#naw just get worried that it’ll be worse than i think it’ll be and then i’ll get really bad lol

[lilyflxwers]

me when i get offered something i’ve always wanted: ‘i better turn it down nothing good comes from having good things’

[charleslee-valentine]

Flesh and Blood need Flesh and Blood

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Disability Pride Month event: Day 6- Underestimated

Word Count: ~3,100

Warnings: Blood and violence. Accidental killing. Period typical ableism & ableist language. Mild panic attacks. Domestic abuse. Religious aspects.

_________

“Take him home. Now, boy.” Drayton Sawyer barks in his middle brother’s face, keeping his yelling hushed to avoid causing a scene.

“Y-Yessir.” Nubbins, for his part, gives a nod and takes off running, only stopping when his clammy hands wrap around the handles of a wheelchair.

Franklin’s wheelchair.

It’ll be a long walk from here, takin’ the road shoulder all the way from the gas station to home, but Drayton’s got a mess to clean and customers to serve that oughta take priority over drivin’ the boys home. Couldn’t be arranged unless it was planned, and nothin’ about today had been goin’ in that sort of direction.

The boys were all together in the station’s yard, running not wheeling or wobbling to the best of their abilities. Using whatever toys they could scrounge together they’d made a game, pitchin’ crushed soda cans, wads of dry gum, a bouncy ball, and so so long as they could smack it around with a bat. Ain’t no objective, though eventually they started trying to catch each other’s swings.

Bubba’s only nine still and learnin’ to upkeep all the things he’d been taught. It’s harder work for him to retain things in his brain, so he stumbles when he walks and struggles to hold a fork at supper, but that’s just Bubba. Mangled little face and all, that’s the Sawyers’ kid brother and he’s goin’ to be included in their play.

Ain’t up to no yuppie scum t’ decide who’s doin’ what and where. Don’t stop them from sharin’ uncalled for opinions.

“That boy out there, you ought lock him up ‘fore someone gets hurt. Teenaged, child, whatever. Don’t matter to them like that. Those are freaks of nature, ‘n whatever they are, they’s goin’ ruin it all the same. Comin’ after the comfortable. You know what I’m sayin’.”

The man wouldn’t stop lecturing Drayton about allowing Bubba to play in the yard with his brother and a friend, like that was the worst option. Like he had any clue of when Mama was perfectly willing to let the state take Bubba for a price, just before her disappearance from the picture. Had a lot of nerve bein’ so ignorant out loud.

Well thing is, Franklin was playing batter, and the man was storming over to lecture here too, and Drayton wasn’t quick enough comin’ ‘round the counter to stop it, and he just reacted. Swing the bat.

Broke the man’s nose on the first swing, saw blood and panicked. Kept swingin’ and jabbing with the bat ‘til his instincts told him the threat was gone and he could stop. Just like swatting a bug.

Except a man’s skull was spilling its contents all over the ground, and nobody even said a word. Nubbins went straight to helping his big brother carry it, Bubba took the bat and ran it inside. The practiced nature of what they were doing, hiding the evidence, didn’t really occur to Franklin just yet. His mind was focused on the trouble he’d face from the law or his parents or even God for this, nevermind if the Sawyers didn’t care.

Now Nubbins is just pushin’ him along like it’s not an issue in the world, and Franklin can’t help but worry out loud, “Oh Lord, why’d I do that?”

“D-Do what?” Nubbins tilts his head and leans down into Franklin’s line of vision, slowing their forward progress from leaning on the wheelchair so heavily.

“You saw me! I killed that man!” Franklin’s voice cracks harshly, his cheeks tinging pink from the embarrassment of that, as if that’s worse than homicide.

But Nubbins straightens out some and casually reminds him, “He was mean.”

Franklin blinks away the surprise of his casual nature and sputters, “Lots of people are mean! But I hit him ‘cross the head with a steel bat! That’s mean too, dontcha think?”

“Nawh.”

“Naw?! Nubbins I'm goin’ to prison. I beat a guy to death and my fam’ly gonna hate me, they ain’t never gonna let me back! Not even God’s gonna want me, it’s gotta be a sin to kill another man. Oh Lord I’m goin’ to Hell Nubbins!”

With Nubbins behind him and nobody around for miles, Franklin won’t deny he started crying.

Nubbins shocks him out of it again with a curious comment, “Wh-What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Franklin sniffles, picking at his nails nervously.

His friend downright giggles, “Hell. What’s Hell l-like? I-I never been there.”

Sometimes he forgets the Sawyers aren’t of the faith, seeing it’s so common in his own life. Had to lie downright and tell his mama that they’re church goers alright, just a different sect so they’ll never see them on Sundays. Think he said they was witnesses or somethin’. Sometimes it felt like God was more important to them than even he was, a lonely child ignored for the sake someone they don’t even know’s grace.

Now ain’t the time to be doubtin’ his beliefs, so he sticks to them, and explains, “Hell is where the bad people go when they die.”

“You isn’t a.. a bad people. That other guy was. H-He was mean to Bubba. Anyone m-mean to Bubba gots to sp-splatter.” One of his hands comes down on the rubber lined handle of the wheelchair, making a dull thud that rattles Franklin’s bones. Almost worse than his comment, “H-He smashed up r-real good too, Frankie!”

“Oh God, I’m gonna be sick..” Franklin gets overwhelmed until it tightens in his stomach and feels funny in his throat. He covers his mouth, “You got a bag I could throw up in?”

Despite Franklin’s urgency, Nubbins sounds so casual, “Jus’ lean o-over.”

“My spine is paralyzed silly, I cain't just lean any way I wanna.” Correcting him works to calm Franklin down some at least, staying level headed so he don’t yell at Nubbins over forgetting a good excuse to breathe normal.

“Oh. I c-can help lean ya.” He offers patiently, impressive for Nubbins.

Franklin decides a few deep breaths’ll do. “It’s alright- No I don’t think I’m gonna be sick no more. It’s alright.”

“My sick lasts a.. a l-lot l-longer than that!” There’s something like admiration there in his voice. Like it’s got nothin’ to do with Epstein-Barr and it’s just some talent Franklin has that makes him feel better.

He laughs softly, “That’s ‘cause you got a condition.”

“Nuh-Uh.” Nubbins argues, even though it isn’t true.

“Oh, alright.” Franklin just agrees ‘cause that’s easier. And things are good for a while, pleasant. ‘Til his worries come out again and the reality of running away from murder with Nubbins sets in, “You think your brother is mad at me?”

“N-No. Not you. H-He don’ hit no o-outsiders.”

“I ain’t an outsider. I’m your best friend.”

Switching to pushing the wheelchair with only one hand, he shakes out the other, happy from hearing Franklin say that. Nubbins wants Franklin to be happy too, “That’s true. B-But.. I won’ let him hurt ya! I-I’ll take the beatin’. It’s no t-trouble.”

Somehow, that brings more dread into Franklin’s heart, “Critter, that don’t make me feel better.”

Not knowing a better way to settle it, Nubbins just shrugs and keeps down the path towards home, imitating buzzing car engines as they pass, or the crunch of Franklin’s wheels along the cracking road. Ain’t all that worried honestly for the crime scene they’re leaving behind.

That’s when Franklin remembers that the second he had swung the bat, Bubba got overwhelmed by the confrontation and run off towards home. Can tell he’s in there from the curtains being drawn up tight when he knows for certain they was open when he got dropped off this morning.

Nubbins seems to remember about the same and takes off jogging a little faster down the rest of the drive, shaking Franklin’s wheelchair around accidentally. He lets it slide since it’s a big brother’s concern for his sibling causing the rush and don’t ask him to slow down.

After dragging him backwards up the stairs, Nubbins shoves the door open and calls out, “B-Bubba, you home yet?”

If they’re quiet, they can both hear a quiet chuffing noise deep in the house somewhere, Bubba making noises like a pig to soothe himself.

“C’mon L-Leatherface, answer me if- if you’s here!” Nubbins raises his voice some impatiently while pulling Franklin inside after himself.

This time they get some babbling in response, and though Franklin wishes he understood the little Sawyer’s language, he’s not a master yet.

It’s a good thing Nubbins answers his question just fine, “Yeh, I-I got Frankie with me. You c-come out. I need- I need helps with supper.”

Out of the basement he emerges, no sign of the distress beyond an extra layer of clothes, a soft jacket he wears when he needs the comfort. Don’t know who it belonged to for it to be so large, hanging down past his curled up hands and almost to his knees, but he loves that thing. At some point, Franklin realized it was a woman’s robe and thought it might belong to his mother, but she’s a mystery to Franklin too.

“Cook gonna be o-ornery when he gets home, so’s I-I want you to help make s-somethin’ good!” Taking on the big brother role, Nubbins bosses him around, “Me ‘n F-Frankie, we gonna clean up and get- get the house nice, s-so you gonna cook!”

All together they get it presentable, sweeping the floors and wiping down the counters. Franklin is assigned to the dining room only since he’s never been in the kitchen, setting up a fancy table cloth and some plates. Never seen the place look so tidy before, wonders if they only do cleaning up for the holidays or guests.

Somehow it all feels like he’s preparing for the gallows, sentenced to a hanging the very moment Drayton gets home and subjects him to whatever punishment he’s got to face. An eye for an eye, killed by the same bat maybe? The police called on him and shooting him blank in the head when he cries. Hopefully not one of the oldest Saywer’s signature beatings, he’d almost rather one of the other choices.

He’s shaking like a leaf by the time Drayton cracks the door open, talking to them at a low tone ‘cause he knows they’d be close, not stupid enough to hide after this.

“Boys. Today’s uh- been a big day, huh?”

Draytons words trail off into a chuckle, but everyone else stays silence. Franklin gives a wet sniffle, on the verge of tears again.

Putting his hands on the back of the master chair, he leans forward and glances down the table, showing a crooked smile. “Supper don’t look too bad. Uh. I brought you uh- somethin’ down from the station-“

Over his shoulder, he gestures to a grocery bag he left by the door.

Nubbins starts bouncing in his seat, drumming his palms against the table, “I-Is it the beeve!?”

“Don’t you go ruinin’ the surprise!” Drayton kicks the seat of his chair, all that modest cheer melted into fury in the literal blink of an eye, “Did you tell him?!”

Franklin swallows thickly, “Tell me what, sir?”

“About the meat!”

“No.. I.. No sir. I don’t got a clue what you’re talkin’ about. Either of ya.”

“In that case-“ He goes off to retrieve the bag and brings it to the table, raising it up along with his eyebrows at the same time, nudging it forward until he unveils what’s inside. Butchered meat, it seems, but the third piece comes out with lightly burnt skin left on, and a tattoo. “Congratulations, Franklin! You’re one of us now!”

“My- My firstie t-time was a long time ago. You’s jus’ a l-late bloomer like Bubba!” Nubbins adds, clapping Franklin on his shoulder over and over, like he’s petting a dog.

Franklin who’s mouth has gone so dry he’s got to down half his whole glass of sweet tea, “You’re talkin’ about killin’.”

“Uh-huh! Mine was a.. Bank man! B-Bank man come to take Drayton’s truck away, h-he put his hands on me, a-an’ I slashed his ugly neck r-right open!” Nubbins excitedly imitates an over-exaggerated spraying of blood by pushing air between his teeth and making the splatter with his hands.

It’s amusing, but the gravity of what they’re telling him holds Franklin’s joy down deep inside, “I jus’ don’t understand why. I never known anybody in the whole world to be like this. Killers this way.”

“We gots to eat.” Clearly repeating what somebody else told him, Nubbins gives a noncommittal shrug, “D-Dogs in the world ‘an stuff, w-we gots to eat each other.”

Ah. So he is right about that. Drayton cooked up the man he killed on accident and brought it home as some kind of treat for the boys.

Franklin tries to avoid havin’ to do the act by bringing up his own condition, diabetes type one, “Surely that ain’t good for my blood sugar. I got that disease you know, makes my sugar go up and down and I gotta watch it real close-“

“B-B-But you been eatin’ it j-jus’ fine all this time!” Nubbins interrupts him.

That’s when it clicks. He’s been doin’ what they do. Gettin’ so close to the Sawyers, the town loonies, was gonna end in somethin’ like this he s’posed. Everyone who said he’d always be a weak little baby, well they just didn’t know that he had it written in the stars he was gonna be a killer.

“Sally said the meat tasted rotten.” He comments vaguely, realizin’ he really is special this time.

Nubbins scoffs, never the biggest fan of Sally. “Sh-She would.”

“Oh hush. You aren’t to lay a hand on her, you hear?” Franklin scolds, but it’s just gently, just to make sure he isn’t doin’ the wrong thing by sittin’ at this table and not running.

Well, wheeling. He’d probably not outwheel Nubbins’ run, even if he’s got the arm strength to cave in a human skull.

“Never ever.” Making a cross over his heart, Nubbins declares it to him, “I swears, o-on my s-sick Granny.”

Dead granny. Franklin knows the woman ain’t still kickin’ no matter how much Nubbins insists she is. Though with this revelation he’s goin’ through lately, it prob’ly ain’t a lie that she’s in the upstairs of their house.

“Jesus. Well alright.”

The rest of the agreement is eat the evidence of his crime with the boys, then he’s free to go home. Seems so simple, it gets Franklin’s heart just pounding in his chest.

“I don’t.. Gotta keep up the killin’ now, do I?” He asks, on his way out to get driven back next door.

“Wouldn’t imagine.” Drayton is the only one out here yet while Nubbins runs around like a madman packing back up a bag of toys he’d scattered all around, forgetting Franklin wouldn’t get to stay forever.

“And I’m allowed to go home?” Franklin keeps asking, sounding feeble and scared.

This time he gets a scoff, like he should find that obvious, “Don’t do kidnappin’. Never let the boys keep one longer than a single night. After that- Lights out.”

One more, “And you really won’t hurt my family?”

“Not the girl, anyhow. No promises on your old man.” Drayton cackles, downright, like some kind of witch.

Franklin knows the bastard ain’t kind, certainly not to his own uncle Lefty or his wife, or actually his kids now that he thinks about it, but he’s not sure his Daddy deserves death over that. “That ain’t funny.”

“Wasn’t joking.” The oldest Sawyer assures him, cold smile dropping away again. “Siblings, they mean a lot more to the heart. You’ll understand that someday way I do.”

He extinguishes the cigarette he’d been smoking right in Franklins face by crushing it against a window sill, “That’s your little sister an’ I’ll respect it. Not a hair outta place on little Sally’s head.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“In exchange for that you keep your damn yap shut.”

Eagerly, to show he ain’t gonna two time, Franklin nods his head, “Yes sir! This stays between me and y’all and the Lord.”

He gets a disgruntled comment under Drayton’s breath that he doesn’t even hear, “Shit, you’re jus’ like your uncle, boy.”

His faith been tested today, but he oughta lean into it while he can. Keep himself from goin’ completely off the edge. Somehow the Sawyers seem to have managed that much, though, like Drayton said, they’ve got each other. God is so far away, nothin’ at all like a sibling he can hate or hold in his arms, depending on the day.

God severs the spine of a little baby and leaves him to die with prayers and prayers from his family that never quite reached him. Little babies grow up into boys in wheelchairs, who can’t even eat a handful of sweet berries without his body threatening to give up on him. Grow into killers, given the right support. Ain’t gotta let himself lose now.

Drayton seems to hear all that thinkin’ somehow, some twisted way of his, and goes back on his word on the truck drive. He waves Franklin away, “Go on and get. Nubbins’ll get ya back home. Tell ‘em I needed your help handin’ me tools down the station and lost track of time. They’ll believe that.”

A test of will or an alibi, he ain’t quite sure, but he nods his head. Just one thing he’s worried about, “If they don’t?”

“You tell me. We’ll do what needs done.” Drayton says it like it’s simple, and clenches one hand, bringing it up in the air and then back down. Franklin realizes he’s miming stabbing someone or beatin’ ‘em with a hammer.

“Um… Thank you Mr. Drayton. For not killing me too.” They both flinch when Nubbins finally slams the door open so hard it clatters against the wall, earning him a quick slap before they can continue on their way. “Um. Goodnight, sir.”

Halfway down the trail, Nubbins glances back at the shrinking house light.

“You scared of big brother, a-ain’t ya?”

“A little.” Franklin confesses.

Makes him a little sad when Nubbins whispers, “Me t-too..”

It’s them two that’re bonded. Theres bad on both sides, from a rotten temperament to a lack of care, to stuck up Sally and mean old Drayton. His home is with his best friend, in his heart, just as Sawyer as any of the others. That’s his comfort for a long time, knowing he’s capable, got backup when he needs it, and a dead body under his belt. Ain’t no invalid.

[second-chance-stray]

RP Log: Riylli, Rising, and Cravs rethink a plan.

(Rising Lotus) Help me come up with a name for my Shiny Marill (Cravendy Hound) meryl streep (Rising Lotus) Mmmmmmmm nah (Riylli Aliapoh) azumeryl streep (Cravendy Hound) sdfs azumeryl

Riylli Aliapoh waves to Rising as she enters the room. "Hey, you finally made it!" She says, despite only arriving herself only about a minute ago. "Okay! Now we can finally start! The goal for tonight is to figure out a way to deal with that Rot lady! And maybe get a little drunk. But just a little, got it?"

Cravendy Hound sweeps a neat pile of sawdust into the corner and then disappears into the back to put her broom away. Contrary to Riylli's suggestion, she comes out with her arms full of bottles.

Rising Lotus walked in and immediately took a seat at the bar, leaning back against the counter. "Do you think it's a good idea to plan while drinkin'? Also you missed bar night last night!...well I 'spose you didn't miss much though. Slow night."

Riylli took her seat beside Rising. "...Wasn't really in the mood." She muttered, waving her hand dismissively. "And were only gonna get a little drunk, remember? Just enough to spark our creativity!"

Rising Lotus shrugs and give Riylli a dismissive wave. "Don't worry I get it, between Mivo an' Mayumi. Nothin' wrong with takin' a night to yourself, you were missed though." she gave Riylli a smile and a thumbs up, spinning on her stool after to eye up the selection.

(Riylli Aliapoh) ("Only a little drunk")

Cravendy Hound deposits everything on the counter, leaving scant room for cups. "Just enough to spark our creativity, aye."

Riylli Aliapoh 's ears folded back a bit at that, not sure how to respond. "I'll... Show up for the next one then... But you better keep those two away from me, got it?" She said, turning to grab whichever bottle nearby had 'Mead' written on it

Cravendy Hound: "A guy came in and showed us 'is lack of eye. Pretty gross." Cravs turns to open the cabinets behind her and places a stack of empty cups at the far end of the counter.

Riylli Aliapoh: "W...Why'd he go and do that..?" Riylli made a face of disgust at the thought. It was probably for the best that she had not been there

Rising Lotus: "Aye he did, looked super gross...though I guess Crav's asked him to show us, an' your not NOT gonna look at that if given an' opportunity right?"

Cravendy Hound: "I told 'im to! Wanted to know if it was just for show," Cravs laughs. She ducks down for a second and pulls up a set of ingredients - frozen pineapple, oranges, cherries and a bit of mint. "...I nearly died gettin' these pineapples awhile back, so. 'ere, I'll make us somethin' tasty."

Riylli Aliapoh stuck out her tongue at Rising. "No way, that's gross!" She grumbled, taking a swig of her bottle. She raised an eyebrow at Cravs' words. "...How do you almost die gettin' pineapples?"

Rising Lotus "They better be tasty if you almost bit it tryin' to get 'em. An' I suppose they could fallen on her, prick her with them pointy parts." she thinks for a few moments. "...do pineapples grow on trees? I know those hard brown things do.."

Cravendy Hound 's mouth sets in a hard line. She pointedly ignores Riylli's question and focuses her attention on juice the fruit.

Riylli Aliapoh gives Rising a worried look at Cravs' reaction, but decides to change the subject. "...Anyroad, all that aint important. We gotta figure out a plan to deal with Rot after all! So... Uh... Any suggestions..?"

Cravendy Hound: "They grow in bushes, actually."

Rising Lotus "So they ain't related to pine trees or cones at all then? Why they called that then?" considering she forgot why they were here before they started drinking, it looked like it might be a long night.

Cravendy Hound: "Well, speakin' in a general sense...we could do somethin' legal, illegal, or in between." Cravs pours a bit of pineapple and orange juice in a glass full of ice, and then dumps the rest of the ingredients in. Vodka, cherry, mint. "I....I don't know, actually? Just know the bush they grow outta doesn't look like a pine tree."

Riylli Aliapoh: "Focussss" She hissed at Rising, shooting her a glare. "Pineapples aint important right now! Aint you supposed to be the smart one outta all of us?"

Cravendy Hound: "Oy, and why ye gettin' 'ung up on the 'pine' part? What about 'apple'? Doesn't look or taste like an apple at all!"

Rising Lotus looks at Riylli for a few moments, the turning to Cravs. "... I don't know if that's a good thing, I mean.. smart enough to not do some of the dumb shit you to do I 'spose...but I guess that's jus' cause one of us has to be alive to take the other two home. Huh."

Riylli Aliapoh: "Wha-? I don't do dumb shite! You've seen my magic, I'm really smart!" She insists, immediately getting sidetracked as well.

Rising Lotus "...you're right... it doesn't taste or look like an' apple...an' I think we all only are smart in like, some very particular areas really. I mean I dunno, I never felt that smart...cept for like fishin' an' fightin'."

Cravendy Hound: "Oy, we're 'ere to talk plans, right?! So come on! Drink up, and get those juices flowin'!" Cravs pushes the bottles aside and deposits cocktails in front of Rising and Riylli.

Riylli Aliapoh eyes the drink suspiciously, but eventually gave in and replaced her mead. Her ears flickered as she tasted it, looking up to grin at Cravs. "It's good! I was worried it was gonna be all bitter like that other stuff you... Er... L-Like other drinks. In general. Y'know..."

Rising Lotus took a long drag from the drink, giving a nod of approval. "What other stuff you drinkin'? I mean I 'spose a lot of booze is bitter." she took another swig, blinking a few times afterwards. "...plannin' though...I think we ought to be careful, loanshark types aren't shy when it comes to doin' nasty things to folk they don't like."

Cravendy Hound: "Is knowin' magic a measure of smartness? Like, couldn't ye just use it on instinct? Then it'd be dumb magic." Cravs rambles as she picks up her own glass to sip on. She beams at Riylli's compliment. "Aye, can't beat a good fruity drink every now and again."

Riylli Aliapoh: "Of course magic is a measure of smartness! All the big mages are real smart folk, like that leh-vee-yur guy!" She said, before suddenly shaking her head. "Wait, no, planning dammit! I say the best way to get rid of her is by gettin' the law to lock her away, like Cravs planned. Just... think we should go about it a different way."

Rising Lotus: "I'm sure she's in the pockets of some of the Yellow Jackets though, coin is worth more than justice most the time. Used to hear 'bout it from my ma all the time growin' up. She'll weasel her way out probably."

Cravendy Hound nods to Rising's words. "Aye. The type where if ye cut off one head, two more will take its place. We definitely should avoid killin' anyone, cause that'll just make things worse."

Riylli Aliapoh glares at Cravs. "Of course were not killing anyone! Were the good guys, we don't do that kind of junk." She said, crossing her arms defiantly. "She can't be in the pockets of ALL those... 'yellow jackets' though, right? Just gotta make sure whatever we pin on her can't be covered up"

Cravendy Hound: "Lever-err...? That's the pipsqueak that was responsible for all that Crystal Brave stuff, right? Or was it...Urrre-ranger." Cravs rubs at her temples as she tries to recall. So much had happened while she wasn't 'paying attention.'

Rising Lotus "That an' we'll probably be arrested ourselves, along with what Cravs said of course!" she took another sip. "Hmm... most folks like her, place to hit where it'll hurt would be her wallet." she rubbed her chin "How many ways does she got gil comin' in?"

Cravendy Hound: "That was my main goal, actually. If people know she's sellin' stolen goods, then even if she pays off the Yellow Jackets, 'er reputation is sure to tank. And then, she won't 'ave the cash or time to mess round with Baldur."

Riylli Aliapoh takes another sip of her drink, clearly enjoying it judging by the way her ears wiggled. "...So how do we go about doin' that? Steal the stolen stuff from her? Or... Set a trap maybe..?"

Rising Lotus "Maybe get somethin' everyone will know will be stolen? Then when she tries to hock it she'd get caught?" she shrugged,  nearly draining her drink with the next sip. "Jus' need to make sure it's somethin' big...but somethin' she wouldn't recognize." she nodded a few too many times at her words, must of been a strong drink.

Cravendy Hound: "...if we steal the stolen stuff from 'er, then it'll just look like we stole it. And I don't think she'd be bold enough to try to sell somethin' that's well known."

Riylli Aliapoh: "...Then... What if we try buyin' somethin'? But set it up so the yellowjackets are there to see it happen?"

Rising Lotus shook her head "Naw, we'd never know if they'd be on her side or not..

Rising Lotus leand on elbow as she ponder, sipping up the remnants of her drink. "What... if...we trick her into stealin' from another type like her...someone more powerful?"

Cravendy Hound: "...It /could/ work. But she sells spice, so 'ow could we prove it was stolen? A bag of salt is as good as any."

Riylli Aliapoh thinks for a moment. "Well... What if it aint yellowjackets..? What if we used the wood wailers? Or the brass blades? Theres no way she'd be in the pockets of those guys, so... If we pull her out there with good enough bait..."

Cravendy Hound raises a brow at Rising's suggestion and thinks to herself. "Might blow up in our faces, but that's an interestin' idea."

Rising Lotus: "I mean that's an option, but she probably has a pretty set territory right?" she slid her glass forward towards Cravs, not so subtly wanting a refill. "It's have ta be somethin' big to bring here out here or in Thanalan."

Cravendy Hound: "Hm, well. Brass Blades ain't worth a penny, but the Wood Wailers might be stiff enough. Problem is gettin' 'er all the way out 'ere." Cravs refills Rising's cup.

Riylli Aliapoh seeing Rising do it, Riylli outstretches her cup as well for Cravs to refill. "Well, you were tryin' to get her attention with milkroot weren't you? I'm guessin' that's what that toad ooze was for at least..?"

Cravendy Hound pours Riylli a generous refill. "Aye, well...the toad ooze is supposed to be the bait. Somethin' that my friends would steal and then peddle to Rot."

Rising Lotus happily retrieves her glass and takes a sip, smacking her lips together after swallowing with a refreshed sigh. "She we still try that? I mean I 'spose we never got a chance to see what happened. Otherwise is there any other powerfull folks that we could trick her to steal from?"

Cravendy Hound: "It'd be more like, convincin' my friends to steal from someone powerful, and then hopin' Mindred buys it 'ot. Lady doesn't steal stuff directly...which means there's a risk that the blame'll end up fallin' on my friends instead."

Riylli Aliapoh noticably winced a bit as Cravs mentioned her friends. "W-What if I tried to sell it to her instead?" She speaks up suddenly. "She doesn't really know me, and everyone thinks Keepers are all criminals anyroad."

Rising Lotus grimaced at that idea. "I dunno, she did meet ya after all... an' you didn't come of as the most...knowin' 'bout business..ish." she hiccupped after getting to the end of her sentence, following it with another swig. "I 'spose if anythin' it is an' in with her..kinda..connects us an' Heartwood too though."

Cravendy Hound gives Riylli a long, hard look, and then finally shakes her head no. "Ye don't look the criminal part of ye ask me. And...I'm worried. Wouldn't we only be able to pin it on Rot if ye actually committed a crime?"

Riylli Aliapoh: "If she thinks I'm stupid, that just means she'll suspect me less!" Riylli insists, "I could easily find somethin' she'd want. I don't even gotta get it myself! Theres this little... Well... A black market I guess is what you'd call it. It get's pretty regular raids from the wailers, but everyone always ends up there again after a bit. If she's there when a raid happens, she'd get locked up for sure!"

Riylli Aliapoh: "I'm a Keeper. That makes me the 'criminal type' in most peoples eyes. Just ask Mivo"

Rising Lotus still looks a bit hesitant. "Do you think she'd go that far out Cravs? An' if this all happens, an' she does get locked away, how she gonna know that...err I mean, How is she not gonna suspect somethin'? She does know who ya are an' stuff, might send some of her lackeys after you, us, your clan."

Cravendy Hound picks up the carafe and tops of Rising's glass absentmindedly...pouring until it overfills. Somethings itching at the back of Crav's mind. "Do ye go to these black markets often? Riylli, do ye...are ye wanted?"

Cravendy Hound: "If we could get Rot to go to one of these black markets, it could just work. But I agree with Risin', it seems risky, and it could come back to bite ye Riylli."

Rising Lotus wasn't paying attention until it ran over her hand. "Hey, HEY!" she quickly reached her hand over to push Crav's hand back enough until she wasn't spilling, flicking her soaked digits in the woman's direction before sipping from the very top of her glass.

Riylli Aliapoh: "I-I do not!" She said quickly. "It's just... Before I started my adventurin' work... My clan didn't exactly have enough gil for medicine and stuff. So... We'd go sell pelts and stuff there... Gridania wouldn't let us sell with them, so we didn't really have a choice... But we never did anythin' bad! All our stuff was caught fair and square, no poaching or anything!"

Cravendy Hound: "...Oh, blast it." Cravs looks around for a towel to soak up the mess.

Riylli Aliapoh: "And if she gets caught up in a raid, theres no way she could blame that one me! We'd just... have to figure out a way to time it somehow... I'm sure someone in Heartwood must have connections, right? All we need to know is when, then we just gotta set up the deal!"

Cravendy Hound lets out a sigh. "Well, Riylli, ye sound used to dancin' round the Wailers. But if ye ever end up tossed in gaol, Risin' and I would be 'appy to pay the bail. Right?" She glances over at the other Roegadyn

Cravendy Hound: "We'll need a real good bait to lure Rot all the way to Gridania /and/ to a black market."

Rising Lotus "I 'spose it sounds like the most...thought out plan we've had all night." she shrugged, sputtering into her drink a bit at mention of paying Riylli's bail. "What? I mean, sure...long as it ain't way expensive or nothin'. How much it cost to be black market sellin'?" she cocked her head as she pondered what they should try to sell. "Well, what she like outside of her normal dealin's? Does she collect anythin'?"

Riylli Aliapoh crosses her arms. "They could never catch me." She mutters, turning away as she let the other two discuss bait

Cravendy Hound: "If the bails too expensive then we could..." Cravs punch a fist into her hand, and then cracks her knuckles. "...but, quietly."

Rising Lotus: "We'd need to pick a bit first before we go out an' steal somethin'." she glances around Crav's room. "...or maybe borrow somethin'? I'm sure we must have somethin' 'round here folks would want to get their hands on."

Riylli Aliapoh turned her head back. "H-Hey! Even if the wailers are mostly a buncha racist assholes, ya still can't do stuff like that! I said they won't catch me, the shroud is my territory remember? Even the Keeper's they got in their ranks wouldn't be as fast as someone who lives out there"

Cravendy Hound: "Anyway, 'ow we gonna lure Rot to the market? Sell stuff so cheap that she 'as to go check it out? Or, maybe if we find someone she trusts, and convince 'em to bring 'er there."

Rising Lotus grumbles "We need to get somethin' she's interested in! That'll bring her in, maybe tell someone she knows 'bout it so she'll come all this way." she took a long drink, mumbling into her drink about repeating herself.

Riylli Aliapoh: "Rising's got a point. Somethin' around here should spark her interest. She sells spice you said..? I bet Luma has some of that!"

Rising Lotus: "Or maybe somethin' really out there...folks with lots of money like weird dumb things."

Cravendy Hound: "Interest is one thing, trust is another...Rot's gonna be cautious, especially outside of 'er territory." Cravs crosses her arms and leans back as she tries to rack her brain people she could pull a favor from. "...Do ye think Momori might know Rot?"

Riylli Aliapoh: "Well... She seemed a bit sketchy, but I only ever met her once or twice. You guys'd know better than me"

Cravendy Hound chuckles a little when Riylli brings up Luma. "HAh! Bakin' and usin' spice is different from sellin' it! But...ye know. Haila might 'ave somethin' cool to sell."

Rising Lotus sneered. "I don't like the idea of ownin' her any favors...but aye Haila might have somethin' she'd be interested in. Or maybe some Gobbie stuff, sure some of that weird metal junk probably is expensive."

Riylli Aliapoh: "But he'd still HAVE some! And probably some rare Golmore stuff too since he's with Haila! I bet that'd get Rot's attention for sure!"

Cravendy Hound: "I'd gladly owe a favor to Momori if it means we can get Rot to come, cause I'm still not sold on the whole 'us sellin' crap to lure Rot' front. Wouldn't random people also want to buy shit?! What if she doesn't come and we just end up makin' a profit?"

Cravendy Hound blinks at at the mention of Golmore. "H-huh?! What in the bloody 'ells is Luma and Haila gettin' into...Bah. The less I know, the better."

Riylli Aliapoh: "Well... First we just gotta find out when the next raid is comin'. Once we know that, then we can figure out a way to convince Rot to show up on that particular night. Dangle some bait in front of her she can't resist! I can make sure it don't get sold to anyone before she arrives so she gets caught red-handed"

Rising Lotus "You know how she is, you sure you want that? Probably end up.. takin' one of your limbs or somethin' after sayin' she jus' needs a hand with somethin'.." she rubs her forehead " After the other day when all that happened I jus' wouldn't trust her."

Cravendy Hound opens her mouth, about to say something to go against Rising's concern...but can't find anything to say. It was true - the lalafell was objectively shady and untrustworthy. But it was those same qualities that made her think Momori would be able to pull the strings necessary to get Rot to show up.

Cravendy Hound: ".....Yeah, well, if she takes my 'and, then I can get a cool robot one."

Rising Lotus pounds her fist on the counter. "You ain't losin' your damn hand if I can help it!" she exhaled through her nostrils sharply. "Ngh..well if we are gonna go through her...maybe I should be the one to ask. She don't know much 'bout me, don't need her usin' your reputation in Limsa against ya." she drummed her fingers on the counter while she nursed her drink.

Riylli Aliapoh raises an eyebrow, but tries to stay on task. "Well... If one of you gets Momori on board, and the other gets some exotic spice, I can focus on finding a seller at the markets we can trust. Then we just need the info on the next raid's date! Momori claimed to have ties to the alliance, so maybe she has connections in the wailers as well?"

Cravendy Hound wags a finger at Rising. "There's no point in worryin' about somethin' uncertain! Damn lalafell might not even be able to 'elp us, so...Let's start by figurin' out about the raid and gatherin' stuff to vendor. The frog ooze can be our first product. I gotta get rid of the stuff somehow."

Riylli Aliapoh grins, clearly rather pleased with how this evening had turned out. "Gimme the toad ooze, it'll be real popular at the market since it makes milkroot crazy potent, so it'd make a great bribe to get a merchant on our side!"

Rising Lotus grumbles more as she finishes up her drink. "Well if we are gonna talk to her let me know an' I'll find her an' ask her..while avoided kickin' her 'cross the room." Her face was looking a bit flushes after she finished her second (and a half with her sloppy top off from Cravs) drink.

Cravendy Hound points at a barrel in the corner with her shoulder. "Ye can pick it up whenever. Just don't open it...apparently, agin' it makes it more potent, as well as smelly."

[impostertamsong]

Learning To Be Happy Again

You get an early release because Imma be real busy tomorrow and plan to not be as active (or not active at all). 

Also, a little warning for this one. Lord Cassius is not nice in this chapter, and I’m pretty sure this counts as emotional abuse, so, yeah. Also, just general angst.

Chapter Two: Guess What Happened? You’ll Never Guess

I wake up in a cold sweat, blanket tangled around my legs. 

“Keefe, are you okay?” Elwin’s voice comes from behind me.

“Oh, uh, yeah. It was just a dream.” I look over at Elwin. Even in the dark light I can tell he’s worried, but it’s not the kind of worry I’m used to. When Foster’s worried it feels more like a swarm of butterflies constantly surrounding the target. This feels like being snuggled in a warm blanket on a cold day, and I feel the need to tell him everything about the dream. It’s something I’m not used to, so I stop talking a little abruptly.  

Almost on cue, Elwin says, “Do you wanna talk about it?” I nod, but don’t say anything. “Well, okay, what was the dream about?”

“Well,” and then words just start pouring out of me. Though, despite my photographic memory, I can’t describe it quite right. All I can really say is: “It was dark, and I was being held down by shadows. Tam was there. I couldn’t move. It was so, so dark.” Elwin wraps his arms around me, and that odd worry feeling gets stronger. I can’t help but hold onto him like the world depends on it. This feels like something I should know, but don’t, and it doesn’t bother me. When he starts whispering that I’m okay, and that it’ll all be alright, it takes a lot of energy not to just completely lose it. What is this new feeling coming in? It’s so soft, pale pink and pure comfort. This feels familiar, but not at the same time. It’s like the feeling I used to get when my wonderful, beloved mother would comfort me, but less contained. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright,” Elwin whispers, pulling me out of my thoughts. I guess I started crying at some point, because tears are streaming down my face. 

“Thank, thank you,” I croak. 

“Is it okay if I leave you now?” Elwin moves to get up, but I grab his sleeve. 

“I, the dark. Can, can you stay with me?” He nods and then moves to get up again. 

“I’m just going to bring my bed over here so that I can be nearer to you, alright? I’m not leaving.” I nod shakily. But he could leave, I wouldn’t blame him. I mean, who would want to deal with a mess like me? I’m sixteen and afraid of the dark. How lame is that. 

“I’m back,” Elwin whispers. His hand takes mine and squeezes it. “Wake me up if you have another nightmare, okay? I don’t mind.” 

“Okay, goodnight, Elwin, and thanks,” I whisper back. The room is too quiet for speaking at a regular volume. 

“Goodnight, Keefe.”

I don’t have any more nightmares. 

The morning is uneventful, and soon I’ve changed back into my own clothes, Elwin’s hugged me good-bye, and I’ve light leaped to The Shores of Solace. 

“I’m home, Father Dearest!” I call through the house after I’ve closed the door. Said person is sitting in a chair, looking rather worse for wear. When he sees me, he stands up, and his face grows dark. 

“Why did nobody tell me you were awake?”

“Uh, I dunno. Probably just forgot or something.” 

“Forgot? Forgot? How could they! I’m your father!” He’s properly upset now, just the warm welcome I needed. “How long have you been awake.”

“Since yesterday afternoon, I think.” 

“Yesterday? That long? Why did you stay the night?” 

“Elwin wanted to make sure everything was stable, just in case.” 

“Elwin. Why didn’t he tell me!” he grumbles.

“I, I don’t know.” I scratch my neck. Dad looks there and sees the scars. 

“What. Is. That.”

“Oh, uh, it’s just a tattoo I got on the way back. Pretty cool, huh.”

“Don’t you dare joke with me.” He glares at me. 

“Um, it’s actually from the incident. They won’t go away. Elwin tried.” 

“Oh did he. I’m sure he tried very hard. You know, why didn’t you listen to your friends and stay behind. This wouldn’t have happened if you had. You would be fine and… unmarked.” He sneers the last word. 

“Yeah, and if I had, I’m sure they would’ve found me, or Tam would be dead.”

“Does that Song boy mean something to you?” 

“Well, no.” Why would he ask that? “But I wouldn’t want to have someone’s death on me. And Linh doesn’t need that anyway. Tam is all she’s got.” 

Dad sighs heavily. “But now you’ve got those marks. How’re you supposed to be successful with imperfections. You have enough.” 

“Well, I think I’m pretty great, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My words are empty, but that doesn’t matter. 

“Oh? Do you need me to repeat them? Your art, for one, is getting in the way of your success. Your mischievous outlook on life has given you more detentions than awards. You care more about your friends than your own family. And now these scars.”

“I don’t care.” And I don’t. How could those be imperfections if they’re all the things that bring me joy? 

“Go to your room. Now.” Dearest Daddy ever the forgiver. 

I flop on my bed and sigh. 

“So, you had a nice chat with Lord Snootypants then?” Ro is standing in the corner. 

“Mhm. Just the most wonderful welcome home you could ever expect. I got reminded just how much of a disappointment I am! Just what a kid wants to hear.” I laugh, the idea that I could have avoided this whole thing by hiding ricocheting around my brain. “It’s my fault isn’t it. I could’ve stayed behind and not furthered Mommy Dearest’s legacy for me or whatever.” Ro is silent. 

“You can’t let his words get to you,” she says wisely after a few moments. “Even if that were true, who knows what would’ve happened.” 

“Who are you, and what did you do with Ro? You didn’t get her personality right, impostor.” I sit up and point dramatically at her.

“I can be serious, weirdo. But tell anyone, and I’ll coat your pillow in some of that flesh eating bacteria. I hear it also goes through hair pretty quickly.” 

I screech. “Not the hair, Romhilda!” She glares at me, and I laugh. 

My imparter rings, breaking the light feeling. “Hey, Foster.” 

“Hey. You’re back at your house?” 

“Yeah, I am. Got a lovely welcome too!” 

“Oh, Keefe. Are you alright?”

“Just peachy!”

“Keefe.”

“Really! I’m fine, Foster. Don’t worry. I can tell you know.” She smiles slightly, cheeks slightly pink. 

“I still will, you know. I bet Forkle ingrained it into my DNA.” She laughs coldly. A familiar laugh. 

Dinner is tense and quiet. We’re having soup, so the only sounds are spoons on bowls. As soon as I finish, I stand up quickly and put my dishes away (after cleaning them, of course) and go to my room. 

“Let’s ditch this place.” I start gathering stuff before Ro even answers. 

“And where do you plan to go?” Ro has her arms folded. 

“Elwin, I guess. I don’t feel like bothering anyone else. And I get the feeling he cares? I dunno. Maybe it’s a stupid idea.” I stop rushing around the room and sit at the edge of my bed, face in my hands. 

“Naw, let’s go! Screw your dad!” Ro stands taller and smirks. “C’mon! Finish packing!” 

I smile. “Okay!” 

After a while, I go through the bag I’ve packed to make sure I’ve got everything. “Mrs. Stinkbottom, sketchpad, pencils, clothes, yup. That’s it! Let’s get out of here!”

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[specialmindz]

“dad?”

CLATTER!

CRASH!

“UGH! DAMNIT!”

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY PAPYRUS!”

CA-THUMP!

The scientist continued to fumble about the lab, searching for the appropriate parts to fix the generator.

“Ki-et down Daddy, you wake up Boo Boo!”

“Oh no, don’t mind me…I’m just happy to be here…” The little spirit monster shifted a bit in Sans’ grasp, having been mistaken for a pillow in the dark.

“You aren’t SUPPOSED to be here! NO ONE is to visit the lab at this hour!” replied Gaster, still searching for a flashlight. He didn’t approve of his littlest scavenging at the Dump, but every once in a while, Papyrus would bring home something he could use and the flashlight was one of them.

Figures he couldn’t find it now of all times.

What on earth could have happened? The magic crystals still have power in them and the generator itself is in perfect repair! This blackout makes no sense!

He wasn’t used to something being broken without Papyrus having some sort of hand in it.

“Just in case however, did you touch the generator Papyrus?”

The baby bones nodded vigorously, “Yep! We’s out of ghost food, so I decided to make snacks for Boo Boo, but we was out of the veggie oil.”

“Veggie oil?”

A few moments went by before the elder skeleton jumped suddenly in alarm and rushed out of the workshop, running downstairs into the True Lab’s living quarters, apparently heading for their kitchen.

“hey uh bro? you didn’t use the oil from the generator-”

“YOU DUMB LITTLE SHIT!”

“Oh nooo…”

Hiding his face in Sans’ shirt, Napstablook shook in terror, unused to the family’s quarrels. Though the scientist’s anger was nostalgic and reminded him of one of his cousins, it had been awhile since he’d heard any yelling and he had heard from Papyrus that Gaster wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. The fact that this was probably the spirit’s fault, made things even worse as he had been hoping to make a good impression on the family.

So much for that.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault…”

“naw, forget about it. you’re a guest, right? guests are supposed to get snacks. pap just made a mistake is all.”

“Heh heh heh…”

“hm? what’s so funny?”

“I like your accent.”

Papyrus looked up, grinning. “Me too, Snas from Boston, so he say stuff like 'fuhgeddaboudit' and ‘I’s hittin’ da’ bricks’ and ‘here’s lookin’ at you kid!”

“i don’t spell it like that! and what does that last one even mean?”

SHHHEERRAA!

Before the infant could answer, the elevator door opened and Gaster came rushing out. He didn’t stop to say anything to the children, he merely grabbed a vial of…something…and ran back in, keeping the door open with his wingdings.

Not that this was a good idea mind you, as he soon realized all too late that he wasn’t alone, just as the elevator closed and began its second descent.  

“I do hope you’s not planning on ruining mah new firepace stink Daddy,” said the baby, still wearing his smile from before.

“Huh? What the hell? How’d you get in here?!”

“I cuwalled.”

“Well when we get to the living quarters, you can CRAWL your miniature ass to your room! Do you know how difficult it is to put out an oil fire?”

“How this ellyvator work without da’ tricity? You learn Snas’ witchcraft?”

“Of course not. I’ve a second generator hidden downstairs…just in case you break the first one. Unfortunately, it doesn’t reach-”

“THERE A CWOSER BABY MASSAGER?!”

“Wh-what? ‘Baby Massager?’ Are you laying on the generator?”

“Yep! Is fun. I likes it better than the washy machine cause’ it always on. It feel nice on mah bones and it make me go UHUHUHUHUH…then I falls off.”

Gaster shook his head.

“What? What I do?”

“Though vibrations are good for bones and newborns alike, the generator is NOT the best tool to use because of the oil within it. THIS generator especially. This one, connected to the lab, is custom designed to keep running indefinitely…not something a normal generator should ever do. I haven’t a choice however, if I want to keep Mt. Ebott from erupting. The oil I use comes from a reservoir that’s FAR too close to the surface of Hotland. It needs to be depleted less there be an explosion, but no matter how much is used, there seems to be no end to it.”

“That sound like a solution to da’ power problem we gots dough. Why you not use it?” asked Papyrus curiously. He didn’t know much about oil, he assumed it was discovered and researched sometime after he was born. He hadn’t heard anyone else mention it before either…unless it had something to do with cooking. The stuff he had poured out of generator upstairs was a liquid, but liquids were supposed to put OUT fires, weren’t they? “The yellow made the oven a firepace. It cook mah food too good and now no one gets noms. It do other bad stuffs?”

“Yes it does…and that wasn’t vegetable oil Papyrus, it simply had the same color. That was generator oil and a result of refinement on my part. Unrefined oil, or Crude Oil, is a thick, black, eldritch sludge that kills all it touches. It’s made from the deceased bodies of creatures no one in recorded history has ever seen alive and has lied in wait within the earth’s crust for literally millions of years. That being said, it is unfortunately naturally occurring, and everyone aware of its existence is infatuated with it BECAUSE it’s such a huge power source. That’s why I’ve kept it a secret from the public and use it in my experiments as little as possible. It may grant us advanced technology almost immediately, but the things created with it also kill, albeit slowly, meaning you don’t have to come into contact with oil itself in order to become a victim. It’s not evil, but it will take some time before we can figure out a way to use it safely…and keep others from using it poorly.”

Gaster shuddered upon imagining the horror and chaos that would no doubt ensue if ever the monsters were to find out about his discovery. One small mistake is all it would take for Mt Ebott to erupt and annihilate everyone. Even the fire elementals would be destroyed, either drowned in lava or pushed into the barrier and rendered to dust.

“Papyrus, you must promise me that you will keep this a secret. I know it isn’t in your nature to do such a thing, but your life is at stake, along with everyone else’s. That includes Sans, you hear me? I don’t want him knowing about this reservoir less he be tempted to experiment with-PAPYRUS GET OFF THE GENERATOR! WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?!”

“UHUHUHUHUHUH!”

SHHHEERRAA!

“dad?”

CLACK!

The baby bones fell to the floor and crawled over to Sans.

“Hey Snas! SNAS!”

“hm?”

“DADDY FOUND OIL!”

“You son of a bitch.”

“cool. don’t play with it.”

“Why?”

“it’s like tar. it’ll make you smell bad and ruin your jammies.”

“Kay’.”

Papyrus used his wingdings to lay, once again, atop the generator.

“Sans, I must ask you to keep this oil reservoir a secret. Despite how desperate the power situation is, oil is not the answer for a civilization living within a volcano.”

“yeah i know about oil dad, i’m not dumb. i read more than space books ya’ know…”

“UHUHUHUHUHUHUH!”

“I’m well aware you know what oil is, I’m just SAYING-”

“NYEAH!”

CLACK!        

Gaster knocked Papyrus off the generator.

“I’m just saying, the temptation is there and it targets both the money-poisoned AND the lazy. There may come a time during an experiment where you feel oil will solve a particular problem, I assure you, it will cause more than it solves. We aren’t the only intelligent beings in the Underground, if you use oil to create something, it’s quite possible an individual will discover the usage through reverse engineering and in turn, wonder where exactly the oil CAME from.”

“NYEHHHHAAAHH!! SUCK-ASS DADDY! SEE THAT BOO BOO? DAT’S THAT BABY ABUSE I’S TALKIN’ BOUT’!”

“I-I didn’t s-see anything…also, what’s ‘oil?”

“ehh, don’t worry about it,” said Sans, thinking quickly. “you don’t eat our food right?”

“Oh, cooking oil…I remember that. It’s made from seeds…”

“Yep! I’s gonna make you something delicious, but I’s out of the cooking oil and baby oil be for baby food, so-”

“Baby oil is for skin,” said Gaster, rubbing his temples.

“Nyeh?”

“Baby oil. It’s for skin. It’s called baby oil because it supposedly makes your skin feel soft like an infant’s.”

What exactly is Sans DOING while I’m busy working? He’s not telling him this stuff as a joke, is he...?

“Nuh-uh Daddy, daz baby lotion! You confused. BABY OIL be for cooking, like baby powder and-”

“Baby powder is also for skin. It is not a type of baking powder NOR is it a baking soda of any sort. You have no business in the kitchen Papyrus.”

“What Baby’s Breath then?”

“Not parsley.”

“Baby spice?”

“That’s a person.”

“Baby fat?”

“Well it’s lard, but-”

“why don’t you just stick with baby potatoes and baby carrots bro?”

“Why don’t you just stay out of the kitchen period? The oven is not a toy and I believe I’ve told you as such already.”

“NO!” cried the baby bones indignantly. “I’s a genius baby and I deserves the best of edgy-cations! LOOK! Look what dis baby has right here!” Papyrus pulled a page, seemingly torn from an old magazine, out of his onesie and presented it to his family. It showed a young human in overalls, a toddler by the looks of it, pretending to cook on a toy kitchen set, plastic spatula in hand.

“aww, duude!”

That human’s so cute! Is that really a baby one? I wanna pet it soo bad! It’d probably bite the shit out of me though…

“hey, napstablook! c’mere and look at this human!”

Shyly, Napstablook floated over to the group and peered over Sans’ shoulder.

“Heh…”

“cute right?”

“It’s got a spatula…it thinks it’s cooking…”

“They not cooking, they’s modeling. They saying ‘look what I has and you doesn’t! Don’t you wish you had a nice baby-kitchen like me?’ They’s mocking!”

“nobody’s mocking you pappy.”

“THEY’S LAUGHING AT ME!”

“i guarantee this baby doesn’t know you exist.”

“Your brother’s right. What’s happening here is you’ve created a personal fantasy out of boredom and forgotten it was a fantasy. Something you need to learn not to do while you’re daydreaming-”

“All I needs to do is show dis baby that I’S the superior bae! Imma be the best cook ever and I’ll use the big people oven to do it! I don’t need their stink rainbow kitchen!”

“…Or perhaps you merely want an excuse to use the oven even though I JUST said no.”  

I asked him to stay out of the Parent magazines to begin with…

Papyrus had an annoying habit of using those particular publications to come up with ideas for “brother-time” with Sans. A time where he would (sometimes quite literally) pick Sans up out of bed and have him do an arts and crafts activity with him, usually involving copious amounts of glue and chemicals Gaster wasn’t sure how he even got ahold of.

Not that the messes were the most obnoxious thing about it, THOSE he could handle. He was used to his smallest making messes.

No, no It was the MIMICRY that the scientist couldn’t stand. Those magazines were to inform parents of why their babies behaved the way they did, but Papyrus would use them as guidelines on “how to be a better baby.”

 “Give me the markers Papyrus!”

“NO! These are MY paint-sticks! I keeps the markers cause’ I saw them first.”

“That’s not how that works, where did you even get that ide-no. Do not. Do not pull out that magazine again, god-DAMNIT Papyrus!”

“It say right here, ‘baes between two and four beweave that da’ person who gets an object first is the rightful owner, even if someone else gets hold of it later’ This be what babies do and I’s a baby, so these markers are mine now.”

“Give me that FUCKING magazine.”

“Is my ucking maggy-zeen.”

“Papyrus…”

“I sawed it first. Is the law.”

Gaster reached for the hated literature, causing the infant to quickly shove it back into his onesie. He then clacked his teeth together twice, a signal that meant any further attempts to get closer would result in a bite.

Because that’s what babies did.

They bit people.

“SANS, WHERE ARE YOU?! COME GET YOUR BROTHER!

“You’re not using the oven Papyrus.”

“*Sigh* Fine, I gots a solution for dis.” Crawling out of the kitchen, Papyrus headed into the Nursery and towards his toybox. He didn’t have to rummage long, as he was a very organized baby, and soon he found what he was looking for; an only slightly grimy multicolored maraca. He didn’t know why such a gem had been thrown away, but it made the most wonderful sound…

“What is that?” asked Gaster upon seeing his two-year-old reenter the room. The baby held the maraca by the handle with both hands and shook it.

CHACA-CHACA!

“…”

“Is a big-person rattle! I finded it at the Dump and is the bestest treasure ever! I’s gonna save it for when I does something really bad, but I needs that oven, so we trade. I gets to use the oven and you can pay wit mah rattle!”  

“I don’t-”

“Pay not keep.”

“…I don’t need a rattle Papyrus.”

CHACA-CHACA!

CHACA-CHACA!

“Heh heh, your brother swings it like a sledgehammer…”

“well yeah, he’s small.”

CHACA-CHACA!

CHACA-CHACA!

“Stop that.”

“Be mesmerized.”

“I’m not interested Papyrus.”

“HOW YOU NOT INTERESTED IN DIS BIG PERSON RATTLE?” yelled Papyrus, completely baffled. “YOUR BRAIN BROKE!”

“not everyone likes rattles pappy.”

“Your brain broke…or maybe you’s planning to steal mah treasure while I’s napping so you doesn’t have to give up da’ oven!”

“No.”

“I bet you are! You’s gonna wait till I’s asweep in my widdle cwib and then you gonna take my toy and blame it on Snas!”

“No.”

“I bets you’s lying about the oil too! Baby oil be a cooking ingredient for babies, but you don’t likes it when I’s better at things than you, so you try to get baby to use fake cwap like ‘sugar’ and ‘spice.” The infant glared at the wall, remembering the disappointment he felt when he tried to get free sugar from Undyne. He had heard girls were made from sugar and spice, but what he managed to collect (along with a few new cracks in his skull) were scales.

Not delicious.

“You know full well I’m not lying…or you would if you were paying attention-”

“YOU DOESN’T LET ME EAT AT DA’ DUMP AND YOU DOESN’T LET ME EAT WITH THE OVEN! HOW I SUPPOSED TO GET NUTRIENTS?”

“Just drink your formula, it has everything you need.”

“NO! I needs solids…like these fintstone yummies.” Papyrus pulled out a bottle labeled Flintstone Vitamins. “They looks like rocks, but they shaped like peoples!”

“hmm…” curiously, Sans popped one into his mouth and began to chew. “this one tastes like an orange.”

“Nyeh hee hee hee! Silly Snas, orange be a color, not a food!”

Silly Sans.

“Hmph, It’s a condensed version of Vitamin C most likely. Vitamin C is essential to the formation of collagen, so it should increase one’s bone density, but I doubt you’ll get much out of them.”

“it says vitamin d on it.”

“What? Vitamin D? Give me that bottle!”

“NYEH!”

Gaster snatched up the bottle in one quick motion and studied the label. If Sans hadn’t misread anything, then this was an extraordinary find indeed. Very few foods in nature contained Vitamin D and nature was what everyone depended on in the Underground. The people’s only source of it was found in fish and within the eggs of birds who had accidently flown into Mt. Ebott. Because they were so rare and important as a food source, the security around the areas in which they were bred was even tighter than at the castle. It was rationed carefully and NO ONE got special privileges that allowed more than their fair share due to overpopulation. That meant Gaster couldn’t add as much Vitamin D into Papyrus’s baby formula as he would like.

Eventually something’s going to go wrong and we’ll end up eating nothing but magic supplements.

Magic food wasn’t particularly healthy, not for Horror Fonts anyway. If there was any problem that breed of skeleton had, it was finding the right balance of magic AND basic nutrients. The magic kept their ectoplasm as strong as human muscle so their bones would stay together, but they needed the same vitamins as humans in order to keep those bones from cracking and splintering in the first place. Normal Fonts like he and Sans weren’t fighters, so it wasn’t as important for their bones to be sturdy, but Papyrus was a hunter, which meant tough fights awaited the baby bones when he got older.

He needs more than magic, and we’ve a limited supply as is. Perhaps though, with these, I can find a supplement for the vitamin itself and a way to reproduce it effectively.

“I trade the rock-peoples for da’ oven.”

“N-”    

“And some more baby oil. I’s out of greedy-ants.”

“No. No more using the oven and no more ‘baby ingredients.’ You’re going to destroy this lab along with our kitchen!”

“I dis-gree.”

“bro-”

“You know what I needs? What every baby needs? Ah-structions. I needs a cookie-book. Fetch me a cookie-book, THEN I will succeeds in life.”

Gaster was about to say something, but quickly decided against it. An idea began to form in his mind as he reread the ingredients on the vitamin bottle.

Perhaps this request is a blessing in disguise...

“Papyrus, if I found you a cookbook would you follow the instructions to the letter?” “Course I would!” said the baby bones confidently. “What’s da’ point of ah-structions if I doesn’t follow them? I follow the ah-structions and make good food that Snas will eat.” Papyrus smiled at Napstablook. “You too Boo Boo! I make yummies for eryone!”

The scientist put the bottle in his coat. “Alright then, I will provide for you, a cookbook.”

“YAAAASS!”

“uhh dad, that sounds like a terrible idea,” said Sans, eyeing the ruined oven. “papyrus tends to-”

“Shu up Snas. I happily agwee to yo’ terms, beloved father figure!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Baby will reward your rare act of rationality.”

“Please don’t.”

“I assist! I learned in one of the maggyzines that if you rewards good be-have-ior, peoples will repeat it. This time I find you REAL booger sugar, not baby powder.”

“papyrus-”

“Actually, that would be great. My experiment with the ‘cocaine’ you originally gave me was a complete disaster. Had it worked, I could have created something to reduce hunger in the Underground’s citizens months ago, but you ruined that for everyone. This time I’d like to succeed.”

“ohhh, so that’s what it was for.”

“Of course child, why else would I purchase it? Drugs are for science and science alone!”

“Um…” Napstablook looked behind him nervously.

Should I tell someone about this?

“Remember Papyrus, if you can’t follow a recipe, then you can’t cook that recipe, otherwise it will come out wrong.”

“Kay’.”

Gaster handed a cookbook to his youngest who took it with both hands excitedly and began to flip through it.

“Waz ‘pepper?”

“It’s a type of spice. We don’t have it.”

“What’s ‘vinny-ger?”

“It doesn’t matter, we don’t have that either.”

“i think that’s in urine pa-”

“Really Sans?”

“Ewww, I not using that! Waz ‘rice?”

“It’s a type of grain, we don’t have it in the Underground.”

The baby bones glared at the scientist who was now busy flipping through the pages of his clipboard; the situation beginning to dawn on him.

“We gots onion?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“We gots yeast?”

“*pfft!* i think that’s an infection pappy, are you sure you’re reading that right?”

“I want to see your books Sans.”

“We gots gween beans?”

“Nope, it’s too cold up where they’d need to fall into Mt. Ebott. They need a temperature of at least 50 degrees Fahrenheit to grow.”

“Does we has ANYTHING?”

“If you can’t find a recipe with ingredients we have, perhaps you should search for another cookbook?”

“NYEH!”

Papyrus threw the book.

“…Scu you stink Daddy.”

SHEERRAHH!

Reentering the elevator, Gaster headed up to the main floor. Hopefully he had some refined oil in reserve at the workshop…

“…”

“mm…this may not be a good time bro, but about that cocaine thing. earlier, you called it ‘booger sugar.”

“…”

“you don’t…actually think it’s sugar do you? you didn’t put any in our food?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…pap?”

“Oh noooo…”

Sorry for the wait, I’m renovating my house to move if you recall.

[yeenybeanies]

Gone Hunting pt. 2

continuation of this little piece! not sure how long i’ll keep going on with this specific story beyond here, but i love charles & i want him to meet devin, so there’s probably going to be at least one more :> 

arthur morgan, charles smith, & devin clarke ( oc ) 

2640 words

mild language warnings

feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thanks!! 

part 1 | part 3

Ever since they’d left camp, the blue streak of curses hasn’t quieted much. Arthur’s jaw is tense, along with the rest of him, as one might expect when there’s an angry ( and scared ) borrower trapped under his hat. Who knew so much vitriol could come from such a small body? Arthur can’t bring himself to be upset at them, though; Devin has every right to be as pissed as they are. 

And they are pissed. 

Unfortunately, Arthur’s company doesn’t quite know what’s going on. He can tell that something is off, that Arthur is bothered, but he hasn’t the foggiest as to why. Arthur knows he’s onto him, too; he sees the man glancing over at him, growing more and more suspicious by the minute. Never mind that Arthur isn’t much of an actor as is, but Charles is as sharp as they come. How the hell is he going to play this one off? How is he going to delay the inevitable? 

“ Arthur. ”  

Here it comes. 

Arthur looks over at his company, all while trying to keep his movements from jostling Devin. They’ve gone quiet after hearing Charles’ voice. 

“ Yeah? ”  He can do this. He can spin some excuse for the pained look on his face. 

“ What’s wrong? ”  

There’s no point denying it. Arthur swallows and forces the tension out of his jaw.  “ Think whatever Pearson made last night’s actin’ up. Not presently feelin’ my greatest. ‘m okay, though. Don’t you worry about me, Charles. ”  He forces a smile for his companion. Charles only looks semi-convinced ( it’s not an unbelievable story; everyone’s suffered an unhappy gut at least once at the hands of the camp cook ), but he opts not to press on it for now. 

“ Okay . . .. If you need to stop, just let me know. I could probably find you something to soothe your stomach. ” 

“ Naw, I’ll be alright. Hopefully it’ll settle down by the time we get to where we’re goin’. ”  Devin shifts under his hat, their little hands holding onto locks of his hair to try and keep themself from flopping around too much. It can’t be comfortable for them up there––at least, not while Arthur’s on horseback. Even a Tennessee Walker’s gait would be bothersome to a borrower, he imagines. 

Devin goes quiet now, but it’s not very comforting. Arthur’s not sure what he likes less: the cussing or the silence. At least with them chewing him out, he knew they were still alive and kicking. The silence is a bit more ominous. All he has to go by now is feeling their grip on his hair, and trying to interpret how they’re doing from that. 

This is going to be a long ride . . .. 

The sun is low in the sky by the time the two men reach their destination: a hilly grassland spot sparsely sheltered with trees and mounds of rocks. Devin’s silence has continued to worry Arthur, but he’s pretty sure he’s felt them move a little here and there. He thinks he feels them move, too, when he and Charles slow their horses on their approach to their would-be campsite under one of the rock piles. 

“ Alright, then . . .. ”  Arthur pulls the reins, slowing his horse to a stop, and dismounts at the base of the rocks. Devin seems to be moving a bit more, no longer being jostled so much now that he’s on his own feet.  “ I gotta relieve myself, then I’ll help ya set up camp. ”  Which isn’t entirely a lie; he’s been on horseback since he woke up. 

“ Sure thing, Arthur. ”  Charles starts to unpack, and Arthur takes his leave, heading around to the other side of the rocks. 

“ You alright up there, Devin? ”  He speaks just above a whisper, and looks up at the brim of his hat as if he could see the borrower settled atop his head. 

“ . . . I’m alive, ”  comes the weak voice. Arthur breathes out a heavy, relieved sigh. 

“ Miss Devin, I––I’m real sorry about this mess. I promise you I didn’t mean to kidnap you and bring ya along. ”  It is sincere, but Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if the borrower snapped and blew up on him again. Hell, he might if he were in this situation. 

“ Just––just do what you need to do and let me out, ”  they say, sounding exhausted from the journey.  “ . . . and rinse your hands off first. ” 

Can-do. Arthur takes care of his business and, as requested, rinses his hands off with a bit of water from his canteen, then gently lifts his hat. Devin takes in a deep breath, taking in cool air for the first time in hours. 

Relief is short-lived, though. 

“ Arthur? ”  

Charles. 

Arthur quickly puts his hat back on, once more covering Devin, and looks back towards the voice, a little bewildered. 

“ Are you talking to someone? ”  The man steps out more, rounding the rock to better face Arthur. 

“ I, er . . . naw, not really. I was just voicin’ some thoughts that I’ll probably end up writin’ in my journal. ”  He looks a bit sheepish. How much longer is Charles going to let him get away with these little fibs? The man narrows his eyes, one brow lifted. 

“ You sure you’re okay? Stomach’s not still bothering you, is it? ” 

This isn’t going to last much longer. Charles knows that Arthur is hiding something, which makes Arthur feel worse for continuing to hide it than he already did. 

“ Nah. Think I got that cleared out. ‘least until the next time I get it. ”  He attempts a chuckle, though it’s half-hearted and weak. Charles, of course, looks unconvinced.  “ Charles. I’m okay. don’t worry about me. ”  

“ Arthur, you––– ” 

“ I said I’m fine, didn’t I? ”  Atop his head, Devin tenses, their little hands holding tighter to his hair. Arthur is a little taken aback himself; he hadn’t meant to raise his voice at Charles. The man doesn’t deserve it. He clears his throat, fist to his lips, and tips his hat down, hiding his eyes. God dammit . . .. 

“ . . . okay. ”  Charles straightens. 

This doesn’t feel good, but Arthur doesn’t see another route right now. He isn’t sure for how long Charles will be placated, but at least he’s dropped it for now. 

“ Right. Let’s get this camp set up. ”  Arthur takes a breath and straightens his belt, then heads back around to the other side of the rock. He can give Devin some relief when manages to set his hat aside so they don’t have to endure him constantly bending down and straightening up. However, it doesn’t change the fact that they are stuck out here, so the relief is minimal. 

It’s startling, seeing the hat shift around them when Arthur starts to lift it. Devin feels a moment of panic, only exacerbated as that massive hand sweeps in through the growing crack. They squeak, which makes the hand pause for a moment, almost looking remorseful, before it overtakes them, surrounding them. 

“ Arthur––– . . .. ”  The rough callouses scratch at them, but the skin is warm, and, despite the confines, the cowboy is impossibly gentle. He isn’t squeezing them––not beyond needing to keep them contained in his hold. Devin’s heart still pounds in their chest, but they remind themself that Arthur has never been anything but kind and careful with them . . .. 

Devin squeaks again when the hold on them loosens, and they drop down into Arthur’s hat, now upturned. The borrower shakes their head and looks up. Silhouetted against the oranges and pinks of the sky, Arthur towers above them. It isn’t just the setting sun that’s casting long shadows on his face, though; he’s clearly bothered. Devin feels a pang of guilt, aware that they are the source, but––but it’s also Arthur’s own damn fault that they’re here at all! They huff quietly to themself and huddle against the leather, trying not to focus on the shifting world beyond the hat. 

“ Gonna set you down while I help Charles, ”  the man whispers, sparing a glance down at Devin. 

“ Thank you, ”  they squeak back, no louder than a mouse. The hat tilts, and they follow the movement to avoid falling. Arthur lowers them to a smooth patch of rock, and settles the hat down over them, keeping them concealed. At least for a little bit they don’t have to deal with the constant swaying that comes with being carried by a human.

Between Charles and Arthur, it doesn’t take long to set up camp and get a fire pit built. Charles is mostly silent through it, and Arthur can feel the tension. It’s eating away at him. He doesn’t want to lose his friendship with Charles over this, but Devin . . . their life depends on their secrecy ( not that he thinks Charles would hurt them, but it isn’t his place to expose them ).

“ Arthur! ”  Charles’ sharp voice cuts into Arthur’s thoughts, making him jump. Charles must have been talking to him, and he hadn’t been listening at all. Damn . . ..

“ Hn? Yeah? Sorry, I was––I was miles away. ”  He rubs his neck sheepishly as he faces his friend.

“ As you’ve been this whole trip. ” The man frowns. For a moment, Arthur thinks he’s going to ask again what the problem is, but he doesn’t. He sighs and continues,  “ We should get some rest. We’re getting up early tomorrow and going after the bison. ”

“ Right. Sounds good. I’ll start the fire. ”  Arthur heads back towards where he left his hat and tries to subtly lift both it and the borrower under it. It’s a little awkward, but Arthur does feel some relief when he feels the minuscule weight in his hand. At least they haven’t run off yet, or worse. He shifts to carry Devin and his hat in one hand so he can use his other to grab the matches from his saddle bag. 

Charles doesn’t seem to be paying too much attention as Arthur returns to the pit they’ve built, holding his hat a little awkwardly. Once he manages to get a fire going one-handed, he shuffles back to settle on his bedroll, hat coming to rest on his stomach. Little footsteps push against his palm and hop down onto his shirt. It tickles. Arthur has to keep himself from reacting, wanting neither to disturb the borrower or alert Charles to more of his odd behavior. 

Dinner isn’t anything spectacular: foods warmed up over the fire, or, in Arthur’s case, eaten straight from the can. He manages to sneak Devin a few pieces to fill their belly while they stay hidden. The poor little borrower––they’ve been through a lot today. Arthur sighs, then kicks himself mentally. He should try to keep his breathing steady if he’s got Devin on his stomach . . .. 

“ Arthur, ”  comes Charles’ voice. Arthur glances over towards his friend, one brow lifted.  “ You aren’t upset with me, are you? That’s not why you’re acting strange? ” 

Oof. Arthur winces and looks away.  “ Naw, Charles. You n’ me––we’re good. Promise. I just . . . got a lot on my mind is all. ”  At least that’s a truth he can offer. Charles’ features glow in the fire’s light, still shaped with concern, but he does show some understanding to Arthur’s answer. 

As the conversation dies, Arthur gingerly shifts to make himself a bit more comfortable on his bedroll. He should sleep. He only hopes that Devin will manage to do so as well. 

It’s been almost half a day now since they left the camp––Charles and Arthur, with Devin brought unwillingly ( and accidentally, to Arthur’s credit ) along for the ride. Almost half a day’s worth of bouncing around under Arthur’s hat has now brought Devin to be lying . . . well, still under Arthur’s hat. At least the ride here is less bumpy. From where they are, they can hear Arthur’s breathing, and they can feel the thumping of his pulse under his shirt. If they’re honest, it’s a little bit comforting, a little bit soothing. But it is also, as they eventually come to realize, very hot under here––hotter on his middle than it was on top of his head. The borrower does try to move carefully, though they know well that Arthur doesn’t wake easily, as they feel around in the darkness for the hat’s wall. Once located, they dig their arms under and lift, taking in a breath of fresh, cool night’s air. 

“ Okay, Devin, ”  they whisper to themself,  “ everything’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine. ”  Arthur will get them back to camp. Alive. This whole ordeal will be over soon. They take another deep breath, then shuffle their way out from under the hat’s brim, out into the open. The surface beneath them continues to rise and fall slowly; Arthur is still asleep, as expected. Much of their anger with him has faded by now. There’s just exasperation left in the ashes of the earlier flames. Devin thinks for a moment that they ought to apologize for the verbal lashing they’d given him, but . . . nah. He deserved it for being so damn stupid. Besides, they’re sure he won’t hold it against them.

Using what little light the moon and the faded fire offer, Devin makes their way down to the cowboy’s hip, and down further to his knee––the one lifted, crossed over the other. There’s a gentle breeze blowing through, stirring their hair, calming them. For the first time in the past twelve hours, things are peaceful. 

Unfortunately, in the case of borrowers and unlucky cowboys, peace doesn’t tend to last long. Whispers reach Devin’s ears, making them go stiff. Their head snaps in the direction of the voices, eyes wide and straining to see what––or who––is out there. In the darkness, they can just barely make out two shadowy figures. From the look and sound of it, they seem to be getting closer. 

“ Arthur . . .? ”  Devin pushes themself to a crouch, eyes locked on the figures. The whispers are getting louder, more intelligible. 

“ We gonna jus’ rob ‘em? Or we gonna kill ‘em too? ”  says one. 

“ There’s only two of ‘em. We can kill ‘em easy n’ see if they got anything valuable on their persons too, ”  says the other. 

Oh no. Bandits. Devin’s blood runs cold. They shoot a quick glance towards Arthur’s face. He is still very much asleep. And the bandits are getting closer. 

“ Arthur! “  Their own whispers aren’t going to wake the cowboy, but they don’t exactly want the bandits to hear them either. 

Then again, if they don’t wake Arthur and the bandits end up killing him as a result––– . . ..

“ Arthur! ”  Louder now is their voice, yelling. They scurry off of his knee and slide down onto the ground, hidden from the bandits’ view, but also now unable to see them in return.

“ Wait. D’ja year that? ”  Oh no.  “ Sounded like a squeaky li’l voice. Is there someone else here? ”  

Now the panic sets in. Devin sprints up a couple of feet, sticking close to Arthur’s side. 

“ ARTHUR! ”  

[frightgothcar]

HEY! Hey, you, reading this!!! I fuckin love writing but what I need to be able to write is a little thing called approval!! If you like this please comment and/or reblog!!!!!!!!!!

Area 51 au thingy. Danny/Wes. Songfic? Not really but the whole idea came from this song. V is based off of @its-towarzysz (main)/ @we-all-horny-here (sanders sides sideblog)/ @cockworktower (dp side blog) you should check them out, they make hella good content. Thanks to all my friends who helped me with motivation/proofreading. Tw for Death, Blood, Guns, and Violence. (Tell me if I forgot anything). I love this pairing and the lack of content sparks deep anger in my soul!! :)) Thanks for reading, enjoy!!

EDIT: Posting this on ao3 also @/godcannotdefeatfanfic 

September 20th, 10:30 am

Area 51

Wes Weston had nothing to live for. Ever since his Mom had gone out for cigarettes on his 6th birthday and never come back his life had been a constant downward spiral. Maybe that was why he was in the middle of the Nevada desert, preparing to attempt to rush a highly armed government facility with a million other suicidal Millenials.  

He fanned his face with his hand. It was over 86 degrees and he was practically melting in his Casper High spirit T-Shirt and blue jeans. He contemplated getting into his pickup truck and blasting the a/c but considering he only had a quarter tank of gas left, and it was a good 20 miles to the nearest gas station, he decided against it. Instead, he got onto his phone and texted his friends for the third time that morning. 

Basketball-Boi: where r yall? its hot.

Phurry: we’re just driving in!! Do u see us?

Basketball-Boi: uhhh whats ur car look like

Phurry: the silver one

Basketball: V there are like a million silver ones what kind of car

Phurry: uhh Val says its called a subaru we’re right by a black car

Red_Huntress: They’re standing on the roof and waving. Can you see us now?

Wes looked up from his phone to see a person, about his age, standing on the roof of a silver Subaru, wearing a black band t-shirt and neon green booty shorts. Their long blond ponytail swished around their face as they jumped up and down excitedly. A girl stepped out of the car and began scolding her friend. She was wearing a matching red pair of shorts, there was black lettering on her backside that he couldn’t quite make out. He began waving back, which only excited the blond more. They lept over the brown-skinned girl and bolted towards Wes.

“Ready to fuck some aliens, Basketball-Boi?” They pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I was born ready!” He laughed, “How are you, V?”

“Pretty gay, thanks for asking.”

Wes opened his mouth to speak but V cut him off with an excited shout.

“Oh! That reminds me!” They slipped their arms out of their backpack straps and dug through the mint green bag for a minute before pulling a pair of hot pink shorts, “I wanted us all to match! Made ‘em myself!”

They flipped the shorts around to reveal ‘100% Nasty’ embroidered onto the ass in black. They then turned around to show off their own message, that read ‘Trash Man’.

“I made one for Val too, c’mon, we have to wear them!!”

Wes grabbed the shorts and held them to his hips. “Is this what you needed my measurements for?”

They nodded enthusiastically, “I was gonna make us team jackets, but that’s so cliche.”

“Huh, I mean, don’t get me wrong, these are… great, but are you sure pink is my color?”

V rolled their eyes, “Of course I’m sure, Wes! Just put them on, you’ll see.”

Wes sighed and walked behind his red truck for some privacy, not that there was much of that, the field was crowded with cars. He pulled down his blue jeans, thankful for the breeze on his legs, and pulled on the shorts. They were a perfect fit, clinging to his waist, and resting on his barely existent hips. The feeling of showing so much skin was odd to him, he’d never worn anything that short in public, but the look on V’s face made it all worth it to him. They didn’t laugh like he’d been expecting them to, instead clapping their hands and going on about how relieved they were that the shorts actually fit. He did a quick turn for them, and they nodded in satisfaction.

“I think it’s about time we caught up to Val, did y’all remember to bring soda?”

“Only the finest Mountain Dew the 7/11 could provide, M’lady,” V grinned. 

“Than shall we be going, M’lord?” Wes held out his arm.

“Indubitably.” V linked their arm through his and they wandered through the crowd, searching for Valerie’s silver Subaru. 

“Wes! V! Over here!” Val called, waving the hand that wasn’t holding a Mountain Dew at her friends. The two of them waved back and jogged toward her. 

“Hey Val, long time no see,” Wes grinned as he pulled her into a hug.

“I missed ya, Weston,” Val reached up to ruffle his hair, but Wes dodged, pulling her into a headlock instead. 

“Missed ya too, Grey,” He gave her a noogie and released her, leaving her free to jump onto him and boost herself high enough to get revenge.

“Aww, adorable! Old lovebirds rekindling an old flame?” V fluttered their eyelashes at their friends, who immediately recoiled.

“Ew, no! Wes? If I had to pick a guy, maybe. And that’s a hard maybe. I’m too gay for this.” Valerie picked up her can from the hood of her car and took a swig.

“Yeah! She’s like my little sister!”

“Hey, I’m older than you!”

“By like two weeks!”

V broke into laughter, “Cool it lovebirds, I’m only joking.”

Val and Wes rolled their eyes at V, who was now on the ground, rolling with laughter. 

“Permission to pour some soda out onto our hilarious friend’s head?” Val asked teasingly.

“Permission granted! Fire at will!” Wes saluted. Val tipped her can enough to sprinkle V with the sticky green drink. They got to their feet, still laughing, and lunged for Val’s can. They knocked it backward, spilling soda all over Val’s shirt.

“EEK,” She squealed, “You’ll pay for this, Trash Man, If it’s the last thing I do!” 

She tried to push the can towards V, but they still had a grip on her arm. They tugged the can back and forth for a few seconds before it crumpled under the pressure.

“Shit!” Val swore, letting go of the can and cradling her palm. “I think I cut myself.”

V dropped the can, game of tag forgotten, and crowded next to their friend. Wes joined their huddle. 

“I think I have a first aid kit in my truck. How bad is it?” He asked.

Val opened her hand to reveal a small, but deep wound on the side of her palm.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, if I hadn’t-” V began.

“Naw, it was as much my fault as yours. Anyway, we were having fun, and it’s really just a scratch. Keep focused on those Aliens, Private!” Val reassured them.

“Aye aye, Captain!”

Wes walked back to his truck, ignoring the stares of passerby. He grabbed his first aid kid (thank god for boy scouts) and walked back to Val’s car.

“So,” Wes ripped open a disinfecting wipe with his teeth and got to work cleaning her hand of blood. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s doing-” She drew in a sharp breath as he dabbed along the wound with a clean wipe. “Fine. The new job’s working out great, he’s happier than I’ve seen him in a while.”

Wes nodded and began wrapping her hand in gauze, “I’m glad. He wasn’t himself when you left.”

“It really all did work out for the better, didn’t it,” V smiled and handed Wes a length of medical tape. “Oh! I forgot! Val, show Wes what your ass says!”

She groaned, “Do I have to?”

V scowled, “Of course you have to, it was your idea!”

“I was just joking!”

“Tsk tsk, I think you’ve known me long enough to know that when it comes to cursed content, there are no jokes.”

“C’mon Val, it can’t be worse than ‘100% Nasty’,” Wes smirked.

V gasped dramatically and feigned offense, “You’ve wounded me! I work so hard, and for what, ungrateful friends?”

“Fine, if it’ll make you happy I’ll show him my ass. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She winked at him before turning to show her backside. Black embroidery spelled out ‘Booty Hunter’.

Wes burst out laughing, which quickly turned to hysteric noises only vaguely resembling laughter, squeals, and snorts with shrieking giggles between them. V and Val couldn’t help but join in. The second one of them stopped laughing someone would whisper Booty Hunter and it’d start all over again. 

“Okay, okay,” Wes gulped in air, “We- hic -should calm down now.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Val wiped a tear from her eye, “I am the Queen of Calm.”

V got to their feet and dusted themself off. “Totally calm. Calmer than a… something calm.”

“When does the raid start?” Wes pulled out his phone and checked the time. 12:00.

“Around, 12:30ish, we have time.” V waved their hand.

“I dunno, it’s already 12, maybe we should start getting ready.”

“What do you mean it’s already-” V snatched the phone from his hand, “Huh. Time sure flies when you’re having fun.”

“Wait, get ready for what exactly? I mean, we’re here, we’ve got our shorts on, there’s enough Mountain Dew in my car to drown an elephant, what else is there to get ready?” Val questioned.

“Uhhh, I dunno, stretch?” Wes shrugged, “It just feels like we’re forgetting something. What exactly is the plan for this whole thing anyway? Are there gonna be waves? Do we all go at once? This is a pretty poorly organized event.”

Val shrugged, clearly unphased by the lack of organization, “We’ll just go when everyone else starts running. I’m sure the start of gunfire will tell us when.”

“Look, if it’s making you so worried, we can stretch before. I’m sure everything will be fine. Plus, we all get alien Girlfriends, so it’s a win-win!” V put their hand on his arm. Wes smiled thankfully down at them.

“Yeah, that’s probably it. Yall must think I’m being a nitpick-”

“Not at all! You’re probably right, after all, it must be at least a mile to the base from here, and we can’t let cramps keep us from sweet sweet alien romance.” Val propped her leg up on the hood of her car and pressed her head to her knee, “Plus that’ll give us an advantage over the Kyles.”

V nodded and fell into a lunge, “We’ve been training since July for this, can’t let it get away now because we forgot to stretch.”

Wes bent over and touched his toes, “Thanks y’all, you’re really the best friends I could ask for.” 

The screech of a megaphone rang out through the valley. A voice came through the static, “Raiders! Get into position, we’re storming the gates in exactly fifteen minutes!” 

A cheer broke through the crowd as people began chugging what was left of their sodas and migrating towards the front lines. 

“Well, this is it I guess. If I don’t make it out of the raid, put this on my tombstone.” Wes gestured downward, where he was holding his hand in a circle. 

“Dammit!” Valerie chuckled as Wes gave her a playful punch in the arm. 

“You’ll never take me alive!” V shouted and sprinted forwards as Wes moved towards them.

“On your marks!”

“Wanna bet on that?” Wes shouted back, weaving through the crowd to catch up with them.

“Get set!”

V pushed forward, using their small frame to their advantage, easily losing the taller one in the crowd.

“Raid!”

The mob roared, then began thundering forward, but the deafening sounds of the people were nothing compared to what followed. Thousands of guns began firing at once, hitting everyone and everything in the vicinity. Wes watched with horror as the first wave of people were mowed down right before his eyes. A flash of neon green caught his eye through the carnage. He ran towards his friend, who was standing, paralyzed, next to a few other survivors. He shouted their name, and just as they turned their head another hailstorm of bullets rained down. The first one embedded itself right into V’s chest, right above their heart. Wes sprinted to catch his injured companion, but by the time he got there the life was already draining from their eyes.

“V! V, can you hear me? Don’t go into the light, hold on, ok? You’ve got this, V, answer me!”

He pressed his head to their chest, a weak heartbeat answered him. “It’s gonna be okay. Shhh, you’re okay.” 

Something wet dripped down his face, and he realized he was crying.

“...Wes,” V rasped out, then began violently coughing up blood. Little flecks of red peppered Wes’ face like freckles. “Fuck an alien for me, okay? Can you promise me that?”

Their body went limp in his arms. 

“V? V! V, wake up, please, that can’t be it, please V, you’re only 17, please!” He shook their corpse, but to no avail. V was gone. He closed his eyes and let out a shuttering breath before standing up, still clutching their body in his arms. 

“Second wave! On your marks!” The megaphone blared to life.

The crowd let out another, less confident cheer. After seeing all the carnage most of the raiders were less enthusiastic to ‘see them aliens’. But this time Wes had made up his mind. He was going to make it into that Government facility, and he was gonna burn that motherfucker to the ground.

“Get set!”

He laid his friend on the ground and pressed a kiss to their forehead. If it wasn’t for the massive amount of blood they could’ve been sleeping.

“Go!”

Wes screamed with all the anger he had in him and charged forward. Bullets rained down near him, but this time there were less of them. This time he had a chance. He saw the gate coming closer. He was only 50 feet away, he could make it! He hopped over the fence, ignoring the blaring of sirens, and kept running. He pushed his way into the building, where, surprisingly, there was no security. It looked like they had invested all their soldiers into protecting the outside of the base. His adrenaline rush began to slow down. He dragged his feet down the linoleum hallway, looking at his bloodsoaked hands. 

“What the fuck just happened?” He whispered to himself, still shellshocked. A flicker of light caught his eye. Grateful for a distraction, he turned his attention to what looked like a futuristic control panel. The buttons were labeled in some sort of code, their luminescent surfaces grinning up at him.

“Looking for me, Short-Shorts?” A calm voice echoed through the hall. Wes whipped around, ready for a fight.

“Why so on edge, Ginger? Surely I’m not that intimidating.” It purred.

“Who are you?!” Wes shouted. He winced at the echo. Did he really sound that unhinged?

“On your left.” 

He turned and found himself face to face with the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen. He looked about his age, maybe 17. His skin was tan, but had a slight blueish tint, as if he’d been without oxygen for a while. Poking from his tuft of pearly white hair was a pair of blur antenna. He had a small build, maybe 5 feet tall at best, but was floating at eye level with Wes. Speaking of his eyes, they were quite possibly the most gorgeous thing about him. He had eyes greener and glowyer (is that even a word? Either way it was true.) than toxic waste, his pupils were like a cat’s, slit down the middle. He was clothed in a baggy black prison jumpsuit. He looked almost alien. Wes realized with a start that he must be an alien. 

“Are you done staring?” The boy asked, snapping Wes out of his trance. “It won’t be long before the guards realize you’re in here, and I’d rather get out without a bullet hole.”

“I- I don’t- what are you?” Wes stammered.

“I’m Project Phantom, or Danny if you prefer. What’s your name?”

“I’m… Wes?”

[smolbeandrabbles]

Pride: Favourite Scar - Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody x Reader (Animal Kingdom)

Okay, as my Virtues/Sin’s are all Mendos. This one is specific to Movie!Andrew.  That doesn’t mean however, that you can’t read it as Show!Andrew. (Just... edit the colour of his eyes and the place as appropriate...)

Author’s Note: Thank you for your request @mandy23b - This one is all yours 💜

I really like the take on Pride = Proud Actually I kinda mixed together the three premises you send me a little so I hope you enjoy 😘 Disclaimer: Animal Kingdom and all characters/ideas by the wonderful David Michod 💙 / Lyrics not mine Premise As Requested:  I have this idea in my head that Smurf doesn’t like you. It’s clear she has an unhealthy attachment to her children and here you are, turning all of his attention from her to you. And I get the feeling Andrew doesn’t care for her attention, like it annoys him to have her dote on him so he’s happy to give his attention to you. So she’s cruel and mean to you. And maybe you’re not the first she’s done this to but you’re the one who stands her ground and doesn’t let Smurf push you around. And he’s so proud? Proud to call you his and proud to call himself yours? Or just moments of pride like that. Like working a job and you’re not scared to get dirty and take control and boss the other boys around and he doesn’t show it but he adores you? I don’t know… he’s my softie and I just want him and I want him to have someone he can love and trust, even if he’s extremely stoic in his affections Words: 4492 Warnings: Swearing / If you squint there’s Pre-Amble. 

_________

What you wanna talk about? Wanna stay up all night? Wanna scream and shout, sign me up then Ain’t nothing to worry about, I can take it all, that’s right, I’m your number one, don’t forget that. Every word, every scar, Messed up thing that we are, I’ll take it all, boy, better turn up your radio. I never felt like this, you shot me through my heart, Pain never felt so good, boy, you’re my favourite scar I never felt like this, you shot me through my heart, All eyes on me in the middle of the street screaming out your name And it sounds like... you shot me through the heart, You are my favourite scar. What you wanna know about ? Want me to tell you all of my sins, yeah, you first. One shot and you got me and this scar everybody sees on me, Baby, it says that I’m with you.

--- Maybe it's you and your sick need to give love then take it away And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors who don't understand...   You are an expert at sorry, And keeping the lines blurry Never impressed by me acing your tests All the girls that you've run dry Have tired, lifeless eyes 'Cause you burned them out But I took your matches before fire could catch me, So don't look now, I'm shining like fireworks over your sad, empty town --- noun

A feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired.

Driving a jeep up the coastline in the blazing hot summer sunshine, full of girls in sunshades blasting music, attracted about as much attention as you expected it to. Cruising around and looking for all the right trouble in all the wrong places.   At more than one point you had to tell the two in the back to quiet down, as their cat-calling to the array of men strolling down the promenade, minding their own damn business, got a little too raunchy.  You had one arm out of the window, tapping your painted nails against your car’s own paintwork. Sometimes you wondered if they only listened to you because you were the assigned leader of the group – but as long as they were still listening. Eventually they got bored of picking on men and decided you, being in the car, were the easier target. “Hey! Y/N! Aren't you dating a Cody!?” That instantly made you smirk. Here we go! The Cody’s – not necessarily a rival crew, but similar work. None of you were related, but you were all very good friends – the Cody’s on the other hand were family. You’d always thought breaking into that might be hard, but not necessarily. “Why do you spend do much time with their crew now!?” You gave a shrug, taking another turn off to take a costal road out of the city; time for a bit more scenery and peace and quiet, you felt; “Cuz he’s hotter than all of you! And yeah I am!” you laughed “What is it to any of you anyway?!” “Well you know that we’re your crew right-!? Anyway, they already have a female member.” “I’m not necessarily sure Smurf counts as a member… But she does tell ‘em what to do – what’s your point?” There was sudden silence, like you’d dare say it; “Well… We just… we’ve heard things…” You sighed; okay, you had to admit you were happy that they worried about you – but honestly who did they think you were? It wasn’t like you didn’t know the life – you were living it yourself. Still, you humoured their concern; “What things?” “Well. She certainly doesn’t like other woman around them.” You quirked an eyebrow; “And?” but you knew exactly what they were implying. “We just want you to be careful!” You scoffed, pushing your shades further up your nose; “You guys worry too much!” *** You dropped off the girls at each of their respective houses; most of them lived together... For your own reasons you lived in a little flat alone. Because sometimes you just preferred your own company. Caleigh, your right-hand girl, refused to exit your car. "What?" you huffed, clearly impatient "You're going to go see him again, aren't you!?" "Yeah, I am. Get on with it...!" you waved at the door handle “Y/N! I just think-!" "You should let me make a mistake? There's nothing wrong with Andrew, go on!" "For once I'm not worried about the man! I'm worried about his mother-!" "Well, I'm also thinking that might be why he likes me so much." You noticed she hopped down from the car but didn't quite close the door. "Why?" "I'm easy going... I don't smother him... Whatever he wants to do I'm down. And affection is his to give and want, when he's really." "Wait, are you dating the psycho one?" "Cal!!!" Now that was just uncalled for-! "The oldest-! F**K! She'll never let him go, Y/N she won't!" "Well that's her problem, and I'm dealing with it... Can you please let me drive, now?" "I don't understand, girls even do it better - what are you getting out of him!?" You quirked an eyebrow and gave her a smirk; "Hell, I know that... But the point is it’s not easy to tell what I get. And for once, I like that mystery..." She gave you a look that let you know she still thought you were insane. "Caleigh, please, I'll be fine! It'll be worse if I don't get there because he’ll worry, then he’ll get antsy and agitated, then they have to deal with it - which will be my fault. Which certainly will make her hate me!!" Your friend reluctantly slammed the door shut, but thankfully didn't cause you to roll your eyes by telling you to be careful, so you were able to wend your way quickly through the Melbourne streets... **

It was barely 4 seconds between your knock and the door opening. Andrew looked a little less than impressed, but he had a face for it so you weren't sure if that was necessarily a true reflection of his feelings. "Hey..." he took a step back, "I thought you might be late..." "Why? You heard about town shenanigans?" If you could count the sound out of his mouth as a laugh you would, "No. But I can imagine..." he walked you through the house "How you been?" "Good... And you?" "Been better." "Oh?" you frowned; you didn't like hearing things like that from him, "Why’s that?" "How's your electrics?" "... Not bad... Why?" "-Fixing-" he added quickly "Electrics." "Not bad, why?"  you repeated and he stopped his tour in the kitchen, indicating to the kettle. "It's busted." "And you can't fix it." "No." "Buy a new one then!" That sounded like an obvious answer, but he gave you a look that plainly said Smurf wouldn't accept that. You sighed and sat on the counter; "Alright maestro, show me what you're doing wrong." He gave you a look that told you to shut up, and you couldn’t help your teasing grin. "Drink?" "Water will do, thank you Darling." Andrew rolled his eyes at you, with a gentle shove at your sarcastic cute nickname. "Water? Little light for you..." although he obliged, pouring you a glass. "Well it's not like you can make me coffee." "Shut it!" "Make me." "You're gonna wish I did..." To be honest when he was looking at you like that you did wish he would. Those beautifully haunting blue eyes belonged to a man who needed to be kissed. And often. You watched closely as Andrew tried to explain to you what he’d done. And you tried not to start smirking until he’d finished, it didn’t matter much, your amusement was present in your voice; “Good at killing, stealing and all that illegal crime shit, but not much else, huh?” And he looked up at you, clearly not amused. You burst out laughing at the look on his face; “Coulda just told me that when I started.” “Naw, why do that when I can listen to you do everything wrong in detail!” That was the wrong thing to say as Smurf strolled into the kitchen. She fixed you with a look you were getting used to. But you didn’t lie to your friends, you could handle it. “How are you doing sweetie?” You noticed the voice she put on immediately, and that flicker of almost annoyance in his eyes. When you did it to be sarcastic he pushed you with a little smile, and told you to shut up. When she did it, in seriousness, he was much more like to shy away from it. Especially if he was with you. “Eh....” he gave a shrug “It don’t work Ma...” You kicked his thigh, which didn’t help things but you could help but act like this with him; “I told you, you’re doing it wrong!!” “Well, you do it then!!” He dropped everything, fixing you with a look that told you you’d probably get rewarded if you managed it. So you bit your lip through your smirk, and hopped off the counter; “Fine I will...” Smurf huffed from the corner of the kitchen in a way that let you know she wasn’t impressed with you, nor the way you’d just talked to her son. “...Sweetie, would you like me to make you anything.” “No... I’m okay...” his voice was quiet, and he turned back to her. She’s just gonna hover Andrew, you and I both know it... And so she did, for a little. See, Smurf you found more dangerous than any of them. Because Andrew showed his emotions, and his hand, before he snapped. You knew when it was coming and how it was gonna run its course. He wasn’t predicable, you would sooner die than think that - be he had a mind that worked a certain way; so once he started it was pretty easy to tell the direction. You and Baz had become quick experts in this, and both of you had different methods to curb it. Both of you extremely grateful you had each other to do so. Who the hell else would stand up to Andrew?

But Smurf, Smurf was sweet as sugar and controlled everything... if she had a breaking point she never showed it, and didn’t seem any different over that line to normal. Unless she was always snapped. Which, also wouldn’t surprise you as the matriarch to 4 nigh-on-uncontrollable criminals. Oh, and that was before you even mentioned you were from a rival all girl gang. She thought you were gonna put her darling boys out of business. That or run around with all of them, breaking their hearts one by one. Which made you scoff at the notion; if she thought that then she didn’t understand your relationship with Andrew at all. Eventually she left the room, but you knew she’d be listening in as he watched you fix it. He ran his fingers close to yours as his body enveloped you; that was intimate enough. You turned - but he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking in the direction she’d gone. You stood; just shy of your back against his chest but his arm brushed yours and that was once again contact enough; you saw that twice across his face, and you’d damn well count that positively. “You know she hates me right...” He shook his head, maybe in denial. “She’s like that with everyone...” “Yeah, but she hates me.” “Yet you’re still here.” You tapped him with a screwdriver to turn those blue eyes of his back on you, where you wanted them. Where you could watch them grow brighter as some semblance of adoration crossed his face. “I’m here for you. Not her.” His gentle touch to your face was unexpected, and made you flinch. Andrew stilled, and you blinked; “I’m sorry...” “No it’s...” He tucked your hair behind your ear “You’re always holding your own. I’m proud of you. You better be proud of yourself.” “Proud of me? For being someone your mum hates?” “Eh... comes with the territory...” Andrew gave a shrug, his lips brushed the top of your ear gently - whether a kiss on purpose or not it had you smiling. “...Rather that than sit and take it…” “F**k that.” “Thought you might say that.” You nudged him again with your shoulder; “Let me fix your mistake Andrew Cody, before your mum starts trying to fix one she thinks you made.” “She’s afraid of you, you know.” His statement was so matter-of-fact that you weren’t even sure he was hearing himself right. “What?!” He pulled away from you, leaning on the counter the way you had been; “You’re stealing me away.” “Stealing you, huh?” “Oh, I guess not...” Andrew pressed his lips into a thin line “Afterall, you’d think stealing could mean something or someone wouldn’t come willingly...” Your eyebrow raised significantly ,and you knew now was the perfect time to tease him; “This better not be the big elope speech.” He rolled his eyes “F**k off, Y/N, and fix the thing!” You drew yourself to height “Problem there, Mr.Cody...” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah...” You breathed gently, in touching distance of his lips once more “What’s that?” He folded his arms; defiant to give you the kiss you currently craved “I don’t wanna f**k off... but I might wanna f**k you...”

***

"Oh, what the f**k is she doing here." Andrew's eyes narrowed but it was Baz that cracked Craig over the head; "OW!" "Shut the f**k up!!” "No, but seriously...!" Baz placed his hands on his hips, and took a step that made Craig concede one at the thought of being hit again; "She brought us the job you idiot! You didn't complain last time." Craig grumbled a little bit to himself again as you walked up the steps into the little warehouse you'd decided to gather in; "You all ready for this one?" "This better be good!" For some ridiculous reason, as the closest in age to you, Craig had decided you might take his spot in the team. And for some other reason only acted like this on jobs. Otherwise he was pretty nice to you. You'd figure it out, one way or another. “It isn’t bad. I’ll put it that way.” You narrowed your eyes slightly in defiance "What, this job to hard for a bunch of girls?!" He was probably getting this attitude from his mother. You still remembered the way she'd looked you up and down, and told you that you'd be better staying at home and waiting for them to get back from a job. And that jobs were no places for women. You were just as quick to point out that she was often the brains behind what they did and simply made them do the dirty work for her. Leaving the younger two gobsmacked with mouths hanging open, Baz trying desperately hard not to laugh, and Andrew looking at you like all his dreams had just come true. There had been others, you guessed, all of them unable to put up with her... And certainly unable to stand up to her. But he had you now, and you didn't dare back down. Andrew was your boyfriend; she wasn't about to take him away from you and there was no way in hell you were about to let her degrade your work just because it was a “mans” job. "A little. Maybe I just like you guys." "That or you want us to get arrested." Your eyes flicked to Andrew; "And have my life be mundane again, Craig? I don't think so..." Andrew gave you a gentle nod. And you knew at least 3 of them were confident in your abilities to tell them what to do, and handle this. Even if you were happy with the two eldest sweeping in to help control things. And so the job went as well as planned, and maybe a little better than expected. You gave everyone an even split meaning collectively they earned more than your group, but that was the point, they’d done the hard graft. And doing jobs with you meant Smurf wasn’t taking cuts from them – all around you thought this was a win-win. Probably another reason she hates me! As you drove them back to the warehouse to each get in your own cars back home, it was Craig and not Andrew who held back. One fleeting kiss and Andrew was walking back to the car with Baz (didn’t mean he didn’t fix Craig with a threatening look… of course). You folded your arms, staring at him expectedly “…Yes?” He nudged your arm; “Guess that went pretty well.” “Yeah. Thanks for the help.” Then you added sarcastically; “Guess I could never have done that without some big strong men around!” At least his laugh sounded appropriately embarrassed; “You’re… you’re alright, you know that?” You gave a smile, if that was as good as compliments got; “…Thanks Craig! You’re not so bad yourself!” You waved them all off as they called their goodbyes back to you and you couldn’t help laughing. You loved all of them; and whether Smurf wanted you there or not, you were happy to be an extended part of this family. *** Andrew always wanted affection on his terms. You were quite willing to sit in the same room as him for nearly 24 straight hours in silence, just for those glorious 10 seconds he would cross the room and sit close enough to touch you. That’s how he asked, he never said it. He never just took you in his arms. And you were pretty sure he’d never ever heard the term public display of affection... but you knew when he sat like that, with that look on his face and in his eyes, he was begging for something from you. And Smurf could never fulfil that even when she thought she could. What’s worse, is you’d seen her give love to Andrew in a way that stifled him, that made him push back - that near enough made him angry.  But she took it away too. Because sometimes, Andrew needed her to be his mother. Not his keeper. And that’s when she was at her cruellest. Andrew was a lost cause. Andrew wasn’t someone she could control. He’d been in prison, he’d done drugs, armed robbery, D&Ds and DUIs... theft, murder... you name it. Deran was the baby and a sweetheart and you liked him a lot, but he was securely under her thumb and hardly in trouble. And too timid to stand up to her or his siblings. Born into the wrong family, in your opinion. He didn’t have the nature for this... Craig, in the middle, wasn’t stable enough to break free. And as far as you could tell didn’t want to. You’d always thought his relationship with Smurf to be a little twisted and tried not to uncomfortably stare when kisses seemed to be more than just familial... When Baz would kick you under the table and give you a look. Baz was Andrew’s best friend, and his stability. And you’d often breathe and tell him you thought he was the only sane one. And he would laugh gently, and give you his best smile ‘Aw, Andrew doesn’t do too bad now he has you...’

But Andrew... On his medication was a mess you didn’t like to deal with. They dulled his personality. If you thought he didn’t feel normally, then this was worse. And you knew what they were for. But you didn’t think they were any good for him. But what could he do? Sometimes he would give you the bottle and ask you to hide them, and that scared you. But you supposed that wouldn’t have Smurf forcing him to take them. But off his medication.... oh, he was anxious, and paranoid, and angry, and reckless... any idea was a good idea and he’d damn well do anything he wanted. But in the aftermath of that... when Andrew calmed down. That was when he needed someone. And he didn’t have to look for any real affection, just to know someone was there.

And you’d seen him at that point. At the point Smurf should love him the most; regardless of whether he deserved it or not. Because she was his MOTHER.

Andrew Cody should never have to beg to be loved…

But that’s what she made him do. And you’d had enough of that. So that led to you slamming your hands on the table, and standing so fast the chair hit the floor, as you fixed her with a stare so hard it was beyond if looks could kill. “Stop it.” She tried that sweet act, but you could see her face fall already “Stop what, sweetie?” “Stop f**king what?! Stop Making him BEG for this!” Your hands hit the table again “Andrew deserves better than this family - and he deserves a better f**king mother than you!” You weren’t sure you meant that about his brothers – but hell, at that moment you didn’t really care anymore. Suddenly Andrew was no longer looking at her for anything, and was trying to manoeuvre you from the kitchen. To very little avail, other than you weren’t sure what would happen if you stayed and had a full-on screaming match with her. “You don’t deserve him!” Was as good a spit as she got at you, that had you turning in his arms as he tried to drag you out the door. And by God did he have to keep a strong grip; “No! You don’t f**king deserve him!!! You don’t F**KING DESERVE any of them!!!” There was a silence. And you knew you’d full on blown it now.

Andrew froze, because whatever either of you said next, one of you had to be the bigger woman and walk away. You took a deep breath and your voice was shaking, with anger you were desperately trying to control again. “...They are your children... they are grown men... and you should love all of them unconditionally... You shouldn’t get to choose when you give them love! And they shouldn’t have to prove they are worth it...” you stepped out of Andrew’s arms “... what you do to him... is possibly one of the cruellest things I’ve ever seen.” And hell, in your line of work, by now you’d probably seen nearly all of it. “And if that’s why he needs me... then I will fight for that. And I will give him what he needs. And maybe I’m not good enough for him. Hell, maybe I never will be... but I am what he needs, right now… and I’m gonna damn well make sure he knows he deserves to be loved like anyone else does.” You walked, because you were in tears. And they were hot, angry, bitter tears that she had pushed you to. And you almost hated yourself that you’d fallen for that push. “ANDREW DONT YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME-!!” Was about the last thing you heard before you whipped around and were swept from the floor. “What the f**k are you-!?” You just about managed as you were carried, shocked, to his car. “Don’t speak. Just listen.” To what? He dumped you in the passenger seat and the next thing you knew you were driving to the middle of nowhere.  And you realised that was the point. To nothing. To his actions. Hell, you should know yourself by now, they were always louder than his words. There was a smile on his face. Something you weren’t even sure he was aware he was doing. You’re doing it again Andrew... You wondered again what it was; but you thought you already knew... *** It had been a few months since that argument, and as far as you were aware the cat fight was still on. And now you only stuck around the house if she wasn’t there. Sometimes she’d come back before you left, and there would be a five second stand-off where the boys sat in silence and the tension could be cut with a knife. Luckily, none of them were taking sides… But there was a new kind of amity between the group of you. You guessed it might have been a certain kind of respect… Which let you to doing a bunch more jobs with them – and more than enough times your gang of girls got in on this too. What was more, you got to watch from afar with Andrew as they all started warming to each other. And you got to give each other that same look; try to see Smurf break this up. But, then and there, jobs didn’t always go perfectly…! Even when Andrew had your back.

"Could have gone a little better for you, huh?" "Any time you can get me back, you will..." You winced, looking at the state of your arm. Arguably not your best idea ever, even if necessary. Andrew chided you for it again. Now in your apartment, you knew that Smurf would go ballistic at him for not returning home with the rest. "Yeah. Because I care about ya." "Come off the noble act, Andrew, you just wanna tell me I told you so." "I do..." He admitted with a smile "but I want to fix up this arm first..." He pulled you to him gently, arm straight across both your leg and his. “…You really shouldn’t be so stupid sometimes.” He knew that would raise a laugh; “It’s not stupid if it works…!” “Works?” You caught that smirk and raised eyebrow as he gathered the medical equipment closer to him; “If that’s what you call it…” You raised an eyebrow and couldn’t help that tease; "What’s mummy dearest gonna say? Shouldn’t you be running back home?" He shook his head "F**k her." Your eyes widened: "Wh- OWWWW---!" you cried out as he poured saline over the gash. You were 99% sure he also wasn’t supposed to be that liberal... His eyes met yours; see. "What did you just---!! If she heard you-" Those blue hardened significantly; "I said f**k her." Andrew breathed, "I have you now... You've seen what she does... You can't possibly imagine.... How much freedom having you in my life gives me... You stand up for me, you stand up for the boys, you stand up for yourself. I've never seen that." He looked back to your arm, drying and cleaning it, he bandaged you up; " You don't realise how proud I am of ya... And I’m aware I don't really say it, but I feel it." He sat up taking your free hand in his; "Y/N you are one hell of a f**king woman."

You gave a gentle smile; "I'm proud of you for admitting that." "Oh, really?" "Mmm..." You closed that gap with a delicate thank you kiss. It was a first step. Andrew’s affection was stoic but he was learning, he would figure it out. He'd tell you, in his own way, exactly how much he loved you. And you knew discovering the how was the best part of this relationship. He pulled you to him, it was a subtle, sensitive ask. If you want, I want. And you slid forward and across onto his lap, running your hands through his hair.  "Injured?" you asked with a cheeky wink. "Oh, well, I bandaged you, you’ll be fine." "Magic, huh?" "Not quite..." he tipped his head "But you know what they say..." "And what do they say..." He gave a shrug, voice soft, pulling you to him again; "I haven't quite figured it out yet..."

Andrew ran his arms under your legs and hoisted you from the couch. He stood still for a minute to make sure that he had you supported correctly, but you were quick to move on your decision. Your fingers were already at the buttons of his blue shirt as you kissed him. He placed his forehead gently to yours as he carried you to your room, his lips grazing yours. You knew even when it was silent, when Andrew Cody looked at you like that it was the closest he would get to saying 'I love you'.

--- THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!! 🎉🎉😘😘 🌟 6 Sins Down!!! 🌟

One to go and we’re all done!!!

@dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad.

[saventhhaven]

What a Douche

A/N: I always say this at the end of my posts, but just a quick reminder that links to my taglist, masterlist, and inbox are in my bio! I encountered a weird glitch in the Tumblr system that didn’t allow people who weren’t following me to see my posts if I put links in them, so I don’t do that anymore. Sorry for any inconvenience!

Word Count: 1,539

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Tags: protective!Dean, protective!reader, drunk assholes, the reader is chivalrous as fuck, Dean is equally chivalrous

(Gif not mine)

You let out a small content sigh as you drained the last of your first beer. Nights like this were hard to come by, and you always made a point of appreciating every single moment when you could. Sam sat across from you in the booth, drinking the same beer as you, and Dean sat next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he nursed his glass of whiskey. Letting out another light sigh, you placed the now-empty bottle back on the table.

"Hm," you mused. "I'm thinkin' about another one."

"Knock yourself out, sweetheart," Dean encouraged. "We're taking the weekend off, remember?" Chuckling softly, you nodded.

"How could I forget? Two whole days to relax and not worry about saving the world? Sam, I think you'd better call Crowley and make sure hell hasn't frozen over." Sam wrinkled his nose at your joke while Dean gave a good-natured laugh.

"You're right, though," Sam put in. "It's nice to be able to take it easy."

"Damn straight," you agreed as you slid out of the booth. "Need anything while I'm up?" When Sam shook his head, Dean flashed you a quick smile.

"Nah, we're good. Thanks, babe." You meandered up to the bar, motioning to the bartender for another drink. Glancing back at the booth while you waited on your beer, you watched the boys chuckle as they joked around. A small smile made its way onto your face. It was good to see them happy like this - a feat that made the night all the more precious.

"Seriously? 'Get over it?'" The hysterical cry immediately put you on high alert, but you quickly relaxed again once you realized nothing was wrong. Well, nothing that concerned your line of work, anyway. "You slept with another woman!" That one got your attention. You glanced discreetly out of your peripherals, your gaze landing on a man with blue eyes and dark ginger hair. He looked around the space wildly as his girlfriend (at least, that's what you assumed) yelled at him.

"Jesus, Kim, keep your voice down, will you?" After that one sentence, you instantly had a strong sense of dislike for him. If what the girl was accusing him of was true, the poor thing had every right to be upset. And who was he to go around telling her to be quiet? The bartender handed you your drink, and you gave a silent nod of thanks, sticking around to hear how the rest of the conversation would play out. You knew it really wasn't any of your business, but still, this guy gave you a vibe that told you something wasn't quite right.

"Did it mean anything to you?" the woman asked, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. The man's silence as a reply spoke volumes, and you heard her sniffle again. You really felt for this woman. You had dealt with a good amount of heartbreak back in the days before you had met Dean. "How could you do this to me?" she asked tearfully. The man huffed loudly in frustration, a reaction you hadn't been expecting.

"Come on," he said, "it's not like you care anyway. And you haven't been giving me anything these past few weeks, baby, I had to get off somehow! What else was I supposed to do?" You felt your lip curl back involuntarily in disgust. What a damn pig.

"You're such a fucking asshole," the woman shouted, mirroring your thoughts exactly. At this point, everyone in the bar was watching, so you thought it safe enough to give them your full attention rather than watching the scene play out through a sidelong glance. Without any warning, the woman picked up her glass from the counter and threw her drink in the man's face. When she turned to leave, he grabbed her roughly by the wrist, raising a fist over his head.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he snapped. You immediately jumped between the two, catching his fist before he could land the punch.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," you warned. The man held your gaze with a hateful glare, but you stood tall, not backing down. Finally, you released his hand, which he allowed to fall limply to his side. You glanced over at Dean, who was standing tensely, ready to spring into action. Giving him a small nod to let him know everything was okay, you then turned your attention to the woman the man was with. "Are you all right?" you asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. She still looked upset, but otherwise unharmed.

"Yes," she answered breathlessly. "Thank you." After murmuring a few more words of thanks, the woman hurried from the bar.

"You crazy bitch," the man swore from behind you. You heaved a sigh, turning back around. This wasn't going to be pretty. Before you could react, the man's fist came flying at you with surprising speed, hitting you straight in the mouth. His punch had more strength to it than you had been expecting, forcefully knocking you down to the wooden floorboards. You ran your tongue over your teeth just to make sure none of them had been knocked loose. "You should have just left well enough alone!" the man growled angrily. As he sauntered over to where you were sprawled on the floor, a blur of movement suddenly had him pinned backward on the bar's surface.

"You fucking douchebag," Dean snarled. Even from here, you could see the slight flush of rage in his cheeks. "What kind of man hits a woman?" The man glared daggers at you again as you stood.

"She deserved it," he stated plainly. The side of Dean's lip lifted up in a threatening smirk.

"Wrong answer." In one swift movement, he slammed a punch down right between the man's eyes, who crumpled, unconscious. Sam touched your arm lightly, surprising you.

"You all right?" You nodded.

"Yeah." Dean slapped a wad of cash down on the bar.

“Sorry for the mess,” he said to the bartender.  When he finally noticed the small crowd that had gathered, he rolled his eyes. "Show's over," he barked, straightening his rumpled clothes. The patrons of the bar quickly averted their gazes, embarrassed, as they returned to their booths and tables. Dean walked over to you and Sam, bobbing his head at his younger brother. "Close our tab, would you?" Wordlessly, Sam nodded and turned to the stunned bartender as Dean wrapped a protective arm around your waist, guiding you out of the bar. The fresh air was welcome as a breeze blew over your hot skin.

"You okay?" Dean asked once you had reached the car.

"I'm fine," you answered, although the throbbing in your lip had gotten worse. Dean's eyes narrowed in concern as he put a hand under your chin, angling your face towards the moonlight.

"You're bleeding," he pointed out as he gingerly swiped his thumb under your swollen lip. When he released your face, you raised your eyebrows.

"So, what's the verdict? Am I gonna live?" Some of the tension in Dean's face drained as the corners of his lips quirked up.

"Smartass." You mirrored his smile, giving your shoulders a small shrug. Dean leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and then one on your top lip, being careful to avoid your new injury. "It's just a split lip. Won't take too long to heal." He looked back at the building, a scowl returning to his face. "That dickwad," he grumbled. You reached out and took his hand, trying to draw his attention away from the bar.

"Dean, I'm fine," you repeated. "Thanks to you coming to save the day, as usual." Dean shook his head.

"Naw, I just put a dick back in his place. You were the one that did the day-saving in there." He made a small tsk sound as he pressed his palm against your cheek. "I just wish he wouldn’t have gotten that swing in." You placed your hand over his, giving it a small squeeze as you leaned into his touch.

"Hey, at least it'll look like a fuck-ass bruise in the morning, right?" Dean sighed, shaking his head.

"You're really somethin', you know that?" You gave him a cheesy grin, something you knew always made him laugh.

"I know. That's why you love me." He smiled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Among many other things."

"Hey." You and Dean both turned at Sam's voice, who was pointing a thumb back at the bar as he walked over to you. "The cops just got here. Said the guy's gonna spend the night in a cell." Dean released you, the anger almost instantly returning to his face.

"Just the night?" he demanded. "Nuh-uh, that asshole needs to spend the rest of his life in a cell." Sam's eyebrows furrowed as he watched his brother stomp past him back in the direction of the building. “Punch my fucking girlfriend,” you heard Dean grumble. You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the Impala.

"Really, Sam?" you asked.

"What?"

"You just had to go and rile him back up again, didn't you?"

Thank you guys for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Like I always say, links to my taglist, masterlist, and inbox are in my bio!

Please leave feedback! I love when you guys talk to me!

[rhnuzlocke]

Extra One: Jumpin’ Jack Flash

Zinnia was going to tear this incompetent twit a new asshole when she found him. How did he manage to screw up a simple task not once, but twice? As if she didn’t have enough to do, now she had to clean up this idiot’s mess.

And really, that was the least of it. She could see right where this was headed. Mr. Stone wasn’t an idiot. If the old man were only a little less perceptive, they would have had what they needed two months ago. The only sensible thing for him to do now would be to get the prototype to someone who couldn’t be compromised—his son. Once Maximus put two and two together, he’d send a squad to ambush the Giratina-damned League Champion like the arrogant dick he was. And Courtney—who Steven knew and would recognize—would lead it because no one else had the chance of a Bergmite in a volcano of overpowering him, superior numbers be damned. Maximus wouldn’t care. He was already impatient for the next phase. So he’d take the risk regardless and expose them weeks ahead of schedule. Why did she even bother planning when they’d all just chuck her hard work right out the window at the first little bump in the road? Well, it wasn’t really fair to blame them for what they couldn’t see. But she wasn’t about to explain it to them. They couldn’t be trusted. Not if they tripped over every hurdle. Zinnia didn’t even want to contemplate how they’d fall apart if they knew she was pulling the strings. She couldn’t say anything about it. She just had to nod her head yes as if she were none the wiser and let it happen. And that was why this peon was dead. He wasn’t in his room because why should anything in her life be easy? “The rec room at the end of the hall,” said Aster. Zinnia looked down at her daughter—always keen, always listening, always helpful—and just like that, half the anger melted off her. She held onto the rest for the job she still had to do. “They’re watching TV.” The Whismur hopped towards it, and Zinnia followed. The door was open and there sat three men on a couch, two watching and one sketching on a large work pad. She was in their peripheral vision, but none of them looked. Almost no one did. Zinnia had seen the artist and the one slouched on the other end together several times before, which meant they were a unit and didn’t run solo missions. That left the gangly teen in the middle. Now she understood. He was a child. Who the hell assigned him to her division in the first place? Zinnia stayed still in the doorway and watched him. He hunched over, arms resting on his knees and ass barely perched on the edge of the couch cushion. A copy of White Fang lay discarded on the coffee table, and a dull brown Poochyena went ignored at his feet as he stared intently at a news report, face tight. “Mr. Stone, owner and president of Devon Corporation, held a press conference this morning in conjunction with the Rustboro police chief, Hine Honda, reassuring anxious business owners and workers of his intention to support the repair of Rusturf Tunnel.” Even in the accompanying footage, he did indeed look kind and reassuring, far more so than the chief of police and her dour Hariyama. “The tunnel collapsed yesterday after being damaged by the combined Uproar attack of a stampede of wild Whismur and Loudred, setting the nearly completed project back for the fifth time this year alone. Thankfully, emergency responders report that no one was injured, but there is no word yet on how much longer it will take to repair the damage.” The other man rose from his slump to scoop the remote off the coffee table, and switched the channel. “You shouldn’t be watching that stuff, bro.” “You heard Terra at mess,” said the other without looking up from his drawing. “Probably would have happened anyway.” “Not your fault!” the first said with a clap on the back that made the kid jump. “The press is going to get a lot worse soon. It’s best to just ignore it.” “And don’t worry about Tabitha. I’m sure she doesn’t blame you.” “It was m-m-my fuck-up, Hart,” the kid finally responded with a pronounced stutter. “I’m p-pretty sure she b-b-blames me.” The other one elbowed the kid. “She thinks everyone is incompetent. You’re not special. That’s why she gets to boss people around while we have to do all the actual legwork.” “Th-thanks, Brent.” He sounded sincere, but not particularly heartened. “It was a shitty assignment and you had some pretty rotten luck, that’s all.” Hart slid back down again and put his feet up on the coffee table. “You were doing your job. Shit just goes south sometimes. You haven’t been a trainer that long and your Poochyena isn’t exactly a seasoned battler. Have you thought about maybe—” “Fang d-did fine! That t-trainer just pulled a d-dirty trick, having her Shroomish St-st-stun Spore me like that.” Now that part Zinnia hadn’t heard. Hardly a trick, just smart. Smart in a way most people weren’t. She rather liked the sound of this trainer. “See?” said Hart, as if that solved everything. “You just got dealt a shit hand as usual. Nothing to beat yourself up about.” “I know,” the kid mumbled. He sure was beating himself about it though. Seemed excessive to march in and chew him out now. But she had a reputation to uphold here and she didn’t know when she’d get another chance like this. Time to play her part. “JOSH!” she thundered, and Aster boosted it enough to make the furniture rattle. The kid damn near jumped out of his skin and threw an arm up to protect his face. Dragon’s teeth! But she couldn’t stop now. “How the fuck did you fail the same job twice!” This time, his stutter was so thick that nothing got past it, and the others were too stunned to move their tongues. “You had better get your fucking act together because this is the last time I clean up after you! Next time, it’ll be whoever’s on maintenance duty,” she spat, and he withered away from her glare. Then she turned on her heel and left. But she didn’t go far, just enough to make them think she was gone. “That nearly gave me a heart attack,” Hart groaned. Brent let out a big sigh, probably at the dark line he’d slashed across his drawing in fright. “I’m s-s-s-such a fuck-up,” the kid sniffled. “Naw, bro, that’s just Azalea,” Hart soothed, patting him more gently this time. “She’s always like that. She nearly bit my head off last week for nothing.” Zinnia didn’t even remember it. “Look, we all knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but it’s worth it, you know? We’ve just gotta focus on our goals, that’s what’s important. There’s gonna be some ugly press about us soon, but they’ll come back around when this is all over. People are fickle, but it’s up to us to help them out.” “Just keep working hard and things will get better,” said Brent. “They’ll get better for all of us.” “Y-you’re right.” Ah, there it was. Final question answered. He believed in it, what Maximus was trying to do. She could hear it in his voice. It wasn’t fear, but guilt, that was making the kid agonize over his failure. That was why he was in her division. That was why he was assigned the mission and would probably still be given more like it. Because it was simple and should have been easy, but should the worst have happened—should he ever be captured and questioned—he wouldn’t give them up. Because he was loyal and Maximus understood the value of it—probably held it in higher regard than she did. Zinnia stowed that away for safekeeping. More knowledge gained. One job accomplished. Now on to the next. “Yeah, don’t let that crazy bitch get to you.” That was her, even with Courtney for competition. Azalea was the crazy bitch. Zinnia had to smile. These clowns didn’t know the half of it.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Breakfast in Bed

(Story Post)

A week into his wolf cycle again, Nathan was finding himself worrying more and more about his upcoming bed rest. He wasn't sure if the nursery was 100% ready, he felt like he needed to be planning more for the big day, and he was worried about the garden at the cabin wilting while it was unattended. It would wilt anyway since it was now early November, but Kent had left clear instructions on how to prep it for the winter but Nathan wasn't home to do it. He'd convinced Nari to go take a look at it sometimes but he only agreed to do so at night on weekends. One such weekend morning, Nathan was sleeping out his exhaustion from the week and missed breakfast service. He didn't mind, he knew he could go crazy at lunch so he was surprised when someone came knocking on his APID door. When he opened it, Pierce was there with a plate and a smile. “Morning!” Pierce said. “I hope I didn't wake you up.”

“No, I just got up and I was doing a bit of reading…” Nathan said. “What's up?” “Well, um, I volunteered to serve breakfast this morning, but when I didn't see you at breakfast, I figured you might still want it and I brought some for you,” Pierce said holding up the plate of pancakes and sausage. “Being a werewolf must drain a lot of energy and I remembered you ate a lot of meat when we first saw each other here, and, I'm sorry, I'm rambling…” “Don't worry about it,” Nathan said opening the door more. “Thanks for the food… I really am pretty hungry. Do you want to come in?” “Uh, if that's alright,” Pierce said stepping in and handing over the plate. “So you live here on nights when you turn into a werewolf, is that correct?” “Yeah, the cycle started about a week ago…” Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. “At the end of the cycle though, I'll be here anyway on bed rest…” “Oh, really? That seems a little soon,” Pierce said. “Is something wrong?” “Yeah. I'm pregnant,” Nathan half joked. “But, seriously, just the fact that I have a womb but no vagina makes it a very high risk pregnancy.” “Wow. That's um… That's a lot of information,” Pierce said blushing. “So then, I'm sure you'd like to spend the rest of your morning resting then?” “Well, I wanted to use the day to write out my usual schedule with the students for the substitute…” Nathan said going over to the bed. “Actually, while you're here, could you grab my laptop from my bag over there? I'm not great at bending over anymore…” “Oh, sure!” Pierce grabbed Nathan's bag off the floor, brought it over and took out the laptop. “I'm, um… I'm actually going to be taking over your class for the year.” “You? Really? But who will be vice principal?” Nathan asked. “Well, I'll still be VP but Ms. Liu will be absorbing some of my afternoon duties,” Pierce said. “We're a team. We'll make it work.” Nathan blanched. “You weren't able to find anyone else? Are you sure this will work?” Pierce put up his hands. “Nathan, calm down. It's going to be just fine. We have it covered. In fact, I'm not used to being a VP. It'll be refreshing to be back in the classroom again.” Nathan rubbed his head. “Jesus, Pierce… Why do you work so hard? Just thinking about you being a VP and a teacher and volunteering here… I'd go into cardiac arrest.” Pierce chuckled. “But I love it. And if you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life.” “As nice as that sounds, it's still work and a man can only work so hard before…expiring,” Nathan stated. “If anyone needs to rest, it sounds like it should be you.” “Naw… Don't worry about it,” Pierce said. “I take breaks… Like visiting you today.” Nathan raised an eyebrow. “You're serving me food and you're still in your apron.” “But I'm supposed to be doing dishes,” Pierce said. “So it is a break.” “Uh huh…” Nathan started eating some pancakes. “These are pretty good…” “Yeah, the chefs really don't skimp on quality,” Pierce said. “They say the chef has like super taste buds so he can tell if there's even the slightest thing off with the food. Sometimes though he takes too long trying to perfect the recipes.” Nathan chuckled in response and ate a bit more. “…I guess it's better you cover my class than a stranger since you already know the kids.” Pierce nodded. “I already know the routine and whose got allergies and which kids can't sit together.” Nathan smiled. “I'm going to miss the kids… I've never been with a more special group. All those kids know what it's like to be different and they work so well together because they're just so keen to learn about each other.” “What better staff to teach them than a bunch of people doing the exact same thing?” Pierce pointed out. “I love the group we have. I feel like most of us can consider each other friends. I've never been on a faculty so ready to have each other's back.” “That's true… Nari, Dax and you have been the most help to me. I feel like I can trust you guys… Frankly when I first was contacted by APID I thought it was a joke,” Nathan said chuckling. He had to hold his side though as laughter jostled his stomach too much. “And then when I saw my first alien, I believed them but then I was still very distrustful… It took me a while to warm up to my case workers but it's the people that really make you feel at home.” “Yeah, I get that… I mean, I remember when my mother told me I'd be summering at a facility in Canada,” Pierce said. “I was so scared and it was the first time I'd ever been away from her for so long. But they made me feel at home here so I can't appreciate it more.” Nathan smiled and looked down at the plate of pancakes. “Well, I shouldn't keep you from your duties. I'll bring back the plate when I'm done.” “Well, I mean my shift's pretty much over, so I can wait… That way you don't have to go the way,” Pierce offered. “Do you want to watch a movie with me then?” Nathan asked. Pierce blinked. “Really? Sure. I'd love to.” Nathan patted the bed beside him and pulled up Netflix on his laptop and picked a film. Pierce sat down and slid up against the back of the bed. He sat quietly most of the movie, so Nathan figured he was pretty focused on the plot so he didn’t bother him while he finished his plate. With so much sitting however, it wasn't long before the twins started rolling about and he felt queasy. He rubbed his stomach gently trying to calm them down but it only seemed to excite them more. “Are they… Are they moving?” Pierce asked. “Yeah..” Nathan groaned. “I’m supposed to like it I think but at the same time, they just make me feel sick… The doc says it’s because one is pushed up against my actual stomach so when they move, it literally upsets my stomach…” “Oh, that really sucks…” Pierce said. “Does anything help to settle them?” “Yeah, walking around and stuff but I need sit down solutions…” Nathan said. “I just try rubbing which sometimes works, sometimes makes it worse, like now…” “Well, could I try?” Pierce asked. “I want to help.” “Uh, sure…” Nathan slipped up his shirt, exposing his belly. He motioned over his stomach. “One’s lying like this… The other’s underneath them right now. At least, I think that’s how it feels… Last appointment, this was their general position.” “Okay…” Pierce reached out a hand and lightly placed it on Nathan’s stomach. He started moving it around, but he didn’t really keep the pressure even. Nathan started giggling a bit. “Pierce… Oh my god, that tickles… That’s…not helping…” Pierce pulled his hand away. “Ah! I’m sorry!” “You’re nervous,” Nathan said. “Why are you nervous? You’ve touched my stomach before.” “Yeah, but it wasn’t moving before,” Pierce said. “I just…it’s strange on my hand when it moves…” “Wow. You baby…” Nathan took Pierce’s hand and placed it right where he was feeling the most movement. “Do you feel that?” Pierce held his breath as he felt something inside press against his hand. “That’s crazy… That’s inside you.” “Yeah, it's wild,” Nathan said. He looked at Pierce and squinted a bit. “I've been curious for a bit… How old are you?” “Me? Twenty-nine.” “Oh. Okay, I was starting to wonder if you were younger than me,” Nathan said. “But you're still pretty young for a VP.” “Yeah, I feel that,” Pierce said. “It makes it harder for parents to take me seriously I think… But I do my best.” He took his hand away. “How old are you?” “Twenty-seven,” Nathan said. “So in adult terms, we're about the same age.” “Yeah, that's cool. How old did you think I was?” Pierce asked. “Honestly, I don't know,” Nathan said. “Because it didn’t feel like you could be younger than me because of the VP thing, but then you sort of act a bit younger than the rest of us… Not like in maturity, but you get more excited about things than anyone else I'd say.” “What's not to be excited about?” Pierce asked. “With the people we work with, and the kids, every day holds new surprises and I can't wait.” “Well… I admire your positivity…” Nathan said. “But for me, I think I'm just a little more scared of what's going to happen next.” “Well… Maybe, you could use an extra hand,” Pierce said, his own hand sliding onto Nathan’s shoulder. “It’s just not easy to do these things alone.” “Yeah… The doc thinks I should try dating,” Nathan sighed. “But I just… I feel like my emotions are really…complicated with all these hormones. Not to mention, he also told me that being a werewolf gives off these pheromones that, like, makes people attracted to me, so I'd hate to think that someone only likes me just because I'm a werewolf. And I don't feel attractive right now…” “Well… I mean you are attractive,” Pierce stated. “…I, uh… Well, I just feel like people are smarter than pheromones. Like sure, it maybe makes them a little more attracted to you, but then they still have the ability to think about what they actually like about you, like your smile and your work ethic and your tenacity…” Nathan huffed. “Thanks, but, if I'm to believe the father of these kids, it was pure pheromones that got me pregnant because we absolutely hated each other.” “Really?” Pierce blinked. “So did he leave you alone like this?” Nathan waggled his head back and forth. “In a way… He's dead.” “Dead?” Pierce inhaled. “What happened?” “Capital punishment happened.” “Here?!” “Texas,” Nathan sighed. “Jesus… So like…do you like bad boys or something?” Pierce asked. “No. I told you we hated each other,” Nathan said. “But he's also like a were-person as well, and according to him, I was in heat and he couldn't control his bear with those kinds of pheromones about so I'm supposed to believe him… I don't know, it seems stupid to me. I shouldn't even be telling my VP this… God, I'm so stupid.” “No, it's okay,” Pierce said. “I don't think you're stupid. Things happen and sometimes we don't have control over it. You're a nice guy and anyone would be lucky to be with you.” Nathan smiled and rested his head on Pierce's shoulder. “Geez, you're so positive. How are you single?” “Aha, I'm not all that…” Pierce said. “No one would ever want me…” “What? Why would you think that?” Nathan asked. “Well, I mean look at me,” Pierce said. “They'd probably be scared I'd bite them or something…” “So… You've never been with anyone?” Nathan asked. “Ever?” Pierce shook his head. “…No. Never.” “So you've never…” “I haven't even kissed another person before.” “Pierce… I mean, I'm surprised, but I hope you don't think you don't deserve it,” Nathan said. Pierce was silent. “Oh, no. Come on,” Nathan said, sitting up straight again. “You have so much to offer. You're handsome, fun, very hard working, and basically the nicest person. If you're really worried about your teeth, trust me, there are people who are into that.” Pierce blushed and rubbed his neck. “Thanks, Nathan… I mean, it's not really just my teeth… I don't think I let myself get close to people because…I don't know, I'm worried I won't be able to…perform like I should.” “Why's that?” Nathan asked. “Well, um… It's complicated,” Pierce explained. “I just…don't think I want sex as much as normal people… It kind of scares me and I just feel like whoever I date will have desires I can't keep up with.” “What if you date someone like you?” Nathan offered. “There are other people who feel the same way.” “But, at the same time, I just don’t know what I like yet,” Pierce said. “Because I haven't tried it yet…” “That's true,” Nathan said. “But it sounds like you won't be happy unless you find an emotional connection with someone first. So look for that. Worry about the sex stuff later. Someone who really loves you will understand.” “Yeah… I suppose you're right,” Pierce said. “I just need the right person.” “Same,” Nathan sighed. “But right now, I feel like I can only concentrate on baking these buns to completion.” He rubbed his stomach caringly. “What a mess they're coming into… But I'm doing my best.” “Yeah, you are. Keep it up.” Pierce picked up Nathan's plate. “So, uh, I'm gonna run this back. I have to start prepping for lunch.” “Alright,” Nathan nodded. “Thank you for that again. Very good breakfast. I haven't had someone bring me breakfast in bed in a long time.” “Well, you deserve it,” Pierce said heading to the door. “See you.” “Bye.”

[parkersshaw]

Perfect Once More - Chapter 3

A Once Perfect fanfic, Part one can be found here, part two can be found here. I hope you enjoy, I’m really enjoying writing this one, its the most muse I’ve had for a while! 

You had your coat pulled tight around your shoulders as you walked into Excess. The cold February whether didn’t seem to be scaring away the clientele as you saw a line of people already waiting at the door for open. Once you would have been one of them. You barely remembered that girl anymore. Strangely, however, you also didn’t remember the woman who had waited on them. It was as if your life had been split into three stages. The girl who had existed before your father’s arrest, the one who had partied on her trust fund, never imagining it could all be taken away. Then there was the woman who had worked at Excess, desperately ignoring her past, and how it had broken her. This was the woman who had fallen in love with Mateo, been swept away by the first man who had seen her. Now there was the woman who existed after he had dumped her. You didn’t know why that woman would be yet.

You avoided everyone’s eyes as you came into Excess, tucking yourself away in the corner. You knew were Mateo was almost immediately, with Big Chris and Ant. Noelle and Dee Dee were only a few steps away. Once it would have been second nature for you to go join them. They had become your closest friends in the past few months. They were Mateo’s friends first, however, only giving you a chance because you were with him. Now, no doubt, they thought of little of you as he did.

You were aware of the absence of Mateo’s gaze. He used to watch you whenever the two of you were together, his look enough to make you feel hot. Now, however, he didn’t even seem to notice your entry.

This is it, you thought, this is the worst of it. I’ve seen him, I’ve seen them all, the hole between us is as clear as I knew it would be. Now I can put my head down and work. It’ll be just like it was before I got with Mateo, I will work alone, knowing nothing about the people I work with. I’ll come and I’ll go, I’ll make enough money to buy my flat, and I’ll be no worse off then I was before I met Mateo.

“Now that Princess is back with us, we don’t need to worry about uncovered areas so I want to see you all out there, keep the drinks flowing in these rich fucks mouths, and keep them happy.” You realized too late that Sam had been giving his normal spiel. Your cheeks flushed when he mentioned you, feeling eyes turning to look at you with curiosity. It had been a long time for one of the staff to take off sick. More embarrassing than the eyes on you, however, was the one person who hadn’t even bothered glancing your way.

“Teo, I’m expecting a busy night tonight, I want to see your boys on every door. Let’s not have any trouble.” Teo nodded, calling the other bouncers over for their debrief. You moved to grab your trey, hoping to get out on the floor as quickly as possible so no one would notice that you once again had no one to talk to. Before you could take a step, however, Dee Dee and Noelle were on either side of you.

“We heard; Evelyn I am so sorry.” Noelle wrapped an arm around your waist, her red hair brushing against your shoulder. Dee Dee didn’t get as close, but you could see the expression on her face, the same pity.

It broke you, the kindness they were showing you. You felt your head drop as the tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, “Shh.” Noelle said, coming to wipe your cheek, “Don’t let him see how he got to you. He wants to be an idiot he doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you suffer from it. You pick up that tray and take you're fine ass out onto the floor, make him remember exactly what he walked away from.” Noelle gave the aforementioned ass a slap before picking up her own tray and moving off.

Dee Dee approached you, her tray in her hands, giving it to you, a serious expression in her eyes. “You need anything tonight, you let me know.” You could only nod as she too walked away, feeling as if a tiny piece of that hole Mateo had left inside of you was slowly being filled.

The night was going normally. Much more normally than you had expected, Dee Dee and Noelle were cracking jokes whenever you passed each other, rolling your eyes at the more obnoxious customers and helping each other push through the crowds without spilling the copious amounts of alcohol that was being carried from table to table.

You were once again looking after the VIP section. A group of drunk co-eds had stumbled into it. Ordering tray of blowjob shots after tray of blowjob shots. Your eyes had followed Mateo as much as you had tried not to. He seemed on edge, quick to throw out anyone who stumbled. He had nearly thrown a punch too many times for your liking. Here was the Mateo that you had only seen before in the underground fights, the man who let his fists lead. The man who seemed if he might snap at any moment. This was a man you could see hurting you, a man who seemed ready to fight the world.

Despite your eyes seeking him all night he never once looked your way, staying as far away as possible. He moved through his team of bouncers as if he was repelled by your presence, always keeping a sea of people between you. It was whilst you were watching him strategically move away from you that you felt the hand on your hand.

“Keep one of those for yourself darling.” It was one of the co-eds, he was holding a shot glass out to you, whipped cream sitting on the top of it. You forced a tight-lipped smile onto your face, not wanting to lose this table’s tips, they’d dropped enough money on drinks for you to know it would be a big one, “Sorry, I’m still on the clock, why don’t you do it for me.” You moved to walk away, but the kid followed, laying a hand on your lower back, “Naw, I’m sure your boss won’t mind, you're serving our table, after all, come on, sit down and have a drink with me.” He leaned in, allowing you to smell the alcohol on your breath, as you tried to push him away, however, he just gripped on tighter,

“I’m sorry, I’m really not interested.” Noelle was at your side in an instant, pushing herself between you and the handsy man “Hi there sir, I’m Noelle, I’ll be taking over this area from now on, why don’t you let me take you back to your table,” The kid pushed around her, eyes never leaving your chest, “Actually I think I preferred the other waitress if you don’t mind,” He shoved Noelle to the side, lunging for you, just as quickly as he came at you, however, he was pulled away flying to the other side of the room.

The cause of his removal quickly revealed itself as Mateo pressed him up against the wall. His forearm was against the kid’s neck, choking him, as he spoke in a low dangerous voice. “You look at her again, you touch her again, I will send you out of this club with two broken legs, you understand me?” The kid nodded, desperately pulling at Mateo’s arm as he struggled to breathe. Mateo relaxed slightly, lifting the pressure of his neck.

Wheezing an evil look came across the kid's face, “Bitch was begging for it.” In an instant the kid was flying across the club, crashing into the table where his friends had been sitting. In an instant it all lit up, the other kids who had come with the creep were on their feet, screaming that they were going to call the police, Ant and Big Chris had grabbed Mateo stopping him from lunging at the kid once again. Sam came barrelling across the floor. He pulled the kid up, apologizing and promising drinks on the house for the rest of the night.

Finally, it seemed that Mateo had been calmed down and the co-eds placated as Sam turned to face them, fury radiating off him. “You,” He said, pointing at Mateo, “And her” He nodded at you, barely even glancing your way, “In my office, right now.”

[misanthropicmegara]

WIP chapter 13

I was aware of every sound as I lay in the library before I caved in and decided to fall asleep with the help of an audiobook. Even in the midst of my efforts to fall asleep, I thought of the pain I’d seen in Rosanna’s face, and how I hadn’t been able to get rid of it. I knew logically that wasn’t my fault, but there was an irrational determination lodged firmly in my mind that told me not to let that stop me. My thoughts kept drifting toward Rosanna, and my worry grew so much that I started thinking I was going to sneak upstairs and make sure she was still breathing. This was ridiculous, I told myself, she was fine. To distract myself, I calculated what time of day it would be back in North Carolina, and started up a skype call with my older brother. As I had expected, Grant was in the middle of something, bouncing one of his twin daughters on his shoulder while one of the other kids made noise in the background with the other one. “What have you got, little brother?” Grant smirked through his brownish blond beard, never breaking the rhythm of bouncing his daughter. “Is it the dream about the ducks again?” I barked out a laugh that echoed through the library, and I was suddenly conscious that I might wake Rosanna. “Naw, you know that was when I was six! I just thought I’d show you where I’m sleeping,” I said, leaning aside so the phone’s camera would catch the library in the light from the projector. Grant whistled as he got a good look at the place. “Did you break in? I thought we talked about this.” “No, I’m making sure my boss won’t miss any meals or get stuck anywhere. She’s sort of sick but not really from trying to find out what pills will help her with something or other. I’m not going to make any sense this late. But she’s up in her room and probably wouldn’t have made it there on her own. The poor thing can barely walk and it hurts the more she tries.” “Are you sure she was at a hospital?” Grant stuffed some of his burger into his mouth before one of his kids could snatch it off his plate. “It sounds more like she went to a disease donation center.” “I don’t pretend I understand, but she seems sure she needs to go through it for some reason. She’s let herself be alone in this huge house with everything miles away from each other, and I couldn’t let her do that again.” “What’s your angle here, trying to be her nurse?” Grant asked, and handed off the baby he was carrying to my nephew, Kelan, who gave me a wide-eyed stare from his pale face before sweeping away from the camera. “Just a very worthwhile person to keep around,” I grinned. “Someone to make sure she’s never alone when she needs someone, for one thing. And tonight she’s told me I could be her groundskeeper! So I think the nurse thing might not be such a bad idea, eh?” “Oh, yeah, she sounds really sane, you should keep pushing it with her now that we know she hands out jobs to her stalkers.” If we’d been in the same room, I would’ve smacked his arm, but as it was, I made sure to lean close enough to make sure he would see my eyes gleam. “Joke if you want, but I’m not her stalker, I’m her…” I paused as I realized if I continued I might have to say the word ‘friend.’ Rosanna had a habit of using it, but I always told myself that was because she didn’t think I was serious about staying. I let her say it so long as I wasn’t sure I could stay, and didn’t want to break her heart. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try and change her mind and my visa status. I just needed the right signal. “Oh, God,” Grant leaned his head back. “Come on, you’re not about to tell me you’ve been friend zoned, are you?” “It’s not like that,” I muttered. “She doesn’t want to break it off with me when I leave, and she thinks that’ll be in a month or two. She hasn’t figured out that if I think there’s something we can have together, I’ll be sure to stay.” “Why not try saying so?” Grant asked. “I’ve only talked to her a few times, it’s not time to spring something like that on her, yet.” “But you’re ready to tell yourself all about it,” Grant leaned his cheek on one fist. “You’re spinning all these yarns about how you’ll be together forever, aren’t you? Are you a middle school girl? Where’s your diary with all the pages filled with her name? Do you write it out as Rosanna Conte or Rosanna Kinkaid?” As much as I intended to be offended by that string of assumptions about how I treated paper, I couldn’t help but grin at the way he had paired her name with mine. Even I hadn’t dared to think that far yet, but now that he’d mentioned it… “No, no, you take off that stupid face,” Grant groaned. “Do I need to come over there and remind you not to get big ideas?” “I don’t remember you ever succeeding at that,” I said, my grin only widening. “I remember you tried to convince me I couldn’t fix the door to the shed on my own, and I did it better than you could!” Grant rolled his eyes. “Are you still on about that? Because it’s boring now. You need to start thinking practically, and not like a little girl. You need to remember that you’re a grown man, and you will have other jobs after this one. You hardly know this woman, and you’re getting ready to make a complete moron of yourself in front of everyone just because you think you know her.” “Listen, I have two very important bits of advice for you and for once you ought to listen. First, don’t get sued by a rich foreigner. It’ll definitely be way more than you got off of Frost. Second, don’t let my first niece or nephew be born Italian and kept away by a vengeful ex of yours. Got it?” I smirked at him and shook my head. “She’s not going to sue me, and I’m not going to sleep with her. I mean unless she asks.” “No, no, no, see, that’s the kind of thing that gets me worried, you’re all love drunk again. You don’t realize that it’s dumb enough to sleep with your boss but it’s worse when the boss is foreign, you’re going to get yourself in such a quagmire you’ll forget you spent a whole year trying to say it as often as possible. You’ll barely remember anything anymore.” “Rosanna likes to get back at people by improving her own life, I really don’t think I’m going to get into trouble.” “That’s fine, go ahead and tell yourself it’ll be the same thing when you have to leave her. She’s got issues, right? What do you think happens to you when someone with unlimited resources comes after you full force?” “She won’t, because I’m not going to hurt her in any way. Honestly, it’s driving me a little crazy that only August thinks I have good taste in women.” Grant pointed accusingly at me through the phone. “That’s the look of a man who forgot all about Viv Jacobs in tenth grade!” “Come on, we were kids and nothing happened.” “But you still got grounded for a month for being a lovesick little dork and doing all the dumb things she asked you to do. What was it that finally got you caught?” My ears were burning. “I forget, but Rosanna isn’t like that.” “Thing is, you never think anyone is like that, and you’ve gotten yourself into deep trouble twice already. Mom is already going psycho over here, she came to my house and started telling Liz all about how you were a poor sweet puppy and everyone kept trying to put you on a leash.” “She really needs to stop doing that,” I mumbled. “She’s got the leash I’m worried about.” “Fine by me, but watch yourself. Has this girl got you doing a bunch of extra things?” “I always suggest things I could be doing,” I said defensively. “She asks me if that’s too much and she’s so considerate, Grant, you don’t even know. Every time she does something she’s checking if we’re all right, she tailors what she feeds us at lunches and such to what she knows we like. Earlier she ordered food for us and got the closest thing the region has to Shepherd’s pie! Now you tell me how a girl like that is a dangerous manipulator who just wants to make me do her bidding.” “Whoa, you’ve got it bad. Have you considered taking a step back to see if you’re just infatuated?” “I adore her, but I also admire her. After everything she’s been through she’s still doing her best to do the right thing. She’s gentle and caring and it doesn’t matter that I haven’t known her for very long, I want to know more. What I’m not going to do is rush her into anything, but you have to promise me to talk to Mom and let her know I’m not crazy and this girl is special to me for completely legitimate reasons.” Grant leaned back as he looked me over, or at least what he could see of me considering how dark it was. “I’ll tell her you’re not just throwing yourself at any random girl you encounter. I haven’t met this girl myself so I don’t know if she’s actually as great as you say. Maybe she just wants to keep everyone happy so you don’t question her. She could have something else going on in her head that she’s not letting you in on.” “I have an idea,” I stood up and started pacing with the phone. “I’ll ask her to talk to you, and you can make up your own mind. How about that? Maybe she will be ok with talking tomorrow, just keep track of your phone.” “Sure, and I’ll give Mom a full report. Maybe I can get Liz talking to her.” “One at a time is probably the best option,” I said, “she’s very shy.” “Right, if that’s what you think is best.” Off screen someone was crying. I could hear my nephew Kelan venting his teen angst all over the place, and gave my brother a smug grin. “Guess I can sleep well knowing you’ve got all that to deal with and I don’t.” “You keep trailing after girls, you’ll join me soon,” Grant warned. “Try not to get stabbed in your sleep, Lamb.” He cut off the call before I could protest the nickname. I decided it didn’t really matter. We were going to hash it all out in the morning.

[lordofthebigtimesupernatural]

Single-Dad!Shiro AU: Shiro has a job to do, so he asks Kuro to watch Keith for a while. Keith sees this as a chance to do things that Shiro forbids in the house. Kuro, being the cool uncle he is, agrees. Unfortunately, both end up ruining Shiro's stuff & the house is a mess. Worse, they got news that Shiro done his job a lot faster than the expected time. Cue both Keith & Kuro went into panic mode as they scrambled to restore the house back in order before Shiro arrives back...

Hello! Thank you for the wonderful prompt! I had a ton of fun with this one! I was cackling to myself the whole time, so I hope it makes everyone else laugh. You can bet Kuro and Keith are great together. Not great for Shiro… Thank you for sending in prompts and for everyone else sending in prompts! Enjoy some fluff after that last angsty prompt and who is ready for season 6?!! I won’t be on tumblr until after I watch it to avoid spoilers.

However if anyone likes pictures of nature and animals, feel free to check out my instagram @jaime__roy. I’m there when I’m not on tumblr! Enjoy!

x.V.x

“Bed-time is eight-thirty. Eight is always good too.”

“Yes Takashi.”

“There’s no running in the house.”

“Of course.”

“No movies rated over PG.”

“Okay.”

“No parties.”

“Seriously?”

“And please be sure to keep an eye on him.”

“Takashi, I can handle this. Don’t worry,” Kuro finally sighed dramatically, before bouncing the five-year-old Keith on his hip. Keith nodded seriously. “I will keep two eyes on him instead of one.”

“I was talking to Keith,” Shiro deadpanned as he looked up from his son. “I trust him not to leave the house a mess.” With that Shiro tickled Keith’s chin, sending the boy into a flutter of giggles and wiggling limps.

“My own brother!” Kuro whispered hotly, causing Keith to giggle again.

“Yes daddy!” Keith saluted when Shiro gave him a bright smile. The two ignored their uncles dramatics in favor of peppering each other with kisses. Keith was a giggling mess as he tried to messily kiss his dad’s cheek, but Shiro was determined to plant as many kisses as he could.

“Alright buddy,” Shiro said softly, finally pulling away. “Daddy will be back before by dinner time tomorrow. You be good and take care of your silly uncle, alright?”

“‘Kay daddy.” Keith mumbled quietly. He reached out towards Shiro in an obvious attempt for a hug, to which Shiro gladly complied. He hugged Keith tightly and held on him a tad longer than normal, before Keith was squirming to get down. Ah, kids.

As Shiro was calling goodbye to Keith, Keith was already in the other room, setting up blocks on the ground. He was completely immersed in the activity and ignoring everything else around him. Eventually, Shiro sighed and turned to his twin brother.

“I’ll take care of him.” Kuro said honestly, in a rare moment of seriousness with his brother. After three years, even Kuro knew how much Keith meant to Shiro. Keith was Shiro’s whole world, and honestly he was Kuro’s too. Kuro would rather die than let anything happen to his precious nephew.

“I know you will. I’ll be back by six tomorrow. We can all go out for dinner then.” Shiro smiled as he headed for the door. Kuro beamed and nodded, already looking forward to when Shiro returned home.

“Sounds good baby bro.”

Shiro looked at Kuro with such a disappointed look that Kuro almost apologized. However, he was a man of firm beliefs. A man who stood his ground. Even in the face a ad Disappointed Dad.

“Welp, you better leave now if you’re gonna catch that flight! Don’t worry, Keith and I will be just fine. Goodbye Takashi!” Kuro roughly pushed his brother out of the door with a happy wave. Shiro sputtered but allowed himself to be pushed out the door.

“Bye Keith!”

“Bye bye.” Keith called from where he was in the house.

“Bye!” Kuro grinned before slamming the door close in front of his brother’s face. He could just picture Shiro’s fuming face on the other side, but Shiro didn’t have time for another lecture for Kuro. He did actually have a plane to catch, so Kuro figured he was safe. For today at least.

With a clap of his hands, Kuro grinned and raced into the room where Keith had already constructed a mighty tower of blocks.

“Alright bud. Let’s have some fun.” Kuro rubbed his hands together. Keith hummed, rubbing his hand along his pants.

“More blocks?” He asked softly.

“I was thinking about making a volcano experiment. Maybe we could cook that pasta dish that I’ve been wanting to try. We could even turn the tub into a pool!” Kuro replied rapidly. He was already planning a night of fun and excitement for Keith, knowing that Shiro could sometimes be slightly overprotective over Keith. Shiro had many rules to follow but Kuro figured that Keith could use a break. For just one night.

“But that’ll make a mess.” Keith replied, blinking owlishly at his uncle.

“No it won’t. Don’t worry. We can be extra careful.”

“Can you cook?”

“Of course I can!” Maybe.

“But daddy usually doesn’t do that with me.”

“Oh come on bud,” Kuro said down on his knees beside Keith. He kept his distance from Keith and his tower of blocks, knowing that the kid usually didn’t like people bothering him when he was building. He especially did not like anyone touching his towers. Not even Shiro.

“It’ll be fun. I promise. Don’t you wanna have some fun with your favorite uncle?” Kuro pleaded with a small pout. Keith blinked again.

“You’re my only uncle.”

Kuro sighed heavily and buried his face into his hands. “Alright bub, I didn’t want to have to do this. But you leave me no choice.” Kuro knew what he was about to do was a risk. There was no way that he would be as effective as Keith as this, but Keith was a master. Still, Kuro had to try. He needed to get Keith to say yes.

He would try his infamous puppy dog eyes.

With a deep breath in, Kuro prepared himself to give Keith the best pair of puppy dog eyes that anyone had seen. And boy, did he put everything into it. Kuro even made sure his eyes twinkled when he looked up at Keith, and his lower lip trembled. Just a bit.

Keith merely stared at Kuro and Kuro began to sweat. He did not, however, give up. Instead he pushed all of his determination even further into his look.

Eventually, Keith gasped loudly.

“You look so weird! Is that how I look?! Please don’t ever do that again.” Keith cried dramatically and Kuro froze in surprise. A second later his look crumbled as he burst into uncontrollable laughter. Kuro rolled onto his back still laughing when Keith scrambled to his side.

“Uncle Kuro? Are you ‘kay? Are you sick?” Keith said anxiously as his uncle continued to laugh. Kuro tried his best to control his laughter, but he could only manage to calm himself to quiet bursts of giggles before pulling Keith into his arms.

“Don’t ever change bub.” Kuro said in between giggles and even Keith cracked a smile. When he finally had calmed himself enough to speak properly he shared a grin with his nephew. “How about we start with dinner?”

Keith nodded eagerly and the two made their way to the kitchen.

x.V.x

Shiro shuddered to himself with a sense of dread pooling in his chest, in the middle of a meeting. It was as if he could feel a disturbance in the Shirogane timeline.

A sudden flash of the house burning down, with Kuro standing over a pot of boiling water, filled Shiro’s mind.

Kuro can’t cook.

x.V.x

“Well…that went well,” Kuro mumbled, as he slurped up the noodles on his fork. Beside him Keith shrugged, but eagerly munched on his own bowl of noodles. Kuro swallowed and glanced back at the blackened wall above the stove.

In all honest, this was Kuro’s best attempt at cooking. He actually had two edible bowls to eat. There were no injuries and the stove only caught fire once. Luckily, Kuro had lightning fast reflexes and put out the fire immediately with Keith nowhere near the flames.

“Don’t worry about the wall. I’ll clean it tomorrow before daddy comes home.” Kuro mumbled through a mouth full of noodles. Keith made a face.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” Keith chided, despite having food in his own mouth.

Kuro nodded and continued to eat his food.

x.V.x

“Do you ever regret everything you’ve ever done?” Shiro mumbled, face buried in his arms. Beside him, his coworker awkwardly patted his back.

“Dating troubles?”

“Babysitter regrets.”

“Oh…”

x.V.x

“Naw Takashi. I heated up pasta. It was fine,” Kuro mumbled distractedly. His tongue was poking out as he concentrated while on the phone with Shiro. Beside him, Keith’s own tongue was poking out with anticipation. Kuro almost cooed at the sight of his nephew in oversized goggles and a large trash bag around his body.

“Uh, huh. Keith ate it all, right little man?”

“Yes daddy! It was actually good.” Keith said seriously.

“Oh, okay sweetheart. Is everything okay? Is Uncle Kuro getting you ready for bed soon?” Shiro asked half-heartedly.

“We are playing and then bath time.” Keith replied.

“Shiro it’s only seven thirty. The kid still has an hour. Don’t ruin his fun.” Kuro mumbled distractedly as he concentrated on the task before him. Suddenly, Keith slapped his arms and began bouncing excitedly.

“Uncle Kuro, Uncle Kuro! It’s happening!” Keith clapped his hands excitedly.

“What’s happening? Kuro, what’s going on?” Shiro asked through the phone.

“Yes! Gotta go Takashi. We’ll call you before bed!” Kuro said cheerfully as the paper volcano before him began to bubble.

“Kuron, don’t you dare hang up-”

Click.

“Look Keith! Look at it!” Kuro said excitedly when the paper volcano bubbled once more. Keith grinned excitedly from atop the chair he was standing on. He and Kuro shared a look before the volcano erupted right in front of them and shot white foam straight up.

Onto the ceiling.

Keith shrieked excitedly when the volcano erupted and Kuro laughed maniacally. After an impressive ten seconds, the volcano ran out of white foam and the two sat in awed silence. Until Keith started bouncing up and down excitedly. Despite the mess on the ceiling, Kuro and Keith clapped loudly and high-fived each other.

Keith decided then to scoop his hand into the white foam on the volcano before his entire face scrunched up. He was then trying to flick the foam off his hand, only getting more and more frustrated by the second.

“Off! Off! Gross!” Keith moaned and waved his hand in front of Kuro. Kuro grimaced. He figured that the foam would have a weird texture.

“Off! Get off!” Keith pleaded, causing Kuro to scoop him up into his arms.

“I think it’s time for a bath.” Kuro announced and headed up the stairs. He glanced back at the mess in the kitchen and shrugged. There would be time tomorrow to clean it up.

x.V.x

“Dive! Dive! Dive!” Kuro commanded before taking a deep breath and submerging himself entirely in the bathtub. Keith laughed loudly and followed his uncle, causing the water to ripple widely and spill all over the floor.

Kuro surfaced with a gasp and more water flooded onto the floor.

“Commander Keith, ready the torpedos! We have a niner-niner, code yellow attacking!” Kuro claimed and pointed towards a rubbed duck.

Keith surfaced too and grinned with a large splash.

x.V.x

Suddenly the glass of water in Shiro’s hand gave him vivid flashes of floodwaters.

He swallowed and set the glass down.

Did they have water insurance?

x.V.x

Kuro was having a pleasant dream that involved bacon, a field of dogs, long walks on the beach, and…a phone ringing?

Wait, that was his phone.

Kuro snorted awake with a jerk, realizing he and Keith had both fallen asleep in Shiro’s bed last night. The bed was slightly damp since Keith and Kuro had barely dried off before heading to bed. Kuro looked over and noticed that Keith was still curled up, fast asleep on Shiro’s pillow with his stuffed lion tucked under his chin. He smiled before realizing that his phone was still ringing.

Scrambling to the side of his bed, Kuro finally reached his phone and answered without checking the ID.

“‘Ello?” He yawned.

“Hey Kuro! Sorry to wake you.” Shiro’s voice floated through the phone and Kuro rolled his eyes playfully.

“Don’t worry brother. I was getting up soon.” Kuro replied tiredly.

“Oh good. Then you guys’ll be awake when I get home!” Shiro said happily. Kuro nearly choked on his spit and he was unable to form words. However, Shiro seemed oblivious to his brother’s panic and continued.

“Our last meeting got canceled so I left early this morning. I should be home in about ten minutes!” Shiro said, causing Kuro to have a heart attack. The kitchen! The bathroom! Everything was still a mess!i

“Oh. Keith will be so happy!” Kuro replied, racing out the room. He raced into the bathroom, heart hammering at the still wet floor and soapy tub. His heart sunk and he could only imagine how the kitchen looked.

“Yeah! Is he there?” Shiro asked.

“Uh, um, he’s still asleep. Plus don’t you want to surprise him!” Kuro rambled. He scrambled around the bathroom, grabbing as many towels as he could and flinging them all on the floor. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Oh yeah! He’ll be so surprised.” Shiro said. He won’t be the only one.

“Great! I’ll see you in ten then! Bye!” Kuro replied quickly and hung up before his brother could even protest. Kuro raced down the hall, figuring the bathroom would be okay, in order to survey the kitchen. He was so dead. Shiro was going to kill him. He had survived terrorists. Kidnappers. His dad’s training. But Shiro was going to be the one to take him down. There would be no mercy with an angry dad.

Kuro was just entering the kitchen when he heard the front door opening. It had not been ten minutes!

“Hey Kuro! Keith, I’m home!” Shiro called out.

Kuro felt his heart freeze over. He could hear tiny feet pattering down stairs and Keith raced past him. Keith did hesitate to lock eyes onto Kuro, before looking at the state of the kitchen.

“Save yourself.” Kuro whispered hoarsely. Keith’s eyes widened and he raced towards Shiro.

“Daddy! You’re home!” Keith screeched and Kuro heard him laughing happily as Shiro picked him up. Then Shiro was kissing his son all over.

“Yep, daddy came home early just for you sweetheart!” Shiro said. “Did you have fun with your uncle?”

“Yes daddy! So much fun!” Keith replied. At least our last time together would be memorable for Keith.

“That’s wonderful baby! Where is your uncle?”

“Um…”

“Kuro?” Shiro called and his footsteps were slowly getting closer to the kitchen. Kuro eyed the kitchen window, momentarily calculating how much time it would take to hurl himself through it and run.

Suddenly Shiro’s footsteps were right behind him. Too late.

“What. The. Fuck?!”

“Daddy said a bad word!”

Here lies Kuron Shirogane. He died too young, at the hands of Takashi Shirogane. He will be missed.

[builder051]

Congrats on 100!! I'd love 29 cause I'm super obsessed with appendicitis oops

I think appendicitis is a great trope too!  Problem is, you can only torture each character with it once…

___

Colby’s been up and down all night.  Sitting on the toilet, in front of the toilet, guzzling water from the tap, brewing peppermint tea as quietly as possible, all to no avail.  His stomach still hurts, and Jason, who seems to be in the deeply unconscious clutches of his REM cycle, isn’t stirring when Colby makes weak attempts at cuddling.  There’s something peaceful about being awake at 3:30 in the morning. He thinks for a moment about trying to make it to one of those sunrise yoga classes, but abandons the idea immediately.  He’d vomit all over his mat if he tried to press into downward dog in his current condition.

He curls onto his right side with his chin hovering over Jason’s shoulder, ineffectively spooning his boyfriend’s sprawled frame.  But the position hurts, and he rolls to his back, shutting his eyes and wishing the painful cramp or whatever the hell it is will go away.

It doesn’t, but Colby does eventually find sleep again.  It’s light outside, and Jason’s mumbling something about Honey Bunches of Oats when he next opens his eyes.  He’s uncomfortably hot, and when he sits up, his t-shirt clings to him with sweat.

“What happened to you?” Jason asks blearily.

“Am I glamorous?” Colby replies, clearing his throat and pushing damp hair off his forehead.  He cracks a smile, but it turns to a grimace when the ache in his abdomen decides to tick up a couple notches.

“You’re kind of a mess,” Jason says.  “You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Dude.  No, you’re not.”  Jason finds a seated position too.

“Yeah, well.  My stomach kind of hurts,” Colby admits.  “But, I don’t know.  Probably not a big deal.”

“What, did you get food poisoning from your organic hummus or something?”  It’s a joke, but concern shows in Jason’s eyes.

“I don’t think so,” Colby says.  “I’ve been kind of up and down, like, waiting for something to happen, but I think I’m really fine.  Just kind of uncomfortable.”

“If you need the bathroom, I can always commandeer Mike’s,” Jason offers.

“If you did that, she’d murder you,” Colby laughs, wrapping his arm around his stomach to dispel the resultant throb.

“Seriously, though,” Jason says.  “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m ok.  I don’t have class till this afternoon, so I’ll probably just chill.  See if this’ll work itself out.”

“Well, in that case,” Jason says, leaning in to kiss Colby’s bristly cheek.  “I’m taking the bathroom first.”

Colby vegs against the pillows for a while, then forces himself to drink another glass of water while he watches Jason shovel down cereal.

“Call me if you don’t feel better, ok?” Jason says as he loads homework into his binder and readies his backpack for the day.  “I can come home or pick up some pepto or something.”

“Nice offer, but don’t worry about me,” Colby answers.  “It’s too close to the end of the semester for you to miss class.”

“Since when do you care about class?  Maybe I do need to worry about you!”

“Naw, you care about class.”  They both laugh.  “Now get going,” Colby says.

Half an hour later, Colby’s standing in the shower.  His stomach isn’t bloated, but the persistent pain feels like the worst possible case of gas.  He swallows a mouthful of water from the showerhead and tries to force himself to burp, convinced he’ll feel better if he just relieves a bit of the pressure built up inside him.  Nothing happens, though.  He pushes until he almost gags, then cringes.  Washes his hair. Finishes up.

He dresses in sweats and tries to think through his options.  Colby feels maybe a bit worse than he did when he first woke in the middle of the night.  He thinks perhaps a fever is slowly creeping up on him, and his stomachache is sitting consistently in the could-possibly-puke territory.  He fixes tea and toast he has no intention of consuming and sits on the couch.  He turns on Pandora and slouches into the cushions, wondering if 9:30 in the morning is too early for a nap.

“Are you listening to Indigo Girls?”  Mike’s face is a twist of disgust and confusion.

It takes Colby a second to find himself in space and time, then swallow down hot nausea, and finally formulate an answer.  “I guess.”  He doesn’t know what radio station he’s listening to.  Probably folk pop or something like that.

“You’re so weird,” Mike pronounces.  Then, “What’s wrong with you?  Aren’t you, like, usually reading the Kama Sutra or cataloging endangered leaves or something by this hour?”

“Nothing,” Colby says.

But Mike glares at him and says, “You’re sick.  Which is weirder.  You never get sick unless one of us does first.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Colby says, repeating his conversation with Jason earlier.  “Go to school.”

“Yeah, I will, but I’m starting to think I’m in the twilight zone.”  She looks down at the cold, untouched toast.  “You’re eating white carbs and everything.”  Mike shakes her head.

“Mm.  Yeah.  My stomach,” Colby explains.  As if on cue, said stomach convulses painfully and sends prickling nausea up his throat. “Give me a minute, here,” he mumbles, standing up and stumbling into the bathroom.

Colby drops to his knees in front of the open toilet and breathes, waiting for the inevitable gagging to start.  He can practically feel liquid in his stomach preparing to eject, but nothing happens except a swell of seasick dizziness.  “Fuck, come on,” Colby curses.  He rests his chin on the toilet seat.  He spits excess saliva from his mouth and waits to start retching.  He feels beyond disgusting.  Colby sticks two trembling fingers down onto the back of his tongue.  He gets as far as triggering a cough when a voice comes from the doorway.

“You sure you want to do that?” Mike asks, exhausted cynicism heavy in her tone.

“Christ, fuck, Mike,” Colby croaks, putting both hands back on the toilet bowl.  “God.  Of course I don’t.  I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

“No, I get it,” she says.  “You just…wanna get it over with.”

“God.  Yes.”  The nausea’s squeezing is brain and his stomach in opposite directions.  He finally gags, though nothing comes up.  A second pitch forward brings a trickle of water.

“See, it’ll happen on its own.”

“Ugh.  Yeah,” Colby breathes

“Alright.  Well.  I’ll leave you to it.”  Mike retreats down the hall.

As soon as he has breath, Colby calls, “Go to school,” after her.  “Don’t worry about me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” carries back.

The front door bangs open and shut, and Colby heaves raggedly until he’s empty.  The nausea hasn’t lessened much, and all that seems appealing is getting horizontal again.  He meanders back to the living room and swallows a sip of his cold tea.  If this is how things are going to be, Colby knows dehydration’s going to be his main enemy.

He badly needs a distraction from the figurative railroad tie stabbing at his internal organs.  One of Jason’s books is on the coffee table, and Colby picks it up.  He absorbs the first few chapters of Leaving Mother Lake and decides that whatever class has assigned this book needs to get on his schedule next semester.  The story of the young protagonist growing up in rural China is surprisingly engaging for a school book.  Until there’s a passage about rooster blood and Colby has to race his nausea to the toilet.

There’s hardly anything to vomit up, but that doesn’t stop Colby’s body from turning itself inside out.  Bile drips from his lower lip with a slow cadence while heaviness draws his head down onto his arms.  Time moves oddly; it seems to take a long stretch for him to recover from each heave, but in no time at all he’s spitting up snot and acid all over again.

It turns out a lot of time has passed, and all of a sudden there are cool hands on his face and neck.

“Hey, wake up.  God, you’re burning.”

“Hm?”  Colby looks up to see Jason, and he struggles to put together a cohesive timeline.  Is it morning?  Or evening?  Has he missed class?  Does he even have class today?

“So, not feeling any better, I take it.”  Jason wets a washcloth and presses it to the back of Colby’s overheated neck.

Colby grunts, making a rippling echo tear across the toilet water.

“You definitely have a fever.  Is it still mostly your stomach?” Jason asks, popping a squat beside Colby.

“Yeah,” Colby exhales.  “It, uh, it really hurts.”

Jason worries his lip and nods slightly as he locks onto Colby’s glazed eyes.  “This is really serious, huh?”

“I, uh, yeah, maybe?”

“You never complain about anything.  You have the highest pain tolerance of anyone I know, except maybe my stupid sister, and this is hitting you hard,” Jason says.

Colby sighs.  Fights the urge to dry heave.

“Where is it hurting you the most?”

“Here?  Ish?”  Colby uses his quivering fingertips to draw an imprecise oval between his navel and right hip bone.  “’s like I’m getting fucking stabbed.”

“Ok, we have to go to the hospital,” Jason says, rising to his knees and putting a supporting arm around Colby’s shoulders.

“No, I don’t…I’m…” he breaks off and gags hard.

“Do not tell me you’re fine when I’m almost positive this is your appendix.  This is serious,” Jason insists, getting Colby to his feet. “We’re going to the ER.”

“I’m gonna puke in your car,” Colby murmurs, knowing Jason will be squeamish about any bodily fluids that are uncontained.

Jason takes a deep breath.  “It’s ok.  We have to go, though.”

They’re halfway down the hall when the front door bangs open and Mike’s unmistakable lightweight footsteps shuffle inside.

“Hey, better idea, we’ll make Mike drive,” Jason says with a guilty grin.

Colby laughs, then redoubles his grip around his aching stomach.

[rhodochrosite-love]

Devil’s Guilt pt. 2

Words: a lot

Pairing: slight Dice/Ace

Tags: little swear, tough times, tension, close calls

The next few months after were a special kind of hell, chock full of an uneasiness not meant for the innocent world. Lucky for Ace, this was Hell itself. As the days went on, the more guilt he felt. The more he saw his brothers, the guilt would breed and multiply in the darkest corners of his mind. The fear that came from the guilt, however, was worse.

As Ace sat on his bunk in his part of the house, he stroked the soft material of his dress shirt that lay on the sheets. A forlorn expression laid across his features as he procrastinated, what am I goin’ ta do? Ace thought. It’s been months since I’ve talked ta boss, and I know he’s suspectin’ me… What’s a guy ta do? The boy sighed and finally reached for the shirt and rolled his arms into the sleeves, preparing to button it when the door swung open.

“Whadda wallop those kids gave me!” Said the other man, stretching his arms like they’d pop out if he stopped for a second. Ace looked him up and down; the man’s hair, like Ace’s, was light and fluffy at the ends, but seemed more ruffled. There were a few cuts on his cheek, but it looked like he once had more. The goatee on his chin signified the other man’s stance as older, while his eyes said the exact opposite. Ace chuckled, “Ya probably deserve it, Mae. Who KNOWS what goes on in that head’a yours.” A little smile planted itself on the boy’s face, but quickly dropped when he turned away.

Maestro was one of Ace’s older brothers, the second oldest. While Ace was the softer of the 4, Maestro often proved to be the exact opposite. Bruises were always evident on Maestro’s body, and now cuts since they entered the casino business. Maestro plopped down on a bed and rubbed the gauges in his ears, then tapped the diamond earrings as if to assure himself that they were still there. He leaned down to reach his hand under the bed to grab a first aid kit, open it, and take out the mirror that lay inside. Maestro held it up to his face and ran his finger across his parted lips, eyeing the chipped tooth near the front of his mouth. “Damn!” The man said with a hint of frustration, “those scrubs got me pretty good! I mean, I know they got Doyen, but those kids sure can run ‘n’ gun!” He set the mirror down and got out the small roll of bandage to start wrapping his wrist.

For the past few months, these two kids got their souls snatched by the Devil. Thing is, not everyone comes back from that, but these two fellas started collecting contracts and fighting for their souls. To Ace, it seemed so familiar, for the 4 of them had done that, once upon a time. “Hey, speakin’ a’ which, you seen Doyen anywhere? I reckon he’s gotta SHIT ton a’ scrapes from his fight. I checked ‘is table, but he ain’t nowhere… “ Maestro broke the silence once again, breaking Ace from his thoughts. The younger brother responded, “Naw, I haven’t seem ‘im. Must be hurtin’ tho, from that beatdown… Must’ve been fun, huh?” Ace looked back to his vest and dusted it off, then slipping that around his waist and slowly buttoning it.

Maestro looked up at his brother quizzically, “‘Ey, what’s wit’ you? You don’t gotcha mind in the’ gutta, do ya?” Ace shook his head and chuckled softly, “No, no. Just thinkin’, is all.” “About th’boss, amiright?” The younger boy tensed up at the thought of his boss, without recognizing Maestro’s flirtatious meaning behind it. Oh god, do I tell ‘em now? What would he think? Oh god, I- “‘cuz I gotta admit, you spend a lotta time wit’ that guy. It’s gettin’ weird.” Maestro looked around, thoughts running through his head. Suddenly, a thought struck his mind, and Ace knew the exact one.

When the boy turned around, Maestro was already standing up, a worried expression laid across his face. Ace looked at him with a fake smile, “I don’t think it’s… SO weird, y’know? Isn’t- Isn’t it natural for two people ta get along?” Maestro inspected his brother with an uneasiness in his stomach, and pointed his finger, “‘ey, are you, you an’ him-” He clenched his other hand into a fist, his tongue tracing his lips for a quick moment, “-are you an’ him pitchin’ woo? I hope ya rememba’, what we all went through togetha’, an’ if you’re in kahoots with-” Maestro pointed to the door, signalling the outside world. “-THAT guy, then you’ve gotta whole other thing comin’-” “Speakin’ a’ Dice, ah… We have ta talk.”

This stopped his big brother in his tracks, and made him start his habit of clenching and unclenching his hands. Oh, jesus christ, not this shit again, thought Ace, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Maestro was quieter now, his eyes set on his brother after riling himself up. Ace sighed and continued, “I… I don’t know if I… can do this anymore.” He looked to Maestro, who nodded at him to keep going. Ace sighed a second time, “I can’t keep up with you guys, y’know? I’m just, so sick, of bein’ on my knees and beggin’ for scraps. I wanna do somethin’, be somethin’...” Ace finally looked up again at his brother’s face, and said with the most seriousness he’s ever had, “If I have...ta let ya’ll go, well… “ He trailed off.

Maestro’s eyes widened, his breath hitching. His brow furrowed after a few seconds of fist clenching, and when he spoke, his voice was loud and furious, “SO YOU'RE JUST GONNA DROP US, JUS’ LIKE THAT?!” The older man was trying so hard to search his brother’s eyes for a hint of a joke, but when he found none, he took a step forward. Ace saw this, and did nothing. He had expected this out of Maestro… he was the rowdiest, after all. “Mae-” “NO! DON’T YOU ‘MAE’ ME! DON’T YOU REALIZE WHAT YA JUS’ SAID??” Ace turned to look away, knowing this would happen. There was nothing Ace could say, or do, to fix what he just did. Tears stained the corners of his eyes as another man entered the room, “‘Ey, what’s wit’ th’shoutin’?”

Champ, Ace’s third eldest brother, strolled into the room at the worst, most absolutely terrible time. His tired eye, the unbandaged one, looked between his younger brother and older brother, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. Maestro shrugged his shoulders and scoffed, walking in circles now, “I knew it. I KNEW it! There was ALWAYS gonna be a traita’ in our lil’ hug fest soona’ or later!” Champ looked to Ace now, confusion littering his eyes, “what didja do, Ace?” Champ asked softly. “I’LL tell ya what ‘e did!” Maestro finally turned to his brothers and pointed a finger at Ace specifically, “HE’S STEPPIN’ AWAY! LEAVIN’ US IN THE DARK! He cares too much about the damned boss than the rest of us!” “Well, do I got much choice?! You’re all mopin’ and so damned miserable that not even I can fix your sorry asses!” Ace shouted back, his voice cracking while his tears started to spill.

Champ’s gloved hand covered his mouth in shock, now believing his younger brother. Maestro huffed and looked over his brother for moment, and began to open his mouth- “I can’t HELP but like this place more than you! ‘Spite rememb’rin’ all we’ve been through, I wanna move on!” Tears stained Ace’s cheeks, but there were more in Champ’s eyes. Ace pounded on his own chest and continued, “My heart hurts, Maestro! I don’t know how much I can take this anymore! I don’t know how long it’ll be before I end my own goddamn LIFE ‘cause of this mis’ry!” Ace’s voice wavered and cracked as he wiped the snot from his nose, “Surely, you’d want me alive n’ happy somewhere, then dead ‘n a ditch…?”

The elder brother looked to the floor, then Ace. If any of them touched any part of Maestro’s body, especially his face, it would be as hot as magma in a skillet. Maestro shivered and growled inhumanly, “get out… “ “W-what?” Uttered Champ, shaking in his shoes. “I sAID GET OUT!” Screamed Maestro, his knuckles white now. As Ace stepped back, Maestro stepped forward, waving his fist in front of him. “And don’tchu EVER, EVER LET ME SEE YOUR FACE IN HERE AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME?” The elder brother’s vision went red, and Ace flung his hands up in front of his own face, flinching as the fist came down, expecting it to land on him.

After a moment of caution, Ace looked up at his hands and was surprised to find no marks. What…? He looked over to his brother, whose fist was enclosed in another’s hand. When Ace tilted his head, he saw his oldest brother, Doyen, with a bandaged wrapped firmly around his crown and his poofy pompadour split in two. He must’ve been listenin’ from outside... The youngest brother shook in fear as Doyen shoved Maestro’s fist away and say some incomprehensible gibberish to his brothers. Ace couldn’t hear a word, he was so shook with fear. After a second of panting dissociation, he heard his name sounded by a deep voice.

“Ace.” Doyen spoke, his hand on the open door. The youngest brother looked between the panic-stricken Champ, the raging Maestro, and finally on Doyen. His oldest brother was usually the strongest, most stoic of the bunch. He always made things better, and gave them hope… This, however, was not the case. When Doyen looked at Ace, he saw nothing but loss. Ace shivered, and walked toward the door, silently and slowly. He didn’t dare look back. Not once.

After a minute or so of walking about, Ace finally tucked in his tie, buttoned up his shirt, and clasped together his vest. He made his way to the bar, stiffly ordering a strong whiskey, and downing it in one go. The people around him buzzed with excitement, alcohol in their veins and risking their lives like it isn’t theirs to risk. When Ace looked around, all he could see were suckers. A pang of guilt hit him in the heart, If a ditch it is… a ditch it’ll be. He ordered one more whiskey, making that 2, and drank.

“Feelin’ low, Hearts?” Dice said, out of nowhere. The tall man leaned himself on the wood counter, eyeing his employee curiously. Ace only nodded, “I did it, boss.” “Did what?” Dice replied, catching a serious glare from Ace. The manager looked at him for a moment before chuckling softly, “sorry, Hearts. I was only teasin’ ya… But maybe that’s not what you want right now. Amiright?” Ace sighed, but then that sigh turned heavier, and then into fits of sobs. The boy covered his head to shield himself from his bosses prying eyes, his body shivering and emitting soft hiccups.

“Oh, Hearts,” said Dice, “Don’t you cry, you’re betta than that! In fact…” The man pulled out a white hankey from his coat pocket and nudged it to Ace, who quietly took it and wiped his eyes. “Why don’t you prove it to ‘em? I seen them two boys come in here with the intent to knab their souls back, and I gotta plan to make ‘em regret ever comin’...” Ace looked up at Dice, what’s he on about? “You’re whacky, boss,” he sniffed, “Those brats walloped my brotha’s, ya think I can do any damage to ‘em?” “I do.” Said Dice, “Y’know why I think so? Because you’re more capable than all y’brotha’s combined, y’got that? Ain’t nobody can touch you.”

For the past few months since the two had spoken, Dice had found himself becoming more accustomed to Ace. His mannerisms, his diction, his point of view… It was all so fascinating to Dice. Because it was so familiar. Running away from something that made him feel so lost was so real for Dice, and while Ace has him, Dice never had anybody. “Tell y’what--You help me finish off those boys and I’ll give ya someplace to stay. I imagine those brotha’s ‘a yours won’t letcha stay with them no more, right?” Ace nodded in response, rising from his seat and wiping away any remaining tears. Dice held out his hand, “Come with me, and you’ll finally get your freedom.”

This time, Ace had no problem reaching for his hand. What did he have to lose?