#keep your eyes open for their slots guys and go commission them!!!!!

[sonics-left-shoe]

A huge thank you again to the wonderful @silvermun for my commission!!! You drew my girl so perfectly 😭🫶

[saphig-iawn]

Feel My Words!

I am opening commissions for short stories!

I have 5 slots open for now to see how things work out on my end with it.

I've received a lot of love for my writing, and it is something I adore doing. I love writing about the sessions and I will keep doing so and putting them here, but after writing more fiction on Cohost (Rest in power, sweet eggbug), I think this is something I would love to do more of.

The commission is live on Ko-fi, but please only purchase once you've filled out this form.

If you've read this far, then please enjoy a piece I wrote for Cohost. It is about working behind the scenes at theme park where you find yourself becoming far more involved than you thought. It is called:

Behind the Scenes

CW: noncon transformation

The keycard swipe took a few attempts before the device fixed to the wall chirped in affirmation. It was almost too hard to hear over the roar of the crowds and rides, but her new colleague's beaming grin was enough of a sign that ingress into the behind the scenes of the theme park was successful.

"Eee I just love showing new folk around! 'Specially the behind the scenes, heheheee~!" Norene squealed- wait was it Norene? Naomi? She was so excited to be lifting the veil on the magic of the park that it was very hard to see her name badge.

You had already been shown around some of the staff areas- oh, not staff, you were a Showhand, gotta keep up the act in front of the all the park visitors- but this was your first time being shown behind the scenes of a ride. It was bittersweet, because the ride was one of your favourites, was being a keyword because it got changed in the time between your last visit and getting a job here. Some of the characters were a touch dated so a big facelift and rebranding was ordered and their hard work swept away the memories and tucked them behind the wall in vacuum sealed bags. Bags that you were now looking at.

"Gawsh I miss these little guys too" 'Norene' said from behind you, "But all the new stuff is gonna make new happy memories for the kids queuing up today!" She patted you on the back, and it felt far more assuring than you expected. You hated the whole "We're a family" corporate message, but you can tell 'Norene' really cared.

Skipping from scene to scene, diorama to diorama, 'Norene' ran through the checks needed to ensure a safe ride. It being a small dark ride made these checks quite quick as everything was pretty condensed in the space, the focus was largely on the scenes the cars would pass through.

"Now, everythin' good so far?" 'Norene' wheeled on her heel to catch your eyes, her playfulness retreated behind a stern look. You nodded in agreement. Her face lit back up again. "Great! Now, we got ourselves a special item added to our checks today, one of the characters missed a beat on her performance so when she spun around for the big ol' long note, the servos in her arm ripped up her costume something good, so we gotta replace it."

A little chill shocked you as the realisation of your responsibility set in. Even on this small ride, there were just so many moving parts, so many points of potential failure. If one things goes awry then the whole experience is changed.

"Oooh yup, I had that too!" You felt 'Norene' wrap you in a deep hug, then a pat on the shoulder. "You don't got to worry though, we're both in charge o' this ride, it'll all go like clockwork!"

You soften in her support, the chill around your chest ablating in her warmth.

She directs you to where all manner of spare things are kept for the ride, including costumes for the humanoid animatronic characters.

The rebrand was a strange thing to explore from this perspective. Not quite uncanny, but everything you saw brought up feelings of familiarity and other. The ride before and after were 'period settings' according to official documentation, so there was a lot that got reused and recycled. You felt like you were in one of those hidden secrets videos where a chipper host guides you through the hidden details and traces of previous rides.

The rebrand was of a typical diamond-in-the-rough story, a bright woman with big ideas gets overlooked, patriarchal systems punch her when she's down, but a sudden beautification has the world finally see her. It was… meh. What wasn't lacklustre was the quality of the costumes. Even the saccharine sweet pink dress that the main character ends up in was incredibly well made. That was until the animatronic tore streaks through it.

As you unpacked the new costume from its protective sleeves, it amazed you. For a garment that would never be worn by a person, there were so many parts to it. Petticoats, a corset, stockings, garter belts, bloomers, suspenders, the lot. You suppose that, if this character is whirling and twirling, then you got to treat them a like a real dancer and not have too many points where a gap in the outfit might spoil the show.

The dress itself was a statement in pink satin. A skirt, that almost looked caged, but your keen eyes spotted how the tiers were actually built on small pulley systems so the animatronic beneath could send the right parts of the fabric in a spin or a flurry. The bodice pulled right in at the waist, with proud pink bows adorning the bustle and bust. Long bishop sleeves billowed out into pristine frilled cuffs. The collar sat high, with plenty of room for the deep emerald green choker.

"Like God made it herself, huh?" sighed 'Norene'. You could almost taste her admiration in the air. She walked around the table you had laid it out on, gently running her hands over the fabric like she was greeting friendly koi at a pond. Her face was aglow, but that was largely because of the light reflecting from the dress. You melt a little in yourself, seeing 'Norene' so happy. "It was Norene!" you shouted triumphantly in your head. She was finally stood still long enough to read her name tag properly.

"Whenever I ran tests on this ride, I loved watching her dance in this dress." Norene said, dreamily. "Gawsh I just wanna scoop it up off the table an' wear it myself."

There's a tone to her voice, you recognised it; thinly veiled yearning. You had been there too, watching princesses in films when you were younger and wanting to be them with every fibre of your being.

"While it makes the kids happy an' all, something like this is a little wasted on silicone and servos." Norene's pleasantness gave way a little. Barbs of envy stood a little too proud in her words. The smile on the corners of her mouth faded.

"Besides, I'm too small for the costume. While I love everythin' here, they never quite cater to everyone in all their splendors." There was a bitterness. "Its always the same kinda shapes, and the same sorta looks. And when they finally have the ba-" She stops herself, her cheeks flushed with equal parts injustice and embarrassment.

She looks up to you, almost pleadingly. You return a soft smile, but before you can offer words of support her face snaps back to jollity, like a bulb in her mind had just flashed with inspiration.

Without breaking eye contact, Norene grabs the dress by its shoulders and drapes it over your front.

"Oh… mygod…" she just about manages. Her eyes are wide and epiphanic. She suddenly retreats into herself, bunching the dress up at her chest, like a small child aware of their timidity and hiding behind a pillow. She looks at the clock, and scans the room for cameras unbeknownst to you.

"Wouldja wanna… uh.. try it on?" she trembled.

Like the Showhands who don costumes and personalities, you suddenly felt like you were being greeted by a character's biggest fan, and about to make a dream come true. You nod silently, a smile on your face.

Norene squeals with excitement, some of it tapping into the part of her brain that confuses cuteness with aggression. The dress felt this emotion the most, but she gasped as she realised that was causing the garment distress.

Like a character from one of the films, Norene danced and pranced around, guiding you to a chair and sitting you down. It felt really strange having parts of the costume being put on over your uniform, but you guessed this impromptu cosplay wouldn't be on for long so the discomfort was bearable. Despite your cargo pants, the stockings hugged your legs well. The garter sitting neatly over the frilled panties. You felt so relieved that Norene couldn't see your face because having a fairly new acquiantance be so much in your personal space had your cheeks ablaze.

Dissociating in that moment to not focus on what was happening meant Norene yanking you to your feet snapped you back. It felt so odd to be stood fully clothed with period lingerie on top. You almost felt a bit vulnerable, like you should be covering up. Norene whipped about you with the character's corset. Surprisingly, the garment needed very little adjusting. Your polo shirt was not the appropriate accompaniment to its finery.

Norene brings the dress over and holds it open for you to push your arms through and in. The inside felt amazing. The lining glided over your skin. The dress hugged and accentuated in the just the right places. If you stood still in the right place, you almost stopped feeling your stuffy polo shirt and cargo pants.

There it was. Giddiness. A bubble. Right in the chest. You felt yourself smiling.

"AaaaAAaah! Look at you darlin'!" Norene's praise was almost a shriek. You felt her tighting and adjusting, zhuzhing and tweaking. "Aaaaah its time for tha finishin' tooouuuch!"

The way the light catches the green ribbon of the choker stuns you for a moment. It felt like peering into another world, its sky alight with an aurora; its broach framing this world like a painting.

Norene brings it up to your neck, and walks around you to fasten it.

You felt… complete? A rare feeling, but you felt satisfied. Like wearing this costume was right.

"Gawsh have I waited so long for this." Norene purrs. "So. Long."

Wait. There it was again. Those barbs of envy, but this time they felt more severe. Like fangs. The hairs on your neck pricked with apprehension, a slight panic set in. Maybe it was time to take this off-

An arm barred across your shoulders as a hand clamped on your mouth.

Your gasp was caught by the hand and forced back in as you went to struggle.

"No! Nonono, don't ruin this sweetie, I've waited- uhn- so long" Norene spat.

You tried to move towards an exit of any kind, hoping you could get out, even if Norene was dragged with you. No one would care about you being in the costume, if they saw Norene trying to attack you, right?

But your feet didn't respond.

You heaved forward, almost lifiting Norene off her feet, in attempt to shift your weight but your feet would not budge.

"Darlin' it'll be so much easi- hey! nonono- so much easier if you just let it happen!"

Like the dimming lights of a rolling blackout, your legs began to seize up and cease moving. Your breath was quickening, the panic was birthing screams that Norene's hand kept denying.

"Oh come on! Gunna have to adjust your feet now, this is not a- whoa!- not a cute pose!"

Pose? What the fuck was she talking about?

Your fingers find purchase between her arm and your shoulders, the sleeves being the biggest obstacle in trying to find a point of grip. You try hard to pull her arm away, but the rising immobility made things difficult.

Your core muscles stopped responding.

The strength in your arms was beginning to wane.

"That's it darlin', there we go." Norene cooed. It was chilling, you felt like a prey caught in a trap, being soothed by your captor. How could she be like this while attacking you? "Just a lil' more, just a lil' more!"

Your arms have almost locked in place.

You deploy a last resort.

You feel your teeth sink into Norene's palm.

"Ah ya lil' rat! Stop biting!"

Like it was willed by her words, your next bite was softer. And softer.

"Aaahh… there we go…" Norene sighed, releasing her grip on your frozen lips.

You try to look at your captor but your head won't move.

Norene walks into your vision.

"God you're beautiful. The pose, I can work on, but you look so perfect hun."

You so wished your eyes could inflict pain on her but despite staring harder than you've ever stared, Norene was uneffected.

Norene ducks below your eyeline. The sound of snipping scratches through the air. You feel something shifting and brushing on your skin. You tried so, so, hard to do anything but you remained frozen and reluctantly posed in your final moment of struggle.

A hand holding butchered cargo pants enters your eyeline.

"Won't be needing these anymore!" said the hand, before it drops them like a discarded wrapper.

You feel the dress and bodice press into your form even more, as Norene reappears, holding shreds of your polo shirt.

"There we go, darlin'. Can't have the kids seeing anything outta place. Besides, princesses don't wear polos."

Your mind was racing with anger and frustration. Was this it? Being held captive as Norene's own doll?

As that thought finished in your trapped mind, Norene began to pose you. The way your vision changed would be nauseating but whatever form you were in now didn't allow you that privilege.

"You see," Norene said from behind you, adjusting your legs and hips., "it wasn't just the costume that bit the dust, it was the whole character! But now, with you here an' dressed perfectly, they're gonna find the character's been fixed and that I did it and my perfect record of maintaining this ride will be maintained! Oh and they'll be none the wiser of course, hehe!"

You wanted to frown and spit at her glee, but your face remained stubbornly serene, now framed by your gloves

"Can't have folk goin' 'round asking questions either, so I'll make sure to work a lil' magic on those who jam their noses in where they shouldn't belong." She positions herself in front of you, admiring her work, running her hands up and down your frame and curves. "Not like what I worked on you, hun. No no, you're special darlin'. It was so fortuitious that ya landed in my care on a day like today." She adjusted the skirt of your dress. "I'll take care of ya darlin', thass a good girl."

She reached above her head at a dangling control and pressed a chunky button.

Your mind filled with music. Your inner voice erupting into song. Your ears heard no sound yet your body began to move and dance like a band was playing your theme. You wanted to revolt, to fudge the moves and break your voice, but you continued, like you were made for this.

Norene smiled.

[acesamateurart]

Holiday 2023 Commissions

Commissions are open once more!! Read about it on this Tumblr post, or check out my carrd for info, or just take a browse through my Ko-fi module!

The tl;dr: I have both regular commissions and Your-Character-Here commissions open! There's 3 slots at a time, keep an eye for an opening in my queue. YCH commissions, as usual, are in a pay what you want/pay what you can format.

Help a disabled artist out and give this a reblog/share with your friends!

Now, for the more detailed parts!

Be sure to read the rules carefully before requesting! There are some things that I will not draw, either for a lack of skill or lack of will. I can't afford to go back and forth with funds, this is my primary source of income!

To get the half price chibi option, there will be an option to enter CHIBI at checkout on Ko-fi for 50% off the commission. If this is used on non-chibi requests, or misused on the YCH commissions (not eligible for the discount code), then I will remove the code and find a different way to manage chibis.

Here are some example pieces (more can be found on my carrd, mentioned earlier in the post):

And here are the 9 available Your-Character-Here poses! I'm excited to include more mobility aids in my poses, as a person who relies on mobility aids myself. I hope that you guys like them just as much💜

[dataglitch]

I’m so glad that you’re back to the tf fandom!! I love your style so much, will you be considering opening some commissions?✨

Thank you! It's been fun seeing you guys again!:D

And I've been asked many times so I'll go ahead and open them in June, but only 3 slots at a time. This goes for all my socials, so keep an eye out!

[taetaespeaches]

“Don’t you dare.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 3.6K

a/n: Eeeek I’m so excited to finally be posting Min/Kid again!!!! A lot has happened since I last wrote for these two. You know, a shoulder surgery, release of BE, and a Grammy nomination just to list a few. Soooo all three of those are included in this. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading! :)) 

CHOPPING the celery, you hummed along with the acoustic melody resonating in the kitchen, the voices of your boyfriend and his members filling the space. The slow, sad tune was one of your favorites on the new album, but then again, you favored them all.

Looking down at your feet, you spotted the small fluffy dog staring up at you cutely. “I just wanna be happier,” you sang at the dog, ��How about you, Holly?”

At hearing his name, he cocked his head at you, you smiling fondly. “Are you happy?” You continued your conversation with the pup in a tone that was higher pitched than your normal speaking voice. “What’s up? Do you want some celery?” You asked. “I don’t think you’ll like it much, bubs.”

You watched the dog for a moment longer before he got too excited, jumping up your leg causing you to giggle and relent. “Ok, ok,” you grinned, taking a small piece of the vegetable between your fingertips. Crouching down, you held it out for Holly to take, the dog carefully sniffing it. “I’m telling you, dude, you’re not gonna like it,” you told him just as he slowly grabbed the morsel from your fingers and dropped it to the floor. “Are you gonna eat it?” You questioned in surprise, both you and the dog too intrigued by the celery to notice the new kitchen visitor standing behind you.

“Is he eating celery?” Your boyfriend’s groggy voice suddenly sounded, you turning around in surprise and slight startlement.

“Shit, hi,” you greeted him, clutching your chest in fright, taking in his disheveled appearance as he had just woken up from a nap. “He’s considering,” you smiled before turning back to the dog. “I don’t think he’ll do it.”

“Holly, you’re not starving, buddy,” he told the little pup, a slight chuckle lacing the words. You listened as Yoongi’s feet shuffled closer to you, his hand suddenly finding its way to the back of your head, his fingers instantly slipping into your strands, lightly massaging your roots.

Taking his hand in yours, you brought it to your lips as you stood, leaving a light kiss to the back of it before trailing them down the bottom of his thumb and to his wrist. “How are you feeling, baby?” You asked him, the man giving you a soft close-mouthed grin that made his fluffy cheeks look even fuller.

“I feel fine,” he assured you, moving his hand in your grip to intertwine his fingers with your own as he leaned toward you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “You should have woken me up, Kid,” he whispered against your lips.

Your mouth curved upward as you shook your head, kissing him once more before stepping back from him and reluctantly separating your hand from his. “Absolutely not,” you said simply, Yoongi scoffing as he pulled his gaze from you to the dog, you following his eyes to see Holly propped up on your boyfriend’s legs. Cast to the side was the piece of celery, you giggling as Yoongi smiled in amusement.

“Do you want a real treat?” He asked the dog, you looking fondly at your boyfriend’s wide-eyed gaze as he addressed Holly in a cutesy voice. “I’ll give you a real one, none of this celery stuff,” he playfully teased you, shooting you a gummy grin.

“Hey, he asked for it,” you defended, crossing your arms over your ribcage as Yoongi made his way across the kitchen to the treat cupboard.

You observed him as he reached for a plastic container with a twist lid, however stalling when he realized it would be quite difficult to take off with one arm. Instead he reached for the bag of treats next to it, using his teeth to hold one end of the zip lock as he pulled it open.

“Here you go, Holly,” he handed the pup the treat, the dog wiggling excitedly before running off to munch in peace. “That’s why I’m his favorite,” he told you with a smug smile, your mouth opening in feigned surprise.  

“You think you’re Holly’s favorite?” You asked him, the man giving you a weak shrug, given one of his shoulders was out of commission. “Aw, Min,” you cooed. “When did you get so delusional, old man?”

Yoongi chuckled at you as he turned back to the bag of treats, a focus overtaking his face as he struggled to reseal it with one hand. Of course you felt for the man, having undergone a shoulder surgery in the recent weeks, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t amusing to watch him pout in frustration at a bag of dog treats. And you only became fonder when he finally sealed it, a quiet hum of satisfaction leaving his lips before turning to catch your gaze, you holding back a grin as his cheeks tinted pink.

“Everything is so much more difficult,” he whined in embarrassment, you allowing yourself to lightly laugh at his expense.

“You’re so cute though,” you complimented, the man grunting at the comment as he looked to the cutting board.

“What can I help with?” He asked you, you shooting him a glare.

“You can help by keeping me company,” you told him sternly. “Sit here and chat with me, I missed you today.”

Opening his mouth to contend your command, you held up your hand to him. “Don’t argue with me, I’ll stop helping you put your pants on,” you teased him, Yoongi letting out a silent laugh paired with his adorable gummy grin.

“That’s just cruel,” he joked back just before taking a seat across from you at the kitchen island. “Maybe I’ll just stop wearing pants then,” he suggested.

“Now who’s being cruel?” You questioned with a smirk, enjoying the amusement displayed on your boyfriend’s features. Picking the knife up, you continued chopping up vegetables as Yoongi watched you carefully. “How was therapy this morning?”

“I’m so tired,” he chuckled at himself as you pouted and cooed. “It was fine though,” he nodded.

“Good,” you grinned. “You better not be pushing yourself too hard,” you warned, Yoongi letting out a light laugh.

“I want to get back out there,” he noted, a small knowing smile forming on your lips. “I want to be ready to perform this album when we’re able,” he added, nodding to your phone as ‘Telepathy’ sounded through the speaker.

“And you will be ready,” you assured him, “as long as you pace yourself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he teased, you trying to hold back your smile but failing. “Have you picked a favorite yet?” He asked, referring to your favorite track on his group’s new album.

“I’ve always had a favorite,” you told him as you started lightly grooving to the upbeat track.

“This one?” He asked in surprise, making you roll our eyes as you started dancing more and singing along. “Wow,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you just saying this to make me feel good since I’m all laid up?” He asked, you giggling at the question.

“You’re so annoying,” you told him through your chuckle, reaching for a piece of celery and lightly tossing it at him. The piece of vegetable made contact with his cheek and he pulled a dramatic expression of shock, his mouth open as he playfully gasped. “Of course I’m just saying that to make you feel good,” you teased, Yoongi laughing breathily as he popped the piece of celery into his mouth.

“Thank you anyway,” he smiled softly as you let out a breathy laugh. You both watched each other for a moment, your eyes traveling each other’s faces before your gazes connected, Yoongi only holding contact for a second until quickly averting his orbs to the countertop.

Smiling to yourself, you placed the knife to the stone, the sound of metal clinking against the hard surface piquing Yoongi’s interest enough for him to look at the blade. As you began walking around the counter toward your boyfriend, his eyes found your hips, dragging up your frame, landing on your grin.

“The song is amazing,” you assured him seriously. “And I think this might be my favorite of your guys’ albums.”

“Really?” He asked curiously, his eyes widened as he studied your expression, replaying the words in his head to scrutinize your tone. You simply nodded as you slotted yourself between his legs, your hand meeting the back of his neck as you lightly played with the ends of his dark brown hair.

“And speaking as a fan,” you told him, dipping your head to catch his eyes. “I know all the other fans loving it as well.”

Flashing you a honey boy smile as his cheeks tinted pink, you leaned down to press a sweet kiss to their plushness. “You did good, Honey Boy,” you complimented, a breathy chuckle sounding from the man as he relaxed in your touch, dropping his forehead to your sternum, leaving a light kiss to your chest through your shirt.

“Thank you,” he whispered shyly. He sometimes had a hard time vocalizing it, but your opinion meant everything to him.

Running your hands through the back of his hair, you shook your head. “Thank you,” you countered.

“For what?” He asked wrapping an arm around your waist, allowing his fingers to lightly trace indistinct patterns against your side.

“For inspiring me daily,” you told him, the man looking up at you with an expression of adorable surprise, making you smile and lean down to kiss his soft lips fondly. “With your talent and hard work and openness to express your vulnerabilities. I know there’s a lot of people out there who appreciate it, but don’t forget that I’m one of them,” you informed him, the man taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

Leaving a kiss to the tip of his nose, you trailed them up the bridge until your lips met his forehead, leaving a series of pecks against his warm skin. “What’s on your mind, Min?” You whispered before placing another kiss to his hair. Probably a lot. A major shoulder surgery, a new album, Grammy nominations coming, you were sure it was busy inside his head.

“How lucky I am to have you,” he revealed shyly but boldly, you nearly cooing instantly. “And how much I hate this fucking shoulder right now because I can’t just grab you and take you right here like I want to,” he partially joked. Oh jesus christ.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, lightly slapping his uninjured arm. “You know what? I’ve settled on what your three best skills are.”

“What are they?” He asked, pulling you the slightest bit closer as he smirked at you.

“Rapping, producing, and ruining cute moments,” you told him, the man immediately laughing as he pulled a feigned thinking face.

“Kind of thought rocking your world was gonna be one but I’ll take it,” he replied, you groaning as you pulled out of his grasp.

“Have I told you you’re annoying?” You teased, leaning toward him to steal a quick kiss before stepping away from him, the man slowly chasing after your lips as you backed away, reaching for you with his functional arm only to shoot you a pout when you returned to the other side of the island.

“Of course you have,” he smiled.

“Good,” you said simply, wearing a fond grin as you returned to cooking.

“You’re so cute in your pj’s,” you cooed as you helped button his top, preparing to get into bed. You had finished eating dinner earlier in the night and Yoongi had helped you with dishes by rinsing them with his one functional arm. “I should get a matching pair, how adorable would that be?” You teased, Yoongi shooting you a look of disgust. “What is that face? It would be cute,” you defended playfully, only for your boyfriend to hold the expression as if you committed an atrocity. “Stop it, don’t pretend like you hate the idea.”

“I do hate the idea,” he defended weakly, hiding a smile.

“Oh whatever, I know you, Min,” you reminded him with a glare, the man huffing as you giggled, securing the last button on his pajama top. “Ok,” you lightly patted the right side of his chest after securing the final button. “All done.”  

“Thanks,” he breathed out, watching as you reached for his shoulder brace. “I can put it on, Kid,” he told you, causing you to pause and stare at him. The two of you had been playfully fighting for weeks over taking care of him. The thing was, you both enjoyed you doting on the man a bit.

“I want to,” you pouted, Yoongi giving you a soft smile. Smirking in victory, you wiggled your hips happily just before you began placing his arm in the sling, Yoongi scoffing as he smiled.

As you adjusted the straps, ensuring his shoulder would be as comfortable and secure as possible, Yoongi watched you carefully. Fondly. When your eyes found his, catching him staring, he cleared his throat to play if off with an act of nonchalance.

“You know,” he started, determined to set your mind on something other than the fact that he had been staring at you with the softest smile you’d ever seen. “I’m beginning to get used to you waiting on me all the time,” he joked, you biting back a smile as you shook your head.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him, pulling up on the velcro to resituate the strap.

“What?” He feigned innocence, his eyes widened with his lips secured in a small pout. You allowed yourself to smile as you let out a forced scoff to cover your amusement.

“Don’t you dare get used to it,” you told him sternly as he laughed silently, thoroughly amused and smitten. “You know what, just for that you can tuck yourself into bed,” you teased, walking away from him, Yoongi looking at you in pretend shock.

“Kid,” he whined with a smile as he watched you crawl under the covers, leaving the grown man to fend for himself.

Opening your laptop, you kept your eyes in a glare as Yoongi shuffled to the bed, staring at you with a pout as you resisted the urge to smile. “Stop looking at me, Min,” you told him, your straight face breaking as he chuckled, you giggling as you pulled up the Grammys website.

Carefully but lacking grace, Yoongi crawled into bed next to you and looked over your shoulder at the screen. “What time are they announcing nominations?”

“Um,” you looked at the time, doing the math in your head. “Should be around 2 or 3 am, so a couple hours. Do you want to get some sleep and set an alarm? Or do you want to wait up?” You asked, looking at him, reading the nervousness in his features instantly.

A soft smile overtook your face as he breathed out slowly. “Uh, I think wait up,” he nodded to himself. “Yeah, wait up.”

“Ok, baby,” you nodded back. His eyes were glued to the screen, and more specifically the gramophone displayed in the top left corner. You knew he wanted this. It was the highest honor a musician could receive for their work, so of course the boys wanted that. And you couldn’t think of anyone more deserving. Even when you stripped back all of the hard work and hardships, the years of struggles for credibility and spotlight under a new company with no money, defying the odds and breaking through as a worldwide act, the music was still amazing. The music is what gave you the intuitive confidence to assure your boyfriend that he had nothing to worry about. “You’re going to get nominated,” you assured him sincerly. “I can feel it.”

“Yeah?” He asked, his eyes slowly leaving the screen to meet your face, his cheeks looking plush and kissable in the glow of the computer monitor.

“Yeah,” you nodded, reaching for his face, gently placing your palm to his cheek, simply because you just had to feel their fluffiness on your fingertips. “And if you don’t, I’ll start drafting a letter to the recording academy immediately to scold them for committing the biggest snub in Grammys history,” you joked. Your lame humor was met with a highly amused gummy grin and an adorable shy giggle as he turned his face into your hand to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Between me and Army, just imagine all the scathing articles the recording academy will be met with,” you added, Yoongi chuckling further, the sound of his laughter making your belly feel warm and content.

“Well hopefully we’re nominated,” he said through his light laughter. “For two reasons,” he clarified, you raising your eyebrows curiously. “You’re scary when mad and also that would be very embarrassing to have my girlfriend send a letter to the recording academy on my group’s behalf,” he laughed more, you joining him as your hand slid to the side of his neck.

“Well then, they better nominate you,” you agreed just as Holly jumped onto the bed, nuzzling next to yours and Yoongi’s legs, both of you shooting fond grins at the little pup. 

You weren’t sure what time it was but the grogginess in your mind told you it was much too early to be awake yet. So why were you?

“Kid,” a hushed whisper sounded next to you, you groaning in response. “Kid, wake up, baby,” the voice sounded again.

“Hmm?” You hummed, still too tired to peel your eyes open.

“We fell asleep,” Yoongi told you, you humming again. “Kid, the nominations have been announced.”

At that statement, your eyes popped open, your hazy gaze searching for Yoongi. Blinking the sleep away, you squinted at your boyfriend as your eyes adjusted to being open. His face coming into clarity in the early morning hours, you studied his features, preparing to either celebrate or console. With a racing heart, you watched as his lips curved into a massive gummy smile, and tears pricked your eyes instantly.

“Oh my god,” you whispered huskily.

“We’re nominated for a Grammy,” he told you, the words hitting you with the force of reality causing you to shoot up from the covers startling Holly as you did so, the dog looking at you in confusion. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you squealed, standing on your knees as you lightly bounced, trying to be careful not to create too much motion that you would hurt his shoulder, pumping your arms in the air gleefully. Holly jumped up, hopping against you for a moment. “Oh my god,” you screamed excitedly, Yoongi laughing as he let out a happy excited yell of his own. Holly leaped onto Yoongi’s lap, barking at the commotion, unaware that he was partaking in a celebration.  “Yoongi, oh my fucking god,” you yelled once more through Yoongi’s own excited squealing as he pet the dogs face giddily.

Showing you his phone, you skimmed through his group chat with the boys, the photo of the nomination taking center stage, the texts full of yells of excitement making you smile widely.  Another squeal left you as you dropped the phone and placed your hands to the sides of Yoongi’s face, Holly deciding to settle on your empty side of the bed next to you and Yoongi. “Baby, you’re nominated for a Grammy,” you told him, the words fully hitting Yoongi as it sunk in for the first time. You watched as his eyes became glassy, emotion overwhelming the man.

Crawling closer to your boyfriend, you placed yourself on his lap and wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, careful not to make contact with his recovering shoulder. Yoongi instantly rested his head against your shoulder and it didn’t take long to hear sniffles as he body shook, the man crying into the fabric of your pajama top.

“Oh, you did it, Min,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head a few times quickly as your fingers comfortingly toyed with his strands at the nape of his neck. “I’m so proud of you,” you spoke into his hair, the man’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you firmly against his side as he continued to cry.

The two of you sat like that for a moment, the only sounds coming from you both being his silent sobs and your occasional kisses to his head and the whispered compliment on how deserving he was. There’s a special kind of happiness you feel when the people you love achieve a certain level of happiness themselves. And well, Yoongi was really happy in that moment. And you loved him more than anyone.

Eventually, his tears slowed and he looked up to you, finding you smiling down at him with your own lash closed to the brink of overflowing emotion. “Not to brag but,” you stared playfully, “I did tell you that you’d be nominated,” you teased, Yoongi chuckling as he craned his neck uncomfortably to find your lips. Watching you be so happy and supportive of him, he couldn’t quite relay his gratitude for you through words. He needed to show you.

Happily, you kissed him back, the meeting full of passion and love. The kiss was an act of sharing and relaying pride and excitement and relief and thankfulness, and just all the intense emotions hitting you both in that moment. It was slow but meaningful, the kiss full of intent but frantic and messy. It was perfect.

When he pulled away just slightly, he took a shaky breath, letting out a single breathy laugh of disbelief. “The recording academy must have felt the energy of your threat,” he joked, you shaking your head with a fond smile.

“Nah uh,” you told him. “This was all you guys.” Yoongi took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you wiped under his eyes gently, ridding him of his tears. “You deserve this, Yoongi,” you assured him.

“I love you,” he told you as a soft honey boy smile graced his face.

Leaning down once again, you kissed his lips softly. “I love you too,” you whispered against his mouth. “My Grammy nominated Honey Boy,” you smiled, Yoongi chuckling as he connected his lips to yours once again.

[kira-bitz]

Edd was already fed up with his situation. How had it come to this? Well, the events have not happened long ago, they were still fresh in his memory.

And it was that his parents didn't saw with good eyes that, as he grew up, Edd developed a greater interest in cartoons and comics. Even traditional arts like painting and sculpture were alternatives they were willing to accept for their oldest son, but comics? Animations? He wasn't even talented enough to stand out from the crowd and have a promising future. This is how, when Edd mentioned his intention to study animation after finishing his studies at school, his father didn't hesitate to give him an ultimatum:

- Either you choose a traditional career as how it has to be, or you finance them by your own.

Edd already saw that answer coming, so he wasn't discouraged by his father's words. In a way he understood his fear, but that wasn't going to stop him, he would prove to them that he could fulfill his dream with or without their help. He had already planned what to do in advance, because due to the great income of money from his family, he knew that the loan or grant options wouldn't allow him to cover much of the cost of his studies if he continued living with them, so he was already focused in finding a part-time job. On the other hand, his friends Matt and Tom told him about their intentions to share a flat, in order to live in a more central place. Nothing could go wrong.

But there he was a year later, exhausted from the fifth merchandise landing of the night at the supermarket. Too tired to get home and get on with his college projects, he just wanted a shower and sleep. Wasn't there another type of work that drained less of his energy? A job that didn't take up so many hours of his day?

This is how Edd began to investigate in different places, increasingly corrupt sites, until in one of them reached at his ears the information of a certain business that was done in a night pool club, where in exchange for "requests" of clients a good sum of money was paid. Edd hesitated to try after seeing what kind of requests there were, but one in particular caught his eye.

“A guy on my campus constantly harasses me. I have denounced him repeatedly, but I haven't received a response from the authorities since he has not physically attacked me. I just want to give him the scare of his life so he can leave me alone. I'm scared."

Edd thought about it for a moment as he looked at the contact number attached to the application and the amount to be received for said service. He was tall, maybe not the most muscular boy, but he had knowledge of fights from his most rebellious school years. Plus, he had a pretty convincing dummy gun. Maybe... he could try.

When the day came, Edd took one last look at the photo of a blond young man to confirm that it was the same one he was watching casually walking down the sidewalk in front of him. He crossed the street while pulling on his hood and shoved the boy shorter than him into the alley, away from the public view. He grabbed him by the neck almost lifting him off the ground as the guy emitted little screams of terror:

- I know you, George Smith. I know where you live, your boring schedule, and that you were now on your way to see your friends Tyler and Henry at the place a few blocks from here. Too bad I'll have to spoil your fun.

Wide-eyed in sheer terror, the smaller guy watched as Edd took his gun from his back pocket, pulled the hammer and aimed it at George's head.

- If I see you near Miss Emily Brown again, I will come for you again, and I will not be alone.

Between screeches and gasps from George from the tight grip, Edd slammed his knee into his stomach, completely knocking the air out of his lungs. Finally, before George could catch his breath, and with one swift movement, Edd hit George over the head with his gun, knocking him out instantly.

The tallest one looked at the scene for a second and felt the adrenaline rush inside him. He has never felt something like this. It reminded him a bit of the school fights of yesteryear but with a much greater intensity. He felt control and uncontrolled at the same time. He liked it.

Slowly, Edd began to take more and more requests from people he called "in a situation of need for not acting of the law" sometimes allying with others like him when the service required more than one individual, and even going so far as to buy a real gun and learn how to use it to take less risk. With this new inflow of money, he could leave his other job since in less hours he was earning much more, he could pay for his studies without problem, improve his work team and pay the rent for his home.

And so he did, the day his new computer and drawing tablet arrived was the happiest day of his life. Tom and Matt were undoubtedly happy for him and when he finally had everything set up he called them over to see his latest model equipment. Edd didn't expect them to come into his room filming and celebrating the fruit of so much hard work. Between congratulations they took one last photo to keep for the memory.

- Thanks guys. You are the best.

Finally, already in the darkness of the night, an Edd could be seen without being able to sleep. Since, although in a couple of years he should no longer have the need to continue with this work, something had awakened in his being that said that what began as a need, was turning into an obsession.

---

Well here I brought the first promised backstory of the boys in the EW Lone Digger AU. I hope you like it! Please remember that this is fiction and that threatening people is bad, carrying weapons is bad, illegality is bad, etc asdfg.

And there is a small cameo of Ghost Friends since I will be part of the team of the first episode as character designer and that makes me happy 💖.

I take this opportunity to comment it is very likely that next week I will open commissions again, but I must adjust the prices and it will be probably 5 slots only for now.

Y para mi gente hispanohablante, abajo del Seguir Leyendo se encuentra la versión en español 😘

Edd ya estaba harto de su situación. ¿Cómo había llegado a esto? Bueno, los sucesos no habían ocurrido hace mucho, aún seguían frescos en su memoria.

Y es que sus padres no vieron con buenos ojos que, a medida que crecía, Edd desarrollaba un interés mayor por las caricaturas e historietas. Incluso artes tradicionales como pintura y escultura eran alternativas que estaban dispuestos a aceptar para su hijo mayor, pero ¿comics? ¿animaciones? Ni siquiera tenía tanto talento como para destacar del montón y tener un futuro prometedor. Así fue como, cuando Edd les mencionó sus intenciones de estudiar animación al terminar sus estudios en el colegio, su padre no dudó en darle un ultimátum:

- O eliges una carrera tradicional como corresponde, o la financias por tu cuenta.

Edd ya veía venir esa respuesta, por lo no se desanimó con las palabras de su padre. De cierta forma entendía su temor, pero eso no iba a detenerlo, les probaría que podía cumplir su sueño con o sin su ayuda. Ya tenía planificado qué hacer de antemano, pues debido a la gran entrada de dinero de su familia, sabía que las opciones de préstamos o subvenciones no le permitirían cubrir gran parte del valor de sus estudios si seguía viviendo con ellos, así que ya estaba mentalizado en encontrar un trabajo de medio tiempo. Por otra parte, sus amigos Matt y Tom le habían comentado sus intenciones de compartir un piso, para de esta forma vivir en un lugar más céntrico. Nada podría salir mal.

Pero ahí estaba un año después, agotado por del quinto desembarque de mercadería de la noche en el supermercado. Muy cansado como para llegar a casa y avanzar en sus proyectos universitarios, solo quería una ducha y dormir. ¿No existía otro tipo de trabajo que drenara menos de su energía? ¿Un trabajo que no ocupara tantas horas de su día?

Así fue como Edd se dedicó a investigar en diferentes sitios, sitios cada vez más corruptos, hasta que en uno de ellos llegó a sus oídos la información de cierto negocio que se hacía en un club de pool nocturno, donde a cambio de “solicitudes” de clientes se pagaba una buena suma de dinero. Edd, al ver el tipo de solicitudes que se habían dudó en intentarlo, pero uno en particular le llamó la atención.

“Un sujeto del campus me acosa constantemente. Lo he denunciado en reiteradas ocasiones, pero no he tenido respuesta de las autoridades ya que no me ha agredido físicamente. Solo quiero que le den el susto de su vida para que me deje en paz. Tengo miedo.”

Edd lo pensó un momento mientras observaba el número de contacto adjunto a la solicitud y el monto a recibir por dicho servicio. Él era grande, tal vez no el chico más musculoso, pero tenía conocimiento en peleas de su etapa escolar más rebelde. Además, tenía un arma falsa bastante convincente. Quizás… podría intentarlo.

Llegado el día, Edd miró por última vez la foto de un joven rubio para corroborar que era el mismo al que estaba observando caminar despreocupadamente por la vereda de en frente. Cruzó la calle mientras se colocaba la capucha y empujó al chico más pequeño que él al callejón, alejándolos de la vista pública. Lo sujetó del cuello casi levantándolo del suelo mientras el chico emitía pequeños chillidos de terror. Sacó su arma y apuntó a su cabeza:

- Te conozco, George Smith. Sé dónde vives, tu aburrido horario y que ahora te dirigías a ver a tus amigos Tyler y Henry en el local a unas cuadras de aquí. Lástima que tendré que arruinar tu diversión.

Con los ojos abiertos de puro terror, el chico más pequeño vió cómo Edd tomaba su arma del bolsillo trasero, jalaba el percutor y apuntaba a la cabeza de George.

- Si te vuelvo a ver cerca de la señorita Emily Brown vendré nuevamente por ti, y no estaré solo.

Entre chillidos y sonidos ahogados de George por el fuerte agarre, Edd le propinó un golpe seco con la rodilla a su estómago, sacándole completamente el aire de los pulmones. Finalmente, antes de que George pudiera recuperar el aliento, y con un rápido movimiento, Edd golpeó a George en la cabeza con su arma, noqueándolo instantáneamente.

El más alto miró por un segundo la escena y sintió cómo la adrenalina corría en su interior. Nunca había sentido algo así. Le recordó un poco a las peleas escolares de antaño pero con una intensidad mucho mayor. Sintió control y descontrol a la vez. Le gustó.

Poco a poco, Edd empezó a tomar cada vez más solicitudes de gente que él llamaba “en situación de necesidad por el no actuar de la ley”, a veces aliándose con otros como él cuando el servicio requería más de un individuo, e incluso llegando a comprar un arma real y aprender a usarla para correr menos riesgos. Con esta nueva entrada de dinero podría dejar su otro trabajo ya que en menos horas ganaba mucho más, podría pagar sus estudios sin problema, mejorar su equipo de trabajo y pagar la renta de su hogar.

Y así lo hizo, el día que llegó su nuevo computador y tableta gráfica fue el día más alegre de su vida. Tom y Matt estaban indudablemente felices por él y cuando por fin tuvo todo instalado los llamó para que vieran su equipamiento último modelo. Edd no esperaba que entraran a su habitación grabando y festejando el fruto de tanto trabajo duro. Entre felicitaciones tomaron una última foto para guardar para el recuerdo.

- Gracias chicos. Son los mejores.

Finalmente, ya en la oscuridad de la noche, se pudo ver a un Edd sin poder conciliar el sueño. Puesto que, aunque en un par de años ya no tendría la necesidad de seguir con este trabajo, algo había despertado en su ser que le decía que lo que empezó como una necesidad, se estaba convirtiendo en una obsesión.

[loveislattes]

Just This Once (Host/Reader/Author)

Commission/Request prompt: The Host and Author both want to cuddle reader without actually sharing their time. Perhaps they find a way in the end. Commissioned by @regalrain!

Important: Reader is gender-neutral!

Warnings: Just some cursing. Overall, it's just fluffy goodness!

A/N: As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

Tags:

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

@another-thirsty-blog

@hcrystal02

@just-a-little-bat

As the music intensified around the main character on screen, you found yourself sinking back further into the couch. There was going to be a jump scare soon, you just knew it.

"RAAAGGHH!"

The sudden roar from behind you startled a scream of your own from your lips as you went careening off the couch, trying to distance yourself from the sudden threat. It wasn't until you were on your hands and knees scrambling for the doorway that you finally recognized the laughter filling the room.

Your ears were still ringing from the audible assault as you struggled to catch your breath and calm your heart.

Eyes narrowing on the android assailant, you clambered to your feet and snapped, "What the actual fuck, Bing?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"

Before he could answer, an arm around your waist nearly sent you collapsing to the floor in terror once more, but thankfully they were able to catch you and keep you up. Your gaze shot up curiously to your savior and you were happy to find Host’s familiar face above as his hushed narrations dwindled into silence.

"The Host is sorry he startled you,” Host said calmly, tightening his grip around your waist, “He is also sorry he did not get here in time to stop the idiot from scaring you.”

“Hey, watch the name-calling, bro,” Bing scoffed.

You shot him a scathing glare as your hand wrapped around the one Host left lingering on your side.

“You’re lucky that’s all you’re getting. I should kick your ass for that!” you retorted.

The quiet mumbling of Host’s narrative beside you buzzed in the otherwise silent room but you didn’t let it distract you from the staring contest you had going on with Bing.

“Y/N is right. If it wasn’t for the high probability of property destruction, Host would be making you beg them for forgiveness right now,” Host filled in after a moment.

Bing visibly wilted at that. Heh. Even the big bad rebellious android was afraid of Host's power.

“What was that I heard about destruction?”

Author’s voice filtered through the tense atmosphere as he slid up behind you, taking up residence on your other side. Host’s narrations gained a note of irritation audible even in his low tone of voice.

“Bing scared the hell out of me while I was watching a scary movie,” you supplied helpfully, “Host and I were just explaining how lucky he was not to be in the fetal position right about now.”

As you looked up, you caught the devious smirk that crossed his face. Oh that look always meant danger.

“The Host adamantly advises against your revenge plot,” Host interrupted with a heavy sigh.

Author rolled his eyes with much derision before leveling Bing with a stare that made even your hairs stand on end.

“You ever try this again and even the old man won’t be able to stop me.”

Host’s narrations went completely silent for a second, his frame going tense against you as his fingers dug harder into yours. You wanted to say something to take away the sting of Author’s insult but Bing’s sudden exit deviated your thoughts and filled your chest with amusement. He ran away so fast you were almost sure he was going to trip over his own feet.

“Now that that’s taken care of, how about I join you for the rest of the movie?” Author immediately offered, swinging in front of you to catch your eyes with a grin, "I can be your big strong protector against the jump scares."

“Oh, I gue-”

“How amusing. The Host was just about to offer the same but with popcorn and cuddling,” Host interrupted.

A quiet curse slipped from your lips as you looked between the two of them. Of course, they’d put you in this predicament. There was always some competition between them where it concerned you.

“I asked first,” Author sneered in reply.

His eyes softened as they returned to you and he offered his hand.

“Well, which is it gonna be, sweetcheeks?”

You gently slipped from Host’s grip, trying not to audibly whimper at the sad look that fell over his face, and placed your hands on your hips.

“Okay, listen, you know I adore you both but this was supposed to be a relaxing night. I can’t relax when I know one of you will be upset if I choose the other. So this is what’s going to happen,” you stated factually, “I’m going to go make some popcorn, and either you can both be waiting here for me when I come back or neither of you can. I know you’re not too keen on either other’s company but it’s all or nothing tonight, capiche?”

Host’s mumbling quieted again as he gave you a nod and Author sighed before doing the same.

“Good, I'd really like to see you both when I get back.”

You quickly escaped the room and let out a subdued groan once you were safely far enough away. Hopefully, this wouldn’t cause a big blowout fight between them but damn it, this was supposed to be your relaxing movie night and you weren’t going to disturb your own peace!

After a lengthy few minutes of popping the popcorn, you hastily emptied the bag into a large bowl and scuttled back to the TV room. To say you were anxious to find the state of things upon your return would be an understatement. And yet, somehow, nothing was broken and no one was dead. In fact, both Author and Host were simply sat on either side of your blanket nest.

You stuffed down a squeal of joy and instead praised them with, “I’m really happy to see you guys here. Thank you!”

"Just this once can't hurt," Author replied with a little wink.

Host reached out for the bowl as you approached and Author snagged up the remote from your spot, allowing you to safely bury yourself among the blankets once more. Both items were promptly passed back to you once you were situated and you couldn’t help but beam in delight.

“It’s almost over but I can start it again for you, if you’d like. I’m totally up to watching it again with you guys,” you stated, reaching a hand out to both of them, “And I know you’ll know what’s happening but if you want me to explain anything, Host, I’d be more than happy to.”

His bandages crinkled up as a large smile took over his face and you couldn’t help the little swoon that passed through you. His smile, although rare, was always something to admire.

He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand before sandwiching it between both of his in his lap.

“The Host will be sure to ask,” he replied, “And he thanks you very much.”

Author squeezed your other hand, pulling your gaze to him, and added, “You know I’m always up for a good scare.”

Your face warmed drastically as he kissed each individual fingertip while staring heatedly into your eyes. Gently you pulled your hand from his long enough to restart the movie then relinquished your limb back to him.

Sure, you couldn’t really move or even eat the popcorn in your lap while being smushed between the two big men but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care too awful much. Moments like these were rare and precious, and you’d go through any amount of discomfort to prolong them.

Author swung an arm behind you on the back of the couch as the opening scene lit up the screen and, in the next breath, Host’s leg ducked beneath yours and entwined your feet together. Contentment blossomed into bliss and you easily found yourself melting into a puddle of euphoria between them. Hopefully, this would be the first of many movie nights to come.

[the-silentium]

In Emergency Only

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 2120 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, violence, blood, sexual innuendos. 

Requested by: Anon!

Your last fic about Five was so good!!  Loved your unique twist you added and the interactions were so believable. Definitely one of my fav fics! If requests are open, could you do one of the same reader reacting to Five fighting and kicking ass, would they fight too or just hang out in the back and wait? Big fan and I love your work

A/N: Still 30 years old Five here! Same Reader and Five as in Doppelganger! Sorry for the title, I really had no idea. Oups.

The music playing in the background brought a smile to your face. You loved to learn more about different cultures and their different people dancing the Polka almost made you regret the reason of your little visit. You swore that this woman, the Handler, had Five in the middle of her palm, enraging your boyfriend to no end, but he sucked up his ego and accepted her deal to save his family. 

You followed Five through the enormous cabin. The architecture was truly beautiful, catching your eyes quite easily. You were occupied by admiring an intriguing animal carved into the wood that you didn’t see Five stopping in front of a vending machine and slammed into his side. He was quick to get a hold of your arms before you fell to the ground and hurt your behind, pulling you into his chest with a seductive smile on his kissable lips. 

“Distracted?” 

You rolled your eyes at him before pecking his lips. “I just like slamming into you.” Five’s groan made you chuckle before you turned your attention to the assortment of snacks displayed behind the glass. 

“See something you want?” Five buried his face into your neck, tickling you with his warm breath. Giggling, you pushed him away and pointed to a chocolate bar in the middle of the display. It has been a while since you last ate some, so you figured why not? You knew that you were sitting this one out, so eating would not be a problem. 

“Please?” You offered him your best puppy eyes, although you knew that it wasn't necessary. He asked you first after all. 

“Sure.” He pecked your lips one last time, turned to the machine while digging some money in his pocket and inserted the coins into the slot. He pressed the letter and number assigned to the candy and karma decided to hit you by stopping the spiral metal thing before the sweet could fall down. 

Frustrated, Five tried typing in the code again, without success. You knew that at this point in time, Five was getting pretty impatient. The last days haven’t been easy on him, especially when you almost got shot by one of the Swedes and every one of his siblings was scattered around town and not listening to him, causing Five to get irritated pretty easily. 

You grabbed his arm to calm him down when he started to push the machine and pulled him along with you to the cake further down the hallway. The only way to calm down Five was to allow him to successfully grant your wishes of eating something and the cake would do just fine. 

You quickly dipped your pointer finger into the icing, turned to him and when he opened his mouth to voice his anger you shut him up by putting your finger into his mouth. His pissed-off expression soon morphed into a cocky one when he noticed the red coloring your cheeks, proceeding to see if the color could reach your neck by sucking harder on your finger. Embarrassed by his antics, you retrieved your hand and hid your face in his chest. 

“This icing is heavenly.” He chuckled before reaching for something behind your back. “Look up.” You reluctantly did as told, dreading what you would find. Instead of being hit square in the face by a hand full of icing like you feared, a single maraschino cherry dangled between Five’s fingers, two inches away from your mouth. Instantly, your mouth started to water, the sweet ingredient had always been your favorite part of a dessert. “Open up.”

You would have blushed if it wasn’t for your excitement of eating the prized cherry. You didn’t hesitate to tilt your head and open your mouth to the incoming sweet, a delighted moan filled Five’s ears when you grabbed the fruit between your teeth and chewed.

“Now that’s a sound I like to hear.” The bliss of the cherry moment now over, your blush came back full force at his innuendo. You weren’t used to his flirty attitude, he was gone for 17 years and as young teenagers, your relationship wasn’t really oriented in that direction. You had to remind yourself that he was, in fact, 58 years old regardless of his physical appearance. 

A kiss fell on your cheek and Five let go of you to make his way to the fire axe on the opposite wall. 

“Do you think preventing the end of the world is enough of an emergency?” 

You smiled at his question and nodded once in approbation. “Definitely.” 

He winked at you before grabbing the axe with both hands and walked into the room. He passed in front of you and you took care of closing the door after yourself, this time your job was to keep watch and stop anyone from entering the room. Because it was the Commission’s board that was targeted, Five had thought it wise to take the matter into his own hands and keep you out of it. 

You weren’t against it, the memory of the barrel of an automatic rifle pressed at the back of your head was still pretty vivid and every time you thought about it you had goosebumps. In other circumstances, you were sure that you would have participated in some kind of way. Maybe with a knife or something, the fire axe was definitely out of your mental capacity. 

You had helped Five in some of his fights before. Not every fight, but some of them. You were impressed by the amount of bloody fighting your boyfriend could be engaged in and were truly amazed that every time he would get out almost without a scratch. 

Back at Griddy’s, you had to hide behind the counter where Five teleported you and wait until he had neutralized every armed guy in the room. You knew how to defend yourself, having followed some training with the Hargreeves when you were kids, but your skills were useless when guns were involved. This was the very first time you had seen the extent of Five’s ability. Never would you have thought that his space-jumping would be that effective. 

Then there was the fight with the Swedes in the Mexican consulate. The absence of guns gave you the opportunity to land some punch to the tough Swedes hitting the shit out of your boyfriend, the perfect distraction for him to throw the white-haired out the window. You hissed out of empathy for the guy before fist-bumping with Five and space-jump outside. 

Screams erupted from the room Five recently entered. Curiously, you made your way to the open doors to assess what you were sure was a gory scene. In the 2 seconds it took you to reach the doors, Five had already neutralized 4 of the board members and was quickly axing his way further into the room. You’ve never feared blood, your uncle had a butcher shop and you helped sometimes to put the meat into packages, nothing too dangerous, and while you helped you had seen the carcass of different animals being emptied from their organs so you were certain that you could handle whatever was happening in the next room. 

A blue spot flashed before your eyes and Five appeared at the same time a man hit a wall and fell down with a lamp. You rolled your eyes when Five took the time to take a sip from a glass, the next thing you knew a guy was hanging from the ceiling and three more board members were dead in a pool of blood. As much as you hated the view of dismembered bodies, you had to admit that Five was pretty efficient in his work. You managed to make eye contact with your boyfriend when he stopped for a second behind the last Commissioner, Five shooed you with one hand so you obeyed. If he thought that you couldn’t handle it, then you couldn’t. End of story. You had to admit that the sound of the axe hitting the bones was pretty disturbing, the sound occasionally made you shiver in disgust. 

You had your back pressed to the closed doors separating the bloody scene worthy of a horror movie and the welcoming Polka party, patiently waiting for your boyfriend to return victorious when a man with a fish tank as head stopped running when he saw you. If possible, you were as stunned as he was. You weren’t prepared to face a non-human person and he clearly wasn't prepared to see someone guarding the exit. 

However, he was faster than you to regain his senses and try to push past you. His sudden movements made you jump, his hands were almost on your arm when Five appeared in front of you and pushed the weird robot-man-fish away from you. 

“Surely we can come to some form of agreement that benefits both parties.” Your eyes widen at the voice, not expecting the fish to be able to talk. You tilted your head to the side so that you were able to see over Five’s shoulder and take a second look at the panicking talking goldfish. “Quid pro quo? What do you say?” Oh. His hope was cute. 

“Why not? Here’s your quid.” Five hit the human body’s leg with what you noted wasn’t the fire axe but something that looked like a cricket bat. “Here’s your pro.” He hit him again on the opposite leg. “Here’s your quo.” Five charged his hit as much as he could without hitting you with the bat, the fish’s pleas reaching your ears, then Five smashed the tank as hard as he could. The glass exploded, water got everywhere, the body fell to the ground in a thud and the goldfish dropped to the ground. 

As Five took a deep breath, you carefully stroked his back in a soothing manner before crouching to retrieve the gasping fish. You already had a bag ready for it, looking around you found a vase proudly showing off its beautiful purple flowers. You disposed of the flowers and poured the vase’s water into your plastic bag. Turning around you met your boyfriend with the fish’s tail trapped between his fingers, its head facing the ground. Hurriedly, you made your way toward them as you felt bad for the little thing convulsing out of the water.

“Poor little fishy! Put it quickly in the water!” You couldn’t help yourself and enveloped Five’s hand with the bag so the fish could be in his appropriate environment. 

“It’s far from being a ‘poor little fishy’ you know? It planned for the apocalypse to happen and ordered hundreds of people’s death.” He said letting go of the fish’s tail. 

You closed the bag so it wouldn’t escape and smiled sheepishly. “I guess I still can’t accept that a fish can talk. Or be at the head of an organization of killers.” You brought the bag at eye level to analyze the goldfish closer and sure enough, the fish was staring right at you. “I guess it does seem intelligent-” You paused as the fish nodded at your words. You controlled your surprise and smiled sweetly at him. “Can we name him sushi?”

The fish started to swim in circles, hitting the bag from time to time making you laugh at his apparent anger. A hand got a hold of the bag, taking the little burden out of your hands. At this moment you noticed that Five’s eyes were dull, their bright spark gone with every life he took. Worry etched your features, you reached for his empty hand and squeezed lightly hoping to give him some sort of comfort. He shot a small smile your way despite his eyes still being emotionless. 

Your heart broke for him, all this time he was forced to kill against his will and it ate at his soul. Oh how you wished you had a special ability like him and had the capacity to remove all of the darkness hurting his mind. Without warning, Five pulled you to his chest and jumped to an alley. The unexpected spacial-travel made you dizzy for a few seconds. You had done it enough time before to be used to it and be spared of the once usual wave of nausea following a jump. 

You knew that the Handler would come here sooner than later, so you engulfed your boyfriend in a hug regardless of the blood covering his clothes. Deposing a light kiss on his less stained cheek, you smiled lovingly at him. 

“It’s almost over. Then we’ll be only the two of us.” 

His forehead met yours and a sincere smile stretched his lips. “I can’t wait.”

[chandelier-s-notebook]

Yoo! I’m back in with an 11 Chapter (subject to change) story. This was made for the TWB Fic Flip, unfortunately I wasn’t able to finish the whole thing by the deadline, but chap 1 is out.

Let me know if you wanna get tagged when I post new chapters. @sleepysnails.

Ao3 Link

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

Techno Blade strode into the old gas station on the corner opposite the local mall. He winced at the harsh fluorescent lighting that welcomed him in from the crisp evening air.

He lowered his hood and ran his fingers through his short pink hair. His roots were coming in, he’d need to grab some dye as well tonight. Taking off his backpack, he began placing items in--trying to fit as much as possible: beef jerky, canned peaches, chocolate bars, a couple energy drinks a pack of Tic Tacs, and some box dye from the ends of the isle.

Techno glanced at the cashier. He liked when Tango was on shift; that guy didn’t give a shit about anything and cared more about Clash of Clans than whatever thievery Techno was doing whenever he came by.

“You plan on paying for that stuff?” Tango shouted across the room, still immersed in his game. “You know I don’t get commission if you steal it?”

“Of course!” Techno called back. He snorted to himself, it said a lot about his life that he and the cashier could joke about him stealing from the store. Techno grabbed another bag of beef jerky, slipping it into his steadily filling backpack. He heard the ding of Tango opening the till and the sound of coins splattering on the counter. “For Tommy,” he muttered, reminding himself why he was risking a criminal record.

There was an emergency exit he knew he could use down by the bathrooms. Techno studied the monitor that was supposed to display feeds from the four security cameras, but those were still busted from when those college seniors ransacked the place the week prior. Four different static patterns danced back at him. At least that would make his escape easier, not that Tango couldn’t point him out in a line up.

He grabbed a pack of gummy worms and put them at the top of his bag. “For Tommy to share with his friends.” He smiled to himself. Gosh he was going soft for the kid.

“Get down!” The front door was kicked open with so much force that the previously fractured glass shattered upon impact with the wall. “Hands where I can see them!” a male voice yelled.

Techno didn’t do that, his confrontation response telling him to stay put and out of it rather than submitting. Instead he crouched down and leaned his back against the aisle shelves, peaking out towards the counter. There were two guys pointing guns at Tango; one was ginger, black jacket, medium height, orange bandana peaking over his collar; the other was taller, but he was also less confident in his stance, blond, and he was wearing a purple sweatshirt--one that Techno was certain he had seen a thousand times before.

“Guys guys,” Tango said, trying to placate them. “I’m in the middle of something. Can this wait?”

“No. No it can’t,” he voice said again, clearly put off by Tango’s causal demeanor.

“Really? Cause I gotta get back to my Clan War…” he trailed off.

“Aren’t there more important things than a Clan War right now?” a new voice asked.

A voice that Techno recognized. If he thought the hoodie gave it away then the voice was the nail in the coffin. He let out an involuntary “Why?” before he could stop himself.

All three heads turn to him. “Like I said, in the middle of something; there’s a customer here.” Tango spoke slowly, as if the situation was finally dawning on him.

The ginger turned his gun towards the store. “Show yourself!” he demanded.

“Isn’t this place a little low profile for Las Nevadas?” Techno tried to joke. Eyes darting towards the door, Techno put his hands up. “I’m just shopping.”

“Not you’re not.” Fundy Soot smiled menacingly. “We’re doing a robbery, if you couldn’t tell. Take what you need and scram. Don’t call the cops either.”

“Got it.” Once Fundy turned his attention back to Tango, Techno grabbed a pack of M&Ms and shoved them in his backpack as well. He leaned down to zip it up, before tossing it over his shoulder and snagging a tube of toothpaste on his way out. Sue him, he needed a refill.

Techno carefully stepped over the shattered glass, and made his way out of the building. He regretted leaving Tango to deal with the gang, but sometimes he needed to put himself first. Always. Always put himself first. Techno vaguely wonders if he’s ever actually bought anything from this gas station.

“It’s immoral to steal,” yet another voice from the left side of the door called.

Techno whipped around and took in the man next to him. Techno first took notice of the red fabric folded neatly into a handkerchief pocket: a bandana. “You with those guys?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”

“Then why aren’t you calling this in?”

“Why aren’t you?” the man countered.

Techno gave him a sarcastic look, the sides of his mouth twitching in displeasure. “Because the guy with the gun told me to run, so excuse me.” He pivoted to make his escape.

“Say I said I was with those guys,” he said before Techno could make his escape. “What would you do?”

“I would assume you are Wilbur Soot. Brown trench coats and fluffy hair are the signature look of that guy. Looks like you’re watching over your brother and the new kid.” He shifted uneasily on his feet, ready to bolt. “Las Nevadas, saw the marker, figured it was polite to ask.”

Wilbur nodded, a gleeful smile taking over his face. He held out his hand. “Gimme the bag.”

“I need this.”

“Give it here.”

“Please,” Techno said, taking another step closer to his car. “Why do you need to take my stuff? You have two guys in there with guns.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Wilbur opened his palm, getting impatient. “I just want the M&Ms, kid.”

Techno glared at him, but he nonetheless opened his bag and handed them to the man. At least he could keep everything else in the bag.

“Thanks.” Wilbur ripped open the packaging and tipped his head back, sliding half of the bag into his mouth.

Techno took a tentative step back and waited a second for Wilbur to wave him off. “Hope Tango’s okay,” he muttered to himself on the brisk, stiff walk back to his car.

He threw the bag into the passenger seat and rested his head against the steering wheel--trying to slow down his beating heart--for thirty seconds before remembering that there was a robbery taking place ten meters from him, and he did not want to deal with the police.

Techno snorted to himself, and turned on the engine. As if he hadn’t gone in there with the express purpose of stealing.

He sighed deeply as he took stock of himself. He didn’t get shot--which was great. He also had a lot more food to add to his stash. His and Tommy’s stash.

Techno groaned out loud. Tommy. The person in the purple sweatshirt was definitely the kid’s friend Purpled and now he was going around robbing gas stations with Las Nevadas. “Why? It could have been anything else, but no: he just had to go and join a gang.” Techno slammed on the gas pedal more than was necessary. Techno parked his car a couple streets away from his foster home. He waited for a few minutes to collect himself. “Eleven thirty,” he read off the car’s dashboard. “Gonna have to use the window.”

He arrived at the house. Through the ground floor window he could see that the lights were on at the back of the house. The house he was in is quite old, and he’d managed to snag a room in the attic with a bay window jutting out the side of the roof. He’d had it for as long as he could remember, in fact the Foster Bitch’s was the only house he’d ever had the displeasure of living in.

Unfortunately, Techno was in the circumstance of having had to do this a hundred times. He hopped up one of the columns holding the overhang above the porch, feet slotting into familiar grooves. Swinging himself up on the shingles and quickly making his way to the concave corner of the building, he used his momentum to push himself up the next two stories. Finding the familiar scruff marks on the window frame, he hoisted himself up to the top of the roof.

Techno looked out at the street below, it was a nice few all things considered. He went to open the window.

Locked.

Right. It had been storming the night before and he forgot to open it in his rush to get to school that morning.

Techno looked up at the sky. It was nice out, and he wasn’t one to be bothered about sleeping in day clothes--better than facing the wrath of the Foster Bitch for entering the house at such a late hour. He’d have to sleep on the side facing the backyard, he remembered what happened last time he slept on the roof.

Techno knocked on the window. Yes, Tommy should be asleep right now, but it didn’t hurt to check. After a minute he knocked once more.

Techno smiled at Tommy through the glass when the kid finally dragged himself out of bed to let his roommate in. The blond stuck out his tongue and opened the window. “Evening Blade,” he whispered. “What brings you back so late?”

“Sleep,” Techno said, slipping into the room. He snorted at the sleepy, unamused look Tommy gave him. “Stuff. Did you eat?”

“No. The other kids got to it first.” Tommy closed the window behind them, leaving the latch unlocked. “Like always.”

Techno hummed and unzipped his bag. He dumped the contents out and started organizing them.

“How did you get that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Techno dug through the pile and pulled out a pack of beef jerky. He tossed it in the general direction of Tommy’s head. “Leave a slice for me.”

Tommy caught the bag and quickly tore it open. He watched Techno disperse the food around their shared room, taking note where each item would be. “Techno?” he called in a small voice.

“I know, Tommy. I’m careful.”

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Techno if you’re caught they’re going to send you away!” he said, still a little distressed. “Then how am I going to survive here?”

“I won’t get caught.” Techno reassured him. “And if I do, I’m not getting sent away. If that was the case I’d have been gone before you even showed up here last year.” Techno hummed; he remembered that party. Some kid he’d never spoken to couldn’t afford to lose their scholarship so little seventh grade Techno had taken the blame for the alcohol serving party held at the house that night. He chuckled as he remembered gaslighting the whole community that it was his idea, not his finest moment, but one he was proud of nonetheless.

Being barred from the dinner buffet for two weeks had been worth the reputation points. Plus, he learnt valuable hoarding skills in that time. The Foster Bitch was fine--all things considered--but she was under the impression that if she put out a bunch of food on the table, everyone would get an equal portion in the mad dash for sustenance.

That wasn't the case. Techno could get food just fine, but Tommy was a gangly fourteen year old with too much height and not enough bulk; it was virtually impossible for him to grab food off the table.

“I’m not going to get caught.” Techno said putting the gummy worms on Tommy’s night stand. He held out his pinky, “I promise. I’m safe.”

“Techno,” Tommy whined, unhappy with the response--ignoring Techno’s hand. “That stash is bigger than normal.”

“I know.”

“Techno.”

“The cashier was busy with something else.”

Tommy’s voice took on a colder tone. “Techno.”

“Tommy.”

“What was the cashier busy with?”

“Stuff.”

Tommy huffed. “It wasn’t a Dream Team thing was it? You shouldn’t be hanging out with them.”

Techno snorted. “I’m older than you. Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to tell you to stop hanging out with the wrong crowd? Dream’s fine. Besides, you hang out with his little brother.”

“Well yeah!” Tommy’s voice got defensive. “But Tubbo’s Tubbo. Dream’s in the news for stealing and shit.” Tommy munched on his jerky angrily, even if he was going to stay oblivious: they both knew that Techno didn’t have the money to pay for this. Tommy dropped the friend’s point and moved to double down on the previous one. “What was the cashier busy with?”

“Stuff. Not Dream. Not death. Just stuff okay?”

“Not death?”

“Not death,” Techno agreed sagely.

“You aren’t going to tell me?”

Techno took off his hoodie and belt, but otherwise didn’t bother with pajamas. “Nope.” He settled into bed and held out his hand for Tommy to pass him the food.

Tommy stared him dead in the eye as he ate the last piece of beef jerky from that particular package. Techno rolled his eyes, but he understood; Tommy had heard that from Techno before: the not explaining where he’d been. He knew not to bother his foster brother, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

The next morning Techno and Tommy didn’t bother going to the kitchen for breakfast. Instead, they ate last night’s stolen granola bars in the comfort of their dingy penthouse suite--attic room--and listened to the thundering feet of the ten other foster’s in the house racing to get some food.

“If you want another, then take another.” It had taken a long time for Techno to teach Tommy that it was safe to take food from his stash; as far as he was concerned it was their stash. Hopefully, Tommy would stop feeling guilty about not asking, although that didn’t seem like it was happening any time soon.

Tommy sent him a half smile and scoffed down another bar. The two of them got ready for school, and were soon in Techno’s car. It was a ten minute drive to the high school, and Tommy sang along with the radio at the top of his lungs. It would be endearing if Techno wasn’t socially exhausted from the extrovert living in his room.

“I’m on top of the world, eh!” Tommy shouted, flipping off their foster siblings waiting at the bus station.

“Tommy.”

“What?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“ I’m on top of the world! ”

Techno kept his smile to himself.

He rolled the car to a stop in the school parking lot. Before Tommy could open the door and vault out, Techno spoke. “Today’s a ‘going to Bad’s after school’ type of day.”

“What? Why?”

“Hanging out with Dream.”

Tommy’s face soured.

“Come on, don't be like that.”

“It’s not that I don’t like Bad. I just don’t like Dream. He’s bad news, and in the news.”

“It’s just an English project. We need to make a PowerPoint on something or other.”

“Okay,” Tommy said stiffly.

“I don’t police your friends. You don’t police mine.”

“Tubbo’s not in the news. Neither is Purpled. And you can’t complain about Ranboo.”

Techno thinks back to last night with the Soot brothers and the new kid in a purple sweatshirt. “Put a pin in Purpled.”

“No!” Tommy looked appalled at the insinuation Techno just made about his friend. “Have some faith. Tubbo and Purpled won’t turn out like their older brothers. Crime isn’t a gene that runs in families!”

Techno smiled sadly. “I hope not. Get out.”

“What do you mean ‘put a pin in Purpled?’” Tommy demanded.

Techno shrugged him off. “Text me if you leave Bad’s, I’ll come pick you up later.”

Tommy harshly pulled at the car door. “Tubbo won’t be like Dream, and Purpled won’t be like Punz.”

“I never said Purpled was a mercenary!”

Tommy got out of the car, slammed the door, and flipped his brother off before marching away.

Techno was so glad that they didn’t share any DNA. Could you imagine that? But just because they were brother’s out of necessity and foster placement didn’t mean he didn’t care about the kid.

[fleckcmscott]

Fun and Only

Summary: During a night out, Y/N and Arthur bump into someone from Arthur’s past. Y/N tries to decipher him.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,088

A/N: This was a request from the sweet, kind @imdeaddear2! I hope you like it! Thank you for making the request, because I never would have written this scenario without it. 😀 Special thanks to @arthurflecc for the beautiful intro pic! Also, thanks to @hhandley80​ for reviewing the exchange in the middle section!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

"Y/N, it's little league season. Know what that means?"

Needing to finish the paragraph she was reading, Y/N raised a finger. The dense case on her desk was a tough assignment; she'd been toiling at it most of the morning. She liked her new position. Truly. But the pace at which she prepared files was slower than she would have preferred. The particulars of labor laws were, well...laborious. Reviewing evidence types she wasn't familiar with took time. It made her impatient. Anxious to soak up all the information she could get her hands on.

But, she supposed, no longer being plagued by guilt for indirectly supporting the Waynes was worth the learning curve.

Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her ankles, swinging her foot back and forth as she regarded Terry. While he was incredibly friendly, chatting with everyone and anyone, they remained acquaintances. Periodically, she conferred with him over a motion or sought to get his opinion about the upcoming mayoral election. ("I've seen Wayne's legal bullshit. He's not getting my vote.") Those discussions didn't go far. Usually, he tried to bond over parental matters - she and Arthur didn't even have a plant.

She could tell this was going to be another attempt. "You're doing a fundraiser and I should buy chocolate bars?" she asked.

"Even better." Digging into his too-tight pants pocket, he retrieved a checkbook-sized pamphlet. "The Gotham Squires are selling these to charter a bus for the All-Stars tournament. They're the number two team in the state!" He shoved a photo of his kid at her.

She murmured a polite, "He's all grown-up." He spoke of the team's new uniforms and his nine-year-old's batting average. Half-listening, she flipped through the booklet. It was a coupon collection, mostly two-for-one sales at various restaurants and vouchers for discounted movie tickets, good on weekdays only. They were quite pricey at fifteen dollars apiece. But she was inclined to buy one. The savings might help Arthur practice letting go of his wallet. Allow him to stop worrying about money and indulge a little, the way he deserved.

What made the cash fly from her purse to Terry's palm was the certificate in the back: a half-off deal for Amusement Mile. Satisfaction was written all over her face as she studied the yellow cardstock's terms and conditions, the outline of a circus tent, the faded ink encouraging her to "Enjoy the Ride!" Coming from a rural area, she'd never gone to an amusement park. One had been four or so hours east, but her father had preferred to stay close to home, fearing he might be needed in an emergency.

The annual county fair had been a must. Everyone had worn his or her Sunday Best, the occasional breeze kicking up dirt as they toured the fairground. The rides had been creaky, unsound, and should have been reported to the local safety commission. She'd gone on the Tilt-A-Whirl and the giant slide, waving at her parents and hanging onto her burlap sack. One year, Mabel had screamed and cried until Y/N grabbed her hand and led them out of the house of mirrors.

Swinging the mallet as hard as he could, her father had impressed her mother with the strongman game. The puck wouldn't hit the bell. Doily and needlework competitions had been her mother's purview, crafts Y/N had practiced but quickly tired of. She'd preferred the pie contest. Her mouth had watered, hankering for a taste of the first-place winner. The agricultural exhibits had been the largest section, with its prized horses, pigs, and chickens. She'd broken the rules and stuck her fingers in the rabbit cages to feel their soft fur; she'd been bitten once.

Wistfulness wasn't the only reason the theme park appealed to her. There was Arthur's history with it. He kept a postcard of the Ferris wheel pinned to the divider in his writing nook. And he'd described some of the odd jobs he'd done. Carrying boxes of merchandise, filling in for other clowns, picking up litter (and keeping the returnables). It hadn't been steady, merely hours offered to him if he'd inquired. But it'd given him pocket change. Enough to buy cigarettes and keep the utilities on for another month.

The week had been warm up till now, and the good weather was expected to continue. He loved taking her to new corners of the city, had ever since their first date. Introducing her to his old stomping ground wouldn't take a lot of convincing.

When she got home, he was perched on the sofa, clad in a thermal shirt and a pair of her too-short pajama bottoms. (A funny combination that meant their laundry was in the machine.) Elbows on his knees, journal on the coffee table, and pen at the ready, his concentration was plain to see. The discipline he had to pursue his dreams, the way he studied comedy specials on TV was admirable. She got a glass of water and smiled at his ill-timed laughter. That he didn't understand the host's humor was logical. Roasts were usually unkind. While Arthur's jokes weren't always funny, they weren't mean-spirited.

She crouched next to him, peppered kisses along his shoulder. His damp curls brushed her cheek, and she breathed in the zesty musk of his shampoo. "I wouldn't waste too much effort on this guy," she said. Her caress followed the freckles on his bare forearm, feeling the muscle flutter under her fingertips. "He's kind of an asshole."

"The audience helps me figure out the timing." He muted the television, lips quirking. "You like some of his songs."

"He makes a better singer than comedian," she rebutted with a peck.

They went over their respective days, how his earlier appointment went, the paperwork she'd done. Tuna casserole was their choice for dinner, and Arthur put on an LP while they cooked. Once the dish was in the oven, she hugged him close. "I have an idea for Thursday night." She went over the Amusement Mile discount, enthused about his expertise, reveled in how her praise softened his features and brightened his eyes. "I'd love it if you took me around. Taught me all the magic behind the scenes. And I'm dying to see where you do your street performances." She massaged the nape of his neck. "Maybe I'll stop by and give you a tip."

Crooked tooth peeking out, he nodded. Then he grasped the counter on either side of her hips and pressed his forehead to hers. "That sounds great."

~~~~~

A small memorial flowerbed, filled with alternating swirls of white gardenias, purple pansies, and yellow daffodils, was situated just beyond the park's main entrance. The marble fountain bubbling in the center reminded Y/N of a bird bath. It was modest, from a bygone era in which the wealthy hadn't dared to flaunt their fortunes for fear of strikes. The bronze plaque declared the city's thanks to Benjamin Wayne for funding Amusement Mile's construction during the height of Gotham's industrial boom. Before most of the factories had fled. Before times had become tough for the majority Gothamites. It was annoying, how the Waynes had their fingers in everything. She hoped not one nickel of what they spent tonight went into their bank accounts.

Arthur paid it no mind. His head was tipped back a degree or two, his clear green eyes darting from attraction to attraction. Smoking was one of his habits she disapproved of. But she couldn't dispute how attractive he was, puffing the cigarette dangling from his puckered lips. The chestnut tones of his brown hair were brought to the fore by the grounds' multi-color lighting, and a lock or two fell over his temples. The loose curls at his neck bounced with each step, a boyish buoyancy to his gait.

Her stomach growled as soon as the aroma of fair food hit her. They picked a booth that claimed it sold Gotham's original franks. He asked to order for her. She let him, watching as his grin widened and he stated, "Four hot dogs for my girlfriend and me, please. With relish and mustard." Then they shared a candy apple, taking turns nibbling at the fruit's hard, sugary shell. Its juice dribbled onto her pale pink top, staining the embroidered neckline. Her groan of disapproval became giggling as he stole chaste kisses, wiping her off as she chewed.

His palm at the small of her back, guiding her as they walked down the midway, fanned a glow in her heart. He'd made headway when it came to displaying his affection in public, though he still tended towards timidity. Early on, she'd concluded his reticence had nothing to do with her - he never pulled away if she grabbed at him. He was simply a gentleman.

Most examples he followed were from an older era, one lost to the bluntness of the eighties. Those moments he'd let himself go, when he'd make it clear they were a couple, lifted her spirit. Not only due to the pride she felt at being on his arm, but also because it meant he was finding his own way. Arthur wasn't a shy suitor or a contemporary romantic hero. Rather, he was somewhere in the middle. Old fashioned, through and through, with threads of modernity woven into his fibers.

As they strolled, they stumbled onto a black and white photo booth. She sat on its cracked wooden stool and tried to tug him inside. But he wanted a picture of her, he said. To put in his wallet. To look at if he was having a bad day and wasn't at home. Her response was to snag his collar and yank him to her lips. Snorting, he shut the nylon curtain. At the clink of quarters in the coin slot, she straightened her puffed, cap sleeves and fixed her hair in the scratched featherweight mirror. The camera's flashes blinded her, but she thought she'd managed to smile naturally enough.

Before she had a chance to stand, he whipped open the drape and showed her the strip of portraits. "I knew I was dating the prettiest woman in the city. Maybe even the sweetest."

She cupped his cheeks as she stepped out. Rubbed the tip of her nose to his. He was unfailingly generous. Too generous. While she was fine with her appearance, she wouldn't win a beauty pageant. Hell, she wouldn't even be a runner-up. Or a contestant. And sweet was one of the last words she'd use to describe herself. But she wasn't going to correct him. "And I found the handsomest, funniest man." His stare was wide-eyed. After releasing a stuttering breath, he pulled her along.

Upon entering the gaming area, he slung his arm around her waist. Mischief laced his whisper as he spilled secrets. The darts for the balloon pop were dull, the balloons underinflated. He advised her to stay clear of the baseball and milk bottle stand, saying, "The bottom bottles have lead in them. You'll never knock them over."

Then he warned her off the ring toss, saying the rings were too small to win the best prizes. She decided to take her chances, regardless, and paid the attendant. Arthur tutted gently as she gave him the last ring, having already wasted four.  A step to the side, then he paused to line up his throw. A short clap announced his victory. The prize options included a dinky toy car and a rubber snake. She picked a plastic, red keychain, embossed with "I was Amused in 1982" and the silhouette of a coaster. It was an improvement over her old car dealership tag. "I'll think of tonight whenever I see it."

Gaze fixed on her mouth, he sighed happily. He began to reach towards her, his arm raised ever so slightly-

"Art!" a rich baritone called. "Hey, Art!"

Arthur flinched. She moved to peer behind him. The approaching man was tall, his balding head half a foot higher than Arthur's. A blue and red flannel shirt with gray trousers covered his portly physique. Confidence oozed from him with every stride, a pleasantly surprised smirk on his round face.

Y/N's interest was piqued. Unless it was someone who remembered Arthur from Live! with Murray Franklin, no one ever approached him on the street. And she hadn't heard him be referred to by anything other than his proper name (besides Penny's terrible "Happy.").

But his reactions concerned her. Arthur's back tensed as the man closed in, stopping a yard away. "Hi, Randall."

"How's my boy been?" Randall asked jovially, hands at his sides. "Gary told us about your mom. Could you use a little cheering up?"

Arthur blinked faster than usual. "No. She's okay. And I feel a lot better now."

"Oh. Well, good for you," Randall said.

Going back and forth between them, she tried to puzzle out their dynamic. Their familiarity was obvious. Randall seemed caring enough, although she found it odd he'd referred to her thirty-five-year-old partner as "boy." Arthur had mentioned Gary was a former colleague. It would make sense Randall was, too.

He threw her a glance. "Hey, you have family visiting. Is this your cousin?"

She brushed off the assumption and extended her hand. "I'm Y/N L/N. His girlfriend."

"Oh, yeah. The paralegal." He shook it firmly before addressing Arthur again. "Gary said you finally got a date."

The pat to Arthur's bicep was a little too hard, jolting his stiff frame. The set of his jaw and flaring of his nostrils betrayed a turmoil she hadn't initially picked up on. She touched his hand but he shoved it in his pocket.

All right. She had to get to the bottom of this. It was hard to ascertain if his current reaction was due to his social challenges (which could cause discomfort) or Randall's words. She didn't want to jump to conclusions. After all, she and Patricia teased each other whenever they met for lunch or chatted on the phone. A good ribbing was needed every once in a while.

Starting a cross-examination in front of Arthur would contribute to his unease. After a moment's deliberation, she nudged him. It took a couple of tries to get his attention. "Would you please get us a large lemonade?" His brows rose, anxiety in the wrinkles of his forehead. She stretched to kiss his temple. His eyes narrowed but he got the hint, scuffing his shoe and glowering at Randall as he walked off.

When Arthur rounded a corner by the water pistol race, she lounged on one of the booth's metal poles. "Have you known Arthur long?"

Randall nodded in the direction Arthur had gone. "We worked at HaHa's. I'm a clown, too. We did parties, the children's hospital, store openings."

"Arthur loved that job." She crossed her arms over her chest. "It's too bad the slow season hit. But he's doing pretty well on his own."

Confusion crossed the big man's visage. "Uh, yeah. The slow season." He chuckled, then. "Anyway, you and Art, huh?"

Smiling broadly, she folded her arms over her chest. "Yes, me and Art."

"Pretty serious, huh?"

If he wanted gossip to bring back to the workplace, she'd gladly give him some. Especially if it reflected well on Arthur. "We live together. It's been great."

"No kidding." With a sardonic grin, he shook his head. "A woman like you. I didn't know he had it in him. It was always just him and his mom. Talked about stand-up sometimes. Mostly kept to himself, though. Never really talked much." Randall shrugged lightly. "But we liked him. He did all the shitty jobs no one wanted and never complained."

Arching a brow, Y/N felt her suspicions grow. While Arthur was learning to disagree and contradict her without hesitation, he nevertheless had the inclination to go along. It was plausible he hadn't argued about gigs. Had they taken his preferences into account?

Then Randall confirmed her skepticism, saying in a jokey tone, "That laugh really got everyone going, too. And his laminated cards. We had a pool on whether it was part of his act. I mean, him being in Arkham and all, who knows what the fuck he could have come up with?"

Deciphering what kind of man stood in front of her was suddenly uncomplicated. She'd run into his type all too often. They lurked in garages and offices. Diners and restaurants. Courtrooms on both sides of the bench. People with no real power who walked on others. Persons who threw their weight around to feel in charge. Bullies who hid behind a veneer of kindness.

She understood why he'd called Arthur "boy."

What she said had to be chosen carefully. Randall and Arthur worked in the same field, likely competed for clients. If her big mouth came back on Arthur, she wouldn't forgive herself. She straightened, squared her shoulders, and forced her voice to stay professional. "If you liked him, wouldn't you have split the less desirable jobs with him? I'm sure he didn't like being taken advantage of."

His looked at her in disbelief. "Hey, he was paid fair and square, like all of us."

"And he understands how to speak to a 'woman like me' more than you ever will." A sharp exhale as her cheeks burned. "From what Arthur has said, you could learn a lot from Gary. Please tell him hello from us and have a good evening." With that, she headed off to find Arthur, ignoring Randall's lame attempts to call her back.

Arthur was in line when she spotted him. He stepped forward and pointed to the menu. As she approached, she noticed how he fidgeted with his cigarette, tapping it repeatedly though there was no ash. The subtle tremble in his knee. If he continued to carry himself so tightly, his muscles would cramp.

Clearing her throat, she slipped behind him and hugged his back. "Did you have to deal with that insufferable know-it-all every day?"

He grabbed the proffered cup from the clerk and headed to a nearby table. Plunked himself down and took a drag off his smoke. Stress poured off him, clear in every flex of his fingers. His palm went to his stomach as he practiced controlling his breathing. "What- What did he tell you? That everyone thought I was a freak? How much I fucked up?" His voice lowered then, barely above a whisper. She could tell he was talking to himself. "The hospital?"

"Enough to know he was a jerk. I'm glad you're not there anymore." She put her chin on his shoulder. Watched him take a sip of lemonade. "Nothing he said matters, but I told him how important you are to me." She tucked a hair behind his ear, and he leaned into her touch. Their gazes met, his shining in the dim light. The evening had been fantastic so far. She wasn't going to let some asshole ruin it. "Come on," she urged, jutting her hip towards him. "We still have half the park to explore."

~~~~~

About a third of the way through their ride on the Mad Hatter, Amusement Mile's famous coaster, Y/N realized eating had been a mistake. A big one. Thrown to a fro in the sharp curves, she could nearly taste the bile in the throat. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, willing her nausea to pass. For his part, Arthur appeared exhilarated, laughing with every peak and valley. Seeing that happiness was a gift, one that gratified and partially distracted from her queasiness.

Fortunately, the enclosed cabins on the Ferris wheel were a respite. They waited an extra turn to board the outer wheel, which rotated at a leisurely pace and allowed her stomach to settle. The view from the top was beautiful, Gotham Cathedral's lit spires and the Westward Bridge prominent against the night sky. Wayne Tower was also visible, but she did her best to ignore the high-rise and its gaudy "W." He pointed in the direction of Burnley and said, "There's our home." She was unexpectedly moved. Then he kissed her soundly, which quickly advanced to mild necking when the wheel paused.

The carousel was antique, according to the sign. The only original attraction left in the park. A massive wooden structure with a mirrored center, it had three rows of horses, broken up by the occasional bench. He stepped onto the gray platform and picked one, painted red and yellow, roses etched along its back. But she climbed a nearby leaping horse instead, its black mane and tan body faded by years of sunlight.

He quirked a dark brow until she beckoned him with a nod. Cheeks pink, countenance tender in the lingering blinks of the incandescent bulbs, he followed suit. "Hang onto me," she instructed. As the calliope's whistles began their jaunty tune, he cupped her hips and pressed into her. A flutter tickled her stomach. She reclined against him, let her eyes fall shut as his warmth surrounded her. Round and round they went, chuckling airily. Not at any jokes or amusements, but at the joy of one another.

Arthur picked the last ride, an old mill called Romantic River Caves. She had to stop herself from snickering at the idea of a middle-aged woman and her nearly-middle-aged boyfriend cruising along in something built for teenagers. But he delighted in cliches and corniness, a preference she attributed to his inexperience and kind nature. Though such gestures hadn't thrilled her since she was a girl, she appreciated them with him.

The boats were short and narrow, just wide enough for the two of them to sit side-by-side. Curved backrests encouraged cuddling. Off-key versions of old standards played through tinny speakers. Myriad displays were inside, a mix of plaster dioramas and paintings. Two swans swimming, their beaks touching. A couple on a picnic under a tree. Bouquets and hearts galore. There were five or so seconds of darkness between each one. He took advantage of those breaks, kissing her again and again until she was breathless.

She scanned the starry painting above them, the comets' trails stretched across the tunnel's ceiling. "It's been a long time since I've done anything like this. Twenty-five? Thirty years?"

"Me, too. I snuck in when I was a kid. To see the circus and the merry-go-round." He smoothed his hair back, pressed his legs tighter together. "When I moonlighted here, I could've gone on the rides and to the shows. I- I didn't want to alone."

He paused and she put her palm on his thigh. Gave him an encouraging squeeze. "That postcard I have?" he said. "By my desk? It was in my locker at HaHa's." His fingers covered hers, tips tracing her knuckles. "It's good to have a person to have fun with. To have you."

She beamed at that sentiment, for she felt it, too. Yes, she'd been complete on her own. No, she hadn't been lonely. But he added to her existence. Introduced her to activities and experiences she hadn't previously considered or realized she'd needed. Going to a comedy club. Dancing despite her lack of skill. Or enjoying vulnerability during quiet conversations in their bedroom rather than fearing it. He'd broadened her life in ways she was still discovering. And he regularly told her she'd bettered his. "You're my favorite ride," she said.

A sharp snort left him, followed by a bashful chuckle. He shook his head. "You're crazy."

"I didn't mean that." She batted his chest playfully. Tried to cross her legs under the safety bar. "This relationship we've started." Light appeared at the end of the tunnel, the shallow pool's grimy floor coming into view as the water level fell. Soon they'd be amongst the crowd. "Remember when I said we'd never be perfect? I like our imperfections. They fit. Like..." She contemplated. "A pen and paper. They're good on their own but they're best together." Cringing, she covered her face. "God, that didn't even make sense. A pen needs paper."

"Didn't you say you needed me?" he teased, pulling her hand from her brow to place it on his sternum. "I don't mind being your paper." Blushing, Y/N turned to him when he cupped her jaw. Ran his thumbs over her cheeks. She joined him in ignoring the attendant's instruction to disembark. Arthur kissed her, a delicate graze to her mouth before he drew her bottom lip between his. "You're the best ride, too."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​, @howdylilflower​, @sweet-nothings04​, @stephieraptorr​, @rommies​, @fallenstarsabyss​, @gruffle1​, @octopus-plasma​, @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​, @another-day-in-chuckletown​, @hhandley80​, @jokerownsmysoul​, @64-crayon​

[lochrannn]

AU_gust: Gnab Gib

Read on AO3

No Warnings

prompt no 2: Exotic Vacation

Characters: Diego Hargreeves, Lila Pitts

Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts

-

“So, do you want to know where we're going to have dinner tonight?” Lila asked from her lounge chair, where she was just about able to reach Diego's back so she could drag her fingers across his shoulders and occasionally through his hair in an almost gentle caress.

Diego had put a towel on the tiled floor and was lying on the ground next to Lila. It turned out that at his age and with his habit of getting knocked around pretty badly, simply slowing down for a ten day beach holiday was an absolute back killer, so he found the lounge chairs they provided by the hotel pool to be desperately uncomfortable.

“Tell me-eh,” he prompted, dragging out the last vowel with a bit of a sigh as Lila used her fingernails on his scalp.

“You're gonna love it, it's the most exotic place I could think to take you,” Diego could hear the glee in her voice, as she explained, “it's a place called Millyways, it's the restaurant at the end of the universe.”

“Uh huh,” Diego responded distractedly, finding it hard to focus on what she was saying as the tingly sensation her light scratching was causing made him comfortably drowsy.

“Hold on, what? Where's that?” he suddenly burst out, leaning up on his elbows so he could indignantly stare at her amused expression above him, when what Lila had said finally registered with him.

“It's not so much about where, but rather when,” Lila responded mysteriously with a grin, then tweaked his nose playfully, making him flinch away from her.

-

“You look... really nice... like... damn!” Diego said, staring at Lila, standing next to him in the elevator.

That was a total understatement. She was absolutely stunning. She always looked good, of course, it didn't really matter what she wore, but tonight he could hardly keep his eyes off her.

She was wearing a light gray jumpsuit that could have been mistaken for utilitarian from the back, though even that didn't do anything to diminish how good she looked in it, the cinched waist emphasizing her slender curves very nicely, but the front was where things were really messing with his head. Part of the design was that the neckline went all the way down to somewhere not much above her navel and Diego didn't quite understand the structural mechanics behind it, but so far, maybe a little to his chagrin, she hadn't accidentally flashed him yet, even though she clearly wasn't wearing a bra.

She'd rounded off the look with a pair of earrings that had very thin silver chains hanging off them, and a similar chain hanging down along the entirety of the exposed skin on her torso from a relatively short necklace of the same style. He would have liked to pretend it was the sparkling of her jewelry that kept drawing his eyes back to her.

“Keep it in your pants, Knife Boy,” Lila said mockingly. But she couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice and there was a glint in her eye. If he hadn't known any better, Diego might even have thought that Lila was preening a little. “At least till after dinner,” she added with a wink.

Diego couldn't help but move the Commission briefcase, which they'd borrowed off of Herb in return for the promise of a favor, into his other hand, so he could wrap his now freed up arm around Lila's waist to pull her in for a kiss.

However, just before he could slot his lips against hers, the elevator doors dinged and opened. Lila pushed him off with her hands against his chest and Diego let go of her reluctantly, but not before he was able to give her a quick peck on the cheek. Then he let himself get dragged out of the elevator by Lila, who had grabbed his hand and headed out.

-

“I think I'll get the salad and a steak with roasted asparagus,” Diego mused as he was looking through the menu.

“Eh, drop the greens, they really don't like it here,” Lila said, not looking up from her own menu.

“Mmhh,” Diego hummed, skimming over the drinks menu. Then he looked over the top of his menu and asked, “Sorry, who doesn't like the greens here?”

“No, the greens don't like it here,” Lila said and whatever confused expression she found on his face made her go on and explain, “It's a whole thing. Just go with the meat. Trust me, if you start an argument with the waiters about it, they'll send out the cows and that's all just really creepy.”

“You know absolutely nothing of what you just said makes any sense, right?” Diego deadpanned but when Lila simply lifted one eyebrow at him, he put his hands up in resignation and said, “Fine! You know the place, I'll go with the meat.”

-

As they were waiting for their food to arrive, Lila sipping on her Champagne, Diego taking the occasional drink of his club soda, he couldn't help but let his eyes dart around the place to all the different alien creatures surrounding them, and up to the spectacular display outside the glass dome above them, where gigantic celestial bodies were dancing their final dance around each other, causing a spectacular light show.

Then something caught his eye and he turned to Lila to say, “I don't know why I bothered getting all dressed up, that guy over there is wearing a bathrobe.”

Lila quickly glanced at the surprisingly human looking man a few tables down from them and then turned back to Diego to say, a bit sarcastically, “Oh please, you put on a tie, I got dressed up!”

Diego leaned his elbows on the table, so he could get a little closer to Lila where she was sitting on the other side from him and said in a low voice “yeah... you did,” and the sincerity and heat he tried to fill his statement with had the desired effect as, to his absolute delight and Lila's obvious chagrin, he could see from the way she was squirming in her seat that she was blushing. But she clearly didn't mind too much, because from that moment on until they got their food, Lila continuously ran one foot that she'd slipped out of her shoe up and down his calf.

-

After they finished their meal and the Gnab Gib had reached its climax, Lila talked Diego into having some champagne as well.

She toasted his glass and then said, almost shyly, “Happy anniversary, babe!”

Diego watched her take a sip of her drink and when she caught him staring she squirmed a little. He knew she still wasn't quite used to the domesticity and normality of their relationship and every time she put in the effort nevertheless, he fell in love with her a little bit more.

Diego downed his drink in one big gulp, got up from his chair, picking up the briefcase on the way, reached out a hand to Lila, who was looking at him slightly dumbfounded, and he said, “Right, let's get you back to the hotel, it's time I get a chance to work out how that thing of yours works.” He vaguely waved at the plunging neckline of her jumpsuit.

And as comprehension replaced her surprise, an almost hungry grin stretched across Lila's lips and she took his hand and let him pull her out of her chair and back towards the elevator.

-

Explanation of the references to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

[perfectharmonyloveschaos]

what if whenever klaus is accidentally doing his telekinesis at first, everyone thinks it's vanya, including him. but when hes by himself or something and things keep happening he doesnt notice it or brushes it off by reasoning it. ben keeps trying to tell him that hes being dumb and it's klaus whos doing all of that

Sorry if you just wanted me to talk about this in bullet points or anything (i still might, god I love making those), this idea was just too good and immediately inspired me to write a small fic about it so hope you’re not mad anon! I wasn’t sure how much to go into, so I tried to keep it to your ask, but goddamn if it wasn’t fun. Klaus being an idiot and not realising that he can move things with his mind is so funny to me for some reason, hope you enjoy it!

The first time there had been anything out of the ordinary, it had been Ben who had noticed it. Field after field of wheat and corn and cotton stretched as far as Klaus could see, squinting his tired eyes against the glare of the sun that sat lazily on the horizon. If not for the aches left from his sudden fall into whatever time period they were in – little Five had said that the equations were a bitch to get exactly right – than Klaus may have paid more attention.

Ben, however, didn’t get sore from falls out of the space-time continuum or hours of blind walking, so it really had been no wonder that his deceased brother had far more focus.

“Great.” Klaus hissed; his brows knitted together tightly as he hugged his arms closer to his chest. A shiver ran through him, the irritable itch of his skin taking no time in setting over his body. “This is just peachy, huh? Fivey couldn’t have dropped us somewhere nice… like Vegas?”

Ben made a face, strolling leisurely by the medium’s side as he watched the cattle stare as they passed. “Fresh air is better for you than booze and slot machines.” Ben reasoned, his lip rising as he watched Klaus’ slug by, his legs dragging off the dirt countryside roads until anything else came into view. “Besides, all these,” He added, gesturing a hand to a black Angus calf ignorant to them as it suckled its mother. “-must belong to someone.”

“Little shit dropped us in the asshole to nowhere…”

“The others could have landed in the nearest town.”

“-and my ribs hurt.”

Ben sighed, leaning his head back as he let his arms flop down to his sizes, focusing on the swaying motion of them as they walked in silence. They’d be okay, they’d find the others – probably Diego in that stupid outfit scowling at Klaus for ‘wandering off’ – and then Klaus would smile and quip and everything would be okay.

The others weren’t in the nearest town.

They could only gather so much from their surroundings, but their deductions seemed sound and clean enough that Ben smiled at his brother as he peered at the newspaper over his shoulder. Klaus’ long, knobby fingers worked on straightening the wrinkles and skimmed over the weather-worn letters – people had thrown looks at the lanky man tearing paper from a nearby trashcan, but none of them said anything, thankfully – only to let out a tired groan.

Ben didn’t need to read through it to understand what his brother meant.

“Nothing.”

Without another word, the newspaper was crumpled up into a ball and dropped at his feet, worn trainers that scuffed off the concrete feebly kicked it aside. He could see the tension in his brother’s shoulders, bare against his torn army vest – Dave, would he have been able to lift Klaus’ hopes better than Ben, did Klaus want Dave there more than him? – as his withdrawal slithered back in to replace the time-travel nausea.

Ben grimaced at the slump of Klaus’s body, hunched meekly on the sidewalk.

A few moments of silence went by.

“What are we gonna do?”

“We should check around for the others, at least we know something.”

“Fine.” Klaus nodded but didn’t budge from the sidewalk as his hands covered his face. The fashion definitely struck them of being around the 1960s, at least giving them a when to base their next action on, the newspaper only confirming it as 1960 to be exact. It was early morning, so fewer people were around to see Klaus – who appeared to be talking to the air, Ben reminded him – but the oncoming morning rush meant a higher chance of standing out.

“The Commission is probably already on our asses.”

Klaus snorted, but didn’t release the tension in his shoulders. Pressing his arms tighter against his side, the skin of his hands pressed white off the sidewalk, pushing all his weight into his limbs and yet failing to move. Short nails clawed at the concrete. Ben stared down at him, brow wrinkled at the heaving breaths that passed through his thin form, shivering with each exhale.

Glancing up to take a look at their surroundings, Ben forced himself to stay put. Withdrawal was a bitch, that much was given at how many times he had seen Klaus go through it before in hospitals and rehab, only to dive back into the intoxication pool without hesitation. But time-travel? That was a whole other game, sensations that he couldn’t understand as he was.

Klaus exhaled a hard breath beside him, the muscles of his arms flexed between them and his teeth clenched down hard into his jaw. Breathe, Ben reminded him, repeating the word over and over until it sounded wrong and then kept going.

"Breathe”.

“I know.”

“We’ll be okay.”

Klaus groaned in reply.

“We’ll find the others, and everything will be-”

The newspaper shot away from them and all the way across to the other side of the street.

Ben blinked.

His mouth opened to speak, to question what had just occurred, only to let his mouth close once more. There had been no wind, no breeze that flapped at Klaus’ clothing or anything else on the street strong enough to do that, so how-

“Alright... I’m alright,” Klaus said slowly, letting out a groan as he shakily rose to his feet. Ben leapt to attention, adrenaline left over alerting him to the scuff of his brother’s foot off the road before he could help him to his feet, his eyes never leaving Klaus. That was… new. “Let’s go.”

                                                         (***)

“Klaus.”

“Ben, for the last time-!”

“It was floating!”

“I must’ve made some other ghost corporal by accident!” Klaus reasoned, waving his brother’s concern away as he shoved his arms back through his jacket sleeves. “Remember when you were able to hold stuff again? You knocked all kinds of shit over-”

“There were no other ghosts, I would’ve seen it.”

Klaus rolled his eyes, picking up the knocked over lamp and replacing it back on the motel bed table.  Blowing a raspberry after flicking the light switch on to make sure the bulb wasn’t damaged; Klaus hoisted his bag over his shoulder and gestured for Ben to follow. “Maybe being corporal makes it harder to see other ghosts, Benny-boy.”

Realising the other was heading out the motel room door rather than listening, Ben pursed his lips with a shake of his head as he followed Klaus. Watching Klaus tie his hair into a high bun – the tangled mess of curls on his head now reaching his chin – in order to help dry the sweat still coating his neck, Ben sighed.

Ghosts can’t knock over lamps, he frowned to himself as Klaus hopped into the driver seat, quickening his pace to slip in the passenger seat before the other had time to start the engine. But idiots who can move stuff without touching them having nightmares can.

                                                        (***)

“Lucky that the guy tripped, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ben sighed, rolling his eyes as Klaus swung his arms leisurely, going on his merry way as if he hadn’t almost been mugged and stabbed by some alley-thug five minutes before. “It’s our lucky day…”

Because men twice the size of Klaus just so happened to become clumsy despite being able to sneak up on a man and a literal ghost.

And that said thug had tripped so hard that he somehow flung himself back down the alleyway far enough that they could escape.

And that the man’s knife just so happened to fly out of his hand and straight into a wooden pallet leaning against a wall more then ten feet away.

Purely, undoubtedly, luck.

Shaking his head, Ben forced himself to only nod when Klaus suggested they get something to eat.

His brother was such an idiot.

                                                        (***)

Their whole family were idiots.

“Our first objective should be stopping the apocalypse─”

“We need to help Vanya─”

“Allison please, we don’t know what she’s capable─”

“She is trying to control them, Luther. Why can’t you─

Any attempt at conversation was muffled out as Luther shouted louder, only angering Allison who had stood in-between him and Vanya once their brother had shown a lack of resolve to control himself. Lingering off to the side of the room, Klaus could only chuckle as chaos erupted between his three siblings, earning a look from the remainder of his family.

Five took no time in trying to dismantle the tension, jumping back and forth between the living room and the kitchen counter in order to move his plans elsewhere. Neither Ben, Klaus or Diego could blame the fifty-year-old-teen for his lack of concern, arguments were as common in their family as game nights for other, more functional homes.

Earning an expectant look from Ben, Klaus sighed as he hoisted himself up from the couch and stepped cautiously over to their siblings. Diego, raising a brow, glanced over to Ben before giving his dead brother a small smile.

Good job.

Ben straightened his posture, lifting his weight from the settee arm and instead balancing it on his opposite hip. He pursed his lips, however, into a glare at the shift of Luther’s stance, using his bulbous shoulders to basically shove Klaus out of the argument without even hearing what the medium had to say.

Lifting his hands before him to show no harm, Klaus tried to draw attention back to Vanya and her own voice, rather than letting her be drowned out like always. Sharing a smile with his shorter sister, Vanya shifted to allow Klaus room, guiding Allison who could only smile at her growth in confidence.

The conversation, however, didn’t calm as Luther continued to protest despite the majority, besides Five who was too busy working out equations in the kitchen and trying to save the world to care, to the point where Diego rushed in at the mention of their childhood numbers.

Klaus groaned, smothering his face with his own hands once Diego unsheathed a knife. Not listening to either Allison or Vanya demanding them to stop, Ben stood back as the argument began to break down into a brawl between the two highest numbers.

That was, until, something pushed them.

Silence fell as a force of some kind knocked into both men, knocking Diego’s knife from his hand and sending both him and Luther further back from one another. Wide-eyed, the group grew silent.

Until Five jumped back into the room, pissed-off and snarling at the group to restrain themselves, rather than making the Commission’s job easier for them.

Ben sighed as the blame shifted to Vanya, furrowing his brows as he caught sight of Klaus stepping back from his sister in shock. None had noticed his hand, clenched tightly into a fist and still slightly glowing blue.

Sharing a look with his startled brother, Ben scowled at his dismissal and the attention on Vanya, ignoring their sister’s certainty that she hadn’t done anything. Klaus shook his hand out, letting the colour fade and acted to be simply stretching once Five and Diego looked at him at the collapse of the argument.

Shrugging of Diego’s concerns, Klaus was quick to console Vanya.

Ben frowned but pushed those thoughts away upon his siblings realising he was corporeal once more, attempting to ease tension within the bunker.

Idiots.

[tastyliltina]

SnackInc 1/?

A/n:  This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I've been meaning to post it...kind of a worldbuilding thing I made back when Fern was still a newer character of mine.  Not really sure if I'll continue it or not, but the basic premise is that Fern works at a corporation that commissions humans out to be used as snacks for more feral giants/predatory creatures.  This keeps random attacks on humans down and helps settle cravings the giants might have.  Fern's a pretty well known snack but fell on hard times and had to resort to more shady deals outside of the corporation.   So...yeah, have a worldbuilding thing ;;w;; If you enjoyed and want a story for yourself, feel free to inquire about commissions!:  tinascommissions.carrd.co/ All stories are on sale 50% off until Dec. 10th!   Now, onto the story! ~~ Fern stumbled through the street, clutching his wad of cash. Thick, warm liquid slimed his clothes as he moved away from his client. The giant looming behind him chuckled, and Fern turned to face the beast.

“Look, man…” Fern sighed, trying to brush back his hair. “Keep this quiet, alright?  Don’t want it getting around I’m offering this...service to random giants on the street.” He thumbed through the payment, ensuring the bills were all there. Once he was sure, he glanced back up to the grinning giant.

Pearly peaks of white shimmered in the moonlight. Something about fangs in the dark was much more terrifying. Still, Fern held his ground.

“Heh. Whatever you say, morsel~.” A tongue traced over smiling lips, and Fern rolled his eyes.

“If that’s your best compliment, I’d hate to see an insult,” he muttered. The giant scoffed, but straightened. Deals like this weren’t appreciated among watchful eyes. Departures needed to be discreet.

Fern sighed. He watched his client stalk away, and tried to grasp what little pride he had left. The fact the ground shook with every step the giant took did little to help. Being treated like food for a quick cash grab...how humiliating. Still...money was nice. And with more wealthy clientele, maybe working in the food industry wasn’t so bad. Turning, Fern descended into the dim alley. He shivered as the drool clinging to him reacted with the wind…. Getting home would be hell.

Slowly, he traversed the desolate streets. Runoff from a recent storm splashed beneath his feet, though hardly drew Fern from his thoughts. With the money he’d gotten from tonight, he’d almost be able to pay off rent. If he did that, maybe he could find some more high-end clients. Spending night after night in another mouth, in another reckless giant was getting old. Most of the bastards didn’t use mints... Others liked to bite.  At least through SnackInc, he got the clinets that cared about their treats a little more...he missed the days of pampering.  

But damn, having extra cash felt so, so good. Fancier outfits and attending clubs where the high-end clients frequencted wasn't cheap.  The reassurance dinners would be easy was well worth a few showers, he supposed. As long as rates didn’t spike, maybe there’d be enough for something hardy. A soup, or...maybe just burgers. Either sounded fine, as long as it wasn't a steaming bowl of ramen.

Soon enough, Fern found his apartment. The building was silent as Fern ascended the stairs. He supposed that made sense at this time of night. Just as he slid his hand into his pocket, Fern heard a rustling behind him. He stiffened. Giants and humans alike knew not to visit the others' living quarters, especially this late at night. It wasn’t worth the jail time or the fees. Some, though…

“Easy, pal.”

The voice was calm. Casual. Fern blinked. He turned, and was met with a pair of golden eyes. The rings of yellow peered down at him, squinting in the dark. Fern didn’t miss the reptilian features on the creature before him, and felt part of his blood run cold. Reptiles were the worst for rando attacks.

“What.” Fern snipped. His tone wasn’t aggressive enough. Fern didn’t care. He didn’t want to be yelling at a giant he didn’t know, especially one that knew where he lived.

“Said easy, man,” the giant continued. He was small, green-skinned and husky. Scales patched across his face, and a black sweater draped the giant’s torso. Unlike Fern, he appeared calm and collected.  “Not gonna try anything. Just wanted to know where the nearest gas station was.”

Fern raised a brow. Oh.  Though he didn't know if he trusted that answer or not, Fern could take it.  He lifted a hand, pointing south. “‘Bout five miles that way. You can’t miss it.” The giant followed his gesture, squinting again. Then, he nodded.

“Cool, thanks.” Instead of leaving, or moving at all, the giant remained seated. Fern furrowed his brow.

“Well...okay. I’m-I’ll be going,” he mumbled. The giant nodded, not seeming intent on leaving. Fern felt something twist his stomach as he stepped into his place. That had been...unnerving, almost as much as approaching random giants to get them to eat him.

Slowly, Fern stepped into his living room. He flicked on the light, and was greeted with the familiar sight of...mediocrity. Beige walls, a beige couch, dirty carpet. Even the flickering light emulated half-assed effort. But, this was home. For now. Fern stretched, sighed, and made sure to lock his door behind him.

He sauntered down the hall, the thought of a shower making everything a little less horrid. Clean clothes, a clean bed… Even with the uncleanable stains of previous occupants on the mattress, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Fern stepped into his bathroom. He stripped, tossed his clothes aside, and turned on the shower. God, hot water felt good.

Several minutes and layers of body scrub later, Fern scooped his soiled laundry up. His nose wrinkled at the stench of unmasked slobber. He tossed the clothes in the washer, ran a hand through his hair, and returned down the hall. The bed creaked as he collapsed into it, the scent of occupants past filling the air. Fern didn’t care. By the time the smells registered, he was already asleep.

~~

Fern woke up to the sound of his alarm. He groaned. Another day, another customer to please. Sitting up, he snatched the offending device from his nightstand. Who was on the calendar today…

Wait. Fern’s eyes scanned over his clientele list. There was a new face among the regulars... Green skin, yellow eyes, red Mohawk...damn. It was the giant from the other night. Fern grimaced, setting his phone down and rubbing at his face with a sigh, taking a moment to collect himself.

Normally, the ones that approached Fern outside of business were scouting for fresh meat after some kind of falling out. They were the ones that made this job hard. Fern stood, looking over his calendar. For today, at least, there weren’t any taken slots. He had that much. Maybe he could do some cleaning? Cleaning sounded great.

He stood. No point planning the day without getting it started, he supposed. Fern stretched, sighed, and ambled down the hallway. He scouted the kitchen for food, and settled on some bacon and eggs.  There was always a sense of pride that came with making his own food. Fern stepped up to his stove, twisting the stove knobs.  

Soon enough, a steaming pile of eggs and bacon littered a paper plate.  Fern grabbed some silverware, once again checking his schedule for today.  Nothing new. He rubbed his chin, opening the file of his newest client. As expected, there wasn’t much available.  Most clients went by a first name basis, and the majority didn’t include any other information but a phone number and place to reach them.  Fern wasn’t sure how the new guy found out about what he offered, but decided to shrug it off.  

Breakfast was quick.  Fern took his time cleaning his plates, wishing he didn’t have to go out to the store today.  But, one couldn’t get by without dish soap and food. Fern was too much of a neat freak to live a day without one, and food wasn’t a necessity when some clients bought him dinner before having him for dessert.  He trudged down to his bedroom, throwing on a simple sweatshirt and jeans.  

Fern slid out of his apartment, slipping his hands into his pockets.  The jingle of keys signified him locking his door before he peeled away from the familiarity of home.  Human-sized creatures traversed the narrow sidewalks, hustling and bustling to and fro. Fern didn’t miss the stares of those passing him.  Word got around. Some people looked to him with admiration, being able to take on such an important, and yet demeaning task. Others scowled at him, and some took things to a physical level.  Fern ignored those that bumped into him without saying anything, reserving his battles for those that had the guts to say something and make a scene.  

Walking to the market never took too long, one of the perks of living in a small town.  The building smelled like cinnamon, a warming reminder of the chilly air outside. Fern slid in with a small crowd.  He headed for the cleaning section first, rubbing his hands together as he searched the shelves for his usual dish soap.  

“Hey.”

The voice snapped Fern to attention.  He blinked, turned, and smiled at the familiar face behind him.  Kenny stood with her hands in her pockets, oversized sweatshirt complimenting her ripped up jeans.  Fern relaxed. It was nice seeing a familiar face, even if it was of a cranky and potentially crazy bitch.  

“Hey, Ken.”  Fern nodded. He took pride in the ability to shorten her nickname without getting shanked.  Kenny stepped up next to him, sliding her hands to her hips. Unlike Fern, Kenny had a more vanilla career.  She was a well-renowned tattoo artist. Fern’d debated going to her for a few years, but didn’t know if their history justified her making a few creative decisions while he was under her needle.  

“What brings you to market?  Finally decide to crawl out of your slimy cave?”  Kenny’s voice lowered. While she wasn’t a friend per se, Kenny was one of the few people Fern opened up to about his career choice.  She’d never given him a hard time about it. If anything, she almost seemed in awe...or disgust, it was really hard to tell as far as Kenny was concerned.  

“Ran out of soap,” Fern shrugged.  “Can’t go without it,” he paused to pluck a bottle from the shelf.  “Got a new client today. Some giant approached me after a rough one last night…  Had to scrub myself for hours, the guy had way too many drinks before he gave me a call.  Starting to think he ate me on a dare, y’know?” “Shit man,” Kenny shook her head, somehow without disturbing her loose bun.  “I still don’t get how you deal with those assholes day in and out. Doesn’t it get...I dunno, gross after a while?”

“It does get gross, but really...someone’s gotta do it.  If not me with all the magical guards in place, then it’d be someone else, or no one at all.  And we know how big folk can get if they don’t get their...fix.” Fern tried to hide the bitterness in his tone, but he could still feel it in his voice.  Anyone who didn’t live under a rock knew how bad things got before the Snack business stepped in. Disappearances, random attacks on towns… Even if it wasn’t a well-liked profession, it was an important one in order to keep the peace among different species.  “But, there’s perks,” a crooked smile plastered Fern’s face. “Don’t gotta worry about a giant trying to mess me up, y’know? I’m...valuable.”

Kenny scoffed, “Valuable my ass,” she shook her head and sighed.  “But yeah, you gotta point. Still...”

“Don’t you go worrying about me,” Fern laughed.  “You’ve got a badass persona to keep, y’know?” He yelped as Kenny’s hand whacked the back of his head, but snickered at the fuming woman.  She crossed her arms and sneered at him.

“Oh, shove it up yours.”

“Sorry, only know how to go down, I’m not into that-” “Fern I swear to God if I didn’t like you I’d shove my foot so far-...you know what, fuck it.”  Kenny grabbed the back of Fern’s sweater, and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back. A dull ache spread along his back and head, and he groaned.  

“Nice...seeing you, Ken…” Fern mumbled as he pushed himself up.  As usual, Kenny’d vanished into the crowd. Fern expected as much.  Kenny never liked being forced to admit she had other emotions besides anger and rage...Fern liked to tease it out of her when he could, even if the result was almost always the same.  Rubbing his head, Fern grabbed the soap from the shelf and headed towards checkout with a chuckle.  

[the-headbop-wraith]

3_42 Carbon Dating

When the shutters went up, work began none stop until closing.  For a full twelve hours customers came and went, leaving overworked and troublesome vehicles, whilst others departed with their serviced transportation fresh from the garage.  The bell in the lobby chimed, announcing the imminent arrival of their next client from the open lot outside.  

A large window was set in one wall, and allowed those within the office to see a portion of the garage itself as the crewmen toiled.  The backdoor that led out of the office and into the work zone of the shop always remained open, vivid reverberations from within the garage seeped through on the low hanging perfume of the mechanics lair.  Always the office smelled of fresh oil and plastic, crisp smoke curled from embers, mingled with the ozone dripping from scalded hydrogen of the pressurized pipes.  Pumps wheezed, wrenches cranked, drills squealed with vivid passion; a symphony of metal, an unchallenged configuration that flowed throughout the blazing intensity of the shop lamps from dawn till dusk.  

“Would someone get that hamster OUT OF HERE!” Somewhere a tool clattered on the floor, the unmistakable rhythm of feet hitting cement faded in the back room.

Lance heaved a sigh and sank down a little more in his shoes.  “Look,” he grumbled, into the phone at his ear.  “I’m sayin it.  Not payin’. Not one cent.  I’m not gunna argue this over like a broken record, get your facts straight on that customer report.  Bottom line, you sent us the wrong parts.”  He stepped a little past the corner of the doorway and checked the customers lined up at the counter.  “Uh-huh.  No. No, don’t go there.  I promise, I can break you.  Let‘s be civil about this.”  Behind him, one of the crewmen raced by, bent far forward with his arms outstretched.  Whatever he was chasing, it wasn’t close to getting caught.

The door parted by a fraction and two more customers entered behind a woman and child.  “You can always tell what’s going on inside, by the way the different angles the cars are parked outside.”  Mystery shuffled through the thin gap in the door, while casting dubious glances up at Arthur.  “Uncle Lance! Yellow!” Arthur waved his arm, but turned away from the line of customers as he began another fit of hacking. “Is this a bad time?”  Mystery barked twice, and looked to the lady that was staring at him.  Them. The dog frowned behind his smart spectacles.

“I know you can’t close the transaction, and to be honest that ain’t my problem, is it?”  Lance covered the mouth piece of the phone and stepped into the lobby.  “I was wonderin’ when you’d be getting back ’round.  Your trip go well?”  The worker that had been racing around in the back now moved into the window, he began waving his arms high over his head and making wide sweeping gestures toward Arthur.

“About that,” Arthur hiccupped, eyes fixed on the dancing figure.  He moved by the customer line and met Lance at the gap in the counter.  “We made such good time—” He was cut off when Lance shoved the phone into his hand.

“Here.  Talk to this guy, you’re good with the phone stuff.”  That said, Lance turned and motioned the clerk at the counter assisting their next client.  “When you’re done here, can you go check inventory for those new fangel fuel lines?”

Arthur put the phone to his ear.  “Er, hello?  Parts?” The worker that had been motioning to Arthur earlier, now came over with a clipboard and a thin page tethered to the front.  The crewmate pulled the first page up as Arthur read the transcript over, the guy pointed to the distinctly varied numbers in orders and deliveries.  Arthur pinned the phone under his chin and motioned to the guy with his fingers.  The crewman gestured back and smirked.

Oh dear, they’re doing this again?  Mystery rolled his eyes and sat.

“I’m good fixing phones, not talking people,” Arthur mouthed.  The crewmate pantomimed talking with his hand.  

“I’ll give you a bonus if you can save us a buck,” Lance grumbled.  Once the clerk had finished with the customer, they darted back into the garage through the doorway.  Lance moved over to a stepstool built against the counter, and made a rather graceful leap – for someone of his stature – onto the sturdy stoop.  He pulled the keyboard over for the computer and began typing.  “I’m sorry about the wait, Miss.  Name?”

“Yes?  Hello?” Arthur chirped.  “You‘re the manager?  Good-good.”  He adjusted the phone at his ear, and leaned over the counter as he read over the provided page on the clipboard.  “I’m looking at the order form right here.  Yes.  You don’t need to be snooty.  The invoice says we ordered five cases of the model G, but we only use the model T. The serial number’s off.”  

The crewmate made a series of gestures to Arthur, to which Arthur gave a sideways shrug.  The crewmate plopped his hand back to his side when Mystery darted by, toward the back door the clerk left by.  

“I’m just sayin,” Arthur went on.  He paused and rubbed his palm to his brow.  “Yes, totally.  We can keep the parts, and we can sell them to another shop, and loose some money – that’d be about equivalent to the money we’re gonna lose in the shipping expenses.  Hmm? Is that so?”  Arthur pinned the phone to his ear with his shoulder, his hand reached up over his brow and began straightening up his darker hair tufts. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now listen, you’re about to lose a loyal, paying customer over a serial number typo, that’s in your invoice copy. I’m sure Ratchet N’ Clanks would— Whas’that?  You will?” Arthur began nodding.  “That is super-duper, you are such a wizard with bizz to bizz relations.  Uh-huh, yeah, you have a good day too.”  

Arthur groaned under his breath.  He handed the phone back to the mechanic and smacked his forehead to the countertop.  The crewmate gave Arthur’s back a light pat before returning to the garage.  It took a little too long for Arthur to get his bearings together, he didn’t feel inclined to move too fast.

Lance finished assisting a figure in a maroon hoody. “I suppose you’ll want that bonus?”  He snatched a piece of paper that slid out of the printer and handed it to the figure. “If you’ll step outside, someone will get you set up.”  Lance pulled a small handheld communicator from his belt and spoke a brief message into it.

“Put it on my tab,” Arthur mumbled.  “I need to commission some work on the van.” Without meaning to, Arthur dragged out the word ‘some’.

Lance nodded, his hand already directing the mouse on the screen to his nephew’s active account.  The lobby was currently empty, the door slipped shut on their most recent customer.  “The usual oil change?  Check up?”

“Um,” Arthur grimaced. He shuffled a little closer to the computer Lance worked on and leaned on his bent arm.  “I managed to get that done already.  Er, what I was thinking….”

“Yes?”  Lance narrowed his eyes minutely.

Arthur kneaded the edge of his vest with his fingers and took a breath.  “Some inner restoration, new batteries, tires changed, and I need to schedule to get the side repainted.”  The sentence was spoken in a hasty blur.  When he finished, Arthur pressed his lips together tightly and leaned far-far back from the counter.

A slow blink was Lance’s response.  “What?”

“I thought you were kidding!” Lance grated.  “I thought!… you were…”  Lance’s voice ceased and he shut his eyes.  He took a deep breath and reevaluated the notary details of the van presented to him.  Was this really the same vehicle?  It was unfathomable that Arthur, of all people, would let - THE Van - come to be in this condition.  “You know what?  Never mind.”

“Hey Uncle Lance,” Vivi hailed from the back.  The van was parked beside the furthest shutter of the garage, currently empty of customer automobiles, the passenger side and back doors left wide open.  “I’d go over the details, but it looks like we’ll be sticking around for a while. So, no rush on work.”  Vivi held up her hands and motioned Lance to keep it calm.  Though no outer countenance gave away Lance’s inner turmoil, his face was beat red and his fists were clutched tightly at the sides of his belt.  “And you can do whatever you need inside to get it ship shape, we’re gonna unpack everything, and I mean everything.”  Vivi tucked her hands behind her back.

Lance hadn’t looked Vivi’s way, he was still staring at the once pristine yellow clad box of the Mystery Skull’s transport.  “Do I want to know?” he grumbled, at last. “No!  I don’t.  But this’ll keep me up all night… No!  I’ll regret’t if I ask.”  Vivi stared as Lance pulled a hand up and tugged at his beard, he turned away continuing with his gruff mutterings.  “I’m sure there is a safe, uneventful, tale attached to this happenin’?  Isn’t there?”  Vivi’s frown deepened, lips screwed tight.  “Your usually both such careful drivers though.”  He sighed.  

“Uncle Lance?”  Vivi ventured.  “It was just an accident with the equipment.  You know how the laptop always overheats?”  Vivi stepped off the bumper and leaned on the inner side of one door, hands crossed behind her back.  She moved a little more out of the way as Lance trudged forward.

“An accident.  Right,” Lance mumbled.  He heaved himself up onto the floorboard and stood.  “This is the ceiling.”  He stabbed at the flanking headliner with a finger, and looked back at Vivi. “The.  Ceiling.  Its ruined.”

Arthur leaned around the door opposite of Vivi, the corner of his mouth tugged back in a grim smirk.  “It was an interesting experience.”

“Are these scorch marks on the seats!”

Vivi turned to Arthur wide eyed, and brought a hand to her mouth.  “We… I don’t know if you’d understand.”  To Arthur she mouthed, ‘When did that?’

Arthur sniffed and shrugged.  He sipped at the cup of coffee he carried.  In the garage slot they parked near, Mystery’s barks rang out as he dashed after the squeaking wheels of a certain orange fluff.  The little ball zipped around basement boarders and across the yellow/black striped caution tape adhered to the floor, while Mystery kept in hot pursuit.  

“Hey,” Arthur called.  “Are you forgetting who your favorite person is?”

The orange fluff zigzagged out of Mystery’s path. Mystery kept running, even as Galahad made a beeline out of the garage.  Arthur set his cup on the floor and held his hand down for the plump little rodent plush.

“Aw, look’t you,” Arthur cooed.  “I swear you get bigger everyday.  What’re you eating?  Uncle Lance?  What’re feeding Galy?”  Arthur stood and ran his thumb over Galahad’s hair tufts.  He ignored Vivi’s sly grin.

“Oh, y’know,” Lance grumbled, as he pulled some of the ruined ceiling away.  “Crickets, pizza, fish crackers, eggs an’ bacon.  The usual.”

Arthur and Vivi exchanged horrorstruck faces. “That’s not what I told you to do!” Arthur yelped.

The van creaked under Lance’s weight as he tromped out, and hopped onto the pavement.  “Doesn’t seem to be hurtin’ the little fella.”  Lance gave Galahad a pat on his head, then straightened out his belt and walked off.  “We’ll need to get some pictures.  For the website… What d’you feed him, anyway?”

“What?  I feed him hamster pellets, like a normal, responsible pet owner!”  Arthur bent his thumb under Galahad’s chin and scratched. Galahad didn’t care, he was a hamster getting scratchies.

Lance scoffed.  “Yuk.  No wonder he wouldn’t eat.  I fixed that for you.”

Arthur groaned and turned to Vivi.  “A little help?”

Vivi sniggered.  “I’m the last person you should ask.  Mystery won’t even look at dog food.”

Arthur swung his stump in the hound’s direction. Mystery walked by, nose upturned. He wasn’t getting involved.  “He’s different!”  Arthur winced back when Vivi began fixing his vest collar.  He glanced at the flashlight Vivi carried, as she moved it behind her back.

“How do you know Galahad isn’t?” Vivi murmured. “We’ll start getting everything together.  You have the keys?”

Arthur nodded, only partially getting what Vivi had said.  He spun about and looked through the garage, the trucks and cars with hoods raised, the cough of a torch, the sparkle of embers and the buzz of electricity.  His element.  “It’ll be good goin’ back to what I know,” he spoke, softly.  “People think our work is easy?”  He chuckled.  “This is what I know.”  He looked down on his hand.  Galahad was curling down into a relaxed puff, little by little the hamster’s eyes slipped shut.

“Really, Art?” Vivi posed.  “Is that all?”  She frowned at the flashlight when she tried the switch, but it wouldn’t turn on.

“Well, that’s hardly it,”  Arthur admitted.  “A change of pace, I’m looking forward to it.  Huh Galy, you missed me?  Tell her.” Galahad was fast asleep.

Off a ways inside the repair shop, Lance hoots back, “Did you remember to plug your arm in?”

Arthur groans, and realizes he’s unable to face palm effectively.  “It’s not that kind of prosthetic!”

Some of the equipment needed retooling and inspection, following up the assortment and extended use they had taken throughout the course of the trip. They didn’t have the boxes or time at the hour to get the work done today, but Arthur did sift out some of the gear that got the heaviest wear, and took that on up along with a few personal bags. By a small marvel, Vivi managed to convince Arthur to cart up these items in smaller units, rather than the ‘superman’ trips Arthur was initially dedicated to.

One trip down, Lance managed to catch Arthur as he was bouncing down the steps from the top level.  Lance stood by the doorway that opened into the main work room, as Arthur was slinking by, and said, “If you need a few off, to get your bearings. I’ll understand.”  Lance raised his eyebrows when Arthur paused.  “We’re busy, but what’s new?”

“No, no,” Arthur chocked out.  “Vi and,” Arthur caught himself, and shook his train of thought off into a series of coughs.  “Mystery and Viv-vi.  They’ll unpack and stuff at her place, everything‘s cool.  Trust me, I kinda, um…need some distraction.”  Arthur reached a hand behind his neck and rubbed at the edge of his shirt collar.

Lance tugged his gloves a little tighter over his hands. It was no secret between uncle and nephew that Lance was deliberately avoiding the One question.  “Rough case?”

Arthur moved his hand up to a rub at his hairline, and nodded.  “Well, it was mostly— I mean, we did some other stuff along the way.”  Galahad was suddenly on his shoulder.  How he got there, Arthur was clueless to that rational. He scooped the Hamster off his shoulder and debated on whether Galahad could still fit in his pocket.  “Vivi drove most the way back, but she’s not expected back at the Tome Tomb for another two days.”

Lance nodded, without dropping his eyes from Arthur’s face.  “Don’t overwork yourself, lad.  If you need, ask one of the crew to take over.  But whatever you do,” and here, Lance’s voice got low.  “Don’t make me drag you away from your work. Understood?”

Arthur made a little sound as he nodded.  He clutched Galahad to his chest as Lance stepped forward and gave him a firm pat on his good shoulder.

“Now go do your thing.”  With that, Lance spun on heel and returned to the garage.  Arthur stood there for a moment, struggling to take that all in.

__

A question began to bubble within Vivi as she navigated the van, carefully, among the traffic of their hometown.  She wasn’t wondering about the final verdict of their case, didn’t mull over the reasoning of the College’s quick decision; she didn’t even fret over the prospect of Lewis assisting in unpacking what gear remained in the van, though she did ponder a multitude of small, unrelated, aspects.

“You’ve been to my apartment?  A couple times?”

Lewis, in the passenger seat, had looked from the window and stared at Vivi for a full minute.  It didn’t bode well with her.  “I think you… moved,” Lewis petered.  He peered up through the windshield at the complex of building clusters, all set about the acreage of land that was undoubtedly property to the same host.  “I don’t think, you never lived here.  From what I remember.”  Lewis didn’t want to say anymore.  “It’s nice though.”

“Thank you,” Vivi mumbled.  She guided the van through the entrance gate and rolled along the open asphalt parking lot.  There are a lot of cars parked in their respective spaces at the building entrance doors, open yard plots and brush filled up the areas that weren’t road. “I… y’know, I think I moved in the first place.”  She had a hard time putting it into words.  The implications, the sorrow budding in her soul; the yearning and sensation of forgetfulness – she forgot something.  The radio was sometimes left on, she always double checked the oven before she went out anywhere, nothing in her apartment had ever been misplaced, far as she knew – she had a bad habit of leaving small curious in inappropriate places, but never lost anything important.  It was this nagging in the back of her head, but now she knew the source of it. “—Felt like I had to get some space,” she settled on saying.  “This feels kind of open, and Mystery could get out and run like a normal dog.”

A subdued ‘oof’ bounced from the vans back.

The van was parked two spaces down from the entrance doors of the apartment cluster.  A cool breeze ran between the neighboring building clusters, tumbling down through the bare branches of the trees and ruffling Vivi’s cushy scarf.  The air around her was soaked in yellow with tinges of amber, or it could’ve just been the van she was standing beside.  It took a bit more time than estimated to let Arthur get himself unpacked, and the sun was already winding its way downward with every tick of the minute.  Soon it would be dark, but it would be dark in her own home.

Vivi shuddered and fixed up her scarf around her neck.  She rounded the side of the van and popped open the back doors.  Mystery was within, moving around the smaller bags that he could manage and some of the leftover groceries.

“Ugh, we should have left the ice chest with Arthur,” Vivi chided, aloud.  Mystery pinned his paws to the top of the cooler and shoved the sloshing box out of the way. “It’s his anyway.”  She looked up when the anticipated reassurance failed to drift her way.  The purplish pompadour was still hovering by the headrest, the door remained shut. “You okay, Lewlew?”

Lewis raised his shaded eyes over the bench seat. “You sure no one’s gonna care? Seeing me around?” Lewis’ voice took on a soft warble, the echoing tone that had drenched his shaded self.  “They might start asking around, getting nosy.” He had the door opened already and slid out, nearly slipped through the door itself.

“You’re kind of hard to miss,” Vivi muttered, as Lewis joined her.  She reached out and patted Lewis on his vest’s front. “Really, nobodies’ gonna ask about you. Most the tenants are so clueless about what’s going on around them – I actually thought there was an unnatural reason for that.  But! Trust me, it’ll be fine.”  She returned to the vans interior and began heaping up what bags she could manage; she didn’t want Lewis to catch the little hint of a scowl she felt tugging at her lips.  “Daylights awasting, better get a move on!”  On second thought, she shoved the accumulated bags up into Lewis arms.  “Got that?  Never mind, dumb question.”

Mystery lead the way.  He carried quite a bit for a dog, some of the backpacks and a sleeping bag were tied together and looped over his backside, an extra bag of groceries was clenched in his jaws.  He had some difficulty elevating himself in such a way, that didn’t force the bags to topple off his shoulders and onto the floor.  It took some coordination to get his paw up high enough to hit the elevators call button.

“I’m on the third floor,” Vivi mentioned.  The buzzer chimed as the doors opened to the lift. As the three boarded, Vivi hits the number panel with her elbow and backs up to make room for Lewis in the tiny box.  The doors grated shut and following a short intermission, a faint chime signaled the lifts begrudging ascent.

As the numbers morphed on the digital panel at the upper corner, Vivi bit at her lip in the stifling silence.  “But we… the group,” she began.  The elevator dinged, the number read two.  “I don’t know why I moved in the first place.”

Lewis glanced her way.  “Did Arthur help you?”

Vivi shook her head.  Not all the time Arthur spent in the hospital was for recovering from his amputation.  “Where would you stay?  Normally?” she inquired.  The lift chimed as the doors part, and Mystery led the way out.  Vivi didn’t move.  “You don’t have any place to hang out, is what I’m trying to say.  But I don’t remember if you were once crashing at my place, if that’s how we did it, and it felt really awkward to ask.”  She tilted her head sideways, a slight shrug. “You need someplace to… wait, how should I put this?  A place… where you’re known about, and don’t have to hide all the time?”

Lewis kicked his foot into the sliding door when it began to close.  He mulled over what Vivi was saying, though his thoughts had gone to another place. “Whoa, hold the phone!” he crowed. “Is that all that’s bothering you?”

Vivi squinted her eyes behind her glasses and nodded.  “Sort of. Last time, we didn’t really do anything about it?  You hung around the van, and even if it didn’t need to hit the shop, that wasn’t right.”

Lewis kicked the door again.  The elevator didn’t like him.  “That was fine?  Best for me,” he admitted.  “The van, it was a good place to start.  I told you this.”  Vivi marched by and Lewis followed, the elevator doors snapped at his rear. Lewis kicked a foot out backwards, the sound of his ‘heel’ hitting the door reverberated throughout the narrow corridor like a dish crashing on a tile floor.

Vivi whirled back.  “You WANT me to get evicted?”

“It started it!” Lewis defended.  He adjusted the bags in his arms and followed.  The hall wasn’t very long, and at the furthest door Mystery stood unable to sit or anything.  “De todos modos, como usted recordará?  I wasn’t really presentable during that time.”

Vivi scoffed a little.  “You hardly are now, but we manage.”  She swayed over to Lewis and nudged his side with her elbow.  “Mystery?  Which bag had the keys?”

When the door of the apartment opened a crack, Mystery zipped inside and hurried to a couch situated near the kitchens bar and doorway.  It was in the open living area, the sparse furniture there… felt empty.  A few petite lamps camped at the corners of the room, and the end tables of the couch sported Vivi’s customary candles.  There were pictures on the wall.

Mystery sprang onto the couch cushions and shrugged off the multitude of bags, then plopped down onto the carpeted floor and rolled on his back.  His fur was a mess!

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Vivi chided.  She dumped her keys into a shallow basin on the kitchen counter, and added her collection of bags to those that Mystery had dumped. “I swear sometimes.”  She sighed, and looked through some of the grocery bags. “If you want to,” she spoke, as she looked to Lewis shutting the door.  “Wait, no, go back.  Lemme try again.”  Lewis stood and stared at her, baffled.  “You should stay here.  Would you?”

Lewis nodded.  He placed the bags he had – equipment, sacks, a pillow – onto the largest countertop inside the kitchen doorway.  The layout of the apartment was nice; it was sizable for the estimated square footage he reasoned the individual cells were spared on each floor. “If you don’t mind a… haunted apartment, I guess.”  He couldn’t resist saying it, and the clear delight that bloomed on Vivi’s face made it all worth it.

“Oh my gods, that’s right!” she cheered.  Vivi nearly bit into her knuckles when she clutched her fists against her chin.  “But wait, what if stuff starts to act up with you hanging around?  Should I be worried about that?”  And a little under her breath, “Guess I could do some freelance documentation.”

Lewis grinned, and took his sunglasses off. “Take it easy, my blue.  I’ll try and keep my influence to a minimum, if that eases your tension.”

“What tension?  This is gonna be cool!”  Vivi picked up two of her bags from the couch, and motioned over her shoulder. “Go ahead and make yourself comfy. I just gotta check the water closet right quick.  Unless, you wanna start puttin’ things away?  On second thought, I shouldn’t be asking that.  Just relax for now.  Settle in.”

Lewis moved over to the couch.  “Unless you really don’t want me to, I can start organizing the gear.  But it’s no problem.”  He looked through the grocery bags; no doubt the kitchen is where he should start. Mystery poked his head up and began nosing at the bag closest to him.

“I’ll leave it up to you, then,” Viv replied, as she walked into a connecting hall.  “Be out in a jiff.”

“Tome su tiempo,” Lewis responded.  Most of Vivi’s cabinets were tucked tight with instant meals and Ramen packets.  Lewis was in the process of putting away some of the chip bags he had picked up, when he picked up on the door click.  This was as good time as any.  “Mystery? Hey.”

Mystery had opened a package of pastry bear claws on an end table, and was lapping up the gooey icing stuck all over the wrapping. He glanced up when Lewis came over with a walkie-talkie from one of the bags.  What?  You can’t eat it.  The dog turned his snout down to examine the communicator, a piece of twine wrapped around the speak toggle.  Do you remember what happened last time we did that?  Mystery crossed one paw over the other and gave Lewis a reproaching stare.

“Just let me know if she gets out, before I get back. Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Lewis hissed.  “I have to… get something.”  Mystery took a deep breath and sighed.  “Do this for me, and I’ll cook you up a whole chicken.”  At that, Mystery’s eyes popped open.  “Rotisserie style, with bacon, butter, slow cooked.  You’re not willing to forfeit a chicken, are you?”

Mystery tapped his claws on the table’s surface. Lewis set the communicator down and left with another walkie-talkie in hand.

The shower was going when Lewis returned.  Pipes whistled within the walls, muffled by the depth of plaster and wood, the resonance’s depth lurched as Lewis seeped through the door.  Mystery still wrestled with his gooey desert, and was working to get his paws clean in the kitchen sink.  The dog glimpsed towards the kitchens entrance, upon hearing the apartment door shut delicately.  At current, Mystery was scrambling to heft his body up by his elbows the last few inches, in order to shut the sinks faucet off.

“Okay, so,” Lewis began, as he edged around the corner. He watched Mystery sit and begin drying his paws on the dishrag tucked around the handle of the fridge door. “Will you help me hide this?  She doesn’t know about it, right?  I guess I could’ve left it with Arthur, is he the one that hid this stuff?”

Mystery scrubbed his fur until most of the moisture was gone (it was such a chore), he barely gave Lewis his focus until he realized what it was Lewis had brought up.  Why do you have that!  The fur on Mystery’s shoulders stood on end, his glasses nearly fell from his snout.

“I’m not risking someone poking around and finding it,” Lewis hissed, face dimming and skull winking through momentarily.  “And you don’t have any better ideas.”

True.  Mystery released the rag and lowered one paw to the linoleum floor, the other he curled under his chin in his ponder.  His sharp ears twitched as he listened to the shower run, there were numerous areas in the apartment that Vivi flat out shut up and never revisited; any one might do, but it wouldn’t do to be rash about this.

Mystery made a decision.  He padded to the entrance of the kitchen, his steps slowing as he approached Lewis.  The hound turned his snout up and followed Lewis line of sight as he passed.  Lewis broke his gaze and took a large step out of the dog’s general perimeter.  Mystery gave his coat a hard shake, his dog tag rattled at his collar, but he kept walking. Lewis followed.

Parallel to the bathroom in the narrow hall was a door, and as Lewis suspected it opened up into a closet.  Lewis held the dust brushed container in one arm, as he held the door open with the other.  He listened to the shower running at his back and gauged how much time he ‘might’ have to work with.  If he knew Vivi like he thought, she didn’t savor a shower unless it wasn’t optional. Unless, celebratory returning home shower?  Well, Lewis didn’t need to get caught hanging around outside the door like this…. Ahem.

“She won’t look in here?” Lewis pressed.

For emphasis, Mystery sneezed.  The shelves within were filled with old books and an Encyclopedia collection of tattered used notebooks – the notebooks retirement home and graveyard.  Other shelves were stuffed with a few extra blankets, most in shades of blues and reds. The hound tilted his head far back on his shoulders and directed his snout to the topmost corner.  He used the lowest shelf before him to balance, and stood up on his back legs.  Mystery ambled sideways, nose and ears aimed at that shelf, he yapped, and clicked his jaws.

“I’m trustin’ you, then,” Lewis answered. Mystery shrugged his shoulders and dropped down to his four legs.  He sauntered off to the living area, leaving Lewis to his personal business.

The highest shelf wasn’t too high for Lewis’ stature, but he did raise himself an extra foot to allow for some careful organization. He shuffled around some overburdened boxes filled with knickknacks and curios, some he recognized from a far ago time, from another adventure.  Lewis concealed the box in the out of the way space, and packed in the other cartons that had been misplaced by its introduction.  A blanket, a wall of notebooks, and more boxes – but Vivi was sharp when it came to ‘organization.’  Lewis kept going, and began reorganizing some of the souvenir containers.  Actually, he recognized a lot of these things, but there were artifacts Lewis couldn’t bring himself to hardly look at.  He couldn’t decide if it was for some vague reason he disassociated with, or if it was the item itself.  Most of them were not typical charms, they were authentic but Lewis had never considered what that would mean until now.  It couldn’t be good for Vivi to be hoarding all this stuff.

Lewis must’ve been caught up in the fleeting touch with nostalgia for some of time.  He lost himself flipping through old journals, while looking at a large black cylinder of some sort of rock that might’ve been granite, but probably wasn’t.  The door beside him swung open, and Vivi very nearly stepped and into him.  

Freshly clothed, a towel tied around her head, Vivi brought her raised hands down to her face when she saw Lewis, but only for a splint second.  A collection of papers scattered through a flash of embers, the black stone hit the carpet with a Thump!  Vivi winced and shielded her eyes, more from the light than the wash of heat.

“Oh gosh, Lewis!” she gasped.  Vivi looked around, squinting.  The so named ghost was absent.  “Lew.  How’s it possible for a big guy like you, to get startled by someone like me?”  She tried to stifle a giggle as she knelt and gathered up the torn pages.  “Are you here, or did you vanish to Timbuctoo?”  There was no answer, and Vivi worried.  She postponed book retrieval and sat on her knees, staring about the thin slit of the hall.  It felt smaller now, confined.  “Lew?”

“I’m here,” the disembodied voice rang out, softly. From the hall, there was little of the living area itself that was visible, but that’s where the voice resonated from.  “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Vivi felt a little of the weight lift.  “I was getting nervous.  Do what you need.”  She dithered, as she flipped a page less notebook open.  “A-are you… okay?”

“Peachy,” Lewis answered.  It tried to sound chipper, his speech, but remained a little off. “Yeah, I was a little startled. Even big guys like me get spooked if you, y’know, sneak up on them.  You have a habit of doing that.”

Vivi sniggered, and resumed pulling the torn papers together – some of the edges were tinged yellow and black flacked off. As she tucked the pages together, she reviewed some of the presented files.  “I don’t know why I keep all this old stuff.  We put it all on the computer, eventually….”  This was partially a lie, it was hard to sit down and do more writing than was absolutely necessary.  “I should probably be more concerned with why you were poking around in my stuff.”

Lewis poked his head out around the halls end. “Mystery!  He said it was fine!”

A bark of indignation shot from the living room.

“This is your stuff too, though.”  Vivi rolled the weighty granite ball into the closet, beside a pair of red dog shoes.  “But that doesn’t excuse you for being nosey.”

Lewis stepped over to Vivi and crouched down. He had not managed to slip out of his death suit, but a vibrant purple ascot was wrapped about his collar.  “Lo siento, mi Estrella.  I…” Lewis reframed from uttering a noise of mangled, broken static.  Arthur had asked him about those ‘off noises’ he made occasionally, and Lewis was horrified to learn that the debative hums he thought he was making came across as the pop-crackle that faulty radio speakers were so eager to share.  “I think I’ll be sleeping on the couch.  Can I borrow some blankets?”

Vivi stuffed the pages into one of the stripped empty notebook, and gave Lewis a curious look.  She was without her glasses and the corridor was dark, but the locket on Lewis’ suit front was very bright.  Her eyes moved from it, to Lewis’ face.  “It’s not no where near time for bed,” she said.  “Besides, if you want a bed we’re bringing up the blankets too.  These are,” she reached over and patted one blanket on the shelf, and coughed.  “Not very hospitable, don’t you think?”

Lewis helped Vivi up when she began to rise; she stuffed the books back between their cousins and distant relations on the shelves. For a minute Vivi stood and stared at the cluttered shelves, possibly evaluating where she could stick the next new series of fresh documentations.  

“I’ll just head on down and unload some more stuff, then,” Lewis offered.  Vivi shut the door and walked with him to the living room.  A tall shelf by the window held the stereo, its radio was on and the volume low while Mystery listened.  Mystery let his head slump over the couches armrest, ears slanted comfortable as the dog dozed.  “You should rest for a bit,” Lewis went on.  He turned from the sight of Mystery, and indicated Vivi with a finger, lightly accusing. “And I know you didn’t let your guard down once, at all, on our way back.”  He froze when Vivi threw her arms around his sides and hugged.  “¿Qué, cariño?  I’m comin’ right back.”

Vivi mumbled into his chest.  “I know.  I wanted… I need to try and appreciate you more.”  She removed her hands from around Lewis and stepped back from him.  “I sometimes wonder….”  She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with the end of her scarf.  “No, it’ll be fine.  Don’t get yourself lost, or I’ll come find you.”  A wide grin alit on Lewis face, and he leaned down to give Vivi a little peck on her forehead.  Vivi shivered, and Mystery gave one of his over-the-top dog sighs.

“You won’t even miss me.”  Lewis left her by the couch and went straight to the door.  He gave a small wave, before he pulled the door shut at his back.

Vivi had a hand to her face and was trying not to grin. She turned to Mystery when he grumbled noisily.  The hound was facing her now and had his arms crossed over the armrest of the couch, head tilted and a curious smirk on his snout.  Vivi was concerned for a moment, as Mystery’s bright eyes moved from her and over towards the door Lewis left by.  Mystery’s grin only grew wider.

Then it hit Vivi like a tsunami.  Vivi raced to the door, backpedaled and grabbed the sunglasses left on the countertop, then burst out the door screaming (as softly) as she could muster without alerting Kingsman Mechanics.  “Lew!  Wait! You’re not descent!”

[intimidatingpuffinstudios]

Daelynn Commission #1

Here we go, guys! Daelynn’s first out of four public commissions is here! Plaze all thank Jenna for sharing them with you!

This one has smut in it, so be aware!

Warning, NSFW content below!

You reach the edge of the lake to find it glimmering as if straight out of a dream, silver beams of moonlight reflected off of its tranquil surface. It’s the dead of the night, and Straasa has first watch.

When he saw you being dragged out of your shared tent by a giddy Daelynn, he just smiled indulgently, not saying a single word. And considering how your elven lover barely has any clothes on her and your neck hasn’t yet healed from all the hickeys sucked on it, the man has the virtue of a saint to not comment on any of it.

You don’t try to question your blond minx about her plans. It would have been a futile effort—DaeDae only reveals her intentions at the last possible moment. Besides, her surprises are usually worth the wait. And as you stare at the dark, inviting water, you can’t help but think she is right on the mark once again.

A midnight wash next to your beautiful woman is just the thing you need right now. Daelynn lets go of your hand and steps up to the water’s edge. The soft, almost transparent little nightgown she’s wearing flutters down her body as she pushes on the straps, her pale, flawless skin revealed to your hungry gaze.

DaeDae’s luscious curves make your mouth water as you drink in the sight of her, and she sensually turns around to gaze at you, her grey eyes beckoning you closer as her red lips smirk at you. You are lost in a trance as you stare at her bathed in moonlight, your eyes locked on one another.

You start walking to her as if in a trance, eyes hot like molten silver watching you approach raptly. As soon as you’re within reach, covetous fingers reach for you, the elf pulling on your undershirt, caressing every inch of skin revealed to her.

You are as naked as she is now—and not wholly unaffected by what is happening either. Your body is on fire under your love’s lustful gaze, her regard making lightning zing through your veins.

The two of you enter the cool water, hands linked, and quietly reach for each other’s body. DaeDae’s long finger’s start massaging your shoulders, your breasts, stroking and pinching the warm flesh lightly as she cups water from below and then lets it drip over you.

The burst of chilliness on your unprotected skin makes you shiver.  You are submerged up to your waist, and the low temperature is helping with keeping your raging desire under control, but just barely.

When you have a naked, wet elf looking at you like you are lust incarnate—well… There’s only so much a woman can take. Daelynn pushes your black hair away from your face, her grey eyes fixing on your blue ones.

Your hands can’t stand remaining idle a minute longer. You start by taking Daelynn by the shoulders, your palms stroking up and down her arms—once, twice, then you move on to her full breasts, her pebbled nipples. You roll them lightly between your fingers, all in the name of cleanliness of course.

Daelynn starts moaning in abandon, enjoying the attention as her own fingers roam over your skin, moving past your chest and going lower, stroking you everywhere, making sure not to leave a single spot untouched.

You gasp when she cups between your thighs with a flat palm, applying pressure and making you feel her just as much as she feels you.  Because the beautiful elf has just taken the hand that was caressing her torso and seductively brought it exactly where she wants it. You feel her wet warmth and shiver with delight at how much she wants you.

“Kersey…” …” she moans shamelessly, and all you can do is stare at your blond temptress all but riding your hand, your breaths coming in fast pants, your head feeling heavy and foggy with desire.

She is now pressing soft kisses behind your ear, her fingers working on you as her free hand caresses and massages you, occasionally pouring water over your heated skin. The difference in temperature between your warm bodies and the cool water makes you shiver, and goosebumps bloom all over your skin.

You stare into her blown-wide eyes for a moment before taking some water into your free hand and letting it drip over her peaked breasts. You immediately follow the drops with your mouth, the scorching heat of your lips latching onto her and sucking. She shudders under your ministrations, and you can’t help but moan lightly against her flesh.

Your lover can’t hold in her moan of delight, a little broken gasp leaving her panting mouth.  She presses hungry kisses up the column of your neck until she reaches your ear, taking the lobe between her lips and biting.

Wet bodies ripple against one another as whispered endearments and euphotic moans fill the stillness of the night, and you and the woman you love push each other higher and higher, getting drunk on each other’s taste and scent, the addictive pleasure you give each other a vice you never want to be free of.

You try to resist the gigantic pull that demands you let go, just give her everything she wants, give in to the pleasure she all but forces on your quivering form. But you just can’t. All and any efforts to resist are futile.

With a drawn-out moan, molten heat explodes from your pulsating core, bathing your lover’s fingers in the evidence of your desire, your love. Her demanding digits make you writhe for her, forcing you to tighten up, to shake and moan helplessly as your muscles clench and electricity courses through your veins, ecstasy exploding behind your closed eyes.

You shiver and shake, your lips open in a soundless scream as your blond mistress claims your rapture for her own—hers to elicit, hers to enjoy. All of it. All of you. Hers. The blinding orgasm goes on and on until you are nothing but a mess of quivering woman, your nerves overwrought and your legs shaking in the aftermath.

Your beloved holds you close as you come down from your high, whispering and cooing to you, stroking your hair and telling you what an amazing girl you were for her. You take deep breaths, inhaling her cherry scent, letting yourself be soothed and worshipped.

Then you realize—Daelynn hasn’t climaxed yet. Lost in the tidal wave of your own ecstasy, you didn’t make sure that your elf reached the same levels of rapture. An oversight you aim to correct.

But before you get the chance to go about it, Daelynn carries your shuddering form back to shore and effortlessly picks you up, cradling you in her arms—safe, secure, hers. You can feel sleep pull at you with a force that cannot be denied, but you try to stay awake, you need to…

“It’s alright, Kelsey. Sleep, just let go—you’ve earned it,” your girlfriend’s voice murmurs right next to your ear, sugar sweet and loving. She’s so in love with you—just as in love as you are with her.

“But you didn’t…” you try to argue, wanting to reciprocate the bliss she gave you, but she just chuckles in response and places a chaste kiss to the underside of your jaw.  Her silky hair brushes against your naked skin, a soft caress coming straight out of a dream.

You tangle your fingers in the golden locks, anchoring yourself to her—the one that brings you happiness, that makes you feel like you belong. Your home, your everything. Her honeyed voice croons to you, weaving a spell around you—a spell you cannot deny.

“No, my love—tonight was for you.  I want you to just relax and go to sleep now. And don’t worry. Tomorrow morning we’ll have all the time in the world,” she promises you silkily, and you stop trying to protest.

You snuggle up to her, letting your head rest in the crook of her shoulder as she carries you back to the camp, the shimmer of a spell all around you. Probably an invisibility one, seeing as you’re both naked and poor Straasa is still on watch.

You sneak into your shared tent and Daelynn lays you gently down, then promptly burrows against you, pulling you to her and slotting your bodies together. You are face to face, and you gaze deeply into her grey eyes, amazement and so much love reflected back at you.

She’s perfect, and the rush of love you feel when you look at her all but overwhelms you, making your breath hitch in your throat. You close your eyes, and she presses two feather-light kisses on your lids, wishing you goodnight soulfully.

You sigh—and let yourself go. You are here, and so is she. You are together, your hearts, bodies, and minds linked in an unbreakable bond. She loves you, now and for always. And you just know—you will both be alright in the end.

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Boku no Hero Academia - nevermind nevermind its just a broken heart

I think you guys are starting to see the pattern between my love of family dynamics and my even bigger love of ridiculous titles for things. 

Summary:  Aizawa was quiet for a moment, finally asking a simple, “How many fights have you been a part of?” Hitoshi flinched at that, trying to figure out how to answer. He didn’t even get to before Aizawa cut him off with a hard, “Not how many you started.”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Hitoshi did his best not to look at Aizawa, breathing out slowly and trying to calm his heart before he really did give himself a heart attack. He finally managed to struggle out a quiet, “A lot.”

Relationship: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shinsou Hitoshi

Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Shinsou Hitoshi

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,910

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“This was a bad idea.” The words were spoken to no one and responded to with silence, but Hitoshi rarely expected anything else. There were very, very few people willing to talk to someone who had a brainwashing quirk, after all. “This was a really, really bad idea.”

Struggling to suck in a steady breath, Hitoshi winced as his body wanted to cave in at the new stretching pose he was trying to complete. He had been shown over a dozen when this mess he had found himself in really started and he hadn’t expected them to just get more difficult as time went on.

“He’s probably just doing this where he has a little extra free time and pity,” Hitoshi muttered, words bouncing and echoing off the empty gym walls instead of around his head. “As soon as classes start to really pick up again, he’ll have no reason to keep helping me like this.”

It had been a spur of the moment decision, in all honesty. Hitoshi had felt, for the first time in his life, a shred of hope. He had been beaten so easily in that first round of the tournament, but then his class… His classmates had cheered for him. Pro heroes were muttering in the stands about how his quirk was useful. For the first time in his entire life, Hitoshi had felt that there was a chance for him to actually be a hero.

“This is the fifth session, after all. He has to be getting sick of me.” The words were a bit of a struggle to say where he was so bent over, but Hitoshi managed, unable to stop the words like he was unable to stop his thoughts. “This can’t last forever. I’m a kid from General Studies, not one from the Hero Course.”

Hitoshi had just been so hopeful, and he had let that feeling get the best of him. He had gone up to the teacher of Class 1-A of the Hero Course and asked if he would train him. Hitoshi had gone up to Eraserhead, no doubt the strongest underground pro hero to ever exist, and essentially asked him to take pity on him and train him to get into his class.

“He said we’d start sparring today. He’ll see how hopeless I am, tell me to keep at it, and then leave. That’s all there is to it.” Finishing his last stretch, Hitoshi settled on the ground, a hard exhale leaving him as his muscles already started to ache; although it was nowhere near as bad as the last few times he had done his stretches. “Ah, well… It’s to be expected.”

Hitoshi was just a kid from General Studies who was butting in where he didn’t belong, but that didn’t mean he was just going to give up and do nothing. If it ended after today, well… he always had next year’s Sports Festival, at least. This was the training session that would decide it all, though. If he had any shred of hope for being a future hero, he would need to show it now.

Hearing the gym door pushed open, Hitoshi scrambled to his feet, trying to shove down the unavoidable spike of childish glee at seeing Eraserhead walking in. He really needed to get over that lingering hero worship before it got him in trouble.

“Good. You’re here.” Eraserhead - Aizawa, Hitoshi reminded himself - looked as tired as he always did, bags under his eyes and body curved in exhaustion. Hitoshi knew just how quick he could be, though, and how that exhaustion could fade for deadly force in an instant. “Stretches?”

“I went through all twelve,” Hitoshi nodded, pretending for a moment he could see pride in Aizawa’s eyes. It wouldn’t hurt too badly to pretend just for a moment.

“You said you had limited knowledge in fighting, right?” It hurt to admit, but Hitoshi gave a short nod. He should have been trying to learn some type of fighting before coming to U.A., but he hadn’t thought he would even make it into General Studies. That was a mistake on his part, and one he needed to pay for, now. “A lot of kids have that same limited knowledge when they come here. Your quirk isn’t a physical one, though, which puts you at a disadvantage.”

Something Hitoshi already knew and something Aizawa had told him about when this started. Hitoshi’s quirk wasn’t suited towards combat. It relied on surprise and no previous knowledge of what he could do. It wasn’t physical, but then again, neither was Erasure. Eraserhead essentially fought quirkless. All he did was level the playing field; a luxury Hitoshi wouldn’t get.

“You need to be able to go up against people who will be stronger, faster, and have quirks that you won’t be able to escape. You may be able to control them, but that doesn’t mean shit if you get killed in the first few minutes of the fight. Understand?”

“Yes, Eraserhead-sensei.” At the slowly raised eyebrow, Hitoshi tried to shove down his embarrassment, correcting himself with a quiet, “Aizawa-sensei.”

“We’ll start simple, then. I’ll lead you through a few examples, have you copy them, and then we’ll put them into practice by the end. We only have a few hours instead of the weeks this would normally take.” Aizawa’s grin grew, a sharp, toothy thing that reminded Hitoshi of old movies he used to watch when there was nothing else on. “Unless you want to back out now.”

Hitoshi narrowed his eyes, feeling a mix of anger, spite, and understanding rise within him. This was a challenge and it wasn’t one he would let himself lose. He said as much with a quiet, “I’m ready for whatever you want to teach me.”

At least, Hitoshi had thought he was ready, but he was starting to learn that there was no way of being ready when fighting one-on-one with Eraserhead.

The start wasn’t so bad, Hitoshi studying the poses and moves Aizawa went through before copying them, letting himself be poked and prodded every time he made a mistake; which was often. It took two hours until Aizawa was satisfied enough and Hitoshi was exhausted by the end of it. It would have been fine if it ended there, but then they went into the actual sparring.

Aizawa hadn’t been kidding about being at this for hours, Hitoshi feeling like he was on the verge of a heart attack as he tried to keep up with Aizawa’s movements, blocking attacks and throwing back his own weak punches which were easily blocked - not that that mattered. Hitoshi was pretty sure he could land a hit and it would only feel like punching a brick.

Despite all odds, though, Hitoshi felt as if he was finally starting to get the hang of it, frantic thoughts calming and relaxing as he fell into a rhythm of blocking and punching, mind narrowing in on the goal of landing at least one hit before the session came to an end. Just one hit might prove he could do something right and earn him a bit more time.

So focused on hitting, Hitoshi didn’t notice his concentration slip until he stumbled in his steps at a hasty dodge, exhaustion long since past the point of weighing him down. Getting his feet back under him, Hitoshi jerked his gaze back just in time to see a fist flying towards his face.

Exhausted, off-guard, and thoughts a mess, Hitoshi followed his body’s immediate instincts, freezing in place, slamming his eyes shut, and bracing his body for the hit that was about to come.

An agonizing few seconds of waiting happened before Hitoshi heard a quiet, “Shinsou.” Cracking his eyes open to see Aizawa, Hitoshi’s breath left him in a rush of air, thoughts slotting back into place as he realized this was a sparring session. No one was trying to attack him. It was just sparring.

Taking a moment to focus himself, Hitoshi realized Aizawa was still staring at him. His stance had dropped completely and Aizawa was looking at him with a complicated expression that was a mix of so many things Hitoshi couldn’t even begin to name them. If he had to guess, pity was no doubt one of them.

“Sorry,” Hitoshi finally said, feeling as if his heart was pounding out of his chest as he realized just how badly he had messed up. “I got distracted.”

Aizawa was quiet for a moment, finally asking a simple, “How many fights have you been a part of?” Hitoshi flinched at that, trying to figure out how to answer. He didn’t even get to before Aizawa cut him off with a hard, “Not how many you started.”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Hitoshi did his best not to look at Aizawa, breathing out slowly and trying to calm his heart before he really did give himself a heart attack. He finally managed to struggle out a quiet, “A lot.”

“How many of them were bigger or older than you?” The question was simple, but Hitoshi’s teeth clicked together from how fast he shut his mouth, memories of how it wasn’t always his classmates to attack him filling his head. “Shinsou.”

“It’s really not that bad, Sensei, I was just caught off-guard and let myself get distracted. I promise it won’t happen again if you decide to keep training me, I promise-”

“Hitoshi.” His name wasn’t shouted at him, or yelled, or said like he was in trouble. It was more… like an exhausted realization. “How many?”

Hitoshi swallowed, eyes flitting up to Aizawa’s face as he managed a near whisper of, “A lot.”

“Okay.” Aizawa breathed out a heavy sigh for a moment, exhaustion seeming to cling to every part of him before he nodded. “Okay.”

He walked over towards him and Hitoshi just barely managed to suppress his flinch, startled and confused when Aizawa stood beside him and took up a new stance, giving Hitoshi an expectant look. Letting his confusion grow, Hitoshi warily copied the stance, Aizawa nodding.

“What I was showing you before is good when you need to constantly be on the move and ready to throw your own attack back, but this stance is better for ducking oncoming attacks and, eventually, disengaging from the fight entirely.”

Hitoshi was breathless, staring at Aizawa as he realized what the man was doing. Just like before he had walked in, Hitoshi’s head was filled with more than it could hold, but all he could get out was a quiet, “You don’t…” He didn’t know how to end it. There were too many ways to end it.

“There’s a difference.” Aizawa’s voice was quiet, barely louder than the pounding in Hitoshi’s ears. “There’s a difference between fighting villains and fighting bullies.” Aizawa took a slow, steady breath, looking back at him with not a trace of regret or reluctance. “I’m going to show you how to deal with both of them.”

Feeling the burning in his eyes start, Hitoshi shot his gaze towards the ground, too much going on in his head to begin to make sense of it. After a minute or two of steadying himself, he finally managed to pick out two words, voice soft and quiet and grateful as he whispered, “Thank you.”

Maybe all of this wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.