#so ill do my best ta do whatever i can ta make others smile

[spaciebabie]

*bonks your head softly*

Hi! =D

You have been given a bonk of happiness, i hope it will make you smile or something idk lol-

Fr tho your posts just make me laugh a lot so i thought i could share some happy!!

*is bonked* egads my coconut head!!!

thank you :))) it makes me happy ta know my shenanigans bring you joy!! \^-^/

[sunarinluvr]

|| haikyuu boys finding you asleep on the couch after an argument ||

includes: kuroo tetsurou, miya osamu, & oikawa tooru

a/n- hello! sorry for posting so late, but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and i was actually in the mood to finish it so i hope yall enjoy! oh and im not really sure about how i feel about it,,, might take it down later we shall see.

warnings: none ( lmk if there’s anything! )

KUROO -

last night you saw a post kuroo’s “work wife” had made on instagram with her kissing him on the cheek, and it didn’t make you feel the best, so you decided to bring it up to him the next morning. and you did, just as he was getting ready for work you talked to him about it.

you were standing in front of him filled with anger arguing about how it made you uncomfortable, “can you please listen?! i dont feel comfortable with your “work wife” kissing you?” you yelled. “Y/N it was on the cheek its not a big deal!” and to be honest you just wanted to cry. 

finally, he walked past you and opened the door. “i don’t have time for this y/n, stop being so insecure! at least she wouldn’t argue over something so small!” and with that, he slammed the door and you stood there stunned. kuroo knew that he shouldn’t have said that, instant regret and guilt filled his gut.

 but he already said it, he can’t do anything about it now. with a frustrated sigh, he went to work. hoping to fix everything when he gets home. you stood there speechless, as you realized you still had work so slowly you made your way to the bathroom. 

after getting ready and grabbing a quick snack you were out the door with a heavy chest. once you get home, tired and feeling worse than before. you trudged to the couch and plopped down letting out a shaky sigh remembering the argument and the words he said repeating in your head. 

you broke down crying, and before you knew it, the exhaustion from today took over and you were sound asleep on the couch. kuroo got home an hour later, he felt guilty and was already practicing how he’d apologize to you as he walked in.“y/n? kitten?” no answer. 

he called out again, and was met with silence, he made his way over to the living room where he found you sleeping on the couch. gently walking towards you he knelt down, and saw your tear-stained face which made his heart sink. “i fucked up” he said to himself.

giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead he softly apologized and carried you to the bedroom. you ended up waking up when you felt his body weight dent the bed. “tetsu?” you said softly squinting at him. relief rushes through his body at the sound of his nickname. looking at you with guilt in his eyes

“im so sorry kitten, i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t mean to hurt you” he said gently. at that tears started flowing again and he was quick to hug you and wipe your tears with his other hand. “it’s ok, i shouldn’t have been so insecure anyways” 

he shook his head with a frown “no it’s not your fault ok? i didn’t mean anything i said. i love you so so much and i’m so lucky that you’re mine” you look up at him and gave him a small smile “okay” before cuddling closer to him. giving you a soft kiss on the lips he hugged you tighter as you both fell asleep.

OSAMU -

osamu was just having a horrible day, his head was pounding and the customers he had to deal with today were just plain rude. then he had to do most of the work since one of his employees called in sick, and for some reason, everything just annoyed him.

you on the other hand did not know about his day at all and thought it would be nice of you to make a surprise visit. walking in with a huge smile on your face stopping midway when you realize he wasn’t at the counter. “where’s samu?” you asked sweetly to the employee

“he’s in the back, i think he has a headache,” she says giving you a small smile. you can tell something was off by the way she spoke but decided to just brush it off and make your way to the back. “hi samu! surprise!” you exclaimed cheerfully as you make your way towards him

he just kind of looks at you, which you thought was weird, but you decided to hug him anyways. when he doesn’t hug you back and groan, you pull away and look at him “baby i heard you had a headache. i didn’t bring any medicine, but we could eat first and i-” 

you couldn’t even finish your sentence since osamu just stood up. he was infuriated and had no clue why, usually loved listening to you but today he was just annoyed. “look y/n a don’t mean ta be rude, but a don't have the energy for this right now. please just go home.” he said coldly staring right at you.

“excuse me? i came here to surprise you and this is what i get??” you said in shock, voice a little louder this time. rolling his eyes “Oh wow am so surprised! now will ya please go home? a don’t wanna argue right now!” he yelled. with tears forming in your eyes you quickly wiped them and left. osamu knew he shouldn’t have said all that, but he was too mad to run after you in front of all the customers. 

you rushed home and sluggishly made your way to your room to change into something comfier, making your way to the couch, curling up into a ball allowing your tears to fall, and somehow falling asleep, after getting tired of crying. he gets home a few hours later, guilt building up in his stomach as he mentally slaps himself for the things he said. 

walking into the living room he opened the lights and you were the first thing he noticed. seeing you curled up into a ball on the couch made his heart drop to his stomach. you on the other hand woke up because of the sudden change of lighting. 

gradually adjusting your sight you see him and switch your gaze onto the floor when you saw him look at you too. seeing your puffy eyes he walks towards you slowly and sits beside you giving you enough space. “am sorry, a shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on ya.”

you look at him with watery eyes and his heart sinks “yea i was just trying to be nice, sorry i didn’t warn you before coming” he opened his arms and you instinctively scooted closer to him, he sighs “no a love it when you surprise me a was jus having a bad day a love ya so much ok?” finally hugging him “okay i love you too” giving you a quick kiss he offered to make you food and of course you said yes.

OIKAWA -

you love oikawa, and you’re very supportive and understanding especially when it comes to his career. but he has an awful habit of overworking himself and as much as you love him you can't bear the fact that you couldn’t even see him anymore.

he goes home late at night -as in you’re already sound asleep late- and when you do stay up to see him, he’s too tired to even keep a conversation. then the next morning he’s gone before you could even wake up. you’ve spoken to him about this many times, but alas nothing changed.

you woke up to an empty bed as usual, but today was different though, you’ve planned a dinner for about 2 weeks now. you were very excited because it’s been so long since you both spent some quality time together and he promised to come home early. 

getting up you send him a little text reminding him of your dinner tonight, with a smile you head on over to the bathroom to get ready for work. once work was over you made a quick visit to the grocery store to buy the ingredients you’ll need to make tonight’s dinner. 

quietly humming to yourself while going through each aisle, and double-checking your list to make sure you’re not missing anything while checking your phone here and there. oikawa still hasn’t replied “he must be busy,” you say to yourself as you send him another text about the dinner just in case. after about 30 minutes you get home rushing since it was already late, and immediately getting started on dinner. 

once you're done you sat down and waited, and waited, and waited. it's been 4 hours. dinners cold and still no sign of your boyfriend. you decided to call him pissed off that he couldn’t even show up to one dinner, “hello? y/n i can't talk right now i still need to practice” 

he said as soon as he picked up. “tooru? did you get my texts? what about dinner, we’ve made plans for this 2 weeks prior! i even-” you were cut off “look just eat without me ok? we can eat again somet-” now it was your turn to cut him off. 

“oikawa tooru, you leave the house while i’m asleep and come back when i'm asleep. i just wanted to spend time with you..whatever good luck at practice,” you replied as you hang up. his heart sank when he heard the crack in your voice rushing to his car on his way home to you because he knows he fucked up. 

buying your favorite flowers for you on the way home cursing himself and the world for making it traffic at that exact moment. when he got home the first thing he saw was the food and you fast asleep on the couch. he felt a pang of guilt about being late. 

“y/n chan?” he said while gently waking you up. you stare at him with red puffy eyes and he hugged you giving you the flowers “im sorry baby, i should’ve prioritized you and our dinner. i promise ill do better” you saw how genuine he was being so you accepted the flowers and hugged him tighter as he offered to reheat the food you made.

reblogs are highly appreciated!

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 2

Summary: Professor Laszlo Kreizler is a pretentious ass - that's the only way you could possibly explain the man. That being said, you needed a job to help pay for grad school, and the position of being his TA was the only thing available. You'll suck it up and deal with it, but the last thing you'll do is let this man get inside your head in the process.

WC: 1131

Rated: M

Chapter Tags: laszlo is very to the point with his expectations.

🧠

Monday morning came too quickly. There was no need to dress super professionally as a TA, but you still found that you wanted to at least look presentable on your first day with the devil himself. One less thing for him to judge you on, right?

The hall in the Psychology wing was quiet, only a few students could be seen shuffling to their early morning classes. A tall guy walked past you, offering up a pity-smile in your direction as he saw where you stood. If what you had seen on the professor over the weekend was any real indication, you felt bad for the psych majors. Even so, you would do your best to withhold judgement until you met the man.

You stood outside his office. The dark mahogany door was shut, a gold “Dr. L Kreizler” placard adorned the wood. Pulling out your phone you check the schedule for the tenth time this morning.

Schedule:

MWF 8am-12pm

TTH 3pm-7pm

You lick your lips and look at the clock on the wall - 7:59. The second the hands switch to 8 you knock on the heavy wood. There is a muffled “come in” from the other side.

You don’t know what you anticipated as you entered the office. Taking a minute, you examine the decor he has set up. It felt like walking through a time capsule; as though you were transported to the gilded age. Rich, dark colors of wood and tapestry filled the space. Large bookshelves had tomes that looked to be at least a hundred years old, well worn and rubbed off of their titles. Small artifacts, pictures, and old scientific instruments line the shelves. The room is massive, not something you would have anticipated. He does not use the fluorescent overhead lights, instead having a series of tall warm-toned lamps scattered around the room. There is even a couch along the back wall, decorated with swirling filigree carved into the arms and legs. A laptop and second monitor on his desk bring you back to reality.

In your admiration of the office you pay no mind to the man it belongs to. Finally, you notice him as he stares at you from his chair, looking annoyed at having to wait for your introduction.

Even with the less than pleased look he’s giving, you can’t help but notice how attractive the man is. The picture had done absolutely nothing to show off the depth in those brown eyes, the softness of the delicately styled hair, the fullness of his well-groomed beard. He was much younger than you anticipated too. If anything you figure he’s maybe early 40s. And fuck, he’s just your type. Too bad he’s an asshole… and your boss…. you think belatedly.

“Oh! Sorry, um, I’m the new TA,” you introduce yourself and tell him your name. “It’s very nice to meet you professor.” You reach out to shake his hand. He does not move to return the favor, but instead keeps his calculating eyes on you. The silence tics on as you wait, hand outstretched. Clearing your throat you drop it back to your side.

Finally, he speaks in an accented voice. “You may call me Dr. Kreizler. I have space for you there,” he gestures with a nod of his head to a desk in the corner. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a list of expectations for you. Should you have any questions or concerns I expect that you address them with me directly. You’ll note that I have included my personal number for work purposes only. I expect you to provide me with your own should I need you outside of contract hours. Do not contact me while you are intoxicated or you will be dismissed from this position.” To the point then, you blink at his directness. And presumptuous as hell to assume that you would even consider drunk texting him.

He briefly explains your role and clarifies some of the less detailed points on his list. The entire time he’s speaking his focus is on whatever work sits in front of him, not you. A beat passes once he’s done.

“Sounds great, thank you.” You had done your best to remain civil and polite, ignoring the ill-reviews in hopes to create your own opinion. Quite frankly, he wasn’t faring well so far.

He looks up at you; his eyes are piercing. Does he always look like he’s picking apart people like they are a specimen he’s studying?

“I suspect you have done your research on who I am, yet you are still present today. That is promising. But tell me, who are you?” he asks, sitting back in his chair.

You’ve never been good at talking about yourself when put on the spot. “Well I’m 26 years old, I graduated magna cum laude with a dual degree in history and political science. The last few years I’ve been working with the graduate studies program to get my doctorate in history. My thesis is on 1960s shifting cultural norms and the development and impact of countercultures on American society.”

“Have you considered the emerging role of sequence murderers in your studies?” He almost looks interested as he asks.

“Some, not as much as I would like yet, though. I suppose a perk of taking this position means you can give me some insight on that since you teach about it.” You give a little smile-shrug, hoping the statement will earn you some points with him.

He ignores it. “And what background in psychology do you have? Or do you even have any?”

You are a bit taken aback by his tone. “I took an introductory course with Professor Stratton during my undergrad years.”

“Hmm. That will have to suffice. In the meantime I would suggest you make haste with the reading I’ve left you. It’s best you spend this week with that so you can be most useful to me this semester.”

Looking through all the contents he’s left on your desk you see two books, a textbook, a few slide show print outs, and his syllabi - each marked up with his cursive and colored tabs to mark pages of importance. Sitting down, you give an inaudible sigh; this is going to be a long semester. You pick up the first syllabus and get to work.

Noon rolls around after what feels like a lifetime. Packing up all the materials he’s provided, you wish him a good afternoon. As you are walking through the door he calls out to you.

“Next time, do not be late.” You give him a confused look, seeing as you got there exactly at 8am. “On time is late,” he explains curtly.

“Noted.” You don’t catch the door as it all but slams closed.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles

[hualianff]

Mi Amor(tentia) II 《I》

Every Sunday, XL personally delivers the ingredients to HC to restock after each week. Sometimes it’s during the morning before classes, HC inviting XL to stay and chat over coffee.

Other times, it’s in the middle of HC’s classes because XL’s only has so many chunks of free time to drop the ingredients off. XL usually keeps himself scarce as he helps himself to deposit the ingredients off on HC’s desk in his office.

On days XL is especially busy with classes, meetings with outside personnel and tending to the school’s greenhouse, his sixth-year teaching assistant, BY, will deliver ingredients to HC.

HC is easily the person XL enjoys spending time with the most. They have such fun conversations and HC makes XL feel so comfortable and listened to. Plus, HC is undeniably charming and handsome. XL thanks whatever higher power there is that someone as refined as HC took XL under his wing.

XL has learned and observed that HC is a professor that students either love or hate. Some perceive the potions professor as sketchy-looking and unfair in his grading. They take HC’s pushing as ridiculing, then complain about their poor marks after refusing to do the bare minimum of the assignment.

(Unbeknownst to HC, XL has taken it upon himself to passive aggressively warn these students from bad-mouthing HC in the hallways.)

Understandably, The first year students absolutely cower in HC’s presence. But from fourth year and up, HC is one of the most loved professors. When HC begins to passionately lecture with really big hand gestures and funny word combinations, the students can’t help but admire him with starry eyes.

(Student: “Hua Lao Shi, I don’t think ‘impossibleness’ is a word.”

HC: “It is now. As I was saying, don’t let the impossibleness of a goal influence your confidence in working towards it. You should not pay attention to whether something is possible or not, but rather focus on what steps you’re taking to find your answer.)

He’s clearly smart; intellectually based from the readings he assigns students from his own books; socially as his humor is always on point and he never misses a beat to tease his students; and emotionally because HC does not tolerate bullying in his house or his classroom. (Nor in the school, if he can help it.)

HC himself was bullied back in the muggle orphanage and during his time at Hogwarts. He knows what it feels like to wake up dreading going to classes and interacting with people who had nothing better to do than put others down. 

So while HC can seem intimidating and blunt at first, he genuinely has his students’ best interests and wellbeing in mind. Witnessing how seriously HC takes his job as a teacher and trusted adult figure, XL’s feelings wrap around him like vines and squeeze him in their hold anytime he’s around HC.

XL’s never had a crush like this before.

Later in the semester, XL and HC are chosen as the professors to monitor the first years on their first trip to Hogsmeade. There is no doubt the transfiguration professor, SQX, took part in pulling some strings to make this happen for XL.

What no one knows is that the defense against the dark arts professor also played matchmaker. In an intense game of wizard's chest that unfortunately ended in his defeat, HX was forced to nominate HC to go with XL. 

HC and XL make the best guides. XL is very enthusiastic in answering first years’ questions while HC is good at describing things through muggle terminology.

During his years at Hogwarts, XL has always loved the Hogsmeade trips and bought new candies from Honeydukes each time. In fact, he has a huge sweet tooth that he can never satisfy. Cue XL showing the students around Honeydukes and HC buying all of XL’s favorite goodies in the background.

When it’s time to move on to the next store, HC presents the bagged sweets to XL with a smile.

(XL, staring at the bagged sweets: “San Lang! You shouldn’t have!”

HC, grabbing XL’s hand and physically transferring the bag: “Nonsense. Gege deserves a reward for working so hard lately. Giving him a few candies is the least I can do.”

XL, clutching the bag tightly, fingers tingling from brushing against HC’s own: “If you insist. Many thanks, San Lang.” 

XL snacks on some sweets for the rest of the trip. HC watches with a pleased eye.)

One day during finals week before winter break, XL falls ill with a terrible migraine. He’s been prone to migraines for a while now, which he’s used to enduring with medicine tablets that don’t do much to ease the pain. 

XL manages to get through his morning classes. But by lunch time, his stomach pain worsened tenfold to which HC, who planned on having lunch with XL, convinced the herbology professor to take the rest of the day off. 

“But my classes-” XL’s voice breaks off as he winces as another wave of nausea sweeps through his body. HC puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“I will fill in for you,” HC assures. XL looks like he’s about to protest, however, the potions professor holds a finger up to his lips. “I can quickly brew something up for your pain. You like the smell of eucalyptus, right? I can add a faint scent to soothe your sinuses too.”

“San Lang…”

HC fixes XL with a pointed stare. XL’s face softens, eyes closing in defeat.

“Thank you,” he says gratefully. Without thinking, HC reaches over to cup XL’s cheek, sliding back to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear before massaging his temple. 

“It’s not a problem. Gege needs rest.”

Luckily, HC doesn’t have afternoon classes lined up for the afternoon. Once XL has retired to his room to relax, HC settles behind XL’s desk as students filter in for class to take the final exam.

(Students who had potions that morning entering the herbology room: “Oh shit-”)

Between classes, HC completes the tasks written in XL’s planner he left during lunch. Unfortunately, HC has a certain TA who sidles up next to him out of nowhere, whispering inconspicuously, “I know you have the hots for Xie Lao Shi.”

HC, who had been marking scrolls, jolts in shock. His left hand streaks across the parchment, leaving a red trail in its wake. 

(Student who receives his scroll with a huge red line: “The fuck???? Does this mean it’s wrong? Do I need to do it again?”)

HC ignores BY as he continues about his business. Except BY rolls a chair right beside the desk, her prying eyes making HC feel like he needs to cover more than just his right eye.

“Tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Liar.”

“Watch how you speak to your professor, young lady-”

“Watch how you speak to your professor, young lady,” BY repeats in a nasally voice. HC tightly clenches the pen in his hand. BY, unfazed about testing HC’s patience, sighs pitifully. “Sorry, Hua Lao Shi. I swear, I’m only trying to help.”

“Help with what?” HC asks, attempting to remain oblivious. BY gives HC a deadpan. “Ok, fine. How could you possibly help?”

“Well, I heard that Xie Lao Shi might be crushing on another professor-” HC chokes on his spit. “-and maybe you two…”

BY taps the tips of her pointer fingers together. 

“What!?” HC aggressively clears his throat. The scrolls are long forgotten now. “H-how do you know?”

“He told me,” BY reveals, smirking like the devil’s child.

“Who is it? Tell me more,” HC demands.

“Ah ah ah–you first.”

HC can’t believe this girl who has him cornered is the same timid third-year transfer student who couldn’t even look him in the eye. He bites his tongue, reluctant to discuss his person of interest with a seventeen-year-old. BY just sits there, looking unbothered as she examines her nails while waiting for HC to cave.

It doesn’t take more than ten minutes before HC admits it. 

“Fine. Yes, I like Xie Lao Shi.”

“What do you like about him?” BY asks immediately. HC itches to take points from Hufflepuff; what is this, an interrogation?

To no one’s surprise, HC spends the next half hour praising XL’s selling points (which are all of them) and subtly hinting how plans to ask the herbology professor out soon. BY unhelpfully inputs that HC needs to confess his feelings first. 

“And then he needs to accept your feelings too,” she adds, much to HC’s irritation. 

“I thought you were helping me?”

“I am,” BY smiles innocently. “By listening.”

“You’re not going to tell me who…?” HC falls silent, glaring at the last scroll he finished grading. A glance at his watch indicates there are fifteen minutes left before the final class of the day begins.

“Of course not. I don’t go around spilling professors’ secrets, especially Xie Lao Shi’s,” BY says. HC nods in resignation. 

BY doesn’t tell HC shit in the end, yet somehow made him unload a few things about his feelings regarding XL. HC supposes she was right about the listening part. 

Must be some sort of witchcraft. (HC tells himself that XL definitely would’ve laughed at this thought.)

Strangely, HC feels better after this little confessional session. Though he is incredibly curious as to who has caught XL’s eye in this school. HC’s heart painfully twists in on itself at the possibility that it’s anyone but him. 

HC desperately hopes BY’s rule about not sharing secrets applies to him as well. 

《III》

[adash-ofstardust]

i am at the tail end of the worst anxiety attack i've had in years, so please enjoy this self indulgent and mostly fluffy, with a bit of angst, drabble of Mammon and my MC...

TW: mentions of anxiety, depression, self isolation, and lack of eating and sleeping

idk if i did those trigger warnings correctly, if not please lmk

Mammon > Lucifer

Mammon: oi, Lu

Mammon: has Abel talked to you at all lately?

Lucifer: Hm? About what?

Mammon: like, is something goin’ on with 'em?

Lucifer: They haven’t mentioned anything to me.

Lucifer: Why?

Mammon: they've been pretty distant with everyone lately

Mammon: they haven’t even hung out with Levi in like a week

Lucifer: That is odd.

Lucifer: I had noticed that they haven’t come to study in my office lately, but I had just assumed it was because they were getting a handle on their classwork.

Mammon: i think somethin’s up

Mammon: i’m gonna go talk with 'em

Lucifer: Alright. Please let me know what’s going on.

Mammon: yep

Mammon balanced the drinks, bag of snacks, and movie that he had purchased carefully in one arm while he knocked on Abel’s door with the hand of the other. “A~bel! Open up! I got somethin’ for ya’!”

It took a minute, but eventually the door slowly cracked open. “Mammon?”

“Hey!” he grinned brightly as he shifted around some of the items he held so he could hold out the movie for them to take. “Time for a movie night! I know ya’ve been wantin’ to see this!” When they took the movie from him to look over, he pushed past them into their room without waiting to be invited in. “I got drinks and snacks too! And I know ya’ got all the blankets and pillows, so we should be good to go!” Mammon spilled everything he held onto the table in Abel’s room before he looked around. All the lights were off. “Sure is dark in here…” He turned back to them, “I didn’t wake ya’ up, did I?”

Abel softly shook their head as they shut the door. “No, I started getting a migraine a while ago so I turned the lights off.” They gently smiled as a look of concern crossed his face. “I took some medicine and I’m better now - no worries!”

Mammon looked them over for a moment before he turned back to the table. “Well, I did get ya a couple o’ these,” he said as he held out a can of Devilbull. “I know they’re yer favorite! And they help with yer migraines! Win-win!” he grinned.

Abel’s smile softened as they took the can. “Thank you, Mammon.” They gently sighed before looking around the room. “Let me get the laptop Levi loaned me. All the blankets and stuff are on that chair if you wanna grab some more for the bed,” Abel pointed to a chair in the corner as they made their way over to their desk.

Mammon looked them over again - noting how they seemed more sluggish than usual - before grabbing all of the extra blankets and pillows from the chair and throwing them on the bed. He didn’t worry about arranging them too much before he shucked his jacket and dropped it on the floor. Mammon grabbed all of the snacks and drinks and threw them all on Abel’s bed as well before climbing on and making themselves a cozy nest.

“Why aren’t we watching this in your room, by the way?” Abel asked as they climbed into the bed - laptop in hand. “You have that big projector.”

Mammon gestured to the bed, “Yeah, but you got all the blankets.” He grabbed one and threw it over his head like a hood, as if to further prove his point.

Abel laughed - but Mammon noted that it was softer and less bright than their usual giggle. “Fair enough,” they said as they began arranging themselves and the laptop within the nest that Mammon had made.

“Ya okay?”

Abel’s head whipped to face Mammon and they stared at him in silence for a moment. “What?”

“Are ya okay?” Mammon repeated as he slid the blanket off of his head. His expression was devoid of all of the joy that he had previously and now regarded them in complete seriousness. “You’ve been...distant lately. From everyone.”

“Oh, yeah,” Abel said as they smiled - a forced one - and turned back to the laptop. “The weather’s just been giving me a lot of migraines, so I’ve been sleeping a lot.”

Mammon was quiet for a moment. “I thought ya normally slept yer migraines off in Lu’s room since it’s quiet.” There was a slight edge to his voice - still gentle, but he knew that they weren’t being honest with him.

Abel froze for half a second before they shrugged. “It’s been happening so frequently, I felt bad bothering him all the time.”

Another moment of silence passed before Mammon grabbed Abel’s wrist - stopping them from prepping the movie. They jumped slightly at his touch before their gaze met his. His sapphire eyes bore into the cerulean of their own. “I know ya’ haven’t been eating.”

Abel did their best to suppress a gasp. They forced a confused look onto their face. “What do you mean?”

Mammon’s expression and tone remained the same. “You’ve been skipping lunch at school. And ya’ hardly eat anything of the meals we have here.” He gently reached out and grabbed their other hand - his eyes never leaving theirs. “Ya’ have a good mask, human. It’s easy ta’ see that yer used to hiding yer negative emotions - ye're even foolin’ Lucifer.” He took a deep breath and let out a sigh as he gently squeezed their hands. “But I know better. I know there’s somethin’ goin’ on that you don’t want anyone ta’ see. But, Abel, ya don’t have to be so strong here - not with me. I’d protect ya’ from anything - ya’ know that. Please talk ta’ me.”

Abel had been frozen in place by Mammon’s words. And at his plea, tears began to well in their eyes. “Mammon, I-...” they whispered.

Mammon tugged them into his arms and hugged them tightly - a blush burning upon his cheeks. “I’m here, Abel. I got ya’. I’ll take care o’ whatever it is. And if I can’t, I’ll be here for ya’ no matter what.”

How…? Abel wondered as tears began cascading down their cheeks. How could this demon break me, when no one else ever could? Their breath hitched in their throat as they began to sob. They gripped onto Mammon tightly and buried their face in his shoulder. He only held them tighter - gently running his fingers through their hair.

After a few minutes, Abel was finally able to collect themselves. They still had their face buried in Mammon’s chest when they finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Mammon…” He stayed quiet and let them continue. “I have anxiety and depression. Sometimes they just get the better of me, for no discernible reason. And when it comes to my mental illnesses, I have very self destructive tendencies. I don’t eat. I don’t sleep. I self isolate. It’s...problematic,” they sighed.

“Can I ask why ya’ never told any of us this before?” he asked, quietly.

Abel pushed themselves back so they could meet Mammon’s gaze. “I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about it before. I was always the one who took care of everyone else and their problems...I didn’t have the strength or resources to take care of my own, so I just hid it. And dealt with it when and how I could in private.” Abel shifted uncomfortably and hugged themselves. “My entire life has taught me not to show negative emotions to others. I exist to help them, not be a burden to them. So, at my lowest, I just fake being what everyone expects me to always be, push those feelings aside, and just...suffer when I’m alone.”

Mammon grabbed their shoulders a bit rougher than he meant to. “Ya’ don’t have to suffer, and ya’ don’t have to do this alone!” His face was red and there were tears in his eyes. “I dunno what yer life was like before ya’ came here, but there are people here for ya’, Abel. We all care about ya’. I-I care about ya’!” He pulled them into another tight hug. “Yer not a burden. I’m here for ya, Abel,” he whispered.

Abel began crying again and hugged him tightly in return.

Mammon > Lucifer

Mammon: idk if ya need to put this in their file er somethin, but Abel has anxiety and depression and gets self destructive

Lucifer: I was aware they had anxiety, but the rest is surprising.

Lucifer: What do you mean by self destructive? Is Abel alright?

Mammon: they don’t eat or sleep, and self isolate when things get bad

Mammon: i got 'em to eat some snacks and they fell asleep watchin a movie with me

Lucifer: Thank you, Mammon. I knew I was right in choosing you to look after them.

Mammon: *blush demoji*

[yellowocaballero]

Not Your Queer-Coded Disney Villain: Annabelle & Web!Jon Ficlet

Got bored again today and forced myself to write something that wasn’t gratuitously long. Set in the same universe (or, one of the universes) as The Convention on Chronographer Lane, but it’s completely unnecessary to have read that one before this. 

Content warning for (apparent and fake) predation of a student by a teacher, body horror, and spiders. REVERSE content warning for A PSYCH 101 LECTURE WRITTEN BY SOMEONE WHO WAS A TA FOR PSYCH 101. ACCURATE SCIENCE, BITCHES. 

“What am I turning into?” Annabelle asked, after a half-second of rapid thought. “Who are you? And what do spiders have to do with any of this?”

Jon smiled again broadly, grey eyes dancing with a barely hidden delight. “You’re fully aware that these are all the same question.”

“Then answer them. You said you’re here to help me. Then help me.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll negotiate a price later.”

“This one is a freebie,” Jon said. He leaned back, face fading into the shadow of the dim yellow light of the hanging light. “You’re turning into something much akin to myself.”

In the darkness, Annabelle saw Jon open his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes…

Annabelle was sleeping through Psych again.

In her defense, she was really tired. The nightmares had been getting worse every day, and yesterday she hadn’t gotten more than forty minutes of sleep without jolting up in the middle of the night. She had flipped on the light five times during the night, hysterically convinced that bugs were crawling over her and earning the eternal ire of her roommate. Whatever - Irene would forgive her once she bought her an iced coffee from that campus shop she liked. If Annabelle gave it to her later at night, she’d stay up later and would be less likely to bitch when Annabelle inevitably made a stink at three am again.

It didn’t matter. Psych was tediously easy anyway. Not that everything wasn’t tedious, but there were few things more boring than listening to the drone of Mr. Sims’ voice. She had no idea how that guy had a fanclub. Emmanuela Odugawa had asked her if she thought that he recited Piaget’s developmental stages in bed. Barf. 

Thankfully, Annabelle had mastered the art of sleeping with her eyes open in class and barely aware enough to recognize when somebody called her name a decade ago, and she ruthlessly used this skill now. She dropped into a half-doze, and was only startled into awareness when she heard the word that had been running in a nonstop track loop through her mind for the past month. 

“Phobia: an extreme or irrational fear or aversion to something.” Mr. Sims adjusted his glasses, pressing a button on his laptop that advanced the slides. “It’s an interesting definition, in my opinion. Like many things in Psychology, it is almost infuriatingly vague. How do you define ‘extreme’? How do you define ‘irrational’? Oftentimes, that label is determined by society, science, and our therapists. However, I believe you can argue that phobias are the most rational thing of all.”

Annabelle rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. These auditorium classrooms were always freezing. 

“The concept of aversion is heavily rooted in evolution and biology. Anyone here ever eat any bad shrimp?” He didn’t wait for a response. “The smell of seafood probably made you sick for weeks afterwards. Our bodies are primed to detect poison, just as they are to detect danger. Phobias rooted in modern, abstract concepts - clowns, elevators, airplanes - are easy to extinguish. But phobias rooted in real, present, perpetual dangers, the sort of dangers that threatened the lives of cavemen, are far more difficult to ignore.” 

Despite herself, Annabelle found herself awake. She found herself listening. 

“Snakes. Heights. The Dark. Dogs, bears, large animals. Storms, driving, insects.” Mr. Sims’ looked up at the auditorium, and Annabelle could have sworn that he was looking right at her, he was looking at her. Annabelle’s breath caught, her heart thumping in her chest - a little differently than it used to. “Spiders.” 

A horrible clicking echoed in Annabell’s ears. She was afraid that it was her. 

Then he looked away, and the spell was broken. “Phobias are one of the most powerful and motivational forces in human evolution. Like mental illnesses, pack bonds, and emotional needs, the perceived weaknesses of the human mind can frequently be some of the most powerful forces that allow the survival of the human species. It isn’t a bug, it’s a feature. I find that a useful way to think of humanity, and of ourselves: that our weaknesses can make us very strong indeed. Next slide…”

If Mr. Sims said anything after that, Annabelle didn’t hear it.

She didn’t pay any attention to anything he said until the end of class, when she shrugged on her cute little silver backpack and merged into the stream of students filtering out of the classroom. A few students had stayed behind to talk to Mr. Sims, and he appeared wrapped in conversation with the giggling girls, but somehow he picked her out of the thick crowd. 

“Annabelle?” Mr. Sims asked. “Stay after, please.”

So she leaned against the long sweep of desks, left with nothing to do but squint at Mr. Sims as he spoke with another student about the requirements for the upcoming paper, wondering why he looked so familiar. 

All of the other students had assumed he was in his late twenties - “total DILF”, they all inanely assured her - but Annabelle wasn’t so sure. Despite the already graying hair, small glasses, and severe expression, she really wouldn’t put him any older than 23.

Maybe his greying temples were hair dye. Or stress did that to you, right? Annabelle squinted. But when Annabelle looked closer, if she really focused, then she really wasn’t sure it was his hair color at all. 

So she looked closer. Her eyes had been itching for the past week. She had caught her skin flaking and peeling, and instead of pink raw skin underneath there was hard and scratchy black necrosis. Her eyes itched now, as if they were striving to split apart, and if Annabelle only let them then they would burst. And as her eyes itched in a horrible, visceral pain, she thought that maybe the white at Mr. Sims’ temples was the thin, sticky webs of spider-silk. 

“Annabelle? Are you alright?”

She snapped back to attention, fairly embarrassed. She had been zoning out more in the past month than she had her entire life. Her older siblings had said that college would be rough, but she hadn’t known it would be this rough. This wasn’t like her. None of this was like her. 

“I’m great,” Annabelle said reflexively. All of the other students were gone, and Mr. Sims was staring at her over his glasses. “Sorry. Is this about my test…?”

“No. You did quite well on your test. Best in the class, actually.” Mr. Sims smiled at her, as if this was a compliment or important. “Is that why you’ve been so bored in class?”

Ah. Busted. A rare thing for Annabelle. She affected a faux-abashed posture and expression. “Sorry, Mr. Sims. I’ve been staying up ‘til two every morning trying to get my homework done on time. If I’m ever going to go to med school…”

“I thought you were a poli sci major,” Mr. Sims said cheerfully. Annabelle fought a shudder - how did he know so much about her? This class had 200 students.

“Double major,” Annabelle said blithely. “I’m sorry about sleeping in class, I’ll manage my time better. It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Sims waved her apology away, as if that wasn’t what he had been looking for. Then what had he been looking for? “I’m afraid I had somewhat of an ulterior motive for speaking to you today.” He leaned in a little, pulling his glasses down, and his foggy grey eyes - same color as the grey at his temples - focused solely on her. Annabelle made her eyes bigger, and she leaned in too, adjusting her posture so she looked smaller. “You’ve been doing very well in class. I actually wanted to invite you to a meeting. About...oh, your potential for med school. I’m excited to see you succeed. I think you could do quite well in whatever field you choose, and I’d like to help. It would be just us, of course.”

Ding ding ding. Annabelle affected a giggle. “I could totally use the help! Like, in your office? Or, like...lunch, or…?”

“I was thinking dinner, actually,” Mr. Sims smiled. “How’s Bombay Bicycle Club?”

Restaurant and bar, with a casual yet dignified atmosphere. Not formal enough to put up anybody’s guard, but nice enough that a freshman girl could feel treated and be impressed. Most importantly, it was popular among the businessman crowd and almost nobody on campus visited it. Annabelle used it herself to meet up with her sugar daddies all the time. 

For a brief, strange moment, Annabelle felt as if he did - but of course he didn’t. But it wasn’t impossible. But if he knew, then why wasn’t he blackmailing her? Was the blackmail for later, once he got her alone? This was probably a power play, getting her off balance by insinuating that he knows but not being explicit about it. He’d probably pull out the blackmail, ‘I’ll ruin your reputation you slut etc’, once they actually got there. Not that he could - Annabelle had contingency plans - but she would have to be careful to actually record him propositioning her anyway. Worst case scenario they had a MAD situation, best case she could squeeze him. Probably not for very much money, since grad students were poor as dirt, and she didn’t exactly need him to boost her grades...get him to slip her the test key and sell the test key? That could work. She could probably get him to strategically cut grades, which was a service that Annabelle could probably sell to students with a grudge…

But then Mr. Sims smiled at her, as if he knew what she was thinking, and Annabelle realized that she had been silent too long. She wanted to come off as panicked, maybe desperate, definitely flattered. 

“Sure!” Annabelle said, barely having to feign the anxious creak in her voice. “What time? I have night classes, so…”

“Next Friday at six,” Mr. Sims said instantly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” Annabelle affected Smile #35 - shy virgin. Mr. Sims’ grin widened. Annabelle silently put aside the ‘Catholic schoolgirl’ outfit for Friday. “See you then!”

She turned around, gave him a shy smile, and bounced off. She had just opened the heavy door out of the room when she heard him speak again, freezing her in her tracks. 

“Oh, Annabelle - how is the study with Dr. Bates going?”

And his question panicked her so much, made her heart change rhythm and made her skin itch as if something was straining to come out of it, made her eyes itch and crawl and burst, that every calculated move went out the window. She didn’t answer his question, didn’t even give an excuse - she just ran out the door, bright purple vintage boots thumping against the linoleum, breath catching in a chest where she was no longer sure she even had ribs. 

Most of her was already calculating. She was already two months into uni, she had to start establishing her power base. The minute her sorority accepted her she’d have greater access to money, popularity, and influence, but she needed reach with the administration too.  Mr. Sims was her in. This was a good thing. 

But part of her was disappointed, because she had liked him, and she felt a little used. Feelings of disgust, as strong and vivid as in her nightmares, rose in her chest. She squished far down in her chest, familiar with the feeling and effortlessly repressing it.  

Annabelle was good with disgusting things. 

She had another session with the Arachnophobia study on Monday. Which went fine. It was fine! She didn’t wake up that morning so sick with nerves that she almost threw up. She didn’t stare at her email inbox for thirty minutes, begging herself to cancel and drop out of the study. Nope. 

She distracted herself by befriending all of her roommate’s friends and dropping faux-concerned gossip about how cranky and anxious Irene’s been lately, have you noticed she’s been blaming me for how badly she’s sleeping? It was really super sad, frowny face, how do you think I can help, frowny face frowny face frowny face? 

So Annabelle went to the Arachnophobia study (it was fine), had increasingly realistic and vivid nightmares about her chest caving in and a nest of spiders crawling out of her chest and eating her eyes, and slept through class. It was all fine. 

She should have gone to Oxford. It still made her a little bitter. She had been smart enough to get in, but she hadn’t been smart enough to get the full scholarship. She couldn’t afford it, so instead she was stuck in University of Surrey, where dreams went to die. Future politicians should go to Oxford. Yeah, Surrey had some peers and Parliament members, whatever. She needed better, Oxford and awards and money. From there, from some swotty school or another, it was easy street. Annabelle deserved easy street, and she deserved Oxford, and it just wasn’t fair -

After another three am nightmare, Annabelle blearily scrolled through her sibling groupchat. Barney was doing great in med school. Tricia had posted her maternity photos. Wow, look at that, Robin had gotten a commendation at his law firm. Whatever. 

No hope of distinguishing herself in the world. No hope of distinguishing herself in her stupid family. She was smarter than any of her siblings, brighter and better than those doctors and lawyers and accountants, but nobody cared. Mum and Dad were living their retirement in comfort and cooing over their grandchildren, finally rewarded in old age for all their hard work. 

If Annabelle dropped off the face of the earth, nobody would even notice. 

It should have been a depressing thought. The idea that nobody cared about her, not really, that nobody knew the real her. But somehow it just made her heart beat faster in excitement. 

The idea of disappearing from all of this, of cutting herself free from a thousand threads that brought her plummeting down to earth...in the cold hours of that dark morning, to an eighteen year old terrified and alone in uni, it was a siren song. 

It was a siren song that sounded, oddly, like the chittering and scuttling of a thousand tiny bodies, but Annabelle was learning to look beyond that. 

By the time next Friday rolled around, Annabelle was considering breaking her self-imposed rule against drugs and popping a Xanax. But that wouldn’t help her exhaustion, the persistent bone-deep frazzled sensation of going a week on almost no sleep whatsoever, so she settled for an espresso as she wriggled herself into a tight, slinky plaid dress paired with a puffy olive green windbreaker. She wasn’t sure if she owned any clothing that was made after 1990 - a habit born from a childhood of shopping from thirst stores, and continued voluntarily into high school when she started making her own money online fleecing suckers. It was her, so much as anything was. 

“Hot date?” Irene asked, bending over her Physics textbook without looking up. She glanced at her vibrating phone, scowling. Poor baby - her friends were staging an intervention. “New guy or old guy?”

“New guy,” Annabelle said vaguely, carefully picking out a bold red lipstick - or did that seem too forward? Should she go for a natural look? “If I’m not back by midnight call the police. I’ll text you a picture of his car.”

“Roger.” Irene flipped a page of her textbook, oblivious to the fact that she was one of the few people Annabelle genuinely liked. Not enough not to screw with her, but she liked her. “He’s not good enough for you, something something.”

“Darling,” Annabelle said, winking into the mirror, “nobody is.”

She hoped Irene believed it. She didn’t. 

It wasn’t a frequent occurrence that Annabelle wished she was stupid, but today she wished she was stupid enough to take a power nap during her ten minute Uber ride. Her mind felt frazzled and frayed, as if it had been taken out of her scalp and spread out with a rolling pin onto a floured countertop. She felt as if she was melting, her vision spiralling into fractals or blurring out. She wanted to sleep. God, she’d do anything for some sleep -

So she blared Bad Romance in her frayed earbuds instead, clutching her iPod Touch tightly, pulling herself together. Gaga, give her strength. 

By the time that she tipped her driver, effortlessly found Mr. Sims’ car in the parking lot of Bombay Bicycle Club and texted Irene the license plate (Volkswagen, obviously), she had dragged herself into focus. She stapled on her confident posture and walk - no, we’re going with ingenue today, make it shy and hesitant - and slipped inside the restaurant, making a show of holding her clutch tight to her chest and looking around with big eyes. 

She saw him instantly. He was sitting in a corner booth, head down and texting on his phone with a half-smile. The corner booth was poorly lit, light dampened by the wood panelling and soft leather seats, and half of his face was draped in shadow. 

Great. She had even arrived ten minutes early just so she could pick a brightly lit, intimate little table in the center of the room. This guy - he was almost like her. He was almost like her, but he was better. 

Annabelle fought the urge to grind her teeth. She smiled instead, waving cheerfully until he raised his head. He smiled back at her, wriggling his fingers, and Annabelle wove around the tables until she could slide into the seat across from him. 

“This is cozy!” She said brightly. “Thank you so much for inviting me out, Mr. Sims. It’s been ages since I got away from my books -”

“Oh, cut that shit out,” Mr. Sims said, bored. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Annabelle’s mind shut down. Error 404, blue screen of death. 

“I’m sorry,” she said pleasantly, smile frozen on her face. “What?”

But Mr. Sims just shrugged listlessly, slumping against the cushioned wall. His expression was no longer fond, indulgent, haughty. He just looked bored now, as if he was too tired and underpaid to deal with eighteen year olds. “I don’t want to sit through this entire dinner fending off flirting. We have actual business to talk about, and I am uninterested in beating around the bush when there’s no point. You aren’t even subtle.”

“Excuse me -” Annabelle started, enraged, but Mr. Sims put up a hand and cut her off. 

The change was instant. On a dime, Mr. Sims straightened his posture, swept a finger through his hair to transform it from slicked back professor type to windswept, adopted a friendly and casual expression, and leaned in as if he was happy and excited to be sitting with Annabelle. In a moment he dropped ten years. Barely a second after his transformation the waiter approached them, holding a notepad, and Annabelle realized with a start that he had noticed the waiter coming before she did. 

“How are you two doing tonight?” the waiter asked politely, smiling at the both of them in a rote routine that Annabelle remembered from her own days waitressing. 

“Doing great!” Mr. Sims said, and even his accent was different, closely matching her own. He glanced back at Annabelle, nothing but open and friendly. “Mum says get whatever you want, dork. It’s on her bill, so let’s run her out of house and home.”

Instinctually, Annabelle shot back, “Aren’t you old enough to take me out to eat with your own money, loser?”

“Not with your stomach!” Mr. Sims laughed, and the waiter chuckled along too. Mr. Sims effortlessly rapped out an order for the waiter, before Annabelle even got a chance to look at the menu, and when she floundered Mr. Sims just rolled his eyes and ordered for her too. It was, somehow, her favorite food. 

He waited for the waiter to move onto the next table, eyeing him carefully, before he let the persona drop. Mr. Sims sagged again, dropping the friendly act, sizing her up from half-lidded eyes. 

“How did he even believe that,” Annabelle said flatly. “We don’t look anything alike.”

“White people will believe anything,” Mr. Sims said, rolling his eyes. “I have the Belgian government convinced I’m an Iraqi scientist and most high profile Australian celebrities think I’m Egyptian royalty.”

“...does Egypt have -”

“Nope.”

Annabelle was beginning to feel a little like the star actress in the school play who got upstaged in every way by the villain’s performance. Nobody did what she did. Nobody did what she did, but better. 

“Don’t feel insecure,” Mr. Sims said, as if he could read her mind. “I’m a good actor, and I’m excellent at reading people. But I can’t plan or plot like you do. I’m shit at thinking three steps ahead, much less thirty. You can keep plots and schemes going for years - decades, even, if I were to guess. I’m not sure how someone as competent as you can have self-esteem issues.”

Annabelle bristled. “You try having nobody care about you for - how do you even know that shit about me?” Something terrible occurred to her. “Are you some kind of stalker, Mr. Sims?”

Mr. Sims shuddered in real disgust. “It’s Jon. And no, of course not. You just aren’t as subtle as you think you are.”

Yes, she was. She was subtle to everyone on the planet - everyone save, maybe, Jon. Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Jon said immediately. 

“Liar. Everybody wants something.”

“I’m here altruistically,” Jon said, the perfect picture of innocence. “Really. I’m here to help you, Annabelle.”

“You are stalking me.” Annabelle leaned forward, but Sims didn’t move. “Are you even a real graduate student?”

“Absolutely not. I’m twenty three, I got my Psych degree last year and I’ve been bouncing odd jobs since.” Jon shrugged, as Annabelle felt silently vindicated. Nothing about this man acted like a twenty three year old - she remembered her siblings at twenty-three, there was nothing adult about them - but it was probably just another persona. She wondered how far she’d have to scratch to get to the real Jon Sims. 

“So you were just at Surrey to spy on me,” Annabelle said slowly. “I don’t know what country you’re from, but in England that’s definitely stalking.”

“I’d call it scouting,” Jon said. The waiter dropped by to place their drinks on the table - Jon had gotten a mule for himself, and he had ordered water for Annabelle in a move uncharacteristic for a sketchy guy. He waited until the waiter left to continue. “Call me a recruiter.”

“For who? What kind of job recruiter teaches a class for two months just to get to me?”

“How’s your study with Dr. Blake going, Annabelle?” Jon said, almost randomly, and Annabelle shut up. He must have seen something in her eyes, because a sharp little grin stretched in the corner of his narrow and sharp face. “Thought so. What do you dream of, Annabelle? In the cold corners of night, what fears come to life in the dark recesses of your mind?”

Maybe, Annabelle thought inanely, this was a dream too. Just an extended nightmare, one she hadn’t woken up from. It felt like that: distant and strange, hyper-real and unreal. This strange man sitting in front of her, who swapped faces so easily even Annabelle couldn’t keep up, was far too out of place to truly exist. 

Or maybe he was the first real person she had met in a very long time. 

Jon continued talking, as if she had responded. Maybe she had. “I am not a hero in this story. If I was, I would have come earlier. I would have deleted your name from the pool of subjects, and I would have made it so that you never got that call.” Jon looked away from her for the first time, letting a little sadness show on his face. “I couldn’t. No - no, I could have, I simply chose not to. You’re important, Annabelle. And I didn’t want to rob you of something that you may grow to treasure. I’m afraid that the choice you make now may not be much of a choice at all - but, perhaps, there is still a chance. At the very least, I would like to make this transition a little easier for you. It is a terrible thing, to have to do it alone.”

That…

“That was so vague it was completely meaningless.”

Jon barked a laugh, strangely delighted. “It’s not fair to speak in circles to somebody who’s gone a week without sleep!”

“But you’re doing it on purpose,” Annabelle said, too dead inside to feel mad.

“Oh, absolutely. I am not taking the risk of taking you on at full power.” Jon smiled at her, as if they were friends sharing a joke. “I saw what you did to that Walker boy in secondary.”

Despite herself, Annabelle smiled. “Hear he gets out on parole in five.” Something else occurred to her, a bit belatedly. “You are stalking me!”

“Does a spider stalk the fly that strikes a string on its web?” Jon asked cheerfully. “Or is it simply investigating an encroachment into its territory?”

“Does that mean that you’re going to eat me?” Annabelle said archly. “Thought you said you didn’t want to fuck me. Rude, by the way.”

Almost hilariously, Jon wrinkled his nose. “Sex is a waste of time, resources, and my attention. Can’t imagine why people are so obsessed.”

“I know, right!” Annabelle burst out, before she could help herself. “Do you have any idea how much money I get a month from guys just to talk to me? It’s like they’re aliens! Why do people fuck or date if it’s not to manipulate someone?”

“Right! It’s ridiculous.”

It was the first time anybody had ever agreed with her on that. It was the first time she had even told anybody she felt that way. For a brief second, Annabelle felt connected to Jon. It was the first time that happened in...a very long time. 

Jon was the first person Annabelle had ever met who was like her. Everybody in Annabelle’s life had always been either useful or useless. Jon seemed above that, somehow. To be beyond utility, to exist on your own power...what did that look like? To be the powerful, instead of the powerless?

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many puppet strings Annabelle tied around her fingers, she was never powerful. Not really. She was eighteen, from a nothing family, and no matter how many molehills she made herself queen of she would never rule the mountain. She couldn’t get as far as she wanted with what she had. The only reason she had even volunteered for the stupid Arachnophobia experiment was because she needed to crush out weakness in herself, erase the hidden flaws in her mind.

But Jon said her flaws were strengths. What made her weak could be turned into power. 

Annabelle needed more, more, more. She needed everything, if she was to have anything. She needed what Jon had. 

Everything Annabelle said had a purpose. Every word she used was chosen carefully, every little gesture or body language was calculated. She said nothing without thinking, and she could do it so quickly nobody even noticed. Jon would notice, a con man as perfect as she was.

Let him. Give her two straight days to sleep, and they’d have a real battle of wits. In the meantime, she just had to pick her questions strategically.

“What am I turning into?” Annabelle asked, after a half-second of rapid thought. “Who are you? And what do spiders have to do with any of this?”

Jon smiled again broadly, grey eyes dancing with a barely hidden delight. “You’re fully aware that these are all the same question.”

“Then answer them. You said you’re here to help me. Then help me.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll negotiate a price later.”

“This one is a freebie,” Jon said. He leaned back, face fading into the shadow of the dim yellow light of the hanging light. “You’re turning into something much akin to myself.”

In the darkness, Annabelle saw Jon open his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes…

All eight of Jon’s glittering black eyes shone in the darkness, straining her own and making her head thump. It was wrong, outside of humanity or reality, and it felt as if the very sight was straining the fabric of her delicately maintained life so tight it would tear. It felt as if it was tearing her, right in two, ruining her forever. Her eyes felt like they were going to burst out of her head. 

She didn’t want to know what would replace them. But she had the feeling that she already did. 

“Then what,” Annabelle gritted out, “are you?”

“I am the eldest and most treasured Son of the Mother of Spiders,” Jon said. He smiled at her, just a little, almost apologetic. “Sorry about that. I know you’ve always wanted to be an only child.”

Ah. Duh. Obviously. She should have known.

“...do I want to know who the Mother of Spiders is?”

“Your mother, should you choose to accept her,” Jon said cheerfully, leaning back into the light, and his face was normal again. Human as ever. Strange and foreign as ever - possibly everything, possibly nothing. “I know you aren’t strictly in the market for adoption, but you may not have much of a choice. You’ve felt her scratching beneath her skin. She’s going to tear out of you, and soon. Did you know some species of wasp lay their eggs in the body of spiders to provide food for the grubs?”

“During the next experiment,” Annabelle said dully, already filtering out Jon’s useless tidbits of information. That was a guy who spoke for the sake of hearing himself talk. “That’s when it’s happening. When I’ll...change.”

“Yes. It’s a painful process,” Jon said, and it was almost apologetic. “My own happened when I was fifteen - quite young, all things considered. I still remember the sound of my bones snapping as -”

“Don’t.”

“Of course! Anyway, I thought I’d make sure you had...to use the psych term, informed consent, before you entered the crucible. Our - my, sorry - Mother often foregoes true consent in our operations. The beauty of nature!” Jon laughed, as Annabelle felt sick. “Agnes wanted to put together a pamphlet, but then we let Gerry go wild on the clipart and...well, it’s better if I just explain. I can’t give you the full story now, but I’ll tell you as much as your mind can comprehend.”

Annabelle wasn’t sure she could even comprehend this. It was so much, and she was so tired. She had just heard that her body was going to rupture like a cocoon and give birth to a giant spider that may or may not also be her, and all she could think about was the fact that she wanted to go back to bed. Somehow, all she could ask was -

“Why?” She asked, so stupid and pointless, as if she was stupid, as if she wasn’t her at all. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s like I said.” In the dim yellow lighting, Jon’s eyes glittered pure black, and in that brief and stupid second Annabelle felt as if they were the same in that way. “Nobody should have to go through this alone and ignorant.” Then the moment was over, and his eyes were a human grey again, just left of normal. “Besides. Siblings stick together, right?”

“I hardly need more siblings,” Annabelle snapped. 

“You’re about to lose seven of them real soon,” Jon promised, extremely worryingly, “so I’d take what you can get right now, Annabelle.”

“Are you going to kill -”

“Unfortunately, you may have to fake your own death!”

Then their food came, and Annabelle received her first lesson in the class of hard knocks. 

They talked for hours. It took hours, to even just get a picture of the story. Jon was patient, answering every question, and Annabelle strained so hard trying to fight through her exhaustion, trying to understand the answer, Jon’s motivation in answering it or what he could be leaving out, that by the end of it she felt as if she had run a marathon. She had never felt so tired in her life, in the most dangerous situation in her life, with the most dangerous person she had ever met. 

By the end of it, Irene was texting her to ask if she was dead, and Annabelle was falling asleep at her chair. Jon cut an end to their conversation when he slid out his wallet, covered the bill with a black Amex card, and slid a business card against the table. Annabelle squinted down at it. 

The text in the center just said [FREELANCERS]. That was it. She stared at it.

Underneath the vague word, she saw a phone number [555-555] and an email [email@organization.gov]. Annabelle looked up to stare at Jon. “Are you for real?”

“Almost never,” Jon said cheerfully, “but the card will make sense when it needs to. Let me take you back to your dorm, alright? You can get some sleep in the car.”

If he was a creep, she was dead anyway. Annabelle didn’t bother arguing. She grabbed her jacket and got in the passenger seat of his car, and true to his word Annabelle drifted asleep almost immediately. She even felt as if the ride took longer than ten minutes, as if he drove in circles just waiting for her.

For the first time in a week, Annabelle slept uninterrupted, and had no dreams.

Annabelle wanted what Jon had. 

And a week later, she took it. 

Shivering in an alley, clothing ripped to shreds, her own skin hanging off her triple jointed limbs, she dug out a creased and torn business card. She had been worrying at it intensely over the weekend, staring and it and clenching it tightly as if it was her only lifeline. It was, of course. But Jon had known that.

The card looked different now. The text now looked handwritten, but with a beautiful and old-timey slanted handwriting. It now just read: 

‘To Annabelle, with love. From your new friends Gerry, Jon, and Agnes’. There was a number underneath, and Annabelle frantically dug in her tattered leather jacket pocket to draw out her cracked phone. 

Annabelle hated taking favors from people. Everything she had, she had fought for herself. She would scrape, borrow, beg, and steal whatever she had to. But, when it came to siblings...maybe, then, it was okay.

Dizzily, as Annabelle let the phone ring, she thought: this is my supervillain origin story. 

The thought sent a slow smile crawling across her inhuman and warped face. 

Sounds like fun. 

[basilone]

New year, new writing..?! YES. (It’s around 3am and I’m living my best life, obviously.) What better thing to start 2021 off with than with a little bit of Ron & Billie, and a New Year’s song shared between ’em.. just for kicks? (And, yeah, this one specifically goes out as a little treat to @mercurygray and @junojelli for being the best people I could ever hope to jive with. It’s an honor to have you in my life!)

give me a hand o’thine

“S-sir.”

He squints at the blanket-wrapped figure that’s come to a standstill just behind his foxhole. Raises an eyebrow at the quick flash of a smile that flickers in the moonlight before a cloud of breath replaces it. He thinks he knows who it is when she makes an impatient noise at the back of her throat. Can’t fathom why she’d be out here on the line with him instead of with the rest of her company.

“Mitchell?” he asks, regardless, because none of this makes sense. “What’re you doing?”

“Well, sir,” she says, sounding annoyed and resigned all at once, “I was looking for Dike. Found myself here. You didn’t see him, did ya?”

“Didn’t pass this way. Did you check over at –”

“Fox? Yeah. Could’ve gone that way, as they still don’t know what Dike looks like.” A pause. A deliberation. “Come to think of it, neither do I. Not really, anyway.”

“Well, Mitchell,” he says, craning his neck to look at her, “if it’s any comfort, he hasn’t made the trek across the snow to the other line. Would’ve seen him.” He smirks. “Would’ve shot him.”

“Can I make a new year’s wish outta that one, sir?”

Her rather noisy intake of breath tells him she didn’t quite mean to say it out loud. Tells him her mouth ran away with her, as he’s been told it does at times, and that she doesn’t quite fear him half as much as the rest of her company does. He can’t help but chuckle at the irreverence. Frowns as he hears her teeth chatter moments later.

“Mitchell.” He laces his voice through with command. Bends his words toward an order, crisp and sharp in his mouth, and tightens the syllables. “Get in here.”

“Sir?”

“You’re freezing.” He makes it sound simple. Turns his face back to the snowy field, the pine trees, the German lights far off in the distance. Leaves her the choice. “Get in here. Get warm.”

“I can’t stay long, sir.” Her voice is quiet as she slips into his foxhole. Her sleeve brushes his while she shifts and throws the excess of her blanket over his legs. She smells like winter. “Gotta keep looking for Dike.”

He hums noncommittally. “Watch the line with me a while. If he crosses over, we’ll see it.”

“You really think he’d do that, sir?”

“I told Nixon to be wary of him.” He shrugs. Doesn’t know what it is about her that makes him want to share. Doesn’t care to guess at it, not now that she’s pressed up against his side and shivering. “The fact that nobody knows where he goes is a problem, Mitchell, and you did not hear this from me.”

“Yes, s-sir.” Her laugh is soft. She sounds almost content, here, in the cold and quiet of this night. “Do you think it’s midnight yet?”

“Maybe. Won’t be long now, if not.” He shrugs again. Immediately wishes he hadn’t, as the motion brings her even closer to him. Brings her warmth, small but welcome, and her touch. “Happy new year, Mitchell.”

“Happy new year, sir.”

A smile again. Her eyes are fixed on the world outside the foxhole. He’s relatively certain the entire German army could pass them by and she’d be the only one to see it. He knows his gaze is fixed on her. On the gleam of her hair, bright beneath her helmet, and the way her cheeks are flush with cold beneath her darkened eyes.

“Bit shit, isn’t it,” she says breezily, “the lack of fireworks and all that. Germans don’t know how to have fun.”

“Used to watch the fireworks on the rooftop back home.” He bites his lip as the words flood out. It’s the most he’s ever said to her. The most he has said to anyone from her company bar Nixon. He can’t stop now. “Only tradition I kept up.”

“Lucky.” She all but burrows down beneath the blanket. Her words come out a bit muffled. “My mother throws big parties on New Year’s. I hate them.” There’s something entirely vicious-sounding deep in her throat. Something sharp, something hurtful. “They try to make me sing every year. I keep refusing. And now?” Anger, roiling and swift, clouds her tone. “Now I stupidly want to do just that.”

“Sing?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t stop you,” he decides on a whim. Warns her half a moment later. “As long as it’s soft, Mitchell, and doesn’t carry.”

“You want me to sing, sir? Like, here? Now?”

“If that’s what you want.”

She raises her head. Glances at him. He shifts under the heaviness of her gaze. Feels like he’s being measured, like he’s put on some scale of balance he can’t see the counterweight of. Feels the way he did back in Normandy again, with her eyes silently judging him as she presses down on whatever injury he’s managed to get himself into. He’s not sure which part of him is injured now. Feels the weight of her all the same.

“All right.” Reluctant agreement is still agreement. “As long as you don’t laugh at me.”

“Never,” he promises. Tears himself away from watching her. Tilts his head skyward to witness the falling snow instead. “Quietly, Mitchell. No need to alert anyone with it.”

For a moment, he thinks she’ll close off to him. That she’ll vanish out the foxhole as swiftly as she dropped into it, unceremonious as always, and leave him to his own devices once more. He doesn’t think he’d blame her.

He’s ill-prepared for her cheek coming to rest against his shoulder. Even less prepared for the way her hand wraps around his wrist and sears his insides with blazing heat. His free hand curls reflexively around the knife he keeps strapped to his thigh at all times. She cuts him deeper still, now that her voice rings out in the small space between his ear and her mouth.

“Should old acquaintance be forgot, and ne’er brought ta mind.. Should old acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?” Her voice warmly wheedles, questions, dips and weaves goodbye and remembrance into the notes. The syllables are airy – a mere breath and they are dismissed – and he knows they don’t carry when they burrow into his ear and remain there. “For auld lang syne, my dear,” she nearly laughs, the endearment a hint of caress against his freezing skin, “for auld lang syne.. We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auuuld la-a-ang sy-ne..” She laughs outright now. Hums a note of discontent. “That’s as far as I get with that, sorry!”

“We two have paddled in the stream,” he hums out, so soft he thinks she’s almost sure to miss it, “from morning sun till dine..” He almost loses the words when she sighs. Almost loses the notes when he glances down at her. Pulls himself back ashore in time. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s home and singing to the night sky. He keeps them open with her by his side. “But seas between us broad have roared, since auld lang syne..”

“That’s sad, sir,” she murmurs. Her eyes are bright. “Beautiful, but sad.”

Like you, he almost says.

“It’s my favorite part,” he says instead.

[inkribbon796]

The Demons Inside

Summary: With an unexpected lull in their enemies’ activity, the heroes try to go digging for answers.

A/N: Visitation Day.

Things in the base had quieted down. The Suits seemed to be in hiding. A troubling scenario since there seemed to be no cause for it. Sure Spade hadn’t yet retrieved his hand, but he wasn’t actively trying to steal it or the nanites back.

In fact it had been two full days since anyone had seen Spade, the thefts died down but the occasional demon hunter was being killed in the dead of night. But the lull was somehow worse than having the Suits always on the move.

So the heroes took the time to reconvene, making sure to keep a sufficient amount of heroes out in the city because the Suits seemed to know too much about their movements to allow anything less.

“It’s just,” Marvin began another rant over Bing’s phone, Nate was in a meeting room with Bing, Logan, Yancy, King, and J.J. “How do they always know where we fookin’[1] are?”

“Yeah that’s what’s botherin’[2] me too, dude,” Bing said, his eyes narrowing in thought even though his shades were hiding it. “Almost like we got—”

A knock came at the door, despite the fact that the door wasn’t even closed. It was the Host, he walked in, “Might the Host suggest something to assist the heroes?”

“Yeah, shoot,” Bing shrugged, J.J looking at the Host suspiciously as the seer walked in.

The Host cleared his throat, “The heroes are asking information from every side except for the one being targeted by the Suits the most, surely there would be some reason for it?”

“Who, the hunters, they’s[3] hate us?” Yancy reminded.

“For now,” the Host offered, “but the Host would think the heroes would want all the information they could get.”

“I would fookin’[1] love that,” Marvin spoke up. “But I’m bein’ fookin’ blackmailed, ‘memeber?”[4]

“Well, then it is a good thing that Marvin is not here to communicate with them,” the Host reminded smugly, leaning closer to the phone.

Marvin was quiet for a bit, then, “Aww, Host, yer doin’ a fookin’ bang up job ta get inta my good graces, yeh hear?”[5]

“The Host regrets to inform Marvin that he is breaking up and as such will not even hear what the heroes will talk about,” the Host smiled.

“Ahhh, nah, whate’er[6] will I—” Marvin lamented overdramatically before hanging up on his own.

“Well,” the Host smiled at Bing and Nate who smiled back at him. “Now that is he will not be here, the heroes are free to do whatever they want.”

“That’s all well an’ good, but how are we gonna get a hunter ta actually talk wit’ us?”[7] Yancy questioned.

“I know a hunter who will talk first, fight second,” Nate realized, moving back the Host. “Lo, come on, let’s go before the Suits come out of hiding.”

“Right,” Logan got up, making sure he was masked before leaving.

The other heroes went to the garage, mostly because that was becoming the spot where they talked to people in privacy who weren’t part of the Coalition.

Logan and Nate brought a hunter with them who was the only hunter in the city who wasn’t actively trying to kill Nate on sight. Nate introduced them as Taylor.

“We’s[8] met,” Yancy reminded curtly, standing protectively in front of King, the hunter staring at him cautiously. “What made youse wanna bother talkin’ to us now?”[9]

“The Guildmaster might be better than her predecessor but she’s too proud to ask for help,” Taylor sighed. “Believe me, if not for Nate I wouldn’t be here either.”

Nate stiffened before his skin paled and dark purple lines spread down from his eyes. Mare smiled, “If you don’t want to be here, then no one’s stopping you from leaving.”

“Don’t,” Taylor warned Mare. “It’s bad enough he’s letting you hitchhike.”

Shaking his head, Nate snapped, “Mare, don’t be an ass.”

“Oh, I’ll just let you deal with the hunters on your own then,” Mare responded snidely.

“Anyways, I can try and help but I just want to know,” the hunter cut in. “How many demons do you have in here and how many of them actually have regular hosts?”

“Nate and Mare,” Logan pointed to the singer.

“No, I meant the others,” Taylor motioned to Yancy and King.

“Ehh?” Yancy raised an eyebrow.

“You’re two of three adult-looking spawnlings and then there’s the,” the hunter visibly looked sick, “the kid.”

“Look we’s really only demons in name, none ‘a us can possess people,”[10] Yancy shrugged “An’ we’s only became demons ‘cause we’s are a part ‘a Dark an’ Wil’s family.”[11]

“Demons don’t form families,” Taylor scoffed in frustration, as if the heroes just weren’t getting it.

“Well one of them did, and Dark carved up some of his own territory to give them their own,” Nate told them.

“Yes, well,” Taylor began. “It is an abnormally large pact, usually only two or three demons can have an alliance before they fall to infighting. It makes sense he would kick the three of you out.”

King made a scoffing laugh at that, “You clearly don’t know shit about Dark then. He wouldn’t have kicked us out, even if we’d tried to kill him. The three of us left on our own, and given half a chance Dark would drag us back to the Manor kicking and screaming.”

“Demons don’t do that,” the hunter repeated. “That goes against everything that makes a demon in the first place. Even empaths shove their spawnlings out of the nest the first chance they get.”

Yancy glared at them, “Look, if youse ain’t gonna listen ta what we’s gotta say, we’s just gonna go back ta whate’er the fook we were doin’.”[12]

The hunter took a deep breath, clearly not believing him but said, “Fine, fine. Just are you still in your original bodies, or in someone else’s?”

“For better or worse I’m still in my own,” King answered, clearly baffled by the question itself. Yancy answered the same.

“The Host was made from the Author’s fractured mind and is still in the same body,” the Host answered. “The Entity and the Madman’s children that are aligned with the heroes are of no moral concern to the hunters. As for Lunky, their body was made from the ground up to suit them and no other soul has or will be housed in that vessel. No child was sacrificed, so the hunters need not worry about that either.”

The hunter was just studying the Host, clearly looking for any sigh of malice of dishonesty. “Fine,” they forced themself to say. “Fine, we know the most about Spade, obviously.”

At that moment, Mini walked in with the toolbox, and Lunky was following close behind making their little screeching noises, but when the spawnling saw the hunter their demeanor instantly did a one-eighty.

Lunky screeched at them, clinging onto Mini. The little spawnling’s arms stretched out to try and bring King and Yancy closer to them.

“Hey, bud,” King smiled, walking over and Lunky stretched to slip underneath King’s cape to glare at the hunter.

The action got a chuckle out of the animal magnet. “You trying to be big and scary, Junior?”

Lunky screeched at their father in complaint.

“Oh, sorry,” King smiled, “I’ll let you finish. So big and scary, aren’t you?”

“Dark thinks they’re just trying to crave out their own territory,” King explained, seeing the cautious look on the hunter’s face. “I just move around a lot, so they don’t know what they want, but they like the park.”

Bing chuckled as he walked over and took his toolbox from Mini, and stealthily took Lunky and placed him on his own shoulders. The 2-D drawing held onto Bing’s synthetic hair and glowering at the hunter, little growls coming from the small demon. “I just think they’re so social that people are their territory.”

“Maybe,” King smiled, fixing his crown.

The hunter, with every ounce of self control and clenched teeth, turned away from Lunky and King to look at Nate. “Alright we’re almost 100% positive that Spade’s a demon. We’re fairly certain that Hearts and Diamonds aren’t, and if Clubs isn’t a demon he’s really close to turning.”

“You sure?” Nate asked. “He’s violent and he’s sadistic as fuck but he primarily uses tech.”

Taylor looked frustrated, “So, he’s just a particularly smart glitch, apparently if a demon can start a family then a glitch can have a brain and an attention span long enough to help take over a city.”

“That would explain why Anti in particular is always going after Spade,” Logan commented. “As I understand it, demons are naturally territorial.”

They all got to talking, the hunter giving what information they could and eventually when Mini had to get his batteries recharged and his nanites flushed and refreshed, the hunter got ready to leave. Bing set him up in the garage and Lunky guarded over Mini’s drive and chittering at Mini as Bing watched them in amusement.

As the hunter walked out, Yancy followed them. He wasn’t trying to hide or be quiet.

“What do you get from working with King and his spawnling?” The hunter asked.

“Lunk’s my nephew an’[13] Kay’s my brother, that’s all there is ta[14] it,” Yancy started lighting up a cigarette. “King an’ the kid haven’t done a thin’ so let ‘em be.”[15]

Taylor went quiet for a moment, “I’ve been a hunter all my life, it’ll take some time to get over the fact that you’re all demons and demons kill people.”

Yancy took the cigarette out of his mouth to sigh. “Youse wanna go after Ills fer bein’ a thief, Yan fer killing people, or e’en Bim fer bein’ the fookin’ worst ta people, that’s fine. But King’s not that type ‘a person. An’ youse only care about humans so Lunky is none ‘a youse’s business. They’s only feed off demons. Leave ‘em outta it.”[16]

“So long as they don’t hunt humans,” Taylor reluctantly decided. “ I can pretend they’re not demons.”

The ex-convict sighed, “Yeah, that’s the best I can hope fer[17].”

He turned and walked back towards the base, the hunter watched him leave before going their own way. The day started turning to dusk in the sky.

The Host was down in his library, walking back in from talking to the hunter and the other heroes. As he narrated he became aware of another soul in his personal room and his bat appeared in his hand. Wheeling around, the seer swung the bat and his narrations halted when it came into contact with an aura that was almost as strong as his and it absorbed the blow.

The Host saw Diamonds and struggled to force the man’s actual name but his voice was trapped, strangled by the weight of his own narrations.

“The Host demands to know why Diamonds has intruded upon the Host’s space,” the Host demanded furiously.

“You stopped Bing, you stopped his witch hunt,” “J.J” sneered. “You let me have at least another day or two of unsuspected free reign here. Why?”

“The Host doesn’t have a choice,” the seer spat. “The Host needs to win this time, he must.”

“When you win, we win,” Diamonds reminded smugly.

“When . . .” the Host fought to choke out the real name again, “If Clubs wins, the Host loses.”

And with that the Host struck with his bat and his aura against Diamonds, hitting him directly in the face, and it made him whip his head back.

One instant he was standing in the Host’s library and in the next he was back in the elevator, ears ringing painfully and nose bleeding.

“Arghhh,” Diamonds groaned, bringing his hand to his nose and making sure he was still looking like J.J.

He wasn’t, which was an easy fix and came at the right second because the elevator doors opened and Yancy was standing there talking to Bing, and Bing was looking right at him.

“****![18] Jay, little dude are you alright man?” Bing asked in concern.

“Yes,” Diamonds signed with one hand as he tried not to leave any of his blood behind, the alarm not faked in the slightest because he’d almost been caught. “Don’t know why I’m bleeding.”

Bing and Yancy quickly rushed J.J to Iplier who was coming through the base’s front door and he got a quick checkup, and in the chaos the two drops of blood in the elevator were left on the ground, as the elevator doors closed, bringing the elevator back down to the Host.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. fucking

2. bothering

3. they

4. But I’m being fucking blackmailed, remeber?

5. Aww, Host, you’re doing a fucking bang up job to get into my good graces, you hear?

6. whatever

7. That’s all well and good, but how are we going to get a hunter to actually talk with us?

8. we’ve

9. What made you want to bother talking to us now?

10. Look we’re really only demons in name, none of us can possess people

11. And we only became demons because we’re a part of Dark and Wil’s family.

12. Look, if you aren’t going to listen to what we’ve got to say, we’re just going to go back to whatever the fuck we were doing.

13. and

14. to

15. King and the kid haven’t done a thing so let them be.

16. You want to go after Ills fer being a thief, Yan for killing people, or even Bim for being the fucking worst to people, that’s fine. But King’s not that type of person. And you only care about humans so Lunky’s none of your business. They only feed off demons. Leave them out of it.

17. for

18. Shit!

[descendantofthesparrow]

2 part Commission Work - Harry Hook x Reader - part 2 - the masked princess

commissioned by @musicarose​

=

You sat sluggishly at your desk, the weekend had been harsh, your sister barging into your room constantly to rant about…well about you, but she didn’t know that.

And now apparently, Harry Hook was on the look for the masked girl who had run off before the reveal. And it hurt to hear your sister spit insults about you.

You thought Audrey had gotten better, but she still had work to do.

You stiffened as harry sat next to you, doing your best to not look at him, in fear of blushing heavily or blurting out the truth.

you wished you could tell him, but you were scared he wouldn’t like the girl under the mask and avoid you like everyone else did.

“good morning class! Today, we are going to start on a team project!” the class, including you groaned. “now, now it’s a simple research paper, im sure you can handle that, now I will be assigning you groups because SOME of you- “ the teacher eyed the students, who shrunk in their seats “like to exclude others so!”

The teacher took out the attendance sheet and went down the list, marking off as she grouped teams of two and three.

You looked to harry in the corner of your eye, he was just doodling on the edge of his paper. and as you looked closer, you saw your mask from the ball, on top of your hidden face.

‘hes drawing…me?’ you thought, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.

“mister hook and miss (whatever last name), you two will be partners” you jumped, yelping out as you hit your knee on the desk.

The class turned to you, laughter in their eyes, you blushed and looked away. You didn’t see harry glare back and knock his fist harshly against his desk, the class flinched and turned back to the front.

You zoned out the rest of the class, your foot tapping on the ground constantly.

Someone poked your shoulder, making you squeak and turn to them. “uh-uh hi?” Harry chuckled and gave you a soft smile and an eyebrow raise.

“hi luve, im harry, Harry Hook, and yeh are?” he held out his hand, you gently grasped it, mind flashing back to when he kissed the back of your hand.

You shook hands, a blush clear on your face “im-im (y/n)” harry nodded, releasing your hand and leaning back in his chair.

“I've seen yeh before, but I don’t know where?” you sighed, shoulders slagging down.

“im-im audreys little sister” harry nodded slowly, then shook his head.

“no I think I've seen yeh somewhere else…” you froze, hands clenched in your lap.  He snapped his fingers and pointed at you “oh, at the engagement party!” you breathed a sigh of relief, then paused.

“wait, I was only there for like- five minutes, and then I left?” Harry shrugged.

“im good at remembering faces” he laughed, it was odd, just like the night of the ball, you had become easily comfortable with him.

“well, I kinda zoned out on the topic?” you gave a vague gesture to him, he snorted and shook his head.

“no specific topic, we just gotta research somethin’” you hummed and tapped your desk.

“how bout…pirates? Since that would be something we're both interested in?” Harry sat up straight and looked at you surprised.

“yer interested in pirates?” you nodded eagerly and tapped your hands on your thighs.

“yeah! When I was a kid I would sneak off to the library and look for stories and books with pirates in them, my dad and grandparents didn’t really like it but my mom always encouraged me to keep learning, no matter what topic it was- sorry im rambling”

You shyly ended, rubbing the back of your neck, harry frowned, reaching out and cupping your cheek "someones told yeh that yeh talk too much, who?”

Oyu paused, looking at his wrist “u-uh-aud-aud-“ Harry let out a low sigh.

“yer sister, she's a nasty one, any tips ta get ‘er ta leave me alone?” you blinked surprised, leaning away from his hand.

“you-you want her to leave you alone?” harry swallowed harshly and rubbed his arm.

“she- shes not really…personally aware? And she makes me uncomfortable and its obvious that she only likes my face n crap”

You locked your jaw and furrowed your brows “and here I thought she learned from ben, ill see what I can do”

Harry softly smiled and nodded “thanks lass” the bell finally rang, the teacher calling the end of the team quite time and dismissing the class.

“the paper is due next month on the second! Have a good rest of your day!”

You stood from your desk, stuffing all your books and notes in your bag.

“So lass, well meet up at lunch alright?” you whipped around to look at Harry, who was smiling at you. “is tha’ okay” he frowned slightly, realizing he might have made you uncomfortable.

“no, no! it's okay, just didn’t expect that….no one usually willingly hangs out with me after…audreys stunt” harry looked offended and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“well, im changing that today, yer gonna met meh friends uma n gil alright? You’ll love em, after all” he grinned down at you “we’re pirates” he teased.

You blushed and looked away, though you didn’t remove his arm.

“Hey by the way” you looked back at him “do yeh know that masked girl from the masquerade ball? The one that was in that blue ombre dress?” you slowly shook your head.

“no, i-I didn’t go” Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Alright…”

You did your best to ignore his face and the tone of his voice.

=

Well…uma knew who you were, she had immediately reconsigned your voice and had pulled you into a corner and told you.

She didn’t tell Harry thankfully or force you to tell him, she took one look at you and knew you were scared of what would happen.

So she left that alone and became a friend.

So as the date of the research paper drew closer, you and harry were around each other more often than not. And honestly? Even if you didn’t like him all to hell and back you would have been very happy to have a friend like him.

He had legit swore at a group of kids who were whispering about you and trying to tell him to avoid you.

You were invited to crew nights at Umas dorm, eating breakfast lunch and dinner with Harry, Uma, and Gil.

You were finally breaking out of your little shell, and beginning to not care about what all the other students thought.

You still couldn’t bear the thought of telling harry you were the masked girl, you knew he would be disappointed.

Though one day, when you had to study for the paper in your private dorm room because of the rain outside and the library being closed.

Harry was bored and starting doing….Harry things and poking around your room as he waited for you to return with the books you left in your locker.

As he looked under your bed, his eyes locked with a large blue box. He tilted his head, and pulled it out, sitting back on his heels and slowly opening the box.

His breath stopped as his eyes connected with the elegant mask of the girl from the masquerade ball.

“all this time” he muttered, gently picking it up and brushing his thumb against the nose “it was yeh”

“How did you find that” harry turned, eyes widening as he locked eyes with you.

You looked terrified, clutching the books to your chest “you weren't-I wasn’t- I didn’t!” harry stood, quickly waking over to you and grabbing the books and tossing them on your bed. then grabbing your shoulders, instructing you to breathe with him.

“Hey hey hey! Im not mad, yer fine, yer fine! Its okay, breath with me love breathe~” you grabbed his arms and tried to breathe, feeling tears burn at your eyes.

“you-you're not disappointed?” you whimpered, a look of sadness and….love? came over his face.

“disappointed? Love im happy! Who knew the girl I've been fallin’ for was the same as the girl who stole meh heart at the ball”

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped “you-you- falling for?”

“aye” he lifted his hand from your shoulder, cupping your cheek and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb “im falling for yeh…my princess”

You could feel the intense blush rise to your face, so you lunged forward and buried your face in his chest. You felt his laughter rumble in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“can I kiss yeh?” he whispered, your head shot up, looking into his bright ocean blue eyes. You nodded slowly, fluttering your eyes closed as Harry leaned in.

And pressed the softest, purest kiss to your lips.

As he pulled away, you couldn’t open your eyes, “yer smiling” you heard him chuckle. You opened your eyes biting your lip.

“That was my first kiss” you whispered, harry hummed in surprise, then gave you his classic flirty grin.

“How bout I give yeh a second one?”

“yes please,” Harry leaned back in, pressing a slightly more passionate kiss to your lips, though he kept it soft as not to scare you.

It was funny when your sister walked in, about to rant once more about harry being obsessed with the masked girl, when she saw harry on top of you on your bed.

Harry just looked at her, gave her his middle finger, and resumed in his quest of giving you the best kiss of your life.

“(Y/N)!!!”

---end~---

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[beerecordings]

“Hey. Hey. Marvin?”

He jolts to attention on the third word, shocked like a cat who’s just seen a cucumber, putting a hand over his heart and letting out a low, frantic, shaken breath. “Schneep, you fuck!” he laughs, his hands trembling around the paper bag. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Henrik regards him carefully from the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. Marvin’s heart thuds so loud he can hear it. Is this another ‘what’s going on?’ talk? Now he’s getting it from his little brothers as well as Jackie?

“I did knock,” says Henrik.

“Oh. I guess I was distracted.”

“You got take-out.”

Marvin’s eyes flicker down to the bag of food in his hands, quickly pushing one of his crystal balls out of the way to make room. Noodles and Company. Japanese pan noodles. He doesn’t even like this shit, but it was close and it was open and he hopes that the kid will. The kid has to. He hasn’t been eating anything. Marvin feels like he’s about to lose his mind. He wants to shove Japanese pan noodles down his fucking throat. He lets out a wild little giggle, pushing his hair from his eyes. What is he thinking?

“Are you not getting enough to eat at dinner?” asks Henrik. “We did finish off the kima in one sitting.”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I got enough kima. I just, uhhh.”

Why was he stupid enough to let Henrik catch him with this? He quickly pushes the second bag behind the table. He can explain some things, maybe, but not that. What does he say?

“I guess I’ve just been hungry.”

Henrik’s voice goes very soft, his eyes steady and dark in the evening light. “I worry you’re losing weight.”

Marvin blinks, glancing around his room. There’s a slight motion at Henrik’s side and Marvin sees that Chase is standing shyly beside him in the hallway, blinking at him with his big blue eyes. He touches his stomach, self-conscious.

“No,” he manages after a moment. “I think I’m doing okay.”

He is losing weight. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want them to notice.

“Have you been throwing up?” asks Henrik, in a voice impossibly softer still and entirely uncharacteristic. “Or eating a lot at one time, maybe, and then throwing up?”

Oh, fuck.

“No!” he tells them quickly, almost gasping on the rejection. “No, no, I don’t have bulimia or anything, Schneep, I’m fine, I was just hungry! Just tonight. Geez, you little twerps, give me some space, okay?”

A forced laugh shoves its way out of his mouth. Henrik and Chase exchange looks. Marvin turns away from them, hunched over the noodles, biting down hard on his lip.

“Marv,” says Chase’s familiar voice, laid low. “I know you been sneaking food back to your room. And you’ve stopped going out with Jackie to look for my little brother. Are you feeling okay?”

Is he feeling okay? Is he okay?

The truth is that since it’s started, it’s only gotten worse, worse and worse with every day that passes. The guilt haunts him in his dreams, gnawing on his organs and ribs like he’s a split-open pig with an apple in his mouth, making him feel sick and numb intermittently without relief. His mind wanders back to the boy constantly despite his best efforts, his temper boiling and his moods shifting wildly as his rationale assesses and re-assesses with every hour that passes. He can’t sleep. Eating makes him guilty. The sight of himself is a stab to the chest �� which is only one of the reasons he’s covered up the mirror in his room.

He feels like he’s dying.

Chase’s hand comes down on his shoulder, the warm fingers wrapping lovingly around his muscle and bone. He shudders once and then, for a moment, rests. For a moment, peace beneath his hand.

“You gotta tell us what’s going on, man,” murmurs Chase. “You been with me through the darkest parts of my life and I can tell that you’re hurting. You gotta tell us.”

Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.

Oh, he wants to. He wants to. He wants to fall against Chase’s chest. He wants to let Henrik soothe his hand through his hair as he looks him over for injury, for illness. He wants Jackie to wrap his powerful arms around him and tell him everything will be alright, he’s here, we’ll figure this out, together like we always have. Together like a family.

And then he imagines the looks on their faces if they knew.

“I’m fine!” he shouts, shoving Chase’s hand away and whirling on his little brother, who stumbles back in surprise. “I said I was fine, didn’t I? So why the fuck are the two of you still in here instead of off minding your own fucking business?”

“Don’t you dare!” shouts Henrik, his concern snapping open and oozing out furious aggression in a second, stalking forward and putting himself between the two of them. “Don’t you dare yell at him!”

“Then leave me alone!”

“Please stop!” cries Chase, grabbing the back of Henrik’s coat. “Marvin, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but we don’t have to get shouted at just because you’re going through something and won’t let us help.”

His eyes glitter with tears. Marvin turns his head away hotly, trying to swallow down the horrible welling of the guilt, the guilt, the guilt, stinging through the whole of his body. He can’t breathe. He can’t make any of this stop. Everything’s just getting worse and it’s his fault.

All your fault.

“I hope you’ll tell someone when you’re ready,” croaks out Chase, turning to go before he can really start crying. “All anybody wants to do is help.”

Henrik and Marvin stand across from each other, gazes set and angry and confused all at once. Marvin’s eyes flicker away.

“I don’t know if one of your boyfriends is treating you badly or if you’re high or what,” hisses Henrik, and if Marvin didn’t know better, he’d almost have thought Henrik was on the verge of tears too. “But if you ever yell at him like that again – ”

Marvin throws his crystal ball with all the rage he can muster.

Henrik gasps, closing his eyes as it shatters against the wall beside his head, only missing him by a few inches, covering the floor in glass and whatever liquid was kept inside. Marvin stares with wide eyes at the mess he’s made. He didn’t even mean to throw it.

Henrik does not move. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly open. Body tense with fear, his arms crossed more tightly around himself than they were a moment ago.

“Henrik,” says Marvin, in a voice that wavers.

Henrik turns and runs, slamming his door shut behind him.

Marvin sinks down to his knees, breathing hard.

“What am I doing?” he whispers. “What am I letting myself become?”

Tell them. Tell them. Tell someone. Anyone. Please.

He doesn’t.

He picks up his noodles and his second bag and he pulls the covering gently back from the mirror on his back wall, stepping inside on shaking feet.

He has to get the kid his dinner.

.

Lately, Jamie seems hardly to move.

He hasn’t always been like this. Marvin’s sure. He hasn’t. He used to just cry and cry. He was terrified of Marvin. Terrified of being a prisoner again, like he has been his whole life. But then – well, Marvin’s brain likes to tell him that the Stockholm Syndrome kicked in. The guilt – oh, it is a familiar enemy these days, the guilt like a dragon rotating in his stomach, breathing fire and ice – the guilt coils in his gut and makes him feel nauseous.

He wishes the kid was still angry with him. He wishes the kid was still fighting. It would be so much easier if he could pretend Jamie was violent or hateful or dangerous or angry. But he isn’t.

Three weeks, that was all it took. Three weeks and he stopped being afraid, and started being loving.

“You don’t hit me like Anti did,” he had signed once, as though in awe, and Marvin hadn’t even been able to answer. “You just leave me alone and take care of me.”

It was true in a sense. Marvin brought him food and toys and art supplies and even, on request, a violin to play. With each present, Jameson grew fonder and more grateful.

But then the begging had started.

“Marvin? Can’t you stay a little while longer and talk with me? Marvin, couldn’t I come out of my cage for just a little while? Marvin, I’ve been good, please don’t leave. Please, can’t you touch me? Please, can I have a hug, something, please? Marvin, Marvin. I don’t feel good. Please, I need you. Don’t you love me? I’m a good puppet. I’m a good little brother. Please don’t leave me alone again. I can’t take it anymore. Please just touch my hand, just for a second. Please look at me!”

His sign name for him was simple – an M and the word ‘brother.’

Marvin wants to throw up just thinking about it, but even that was better than this.

“Hey.” He knocks on the side of the window, trying to get his breathing back under control. He shouldn’t have been angry with Henrik, but he can’t be angry with Jameson. Not now. He has to make him feel like they’re brothers again. Anything to get him to eat. Anything to just get him to move. “I brought you food. Aren’t you hungry?”

Jameson doesn’t answer.

Jameson doesn’t move.

“Can you even hear me?” asks Marvin, hearing his own voice break. “Are you even there inside your own head anymore?”

Every strand of Jameson’s soft, overgrown hair is unmoving in the silence of the mirror dimension. His small body is tucked into the very corner, pressed to both walls, hugging his knees to his chest.

“I got something for you,” says Marvin, reaching into the second bag. “Super cute, just for you. Look!”

He pulls the big hedgehog stuffie out of its bag, pulling the tag out of its paw. He’s never brought Jamie a toy this big. He’ll have to shove it through the bars of the window. Its chubby brown face smiles widely at him, black eyes shining in the fairy lights decorating the walls of Jamie’s cage.

“Ta-da!” calls Marvin, shaking the stuffie enthusiastically. “You love your animals, don’t you? Look how big. Come here, James!”

But all of his toys have been abandoned on the floor around him. He isn’t even clutching the puppy that he briefly convinced himself was real to his chest. His violin is slumped over in the corner. His puppets are scattered over the untouched bed. Jameson does not move.

“Kid, you gotta come here,” cries Marvin, shaking on the bars over the front of his box. “Please, Jamie! Just tell me what you need! Medicine, a psych eval, something else to eat, something else to play with? You can have whatever you want! Just tell big brother!”

But none of it will move him.

“I’ve never pretended to be a good person!” Marvin screams, slamming his hand down against the wood of the box, not even drawing a flinch from JJ. “I knew what I was doing when I put you in here! I’m protecting my family and that is all that fucking matters. So if you think that this little sad boy act is going to make me feel bad, it won’t. It won’t!”

He strikes the wood again, heaving for air, his head swimming. He thinks he’s going to be sick. His stomach is chewing his intestines up instead of the kima he had for dinner. He’s going to throw up. He’s going to cry. He’s having a breakdown.

“Just tell me what to do,” he sobs, and crumples over the ledge of the box, his hands tearing at his hair, his face in his arms, weeping. “Someone just tell me what to do.”

He knew this was the sacrifice he was making when he locked him away. He knew it would hurt. He knew it would haunt him. But he didn’t know it would be quite this hard. He feels like it’s killing him. How long does he have to do this to keep his brothers safe? He wants someone else to take this terrible weight off his shoulders, this dragon out of his stomach. Why can’t he just tell them?

You know they would just let him go. And then Anti would see him, and Anti would use him, and Anti would kill the only people in the world that you love.

He has to protect Jackie. He has to protect Henrik. He has to protect Chase.

But he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep doing this.

It registers slowly that he’s never cried in front of Jameson before. He tries to keep the strong front up. He never really cries in front of anyone, actually. He shifts slightly on his arms, trying frantically to brush the tears away, and –

Oh.

Jamie is standing in front of him.

He’s hidden slightly behind the wall, staring shyly out at Marvin with huge blue eyes that look much too much like Henrik or Chase’s for his comfort, but this is something Marvin has mostly adjusted to. What he has never seen before is this level of exhaustion in Jamie’s young face. He is sallow and grey, with deep bags under his eyes. Refusing to eat – or not being able to get up through the weight of his distress – has left his face thin, and his usually oh-so-neat beard and mustache clump patchily around his cheeks and mouth. His clothes are wrinkled from days without changing. He seems to list as he stands.

Marvin stares at him, uncertain, breathing thickly through his nose and wiping his hot red tears away.

Jameson’s mouth parts like a word might come forth. He blinks wearily – Marvin wonders if he was, in fact, unconscious or asleep – and his timid hand moves forward as if to touch Marvin’s.

Instead, he takes the bag of noodles gently from between the bars of the cage, pulling it towards himself. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Marvin’s as he pulls out the black plastic fork, cracks open the little bowl of noodles, and carefully sticks a piece of beef in his mouth.

“Yeah!” cheers Marvin, his voice snapping in half once again, but this time for a good reason. He shoves at his disarrayed hair and stands up straight, coughing on the last of his tears. “Yeah, there you go! That’s right, there you go.”

Jamie’s pale mouth tilts in the smallest smile, blinking numbly across the bars at Marvin. He twirls a noodle on his fork and presses it into his mouth, and when Marvin nods again and babbles praise at him, Jameson seems to settle in some way, his mouth relaxing into the smile, though he’s still got this strange film over his eyes that Marvin doesn’t like or recognize.

“Just eat your pasta and you’ll feel all better,” Marvin reassures, standing in relief at the front of the box, stroking his own wrists to calm himself. “You really are the nicest kid, Jamie, you really are.”

Jameson’s mouth flickers, though the smile does not fade. Marvin stands in front of him, catching his breath, finding his calm again. After a couple minutes, Jamie steps back to his corner and sits down, still looking at Marvin and eating his pasta slowly, his head drooping every now and then, as though he cannot bear to stay awake.

“How can you be so tired if you’re just sleeping all day?” asks Marvin.

Jameson doesn’t answer, his hands picking robotically at his noodles.

“Can you sign? Can you hear me alright?”

Jameson puts a piece of broccoli in his mouth and chews slowly, staring straight ahead.

Marvin would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little unnerved, but more than anything he’s just relieved he’s eating again. “You must be feeling sick, huh? If you don’t get better soon, I’ll pick you up some medicine. And you can have those noodles again if you want, okay? As long as you eat, I’ll get you any food you want, little mister. Yeah?”

James nods slowly and twirls up more noodles, raising his gaze to him.

“Good work,” says Marvin, feeling much more at peace than he did when he came in here fifteen minutes ago. This was what he needed – just to know there were things he could fix a little. He won’t let JJ die. It’s going to be okay. “Thank you, petit-o. I think I need to go sort things out with Schneep, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay? Okay.”

He straightens out his shirt and turns to go. There is a moment of silence, and then – plastic crashing to the floor, hands slamming against the bars of the cage, and a desperate choke like the dead end of a voiceless scream.

Marvin whirls back, alarmed. Jamie is staring at him from behind the bars, his face gritted with distress, shaking his head and crying. His pale fingers grip desperately at the wood of the box, scoring scratches into the edge of it, tears running down his sickly face.

“Fuck’s sake! What?”

“Alone, alone, alone,” signs Jameson, stopping only to curl in on himself and pull at his hair, choking for air. He shakes his head hard, wheezing. “No, no, no!”

“Jameson.” Marvin moves back towards him again. “Hey, calm down. Calm down, it’s okay.”

He stares up at Marvin, making a little noise like a broken squeak that makes Marvin distinctly uncomfortable. Jameson manages one deep breath and then drops out of view for a second, crouching down. He comes back up again with pasta in his hands and quickly puts a noodle in his mouth, chewing quickly, reaching a hand out for Marvin through the bars.

Marvin draws back, alarmed.

“Come on,” he says, shaking his head. “Come on, don’t – hell, Jamie, you’re okay.”

“I’m losing my mind, I’m losing my mind!” He shakes his hands out as he speaks, scratching at his palms between words, groaning with only his breath and jumping slightly, like there’s too much energy in his body and he can’t get it out. It almost reminds Marvin of Jackie when he’s under-stimulated, but he’s never seen peaceful, shy little Jameson acting like this. “I can’t live like this anymore! I’m going crazy, I’m going crazy!”

“Don’t say that,” snaps Marvin, a thrill of fear electrifying his fingers. “Stop it!”

“What am I doing wrong?” Jameson’s hands scream, his body shaking with that horrible energy, his pupils blown wide. “Why can’t I make anybody love me?”

“That’s not – that’s not why – ”

“I can be like your real brothers if you just give me a chance, I promise! I’ll go to medical school! I’ll learn to fight! I can be nice like Chase, I swear! I’m trying so hard! I’m being so good, please!”

“You don’t understand. I’ve explained this to you before!”

“I’ll eat all the pasta you want!” He picks beef off the ledge and puts it his mouth. “I’m so good! I’m so good! I do everything you ask! I did everything Anti asks! Nobody wants me, not even my own brothers. I promise I’d be really nice and good if someone would just let me go!”

“Stop it!” shouts Marvin, and his power bursts out of him without a single warning but for that burning in his fingers, and he sees the boy stagger back just the same as Henrik did. Jameson crashes to the floor, covered in Japanese pan noodles and beef, a streak of magic burned across his cheek, and for a second, Marvin sees the desperation in his eyes – and then he goes dead again.

Jameson rubs at the burn, snuffling softly, his eyes quiet, staring straight ahead. He stands up. Moves to his corner. Sits down. Hugs his knees to his chest. And goes still.

“Jamie?” calls Marvin to his little brother’s back, his heart pounding in his chest. “Jamie, I didn’t…”

Jameson doesn’t move.

Marvin swears and steps back, feeling ill once again.

“What am I doing?” he whispers, rubbing at his forehead.

This is like torture. This is like torturing him. This is what Anti did.

Marvin is finally sick the moment he gets back to his bedroom, falling to his knees beside the little waste bin beside his bed and throwing up until there’s nothing but bile dripping from his lips.

He thinks…

Fuck. Fuck.

He thinks he needs to tell Jackie.

He’s already crying just at the thought of it. He can see the look on his face. The betrayal.

But he doesn’t think he can do this anymore. He’s breaking Jameson completely. He’s tearing himself apart. And he still, after these long months have passed, has no idea how he’s ever supposed to change this situation.

This is what he has to do.

He’s on his feet, feeling unsteady and ill. Talking to Jackie won’t make tonight better, but maybe, maybe, he’ll have some relief in the days to come. Maybe Jackie can help him carry this weight.

He steps out into the hallway and there is blood on the carpet.

Marvin’s own distress dissipates into fear for his family. “Guys!” he cries, all but leaping towards the living room, magic cackling in his fingers. “Henrik! Chase! Jackie?”

“Is that him? Marvin, we’re down here!”

“Chase?” He hurries down the hall towards their little ‘first aid room.’ “Who’s hurt? Is everyone okay?”

“Jackie found Anti!”

He shoves into the room, eyes huge. Chase hurries forward to comfort him, standing back from the table where Henrik is pinning Jackie carefully down, their older brother groaning and heaving with blood and terror. Marvin races past Chase, curling over Jackie’s body, taking his brother’s face in his hands. “Jackie, baby,” he croaks. “Anti did this to you?”

“He doesn’t know where JJ is!” Jackie shrieks, tears running down his face. If Henrik wasn’t holding him, he’d be thrashing. Blood leaks from a wound in his side. “He was taunting me! He said it must hurt to know he was going to take him from me again! He thought he was still with us! Anti doesn’t have Jameson!”

Marvin’s blood runs cold. Even the air panting through his mouth seems to have gone cold.

“Jackie, be calm!” snarls Henrik, shoving him down on the table. “You’re making this worse.”

“My baby brother, my baby,” screams Jackie, throwing his head back and forth. “He ran away and God knows where he is now! Homeless or lost or being fucking trafficked, my little brother! No, no, Jamie! I would have taken care of him, I would have loved him so hard. Why didn’t I make him feel safer, why did I fall asleep, I’ll never fucking forgive myself…”

“Marvin!” snaps Henrik, grabbing his shirt. “Focus! Tell me you have something to calm him down.”

“Right, right, sorry.” What does he have on hand? He thinks he has a calming spell somewhere, but he needs incense, and somewhere in the back of his mind there’s a memory of a spell for pain relief, but right now all he remembers is…

One sleep spell.

He curses himself quietly, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’m going to sedate him,” he tells his little brother, and Henrik nods tersely.

Marvin affixes his hands to the back of Jackie’s head, holding him gently, summoning the spell.

“No, no,” sobs Jackie, tearing at his hands. “Let me stay awake. I want to fucking feel this. I want to feel every second of it. I want to remember this hatred when I find the person who’s keeping him from me.”

“Jackie… I…”

“I’ll make them regret being born,” spits Jackie, a sob mangling his fury. “I’ll kill them. Jameson… why didn’t I protect him…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” whispers Marvin, his voice trembling. “You did everything you could.”

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” Jackie whispers back, wrapping his fingers around Marvin’s. “I was meant to be guarding him.”

“Go to sleep,” murmurs Marvin. “Go to sleep. In the morning, it won’t hurt so bad.”

He presses into Jackie’s head the same sleep spell that left him unconscious the night he stole Jameson away. For a second, he almost thinks he sees something like recognition in Jackie’s vivid blue eyes – but then sleep is scooping him up, and Jackie’s eyes flicker, and he fades trustingly into Marvin’s hands.

“Thank you,” says Henrik, oblivious to the intensity Marvin is feeling, and he hurries to peel back Jackie’s shirt and begin working on the wound.

“Is he going to be okay?” asks Chase, scooting forward and putting a hand on his shoulder, peering over Henrik at Jackie on the table.

“It will be a painful wound, but he will heal just fine if we can convince him to rest.”

“Do you think… that’s true?” Chase’s eyes flicker up to Marvin’s. “That Anti doesn’t have JJ?”

“Maybe he was just trying to upset Jackie,” mumbles Marvin, stepping back from his brother’s body.

“Jackie would be more upset to know that Anti had JJ and was torturing him,” replies Henrik, shaking his head. “A picture of Jameson in pain would have sent Jackie even more wild than this. It doesn’t make sense. He must really not have him.”

“Is that good news?”

“I’m not sure,” says Henrik uncertainly. “Maybe. Unless someone even worse has gotten their hands on him. It is a big world for a young man who has never known anything but Anti and the 1900s. And Jameson is supposed to be powerful. I fear the people who would seek to use him the same way Anti did. Right, Marvin?”

For a second, Marvin thinks he knows, but then he realizes Henrik is only deferring to the person in the room with the most experience with magic. “Right,” he manages weakly.

“You look pale,” says Chase, back at it with that same much-too-soft voice he used before.

“Chase, take your brother to lie down,” commands Henrik. “I need to concentrate on this.”

“I’m sorry for throwing that at you,” Marvin tells him even as Chase moves around the table to wrap an arm around his waist. “I don’t know what got into me, Henrik, I just…”

“Let’s talk about it when everyone’s calmer,” answers Henrik, not looking up from his work. “Myself included.”

Marvin lets Chase lead him away, listening to his little brother blabber about JJ and Anti and Jackie and Schneep, though he doesn’t seem to take in a word of it. All he can focus on is the warm weight of Chase’s body pressed to his own.

He’s not sure, suddenly, if Jackie would forgive him if he knew what he had done.

He broke Jackie’s heart that day.

Tears threaten to fall and Marvin squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in the smell of Chase, the feel of Chase, the comfort and safety and familiarity of Chase. To his surprise, his little brother has decided to take him to his room instead of Marvin’s, and he’s grateful. He doesn’t want to be in there right now, with the mirror gleaming hatefully beneath its covering, waiting for him to come back and face what he’s done. He just wants to be with Chase.

“Lie down with me, yeah?” asks Chase, changing into a sleep shirt and cuddling up in bed. “You’ve seemed spooked all day. I’m worried about you.”

Marvin nods numbly and crawls into the covers beside him. Chase keeps talking, but Marvin doesn’t hear. Just focuses on the arms wrapping warmly around his neck, and Chase’s weight curled up beside him.

This is what he would lose if the others found out.

They would let Jameson go, and then Anti would use him to hurt his family even worse than he did this night. Or maybe… maybe…

Maybe Jackie wouldn’t even keep him around to let him watch that happen.

Maybe Jackie would hurt him, if he knew.

No. Marvin has to shake the thought off. He knows what he did was wrong, but he did it to protect them and to spare Jackie from having to make the difficult choice that Marvin knows was necessary. He did what he had to do.

Right?

“Marvin?” whispers Chase, when the evening light has gone and the moon hangs over him. “Hey. Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

Marvin doesn’t answer, shuddering against Chase’s body. He buries himself in his brother’s chest and he does not move.

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

Taken from the Marvin’s Cage AU: Marvin is the one keeping Jameson in the little puppet box so that Anti can’t use him to hurt his family. When Jackie finds out, he sets Jameson free and throws Marvin out of the house, cutting off all communication from him and leaving him to devolve into hatred and magical corruption. Jackie becomes ferociously over-protective and grieves the loss of his brother while Jameson is just trying to understand what it is that happened to him and learn to live a normal, happy life with the help of his brothers.

Find Part One here if you missed it.

[walkingdeadjunkie]

Southern Comfort [Merle Dixon x Reader]

Requested by: negansgirl06

I was hopping for something where the reader promises Merle that she doesn’t cut he/her self anymore and when Merle our she’s been doing it agin he makes her promise to stop and it ends in some really cute fluffy cuddles? (I’m not sure if you write about angst but I figured what’s the harm I’m asking)

Summary: Merle Dixon was the last person on earth who you thought would give a shit about anybody but himself. But the man had a soft spot for loners. And that's what you were.

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: self-harm, swearing and attempted suicide.

Word count: 2,885

GIF isn’t mine, but please check out the blog for the lovely person who made it!

You’ve cut too deep this time and now blood is dripping all over the tent floor. You throw your overshirt onto it and wipe it up as best you can then bring your arm to your chest and slide outside. You need to get to the water and clean it up before it attracts the attention of the others or walkers. It’s dark out here but with one arm out of commission and the other supporting it, you aren’t able to carry a lantern and instead rely on the moonlight to help you down the small walkway and rush to the lake. Stumbling on this and tripping over that. You think of them as you make your way down so carelessly. Your brother, sister and mother. All of whom were torn into ribbons right in front of your eyes by neighbors you’d known longer than your runaway father. People who cared for you since the tender age of three- people who were also dead.

You come to the water and kneel at it. There’s no tears that escape your eyes because they’d dried up a long time ago, that’s why the cutting helps. It gives you an emotional release that nothing else does. You’re about to stick your arm in when a hand wraps around your shoulder and you look up to see the frightening half of the Dixon brothers looming close. You startle then fall back onto the cut arm and cry out. He makes no move to help you and your arm returns to the cradled position it was in before.

“Don’ wan’a puh ya arm ‘n there darlin’, shit’ll make ya sicker than a man who sticks his dick ‘n a mule.” His back is against the moonlight and it reaffirms just how hulking he is. Merle squats down and holds a hand out. Your heart is racing by his sudden attendance. “Ain’ gon’ hurt ya fancy lady. Done ‘nough a tha’ ya self.” You chew on your lip and think about the risks. It doesn’t seem like he has ill intentions at all and so you lay the back of your arm on his open palm. He brings it close up to himself then tuts and clicks his tongue. “Well fuckin’ ‘ell, did a numb’a on yaself didn’ ya?” You stay quiet and he looks over. “Got anotha shirt?”

“What?”

“Got anotha shirt?” You didn’t want to answer, the question felt unsafe. “Oh fuckin’ ‘ell, course ol’ Merle’s tha fuckin’ cunt who gotta tear ‘is shit up for a damn city woman.” He lets go of your arm and your eyes widen when he grips the bottom of his singlet and lifts it high. You shift yourself back and begin to whimper.

“Please don’t hurt me.” You beg softly. He freezes for a moment, then lets the singlet fall back down.

“I ain’ a fuckin’ rapist ya bitch. I ain’ even lookin’ at ya skeleton ass- uppity lil shit ain’ ya?” He says roughly. You feel guilty instantly. “Ya need ta wrap ya fuckin’ arm ‘for ya blackout ‘n die.” He pulls the singlet all the way off and tears the bottom of it like butter. Quickly he lines up the fabric at the beginning of the cut, loops it around the limb and looks up. “’s gon’ fuckin’ hurt fancy lady so bite ya otha arm.” You do as he says and when he tightens it your teeth sink into the skin and you let out a muffled moan. “Now hol’ it up.”

You do just that. The thumping and pulsing in your arm is worse than the cutting was and the man throws his singlet back on. You’re too busy floating around in your own world of pain to really pay attention to him until a shuffling sound catches your interest and you look up to see him with his hand out again.

“Need’a get ya ass inside woman.” You look at his hand again and back at him. You still can’t make out his expression but he helped you and so there’s a slither of trust between you both. You put your hand in his and he helps you stand then lets go. “Why’d ya do it?”

“I’m sad.” You reply simply.

He laughs loudly.

“Well, fuckin’ do some oth’r shit.” Your brows come together while he steps away to create more space.

“It’s not that easy.” You reply with mild frustration.

“Well ol’ Merle’s got drugs if ya wan’ black out ‘nstead?” He offers easily, like it was normal to do so.

“No. Those are bad for you.” 

“An’ cuttin’ ya shit up ain’? Least ya’ll die happier bein’ high on rocks den bleedin’ out by a blade.”

You realise then just how monumentally different you are regardless of the background or personality. He’s a tweaker and you’re sober. You should have picked up on the signs a lot earlier- but at least he was nice.

“I’m fine.” You reply stiffly. He lets out an amused chuckle and stretches out.

“Nah, ya ain’ tha’s why ya fuckin’ did tha’ and told me ya sad.” He sighs and faces you completely with his arms crossed. There’s a long silence before he continues. “Dun do tha’ shit ta yaself fancy.”

The glare is instant. Your face is exposed to the light unlike his so you know he can see it.

“Why the hell do you care? We don’t know each other. This is our first conversation.”

“I see ya wanderin’ ‘round woman, all mopey and alone. I’m a lon’a too, buh I goh lucky wit’ lil Darylina. You didn’. Us kind gotta look out for one anoth’a.” He replies simply.

“Is that why you’re out here? You’re following me?” He laughs heartily and you feel embarrassed for what he’ll say next because it seems like you were the last thing on his mind.

“Get off ya fuckin’ high horse lady. I came ouh ‘ere ta smoke a bowl ‘nd saw ya dumbass trippin’ down tha hill.” He cracks his knuckles before continuing. “I’m gon’ need ya ta reassure ol’ Merle ‘ere sugar, cause he’s worried ‘bout ya. This ain’ normal shit and it’ll only get worse.”

“Why do you need my word?” And why are you worried about me, you think.

“Cause this is fucked up. If ya sad talk ta me, if ya hate me talk ta Darylina. He’s soft like ya. Ya don’ need’a do this ta ya’self. Shit’s hard- yea. Buh ya makin’ it harder.”

Maybe he really was just trying to be nice but you’ve never spoken to this man before and you sure as hell did not need to promise him anything. But he seems like the stubborn kind and so you grind your teeth and answer stiffly.

“Fine. I won’t.” He rubs his hands together then points one of them up the hill.

“Well tha’s dandy fancy pan’s. Now get back ta ya tent and ol’ Merle’s gon’ carry on ‘is night.” You roll your eyes and move around him to return to the camp. You owe Merle nothing and you will do whatever the hell you want.

*

It’s been a week since your run in with Merle Dixon and you haven’t spoken to him since. He leaves you alone and does whatever he does but every once and a while Daryl will give you a nod when your paths cross. The group here is flimsy and there’s a lot of competing egos and personality clashes in it. It’s enough to make you realize how much you don’t want to be here anymore. You spend the morning helping the women clean, barely listening to their conversations but nodding along with what they say like you were. You’ve already made your mind up on what you want to do and stole one of the men’s blades when they weren’t looking since yours went ‘mysteriously’ missing the day after you spoke to Merle.

You’re deep in the woods now. You had hoped to come across a walker to throw yourself at but all of the ones you see have arrows in their heads already. So now it’s left up to you.

This spot is nice enough.

With a flick of your wrist the blade is unsheathed from its handle. You fall onto your knees and cut your hand to check how sharp it is, it’s decent enough to get through a windpipe. With one last prayer and the smiling faces of your family in mind, your eyes close and the metal presses against the skin of your neck. You only manage to slide it less than an inch across when your wrist is squeezed so hard that you cry out and drop it. When you look up Merle is the one you see, his expression is furious and it panics you instantly. He kicks the knife far before yanking you up with a grunt.

“Wha’ tha fuck are a doin?! Ya fuckin crazy bitch. Tha’s tha fuckin worse way ta die!” His volume stings your ears and makes you feel small. But the shock wears off fast and you remember why you’re out here.

“Let me go!” You scream while struggling to pull yourself away. “I’ll fucking stab you before I kill myself if you don’t do it!” You continue to struggle against him but the man is made of concrete and he easily keeps you in place.

Your threat is nothing anyway, one half-assed slap and he could knock you into next year.

“Ya gave me ya word.” He growls. Brows together and creasing a line between them.

“I don’t care! My choices aren’t yours you hick. Fuck off!” He doesn’t flinch at the insult. He’s been called a lot worse no doubt and something so generic bounces off of him like styrofoam.

You kick at his legs and he waits until the steam runs out and you’re left breathing heavily. When you stop resisting he lets you go with a frown. For some reason or another you find yourself wrapping your arms around his middle and bunching the back of his shirt with your hands. You feel it then, a wetness on Merle’s shirt that tells you that you’re finally crying. After so long of nothing it comes out like a burst dam and you can’t stop. Your body is shaking and his hands are on your back while his head rests on yours.

“Ya gon’ be alrigh’. Shit’s jus’ hard at tha’ momen’. Life ain’ tha same way.” He says.

After a while the sobs turn into sniffles and then become whimpers. He’s warm and hard, like a stiff hot water bottle that makes you feel a comfort you hadn’t in a long time.

“I don’t want to be here Merle.” You admit. The grip on you is tightened a little more. “I hate these people, I hate what we’re doing, I hate everything.” He puts a hand on either arm and keeps you in place so he can step back. There’s nothing particularly soft in his expression, but he does seem aware and his attention is yours completely.

“Hate it all baby doll, buh don’ let it kill ya off. We’re all gon’ die. Buh die fightin’ fa somethin’, helpin’ someone- ya don’ like these people? Hell, neith’a do me or Darylina. Buh it works fa now, it ain’ gon’ be forever.” He replies.

You shake your head and break the stare for a moment.

“I can’t help anyone.” You whisper. “I couldn’t help my family so how the hell can I do anything?” Your gazes meet again. “These people don’t need me.”

He lets out a scoff and rolls his eyes. You didn’t expect something like that in such a sensitive situation but it does make everything feel less tense.

“Ya don’ know tha’. Ya migh’ be tha one cunt ‘round who will kill a walker tha’s about ta bite someone. Don’ blame yaself fa wha’s already done. Ain’ no manual on how ta survive a dam’ apocalypse and keep ya people ta’gether.” There’s nothing in his words that feel forced.

“I should have done more.” You say softly.

“Do more now.” He counters.

“But what if I do something wrong? What if somebody needs my help and I fuck up again?” The tears threaten to come back and you have to chew on your lip to keep it together.

He shakes his head.

“At leas’ ya fuckin’ tried fancy ‘n tha’s wha’ matters.” He stands tall again and brings you in for another hug that feels more intimate than it did before, like he cares. “ Ol’ Merle’s gon’ teach ya a few thin’s. Shit that’ll help ya feel strong an’ safe.”

“Like what?”

“Fightin’, huntin’, how ta kill a dam’ walker so ya don’ feel like ya can’. Shit that’ll make ya see how important it is ta be alive fa yaself an’ other fuckers.” He lets out a sigh that you feel deflate in his chest. “Ya ain’ gon’ be alone again.”

“You don’t know that.” You reply with a scoff.

“I fuckin’ dam’ well do woman. Only a Dixon can kill’a Dixon. An’ Darylina ain’ killin’ me yet.” The comment doesn’t make any sense to you because it isn’t true but you don’t correct him. His words feel nice. “And if he do, then ya still go’ ‘im. He’ll watch ou’ fa ya.”

You laugh at the comment and if your head could shake you’d do it.

“We’ve never spoken before Merle.” You say. “I doubt that.”

He lets out a laugh and once again you’re thrown off.

“Well don’ cause he’s tha only reason I knew ya fucked off ou’ ‘ere. An’ why ya didn’ get ya ass eaten by a fuckin’ walker. Cause he don’ wan’ ya dead neither.” You loosen your hold a little and the pieces begin to come together.

“He saw me come in here? Those arrows were his?” You ask.

“Sure as shit did. Boy walks like tha wind. Got a head’a ya ta kill ‘em off while I followed behind. Told ya woman, us lon’as gotta stick ta’getha like flies on shit.” He boasted proudly.

Despite the crudeness of the comment you hold Merle tighter and the tears come back again.

The Dixon brothers were the last men on earth that you ever thought would give a shit about you, yet they did. They cared enough to keep you alive, to show you that they were worried and gave you the time of day when nobody else has. Because they were alone too.

You pull far enough away to still be in his hold and he looks down, eyes widening a little as you tug him down by the front of his singlet. You stretch high enough to reach his cheek and plant a soft kiss on it. When you pull away from the embrace Merle stands tall with a high brow then looks you over slowly. He hasn’t said anything yet. But you know that whatever comes out isn’t going to be as platonic as it was when he was comforting you.

He lets out a low whistle.

“Well goddam’ fancy, if I knew ya would’a done tha’ ol’ Merle ‘ere would’a turned ‘is charm on ta get a little more.” He says throatily with wiggling brows.

Your eyes roll and you wipe at your face with a tired sigh.

“Don’t ruin the moment Dixon.” You say dryly.

“Oh I can make this momen’ even bett’a darlin’. I’m a givin’ man with a lotta love in ‘im.” He says playfully with a wink that you can’t help but smile a little at.

You walk around him and find the blade easily. The weight of it is heavier than you remember. Maybe because now you realise how close you came to leaving because of it. The scent of sweat and something like burning plastic comes close and you look to the side and see Merle staring back. You hold it out for him to take but he shakes his head.

“Shit’ll keep ya safe an’ give ya life instead’a takin it away. Hol’ on ta it. And don’ do this ‘gain.”

“I won’t.” You promise. And this time you mean it.

The sentiment is something you didn’t expect to come from somebody like him. But you take the advice with a smile, sheath the blade and pocket it. Instantly Merle wraps an arm around your shoulders that feels like a tree trunk and directs you back to the camp while whistling. Strangely enough it feels good to be held by him. A part of you wants it to stay that way even when you do get back.

“Merle?” You say while looking up at him with a smile he focuses on. “Thank you.”

He shrugs and let’s out a long sigh.

“Shit das wha’ friends is for fancy! Buh now it’s time ta show ya how ta skin a squirrel so ya can make ol’ Merle ‘ere some food when he too pissed ta cook.”

Squirrel?

“Why the hell can’t you make it? You have hands.” A laugh vibrates through his thick chest and his tone switches back to the flirty one he gave you after the kiss. His eyes brush over your tense expression and he grins.

“Cause tha’s wha’ lady friends is for sugar, well, tha’ and kissin’ ol’ Merle’s cheek.”

[angelbain]

The Picnic

(aka a little fluff / crack before I dodge on angst again)

The “extra episode of where are they now” as I picture it. 

Oneshot. Small reference to my fic “O Brave New World” chapter 3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/24252301/chapters/58501732#workskin  in which Catra and Adora visit Entrapta who feeds them experimental cookies. 

A Picnic at the end of the universe

Perfuma’s kingdom, a clear patch in the forest. PERFUMA and a few Plumerians helps stretch a big table cloth over the grass. SCORPIA is standing by her, holding huge baskets full of fruits and vegetables.

PERFUMA: Look, Scorpia, some people are coming! Oooh, I am so happy we are all seeing each other today!

She jumps and bats hands with joy. Scorpia looks at her with a loving eye. SPINERELLA and NETOSSA arrive from the air thanks to the former being able to cast winds.

PERFUMA waves at them with a smile: Here! Here! Come around!

SPINERELLA: Hello!

NETOSSA: We brought some drinks! Is that okay?

PERFUMA: Great! Amazing! Put them here!

She shows a small table. The four of them chat joyfully until a sound of magic glitter interrupts them. Appears GLIMMER and BOW who carries a cake bigger than himself, covered with icing and decorations, multiple-stairs type.

GLIMMER (raising her arms in the sky) Ta-daaa! We’re here!

BOW moans, and almost let the cake fall. It is caught on time by all the characters present, and slowly put in the middle of the tablecloth.

PERFUMA (with an inquisitive tone): Glimmer, what’s this?

GLIMMER: It’s a cake! Bright Moon’s cooks spend the whole morning preparing it! The icing has three different flavours, and the decorative pearls are coated with real gold!

As she talks, the cake seems to shine behind her. PERFUMA gives a concerned look at SCORPIA, who answers with an awkward smile.

PERFUMA: Well, err, thank you Glimmer! I’m sure it will be perfect for a light pic-nic in the middle of nature… But where are Adora and Catra? Weren’t they supposed to come with you?

GLIMMER: Oh, they said they would come by their own means… They should be there soo…

She is interrupted by the loud noise of an engine roaring closer. To all the characters’ horrified sight, a huge motorbike comes at them at full speed. Both riders wear a helmet that makes them unrecognised. They brake at last minute in a loud hiss, and do a spin that throws earth at the face of the protagonists. The back rider get their helmet off: it is ADORA, with a brand-fresh undercut and the biggest beam.

ADORA: GUYS! You will never figure out what I gave Catra for her birthday!

GLIMMER: Let me guess, this motorbike?

ADORA;: Yeah! It is a-ma-zing, right? 

There is no answer. CATRA appears by her side, looking embarrassed, with a box that looks like it has been stepped on multiple times.

CATRA: So err Adora… About the pizza…

ADORA: What’s with the pizza?

CATRA: It has… err… suffered a little in the journey… It should taste fine but…

She opens the box to the saddest pizza ever seen.

GLIMMER: Wait! You disappeared all this morning to do ONE PIZZA? Arrrr!(She holds her head in her hands)

CATRA: No! I made cookies as well! Look!

She opens a box, and get a cookie out that has very vaguely the shape of a cat, that she holds proudly in front of an unconvinced GLIMMER.

PERFUMA (trying to stay calm and speaking as if to a very small child): That’s cool! Put it next to Glimmer’s cake and join us!

CATRA (asides, with her hand at the side of her mouth, pointing at the cake): Wait, did Sparkles do that?

ADORA: Apparently.

CATRA (same attitude): And we’re standing here with our stupid pizza…

ADORA (dry voice): It’s a great pizza. Now stop being competitive and enjoy the party.

They are interrupted (again) by the rush of the river close by which becomes a sudden torrent, to let stage for a wonderful boat… on fire. MERMISTA jumps from it and waves her arms to throw water at the arson, and floods PERFUMA who came closer to say hello.

MERMISTA: Sea-Hawk? SEA-HAWK? Come out now, and don’t forget the food!

SEA-HAWK (from inside the ship): I’m co-o-o-oming darling!

MERMISTA (with a bored voice): Oh, hi guys. Sorry for the inconvenience. He insisted for the fire.

PERFUMA (drying herself with a towel handed by SCORPIA, fake-smiling): It’s no worries! What did you bring?

MERMISTA (proud): We got the best fish and sea-food you guys have ever tried! Bring it on, Sea-Hawk!

SEA-HAWK gets out with a pile of wooden boxes. He opens one to shiny lines of fish. In the background, we have a quick glimpse at CATRA’s face, licking her lips with eager eyes. PERFUMA winces.

PERFUMA: Well… err… that’s great?

SCORPIA: Wait, what do you mean that’s great? Didn’t you say you were vegetarian? Do vegetarians eat fi…

As she speaks, SEA-HAWK and MERMISTA’s faces drops. PERFUMA puts a hand on SCORPIA’s mouth.

PERFUMA: No, no, it’s great! Put these around… (she hesitates and points at a random direction) around here! Great! Now who’s missing?

ADORA: Well, Frosta, and Entrapta, and I think that’s all…

CATRA: About Entrapta, do you guys think she will bring Hord…

She is interrupted by FROSTA, who just jumps from nowhere in her ice armor and punches her. After the first surprise, CATRA gets up, smiles competitively, and punches her back. They start a playful fight that pauses quickly. FROSTA salutes the others.

FROSTA (with her warrior voice): Hello, guys! I hope you waited for me to begin the party! Yea-hay!

PERFUMA: Well, we were just greeting everyone and…

FROSTA: Amazing! I brought ice-cream! Yay!

She draws a whole bunch of ice-cream flavours. GLIMMER yaps in the background and Bow’s eyes are huge from excitement.

GLIMMER: Frosta, you’re just the best! Now everyone’s here we’ll be able to start…

She tends to the buffet but is quickly caught back by BOW. Vexed, she pouts and sulks when the calm hum of an engine disturbs them. A sort of spaceship arrives from the sky, and parks between the boat and the motorbike, dumping the later down to the horrified sight of ADORA and CATRA who puts their hands on their mouth. Without a clue, a giddy ENTRAPTA comes out of the ship, followed by candid WRONG HORDAK.

ENTRAPTA: (talking to her log) Social experiment number #132, I am about to share a pic-nic with my friends. (to everyone) Now hi, everyone! I am very happy to see you all!

PERFUMA: We are happy to see you too, Entrapta, and whoever, I really say whoever you brought with you will be as welcomed as…

CATRA (with a concerned voice): Did you bring Hordak?

At this very moment, HORDAK gets out of the vehicule. He looks around. There is a collective moment of awkwardness where everybody looks around to avoid anyone’s gaze, to the exception of CATRA who jumps on their feet and points angrily at him.

CATRA: WHAT? YOU BROUGHT THIS…

ADORA (hands on CATRA’s shoulders): Calm down please…

GLIMMER (pushing them aside): HEY! What is he doing here?

MERMISTA: Yeah, like didn’t he try to destroy the planet or something? Just sayin’…

FROSTA: YEAH! BAD HORDAK!

HORDAK: I can see that I am not welcome here. (He looks at ENTRAPTA who is puzzled). Let’s leave.

Before they do, PERFUMA steps out and catch them by the arm.

PERFUMA (pulling her best smile and stepping before the others who still look pissed): Please, don’t leave! You are most welcome here, and surely the other guests will be able to (she looks at the pissed group with a side angry eye and especially at CATRA for she holds them responsible for the start of the mess) put aside your differences. So, err, did you bring anything?

ENTRAPTA (joyful): Yes, as it is a custom to bring food to a party like this, I tried to find the perfect flavour! I experimented lots of them – Catra and Adora even tried one – but I need more subjects to try it so I brought you a sample! Here it is!

WRONGIE opens a metallic box. It is full of small grey cubes.

CATRA (aside): My, not again…

ENTRAPTA ignores the remark and piles up the box over all the stuff that is already there: the sea food, the fruit baskets, the cake, the pizza, the drinks, the cookies, the ice cream totter dangerously and start to fall down. Every member of the group jumps to retrieve something, but it is not enough, and eventually the cake ends up falling over PERFUMA who jumped to catch it.

There is a small instant of silence, followed by a cry of rage from PERFUMA, who drops her arms on the floor and yells.

PERFUMA: Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh!

SCORPIA puts down whatever she caught and approaches carefully.

SCORPIA: Hey… erm… are you all right?

PERFUMA: No! My party is ruined! People are fighting, and Glimmer’s cake is wrecked! I’m such a bad host!

PERFUMA begins to cry. SCORPIA holds PERFUMA in her arms and glance at the rest of the group, clueless, when ADORA steps forward.

ADORA: We are sorry, Perfuma. It took you time and energy to prepare this, and we are ruining it by being bitter.

NETOSSA: Yeah, and it’s not like it took us a long time to bring the drinks.

MERMISTA: Nor the sea-food. FROSTA: The ice-cream took me one minute…

CATRA: The pizza took us much longer but I’m sure it’s no great loss. And… I’m sorry I started this.

There is another silence. CATRA nudges HORDAK, who looks terribly ill-at-ease.

HORDAK (after a terrible effort): I’ll do my best to prove the princesses I’m an honourable guest.

CATRA: Hmm, good enough.

PERFUMA looks up, eyes still tearful.

PERFUMA: So you still enjoy the party?

ADORA: What? Of course we do! (looks at GLIMMER)

GLIMMER: And I’m just we can still save pieces of the cake!

SEA-HAWK: And the sea-food! (looks at MERMISTA)

SPINERELLA: And I love mashed fruit! (looks at NETOSSA)

FROSTA: We can mix it with the ice cream!

MERMISTA: Add the cake in it, it would be so cool!

ENTRAPTA: What if we make it in tiny scoops? (looks at HORDAK)

SCORPIA: And a little cookie at the top of it? (looks at CATRA)

BOW: Yay, cookies!

He jumps and high-fives SCORPIA. Perfuma cracks a smile, and they all laugh.

Ellipse to the end of lunch. GLIMMER is asleep on Bow’s knees, a small chunk of cake still at the corner of her lips. Meanwhile, BOW is showing WRONGIE how to use a bow. PERFUMA is chatting happily with NETOSSA and SPINERELLA.

PERFUMA: … So I sent an invite to this Double Trouble person, they seem to be so interesting, but sadly they declined. They said they got a key role in a play and don’t want to drop that out… I wonder what that is. Something about crime and investigation… I think Mermista would know more about this sort of thing…  

Her words are lost in the general conversation. In another corner, CATRA is leaning on ADORA’s knees. The others are in the background. ADORA is handing one of ENTRAPTA’s cubes to CATRA.

ADORA: You should definitely try this.

CATRA: I’m not sure about it…

ADORA: Come on! It’s completely different than last time!

Switch for a second on Sea-Hawk, who tries to sing a shanty but is interrupted by a flow of water, a pile of flowers and some snow.

CATRA: All right, if it pleases our majesty…

CATRA eats the cube, chokes from it and reach for the closest drink.

CATRA (after drinking a whole bottle of fizz) You idiot! It’s even worse than last time!

ADORA laughs heartily when CATRA jumps on her. They fight like two kittens.

Zoom on the rest of the groom.

They are gathered at a board game that is probably of BOW’s design, because it featues small figurines. ENTRAPTA is examining them all at once, one in each lock of her hair. SCORPIA is trying to read the manual and scratches her head, but tries to explain the rules. FROSTA is sleeping on her shoulder. MERMISTA just looks bored. HORDAK looks miserable.

ENTRAPTA: Bow, did you made these? They’re amaziiiiinnng…

HORDAK: I must admit it is quite a good craft.

BOW blushes. An arrow brushes by his nose.

WRONGIE: Oops! BOW: Wow!

The arrow ends up in a tree very close to PERFUMA, who is pouring warm water in a tea-pot. She jumps, but the pot is caught by a net that allows it to land peacefully in her arms.

PERFUMA (smiles): thank you, Netossa. (turns to ADORA, who raises her head from the cuddle fight that led her and CATRA to be covered with grass). Adora, I wanted to ask, do you have any news from Swift Wind?

ADORA: Oh, haha, hem… He is on a quest to find other talking animals like him. He said he feels a little lonely in his… hem… condition.

CATRA: Yay, and so far he found a frog and they are the greatest complainer in history.

PERFUMA smiles. ADORA looks away, a little guilty. CATRA uses the moment to grasp a chunk of grass and punch it at her face. They resume the fighting. Zoom on BOW, who stands up, with at his feet a yawning GLIMMER.

BOW: Guys, please, can I have your attention for a minute!

MERMISTA: Eeeeerr, seriously, you’re going to make a speech? This is sooooo cheesy!

SCORPIA: Shhhh, he is going to make an announcement. We are all ears, Bow, go on…

FROSTA (who woke up): Are you and Glimmer getting married? (Glimmer blushes)

CATRA (with a smirk): You’ve got to get a proper shirt for that though.

BOW: Wait, we’re not…

SEA-HAWK: I could do the singing!

SCORPIA: Can I be your best man? Please! I’m never been anyone’s best man!

BOW: We’re not…

ADORA: Wait, who’s getting married?

ENTRAPTA: Bow and Glimmer, apparently. It will be a great social experiment, I’m waiting for it. By the way, aren’t you and Catra going to do it with them? (ADORA blushes violently.)

BOW: WE’RE NOT GETTING MARRIED!

A big silence follows. Everyone looks shocked, Scorpia is even almost tear-eyed.

SCORPIA: You’re breaking up? But you’re such a good couple! Please don’t break up! (She kneels down, grabs Bow’s trouser’s leg and begs) Please-please-please…

BOW (sighs): We’re not breaking up, we’re not getting married, and I just wanted to tell you guys that tea is ready and that I made each of you a personal cup to bring back home!

SCORPIA stops crying, and PERFUMA just laughs from the whole situation. SCORPIA looks at her and smiles from seeing her lover be happy. On the back, ENTRAPTA strokes HORDAK’s cheek with her hair, and he lifts his head to look at her. Behind them, WRONGIE looks at the scene with loving eyes.

BOW: So, here is yours, Adora – He gives her a cup full of tea. It is white, with a sword drawn on it.

ADORA: Nice!

BOW (continues the distribution of tea): Catra’s… - A red cup, with cat ears that poke at the edge, and a >.< cat face.

CATRA (doing exacly the same face): Why is mine making a face?

BOW: Glimmer’s… - A pink cup, with a complicated shape and small pearls that decorate it. She just smiles and grabs it – Perfuma’s… A round cup made of natural wood, with a small twig twisted around it.

PERFUMA: Thank you. (She closes her eyes and smells the tea with pleasure).

BOW: Scorpia’s…- It’s a deep red cup, huge, and with a special shape for her to hold: it is thinner in the middle and larger at the top and bottom, and without a handle.

SCORPIA (still tear-eyed): This is so nice from you Bow!

BOW: Frosta’s… - A light-blue cup, all transparent and with angular shape, like a diamond. It has a top cover to prevent spilling because she is impulsive.

FROSTA: Yay! (She jumps with the cup, but it just shakes the content and only spills a little bit out).

BOW: Mermista’s… - A blue-green cup with the handle in the shape of a fish, and a unicorn whale painted on it.

MERMISTA: Ok, it’s a little bit cool, I admit.

BOW: Sea-Hawk’s… - A dark-blue cup with a boat drawn on it – At least you won’t set this boat on fire!

SEA-HAWK: Oh, thank you!

BOW: Entrapta’s… - It’s a set of three black small cups. On each of them are stylised purple faces with hands: one with the hands on the ears, one on the eyes, and one on the mouth.

ENTRAPTA: Oh, it’s tiny! Amazing! (She gives mouth to WRONGIE, ears to HORDAK, and keep the eyes one. WRONGIE looks happy, but HORDAK looks puzzled). Thank you!

WRONGIE: Thank you! HORDAK: Yeah, hem… thank you. (He looks away)

BOW: and finally, Netossa’s and Spinerella! - He gives NETOSSA a cup all squared in black and white, and SPINERELLA a light purple cup with the handle in the shape of a wind spiral. They smile and cheer with the cups. - So, would you join me for a toast?

ADORA: Sure.

BOW (a little more solemn): So… To Etheria (he looks at ADORA and CATRA, who both blushes). To victory (he looks at SCORPIA, PERFUMA and FROSTA who all cheer). To love (he looks at NETOSSA and SPINERELLA who kisses, and then at GLIMMER who just smiles). To adventure (he looks at MERMISTA and SEA-HAWK who look fiercely ready for another). To forgiveness (he looks at ENTRAPTA, who smiles, WRONGIE, who blinks, and HORDAK, who simply nods.). But mostly to say: It’s the best thing so far to be friends with friends.

They all cheer and yay, and the last image is of a collection of cups all clasped together.

THE END.

[zenfulmockingbird]

Spellbound ep.2: Corryvreckan Surprise

A Pokemon Journey. For most starter, this event helps us expand our horizon and allow us to see interesting sights. That what I trained for before meeting him. That why I prepared myself for the anything unexpected...but with even with all that, I was not prepare for what happened. The sun was shining that day as we started our Pokémon journey. We decided to look around for some Pokemon to join us. If only I knew what was going to happen to them. We met Balto again along with his mate Jenna. They told us that they wanted to come with us. At first, I thought Itzal was going to just take one, but I was surprised that he decided to take them both. Same for when we caught a two Zigzagoons and two Wingulls. Did he caught them because of he knew what was going to happen or was he going to be one of those trainers who catches whatever he sees. We met the gym leader Norman and Wally at Petalburg. Turn out Wally had an illness and was going to move away and came to gym leader for help in catching a Pokémon for him to take with Vendaturf Town, but Norman could not because he had a gym battle later on. Itzal offer to keep a close eye on Wally while he tried to capture one. Norman agreed to the arrangement and gave Wally a Zigzagoon. We looked around and manage to find a male Ralts name Odin and Wally caught him with no problem. I thought that would be the highlight of our start to our journey...Boy, how wrong I was. I do not know why it happened, but the Pokémon we caught; our allies... the transformed. At first, I thought they were evolving due to the familiar glow, but when it started, they didn't start to take on the shapes of their evolved form, instead they took on shapes of other Pokémon... Balto was no longer an alpha male Poochyena, but instead a tiny blue Taillow, Jenna became a gigantic metal titan Aggron, Carmelita became a Poochyena, while her brother Sly became a red and grey flying type Pokémon; Fletchling, and finally Waker Wingull became a Rotom, a living spark Pokémon... Thus, bringing us back to here. Standing in the middle of Petalburg Forest in a daze. “What just happened?” Jenna looked around in confusion, “Why does is everything smaller?” “I feel like I went through...” Balto froze “Why is my voice sound higher?” Itzal frantically pull out a mirror a showed them what they had become and let out a scream. “Why are we different species of Pokémon?” “Magic,” Itzal answered nervously, “But you have to believe me when I say I am not the one behind this. I was dumbfounded by his response “None of us were suspecting you till you opened your big mouth.” “Wait, wait, wait. Let me explain.” Jenna tap her feet “You got two minutes to explain.” “Okay,” Itzal took a deep breath “My dad’s side of the family has a curse dating way to a few years ago after the Kalos wars. The curse transforms Pokémon into a different being and we are not just talking about into different species. We’re talking about levels, we’re talking moves, we’re sex.” “Sex?” Balto stepped into a bush. Moment later he stepped out drained of all colors “my...my..my...” Jenna gaze at him with concern “Honey, what wrong?” “My dong is gone.” Itzal pulled out his Pokedex and started scanning everyone “Acordding to Pokedex, you’re now a lv.5 female Taillow. Jenna is now a lv.54 Aggron, sex still the same. Carmelita is now lv.2 male Poochynena, Sly is a lv.3 Fletchling, and Waker is.” “not having any of this.” We all looked at the Rotom in confusion “I joined this team in hope of becoming a Pelipper much quicker, not to become a floating power source.” “And didn’t sign up to end up with shlong,” Carmelita said before setting her gaze on me, “Also you listed everyone except for Manami. Why didn’t she transform?” That what caught my attention. I am the only one unaffected by this “...The wizard who cast this spell likes a challenge and keep the starter as is.” I felt no drop of confidence in those barren words. “Bull!” Waker shouted, spark flying from his body “You and she are in cahoots,” I was shocked by what he by his frightening claim. I was being falsely accused of being accomplice to causing what happened to them “Reverse this spell right now.” “I don’t know.” “Then,” Carmelita snagged her Poke Ball and snagged the Poke ball smashed it against the ledge “I’m leaving.” “Same,” Waker replied “I don’t want to do with anything with these bastards.” Carmelita grabbed the other Waker’s and destroyed it of them dashed, each one going into different directions. Not long after that Jenna and Alue followed them as well. Itzal was frozen like Deerling caught in a headlight. All of the Pokémon he caught had just up and left him. I called to him “Itzal?” “Let’s go.” I was taken back by what he said “Huh?” “They’re free to do whatever they want. I cannot make them do something they do not want to do.” He started to head deeper into the forest and yet despite the smile, I could sadness in his eyes. As we continued to trek the forest path we ran into a scientist. “Hello,” Scientist greeted us “Have you seen any Pokémon called Shroomish around here? I really love that Pokémon.” Itzal shook his head. “Blast. Still, I won't give up my search.” A thug that looked wear a white and blue striped shirt, black pants and bandana with a small white A on. In front of him was a Poochyena; growling ferociously at us. “I was going to ambush you,” the threatening look man groused “but you had to dawdle in Petalburg Woods forever didn't you? I got sick of waiting, so here I am! You! Devon researcher! Hand over those papers!” Itzal and I stepped in front of the scientist. “Oi, ye landlubber best get out of my way or I’ll have my mons mess you up.” “Bring it.” Itzal said. “Manami, use Water gun.” I fired jet stream of water at the Poochyena, causing it to be pushed back a little. The strange man growled in anger “No one crosses Team Aqua get any mercy, not even some guy and his reject Pokémon! Poochyena use howl.” Poochyena let out a courageous howl. “Use water gun again.” I launched another one at the target. I could tell from its heavy breathing that it was almost finished. “Sand attack,” the bite Pokémon kicked some dirt into my eyes. “Hahaha. That should slow you lot down enough for to turn the tides.” “Manami, focus and use water gun.” I nodded and focused on my sense. “Don’t see what good that will do ya. Finish it.” I could sense it. Poochyena charging toward me. I launched one last water gun and heard a yelp. Everything was silent and my heart was racing... I was nervous. The sand had blinded me and if they had something that could make my radar useless and if it is something, I’m weak against, I’ll be in trouble. “Damnit,” I heard a Poke ball recalling it, but it was also of something that I detected that was also making me feel uneasy I heard rapid footsteps getting farther and farther as our new guest got closer and closer I felt someone lifting me and water running down on my eyes. I looked in the direction it was coming from and saw that I was in Itzal's arm and behind him was Jenna and Balto. That why that man ran away. He saw Jenna and Balto. The scientist ran up, grabbed Itzal hand and shook “Thank you kind, sir. Take this.” He hands over a strange collar to Itzal “It an Exp share. Give this to your Pokémon and the EXP it earns will be shared in battle.” He flashed the scientist a coy grin “Thanks. So, why was that guy after you?” The man scratched his head for a moment before his pupils shrunk “I need to go.” “Wait. What going...” Before he could get a word out edge wise, the scientist dashed off, “I wonder what that was all about?” “I do not know, but there one question we could answer right now,” I looked at Jenna and Balto “Why are you two back? I thought you two left along with Carmelita and Waker.” Balto shook his head “No. We didn’t leave because of Itzal concealing this from us. Me and Jenna went after them to convince them to come back.” We were shocked. Itzal gathered his composure, “To comeback?” “Yes. We tried to convince them to comeback just in case you find a way to reverse, but they refused.” “It’s for the best. We cannot force them to come if they don’t want to.” “Then mind I we tagged along instead” we looked behind us and saw Zigzagoon and a Shroomish walking toward us. “Who are you two?” “Names Willy Wonka” the ZIgzagoon greeted us before pointing at the Mushroom Pokémon “and this girl right ahere is Yoko. We saw what a-happened and we got four word to say to ya.” Yoko replied, “We want to join.” Wonka flashed us a grin “Well it mighty interesting ta be a different Pokémon.” “I just want a stronger form,” Yoko chimed in “like really cool, like a Blaziken or Salamance.” “Okay but,” Itzal said “be warned. This curse if is unpredictable and you might not get what you want. Do you still want to join?" They both nodded their head in unison. Itzal pulled out two Poke ball and tossed them at Willy and Yoko. A red light enveloped them, and they were caught with no problem. A faint light surrounded their balls for a moment. Itzal walked over and picked up Willy Wonka's Poke ball. “First up, Willy.” Itzal gently tossed it in the air and white light shot out. Willy was no longer a Zigzagoon, a stripped Litleo. “A Litleo” Willy spoke “... and a mighty purdy girl by the sound of my voice. This will be an interesting ride.” “Next up Yoko.” Itzal called out Yoko and reveal that she has transformed into a Scatterbug. When Itzal showed her reflection, she was displeased by the result. “A Scatterbug,” Yoko griped “Why?” “It’s not that bad.” “My defense is weak as glass and my attack can't do shit. I wanted to become something stronger.” “Then hone the abilities” Balto answered “instead of whining about your form.” “Harsh, but Balto right,” I chimed in “A warrior use the tools they have on them.” Yoko let out a sigh “Fine... Maybe I can get some powerful moves in this form.’ “speaking form,” Willy spoke up “since I’m no longer a boy...” He looks at Itzal, “Am I girl now?” Itzal scanned Willy with his Pokedex, before nodding his head confirming her suspicions, “Well since I’m a girl now, best go by a new name. Call me Jane after Calamity Jane.” “Okay,” Itzal answered “Welcome to the team Jane.” “And what about me?” Yoko asked, “Is my gender the same or did I get rule 63.” Itzal checked “You’re the same gender.” He turned toward Balto “What about you? Do you want to go by a different name?” Balto shook his name. “Alright. Let us get on out of here and rest up at Petalbrug.” We all headed out the forest and back to Pokemon center. As we walked our way back, I could not help but feel sense of unease. Balto Poochynea turned into Hasty Aleu Tailow, Likes to fight, lv5 Jenna poochyena became Heavy Greta Aggron, Hardy, Proud of its power. lv. 54 Carmelita zigzagoon -> male Poochyana lv.2, Mild, Highly persistent. Sly Zigzagoon -> Passerouge, lv.3, quirky, Hates to lose. lv.1 Sparks Rotom was Waker Wingull lv.5 BAC Magikarp was Jetwave Wingull. Willy Wonka Zigzagoon became Jane Litleo (lv.5, docile, often lost in thoughts.) Shroomish became Yoko scatterbug (lv.2, Jolly, Very Finicky)

[dream-wreck]

Count On Me

If you want the RosaWatts fics, you gotta write the RosaWatts fics.

AO3

Title: Count on Me Rating: G Word Count: 1,425 Description: Eva tries to be there for Neil in the ways she can, but there's only so much you can do for a friend who refuses your help.

.....

To calm herself down, Eva would count anything. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as she started from zero and worked her way up. It was usually as simple as that. She counted the scrapes and smudges on the off-white linoleum while Neil puked on the other side of the third floor bathroom door.

There were several dark streaks left by rubber shoe soles. Fifty-two. There were fifty-two smudges on the surrounding eight tiles alone. A maintenance cart had made a mark that stretched nearly the entire length of the hall. Eva wondered: should the long streak count for more than one? Neil spat into the toilet three times.

The men’s restroom went awfully quiet for twenty-eight seconds. Leaning against the door, Eva listened for any reason not to kick it down. Faintly, she heard Neil exhaling, long and slow, catching his breath. He sniffed once.

“Let me know what I can do,” she called in.

“Got all I need right here,” Neil answered. “Water, breath mints, a little window. I could last for days.”

Eva rubbed tiny circles into her temple. “Just let me know.”

“You know,” Neil huffed, “there’s something to be said of this. Hanging around while I literally spill my guts --”

The rest was lost to violent retching. There was a red mark near the wall and a blue streak of permanent marker. Lord knows how that got there. Neil coughed thirteen times.

“What do you think it was?” Eva asked.

“Uh…” The toilet flushed.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Just something I ate, probably.”

That wasn’t right. Neil had a garbage disposal for a stomach. Eva knew, though, that she wouldn’t get anywhere contradicting him outright.

She seated herself outside of the men’s bathroom to rest her legs, listening to the water run for one minute. She’d been on her feet all day, running reports back and forth. It had been a day of workplace housekeeping with little real excitement until Neil burst from his office, peckish and panicked, and rushed down the hall like the devil was close behind. It wasn’t the excitement Eva had hoped for.

“How about you go home early today?” she suggested.

The water shut off. “Nah. Day’s almost over.” Neil pulled four paper towels from the dispenser.

“Exactly,” Eva said. “You’ll only miss a few hours that you can make up tomorrow. No harm done.”

“Nah,” Neil said.

“You’ve got plenty of sick leave saved up.”

Something rattled on the other side of the door. Neil gently screwed the pill bottle lid back on. The sink ran again.

“Tylenol probably isn’t the best thing to pop, Neil,” Eva called. “You’ll want to try and eat something with those or you’ll just keep feeling sick.”

She assumed that’s what it was. Neil kept his office drawer stashed with an unholy arsenal of over-the-counter pain relievers for the headaches that usually followed an all-nighter. Honestly, it was a miracle his stomach was still intact at all. He functioned exclusively off a diet of black coffee and little white pills. He kept his mini-fridge stuffed to the brim with energy drinks and ice packs. The only reason Eva didn’t worry more than she probably should have was because she knew Neil, and had for a long time. That’s just who he was: a terrifyingly stable imbalance of Redbull and Advil. She was convinced that it was the only reason (beside her help, of course) that he’d gotten through college.

Neil didn’t respond. A thick silence filled the space. Beneath the weight of her own overbearance, Eva returned her attention to the floor.

The women’s bathroom door was four tiles away from the men’s. The nearest fluorescent tube light (the horrid things...) flickered in a series of five irregular beats before steadying out, but it always flickered in fives. There were two exit signs in this hallway. 

She’d never noticed the dimensions of the hallway before: eight tiles wide. It wasn’t important. It didn’t spark any epiphany. But now that she knew that the third floor hallway was eight tiles wide, Eva would never forget it. Now, every morning when she stepped off the elevator and walked down to her office, she’d notice the eight tile width and think about Neil puking his guts out, this terrible waiting game, and how the color had completely gone from his face when he finally emerged.

Rosa and Neil had known each other for twenty-five years. They’d met in the first grade. She was seven; he was six. They’d had a total of eleven classes together through high school. Neil was in and out of detention for minor disruptions while Eva only ever got detention once. That was in the tenth grade. Carson Adams had hit Neil three times. Eva hit Carson once. It was enough. 

In college, the longest Neil had gone without sleep was fifty-six hours to study for his entrance exams. He snuck in a three hour nap before his first test. He never once got physically ill.

Eva rose to her feet while Neil took a moment to clean his glasses on the end of his lab coat.

“Please hold all disapproving and-or disconcerted expressions until I have regained the gift of sight,” Neil said. He slipped the frames back onto his face, flashing a smile and wiggling his fingers with a magician’s flair. “Ta da!”

Looking up at him, Eva crossed her arms. “Truly remarkable. Now go home.”

Neil shrugged. “A new stack of maintenance reports just came in. I’m stuck here, same as everyone else.”

“Do them tomorrow,” Eva pressed. “You look terrible.”

Neil pressed a hand to his heart, shaking the pills in his pocket. “Thank you, I’m touched. I’ll write that one in my diary tonight.”

Turning on a heel, he gave a halfhearted wink and started for his office. Eva followed close at his shoulder. She didn’t like that he hadn’t really, truly looked her in the eyes yet today. 

“Cut that out. Seriously. Take the extra hours to see your doctor.”

Without missing a beat, Neil stopped so suddenly, they collided shoulders. “Dr. Rosalene, I’m flattered, but that would be completely unprofessional -- “

Scoffing, Eva marched on. If he wasn’t going to take this seriously, fine. She wouldn’t press any further.

“I’m kidding! Come on, Eva. Eva!” Neil ran after her at first, his rubbers heels striking the linoleum, but he settled for matching her walking pace. 

“You don’t get sick, Neil,” Eva said, looking straight ahead.

Neil steadied his breathing. “Just something I ate. You know the cafeteria salads can be utterly rancid.”

They stopped between their two office doors. Eva’s hung wide open; Neil’s was locked. Even in the scramble, he had time to pull his door shut.

“Just take it easy,” Eva said. “Eat something with...whatever it is you’re taking.”

“Tylenol,” Neil affirmed.

“Drink lots of water,” Eva said. 

Neil pulled an office key from his pants pocket. “Right.”

“Go to bed early.”

“Mhm.” Neil unlocked the door.

“Don’t mix pills and Monster. Actually, just skip the Monster today.”

“I will make no such promises,” Neil smirked. He gave a little wave and a tight-lipped grin before disappearing behind yet another door.

He left Eva in the hallway. She’d always been certain that if Neil needed to talk to her about anything, he would in his own way, because he always had, though they’d usually waste ample time beating bushes.

But those conversations always came about only after a little prodding on Eva’s part. And given the reminder that there was someone in his life who wanted to listen and wanted to help in any way they could, his guarded soul would, in its own time, open naturally to the daunting prospect of vulnerability. Eva just wished he’d get on with it already.

She took a slow breath. In his own time, always. Knowing Neil for so long had certainly made her far more patient than (she believed) she would have been otherwise. It was a good thing. A very good thing. She’d learned to take matters a little slower than she often wanted. Even so, she had an inexplicable sense of being on the clock, fighting a quiet countdown, which she attributed up to a desperate desire to see her friend well again.

She left that for another time. Dr. Eva Rosalene stepped into her office and faced a more immediate task -- the mountain of paperwork awaiting her return -- failing to overhear the faint jingle of pills tumbling from their bottle into Dr. Neil Watts’ shaking hand.

[joonie-beanie]

Welcome To The Wild Side [18]

<-- [17] |

Genre: Superpowers + College AU

Rated: T

Words: 2,153

A/N: Oh hi

Following your Friday night talk with Jungkook, and the comfort session thanks to the guys, you all decide that the best thing to do is try and resume life like normal. For all you know, the man who had brainwashed you had just wanted to give them a little taste of their own medicine for landing his friend in jail. There was no guarantee he would show up and cause more havoc. Worrying about it and acting any differently would only continue to leave the group on edge, so they had decided to live as if nothing was different.

Of course, they couldn’t just forget about what had happened, but they tried not to actively dwell on it.

Soon enough, another week had passed. Everything was normal. You woke up, went to class, went to work, did homework, and slept. Sometimes you’d get texts from the guys—just casual conversation starters—which helped brighten your days. Once again, Taehyung had invited you to lunch, and this time you’d accepted. A whole 7 days went past without an incident, which was…almost suspicious, but you didn’t want to overthink it.

Monday rolled around yet again. Like normal, you went to your lectures—the day feeling quite long—and had just gotten home when—

A bird screeches loudly overhead, startling you. You jump in surprise, the keys in your hand falling to the floor at your feet and your apartment door remaining locked.

“Jesus,” you breathe, turning to look at the bird that is circling overhead. It caws a few more times before suddenly dive bombing towards you. Your eyes squeeze shut, arms moving to brace in front of your head since you assume the bird is coming in for the kill, but after a few seconds nothing happens. There’s no bird pecking at your arms, but rather a pair of human hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

Again, you startle. Your eyes fly open, head whipping to look at whoever it is touching you. Whoever it is had basically popped in out of thin air, because no one had been around when you’d—

Messy brown hair and a handsome face stare back at you. Kim Taehyung.

Now it makes sense.

“Y/N!” he says, breathing hard. He looks exhausted, like he’d used all his energy to get over to you. Worried, your brows furrow, and you turn to face him.

“Taehyung, are you okay? What’s up?”

“Are you busy?” he asks instead, a pleading look in his eye. You blink.

“I mean…no, I’m done with classes and I don’t have work, so…why? What’s going on?”

Sighing, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. “I’m an idiot. If you have time will you come and model for me?”

For a second, you wonder if you’ve heard him correctly.

“Model?” you echo, your ears turning red at the idea. Taehyung nods, hurrying to explain.

“I have an art class I’m taking, and every week a new person is in charge of bringing an object or person to model for the first hour of the class. I walked into class and someone asked if I had something. Obviously I didn’t considering I’m here. The TA said if I brought a cute girl to model he would forgive me, so PLEASE.”

He grabs your hands in his tightly, looking up at you with the best puppy eyes he can muster. Your lips are parted in shock, face feeling warm at the fact that he had decided to ask you when his TA had demanded a cute girl.

“I mean…yeah, of course I’ll help you if I’m good enough,” you respond after a moment, and Taehyung blinks dumbly, straightening himself out.

“What do you mean? You don’t think you’re cute?”

You pout a little, feeling a bit shy. “I mean…it’s not like I’m not cute, but…”

“You’re adorable,” he says sternly, his large hands lifting to squish your cheeks. Taehyung smiles cheekily at you, and then grabs your hand, tugging you towards the stairs. “C’mon. The building isn’t too far.”

Together, the two of you hurriedly make your way back into main campus. True to his word, the building is only about a 10 minute trek from your apartment. When you enter the classroom, both you and Taehyung are breathing a bit hard, and everyone turns to look at you.

Sat at the head of the room, the TA looks to Taehyung, and then stands from his seat. He takes a few steps towards you both before he pauses. His eyes roam over you from the top of your head all the way down. Embarrassment floods your chest, and beside you Taehyung’s eyes narrow a little at the other male. Finally, the TA lifts a hand and places it on Taehyung shoulder.

“You did well,” he says quietly, looking more than pleased. With that taken care of, he turns back to face you, a wide smile on his face.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you respond, eyes widening when he lightly places a hand on your back and leads you to the middle of the room. There’s a stool there, with all of the students and their sketch pads scattered around it.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She’ll be modeling for us today thanks to Taehyung. Is there anything you want to say?” he asks you, leaning over to glance at your face. You press your lips together, still feeling a little unsure of the situation. However, when you glance up and see Taehyung flashing you two-thumbs up and an encouraging smile, you feel a little better.

“Um, well, I’ve never done this before, so if there’s anything you want me to do—just ask,” you say with honesty, and the class laughs a little, understanding where you’re coming from. “I’ll try my best.”

“Thanks for your help,” the class echoes, getting their pencils ready, and the TA quietly instructs you to sit in the chair.

“Does anyone have a certain pose they want to ask Y/N for? I know it’s been a while since we’ve had a human model.”

From the back of the classroom, a shy looking girl raises her hand. All eyes turn to her, and it becomes impossible for her to look only at one spot—her eyes darting around the room.

“Um…I’m sorry if this is selfish but…I’ve really been wanting to work on the way a person’s back looks…with the spine and shoulder blades. Muscles, really…so um…if it’s not too much to ask,” she says quietly, her innocent gaze landing on you finally. It’s clear that she’s embarrassed to be asking, and you yourself feel embarrassed at her request but…

“Sure!” you say, and from a little ways away Taehyung almost faints. He had been preparing himself to get up and defend you—because he hadn’t invited you expecting you to be asked to show so much skin, but god. You’d actually agreed.

“I don’t know how that’s gonna work with, well…,” you struggle to explain, looking down at yourself. You’ve got a tank top on under your jacket, but that won’t show the amount of skin the girl wants for her pose.

“Oh! Um, here,” she says, standing from her seat and rushing to grab a blanket that’s been stored in a closet at the back of the room. She approaches you and hands it over, her face still red. You know she has no ill intent in asking you to do this, but her embarrassment over it is still making you feel hot as well.

“Thanks,” you respond, and from the side Taehyung rushes up to hold the blanket. You share a look with each other, understanding his intent, and move to undress yourself. Taehyung glances away, cheeks red, and glares at some of the other guys in the class when they send him teasing looks.

After a few seconds you tell him it’s fine, and he hands you the blanket. Carefully, you position the blanket so it’s wrapped around your front but low in the back—the TA stepping up to help you secure a good pose.

Finally, it seems like everyone is ready to begin. Careful to be still, you opt to look out the window nearby into the dark overlook of the campus. You attempt to distract yourself by thinking about homework, and work, and whatever else, and for the most part it works. However, once half an hour has gone by, the TA says it’s time to choose a new pose. As you pull your tank top back on, the guy sitting next to Taehyung speaks up.

“I mean, we haven’t had a nude—”

Taehyung promptly kicks him in the shin, and the class erupts into giggles. You, as well, find yourself laughing.

Once the laughter has died down, a different male speaks up.

“I’d be interested in a couples pose. After all, we’ve only had one model up until now.”

“That’s true. Taehyung, come up here,” the TA calls, motioning to you. Taehyung face goes red, but he nonetheless sets his things down and makes his way to where you’re sitting.

“You’d be more comfortable together since you know each other I’m sure,” the TA says, pulling a second stool over. Nodding, Taehyung seats himself beside you, and the TA carefully positions you both so your head is resting on Taehyung’s shoulder—Taehyung hand lightly draped over your thigh.

“You can draw them from the front or back, up to you,” mister TA speaks one last time, and a few people adjust their positions. For the next half hour, you and Taehyung sit side by side. Every so often you joke to each other quietly, but none of the students seem to mind the change in your facial features, or if Taehyung’s hand moves to squeeze your thigh.

Time goes by quickly, and finally the 1-hour modeling period is over. The class thanks you again, and Taehyung gives you a quick hug after escorting you to the door. He says he’ll text you later, and you leave with a smile. On your walk home, you still can’t help but feel embarrassed about what had just happened, but it was fun too.

Finally, you make it to your apartment and unlock the door. A nice hot shower awaits you, followed by food, and homework. It’s nearly 10pm when your phone buzzes beside you.

Curious, you pick it up—noting that Taehyung had sent a photo to the group chat.

[Tae] Sent a Photo to “That One Girl and the 7 Dorks”

[Tae]: Thanks for your help tonight!!

You swipe on the notification and the group chat pops open in front of you. What you see immediately has your face going red. However, before you can even think of how to respond, Taehyung is hurriedly chiming in.

[Tae]: Uh, sorry guys!! Wrong chat!!

[Agust D]: Who the hell are you trying to send a sketch of a topless girl to?

[Chim Chim]: Wow Tae, did something good happen in your art class tonight? Lol

[RM]: Gotta say, that’s a pretty good sketch tho! I like the way you shaded around the spine and shoulder blades.

[Tae]: haha thanks ;;

[HOBI]: ok but seriously, who were you trying to send that to??? How the hell did you end up sending it to us instead keke

There’s a brief pause, and you can only guess that Taehyung is both embarrassed and afraid of telling them the truth. Then all of the sudden Jin chimes in.

[Jin]: …are y’all dumb?

[Jeon Seagull]: wym?

[Jin]: who would look like the drawing and also apparently be in this group chat since taehyung managed to send it here instead of just the individual?

[Agust D]: …you’re fucking shitting me

[HOBI]: …she’s been reading all the messages but not responding ajlskdhajskd

[A Literal Angel]: ………hi

[Jeon Seagull]: wait

[Chim Chim]: DID YOU REALLY POSE TOPLESS FOR TAEHYUNG’S ART CLASS

[Tae]: SHE WASN’T TOPLESS

[RM]: IDK ABOUT YOU BUT I’m LOOKING A DRAWING OF A FEMALE’S BARE BACK

[A Literal Angel]: I was holding a blanket!! A girl in the class requested that I pose with my back open so she could get practice!!

[Jin]: Oh, so it wasn’t Tae that made you do it?

[Tae]: please don’t fucking kill me I’m a good boy I promise

[Agust D]: hey y/n if you’re getting naked for the sake of art feel free to come to the music studio again

[HOBI]: LMAOOOOO

[Jeon Seagull]: hyung I s2fg

[Chim Chim]: bunch of horny bastards in here

[Chim Chim] saved a photo

[Tae]: LIKE YOU’RE ONE TO TALK

[Agust D] saved a photo

[RM] saved a photo

[Jeon Seagull] saved a photo

[Jin]: why is our group such a shit show

[HOBI] saved a photo

[Jin] saved a photo

[A Literal Angel]: you guys a so fucking dumb lmao

[A Literal Angel]: I love you

[A Literal Angel] saved a photo

[perhapsitmaybedragons]

I am actually still doing ok on the writing front this year. I desperately wanted to write this Detective Conan one shot and I got it done. It is the longest one shot I have ever written (I’ve seen longer, but this is long for me).

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22690015

Shinichi/Ran pairing with Heiji running around being pals with Shinichi cause I love Heiji.

A Study In Scavenger Hunting

Twenty year old Shinichi Kudo could not for the life of him begin to understand what was going on. Usually mysteries were met with enthusiasm, especially since he’d regained his normal body three years ago. But when it came to his girlfriend, mysteries were rarely welcome. She’d come over for their usual date night then after he took a phone call he came back and found she’d vanished.

Well. Not vanished. She sent him a text, so he knew she was safe. And they’d talked on the phone since then, so he knew no one had taken her against her will (not that it would have been easy for most people to make Ran do something she didn’t want to do. Her karate skills had only gotten more fine tuned over the years.) But he hadn’t seen her in going on four weeks now. When she went by her parents’ place both insisted they hadn’t seen her, though he noted that Eri looked guilty. Shinichi had been a big help in getting her and Kogoro to see the light and get back together. She’d taken some pity on Shinichi and insisted that he didn’t need to worry. That Ran was just “working some things out”.

“Working things out,” he muttered to himself as he got dressed for work. He’d started going to college first, but the cops kept calling for assistance and before he knew it he had a job offer as a detective, though officially his title was ‘consultant’. He and Heiji had both been hired, and due to Shinichi agreeing to an ill advised bet, he wound up agreeing that the pair would work two years together in Tokyo and two years together in Osaka. He was still kicking himself over that one, but how was he to know that for once the battle Heiji wanted to face off in would be kendo instead of a battle of wits.

But they were on year one, so at least for now Shinichi was on his home field. Which also meant he had time to try to get out of it. Or to at least figure out different living arrangements. He and Heiji were close now, practically brothers, really (though Shinichi refused to admit this). But the pair weren’t suited to living together. They got along pretty well, but competitions between the two could be fierce and they were known to stay up most of the night trying to one up each other. Sometimes Ran and Kazuha joined them, but the girls almost always fell asleep before the guys were done.

“Ya still on about that, Kudo?” Heiji came out of the bathroom wearing only a tank top and boxers, a toothbrush in one hand that he gestured with wildly. “Just call her and ask,” he used the toothbrush to mime a phone call “'Ran! I love ya, why don'tcha tell me what’s going on?'”

Shinichi threw a pillow at him. “You’re going to be late if you don’t get more clothes on.”

“I can get dressed at the station,” he shrugged, “So long as I put some pants on, who cares? Besides, you’re tryin’ to distract from the point. And the point is to just come out and ask her.”

“Like you just came out and told Kazuha how you felt about her?”

“That was different,” Heiji sulked. “You took all the good spots. It took me ages to figure out a good enough place to tell her. And I did tell her…ya know. Eventually.”

“So Ran will tell me when she’s ready,” Shinichi shrugged. “I just have to wait.” He looked mature in the moment, but Heiji could see right through him. They both knew Shinichi was getting impatient and that he desperately wanted Ran to come clean about what was going on.

“What, you think she’s gonna dump ya?” Heiji put the toothpaste on his toothbrush. With a full mouth, he added “and wisha boat da ass her ta,” he brushed quietly for a moment and then ran into the bathroom to spit. “marry ya,” he finished.

“Idiot, who said anything about that?”

“Saw the ring box in your underwear drawer.”

“What were you doing in there?” Shinichi hissed.

“Looking for a clue,” Heiji said with a shrug.

“A clue for what, how to invade my privacy in as many ways as possible?!”

“A clue for why you were acting so funny a few weeks before Ran was. Honestly, I thought maybe you knocked her up or something. But then, she never spends the night here so I’m not sure you two have gotten there.”

“Maybe if you weren’t always here,” Shinichi said pointedly.

“Surprised it’s taken you this long to pop the question. You’ve been in love with her since what, grade school?” Shinichi didn’t answer him, so Heiji continued on. “She waited for you the whole time you were Conan and she didn’t freak on ya when she found out the truth after you changed back. So it’s weird she’s freaking out now, right? That’s why I wondered if you knocked her up, since nothing should have shaken her after the Black Organization got taken down.”

“Or it might make her more nervous,” Shinichi was mostly talking to himself so he moved from the bedroom to the living room. Heiji followed him. “Think about it, when we finally took them down…that was a rough day. We were lucky we all got out alive. Takagi-san got a broken arm and Mitsuhiko, Ayumi and Genta probably really need counseling but weren’t physically injured …but Ran found out the truth the same day we all almost died.”

The outcome had been the best they could possibly hope for, but Shinichi still felt guilty about the whole ordeal. The Black Organization had found him out and tracked him down ..to the elementary school. He and the Detective Boys had all been grabbed from the side of the road on the way home from school, he and Ai identities both having been discovered by the organization. The actual kids had been grabbed as a way to get he and Ai to comply no matter what. A gun to Ayumi’s head got a faster response from Ai than someone threatening her.

It had lead to a final showdown between the police and the organization, with Heiji leading the cops. In just a little over twenty four hours Conan Edogawa went from being a little kid to disappearing into Shinichi Kudo. And with how everything had gone down, the list of people who knew both sides were one and the same expanded from a handful to include Tagaki, Sato, Shiratori, Inspector Megure, the Detective Boys, Kogoro, Kazuha …and Ran.

“Maybe she would say no if I asked her,” Shinichi sank onto his couch and put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, looking miserable. “Maybe it’s just too much danger. Ran wants kids,” they’d never discussed it, but Shinichi knew Ran had always seen herself as a mother some day. “she wouldn’t want her husband, the father of her kids to be in danger all the time.”

“She knew the risks,” Heiji didn’t seem to see the big deal. Shinichi didn’t bother to pretend to be surprised. Heiji was a great detective, but he was also a 'miss the forest for the trees’ type when it came to emotions. “She agreed to date you, and that whole mess was years ago now. I bet nothing’s …hmm.” Heiji had been making his way to the front door, probably about to head out (Shinichi momentarily wondered when the guy had put pants on, but he wasn’t about to ask). But now Heiji was holding up an envelope that seemed to have been slid under the door. “Hmm. What’s this?”

“Hand it over,” Shinichi commanded. He could see his name on the envelope, and he knew that handwriting.

“What if I want to see what’s in it?”

Shinichi vaulted over the couch and snatched the letter before ripping it open.

Dear Shinichi,

I want to talk to you and get some things straight, but you’ll have to find me first. Not long ago you made a journey for a second time. Go there and await your next clue, which will be delivered by an irregular crew.

~Ran

Shinichi poked Heiji in the stomach. “All right, whats she up to?”

“You think I know?” he asked innocently.

“I get up earlier than you do,” Shinichi snorted, “ I already went this way multiple times and that letter wasn’t there. You pretended it came, but you actually dropped it from underneath your shirt before you pretended to pick it up. Which means whatever she’s doing, you’re in on it.”

“Oh, Kudo,” Heiji tsked at him, “The lady wants to play a game. You’re just gonna have ta play along with her.”

“And what about work?”

“I told them yesterday that you and I would both be out today,” Heiji gave him a thumbs up sign. “You’re all set. I’m just your guide to make sure you don’t go too far off the path.”

“So you already have the answers?”

“Actually, no,” Heiji admitted. “I helped her a little bit, but she came up with most of it and didn’t give me any clue for where we’re actually going. I’ll be seeing the clues at the same time as you. But I’m not allowed to tell ya anything.”

“Helpful,” Shinichi grumbled, taking his jacket off. If he was going to run around today he wasn’t going to do it in a full suit. The mystery aspect was intriguing and he was quite happy Ran had arranged this for him, but it was a little harder to be enthusiastic when the first clue was this obvious.

“So, where are we off to first?”

“Teitan Elementary school. She’s poking fun at my having to go there twice, and the 'irregular crew’ is the Detective Boys. Ran made a Sherlock reference,” his smile got brighter. “She’s calling them the Baker Street Irregulars. Guess she must have listened to me talk about Holmes so much some of it sunk in even if she didn’t want it to.”

They ran quickly to the elementary school and found the Detective Boys waiting for them at the playground. Ayumi and Mitsuhiko were on swings while Genta stood leaning against the swings’ frame. “Shinichi-kun!” Ayumi launched herself out of her seat and took off running into his arms. The boys followed suit. While they were saddened that “Conan” wouldn’t be by to play with them ever again, they had taken in stride that he and Shinichi were one and the same. Shinichi was now asked to babysit them from time-to-time and he took them to soccer games whenever he could. They didn’t know it yet, but he was currently working out a murder mystery party for them for Ayumi’s next birthday.

Shinichi gave each one a hug before putting them down. Part of him still expected to see Ai with them, but of course she had also returned to her adult body. But she still insisted on all of them calling her Ai, and had told the Detective Boys she really was Ai when they had asked for her true name. Ayumi grabbed his hand and yanked him down to her level, forcing him from his thoughts.

“Hi, Heiji-san!” she called over Shinichi’s shoulder before getting to business. “Your clue is ..umm… let’s see…Mitsuhiko?”

“Your own Auguste Dupin-” he started but Ayumi cut him off.

“Right! Your own Auguste Dupin is within the building, though no apes are in sight. Find her and ask for your next guiding light!”

“Dupin?” Shinichi titled his head to the side as he thought. His first though was to his father. Dupin, after all, was Sherlock’s predecessor. But that isn’t the first character he would pick for his dad, and somehow he knew Ran wouldn’t either. “Auguste Dupin was Edgar Allan Poe’s creation,” he muttered to himself, “similar to Sherlock, but came before him,” he tried to get into Ran’s mindset and let go of his own.

Who would set the framework to Ran’s mind? A builder? No, he was being too literal. Ran was smarter than that. Someone who laid the foundations for someone else, who made someone better. “A teacher?”

The kids nodded and smiled in response. “And we got one more for you!” Genta crooked his finger at Shinichi, indicating he should come closer. “What’s sticky and spotted all over?”

“I uh ….is that a joke one? Is this actually from Ran?” He felt like he’d heard a stupid joke like this sometime ago, but he couldn’t remember the answer.

“You,” Genta answered before Shinichi could process. He’d pulled a bottle of soy sauce out from under his shirt and managed to shake some of its contents on Shinichi’s formerly white shirt.

“Hey, what’s the deal?” He resisted the urge to call him a brat. The Detective Boys were all smiling up at him with the most over the top innocent looks he couldn’t take seriously. Somehow, this factored into Ran’s plans though he couldn’t figure out how. “Well, now I need to go home and change.

“You can’t!” Ayumi cried. “She said it’s important you get to the end as soon as possible. No stopping unless it’s a bathroom break.”

“All right, all right,” Shinichi agreed, trying to make sure Ayumi wouldn’t start crying. “Is Kobayashi-sensei inside?”

Ayumi nodded and wiped at her crocodile tears, forcing back the urge to smirk. She squeezed Shinichi’s hand and lead him into the school, with Mitsuhiko and Genta following closely behind. Heiji kept further back at a more leisurely pace. It was a weekend, so the school should have been closed, but apparently Ran had been calling in all sorts of favors. The group made a bee line for the classroom the Detective Boys and Conan had all once shared. Sumiko Kobayashi was at the front of the class, sitting on one of the desks chatting animatedly with Shiratori.

“Oh, Kudo-san. You’re making good time on this,” Shiratori said in approval. “Heiji-san,” Heiji gave a two fingered salute in greeting.

“Your clue is on the board. Please have a seat,” Miss Kobayashi said. Shinichi awkwardly sat in one of the desks, trying to figure out how to get his adult sized legs comfortably into the seat. “I didn’t mean there,” she said, laughing. “You can sit on a desk the way I was, just pick anything up if you knock it down.”

It was obvious that Miss Kobayashi was the one who had written the note on the board, though Shinichi figured Ran had still provided the clue.

Always a princess, my previous protector. Holding place in a different kind of court.

“Ooh, a princess,” Ayumi cooed.

“But what’s it mean?” Genta asked.

“You kids don’t already know?” Shinichi stared them down. He figured they’d probably crack if he gave them a stern enough look, but all three shrugged.

“She didn’t tell us the answers or what happens at the end,” Mitsuhiko admitted.

“Ok,” Shinichi decided not to press it. The group were usually bad liars, but if they were especially enticed by something they could all manipulate. “Well, we’ll see you guys later.”

“Where are we headed to now, Kudo?”

“The mall, to see one of my least favorite people.”

The mall was crowded, of course, but Sonoko was easily spotted in the middle, her arms crossed and looking annoyed. “Took you long enough, Detective Geek,” she said by way of greeting. Shinichi figured he was probably still making good time but without knowing the end game it was impossible to know for sure.

As he’d explained on the way to Heiji, Sonoko had been the one to defend Ran from bullies before Shinichi came into her life. And given her rich family, princess was only a slight exaggeration.

“So, what’s the next clue?”

“You’re not getting it.”

“What?!” Shinichi’s eyebrow twitched.

“You’re not getting it looking like that,” she pointed at the stain on his shirt.

“The kids did this to me, you think I left the house like this?” he felt a headache coming on. Sonoko had that effect on him sometimes. He didn’t hate her, but it wasn’t like he’d ever choose to spend time with her.

“At any rate, we’re getting you a new set of clothes and then I will give you the hint.”

“Don’t I just need a new shirt?”

But instead of answering him, Sonoko took off forcing Shinichi and Heiji to follow after her through the crowds until they came to an expensive boutique. Sonoko was being handed a package from one of the workers when the guys caught up to her. She thanked the worker and then shoved the clothes into Shinichi’s arms. “Go change. This one’s on me because I love Ran and you will not be seeing her dressed like that. Not today, anyway.”

Shinichi found a dressing room and swapped out his clothes. He emerged shortly wearing a nice, deep blue tuxedo.

“There. Cleaned up about as well as we can expect you to,” Sonoko said approvingly, grabbing his earlier clothes from him and throwing them in the garbage.

“Hey, I still need those!”

“No you don’t,” she insisted, “and you’re going to be late. You want your clue or not?”

He was about to protest, but noticed Heiji fishing the clothes out of the trash behind her. “Fine. Clue, please.”

“Well, for a great detective like myself, this clue would be too easy, but we’ll see how long it takes you to crack,” Sonoko gave a haughty laugh and Shinichi cringed. She was not on the list of people who knew about his time as Conan, and he didn’t want her to be. But he really wanted to let her know that all of her great solves had been him. Especially right now. “Anyway, the clue is:

Back to where you would have begun from,

Back into your den of friendly wolves

Not surprised to see you come,

That pair will give you the goods”

“Why do some of these rhyme?” Heiji wondered aloud. “And wolves/goods? Bad writing,”

Shinichi ignored him and focused on the words. “After all that trouble of you getting us an off day, and now we have to go to the precinct anyway.”

“Why’s that?” Sonoko asked, genuinely interested. “Ran said it was important that none of us know the answers.”

“Because of 'okami’, a not so nice slang term for police,” Shinichi explained. “usually spelled to mean 'one who is above’, but otherwise..”

“Wolves,” Sonoko and Heiji answered in unison.

“Ok, but who’s the pair?”

“The only pair of cops we know that’s dating each other and who knows about Conan,” Shinichi explained, waving for Heiji to follow him.

“What about Conan? He went back to America, dummy!’ Sonoko called after him. Neither Shinichi nor Heiji answered her.

What is Ran trying to lead me to? Shinichi wondered as he jogged along, a little annoyed by Heiji keeping pace next to him. They both raced into the police station, looking around for Takagi and Sato. The pair waved them over.

“Ah, you made it to us already. Great job!” Takagi said encouragingly.

“Though we wouldn’t expect any less of our little Conan-kun,” Sato ruffled Shinichi’s hair affectionately. Sometimes she slipped and called him Conan, but oftentimes it was fairly obvious that it was her intention. This was one of those times.

“Thanks, but could I get the next clue, please? I don’t know what time Ran is hoping to see me by. And she …I haven’t seen her in a few weeks.” He would not have admitted this to most people, but Takagi and Sato reminded him of himself and Ran so much that it made it easier for him to tell them his girl troubles. And they told him theirs in return. They were currently trying to get everything together to save up enough money that they could get married and Takagi could be a stay-at-home dad when they were ready to have children.

“Ok, then,” Sato suddenly stood at attention, “But while your clue was to lead you to us, we don’t have your next clue.”

“Who does, then?!”

“That would be me,” Inspector Megure patted him on the shoulder. He’d somehow snuck up behind him, causing Shinichi to jump. “You all right, there? You’re not usually so jumpy.”

“Sorry. Just too focused on this thing, I guess.”

“I understand,” Megure patted his shoulder before removing his hand. “Your clue is:

I craft something better,

but still stand above,

you can’t out reason me

but I give you my love

Even Holmes needs a home

And that’s all she wrote. Do you need me to write it for you?”

“No need, Inspector. I’ve got it.”

“She really needs to decide if she wants them to rhyme or not. These are all over the place,” Heiji complained.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Shinichi pointed out. “You could stay here and get some work done. I’m pretty sure you’re behind on your paper work.”

Heiji shushed him and gave a nervous glance at Inspector Megure. “He’s joking, he’s joking!”

“Hmm. Maybe I should just check on–” Megure started, but Heiji cut him off.

“Kudo, why don’t you explain what this clue meant? I bet everyone would love to hear, right? Right?” He elbowed Takagi, who nodded enthusiastically. Apparently he was pretty caught up in the whole thing, because he looked excited.

“She’s telling me to go to my parents’ old house and that my father will be there. Because, at least for now…he’s the Mycroft to my Holmes.”

“I didn’t know she knew this much about Sherlock Holmes,” Heiji pondered, “Thought she kept telling you to shut up about him.”

“I guess…I guess she wanted to make this special for me,” Shinichi admitted, considering something. If she was mad, if she was going to say no when he got ready to propose, why would she go through all of this? He didn’t know what was waiting at the end, other than Ran, but he would run like hell and through hell to get to her.

“Well, that’s my exit.”

“What do you mean? Are you actually going to stay and work?”

“Shuddup about that,” Heiji hissed at him. “Ran just said to stay with you until you got the clue to go see your folks. She said once you were there it should be all on you. I got somewhere I gotta be. See you later, Kudo.” he punched him in the arm and took off. Shinichi acknowledged his departure and waved his goodbyes to his fellow officers before making his way back to his old house.

His parents had offered it to him originally, and he planned to take them up on it …someday. For now he had wanted to try making it on his own. Heiji moving in hadn’t been a part of that plan, but it was probably for the best. The lights weren’t on inside, so it appeared that no one was home.

He knocked, but no one answered so he pushed the door open. “Hello?”

He was met with silence. He walked in, suddenly wary. Things going wrong seemed to be the rule of his life rather than the exception and part of him felt like he was going to walk into yet another murder mystery. But instead, all that happened was his mother pouncing on him from the darkness.

“I missed you!”

There was the sound of an irritated snort, and Shinichi blinked hard as someone flicked on a light. He had started to adjust to the darkness and the sudden change had his eyesight go all screwy for a moment. It wasn’t just his parents.

Eri and Kogoro were also standing there. And Kogoro looked irritated. He often glared at Shinichi before the teenager had become Conan. Now that he was back to normal the glares had gotten more intense, especially as Kogoro now knew it had been a mentally teenage boy seeing his daughter naked during bath times.

“Hello,” he greeted them awkwardly.

His dad squeezed his shoulder.

“Kogoro, say something nice,” Eri urged him.

“I will only say this once,” Kogoro’s arms were crossed so tightly Shinichi wondered if it was possible for it to cut off circulation. “For now, you make my daughter happy and that is the only reason I will allow this. If you ever make her unhappy…you will be dealing with her.”

“With her?” Shinichi raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“You know damn well that girl can take care of herself. If you ever do anything to hurt her, I won’t have to come after you. I’ll just help her hide the body.”

“Understood, sir,” Shinichi agreed awkwardly. He coughed and then straightened up. “But I would never hurt her. …I wouldn’t try to, I mean. I love Ran a lot. Actually, I want to…I’d like to…”

“Don’t say it. I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it. It’s between you and her.” Kogoro wasn’t making eye contact and now he looked embarrassed. “I will accept whatever Ran says on it. And that’s as good as you’ll get from me.”

Eri patted him approvingly on the arm. “I have to say I agree with my husband. It’s for Ran to decide.”

“Dad, I believe you have the clue?”

“I do indeed. I offered to make it harder for her, but she wouldn’t let me,” Yusaku looked offended at the idea. “So here we are:

sakura”

“…that’s the whole thing?” Yukiko asked, looking irritated. “You probably forgot some of it, dear.”

“No, that’s it. Shinichi knows what it means.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because he already left,” Eri pointed out. “Look, he didn’t even close the door after himself.”

“I can’t believe I’ve agreed to help with this,” Kogoro muttered.

“What, you don’t approve of him?” Eri looked amused. “I agree, marrying a detective is always trouble.”

Kogoro muttered something under his breath, but Eri ignored him. “Should we get going, then? His next stop is to her, right?”

“I don’t know,” Yukiko admitted, “She didn’t tell me the clues or the route. Just a general idea of what’s going to happen.”

“It’s the last clue,” Yusako said confidently. “And I think we all know what’s going to happen,” He pulled his wife close to him. “And I think it’s about time.”

His first thought was that Ran would be inside the old preschool, but he found her outside sitting on a bench apparently waiting for him.

“Sakura. For the sakura classroom where we first met,” he said appreciatively. “Solving the clues required knowing Holmes, Dupin and about our lives together so far.” he sat down beside her on the bench. She wore a red dress, and was staring intently at the paper scraps on her lap. Shinichi looked closer and realized they were like the paper badges she had made them in preschool. Wordlessly, she handed them over to him.

The first one had her name on one side. On the other side, what was written was:

Time to play a dirty trick,

Turn about is fair game

Hope I’m not being too slick

So ask about my name

“Your name?” He asked aloud, looking at the other badge. His name was on one side. The other side read

My answer is yes.

“Answer?” he pondered it over, going through the events of today. Starting with the fact that Heiji had brought up the ring box in Shinichi’s underwear drawer. “You mean….Ran?” She finally looked up at him, a gentle smile on her face. “You knew I was going to ask?”

She nodded. “I wasn’t trying to snoop. Sonoko told me I should leave some stuff at your place so I could finally spend a night with you…something about it being easier, I don’t know,” She blushed bright red, “But when I opened your drawer to put some clothes in I found the box and I knew what it was without looking,” she pulled her purse out from under her the bench and fished the ring box out. “I put an empty box back because I figured you wouldn’t look at the ring until you were ready. And I wanted to surprise you with something you’d like. I’m sorry, I know the clues weren’t very elaborate and-” she was cut off by him pressing his lips to hers. He tried to pour all the emotions he could into that kiss. How much he loved her, cared about her …wanted her. How much he appreciated that she would do so much for him. He pulled away only after he felt satisfied he had conveyed exactly how he felt through that kiss.

“You did so much for me, Ran. Thank you,” he grabbed the ring box out of her lap and opened it before sliding the ring on her finger. Diamonds and rubies blended together, since red was both of their favorite color. “But why did you not want to see me the last few weeks?”

“It took a while to put everything together, and when I decided to have a clue to lead to your dad I had to wait for them to come back to Japan from the states. They agreed to it right away, but had some things to wrap up before they could come. Originally Ai and Professor Agasa were going to help, too, but they said they wanted to help with something else.”

“Something else?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “We’re supposed to go to an address they gave me after we’re done here.”

Somehow I think I know what they’re up to, Shinichi thought crossly. Right now he wanted Ran to himself, but he knew what was coming next. He pushed himself up and pulled her up with him.

“But why did you have the kids spill soy sauce on me?”

“So sauce? I didn’t ask them to spill anything on you.”

So that was Sonoko’s idea alone, huh? Figures, he thought.

“Where do you think we’re going?” She asked, handing him the address Ai had given her.

“I don’t know about the where, but I bet I know what will happen when we get there.”

“What’s that?”

“An engagement party!” Ayumi, Masumi and Sonoko shouted in unison as Ran and Shinichi walked through the door. The address had been to a hotel, where a helpful front desk person had ushered them into a large ballroom where all their friends and family were waiting.

“Let me see that ring!” Kazuha said excitedly, pulling Ran’s hand towards her. “ooh, nice!”

“Kudo,” Heiji grabbed him by the collar. “That’s not fair, now I’ve gotta do better for when I ask her,” he kept his voice low so Kazuha wouldn’t hear.

“Have you considered not one-upping me?” Shinichi asked gruffly, but Heiji ignored him.

“Let’s see…can’t ask too soon or it looks like I’m stealing your thunder. Ugh, I don’t wanna spend this much money.”

Shinichi rolled his eyes and left his friend to his muttering. He linked his arm back in with Ran’s. “Did everyone know I was going to propose?”

“Yes,” All three Detective Boys chorused at him.

“It was really easy to figure it out,” Mitsuhiko started. “First, you started to get all quiet and contemplative around her.”

“Then, one day, you stopped looking the same. You looked determined!” Ayumi added. “And then-”

“And then the three of us saw you in the jewelry store,” Genta explained.

Well, that explained it. Those three had seen him, gotten over excited and blabbed at some point. “Do you three want to be in the wedding?” Ran asked them. They all nodded their agreement.

“And what about me?” Ai poked Shinichi in the back and both he and Ran turned to face her.

“Well, I don’t think you’d want to be a flower girl, but you could be a bridesmaid if you wanted!” Ran grabbed Ai’s hands and squeezed.

“You’re too pure and you’re too good for him,” Ai chuckled.

“Gee, thanks.”

“But maybe I’ll take you up on that. At the least, I would like an invitation.”

“Did you guys invite everyone we know here?” Shinichi looked around the party and made mental notes of each person he saw. Some were from old cases he’d solved, some were his high school friends, there were loads of cops running around and of course the Detective Boys were weaving in and out of the crowd. “I half expect to see Kaito Kid pop out of somewhere.”

“Oh, he was here earlier,” Professor Agasa explained, apparently summoned out of thin air.

“What?!”

“He left a gift on the table,” he gestured in that direction.

“Wait…Professor,” Shinichi cottoned on quickly. “What’s your brother’s name again?”

“Brother? I don’t have a brother.”

“So why are there two of you here?”

Agasa took off running, and Shinichi decided not to run after him. The real Professor Agasa was engrossed in a conversation with Shinichi’s mother. And the fake …well, if Kaito Kid was kind enough to bring him an engagement present, he supposed he could let him go this time. Especially since he had more important matters to attend to right now.

“Was that-”

“Yep.”

“Do you need to-”

Shinichi put a hand on each of Ran’s arms and squeezed gently, making sure she was looking him in the eyes. “I’m not running off and leaving you ever again. There’ll be another time to catch Kaito Kid. Right now…right now I just want to be with you.”