus.

She shakes her head, sighing. “If you will not go without me, I will just go with you.”

“You have a concussion.”

“A mild concussion. And we all know that you have flown before with a concussion, Charles.”

He pouts, “it was just once.”

“Twice.” Max coughs and Charles flicks him again.

“I will go with you tomorrow. Just please make the flight later than eight am.”

“Done.” Max says, already texting his flight crew.

“Thank you.” She starts to bend to kiss Max, when her face is redirected to look at Charles and he kisses her.

She expects Max to whine but as soon as Charles is done, Max is turning her head the other way, no longer laying in her lap, to kiss her as well.

[babbushka]

Death At The Dive Bar

Flip Zimmerman X F!Reader

Inspired by this request, some weird twilight-zone occult occurrences happen to happen to our favorite detective. 3.4k, NSFW

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

It’s always the same -- a scream, a crash, broken glass bloodied on the floor. A gunshot maybe, or maybe not. In the dead of night, acts of violence hiding beneath a cloak of darkness. 

It’s always the same -- a 911 call, frantic panicked voices demanding someone come down from the station, someone please help, before it’s too late, even though the very act of them picking up the phone means it’s already done. 

It’s always the same -- until it isn't. And on a dark and stormy summer night in the thick of the Rocky Mountains, a tiny dive bar calls the nearest police dispatcher, and calmly requests to speak to one Detective Flip Zimmerman of Colorado Springs. 

Flip had been in the area when he got the call over the radio, wandering around, scoping out the woods. He knew at once where it was, had heard stories of the place of course, way back in the day when he still wore the weight of the war like a thick leather jacket around his shoulders. When he pulls up in his Chevy it looks exactly the same as it always had been described: run down, small, with a buzzing neon sign proudly proclaiming The Mile High Tavern as the best place to grab a Coors within 50 miles. Nevermind that it was the only place. 

He sits in his truck and glares at the bar. Popular with passers-through along winding scenic roads and most frequented by motorcyclists seeking shelter from the rain, he wonders (not for the first time this week) what the hell he’s getting himself into. The note from the dispatcher had been vague -- a lady was askin’ for him specifically, and he was supposed to find out why. Things like this didn’t bode well for him, usually. 

Especially not lately, not with the way his last relationship flopped. He had tried to explain to the nice woman that his job took up a lot of his time -- had hoped that her big city job had given her a different perspective, but she didn’t seem to think his work hours applied to her. That had been three months ago that she left him, and he was still sore from it. 

No, a woman asking for him directly was the last thing Flip wanted to get himself tangled up in, regardless of the reason. 

Despite the rain, there isn’t the usual line of motorcycles out front. In fact, there was only one car to be seen, an oldie -- something chrome plated and pink, but he can’t really tell in the rainy darkness. The Mile High Tavern appeared for all intents and purposes to be empty, and so Flip takes one last drag of his cigarette, makes sure his gun is loaded and in its holster, and with a sigh of resignation steps into the downpour. 

“Let me get you something nice and warm,” A friendly voice calls over to him from the counter when Flip steps over the threshold, your back turned to him. All at once, Flip’s heart begins to pound. Something about this place felt odd to him, an uneasy feeling that shifted his stomach around. He took another step closer and you continued, “I’m afraid the only hot thing we’ve got tonight is coffee.” 

“Coffee’d be just fine, thank you.” Flip nods with gratitude, before sitting at the bar. Looking around, he notes how quaint the little place is. It’s neat and clean and warm, and he confirms that you are the only person in here. He wonders if you’ve been alone long, and frowns. “I’m sorry - I’m Detective Zimmerman, someone here rang for me?” 

“I’d be that someone, yes.” You slide him a cup of black coffee down the counter that you lean against with a smile. It is dazzling, bright in the dark light of the dive bar. “Thank you for coming out here, I appreciate how quick you were.” 

Well shit, Flip grimaces into his mug, now he feels like an asshole for sitting in the truck debating when, or if, he should brave the rain to head inside. 

You smile at him like you knew he was out there biding his time, a teasing smile that lets him know you’re not mad, even though you could be. It wasn’t professional for a law officer to keep someone waiting like that. 

“What seems to be the trouble?” He doesn’t bring up the fact that they’re alone. 

It was dangerous these days, with all the murders in the woods lately. Women being slaughtered left and right by what Flip is certain is a serial killer, but no one will take him seriously enough about it to do anything. Not without more evidence. 

“Do you..” You pause, as if you’re trying to find the words. No, that’s not it, as if you’re having a hard time spitting them out, like something is preventing you. “May I sit next to you?” 

You look at him with expectation and hope, and he stares into your eyes, searching for what the hell brought him all the way out here on his night shift. The clock strikes three in the morning. 

He doesn’t notice himself nodding with allowance, until you’re walking around the counter and getting close to him. Even though it’s warm in the bar, your hands are cold. 

“Thank you,” You breathe, getting close to him. Not so close that you’re touching, but close enough that he could brush against your shoulder with his own. “I don’t usually work alone, but tonight the other server is sick, and with the storm we aren’t expecting too many people, so here I am. There was something out there.” 

You stare directly into his eyes, and he’s almost taken aback by the seriousness and bluntness of your voice. Your voice is hypnotic almost, the edges of your words fuzzy and sharp at the same time, an impossible combination that has his palms sweating. He wonders for a brief moment if you slipped something into his coffee, but the thought leaves him as soon as it arrives.

“What sort of something?” He finds himself asking quietly, not wanting whatever it is to overhear. He thinks back to the past few weeks, the broken in-houses, the tape on the floor, the screams of agony. Flip sets his jaw and leans in close, looks deep into your wide open eyes, pupils huge in the dark. 

“A figure, on the other side of the window. I saw it in the lightning, I saw its eyes. I think it’s a man. I’m scared.” You whisper, lowering your voice to match his pitch. 

“I can escort you home -- ” He goes to get up, a rush of protective energy flowing through him, scraping the bar stool against the wooden floor, the sound so so so loud in the quiet of the bar, but your hand is gripping his arm the second he gets up.

“No!” Your voice is too sharp again, dark around the edges, and Flip looks down and sees panic in your eyes. He softens immediately, and even though he’s not supposed to, even though it’s unprofessional, even though you’re a stranger, he pulls you into a hug for some comfort. You throw your arms around him in return, and he’s not certain who is comforting whom. “No -- I -- I don’t want it to know where I live, if it follows us. I was hoping you could keep me company.” 

Your face is pressed into his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he feels complete, he feels like he’s never ever going to let go. He feels like you were made to fit into his arms, against his chest. He grows hot, his throat clearing as he immediately steps back to give you some space. 

You’re a stranger. 

He doesn’t even know your name. 

The rain pounds outside and lightning flashes, and Flip snaps back to reality. 

“I don’t think I can stay all night, I would have brought backup.” He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, offering, “I can do a search of the premises, if that would make you feel better.” 

“You shouldn’t go outside.” You shake your head, and Flip lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, glad that you have relieved him from what would have been one bitch of a job. Especially when you look up at him through your lashes and bite your lip and say, “I would prefer it if you stayed in here. With me.” 

“Alright.” He smiles, throwing all caution to the wind because what the hell else is he going to do on a Monday night? “If you’d feel safer with me staying here with you, I’ll stay. But in the morning, I’ll escort you either home or to another safe location, or hell even to the station and you can give a statement, and we’ll have someone out here searching the woods.” 

“That sounds like a plan, thank you.” Your hand rests on the bar counter close to his, so close, he nudges his pinky against yours. There’s no rings on your finger, he notices. 

“In the meantime, what should we do?” He licks his lips, knowing that it’s wrong, it’s an abuse of power -- but who has power over whom? He’s getting lost in your eyes, in the pretty smile you give him as you reach over the bar counter and grab a small rectangular pack of -- 

“I have a deck of cards.” You brandish them at him, looking over your shoulder with a grin. The way you’re bent over the bartop has Flip’s mind doing awful things, things like picturing you without any of those clothes on. “You any good at poker?” 

Flip was not good at poker. 

He’s lost the past two games and you’re already shuffling for a third. The energy in the bar has relaxed significantly, and Flip is starting to forget why he’s there. 

“Let’s up the ante.” You say, in an attempt to discourage or motivate him, he isn’t sure, as you shuffle and shuffle and shuffle the cards. “Each hand someone loses, they take something off.” 

“I don’t see how this ends any other way than me naked.” Flip grunts, not entirely displeased by the prospect. 

“You could win, and then I’d be the naked one.” You point out, and he laughs, a snort through his nose that exhales blue wispy smoke from his cigarette. 

On the first hand, Flip loses -- but that’s all it takes. He unbuttons his shirt and you’re hot on him, pinching his cigarette out and flicking it into the ashtray for him, your lips searing onto his. No one can ever find out about this, can ever know he’s about to fuck this stranger on the job, fuck you silly over the bar counter while on a call, and you don’t seem like the type to tell. Not with the way you’re pulling your blouse up over your head.

He hadn’t really paid any attention to what you’re wearing until it’s off, in a heap on the floor around him. The undergarments you wear are old fashioned, a bullet bra and girdle that hold up a pair of stockings. The clothes on the floor are old fashioned too, almost like the same exact uniform that a waitress might have worn at the Tavern twenty years ago. 

But they look new, and maybe the tavern never updated their uniforms,Flip doesn’t care, not with the way your hands are on his belt, pulling his hard dick out of his pants and spitting down onto it, spreading the spit around, his tip leaking and joining the mix. 

With ragged breath, he pushes you down face first onto the bartop again, pops the straps of your bra, your garter, pushes down your stockings. They rip under his rough treatment, and he feels bad for a moment, just a moment, until his cock is rubbing at the soft wet folds of you and you let out a moan that fills the tavern with warmth. 

“I don’t have a -- ” He starts, pulling away, trying to remember that he’s almost forty for fuck’s sake, he needs to be responsible, he needs to -- 

“It’s alright.”  You reach behind him and grab at his hand, leading him to drape his body over yours, giving him permission to fuck you anyway. 

With a sharp breath he pushes in all the way, bottoms out so that his cock is completely enveloped inside of you, his hips pressed against the smooth skin of your ass, and he almost can’t move he’s so blinded by the feeling. You’re so tight, and so wet, the bar smells like musk and sweat and rain, the sweet salty combination making his mind go dizzy. 

He’s never talked much during sex, and this is no different, but in the back of his mind he wishes he had something good enough to say to you, something impressive. Instead, he thrusts in a steady harsh rhythm that has your knees buckling, your hands gripping the far edge of the bar counter, your cheek pressed against the polished wood, mouth dropped open and eyes shut tight in pleasure. 

Flip’s hands on your waist are tight enough that he could dig them into you if he wasn’t careful, he could leave marks. He almost wants to, wants you to remember him when this is over and he’ll have to go back to the station, have to write a report about all of this. Not this, not you, not the way your sweet cunt clenches around him as you take his force, take his length, hot and pulsing inside of you. 

He needs to see you, all of a sudden, he needs to. Grabbing your arms, he pulls out only long enough for you to whine in protest for a few short seconds, and then he’s taking you to a booth, taking you somewhere padded that he can lie you down and brace himself on top of you. 

You lick your lips as your head rolls back, legs spreading for him to nestle between them as he bends over you, those same legs hooking around his waist. You’re completely naked, your perky breasts begging to be sucked on, and so he does. He wonders if the rasp of his clothes on your skin feels nice, if you like it. If you like him. 

It’s too hot in here, Flip thinks, his eyes shut as he pants against your body. Too hot and bright, bright behind his eyelids as he groans and moans. He’s sweating, and it’s loud, the sound of rain too loud, its wooshing a roar that deafens his ears. He almost can’t think about anything else, can’t think about the way you feel under him, why is it so bright why is it so hot -- 

It hits you first, and you’re squirming, panting and moaning as you come. Flip can feel it squelching between your thighs, his cock pulling out shiny and glistening with your orgasm. It makes him go over the edge, his come filling you up, the hot white spread of it. He tries not to worry about fucking you raw, but it’s been a long time since he hasn’t used a rubber. 

You give him a big grin, stretching out beneath him, your legs falling to the sides where they can. It’s still raining. 

Wordlessly, he gathers you up from underneath him and settles you down on the floor, kissing all over your face, your neck, your breasts. Your stomach chuckles underneath him as you hold him close, breathing in the smell of him. He doesn’t want you to ever let go. 

“Then don’t.” You sigh into his hair there on the floor, and Flip closes his eyes, tired from the events of the day. 

He doesn’t realize that you’ve responded to his thoughts, until he’s in a deep sleep. 

In the morning, he’s alone. 

In the morning, the dive bar isn’t just old, it’s run down. The windows are smashed like kids had been playing pranks here, tossing bottles and rocks through the glass. The shelves are all empty, no liquor, nothing. 

Flip feels like he is frozen as he looks around him. Where were you? Where were the cards that had scattered all over the floor? He is fully dressed, asleep in a booth that is covered in dust and cobwebs -- it wasn’t that dirty yesterday, was it? 

He’s sick, his stomach lurching as he sits up. He doesn’t even know your name to shout it out into the bar. In the light of morning, the rain has stopped, and Flip gathers himself up on uncertain legs. He looks around, trying to find any trace of you, but there isn’t one. There’s only one set of boot prints in the dust on the floor, his own.

Confusion continues to wash over him, which slowly morphs into panic. These windows weren’t broken last night, the floor wasn’t dusty, where the fuck were you? He stumbles to his truck, his mind working double time trying to piece together what happened. Surely he hadn’t dreamt this, what was he doing last night? He wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t stoned he -- 

“Come in, Flip, come in!” A panicked voice crackles from his car, and making sure his gun is still in the holster, Flip runs right to his truck, hopping in and turning the engine over. 

“Ron?” Flip grasps the radio tightly in his hand, tuning the frequency to hear better. “Ron is that you? What’s going in?” 

“Flip! Where are you?” Ron asks, direct to the point. 

“I’m up by the fork in the mountain pass, just off the scenic highway.” 

“What?! Are you safe?” 

“Of course I’m safe, why wouldn’t I be? Ron what the fuck is happening?” Flip’s eyes are hard on the tavern, and even from the outside, something is wrong. This place was not open last night, it couldn’t have been. The walls are blackened with soot, the doors are boarded shut. How did he get in -- how did he get out?

“There was flash flooding, down the scenic road. It brought rocks down with it from all the rain. Search and rescue found a couple cars down the cliffside.” Ron rushes to explain, and Flip feels like he’s going to be sick. 

“They’re dead?” He pinches the bridge of his nose -- people were getting caught up in a flash flood while he was getting laid last night. 

“Yeah. You need to get back here, where did you say you were at again?” Ron asks, and Flip can hear that he’s pulling out a pen and paper from his desk. 

“Mile High Tavern. I spent the night here” Flip responds, and then there’s silence. “Ron? Did you hear me? I said I’m at -- ”

“I heard you, but that’s not possible.” Ron’s voice is shaken, “That bar burned down back in ‘57.” 

All at once, everything stops. 

He blinks, and he’s in the roar of the inferno as he comes into your body.

He blinks again, and the bar is gone entirely. 

Nothing remaining but a patch of scorched earth in its place. 

No neon sign. 

No motorcycles

No single car out front. 

Ron is saying something on the radio, but Flip can’t hear. He is reversing out of there so quickly that he almost misses the flash of something behind him -- almost. Flip looks back in his rearview mirror at the bar and sees something, a shape, a young woman in old fashioned clothing far away, through the trees. 

A hand waves, and Flip knows that whatever you were, you saved him, protected him from the flash flood that killed. You saved him, and he fucked you, and he’s sick to his stomach about that, not sure what was real and what isn’t, not sure of anything anymore except that he wants to find you and do it all over again. 

But he blinks, and you’re gone. 

[chthonicarcher]

it isn’t the first time you’ve had this dream.

(that’s how you already know it’s a dream, you guess.)

the small, almost claustrophobic dwelling you find yourself standing in is dimly lit with lamplight; it’s been kept tidy enough, but the mismatched chairs and the ragged rug and the wooden shelves and all the odd little things on the shelves are just a bit too bent and banged and tattered, and everything seems dingy at the edges; the spare concrete floor and the thick windowpanes are encrusted with salt, making the scenery appear as an abstract blur, only really discernible from the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.

it’s a sound you’re very familiar with. whenever you aren’t dreaming, you live in a hive by the sea, too.

you take a seat by the dying fire, glancing at the pages of the open book that’s been left there. you won’t be able to read the looping words scrawled there by some unsteady hand—you already know that from the many other times you’ve had this dream. that doesn’t stop you from trying, though.

there is a distinct feeling of absence here, you think, after you give up and settle deeper into the comfortably worn chair. it’s too big for you. you aren’t short by any means, but your feet almost don’t reach the floor.

absence—as if someone was here just moments ago, just before you arrived. you can’t explain it, only feel it: a charge in the air, someone’s unbreathed breath left behind, somebody’s trail of thought you’ve tripped across. something infuriatingly intangible that’s here but that isn’t yours.

from the small adjacent kitchen comes a wavering scream, steadily increasing in volume—shit, that always happens after you sit down in the chair and try to read the writing. somehow, it still manages to startle you, just like it did the first time.

even now, you are far too nervous to laugh at yourself for it, even though you know it’s only the kettle.

dutifully, you get up to turn off the hob. the scream dies down to a sigh.

you follow the same steps you always do when you visit this place. one by one, you examine the items carefully laid out there in the kitchen: the chipped mug, the leaf juice bag, the spoon and the small bowl of sugar.

(what if you tried something different this time?)

so, ignoring the arrhythmic banging sound coming from behind you—you know it’s only the door, left ajar and caught by the wind—you fix yourself a cup of tea. there’s no grub milk to be found anywhere, but you suppose you can do without it, under the circumstances.

normally, after turning off the kettle, you’d retreat away from the kitchen, further inside—away from that repeatedly slamming door. you would find your way to a long spiraling staircase made of thick rusting metal and begin to climb, up and up, toward the steadily turning light at the very top, driven there by a burning curiosity.

and just before you would reach it, you would wake up, pump biscuit thumping hard in your chest from the long, strenuous climb, and you would go find your lusus and tell him about it, maybe, or just go back to sleep, or give up and just get out of your recuperacoon for the night—see if maybe anybody was online to troll yet.

well, not this time. this time, you stand in the cramped kitchen and sip your tea, and you wonder about the writing in the book, and the absence.

(why not try going through the open door?)

you stand rooted to the spot, leaning against the counter oh so casually, and warily watch that door slam itself against its frame again and again while you drink the tea.

a little shiver tears through your body, though you aren’t cold. you wonder if Einnal would make fun of you for being afraid, if he was here. that’d be rich. he’s probably the biggest coward you know.

you set the mug down decisively and stride toward the door, catching it mid-swing.

the waves are high, but not the worst you’ve ever seen. the salt spray catches you in the face as you lean out the door. it’s nice, though, familiar.

from a glance, it’s maybe an hour before dawnfall. the clouds are boiling, tumultuous as the sea, the sky beyond them still dark as a bruise. every half minute or so, the sweeping beam of the lighthouse briefly illuminates the stormclouds. every time, though, it’s gone too soon, leaving only a bright afterimage behind.

you lean further out of the doorframe, into the chill wind, to squint up at the pale shapes lurking among the clouds. they’re big—very big. that’s about as much as you can see from here.

there’s nobody else out here. you are alone.

you grip the edges of the doorframe tightly when your feet begin to leave the ground, but it’s no use. you’re airborne in moments, along with several sizeable chunks of rocky coastline.

(it’s easy enough to keep yourself calm. it’s only a dream, after all.)

slowly, you float up and up and up, parallel to the lighthouse tower. it’s massive, yet still dwarfed by the jagged, rocky landscape it’s nailed into like a stake. you don’t recognize this shoreline at all.

fleetingly, through the windows, you can see a shadowy figure inside the tower, steadily climbing up those spiral stairs—he looks like you, could that really be you? yourself, dreaming a different dream? or…

you’ve lost sight of him. you can’t see through the windows at this angle.

you look down. the sea is wild beneath you. it’s colder now, up here, caught as you are in the whims of the wind. you sort of wish you had worn a sweater to sleep.

at last, your flight has brought you level with that massive beacon at the top of the lighthouse—and then higher still, with no way to stop or slow down.

the figure emerges from the staircase, stepping out onto the top level.

it can’t be you, after all. it’s someone else, someone—older, maybe, though there certainly is a resemblance.

his long cloak billows dramatically in the wind.

he’s missing his right arm.

he’s looking right at you.

you stare back at him as he gradually recedes into the distance, smaller and smaller, until he’s no more than a speck.

you’ve flown so high—you’re about to be swallowed by the turbulent swirl of thick, dark clouds above you. for some reason, you find yourself holding your breath, as though you’re afraid you might drown in them, but no such thing happens. the moment you’re submerged into the sea of clouds is perfectly painless.

you can’t see anything anymore, though. you have no sense of direction left at all. even the sounds of the ocean are significantly muted, way up here.

a few minutes pass before you realize

(you’re not alone)

there are gigantic creatures circling you from a distance—the same ones you saw from the ground, perhaps.

that distance is rapidly shrinking, though. they’re swimming closer every minute. dream or not, you’re finding it more and more difficult not to outright panic—you have nothing here to defend yourself with, you’re not even wearing shoes, for fuck’s sake—

but then—then—

you emerge from the dark clouds entirely, abruptly, clumsily. you’re still ascending, Alternia’s ever so slight curvature now visible to you at this dizzying height. the impending dawn is threatening the horizon in earnest now.

the sharks don’t follow you out into the open air, preferring to remain half-concealed in the clouds instead. you almost can’t believe your luck. you watch their fins circling below and can’t help but exhale a shaky breath, but…

but before you can feel too great a sense of relief, you look up,

and see a creature there far larger than any shark, of either the sea or sky variety: a giant sky-squid, white as bone. its tentacles alone seem to span half (maybe more) of the length of the shoreline, far below.

it’s marked with countless scars, from countless battles. there are thousands of tridents and spears and harpoons stuck in its massive body, the great majority of them broken, it seems. one of its tentacles has been entirely blown apart, the ragged stump now long-healed, by the looks of it.

it’s seen you now. it seems to regard you not only with blank, stupid, wild-animal hostility, but…with caution. maybe you’re only imagining it.

one thing you know for certain, though, as you stare unblinking into its huge and ancient eye: this is the bastard that took your arm.

no doubt about that.

in spite of its great size, it’s fast, and you’re unarmed. you never stood a chance.

you scramble for one of the weapons stuck in its mantle, anything—but none are even close enough to reach, let alone to pry loose. the last thing you see before you’re swallowed whole is the lighthouse, far below, still signaling steadily across the waves as the sun begins to rise.

---

[ryanmarshallryan]

The Foodie Genie

Vincent had purchased a vintage cookie jar from an odd little antique booth at a local county fair. He thought it would be a perfect thing to put his homemade cookies in, which he always kept a batch of dough ready to make on hand, as they were his favorite, and perfect to bring out when hosting guests.

He did not expect it, though, when it began to smoke as he tried to clean it at home. Sparks flew out of it as he dropped it into his sink. Somehow unshattered, but still spewing sparks and purple colored smoke, he heard it make a squelching sound as if someone was prying their hand out of the cookie jar but it was suctioned in.

A great big figure of semi-transparent man jolted up out of the cookie jar and smacked its head into the ceiling.

“Years of hitting my head in my tiny little jar, to finally being released to hit my head again. Go figure,” said the being.

Vincent surveyed its impressive height, its massive belly, its bald head and goatee, and the way its legs seemed to swirl away into almost smoke.

“All right then, let’s get to it, I am Xavier, Genie for the Foodies, great to meet you,” Xavier held out a comically large hand, Vincent stared at it in surprise, “And your name is?”

“Vincent,” he blurted out, “Vincent’s my name, but you - what are you?”

“A genie. You got ears right?” Xavier said as it leaned back in the air, crossed its arms which accentuated its belly forward a bit.

“Of a cookie jar? I’m confused.”

“I could do the whole song and dance introduction, but I don’t want to overwhelm the already overwhelmed.” Xavier stated, magicking a large cushioned chair, and motioning Vincent into it. “You see, I’m a special kind of genie. A previous wish-giver was a foodie if I ever saw one, and made it so I can only grant wishes of a specific nature. For example, any food you could desire I could produce.”

Just then a whole feast of roast duck, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and more appeared with a pop in front of Vincent. Then in another moment all vanished, and was replaced with a buffet style platter filled with noodles and meats and rolls and veggies, and again vanished and was replaced with a vat of ice cream, steaming in the hot room.

“You get the picture, I can help you experience the rarest of delicacies too… and every once in a while I get someone who wants to become a rare delicacy themself, if you know what I mean.” Xavier raised his eyebrows, and watched as Vincent looked intrigued. “The one who wished I could only grant food related wishes, used his last wish to have me even swallow him whole! He wanted to experience first hand what it would be like to be food,” Xavier, floated upside down and let his large belly hang down and show how massive it is. It seemed to grow and inflate until it was pushing up against Vincent’s face.

In a flash of smoke Vincent suddenly had a gut the size of a yoga ball, and the genie was back to normal.

“Or I can give you more room, so that any meal you desire you’ll be able to finish, and have room for seconds…” Xavier snapped and Vincent’s belly swelled to the size of a compact car, “Thirds… fourths… you get the picture.”

In another puff of smoke the room filled with jello and Vincent felt himself floating in the giant mass and heard a muffled shouting from Xavier say “Or if you’d like to play with your food, I’m sure we could have a fun swim.” Another puff of smoke and Vincent was as small as a soup spoon, looking up at a dollhouse sized castle made of graham crackers and gingerbread. The candy door of it swung open and Xavier popped out, “Come on in, and consider a wish. You get three. No more. No less.”

Vincent entered the graham cracker castle, grabbed a chunk of chocolate that was by the door and nibbled on it. Xavier let him up a staircase made of cake, into a hall with a long table. They sat down and Xavier asked again what wish Vincent would begin with.

Vincent thought for a while. He supposed his wishes didn’t matter as much as a normal genie’s might. He didn’t think the world would collapse if he wished for a fridge with unlimited eclairs or something.

“I wish I had a fridge that could summon any food I desire when I opened it.”

“I can work with that,” said Xavier. A flash of smoke and they were normal sized, sitting on the kitchen floor. The genie gestured behind Vincent who turned to see a purple fridge replacing his old one. He opened it to find his favorite smoothie sitting on the center rack.

“Cool!” Vincent exclaimed, picking up the smoothie, closing the door and opening it again to find a plate of kebab waiting for him as well, “I didn’t even realize I wanted that. Thanks!”

Vincent drank and ate as he considered another wish. How could a wish regarding food be helpful for both himself and others? Maybe he could wish to change the taste of anything he ate to something he loved. That’d make shoving down the burnt stuff his friend made more bearable, even enjoyable. Or perhaps he could wish to not have any allergy to food or poison: to digest anything. But what if he wanted to heat something but not digest it?  “I wish I could change the shape of my gut at will, so if I want to eat a whole roast pig I could do it in one sitting, but then be able to change my gut’s size back to another size to fit my clothes.”

“Hmm that’s an interesting one. Many ways that one could be used without relation to food so it’d be tricky to see if my powers would allow. I think I can grant it, but only if the primary body part you are changing shape is that of your gut and digestive system.”

Vincent felt a surge of energy through him like an electric charge. He looked down at his gut and imagined it ballooning to the size of a watermelon. It did so. He opened the fridge and found a cantaloupe waiting for him, and he stretched open his mouth to an impossible size and fit the melon in easily, swallowing it down if it were a small round candy. He felt his gut with his hands, feeling the soft flesh and the hard melon underneath layers of it. He imagined that his gut would be packed with thick fat to pad the melon inside. He watched as his layers of fat grew thicker and thicker until his gut could easily fit a human inside and have enough fat padding no one would notice a difference in shape. 

“Wow, genie, you outdid yourself with this one. I think my friend Henry is gonna get a kick out of this,” Vincent said, turning back to the fridge. This time, when he opened it, the racks were gone and in their place was a full size human being, looking utterly bewildered at their being in a refrigerator. 

“Hello? Vincent? How on earth - I was just in the library. How did I get here?” said the man in the fridge, stepping out of it into the kitchen, “And who’s this? Or what is this?” he said, gesturing to the genie.

“I know you’ve got a million questions but I’d like to try something if you’re still interested,” Vincent said, “Remember when you told me about those funny fantasies you like to muse about when you’re - well you know what I mean?”

Henry looked between the genie and Vincent, and began to notice their large bellies, “What - ?”

“Wanna make it a reality for a bit? I can let you out later. Like this,” Vincent’s stomach changed shape and the melon popped out of his mouth, good as new. 

Henry looked surprised, but interested. “Wow, you swallowed that whole?”

“And you’re next, Henry,” Vincent said, with a gleam of devilishness in his smile. He glanced down on Henry and saw he wasn’t the only one changing shape. With one quick swoop, Vincent grabbed Henry by the shoulders, and threw him head first into his rapidly stretching mouth, sending him down into his belly, which was swelling to the size of a large couch again. Henry seemed to be quite content with this experience, not even struggling to slide down into his friend's belly.

The genie started clapping, “Oh my, what a show! You’ve got the hang of it quite quickly! But I must warn you, you must make three wishes by the time the clock strikes the hour mark, or all of your wishes will be revoked! And if that happens, your friend might be stuck in there for good with no magical stretching maw to let him back out.”

“The hour mark? Isn’t that like Cinderella and stuff? Why’s there a time limit?” Vincent asked, rubbing his gut and mildly distracted by the lump of Henry inside.

“Someone tried to wait to give me a final wish for 30 years and I got fed up and got special permission to start setting time limits.”

“Oh, I suppose that makes sense,” Vincent said absent mindedly, turning to the clock which read 3:59pm. Sudden panic filled him and he jostled his belly, sending Henry bouncing around. “One minute!”

“30 seconds actually,” said Xavier, not stressed about it.

Vincent’s mind went blank with shock as he tried to think of something good. He gave up and went with something that intrigued him earlier, “You said you ate one of the previous wisher people? That could be interesting I suppose to know what it’s like for Henry. I wish you would swallow me whole for a bit, then let me out before I get digested!”

Xavier looked excited and coy, “Really? Me eat you? I haven’t eaten in years,” the genie said, blushing. He clapped his hands and the room filled with smoke, and suddenly the two of them were steaming in a warm vat of hot fudge together. Xavier leaned in close, “I like a little flavor. But what would suit you best? Hmm…” The genie snapped its fingers and the vat of hot fudge turned to chicken soup… then to a birthday cake… then to a pool filled with chicken parm and pasta… then suddenly Vincent found himself sandwiched between two human sized slices of seeded bread, with an assortment of stuffing, cranberry sauce, turkey and lettuce and tomato. “Just want to say thank you for being a great wish-giver,” said the genie.

Vincent’s eyes grew wide as Xavier’s mouth stretched to the size of a door. Vincent felt air rush past his face as the genie’s throat seemed to start vacuuming the air around them down inside it. The sandwich lurched forward and Vincent watched as the giant mouth came closer and closer and he began falling into it, feeling the wet, mushy expanse of the back of the genie’s throat, and the tight squeeze down its esophagus. He fell what felt like ten feet down a tight, slimy tunnel of saliva, and landed in an opening chamber of stomach juices that tingled his skin. He felt around the giant stomach and felt it shrinking. He began with space to move around, but by the time it stopped shrinking he could barely move his chest to breathe. He hoped Henry was doing alright in his own belly, though his empathy was not deep when he felt Henry’s elbows and knees jabbing directly into his bladder and lungs. He felt the stomach walls around him knead his body, squeezing and contracting, as acid trickled down his sweaty face. He felt like he was dissolving into soup, felt like he could no longer tell where his fat belly ended and the one he was in began.

He began to fade into unconsciousness when, in a puff of purple smoke, he felt all stress upon his body relinquish as if he had been let go of from the tightest, sweatiest hug ever. He landed softly, seated on the ground of his kitchen. He looked around but did not see the genie anywhere. Xavier had gone. He felt a bit groggy. Perhaps he had passed out on the kitchen floor. Had it all been a dream? 

His answer came at once.

“Hey, bud, I’m having a great time… but you might wanna swallow some antacids, or let me out soon… unless you're hoping to make me permanently belly fat, of course, but this stomach acid is getting stronger.”

Vincent turned to the fridge. It was still purple. “Cool,” he whispered to himself. He looked up where the genie had been floating a while before and mouthed a silent “thank you.”

“Vincent? You there? I’m kinda digesting in here.” Henry called with a forced-casual tone showing signs of mild panic.

“Oh, right!” Vincent said, opening the fridge to find antacids and threw the whole unopened bottle in his mouth and right down into his belly.

A while later, after stretching his throat and mouth to let Henry out, the pair of them sat at the table, sharing some cookies. They sat in silence for awhile, enjoying each other’s company and processing what had happened.

“So I’m thinking, maybe I can come over for dinner again next week?” Henry said.

“To be dinner? Or share dinner?” Vincent joked.

“Why not both?” They shared a smile.

[orim0ri]

Dorm Leaders With (slightly) Chaotic Star Child!Reader

Includes:

Riddle Rosehearts, Kamil Al Asim, Leona Kingsholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Vil Schoenheit, Iida Shroud, Malleus Draconia

Note: Reader isn’t the main character Yuu, gender neutral reader, fluff!!! Fluff all around. Im feeling particularly Found Family Today. Bit of angst because why not

Spoilers: Many include the Overblots in the game so major spoilers for some!

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

You were just something that got caught in the middle of the summoning spell that lead you to Night Raven College. Upon summoning, people immediately noticed how… Odd your magic was. Well, it wasn’t like you were doing magic right off the bat trying to set the place on fire (yet), but it was the fact you didn’t even HAVE to show off your powers for them to know that it was simply chaotic in nature. To the students upon your arrival, even Headmage Crowley, they felt that your magic was a pure vortex, your aura simply radiated pure, unhinged energy that couldn’t be contained.

Your appearance was relatively normal, well, aside from the pure white color that would sometimes tint your (e/c) eyes. And how sometimes people could see a faint glow where your heart was from underneath your ragged shirt that was four sizes too big and went down to your knees.

Yuu, who was already having a mind at how they even got to this weird magic school and was told that their world was basically nonexistent, kinda stared at you for a while but also felt a little bad when they noticed how you stared at every one else. It wasn’t that you looked sad, it was more the fact you had those wide eyes and blank face, like you hadn’t even seen people in a while.

Crowley felt like he was about to pass out. Not only did a magicless human show up (along with some fire breathing cat who almost set a student on fire), but another student showed up who’s not even NEAR the age to attend college!

There was a moment of silence before Crowley simply said, “Uhm… Well…” What was he suppose to do in this situation!? Send you home, he guesses. It’s far too dangerous to have a child here, even if they had some powerful magic on par to even Prince Draconia.

Crowley kneeled down to you with a soft smile, well, as soft as he could make it from how close he was to breaking down crying. How could this even be happening at his school!?

“Hello little one!” He said. “I am Dire Crowley, the Headmage at Night Raven College. It is a pleasure to meet you…” He trailed off, giving you a hint to tell him your name.

You were silent. Blinking at him with those big ol eyes. Then, “Y/N.”

“Ah! Y/N! Lovely name.” He smiles, taking your limp hand in his and shaking it gently. You blinked again and gripped his hand.

WHY IS YOUR HAND SO WARM ITS LIKE A DAMN FURNACE. Crowley thought his hand might be on fire now from how hot your hand was, as tiny as it was, and he could hear his leather gloves even sizzling under your grip. Meanwhile you just rapidly moved his hand up and down in a handshake like his, just more violent. He wretched his hand away from your hands and tried to keep a smile but it was very strained, he was sweating as he lightly chuckled.

“Now… Uh….” He cleared his throat. “Well, unfortunately, you are very young looking, if you don’t mind me saying,”

After all, some of the students looked like they could be in middle school!

“So, I’m afraid I’ll have to send you back home to your parents, alright?”

You said nothing. He decided to take that as a “yes” to get this night over with. He put his hand on your back and lead you up the stairs to the mirror, who’s face looked down at you.

“Magic Mirror! Send this child back to where they came!” Nothing. Oh for the Sevens sake- “…Mag-“

“The Star Child has fallen.” It said simply. “It burned too bright and fell from the sky. During its fall, it ended up here. The Star has no home to speak of to go to.”

…Well shit. Even worse! The room was tense and Crowley looked down at you. You didn’t seem to be bothered but you stared down at the floor, those eyes still big but a little dimmer now at the mention of falling. And now you had nowhere to go! What kind of man would he be if he just said; “well that sucks, anyways, off you go little one!” He sighed heavily again and rubbed his temple.

“Well… That’s… Fine!” He crouched down again. “Change of plans, little one, how about you just… Stay here until we figure out a proper home for you to be in? Maybe in one of the dorms!”

He picked you up and held you up to the Magic Mirror. The Mirror hummed for a moment.

“The Star Child is very bright. Their soul is shapeless but full of light to where it is hard to see past. They suit all of the dorms, yet none at all.”

“Well… That certainly is a predicament…” Crowley mumbled, setting you down, but you immediately looked back up at him and started to crawl up his body. He almost screamed at how terrifying it was to see your tiny body basically see him as a tree and scale up him to grab on his shoulders. He was sweating bullets now. It reminded him of those kittens that basically claw their way up your leg and you can’t even decide if you want to laugh or cry in absolute fear. He was pretty much wanting to scream and cry. Those stupid big eyes staring at him.

“…Alright then.” He patted your back awkwardly. Was this your way of asking to be held!? He basically had to force you down onto the ground.

“So! Change of plans. Since I am having to deal with this magicless human predicament because no dorm suits them-“

“I have a name y’know!” Yuu yelled, but Crowley didn’t even see to notice.

“And you are in a different situation. The Mirror said your soul was unshaped but full of potential to be in any one of the dorms…” He put a finger to his chin. “Yes… Yes! Yes this will do!”

“You will be sorted in one of the dorms to learn and be molded into a fine magic user! With that aura you have, you might go so far as to be the youngest mage to ever make it into Night Raven College and learn from the best! Ooohhh I am so generous!” Crowley was gushing at his own words as he looked down at you with promise, you simply just stared at him and the others who were staring at you.

“The dorm you shall be in is…”

╔══════╗

“Heartslabyul!”

What.

No. Seriously. What.

Not only does he have to deal with a literal child, he also has to deal with these new freshmen who clearly do not understand the sacred Queen of Hearts rules! Riddle isn’t all too happy with this situation, but it here is a chance he can shape you to be a well refined student, then he will do so!

But first he has to do something about your appearance. Your clothes are partly singed at the ends and you definitely need to be freshened up! He won’t have you looking untidy.

Crowley had brought you over to Riddle, who stood calm and poised with his hands behind his back.

“This is Riddle Rosehearts, the dorm prefect of Heartslabyul. He will be watching over you and teaching you about Twisted Wonderland.”

You stared at Riddle. He stared back at you. You didn’t even blink for a whole minute, then, you walked up to him and tried crawling up his body what the fu-

He promptly yanked you off of him and your grimy child hands were gripping his robe and he was clenching his teeth as you stubbornly held onto him. He managed to get you on the ground, but he had to hold back from using his signature spell on you. This was your one time to ever make this mistake. You clearly do not understand. But he shall teach you proper manners.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. However, please refrain from ever climbing on people. It isn’t polite.”

You stared at him. “No.”

No? What do you mean ‘no?’ Huh???

“Ridley.” Huh??!!?? That’s not even close to being his name!?

“It’s Riddle.”

“Rib.”

“Riddle.”

“Dil.”

He’s about to lose it. He breathes in deep as he pinches the bridge of his nose, then, he hears your low cackling, like you’re holding back yourself from giggling too loud. He looks at you, a mischievous grin looking back at him, your eyes that (e/c) color glowing a bit white as you snicker at him. He sighs internally. Another rule breaker, he can smell it, and he’s not gonna have it. His mother raised him to be a proper man, to follow the rules and have order, and he will teach you just the same. He won’t tolerate you antagonizing him.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Now, I shall teach you the manner of ‘rules’ here in Heartslabyul. We follow the great Queen of Hearts, who ruled over Rose Kingdom with order. I know all 810 of her rules and now, so shall you. Do you understand?”

One day after coming here to Night Raven you learn that Riddle sucks the fun out of everything. As soon as you got to the dorms with the freshmen and the returning students for their new year, he immediately told you that it was way past bedtime. Something about “rule 67 of the Queen of Hearts, one shall go to bed at exactly 8:30 on a weekday.” And then today, he sat you down in the dorm lounge and brought a heavy book.

“This is what you need to learn in order to be able to go through life. Rules here are very important and it a way to maintain absolute order over your kingdom. As a prefect, it is my job to uphold the Queen of Hearts rules to a tee. Though, since you are a bit younger than the others, I’ll give you some time to adjust. But do not think I will tolerate you actively rule breaking! There will be consequences to your actions, do you understand?”

You didn’t like this one bit. You frowned with a pout, Riddle clicked his tongue at you and crossed his arms.

“Do not pout or whine. You are not a toddler. Now, open to the first page and get to studying. I’ll be here the whole time to make sure you actually do it.”

This sucks. This really sucks. You burned up so bright in the sky when you thought about the universes out there, needing to see them all, despite all your siblings telling you to relax. You couldn’t help it! You burned so bright the colors exploded and stretched beyond the infinite space. When you ended up here you wanted to have some fun! Not be forced to read these stupid rules!

Turning the page to the first rule you wanted to die. You didn’t wanna read! Also…

How did you know how to read?

Whatever! It didn’t matter. You didn’t wanna! Your face scrunched again and looked at Riddle, who looked back at you with that typical “no nonsense” look. You stared at one another for a long time.

Then you ran.

“Y/N!!”

He chased after you and you ran through the halls with speed. How were you so fast!? Sure you were a child but you’re so fast! Other students moved out of the way as you ran, cackling down the halls as you did so. Trey was making tarts for the upcoming un-birthday party when he heard those giggles come into the kitchens, your figure darting in the kitchen and then out past Riddle when he entered, red faced and panting. He was sweating and grabbed the counter.

Trey chuckled at bit at Riddle. “…going well?”

Riddle growled a bit at Trey and swallowed. That’s when Trey noticed a missing baked tart from the “test tarts” he made. That’s when Riddle gritted his teeth. How did you manage to evade him AND get a tart in the process!?

“Get back you you little brat!”

Trey didn’t mind the little theft of the tart and watched as Riddle ran out of the kitchen. He laughed a little under his breath. You were gonna be an interesting addition to the bunch.

“Y/N DO NOT BRING THAT BOOK ANYWHERE NEAR THE FIRE! PUT THAT DOWN THIS INSTANT!”

…Maybe he should help…

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You’ve been at the school for maybe a few days now and you like Riddle! You really do! Even if he is a big party pooper, he’s still really fun to mess with! Which is why you like him. You pull simple, harmless pranks every now and then. Salt in his tea rather than sugar, taking a shoe from a set pair of his and hiding it and having him chase you for it, dangling off the chandelier in the lounge and listening to Riddle yell at you while his face gets a beat red, putting glitter in his hairdryer, the works! It’s so fun messing with him and they aren’t doing damage to him, so it’s okay!

Then there’s the un-birthday day. You’ve never heard of it and it sounds like a big deal. With the dorm uniform Carter managed to get for you thanks to Crowley, you fit right along with the others! Though, it wasn’t helping that Riddle kept trying to fix your uniform. Or kept trying to check you for any of the hedgehogs you somehow keep hidden on your person at all times. You just love the little guys! Yuu was even there at the party too!

You were sat beside Riddle, mostly to stick to his side so you don’t try and cause something. Ace had walked over to Riddle and presented the walnut tart to him and things just went downhill from there with you in the mix.

“And you!” Riddle screeched during his rant, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You are nothing but a useless weed here! You do nothing for the kingdom with your stupid pranks and disgusting attitude! If it were up to me, you would be thrown out at once and left with the rest of the trash!”

You watched at the others fought against the now blotted Riddle with a slightly broken heart. By the time Riddle was finally defeated and sobbed openly in front of others, you kinda stood there in the background.

You’ve never felt this way before.

This much hurt made your chest ache inside and you began crying. You’ve never cried before. You ran off chaos and were a big buddle of energy, all full of light and little darkness in your heart without a need to feel any negative emotions. But now you were here in the world.

You sniffled a bit and rubbed your eyes, a little confused and very… sad, if that’s the word. Riddle was suddenly in front of you, standing awkwardly there, then he hugged you.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, clinging to you tightly. “I’m really sorry… I- I actually enjoyed your pranks a little! I liked when you smiled afterward. I liked when you made me chase you. It reminded me of playing outside with friends… Something I rarely did.”

“You aren’t useless at all! I didn’t mean those words at all.” Riddle frowned and almost started crying again. “I won’t be so harsh on you anymore. You don’t have to study the rules all the time. You don’t have to be like me.”

“Just… Don’t cry. Please. I don’t want you to cry because of me…”

You sniffed again.

Then you punched him on the chest.

“Your mean! I’m taking all your tarts! All your sweets! I’m taking everything from you!”

Riddle only smiled and held you even tighter while you shouted empty threats.

Since then, he’s more lenient on you. He doesn’t need to shape you to be just like him, like his mother wanted him, he can at least try to raise you the way he would want to be raised, with some freedom. Trey helps him because sometimes it’s hard to try and do something you weren’t taught to do.

“Savanaclaw!”

No.

No. Absolutely not. He has his brothers brat to deal with back at home. He does not want to deal with another brat here. He seriously wants a nap.

“This is Leona Kingscholar, prefect of Savanaclaw. He shall be looking over you and guiding you along your way!”

He stared at you with distaste. You stared back at him with those big eyes of yours. Then, you stared at his ears, which twitched, then, to his tail that lightly swayed behind him.

You then promptly grabbed it with your hands and had it in a tight grip, yanking the tail.

He hissed at you and lightly shoves you back. You stare at him. Then try to grab it again. He grabs the back of your shirt and lifts you up off your feet.

“Knock it off.”

“Are you a kitty? I’ve never seen them before.”

“I’m a lion.”

“Then you are a big kitty then.”

He sighs. He dislikes you already. He might just throw you into the care of Ruggie, the guy has plenty of siblings to speak of so he can take care of you. He seriously does not wanna deal with you, but, he has to keep you from making his form look bad. What a pain.

“Come on, brat.” He said, still carrying you by the back of your collar, which you didn’t seem to mind based on your grinning, trying to grab at his ears with your grubby mitts.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

He was just laying there peacefully in his room, the night was upon them after arriving back to the dorm. He was happy to sleep until…

He cracked one eye open and saw your glowing eyes in the dark staring back down at him. Leona swears, he started to dislike children even more. You were super creepy in the dark.

“What are you doing.” You asked.

“Trying to sleep. Which is what you should be doing. I gave you a room, didn’t I.”

The room he gave you was a vacant one only a few doors down from Ruggie’s room. If anyone should deal with you, it’s him. Please. But here you are, in front of him.

You continued to stare at him. “How do you sleep.”

“By closing my eyes and sleeping.” He groaned with a sigh and fully opened his eyes at you. “What do you want.”

“…I dunno.”

He felt a headache coming on. He turns his body over for his back to face you. You tilt your head at him and then caught eye to his tail again. You grabbed it with your hands and he immediately wanted to scratch you, but you weren’t gripping it like you hated him this time. You messed with it as it wriggled in your grasp and giggled lightly at the tail and then poked at the end, looking at it with fascination. You’ve never seen this before!

Then you climbed onto the messy bed and then started messing with his ears, which he lightly shoved your hands away, but then you went back to messing with them again.

“Stop.” He growled.

You remained silent, then lightly started petting him a bit. He huffed and sat up, grabbing you and putting you off the bed.

“Go to your room and go to sleep.”

“I don’t know how.” You said. “I’ve never slept before.”

Huh. You never slept before? Well if you are some star… thing… it sounded about right. He groaned for what seemed like the fifth time tonight and sucked his teeth and laying down on his back.

“Cmon, lay down,” he said, which you crawled back into the bed and mimicked his position, staring at him.

“Now shut your eyes.”

You shut your eyes and then waited, like he was, but nothing was happening. You felt antsy just waiting here in silence, but you kept your eyes firmly shut. Leona peaked at you and saw how you were tense, but said nothing. Eventually after a few moments, he heard you yawn and then move over to grasp at his arm. He looked at you and saw you completely passed out asleep.

Finally.

He yawned himself and fell asleep with you gripping his arm.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“YOU DAMN BRAT!”

You were giggling and laughing when you snatched away his favorite sandwich Ruggie got for him from the dining hall, running away from the botanical garden with the sandwich in hand. You didn’t wanna eat it, but you wanted to mess with him a little since you were bored.

You had been sitting on his chest for like a whole hour trying to wake him up but he’s been ignoring you. You tried napping with him to maybe get why he naps, but you got bored of that quickly.

Now you were escaping a cranky and hungry lion!

“GET BACK HERE!” You turned a corner down the hallway, pasting a bunch of students who moved out of your way, then you saw a beast man seeing Leona chase after you and tried to grab you, but you were a slippery thing and manage to dodge him!

Then you were suddenly tackled to the ground with Leona holding you to his chest as you were squealing with laughter and trying to wiggle your way out.

“Give me back my damn food.” He growled at you, trying to snatch it from you but you kept moving it away from him, even with him holding you.

Then you gave up and gave it to him. “Thank you for playing with me Leo!”

He doesn’t even correct you on his name. “Go bother someone else!”

He tried walking away, maybe hoping that you’d try and find Ruggie, but no, he looks over his shoulder and sees you happily following him.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It had been after Leona’s Overblot and you didn’t even bother to leave the infirmary to see the Magift game, whatever it was. You sat a bit away from Leona’s bed in a chair with your knees against your chest, staring away from him. During his Overblot he called you a nuisance, which, you won’t bother trying to deny you were being annoying to Leona, but it still stung a bit. Leona could tell you were off based on how quiet you are and the fact you had a certain smell about you, as if your magic had dimmed a bit and it was clear by your eyes that you weren’t glowing as bright anymore.

He sighed. He hated apologizing but he would do it if you stopped having that sad look about you. “Hey, brat,”

You looked up to him, pouting a bit. He sighed again, more agitated.

“What I said… Uh…” He swallowed his pride. “I’m sorry.”

You blinked at him and tilted your head, like a confused puppy. And looked away. “Do I really bother you…? Do you really not like me? I promise I’ll stop. I’ll be better.”

Okay now that hit him harder than it needed to.

“You don’t need to ‘be better’, not for a guy like me. Sure, you are annoying,” he watches you deflate a bit. “But… If you stopped with your antics, I’d probably get antsy just waiting for you to do something. It wouldn’t be good, especially if I’m trying to sleep.”

Well… It was something. He watches you visibly brighten in your eyes and smile at him, which makes him disgustingly warm, and just accepts it when you throw yourself on him in a big hug.

“UNKA!!!!!”

No.

Please.

Cheka runs in the infirmary with the others following him, his little body colliding on top of Leona when you moved yourself out of the way, making him groan on the impact.

“Seriously? Cheka, where is your guard? Why are you even here.”

“I wanted to see you!” The little lion beamed with a toothy grin.

Then, the little guy takes notice of you, and you stared at him. You walked over to Cheka.

“Do you know Unka?” Cheka asked.

“Mhm! He’s taking care of me. I don’t have a home!”

Kids always say some odd stuff, especially honest stuff to one another and neither of you look at all phased.

“Oh, okay!” Cheka says. “My unka is very kind, even when he’s a little grumpy! Does that mean you’re my cousin?”

“No they aren’t-“

“I dunno what a cousin is but yeah!”

“You’re not my nephews cousin.”

“I’m Cheka!”

“I’m Y/N! I’ll try to be a good cousin but I dunno how to act.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to lead you okay!”

“You two ARENT cousins!”

“Octavinelle!”

Well… Okay?

He doesn’t know how to feel when he goes up to you, but what he does know is that you’re radiating with some powerful energy and he desires that. Perhaps he can shape you to his own devices? Hm…

“My name is Azul Ashengrotto, a pleasure to meet you Y/N.”

You furrowed your eyes at him and he blinked for a moment at you. It was as if you smelled something off, or maybe there was something on his face. You frowned at him and took a step back. Huh?

“Uh…” Crowley coughed in his hands. “Y/N? Go with Mr. Ashengrotto!”

“No.” You said. “There’s a funny smell on him. It smells weird.”

Azul felt a little embarrassed at how you put it. Crowley looked confused and then made a soft “ah” when he snapped his fingers.

“That’s the salt water!”

You looked at Crowley. “Whats salt water?”

Azul looked baffled for a moment. You didn’t know what salt water was!? Let alone an ocean!?

“It’s like water but salty.” Azul explained. “It’s usually found in the ocean.”

“What’s the ocean?”

“It’s… Like a big… lake?”

“Whats a lake?”

Did you seriously know nothing? He was growing a bit frustrated with you.

“Come with me and I can show you.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It was like being in the glass and all around you there was blue, an array of animals swam past and barely turned to gaze at you. You stared with big eyes at what was supposedly the ocean that surrounded you. You touched the glass. You’ve only heard about the ocean from your siblings! They said that the moon liked the ocean and kept it balanced, from what you’ve heard.

And the ocean was very pretty.

“Do you understand now?” Azul asked behind you.

You looked at him. “I wanna feel the ocean.”

“You mean you wanna get in the water? I dont-“

“What’s the harm, Azul?” Jade asked with a small smile, looking down at you.

When you first met Jade and Floyd for the first time, you swore that you thought you were seeing double because you thought they were the same person! Well, up until they explained the idea of twins to you.

“Yeah Azul!” Floyd piped up, picking you up swiftly and squeezing you lightly. “Little starfish wants to explore!”

“Starfish? That’s new.” Jade lightly pinched your cheeks.

“Well the mirror did say that they were a star so they’re a starfish!”

Azul looked to Floyd and Jade and sighed. Maybe letting you swim would be okay. He has work to do so it doesn’t really bother him much.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

He had to sit in the lounge and watch you guys. Turns out you don’t know how to swim but somehow you don’t need to breathe? The first time you got in the water, you just sank to the bottom with Floyd and Jade now in their eel forms circling around you, trying to pull you up, but you just let the bubbles escape your mouth as you stared all around you, seemingly unaffected by the water or the salt entering your eyes. They stared back at you and Floyd was even more excited than before! You were just like a starfish, he was right!

Azul watched, somewhat panicked when you didn’t even bother swimming to the surface, mostly trying to flail your arms and try and follow Jade and Floyd.

“Don’t worry little starfish! We got you!” Floyd cheered, grabbing one of your arms.

“We can teach you since you’ll be around us a lot more often.” Jade grabbed your other arm.

The two hoisted you up and helped you move around in the water. It was like teaching a little fish how to swim for the first time, they thought it was adorable how your little bitty arms moved around to copy their movements. Of course, they had to go based off of how humans swam since you didn’t have a tail, which was fine. But for the most part, you were enamored by their eel form rather than trying to swim. You tried to grab their slippery tails but they moved so quick you couldn’t grab on. It was even worse when you actually got the hang of swimming a lot faster than they expected and tried chasing after them to grab their tails.

Floyd was having a blast as he pressed against the glass. “Azul! Starfish is so cute! I wanna keep ‘em! They really like us like this!”

You caught Floyd by his tail and refused to let go, climbing like a gremlin up his body and grabbing his face. His whole body was a blue-ish green color, which you thought was the most cool thing ever, and then you finally have the chance to see his teeth up close.

“See! They like me!”

“Careful Floyd, don’t squeeze too hard.”

You didn’t mind. You and Floyd were getting along great! Azul wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or… a bad thing. Both? Probably both. It’s Floyd. Who knows what he’ll teach you.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You bit Azul during homework time.

“Ow! Y/N!? The hell was that for!?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged. “I was excited being around you and I wanted to bite you.”

“Starfish!!!” Floyd cooed, picking you up and squeezing you. “You and me are just alike!”

“Yay!”

Azul is now fearful.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It had been days after Azul’s overblot incident and you had nothing to forgive him on because he never said anything to you, he mostly never really payed much attention to you since he was constantly working, which you were bored with. But even so, he was trying to change and open up more now for the better! But there was something really bothering you.

You wanted to swim with Azul!

“Azul?” You had asked him while in the lounge with him. He actually wanted to talk with you a bit more, study you a bit to know more about being a star in the first place, but you were bored with the questions mostly.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Can we swim?”

“Huh? Swim? I- I don’t think that’s…” He was worried. Sure he was trying to love himself more, he really was, after all, it’s something he has to learn to do before he could ever become whole. But there was still those lingering fears inside of him. You’ve never seen someone like him in that form.

“Please?” You looked at him with those big puppy dog eyes. “Pleaaaaaaaaaaeeeee????”

“…alright.” If it’s something you fear, it’s all the more reason to face it.

“Yay!”

You were tugging on him to get up to the tank that entered the sea around the dorm, dragging him to the water. You canonballed into the water without even bothering to get out of your uniform and poked your head up to watch Azul.

He was sweating bullets as he stepped into the water, the water engulfing his whole body until he was finally submerged. He shut his eyes tightly when he felt himself transform into what he thought was the hideous version of himself, a tentacle freak. He could practically hear the insults now.

He decided to crack a single eye open when he felt you grab one of the dark purpled limbs in your hand. You stared at it and blinked of times.

Then you bit him.

“Ow! Seriously!?”

You only grinned at him with those nasty demon teeth. He couldn’t help but smile back at you.

“Scarabia!”

Aw!!! He loves you already! At first glance, you looked like the cutest lil kid he’s ever seen! You remind him of his little siblings and he can’t help but beam at you as he approaches you and crouches to your level with eyes as big as yours.

“Hi there!” He beams. “My name is Kalim Al Asim! Im the prefect of the dorm and I guess I’ll be taking care of you!”

“It’ll mostly be me.” He heard Jalim sigh behind him.

“We can take care of them together!”

“Sun.” You suddenly said. Kamil looked at you with the same smile on his face and he hummed in question. You placed a hand on his head.

“You are… Like the sun.” You were smiling like you were talking about someone from home, where ever that was for you, and you kept patting his head, which he giggled at you and took your little hand in his.

“You’re so sweet!” He swooped you up in his arms and basically almost tried crushing you in his hug. “I like you weird star child! Come on! Let’s go to the dorms and I’ll show you around! Oo we can even have a sleepover and Jamil can make something yummy for you to eat! And then we can get to know each other, yeah!?”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Jamil almost dropped all his things as he stared at you and Kalim. How the hell did this even happen. Kalim was apparently watching you were on fire. You. Were. On. Fucking. FIRE!?

“WHAT THE FU-“

“Oh hey Jamil!”

“WHAT!? THEY- THE KID IS ON FIRE!?”

“I’m okay!” You said. “I got a little mad.”

“WHAT!?”

“We were watching a movie and they got upset at the movie, so I’m waiting until they stop burning. It’s kinda like how that weird shut-in guy from Ignihyde looks when he gets upset!” Kalim was laughing at the idea and Jamil was currently panicking. How was he okay with this!?

That’s when you stopped burning. Your clothes were burnt to a crisp and it was a miracle they weren’t ash, even more a blessing that they weren’t your uniform and rather your pajamas. But now there were burn foot marks in the floor because of your entire body being on fire. Jamil watched as you collapsed into Kalim’s arms and say that you’re better now, which Kamil wasn’t the least bit phased.

“Why didn’t you try and put them out!?” Jamil chided Kamil with a very confused and very irritated expression.

“Well, I was freaking out, don’t get me wrong!” He admitted while holding you. “My reaction was kinda like yours, except mostly crying and screaming. Then Y/N said that this sometimes just happened when their emotions get out of hand so I waited for them to calm down!”

“Kamil’s smile made me stop being angry.” You said to Jamil who felt a headache coming on as he sighed. He kinda just tried to accept what was happening.

Then you stood up and hugged Jamil, your arms wrapping around his abdomen. “I’m sorry I made you worry. And made the floor burn. And burned my clothes.”

He looked down at you, smelling the burnt fabric and char lingering in the air, and just simply sighed heavily and patted your head a little. After all, you were a little kid, even if you had some otherworldly magic in your hands and weren’t even human, despite looking like one.

“Group hug!”

Jamil can’t take this anymore.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“What was your home like, Y/N?” Kamil asked you one night before taking you to bed. It was actually next to his room, which he wanted to make sure it was so he can always help you if you ever needed him! Big brother instincts always take over.

“Mm… It was dark.” You said as he tucked you into bed. “I wasn’t alone though. I was with my family.”

“They were the other stars?”

“I think so. I’m not sure.” You looked at Kamil. “You always talk about the things you do with your family, but me and my family never done anything together. I always wanted to play, but there was nothing to play. We were always just… there.”

He felt sad for you. You weren’t showing any sadness since you didn’t understand how to express it, but he could tell that you were feeling something deep down based on how you were staring at him. Envious? Upset? All of the above? He couldn’t be sure, but it made him sad.

“But Im here. In this world. I can’t go back to my family and that’s fine.” You said. “Because I have Kamil and Jamil.”

He felt his heart clench in his chest and he wanted to start crying. He felt warm as you smiled at him.

“Kamil is like the sun. And Jamil is like the moon. It reminds me of home and I’m happy!”

Kamil burst into tears and grabbed you, holding you close to his chest and sniffling and sobbing with snot running down his nose.

“You are the sweetest kid ever! I’m never letting you go! We’re gonna be together forever, I demand it!”

“Pomfoire!”

Oh……

Ew.

That was probably the very first thing he thought when he caught a glimpse at your ragged clothes. How you walked around with that mangy shirt made him look you up and down with slight distaste. Although, despite your lack of fashion, you had some hope in your appearance. With a bit of help, you had some hope.

“This is Vil Schoenheit. The prefect of Pomfoire. He is an expert in potion making! With his expertise, you’ll be a master in any art in no time!”

All you can think of is that this guy is very purple. Maybe that’s his favorite color. You’ll probably call him a fruit at some point. Vil crossed his arms as you stared up at him. The two of you had a staring contest for a while before Vil sighed and grabbed your arm.

“Come on, potato.”

“I am not a vegetable.” You said as he pulled you. “Val.”

“It’s Vil. It’s not that hard to say.”

“Whatever you say, Allen.”

“Dimwit.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Don’t. Eat. It.”

“But it smells good!”

“Do not eat it you idiot!”

Vil was trying to get you dolled up currently in his room. He had you sitting at his vanity with a large majority of makeup products that appeared high class in quality. He had gotten you out of those rugged fabrics and into the dorm uniform that was your size. Now he was busy styling you with a bit of a light blush and maybe some gloss. After all, you were still a child, he didn’t want to cake your skin in the products that could possibly damage your skin, it would just look terrible.

Unfortunately, the gloss he had smelled good to you and you kept trying to lick it off your lips to eat it. He was beyond disgusted. Nasty child.

“Stop that!” He said, lightly tapping your head to scold you. You pouted at him.

“But it smells good.”

“It won’t taste good, just like the soap you tried to eat when taking a bath.”

“It lied to me.”

He sighs, very annoyed. He decided to just skip the blush and just use chapstick.

…

“STOP TRYING TO EAT IT.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Ask anyone in NCR and they would insist that Vil despises you. He complains about you constantly annoy him and that you are a thorn in his side, along with other insults he could think of, mostly describing you a nuisance.

Others are very convinced he hates you, but, it’s actually the opposite.

He ADORES you.

Sure, you’re annoying at times with your constant pranks and always being glued to his side, but that’s not to say he hates it or you for it. When someone asks him if he does hate you, his confusion and irritation is clear.

“What gave you that idea?”

Well… He doesn’t exactly make it obvious he cares about you. His care for you is subtle if you aren’t actively trying to look for it.

“Vil can I have that burger thing in the dining hall?”

“Absolutely not. It’s very greasy and you could break out into pimples and ruin your complexion.”

You stare at him. You liked the fruit salad Vil introduced you to because it was sweet and nice, though you didn’t understand the salad part, there wasn’t any vegetables. But you also wanted to try other foods! You’ve never eaten before cause you never experienced hunger until you fell. Although, you haven’t gotten use to a solid form ever since your fall, nor the feeling of hunger. Some days you don’t feel hungry or feel any drainage like normal humans do when they experience it.

The first time you told Vil that you were hungry he asked when the last time you ate. You said;

“What day is today?”

You swore his face turned white as a sheet. Now he keeps a keen eye on you to maintain a proper eating schedule! He does take into consideration of your body type and shape, all people process food differently, but for you, you aren’t exactly human, fae, or any other creature he’s seen or studied, so he keeps a little snack on him at all times, just to make sure you get some food in you. You’re a growing star child and he’ll be damned if you don’t take care of yourself!

Another subtle thing people don’t look out for.

Vil eventually caved a let you have the burger, though. You devoured it in ten seconds flat.

“Calm down or you’ll-“

You started choking and he sighs. He’ll scold you later.

Another thing people rarely see is that he’ll kill everyone if someone insults you or hurts you.

There was a time a Pomfoire student laughed at you when a potion blew up in your face after you added random shit into the caldron. It didn’t hurt you or turn you into something strange, but it didn’t almost burn bits of your hair…

Vil heard the cackling as he was scolding you and then snapped his head over to the student.

“Is there something you want to add.”

His glare was terrifying and any word other than “no prefect” would probably make him want to turn them into a toad.

He’ll kill everyone and then himself if harm ever comes to you. That’s a promise, no matter what complaints he has.

“Ignihyde!”

He has a hundred PowerPoint slide on why he is the LEAST qualified person to do this. He still holds a belief that he is the worst brother in the world after what happened to Ortho and he can give a long, long list of reasons why he cannot possibly take care of a kid.

Now he looks at you through the floating tablet on his screen and bites his nails nervously when you stare back.

“On the otherside of this tablet is the prefect Idia Shroud! The prefect of Ignihyde.”

“Nice to meet you…? I guess.” Idia mumbled out.

You visibly perked up and suddenly snatched the table into your hands and stared at the screen. Now Idia has full view of those big eyes of yours and it isn’t something he enjoys. He almost screeches when you grabbed the tablet.

“Please let go of the tablet!” He said. “You’re gonna damage it or- or something! Just let it go!”

“You aren’t a person?”

“I am! I just didn’t wanna come to the ceremony in person, so I’m using this tablet to watch…”

“Oh.”

You didn’t understand but that’s fine. It was glowing a pretty blue and you wanted to look at it up close anyways, even if the man was trapped in the metal square.

“Hello!” Ortho came up to you and gently urged you to release the tablet from your hands. Idia almost sighed in relief. He didn’t wanna imagine what you’d be like in person. “My name is Ortho Shroud! My big brother is Idia Shroud!”

You stared at the boy, who was very cheerful. You tilted your head and then poked his metal shoulder. “You are metal.”

“I am! My brother designed this body for me!” Ortho said. “He is very talented and smart! Even if he doesn’t think so.”

“Ortho…” Idia’s hair was already turning pink from embarrassment.

You continuously poked at Ortho’s metal body, sometimes even knocking on it, which he didn’t seem to mind. He was giggling at you and grabbed your small hand in his, leading you out of the ceremony hall.

“Come on! Let’s meet my big brother!”

“Ortho! Wait I’m not mentally ready! Abort! Abort!”

“It’ll be okay!”

“Ortho!”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Idia hated this. No seriously he hated this so much.

As soon as you saw him, you wasted no time and suddenly scaled his body like a damn rat, which he let out a girly screech at, and now is stiff as a statue as you poked and prodded at his blue, fiery hair.

Meanwhile, Ortho was giggling at your antics. He really liked you! He’s never seen a kid who looked around his age before!

“Ortho.” Idia managed to croak out while sweating bullets. His personal space is being invaded! He does not have the items for this!! “Help your brother. Please.”

“They’re just curious big brother!” Ortho said. “I think they really like your hair!”

“Please… Please Ortho.”

You were messing with his hair with odd fascination then you suddenly moved away from him, which he sighed at and tried to relax, but you were still clinging onto him.

“Can you… Like… Get off me please.” He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace.

You stared at him and then just slid off of him and onto the floor, looking around at your surroundings. Idia was still trying to recover from a little gremlin child climbing into him and invading his space and messing with his hair. Ortho lightly patted his brothers shoulder, but still looked to be smiling.

“I thought I was a goner…”

“It’s okay big brother, as far as I can see, you’re perfectly alright!”

“No seriously… I thought I was going to encounter the game over screen for a moment… this isn’t fair… Why me!??”

“It’s alright! I’ll make sure that Y/N doesn’t get into any trouble while we’re in school!”

You were searching around his room and suddenly grabbed one of his figurines.

“HEY PUT THAT DOWN!?”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Idia has come to the conclusion you were a total noob. Over the course of a month, he’s gotten use to you and even started liking you a bit! He’s still a bit weirded out by you and your need to constantly try and scale him like a tree, but he’s gotten use to it by going stiff. He also calls you a noob because you have a weird fascination with his technology, like you’ve never seen it before. Which you haven’t. Hell, even hun starting up his computer makes you go wide eyed. It’s so funny to him! There were times where he was like that when he was younger, but, he has grown up around technology so he doesn’t really completely understand your reactions.

Either way, they’re funny. He loves them.

He’s trying to teach you the basics of tech and what to avoid, after all you’re still a little baby in his eyes. He’s also introduced the idea of games to you, but mostly the ones that aren’t gorey and have a fantasy feel to them.

“Use this button to slash the enemy’s and basically interact with things.”

“Ok.”

“And use this to jump.”

“Ok.”

“Now go forward and try killing that mob with your sword! Oh and make sure to dodge.”

“Ok.”

…

“I died.”

It was a level one mob…

Now if you were anyone else he’d make fun of you and call you a normie, but…

He pats your head. “It’s alright, we all start somewhere. You did good! Let’s try again and try to copy what I do, okay?”

You seemed more happier when Idia pulled out a two player open world fantasy game knowing that you could play together than just doing it on your own. He’ll make sure to buy more of them, then!

“Diasomnia!”

They had forgotten to invite Malleus yet again to the ceremony, so Lilia had to come in his stead. So when Lilia saw you, he was surprised to hear that you’d be in the care of Malleus, though, not that surprised since you radiated this aura about you that gave off high levels of magic in you, it did remind him of Malleus, in some way.

If someone asked Lilia; “would you take in another child under your care?” Lilia would probably say no. Raising two boys was good for him and he’s proud of that.

“This is Lilia Vanrogue. He is not the prefect Malleus Draconia since uh…” Crowley coughed into his fist when Lilia gave him his signature smile, but with a glint in his eyes that told him to stop talking. “But he shall take you to Prince Malleus and introduce you to one another!”

When you looked up at him with those eyes, those big eyes with little thoughts behind them, he instantly threw any sense of self out of the window and caved.

Well, one more child to take care of wouldn’t hurt!

He crouched to your level and smiled sincerely, “hello there, young one. I am Lilia. It is very nice to meet you.”

You blinked at him and stared at him for a while. You then approached Lilia to move his hair out of the way and show his ears, messing with the pointy tips of them and even trying to yank them. He chuckled a little at your antics and grabbed your hand lightly to stop you.

He hoisted you up into his arms carefully and had you in his grip. You didn’t seem to mind at all, mostly trying to get as his ears again.

“I think we’re going to have a nice time, little one! Malleus is sure to love you.”

You said nothing and had the urge to eat his hair.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Welcome back Lilia!” Boomed Sebek as soon as Lilia entered the door.

Silver roused up from his light nap on the couch and eyed the little child in his arms, which caught his attention. Malleus had appeared when Lilia returned, obviously wanting to hear about the new students in their dorm, but clearly by the look of the child, it would be different this year.

“This is Y/N! They appeared so suddenly during the ceremony. Apparently they are a fallen star.” Lilia explained. “Burned too hot and fell from the sky, poor thing.”

You didn’t seem all too bothered and immediately looked at Malleus, specifically his horns. Sebek had begun his praise to Lilia on how generous he was to let you, a child, into their dorm, but stopped once you crawled your way down Lilia and approached Malleus without care.

He looked down at you.

You looked up at him.

You both engaged in a staring contest without even blinking, it was really uncanny. There was silence for a moment.

Then you started to crawl up Malleus.

“WH-“ Sebek almost choked on his spit as you just nonchalantly climbed up the Prince like the weird little baby you were.

You stopped and looked at Malleus’ ears, tugging them for a moment. Lilia was stifling his laughter, pressing a hand on Sebek’s chest to keep him back or burst out to say something and scold you or try and take you off Malleus. Silver was just blankly staring, probably not even understanding what was going on, thinking maybe this was just a fever dream. You moved your hands to Malleus’ horns, grasping at them lightly. Your eyes widened and then… Shook his head. As if testing if they were really attached to him.

Sebek almost had a stroke.

Lilia snorted.

Silver has long since checked out.

Malleus stopped your shaking. In that silence, he calmly patted your back awkwardly, grabbing you and setting you down.

“Aren’t they a charmer?” Lilia laughed as you ran up to Sebek and tried to climb him next.

He almost screamed as you clawed at his shirt. “BAD STAR CHILD! BAD! LILIA!”

“Alright little one,” Lilia picked you up with his hands under your arms and held you in front of Sebek. “What did you want from Seb?”

“LILIA! THEY ARE CLEARLY UNHINGED IN- IN SOME SORT OF MANNER! THEY CLIMBED THE YOUNG MASTER LIKE HE WAS A TREE! THAT IS BEYOND DISRESPECTFUL!”

“But their just a baby.” Lilia cooed.

You reached your greasy grippers to Sebek’s ears. They weren’t pointy! You blinked and then tried to grab his mouth because you saw his pointy teeth, that’s when he almost hissed at you.

You wiggled your way out of Lilia’s hold and found your next victim to be Silver. He didn’t even bother to stop you in anyway as you climbed him and caught his ears in your hands. Not pointy either. And his teeth were dull too! You grabbed his cheeks, stretched them a bit, and poked them. He blinked at you.

“Do you mind.” He yawned.

You stared back at him and then grabbed his hair. It was a very strange color and you liked it. That’s where he drawed the line when you tugged and set you down.

“Lilia, you said their name was Y/N?” Malleus finally spoke. “And a fallen Star? I’ve never heard of such a thing.

“Yes, I thought so as well, but there are plenty of surprises this year. A magicless human was also enrolled at NCR, supposedly.”

“Interesting.”

“Lily.” You pointed at Lilia. Sebek was about to burst a blood vessel.

“YOU CANT CALL LILIA-SAMA ‘LILY’! THATS NOT HIS NAME!”

“No no, it’s alright. I quite like it. Thank you little one!”

You then looked at Sebek. “Beckie.”

“THAT DOESNT EVEN RELATE TO MY NAME???”

Then to Silver. “Sil.”

“WHY DOES HE GET A NORMAL ONE!?”

Then you look at Malleus. “Mal-Mal.”

…

“Okay.”

Malleus was never more confused in his life but he laughed a little anyways at your nickname. It was very cute and very unlike anyone who’s been around him.

Sebek has long since given up on you, deciding that there was little hope in trying to stop you. Silver likes you because you gave him a sensible nickname and you’re alright so far. And Lilia already loves you! He’s a father of three now!

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Mal-Mal.”

“Yes, beastie.”

“Look what I can do.”

Malleus looked away from his book at you. The two of you were suppose to be studying magic together under the watch of Lilia, with Sebek following and Silver just wanting to see what you can do, after all he was curious.

You’ve proven yourself to be a bit of a firecracker when it came to showing off your magic. By that, it simply meant your magic was very uncontrollable and a simple light spell could possibly render someone blind, so Lilia wanted to make sure you didn’t get yourself hurt.

You held out your hand and then…

A burst of light suddenly burned their eyes, white fire, probably hotter than anything, burned at your entire arm. Sebek was losing his mind in fear that you were going to hurt yourself and possibly Malleus. In a blink of an eye, it stopped, and in your hand was a little flower in your hands. It was transparent and firey. Around your feet there was singes in the floor from when your whole body heated up. You offered the flower to Malleus.

“For you.”

He blinked at you and tried to take the flower from you, but it quickly disappeared.

“Oh.” You said, dropping your hand.

“That’s alright, little one.” Lilia came to your side quickly, wanting to console you as his fatherly instincts took over.

“Be careful next time!” Sebek had said. “You could have burned the whole dorm to ash!!”

“I doubt they would do that, Beckie.”

“SILVER!”

Malleus decided to use a bit of his own magic to make his own flower in his hand, a little bit like yours, but instead a small black lily and handed it to you, which you took gently.

“Do you like it, beastie?”

You nodded. “I’m gonna keep it forever so I can remember to make a lot of flowers for Mal-Mal.”

Malleus swears if anyone hurts you, he’s gonna kill everyone and then himself.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

With Yuu, there is Malleus. And with Malleus, there is you. You always like to come with Malleus on his walks, it’s very nice, especially seeing the weird dormitory that looks ready to collapse. You like asking Yuu all sorts of questions.

“What’s it like being flesh and blood.”

“…uh…”

You like Yuu.

[frozenjokes]

a new moon in the sun’s lonely system

convex week day 1 - sun/moon - next

Cub had always been sensitive to changes in temperature, he chilled easily, and he didn’t very much like company for a multitude of reasons, but it appeared today was his unlucky day.

It was cold. There was a moon around, maybe more than one. They had a pulsing sort of presence, fighting the heat of Cub’s star, and though ultimately dwarfed by it, a moon still left their mark. Well, whatever it wanted with him, it certainly wouldn’t find Cub just wandering around. Their silver frost stood out like a lone star in Cub’s domain, while Cub’s fiery orange blended right in with the rest of the landscape. Not to mention the cold. It wasn’t long before Cub found the inquiring soul.

“Hello-“ Cub didn’t even get to finish before the moon startled, yelling in a display of fright that was so exaggerated it couldn’t have been genuine. Cub pursed his lips, waiting for the moon to collect itself. He did not want to risk speaking lest the entity screamed again; Cub did not like the sudden noise.

“Well- Well hello there! Goodness gracious, you snuck up on me! I thought I was a goner!”

“Unless there are any new moon-eating predators roaming the skyscape today, I don’t think it’s untrue to say you don’t have anything to worry about.” Cub had to squint against the moon’s light, rather, his own light reflected back at him. Why was this one so bright? Cub didn’t think he recognized it, but with nearly three hundred in the system, who knew. Cub only remembered the names of the particularly annoying ones.

The moon laughed like Cub had said something legitimately funny, and it didn’t seem disingenuous, but still Cub felt his own walls climbing higher.

“Oh, this is great! I’m so relieved, I’ve heard bad things about- nevermind, you just seem like a perfectly nice guy! I’m Scar, newly promoted moon, and I thought I ought to trek out here and introduce myself!”

Ah, this made sense now. Moons didn’t typically come around to introduce themselves, even after recent promotions, but some were simply drawn to the sun. Or married to formalities, Cub supposed. Politely, Cub ignored that first comment, for the most part at least. He had a reputation to keep up. “You already know my name, then.”

“I do, but I’d love if you introduced yourself regardless!” Ah, married to formalities then.

“Well, if you intend on sharing all the boring, gory details of this encounter with your fellows, you can call me Cub.”

“Unfortunately, Cub, I have no fellows of which to share this with!” Scar’s voice took on an odd lilt, and Cub thought for a moment he might be making fun of him until the moon swiftly continued, “All alone, I'm afraid. A real shame! But it’s an important job, big deal, big deal, there’s all sorts of life down there on Earth that depends on me doing my thing!”

Cub made a valiant effort not to scoff, though given the light in his eyes, he was likely already scowling. The Earth moons were always the most obnoxious. Cub would miss the last one; she almost never visited, and what a reprieve that was, good grief.

Cub had nothing nice to say, so he said nothing. Scar seemed like he quite expected Cub to say something with that wide, wanting stare, but Cub didn’t want to say anything, he wanted Scar to go away and his sun to return to its proper temperature, he wanted to be alone, however, for a moon who had taken up one of the loneliest jobs in Cub’s system, Scar did not seem to share this ideal. A bad sign. A desire for company and an ego larger than Cub’s sun made for a disastrous combination in Cub’s quarters. If this moon was planning on bothering Cub often, he was going to have to start falling back on old tactics (hiding).

“You know, I don’t think you’re an asshole, you’re just like, really awkward.”

Cub blinked at him, slow, unthinking. “You’re mistaken.”

“No, you’re definitely awkward.”

“I’m mean.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“You’re not, really, you’re not,”

“I am mean!”

“You’re almost nice!”

“I am not nice!”

[shinygoku]

Percy and the Coaches

Seems kind of odd in hindsight how Percy covering the Ffarquhar line during the Sodor Strike in Troublesome Engines is barely covered with a single sentance, isn't it? So odd, indeed, that I decided to turn my wheels for another fic for the first time in ages! Enjoy~

=-=-=-=-=-= =-=-=-=-=-=

Going back onto the main line, as he was specially sent for by The Fat Controller, was unexpected but something that Thomas was ready to roll with. Something about the Tender Engines having a strop and being rude to Edward?! What silly behaviour indeed! The very morning he was informed, he bustled down, but didn’t get to take in much information before the Controller himself was speaking with him, Edward, and a green Tank Engine who Thomas hadn’t seen before.

Thomas was quietly relieved that he wasn’t to go back to shunting, and wasn’t too worried about the task to pull trains on the mainline (where Edward would be in control of the opposite direction). It was no longer his heart’s desire, now he had his beloved Branch Line, but it was still a thrilling prospect. Which helped take the edge off his concern for his equally beloved Coaches, Annie and Clarabel. He wouldn’t be able to take them along with him, and in any case it would be better for his Branch Line to have his faithful coaches keeping their eyes on things. That meant that someone else would have to take them out on runs, and the someone else was the new Tank Engine he’d met that morning.

Thomas couldn’t quite trust another Tank Engine with Annie and Clarabel yet, and he wasn’t sure just why. Part of it was that the Green Engine was indeed brand-new to this railway, and didn’t know the first thing about Ffarquhar, but there was something else.

“He seems decent enough, I suppose. But I can’t tell if there’s much going on behind his eyes! He’s got this sort of face, how would Gordon put it– not that I think Gordon is right about whatever it is he’s blathering on about now! Just– oh! It’s so annoying, if The Fat Controller brought him in he must be sensible, but I can’t quite make the connection.”

His Fireman murmured suggestions while cooking a late breakfast on his shovel. Thomas didn’t know what some of them meant. 

“Retty-sense? What’s that all about?” he asked, distracted from the moods he was going through.

“My education is wasted on you,” Fireman sighed, before pausing to take a bite out of his runny egg sandwich. “Nevermind, Driver will tell me off if I put new ideas into your smokebox anyway.”

Driver and Clarabel’s Guard came back from the conversation at the station building, where it was established that Thomas’s footplate crew were to remain with their charming (and fussy) Engine. Both of them were very keen to assure him that both of his faithful coaches would be well looked after. Driver also hastened to get back on the footplate while Fireman was still cooking, before the shovel would be returned to its standard use.

Feeling a little better, Thomas again remembered the remark ‘Common Tank Engines’ and felt his fire burn a smidge hotter, and then a curious sound like alarm from his crew …and their rapidly blackening bacon.

== ==

In the whirlwind that had him successfully sold to this portly new owner, given a name, driven to the Railway and having another half-day to be refreshed in the basics by a nice local Engine, Percy was still quite abuzz in the thrill of it all.

Most of this was decidedly simple, of course. He’d been bought and sold and sent to many and various corners plenty of times before, and this little island being uncharted territory was the trickiest part. Well, and getting used to having a name now, but as long as there weren’t any other Percies then he should be fine.

A blue Tank Engine had appeared, seemingly one of the old guard of the island. He seemed confident, openly scoffing at the Big Engines and bustling off with his new assignment swiftly.

Well, except for one moment. Percy was having his coal and water topped up, as the Number One Engine was given a bit more detail than what Percy’s New Controller had initially offered. Number One’s face wouldn’t stop shifting between moods! It was almost funny to see, but Percy started to wonder what exactly had caused it. Oh dear! Maybe it was the island’s Coal! If that was the case, he’d probably start feeling peculiar before long, too!

Ah, but he was still new here, and it would look better not to make a fuss. And anyway, maybe that only had an effect when one had been on the island for quite a while. He needed to make a good impression, and he’d been tasked with running a branch line!

It may have occurred to Percy that it was a little odd to prioritise a branch line when the Main line was only having a single train in each direction at this time, but his wasn’t to reason why. They wanted him to run the line, so he’d be doing that with gusto.

The crew he’d been given did not appear to be old hands in this part of the island (honestly, they didn’t seem that old at all to Percy), but they swiftly adjusted to his cab and water and bunker needs, so that was enough for him. A Guard emerged from the Coach Who Had Brakes, and strode up to them.

To the crew, he said, “I’m sure you know enough about our Thomas to understand the gravity of this task.” They made affirmative sorts of noises.

To Percy, he said, “These coaches are very well mannered ladies, so be sure to treat them gently.”

“Oh, yes sir! Of course, sir!”

“Have you pulled many passenger trains before?”

“Oh, no sir! Barely any, sir! I’ve done all sorts but I’ve never even seen any coaches like this before, sir!”

His crew groaned. Was he supposed to say something different?

After a talk, where the Guard made several important notes and Percy’s new Driver became rather shorter in his replies and stiffer in pose, while his Fireman barely stopped smirking, they eventually broke apart to return to their respective spots.

A remark made in Percy’s cab was drowned out by the sound of coal being tossed into his fire. Ooh, he was eager to get going now!

He bustled over to meet the coaches. Their names were Annie and Clarabel, but only one of them could see him from this angle. He didn’t know which it was.

“Oh my, who might you be?” She asked.

“Where’s our Thomas?” Asked the other one.

“Good morning! My name is Percy, I’m here to run the Branch Line while your Engine helps out on the Main Line!” he beamed.

“Thomas, on the main line? Oh dear!”

“Oh goodness, I do hope he’ll be alright!”

They were coupled on, and Percy was again too awash in the excitement of this rare new situation to notice they hadn’t really paid much attention to him. His crew seemed to be operating a little slower than was needed, too, but the countryside line had plenty for Percy to look at.

Eventually they reached a junction that joined with the main line and had to wait. A blue engine rushed up, soon revealed to be the Tank Engine. When he caught sight of Percy, again his face shifted so suddenly it was quite comical, though this time the coaches behind Percy started to call out.

“Thomas!”

“Oh, Thomas! Hello!”

But Thomas (as his name seemed to be) couldn’t stop, instead whistling twice before disappearing down the line.

== ==

Percy was sitting idly, chortling to himself by remembering some of the silly behaviour of the Big Engines that Edward had told him. How the ringleader, Gordon, had had a jammed whistle once after being so stodgy about the etiquette, and that time his safety valve burst. What a joke! And there were less tales of the other two, but it did further prove to Percy, at least, how daft they all were. Strike indeed!

Whyever would Engines need to strike? Or humans, for that matter?

His crew were walking back towards him, not as content as he was here in the sun. There was an indistinct din in the distance, probably more people, but Percy hadn’t a clue what that lot were trying to say. He’d merely tuned it out ages ago, but it did seem to have redoubled around the same time his crew reappeared. How queer!

“Well, Percy, old boy–”

“Young, surely? He looks like a baby!”

“That confirms you ain’t polished him like you said, his builder’s plate is right there! He’s old as the hills!”

“Oh! No I’m not!!” Percy cried, nettled.

“Anyway. Well Percy, intermediate boy that you are, I hope you enjoyed your work on this Branch line–”

“Absolutely, sir! I have indeed!”

“Let me finish. Hope you enjoyed it as it looks like things will be back to normal soon. For a loose definition of Normal, anyhow.”

Percy’s face fell. “Oh sir, I won’t be going back to the Mainland, will I?”

“You dolt! You’ve got him upset now!”

“Oh, shove it. No, Percy, you’ll be the shunter at the big station, like you were that first day. THAT’s what I meant.”

“Oh, splendid, then!”

“Yeah, wonderful. But it’s something, ain’t it? Puts bread on the table.”

“Br…red? Why are you painting your table?”

“I’m still not convinced he’s not a newborn, ‘ere.”

Percy was too busy beaming, the Big Station was exciting a prospect. So many trucks to play with, the high glass canopy where light danced down, more coaches –oh, and he supposed more engines too. The same daft trio who’d caused all the mess? Well, they oughtn’t be too bothersome after this, making a fuss over nothing as he’d been told.

The two coaches he’d been pulling had been nice, but Percy did quietly wonder how long they were for this world, with how much that Guard had talked about pulling them gently and carefully. Hopefully the other rakes he’d assemble on the main line would take a playful bump or two… not too much, of course, Percy still had to profusely thank the Controller more for these exciting new tasks, and being sent back before then wouldn’t do.

== ==

The two tank engines didn’t get to swap stories with one another, their crews went on different rosters as relief shifts were shuffled and contracts were looked at again. Percy saw the blue Tank Engine looking much more Well, his face calmer than he’d ever seen it, and Thomas saw the green Tank Engine with flushed cheeks and a smile of gleeful anticipation. But it was fine, they weren’t likely to see each other so often they needed to take that much notice, did they?

“Annie! Clarabel!” Thomas beamed, not even hesitating before backing onto them to make their iconic Train.

“Thomas, are you quite alright?”

“Yes, you must be exhausted, on the main line like that, an Engine of your build?!”

“Ohh, don’t worry about me! I’ve been fretting over you two, did that green fellow treat you alright?”

“Oh yes, Percy was fine.”

“Percy was a very polite sort. Maybe a little slow and cautious.”

“O-ho? Too slow for your liking?”

The coaches fell into the comfortable, delightful pattern of quarreling with Thomas about his running too fast, and he chided them for being fussy old things. 

At the Big Station, Gordon watched from a siding, as Percy pushed a coach rake into the buffers. The coaches all made indignant sounds with the bump.

“If only little Thomas could see Sense,” he bemoaned. “But maybe this little green one is far cleverer than even I had accounted for. It seems he had restraint enough for those two to not have been converted into matchsticks. But I suppose that’s something to be grateful for…”

[txtmetonight]

Garlicky Revenge ✆

call summary ⋆ ★ Jungwon hates your new punishment

pairing *. * Vampire! Yang Jungwon x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Fluff

warnings *. crude language, it's just really fluffy lol, grammar mistakes

call duration⋆ ★ 824

a/n*. * I loved this one but please tell me why it took me forever to find a pic for the banner oml and he's so cute i'm gonna cry help me

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet

“(Y/n), you’re not serious, are you?”

“As serious as I can be, Jungwon!” You scoff, turning away to withhold a growing smile on your face, yet it slowly diminishes when your eyes water from the intense smell, strung upon your neck.

“You can’t refuse me like this, love! You… you don’t even like it either, I can see it on your face!” He points an accusatory finger at you, making you burst into loud chuckles before you shake your head.

“You told me that you would stop sneaking behind me like that when I was in the bathroom. I almost had a fucking heart attack because of you yesterday. This is what you get now.”

Jungwon cringes at the way garlic moves when you sway back and forth, waiting for him to take a step closer, a rather smug grin on your face when his lips quirk down into a nastier grin. “This isn’t fair!” He whines, sounding like a petulant toddler. “I’ve missed you so much and you won’t even let me hug you?! I think I might actually die.”

“You’re not going to die, Wonnie. Plus, you’ve lived without me for like… 400 years before. What’s another week?” You’re teasing; the stench was already giving you a well-deserved headache, so it wouldn’t be long before you took the odd neckwear off. But it was still amusing to see the way that he freezes completely, going paler than he was before.

“You–you’re kidding? A week?! I’m not waiting for that long!” He cries, and before you know it, a small black cat appears just where Jungwon stands, its eyes already pulled to mimic great sorrow.

It meows and wails pitifully, pawing the living room carpet, knowing well enough that cats were preferably your biggest weakness. A trump card played well by your boyfriend whenever times become desperate.

“Oh, you can’t do that to me!? That’s so not fair!”

The cat (Jungwon) rolls over in despair and raises a furry paw over its head to mimic death, letting out a shrill cry. Rounding the island countertop, you finally sigh and give in by taking off the garlic and wiping your neck and hands with a wet washcloth while you try to trap some of the anger you were feeling before.

But how could you even be furious at him, even when he transforms back into his normal self, sharp canines glinting while he happily smiles at you, his back on the ground? Your heart swells at the sight, and butterflies skim your stomach. “I fucking hate you, Yang Jungwon,” you grumble, yet you couldn’t help but scoot a little closer to him sheepishly.

Perhaps you did miss him more than you wanted to admit.

“Really? Well, that’s a shame because I really love you, pretty girl.” Jungwon pats next to him, and when you point at your neck, where the spice left its odor on your skin, he waves it off dismissively. “A really big shame,” you giggle when he slightly gags at your arm touching his cheek. Nevertheless, he pulls you closer and pretends to chomp on your hand, your cheeks turning red as he puts a soft kiss to where he bit you.

“I wasn’t lying when I said that I was going to die if you weren't in my life anymore.”

You shake your head and press a chaste kiss to his jaw. “Me too. I don’t think I can imagine my future without you.”

“Yeah, but would you drive a stake through your heart for me?” He jokes but then goes silent when you just stare at him, eyes swirling with so much love, his non-beating heart thrumming alive for a few moments, just under your gaze.

“I would willingly live with you for eternity.”

Jungwon’s eyes grow wide as he gets up from his position to look at you in awe. “No, you woul–”

“I would really. For you, Wonnie… I suppose I would do anything,” you say, and before he could say anything, you pull him into a kiss, soft and sweet. His fingers cascade the side of your face gently, and your hand encases itself in his hair, tugging it lightly when he wouldn’t let you take a breath.

“I love you. I really do,” he quietly says.

“I love you too.”

And the moment goes silent for a while, your lips just ghosting over him in a tender peace you wished would last forever. With him by your side.

But then the gentle second is lost when Jungwon opens his stupid mouth, earning a hit from you.

“You said you would do anything, yeah? First off, please don’t ever punish me with garlic ever again; I was seriously going to cry!”

“Really? Next time, I’m going to move houses and never ever invite you inside!”

Jungwon gasps and clutches his shirt dramatically. It makes you roll your eyes, but you rub your cheek over his chest in affection.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

[fuyine]

Prompt: When you are sick || Gosho Boys

warnings!!! excessive fluff, characters are highschoolers, endearments, and there are grammatical errors ahead. Please read with a grain of salt.

Pairings: kudo shinichi, hakuba saguru, hattori heiji, kuroba kaito x gn!reader (separately)

The moment you stepped foot in Poirot for a coffee day out with him—which happens once in a blue moon—he could tell right away that you were not in the condition to go out today.

From your choice of shoes to your odd color combination of clothes and your pallid face, drained of color and making you appear almost ghostly, he noticed. Adding to his concern was the way you walked: a sluggish, unsteady gait, as if each step was a monumental effort.

When you sat down across from him, before you could even greet him, he beat you to it.

"Change of plans. Let's head to my place and watch a movie instead."

At the Kudo mansion, he had both of you surrounded by blankets. He made sure to make up for your coffee date by having this movie marathon. With a fever patch on your forehead, he made sure to keep you hydrated from time to time.

Although you weren't burning up too much, he was cautious and insisted you stay on the couch while he got what you needed. He would spare some time for tales of Sherlock and watch the movie in peace with you in his arms.

At some point, his mom visited. Learning that you were sick, Yukiko spoiled you with her cooking and scolded Shinichi for not realizing that you were sick sooner before your date.

You sweat-dropped as you watched Shinichi getting scolded in the kitchen, he then walked back towards you with a cup of tea and placed it on the table.

"Mom made that. She says it'll help you feel a bit relaxed," he said, sitting down next to you and watching you curl up with a smile.

"Your mom is the best."

He let out a soft hum in agreement. "She is. Now drink up," he said, subtly checking your temperature by tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertip brushing softly against your forehead.

He was glad you weren't burning up as much as before.

Guess who would ditch their flight to London and come back to you?

Hakuba Saguru. The man of time.

When he received your call—where you were intending to check if he had arrived safely at the airport and apologized for not being able to accompany him—he heard you sneeze and cough multiple times, and concluded you were sick.

Reassuring him that you only missed a couple of classes and would get back to it with no worries worried him. The content of the call was less about him and more about you.

After ending the call to take a nap, you woke up nearly eight in the evening. Realizing you had missed dinner, you heard the door of your bedroom suddenly open.

There he was, walking through the door and toward the bed, in his white button-up blouse with its sleeves rolled up to his elbow, holding a tray of porridge.

Blinking not twice but thrice, you thought you were hallucinating that he was here.

"You're awake," he smiled at you and placed the tray on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching to touch your forehead. "Mhm, you're not burning up anymore," he said, to which your eyes went wide as saucers as the realization hit you.

"Saguru?!" He's supposed to be in London by now, solving a case! you thought to yourself.

"Yes, my love?" he replied smoothly before cupping your right cheek, as if ditching the case wasn't a big deal to him. "You're supposed to be in London, why—"

"What do you mean?" he quickly intervened. "I can catch my flight again once you're better. I can't leave knowing you're bedridden, sick, dying, with no one to take care of you," he exaggerated.

Your lips formed a small pout, insisting that you were perfectly capable on your own, but he dismissed it with a chuckle.

"I insist on staying," he said, leaving no room for argument.

With that, the room felt a little livelier with his presence, tending to your weak condition with hot porridge and whispers of sweet nothings, reassuring you.

"My love, no time is wasted when it comes to you."

This guy… would take care of you with little snide comments, "How are you going to catch me, Kid, in that condition now, hmm?" He cutely pops out a rose and places it in the vase on your nightstand.

He visited you after school and has been doing so for the past three days of your absence. He would hand over Aoko's notes to you, which he borrowed since he knew you would just complain about his handwriting if he gave you his.

But it isn't about the handwriting; it's the thought that counts.

"You've been making origami? How is that going to catch— Oh, I see, they're cute," he hummed, throwing a ball into the air as he leaned against a table.

"Do you still have medicine? Do you want me to run down to the pharmacy for you?"

This guy is always attentive when it comes to taking care of you, with a few flirty comments here and there, no doubt. But you wouldn't complain about his company at all.

He would often lift the mood by showing you his magic tricks and would boast, "I am better than Kid," although he's Kid himself.

"Seriously, Kaito, you're making a clown of yourself at this point."

"Hah? No way! I'm taking care of you with my special performance. You should be grateful!"

Just like Kaito, he would deliver his notes straight to you right after school. His notes. He's a detective; surely his handwriting isn't as bad as the thief's.

He would accompany you, making sure you weren't gloomed up in your room, and would take you outside to the balcony for a little sun.

He would swing his kendo sword, letting you watch some of his moves. On other days, he would cuddle up with you and watch a police detective documentary in your living room.

At night, his mom visited you with dinner-packed boxes. They were warmly wrapped and really healthy for a sick person. She was also skilled in kendo and would gossip about Heiji from when he used to train and share funny moments from his childhood.

One of those moments was when Heiji slipped on the wooden floorboard when he swung his sword too fast, and his body didn't follow.

Heiji's brow would twitch, and he would say, "They don't need to know about that, old hag."

After some time, when you felt a little better, he would promise to take you to the ramen shop he had invited you to before you got sick.

He knew Osaka like the back of his hand; he would take you anywhere, just name the place.

[thegarageafterdark]

Washed out(TrailbreakerxReader)

Getting essentially rained out while camping wasn't entirely the plan for obvious reasons. But the situation could have been worse, you could have been alone. Trailbreaker wasn't too concerned, he just wanted to wait for the weather to subside before going back on the trail as the winds were buffeting hard enough being on the mountain road could be sketchy with the water to contend with as well.

Your tent however was definitely not going to survive this, it wasn't rated for gusts this strong even with the upgraded ground stakes to help hold it down, let alone the amount of rain that decided to appear a day early. "I have an idea." The voice from the big SUV was almost shy, headlights dim to illuminate the campsite enough you could see him through the tent fabric. "Yeah? What's up Breaker?" knowing he could hear you where you were huddling in your sleeping bag, grimacing as the tent walls flexed and billowed inwards. Desperately trying to keep dry but if it tore open... It was going to be a long night. "I'll rearrange my seats, you can sleep in my cab? At least you'd be dry and warm until morning." The tent would likely be trashed but he'd get a new one.

Deep down the mech hoped you'd agree. The protective urge was nearly overwhelming, especially as your teeth chattered and it got colder as time drew on. This was supposed to be a fun trip, he'd promised to take you to see the mountain lake you'd heard about hidden in the mountains that Hound had shown him. The thoughtful silence wasn't unnoticeable even with the wind howling around the both of you.

"Please? The forecast says this is just the start, its going to get worse. I really don't want you getting injured or sick." He didn't trust that tent not to shred itself with how it was bowing and twisting. "…Okay." It was weird to think of sleeping in him, it'd taken you a bit of time to be comfortable with just riding with them. Having to think of it like carrying a small pet in a pocket verses…'inside' inside.  But he'd pulled up to just in front of your tent, and you scooted out of your bag and did a quick roll of it with your pillow. Soon as you unzippered the door, the real extent of the nasty weather really hit you. Trailbreaker had gotten as close as he could, door opening quickly so his interior lights could guide as you bolted the scant feet to get to him. His whole backseat was folded into a platform with his cargo area, making plenty of room to stretch out. It took some wiggling but you got your sleeping bag and pillow situated, though with how he'd set himself up it was comfortable even without.

The silence wasn't entirely awkward, as you stared up at his ceiling a moment, you listened but you couldn't really hear the outside so well now. But you heard other things. For a moment you thought it was your own heart in your ears, but it wasn't. It was a deep hum with a low pulse that was like a rapid heartbeat for what you could hear of it. The strange feeling of being safe, held. Like lounging with a friend on the couch to watch movies on a rainy day cozy.  You realized you could feel and hear him. The protectiveness, the odd calm now that you were settled. Hear his systems winding down as you relaxed steadily as well. "I can hear your spark." You whispered in awe, realizing exactly what the multilayered pulse sound was. There was a chuckle, the deep voice sounding almost sleepy. "I can feel yours."

[possessiveandobsessive]

Hello again! This is another Rook×Lucanis story, but will be much longer than my last work! I'm not sure how many parts it will be yet as it's not complete, but I will be updating regularly!

***This story will cover the last several chapters of the game, and will be full of spoilers! So don't read if you haven't played the end and don't want to know!***

The Spirit of Determination

Nyra "Rook" Thorne is somehow responsible for the fate of all of Thedas. If she's going to pull it off, she's going to need a hell of a lot of determination. Lucky for her, she knows a guy and his demon who can help her out with that.

Part 1: The Girl with the World on her Shoulders

Fierce green eyes stared back at Rook from Varric’s old shaving mirror. She’d been told many times throughout her life that her eyes were a bit “intense” or “odd”, meaning they freaked people out. Rook’s eyes were an extremely bright green, lighter towards her pupil, and slightly darker at the edge of her iris. This could sometimes make them appear as if they were glowing, but she was no spirit or demon. Her eyes didn’t glow. Her mother, for the short time she was in Rook’s life, had always told her that they reminded her of the fade itself. Rook had no idea as to what her mother meant, until she watched the sky tear itself apart and allowed the Fade to leak slowly into their world ten years ago. To this day she wasn’t sure how her mother had known what color the Fade was, but she really wasn’t far off.

There was nothing particularly special about Rook outside of her freaky eyes and the fact that she was a Grey Warden mage. It would only be fair if that had been the case, but unfortunately, the universe didn’t seem to care about fairness. Not to mention, it turned out her gods were massive dicks. 

Rook had relatively pale skin (especially for an elf), with a light smattering of freckles across her cheekbones and nose. She bore the Vallaslin of Mythal on her forehead and temples. It wove into almost a “V” shape, and its coal black ink had it standing out prominently against her skin. Thick dark eyebrows sat on her brow, perfectly matching the pitch black hair on her head. Rook didn’t make a habit of cutting or upkeeping her hair these days. That meant it hung in straight shaggy locks nearly down to her shoulders in the back, and to just shy of her chin in the front. Two short pieces framed her face on either side and she kept the rest tucked behind her pointed ears so she could see her enemies as she fought. Several long thin scars marred her pale skin around her eyes and cheeks. The dark bags under her eyes did not help with the overall unkempt look of the woman in the mirror.  

I look like shit, Rook thought flatly. Though, I honestly have a pretty good excuse. A whole list of them in fact. She shook her head slightly as if to force the thoughts from her mind. Re-living all that had happened in the last several months was not helpful when trying to relax and formulate a new game plan. Thoughts like these didn’t go away easily. 

She had first tried to stop Solas’s ritual only to have that fall apart and release not one, but two evil gods back into the world. Varric was injured in the process as well, all because of decisions she had made. 

Then, Rook had been forced to choose between Minrathous and Treviso when the gods’ dragons had attacked both cities at once. She had been worried for a few days that she had lost Neve after Rook chose to go to Treviso instead of Minrathous, but luckily Neve isn’t a quitter, and had returned. Rook didn’t regret her decision, and she’d make it again. The number of casualties in Minrathous often made her feel sick though. Going to Dock Town was difficult. 

The next big blow was Weisshaupt. Gods, she thought, so many dead wardens. Our numbers are so few now, how are we supposed to stop a blight and kill two blighted gods? Solas, jackass that he was, had made a point to emphasize the importance of getting the Grey Wardens on her side, and using them to build an army. After the events at Weisshaupt a month ago, they’d be lucky if their current force could defend a small city, let alone the world. Rook was grieving more than just for the blow to her plans for battle against the gods, those had been her fellow Wardens, her brothers and sisters in arms. Only Wardens could truly understand the trials and tribulations that came as a result of joining the order. Only they could know the soft, beckoning melody of the blight. 

She wasn’t the only member of the team that suffered in the immediate aftermath of Weisshaupt. Lucanis felt he had failed the team because he was an abomination, and Davrin was grieving the same loss as Rook. He and Lucanis were at each other’s throats for a few weeks as a result, but had finally settled recently as they both worked through their pain. 

There were positive things that had happened as well. Rook knew it was important to remember them if she was going to be able to put on a brave face and lead this team. At last, she had finished helping each of The Veilguard (Bellara’s name for the group that had stuck) members to battle their inner demons. Literal demons in Lucanis’s case. 

While it was worth it to see her friends grow from their personal battles, Rook was completely run down and exhausted. Now they had to kill the gods before they could finish their dagger during the next eclipse. It felt overwhelming in her current state, but Rook was pretty sure it would feel overwhelming regardless of how much rest she had. These were the gods of her people’s legends, the creators of her people. Somehow, Rook was in charge of killing them now? I’m one elf! Grey Warden or not, those odds suck for me! Rook groaned internally.

Lucanis had been one of the few things keeping her afloat these days. He supported her when and where he could. Lucanis made sure she was eating enough, made sure she was sleeping more than 3 hours every night, and had a way of bringing her smile and laugh to the surface when they were deeply buried under her anxiety and sadness. Rook was tough, she had always had to be, but she was immensely grateful for him. Rook blushed lightly when she remembered the “almost kiss” in Lucanis’s room (pantry), a couple weeks before. That blush got even deeper when she thought about how truly disappointed and distraught she was directly afterward. She had seriously contemplated screaming in Lucanis’s pillow, but she restrained herself.

Even so, Rook understood Lucanis’s hesitation and fears. He had been through so much recently, including coming out of a year of torture with a demon inside him. Then Lucanis’s grandmother and one of two remaining family members died. Then that grandmother was actually alive and the other one of his two living family members (his imbecilic cousin Illario) was discovered to have plotted Lucanis’s murder and his grandmother’s kidnapping/staged murder. And the cherry on top was Lucanis having to be the one to decide his traitor cousin’s fate. He had spared Illario’s life, instead opting to lock him away after Rook suggested it as an alternative. Either way, nearly all Lucanis had experienced in the last 16 months was traumatic in some way. He needs patience and support right now, not your overwhelming desire for him, she berated herself. You know Lucanis cares, he’s shown you that. Just give him time.

Sighing heavily, Rook finally set the mirror down and rubbed her temples. Focus Nyra she chided internally. She really needed to sit down and come up with an immediate plan of action. They didn’t have long until their deadline for killing Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, and Rook had very little in the way of an idea of how to do so. Solas wasn't being particularly helpful either. She was glad he had helped them to save the Dalish that Elgar’nan had intended to use as sacrifices, but she still didn’t trust him. There was something in the Dread Wolf's eyes, something that warned her he would betray her eventually. Varric, surprisingly, had also been unhelpful. He kept up with his usual pep talks. “You’re a wild card Rook, they’ll never see you coming” or “They don’t stand a chance against you and the team you’ve built, kid”. She appreciated the support, but this was Varric’s mission… right?

Rook was pulled from her thoughts by a knock at her door. Quirking an eyebrow, she called for whoever it was to come in. Harding tumbled in less than gracefully, looking up at Rook with a small look of embarrassment at her entry. 

“Harding? What is it?”

Normally Rook would’ve laughed at Harding’s clumsiness and bashful expression, but she could tell that something was important or urgent

“Morrigan wants you to meet with her at The Cobbled Swan as soon as possible. She says she has some things she wants to discuss with you. Since things are so unpredictable now that the gods are close to finishing their dagger, she said as quickly as possible would be best.” 

Harding said all of this in a rush, panting slightly from her run up the stairs to Rook’s bedroom. Rook looked at Harding with a somewhat startled expression, before saying “We should have a month before they can finish it, does she know something we don’t?” Her eyebrows knit together as she frowned, “Nevermind, the answer doesn’t actually matter I suppose. I’ll head out now,” Rooks paused briefly before adding, “On the off chance something is coming faster than we expected, make sure the team is ready to leave at a moment’s notice. We need to be ready for anything right now.”

Harding nodded firmly at Rook and turned to walk out of the room before she stopped, and spoke to Rook over her shoulder, “Be careful Rook. We need you, so don’t do anything dumb.”

Rook let out a surprised bark of laughter at that. She couldn’t really hold that comment against Harding after everything they had been through in the last few months. Rook wasn’t exactly known for having the safest plans, but they always came together at the end! Plus, they were all still alive so she was taking that as a win.

“I will Lace, don’t worry. I know what the stakes are. We have to do whatever it takes though, and that isn’t going to be safe in any version of the future.”

Harding started to turn to look at Rook, but just shook her head and said, “You’re right Rook, we do whatever it takes.” before walking down the hallway and turning to the right, no doubt heading to see Taash.

Rook immediately went to her wardrobe to change into her fighting gear. Nowhere in Thedas was safe these days, especially not for the biggest pain in the blighted gods’ asses. She finished the last buckles on her warden mage armor, and strapped on her blades. One blade was her main weapon that she used in tandem with her magic, and the other was a backup she started wearing after losing her main hand once in battle and nearly being flattened by an ogre because of it. Deciding she was prepared for anything on her journey to Dock Town, Rook walked out of her room and down the stairs towards the Eluvian.

Part 2 Here!

Part 3 here!

DATV Masterlist here!