#slight mystery

[brokenpieces-72]

Graves Circumstance

Part 3 | Navigation

TW: anxiety, some violence, let me know if I missed any

As you walked around you found yourself experiencing some anxiety. Graves noticed you bracing yourself against posts and benches. Phil stopped every time asking if you needed to take some time. It took little for him to help you sit on the ground to let you breath through it. Right now his primary concern was you. You were waiting for the police station to call you in to retrace your steps and hopefully find where you had been held for so long.

“You sure you want to do this today?” He asked. You needed to do it today, but Graves didn’t want some kid traumatized all over again.

“No… but I want to… I need to.” You said. Phil was impressed. You had guts, and a strong will. Recovery would take time, and he wasn’t about to force anything. Almost didn’t want you to go retrace your steps. Worried you might rush in and crash. If this is what you thought was best he wasn’t going to argue. He checked his phone and still no call or text. Maybe the cop from last night had said something.

“You ready to keep walking?” He asked. You nodded.

“When we go to the station, if you ever feel unsafe or like you need to brace yourself, you speak up. If you can’t, then pat me on the arm, or squeeze my hand or something. Okay?” He asked. You nodded again, and he helped you up to your feet. Just in case you held on to his arm.

Phil wasn’t exactly a patient man, but this was beyond ridiculous. It was the afternoon and no call from the police asking you to come in. Phil tried calling them and got a voice mail. A police station with a voicemail? Really? A small town but come on.

Graves decided to take you there directly, fed up with waiting. When he took you there they explained they had some other things come up. For fuck’s sake, they had a minor come to their precinct carved, bruised and almost naked, and they’re telling him this now? This was a problem. If he had to tell his boys he couldn’t show for some things they would understand but this wasn’t something any station would just put on hold. Had they even gotten in contact with your parents or next of kin? No? Then what hell is he supposed to do with you?

“Mr. Graves we can take care of them, assign an officer to them for witness protection instead.” The cop offered.

“One of your boys already did last night and I told him no.” Phil argued. “Now why the fuck isn’t this case being examined more closely? Or is this not the first time a young kid comes to your station like that?”

“Mr. Graves may I remind you that you have no jurisdiction here, nor are you my superior. So either get out and wait until we call you or leave Y/N with us.”

“I have half a mind to take them to the next town.” Phil continued. “If this doesn’t get sorted soon I’ll sort it myself.”

“And you have no authority Mr. Graves.” The cop said. Phil wouldn’t admit it but he wanted to hit the cop in the face. You were too young to be dealing with this kind of shit.

“I don’t get a call by tomorrow morning I’ll go with them myself. Authority be damned.” Phil warned before storming out of the station, retrieving you on the way out. He was pissed. Something is fucking around and he’d had enough.

Phil got you into the truck and sat in the driver’s seat. No information on you. No information about your case. No one seemed to give a shit. Graves sat there trying to think of what he could do next. Something Phil doesn’t like is when people put him in a box. If he can’t get the cops to help then he’ll help you himself.

He looked in the rear view mirror, and saw you staring out the window. Something didn’t sit right. If you’d shown up to a police station like that, and in a small town like this, the cops would be sending out warnings to locals, there would be manhunts for your captors. More alarms would sound, so why was your appearance only chiming bell? These guys were treating it like it was just another case on their list. At this point he wanted to call Laswell but after everything that had happened she was busy. And he wasn’t someone she’d be willing to talk to.

“Kid?” He asked, noticing you get comfortable under the new blanket. Wait wasn’t that in his bag at the motel? Whatever not important. You perked up to listen. “Let’s take a small trip.”

He put the truck in drive, and headed back to the motel to gather your stuff. You’re fidgeting in the seat, like you wanted to say something. He knew what you wanted to ask, but right now he was banking on your trust. No doubt his reaction to the news broadcast didn’t help your trust issues.

“Need you to trust me here kid.” He said reaching the motel easily enough.

“T-trying.” You said.

“Need a minute?” He asked. You nodded and he got into the backseat. You weren’t tearing up and breathing hard again. “Can you name five things you can see?”

“Uh… the car seat… your brown hair… the motel door… that tree… the door handle.”

“Four things you can touch. Can you name those?”

“The blanket… the seat… my hoodie… warm socks…”

“What are three that you hear?”

“Your voice… um… my breathing… I think my stomach…”

“Two things you can smell? Can be anything.”

“The truck… your after shave… I think it’s your after shave.”

“Body spray, but good enough. What’s your…favourite taste?”

“… dark chocolate.” You answered. Graves nodded.

“Alright, I’ll get you something to eat but right now we’re gonna get our stuff and blow this stand.” He said.

“No fucking- kid stay in the truck.” Graves said putting the truck in park.

“What’s going on?” You asked, as he undid his seatbelt.

“Stay in the truck.” He repeated, pointing to you before closing the door. He stormed over to road block where a couple of cops were standing behind concrete barricades. Hell no, they did not get to pull this shit with him.

“The fuck is this shit?” He demanded.

“Sir, please get back in your truc-“

“Tell me what the fuck is going on first!” He barked at the officer.

“When you tell me what the fuck is with your attitude then I will, until then why don’t you cool off in your truck first?” The cop barked back getting in Graves face with the barricade between them. Graves stared the cop down, pressing his lips and taking a minute. He was a commander, not a sergeant and didn’t like being pushed around. Right now he didn’t get that luxury. He had to reel it in a little.

“I’m sorry officer…?” Graves said, taking a breath.

“Hodgkins.” The officer replied, his face stoic. The more names, the better. Certainly would report them for this crap.

“Been a long day, just trying to get home. My kid misses their mama very much.” Graves exclaimed. Hodgkins glanced down at Graves hand, not seeing a wedding band.

“Are they now?” Hodgkins asked, doubt very heavy in his voice.

“Joint custody. Not the favourite parent.” Graves said, with a half grin. Hodgkins leaned over to try and get a look at you in the truck.

“Small avalanche, pretty much covered the road.” The officer said, as if it were obvious and right behind him. Graves didn’t like that. “There’s a motel in town, you can call your ex to let her know you’ll be late. Sure your kid can understand, that leaving town right now is not an option.”

That last part was a warning and threat, one Graves didn’t take kindly. Phil gave the officer a curt nod, thanked him for the time and got back to the truck. You jumped when he opened and closed the truck door, before turning the truck around and driving back into town. Graves was thinking and fuming. The tension could be hit with a hammer.

“…kind of wish I stabbed him with the fork?” You asked. Graves’ gritted teeth loosened when you said it, smirking.

“Yeah. It’s getting late, and you need a proper dinner.” He said, changing the subject.

While the two of you walked back to the motel Graves was the one scanning the area. He seemed distracted as well. If you wanted to look at some stores he went with you, if only just to look around and kill time.

At one point you come across some plush animals. Your face seemed to light up a little seeing the cute little toys.

There’s a beagle plush with little bandanna around its neck. Graves doesn’t mind getting it for you. He noticed on the drive back his demeanour probably scared you a little. You hadn’t tried to say much of anything and you were often pawing at a blanket or pillow. You were a teenager sure but something you could hold and squeeze couldn’t hurt to have.

At dinner, Graves was able to get takeout and brought it back to the motel with you, while you were thinking of names for your new friend. By now Graves was your living shadow, watching over you, not letting you out of his sight.

“Bailey? No…” you thought out loud.

“What’s wrong with Bailey?” Phil asked.

“Doesn’t look like a Bailey.” You answered. “What about Bagel?”

“Bagel the Beagle… sounds like a kid’s cartoon.” Graves commented.

Once inside you took off your shoes and flopped onto the bed.

“Just in case kid, could you sleep in the further bed tonight?” Graves asked. You looked up at him and then at the closed and tightly locked door. You crawled off the bed and sat on the edge of the other one.

As Graves set the food down on the small counter you figured now would be better than never. “Are we stuck here?”

Graves shrugged off his coat. “If I can’t track down dynamite to blow up that barrier then I’ll find the components.”

Your eyes go wide realizing the situation. You were still trapped. Your cage had merely expanded and given you new privileges. No no, you were so close. Without realizing you were rocking and clawing at your arms, muttering to yourself. Graves came to your side immediately.

“Hey. Look at me. Look at me y/n. I’m not gonna get you out of this. You understand?” His words were firm and stern.

“… it can still find me!” You said, panicked. “I’m gonna get you out of this. I will do everything I can, you got that?” Graves said firm, holding your shoulders. You sniffled, trying to tell yourself that was true. You looked past Graves and eyes widened and your cried out. Graves turned to see a figure peering in the window before trying to run off. Phil was faster. He reached the door and opened it to find an older man. The guy looked startled, but Graves had him by the shirt and against the wall.

“Who are you?!” He demanded.

“Dude, I’m sorry! I swear I thought it was my room!” The guy said, terrified. Graves stared him down.

“How long have you been at the motel for?”

Graves asked. The guy was confused, and Graves shoved him into the wall again.

“Dude I swear! I’m sorry if I scared your kid! I was just checking, my buddy said he got us a room! I just misread the number!” Graves let the guy go, and requested his phone. The guy gave it up quickly, hands up, and pressing against the wall. Graves found the text messages, and sighed. He returned the phone.

“Thank you for your time.” He said, letting the guy tremble some more while he returned to you. He shut the door and locked it drawing the curtains again. When he turned around you were gone.

“Shit… kid?” He called. Graves was cautious now. The guy hadn’t gotten far from the room when Graves caught him. Graves peeked around the beds, and couldn’t find you. He turned the light on in the bathroom. “Kid I’m coming in.”

Graves looked around the door and even drew back the curtain of the shower. Not there either. Then he heard a sound from the counter in kitchen area.

Graves got to the counter and knelt down. He kept his voice down. “Kid it’s me. Gonna open the cupboard now okay?”

Graves opened it and found you inside, curled up tighter than he ever thought possible. You looked uncomfortable and a little stuck. “Ya need some help there partner?”

It was a little awkward but Phil got you out of the cupboard and told you what happened. You just stared at the curtains as he spoke, thinking every shadow that passed seemed to linger for too long.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit

[lostandfoundbook]

Alexandria Gray started out her day simple every morning. She woke up, grabbed a pot of coffee, and found herself walking through the streets of New York City towards the theatre to get to work. Brushing out her long blonde curls, she realized she was living an above average lifestyle with her job as an up-and-coming singer. Lately, however, things have changed. Alex and her boyfriend, Everette, have been having some problems. Everette was always scheming, and he was doing no better when he got Alex found herself tumbling (Quite literally) into a brand new lifestyle that she couldn’t have even predicted. You see, when Alexandria woke up this morning, she found herself sat in a hospital bed and gown. When she tried to find out more information, she quickly learned that she had been in an accident, one where she had lost all her memories of the last two years, including between her long time rival Oliver Haven. Apparently there was more to her own story than meets the eye. Who was this man, and why did they hate each other so much? After finding herself careening down 20 floors from the hotel building, Alex came to find that she wasn't just an up-and-coming singer, but a full fledged musician with a stable career and fanbase. Navigating this would be difficult, and Alex had to figure out, what did Everette truly mean to her, and was Oliver a safe person to trust? Could there be romance in the books for Alex, or was she destined to live out her life just like her parents did?

MEET THE CHARACTERS! 

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[vividaway]

LOST AND FOUND: MOODBOARD (CHAPTER 29)

read it here

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Here be Monsters - A Bangel and Buffy & Faith and Angel & Faith Fanfic

Summary: When Faith tells Buffy she's been assaulted by a supernatural being--someone that Faith at first believes is an Incubus--and Giles then sends Buffy and Angel on a quest to destroy the Rugarus in town, it puts them on the path of a mystery that no one could have expected. Slight mystery. Canon compliant. Post-Helpless. Bangel. Buffy and Faith. Angel and Faith. Slight Fuffy.

For @bisexualblckcanary

Here be Monsters

Angel’s PoV

Angel didn't know what he was doing helping the Scoobies carve stakes, exactly. He wasn't a people person: that was a fact. And ever since he had lost his soul and terrorized the Scooby Gang, he knew they hated him: something he couldn't blame them for that at all. He hated himself.

So why hadn't he made one of his usual quick exits, like always, when he found that Buffy wasn't in the library yet, to save everyone the awkwardness here?

"…and anyway, I'm really starting to wonder if maybe we should start looking into buying stakes on Ebay, so we don't have to do this," Willow was rambling, in trying to fill the otherwise strange silence, Angel thought. Bless her. "Surely it would be more cost effective, like if we need to make stakes and research at the same time or something. But hey: this is just a crazy idea this wacky girl has had. Don't listen to m-"

"I think it's a good idea," Angel cut off her self-loathing thoughts, though he may have partially been lying here. He wasn't entirely sure he felt this way. Though maybe Willow had a point. And Lord knew the sweet girl could use some confidence. "I mean, you can find about anything on the Internet these days… or so I've heard. And if anyone thinks it's weird you guys are buying a lot of stakes, they'll probably just think you're vampire movie fanatics."

Angel threw the last bit in, figuring that Harris would be longing to say something about the FBI--or someone--thinking their actions were strange (as if they'd ever even look into them. Actually, they'd surely think the Watcher's Council, who Giles would get to flip the bill for this if they did do it, were gardeners), so he'd thrown that in there before Xander could say anything. He didn’t want to give the boy any more reason to speak, after all.

"Thanks, Angel!" Willow beamed.

"No, problem," Angel allowed, giving her a small smile.

"Yeah," Xander moaned, sarcasm clearly in every inch of his words. "Thanks, angel eyes." Well, it seemed Xander had talked, and—as always—was annoyed with him. Oh, well. It couldn't have been helped, Angel supposed. The boy just loved to run his mouth, didn’t he?

Out of the corner of his eye, Angel saw that Giles was also irritated, maybe in thinking that Angel would warm Willow up to him again, only to turn evil again and then try to murder her once more.

Resisting the urge to sigh—since his soul wasn't going anywhere any time soon, if he could help it—Angel reminded himself that these reactions were only natural.

It was just when he was thinking of leaving after all, when his pile of fifteen stakes were complete, that Buffy arrived on the scene.

And just like that, Angel had to remind himself he was a fool to doubt that his soul might not be going anywhere: Buffy was far too tempting: she wore a sparkly, yellow tank top, black dance pants, and orange flip-flops.

And while lately Buffy seemed to be wearing her hair up all the time—almost to contrast with Faith, who always seemed to have her locks loose—at the moment she seemed to have found a compromise: at the top of her head she had part of her tresses in a bun, while the rest of it hung down in curls.

As always, she was Angel’s stolen sun. And also, temptation incarnate. As she walked over to him, Angel spied chandelier earrings in his girl's ears that were somewhere between her shirt and shoe color. Tangerine?

"Angel," Buffy whispered breathlessly the moment she saw him.

And he, keeping up their game, smirked at her and said, "Buffy."

Giles cleared his throat then, tearing the former lovers apart from each other—to Angel's relief and chagrin—and Buffy seemed to remember where she was and what she was doing, as she jumped atop their favored library table and began working on a stake herself. "Sorry I'm late for patrol, guys. There was this whole thing with Faith. Would you believe that there was actually a guy she didn't want to sleep with, but somehow, he still manipulated her in to doing so? Anyway, she thought he was an Incubus, so I was being Research Girl for her. But an Incubus hasn’t shown up in Sunnydale in more than a thousand years, so… Now Faith is even more upset. I tried to convince her to come patrol with us tonight, that we'd be there for her, but she said no…"

A pen could have dropped in that moment and everyone would have heard it. That whole thing was rough. At lest the way that Buffy had described it, It didn't exactly sound like rape to Angel—and if it was, he would find down this man who had done this to the second Slayer and kill him. He and the demon, of course, were tempted to do so, anyway—but who could say for sure? And Angel winced, knowing that Liam and Angelus had used similar tactics with girls in the past, and he once again despised himself.

He also knew that part of the reason Faith wasn't here was because of him… the new Slayer had lost some of her trust in Buffy when she'd learned his girlfriend had lied to protect him, or so Buffy had told him.

"That's- that's horrible. Poor Faith!" Willow exclaimed. "Is there anything we can do?" And even though Angel knew that Willow had her problems with Faith, he knew that right now she would give the girl the shirt off her back to make her feel better if she could.

"You know how Faith is with emotions, Will. I imagine anything we say might make it worse. But if I think of anything, I'll let you know. Thanks.

"But right now, I definitely want to kill something. Giles, please give me something to kill!"

"I second that," Xander said, with a certain fury on his face, looking as though he were mere seconds away from punching the table or all the stakes they'd just worked on.

"Oh, umm, yes," Giles said, fixing his glasses—though Angel also noted the concern (as well as calculating) look in the Watcher's eyes. "Buffy, how do you feel about fighting Rugurus?"

"As long as I can hit them, I'm there."

And as the answer to that seemed to be a resounding “yes” for the most part, it looked like they had their itinerary for the night.

…

 "Do you have any ideas on how I can help Faith, Angel?" his Slayer asked him, as the two of them went out patrolling looking for said Rugurus.

In the end, not everyone had ended up going with the duo, since there was a chance Rugurus might not be a group that Buffy "could kill" as much as she might have liked—for the most part, one turned into a Ruguru when they were bitten by one, similar to how a vampire or werewolf were created. But where they differed, was while the bite would give the newly bitten an unbelievable craving for raw meat—to tempt them to sink their teeth into human flesh: their real desire—if they could resist that urge, they wouldn't fully turn. So there was a chance that some (or all) they would meet tonight could might only be in the process of transformation, and could return to normal if they refrained from their craving.

A.K.A. some they faced tonight might be innocent... And with tempers flaring after what they'd learned about Faith, Giles had decided not to send everyone on the warpath, just his Slayer and reluctantly Angel, since theoretically he should be able to sniff out a Ruguru and a half-turned.

"I wish I could give you better advice than giving her presents to distract her right now," Angel said, wincing, thinking of how often since he'd regained the soul, he'd sometimes used distraction as his own means of coping. Often with alcohol. "But… Oz had band practice tonight, right? And Faith likes music. What are the chances that Oz would be kind enough to write Faith her own song now?"

"I think that that's mainly a romantic thing he does for Willow—when he's not just trying to come up with songs for the band to hopefully make moola with someday--but I don't know, Angel, maybe," Buffy replied hopefully.

Really, Angel had known that. He'd been grasping at straws with his statement, and he knew it well… but what could he say? He wanted to help the other Slayer in some way. Whether it was because he still felt guilt over what happened with Kendra, or because he hated that Buffy had somewhat lost her friend because of him, he wasn't sure.

But before he could think it over much more, they were upon the nest. "Buffy," the vampire whispered in his Slayer's ear, not wanting to give their prey a head's up by his voice carrying. "Ruguru at twelve o'clock."

And they were, indeed, Ruguru they needed to be hunting, because they were currently tearing two girls apart. The one girl, unfortunately, was already dead. And while the other wasn't far behind her, Angel could still detect a faint heartbeat within her.

"Buffy… the blonde is still alive. If we can get her out of their clutches, one of us can run her to the hospital."

It was seeming like the best option here would be to split up, of course, even though Angel was loath to leave Buffy fighting Rugurus by herself for the first time, he thought he could make it to the hospital faster than she could…

There was a cave behind these three where un-turned could have been located, and Angel knew it wouldn't be fair if Buffy came across them and fought them, if they truly were un-turned and she thought they fully were. But what was the best choice here?

"Take her to the hospital then, Angel! I can handle a few monsters, who are just a bit hungrier than vampires!"

And if to demonstrate her point, Buffy had already charged into battle and had driven her stake along one of the Ruguru's arms, almost separating the lower part of said arm from the upper with her movement (the Ruguru howled out in pain with her action). Angel knew if she made said motion again, she probably would manage to do just that, and then that one wouldn't be much of a fighter at that point, at least…

He still hated to leave her like this, for a few reasons—one of them of course being that his demon was tempted to drink this already bleeding girl instead of seeing her to safety, but he knew he could fight that urge—but he wasn't really seeing any other options here.

Without any more preamble, Angel lifted this other blonde into his arms and wished his own golden goddess good luck—a scene that was somehow better and worse than the first time he'd said that to her. Then, he disappeared into the night.

…

Truth be told, Angel hated hospitals almost as much as Buffy did. He despised the illnesses that he could smell in the patients, and the hopelessness that he could detect in their family and friends.

He, perhaps, even moreso despised some of the games he'd played at hospitals before he'd gained his soul: letting some of his victims think they'd escaped him as they ended up at one, only for him to drag them away from their only hope…

He also recalled how just last year, he'd been responsible for Buffy, Willow, and Gile coming here. So, yes: if he never saw another hospital, it would be too soon. So he was glad that his business with the girl—Saya Baker, it turned out—didn't take long, and it seemed she would be okay.

Angel was just about to leave the building and see how Buffy had fared with the Rugurus, when he noticed Faith of all people in his peripheral vision.

Angel quite honestly couldn't believe that Faith was at the hospital. She didn't look injured enough to need any medical assistance that her Slayer healing wouldn't take care of (and Angel thought that if that insipid Watcher Wesley [who was sick right now] got word that Faith had come here for the doctors to look at some of her scrapes—if that was why she was here—he wouldn't be too happy about it… which was just ridiculous). He also didn't smell anything deeper in her, like cancer, thankfully. Hmm… could she be here because she had friends or family who were ill?

Truthfully, Angel really didn't know what to do with the other Slayer. And while his heart went out to her for what she was going through, according to Buffy, Angel knew that anything he said or did would just prove to set her off: he was her enemy. And furthermore, the one who was responsible for her decision to leave the Scoobies. Yes, it might have been best if he still decided to risk it all and talk to her, even with all of that. But despite everything Buffy had said and thought she had realized on Christmas, Angel of course knew he was a far cry from a good person.

So he'd decided to try and sneak past her, and hope that her Slayer senses hadn’t developed enough for her to sense him, when he noticed that his first assessment of her has been wrong as he sped past the girl: it looked like a rather strong creature had clawed her arm. And knowing that Faith wasn't the type to take that laying down—or at all—Angel had to stop and ask, "Faith, what happened to you?"

The new Slayer seemed to wake up from a trance, and with a vengeance, at Angel's line of questioning. And he felt that if they hadn't been in a hospital with people all around them, Faith would have thrown herself at him to stake him then and there. "I don't need your nose in my business, Angelus!"

Angel may have been crazy—actually, he knew that he was—but he was starting to put some things together here that he really didn't like. And he truly didn’t want to bring it up: he knew it would go over about as well as his telling Buffy that their dating could get out of hand had… But knowing that all that it took for evil to prosper was for good men to do nothing, he couldn't just leave it alone. He wouldn't.

Speaking softly and gently, the way he might have to a wounded animal—and maybe, just maybe, unintentionally the way he had when he'd attempted to thrall people in the past (which wouldn't work on a Slayer, since he’d never been great at thralling, so it was just so great that that was his voice for this)—Angel found himself pointing at Faith's arm. "I know you're not that reckless, Faith. I'm also aware that no one, in bed, can force a Slayer to do something they don't want to do…"

Faith was looking at him with eyes that said she positively wanted to dust him, and Angel thought she just might, but like a fool he swallowed and pressed on, anyway. "Has some abuser sweet-talked you into thinking he's not an abuser, and that… well, the things he's doing to you aren't abuse? Are you here hoping to talk to someone, because you know deep down that you’ve gotten in too deep?"

Angel was willing to bet the farm that whoever it was who had hurt Faith wasn't human, to be able to injure a Slayer the way they clearly had Faith here--maybe the demon had some type of compulsion, which could have explained a lot; if it was a vampire with thrall, it would be only too ironic. Though it was the slightest bit possible that they were human. However, that would make it all the worse. Because the amount of force they would have had to purposely put into their touch to be able to harm a Slayer… Angel didn't want to think about it.

At once, Faith exploded on Angel--pulling on his ear the way a mother might their misbehaving child. And with her strength—and his lack of it, since returning from Hell—he knew she was likely to pull it off. He thought she probably wanted to.

In the back of his mind—while Angel fought the urge to scream, as he already saw a few flecks of blood falling to the linoleum floor--he was somehow reminded of Buffy's one motion she’d done earlier tonight with the Rugaru…

"Nothing happened to me, Deputy Do-Right! Now how about you do me a favor and keep your inane observations about me to yourself, before I have to remind B that she was crazy to think that she couldn't make it through life without you? Capisce?"

"Hey, you two! Take it outside!"

"I'm leaving," Angel assured the nurse, pulling away from Faith with all of his strength. But not before the Slayer older than Buffy gave him a loo that clearly said, "you've picked the wrong battle," but what exactly she was trying to tell him with that, he wasn’t sure.

…

Visiting Buffy's house in the evenings was pure Hell now. In a sense, Angel supposed it always had been like that… being in close quarters with Buffy—especially in her bedroom, with her scent closing in all around him—made the man in him rise up and want to take her (it also made the demon go crazy for her blood, but he was thankfully good at forcing that back… even if it would be delicious Slayer blood).

Before her seventeenth birthday, her stuffed animals had seemed to look at him accusingly when he felt this way (her mother's thundering heartbeat just a floor below also reminded him that he was wrong to feel what he did for someone so young and full of life like Buffy). But that was nothing compared with now: when he knew he could never once lose control and act on his desires, or it would mean the cruelest vampire the world had ever seen back in action once more.

So, yes: being with Buffy in her room now was Hell—and Angel knew a thing or two about Hell—but sometimes he just couldn't avoid it.

Like right now: when he wanted to make certain that she was alright after her fight with the Rugurus—and apologize that he had had to leave her—and tell her some of his suspicions about Faith.

Thus he climbed up her tree and quietly slept into her window, perhaps expecting to find her sleeping, relaxing, doing her homework, or maybe even exercising… he hadn't expected to find a tired looking Buffy lying in bed—wearing a lovely pair of navy-blue pajamas, he might add—reading one of his favorite books: The Phantom of the Opera.

Her name was out of his mouth in question before he could stop it (wondering if he should go, because he didn't want to disturb her). "Buffy?"

"Oh, Angel!" she started, clapping a hand over her heart.

"Way to go, Buffy," the blonde Slayer admonished herself in a whisper then, with a shake of her head. "Wake up Mom, why don't you?" But then, with her attention back on Angel—a place he always wanted to be, even though he knew it shouldn't be there these days—Buffy got out of her bed and crept over to where Angel was still standing beside her window. "What are you doing here, Angel?" And the moment she was beside him, her left hand was instantly seeking out his own hand to hold. Angel couldn't help marveling at how natural it all felt.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were alright after I left you tonight," Angel wanted to add that leaving her was the last thing he’d wanted to do when she was still hurt by Giles' betrayal of her during her recent Cruciamentum—even if she was over it—and of course there was his becoming her enemy a year ago to think about… but knowing that saying either thing would just hurt Buffy more, Angel left his thought where it was and pulled Buffy into the safety of his arms, kissing the top of her head.

"Yep. Buffy is of the good and still the Little Engine that could. It was Buffy two, Rugurus zero. I kind of don't get why you and Giles were wigging about them earlier. They were no big. But knowing that my Watcher and my Angel care about me is certainly a treat I'll take any day. Mmm," Buffy voiced the last thing right as she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his exposed collarbone. And Angel would be lying if he said he wasn't affected. But he tried to keep his mind on business.

"It was more because we know you don't want to accidentally hurt an innocent, Buffy… And speaking of innocents… I ran across Faith while I was at the hospital… And, well, I think you were definitely right in saying more of her innocence has been stolen from her recently."

Buffy looked at Angel with concern in her eyes then. And as she disentangled herself from him, he saw her gently put her book back down on her bedside table before she sat down on her bed, in order to better regard him. "Tell me everything," Buffy said tiredly.

And Angel did, hating that he had to make Buffy's impossible load even more thus. But was there anything else for it? Especially since Buffy might be one of the few who might be able to help the dark Slayer. And Angel knew how his girl longed to aid anyone that she could.

"Buffy… I saw Faith at the hospital, and she was really hurt. And you know how hard it is to harm a Slayer. And sure, she could have gotten the injury during patrol, but she hasn't been patrolling lately, has she?

"I think this ties in with what you were telling me earlier. And I think that Faith has fallen into an abusive relationship. But even then, it would be hard to bring physical harm to a Slayer. But abusers can be manipulative." And how Angel loathed his own manipulative past as Angelus. If he could go back and stop himself from being sired, so it would never happen—or keep himself from even being born—he would. "This manipulator also is not human, I’d guess."

Buffy nodded. And though it was simple action, the storm going on in her eyes was anything but. Angel was starting to see this from her more and more lately since her Cruciamentum, and he wondered if the tasks she had already had to face were too much for her to bear. It was unfair what the fates expected any one Slayer face, which was why he would lighten her load as much as he possibly could.

"Right…" Buffy muttered, running a hand under her chin, "because no Joe Schmoe could hope to leave marks on a Slayer…"

"Buffy-”

"Angel, did you happen to catch the scent of the culprit when you were around Faith?" Buffy questioned, completely catching Angel off-guard and interrupting the train of thought he’d had. He honestly hadn't thought that she would think to ask him that. Not because she forgot the abilities of the vampire, of course, but because he knew that thinking about what he could and couldn't smell from her had to make her uncomfortable.

"No, Buffy," Angel said, sitting beside her on her bed now—a risk, to be sure, but he hoped that the subject matter would keep both of their heads in the game. "Either I was too wrapped up in rescuing Saya,” ‘and not killing her,’ he thought but didn’t say. “Or the culprit could be a warlock who is masking their scent."

"Okay. Then we'll see if Will or Giles can do a locator spell on this person tomorrow. Either that, or I guess I'll be Research Girl again." Buffy sounded satisfied with her plan, and Angel found he couldn't blame her for that. It was, after all, a rather sound one.

He also knew that this should have been the end of their conversation here, and one of them really ought to have been finding an excuse for him to go, while they were still treading water… but that wasn't happening.

Instead, Angel crossed over and picked up Buffy's "Phantom of the Opera" book and gave it a once-over. He was relieved to see that she had the David Coward translation, even though he wasn't a fan of this cover for the novel.

"Interesting choice for a light read," Angel couldn't help remarking, a slight smile lighting up his face. "Where are you at in it?"

"'Poor, unhappy Erik,'" Buffy answered, her eyes having taken on a tragic look. And Angel knew why, of course. That was certainly one of the saddest parts of the story.

"You've gotten really far into the novel, then! That's great, Buffy! In a college interview, you might get asked about recent books that you've read, and this would be a good one to list. So, do you think Erik is redeemable?"

Only after the words had left Angel's mouth did he regret them. He'd honestly meant what he'd said: that this could be a great stepping stone for Buffy's future, and a part of him had wanted to help with that.

And, maybe, just maybe he'd been excited at the possibility of talking great literature with the love of his life.

But now he saw his mistake, of course. Because Buffy would say that Erik was irredeemable in the story: there was no way she couldn't. And he had done so much worse than the Opera Ghost. So what did that say about them? Why, something that Angel had known all along.

"I think, Angel, he wasn't irredeemable. He did regret his actions and let Christine go in the end. Though I do think that she should have ended up with Raoul. If things had been somewhat different with Erik, then maybe… but Erik frightened Christine and he started their relationship out with a lie." And Buffy looked Angel deeply in the eyes then, letting him know that that's what the difference was—Angel thought –since she, after all, had never been afraid of him and he'd never outright lied to her.

"I also agree with the author,” Buffy continued on, “that if people had just been nice to Erik, he wouldn't have become what he did. Instead, they could have benefited from his genius. But they weren't nice… I may have accidentally skipped ahead and read the part where Leroux said all of that," Buffy laughed.

Now it was Angel's turn to chortle. "More like: you jumped to the last pages early on, because you wanted to know the ending, right?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, no doubt for the fact that he thought that she would still do something so childish. But Angel noted that she didn't, however, deny the claim.

The vampire was about to say more: maybe something about how he loved Buffy’s heart and that she should never change, but then she yawned.

"I'm keeping you awake. You should get some sleep."

"No!" Buffy protested, grabbing onto Angel's arm the moment he got up from the bed that he’d only recently rejoined her on. "I'm awake. I'm Wakey-McFlakey. I could get up and do jumping jacks right now. I could-"

"Buffy." Angel gave his girl a look, before setting her favored book at the moment back on the table where she'd had it.

"…I guess I could probably appreciate this one night where I'm in bed early, yeah."

"That's what I thought. I'll see you tomorrow night." And Angel dropped a kiss to the crown of her head again, trying not to breathe in her sweet vanilla scent before he headed back towards her window.

“Angel?” Buffy asked, just as Angel’s knees were on the window frame.

“Yes?” he asked, curious about what Buffy could possibly have to say to him now when he could already tell that she was half-asleep. He wondered if she would be coherent. He was somewhat amused to find out.

“Don’t forget that you’re also the Raoul of the story.”

Angel did a double-take at that. He might have said more to Buffy’s kind words, but she was already asleep.

Raoul, huh? He wanted to believe he was Christine’s hero—though she herself was the hero of the story—and her great love, but he wasn’t sure he could. Though it was still a nice thought.

Smiling once more, Angel jumped first into his favorite tree and then leapt down from it. Then, it was back to the mansion for the rest of the night and day.

…

Angel had a feeling of déjà vu walking into the library to greet the Scoobies the next evening, and most importantly Buffy.

He supposed he shouldn't have, since tonight was starting off somewhat differently than the previous night—after all, he was here after Buffy, like he usually was—so perhaps what he was feeling was a sense of things returning to normal. Their normal, anyway.

And yet… Angel found he almost preferred making it to the library before Buffy did. Not because he much valued the time with any of her friends (except for perhaps Willow. And maybe Oz a little bit, even though they were both too laconic to speak to each other), but because he knew he was spending every second with Buffy that he could when he beat her here (for instance, if she was caught up with that Principal Snyder who seemed to abuse her, keeping her from the library so that she got here after him). But if he arrived late, he might have missed some precious moment of her time that he could have been a part of, if he'd been but a moment sooner, but would now never get back.

Angel was just about to try and explain some of these thoughts to Buffy, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow, but he was interrupted from doing so by Cordelia's loud complaint of, "Giles, I'm not putting were-pumas into the file! The odds of Miss Slays-a-Lot facing them again has to be googolplex-in-one, compared to the trillion-in -one chance she had when she faced them the first time!"

Angel blinked. "You faced were-pumas, Buffy?" He wondered where he'd been during this scenario. Had it been the time Giles had sent him away to deal with one of his favorite cousins (read: one of the last followers of the Master) in Florida?

"It was at the same time that I had to deal with the Muses here in Sunnydale," Buffy explained, waving away his concern. "No big."

Except at the time, it had been a big deal. Angel hadn't been there for it—as that had been his trip to Florida, he knew now—but he remembered well how Buffy had fallen into his arms with relief the moment he returned to Sunnydale, and the tales she had told him. The fact she could laugh about it all now said so much about his Buffy's strength. How he loved her.

"So, about those were-pumas," Oz continued the inane comment Cordelia had made as she worked to recreate the Slayer database that Willow and Giles had once made, but had since been destroyed. "Do we think one of them could be what hurt Faith?"

"I just said-" Cordelia started, appalled, continuing to tap on the computer keyboard one key at a time, as she sat behind everyone else who was at the library table now. "Oh, whatever. You losers never listen to me, anyway. Fine. Think it's were-pumas, even when the chances of that are-"

"I doubt it," Angel cut in, breaking up this fight before it could really start, since he knew that both camps were probably completely off base. "I would have smelt it on her. I think-"

"Yeah, because we all know how reliable your nose is, Dead Boy—and how gross it not is to talk about that—and that we can trust you."

"Xander!" Giles admonished the boy, honestly surprising Angel. He knew what it must have cost the Watcher, of all people, to defend him. "Angel has come to our aid numerous- numerous times now, every time that he has his soul. So I will advise you not to take such a harsh tone with him. And as it is, his abilities are very much of aid to us when it comes to finding out what's going on with Faith."

"Thank you, Giles," Angel said earnestly, looking the older man directly in the eye for a moment, so he would hopefully know how much stock he was putting into the words "Xander does have one point, however. If it's a warlock, he could be messing with my sense of smell."

"Are we thinkin' it's a human who hurt Faith, then?" Willow ventured nervously, a crestfallen look on her face. And it didn't take a genius to figure out why. She'd figured out just as he and Buffy had how near impossible it would be for a human to hurt a Slayer, and that they'd really have to try to do it.

"I doubt it, Will," Buffy promised her friend, reaching across the table to where she sat beside Oz and patting her hand once. "They'd really have to be cooking with oil to manage that. And there's no law saying only we mere mortals get to play with magic, right? …Even though there should. Because a demon doing so, even when they're already overpowered, is just not fair."

What Buffy didn't say, of course, was a Slayer could also be a witch. Not that anyone suspected that Buffy had harmed Faith or that she was a witch, of course (nor should they), Angel knew. Or that Faith was a witch who had done this to herself. But Angel did know for a fact that there had been at least one Slayer witch… or one who had been suspected of being a witch, at least. He supposed the question was whether or not the Watcher's Journals did…

"So what you're all really saying here, is you have no clue what's going on with Faith and you're wasting time distracting me with your pointless theories. Gee! Why am I not surprised?" Cordelia piped up, while looking at one of the Watcher's Journals herself now.

"I hate to admit it… but Cordy may have a point here, Buff. I know we all ruled out talking to Faith. But you’re her Sister Slayer. That has to get you some street cred, right, and maybe get you in the door. Do you think you could try it?" Xander asked sympathetically, laying a gentle hand on Buffy's shoulder now.

And though Angel knew this was done in friendship—it was—and surely was what was needed to get them all where they needed to be now, he couldn't help a moment of jealousy, as he once again remembered that Xander could see Buffy in sunlight and he couldn't… and that Xander could go all the places he couldn't with Buffy. Thankfully, the jealousy passed quickly.

Buffy buried her face in her hands for just a moment, seeming helpless—and how it pained Angel to see it—but she was at once herself again. "Yeah. I can try shooting the breeze with Faith. I mean, what's the worst that can happen?"

Angel hated that the smile she painted on her face now for everyone to see, and how it broke at the last moment.

And he promised himself that no matter what, that somehow, he would be there for Buffy when she confronted her fellow Slayer… whether she knew it or not.

…

Buffy's PoV

Buffy wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of trying to meet with Faith. She knew she should have been: she should have been chomping at the bit to be there for her sister-in-arms, the way that Buffy often times wished that her friends could constantly be there for her. And she did feel that way. Truly.

…But it was just so hard with Faith. There had been a strange tension between them ever since Faith had found out that Buffy had lied to her about Angel—something that had never gone away.

But even before that, things hadn't always been easy between them. Buffy could never get over the sense that Faith was trying to steal what was hers—ridiculous, she knew—and she had to wonder if there would ever be a feeling of ease between them.

But Faith deserved someone in her corner. Especially now. So Buffy was putting on her big girl panties and doing what needed to be done… but the moment she walked into Faith's apartment—seeing her deal a killing blow to a Ruguru herself, with tears streaming down her face—Buffy wondered if she'd made the right choice.

"…Faith?" Buffy choked out her companion's name.

Faith whirled on Buffy then. And if Buffy had actually caught it (and she wasn't entirely sure she had), she thought that Faith might have looked some sort of mix of embarrassed and traumatized before settling on angry.

Scrubbing at her eyes, seemingly to stop her tears, Faith snapped, "Well, I guess you figured it out now, huh? Figures."

"Figured… what out?" Buffy echoed back, feeling at a complete loss. She thought she was getting pretty good at figuring out mysteries, but what Faith was talking about was completely beyond her. They slayed Rugurus, as they did all kinds of Hell beasties. And it was traumatizing that they were once human, yes, like a lot of their job was, but Buffy couldn't fathom why Faith was getting so bent out of shape over this.

…Wait a second. Wasn't that the girl that Buffy had had Angel take to the hospital? Had she been bitten without either of them knowing it, after all… and had then fed and fully turned? Was it possible that Angel couldn't smell half-turned Rugurus to have known she'd been bitten?

"That I lied to you, of course, Pollyanna. And was never assaulted. And man, do I just love that I had to get to a place where I would lie about something like that when I hate liars," Faith snarled, with a faraway look in her eyes. Was she remembering what had happened before and what had caused her to lie?

"Faith… I don't understand," Buffy admitted, feeling very small and vulnerable, as she crossed her arms over her chest now. But she already didn't like where this was going. It, after all, could only end in heartache for Faith.

Faith sighed. And that, at least, made Buffy feel somewhat better, because it was closer to the sadness she should have been feeling here, in having lost someone she cared about, if Buffy was guessing things correctly. Faith trying to hide it in being livid couldn't possibly be a good thing.

"I don't know why I'm going to tell you this now, B. Me not wanting to tell you before is the whole reason I probably fell into this mess. But I didn't want to be compared to you and Angel—and your shipwreck of a story—and I knew that's what everyone would say-"

Faith was clearly getting going off the deep end again. And she backed away from Buffy—to try and get a handle on her temper, the blonde Slayer guessed—before she continued with, "It all started when I stole a car. A real great choice, I know. But I was capable of doing that, but somehow not smart enough to know how to put gas into the clunker. That's how I met Saya. She saw me struggling and helped me out.

"We talked a little bit then—and she liked me right away and wanted to hang sometime—but I wasn't that trusting. Knowing she used that gas station to get groceries, I decided to go out of my way to another one to get my goods. But one day, wouldn't you know it? She happened to be there. Shopping for a nice card for her sister's birthday, or some shit.

“At that point—even though I'm really no romantic, B, I'm thinkin' maybe there's something to this. So, we go out. And then we go out a few times. We watch the ‘Clue’ movie at my crappy apartment, ‘Fight Club’… and the whole time, Saya doesn't even pressure me for sex. It's kind of nice. I should have known it was too good to last, because she-"

"She got bitten by a Ruguru," Buffy figured out. Of course. And she had come to Faith, probably freaking out (maybe Faith had even told Saya she was the Slayer so she knew she could confide in her). The two of them would have been convinced they could make it work, as long as Saya didn't feed. But even a semi-Ruguru must have had some strength, which explained the marks Buffy had seen on Faith's shoulders.

And when Buffy had asked her about them, Faith had said she'd been assaulted because, in so many ways, she didn't want to be told her and Saya's story was like Buffy and Angel's. Would Faith have been afraid she'd have to face the fact they were doomed if she told the Scoobies the truth, the way everyone seemed to think she and Angel were? Did Faith think she might have told Giles on her if she knew the truth, and then he might have pressured her to slay Saya even if she hadn't gone full Ruguru?

The night Angel had seen Faith in the hospital… had Faith been seeing about getting a psychologist for Saya, in hoping that would help her fight her urges and the change?

In the end, despite their best efforts, it seemed Saya had given in and fed and now Faith had been forced to slay someone she'd started to love.

"Faith, I'm so so-"

"Save it and get out, Buffy. I don't want your pity!"

Of course Faith would see it as pity, Buffy thought—tears starting to sting her eyes now—when she still had Angel.

"At least let me help you bury he-"

"I said leave! This is something I have to do, and me alone. And I swear to God, Buffy, if you get in my way. I will kill you."

"Faith," Buffy started, walking towards Faith because she knew her sister Slayer couldn't mean that. She just couldn't.

But suddenly Angel was there, standing behind the threshold of Faith’s room, and imploring of Buffy the same thing that Faith was.

“Buffy, let Faith have her wish. We can check on her later, when she’s feeling better.” That was the last thing Buffy wanted to do now. She knew that Faith needed her; Faith was raising up her castle walls even higher to protect herself. Pretty soon, no one would be able to reach her within them. Not even Faith herself.

But there was a certain urgency in Angel’s tone that Buffy didn’t understand, but trusted all the same. So, despite herself, Buffy joined Angel outside the small apartment and let him begin leading her away.

“Faith, if you need anything-” Buffy begged, but Faith was already cutting her off with, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. You’ll ever be the perfect little girl scout and help me out. I can handle this, like I handle everything. Including your Boy Toy, if you don’t get out of here, Buffy!”

Buffy hated to admit it, but Faith threatening Angel was the last straw. Threatening her was one thing, but alluding to making an attempt on Angel—when he was still weak from Hell—terrified her. Buffy didn’t know if Angel would at all survive a fight with the other Slayer, if Faith really put her mind to it. And in her grief, Buffy thought that Faith might actually attack him, if she thought that it was unfair that Buffy got to keep the one that she loved and she didn’t.

“Okay, we’re leaving.” And with that, Buffy led Angel out into the night, almost wishing that she’d never come to Faith’s to be confronted with this tragedy in the first place. For so many reasons did she wish this.

She felt numb now—not unlike how Faith herself was now, which Buffy hated—and she didn’t know how long she’d been walking, or even where she was going, until Angel grabbed her hand to halt her. “Want to go to the park?” he asked with a shrug, far too innocently for someone who had surely witnessed everything that she just had. She should have known that he’d been spying with her.

And really, Buffy was glad Angel had been watching out for her in this situation, because she didn’t need to get into a fight with Faith (something he had saved her from)—and she knew she’d been getting close to that with Faith’s temper—but part of Buffy couldn’t help feeling that it made everything worse, because now instead of there being even more bad blood between her and Faith (something she wanted to believe she could have handled), it was now between all three of them. And so someone else had even moreseo joined the “Let’s Hate Angel” club.

“I want to kill something, Angel!” Buffy argued, finally noticing that her popping hot anger had subconsciously led her to Restfield Cemetery where she could get some action.

Buffy pulled out Mr. Pointy from her pocket, and was about to run towards the vampire that she thought she could feel pinging on her radar aways away, but Angel had wrapped his arms around her waist to stop her before she could move an inch.

“No, Buffy,” he whispered into her ear. And if she shivered at all, it was because of the chilly night air, not because she felt any of the things for Angel that she wasn’t supposed to. Not at all. “Your anger is making you see red, so you going after vamps tonight would just be asking for trouble.”

Buffy wanted to argue that she’d used this to aid her in slaying vampires and other nasties many a time, thank you very much, but deep down she knew that Angel was right. She was too distracted to do any serious damage.

Slumping in his arms irritably, because she felt a bit like a kid being told they couldn’t have dessert until they ate their veggies (and whoa. Since when had she enjoyed slaying so much?), Buffy relented with, “Fine. The park, you said?”

Angel nodded without a word, but he did take Buffy’s hand into his own. She’d appreciate that little wonder, at least. Then, as if they’d been walking hand-in-hand together their whole lives—if only they could, Buffy thought with a broken heart—he began leading her towards their intended destination.

Idly, Buffy wondered why he didn’t suggest going back to the mansion for this discussion they were inevitably going to have, but Buffy supposed he must have had something up his sleeve.

Before much time had seemed to pass it all (Sunnydale really was too small. Didn’t it know she needed any excuse she could get to be with Angel? Especially right now?), the two had reached Hammersmith Park.

Angel untangled his hand from Buffy’s, which was definitely a disappointment, but only to hop on the first swing that he saw before him and begin swinging: something that was so bizarre and hilarious to Buffy, that she could almost forgive not being in his arms any longer. Almost.

He indicated with a head motion that Buffy should take the swing next to him; and who was Buffy to deny this strange whim of Angel’s?

Once the two of them had swung together for a few minutes, and Buffy had amused herself by trying to catch Angel’s hand a few times while they did so, they both came to a stop and finally began discussing the Heavy.

“It was my fault, Buffy. I should have known that—Saya, was it?—had been bitten. Twice, it sounds like. I’d never faced Rugurus before, but I’d read about them a lot and I assumed I knew everything there was to know. But I should have guessed that those half-turned would be different… that maybe they wouldn’t have a smell to them. If I had, I could have pieced this all together. Maybe I could have stopped her from changing and Faith could have avoided this whole awful story. You sent me to take care of Saya that night, and I should have done a better job at it.”

Right in front of them, a mother was tying a balloon onto one child’s hand while handing another one of her children a snow cone. It was a cute sight. Buffy figured that this had to be the reason that Angel had wanted to go somewhere, rather than just going to the mansion: so that they would hopefully see people out and about and remember there was still good in the world, even if right now it didn’t seem like it.

“It’s not fair to blame yourself like that, Angel. I mean, who would have ever guessed that. Everything else has a scent, like full-fledged Rugurus. So who would have thought those first bitten wouldn’t? Life just sucks.”

Angel had nothing to say to that, as he seemed to suddenly find his shoes very interesting, and Buffy hoped that he had taken her words to heart and believed her. But knowing him, he had found a new thing to forever beat himself up about.

“What are we going to do about Faith?” Buffy finally asked the dreaded question, tightly grabbing the chains of her swing and—for whatever reason—refusing not to look at Angel right now. Was it because she thought that Faith’s story ending so badly was further proof that she and Angel were destined to forever be Romeo and Juliet themselves? “Should we tell the others that we found out what was going on with he-”

“I wouldn’t,” Angel answered right away, with what almost sounded like a scoff to Buffy. “At least not right now. She won’t thank you if you do. Maybe later… If you tell anyone, I’d tell Giles and try to get him to talk to her. Though I don’t have much love for the Watchers’ Council—and you certainly wouldn’t know it from anyone else but Giles—they’re somewhat trained in psychology. Maybe, once she’s healed a little, he could talk to Faith. But for now, I think the best thing to do is to try and let this whole thing blow over…”

There was something in Angel’s tone at the end there that hinted to Buffy that there was more than what he was telling her—she wondered if it had to do with his past—but she had the feeling he wouldn’t tell her if she asked. And she really didn’t feel like digging up more skeletons tonight, so she let it go. For the moment.

“You think everyone will be satisfied that I couldn’t crack Faith, and to just leave the ‘mystery’ unsolved?”

“On the Hellmouth? Yes, unfortunately.” Again, it seemed like there was more Angel wanted to say here, but whatever it was, it seemed his lips were sealed for the night.

Later, when Buffy was feeling more on her game and like her punning self, she’d really have to do something about that.

Buffy had suffered a few losses since becoming the Slayer, but until tonight, she’d never found one where she’d have to be quiet about something. She wasn’t a fan of it. At all. And if Faith wasn’t so unreasonable, she knew she wouldn’t be taking to such a thing, and rather be charging in like a bull in a china cabinet.

“Well, I hate this,” Buffy tried to laugh, attempting to get closer to her usual self. But it might have sounded more like a cry. She wasn’t sure.

“Ditto,” Angel agreed, seeming to try for a strained smile himself, as it appeared that he was in complete accordance with her.

“Angel… do you have anything to make this night better?” Buffy wailed, swinging closer to him so that their legs brushed. She knew that she was begging and probably sounded like a child—even after Angel had gone to the trouble of bringing her to the park here, in order to improve things a little bit—but right now, she just didn’t care.

Buffy’s favorite vampire didn’t seem to have an answer for a long time. Buffy was even about to mention that maybe he should give up on trying to think of anything to improve this night and just walk her home, but finally he seemed to have come up with something and he offered her a small smile. “Well, in the musical adaptation of Phantom of the Opera, Christine comes back while the Phantom is alive to give him back his ring. It sort of serves as an extended goodbye for them. And in some versions, depending on the actress, she might kiss his hand.”

Huh. In the novel, there was something similar to that: Erik had asked Christine to come back and bury him when he eventually died, and she did. And she buried him with said ring. Truthfully, Buffy liked Christine being kind enough to return in both endings, but maybe she did prefer this musical one. Perhaps she’d have to check this musical out sometime.

“That is a nice little epilogue. Thanks, Angel,” And Buffy blushed, despite herself, before she kissed her boyfriend on the cheek, for she knew too well what he’d been trying to get at with his explanation, after all.

Maybe there was a bit of hope for those who loved monsters, after all.

Author's Note: Rugarus were a monster from the TV show “Supernatural” that I used here.

I tried not to use any references to the Buffy novels for this fic, and I succeeded for the most part except for in two places: The first is that Buffy does fight the muses in the book “Power of Persuasion” and Angel is gone until the end of the book, for he was a mission Giles gave him (and Buffy is very much relieved to see him at the end, resting her head on his shoulder). Though we don’t know what that mission was. I made one up here.

The other is that in the novels, Willow and Giles do create a Slayer database to try and better figure out stuff that Buffy might face on the Hellmouth: A.K.A. they give it all of the stuff Buffy’s faced, and they hope it’ll spit out data for them, like, “It is likely that Buffy will face X on this date.” At one point, Cordelia ends up working on it, after her dad gets caught cheating on his taxes (because Willow is too busy to at the moment) and Giles offers to pay her to, which is why she does it (though I forget if this is before or after the database is destroyed—yes, it gets destroyed—like if she’s adding to a working one or trying to rebuild it). I have Cordelia working on it in this story, as it’s a good reason for her to be there after she and Xander have broken up and she’s left the Scoobies. Yep.

[twin-books]

The above piece was a redraw of this old piece for my Fragmented AU. This new piece is a collaboration with @koo1creations​. I did the sketch, she did the line art, I did the coloring, she added the cataclysm effects, I did the rest of the effects. We both really enjoyed making this. I am very grateful to her for helping me make this so I can finally post the second part of the Fragmented AU. If you are curious you can find the second part here: Fragmented AU 1. Where it all began. Yes, it took me one whole year to finally get to this. I was really trying to figure out how I wanted to write this and my antagonist and then life got busy... Anyway, I finally got around to it. Again, I preface by saying this story isn’t meant to have any salt. It is only for pure fun. I wanted a mystery in Miraculous and since the show refuses to give me one, I made one myself. I do try to keep it as canonically accurate as possible but the story does take place between season 3 and 4. Anyway, if you want to know what the drawing is about please enjoy the following. I decided to try something a bit new. I do hope I succeeded.

Adrien Agreste doesn’t remember September 7th. If you had asked him what happened that day he couldn’t tell you. But that doesn’t bother him.

It should, though.

It should because that was the day Ladybug and Chat Noir fought over how he barely showed up for fights anymore. That was the day Chat Noir promised her he wouldn’t miss another fight, another patrol, another moment where she needed him again.

He doesn’t remember that. But Chat Noir does.

Why?

If he had the ability, he would remember that the day started out like any other. He was juggling going to school, piano practice, private lessons, fencing, and modeling all at once. It was at night where it all went wrong. In his scramble to get things done he missed yet another important akuma battle. Ladybug had to bring in another 5 heroes and even then, still barely managed without him. They all needed training. Training she didn’t have time for. It was too much for her to handle. Between that and her responsibilities as the new guardian, she lost her cool.

When he showed up late, again, she ripped into him. Of course, she didn’t truly mean every single word she said and immediately apologized afterwards. But the damage was done. He knew he hurt her and he knew he had to fix it. So he promised he will always be there when she needs him. She appreciates the sentiment but knows he can’t keep that promise. He would prove her wrong.

When he heads home that night his chest is burning with anger. He is mad at himself for failing Ladybug. He knows he could do better.

He is so stuck in his own head that he fails to notice the small black cat following him.

Had he noticed, he may have been able to observe how it moved. It was like a glitch. Like some sort of extra in a video game missing a few frames in its walk cycle. It sucks in the light around it as it travels forward, the area around it almost appears blurry.

It's careful in its illogical movements. It stalks behind him, maintaining a safe distance. Its tail is wiggling and its eyes are fixated on Chat.

It’s hunting.

When it meows, Chat jumps in surprise and then turns to it. It is sitting still. Those visual glitches are no longer a problem with it frozen in place so Chat doesn’t notice a thing. He carefully approaches. Its pupils grow wider as a result. It’s clearly excited. “Hey there little guy...” Chat says, crouching down in front of it, only an arm’s length away. “What are you up to?” It doesn’t move. “I bet you’re doing great compared to me.” Chat falls to the ground, sitting crossed-legged. He sets his elbow on his knee and rests his head in his hand. “I can’t seem to do anything right.” He sighs. “Or nothing I want to do right.” He reaches his hand out to pet the cat’s head. When Chat looks away it leans into the pet. Chat is no longer paying attention to it, absentmindedly petting it as he rambles on about the earlier day events. “I just want to make it up to her! I wish I could be both Chat Noir and Adrien.” Another sigh escapes him. “You’re so lucky all you have to do is hunt mi-” He’s cut off by a sharp pain shooting up his arm. He lets out an agonizing cry. It feels like venom is shooting through his veins. His reaction time is quick and he rips his arm away from the cat. Or, at least, he thought he did. It takes him a little longer to realize the cat’s jaw is still clamped onto his hand, somehow holding him in place, and its grip is getting tighter. He watches in horror as spines protrude from its tail, flesh falling off to give way to them. It is accompanied by the loud cracking and twisting of its spine. It’s a sound that makes Chat want to gag. His eyes grow wide as he quickly stands up trying to shake it off. It somehow pulls its whole body forward with pure muscle power and digs its claws into his arm, its tail wrapping up and around the rest of his arm, the spines digging through his suit and into his skin.  How? How is it doing that? That shouldn’t even be possible! His suit is made of magic! Unless... It’s made of magic too. He notices that somehow, even with its jaw firmly locked onto his hand, its lips begin to melt away, making it appear like it’s smiling as wide as the Cheshire cat. There’s a loud crack. A bright green, electric like energy manages to escape through the gaps in its teeth and skin. That’s when it occurs to Chat that this is his right hand and the pain shocks him back to reality. “My miraculous!” He screams, slamming the creature into a wall. He continues this several times but its grip only gets tighter. Its teeth sink into his skin, making it feel like it’s hitting bone, as it sets his nerves on fire. He’s only making it angry.  Chat narrows his eyes knowing what he has to do. “Cataclysm.” He growls. The creature suddenly yelps in pain and immediately jumps off Chat, splitting into several smaller versions of itself, each shifting and morphing into incomprehensible shapes. It seems it can no longer hold its more “innocent” appearance.   Chat is quick to take his opening and uses his baton to bat each piece of thing into a wall. It doesn’t put up much of a fight. It seems his cataclysm really frightened it. It quickly sunk into the wall, much to Chat Noir’s shock, forming an exact shadow of him and quickly running off. He begins to chase but only stops when he feels his right hand begin to numb. He looks down to examine it and finds a fracture in his ring with crackling magical energy quickly seeping out. He looks back up to find the creature has disappeared in all the other shadows, masterfully blending in. With his predator out of his sight he grabs his rapidly numbing arm. He then notices that despite just using cataclysm, there is no countdown timer.  He needs to get home. No time is wasted. He makes it to his home and through his bedroom window in what he could have sworn was under five minutes. His hand is shaking now, he can’t seem to control its spasms. His heart is racing a million miles a minute. “Plagg, claws in!” He immediately whispers, afraid of shouting for fear of waking someone. Even in a crisis like this he still can’t get his priorities straight. Almost instantly the rapidly escaping energy is sucked back into the ring as Plagg appears beside Adrien’s head. Slowly the feeling begins to return to his hand but he still can’t seem to stop the shaking. He turns to Plagg and notices how Plagg twitches, similar to Adrien’s hand, as if he can’t control his body either. “Are you okay?” The little cat asks, seemingly unbothered by his own jittering. “Am I okay?” He cries. “Are you?” Plagg looks down at his own paws and notices the way they tremble. His eyes grow wide in horror. “What-What happened?” “I don’t know!” He says in exasperation. He was hoping Plagg would have the answers. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to ignore the shaking of his hand. This motion gives Plagg a perfect view of the ominous glowing coming from the bottom of his ring. He quickly grabs Adrien’s hand and flips it over to look at his palm. There’s a small fracture  in the band of the ring. “No! No!” “What’s wrong?” “The reason I can’t hold my form is because my magic is seeping into you!” Plagg says. “You aren’t meant to hold this kind of magic without some sort of conduit! If this keeps going this could cause a huge disaster! I’m talking extinction of the dinosaurs' levels of bad!” “What?” “We have to tell Ladybug! I think the grimoire has a page on how to fix this!” “No!” Adrien yells after Plagg before he can escape through a window. “Adrien. This is really, really, really bad. This can’t wait.” “Please. I-,” Adrien is struggling to find the words. He’s ashamed to admit that he just doesn’t want to bother Ladybug again after he let her down earlier. He fears her look of disappointment. “Can’t we just-” He takes a moment to breathe. “Can’t we just figure out what happened first and get our story straight before we bother Ladybug about this?” Plagg’s eyes drift to Adrien’s hand, the convulsions becoming more and more violent as time goes on. Then he looks into Adrien’s shaky eyes. “Adrien…” Plagg bites his lip. “Fine. But let’s make this quick! What do you remember?” “Okay. Cool. So, um…” He hums in thought, trying to go over the events in his mind. “I was heading home and then I stopped for a moment in that alley way. I was trying to figure out how to make it up to Ladybug-” “Not important. Skip to the point where the miraculous broke.” “Right! Sorry.” Adrien pauses for a moment, trying to think it through once more. So much of it didn’t make sense. “I was petting this cat. It looked like a normal cat. But then it bit me. And this cat, this thing, had the jaw strength of a crocodile!” Plagg nods in understanding, showing he’s following along. “It grew spines out of its tail,” He makes a disgusted face as he recalls that memory, “and then wrapped it around my arm and it somehow pierced through my suit. And then I heard this loud crack and saw this bright green light and I just knew… I knew that was the miraculous.” “How?” Plagg gives Adrien a puzzled look, seemingly having a hard time wrapping his head around the scene Adrien is describing. “I don’t know!” Adrien says, continuing on, “I tried slamming it into a wall but that only made it angrier so the only other thing I could think to do was use cataclysm.” He turns to look at Plagg and that’s when energy starts crackling out of the ring again, suddenly sucking Plagg into it with him shouting protests along the way. Adrien jumps back in surprise, staring down at the ring as the energy starts stinging his skin. He can feel his hand going numb again. “Plagg? Plagg! I didn’t say claws out!” He feels his heart rate spiking. Something isn’t right. “Plagg, claws in.” Nothing. “Plagg, claws in!” Nothing. “I said claws i-” He cuts himself off when he sees the black beads suddenly appear one by one, surrounding his hand like a swarm of wasps. Surrounding his ungloved, unprotected hand. “Plagg?” He whimpers. He’s scared now. With nowhere else to go and no magical outfit to protect him from the raw power of destruction it directs its wrath towards Adrien. The black particles seep into his skin causing unimaginable pain as he falls to his knees. “Plagg, claws out or in or whatever! Please, Plagg!” He begs, but the pain only gets worse. He’s not escaping this. He quickly rips the ring off, in a futile attempt to stop it. He tosses the ring aside and lets it slide under his dresser. Too late. Tears pour down his cheeks as he screams in agony. He cannot hear the shouts from Nathalie or his father. They are asking if he is okay, what is going on? Cracks similar to the one his miraculous bears begin to form in his skin, followed by violent magical energy trying to escape through them. He’s consumed by the rapidly escaping magical light as two pairs of panicked footsteps can be heard racing towards his room. “Adrien!” When the door is slammed open that light is already gone. Adrien is curled up in a ball on his bedroom floor. His eyes are squeezed shut. He is no longer screaming. Nathalie races over to him while Gabriel looms in the doorway. “Adrien! What is going on? Are you okay?” She helps him up and onto his bed. He’s silent. The silence is deafening. Gabriel steps forward. “Adrien. It’s the middle of the night.” He says, sternness in his tone. He eventually lets out a sigh. “Why were you screaming?” “I’m sorry…” Adrien says, shaking from a lingering unknown fear. “I don’t know. I don’t know!” He can’t remember! Why can’t he remember? What happened? What happened? Adrien begins to sob. Nathalie pulls Adrien into a tight hug while Gabriel clenches his fists and turns to leave. “Gabriel.” Nathalie says, calmly. “He needs you.” Gabriel stops and looks back at Nathalie. “You look like you have it handled.” He says and takes his leave. Nathalie’s grip on Adrien gets tighter. He can tell she’s angry but she would never say that. Instead she rubs his back. “Shh…” Her tone is soothing and brings his pulse back down to a normal pace, “It will be okay, Adrien. I’m right here.” It takes a while to calm him down but eventually Nathalie can finally lay Adrien to rest in his bed. “Call if you need anything.” She whispers to him. Once she has made sure all his fear is silenced she heads for the door. “Good night, Adrien.” He feels so tired. He pulls the sheets over his head, shielding his eyes from any light that comes from the moon and the stars. He can no longer remember why he was so upset. He eventually succumbs to sleep, unable to notice yet another sudden bright light that fills his room for merely a second. Chat Noir is now standing in the middle of his room. Chat looks around in confusion before fleeing out the window. He’s in a bit of a daze. Wasn’t that Adrien Agreste’s room? Why was he in Adrien’s room in the middle of the night? What happened? He can’t remember.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Family Dinner - Shaggy Rogers X Female Reader

Title: Family Dinner

Shaggy Rogers X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother, Reader's father, Scooby, and Mystery Inc. (Mentioned)

WC: 3,281

Warnings: Reader's parents are rude, judgy, and overbearing, italics, arguments, nicknames, slight angst, and fluff

You were out of your mind with stress. You had been cleaning your apartment for the last five hours, making sure everything was spotless and perfect. Why? Your parents had decided to invite themselves to a holiday dinner at your place. You were not expecting this, oh no. There was a reason why you moved all the way to Coolsville. A good two hours away from your old hometown.

The both of them, they never seemed to stop asking you about your life in Coolsville and always wanted to hear all about how you and your friends spent your lives there. It might've seemed nice, them checking up on you, but it wasn't. If you told them that you graduated, at the top of your class, your mother would say that she wished you had gone to Harvard. You get a well-paying job, doing something you love... Your mother would say how she wished you were a doctor like her and your father. Nothing was good enough for her. And now here they were, showing up unannounced to your home. Overall, your parents - your mother especially - were a bit overbearing, to say the least.

Running a hand through your hair, you tugged at the roots, letting out a deep sigh through your nose. Your eyes frantically scanned the apartment for anything out of order before you hurried to your bedroom. There, you found Shaggy, wearing his typical favorite green shirt and brown pants. He turned, giving you his signature grin, only for you to shake your head and rush to the closet. Digging through, Shaggy stayed back, his grin fading slightly in confusion as you pulled out a plain, blue button-up and a plain, dark green button-up.

"Alright, put either of these on," You spoke, handing both hooks to him with the hanging articles.

Shaggy hesitantly took the shirts from you, giving you a small frown. "But, like, these shirts make me itch."

You sighed. "Please, wear one of them," You pleaded, your tone pleading with Shaggy to comply. His brows furrowed together, his mouth opening to argue more when you continued. "Please. Just for tonight? For me?" You begged, holding your hand out.. Shaggy's eyes softened, his frown becoming even deeper as he nodded, taking your hand in his. "Thank you." You smiled softly, stepping forward and kissing Shaggy's cheek gently. "I promise, after this, I'll make you and Scooby my lasagna that you both like, alright?"

Shaggy hated the shirts, but he knew that this was really important to you, "Anything for you, babe," He answered softly, a small smile forming on his face.

You returned the smile, "I love you," You whispered, leaning up to peck his lips before stepping into the closet to grab your dress.

"Like, love you more, babe!" Shaggy called to you before you entered the bathroom to get ready. Pausing at the door, you turned, looking over your shoulder, giving Shaggy a playful wink.

Scooby sauntered into the room, jumping up on the bed, and taking a seat. "Rike, Rhaggy, do I Rave to Rwear this?" He asked his best friend, raising a paw to poke at the clip-on bowtie that was clipped onto his collar. 

"Like, man, I think you do," Shaggy answered, turning to the full-length mirror, moving one shirt over his chest, and then the other. "Like, what shirt should I do, man? I like the green, but, like, the blue brings out my eyes." He explained, tilting his head side to side as he inspected each option. Bringing the green button-up back over to his chest, he looked back at Scooby, "Green?" Scooby nodded eagerly, making Shaggy grin, "Then green it is, man!"

~~~

Standing at your small dining room table, you turned a plate a degree, worrying that it wasn't exactly aligned with the other plate across from it. You brought out your most expensive set of plates, cups, and silverware that you got at Home Goods, and even bought a fancy white wine. The plates were nice, and so was the silverware, but you had run out of wine glasses. Hopefully, your mom wouldn't notice the two coffee mugs among the few wine glasses. Looking down at the table, you frowned, eyes staring holes into the polished wooden surface. This table used to be your family's favorite dining table before your mother gave it to you as a graduation present. Your father just gave you a couple hundred bucks, which you were thankful for. Having moved into a new apartment at the time with your boyfriend and his talking dog, the money went straight into getting more furniture and food.

As two arms wrapped around your waist, you jumped a little in surprise. "Hey," Shaggy whispered, resting his chin atop your head. "You got this."

You let out a deep breath, shutting your eyes before turning around in his grasp, your hands subconsciously looping around his neck, fiddling with the collar of his green button-down. "I can't help but worry."

Unlooping his arms from your waist, Shaggy brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. Gently, he ran his thumbs against your skin, causing goosebumps to rise up on your arms and neck; you couldn’t help but nuzzle your cheek into the palm of one of his hands. Looking down at you, Shaggy grinned, his gaze softening. "No worries, man," He spoke, "Like, this dinner is going to be groovy, babe. And, you know that Scooby and I will be here the whole time."

"I’m just so worried," You muttered, your eyes searching his, "I want them to love you, and Scooby. But what if she doesn't like you? I can't have that! I'm not worried about my dad, but my mom wants everything in my life to be perfect. Not that you're not perfect, I think you are very perfect. But she still, even now, expects me to have a house, be a doctor-" Shaggy didn't let you finish, swooping down and capturing your lips with his. You melted against him, sighing happily as he kissed you deeply, your hands coming up to cradle his face. "Zoinks..." You muttered as Shaggy pulled back, giving you a confidant grin.

"We'll be fine, babe," He promised. "I mean, like, I'm kind of nervous, too. This will be my first time, like, meeting your folks," Pulling back, he held you at a little less than an arm's length, admiring you as he added. "Like, we got each other's backs. Right, Scoob?" He then asked, looking down at his furry friend, who was tossing marshmallows in his mouth on the couch. 

"Right!" He agreed, popping his tongue out to grab a marshmallow that he threw in the air.

"You are right," You looked back up at Shaggy with a grin, growing more and more confident as you felt your heart warm from his words. "We'll be just fine."

Shaggy's smile grew bigger, pulling you back into his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around you and he quickly swayed the both of you side to side, "Like, babe, this is going to be so much fun!"

~~~

As soon as you heard the knock on the front door, you felt like your heart had just gone from zero to one hundred. Shaggy stood beside you, his arm wrapped around your waist as you opened the door, your mother's bright smile greeting you as she stepped inside with your father in tow. She was dressed to the nines; dark purple cocktail dress, with a small slit on the side, sheer tights, her favorite black heels, and her hair and makeup done. Your father, on the other hand, was wearing a simple polo and jeans. 

Immediately, your mother enveloped you into a hug, pressing a kiss onto your cheek, before glancing between you and Shaggy. "And who is this lovely gentleman?" She asked sweetly, though you knew that tone well. She used that tone of voice when she was attending social events, that sort of fake kindness; it made your worry grow.

Pulling out of the hug, you reached over and looped your arm through Shaggy’s; your free hand pressing against his upper arm, "Mom, this is my boyfriend, Shaggy," You glanced up at Shaggy, unable to stop a genuine smile from forming on your face, despite your overwhelming nerves. 

His gaze met yours, his own smile widening, before his attention shifted back towards your mom, "It's, like, so nice to meet you, Mrs. L/N," He greeted politely.

"Call me Betty," She replied. "’Shaggy?’ Is that a family name, or..?" Your mother trailed off, as she raised an eyebrow.

Shaggy felt his face heat up slightly, “Well, like, my name is actually Norville. But, like, everybody calls me ‘Shaggy’.” He answered, actually becoming slightly nervous.

Your mother hummed, nodding her head slowly before speaking, “She hasn’t told me much about you when she calls…”

"Well," You began, clearing your throat, "I’ve told Dad about Shaggy. Right, Dad?" You asked, bringing your attention to your father, who hadn't even said a word.

Your father simply nodded, looking away from Shaggy. "Yeah," He stated.

Frowning slightly, you gestured for them to come in, "Well, I have dinner ready, let's eat, yeah?"

"Yeah, like, I'm starved." Shaggy clapped his hands together once, rubbing them as Scooby ran into the room, skidding slightly against the hardwood floor.

"Rinner!" Scooby cheered, shocking both your mother and father.

Your mother stared at Scooby, taking a surprised step back, as he followed Shaggy to the dining room, "You- Your dog... He talks?" She asked, bewildered by his sudden appearance.

You chuckled lightly, "He does, yes."

"Does he have a name?" Your father then asked, finally speaking up.

"His name is Scoobert Doo, but you can call him ‘Scooby’ or ‘Scoob’." You answered, petting Scooby’s head before he scampered off to the dining room. You gave your parents a smile before leading your mother and father into the dining room where both Shaggy and Scooby were sitting in their seats, napkins tucked into their collars, holding a fork and knife in each hand - and paw. Your mother and father took their seats across from you and Shaggy, Scooby sitting at the head of the table. Your mother gave Scooby a glance, eyeing the large canine who sat in a chair, like a human. "Well, uh, who's ready for dinner?" You then asked, breaking the awkward silence. Once you came back from the kitchen, placing the dinner on the table for all to eat, you noticed how our father was staring at the table, your mother was fiddling with her napkin - probably inspecting it, and Shaggy was pulling at his collar. You could tell that everyone was extremely uncomfortable, so, figuring that something must be wrong, you took a deep breath and cleared your throat before saying anything. "So," You said as you took a seat next to Shaggy, "Dinner’s served."

And for the next ten or so minutes, you ate in silence. Not a word out of anyone, even Scooby and Shaggy, which surprised you. But before you could do anything to save the dinner, your mother spoke up. 

"Uh, darling, your ham is a bit dry." She pointed out as she wiped some stray sauce off of her lips, "Perhaps it would be better if you poured the gravy over it instead." She suggested, watching you curiously.

"Oh, right," You muttered, feeling a pang in your chest. "I must've forgotten. I had a lot to do today to prepare for dinner..." You continued, "Upon hearing about your sudden visit." Your voice trailed off, hoping they would drop the topic.

Luckily for you, they did. "Is that so?" Your father asked, his voice calm, almost emotionless.

You nodded slowly. "Yes, I had to go to the store to get a few things, as well as some groceries. Tidy up and whatnot."

"And you didn't offer to help?" Your mother suddenly - with an eyebrow raised - turned to look at Shaggy, who's eyes widened.

"Uh, like, I did, Scoob and I carried in all the food, dude." He answered, grinning as Scooby nodded in agreement.

You broke into a smile, "Yeah, didn't need to go out for a second trip with these two." You giggled, earning a slight glare from your mother.

"So, Shaggy, what are you studying in college?" Your mother then changed the subject, lightly picking at her food with her fork; eyeing your boyfriend with an intimidating stare.

"Ah, um," Shaggy looked towards you as if you might know what he should answer with; his hesitance made your mother's frown deepen, and your father looked up from his food; before you could even butt in to help, your mother spoke up again.

"You must be studying something," Her tone was icy, though not hostile, "You must have a job at least. Something that is paying the bills to this..." She paused, in slight disgust, gesturing to the apartment, "... Place."

You reached out and grabbed Shaggy's hand, holding it in yours on his thigh, you spoke up, "He and his friends run a business together," You answered proudly, glancing at Shaggy before looking back at your mother.

She paused her chewing, staring at you, before swallowing, "Ah, so self-employed." She commented dryly.

Shaggy frowned, poking at his own food - which was not usual for him, unless he was incredibly unhappy; which was rare. Your mother reminded him of his father. His father had wanted him to get a ‘real’ job, go to school, and be just like him. But Shaggy knew that he never wanted to be his father. Shaggy's stomach rolled uncomfortably - no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. The dinner continued very slowly, and awkwardly. Shaggy kept shifting in his seat, occasionally throwing glances your way, though mostly his focus remained on his food. Scooby was also uncharacteristically quiet, which was unnerving to say the least. And you just wanted the world to open up and swallow you whole.

"So," You cleared your throat, giving your mother an awkward smile as you stabbed your fork into the meat on your plate. "How have things been with you and dad?" You asked, as politely as you could, despite your uneasiness.

"Quite pleasant lately." Your mother responded, seemingly uninterested. 

You nodded, "That's good," You mumbled under your breath, causing Shaggy to glance at you with a questioning look - though his expression quickly softened upon seeing you looking so tense and nervous; he squeezed your hand gently, letting his thumb rub soothing circles onto your knuckles. This was more than enough to put your mind at ease. You smiled slightly at him, glad that he was there beside you, helping you cope with the tension that seemed to permeate every part of the house. "How are you liking Coolsville so far?"

Your mother scoffed, rolling her eyes, "I don't know why you hadn't just stayed in Charleston, but this... This place is nothing like what I imagined it would be." Your mother's face twisted in disgust as she took a deep breath, clearly ready to unleash her pent-up frustrations. “I don’t know why you have to be so ungrateful, Y/N. You had all the potential to become a doctor but look at you now, living in this tiny apartment with that... That-" She couldn't even finish, blindly gesturing to Shaggy with a wave of her hand. "He doesn't even have a real job! What on earth were you thinking?" She then gestured to Scooby, "And a dog at the dinner table? Are you out of your mind? So unsanitary."

The words stung, but something inside you snapped as you glanced over to Shaggy and Scooby. The crestfallen look on their faces, it felt as if your heart shattered. You couldn't take it anymore. With a sudden surge of determination and protectiveness, you pushed your chair back, the sound echoing throughout the room. No one spoke about your boyfriend and your best friend in that way. No one.

"Zoinks, Mom, I am tired of your constant disapproval.” You huffed, “I love my life the way it is. I am happy with my choices, with my apartment, and with Shaggy," You declared, your voice steady and strong, surprising even yourself. "Shaggy is beyond amazing! I love how much he loves food - and whatever I cook - how laid-back he is, and I love how good he is at ventriloquism." You glared daggers at your mothers, palms pressed down against the table as you continued, "He may not have a conventional job, catching ghosts and everything-''

"Ghosts?" You mother voiced, but she was ignored as you continued.

"But, he is kind, loving, and makes me happy." You sighed, sitting back down in your chair, a small smile on your face as you looked over at Shaggy, your hand going back into his awaiting one - who looked at you with such admiration in his eyes - "I love Shaggy. I love him more than words can allow me to express. I also love Scooby, he’s my best friend." You looked back over at your mother, your smile dropping, "And if you don't like that, then you can leave."

Your mother's eyes widened in shock, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The room fell into a heavy silence as your words hung in the air, a declaration of love. You felt a rush of empowerment wash over you, knowing that you had finally stood up against her.

Shaggy squeezed your hand, that adoring, love-sick smile of his melting your heart as you looked back over at his, your frown immediately turning back into a grin; Scooby began clapping a moment later.

Finally recovering from the shock and embarrassment, your mother cleared her throat - "Excuse me," She whispered, as she stood, "I believe that it would be best that your father and I leave." Your father nodded his head in agreement before standing up as well. Your mother held onto her husband's arm before they both left, leaving Shaggy alone with you.

You sighed once more as the front door shut, your eyes shutting briefly before you began to laugh. “Well, Shaggy, you were right. That was fun.” 

Shaggy stood from his seat, pulling you into his side, his grin bright as he gently squeezed you, “You did, like, amazing, babe.” He pulled back slightly, “I’m really, like, really proud of you.” 

Your smile widened, your cheeks and chest feeling incredibly warm as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Thanks, honey.” You reached up on your tip-toes to softly rub the tip of your nose against his, “I couldn’t have done this without you,” You paused, looking over at Scooby, “Or you, Scoob.”

The Great Dane grinned, giving you a paw-thumbs up, “Rou’re Relcome!”

“And, like, thank you,” Shaggy brought your attention back to him, his eyes softening, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“But, I did.” You reached up to brush the sandy blonde stands from his forehead, your fingers caressing his cheek before cupping it, “I hate when people are so quick to judge you… I mean, I just… I just hate it. She shouldn’t have said those things about you, especially right in front of your face like that.” 

Shaggy said nothing for a moment, a deep, longing sigh escaping him as he stared down lovingly at you, “Like, I love you.”

“Awe,” You gushed, “I love you too.” You muttered, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips before slipping out of his grasp, “Now, how about you both get some more comfy clothes on, and I’ll make some lasagna and vanilla ice cream for dessert.”

---

Main Masterlist | Mystery Incorporated Masterlist

[delta86-art]

Originally, I was just going to do a few doodles of my pikachu PMD hero Ryan, but things got out of hand... again...

(*Ali is fine... probably...)

The personality I have for Ryan is somewhat vague, but I imagine him to be someone who is confident in himself and isn't shy about saying what's on his mind, but who also has the tendency to be rash and let his anger get the best of him (can be easily goaded into a fight and overestimate his abilities). Although, having amnesia doesn't seem to bother him as much as one might expect.

Ryan is more likely to do dumb or goofy stuff when he and Ali are together and he and Ali become a little chaotic duo (Ryan has more restraint of the two. Ali tends to let her curiosity get the better of her common sense).

Thats... all I have right now :P

[fangirls-other-art]

I’ll admit it, I’ve been a bit obsessed with these ladies lately lol

Please Do Not Repost!

Reblogging is appreciated but not necessary ^^

[arcane-rush]

Here's another one of my aus! So everyone remembers the puppet episode where Bill took over Dipper's body. And everyone, I think, also knows that Bill's "doctor" tried to blind him so he couldn't see into the third dimension anymore. And when Bill was possessing Dipper, he poured soda in his eyes. So I have an idea, and here's how I think it would go.

Bill, right after pouring soda in his eyes: Why... Why is everything black? Why can't I see?

Dipper, annoyed: Maybe because I don't drink out of my eyes!

Bill, has begun to panic and not listening: Why can't I see?

Dipper seeing Bill begin to have a panic attack: Hey, just, wash my eyes out with water, and you'll be fine. Oh... You know what, I'll lead you to the sink ok?

Bill nods and lets Dipper lead him to the sink and wash his eyes out. After he's finished, he goes back up to Dipper's room and curls up on his bed. Dipper is still annoyed that he doesn't have his body back, but is more sympathetic after seeing Bill panic.

Dipper: Why did you panic when you couldn't see? You don't have a mouth, do you drink out of your eye? Is that why you poured the soda into my eyes? How do you eat? Do you even need to eat?

Bill immediately has a flashback of Ford asking him a million questions, and being so gentle with him, just like Dipper's being.

Bill: My eye turns into my mouth when I eat. And... Being blind brings back... Bad memories.

Dipper pauses, and realizes that Bill isn't just evil, something must have happened to make him like this. Something must have hurt him so badly to be like this now.

Dipper: If you wanna talk about it, I'm here... You don't have to do this alone. I don't know why you're not acting evil right now, but since you're not... You can always talk to me. As long as you don't try to hurt me or my family again.

Bill leaves after that, and Dipper gets his body back. Mabel's a bit mad at him for missing the show, but forgives him when he explains. They don't tell anyone else about it till later.

Bill visits Dipper in his dreams and they talk about stuff. Dipper always tells Mabel about it, but it's kinda annoying cause he does it every night. Mabel thinks that it's because he can't possess anything at daytime, and figures since Bill said he wanted a puppet, he could possess inanimate objects, and makes a tiny Bill plushie. This works, and Dipper carries the plush everywhere, but he has to be alone when he's talking to Bill, because they don't want anyone else to know. Until Ford comes back.

So Ford comes back, and plush Bill is just clinging onto Dipper. Dipper connects the dots and forgets that there are other people here, takes out plush Bill, and asks;

Dipper: Bill, do you talk to me so much because I remind you of him?

Bill, answering because he also forgot the others are there: Maybe...

And Ford freaks out, but then they have to get rid of the FBI. So here's what happens after.

Ford: Why do you have that? Why do you talk to him, and why do you trust him!?

Dipper: I-

Bill, cutting in: He's my therapist. As you know, I have issues, and he's helping me with them.

Ford: What are you planning, Bill?

Mabel: I think he's just sad because he missed you. He won't stop talking about you.

Ford: What!?

Bill: Wait a minute... The portal is still open... Can I come through it, so I can stop being a plushie?

Ford: No!- Wait... Why did you ask? You could have come through already. Why ask?

Bill: Cause Dipper and Mabel say it's polite to ask for things instead of just taking them, or doing things...

Dipper and Mabel nod.

Ford: ...I'll turn the portal back on, and you can come through, but if you hurt anyone, just once, I'm kicking you out.

Bill: Okay!

So now Bill lives with them, and protects Mabel and Dipper. Ford eventually warms up to him and they get together. Stan and Bill have a friendly rivalry about who takes care of Dipper and Mabel better. And when Bill meets Fiddleford, he gives him all his memories back, except the really really traumatic ones, and fixes his brain. He does this of his own free will, it was his idea, and he does it knowing that Fiddleford will hate him afterwards, and Ford might leave his for Fiddleford because they did have feelings for each other. Fiddleford tolerates him, but doesn't forgive him. Not fully.

Since Bill sees Dipper's dreams, he knows about his parents divorce. Bill simply gives his parents the idea of letting them stay in gravity falls, since they seem happier than ever in their letters. Bill just gives them the idea, with Mabel and Dipper's permission. Mabel suggested it, actually. The parents visit, and decide to let them stay on their own.

And that's the au. I'm calling it the Big brother au,since Bill takes that role with Dipper and Mabel.

[lolacucaaa]

my (mostly) final Edwardian Mystery Gang designs!

i promise Shaggy and Scooby will be added later my homework schedule just can’t handle that rn LOL

[textless]

[shima-draws]

PMD Sky where everything’s the same except Pip is live tweeting while she and Chimchar are stuck in the future. Somehow these tweets are crossing the boundaries of time and space to end up on the guild members’ feed and it’s just shit like this with no context

[lostandfoundbook]

Chapter 8

Read it on AO3

Read it on Wattpad

Sitting in the bars captivating glow was a new experience for Alex. She was used to the dampening sounds of drug addicts next to her. All of them fiending for their next fix, her included. The rooms would be dark and damp, offering little comfort to the people around. This was different, however.

The bar was warm in a way that was very settling for the outfit she was wearing. It lit an orange tint over all the patrons resting there, partaking in what little small talk they did. She felt at peace with her life for the first time in quite a long time.

She was sat with Everette across from her who was nursing a whiskey cocktail to his lips. The conversations ebbed and flowed throughout the room, but these two were silently watching each other. Sight reading whatever emotions they could gleam from each other.

Alex sat sipping her own drink, a glass of rose pinot, the alcohol taste making her cringe each time she went back for another taste. She never did like the flavor of alcohol, instead favoring the effects it had on her body.

"So, the play?" He finally spoke. "How is that going?"

He sounded a bit incredulous. Alex swirled the wine around in her glass. "It's going well. We're performing it next week. It'd be really cool if you came"

Everette rolled his eyes a bit before a smile spread onto his face. "Of course I'm coming. I may not like theatre but I'm always going to support you"

This earned a grin from Alex's mouth. "It's gonna be awesome. We've worked so hard to pull this piece together. We're doing Spring Awakening but the director has drastically changed everything, so if you think you know what it's going to look like already, you actually don't. I think it's really cool, but the other cast mates hate it."

"You like it though?"

Alex's face brightened. "Yes! I love ballet. It's such an expressive art form. I've always wanted to be apart of a professional ballet production and now I am. The others are so used to doing ballet so it's not special for them the way it's special for me. It's like a little secret I get to hold to myself"

Everette took another drink of his whiskey, masking the dislike in his choice of drink. It tasted like a burning wood-y sensation as it went down his throat. Whiskey isn't meant to taste like wood, he thought. "That's really cool, Andie. Hey, listen. About those photos..."

Her smile slowly faded as her eyes focused on the man in front of her. "Right now?"

"Better than when we're shit faced"

Alex cringed a bit at his tern of phrase, but he was correct. Better now than later. "Alright, then. Let's do it."

He quickly finessed his phone out of his pocket before sliding over to the camera option. Alex put her arm around his shoulder and smiled. "Why don't you kiss my cheek?" He added.

"Oh. Alright"

She placed a kiss on his cheek and watched as he snapped a couple of photos. The situation was very odd to her. It felt like taking a photo with a fan, not taking a photo with her boyfriend. Were they even dating at this point?

"Everette?" Her voice rang out as hollow, lacking any confidence she previously had. "Yeah?"

"Would you say we're dating?"

He turned to face her front on and took his hands in hers. "We're whatever you want us to be, baby." His hands were warm in hers, almost sweaty, and she noticed that they were much larger than hers. "I could be your girlfriend" she added, not making eye contact.

It wasn't that she didn't mean it. She WOULD like to be his girlfriend, but she couldn't help fighting this funny feeling like there was something she was missing. Like she herself was an incomplete picture, painted only in black and white, just waiting for somebody to come along and splash paint onto the canvas that was her life.

Maybe Everette would be her paint.

"That would be nice. We need to talk more, though. I don't like being out of contact. It's like long distance dating and I was never good at that. You can't form a connection that way"

That wasn't entirely true, she thought. She'd made many great friends through online forums, and she felt like he was trying to contest this. "You haven't met anybody online you can connect with?" She added

"No. Not really. I know you have. It's not the same, though. Not for me. For me, It's like building up walls around a relationship that box you in, and you're limited to a key set of interactions. It's like a game."

A game. Was that how he viewed their relationship thus far? As some sort of a game he could win? Was this all some sort of a game to him? That's what it was starting to feel like for Alex at this point. The pictures, the limited interactions, the text-to-call dialogues. All of it felt like.. a joke.

"Why don't you just tell me what you know about me?" Alex eventually blurted out, suddenly switching the topic. "What?" Everette asked back, true confusion in his eyes.

"You keep talking about things I've said or things I've done, and nobody around here" she gestured to the bar they were in, indicating she meant the hotel, "will tell me. Why don't you just tell me what you know about me? It would make things so much easier." When she ended her sentence, she picked up her glass of wine and finished it.

Everette eventually nodded, picking up his own glass and taking a drink. "Well, you and I make music together. You stopped doing theatre because of how it limited you in the sphere of creation. You could perform all you wanted, but people never showed up to the things you created. So you stopped creating and started in a different field. Music."

He took another drink out of his cup as Alex listened fervently. "You and I were trying to find a way to mix the two. You didn't want to do a tour but you did want to keep performing. We figured we could host pop up venues around the city and start enough hype to go to other cities and do the same thing. It would've been like the Survive tour, but just us."

Alex frowned. She didn't remember what happened after the Survive event. It was the one memory that stood clear in her head once. The one memory she could grasp onto, hoping it would lead her way back to all of the others. "What do you mean the Survive tour?" She asked.

"You were going to keep performing after the Survive event. Going around the city and doing the same thing I just said, the pop up shows."

The thought hit her suddenly. THAT'S why they were breaking into the hotel. The hotel had multiple theatre's connected to it, and it only made sense that they were trying to find a way in to host their own event behind Oliver's back. "So, the night I fell..."

Everette nodded quickly, like he didn't want to continue the conversation anymore. "Yeah."

"Alright then."

Logically, it all made sense now. Alex was living with Everette and furthering her career. She was trying to plan events and she was blacklisted. Oliver hated her, and the only person she could rely on was Everette. She stopped for a moment to think about the rumors of fighting.

"What about--"

"Listen. It's been a really long day. I don't think I want to keep talking about this." He sighed and finished off his whiskey, finally grimacing at the flavor. "Bartender?" he called out, pointing towards both of their glasses. "Actually, I think that's probably enough for tonight" Alex said, raising her hand and smiling towards the bartender. He smiled in return, walking off.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You brought it, right?"

Everette was taken off guard for a moment. "Yeah. What does that have to do with my drinks?"

Alex shook her head in amusement, a smile growing on her face as she did so. "I've got a mini bar in my fridge in my room. Let's go up there."

Everette met her eyes, a smile forming on his face as well.

* * *

Sitting in her room in the evening glow was quite nice. It reminded her of all the times she had talked with Oliver, except this time, it was different. "So, where'd you put the stuff?" Alex spoke out as she watch Everette grab a beer from her mini-fridge. "It's in my satchel. I put it on the couch."

Alex leaned herself back to get momentum on the bed and kicked herself up. She walked over towards his bag and reached in. "I didn't even see you bring this." She said.

"It blends in. I wear all black. Do you need help with that?"

"No. I remember how to inject."

Alex went about her process. She pulled the vials out of the satchel along with the needles. "Give me your belt" She spoke out, wiggling her fingers in a 'Gimme' motion. "How do you even know I'm wearing one?"

"You're wearing a button up shirt with slacks. If you weren't wearing a belt, I'd shame you."

The sound of his belt buckle being undone was all that could be heard throughout the room. the 'zwip' sound of it being unsheathed from his belt loops was the next thing she heard, along with his voice going "Here"

"Do you want any?" She asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice. She liked having gab sessions. Spending time with her boyfriend might be nice. "No." He responded. Her heart fell a little bit at this. She couldn't quite place why.

"I'm going to do this out on the balcony. You keep watch." She responded, taking all her items with her. She walked out and shut the door slightly behind her, leaving open ajar. It was a see through door, but it was the distance that made her feel better about it.

The air was getting warmer each week and yet the air this time threatened to nip at what bare skin she had revealing through her outfit. She repositioned her clothes as she sat down on the couch. She quickly tossed her jacket off, offering the wind even more of her body to blast away at.

She looped the belt around the underside of her lower brachial artery and squeezed it tight under her arm. She felt it begin to go numb, so she looped the belt shut and wrapped the dangle-y bit around the inside of her arm.

She grabbed for the needle and vial, tipping the vial upside-down as she drew out the medication. 'Medication' She bit back to herself in spite. She set the needle down for a moment and looked back towards the door.

From where she was sitting, she could see Everette sitting on her couch watching TV, drinking a beer. It was a far contrast to all of the conversations she'd sat here having with Oliver. A big piece of her yearned for Everette to come outside and sit with her. Talk to her. About anything, at this point.

But she had told him to keep watch. She turned back around to face the needle in front of her. She looked at her arm, turning a bright shade of red. She slapped at her cubital fossa, looking for a good vein. She picked the needle back up and she injected the Morphine into her system.

The feeling of the needle in her skin was pinching tight, but she had become used to this feeling at this point. She welcomed it. She put pressure on the insertion point of the needle as she pulled it out, apply pressure continuously. She set the needle down, capping it, and gathered all of her belongings again.

She walked back inside and put the stuff back in the satchel. "Are you letting me keep this?" She spoke out, the effects of the drug beginning to take effect. Her entire being down to her bones felt relaxed and heavy, like lead weights had entered her system instead of Morphine.

"Yeah, if you want. Just don't overdose on it, or something." He spoke out, turning to look towards Alex. "Why don't you come sit with me?"

Alex walked over to the couch and sat herself down next to him. Her arm hurt, but it wasn't bad. It felt like a pin prick at most. If she twisted wrong, it felt like a pinch. Her head was swarming with emotions. One thing she remembered liking about Morphine was the way it didn't numb her, emotionally. It took it away, sure, but she could still feel. Feel the love, feel the joy, feel the pure euphoria.

She turned to look towards Everette, who was staring at her with a weird face. This is when she realized he was leaning in for a kiss. She turned to meet him in the middle, their lips planting on each others. There was no love in the kiss. It was nothing like she remembered from any of the flings she had in her life time. It was connectionless. No spark.

He kept kissing her, though. Attempting to deepen the kiss. She continued kissing him, his lips warm and soft against her. He was so close to her that she could smell his scent, strong and reminiscent of 'Man'. It felt familiar. Too familiar. Like a flame burning the inside of her stomach. Like something was wrong.

He continued to kiss on her neck, moving down near her collarbones. She just realized she left her jacket outside. She didn't want this. She was beginning to remember why she didn't want this.

"Get off of me" Alex called out, pushing him off.

"What the hell, Andie?! We were having fun"

She stood and and put distance between the two of them. "No. You were having fun. You didn't ask me how I felt about this situation. About our relationship"

He stood up too. The look in his eyes was dark and foreboding, with an essence of hate in them. "You're the one who asked me to keep dating you" He growled out, taking a step closer towards her. "You're the one who invited me up to your room. You're the one who came onto me. You asked for it"

"Excuse me?!" She shot back, closing the distance between the two. "What the hell do you think you're talking about? You're in MY room, you have no right to talk to me that--"

Slap. The back of his palm made contact with the side of her face. "Shut the hell up!" he yelled out.

She stood silently for a moment while he continued to ramble on about how he was the man in the relationship.

"Get out."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer towards him. "You can't tell me-"

She pulled her wrist away from her and pushed him away and into the couch causing his knees to buckle underneath him. "Get the hell out of my room!" She screamed.

"Now hold on--"

She walked up to him and began to pound on his chest. "Get out! Get out, Get out, Get out!" She said, each time with more conviction and force. There was no need to steady her voice. There was no need to stop and think. The morphine may have weakened her punches, but Everette got the point quickly.

He stood up and quickly hauled ass out of the room, Alex continuing her attack all the while.

"You're insane!" he screamed, swinging the door open and running down the hall. "And you're an asshole! I never want to see you again!" She screamed, slamming the door behind her.

It wasn't long before she had Oliver banging on her door, questioning her about the noise. His room wasn't located too far from hers. That was the whole point in why she was placed here. Currently, she resented it.

"What is that matter with you?!" he called out while shutting the door behind him. "It's 10 o'clock at night. There are people trying to sleep after working hard all day. What gives?!"

Alex walked over towards her mini fridge and grabbed a mini bottle of moscato. Maybe this was the way her life was destined to be. Life of revolving doors of men screaming at her. "Piss off. I'm not in the mood."

She looked around her room for her purse. She still had a couple of 'Shitty Joints' that Everette gave her before. "Can I smoke in this room? Isn't there cleaners who can clean these? Or is it different with suites."

Oliver stood there, dumbstrucken. "Are you okay?" was all he managed out.

"That didn't answer my question." She frowned.

"Yes, you can smoke in here, I guess. It's not gonna kill me. Now answer my question. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She spat the words out as if they were vinegar on her tongue that she couldn't swallow. She was a great actress, but even she didn't believe her own conviction there. She knew Oliver wouldn't but it either.

"What happened? I saw Everette running away"

She didn't want to tell him the truth. The truth was... embarrassing. She had started a relationship with another abusive asshole. What else was there to say? How else do you dish out such a heavy dish of emotional honestly without cracking under the weight of the pressure?

"It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about it." was all she had the courage to get out. "I can't find my purse"

"The one with the shitty joints?"

Alex sighed. "Are you going to help me look or not?"

"No. I'm going to go get you better weed. I'll be right back." he turned to head for the door before Alex responded "It's going to take too long!"

He kept walking anyways. Whatever. He was out the door without another word and Alex was left to fend for her purse by herself. It figured. When were men ever useful? Besides the nice job her got her. And the nice two story suite with a whole floor she's never used. And the weed he's going to get.

She still hated men.

She looked over towards the satchel and sighed. It contained three vials of Morphine and multiple needles. She walked over to it and picked it up turning to head towards her closet.

When she made it there, her feet were exhausted. She had been on them all day, walking all around the hotel. She had likely gotten her 10k steps in for the day at this point. She'd walk around and look at all the different plants they had blooming throughout the hotel. Gazing through all the aquariums they had set up in different locations of the floors. Admiring the local art they had hung up on each wall.

She'd come to realize that the entire hotel wasn't just full of life, but was in it of itself alive. Bustling with people. Filled with culture. Each corner told a different story from a different decade, and each floor shared a different mystery of history being held behind it's walls.

It was invigorating to be able to stay there. Like somehow her head injury had been a blessing in disguise, and the universe was replacing her older, bad memories with newer, happier ones. Not counting the one that just happened with Everette.

Everything felt more... special. Maybe she was just high. She threw the satchel onto the floor of the closet near the island sitting in the middle and she rummaged through her drawers to find a pair of sweat pants she liked. She settled on a pair of gray ones. She peeled off her previous outfit and put on her pants, quickly finding a tank top to wear over top. A simple black one with a band's logo on it.

When she walked out of her closet, she bumped into Oliver, causing him to drop whatever he was holding. "Sorry!" the both of them muttered out.

"No, I'm sorry, I should've watched where I was going" she quickly replied, bending down to pick up the joints he'd dropped. She handed them to him and gave him a fake smile. "Your face is red." He said, grabbing the joint.

"What? Like, I'm blushing? Humans do that you know."

"No. It looks like someone hit you."

Alex tensed up. "I don't want to talk about it." She said and quickly brushed past him to walk towards the balcony. The room really was massive. It wasn't just two-stories, but it was a full on live in suite with a kitchenette attached that she never used and an entire library full of books. There was a little reading section upstairs, and Alex knew she was going to attack those sooner or later.

"Fine, sorry, I didn't know it was related. Whatever." He said as the two of them reached the balcony, sitting down. "You were out here earlier?"

"You are SO bad at not talking about it!" she blurted out, picking up the jacket and putting it over her shoulders. "It just shocked me, is all! I'm sorry"

"It shocks you that you live in my own house?"

"It's a hotel room, and technically I own it" he said, handing her a joint. She reached to grab it and extended her arm. "What happened to your elbow?" He asked. She knew exactly what he was talking about, yet instead she coyly turned her elbow to face him instead of her cubital fossa.

"I think my elbow looks fine" She said, turning it. She had her arms tucked into the inside of her shoulder to hide the proof. "I'm fine. Stop worrying, dad."

"I am not your father." he shot back, reeling at the comment bestowed upon him. "Then stop acting like a dad. You aren't my dad." The two met in eye contact, a silent air of agreement between the two. They weren't going to talk about it, and that was it.

She put the joint up to her mouth and and lit it up. The familiar taste of lemon-y pine hits across her taste buds hard, dancing and inviting her flavors to peek their heads in. Slight tastes of grass and dirt, which sounds bad, but was actually invited by Alex. It tasted fresh. Green. New. Unlike Everette's Dirt Weed.

"So, when are you going to tell me about your arm"

Alex eyed him up, looking at his stance. He looked relaxed and unguarded. Happy, she thought. "When you stop being normal and start being an addict."

he guffawed at her. "When exactly do you expect me to become an addict?!" he retorted, completely missing her confession. Maybe he got it, maybe he didn't. "I don't! That's NOT my point!"

"And what exactly is your point? Why don't you spell it out for me?"

She gritted her teeth together and gave a sideways frown. "I'm not good with confessions."

"I never was either. What if I tell you something about me, and you tell me about you. Deal?"

She thought for a moment before nodded in return, looking out at the distance of the skyscraper skyline. Stars littered the night sky and the twinkled and gleamed so bright, as if they were reaching out to Alexandria herself to thank her for seeing them. They were so beautiful.

"I love stars." She spoke out. "That's not really a confession, not a statement" she added.

"Okay. When I was in college..." he paused as he spoke and looked out towards the city as well. They mirrored each other in positioning, both staring out to the sky in the hopes that it would eat them alive if they stared long enough. Anything for release from this situation.

"My mom got really sick, and my dad was already dead. I was going through business schools at the time, but I instantly switched majors. For her. The hotel could wait with shareholders for just a few years. By the time I got back into business the hotel had so many expansions I'd never thought of. I continued growing it from there and..." He trailed off.

Alex looked down towards the floor. "What happened with your mom?"

"She died."

There was a moment of silence between the two. Maybe to honor her, she thought to herself. Partially because she didn't know what to say. There were days she wished death upon her parents, but she highly suspected their situations were different.

"I'm sorry. There are no words to describe that loss"

"I know. I put so much of it into the business, but it's a big reason why I'm so closed off from people, I think." It was a bid of emotional honestly that Alex didn't really expect from him. So raw and honestly that it felt 10 times easier to do what she needed to do. "I did morphine earlier."

It's like a band-aid. You have to rip it off all at once, or else it hurts a LOT worse in the long run. "Well, I kinda expected that. No offense. Not tonight, either, but eventually."

She pouted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Everette is a really bad influence on you."

She scratched at her injection site and frowned. "I think I agree with that."

"What happened with you two, anyway?"

She sighed. Everything else felt easier to talk about, but this felt a million times worse. How was she supposed to rip THIS band-aid off? "I don't know. I still don't want to talk about it."

"I told you my mom died." He said, sort of in disbelief. "You're really not gonna tell me? It's that bad?"

She stopped and questioned it herself. Was it that bad? "Yeah, to me it is."

"Well, alright then" He said, and took another puff off of his joint. "I'm sorry" She said.

"You don't have to apologize to me. You're the one who has to live with it."

She felt guilty in the pit of her stomach. She took another drag off of her joint before standing up and walking back inside for a minute. She ignored the 'where are you going' and 'what's wrongs' as she grabbed her wine and walked back outside.

"Liquid courage." she said as she sat down. "It's been a really shitty night for me, anyways. Do you want any?"

"Of that? Hell no. That taste like ass." he laughed and crinkled his nose. "It does not! It taste like... floral-y... and grape-y... and good!" She popped the lid off of the bottle and took a drink of it, only barely cringing at the taste. "You don't even like it!"

"I do! I don't like the alcohol in it." She giggled at her own statement. "Drinking alcohol but not liking the alcohol. It's silly. I get that." She verbally thought out loud. She took another drink, cringing less and less each time she did. "Anyway."

"What happened" he finally said, exasperated this time.

"I think it's obvious. Do you really need me to spell it out for you? He came onto me. I rejected him. He hit me. I hit him. A lot. He ran away. Is it not obvious?"

Oliver shook his head looking as if he himself had been hit. She guessed it was a lot of information, after all. "Can we ban him from the hotel already or something?" Oliver said, looking for recognition in her eyes. She looked down. "I don't know... He still has a lot of information."

Oliver shook his head as his expression hardened. "No, why do you need your memories? They'll come back eventually. He's just a prick and he's not worth your time or presence. You don't have to be around him to piece your life back together.

Alex scratched at the back of her neck and reached for the bottle again. She took another swig. "And how do you suppose I'm going to get my memories back? How do you suppose I can do any of the things I want to do without Everette? My music, my career, my life, it revolves around him."

It struck her as she said it.

"That's not a good thing, Alex"

She sighed and put her head in her hands. Her Joint had gone out at this point, and she was left with a muted haze of a drunken high. Morphine, Moscato, and weed. "I know. I'm realizing this, slowly. But... It's hard."

Oliver looked down at the floor. "I know. I can't relate to you, but I understand."

Alex looked out at the city and took another drink of her wine.

[vividaway]

LOST AND FOUND: MOODBOARD (CHAPTER 3)

read it here

[pokemon-npcs]

Sunkern's Fitness Journey (1/?)

[lets-try-some-writing]

Successors

Bumblebee knew he was different from the cycle he first began to comprehend the world around him. Where others of his age would play, he observed in silence. Where they screamed, Bumblebee merely allowed a hint of discomfort to emanate in his posture and his Sire would soon come to him. Too quiet, too composed, too quick to learn. But Bumblebee never doubted, nor did he question his Sire.

The others looked at him in concern, but Bumblebee saw no reason to worry about his situation. Why should he? They simply did not understand.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Bumblebee's earliest memory was one of a place of darkness and gloom, with many blue optics gazing down on him. He recalled arms and raptorial legs running over him, tending to him from where he resided in a cradle of primordial developmental fluid. It was comforting, peaceful even. The form that loomed above him was safety, it was love, and it was protection. Often he heard songs that resonated with his very core, usually accompanied by those many optics shining through the casing that contained him. That time of his life was hazy and distant, but he never forgot the blue of the optics that observed him.

He recalled his chamber of warmth being cut open and the chill of the cavernous space assaulting him. His first cries echoed in the damp air before he was soothed by servos that were familiar and yet so different from the appendages he was used to touching his place of gestation. He could not see, he could not hear, however he could feel the steady thrum of the powerful being that held him as he was taken from the gloom and to where the wind blew harshly and the air grew dry.

Distant memories, echoes of something that felt right.

The one who held him became a constant in Bumblebee's existence. He was small, weak, and underdeveloped. Instinctually he knew this as his tender cradled him and marched through what he could only assume was dead land. There was no smell of life, no scent of anything moving or mechanical. The sting of what he would come to know as plasma miasma was everywhere, but aside from that, it was simply him and his strangely familiar caretaker. This lasted for a time, but his memories were not very clear regarding all that occurred during that time. All he could say for certain was that when his optics finally achieved full functionality, he knew immediately that his situation was precarious at best.

He was brought to the Autobots in the arms of the one and only Optimus Prime, and for that reason, Bumblebee was quick to learn his place. Instincts told him to act, to do... something violent. But Optimus always knew, and when Bumblebee reached to activate coding hidden within his subsystems on instinct, the Prime would stare down at him with frigid optics, calculating and demanding. Very rarely did he need to say a word, but when Bumblebee was handed off to other mecha to be tended to for a time, Optimus always spoke to him first. Over and over the mantra was repeated whenever he was given to Ratchet for examination or to Jazz to be watched over during Optimus's absence.

"Restrain yourself and blend in. Remain in control and maintain this form. Do not succumb to the hunger and do not question. We must not be discovered so soon."

Bumblebee knew the optics that gazed down upon him, he knew the voice that spoke with the same deep hum that comforted him. Optimus was his Sire, and he would obey. He did not know why nor did he feel the need to seek answers. Even as a sparkling, he could follow the orders of his maker. The hunger that burned within him was pushed down and the urge to escape what was quickly feeling like a too-small shell was overcome. He had his orders, and he refused to disobey. Deep in his spark, he knew death would await him if he failed, and another part of him was quick to come to the conclusion that his Sire could easily to replace him. There was no need for communication for that truth to be revealed. Whatever he and his Sire were, they both were well aware of the unspoken rules.

"Obey or perish."

That was their shared command. Bumblebee obeyed his Sire, and Optimus in turn followed orders that he did not see fit to reveal. Whatever the case, it was none of Bumblebee's concern. When he was with Ratchet, he kept still and quiet, watching and adjusting his behavior to match what he saw around him. His coding and mental state changed, no longer controlled by instinct and instead by the growing persona that was taking root in his processors. From Jazz he learned to be energetic and hopeful, from Ratchet he learned seriousness and duty, from Ironhide he gained strength, from Preceptor knowledge, from Ultra Magnus strategic training... the list went on. Vorns passed by and he played his part. Bumblebee did not question, nor did the Autobots around him comment on his eerie levels of maturity at such a young age. There was a war to be won and no room to consider.

With time, Bumblebee learned to think as those around him did, he acted liked them, spoke like them, and carried himself as any other youngling. And yet despite parading himself as if he were a completely normal Cybertronian, there was forever the nagging sense deep within him that he was something other. The death around him did not bother him. While he did grow angry over the lost lives, the carnage itself had no influence over his mind. Combat came to him naturally, and often he found himself inclined to his denta and claw over blade and blaster. He did not fully understand it when the request to activate dormant coding periodically appeared on his HUD, but whenever he so much as looked at is a klik too long, his Sire almost always appeared by his side in short succession.

"Ignore it. The time has not yet come. Continue to live as you have, you will understand when you are required to."

He obeyed.

There were only a few times where he failed to follow the orders given, and he was always put back in his place. The instincts he was carefully told to ignore occasionally made itself known. Sometimes his jaw ached to unhinge, to widen and expand when he gazed upon the dying calling out for aid. Optimus never failed to cuff him in those instances or even harshly pull on his door wings to return him to reality. Occasionally his plating itched and he had the overwhelming urge to shift, to unfold and escape the confines of that which held him. It was worst on the battlefield when the rush of conflict flooded his processors with sheer euphoria. In such situations, Optimus was always there and ready to beat him into the ground should he fail to follow the order to restrain himself. While rare, there were even times when Bumblebee found himself starting to hoard energon, consuming more than he needed to and scouting out potential safe havens. He did not understand why he did so, but Optimus hauling him deep into the underground portion of the base and locking him up for a few cycles got him out of his strange moods quite quickly.

"There cannot be any more of us right now. Too many will draw attention. There can only be two. A hierarch and an heir."

After such treatment, Ratchet tended to tend to him and gently ask if Bumblebee was safe, if he required removal from Optimus's care. Bumblebee always said no. Ratchet did not understand, he never would. He was a good mech, a kind individual with a gentle spark, and thus he could not even come close to comprehending the unspoken connection Bumblebee had to his Sire. Jazz asked sometimes too, usually when he brought Bumblebee additional energon after his lockups. Ironhide slipped him a map with marked routes to a transport leaving Cybertron for a neutral world a handful of times. Even Ultra Magnus pulled him aside and took extra care to send Bumblebee off on missions that kept him from his Sire for extended periods of time.

They thought they were helping. Bumblebee could see why. Compared to the records of regular sparklings that he read and watched, the treatment Optimus subjected him to was straight up abuse. But of course, that was simply because there was a lack of understanding. It was the way of whatever it was Bumblebee and his Sire were. Their kind, whatever they happened to be, were a race that needed no words, needed no excess emotion. They knew their duty, and thus when Optimus struck him down and dragged him back into place, Bumblebee understood and held no ill will toward his maker. He could see Optimus faced similar treatment from whoever his maker was as well.

"Why are you hurting?"

"I am not externally injured young one."

"No, but inside you ache. I can see it, how you contort yourself to match this image of Cybertronian perfection."

"It is required."

"Why?"

"It is for the same reason you too must keep that shell little one. Our time has not yet come... and it may never arrive."

"What do you mean?"

"It is not your place to understand, such is my duty. I am the first, you are the second. I molded you to perform better than me, to overcome the trials that leave me in agony with minimal discomfort instead."

"You suffer in your frame."

"Yes, but I was the first. I was the test. You are better than I am, perfected and altered as much as I could manage to walk among this people without fear... that is so long as you keep yourself in control."

"Then... when will our time come?"

"When all save for us are dead... or when the time is right to spread unimpeded. These fragile creations are so advanced they have forgotten the core truth, the unity of one shared goal. When this war ends in their extinction or their restoration, we shall rise from their ashes or follow in their shadows."

Bumblebee did not understand, but as his Sire said, it was not his place to. Optimus was a comfort, one that Bumblebee relied on greatly. The Prime was his maker, that much he knew. Thus he dared not question when Optimus spoke to him in the humming song that he knew from his development. Ratchet, Jazz, and the others did not see what Bumblebee saw, nor did they ever witness the affection Optimus gave him in a positive light. They did not see the scratches Optimus left on his armor as a mark of affirmation of a job well done, but instead viewed it as abuse. They did not see how Optimus's constant reminders and glares were a kind reminder of their shared orders to remain hidden. Instead they saw only malice where Bumblebee knew there to be stern but true love. They could not witness the subsonic song that Optimus sang and Bumblebee returned at all times. How could they with their unaugmented audials?

Optimus cared for him, although he never said so aloud. Not in the traditional Cybertronian manner at any rate. The one time Bumblebee asked if his Sire did love him earned him a response that those who might have been listening were sure to see as dark.

"Sire... do you love me?"

"Into you I put vorns of my effort, attention, and care. Millennia of accumulated protomatter that I molded with my own limbs with utmost devotion. I spend every waking moment considering and contemplating, thinking of your future. I give my spark to your development and my mind to your rearing. No longer could I dare to create another. You are my one and only heir."

That was all he needed to know for certain. His mind recognized the emotional undertone and his instincts accepted the offered truths. Nothing else mattered. Optimus loved him, and despite the efforts of the ignorant Autobots and their plans to keep him away from his Sire, they always reconnected soon enough. Usually Bumblebee tried not to worry over the reactions of the Autobots to his and his Sire's interactions, but there were times when it was hard. More than once he heard Ratchet cursing Optimus out, yelling about him being a horrible Sire. Several times he noted Jazz working Optimus into a corner and calling him a monster. And while only once, there was a time where even Preceptor pulled his sniper rifle on the Prime, threatening to make him "keel over from and unfortunate accident in the labs" should he fail to improve.

They did not understand. But Optimus was always there to reassure Bumblebee and comfort him after such things. They would not be separated. Optimus was always in control, always so composed and possessed a far greater sense of duty. He never fought with his instincts, at least not that Bumblebee could see. The Prime blended in all but perfectly socially, befriending all and performing as a perfect leader. The only ones who were on his case were those who fought in Bumblebee's "defense". However even they remained amicable to toward him.

The singular time Bumblebee ever saw Optimus lose control was the cycle Megatron tore out his vocalizer. There was no time for his instincts to react or for him to break from his shell, but as he fell to the ground and bathed in his own energon, he saw his Sire enraged for the first time in his life.

He leapt through the air, limbs too long to be proper and his face all but split in half to reveal a maw of fangs and mandibles. Bladed limbs extended from his shoulders and his legs were crooked and out of place as he charged with a scream to make even the dead quake. Wrath and fury never before seen had Optimus charging with wild abandon, his shell transforming away more with ever moment and terrifying all those in the vicinity. All Bumblebee could do as Megatron fled and Optimus came to his side was silently convey the order they were both bound to.

"Blend in, do not be seen. Our time has not yet come."

Bumblebee was taken to the medical ward where he was stabilized. He felt true grief at his lost vocalizer, but it was partially drowned out by the relief that came from seeing his Sire back within his shell, even if he was expressing emotions far more openly than usual. As the Prime tended to him in a more Cybertronian manner during his recovery, Bumblebee heard the stories. A monster of red and blue charging at Megatron, a spark eater or a ghoul, a creature of legend to be eliminated on sight.

As soon as he was able, Bumblebee was quick to silence any witnesses who actually believed that what they saw was Optimus Prime. There could be no one to reveal them. They had their orders. It was not their time. Accidents happened, and while it brought him no joy, cleaning up a few loose ends was better in the long run. The Autobots needed their Prime, and Bumblebee refused to see his Sire exposed for trying to protect him.

"Obey or perish."

Such was their reality, even as they headed for Earth.