#permit backrooms answers

[dhpbackrooms]

Hi is it safe back here?

It is!... for the most part, theres a few things thats a bit dangerous but thats nothing i cant handle :>

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Helping Hand 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You're permitted to leave the dungeon of your policy review for your designated half-hour break. You go to the lunch room and sit down with your meagre tray of crackers and cheese. You pick away at it, your appetite spoiled by the rotten start to your day and the pain tearing at your muscles. You really just want to go home but you know you can't. You need the money.

Your phone shakes on the table, a loud rattle that makes you flinch. You sigh and grab it, standing up to take the call. The longer you avoid Andy, the worse it's going to get. You leave your food on the table and jar your shoulder as you pull open the door. You put the phone to your ear as you storm onto the sales floor.

"Andy, I'm at work."

"Tough shit. How hard is it for you to give me an answer? It's as simple as a text--"

"You ever think I don't want to see your mother or you? Andy," you huff and hold your breath, lowering your voice as you hurry past customers. You get outside just as you're about to burst, "you left me. You served me papers. Why are you still bugging me?"

"I asked you for a goddamn favour. And just like usual, you can't do a simple task--"

"Andy--"

"Listen to me," he hollers over you, "she's sick. Okay? She's sick and she wants to see you."

You stop on the curb, teetering on the edge. You push your neck back and groan. God, you're shoulder hurts.

"How sick?" You ask.

"Sick," he answers somberly, "please, it's one afternoon."

You exhale, "what about... her?"

Another silence as he sniffs, "that's over."

You want to scoff. You want to scream in his ear. All that for a fling that didn't even last a whole year. You hold back your venom, it doesn't change anything. You're still divorced and you still hate him.

"Too bad," you mutter, "fine, I'll come."

"Thanks," he says, "for what it's worth."

"For her, not you," you growl.

"I can drive you--"

"No, I'll figure that out myself," you turn back to the storefront, "the less time we need to be together, the better."

He clucks, "I wasn't that bad."

"Apparently I was," you shrug and let out a pathetic yipe, "god fuck!" You pull the phone away from your ear as you try to stifle your exclamation. You put it back to your cheek and cross the pavement to the door, "gotta go. Bye."

"Sunday--"

"Got it."

You hang up and shove your phone in your pocket. You whine and clutch your shoulder. Your eyes blur with tears. So much for a relaxing lunch.

You reenter the store, head down as you ignore the customers trying to get your attention. You punch the keycode into the lunchroom door and grab your uneaten snack, packing it away before returning to the backroom. As you enter, you find the office occupied.

"Ah, there you are," Jonathan greets as he turns to you, "how was your break?"

"Short," you answer and go around to sit in the chair, cradling your elbow to keep pressure off the joint of your shoulder, "thanks."

"I saw you rush out. Everything okay?"

"Yep," you roll forward and flip a page, "everything is roses."

"And how is your shoulder?" He asks.

"Good," you lie.

He stares at you. A deadlock between you. You bow your head and resume your mindless browsing of redundant rules. He comes close to the other side of the desk and rests his fingertips on the top.

"I am worried, I am not treating you maliciously," he says evenly.

"I know. I told you not to worry."

"Someone should be cautious if you won't," he insists, "I am not like that man I fended off last night–"

"He's not your problem to worry about."

"Yet, I do," he intones, "you shouldn’t let him shade your impression of the world. He is one person–"

"I don't want to talk about my ex-husband," your voice scrapes with frustration, "please," you lift your head, "I'm just trying to get through the day."

He considers you, dragging his hand away from the desk to cross his arms. His forehead ripples and his cheek twitches. He takes a breath and his chest rises and falls.

"Very well, let's keep this professional. Go home."

"What?" You sputter.

"Yes, you've had time to review the policy. Should an employee have issues performing their duties, and/or pose a risk to themselves or others, they may be dismissed," he declares, "I believe if you sit here any longer and stress your injury, you will cause irreparable damage."

"It's fine–"

"I am your boss and I am telling you to leave the premises."

You lean back, chewing on a yelp. You blink as you glare at him. You can't believe he is doing this.

"Now, since you are officially relieved of your duties, as your friend, I insist you see a doctor–"

"You can't do this–"

"I am," he shrugs nonchalantly. "Of course, you may choose to catch the bus and see how you fare with a night of discomfort and no relief or you will accept my offer and seek help. I had my physician pencil you in for an hour from now–"

"Why would you do that?" You sneer.

"Because, you are stubborn–"

"I am not your responsibility."

"Perhaps not in your mind," he smirks, "so, shall I retrieve your things from your locker or would you prefer me wait for you here?"

"I'm not going with you," you stand and close the binder, slamming your hand on the cover.

"Very well, until you seek proper care, you will not be permitted to return to work. I cannot risk the liability–"

"You are…" you begin, breathless with exasperation, "why are you doing this?"

"Doing what? Looking after you?"

"Yes," you murmur, "why would you bother?"

"Someone must," he drops his arms, "please, be mad at me all you like, it is better than hurting yourself."

You shake your head and huff, avoiding him as you round the desk, "I'll get my bag."

"I'll be here, darling," he hums smugly, "patiently."

[backrooms-office]

Introductory post

Welcome to Backrooms Corp.

“Once you become part of the family, you never leave.”

This will be a lot to read, so buckle in.

This will be split up into sections, listed here;

1) Letters (asks/boundaries)

2) Joining the Family (making ocs)

3) My knowledge

4) Extra Information

———————————————————————

Section one: Letters (asks/boundaries)

When sending letters (asks) into the office, there are a few things we do not permit you to add in these letters. All letters in and out are monitored, so nothing gets past us.

1. No explicitly NSFW asks - slightly suggestive (asking for hugs, kisses, romantic life, etc) ones are okay, but no actual explicit (sexual life, asking for sexual favours, etc) letters.

2. No sending upsetting letters. If you do not like an employee, this can be taken up with management.

3. When sending letters, make it clear who it is addressed to. If it is being sent to everyone, make such clear within your letters, same applies if you are asking a few specific people.

4. Role play accounts/letters are allowed, maybe encouraged. As long as you aren’t being weird to our employees, do what you wish.

5. These rules may not always apply, so if you send letters frequently, make sure to read up on rules each time, just to be safe!

———————————————————————-

Section two: Joining the Family (making ocs)

When employees are being interviewed to join us here at Backrooms Corp, they are regulations and standards they must meet.

1. Can my employee be something other then an entity?

Yes, but there are rules. If your oc is human, they must be insane or very crazy. Humans can only join if they are clear signs of insanity. This means they won’t try to escape and tell the front rooms about our existence. If they are a non-human entity from something other then the backrooms, this okay and there aren’t any rules. (Currently)

2. Can my employee have a S.O.? (significant other)

Yes, but only if the creator of the employee says so. This means you can ship your own employees together within the office. Your employee can also have a crush on another employee. (Im fine with any of yours having crushes on mine!) If the creator of the employee asks you to remove their crush, you must. We respect other’s boundaries, regardless of how we feel about them. You may headcanon employees as dating, but as of now, none currently are. (I don’t care what you ship, js don’t be rude or weird about it)

3. How many ocs can I make?

As many as you like, but if a lot of employees join, we cannot ensure we will show all of them the same attention. If your employees are being very overshadowed and ignored, bring this up to management and they will try their best to fix it.

Here is the dress code; read up on it to make sure your employee(s) fit the standards.

———————————————————————-

Section three: My knowledge (on the backrooms)

As it stands, I’m not very well versed on the Backrooms lore or Backrooms overall. If I’m being honest, I didn’t think this would get that much attention, but I’m so thankful that it did!

I’m trying to research it as much as I can currently, so please excuse me if I’m not as well informed as you may assume. As it stands, I have a self-rating 4.5/10 understanding of the backrooms. This will hopefully go up as I research and continue this account.

I would also like to note none of this is canon to any Backrooms lore (unless I make my own) but it may include some of the backrooms lore.

———————————————————————-

Section Four: Extra Information

My posting schedule is usually consistent, which is posting every weekend. If I miss a weekend, do not worry, I’ll just post on Monday instead.

If you want a higher chance of your letter being answered, ask earlier on in the week, so Monday - Wednesday I would say. This gives me plenty of time to make a response.

My main account is @parhamsiphagluis although I don’t post very often, since I focus more on this account.

No, I do not want you or anyone reposting this content. If you want to reblog, then please do, but don’t post the content elsewhere with or without credits. I want all the rewards of my work, to go to me.

———————————————————————-

Thank you for checking this out and reading it all! I hope I can please everyone with my posts and enjoy myself as well!

More sections may be added as it goes on, but for now, this is where I will leave it.

If there is anything I missed or need to clear up, send a letter or message me privately!

[ddarker-dreams]

Buds of Marigold. Yan Childe x Reader x Yan Scaramouche

Warnings: Implied forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, depictions of anxiety, darling threatening violence against someone, mild not SFW implications.  Word count: 2.5k.

“I never thought the day would come where I’d be so stumped,” Ying’er runs her fingers over glass bottles of essential oils and varying plant nectars. “For such an important customer too… everything needs to be perfect.”

You don’t lift your eyes from the task in your hands, scrubbing valiantly at a stain blemishing an incense pot. To affirm you have been listening, even if you won’t spare her a glance until you’ve finished cleaning, you hum with a rising intonation. Ying’er sinks to the ground with all the grace of a drunken sailor, sniffling in a final attempt to pry out your sympathy.

She hobbles over to where you’re sitting and places her head on your lap. Your body tenses at the sudden touch, but you steady your breathing before it can get noticeable.

“Oh, almighty Yun, the lost Archon of fragrances, have thee no pity for thy devout follower,” Ying’er lifts the back of her hand and presses it against her forehead in a show of unparalleled theatrics. The sight does as she intended, a light giggle leaving your lips at the impromptu melodrama. Her timing lines up well as the stubborn grime you were fighting finally concedes.

You place the incense pot aside and sheepishly pat her head. “Ying’er, how are you going to learn if I give you the answers every time?”

“By your ingenious example!” She exclaims, jutting out her lower lip into a pout. “I’ve already picked out the base, I just need a little nudging in the right direction for the top and mid notes.”

Your eyes soften and your heart is strum with conviction. You soothe your grumbling friend by stroking her hair, humming a soft tune, all the while feeling somewhat baffled by your growth thus far. A few moons ago, you couldn’t have pictured allowing yourself to be touched like this by anyone. It wouldn’t matter how innocent the contact was. The moment someone got too close for comfort, you were willing to reduce them to nothing but a pile of cinders.

You pause your ministrations and sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll help you compose your perfume. This is the last time though, okay?”

Ying’er ailments seemingly vaporize into the air at your begrudging assistance. She shoots up from her kneeling position like her feet were coiled springs, an overflow of gratitude fumbling past her lips.

“You’re the best, Yun,” she praises and pinches your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Now that I’ve won you over with my charms, how about—”

The front door’s chimes ring, alerting you both of someone entering. You two exchange a look of confusion, as Scent of Spring is closed for the day, the oil lanterns extinguished and doors locked. Your finger twitches by your side in anticipation. Ying’er is blissfully ignorant to your Vision and subsequent ability to command forward a blade, a façade you wish to sustain.

“I’ll handle it,” Ying’er says before you can contemplate your options another second. You nod, an unspoken appreciation etched onto your countenance. The details of your circumstances were purposefully murky and she never presses. Whatever conclusions Ying’er has come to, you prefer it stays that way, not wanting to upset the delicate balance that is your current life.

You straighten out her collar which had wrinkled. “Call me if anything’s wrong.”

Ying’er winks reassuringly and presses her hands over yours, the touch featherlight. “I’m a fearsome opponent, no one would dare cross me.”

Let’s hope that’s true, you think. Frowning, you observe her retreating figure, taking caution to remain out of sight. Ying’er steps out of the backroom, the thick wooden door closing loudly behind her. You keen your ears to listen, cursing internally over how the thick walls muffle their voices. Her voice is one you instantly recognize, but the other belongs to someone with a deeper timbre. Your boss is an elderly woman, so that rules her out. A Millieth, perhaps?

You’re not left waiting for long, much to your relief. Ying’er pops her head back in a few minutes later.

“It was just a returning customer who was pleased with his latest commission, the one you helped me with no less. He had nothing but high praises for it!”

Waves of relief crash over you, but your senses remain on high alert.

“I’m happy to hear that. Still, how did he manage to get in? Didn’t you lock up for the night?” You inquire, hoping you don’t sound overly paranoid. In the back of your mind, you can’t fully discount the idea that it’s him, the thought alone enough to have you shaking in place.

“Must’ve forgotten or something,” she shrugs. You let out a breath you were holding in at her nonchalance, it seems plausible given her airheaded nature. “By the way, Yun, can we work on the perfume in the morning? I just realized how tired I am.”

“Of course. It has been a long day... I’ll finish things up here, go home and get some rest.”

Ying’er waves and wishes you a good night.

It’s now your turn to slump onto the ground, grasping your chest when your knees hit the floor. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you tell yourself. Everything is going to be okay.

This peaceful existence that you’ve fought tooth and nail to build for yourself… the only way it could ever get be stolen from your hands is if air no longer filled your lungs. Your fingers travel underneath the foreign fabric of your Liyue garments, the warmth of your pulsating Vision giving you solace. Tending to the last few chores, your subconscious drifts elsewhere, to an island beyond the sea. What is it you would be doing this time of day again? Ironically enough, you realize you’d be working with incense as you are now, but for different reasons. The reason you excel with curating incense to produce the best aroma is because you were trained to do so.

Your work now is your lifeblood, giving you enough to scrape by undetected. Those days, however, were a different story. It constituted survival like now, but to a far more humiliating degree. It was expected of you to perform your duties with grace and discipline. You would retire early to your shared chambers, prepare and burn your husband’s favorite incense, and fuss over your appearance in the vanity. Then you would loosen the sash of your obi, just enough so that if it had been a frustrating day, he could lose himself in your body for a momentary escape. Those customs had been ingrained into your mind. Had you needed to, you’re certain you could’ve done everything with your eyes closed from memory.

You head for the back exit. Surely, your past self would be thrilled to know your meticulous plans had come to fruition. All those smiles through gritted teeth, submissive language, and patience that could rival that of a god… everything was worth it.

Now you’re no longer the number Six of the Fatui's Eleven Harbingers’ spouse. You’ve taken the identity of Yun, a Visionless worker for a perfume shop in Liyue, everyday defined by freedom. To do as you please, go where you please, speak to who you please. The little details that were stolen from you by his hands return like tentative buds in spring.

You’ve yet to fully assimilate with Liyue’s cuisine, but it’s steadily growing on you. Maybe you’ll make an Inazuma-inspired dish tonight? In the months that have passed, you’ve found a taste for your nation’s food coming back. So as not to repeat Ying’er’s mistake, you double-check the backdoor’s locks, finding it is as it should be. Behind the humble shop is an alley which you use to creep back home. It’s best not to risk traveling out in the open if you can avoid it, you never know what eyes might be hiding in plain sight.

“Liyue apparel compliments you very well.”

With the speed of a descending phoenix, you pivot on your heel, summoning your weapon and pressing it to the jugular of whoever spoke just now. Squinting, your eyes take a few long seconds to adjust. Once they do, your body feels like it’s being drug into the underworld, the air in your lungs forced out. This man… you’ve seen him before. He gives you an all teeth grin, azure eyes swirling with delight and face contorting in amusement.

You remain steadfast through your bewilderment. “Try and scream and I’ll slit your throat.”

“I’m not much of a screamer,” Childe replies, laughing as if the situation was comical. “It’s good to see you too, [First]. Never thought I’d happen upon an old face in Liyue. I knew I recognized that unique combination of perfume, looks like I was right.”

It hits you that this is the first time you’ve heard your actual name in months. How Childe says it doesn’t feel right, he utters it with familiarity. Though, from what you remember, he’s never been known for having boundaries. Scaramouche would complain about his conduct for hours if given the opportunity. This would be the first time you’ve spoken with him, not from a lack of trying on his behalf. When Childe paid a visit to your husband’s estate, you were expected to be present at the start of their meetings. They would discuss business together while you stood there and looked easy on the eyes. Occasionally, you would refill their tea, but that was all you were permitted to do.

The look Scaramouche shot Childe when the latter tried speaking with you was enough to give you nightmares for days.

“What… what are you going to do now?” You murmur, anticipating the worst. This isn’t going to end well no matter what. If Fatui are in Liyue, that means Childe’s likely told someone where he was going; meaning that him going missing would be suspicious and warrant an investigation. On the other hand, who is to say he won’t just return you to Scaramouche if you let him live? You doubt your tears and pleading would have any effect on the youngest Harbinger. He’s similar to your husband — acting altruistic and kind — only to show their true colors when it suits them best.

“Right now? I’m trying not to get my throat slit,” he raises an eyebrow like that was the most obvious answer.

You bite your lower lip. “We both know you could get out of this hold if you wanted to.”

“Emphasis on the ‘if I wanted to’ part. As of right now, I don’t believe I do, being held by you is rather enjoyable,” Childe tests the waters by moving forward, humming in contentment when you lessen your grip as not to slice through his skin. “See? You’ve never even killed someone before. Call it intuition, but I don’t think you could.”

He reconsiders the proposition for a second. “Well, maybe if it was him...”

“You’re as insufferable as I remember,” you hiss, imbuing heat into your blade. Childe barely backs off and the unspoken threat. “Everyone who refuses to take me seriously comes to regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I fully agree with that. The Balladeer reduced you to nothing but a pretty little ornament. He underestimated you and this is the consequence.” Childe has an easier time maintaining eye contact than you do. It’s another minute detail that expresses the gap in your experience. You may be adequately trained in combat, but that pales in comparison when faced with a trained killer. This sorry charade will end the moment he wants it to.

Hate floods through your veins like venom. He’s looking down on you, just in a different way than how your husband would. Where Scaramouche was condescending and sadistic, Childe is brutally honest and teasing. It’s a split-second decision on your behalf, one motivated by the desire to prove this smug bastard wrong more than self-preservation. You loosen your grip on him and jump back. It’s not a lot of space, however, it should be enough to allow you room to react when he strikes.

He goes silent. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to get a read on you, now that you’re veering into unexpected territory.

“You were waiting for an opening, weren’t you?” Your words come out with more strength than you thought possible, deep from the chest and guttural. “Well, here you go. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

Childe blinks. Once, twice. His shoulders start to tremble, his chest following soon after, and he lifts his gloved hand to cover his mouth. Hearty laughter leaves his lips and pierces your self-esteem. You don’t understand what’s so humorous to him — though you’re well aware these Harbingers hold no humanity — repulsion flooding your system. This feels nostalgic in the worst ways possible. Early on in your marriage, Scaramouche would regard your resistance with a similar air of blatant dismissal, like your protests were nothing but a tantrum.

“You were wasted with him,” Childe’s loathsome cackling dies down, a maniacal grin splitting his face ear to ear. “Now I understand… the way you’re looking at me now is chilling. Exciting. In what ways have you evolved to survive? I love the fight in you, unlike him. Your adaptability is remarkable, like that of the most cunning prey. ” 

Prey. The dehumanizing word makes you frown, yet you remain firm in your stance. This is the best chance, you think, now that you’ve managed to surprise him once. There’s plenty more where that came from. Tendrils of molten flames, like they were stolen from the sun itself, would make for a considerable challenge. Harbinger or not, he should know better than to charge in without thinking twice when you hold a Pyro Vision.

His face returns to a more casual visage and he waves his hand. “I never had any intention of bringing you back to Inazuma. You think a Mora reward would be a good enough motivator for me to do that?”

“T-then why are you here?” You challenge, ever the skeptic. Childe can weave a tale of lies as much as he wants. That doesn’t mean you’ll allow yourself to be ensnared in it.

“I wanted to see how you’d react,” his nonchalant admission leaves you speechless. “Needless to say, you didn’t disappoint. A pretty face with the feist to match. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” you snarl, your vision almost going red from the fury holding you hostage. Now that you no longer need to play the subservient partner, vulgarities come to you with ease, and you have no shortage of them for this blight in the flesh.

Childe’s smile widens. “No can do, I’m afraid. My curiosity has gotten the better of me this time. Could I tame you? Break your spirit better than he did? So show me your resolve to be free, sweet [First].”

He readies himself and you do as well. It’s in the dull illumination of the overhead lanterns that you realize there is no light in his eyes. How fitting, you think. That even his body has come to accept his lack of humanity.

“Go on. I’ll give you a ten second head start. After that... well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” 

[riahlynn101]

"Of Headaches and Heartaches" (2).

Written: 06/25/2022

Chapter Two:

Also, trigger warning: if you get queasy or have extreme emetophobia (fear of throwing up or getting sick), either skip to the second P.O.V (indicated by the -x-x-x-). It's fairly mild, but I'd still be more than happy to provide a TL:DR :D Remember, be kind to yourselves <3

--

He’s light. Lighter than any young child or toddler should be. She tries not to think about all the potential diseases and or parasites he might be carrying but it’s hard.

Harder still when he wakes up, groggy and disoriented, and vomits over Vanessa’s shoulder. Most of it lands on her security jacket, which is a bummer because the facility tends to get chilly at night. She can always take her jacket off, but some of it….

…. some of it landed on the back of her uniform, soaking into her undershirt. 

“Suh-ree!” Gregory hiccups, sobs wracking his body. “‘m so, so suh-ree!” 

He suddenly feels way too warm in her hold. Vanessa books it to the nearest side door, hoping nobody questions why the toddler in her arms is apologizing so profusely. 

She shushes him and offers meaningless words of comfort as she fiddles with her security badge.

The side door directly leads into a backroom of some sort. The room is decently sized for a storage room, the walls are gray, lacking in any decor. There’s folded up mats in the corner and a laundry basket full of (hopefully) clean blankets.  

Now, inside, in an enclosed space, the stench is harder to ignore. She tries to breathe through her mouth instead of her nose. It doesn’t work very well. 

The throbbing in her temples returns with a vengeance, reminding her of why she left in the first place. 

“Hey, Greg,” she says, turning her head to look down at him. He’s resting his head on her shoulder, eyes half-lidded, and the area around his mouth is covered in spittle and throw-up. “I’m going to clean up, and then I’ll be back for you. ‘kay?” 

He nods, head lulling off her shoulder, eyes already closed. 

She pushes down the inkling of concern and lays him down against a cardboard box labeled “ Glitter Glue and Other Fun Art Supplies ” outlined in, ironically, glitter glue. Vanessa makes quick work of grabbing out a cot and a blanket, and then getting Gregory situated. 

“I really am sorry,” she whispers to him, using her jacket sleeves to wipe at the crude around his mouth. Her pager rings ( and God, does she hate that thing with a burning passion! No one else has a pager, so why does she? ) So, she does the only logical thing when your employment’s at-will, and you’ve been missing for over an hour from an active shift, Vanessa ignores it ( she is just ignoring everything today, isn’t she? ) 

“I’ll be back,” Vanessa vows, though she doubts Gregory can hear her.

She stands and gives one last look at Gregory before realizing she has to go back outside, as the only other exit seems to be a platform towards the front of the room. “Just my luck,” she mutters, dragging her feet back to the door they came in. “Alright, I can do this.”  Vanessa turns the doorknob, and with that, she’s back outside, facing the bitter cold.

-x-x-x-

If you were to ask Sundrop what his favorite things are, he’d answer in a list:

His friends. The children he watches day-in and day-out are the only company he has in terms of human interaction (sometimes he gets jealous with how little attention they’re paid by everyone else). 

Art supplies! Anyone that has ever attended daycare here can attest to that. Arts and Crafts is his favorite time of the day, and, if the kids are good and time permits, he can sneak in another craft towards the end of the day. 

Moon-most of the time, though he does kind of get on his nerves. Sun isn’t a human, and he has never had a family, but he thinks Moon might be the closest thing to a brother an animatronic such as himself can have. 

And last, but not least, the light. His A.I. chip is only active in the light. In the dark, when the daycare is closed and no one is around, he has to sleep. He hates sleeping. Hates, hates, hates it! The feeling of floating in nothingness is enough to drive him mad (so why does he make Moon endure it?)

The last point being the reason he tends to stay in the backroom of the daycare. It’s the only room where he can control the lights completely and avoid being watched by his friends through the cameras. 

He crawls up there now, using the cable that Moon uses, already having said goodbye to the last of his friends for the day. The lights by the security desk have shut off and it’s only a matter of time before the entire daycare goes dark. 

The backroom is dreary. It holds all the extra items the daycare could ever need. Boxes of books and art supplies and coloring pages. Crates full of plastic army men, dolls, and puppets. There’s a small pile of cots in a very far corner of the room, decorated in spider webs as the daycare now uses mats instead. If he squints, he can make out the faded name tags still on some of the rims. Right next to this is a small series of drawers, where they keep clothes for accident-prone kids, blankets, and plushies for his super anxious friends. 

He sits down, already planning out what games he’s going to play with his friends tomorrow. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he can hear Moon trying to tell him something. But to be able to hear him clearly, he would be required to turn the lights off, which he’d never, ever do. 

“Ow!” Sun yelps, a pain he’s only ever experienced in the beginning trials of his existence from a trigger-happy engineer, spikes through his entire being. An electric charge that leaves him tense and unfocused. “Moon,” he whines, wishing he could frown, “that hurt. You hurt me, no fair.”

“Look,” Moon whispers to him, which is a first. As far as Sun can tell, he’s still in control. So, why is Moon talking to him? “Look!” He says again, more urgently. 

Sun stands, hands on his hips, he surveys the empty room. “What? I don’t see-”

There!

“Oh! A new friend!” He yells, taking the first step forward to go greet them.

“No!” 

Sun is rooted to the spot, frozen. “Hey!” 

Moon apologizes. “He’s sleeping. Good children sleep, so let him rest.”

Ah, that makes sense. Moony has always been big on rest. 

“Okay, but I want to sit next to him.”

Moon sighs loudly, absolutely exhausted. “I don’t think that’s such a great idea, Sun. He might-”

“Lalala I can’t hear you. I can’t hear you!” He holds his hands over his ears. The shiny bells tied around his wrists, wrapped like Christmas presents, jingle with each movement.

“We share a body, idiot. You can’t block me out.”

“Yes I can~” Sun sing-songs, tilting his head from side to side.

“No, you can’t,” Moon shoots back.

“Can~”

“Can’t!”

“Can~”

“Can’t!”

“Can~”

“Mama? Hic …. mommy?”

Moon goes radio silent, and Sun allows his hands to drop to his lap. “New friend?” Sun leans closer, but still keeps a sort of distance from the child so as not to startle or overwhelm them. “Are you okay? Did your mommy leave you here?”

Brown eyes are set on him, Sun feels a sense of relief, and then….

…. his new friend is screaming.

[tenthgrove]

SorLato Week- Day 1

(A/N: Unfortunately this may be my only entry for SorLato week, going for the first time NSFW prompt. I tried to write for the other days but never got around to it. I may try to get another prompt done later on in the week but no guarantees. In the meantime, enjoy this total smut)

NSFW 18+

The small French town, somewhere in the vicinity of the Italian Border, does not have much of a night life. It’s population is old and, even at this early time of night, largely asleep.

A notable exception to this rule, is the two young men who roam the empty street of the shopping quarter hand in hand. It should be noted however, that neither of these men are aware that they are in a small French town somewhere in the vicinity of the Italian Border, because neither of them were awake for a majority of the bus journey they picked at random to get here. Well and truly, these young men are lost.

“Sorbet, where the hell are we?” one of them asks, looking up at his companion, whose breath becomes mist in the autumn air.

“To be perfectly honest Gelato I haven’t the faintest clue. Though I will say that the French sound a lot more French-like here than they did where we were this morning, so I gather we were travelling away from the border.”

“Figures,” Gelato responds. He wavers on his feet, though how likely it is he would have fallen over entirely were it not for his boyfriend’s grip is hard to tell. “Sorbet, I’m tired,” he complains.

“I can tell,” Sorbet notes, glancing at his watch. “I suppose it is time we found a place for the night. How about we find a hotel for a change? We certainly have the money for it.”

Gelato clicks his tongue.

“Who knew handing down a beat-down would pay so well?”

“I did, Gelato,” Sorbet smirks. “It was my job for over a year, remember?”

The pair spot the flickering lights of a small, unbranded hotel at the end of the street. They start towards it eagerly.

“Think they’ll want ID?” Gelato asks.

“Probably not. The unbranded ones don’t usually.”

“Fuck yes, an actual bed!” rejoices Gelato. Sorbet squeezes his hand in acknowledgment and smiles.

It is exactly 5 minutes later that the lovers find themselves alone in a rather dire looking reception, sans even the young receptionist, who has gone into the backroom to look for a room to give them.

“I beg your pardon,” she begins, returning to the pair. “But all we have left tonight are couples’ rooms. Would-”

“We don’t mind!” Gelato interrupts her a little too eagerly. She takes a good look at Sorbet, a good look at Gelato, and it seems to click for her. She puts a key on the desk.

“Alright then, 20 euros please.”

“Thanks. We won’t be staying for breakfast,” Sorbet informs her, sliding over the money. “And if anyone calls, we’re not here.”

“Noted, enjoy your stay,” the receptionist says. Gelato waves her goodbye and the couple depart for their rooms.

It is roughly another 10 minutes after that, that Sorbet finds himself sitting alone on the bed as Gelato tries his luck with the shower. This is followed, quite predictively, with the sound of screaming.

“There’s no hot water!” Gelato screeches. Sorbet chuckles lightly.

“I did warn you this was hardly a 5 star hotel, darling.”

“Sorbet I’m cold!” Gelato whines.

“Then come back to me darling. Let me warm you up.”

Gelato wastes no time in hurrying back out the bathroom, clad in nothing but his underwear, and throwing himself at his boyfriend.

“My poor darling,” Sorbet tuts, rubbing his arm soothingly. He presses a kiss to his Sorbet’s temple and laughs, teasingly.

“You’re so mean to me,” Gelato complains. Sorbet isn’t fooled. He sees the blond’s little smile.

“Oh, I’m downright evil, aren’t I?”

Gelato’s eyes suddenly go a bit wide. He perks up, settling his hands on Sorbet’s shoulders as he straddles his lap.

“Sorbet, you evil, malicious thing? When are you going to have sex with me?” he asks.

Sorbet coughs.

“Sex?”

“I’m just wondering, is all. This isn’t the first time you’ve held me like this, and to be perfectly honest it kind of makes me sad it never goes anywhere,” Gelato teases, touching his nose against Sorbet’s.

“I suppose the opportunity never presented itself, did it?” Sorbet comments. He’s trying to play it calmly, but Gelato can see how flustered he is. “D-does this turn you on?”

“Maybe. Is this an opportunity?”

Sorbet looks at the man in his arms. The beautiful, gorgeous creature he’s crossed a country with for the last month and a half, whose life he would lay his own down for in a heartbeat. He looks at the soft, blemished skin, the bare chest he’s touched so many times but never done more with, the messy, curled hair he strokes whenever his anxieties hit him. Sorbet comes to a decision.

“I don’t see why it can’t be.”

Gelato makes a little noise of excitement and dives in, pressing merciless kisses all over Sorbet’s lips. Sorbet does his best to keep up, but deep down he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. Not when his boyfriend is this eager to claim him.

“Fuck, you’re eager aren’t you?”

“How can I not be?” Gelato giggles. He pulls back with an air-headed smile. “So,” he begins. “What do we actually do?”

“We follow our instincts, I suppose,” Sorbet answers him, giving his hips a little squeeze.

“Yeah, okay. But you do actually know what to do, right?” Gelato checks.

“I know what I’ve heard, I’ll say that much.”

Gelato looks at him with shock.

“But- I’m not your first boyfriend right? There were others?”

“There were, but I never slept with any of them,” Sorbet admits. “I felt too… vulnerable, with them.”

“Oh,” Gelato enunciates. “So if you haven’t done if before, and I haven’t done it before… how do we figure this out?” he asks.

“Well, as I said before, I suppose we just go with what our instincts tell us,” Sorbet suggests, pecking him reassuringly on the nose. As Gelato watches, he unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, leaning in again to kiss him once more. His hand drifts to the inner part of Gelato’s thigh. “How about I start with touching you? Down here, I mean?”

“That would be fine by me,” Gelato answers breathlessly.

Sorbet slips a hand past the elastic of Gelato’s underwear and paws gently at what he finds. Taking hold, he begins to stroke it gently.

Gelato’s sex drive didn’t suddenly jump into existence when he met Sorbet. He’s touched himself before and liked it, but that doesn’t change the fact it feels so much sweeter when Sorbet does it for him. Already, he’s biting back the urge to moan.

“Does it feel good?” Sorbet checks.

“Mm. Can I- return the favour?”

“By all means.”

Gelato eagerly fumbles with Sorbet’s zipper and undoes his pants and underwear. Sorbet isn’t quite, hard yet, but he’s getting there. Regardless, Gelato thinks he can help him along. He takes hold of the thick shaft and strokes it roughly. He knows this isn’t exactly a competition, but he wants to win regardless.

“Fuck, just like that,” Sorbet praises him. “That’s just perfect.”

“My brain is telling me to put it in my mouth, should I do it?”

“If you want to, go ahead,” Sorbet permits. “Just watch your teeth and don’t push yourself, or you will retch.”

“I know what to do,” Gelato tuts, getting down on his elbows. “You wouldn’t believe some of the shit you overhear working in a bar.”

“Is that so?” Sorbet smirks. “Well, by all means enjoy yourself then.”

Gelato wastes no time. He sticks the tip into his mouth and starts to lick roughly, closing his lips around the first couple inches off the shaft as he uses his hands to keep the rest occupied. He mildly regrets that this position doesn’t allow Sorbet to get him off as well, but he’s too turned on by his current activities to care for the time being. Gelato swallows about another inch, so that the tip presses against the upper far edge of his mouth. He isn’t quite brave enough to push it any further, but Sorbet seems happy enough, so he’ll settle for this.

Gelato licks and sucks at Sorbet’s cock until his tongue starts to go numb. He starts to wonder how much longer this is meant to last, until Sorbet places a hand on his cheek to stop him.

“I don’t imagine you’d enjoy it very much if I shot down your throat just yet, so how about we save that for another time?”

Gelato pulls himself off, gulping strongly to try and return some feeling of normalcy to his mouth.

“Yeah that’s probably for the best,” Gelato agrees. “So what next? We fuck for real?”

“I suppose so. Would you rather top of bottom?” Sorbet offers him.

“Do what now?”

“Fuck or get fucked.”

“Uhh, get fucked. Having you inside me sounds hot as hell,” Gelato decides.

“Alright, I’m good with that. I’d think I’d prefer to top, so it works well,” Sorbet accepts. He pauses. He suddenly curses as though having realised something. “We don’t have lube. We can’t have sex without lube.”

“Sure we can!” Gelato insists.

“Gel, you will bleed, and you will cry, and you will hate me. We aren’t having sex without lube.”

“Fine,” Gelato concedes. “I’ll see what’s in the bathroom.”

Gelato disappears into the side room and Sorbet hears the sound of rummaging. Something makes him pause.

"Holy fuck I found some!"

"Really?" Sorbet asks.

"Yeah, there's a bottle in the bin, they must have forgotten to change it. There's still some inside!" Gelato affirms. Sorbet chuckles.

"I would normally be concerned about the hygienic implications of that, but fortunately for you I am very horny. We'll give it a shot."

“Right, let’s try this,” Gelato mutters excitedly, returning to the bedroom. Sorbet takes the cue to wriggle out of his pants. He takes Gelato’s hand as he sits beside him.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

“Not sure. But I want to kiss you lots.”

“In my lap then?” Sorbet suggests. “It’s probably best if you control the pace anyway.”

“Sounds good to me,” Gelato says, straddling Sorbet’s hips once more. He pours the lubricant awkwardly onto them both. He grabs both of Sorbet’s hands, and pauses.

“I’ll admit… I’m kind of nervous,” he confesses.

“You’ll be fine, just don’t push yourself,” Sorbet assures him. “But if you need to stop at any time, just say so. I’ll understand.”

“Okay. ‘Love you,” Gelato mutters.

“I love you too,” Sorbet smiles. They both lean forward. They kiss, and Gelato allows himself to sink down.

There’s an immediate tension in Gelato’s body the moment Sorbet enters him. He lets out a little noise of shock, or maybe pain, before settling his head on Sorbet’s shoulder. His boyfriend pets him reassuringly.

“Gel, are you alright?” Sorbet checks. Gelato nods. “Does it hurt?” Another nod. “We can stop if you want. We can always try again another day.”

“No,” Gelato insists, meeting his eyes again. “I can do this. I want to do this,” he promises. “I just- can’t move.”

“I can take over, if you’d like,” Sorbet offers. Gelato nods. “Alright, I’m just going to lie you down gently,” Sorbet explains, before putting an arm around Gelato’s back and carefully laying him down on the mattress, positioning himself over him. “There, shall I try moving now?”

“Please.”

Sorbet begins to gently thrust the first few inches of himself back and forth inside Gelato, the blond grunting slightly as he adjusts to the stretch. After the first few movements, his body relaxes, and all other signs of pain disappear. He eyes Sorbet with a look of relief.

“How does it feel?” Sorbet asks.

“Kind of neutral, now? Doesn’t hurt any more but it doesn’t really feel strongly in any other way? If that makes sense? Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise! It’s important you’re honest with me. It might not feel good yet because I’m not very deep in. I think the spot I’m looking for is further up. Mind if I try and find it?” Sorbet offers. Gelato is quick to accept. Sorbet slowly pushes the rest of his length through Gelato’s entrance and the blond feels the difference at once. He moans, stretching his legs and rolling back his head as he grips Sorbet’s hands for dear life.

“Oh god, you’ve found it. Right there, just keep doing that,” he pleads. Sorbet just can’t help but chuckle.

“Anything you say, darling.”

The next few minutes go by in a whirlwind of bliss. Gelato quickly gives up on any hint of dignity as he moans without care, and even Sorbet feels his grip on control start to fade. They start to forget that there’s anyone else in the world except themselves, and each other.

It occurs to Sorbet he probably can’t hold it much longer without cumming. Eager not to leave Gelato unfinished, he starts to rapidly pump Gelato’s cock to spur on his climax. A moment later and they’re both spent, lying in a breathless heap on top of each other as Gelato feels his insides becoming filled.

Sorbet kisses Gelato on the forehead, then climbs off of him. Excusing himself, he heads into the bathroom for a drink. He hears his lover calling to him.

“Sorbet, my legs aren’t working!”

“Just stay there my love,” Sorbet says mirthfully. “I’ll clean you with a towel, and you can wash properly in the morning.” He returns to his side with the promised item. “Hey, you did wonderful,” he assures him. He leans in close as though to kiss him again, but Gelato gets their first and nips his lip.

“You know what you’ve done now, don’t you,” Gelato smiles.

“Oh? you’ll have to tell me.”

“I’m going to need that every night now, otherwise I’ll be unbearably needy.”

Sorbet tuts.

“However will I survive?”

Their lips meet once more.

[stressisakiller]

Next Steps (F.W)

The Other Dursley Part 2

Pairing: Muggle Dursley x Fred Weasley

A/N: This was requested by and anon who asked for a second part to muggle Dursley x Fred Weasley. I may go ahead and do a third part to this, let me know what you think in the comments!

Flashbacks are in italics. Fred lives AU

Warnings: None, Just fluff 

Word count: 2k

Part 1

You and Freddie had spent the morning together at his flat. You enjoyed some pancakes together that you had agreed to make, chocolate chip, of course, much to George’s delight when he walked out of his room that morning. You and Fred had decided not to tell anyone that you were together yet, you wanted to see how long it took them to figure out that you had actually started dating. George took a measured glance at the way you were seated, lounging in your chair with your legs across Fred’s lap. You pretended not to notice.

 “So what do the lovebirds have planned today?” He questioned. You just rolled your eyes and replied,

 “Well, I was wanting to help out at the shop for a little bit until Harry can get here to show me around a little more.” George’s eyebrow raised at that

 “Oh? Why isn’t Fred showing you around?” you giggled and rolled your eyes

 “Well he does have a popular business to help run and I would hate to get in the way of that,” you answered teasingly. You didn’t give George the chance to answer instead grabbing the dishes and heading to the sink. “Actually,” you mused, “I think I’ll head out to explore now.” You saw that trepidation on both of their faces. “I’ll be fine really, I just want to explore and discover this new place at my own pace and you need to work” You grabbed your purse and Fred stopped you right before you got to the door, he gave you some money so that you could buy whatever you wanted while you were out and with that you headed out eager to explore this magical new world.

 You found an ice cream shop and a cauldron shop, it felt kind of like a kitchen store just more specialized, you were impressed by the solid gold cauldron wondering what the purpose for it could be. You kept wandering through the increasingly busy streets, passing a robe shop and one that should all types of herbs. You were surprised to note that other than the ice cream shop there weren’t many food businesses and there weren’t any bakeries. You decided to speak with Fred about that when you got back to the shop. You were pulled out of your thoughts by someone calling out your name. You turned and saw your cousin running towards you, you laughed as he pulled you into a hug and swung you around. You were dizzy by the time he set you down, you giggled as you asked

 “What are you trying to make me fall over? What’s the occasion Cousin?” Harry grinned at you, 

“Does there have to be an occasion? I’m just excited to see you again! Plus I’m excited to show you around my world a little bit more, although it seems like you’ve been doing some exploring of your own.” You couldn’t help but look a little bashful at that.

 “I couldn’t help it, it was just such a beautiful morning and there was just so much to see!” He shook his head at your excitement,

 “I understand that completely, I felt the same way the first time I came here. Come on let's go! I have to show you my favorite spots.” You spent the rest of the morning into the afternoon running around with Harry, learning more and more about the wizarding world. As you explored you noticed that there were many shops that were empty and closed, asking Harry about it he explained what happened with the Wizarding war and how it affected Diagon alley and the people that worked there. You asked him about your idea from earlier. Would there be a way to buy one of the old shops and bring a muggle bakery in? He mulled it over for a moment before decisively saying that he couldn’t see why not and that he and Mr. Weasley would love to help you figure out the details of how and where. You headed back to Fred and George’s shop in high spirits debating whether you should talk to Fred about it yet or keep it as more of a secret until you got all of the kinks worked out. Opening the door you couldn’t help the smile that lit your face when you saw Fred in his element, talking with his customers, telling them about all the trouble he and George got into at Hogwarts, convincing them to buy more than they needed or thought that they wanted. You giggled as you watched one of the kids walk by you with a dazed look on his face after talking with Fred, you could relate, you wore a similar look after hanging out with him the first couple of times. You strolled over to him just in time to hear the end of his latest story.

 “And that’s how George and I ended up creating a swamp in the middle of the hallway.” You shook your head at that deciding that you would ask him about it later. He noticed you walking up out of the corner of his eye and turned to smile at you, pulling you to his side as he finished helping the customer. He placed a quick kiss on your head, not being able to help himself. You looked around and saw that George was just leaving the storage room so he probably didn’t see it so you could keep the charade going at least a little bit longer. You murmured that you were going to go put your bags into the apartment upstairs since they were giving a little heavy and he nodded and told you to come back down and find him once you were done. You did just that, taking a moment to check your appearance in the mirror before you headed down, appearances weren’t the most important thing but you knew that you probably looked a little windswept after being outside all morning. You came back down the stairs and started to help George at the cash register, he quickly explained the money system and told you to holler if you needed any help before he ran back into the backroom to restock a couple of the shelves that were currently empty. You were in awe of how well their business was doing and how many people appreciated them bringing joy back to the world. You became determined that you were going to find a way to help them bring that joy back in any way that you could. Mentally setting up a plan for how and where you would put your bakery. Looking around the shop you had ideas for tons more desserts and goodies, wondering if wizards would like the coffee you would make and what new flavors you could experiment with that the wizarding world had. Watching Fred you settled that you would wait to tell him until you were certain it would work. 

The next couple of weeks consisted of you, Arthur, and Harry making and executing the plans for your new shop. You found and bought the empty shop next to the Weasley’s shop, thinking that you could put a doorway between the two so that it would be easier for Fred and you to see each other during the day. It didn’t take long for George to realize that you were up to something so you had to spill the beans and tell him your plan. You were surprised by how excited he was at the prospect and how many ideas he had to make it better. Your secret-keeping came to an end when you had purchased the new place and Harry had helped you set up all of the appliances you would need, Arthur, made sure that it was all perfectly legal and you had a permit as a muggle to have a business in the wizarding world. It was two months since you and Fred had started dating and you were going to show him your shop as an anniversary date. You baked that morning making a couple of your new treat ideas including bread shaped like unicorns and chocolate trolls filled with raspberry compote. You were super nervous about telling him, worried that he would be mad about you keeping it from him, but you didn’t want to get his hopes out before knowing if it would work out. You met up with him around 7 that night, right as their shop was closing. He walked down out of his apartment as soon as you walked in the door. He wasn’t dressed up, he had taken off his suit jacket and vest earlier in the day, but he still looked good in his slacks and white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You were dressed in a cute sundress not wanting to look too formal knowing that Fred probably wouldn’t look properly formal until the day he got married. You may have blushed a little when you had that thought. He walked up to you, looking you over he couldn’t help but wonder how he got so lucky, 

“You look beautiful” he breathed out, you blushed even harder at his words

. “Well, you don’t look too bad yourself” you quipped, “are you ready to see my surprise for you?” He flashed you one of his signature grins and told you to lead the way. He couldn’t help his confusion when you lead him out of his shop and into the one next door. You held your breath as you turned the lights on, worried about what his reaction would be. You heard his quick intake when the lights illuminated the space around you. You waited another moment before turning to look at him, his eyes were taking everything in and you waited for him to ask the questions you knew were coming. After taking in the whole room he turned to face you,

 “So is this what you’ve been working on the last 2 months?” he questioned. You looked down stealing yourself to what he would say once he heard your answer. 

“Yes, Harry, your Dad and I have been working on figuring out a way for me to open a bakery in Diagon Alley. They helped me enchant the appliances so that they would work without muggle electricity. I should be able to open in a couple of months, there is still a lot to get done.” You were surprised by the smile that overtook his face at your words,

 “You mean to tell me that in a couple of months you will be working right next to me and living near me? That I will be able to just walk next door to see you and not have to worry about exploding magic to muggles?” his smile grew when you nodded “This is the best gift you could have ever gotten me!” He pulled you into a tight hug and you realized that there was no one else that you would want to be with not when the man in front of you was so excited for you to get to do your passion. You felt the tears well up in your eyes from how happy you were to have him in your life. You looked in his eyes and declared that you were done hiding your relationship from his family, that you wanted to go to the weekly Weasley dinner that night and let them know that you were together and couldn’t be happier. He grabbed your hand and apparated you to the garden outside the burrow. Giving you a quick kiss to fortify you he opened the door and walked into the Burrow with your hands intertwined. You laughed at Mrs. Weasley’s reaction and how she was so excited for you to be a part of the family, you and Fred blushed at that. You were swarmed by the rest of the Weasleys and were so overwhelmed that you almost didn’t see Harry handing over a galleon to George. Almost

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

I am Machine: Chapter 5

Sleep didn’t come to Alec this time, he watched as Lefty and Helpy slept, they finally went to bed at 1:21am, while Alec was left think about what Lefty said.

That lock existed because a Lonely Freddy came into their room while they slept. Lefty knew they were already dangerous, he just didn’t know the extent of it until he met Alec.

Alec knew if they got rid of the Lonely Freddy when Lefty talked to “Mike” that he wouldn’t be here right now, but Alec didn't blame Lefty for this.

If Lefty had his way initially...... He would have unintentionally saved Alec.

This room wasn’t as cold as others Alec had been in previously, he did still wish he had that blanket he found, recalling it was most likely left at that guy's house. His name was Lewis Anthony, Alec remembered, he is the Music Man. Would be likely he'd get the blanket back? It was soft and great to lay on, his argument was despite being covered in fur now, he could feel the cold more intensely now, he hated cold, which is why Alec hated Winter.

The hours flew by and eventually Alec heard movement, he turned to see Lefty had opened his eyes and looked at the displayed time from the clock that sat on the desk where Helpy often worked.

"12:10pm....” Lefty mumbled pulling off his blanket and standing up, stretching out.

"Aren’t you.... Late for work?” Alec asked him knowing it was a few hours pass opening time.

Alec saw Lefty jump slightly, “Oh I forgot about you being here.....” He turned to him, “I'm only use to hearing Helpy’s voice when I wake up. Seems he still sleeping like a cat,” He looked over at the small bear who was all cuddled up against the blanket, looking so peaceful.

"So um.....” Lefty was trying to think of what to say to Alec, he knew Alec was most likely a bit emotionally unstable being in the wrong body.

"You obviously don't.... Want to stay this way?” Lefty knew what the answer was but he needed to hear it from Alec.

Alec huffed, “No, I don't enjoy being a perfect height for people to kick me.”

"I don't want a repeat of the kicking incident with Helpy,” Lefty grabbed his red hat from where it sat on his black bedside table and placed it on his head. He then lifted up the red ribbon and began to tie it around his neck as he spoke, “He was aching all day as was Freddy. Benedict had to delicately put back his spine into place, much like humans, if robots break their spines, we don't stand a chance unless it's all fixed up. I could've broken that teenager's spine if they weren't so many witnesses.”

He spoke about teenagers quite bitterly, that seemed to be his only real experience with a teenager.

“Really?” Alec asked. Alec had yet to tell Lefty his age so he was unaware he was speaking to a teenager at this very moment.

"Well I am strong enough to break a spine....” Lefty had adjusted his bowtie so it sat perfectly, “But I did at lease get to scream at the teenager for a solid twenty minutes for thinking it was funny to kick a small robot who didn't even provoke him, my voice was gone later but it was worth seeing that pathetic brat's face go white.. He was.... Scared.... Of what I'd do.....” Lefty frowned realising something, “Alec... I must ask and don’t think this is because I don't believe you...”

"You don't?” Alec asked sounding unintentionally very worried which Lefty immediately picked up on.

"No! No! I do believe you.... But this situation..... It's strange to me... I've never dealt with this.... I need to know this however, Alec how did Fred get you? In the sense of.... How did this happen? I’m still unclear on how.”

"I went into a backroom-” Alec explained with Lefty unexpectedly cutting him off with:

"You are not allowed in backrooms unless you work here. Customers are not permitted to roam in those areas for their own safety.”

It sounded like Lefty was reciting a rule that was well known, Alec wondered how often he had to repeat that one rule to remember it. Alec knew he broke that rule and didn't care now, so he answered “Obviously I know that.”

"I'm surprised you weren’t found by an employee. I myself roam those backrooms often when I'm not on stage, I'm surprised I didn't encounter you unless I was on stage for a long segment during that time.” Lefty responded.

“Can I continue?”

"Go ahead,” Lefty answered, “Wait, can you describe the room? Any props inside?”

"It had like... Old arcade machines.. Some broken toys...” Alec recalled.

“Oh yes, that's the south west backroom, we keep various props lying around in there,” Lefty nodded, “I have seen a Lonely Freddy in there about five months ago but it looked deactivated so I didn’t bother with it. I need to remember what Marionette has told me, which is “things are often not what they appear,” which is why I believe you, you appear as one of the deceivers but you are actually one who was hoodwinked.”

"Lonely Freddy approached me... It seemed normal at first, then he got extremely personal...” Lefty tilted his head confused so Alec had told him about the questions he recalled which were suspicious, “Asking who I admired, what would I do if I had to hurt someone I love, what I fear, and asking.... Asking... Asking...”

What's your biggest regret Alec?

A chill ran down his spine.

You are weak for telling him that. Pathetic.

"Alec. Alec. Alec! Hey!” Lefty had snapped his fingers in front of his face to bring his attention back, Alec blinked and looked at Lefty who had gone from standing in front of his bed to kneeling in front of him. He had been so out of it that he didn't see Lefty move.

"What exactly were you asked? I’d like to know,” Lefty prompted.

He felt like he was forced to answer, not because of that single golden honey colour eye staring at him to force an answer, but because Lefty needed the answer, “What’s my biggest regret...” Alec told him.

Lefty's pupil noticeably shrunk in shock, he had either heard that particular question before or was surprised it asked that question.

Could he have heard it before?

When he blinked, his eye grew to normal size, “Why didn't you run away? Lonely Freddy couldn’t have possibly stopped you. You could have kick it, I kicked one once and it went down easily.”

"I couldn't move.... Those eyes... Glowing...” It still seemed so hazy to him, yet very real. He remembered his panic, the disappointment of hearing his mom and Hazel so close by, yet unable to find him.

"That girl....” Lefty himself had recalled what he encountered and his face turned to rage, “It's the same thing!!!! You were put into a trance Alec, Lonely Freddy hypnotised you, by using known the well known method one, eye contact and possibly using his voice as some sort of lure....” Lefty spoke as a matter of fact, “An unspoken rule of keeping yourself safe from evil is to not look something strange in the eye if you don't know what it could do.”

"Hey I didn't know that! It's not my fault!!” Alec shouted.

"I was not blaming you! You did nothing wrong!” Lefty exclaimed, “So unable to move... Glowing eyes...... What happened next?”

"I closed my eyes and woke up.... He was gone... I notice everything was bigger.”

"You didn’t initially make a connection?” Lefty asked, “Lonely Freddy gone, the world looks bigger? Didn't you see the fact you had paws now?” Lefty had held out and extended out his own paw to show him.

Lefty had pointed out the obvious glaring issues that Alec overlooked, “No I didn't,” Alec answered, “I saw my reflection later and I knew what happened at that point.”

Lefty tapped his chin, “The fact your voice doesn’t sound like a Lonely Freddy and you have green eyes instead of blue, and you perfectly describe a very textbook case of hypnosis... It all adds up.... But why did you hide from me? From the others? I understand hiding from humans but if you came to me with the story sooner, I could have helped you, perhaps I could have tended to this as soon as it happened. I could have even stopped Lonely Freddy from leaving the pizzeria in your body.”

Alec could easily answer, “I was scared....”

"Scared of us?”

"I didn’t know what you'd do! You could have quickly turned on me-!!”

"You thought we'd kill you???” Lefty asked seemingly surprised at this.

"That guy Lewis said you hate Lonely Freddy-”

"I knew even at that moment you were listening to us! I didn’t tell Lewis because he would have immediately gotten hysterical, much like how you are. How old are you suppose to be?”

"Fifteen.”

"Oh you’re a teenager.”

"Why does that change anything?” Alec almost sneered at him.

"No it doesn’t, you're still a human, I sense it. You are not suppose to be a robot. I just didn’t guess you were a teenager... But now that I think.... It makes sense...?” Lefty looked around as he spoke, “A young child would have approached us regardless of what they appeared as. An adult wouldn’t even be here, they'd figure out a way to escape. A teenager would probably panic like you.”

"Are you insulting me?” Alec questioned.

"No, it's an observation,” Lefty answered.

"Speaking of that, why is it so quiet? The pizzeria's open... Isn't it?

"Our rooms are soundproof, behind three different tightly locked doors so we don't hear what's going on in the pizzeria, and also kids can’t accidentally wander in this area. It's good too because we all have different sleep schedules, me and Helpy usually sleep from 2:00am to around 12:00pm, but if I have to work earlier for a birthday that specifically requested me, I have a nap at about 2:00pm until 5:00pm. If Helpy works all night helping Mike, he's asleep from 10:00am to about midnight. It's easy for us to adjust our sleeping schedules.”

"Easy for you, humans don’t work that way,” Alec scoffed.

"You know if you have trouble sleeping.... You should try some Chamomile tea before bed. You're still able to eat and drink but it's not necessary to survive like humans,” Lefty replied walking over to the door, “Would you like to join me for something to eat or stay here?”

Alec thought back to that strange scrapping noise on the door last night, “I’ll come with you...” Alec walked to be alongside him as Lefty unlocked the door and opened it.

They walked in quiet, as Lefty wasn't as talkative as Helpy. Alec saw he was not even looking at him, he had a look on his face like he was mentally somewhere else. He'd be exactly like that when he was being lectured by his parents but the thing was when he wanted them to acknowledge him.... They ignored him.

He missed his family.

Lefty opened one door and stepped aside so Alec could walk through. Lefty then took the lead again and opened a door at the end of the hall. They arrived at a sort of small communal area there was a kitchen set up, an area with sofas.

A man was in one of those sofas, his back turned away, so he didn’t see them, Lefty realised the situation and shoved Alec along until he was hidden behind the kitchen island counter top.

"Otis?” Lefty asked trying to act as casual as he possibly could to not accidentally reveal Alec.

"Oh! I didn’t hear you come in! Good morning- I mean Good afternoon! It's afternoon....”

"It's okay, you on a break?”

"Lunch break, I'll be gone in ten minutes, I guess I could go now if I'm bothering you.”

"Oh no! You can stay Otis, there's no problem here....” Lefty replied, “Say.... I wanted to ask.... You once spoke about.... Something... Called the Shadow Puppet, he was in your story... Is he based on the legend I read about once?”

"Legend no, Shadow Puppet is real Lefty, apperantly he was once a friendly man but something changed about him and he changed for the worse, embraced the darker magic elements and used them for diabolical purposes. You know magic is suppose to be used for good intentions and those who use it for evil become disfigured..... Anyway why are you asking?”

"Hypnotising and Body swap are generally dark magic right? The evil side tend to use them to get an advantage don't they?”

"I don't like where this is going Lefty-” Otis looked disturbed by the topic.

"I’m asking because!.... Because!......” Lefty looked around the room then looked back at Otis, “Can you keep a secret?” His voice had lowered to almost a whisper.

"Sure!”

"This will not leave this room at any point,” Lefty said, he turned to Alec, then he kneeled down and lifted him up.

"What are you doing?!?” Alec asked extremely panicked because Lefty had lifted him off the ground and he knew a person was there who would see him.

"Calm down, Otis's as dangerous as butterfly,” Lefty assured him.

Otis's eyes widen, “My! Is that a Lonely Freddy? I thought all of them were gone!”

"This is Alec..... I was right Otis... He's suppose to be human like you, Lonely Freddy had hypnotic capabilities with a body swap tied to that, and it slipped pass all of us!” Lefty held Alec like a child, “Seems impossible when you consider you're a magician, Security is an anti-kidnapping measure that has always worked, I'm able to detect souls and anything suspicious, not to mention we have other staff who are almost always actively patrolling the pizzeria! It just seems so impossible yet it did happen... Now, do I have your permission to go to your house and look for anything that could help me, help Alec, go back to his normal body?”

Otis was thinking for a minute, “I see..... Does anyone else?”

"Helpy knows but Foxy saw him at one point, and as stubborn as he is, he's likely not to leave it alone so easily,” Lefty spoke, “He could be a problem.”

"You will probably have to at lease tell Freddy eventually, Alec can not be kept a secret especially if you, and I think you do, have any intention of returning Alec to his correct body,”

"I will tell him soon, but I don't want to find out you've been going around telling anyone else. No one else should know unless I told them,” Lefty said as he put Alec on the ground.

"How.... Do you know how it happened?”

“Only Alec really knows, it could be possible that his memory of that event is foggy like how some victims of hypnosis are, they struggle to recall the exact event but remember the before and after. I didn’t see it happening but apperantly it's remarkably similar to an incident I have seen but with a different outcome because I interfered in the other incident.”

“30 years have gone by without a single incident in the company’s history....”

"That’s why I have strong belief this isn’t a coincidence..... I think.... He's back, and he's trying something new..... He doing that in hope that we don't recognise his new signature, but it aligns with the whole concept of “Harvesting Soul Remnant”. I need a word with Security when they aren’t busy.”

"Him...? This is serious....”

"It’s also just a theory I have, but it seems very close to what he did apperantly... This could be someone new though, I do know Mr. Emily didn't build these things.... This is what I'll do, Alec will stay in my room, once I tell Freddy, I'll be fine letting him roam at night, but not at day. If kids see him, they'll go ballistic. If the staff see him, he'll be put out for good, I won’t let that happen until they're swapped back, then I'll give the real Lonely Freddy to Benedict so he permanently shut down the vile thing.”

Lefty looked at Alec as he spoke, “As much as I hate this situation because this is an area I've never explored in magic.... Alec is technically only still alive because this.... Is a vessel for his soul, self conscious, and memories. Mike won't give him a chance to explain... Alec you would be immediately shut down if you were found and that..... That would officially end your life, it's like turning off a life support unit,” Lefty explained, “My priority will be keeping you alive, I expect you to do all you can also to prevent being caught by the staff members.”

“Well you're talking about keeping me alive so......” Alec responded realising that all he had said made sense even if the whole thing appears quite grim.

"The only other human I feel safe to tell is Lewis, he'll understand this... I only told Otis so I could look through his stuff. I'd only tell Mike if I need to, I'd rather not tell him if I don’t have to...”

"Yes, yes..... Mike will mostly not listen to Alec because he can't see the truth....” Otis agreed.

"Hopefully now I know about Alec's situation.... I can come up with a plan.... Maybe we could lure the Lonely Freddy back here, or if that isn’t possible, I could ask Lewis to take me and Alec to Alec’s house and we'll swap back there with no one else knowing, it depends on what must be done and what me, Helpy and Security can do.”

Otis shook his head, “This is... Way beyond my understanding.... Do what you must Lefty! You can look through what I have! We must do the right thing and return Alec to his body as soon as possible before the Lonely Freddy does something desperate and undoable to stop your efforts!”

Alec frowned, what exactly would Lonely Freddy do to stop him from returning to his body? Nothing really came to him at that point other than how desperate would that bear get just to keep his identity indefinitely. Fred obviously would not want to blow his cover as an imposter and he obviously hadn’t done so yet if no one came to look for Alec.

Unless they don't know where to look for me.... His mind had said in that moment, Maybe if I asked... Lefty would let me see my house... See my family.

"Thank you Otis,” Lefty smiled.

"Oh Lefty, I wanted to ask you something.”

"Yes?”

"Your room is close to Bonnie's, I was in there last night before I went home because I had hit my head while working, did you... Happen to hear a strange noise last night?” Otis asked.

"A strange noise...?”

"It sounded like scrapping, like something snatching on wood. By the time I looked, the sound stopped and what ever was causing it was gone.”

"Maybe Alec made the noise? He fell over or something?” Lefty suggested.

"No I didn’t, I heard the noise too, and talking, quiet talking,” Alec said.

"Talking..... Helpy got spooked once and told me he was sure someone was outside our door talking quietly. I didn’t think much of it because we have a lock on our door and when I started practicing magic I put a “no evil shall breach” spell on the door, so anything that tries to break in with evil intentions, will be repelled.....”

"Is there anything we should be concerned about?” Alec questioned Lefty.

"Security did tell me once that if we hear barking outside at night we should make sure the doors are locked.... I thought it was funny initially, we aren’t close enough to any houses that we would hear any dog barking.... But then I heard barking a couple of nights ago and it sounded very close..... I looked later.... There were big paw prints in front of the pizzeria... Bigger than any dog that exists... It freaks me out, what happened to you freaks me out!”

Alec nodded, “I know.... It's still surreal for me... I thought this was a nightmare.”

"Lefty, you best hide Alec for now, I believe Fiona and Rockstar Chica are on break soon, and their reactions will... Draw attention...” Otis stood up and walked to the door, “I’ll see you later Lefty, good luck in finding a way to reverse this awful curse.”

Lefty nodded as Otis left the room, Alec looked up at him.

"Curse...?” was the only word out of his month.

"I guess this technically is... A curse,” Lefty responded.

"A curse...” Alec repeated, he had never viewed his situation as a curse.

“But most curses can be reversed! I'm sure there is a way to undo this!” Lefty exclaimed, when he heard Alec repeat it sounding terrified.

"But most people who get cursed deserve it.....” Alec knew that much, he then looked away, “Maybe I did deserve this.....”

"I can see into your soul and I know you did nothing bad enough to deserve this!!!!”

“That's because you really don't know me!” Alec exclaimed angry.

"And that doesn’t matter! I know what I need to!” Lefty yelled back at him with the same amount of rage Alec just had, “You are a teenager who needs to go back to his own body and I will find a way! It'll..... It'll just...... Take time.... It’ll take time to fix the mess you’ve gotten yourself into......” Lefty shook his head.

Alec was silent. He watched Lefty turn his attention away and grabbed the coffee jug from the machine, he then reached up and grabbed a black coloured mug with a strange jagged white stripe pattern that looked like lightning bolts.

Lefty was drinking coffee when Alec spoke.

"Lefty..?”

“What is it Alec?”

He wasn't yelling or ignoring him.

He was actually listening to him.

“I want to go home and make things right,” Alec said, “I’ve done some pretty bad things....”

Lefty looked at Alec, completely focused, Alec felt compelled to say this, “I hurt my sister, I made her cry, and I didn’t apologise for it. I was so angry at her, I thought she was a brat, but it was me, and this is my fault. I didn't mean to make her cry.”

"Oh Alec...” He put down his coffee mug and kneeled down, speaking directly to him, “We all do stupid things in anger, we're so determined to prove a point, when it goes haywire, we can lose our temper, I do it, I've seen Helpy lose his cool when things go wrong, everyone here has gotten frustrated.....”

"My sister.... I was awful to her.... And it was my fault, she wanted to be my friend and I ruined it for no good reason... I hated her for no good reason...”

"Honestly.... I've sometimes become frustrated with Helpy, but I always realise that he is just bothering me because I'm like his brother, and I can’t change that... I feel honoured Helpy considers me as such....” Lefty said, then gave a small smile.

“I’m certain, it is not too late to repair your relationship with your sister, let her be your friend, have a long discussion, tell her how you feel, make sure you let her speak too, be honest with her. I've had to fix my own relationships before, and I always believed it was too far gone to undo my mistakes.... But each time I was wrong, because there's two sides to everything. To me, it appears you were jealous of your sister, perhaps a conversation with your parents isn’t out of line? It might be good to also speak to your parents...”

“It seems your sister wanted nothing more than to be your friend. It's remarkable, true friends, will never be pushed away, even we try to shove them through the front door again and again, treat them as an unwelcomed guest, a nuisance... They always come back to make sure we're okay, because they care.”

"What if she likes the imposter more than me?”

"Lonely Freddy is not her brother. You are, I'm sure... Your sister-”

"Her name is Hazel,” Alec irrupted him to tell him.

"Hazel would rather want her own brother over Freddy any day, plus... I'm certain, he cannot keep up the façade forever... Something will slip, and Hazel may already realise that something is amiss. Lonely Freddy will have no idea how to perfectly mimic you, someone who truly knows you will see something is wrong.”

Alec has a very reassuring conversation with Lefty. Hope you enjoyed Chapter 5.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[kjack89]

What a Beautiful Mess

Just about seven years ago, I published my first Les Mis fic. True to form even now, it was E/R, modern AU, angst with a happy ending. I had no idea what to expect as far as the response to that fic would be, and, of course, had no idea that I’d still be here, seven years later, still writing about the same two idiots in love.

I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for the incredible support of the Les Mis fandom. Y’all have been with me through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, and I truly do mean it — I would not be here today if it weren’t for you. Not just here writing, but very likely here at all. Fandom is such a strange, bizarre and utterly beautiful place, and thank you to everyone who has made this fandom something that feels like home.

This one’s for you — E/R, modern AU, a touch of angst, and whole lot of love. Here’s to whatever beautiful mess comes next.

The dull roar of conversation in the back room of the Musain quieted as Enjolras stood up to start the meeting. He had just opened his mouth to speak when the door creaked open and Grantaire made his way to his seat, holding two beers and mouthing what could either have been an apology or an expletive.

It was a sign of how things had changed between them that his tardy appearance warranted nothing more than a slightly exasperated but mostly fond look as Enjolras waited for Grantaire to be seated before beginning. “Now that we’re all here,” he said, a little sternly, but with a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, and as he continued talking, Grantaire let out a happy sigh, lounging slightly in his chair.

“You seem happy,” Joly said in an undertone, and Grantaire arched an eyebrow as he took a sip of beer.

“You say that like I normally walk around scowling.”

Joly ignored him. “Did you and Enjolras have fun together before the meeting?” he asked instead, in an idle sort of way, and Grantaire paused, his beer halfway to his lips.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile.

While the fact that he and Enjolras were dating at best, or just sleeping together at worst, was not exactly a secret, Grantaire had decided at the beginning not to talk about it, or even so much as acknowledge it, just in case he jinxed it.

It must’ve worked, because just last night they had celebrated one whole month of not jinxing it.

But it also explained Joly’s eye roll as he took a sip of his wine before telling Grantaire, sounding far more nonchalant than Grantaire had remotely managed, “Maybe not, but you missed a button on your shirt.”

Grantaire looked down at himself, his mouth opening and closing again like a fish gasping for water. “That– I mean– I do that all the time,” he blustered, quickly trying to fix the problem and somehow only managing to make things worse. “I mean, it’s not like it means anything.”

“Of course not,” Joly said, taking another sip of wine to hide his smile. “But like I said, you seem happy.”

Grantaire muttered something incomprehensible as he finally fixed the buttons on his shirt, but when he glanced up at Enjolras, it was with a smile on his face.

----------

Combeferre glanced up from where he was reading the newspaper and offered a bod to Enjolras as he emerged from his bedroom, already on the phone with the permit approval office at City Hall despite it being only a few minutes past their opening time. “Yes, but you’ve given no explanation for denying our reasonable use permit request,” Enjolras said impatiently, giving Combeferre a distracted wave before yanking on his coat. “Believe me, I’m more than happy to file an appeal, but you and I both know you would save yourselves some time and grief if you just approved it now—”

He broke off as Grantaire stumbled out of the bedroom, wrapped in Enjolras’s duvet. Enjolras’s expression instantly softened when he saw Grantaire, though his tone was no less impatient when he told whomever had the unfortunate luck of picking up the phone that morning, “Then tell your supervisor to call me themself and I will be glad to walk them through the city code on what constitutes ‘reasonable use’.”

He hung up and slipped his phone in his pocket before reaching out to pull Grantaire to him. “Sorry to rush off,” he said before kissing Grantaire’s forehead. “Meet me for lunch?”

Grantaire opened his mouth as if to answer but yawned instead, and Enjolras laughed. “Go back to bed,” he commanded, leaning in and kissing Grantaire lightly. “I’ll text you later.”

He gave Combeferre another wave, this time accompanied by a slightly sheepish smile, before finally taking his leave. Grantaire stood there for a long moment, staring after him, a goofy sort of grin on his face. Then he shook his head and turned to shuffle into the kitchen, his expression a little dazed.

Dazed enough that he ran smackdab into the refrigerator, and Combeferre snorted a laugh into his coffee mug.

“What?” Grantaire asked defensively, rubbing his head as he recovered his balance, making his way around the refrigerator to the coffeemaker.

“Absolutely nothing,” Combeferre told him, managing to rein in his laughter. “Good morning to you, too.”

Grantaire glared at him as he poured himself a cup of coffee, but by the time he had filled his cup, his glare had disappeared, replaced by the same goofy grin from before. Still, he held his head high as he made his way back to Enjolras’s bedroom— at least until he tripped over the edge of the duvet and almost spilled his coffee all over himself.

This time, Combeferre didn’t even bother trying to hide his laughter, and Grantaire’s dreamy look was replaced by a scowl as he stalked into Enjolras’s bedroom, all but slamming the door behind him.

Combeferre’s laugh slowed to a chuckle, and he shook his head as he returned to reading his newspaper.

----------

Courfeyrac glanced impatiently at the time on his cellphone before tossing a look at Combeferre, who did not seem to be even remotely concerned about the time. “He’s late,” Courfeyrac said sourly.

“By about 30 seconds,” Combeferre answered calmly, striking something on the blog post he was editing. “I think we can afford to cut him a little slack.”

“Maybe you can,” Courfeyrac grumbled, glaring at his phone again as if he could encourage it to move faster. “I have a hot date after this.”

Combeferre glanced up, his brow furrowed. “Aren’t you and I getting pho after this?” he asked. Courfeyrac leered pointedly at him and Combeferre rolled his eyes, looking back down at his computer, his face burning bright red. “Anyway—”

He was cut off by Enjolras, coming into the backroom not from the doorway, as anyone would expect, but instead emerging from the supply closet. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, taking a seat next to Combeferre, who looked confused, and Courfeyrac, who looked delighted.

“Oh, don’t you worry about it,” Courfeyrac said blithely, smirking slightly, and Combeferre glared at him.

“You literally were just complaining—”

He was cut off again by the door to the supply closet opening, and this time, a particularly dishevelled Grantaire spilled out, his hair sticking straight up in the back and his shirt on inside-out. He froze when he saw them looking at him, and gave them a slightly sheepish wave before hurrying out.

Courfeyrac was beaming like a cat that had gotten the cream and Combeferre cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “now that we’re all here—”

“Enjolras, I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you,” Courfeyrac interrupted, and Enjolras looked over at him, startled.

“For being a few minutes late?” he asked, somewhat dubious, and Courfeyrac sighed and rolled his eyes.

“No, for your little pre-meeting meeting in the supply closet,” he said, a touch impatiently.

Enjolras still looked confused. “Grantaire and I were just talking,” he said, a touch defensively. Combeferre and Courfeyrac both made disbelieving noises at that, and Enjolras scowled. “What?” he asked.

Courfeyrac sighed and shook his head. “Nevermind,” he said, somewhat mournfully. “My pride is rescinded.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Enjolras told him, but Combeferre was pretty sure he could see just a slight smile lifting the corner of Enjolras’s mouth.

----------

Grantaire was running late, but that was hardly out of the ordinary, and besides, Jehan was finishing up a chapter in his book, so he didn’t mind waiting, propping his feet up on the empty chair waiting for Grantaire in the café and drinking his tea.

Three chapters later, Grantaire was still not there, and Jehan frowned down at his watch before going to order himself another cup of tea and a coffee for when Grantaire inevitably showed up. 

Sure enough, not even five minutes later, Grantaire rushed in, noticeably out of breath. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, dropping into his seat and standing up immediately when he realized he had sat on Jehan’s feet.

“No worries,” Jehan told him absently, marking where he left off in his book as Grantaire sat back down, this time lifting Jehan’s feet and setting them in his lap. 

Grantaire caught sight of the cup of coffee waiting for him and brightened instantly. “For me?” he asked, and when Jehan nodded, Grantaire grinned. “My hero,” he said, grabbing the coffee and pulling the lid off, reaching for the sugar.

Jehan watched, his eyebrows raised and his cup of tea halfway to his mouth, as Grantaire dumped seemingly half the container into his coffee. “Is everything alright?” he asked, curious. 

“Yeah, fine, why?” Grantaire asked distractedly before taking a gulp of coffee that he instantly choked on. “Jesus Christ,” he spluttered, staring down at the coffee in horror. “What the hell is wrong with this coffee?!”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with the coffee,” Jehan told him.

“Then why does it taste like—”

Jehan patiently held up the almost-empty salt shaker. “Because you put salt in it instead of sugar.”

Grantaire stared at him, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. Shit.”

“Mmhmm,” Jehan agreed, taking a sip of tea. “So, I’ll take it you came from Enjolras’s.”

“What makes you say that?” Grantaire asked, taking another sip of coffee and shuddering at the taste as if he had already forgotten how disgusting it was.

Jehan gave him a look. “Because you’re always distracted after you’ve been spending time with Enjolras,” he said, as if it was obvious.

Grantaire froze. “Am not,” he said, seemingly on instinct alone.

Jehan just shrugged. “Whatever you say,” he said unconcernedly, and Grantaire stared down at his coffee for a long moment before sighing heavily.

“Goddamnit.”

----------

“Are you watching me sleep?” Enjolras asked with no small amount of amusement, not lifting his head from his pillow, even as Grantaire was propped up on his elbow, looking at him.

“That would require you to actually be asleep,” Grantaire pointed out. “And seeing as how your alarm is about to go off—“

As if on cue, Enjolras’s phone chimes loudly and Enjolras sighed, reaching over to turn it off before rolling back to face Grantaire. He stretched, pausing when he saw Grantaire still watching him. “What?” he asked, slightly defensively.

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, before hesitating and telling him, almost desperately, “You just — you look perfect.”

“You’re biased,” Enjolras told him with a laugh, running a hand through his blond curls.

“Maybe,” Grantaire allowed, “but you and I just woke up from sleep and had pretty fantastic sex on top of that, and while I look like I’ve gone nine rounds in the boxing ring with Bahorel and am lucky I can string a sentence together, you’re cool as a cucumber, not even a hair out of place.”

Enjolras smirked. “That’s because I’m better at this than you,” he teased, but his grin faded when Grantaire didn’t so much as crack a smile. “Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?” Grantaire shrugged, and Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What is this really about?”

Grantaire was silent for a long moment, reaching out to trace a finger up Enjolras’s side. “It’s probably nothing,” he hedged, but Enjolras captured his hand with one of his own, holding him in place.

“It’s not,” he said firmly. “Talk to me.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m in this more than you.”

Enjolras stared at him. “In what more?” he asked.

Grantaire shrugged, carefully pulling his hand away from Enjolras’s. “This,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “Us.” Enjolras’s expression darkened and Grantaire hurried to add, “It’s just that I love you so much that every time we’re together, I feel like the air’s been knocked out of me, and I know we’ve never put a name on this so maybe you don’t feel the same, and that’s ok, but—“

Enjolras cut off his babbling by kissing him, cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. “I’m in this,” he told Grantaire, resting his forehead against his as he ran his fingers lightly through Grantaire’s mess of curls. “Don’t ever think that I’m not. I just—“

He broke off, clearly searching for the right words. “You say that when we’re together, it’s like the air’s been knocked out of you, but when we’re together, it’s like I can stop and breathe again.” He made a face, as if what he’d said sounded inadequate to him. “At every other point in time, I have to be a million places at once, doing a million things at once. But when I’m here with you, it’s just you.”

He ran his thumb lightly across Grantaire’s cheekbone. “When I’m with you, you’re the only thing I’m thinking about. So when I have to leave, I guess I’m just better at keeping it together because I’m still focused on what matters.” 

He kissed Grantaire once more before rolling over and standing up, padding over to his dresser to grab some clothes and get dressed. Grantaire rolled over onto his stomach to watch him, his usual goofy smile still a little smaller than usual. “”As much as I realize that’s supposed to be sweet, I’m not entirely sure it is,” he complained, propping himself up on his elbow again. “Especially since I’m the idiot walking into things and putting salt in my coffee, and you…” 

He trailed off as Enjolras sat down on the edge of the bed next to him to put his shoes on. “And I, what?” Enjolras asked, amused.

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Absolutely nothing. Other than the fact that I love you.”

Enjolras looked at him suspiciously but nonetheless leaned over to kiss him. “I love you, too,” he said. “See you at the rally. Please try not to be late.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Grantaire promised, still grinning, and Enjolras’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he shrugged and made his way out the door.

Grantaire lay back in bed and closed his eyes, mentally counting down in his head, until—

“Were you really going to let me leave the house with my shirt on backwards?” Enjolras demanded, standing in the doorway and glaring at Grantaire.

“Payback’s a bitch,” Grantaire murmured sleepily.

Enjolras scowled and pulling his shirt off to put it on the correct way. “You are such a—” he started, breaking off when Grantaire reached out and pulled him back to the bed, tugging him down so he could kiss him once more.

“It was just nice to see you as distracted as I normally am for once.”

Enjolras’s expression softened and he kissed Grantaire’s forehead. “I love you,” he told him. “Some days I sure as shit don’t know why, but—”

Grantaire just laughed. “I love you, too. Backwards shirt and all.”

[zwiezraczek]

Criminal - Chapter 4

Billy (viliain) x Female reader (cop)

Prologue/Chapter 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4:  He is a sucker

SUMMARY: You always wanted to become a police officer. And you became one of them, brilliantly and they offered you your first case. “The Ghosts” case. The case of fleeting people and one sneaky bastard parkouring around the town to annoy you. You swore to yourself to catch him them.

WORDS: 1.7 k

NOTE: So here we are with chapter 4! I’m late, I knoooow, but yesterday I wasn’t in a mood to write so I hope you’ll forgive me! I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter! 💕 Update: I had to reupload this again because it wasn’t showing up in the tags, it’s a thing that happens A LOT to me and it’s fecking frustrating so yeah... 

TAGLIST: @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @natsficrecs​ (leave a comment to be a part of it!)

The place itself was awful. As you looked up you saw the old buildings, in ruin. The neighborhood he had chosen wouldn’t have been your first choice, for sure. But at the same time, a perfect place for exchanges with too much things to look at to find anything. You could smell insalubrity, you could feel it with every inch of your body, brushing against your skin. And even as a cop, you didn’t feel safe in this neighborhood. But, at the same time, you hoped that all of his would lead you somewhere.

You looked around you, ruins. Ruins everywhere. He had chosen a great place, really. A place where you were exposed and vulnerable, a place where he could take you down if he wanted to, but this experiment was wort the shot. Slowly, you walked between the bags and the dust, looking for the corner with a “4” graffiti on it, you found the graffiti on google maps while looking up the coordinates he had gave you in his letter. He knew what he was doing, really. The place was awful, just like him. Him and his cheekiness towards you. Him and his little games. Him. During the last few days, you found yourself thinking more about this solo investigation, his intercourse with the police, and about your own safety. Probably more about your job – and you losing it because of this.

You had worked so much for this position, proving them that it wasn’t because you looked cute and nice that you couldn’t do your work, and first you thought that your boss understood that by giving you this case. But apparently, he had hoped for you to quit as soon as possible. This case was your death sentence, and every move you made moved you closer to the brink. You put a finger on it now, after your big failure when your boss put the blame on you, and you only for this. He was partially right, because this was your idea, but he also was wrong because he could have denied you the troops and everything he had given you for this mission. And even if you found out that the transaction happening in the backroom was linked with one of the biggest companies of the city, your boss refused to acknowledge this as a step forward in your investigation. Of course, because looking up the corporations wasn’t your job apparently, and because dismantling a larger network wasn’t a bigger success than catching the Ghosts. Of course.

You sighed. After a few minutes, you found your corner, the corner Four assigned for your exchanges. The corner where you would become a phoenix or burn to ashes, depending on Four’s will. It was truly your last chance. And when you arrived right next to the walls, you tried to stay calm as you saw the little note he had left you.

“Cute cops are apparently rebel cops! ;)”

What a bastard.

~~~~

“You did what,” One exclaimed through the server Three created for them to speak without attracting cops, well at least for the moment. “I hope you’re joking Four, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“As if you could,” Four replied maybe too casually to be certain of that.

He had maybe screwed some things up by sending the letter to the cop on their case. But One wanted to congratulate her, he said, for this amazing trap she settled for them, and wanted to know who were the guys behind this informatics trick. And Four took it as a request. Well, he took it as a permit to send her a letter. But apparently it wasn’t a permit. And apparently he got himself into so much trouble.

“I’ll fucking kill him, somebody stop me,” One repeated and Four could hear the frustration. Oops.

“I won’t be the one stopping you,” Two stated as Four only gasped in a dramatic way. “I’ll help if you want.”

“What in the fucking world you thought when you did it,” One asked again, absolutely irritated.

“I thought it would be fun,” Four replied, a bit unsure. Then he heard Three’s chuckle. “Hey, don’t laugh at me, if not you we wouldn’t be in that situation!”

“I screwed up yes, I brought the cops yes, but now you made the cops follow us and seriously? That’s the greatest shit you’ve ever done Four,” Three laughed as One groaned.

“What’s the plan,” Seven asked.

“Guys, don’t you fucking see that I just helped us,” Four insisted, his fingertips taping on the desk.

“Fuck no, enlighten me,” One replied sarcastically.

“If I play it nicely, we’ll be able to gather information from her. We’ll be one step ahead and…”

“You sweet-talked her with bondage,” Seven remarked and Three laughed, “I’m sorry but you’re not our expert in flirt here. I’d rather send Five for the letters and the seducing part.”

“I can help with the letters if you want Four,” Five added in a warm tone, contrasting with the whole situation. She really tried to keep her calm. She really did.

“Guys I can fucking do it I’m not,” he stated before being interrupted – again.

“She doesn’t have to reply,” Two casually said. “He left her the choice. She can absolutely refuse to answer the letters and we won’t have any problem. Am I the only sane person in here?”

“She’s right,” On finally said in a calmer tone. “We keep our fingers crossed that she won’t leave you that letter in the dumpster you asked her to.”

“It’s not a dumps-.”

“It’s a fucking dumpster,” One retorted, “and if she’s sane enough she won’t go there. And if she does, you tell us. Simple. So, subject change until this case is solved. What about our partnership with the company?”

Four sighed. He really hoped that the cute cop would write back. Because he found it funny to tease cops like this, and she looked particularly receptive to this kind of little games:  she ultimately tried to follow a parkour expert well-knowing that he would be faster and smarter than her up there, nonetheless she had tried. And that was quite impressive. And reckless. And he loved recklessness.

Once the had call ended, he turned around to take a look at his crappy place. He wished they could all afford a better place to live in – well, he hoped that One would ultimately share the money they had – but for the moment, this apartment should be enough. He sighed and looked throught the window.

Every night since the last encounter with you, he went to the place in order to see if you replied, hoping secretly to be able to communicate with you. Every night, he took a different path to arrive there, he wandered from roof to roof in order to reach this place and to see, from above, if there was something new on the ground. He put the flashlight right on the dusty fallen fragments of the wall and saw this. He saw the letter. He felt his heart race, he felt a sort of excitement, happiness. An adrenaline rush.

“Dear Four,

Thank you for this letter, I will absolutely accept your offer so this is my reply to all of you.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about what to write in this letter to all of you. I figured out that I probably should answer your questions first. I can’t say who helped me find you, that’s a secret as much as your identities are, am I right? And thanks for the congratulations, I deserved them and will deserve even more when I’ll catch you. Soon :)

I’m truly surprised that you wrote a letter to me, I hope it isn’t compromising at all for you – and probably your teammates. Don’t worry, nobody knows about our exchange, as you asked this is why I came there to put the letter in this dumpster. For a guy wanting bondage apparently, you seem to be more into… Trash from what I see on my computer screen. I’m not judging, just telling that I’m a bit disappointed.

Any requests? ;)

I hope hearing from you soon,

Lovebird aka the cute cop”

This. Is. Not. A. Dumpster.

~~~~

This little game of his was going on for weeks, and never seemed to stop. You tried to catch him off guard, but by letters all was too difficult. So, you decided to change your strategy: you had to see him and to keep him under surveillance as much as possible. After you left your letter, you waited a long moment before the sunset and you left, and then, you came back in the morning and the letter wasn’t there. You were sure of it now: he came during the night. Which was logical. But not reassuring at all, not for you.

And, as soon as you could – because you took a few days off – you began to patrol around the place at night, with a black hoodie on while walking fast, and even faster. As you walked, your eyes looking on the ground, you tried to blend in which wasn’t that simple with all these threats around you even when you carried a weapon. You wondered why a woman had to feel insecure at night, even when she was able to defend herself.

One night, after a few exchanged letters, a few coffees and some hours of patrolling you noticed him coming down from the roof, with his blue hoodie on. You saw the happy look on his face when he illuminated the place where you left your letter earlier on that day. You couldn’t help yourself but smirk. You caught your bird, but what he was doing right here wasn’t enough to arrest him by yourself, alone. You needed evidence, you needed proof and you needed to know where he lived.

[dhpbackrooms]

How many chairs are in the dhp backrooms?And are they stackable?

There’s only one! But if needed I can steal some from either @permitoffice or @hermit-permits and I’m sure they would have stackable chairs :>

[typinggently]

Hello,, for the prompt thing, maybe number 10 and whichever tom hardy character ship or pairing you like? Like you did eggsy and bob? Love your writing:))

10) a bar, a forgotten letter, one drink too many

-

Oh, that’s such a thrilling request and I’ve thought about it for a while. In the end, I decided to pick Arthur/Eames, since Eames is the first Tom Hardy character I got into contact with and thus he has a special place in my heart

Thank you so, so much for your sweet words :’’’’’’’)

-

-

It’s one of those places where you have to descend a worryingly steep fly of stairs, where golden light filters through thick windows, covered in stickers. Where the scent of smoke and hot fat has seeped into the cracked leather benches and slot machines with sticky buttons blink in one corner.

In short – it’s one of those places Eames takes to like a fish to water.

-

He wanders over to the bar, gets himself a glass of whiskey and a handful of peanuts. From here, back to the barkeeper, elbows resting on the bar, he has a good view over the other patrons. Most of them are drinking, talking, watching the game on the flickering TV hanging over the bar. In one corner of the room, close to the doorway leading down to the restrooms, a pool table is tucked away. As he sips his whiskey, Eames observes the men there, three plus one.

Three in silk shirts, gold necklaces. Warm colours, bleeding together in the warm light. One in black and white, noir pasted into late 70s glam. Sharp cut shoulders, gleaming hair, white shirt, sleeves rolled up. Eames hums, mostly to himself, and puts his glass down. Without tearing his eyes from the man, he knocks his knuckles against the glass, waits for the soft sound of sloshing liquid before pulling out his wallet once more. A letter slips out and he catches it, puts it on the bar while counting the bills. When he looks up, one of the three soft-coloured men is handing over the chalk to the monochrome vision. Frowning slightly, the man checks the table, the cue gleaming in his elegant hand.

Eames takes a moment to appreciate the view, the long fingers loosely wrapped around the cue, the way the light catches on his slicked back hair as he bends over, his hips, his shoulders. Then, he turns towards the bar and orders a fresh glass of whiskey.

-

When he wanders over to the table, drink in hand, the three men glance up, but don’t pay him much attention. Golden necklace, silk shirt. Tan, slick hair. He fits in.

Le Chat Noir doesn’t look up until Eames stops next to him, hip leaning against the pool table. The man straightens, raises a brow at him. “Yes?” There’s a sharpness to him, tobacco and ink.

This time, the men are very careful not to look at them, tense under loose silk. Eames licks his front teeth, humming deep in his throat. “I bought you a drink.”

The men relax.

“A drink?” The man looks him up and down. “Drinks aren’t permitted by the pool table.”

It’s probably bullshit, considering the other three lined their beers up on one side of the table, but it’s not a no. So Eames hums, his smile all teeth. “Well, Sweetheart, I guess that means you’ll have to come back to the bar with me, or else I’d have to ask the barkeeper to pour it down the drain. You don’t look like the type of man who’d waste a good glass of whiskey.”

At that, the man scoffs. He reaches out and takes the glass from Eames’ grip. “I see you’re an excellent judge of character.”

With that, he puts the glass to his lips and throws the whiskey back without stopping to breathe. Four, five gulps, six. It’s damn impressive and Eames stares at the pale line of his throat, mesmerised.

“Here you go.” The man hands him the empty glass and turns back to the pool table. It takes Eames a moment, but he shakes his head and reaches for him, clumsy paw on a sharp hipbone.

“Hey- let- Fuck.” He huffs a laugh, unable to help himself. “You fucking hurricane. Let me buy you another one, Love, huh?”

-

When the man turns towards him once again, he takes a step, bringing them closer together and making their slight size difference obvious. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

Eames, hand still on his hip, grins. “Not a chance.”

There’s a pause, then the man huffs and gently shoves at his shoulder. “You’re paying.” He turns towards the three men still watching and puts his cue down on the barstool to his left. “Thanks for the game.”

With that, he puts his palm on Eames’ shoulder and pushes him towards the backrooms. “Hey, wait a second,” Eames says, tilting his head to glance at the man’s sharp profile. “That’s not the right direction, Dearest, is it?”

The man doesn’t answer, just pushes him through the door clearly labelled “Staff” and closes it behind himself.

-

“Jesus, you fucking idiot.” Arthur’s hands fist in his hair immediately, mouth against Eames’, teeth on his lower lip.

Eames huffs a laugh and squeezes his hips, pulling him closer. For now, his possible answer is much less important than the taste of Arthur’s mouth, whiskey and smoke, and he loses track for time for a moment.

In the end, it’s Arthur who pulls back, cheeks a little flushed, pupils a little glazed. He tries to look stern, but his mouth is soft, kiss-bruised. “Did you give him the letter?”

Eames nods, leaning in to kiss Arthur’s whiskey-hot cheek. “Sure did. Care to finish your game?”

Arthur huffs, eyelashes fluttering. “Let’s just go back to the damn hotel room.”

Eames thinks of the line of his throat, his hand on the cue, the arch of his back. “Fantastic plan.”

-

-

Thank you so much for this ask! I’m so sorry it took me so long to answer it!!

I was half-tempted to make this a dream sequence, but I like the idea that they just casually sneak information around like this. Maybe Yusuf was the barman?? Who knows who knows…

[goodbyecringe]

(Un)Natural Selection Chapter 10

Éponine

The Enjolras that I spent a fun, relaxed car ride with was not the same Enjolras that I was watching give a speech on how Illea’s impoverished differed from the impoverished of other countries. I had seen him give hundreds of speeches and public addresses on the Report, but this was different. During the Report he was calm and collected like his parents, and articulated his points clearly enough for the uneducated to understand. But here, in the secret backroom of some cafe, he used terms that I only come across in Monsieur Brouder’s textbooks. He spoke passionately towards the poverty that Illea created for many innocent families when they assigned the first castes. I wondered if Enjolras had ever seen poverty. Feuilly, a Five that worked as a fan maker, offered me several pieces of paper so I could take notes. As Enjolras finished, I realized I had used 2 pieces of paper.

“Excellent job, Enjolras,” a thin man with glasses said, standing up to shake Enjolras’ hand.

“Thank you, Combeferre. I’d like to open the floor for a discussion now,” Enjolras said, taking a sip of water.

Then the room turned into what I imagined to look like a Parliament. One by one, each man would stand and talk about their experiences, proposed changes, and ask questions. They didn’t always agree with each other, in fact it seemed the only thing they did agree on was that the caste system was wrong and there needed to be a change. Since they all came from different walks of life they all had solutions they thought would be superior. But they didn’t overly criticize each other, instead, they offered information, statistics, and personal opinions that would improve each other’s arguments.

“What say you, Lady Éponine?” Combeferre asked as Feuilly finished his statements.

When all of the men turned around to stare at me, their eyes weren’t daggers. Unlike the Selected girls who were ready to pounce, these men weren’t judgmental. I noticed Enjolras sit up in his chair a little more.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to give my opinion on this topic. I mean, I’ve never attended law school, or college, or high school,” I laughed nervously.

“Well only a few of us have attended law school, Joly and Combeferre are pursuing careers in medicine, Feuilly and Prouvaire intend on following the arts, and we have several members that plan on finding careers outside of politics,” Enjolras said.

He wanted to make sure that I wasn’t just pretending to be interested in his politics before he got too far into the competition.

“Well I really resonated with what you said about how “from equal schools spring an equal society,”” I said, reading from my notes.

“And why is that?” He asked, bringing his pen to his mouth.

“Like I said earlier, personally I haven’t received a formal education, and neither have many citizens of Illeá. The poverty that lower castes experience doesn’t allow for much growth or advancement in the socioeconomic system, which is similar to the point that Mr. Coufeyrac brought up when comparing Illeá to France. Even if eventually the caste system dissolved, millions of people would become homeless due to their lack of education. It would be like the caste systems never left because there are people that only know how to work in factories, or make beautiful paintings, or cultivate the land. There has to be massive change over time,” I said, not looking up.

“Do you envision the caste system dissolving?” Enjolras asked.

“I’ve never seriously thought about it. Every day of my life is the exact same as the day before and I don’t usually have the time to day dream,” I said, locking eyes with him.

“If Enjolras would permit, Lady Éponine, I have a book on the benefits of education and the impacts on different age groups that you might find very interesting,” Coufeyrac said.

“Yes, and I have some articles on cultural attitudes and how they affect a changing society,” a bald man said to my left.

“Excellent my friends! If you would all please give those to Grantaire before lunch tomorrow, I’ll make sure Éponine has them,” Enjolras said, standing.

We left the cafe shortly after, once I had time to be properly introduced to everyone. Several of the men, like Combeferre and Courfeyrac were Twos, having very important parents. Joly and Jehan Prouvaire were Threes, but the rest of the men, Fueilly, Bossuet, the bald man that offered to lend me some articles, and Bahorel were all members of the lower castes. I was quickly able to notice that they were all surprisingly different in their own ways. When Jehan introduced himself, he presented me with a rose and suggested I wear red more often, as it went well with my tan skin. Joly refused to shake my hand, instead insisted that we bumped elbows to avoid spreading any excessive amounts of germs. Enjolras laughed and shook his head as each member of his misfit group presented themselves to me.

Once we arrived back at the palace, Enjolras sat in his seat for several moments, possibly unsure of how to conclude. I let myself enjoy the comfortable leather seats until the growling of my stomach broke our silence.

“Did you not get enough to eat at dinner?” Enjolras asked.

“I wasn’t really hungry after breakfast,” I began to explain.

“You didn’t eat lunch or dinner?” He sat up and turned to me.

“Well no, but I didn’t see you at dinner. What did you eat after you scarfed down your coffee and toast?” I asked, turning my body around to him.

“I enjoyed an apple while I read over some reports,” he said with pride.

“An apple? You’re telling me that you help run the entire country running on coffee, a piece of bread, and an apple?”

“A good leader understands the importance of time management,” he said, sounding offended as he opened his door.

“A good leader understands the importance of self preservation,” I murmured getting out of the car.

“What was that?” Enjolras said approaching me.

“I’m just saying that we need you to be on the throne for more than a few years.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“I can’t tell you, your rule,” I said, turning to walk away from him, making sure to smirk so he could see that I wasn’t too upset.

“Well you could at least have a sandwich with me. I’ve spent several hours with you today, Kyran will expect me to know something about you,” he laughed, entering the kitchen.

“You can’t tell him that I went to your meeting with you?”

Enjolras shook his head as he looked around the abandoned part of the kitchen we were in. Everything had been cleaned to expert precision, which Enjolras was about to ruin as he began to slice a loaf of bread.

“So far, the Report only knows the very surface of my involvement with Les Amis, and I’d rather it stay that way. So if anyone asks what we did tonight we’ll try to stay as close to the truth as possible.”

“So you made me dress up in a maid’s uniform so we could eat sandwiches for several hours?” I laughed while he pulled out more sandwich ingredients.

“Well I’d rather the public not be allowed to analyze that part. What did you tell the other girls?”

“I just said we were watching a movie.”

“Well then we watched a movie and came down here for a snack. Would you like Turkey or Ham?”

“Ham please. What movie did we watch? What was the plot? Who was the star? These girls are vicious, you know.”

“Are they? That Cosette girl I took out today was quite lovely,” he said, passing me my sandwich.

“Cosette is probably the sweetest, most genuine girl here. You should keep her for as long as possible,” I said, picking up my sandwich.

“And how long should I keep you around for?”

I thought about my answer while I chewed. Was it too early to bring up my financial concerns?

“Well, I was hoping you could keep me around long enough for my sister to go to college.”

Enjolras gave me a funny look.

“I mean, I was hoping to talk with you about the stipend. I was hoping that some of it could be sent to another family that would save it for my sister to use. Ideally for college, but also if she needed food and things like that.”

“What about your parents?”

“My parents aren’t very good at managing money. I just want to make sure that no matter what happens here, she has some security.”

“Well, thank you for being open and honest with me, Éponine. I’ll see what I can do for your sister. I know if she’s anything like you she’ll benefit greatly from a formal education,” he said before he took a bite of his sandwich.

“Thank you! You won’t regret this!”

I could have said a million more thank you’s that would never be equivalent to how I was feeling.

“Tell me about your sister,” Enjolras said as he sat across from me.

“To be honest, Azelma is a bit of a hopeless romantic,” I laughed, making circles in the wooden countertop.

I thought about every boy she would gush over after our parents would fall asleep. From the newspaper boy to that one boy she made eye contact with on the subway, Azelma never failed to fall in love.

“And you’re not?”

“I don’t have time to fall in love,” I joked, realizing that I just made it sound like I didn’t really want to be here.

“Then why did you come here?” He said, circling back to the breakfast question.

“You really want to know that answer to that question, don’t you?”

“I think I can safely assume that every girl is here for her own personal gain. Whether it’s power, privilege, political agenda,” he gave a special pause after that one.

“I would be very surprised if there was a girl here that actually wanted to marry me because she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me,” he stated.

“I promise when I figure out why I’m here, you’ll be the first person I tell,” I said, taking another bite of my sandwich.

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“What I can tell you is that I’m here right now because a nice guy made me the best sandwich I’ve ever had.”

“Well I’m glad I can impress the ladies with my sandwiches,” he laughed.

“How many other ladies do you bring down here to enjoy sandwiches?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

Enjolras laughed again.

The whole situation was oddly surreal. I was sitting across from the boy that I had watched on television eating a sandwich that he made. Enjolras was nothing that I had expected him to be, but then again, what did I expect him to be? We sat in a content silence until the kitchen exploded with shouts and laughter. It sounded like many of the boys had gone drinking after the meeting. Courfeyrac stumbled into the kitchen still holding an empty bottle of beer, but still laughing, which was quite the contrast from how my father handled his alcohol.

“Éponine I think Combeferre and I have to help these poor men into their beds before they wander somewhere they're not meant to be,” he said standing up.

“Oh it’s fine, I’ll just go back to my room. It’s a good thing I don’t have to go back upstairs in that stupid maid’s uniform,” I joked.

“Actually, Éponine, I would prefer if this remained in the utmost secrecy. So even if I was discovered with them, you wouldn’t be associated with us.”

I thought about if that statement was some sort of compliment while I changed back into that stupid uniform to walk back up to my room and wondered if this would all become a regular occurrence. As I walked back upstairs I felt like I wasn't even in a competition to become a princess. For a few hours I forgot about being a Six, and felt truly equal to Twos and Threes. And as I sat across from Enjolras, equal to even a One. I didn't know if this feeling would last forever, but I did know that I would never be able to go back to my old life. I knew that when I left the competition as a Three I would have to get a degree myself, and hope that I would find someone that would share their ideas with me like I had shared with Enjolras at the meeting tonight.

[askstorykids-hq]

Attention students! Two new students have been permitted by their parents to attend Auradon Prep! Please welcome:

Altair, son of Betelgeuse & Miss Argentina!

Altair is the 17 year old demon son of Beetlejuice and Miss Argentina. He used to be in Auradon Prep but left due to Auradon Prep, in his opinion, to be a little more fucked up than he could handle. Now he’s coming back with his now boyfriend, Ethan.

He’s still kind to those who he considers a friend, but is still a little bit of a prankster. Not as much as he used to, but it’s still there. He mostly does it to teachers because he thinks it’s funny. He also has started to distance himself away from AKs, mostly, but that doesn’t include the AKs he’s closest to.

Terry, adopted son of Nigel Thrall!

As long as he could remember, all that nine-year-old Terry Maybeck, "Donnie" to his grandma, ever had was his grandmother. No parents. She wouldn't talk about what had happened to them, just that he was her grandson and her responsibility now. He wasn't too bothered by it. He loved his grandma dearly and she was more than enough to him.

His grandmother ran a store for magical items to keep them both afloat. The wizarding gene was strong in their family and her shop was popular in its own right, especially among one Nigel Thrall, a regular customer of hers.

Too popular, to the wrong people. One night, while closing up, Terry and his grandma heard what sounded like someone forcing the door to the shop from the street open. Quick thinking, his grandma had scooped Terry up and moved him into a hidden compartment in one of the backroom cupboards that she used to keep larger packages of Nigel's custom ordered materials in, before going to check on what the noise had been.

The next thing Terry had heard, his back against the back wall of the compartment, squishing as far away from the door as possible, were the sounds of fighting, of some kind of struggle. He heard his grandma yelling, something about him, but then all went quiet.

Then the crashing, like someone was looking for something. Heavy footsteps tearing through the back. But they don't find him. They never find him.

He doesn't know how long he's hiding in that storage compartment. But he hears the door squeak on its hinges again at the front, and a voice calling for his grandma, and then for him. A voice he knows. Sniffling, Maybeck calls out hoarsely, "In here, Mr. Nigel!"

Nigel Thrall had been nothing short of horrified at the scene. At first, the unlocked door had simply alarmed him because he knew the shopkeeper was elderly, and seeing the door standing open... well, he'd worried she'd hurt herself, or had any form of a medical emergency...

...but it was far worse than he'd imagined, he found when he'd stepped in to find the shop ransacked and the floor soaked with her blood. And there were questions, but there was something far more pressing than finding out what happened-- the woman's grandson, Terry. Hearing the boy answer him, he'd rushed to the back, recalling the secret compartment she hid his packages in and going over to open it, pulling the boy out again and into his arms.

Maybeck had pleaded for his grandma, but Nigel had refused, insisting it was better he not see her. Knowing it was. He took the boy out the back way before calling for help.

With no other living family, and the potential risk to the magic community's secrecy, to say nothing of Maybeck's safety when they determined that the attack had been perpetrated by trolls, it was decided that Nigel would raise the boy. Terry had gone into his and his grandmother's meager home and reclaimed his own belongings, as well as a ring his grandmother had hidden in the kitchen and shown him once under a solemn vow of silence-- a silver signet ring, with a gold letter "M" situated on a black background, that she said she'd explain the importance of when he was older.

And now she never would.

To this day, Maybeck has kept his name and the ring. Nigel has been nothing but a father to him in every sense and he can't thank the man enough for that, but with everything he's been through, it's too important to him to give up.

Maybeck is known to others for his sarcastic mouth and self-important attitude. He's cocky and arrogant at his absolute best and isn't exactly famed for a kind, outgoing nature. He usually tends to push people away and keep mostly to himself, to protect himself and keep from being hurt again, not that that always works out but he tries anyways.

Stretch & Destini, you have 24 hours to send in your blog URL/post in-character content on the multimuse blog! The follow notice will be posted as soon as possible! Thank you for applying, and welcome to the group!

[robert-c]

Thoughts on How We Became a Nation of Distrustful Conspiracy Theorists

I think it begins with President Johnson. LBJ was not the charismatic leader that JFK was. He would never command the popularity or loyalty of JFK. LBJ’s only real claim to fame (and likely reason he was chosen as VP) was his political dealing, his knowledge of how to work Congress. He was not a leader in the sense of inspiring others with ideas and ideals. He was more adept at finding pressure points, domestically, to force others to give him what he wanted.

When Kennedy was assassinated LBJ’s biggest fear was that the Soviets might be behind it, because that would mean he would be forced into a war that would certainly hijack any agenda he wanted for his presidency. So when LBJ, the backroom deal maker and manipulator, formed the Warren Commission to investigate the assassination with the intent that it find that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone, things quickly got off the rails. Having a predetermined outcome at the beginning of an investigation, coupled with LBJ’s reputation, was an invitation to alternate conclusions.

Conspiracy theories about the assassination began almost immediately, with Mark Lane publishing an article a month after the assassination in December of 1963, and later a book (Rush to Judgment). Perhaps, as William Manchester speculated, people would have invented some more involved explanation to make it seem “balanced” because it seemed inconceivable that a vibrant and powerful man like the president could be taken down by a “loser loner”.

Nevertheless, it was LBJ and his administration that gave credence to the ideas that the government couldn’t be trusted. Add to this his failed attempt to sell the public that we were winning the Viet Nam war, when it was clear to everyone that was not the case, and the well of trust in good government was running dry fast. Add to this the fact, surmised at the time and now confirmed, that the Gulf of Tonkin incident, which was the excuse for escalating our role from “advisors” to combatants, was a huge mistake responding to misread radar signals which then was packaged as an attack.

The “establishment’s” resistance to obvious changes needed for social justice only further undermined a sense that the institutions of society could be relied upon to be responsive to the people, let alone to do the right things. Their resistance was made both more ridiculous and more frightening by the petty issues they also chose to focus on, e.g. hair and clothes. Follow this quickly with the assassinations of Rev. Dr. King, and Robert Kennedy and the lengths to which some would go to stop change was now clear. It was clear who had the money, power and desire to stop these changes and that no doubt helped inspire the next round of conspiracy theories, whether or not those people were involved.

No account of the decline of public trust in and decency of our leaders would be complete without mentioning Richard Nixon. His dirty tricks during the elections, and subsequent cover ups may not have been entirely new, but their exposure and his “ham-handed” way of handling them added another blemish on the highest office.

As the erosion of trust in public institutions, and other crises increase, it is sadly common for people to turn to simple (even simplistic) answers. Thus we have the rise of cults, and the extreme religious right. They offer simple, if not valid or provable, explanations that appeal to the biases and fears of their audiences.

This reaches a critical point when Ronald Reagan essentially gives the religious right a key seat at the Republican table to avoid the possibility of having independents split enough of the votes to leave him without a victory. Of course Reagan is independently an example of the erosion of the office of President as, by his own admission, he was playing a part, just like the actor he always was.

The incompetency and/or self-dealing associated with the high offices of our nation, and the electorate’s black or white thinking, insisting on simple answers to complex problems further undermine our institutions and our sense that there is some objective standard of truth. In fact, the rise of the Internet and social media turned everyone’s right to an opinion into every opinion is of equal value.

It would be another of those simple explanations to say that this is all the fault of greedy opportunists who found a way to make money publishing their conspiracy theories, or even that “loser nobodies” spread them for their moment of fame, even if only in the eyes of a handful of associates. There are surely some of the above involved, but I honestly think it has been a slow erosion over the last sixty years, and that worries me about how we can reconstruct a society that isn’t divided into camps that ignore the facts because they are unwilling to honestly examine them. We must get past this position where every rumor or piece of hearsay is taken as fact, but only if it supports our preconceived opinions.

Perhaps we could start with agreeing to validate and examine the actual facts of each issue, instead of presuming that they are lies if we don’t like them. Then maybe we could stop the “slippery slope” arguments. These have been overdone to the extreme. BTW the proper use of “slippery slope” is not what you think might happen next, but where there is no way to make a clearly definable limit between what is and isn’t to be permitted. Permitting abortion is not on a slippery slope with euthanasia because there is a well definable difference, the actual birth, the separation of one life from being hosted by another. Banning books, movies etc. because they are “offensive” is a slippery slope because there is no universal standard for what is offensive.

Maybe we could acknowledge that societies are very complex things and claiming to know exactly what will unravel one is at least potentially arrogant and wrong. Every restriction or regulation on gun ownership isn’t necessarily a step toward outlawing all gun ownership. Allowing people of color, gay and lesbian, transgender etc. to be free of discrimination in public society does NOT mandate your personal feelings. You can still think they are going to Hell, you just cannot try to make their life Hell here, any more than you would want someone to do the same to you for who you are and what you feel. (Isn’t there a “golden” rule about that somewhere?)

I am genuinely worried about those who embrace violence in the name of returning this country to what they think was its days of greatness. I will oppose them with violence if forced to, but I am still hopeful that there are enough sensible conservatives and progressives to work together to make a better world.

The conservatives often raise valid concerns about change and its destabilizing effect. We progressives should take some of that counsel and not leap so blindly. Conservatives need listen to progressives as they tell them of the way the world looks from the bottom side of our society of privilege and try to understand that everything bad or unfortunate is not someone’s own fault. Progressives need to acknowledge that sometimes some of the people we want to help are not doing enough to help themselves, that maybe some need a different sort of help from us. Both sides need to understand that there are dishonest players who will take advantage of either side’s programs and protections – and work together to end that abuse, instead of exaggerating it to criticize the other.

Most of all, we need to start and end these “debates” with an examination of all of the facts, the verified facts; not the gossipy hearsay of social media and opinion pieces masquerading as “news and information”.

[momomomma2]

"Stop looking at me like that it's making me wet." Reyes to Scott ;)

Dirty Talk Prompts (Currently Closed)

“S-Stop looking at me like that.”

“And why would I do that?” Scott props his chin in his hand, grinning at Reyes’ half-hearted glare. “You make a pretty picture, you know that?”

“It’s making me wet,” Reyes complains, cupping a hand just under the jut of his cock for proof.

He’s not wrong, of course. Reyes leaks like a fucking dream when he’s turned on and this is no different. Pre-come spills from the plush head of his cock in a thin line, pooling in his palm as Scott groans. He can’t help but reach down, rubbing the thick line of his cock out of the view of the vidscreen as Reyes pouts.

“It’s wholly unfair, cariño, that I am on display and you...are decidedly not.”

“Mmm, but this isn’t about me.” Scott allows himself one good grope before forcing his hand back onto the desk. “This is about you and the show you’re supposed to be putting on for me.”

“You’ll be--ah--in Kadara soon? So why should I--would it not be better to just wait and--” Reyes cuts off with a whine, thumb rubbing across the head of his cock, slick hand working the length.

Scott watches eagerly, the vid placed just so, Reyes’ body visible from the knees up as he leans against the wall of his backroom and jacks himself off. It’s true enough, they’ll land in Kadara tomorrow. But Scott’s been away for over two months and he doesn’t want to wait another second to see his lover fall apart.

“No,” he answers with a grin, “it wouldn’t be better. I want to see you come. Wanna see you make a slick, wet mess of yourself. You’re doing a fine job of it so far.”

“You’re terrible,” Reyes whines but Scott doesn’t pay it much mind, too intent on listening to the filthy sounds of him working himself over for Scott’s viewing pleasure.

Terrible, yes, but he’s permitted to be. After all, one of them has to be the bad guy and when Reyes is so good….well, it seems fitting.