#saying to do it in morse I was always just like...obviously...so I switched the two

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 89

Part 1 Part 88

Listening to only one side of the conversation would drive Eddie insane if he wasn’t already. It’s worse because he’s not sure if Steve is even answering back. If he even can. Supergirl’s just vague enough that he can’t tell if she’s just trying to reassure a silent, suffocating Steve.

What if he’s still there, just choking? But, no. That was the Upside-Down. Now that the thing is here in Steve, is he still there at all? Or is he trapped in the small corner of his mind that he has left?

Still, Eddie chokes out a wet laugh when El’s lips tick up as she says, “Eddie calls me Supergirl.” She’ll always be his Supergirl. Even if she can’t help this time. 

She looks so young, even with the eyeliner smudged all around her eyes and the slicked back hair. In her black trench coat she’s badass and metal and so goddamn small Eddie wants to throw up about it.  

She’ll always be Supergirl. It hangs over her brows as a weight she carries, a weight they keep adding onto with every plea for help. 

All that drifts away when she asks, “how do we help?” That’s not a question you ask someone who can’t answer. The wait  between words stretches beyond credulity for Eddie. Everyone’s looking at Steve like he’ll open his mouth and speak. 

It’s El’s voice that cuts in. Eddie gasps with it. “Make you warm?”

His neck hurts with the speed he turns his head to meet Will’s gaze. “He likes it cold,” Will whispers. “That’s what he said.” 

Eddie opens his mouth, ready to speak before he thinks, but then El says, “I will save you,” voice floaty, like she’s waking up from a dream. “Stay here while we come.”

El’s removing the half-assed blindfold from her eyes when Eddie looks back toward her, smiling softly as she says, “he recognized me.”

Eddie, knee walks toward her, desperate and wanting. He can feel a bit of glass stuck in his knee, but he doesn’t stop. Can’t. “Stay where?” he demands, hands out like he wants to shake El before he curls them into stupid, futile fists. “Is he okay?”

“He is where he is last time,” El says before raising her hand and tapping the top of Steve’s head gently, running her fingers through his hair as she says, “but in here.”

It takes Eddie a second to connect “last time” to anything tangible. As usual, Will beats him.

“He’s in his closet?”

El nods. “Yes, with clothes.” She runs her fingers through Steve’s hair one final time before dropping her hand and standing. “He said to make him warm.”

“And that’ll fix him?” It’s Perkins who answers, clearly done with being left in the dark. Eddie can’t blame her. 

El stands, staring at Steve the whole time. It takes her too long to answer. “No, he will come back.” 

“Who’s he?” Perkins demands. Everyone else already knows. It’s written in the silence. In the way the van’s so silent that no one is even breathing. “Hello?”

“Gotta break the connection. Close the gate,” Wayne says. He’s gruff and quiet, looking down at El like he’d rather be anywhere else than asking a little girl for a little salvation. “Can you do it?”

El meets his eyes. Eddie wants to hug her, or strangle her, or stuff them all into his trunk and flee the state and hope that’s enough to save them. But then El nods, walking out of the van with too much purpose for anyone to stop her. She turns back around, looking at all of them stuffed into the too-small van. 

“I will close the gate,” she says, looking from face to face to face before asking, “where is Hop?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mama Byers says, following her out of the van so she can engulf her in a hug El doesn’t return. “He was in the lab.”

El flinches back at the word “lab,” flinches back further when Lucas explains, halting and nervous about the Demodogs that had overrun it. Then something steals over her, resolves into a determination that shines. 

“I am going,” she says, ignoring Mama Byers beseeching hands as she turns and starts walking away, like she’s going to hike all the way there on foot. Frodo Baggins without even a Samwise Gamgee. 

Everyone flutters out of the van. Eddie stays by Steve and Will’s side,watching it all unfold. 

It’s Mike that gets her to stop because of course it is. “We’ll go with you!”

El turns around, hope shining in her eyes. Wayne cuts through it like a scalpel through vocal chords.

“No,” he says, quiet, but harsh enough to make El stumble back. Eddie can’t see his face, but his hands are raised placatingly in that same spooked horse stance he’d used a lot when Eddie first moved in with him, and then later, when Steve did, too. “None of ya kids are going with ‘er.”

All the kids protest except Max, who’s frowning between everyone, unsure of who’s side to stand on. 

“She can’t go alone!” Dustin says, putting his hands on his hips in a perfect imitation of Steve every time he’s on kid wrangling duty and fed up.

Wayne copies the stance, much more effectively at his stature, and replies, “I’m going with ‘er.” When Dustin opens his mouth to further complain, he turns away toward Barbara and asks, “don’t s’pose I can borrow your car?”

Barbara throws the keys toward him without a noise of complaint. Wayne walks toward El, looping his arm around her shoulders and leading her toward the car. “C’mon, kid,” he says, squeezing her into his side. “Gotta stop by the trailer for a couple a’ guns.”

El nods, looks back at them, meeting Eddie’s eyes to say, “keep him warm.”

Like the words break a spell on him, Eddie bolts from the van, tugging his connection on Steve to make sure he stays during their separation. Wayne almost loses his footing when Eddie barrels into his back, arms clutching at his chest tight enough to hurt.

“Stay safe, old man.”

Wayne huffs, reaching back to ruffle Eddie’s greasy hair. Eddie tucks his nose into Wayne’s neck, holds onto him for a second longer before letting go. 

Wayne doesn’t turn around, but he stands still just for a second, like he can still feel the warmth of Eddie’s arms. He sounds choked up when he says, “you too, son,” before walking away without turning back.

Eddie watches as the pair get in the car and drive away, feeling oddly bereft.

He’s got all these people now, who love him and he loves back. But Uncle Wayne was the first, always. 

He better come back. 

Part 90

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[catsafarithewriter]

“Can’t you see I’m busy procrastinating?” - Haru/Baron, potentially Cups of Tea AU? OwO

A/N: One Cups of Tea AU coming right up! This was inspired by this post, and although I don’t have Haru and Baron sharing your requested line (Hiromi gets that honour, or close to it), this is one option for how Haru and Baron may have met for the first time. (i.e. chaotically) Enjoy! 

x

Moving into a flat with Hiromi was always going to be chaotic. 

Still, nothing could prepare Haru for the sight of her best friend cursing at the light switch. 

“Work was that bad, huh?” Haru ask as she dumped her bag and coat by the front door. 

“Ngh,” Hiromi said. 

“Alright. Well, that’s an answer.” Haru kicked off her shoes onto the mat just as the lounge light turned off. “Uh, Hiromi? Some light would be nice.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” 

“What do you mean you’re trying? How--”

Hiromi grabbed Haru’s arm and, in the dim shadows, dragged her over to the centre of the chaos. “Look. Watch.” She flicked on the switch and light flooded the room.”

“Very impressive, Hiromi,” Haru deadpanned. “And if we move to the kitchen, perhaps we’ll find that turning the tap makes water appear--”

“Just wait.”

Several dubious seconds passed. 

“Well, as much as I’d love to stay here with you all evening and marvel at the wonders of modern technology, I have rice that needs cooking, so--”

The light went out.

“Hiromi...”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You must have done something - that or the bulb has blown--”  

Staring straight at Haru, Hiromi flicked the switch. Light returned... for all of ten seconds before depositing them back into gloom. “See?” she yelped. “See? It’s not me! Something is seriously wrong with this place. Maybe it’s--″

“Don’t say haunted.”

“Do you have a better solution?”

“This building is brand new, Hiromi; it’s probably just some faulty wiring.”

“Maybe they build this place over some spirit’s home, and now it’s angry--”

“Unlikely, given that they tore down a warehouse to build it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Unlike some, I actually read all of the brochure before signing up.” Haru shrugged, and the light came back on. “It’ll be... teething problems or something.”

The light turned off. 

“Yeah, well let’s just hope the oven isn’t also ‘teething,’” Hiromi said. 

x

Luckily, whatever ailment had taken hold of the living room light seemed content to remain contained for the time being. 

Still, Haru had to shut her bedroom door securely and stuff blankets along the base to stop the erratic light beyond from keeping her awake. It became routine, just as much as the funny key jiggle needed to lock the apartment door, or the way that one of the floorboards tilted if you stood on the wrong end.

Hiromi was less accepting about the whole shebang. 

“Let - me - turn - you - on - you - blasted - thing!” Hiromi cursed as she battled with the disobedient light switch. 

Haru strolled from the kitchen, dinner in one hand and her phone in the other. “Just use one of the table lamps,” she offered as she perched on the sofa. “They don’t misbehave.”

“I don’t want a table lamp, I want the big light to do its damn job.”     

Haru watched the unintentional light show and distantly wondered what they were accidentally spelling out in Morse code. Then it gave her a headache, so she looked back to her phone. “Your dinner’s going cold, Hiromi.”

“I don’t care. I will win!”

“Against faulty wiring? I think the only thing you’re going to win is an electric shock.”

“I’m not going to let a haunted light bulb beat me!”

For not the first time, Haru wondered how much simpler her life would be if she didn’t have a drama queen for a best friend. “It’s not haunted, Hiromi.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Haru’s phone dinged, and she opened the message. She grinned. “Because I’ve just discovered the real reason.” She scrolled through the text. “I got talking to the IT department at work - you remember Chika, right? - and they’ve done a little digging and they say...” Her eyes widened at the explanation. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” 

“What?” Hiromi catapulted herself over to Haru’s side, her battle with the light switch all but forgotten. “What did they say?”

“Apparently these new condos use a - and I quote - ‘unique and innovative binary code’ to connect the switches to the lights and should have a radius of 30 feet.” Haru paused. “The actual radius is much bigger.”

“How much bigger?”

“Uh, about 40 apartments bigger?”

Hiromi considered this. Then a wicked grin spread across her face. “Are you saying that I’m controlling the lights of 40 other flats?”

“Not... quite? Based on the limitations of the binary code, there’s only 16 possible code combinations, so basically our switch controls the light of at least one other apartment, maybe more.”

“So. Not haunted.”

“Not haunted,” Haru agreed. 

x

Haru entered to the furious clacking of the light switch and the sporadic light show dominating the flat. She dumped her groceries, sidestepping the bag of laundry that Hiromi had promised to clear before she’d left, and found her best friend hunkered down before the switch and a notebook. 

“Hiromi--”

“Not now! I’m concentrating!”

Haru patiently waited, watching Hiromi’s brow furrow in intense concentration as she clicked through a specific pattern. Just above that, Haru could hear muttered letters. 

Eventually, Hiromi sat back, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Done!”

“I hope you’re referring to the clothes you were planning to take to the laundromat,” Haru said. She leant against the door-frame and gave her friend a look. 

“Ah. That.” 

“Or maybe you were talking about the dishes in the sink you said you’d clean.”

“Oh. Well--”

“Or perhaps it was the recycling that needed taking out.” Haru raised an eyebrow and was rewarded with an unflustered flush from Hiromi. “What are you doing?”

“Procrastinating. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Haru leant in and snatched up the notebook.

“Hey!”

Haru raised the book out of her friend’s reach with a teasing, “Shorty,” before flipping it open to the most recent page. A loose sheet fell out, the alphabet carefully written out and a series of dots and dashes beneath it. On the bound page, sentences were spelled out, once again connected by dashes and dots. “Hiromi, are you... talking to the other flats via Morse code?”

“No! ...Maybe.”

“Fear me, fear me, who dare disturbs my rest?” Haru read, flipping further through the notebook and discovering whole conversations carefully converted into Morse code and back. “I come for vengance - I mean, honestly, is this the best you can do? Also, that is not how  you spell ‘vengeance.’”

The lights began flickering, and Hiromi snatched back the book in Haru’s inattention. “Shush, let me see what they’re saying back.”

“Hiromi Kasumi Tomoko, are you pretending to haunt someone’s flat?”

“No...?” Hiromi’s nose wrinkled in concentration as she translated the light’s flicking into words, a wide grin revealing the success of her deception. The lights stabilised and she grinned up at Haru. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

“Hiromi, you are a terrible, terrible person.”

“Aw, you say the nicest things.”

“How long has this been going on for?”

“Uh... a week?”

“Hiromi!”

“Hey, they started it! They’re the ones who were trying to communicate in Morse code to appease the ‘spirit on the other side;’ I just responded. What else was I meant to do?”

“Ignore it?” Haru offered. “Tell them the truth? Not pretend to be a ghost?”

“Okay, sure, but where’s the fun in that?” Hiromi tapped at the page, thinking. “Maybe we should tell them that the ghost cannot rest until they do something to appease it. Like sing the entirety of Mamma Mia, or meow for a day, or--”

Haru yanked the book away. “That’s enough of that.”

“Oh come on, Haru--”

“You are not going to prank some complete stranger! I’m sure it’s hilarious, but there’s probably some poor idiot hyperventilating and googling exorcist rates right now, so just come clean and tell them--”  

The lights turned off. And on. And off.

A persistent, almost aggressive pattern began to emerge. 

“H-Hiromi? What are they saying?”

“Uh, give me my notebook and I’ll tell you.”

Haru numbly passed it across. 

On. Off. On. Pause. Off. On. Off. 

“A. R. L. I. A. R. L. I. A. R. L. I,” Haru translated. “Arli? Iarl? What’s that? I don’t--”

Haru leant across, barely taking her eyes off the light, and scrawled, “Liar,” onto the page.

“Oh.”

“I’m guessing they’ve finally clued in,” Haru said. “I wonder what made them realise...”

The pattern changed, and Hiromi frantically copied out the newly-forming letters. She gave a funny squeak.      

“Hiromi?”

“I am the ghost,” Hiromi read in a wheezing sort of voice. “Fear me.”    

“Oh, for...” Haru slammed to her feet, grabbing her shoes and making a beeline for the door. 

“Haru, don’t leave me with the ghost!”

“It’s not a ghost, Hiromi; someone is just paying your trick back at you and I’m going to find out who.” She raised her phone. “I’m going to stand in the car park and see if I can spot the other flat - or flats - we’re battling with. You stay here and keep the light show going if it starts to stop - as long as it’s unique, I should be able to pin them down. We’re going to solve this tonight.”

x

From what Haru could see, there were two other apartments that shared their ‘haunted’ light show, and the first one they located greeted them with twin screams and the sound of something shattering when they knocked. 

Haru raised an eyebrow at Hiromi in an admonishing ‘I hope you’re pleased with yourself’ fashion. 

For her part, Hiromi did look fairly amused. 

Haru knocked again, and this time she heard frantic scrabbling to the door and several inventive curses. Eventually the door swung open and two men stood in the doorway. They were built of opposites; one tall, dark, and build like a stick, wearing a NASA t-shirt, and the other round and light-skinned, and wearing a sports jersey that had an indistinguishable team or - come to that - sport. 

There was the stench of incense from inside, and both were wearing a comical assortment of crosses, crucifixes, and other wards around hteir necks. The larger one had a string of garlic on top of all that. 

“Are yer the exorcists?” he asked. 

Haru glared at Hiromi in her best ‘look what you’ve done’ manner. “No, but--”  

“Then now ain’t a good time,” he said and shut the door. 

Haru slammed her foot into the gap before the man could finish the task, and attempted her best winning smile. “We, um - that is, my friend has an apology to make.”

The large man narrowed his eyes. “Why? Did she kill the ghost that’s haunting us?”

“Don’t be stupid,” the tall man reprimanded. “The ghost said she died a 100 years ago - her murderer would be long gone by now.” He frowned. “Unless...”

Haru’s winning smile faltered.

“She’s also a ghost!” the first man yelped. He thrust a crucifix in their direction, vigorously crossing himself. Hiromi looked liked she was fighting the urge to collapse with laughter.

Haru pushed her aside before Hiromi could lose that particular fight. “Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You’re not haunted.”

“Tell that to our flat!”

“There’s been a mistake with the main light system,” Haru barrelled on, very aware she was fast in danger of losing her nerve, “which seems to have caused some of the switches in different flats to link up. So, uh, when we turn on our light, it turns on yours too, and vice versa...”

Both men stared at her and Haru wondered how good her chances were of outrunning them. Maybe she didn’t need to be that fast... just faster than Hiromi... 

Then the tall one rounded on his flatmate. “I told you there’d be a scientific explanation!”

“Yeah, well I didn’t hear you complaining when I bought the crucifixes!”

“I should never have listened to you!”

“I didn’t ask yer to!”

“It’s your fault our apartment stinks of incense and garlic now!”

“I’m not the one who’s been parading round as a ghost for a week!”

“That... is a good point.”

Both men simultaneously remembered their visitors, and Haru gulped. She firmly steered Hiromi into their main line of sight. “My friend has some apologising to do.”

Hiromi grinned weakly, and waved. “Hello.”

“You!”

“You’re the one who’s been messing with our light?!”

“Unintentionally, at first,” Hiromi said. 

“And after?” the tall one asked. 

Hiromi hesitated. “Maybe have been slightly less unintentional.”

“And even now, yer still at it?” the larger one demanded, waving a hand to the flashing lights. 

“Um... that’s not me.”

“And why should we believe you?”

Hiromi and Haru both pointed across the corridor, to where corresponding flickering lights, perfectly in time with the men’s flat, could be seen flashing beneath the door of another apartment. “Meet culprit number two,” Haru said. 

“Okay, that’s fairly convincing,” the taller man admitted. He sighed and offered a hand. “I’m Toto, and the mountain beside me is Muta.”

“Oi, don’t go giving our names to the fake ghosts, birdbrain!”

“Hiromi, Haru,” Haru introduced. She took the hand. “Sorry about the prank.”

“Even if it was hilarious,” Hiromi added. 

Haru rolled her eyes for Toto to see. “Hiromi, don’t make he revoke your baking privileges.” 

“Right. Shutting up.”

Conversation was brought to an abrupt halt as Muta cannon-balled past them and up to the final door of the light show. He hammered at it. “Hey, open up!” he roared. “We know what you’ve been doing!”

Haru raised an eyebrow at Toto. “Your friend’s subtle.”

“This is one of his good days,” Toto replied. He marched up to his flatmate and, apparently undaunted by Muta’s self-righteous ire, grabbed his fist before it could make progress through the door. “Hey, perhaps we shouldn’t go breaking down doors in a brand new apartment complex, maybe? Or do you really just have fluff for brains?”

“At least I don’t have my head in the clouds, birdbrain.”

“That’s rich, coming from--”

“Can I help you?”

The door had opened, and a man with an English accent, ginger hair, and the brightest green eyes Haru had ever seen stood in the opening. He wore a red waistcoat over a white shirt, the latter with the sleeves rolled up. And with a mug of tea clasped in one hand, he didn’t exactly look like the prank mastermind that Haru had been expecting. 

Muta seemed to have no such second-thoughts. “You!” he bellowed. “You’re the ghost!”

The man blinked, and blush rose up alongside his freckles.

Okay, so maybe he was less innocent than he looked. “Oh.”

“What do you have to say for yerself?!”

The man looked at the small crowd before him, and smiled sheepishly. 

“...Do you want some tea?”

[clericbyers]

can you write a one shot where will comes out to joyce and he’s so scared she’s going to hate him, which she obviously doesn’t, and they have a long talk about it, and he ends the talk with him telling her his feelings about mike and she’s just so happy for him.

[forewarning, f-slur is used in this!! ]

It didn’t take long for Joyce to notice that something heavy was consuming Will’s daily thoughts. She knew what every expression that crossed his face looked like and what each twitch of his lips meant, so of course she knew when he wanted to tell her something but couldn’t find the words to express himself. It took almost a month before Will decided to approach Joyce and talk things out on a rare day where El was out with her new friends, but she made sure to remind Will throughout the entire month that if he needed to talk, she would be here for him.

“Mom,” he started hesitantly, fingers fidgeting as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Joyce looked up from her cooking with a soft smile and nodded for him to continue. “I, uh, I need to talk to you.”

“My ears are always open for you,” she replied pleasantly while washing lettuce leaves. “You can tell me what’s wrong.”

Will sighed. “No, it’s nothing wrong. Well, I don’t know. Maybe.”

Joyce turned fully to face her son and furrowed her brow. “Is it school? I thought you liked your teachers.”

“I do.” the young teen’s eyes casted downward toward his feet. “I like it here.”

But here doesn’t have my friends from back home echoed wordlessly after Will’s words. Will still called Hawkins home; he probably always would no matter what. Where they lived now was still just “the house” or “our place” to Will, though El had quickly picked up on calling it “home”. She didn’t quite understand at first why Will was so reluctant to call their new place “home,” but she understood enough to not pester him any further after the first two months.

Joyce shook her wet hands and turned fully to face her son. She took a dish towel from the counter and dried her hands carefully as she spoke. “If you have an issue with the students, I don’t mind talking with the principal. I know you high school kids don’t like when your parents step in on your business, but I want you to know I’m here for you.”

“I know that.” Will bit at his bottom lip and looked up to make fleeting eye contact with Joyce. “This isn’t about school though. Not the way you think.”

“Your ominous words aren’t making it very easy to understand what you mean, Will.” Joyce chuckled lightly. “I know you have something on your mind that you wanna share. You can tell me. You know I’ll love you no matter what.”

“Will you though? Will you still love me once you know?”

Joyce blinked at that. Will’s voice was positively shaking and his posture had tightened up immensely. He had his fists clenched tightly at his sides and his eyes were brimming with tears already. Fear took hold of Joyce’s heart in an instant and she quickly made her way to Will’s side, looking up at him as she squeezed his shoulder gently. He looked away from her with a sniffle, bringing a fist up to wipe at his eyes.

“Will, honey, look at me,” Will obeyed though he looked reluctant to do so. “Nothing you can say will make me stop loving you. I promise you that.”

“Even if I tell you I murdered someone?”

Joyce laughed and took a hand up to her son’s face. Will was so grown now; taller than her, lankier than her, so handsome and so lively. Joyce loved him with all she had. “There are stipulations but I know you. I know whatever is eating you from in the inside out is something that I’ll still love about you.”

Will pulled away with a mumble. “I’m not so sure.”

“Will, you can’t assume that I won’t love you when I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Mom,” he croaked as he took a step back. His eyes were watering again and Joyce’s heart broke seeing her son so distraught. “Mom, you’ll hate me. I know you will.”

“You don’t know that.” she retorted firmly, eyes hardened with determination. “Now, talk to me, Will. Let me be your listening ear.”

Will’s green eyes darted toward the kitchen counter where the remains of the dinner Joyce was preparing laid about the surface. His fingers drummed against the counter he was leaning against. It was morse code, something Will and the Party, Mike especially, had taught themselves years ago. Joyce was thankful for it back when the Mind Flayer had possessed Will, but Will was adverse to using it for months afterwards given the dark memories associated with the language. She was surprised to see him tapping out words now but assumed it must be his way of finding comfort now.

“I met someone at school a few months back,” he started carefully, each word sliding off his tongue like he tasted them in his mouth before letting them loose. “This person…this person was new. Not new to the school but…you know back home–I mean, back in Hawkins, everyone is almost exactly the same? Mindless sheep just following the crowd and believing the utter bullshit they’re told to cover up the truth about the labs and the Upside Down.” Will sighed and leaned his head forward. “This person wasn’t like that at all. Not a mindless sheep. It scared me a little.”

“So, this issue is about a student?”

“No, Mom, just…just let me finish, okay?” Will’s voice was wavering again and he squeezed his eyes shut. “This…this person was different and new and I was nervous to even see him in the hallway. But he was nice and generous, too. Helped me get to fourth period when I switched my elective and couldn’t find room 318. Walked with me to gym one day when I was late from class. Sat with me on the empty bleachers after I had a waking nightmare in second period and–,” Will cut himself off with a sharpness. His face was paling and his hands shook in tight fists in front of him. Joyce could see the white indentations left by his nails digging into his palms.

“Will,” she started hesitantly as she stepped toward him with an outreached hand. He scrambled backwards, gasping with a choked back sob as he flinched away from her. It wasn’t a flinch from fright of her touch, it was a flinch from fright of her touching him. “Will, sweetie.”

“I kissed him, Mom.” he whispered hoarsely, tears streaming down his face. “I kissed him and he kissed me back and I liked it. I knew I would like the freak I am.”

Joyce didn’t know what to say. She was torn between comforting Will and berating him for referring to himself as a freak. Her heart wanted to comfort him immediately, pull him into a hug and tell him that it’s okay to like kissing. “It’s okay,” she started carefully, wondering if Will would flinch away from her if she reached out again.

“It’s okay?” Will whimpered hesitantly. “It’s–you don’t understand, Mom, I kissed a boy. I’m exactly what Dad said I was. I’ve always been this…this fag.”

Joyce snapped at that. “Don’t you dare call yourself that ever again, Will Byers.” She stepped toward him and took his face into her hands. “You are not what Lonnie said you are. You are not a freak, fairy, fag, or anything else along those lines. You are Will Byers and I love you no matter who you kiss. I don’t care about that. I never have. All I care about is your happiness.”

“Mom,” he sobbed, bottom lip quivering as tears trickled from his eyes and dripped down Joyce’s hands, “It’s not just that I kissed a boy. I don’t…I don’t like girls.”

Joyce smiled, tears stinging the back of her eyes as she brushed the steady flow of saltiness from Will’s own eyes. “It’s okay that you don’t like girls. I still love you.”

“Even though I’m–,” Will paused for breath and restarted his sentence. “Even though I’m gay?”

“Even though you’re gay.” Joyce whispered back. Tears were dripping down her face as well but they were happy ones. “See, I told you nothing you could say would make me stop loving you.”

Will laughed and then pulled his mom into a hug. “I thought you were going to hate me like Dad did.”

“Never. I’m not like Lonnie. I love you, Will. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

Joyce pulled back to wipe at Will’s face a little more. He was smiling a bit, just a little twitch of the lips and it pleased her to finally see him happy and not brooding like he had in the past month. “So, is this kid someone you’re interested in?”

Will shook his head. “No, he just reminds me of…” He trailed off and started going pink in the cheeks. Joyce cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Reminds you of who?”

“Ah,” the taller boy started pushing Joyce’s hands off his face and scrubbed at his blotchy skin with the sleeves of his sweater. “It’s nothing.”

“Well, it sure sounds like something.” Joyce teased as she nudged his side. “You don’t have to tell me but I want you to know that you can talk to me about things like your crushes. I won’t judge you.”

“Oh, you will judge me for this,” Will snorted sardonically. “It’s a stupid thing you don’t wanna know about.”

Joyce crossed her arms. “A mother learning about her son’s first crush isn’t a stupid thing she doesn’t wanna know about.”

“It’s stupid when I’ve been crushing on him for 10 years now!” It took a moment for Will to realize what exactly he had said and his face flushed beet red. “Oh. That–that wasn’t supposed to come out.”

There was only one person Will had met ten years back. Joyce grinned to herself. “Mike Wheeler? You like Mike?”

“Uh, yeah, kinda.” Will sheepishly rubbed at the back of his head. “Wow, it’s so weird to hear that aloud.”

Joyce rubbed at his arm. “You should say it once.”

“What? No, no, I couldn’t.” Will waved his hands about as he continued to blush. “That makes it more real, way too real.”

“Is it not already real?”

A somewhat dreamy smile took over Will’s lips whether he realized it or not. Joyce’s heart hurt; her son was so obviously in deep for the Wheeler boy. She wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before.

“It’s real.”

“Then saying it changes nothing.”

Will looked off to the side and bit his bottom lip. His cheeks were still rosy red, his ears were pink at the tips, and he was more flustered than when Joyce accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom when he was a kid. “I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I like Mike.” Will’s blush grew more fierce and he hid his face in his hands. “Oh my god, I like Mike.”

Joyce couldn’t help her wide smile and she pulled Will into her arms even though she mostly just pressed her face into his chest. “I’m so happy for you.”

“For what? Having a crush on my best friend?”

“No,” she pulled away to look up into his face, “for being brave enough to admit aloud that you like him. And to be unashamed to care about him as you have for most of your life.”

Will smiled sheepishly. “It’s not pathetic?”

“Not at all,” Joyce wished Will was still short enough for her to kiss his forehead. “In fact, Mike is very lucky to have you liking him so much.”

Will fiddled with his fingers and then let out in one breath, “Yeah, but I’m in love with him.”

Joyce’s smile only grew wider. “He’s even luckier then.” She wiped at her eyes and then leaned back against the counter with a hum. “Do you want to share with me what you love about Mike?”

“What?”

“Is it his eyes?” Joyce turned back to her lettuce leaves and paused dramatically as she brought a hand to her chin to stroke it. “Or is it his nose? He does have an adorable nose scrunch when he’s laughing.”

“I’m not going to gossip with you about my crush!”

“His freckles are a nice feature too, I suppose. I heard from El that he’s a good kisser.”

“Mom!”

[ —> ]

[ask-secretagentsquad]

Twintuition

When Lukas finally came to again, he found himself bound tight by ropes, sitting against the wall. He shifted uncomfortably, almost immediately noticing that he was dressed in a different outfit. The fabric was almost stiff, and was definitely not what he was used to. His arms were pressed against his sides and his ankles were held together tightly by the rough line, all he could do was squirm, but couldn't undo any of the twisted rope.

Lukas looked around quickly at the area, seeing the agents conversing and deciding what to do next, and soon catching sight of his actual clothes, folded and set beside his bag which had obviously been gone through. A sudden thought struck him. His necklace. The necklace. He couldn't move his hands to feel for the necklace, he couldn't feel it around his neck. There was a new fear that he hadn't felt before. What had they done with it?

Lukas didn't get much more time to think before a voice spoke up beside him.

"Morning, buddy.”

He jumped at the voice of Jesse, who’d been waiting by his side for him to wake. Lukas for a moment didn’t know what to do. He was so used to his quick escapes, and even captured, he’d never had his opposer be Jesse himself. He reminded himself that this wasn’t his Jesse. No scar, that’s not his Jesse.

“H- Hello there,” he managed to contain a light stutter, however still unable to hide a break in his voice. He cleared his throat quickly and tugged against his binds. He tried to put up his act again, but he questioned his ability to keep it up for long.

“Would you mind?” he held out his hands and gave Jesse his best puppy eyes, “The uh— cuffs aren’t necessary, are they?”

Jesse scoffed and stood up.

“They are absolutely necessary.”

Lukas dropped his hands and sighed.

“You’d keep me tied up, Jesse? Me? Lukas?” he said in an almost pouty voice to get his attention. However, he dropped the expression with a groan as his counterpart stepped up beside Jesse, placing a hand around his waist.

“Unfortunately for you, he’s already got one of us.”

Lukas sighed at the appearance and shifted uncomfortably. It was like looking into a mirror. A mirror glaring, looking down on him.

"Hm. Guess I'm too late for the act, huh?" he grumbled.

"Mhm," Jesse nodded, earning another tired sigh from Lukas. His counterpart turned and stepped away, Jesse following afterwards. Lukas went to speak again, however the lightest sound of his voice was quickly cut off by an angry Jesse once again.

"Don't say anything, you're an imposter. A fake. Just keep your mouth shut and let us focus on other things."

Lukas squinted slightly and leaned back against the wall. He glanced around the room, searching for anything to help his escape. Orion would be waiting for him, and he didn't want to have to make him come back yet again for another rescue. Seems like their joke was becoming a reality.

Examining the room, he found exactly where the rope had been looped into the wall. Surprisingly, it didn't seem that secure. He could probably tug and undo the knots if he tried hard enough. An easy escape, he caught immediately what was happening.

He glanced back up to the other Lukas, who was standing over by the table surrounded by other agents. They seemed to be planning something, but he couldn’t tell what. That would have to remain a mystery, however he quickly pieced together the situation. He looked exactly like the other Lukas now, possibly with slightly different variations in features, however NEARLY exactly the same. A quick escape from the ropes, out an easy to follow back door.

The old twin trick. Now, he’d never had the luxury of being part of one of these before, but knew what was going to happen. A switch on Orion was the plan, that was obvious, but how to avoid it was the question. Maybe he could slip out unnoticed.

No, that was way too obvious, they’d expect him to try that without even knowing about the idea. They were watching him.

After a bit of thought, he decided he’d play their game. He just had to hope Orion would make the right choice. He trusted him to do so— but Lukas always wearing his mask could mean that he doesn’t know his face well enough to tell them apart. He could use sign? No, his hands were bound still, that would be a bit too difficult to undo.

Guess he’d just have to play and pray that he’s persuasive enough for Orion.

~~~~

“You have sights on him?” Jesse spoke into his earpiece, straying from the current topic of his plan B to check on Gil, who’d been placed as a gunner at the ready.

“Mhm. Sure do. He’s by the docks, just— waiting. He’s in my scope, this is a ridiculously easy shot. I can’t take it now because—?”

“Because if you take out the Leader the rest of them will just continue the plan, it’s like every other organization. We need to figure out how to actually stop them— to do that we need more than just these random journal pages.”

“True,” Gil sighed into the earpiece, “Its so easy though. So so easy..”

“I know, resist the urge, Gil,” Jesse chuckled and tapped his foot almost restlessly, “We’ve got a better plan on hand, and you know what to do if Plan A fails, which hopefully it will not.”

“Yeah yeah I got it, the whole Plan B thing.”

“And your part in Plan A.”

“Of course. This isn’t my area of expertise but— I’ll try not to let you down.”

“You won’t, Gil— Just do your best. If anything goes wrong, this is why we have backup plans.”

“Fair. Alright, well— see you on the flip side, I guess. Wish me luck!”

~~~~

Orion was standing just on the edge of the pier. The hatch of the Ender Dragon could be seen in the distance, out in the harbor. Orion stayed waiting for Lukas, knowing that he may take longer to get around than he did. However, it’d been over thirty minutes. Orion was in the right mind to be worried.

A voice spoke up over his own earpiece.

“Leader?” it was Trevor, dragging out the er at the end of the word in a bit of a concerned whine, “Are you alright up there? It’s been a long time, they’re gonna pick us up on the radar soon if they haven’t yet...”

Orion reached up to the headset and felt for the small button on the side. He pressed in in small beeps and dashes, Morse code.

“— • • — — — — • —

• — — — — — • — • • — • — • — —“

There was a bit of a pause before Trevor replied.

“... Alright, if you insist— At least you replied. Just be safe ok? And alert us when you need pickup.” Trevor sounded unsure, clearly doubting that everything was fine. He always was. Trevor was the brother to worry. It was his way of constantly saying “I love you,” and it was just a little bit of Trevor’s sweetness that Orion really loved.

However he couldn’t focus on it for too long. A glint from a nearby building caught his attention, and quickly took his mind off of anything lighthearted. He was standing out in the open, of course anyone would have a free shot at him, and of course he figured that’s what that exact glint was from. A sniper.

~~~~

"I need the ropes, too?" Lukas grumbled and shifted his wrists against the tight ropes that now binded them.

"Yes, you do," Petra replied with a faint amusement in her voice, "If one Lukas has them, the other Lukas has them."

"God... This is going to be ridiculous. Are you sure this is a good idea, Jesse? I mean-- what if something goes wrong?" Lukas turned to Jesse, who was sat at the table and hunched over a journal of his own.

"Don't worry, Lukas-- Even if something goes wrong, your buddy's got you covered. How's Gil with a sniper?" Jesse replied without looking up. Lukas thought back a bit to his times in the army. HE was the sniper, however Gil was never bad. What did this have to do with--

"Jesse, is he up there?" Lukas asked quickly.

"Maybe~"

"Did you at least test his aim-?"

"I did, not to worry. He's a very good shot, you don't have anything to worry about.." Jesse closed his journal, leaving his opened pen set between the pages before getting up. He stopped in front of Lukas and took both of his hands, them being bound together. "If Plan A fails, then we always have Plan B to fall back on. There's nothing to worry about.."

Lukas sighed and calmed down at Jesse's touch.

"Right... I trust you--.."

"And if Plan B fails?" Riot asked from the opposite end of the table. He had an ice pack on his jaw and was leaning over the table, still clearly a bit disoriented.

"Plan C!"

"And then?"

"Do you really think that I'm that awful at this?"

There was a light snicker in Green's direction, and Jesse huffed in annoyance.

"I'm willing to bet on it."

"Plan,, D, then!"

"Plan D? Might as well throw in a plan F to pay respects and accept the fat fucking L we get served on this mission if Plan C doesn't even fuckin work," Yellow piped up from the ground, his voice a bit raspy bit still getting the point along. There was a sharp laugh from Green that he quickly covered up as Petra looked over.

"Yellow!" There was a chorus of different moods, vaguely apart, when Yellow's voice was heard. Some were laughter, relief, and Jesse was clearly heard with the one dramatically offended tone. Riot was the first to drop down and nearly fall on Yellow in a hug, throwing his ice pack off to the side.

“Good to see you’re awake, man,” Petra shot him a quick grin.

“Glad to be awake.” Yellow felt around his neck after Riot had let go, feeling his throat wrapped in bandages with a couple ice packs pressed against his neck.

“The Leader got you pretty bad— try not to speak too much. Gil told us you were pretty swollen," Lukas said, still uncomfortably shifting in his rope cuffs.

"Mhm. Got that.." Yellow wouldn't admit audibly that every word put him in pain, but that was the truth.

"Rest for a while-- the next whole ordeal won't need us, I'll stay with you." Yellow felt Riot take his hand and give it a light squeeze. He smiled faintly and gave everyone a warning squint before leaning into Riot, who put his arms around him in a gentle hug. Petra grinned at the two, shoving her hands into her pockets.

A sudden clatter came from behind, and Jesse turned quickly to see Green hanging halfway out of the window.

"Oh Jesus, Axel!"

Axel's head shot up from where he was dozing off nearby. Jesse gestured to Green, who slipped out quite noticed.

"Oh uh- He's escaping!! Oh no!!" Axel's cry was half-hearted at most and playful if anything, making Jesse roll his eyes with a smile.

"Alright Lukas, go get him! I'll slow him down, you take the shortcut to the docks," Jesse finished his sentence by giving Lukas a quick kiss and running out the unlocked back door. Lukas couldn't help but smile, even going into this situation. He ran after Jesse, having to shove open the door with his shoulder while his hands were still tied.

The chase didn't last very long, and was a bit uneventful compared to the rest of the last hour. Jesse managed to catch up to Green, slowing him down just enough to where he and Lukas made it to the docks at the same time. The Witherstorm Leader was waiting there, and honestly didn't look too surprised. His arms were crossed and his expression was almost numb. Tired. As though he'd expected this very thing to happen.

~~~~

Lukas made eye contact with Orion quite quickly, and could tell immediately that Orion expected this. Orion's eyes moved between the two men in front of him, and his expression didn't change. Lukas wanted to yell out for him, but outing the Witherstorm Leader's name wouldn't be too smart. He knew there was someone watching them, he wouldn't take that chance.

He still, however, called out for him.

"Leader! Come on, you know the obvious choice, right?" he gestured to himself, not being able to hide his worry. However the other Lukas called out as well, in the exact same tone.

"No, Leader! Look at me! You can tell it's me, right?"

Both of them shot each other a simultaneous glare. Lukas had to admit, his counterpart's acting was on point. He really did look exactly like him, sound exactly like him. It was scary, if anything. Lukas called out again, so did his twin. Orion didn't move at first, just listening to their pleadings turn into arguments. He was less than amused, however soon enough stepped forward and approached them both.

He stepped down off the wooden pier, and each Lukas went quiet. Both had their arms bound, they couldn't use sign. The outfits were the same, both hairdos were messy and difficult to tell apart. The voices and expressions were the same. Determined and pleading.

He stopped in front of the first. He looked him over, watching him take a light step back, before stepping over to the other. He only needed a second before putting a hand on the second's shoulder. Immediately, the other's expression was riddled with what appeared to be heartbreak.

But of course, Orion wasn't done. He knew he had the wrong Lukas, the agent Lukas, the double agent trying to worm his way into the mission. He pulled a dart from his palm, wasting no time before he yanked this Lukas forward and jabbed him in the back of the neck with the needle. He then moved his hand away and kicked the agent back, onto the concrete.

Orion held out his hand to the other Lukas, Green, HIS Lukas. He knew it was him, and the relieved look that lit up across Lukas's face sealed the deal. However, as his Lukas took his hand, a gunshot went off in the distance, and a bullet went clean through Orion's shoulder. Lukas stumbled aside, and Orion only let out a quick grunt before whipping his own pistol from his belt and firing back almost without stopping to aim. A loud cry came from the building the sniper bullet was shot from, and the Lukas on the ground immediately reacted.

His face shifted to pure horror, as he cried the name "Gil" and stumbled to his feet before running off in the direction of the tall building.

Orion watched him go, placing a hand on his already soaked shoulder. He wiped his hand on his pant leg before heading over to Lukas and cutting his hands free from the rope.

"Orion-- you-"

Orion held up a hand to silence him.

"I know, don't worry. It's a clean shot. Easily fixed."

He motioned for Lukas to follow, who nodded and complied. They walked across the long dock together without mentioning much of anything, but as they were waiting, Orion stopped and signed to Lukas.

"You wait here, get on the sub. I will actually be right back this time."

"Dammit Orion, you aren't going back are you-?"

"Your materials and normal clothes are important to you, I presume? Wait here with the sub, I will alert you when I've returned."

Lukas felt a hand over his chest, his heart sinking for moment when he couldn't feel the gemstone necklace around his neck where it should be. He nodded to Orion, watching him turn and leave.

"You be careful! Don't get captured," Lukas called to him, and he waved it off nonchalantly with an assuring grin.

~~~~

Lukas was the first one to burst his way into the empty building. He used a piece of nearby broken glass to cut his own ropes before running up the stairs two at a time. It took nearly ten minutes to get up all of the flights of stairs, but when he finally did, he still was kicking. He showed no exhaustion, and crashed into the room where Gil had made his perch.

Gil was collapsed on his back, already lying in a pool of his own blood. The sniper was thrown to the side, and Gil had his hands clasped tightly around his neck. Lukas ran to him immediately, dropping down beside him and scooping him up.

"Let me see, let me see--" Lukas moved Gil's hands carefully, revealing the deep gash in the right side of Gil's neck. The Leader had managed to hit him, from that distance, with a pistol. Luckily it wasn't a shot, only a deep scrape, but it still wasn't good.

"This can be fixed, don't worry--" Lukas assured him, tugging off his jacket and tearing the sniper neckstrap off to use as a bandage, "You're gonna be fine-- you're fine.."

Lukas pressed the jacket over the wound and used the neckstrap to tighten and hold it against his neck, trying to make it just tight enough that it wasn't choking him. He picked him up, carrying him bridal style with his head against his chest to keep his neck in a comfortable position, and began heading down the stairs this time. He left the sniper rifle itself behind, lying on its side on the concrete ground.

~~~~

Orion's trip didn't take long. It was a simple expedition. The agents were too busy worrying about Gil's arrival to realize that the Witherstorm Leader had snuck back into the warehouse after trying for so long to escape. He simply snatched the neatly folded clothes and left without an issue.

The Ender Dragon was waiting for him by the docks, the hatch open and Ranger waiting at the top of it.

"About time!" he yelled over to his big brother, who rolled his eyes and handed him Lukas's outfit the minute he was close enough. Ranger huffed lightly and climbed down into the sub, followed by Orion.

Ranger handed off the outfit to Lukas, who was pacing worriedly across the sub. When he saw Orion, he gave him a mixture of a concerned yet thankful look.

"You-- went back just for this?" Lukas felt through the clothes until he found the pretty blue necklace, and immediately put it around his neck. He felt much better with it on, yet was hit with a sudden feeling of dread. Orion nodded to him.

"It's important, yeah?"

"Yes.."

"Then we don't leave it behind."

Lukas smiled at the comment, and Orion opened the door to another room, most likely to take care of his own wound.

"Wait, Orion--" Lukas stopped him before he left. Orion halted and turned lightly to look at him.

"How did you know I was the right one?"

At the question, Orion only gave him an almost gentle smile before replying.

"I knew those eyes, L."

[dyketectivecomics]

Hello love. If you're not too swamped with prompts, could you do one with the berserkers? Specifically the troublemakers (rose, klarion, duela) trying to pull off a prank of some sort? ((On who is up to you))

Listen, Rem. I was watching a LOT of The Office recently, so I hope you enjoy some Fresh Takes & reasons behind some Classic Jim Pranks… And a little mix of members playing the Unfortunate Victims…

…

“That’s… bullshit,” Cass accused. “Precognition, super-strength ‘n speed. But you don’t have… telekinesis.”

“Who says Batman keeps perfect files anyways, Bratgirl?” Rose sneered, kicking her feet up on the table before leaning back in her seat. The epitome of nonchalance. “Besides, I never said it was as impressive or obvious as Raven’s. Just that it’s… there. Always has been.”

“If it’s not like Raven’s, then what IS it like then?” Eddie asked, leaning in interest.

“Like I said, little stuff,” Rose shrugged, “Marbles off the coffee table, pushing toys off my bed, rolling pencils on the desk.”

“Bull-shit,” Cass said again with a glare that sent a shiver up the Ravager’s spine, before pointing at the other end of the room. “Move the lamp.”

And here Rose smiled. Something she’d been carefully planning for ages, finally coming to fruition. Ultimately, it was meant to be a test to see if her metahuman predisposition allowed her to work past Cass’ abilities as a human lie detector. And it seemed like it was about to work.

She lifted one hand to her temple, her good eye’s side, while the other was poised to point at the lamp itself.

After less than a half a minute of concentration, the lamp began to sway back and forth, earning gasps from Eddie and Kon, and an extra hard glare from Cass.

After she finally acquiesced on their co-leaders undeniable telekinetic ability, the lamp stopped shaking, and Klarion walked in.

“What’d I miss?” he asked with a sly wink to Rose.

…

Duela smiled innocently up at Cassandra, remembering all too well the series of events that led to this little investigation of hers. The Berserker’s parties were notoriously wild, but had never before included the use of illicit substances.

Underage drinking? More than likely. But no one had dared to bring weed into the base. Or at least, no one had dared to bring it out into the open, and leave it in plain sight.

Rose and Raven could care less over what kind of shenanigans their team members got into, so long as they were sober in time for a mission. Which made the investigation all the more funny to Duela. Because Cass was conducting it on principle, rather than with any actual aim for dispensing justice.

She wanted to put in some detective practice. And Duela was having the time of her life fucking with the Bat.

She’d been just about to tip the scales, by asking her some simple facts about the drug in question, and counter-accusing her of being in possession.

“Marijuana is a memory loss drug,” Duela reasoned, “So how would you remember, if it was yours?”

“That’s… not how it works,” Cass insisted, shaking her head.

“How would you know how it works? Have you tried it?” the clown pressed. She could tell Cass’ patience was wearing thin.

“This is ridiculous. Answer my question-” Impatience. Anger. She had her right where she wanted her.

“No!” Duela yelled, slamming her hand into the table, “You said when I walked in that I’d be conducting the interview! So how much weed did you smoke!?”

The Bat’s jaw dropped as she attempted to stutter out an explanation, a counter-argument. And it took everything Duela had not to burst into a smile right then and there.

…

“What are you writing?” Raven asked as she sipped her morning tea. It wasn’t too unusual for Duela to be up this early in the morning, but it usually meant trouble.

Being so obviously in plain sight of the empath, however, also meant that she wouldn’t mind letting her in on that trouble, and may have been trying to ask for help, in her own crazy, roundabout way.

The clown finished a sentence before glancing up at the empath sipping her tea.

“I’ve gotten really great at mimicking everyone’s handwriting,” she began before setting the pen down, “And every so often, I send Kon messages… from his future self. You wanna know today’s message?”

“I’ll only regret not asking, so sure.”

Duela cleared her throat dramatically before reading her letter in her best impression of Superboy. “Kon, tonight at the party, someone will poison Rose’s drink. Do NOT let her drink anything tonight. ESPECIALLY the lemonade. Sincerely, Future-Kon.”

Raven nodded thoughtfully for a moment before standing from her seat. “I still owe Rose for screwing with my date last week. I’ll drop some hints to Conner that I sense something terrible happening tonight.”

The clown smiled extra wide as she folded up the letter. “Mind slipping this under his door, too? He almost caught me last time.”

…

Two birds, one stone. Such a deliciously simple way to cause chaos and disorder amongst his team members without resorting to outright mayhem. Klarion could only give himself a pat on the back. He’d really outdone himself this time. He leaned back in his seat, a perfect view of the hallway before him.

He grinned in delight as he heard frustrated groans coming from Bunker’s room. Low cursing, paper and books thudding against walls as they were thrown every way imaginable. And finally a voice echoing down the hall.

“WHOEVER THE HELL TOOK MY PENS AND PENCILS AND LEFT CRAYONS. THIS ISN’T FUNNY. I’VE GOT HOMEWORK TO SEND TO MY PROF TOMORROW DAMMIT!”

The door slammed shut and Klarion was left snickering to himself as he used one of Miguel’s pens to stir his tea.

And finally, there came another door slamming open from the hall. Klarion watched with glee as Cassandra bounced silently to Bunker’s room, practically ripping the door open.

Miguel yelled indignantly for only a moment as Cass ran into his room, and ran out just as quickly.

“Wait! Cass, I was using those! Please! I don’t have anything else!”

But it was too late, the girl had locked herself back in her room with the crayons, and Klarion began outright laughing.

He hadn’t expected Cass to be so attached to her art supplies.

Evidently, he’d been wrong.

…

Rose’s eye twitched a moment as Raven cleared the holo-screens to begin her presentation for Plan C.

They’d never get to Plan C, though, if Klarion and Duela wouldn’t stop that incessant clicking of their pens.

It’d been a bunch of simple messages back and forth so far, but now they’d been stuck on switching between different obscenities for the better part of the hour.

“ENOUGH! I’ve heard everything you two have said about us for the past hour, so knock it off!”

“Knock what off?” Duela asked innocently. And Ravenger grew more incensed.

“The morse code! I know you know I know it!”

“Yes Rose, me and Duela spend our limited free time and money learning an outdated mode of communication just so we can have secret chats right in front of you,” Klarion said, rolling his eyes.

Each of the Berserkers glanced at one another, no one saying a word.

There’d be no way to confirm such an accusation, because none of the rest of them knew the language. Sure, Raven was inclined to believe her sister. And Cass could tell from Duela’s demeanor that she was hiding the truth, and from how consistent their clicking was, that it fell perfectly in line with a pattern. The rest of the Berserkers however, had waited till well after the meeting to ask them in their own time.

Always something to the variation of, “So… do you?”

And always answered with a resounding, “Yep, that’s exactly what we did.”

And on that day, the team truly learned to never underestimate the duo, and to fear how quickly they had turned on their once great prank partner.

Or maybe, it’d been a hint at a greater conspiracy shared between the three of the Berserker’s resident pranksters.

There never was a way to tell…

[bittersweetfacade]

Lack of Oxygen

Lack of oxygen. That's what my smartass friend always told me was why I yawned so much. But in reality it was because I was so damn tired all the time. That didn't matter though because like every morning my annoying ass alarm clock went off at 7 o clock blaring terrible country music so I'll have to wake up and change the station. I roll over to get out of bed and fall straight on my back. With a loud groan I get up and hit my radio a couple times till it switches to some alternative station that always plays Pearl Jam. I had about 30 minutes to get around for school which wasn't really enough time for me but I'm always late anyway. I down a cup of cold coffee that I never got to drink from yesterday and cringe at the bitter taste. I finally emerge from my bedroom and head across the hall to my bathroom. I check out myself in the mirror and almost laugh at the sight of my hair. It was standing on end but I was too lazy to fix it so I went with the look. I mean it was the punk way. I take my time cleaning each one of my facial piercings. From my eyebrow to my nose to both my lip piercings. I do all the other necessary things that just about every boy does in the morning from brushing my teeth to shaving my face only I leave some stubble because that's what the ladies like. I head over to my room and pick up a pair of probably dirty black jeans with many holes in them and random band tee from my drawer. I run downstairs and grab my boots and not bother saying good by to my mom because she's already out drinking at the bars anyway. It's 7:10 by the time I get to school and school started at 7. I hop out of my truck and take my time walking to my first period class because it's math and no one likes math. "You're late Castiel!" Mr. Singer tells me. "Please Bobby call me Cas," I say smirking at him. "Also it's because I needed a coffee or I wasn't going to make it through your class" Mr. Singer stifles a laugh and returns to teaching his lessons. About half way through the lesson a boy and our principal walks in. Holy shit from all the way back here I could see the boys fan fiction green eyes. (Yes I read fanfics, sue me). Our principal said something about there being a new student and his name which I didn't catch because I was too busy having a staring contest with the new boy. "You can sit behind Castiel, Castiel raise your hand" Mr Singer said. The boy and I broke eye contact and I raised my hand, smirking. I saw the boy blush noticeably. He came and sat next to me and immediately faces forward. I turn around in my seat and obviously look him up and down and finally lean forward to talk to him. "What's your name kid?" I ask. "Oh um..me?" The boy asks. "Yes you" "Oh um... I'm D..D..Dean" Dean stuttered. Internally scolding himself for stuttering in front of the punk boy. Right before I turned about in his seat I said a quick "welcome to Stone Ridge High school Deano". Dean blushed and said a quick thanks not sure if I was being sarcastic or was actually being welcoming. Either way he couldn't help but stare at me and all my persona. Dean took in me, the punk boy from my blue tipped hair to my facial piercings to my nirvana shirt all the way down to my Doc Marten boots. I knew Dean was staring but decided to let him. The bell rang and rang and rang time and time again as school went on slow and monotonous like always. Then finally it was last period. Gym. Dreadful gym. It wasn't that I was lazy I just hated how all the dumbass jocks showed off all their "skills". Today the class was outside playing rugby. Skins and shirts were the two teams and of course the coach always made the weird scrawny kids skins and made rude comments to them telling them to "buff up". While I was tuning out all the rules I heard my name being called by the coach and then the word "skins" following it. I smirked and noticed that Dean was in my class and also staring at me almost in anticipation. I shed my shirt and threw it somewhere in the opposite direction. I could hear muffled gasps as all my tattoos were out in the open. I spread my arms out in the "look at me world" way and did a little spin so everyone could see the art that decorated my body. I turned back around and saw Dean eyeing me up and down and then when he met my eyes again he blushed a bright red. "Alright Castiel you can stop the show, you're lucky that Principal Roman doesn't know about that "art", Coach says to me. The thing about our school is that it's a public school but everyone acts like it's a private catholic school minus the uniforms but Dean made it seem like we had uniforms with his slacks and fucking sweater vest. --- I was walking to my truck after school when I noticed a beautiful 67' chevy impala in the high school parking lot. After I noticed the car I noticed a nice ass hanging out of the backseat of the car. The person must of been putting a bag in the back or something. I walked around to the other side of the car and noticed it was Dean. "Hello Dean" I say to him. "Holy shit!" Dean said hitting his head on the roof of the car. "Weren't expecting me huh?" I ask, smirking. "Um uh not really. What are you doing? Like uh talking to me I um mean?" Dean asks getting flustered. "I noticed your beautiful car and then saw your beautiful ass hanging out of it and thought I would come give a nice Stone Ridge High School hello" I feign excitement. Dean blushed a darker red lost for words. "Also I was wondering if you wanted to hang out and I could tell you the ups and downs of this high school and show you some cool music" I state firmly not really letting him give me a no. "Um I uh g..g..guess. Let me just tell my little brother to d..d..drive home himself" Dean says in return. "Alright sweet, my truck is this way" I say, pointing in the opposite direction. Dean followed me to my car and the whole car ride I could feel his nervous stare on me. "You like you stare huh?" I ask. "W..what?" Dean responds not realizing that Castiel could see him. "You heard me. We have almost every class together and I can just feel you eyeballing me all fucking day dude. Like I know I'm attractive but damn I don't have that much to look at. Okay sorry that came off as rude but I just want to know why you've been looking at me all day, especially at gym" I say. "I like your wings". Dean states "My what?" I ask. "Your wings, on your back. I like all your tattoos actually. They are very unique. I really like the bee though with the Morse code underneath it." Dean says calmly and without stuttering almost like he wasn't thinking before he spoke. "Thanks, the wings aren't finished yet though, but I'm getting them finished soon." I say back. "Here we are. The Novak residence." Dean and I walked inside and I didn't even bother apologizing for the mess of beer bottles and clothes because it wasn't my fault that my dumbass mom was an alcoholic. "Follow me" I shoot behind me as I walk up the stairs to my bedroom. My room was fairly clean. There was just yesterday's clothes on the floor and some records strewn on my unmade bed. My room was probably scary as hell to Dean with the posters of punk bands on my wall and my black walls and all dark room other than the light from my window streaming in. "Welcome to my sanctuary" I say to dean, winking. Dean looked away but before he could I noticed a bright red blush appear across his freckled face. "You know," I say taking a step closer to Dean "you blush a lot for being an 18 year old dude but I'll let it slide because you just look so damn adorable when you get all flustered around me" I say taking another step closer to him. I took a few more steps until I'm practically on top on of Dean. I make him think I'm leaning in for a kiss but I reach around him and grab my pack of cigarettes. I grabbed a cig out of the pack and put it snugly between my lips and searched around for a lighter. After I found one and lit the cancer stick Dean spoke up. "You smoke?" Dean asked without the tiniest bit of disgust in his voice. "Yeah" I said shrugging it off like smoking was not something that would give me lung cancer. "I've always wanted to try but I never had the opportunity" Dean said bluntly. I was taken back a bit. This little nerd wants to try smoking this stupid little tobacco stick. "You wanna try?" I asked "Yeah but I'm afraid I'll cough and you'll make fun of me" Dean said without thinking. "You can just shot gun it then" I said not realizing that I was talking to the super nerdy boy who probably is still hasn't had his first kiss. "What's that?" Dean asks. "It's when I take a hit of the cig or blunt and then blow it into your mouth" I say Dean turns bright red thinking about our mouths being that close. "Um uh yeah okay" Dean finally says "Alright then!" I say clapping my hands together. I take a long hit of my cigarette and hold it in while I grab the collar of Dean's button up. I take my hand and pull his chin down so he knows to open his mouth. I put my hand on the back of his neck and I can feel him shiver as I pull him closer and closer till our lips are millimeters apart. I exhale and slightly blow the smoke into the nerdy boy's mouth. Dean closes his eyes and takes in the smoke carefully almost as if he doesn't want to hurt it. Just looking at him like this makes my heart and my stomach do this weird thing, almost as if feelings were rising up in me. Dean mutters a "woah" but before he can open his eyes I grab him closer and close the gap between our lips and kiss him roughly. It starts out sloppy and slowly begins to become more caring and soft. We finally pull away to catch our breaths and I swear I couldn't breath. Some may say I had a lack of oxygen.

[he-lost-control-again]

Lack of Oxygen

Lack of oxygen. That's what my smartass friend always told me was why I yawned so much. But in reality it was because I was so damn tired all the time. That didn't matter though because like every morning my annoying ass alarm clock went off at 7 o clock blaring terrible country music so I'll have to wake up and change the station. I roll over to get out of bed and fall straight on my back. With a loud groan I get up and hit my radio a couple times till it switches to some alternative station that always plays Pearl Jam. I had about 30 minutes to get around for school which wasn't really enough time for me but I'm always late anyway. I down a cup of cold coffee that I never got to drink from yesterday and cringe at the bitter taste. I finally emerge from my bedroom and head across the hall to my bathroom. I check out myself in the mirror and almost laugh at the sight of my hair. It was standing on end but I was too lazy to fix it so I went with the look. I mean it was the punk way. I take my time cleaning each one of my facial piercings. From my eyebrow to my nose to both my lip piercings. I do all the other necessary things that just about every boy does in the morning from brushing my teeth to shaving my face only I leave some stubble because that's what the ladies like. I head over to my room and pick up a pair of probably dirty black jeans with many holes in them and random band tee from my drawer. I run downstairs and grab my boots and not bother saying good by to my mom because she's already out drinking at the bars anyway. It's 7:10 by the time I get to school and school started at 7. I hop out of my truck and take my time walking to my first period class because it's math and no one likes math. "You're late Castiel!" Mr. Singer tells me. "Please Bobby call me Cas," I say smirking at him. "Also it's because I needed a coffee or I wasn't going to make it through your class" Mr. Singer stifles a laugh and returns to teaching his lessons. About half way through the lesson a boy and our principal walks in. Holy shit from all the way back here I could see the boys fan fiction green eyes. (Yes I read fanfics, sue me). Our principal said something about there being a new student and his name which I didn't catch because I was too busy having a staring contest with the new boy. "You can sit behind Castiel, Castiel raise your hand" Mr Singer said. The boy and I broke eye contact and I raised my hand, smirking. I saw the boy blush noticeably. He came and sat next to me and immediately faces forward. I turn around in my seat and obviously look him up and down and finally lean forward to talk to him. "What's your name kid?" I ask. "Oh um..me?" The boy asks. "Yes you" "Oh um... I'm D..D..Dean" Dean stuttered. Internally scolding himself for stuttering in front of the punk boy. Right before I turned about in his seat I said a quick "welcome to Stone Ridge High school Deano". Dean blushed and said a quick thanks not sure if I was being sarcastic or was actually being welcoming. Either way he couldn't help but stare at me and all my persona. Dean took in me, the punk boy from my blue tipped hair to my facial piercings to my nirvana shirt all the way down to my Doc Marten boots. I knew Dean was staring but decided to let him. The bell rang and rang and rang time and time again as school went on slow and monotonous like always. Then finally it was last period. Gym. Dreadful gym. It wasn't that I was lazy I just hated how all the dumbass jocks showed off all their "skills". Today the class was outside playing rugby. Skins and shirts were the two teams and of course the coach always made the weird scrawny kids skins and made rude comments to them telling them to "buff up". While I was tuning out all the rules I heard my name being called by the coach and then the word "skins" following it. I smirked and noticed that Dean was in my class and also staring at me almost in anticipation. I shed my shirt and threw it somewhere in the opposite direction. I could hear muffled gasps as all my tattoos were out in the open. I spread my arms out in the "look at me world" way and did a little spin so everyone could see the art that decorated my body. I turned back around and saw Dean eyeing me up and down and then when he met my eyes again he blushed a bright red. "Alright Castiel you can stop the show, you're lucky that Principal Roman doesn't know about that "art", Coach says to me. The thing about our school is that it's a public school but everyone acts like it's a private catholic school minus the uniforms but Dean made it seem like we had uniforms with his slacks and fucking sweater vest. --- I was walking to my truck after school when I noticed a beautiful 67' chevy impala in the high school parking lot. After I noticed the car I noticed a nice ass hanging out of the backseat of the car. The person must of been putting a bag in the back or something. I walked around to the other side of the car and noticed it was Dean. "Hello Dean" I say to him. "Holy shit!" Dean said hitting his head on the roof of the car. "Weren't expecting me huh?" I ask, smirking. "Um uh not really. What are you doing? Like uh talking to me I um mean?" Dean asks getting flustered. "I noticed your beautiful car and then saw your beautiful ass hanging out of it and thought I would come give a nice Stone Ridge High School hello" I feign excitement. Dean blushed a darker red lost for words. "Also I was wondering if you wanted to hang out and I could tell you the ups and downs of this high school and show you some cool music" I state firmly not really letting him give me a no. "Um I uh g..g..guess. Let me just tell my little brother to d..d..drive home himself" Dean says in return. "Alright sweet, my truck is this way" I say, pointing in the opposite direction. Dean followed me to my car and the whole car ride I could feel his nervous stare on me. "You like you stare huh?" I ask. "W..what?" Dean responds not realizing that Castiel could see him. "You heard me. We have almost every class together and I can just feel you eyeballing me all fucking day dude. Like I know I'm attractive but damn I don't have that much to look at. Okay sorry that came off as rude but I just want to know why you've been looking at me all day, especially at gym" I say. "I like your wings". Dean states "My what?" I ask. "Your wings, on your back. I like all your tattoos actually. They are very unique. I really like the bee though with the Morse code underneath it." Dean says calmly and without stuttering almost like he wasn't thinking before he spoke. "Thanks, the wings aren't finished yet though, but I'm getting them finished soon." I say back. "Here we are. The Novak residence." Dean and I walked inside and I didn't even bother apologizing for the mess of beer bottles and clothes because it wasn't my fault that my dumbass mom was an alcoholic. "Follow me" I shoot behind me as I walk up the stairs to my bedroom. My room was fairly clean. There was just yesterday's clothes on the floor and some records strewn on my unmade bed. My room was probably scary as hell to Dean with the posters of punk bands on my wall and my black walls and all dark room other than the light from my window streaming in. "Welcome to my sanctuary" I say to dean, winking. Dean looked away but before he could I noticed a bright red blush appear across his freckled face. "You know," I say taking a step closer to Dean "you blush a lot for being an 18 year old dude but I'll let it slide because you just look so damn adorable when you get all flustered around me" I say taking another step closer to him. I took a few more steps until I'm practically on top on of Dean. I make him think I'm leaning in for a kiss but I reach around him and grab my pack of cigarettes. I grabbed a cig out of the pack and put it snugly between my lips and searched around for a lighter. After I found one and lit the cancer stick Dean spoke up. "You smoke?" Dean asked without the tiniest bit of disgust in his voice. "Yeah" I said shrugging it off like smoking was not something that would give me lung cancer. "I've always wanted to try but I never had the opportunity" Dean said bluntly. I was taken back a bit. This little nerd wants to try smoking this stupid little tobacco stick. "You wanna try?" I asked "Yeah but I'm afraid I'll cough and you'll make fun of me" Dean said without thinking. "You can just shot gun it then" I said not realizing that I was talking to the super nerdy boy who probably is still hasn't had his first kiss. "What's that?" Dean asks. "It's when I take a hit of the cig of blunt and then blow it into your mouth" I say Dean turns bright red thinking about our mouths being that close. "Um uh yeah okay" Dean finally says "Alright then!" I say clapping my hands together. I take a long hit of my cigarette and hold it in while I grab the collar of Dean's button up. I take my hand and pull his chin down so he knows to open his mouth. I put my hand on the back of his neck and I can feel him shiver as I pull him closer and closer till our lips are millimeters apart. I exhale and slightly blow the smoke into the nerdy boy's mouth. Dean closes his eyes and takes in the smoke carefully almost as if he doesn't want to hurt it. Just looking at him like this makes my heart and my stomach do this weird thing, almost as if feelings were rising up in me. Dean mutters a "woah" but before he can open his eyes I grab him closer and close the gap between our lips and kiss him roughly. It starts out sloppy and slowly begins to become more caring and soft. We finally pull away to catch our breaths and I swear I couldn't breath. Some may say I had a lack of oxygen.

[illuminating-dragons]

By Any Name (6/11): Vienna

Chapter Summary:  Vienna is most famous for its music, but John and Sherlock are going to a concert for mystery, not Mozart.

Read it on AO3

A weekend in Vienna in early spring might be some people’s ideal.

John was playing someone like that, but he wasn’t happy about it.

Vienna was certainly lovely, but it seemed like the city shut down on the weekend. Their hotel wasn’t far from the city centre, but they’d been walking twenty minutes and had seen only half a dozen people.

“Is everyone dead…Professor?” he asked under his breath.

Sherlock, sporting an impressively terrible mustache and an outrageous hat, snorted. “Clearly your first time. Don’t worry. We’ll be engulfed by the masses quite soon.”

John looked at the map for the tenth time. “We’re getting close to the centre at least.”

“And to the concert!”

John nodded attentively, trying to look enthusiastic. After all, ‘Thomas’ was thrilled about this opportunity. A Belgian music student, his thesis supervisor Professor Dean had kindly offered to take him to Vienna to explore the musical history sites and take in a few concerts.

John was waiting for Sherlock to understand the joke with the names. He wasn’t holding out much hope.

What they were actually doing was trying to discover how the pickpockets who frequented Mozart concerts were linked to the woman with the funny hat who did YouTube reviews of Viennese opera performances. Sherlock assured him that not only were they linked together, they were all linked in some way to the Network.

John dearly, dearly wanted to call bollocks on that, but he couldn’t prove they weren’t, either. After all, Moriarty had been frighteningly insane, not to mention the top consulting criminal in Europe. Why wouldn’t he branch out if given the chance?

But YouTube?

Ah well. Sherlock was still the expert, and John didn’t hate Vienna. It was a lovely city, and the opera they’d been to the night before was surprisingly tolerable now that he understood German. It would have been more fun if they'd had better seats, but Thomas was a student, and he wasn’t going to let his prof pay for everything. He bought the tickets as a treat, and Professor Dean graciously accepted.

It didn’t hurt that damehelga89 (yes, that was her actual username. John was curious about the other 88 people who wanted that name) always sat in the cheap seats too. She wasn’t there that night, but Sherlock explained later that he knew that going in. As though that made any sense at all, John grumbled to himself.

Now they were headed for a concert in the Mozarthaus to scope out the pickpockets. John enjoyed Mozart whenever Sherlock played it, so he knew he’d be able to focus. He was starting to worry they’d be attending the concert alone, though…

Until they crossed the road and ran into Europe.

Not just Europe; half the population of North America seemed to be here too, along with a smattering from every other continent. John felt a brief moment of panic as he stared down the busy street, the crowd broken only by statues. He was familiar with London’s bustle, but this…this was unbelievable.

“Stay close, keep your eyes fixed forward and your hands on your pockets.”

John sighed. “I know…”

“If you do that we’ll be fine. The Mozarthaus is only a few blocks down.”

John shot a quick glance at Sherlock. “I know that too.”

“Then don’t be nervous. I’ve done this many times before.”

John didn’t bother arguing. He just started walking, Sherlock always a step in front of him, hands clamped firmly on his pockets. The crowd bustled around him, but he managed to avoid the most crushing places by keeping close to his ‘teacher’, who surged ahead confidently, never breaking stride even when they passed the enormous cathedral where many of the other tourists were headed.

Five minutes later they were inside the Mozarthaus, showing their tickets to a friendly man at a small card table. He showed them to the Sala Terrena.

John hadn’t been expecting much, but the room took his breath away. The walls and ceilings were covered in designs of fruits and flowers, with a few cherubs poking around here and there and some lovely people along the walls. The designs were simple but elegant, and John suddenly felt excited about the concert.

He looked up to see Sherlock lost in thought as he gazed at the walls. John smiled and let him look his fill. Clearly if Sherlock had ever been here before it was still worth looking again.

Finally 'Professor Dean' came back to himself. He shook his head slightly and directed John to their seats, nearly in the back. There were about twenty seats in the room, and though they were almost twenty minutes ahead of time it still felt odd.

He shouldn’t have worried. Every seat was taken in the next ten minutes, and John found himself behind two very tall people. He didn’t bother asking to switch with Sherlock; there wasn’t much point. It was a concert, and he could still hear. Besides, it was the people he was meant to be watching.

At last the performers came on stage—John knew from the program that it was a string quartet, though he could only see two violin bows waving in the air. There was a moment of tuning, silence, and then the music began.

A few minuets later, and John had nearly forgotten the case.

The music was lovely, as good as Sherlock when he actually tried. The acoustics were interesting, and people were actually behaving themselves and not taking pictures.

He was almost relaxed, but he did have the presence of mind to keep his eyes moving around the room. Everyone seemed to be of the harmless, elderly persuasion. That didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous, but John knew they could handle any problems. It was actually kind of nice to sit back and listen to music and let your eyes follow the patterns on the walls…

John frowned. There were patterns on the walls, all right, but there was also a pattern on the jacket of the woman in front of him. It was a jacket checked with red and blue, but there was something wrong in the middle…the pattern was off. There were too many blues together in one place, too many reds in another.

Eyebrows shooting up as he made the connection, John began to translate, dearly hoping that this was not another UMQRA situation.

No, it wasn’t. T…O…N..I…G…H…T.

John stifled a cry of triumph just in time. With half his mind still on the concert, he looked around the room, searching out other patterns. He found it in the scarf of a young man three rows up, and was shocked to see the exact same word spelled out along the fringe, still in red and blue.

He risked a quick glance at Sherlock and caught his smirk of triumph. He didn’t move, though, so John relaxed back against the chair and listened to the music.

They wove out of the crowd as fast as they could, blending into the falling shadows as they all but ran back to the hotel.

“Morse code in the clothes!” John said when they were finally locked in.

“Yes.” Sherlock had discarded the silly hat, but the mustache was still in place. “Brilliant way of communication; most people would just think it was a bad knitting job.”

“So that lot are in on it, but what have they got to do with the YouTube channel?” John asked.

Sherlock sat down. “Think, Thomas.”

John sat too. He thought for a moment.

“No, out loud.” Sherlock’s voice was stern.

John rolled his eyes. “As you wish, Professor…well, it definitely wasn’t an accident that two people had the same code in their clothes.”

“Three.”

“What?”

“There was a third near the front, but you couldn’t see her. Carry on.”

“Right. So…no coincidence, it was planned. I suppose it’s a sort of signal to the pickpockets to strike a particular group…maybe because they’re richer or something?”

“And how would they know that?”

“Same hotels? Similar restaurants? That leaves too much to chance though.” John paused. “Maybe it has to do with a schedule? No, no, if it did they wouldn’t have to be reminded.”

Sherlock leaned forward. “We’re looking at this the wrong way.”

“We?”

“Yes, yes, I’d reasoned that far by the time the concert was over.” Sherlock waved his hand impatiently. “And you’re correct, only the most idiotic of pickpockets would need reminders of a simple schedule. But say they do need a signal because they don’t actually know the schedule.”

John saw it all of a sudden, a clear path between a strange young girl obsessed with opera, a beautiful concert hall and the crush of people in the centre of an old city.

“It’s damehelga89!” he blurted out. “She’s setting the schedule through her videos…making it random enough to keep a pattern away from the police.”

Sherlock nodded, eyes bright with excitement. “And the people who watch the videos send the signals. The pickpockets may not even know how it’s being set.”

“They musn’t, otherwise why bother with the middlemen?” John agreed.

“But why have the middlemen?” Sherlock repeated the question. “Why are they important?”

John waited.

“That was a question, Thomas.”

“Oh. I thought you knew the answer. You were making the face.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I maintain that there is no face. And besides, while I may know the answer I think you know too. Or you will in a moment. I have faith in you.” John was slightly embarrassed to see that he meant it.

John concentrated. Why bring more people into a scheme than necessary? Obviously they wouldn’t, so they must be necessary…

John saw Sherlock see the minute he understood, saw his friend’s lips curve into a smile.

“The middlemen are all tourists, aren’t they?”

Sherlock grinned. “Exactly. They’re coming from all over the EU, judging by their shoelaces.”

John didn’t even blink.

“So they watch these videos…” Sherlock prompted.

“And they know where to go for events, or concerts,” John finished. “And they’re careful enough to not leave too many traces. They probably pay in cash, travel by foot when they can, that sort of thing.”

“Lack of paper trail, any trail beyond a few easily disposed-of pieces of clothing and one small YouTube channel. They pick up the valuables from the thieves, take them home in their suitcases and sell them in another country.” Sherlock pressed his fingers together. “Elegant.”

“This can’t be all that lucrative though, can it?”

“That may not be the point.” Sherlock shrugged. “Maybe they’re just bored.”

John shook his head. “Well, where do we start?”

“I start by contacting…the Dean… and talking to him about looking at these people’s passports. They’re likely using legitimate documentation if it’s more about the intellectual challenge, and it would make it safer. You start by finding out how they’re communicating in the videos.”

John opened his laptop. “Alright. See you soon?”

“Text me when you find something.” Sherlock left the room, cramming his hat firmly over his curls as he did so.

John sat down at the desk and started listening to opera reviews. He was discouraged to find, several videos later, that there was absolutely nothing in the videos that was even remotely suspicious. Still, the first video lined up with the first pick-pocketing incident Sherlock had flagged as part of the pattern, and the others were within a week of each of the following ones. He was missing something.

Keep looking then. What else was part of a video? Adverts changed, ‘like’ numbers changed…

Then it hit him. Obvious.

It took him ten minutes to confirm his theory. He grabbed his phone.

Thomas to Professor: It’s the comment section.

Professor to Thomas: Explain.

Thomas to Professor: The coded responses are in long strings of comment replies that start with racist comments or with the ‘Bob’ meme.

Professor to Thomas: Good.

Thomas to Professor: You don’t know what Bob is, do you?

Professor to Thomas: You know. That’s sufficient. The Dean wants us to report to Interpol with the names. Track the YouTube usernames in those comment strings, there may be more review channels connected to this.

Thomas to Professor: Got it. Suppose we’re moving on then?

Professor to Thomas: Yes. Next time you can be the Professor, I think. I’ll set you up as Professor Johnson.

Thomas to Professor: Creative, that. What about you?

Professor to Thomas: The Dean thinks it might be time for a more thorough disguise. What do you think of the name Angelina?

(5 minutes of silence).

Thomas to Professor: Haven’t read the books my arse.