#the US is just shifted very far to the right

[sweetflanfiction]

Assymetrical Symphony - Part 11

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I am going on a little vacay and I'll probably won't be able to update it as regurlarly, but I'm going to try and schedule this chapter and another one. Good news is more time to write :D

A.N. 2: Apparently the tags have not been wroking. If you asked to be tagged and haven't been, let me know!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10

• ··········· • ············ •

It was the morning of the day after Viktor had come to the penthouse and taken a twelve-hour power nap. 

You walked into the kitchen with a yawn that stopped abruptly when you saw the three people in the room. Two of its usual occupants: your mother, Wyllah, but also a very tired Jayce. Your eyes shifted between your mother and the tanned man on the table, hunching sheepishly as he sipped from a mug filled with coffee to the brim.

“Jayce?” Your tone is a mix between a welcome and a question, not even bothering to call him by his title.

He mumbled his reply, and you looked back at your mother and Wyllah. They both gave a sad smile and a shrug.

“You left the lab.” You began, trying to get him to talk, and he nodded. 

His hair was unkempt, and his beard was starting to emerge, meaning he probably had not even been home yet.

“I needed to find Viktor.” He said, not looking up from the mug. “Your mother found me halfway out of the Academy.”

“I left one of my security guards at the lab door,” Wyllah explained proudly. “No one is getting in unless we say so.”

“Thank you.” Jayce said, still looking at his reflection.

“Did you two argue?” You asked, knowing the answer.

Viktor would have never just walked out of the lab, leaving his best friend behind, and Jayce wouldn’t look half as dejected if they had parted ways amicably. Although Viktor had probably already gotten over the argument, Jayce liked to mull over it. 

“How…?” he asked. “Wild guess…” you answered.

He sighed, putting his head on his head, finger digging into his unkempt hair.

“What was it about?” You inquired, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, even though you could also guess the subject.

“What do you think?” He snapped, and you sat down in front of him at the booth, grabbing a cookie from the plate one of the older women had placed on the table.

“The great mystery of Runeterra.” You grinned, and he just stared at you, eyes narrowed. “I know it was about the council shenanigans, but what was it specifically about? Gods know you two can fight about a fleck of dust in the window.”

Jayce looked at you and was about to retort but closed his mouth and looked at his coffee before sighing and reopening his mouth.

“I told him I want to give the Hextech freely to the council in exchange for keeping us there as engineers for it, no matter what. I would rather be there to stop them from screwing up than have it destroyed or sold to someone else.” He sighed. “Viktor would rather grab everything and run as far as he can to keep it safe.”

You smiled softly at him gently and touched his white-knuckled hand on the mug. He relaxed his grip and looked at you.

“You can both be right, you know.” “I know, but it’s not that I want to be right… It’s just…” he scoffed, frustrated, looking at the window. “He has stood up for so long, taken so many beatings from topside, kept a straight face throughout everything we’ve ever been through; he has made his mark in this world whether he signs on it or not… And now he wants to run? It feels like a step backward.”

“You both know what hunger feels like, what a wind so cold that seeps through your clothes feels like in your bones. You both know how it is to have nothing and then have everything.” Jayce looked at you both confused and interested. “The difference is Tallis; he knows what happens when you just wait and watch. You get eaten by the big fish eventually. He stood up so many other times because he knew you’d have his back. But right now both your backs are against the wall, and there will be no sorcerer to help you escape the storm.”

There was silence in the kitchen as Jayce searched your eyes for answers all the while trying to assimilate what you said about Viktor.

“How…?” He asked again. “Your past and my present aren’t that different.” 

His eyes widened for a second, and he was about to start talking again when you shook your head.

“Discussion for another time and place.” 

He nodded, still reeling but quieted down when the telltale sounds of a cane making its way to the kitchen were heard.

“What do I say?” “Nothing…” you whispered back. “He is your friend Jay. He understands the same way you do…deep down…”

Viktor was also stifling a yawn as he made his way to the kitchen, stopping mid-stride just as you did when he saw the other man in the kitchen. 

“Jayce?” He puzzled, eyes still blinking the sleep away. “Hey, buddy! You got me worried there for a second.” Jayce got up from the table and walked towards him, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen…I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t.”

Viktor blinked a couple of times and gave him a nod and a smile.

“Do not worry, Jayce. I understand.” He patted the bigger man’s arm and limped to the small breakfast nook, where you sat.

“Thank you, Madame Rainemour, for the hospitality.” He smiled at your mother, and she smiled back. “I don’t think I had any say in it this time, but you're welcome, my dear.”

He shifted his eyes to you, and you shrugged.

“You looked like exhaustion and tiredness had a child and left it out in the rain.” You paused and raised an eyebrow, conveying you were joking. “No offense…”

“None taken.” He smirked and grabbed a cookie from the plate.

“Well,” your mother clapped, and everyone’s eyes turned to her, you noticing a small grin on Wyllah’s face. “Since everyone is now sort of awake and looking less dejected…I have a plan…” “A plan?” Jayce asked, leaning against the door frame. “A plan.” Wyllah repeated. “Should I be scared?” Viktor asked, and both older women shook their heads in sync. “That makes me scared.” “Alright, you two... out with it...” You motioned with your head for the ladies to sit and talk.

Your mother started to explain what she had been doing yesterday after she left you and Viktor. Esther had put on her detective’s hat and gone to investigate the ins and outs of whatever was happening with the Hextech vs. Council situation.

She found that the council was going to make the decision to take control of Talis Lab and Hextech in a week or so, with Councilor Salo spearheading the efforts, being the one that seemingly had lost more in the rocket attack.

He had announced to all of those who wanted to hear him about the dangers of the usage of hextech by those who wanted the worst for Piltover. The topsiders had clutched their pearls and agreed he was right and that the council, the voice of all citizens of Piltover, needed to seize control of the tech.

Jayce bonked his forehead on the door frame where he was leaning, and Viktor rolled his eyes.

“I’m starting to see the beauty of him as a stain on the hex gate’s floor…” you mumbled, munching on a cookie. Viktor looked at you questioningly, and you shrugged him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Do not despair, my dears; as I’ve noted, I have a plan.”

Between her and Wyllah, the plan was laid out in front of the three of you. Your mother would rally up all of the investors and get them to stop the tech from falling into the council’s hands. It seemed simple and very straightforward, but knowing the Topsiders, there will be money exchange and drama and fights. Something your mother seemed very willing to do.

Both of the scientists had nodded in agreement to whatever your mother had put on the table, and you realized how much trust they all had in each other. The universe had to find a way to make up for you not being here. It had put your mother in their path so they could have her instead of you. It hurt as much as it elated you. 

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Viktor asked, breaking a cookie in half. “Well, we will need Jayce’s assistance.” Esther pointed at the broader man. “His place as a councillor and one part of the Hextech team will help us get to certain people. But I don’t think that would be your cup of tea, so you can keep securing the lab and the projects, making sure nothing ends up being shown to prying eyes.” “Are they allowing us to work?” Viktor asked Jayce. “No. No hextech projects are allowed to go forth.” Both men sighed. “I’ll stay in the lab with Viktor. I don’t want to get mixed up in that crowd again…” “Again?” Jayce raised his eyebrows, and you matched the expression.

After a while of discussing and more planning, between calculation and scheduling, your head was about to burst, so you excused yourself for a bathroom break and walked to the living room. You sat on the chair that wasn’t Viktor’s favorite place on earth and, drowning out the noise from the kitchen, felt the sunshine on your face.

You jumped at Jayce’s voice calling your name right next to you.

“Holy blue balls of Hextech.” You mumbled, putting your hands on your heart and leaning back on the chair. “Oh, so that’s where it comes from…” Jayce joked. “Sorry…” “Don’t worry about it.” You looked up at him, leaning your elbows into your knees.

“About that thing you said before.” Jayce took a deep breath. “I never told that to anyone but Viktor, and I know he would never tell anyone…” “Like I said, your past is my present. I was snapped here the same way you were.” “Yeah, I got it the first time. I’m as smart as the other co-creator of Hextech, believe it or not.” He grinned. “How? I have searched and researched high and low to figure out why it happened to me, and I never found the answers. Did he appear to you too? The mage? Did some runes in the sky and…new place, new you?”

You shook your head and looked at your hands. He was taking this considerably well, which made sense since he had also lived through something similar.

“I don’t know how it happened; I was there one second and here the next.” “That’s why you ran to the council room; you did know what was gonna happen.” He frowned, his eyes searching the air for connections. “Were you in the council room? Or in the Undercity?”

“I was in the lab when it happened. All was quiet, and then…boom…”  “What changed?” Jayce asked, and you shook your head. “I’m not going to tell you. Not all of the details. You…from there…lived it…you felt it…If I tell you, it might make you do something that would lead to the same path, and…I can’t go through that again.”

He nodded, understanding that the addition of knowledge to a situation can drastically change the outcome. You looked at his wrist, the leather band secured tightly around it and the teardrop-shaped gem encased in it. Stretching your arm, you grabbed his hand, turning it palm up. The rune was different. 

Jayce also grabbed your hand and turned it palm up. A different rune was carved there, not glowing since you had spent most of the night remaking the star rune in case Viktor woke up. You looked up at him and sighed, his eyes searching for answers.

“I think the technical term is Rune Speaker…” You smiled at him, finding amazement in his eyes.

• ············ •

It didn’t take the group long to have a sort of guarding schedule around keeping the stuff in the lab from prying eyes. Because it was involved in council business, the boys couldn’t work there, but they refused to leave anything unsupervised. And that’s why they had looked like exhaustion itself.

Between the two of them, yourself and some of Wyllah's personal security, it was manageable, although Salo had shaken his fist at having the unknown guards at the door. To which your mother promptly told him she had more money invested in that lab than he could count; she was merely securing her investment.

Your endeavor to enter the orchestra was still in full swing, so you took the time at the lab to write out some of the music you were composing. You had an outline of the piece, but it needed tweaking and cleaning up.

You were not a composer. You hated writing your music. It felt strained. You’d rather just sit at the piano and play something from the top of your head. You were good at that. This was hell for you.

Groaning, you laid your forehead on the cold lab table and groaned. A hand patted your arm, and instinctively you jumped back as far as you could.

“Eh. It’s just me, good old Viktor.” the scientist announced, limping around you and placing a cup of tea and something wrapped in a cloth on the table. “One of those days, huh?”

He sat down next to you and peered at what you were doing. 

“Looks complicated.” He said, taking a book out of his shoulder bag, and you look at him sideways, glaring at the man. You pointed to the chalkboard that now has a sheet covering it and raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen what you do…” you mumbled. “Numbers. I crunch numbers. Calculation and variants. It’s easy. I see them in my mind. Some are more complicated than others, but… It’s easy. This…?” He touched the clean sheet of music and made a negative sound with his throat. “Cannot comprehend.”

“Remind me to teach you the scale at some point. My mother is catching on pretty quickly. I fear she might get the position faster than me.” “Position?”  “I’m trying for the orchestra. I’ve learned that being a stay-at-home Piltie is not for me.” “Piltie?” He frowned at the nickname the Zaunites gave the topsiders. “How very uncivilized of you.” 

You both chuckled at his joke, and he nudged your shoulder in a friendly manner. He mentioned the wrapped thing with his chin, and you grabbed it. A small little cake was inside. A round little creamy thing with a slice of strawberry on top.

“Don’t expect much.” He said, opening his book. “It’s from the Academy’s cafe.”

You took a bite out of it. It was a little dry, but it was sugar, and you welcomed the feeling of something sweet in these desperate times.

“Where's Jayce?” You asked after you finished with the pastry. “I thought he was supposed to come with you.”

Viktor took a sip of his cup of tea and shook his head, rolling his eyes in the process.

“Councilor Medarda asked to see him.” He scoffed. “Confraternizing with the enemy, more like it.” “Spending time with his significant other.” you corrected, smiling when he made a ‘yeah yeah’ face.

Silent took over the lab while the two of you both got entranced by your tasks; only the scratching of pens on paper was heard. It was a friendly silence, with both of you sitting close enough that your knees would bump occasionally. Sometimes you would hum the melody you were writing, and he would stop writing to listen to it.

After a while Viktor stretched, moving his arms up to the ceiling. You looked at him and mimicked the movement but stretched your arms in front of you. The two loud ‘aahs’ of pleasure came from both of you in sync, making you both snort.

“I have been thinking…” Viktor began relaxing on the table, his shoulder hunching over. “The other day, you kept having to remake the rune.”

“You noticed?” You looked away from him, slightly embarrassed. “I thought you were sleeping.” “I caught you once or twice. It was a nice gesture, so I kept quiet. In any case, you had to keep redoing it. And well, we have had the same problem with the cores.”

“Vik…” you warned, but he raised his hand, stopping you.

“I know, but technically I am not using your magic for Hextech; I’m using Hextech for your magic. We solved that problem by introducing an artificial rune to the process.” He drew two squares touching on one corner, a crude infinity symbol. “That sustains the power of the core indefinitely. If we work at this the same way we work with Hexcore, your rune ‘push’ simply means you have no other inputs to add to it, and that means that inputs can be added.”

You remembered the rune circle in the council chambers. Going by what Viktor was saying, it made sense; the magic didn’t happen until you had pushed it forward, waiting until you finished the whole rune circle to work and slamming your hand on it to work.

“Could work, but if you tell it to keep going indefinitely, how do we stop it?“ You looked back at him and saw him scratch his neck.

“Usually we have buttons and dials…sometimes an emergency lever.”He placed his head on his hands and looked around for inspiration to strike.

You looked down at your music sheet and rolled your eyes. The answer was right in front of you. You slid the music sheet towards him.

“When you want to bring your composition to an end, you add this…” You pointed to a circle enclosing a crosshair.

“The runes are a language, and languages are fluid. New words are being introduced every day. We can keep adding to it until it works…” Viktor continued excitedly. “We have to test this theory.”

“I’m not going to test something that has a possibility of permanently staying in your lab. I don’t think a never-ending whirlwind is very discreet.” 

His shoulders slumped for a second, and then he pointed to a small door next to the front door. That was a cleaning supply room spacious enough for the janitor to keep his cart there, but it was closed off so that if something were to happen in there, it would be contained.

“Alright…Let’s test this out.” You rolled the stool away from the table and slapped your hands on your thighs, watching Viktor move with efficiency.

• ············ • ············ •

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[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 28 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

CW: None. For real, none. Well, no- that's a lie. The warning is sand.

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

The soft sand shifted under your feet as you walked, arm looped around Alastor’s, bodies just brushing against one another as you walked. Above head, seagulls called and swooped through the air, living their lives as if there was nothing that could go wrong in the world. Late afternoon sunlight glittered against the waves as they lapped at the shore, reaching out toward you from the endless expanse of water. 

You walked barefooted, each step so close to Alastor’s bare feet. He had the legs of his pants rolled up, exposing his tan ankles and calves. Your shoes, tied to his laces, swung from your hands in time with each step you took. The ocean breeze cooled the warm air, ruffling your hair as it kissed your skin. 

Dinner was far from extravagant. Alastor had been right; there were little food carts and stands dotting the boardwalk. You had a meat pie in your hands, gravy rich and thick, surrounded in a flaky crust. It was simple, delicious and a perfect dinner shared while walking along the beach. 

Alastor chuckled as he wiped gravy from your cheek. “Enjoying it?” 

“Yes,” you dabbed at your face with the napkin, knowing it was a lost cause, Alastor had already wiped away the smear of gravy. “Laurence wouldn’t let me eat something as rich as this.” 

“Good thing he isn’t here,” Alastor said, slowing to a stop in front of a trashcan to toss his trash in. You did the same, only to be wrapped in his arms as soon as your hands were empty. “This weekend is for us, not him. He can’t touch us here. He isn’t here. It’s just you, me, and the ocean.” 

“I know,” you sighed, leaning into him. “I’m just- I don’t know how to do this, Alastor.”

“Just follow your heart,” Alastor said, kissing you softly when you turned to look up at him. “That’s all we’re doing. It doesn’t have to be anything more complicated than that, not right now.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, not knowing how to argue with him when he looked at you with those warm brown eyes. It wasn’t fair how he could stop your brain from thinking and send your heart beating too fast in your chest with something as simple as a look. 

“Good,” he said, kissing you again before tugging you down to the sandy beach, shoes swinging and bouncing between you. 

“I’ve never been to the beach.” You confessed as you kicked at the sand, sending it flying through the air as he lead you along. The soft sound of your laugh rang out when a seashell sailed along the wave of sand. 

“Never ever?” Alastor asked, kicking his own foot, sending more sand flying in front of you both. “Does that mean you’ve never built a sandcastle?” 

“Nope.” You giggled, feeling for the first time in a very long time like the young girl you had been before you were married. He began tugging you along as the walk became a jog, your skirt bunching over your knees as the pace quickened, sand kicking out from around both of your feet.

He pulled you closer to the water, soft dry sand giving way to heavier waterlogged sand. Then the splashing of water, the hem of your skirt and his pant legs soaked with the spray as you both continued running, freely. You only slowed as you came upon some trash, paper cups half burred in the sand. 

Alastor’s hand left yours, leaving you instantly wanting for the warmth of it again. Too soon, you wouldn’t be able to casually indulge in the feeling of his hand in yours. For what short time you had, you wanted to soak it up as much as you could. 

“What are you doing?” You asked as Alastor bent down, grabbing the wax coated cup in the best condition and examining it.

“Let’s make a sandcastle?” He held out the cup to you as if it was a prize. “Have another first with me?” 

“Alright,” you couldn’t help the laugh in your voice as he snagged the second cup, much worse for wear, and led you up higher along the beach, just out of the reach of the waves. 

“Here’s good,” Alastor said, tugging you down as he knelt in the sand. His large hand made quick work of smoothing the sand out. You struggled to pay attention to what he was doing, far more captivated by the boyish smile on his face.

Was that what he looked like as a young man? How lucky you would have been to have had the honor of knowing him before the weight of the world had really weighed on his shoulders. 

“Are you going to help?” 

Of course,” you answered quickly as you knelt in the sand. 

The grains clung to your damp skirt and wet feet as you scooped sand in your cup. When you turned the cup over, trying to stack the sand in a neat tower, you were faced with disappointment as ran freely off the pile. You pouted before trying again, refusing to be defeated by the simple task children would surely know how to do.

“Let me show you,” Alastor spoke softly, smiling as he stood. 

Sand clung to his pants just as it did yours. He didn’t spare it a thought as he jogged down to the water’s edge, filling the cup with water. You watched as he dumped it into the sand in front of you before reaching down, showing how it clumped in his hand. “Add a little water and it holds together.” Water splashed as he poured water into his hand. “Too much, and it runs freely again.”

Together, you and he stacked cupfuls of wet sand atop one another, sometimes squishing it down with your hands to form something wider for a base. Fingers brushed fingers in innocent, comfortable touches. Laughter carried on the ocean air as you took turns, running to the waves to collect more water. As towers came to life, tilted though they were, you couldn’t help but admit you were having the time of your life. 

With finger tips and seashells, you etched details into the wet sand and decorated the castle. At times, you or he ran off, searching through the sand for the perfect shell for a doorway or a window as Alastor sat in the sand, watching you.

The castle didn’t look good. It didn’t even look like a castle, really. But it was something you had built with your hands. It was something you created with Alastor and you loved it. 

There wasn’t much you could say was built during this thing you shared with Alastor. There was a bond, there was a stack of letters tucked into a slit in the bottom of your bag that you knew you really needed to burn, and now there was a rather terrible looking sandcastle. 

How little you had with him brought bitter tears to your eyes that you blinked away. What little you had with him was beautiful, a hidden gem that only you and he could see. You’d treasure it for as long as you could, the price it would cost you be damned. 

“What’s wrong?” Alastor asked, fingers working around your hand sitting on the sand. 

“Thank you,” you whispered to Alastor as you looked up from the creation, crumbling as it dried. 

“For what?” He asked, “I haven’t done anything.” 

“This weekend.” Looking down, you ran your fingers over the damp sand. “For being with me on my first trip to the coast.”

“I am honored to be your first anything,” Alastor said, leaning in and placing a soft, chaste kiss against your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck as waves lapped at your toes with the rising tide. It was a matter of time before the waves swept away your creation. 

His hands rested on your hips as one kiss began melted into another. You breathed eachother’s air, and you tasted eachother’s lips as he pulled you closer. A gasp slipped out of you as he settled you into his lap. Alastor’s soft warm tongue slipped between parted lips after he nipped at your full lower lip. 

Strong hands ran up and down your back, taking in the feel of the zipper along your spine and the seams of the dress. You soaked in the feeling of his hands moving over you, braved doing the same with your own hands on his body. It felt like your heart would beat out of your chest as his lips left yours to trail kisses down your jaw. 

This was wrong, you knew that. It was indecent. It’s not how ladies carried themselves in public. It certainly wasn’t how a married woman should act. None of that mattered enough to you at the moment to ask him to stop. 

His lips worked along your neck, leaving fire burning under your skin. Careful nips that left a trail of pink that Alastor knew wouldn’t develop into any lasting marks that would raise questions littered your skin. You couldn’t help but tilt your head, giving him more space to work as your fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt. 

“This isn’t proper,” you whispered, gasping for air as his tongue ran along the straining tendon along your throat, up again to kiss under your ear. 

“There’s no one to see,” Alastor whispered. “And this is a town for lovers. We’re far from the first to neck on the beach.”

Letting your fingers relax, you ran your palm up his chest, around his shoulders. Everything about him felt so strong under your hand. There was no give, nothing but hot steel. It made you feel safe, secure in his arms. 

Cold water splashed over your back, soaking your hair and washing over your head. Icy water poured over your shoulders, splashing onto Alastor’s shirt. He jerked back from the sudden cold so harshly that he fell back against the sand. 

You fell forward with him, hair dripping down around you as the shocked look on his face bloomed into a smile and a roaring laugh. You couldn’t help but be pulled into it, laughing as his hands rested on your lower back. His chest jerked, vibrating with the joy of his laugh. 

“You’re soaked,” he whispered as he finally settled again. 

“So are you.” You marveled at how warm his chest felt under your hand. 

Leaning down, you hesitated, wanting to feel his lips on yours again. The idea of initiating a kiss when you were already in such a compromised position left you feeling shy, timid. This was something that happened in books, in movies, in daydreams. It wasn’t something anyone got to have in real life.

But you were here, laying atop Alastor, a man you loved. His warmth radiated up into you. The sounds of the beach were all around and yet what you could hear most of all was his breathing. 

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” Alastor whispered, head resting against the sand, wet hair giving way to curls.

Leaning down, you shut him up. Sighing into him, you melted as his hands ran up your wet back. Waves caressed up your legs, fighting for your attention while his hand tangled in your wet hair. 

This was right where you belonged. He was where you belonged. 

It felt good to lie atop him, the warmth of his body contrasting with the cold ocean water lapping higher along Alastor’s side and your legs with each wave. Water rushed up your skirt, sending sand along your legs, but you were far from eager to move. 

Alastor kissed you as if he would find salvation in your mouth and you let him. It was terrible, indecent. It was something you should have felt shame for, and yet there was nothing you wanted more than to feel him against you for every second you could. 

Alastor rolled his torso slightly, dumping you off of him and onto the sand. In a heartbeat, he was atop you, kissing you deeper still as his chest settled against yours, pushing you deeper into the sand.

It was on your sides now that the water lapped at but you didn’t care. This was your chance to wrap your arms around him, to touch his back and feel the way the muscles flexed under your touch. You were greedy with the opportunity, feeling the way his body warmed the wet shirt he wore. 

The warmth of his skin soaked into her hands. You couldn’t stop yourself from bunching the fabric under your fingers as you pulled him closer. The feeling of his lips again on your neck was driving you mad, leaving you a gasping mess, uncaring for the sand that your wet hair was surely collecting. 

You struggled to think. Had you known kissing someone could feel that good? That being kissed could feel as good as this. 

Alastor’s hand gripped your ribs as his lips worked along your collar, taking in the breathy gasps that slipped past your lips. 

He couldn’t help but wonder how much more you would let him push. The warmth of his hand spread as he caressed higher, gripping softly before moving on, always giving you a chance to stop him until his hand caressed the swell of your breast. 

There was nothing painful or taking in the way he touched you. Every caress left you gasping, begging, wanting more. Never had you wanted to be touched in such a way. 

You didn’t know it could feel good to be touched like this either. It left you wanting more of his touches. That fire in your belly was burning again, the need sending your hands on a greedy mission to take in the feeling of his torso, the muscles of his chest and arms. 

“We should get back,” Alastor said, lips moving against your neck, just above the collar of your dress as he spoke. “The sun is setting. Tide is coming in. We’ll be under water soon if we keep doing this here.” 

As if to reinforce Alastor’s words, a larger wave washed over your bodies, drenching your dress and Alastor’s pants. 

He pulled back, sitting up and helping you to do the same. You couldn’t help leaning into him, kissing him hard again, wrapping your arms around his neck before untangling again. 

The feeling of him was intoxicating. It was like his touch chased away every bit of pain from your life. He erased it all, leaving behind just the woman you could have been. You never wanted to leave this beach, this place where you could just be a girl in love. 

Alastor pulled you to your feet, chuckling at the sand in your hair and coating both of your clothes. 

“Let me rinse the sand out of your hair.” Alastor knelt down, grabbing the cup before filling it with ocean water. He then used to rinse the sand out, covering you in fresh water. 

You shook your head, flinging water and san everywhere. Holding his hands up, alastor laughed before doing the same. With the water in his hair, it had returned to the wild curls you had so rarely gotten to see. 

“What?” He caught you looking at him, face flushed. He looked as young as you felt in the moment. 

“Your hair looks good with the curls,” you whispered. 

“You say that now, it looks alright wet.” Alastor brushed off the compliment. 

“Will I get to see it dry?” You asked as he rinsed the sand from his own hair, shaking the water out again. 

“I suppose so,” he said after a moment, reaching out for your hand. “I don’t usually straighten it until after coffee.” 

“I look forward to seeing it,” you admitted blushing, walking hand in hand with Alastor as if you hadn’t just been taking in the feel of him in public. 

“I’ll get to see you with your wild morning hair as well,” Alastor pointed out, “It’s only a fair trade. Are you sure you still want to make this deal?” 

“I do,” you said after a moment of thought. “It’s a part of spending the weekend together, isn’t it?” 

Alastor rounded on you, snagging your chin between his fingers and pulling your face up to look at him. “It is,” he said, after placing a longing kiss on your lips. “As is continuing to act like young lovers.” 

“What does that mean?” You asked as his smile grew wider. 

“It means, let’s race.” 

Alastor’s laugh was all that was left of him as he tore off ahead of you. After blinking twice, you ran after him. Laughter spilled out from you as you ran as fast as your legs would carry you. 

Ahead of you, Alastor tripped, stumbling to catch himself as you closed the distance, heart hammering in your chest. Then his foot slipped out from under him and you overtook him, kicking up sand behind you. It shouldn’t have been possible, with the way your heavy wet skirt tangled between your legs.

The door was so close now. The rush of having Alastor hot on your tail pushed you forward. The cobble stones bit at your feet but you didn’t care. Faster, faster! 

You reached the door with a crash, turning to rest your back against only to be met with Alastor crashing into the door, pinning you between him and it. Both he and you were breathing hard, gasping for air. 

“I won,” you said, chest heaving with each gulping breath. He let you win, you knew that. He had a foot of height on you. With legs so much longer than yours and clearly being fit, you knew you had no chance to beat him in an actual foot race. 

“You did,” he whispered. 

You felt brazen, bold, as adrenaline still pumped through you and asked, “What’s my prize?” 

Alastor kissed you rather than answer, holding you firm between his body and the door. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers running through the damp curls at the back of his head as he worked his knee between yours. 

You gasped as he pressed his thigh into your core carefully. This was everything you had wanted, craved, and were too terrified to ask for. It was what you dreamed about, alone sitting in the tub as your hand ghosted over flesh you were still too scared to explore. 

Alastor held your hip tightly in his hand as he reached for the doorknob, working the door open. You giggled, floating on a cloud of elation as he pulled your lip between his teeth. There was a hint of pain as his teeth grazed over where your lip was still healing from the blows your husband had dealt. 

The pain should have made you cringe away but instead, you leaned into it. It felt like his teeth were scraping away the memory of what had been done to the lip, replacing it with a passion filled ache. 

“I love you, Alastor,” you whispered as his lips moved to your neck. “I shouldn’t, but I do.” 

“I love you too,” Alastor said and you couldn’t remember if he had ever said it to you before. Your mind was floating away as he replaced everything you knew. You wanted to hear him say it as many times as you could. 

Alastor wrapped his hand around behind the small of your back, grabbing ahold of you and pulling you tighter against his body as he twisted the knob. The door fell away from behind you and Alastor controlled the clumsy stumble into the villa, holding you tightly as he kicked the door closed behind him. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

𓇻 𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗬𝗚𝗨𝗔𝗥𝗗 ˢⁱˡᶜᵒ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; OneShot. Romantic/Established Relationship. Silco has two second in commands, Sevika and yourself. During a meeting gone wrong, you end up protecting Silco. 𝘼/𝙉 ;; My finals are over! I have been out for far too long.. But I have ideas to write! This is something small (and very self-indulgent) to get back into things!

12.21.24 Masterlist

The air in the room felt heavy, thick with unspoken threats. Silco sat at the head of the table, his presence already screamed authority and power. You stood to his right, arms crossed, eyes scanning over every person in the room. Sevika was away, ensuring some shipment made it across the bridge without interference. That left you as his only protection.

The meeting was meant to be a simple exchange of information with a few low-tier gang leaders about turf wars and all that, but tension simmered beneath their polite words. Silco seemed at ease, but you knew better. You could feel the shift, like a predator sensing a shift in the wind.

"You understand, gentlemen," Silco's voice cut through the room like a razor, "our arrangement is non-negotiable."

One of the men shifted in his seat, clearly displeased. "We just think the terms could use... revisiting."

Your gaze snapped to the man. His hand drifted beneath the table, fingers twitching. A weapon, no doubt.

Silco chuckled softly, but you stepped closer to his side, your stance subtly shifting to block the direct line between him and the man. Silco noticed. His eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the table.

The first shot rang out like the crack of thunder. Without thinking, you grabbed Silco by the collar of his coat and yanked him to the ground. Another bullet embedded itself in the chair he had just occupied.

"Down!" you barked, pushing him further behind the table as you drew your own weapon.

Silco exhaled harshly but did not protest. You felt the brush of his arm against yours as you shielded him from view, your body positioned between him and the hail of bullets.

"Damn it," Silco muttered, his voice far too calm for someone under fire.

You pressed him closer to the floor, your hand bracing against his shoulder. "Stay down."

More shots echoed through the room. You leaned over Silco, your arm brushing the line of his jaw as you took aim at one of the attackers. The muzzle flashed, and the man crumpled. Another flanked to the right. You shoved Silco aside, his back hitting the wall as a bullet skimmed too close for comfort.

"You're remarkably tactile today," Silco noted, his breath catching as you pushed him flat against the wall, your hands firm against his chest.

"I'm keeping you alive. Stop talking."

Silco's eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something else in them. Amusement? Interest? You didn't care to figure it out. The fight wasn't over.

You adjusted your stance, shifting in front of him, back almost pressing into his. Each brush of movement seemed to linger more than necessary, but you dismissed it as collateral to keeping him alive.

When the final shot faded and silence returned, you lowered your weapon, surveying the carnage. The room reeked of gunpowder and blood. Silco straightened behind you, smoothing out the wrinkles in his coat with deliberate calm. You barely noticed the way his eyes lingered on you, tracing the shape of your jaw, the curve of your shoulder where his hand had briefly rested.

"I see why Sevika doesn't like sharing the role of protector," he said quietly.

"I'm not here to impress anyone," you replied flatly, glancing at him over your shoulder. "You pay me to keep you alive."

"And yet, you do it so diligently."

His gaze softened, but you turned away before you could catch the full weight of it. You holstered your weapon, scanning the bodies sprawled across the floor to ensure no one stirred.

"I'll call for cleanup."

Silco stepped closer, his breath ghosting near your ear as he spoke. "You should be more careful. You threw yourself in front of every bullet tonight."

You shrugged. "It's part of the job."

He smiled faintly, though you couldn't see it. "Perhaps. But few are willing to get this close."

His words hung in the air, but you dismissed them like the dying smoke of gunfire. To you, this was routine. Another day, another brush with death.

But to Silco, every touch lingered longer than it should have, every shared breath was one he would not forget. And as you walked ahead of him, gun still in hand, he found himself watching you with far more interest than he had before.

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[midnight-mourning]

Holiday Fun

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 11❄️❄️

still feeling a little weird, BUT enjoyed writing this one out, these just keep getting fluffier and fluffier, WHOOPS, ah who am i kidding, i know y'all are eating it up, hope you enjoy this one as well ^_^

Prompt: Request! Christmas themed activities with the Daycare kids. Maybe Arts n' Crafts or even DCA trying to impress the kids with some funny costume

Word Count: 2040

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When Sun approached you with the idea of going 'all-out' for the holidays this year, you were just slightly surprised, but very pleased. 

You've always love the holiday season, and having the chance to share it with both the playtime and the naptime attendant was always a bit of a joy. You'll admit, while you've never said it outright, you found their company very endearing, and having the excuse to put in the extra hours to get everything prepared was thrilling to you. Of course, you do your best to hide this excess excitement to see them as excitement for the kids, but still. 

They had big plans for this time of year, much more ambitious than the usual. More games, more activities, more presents, all of it. The Daycare was decorated head to toe in all sorts of Christmas fare, including a rather large tree you're still not quite sure how they managed to get their hands on. Regardless, the mood was elevated for everyone, and especially for the kids. 

It was decided that you'd stick to the usual routine throughout most of the month, leading up to a big celebration before the Plex closed for Christmas, consisting of a week-long 'party' filled with everything and anything you could think of. 

However, it was during this time that you noticed the slightest shift in the attendants' attitude. Not a bad one by any means, they were still overjoyed, but you'd noticed they'd become a bit more, cheeky, in their interactions with you. 

It started with a simple game, 'Pin the nose on Rudolph' with you volunteering to demonstrate for the children to help understand. 

"Alright, are you ready Sunshine?" Sun asked, hands on your shoulders. 

You nod, putting both thumbs up, blindfold blocking your line of sight. "Yup! Bring it."

He spins you around once, twice, three times, and you expect him to let you go, simply point you in the right direction with the sticky foam circle in your hands. Instead, he holds close, waiting for you. 

At first you think nothing of it, stepping forward and feeling around for the poster. But you do whisper to the bot your confusion. "Um, Sun, everything okay? You're not trying to trick me now, are you?"

"Of course not, Starshine." He answers, just as quietly. "Just want to give you the best chance possible and impress all our little friends! Now, lift your hand up just a tad..."

Sure enough, you manage to get quite close to winning, and the kids are thrilled. 

Similarly, during story time later on in the day, Moon asks you to help read with him, playing a few parts in the story, something you never do. But, you're more than happy to help out, though you do find his choices for you to be surprising, if even a bit flustering. 

"Something the matter, Star?"

You cough, and shake your head, settling in beside him to be able to see the pages of the book. "Not at all, you just never ask for support during stories is all."

"Well, even the best of us need help sometimes, I'm not so prideful to not admit to that." He scootches closer, arm wrapping around you to grip the book he now puts between your laps. "Let's get started, shall we?"

You nod, heat on your cheeks hopefully invisible in the low light. "Of course!"

It doesn't go unnoticed to you how additionally, all their crafts throughout the week mysteriously end up in your bag, adding to the growing collection that was now scattered throughout your home. You know they're just being silly and sweet, but still, each little note you receive with each makes your heart soar. 

Your favorite so far is the shared Christmas ornament they made you. One of the ones filled with paint and sparkly things and more. The blue and yellow bulb is hung front and center on your tree, and everytime you catch sight of the glitter hearts they added to it you have to turn away again, shaking your head. 

It doesn't help that the children have ganged up on you now, seemingly unaware of how much it flusters you to be pushed together with your crushes for every activity. From movie watching, to making gingerbread houses together, to even dancing around the Daycare to Christmas music. 

With each activity, you notice how they all giggle amongst themselves, whispering and the likes. And every so often, you'll catch the Attendant joining in, shushing them, tones too hushed for you to make out yourself. You're not entirely sure what it all means, but you assume it must just be the extra excitement relating to the party at the end of the week. As much as you've enjoyed the extra attention from the bots, there was certainly no way either of the Attendants meant anything by all this teasing. 

That was, until the day of. 

When you walk into the Daycare that morning, having ran a little behind because of the weather, you notice how, quiet everyone is. 

It's odd, but still, you smile all the same to the kids, greeting them as you hang up your coat and go through your usual routine. You start reviewing the checklist on your clipboard, double checking that everything is set up and ready to go for the official 'start' of the party in a few hours. 

As you're doing so, a shadow suddenly looms over you. You look up, eyes widening when you catch sight of his outfit. 

"Oh! Good morning, Sunny! I wasn't expecting to see you so dressed up!" You comment with a giggle. "Or so blue."

He is in, fact, covered with blue and white, but not Moon's level. Rather, his outfit is a lighter blue, with snowflakes scattered throughout, including the end of the hat he's wearing. Jack Frost wasn't what you'd expect the sunny attendant to dress up as—if at all—but you have to say, it works well. 

Sun puts his hands on his hips, head held high. "Why thank you! I thought a bit of dress up would really make this party a good one! Don't you agree?"

"Of course!" You beam. 

Something's set down on the desk beside you then, the clipboard in your hands removed. "Wonderful! Then I hope you won't mind joining me, would you?"

You realize that it's a matching outfit, complete with 

"Even Jack Frost needs a bit of assistance, and who better to help than his favorite helper?" He puts his hand over yours.

You can't help the stutter that forms then, even if the notion is silly. "Re-really? Are, are you sure?"

"How could I not be! The children are so excited too, we wouldn't want to let them down, right?"

You take note how the kids are keenly watching the two of you then, snickering and chatting just like they've been all week. 

Something clicks for you then, and the warmth that's been building in your chest spreads ten-fold. 

After a moment, you nod, taking the outfit. "Okay! Yeah, of course."

You rush off to change then, and when you come back, the kids cheer, only flustering you further. Sun claps excitedly upon seeing you, spinning you into a dip before setting you upright again. It dizzies you in more ways than one. 

As the day goes on, you can feel the tension build more and more. You know very clearly now that they're planning something during this party, but to what extent, you're not for certain. But the lingering touches, the whispered teases, it's almost a bit too much for you now. 

You just hope you're not reading this all wrong, or it's going to be really embarrassing—

"Having fun, Sunbeam?" Sun asks, practically skipping over to you. 

You sip on your drink, watching the controlled chaos of the Daycare. Kids are running about, each with their own little costumes in the form of headbands and face paint. There's a craft or two happening, as well as a few easy to monitor games. 

You don't know how, but you think this is the smoothest party you've ever had, despite so much happening. And now having realized the kids have been in on the schemes of your Attendants, you can only imagine what they did to convince the children to behave so well. 

Music plays somewhere around you, and in that moment, you're the most content you've ever been, you think.

You glance up to Sun, and decide to make the first move for once. You wrap an arm around his waist, smile on your face as you observe the controlled chaos. "I'm having a great time, thank you. This is all so, perfect."

"Oh. Well, um,"—you hear Sun's rays spin quickly—"There is something else, we, we planned it just for you! If you'd um, be interested, that is."

You giggle then, patting his chest once with your free hand. "Lead the way then."

He nods, taking hold of your hand and guiding you further into the Daycare. Just then, the song changes, something still holiday-related, but slower, easy to dance to. With a slight hesitation, Sun takes both your hands, starting to lead you into the song. 

"So." You say.

"So." He answers. 

You giggle, looking up into his gaze. "You two have been pretty sneaky this week, haven't you?"

"I don't know what ever you could mean." Sun spins you around, into a shadow. It's enough for Moon to show for a moment. "We've been on nothing but our best behavior."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Not to mention you've managed to trick our friends into helping you. Do you have any idea how close to bursting my heart has been all week?"

"Obviously not enough, if it's taken you this long to notice." Moon snickers. 

You scoff. "Give me some credit, when you've had a crush for so long, you find it hard to believe it might be reciprocated."

A shift back into the light, Sun's rays appearing again. "Well, maybe we just need to be a bit more clear, hm?"

Before you can say anything, Sun presses his smile to your lips. Your eyes widen, and before he can move away again, you pull him in for another, longer, kiss, full of the yearning you've been trying your best to hide for so long, now throwing all that caution to the wind. 

You break apart, you find Sun is frozen in place. Then, he reaches up, and pulls the hat he's wearing down over his eyes, causing you to laugh outright. 

"Sorry." Your hand comes up to his face. "Guess I got a little carried away for a moment there."

At that moment, you realize that several pairs of little eyes are on you both. Including—

"Danielle! Amy! You set me up?" You gasp, seeing them peeking out from the playset above you, sticks with little bits of mistletoe hanging from their grips. 

They giggle as do the other kids, and it's your turn to be embarrassed. After shooing them away, with no help of either Sun or Moon, you're left alone with the two once more. 

"I can't believe you pitted them against me. I knew they were in on it, but still!"

Moon chuckles, arms wrapping around you once more. "You're very oblivious, Star. We needed all the help we could get."

You grumble, but accept the hug, burying your head in his chest. "Fair enough. I guess."

"So, is this all alright then?" He asks, with just a hint of nerves in his tone. 

You squeeze tighter, nodding. "More than alright. Trust me."

"Good. We should have another ten minutes before Santa arrives. Let's make them count, hm?" He asks, leaning back down to your height.

"Moon! We have a job to do."

He tsks. "Job can wait. They'll be fine on their own for a little longer. We gave them plenty of candy to keep quiet."

You're interrupted by another kiss from protesting further. But once you're not so distracted and flustered, you will be having a talking to them about bribing the kids for their help. Even though you were indeed, benefiting from it greatly. 

Very much so.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you to @lizyxml for the cute request! Liked having something that had the daycare kids involved to an extent, and had a good bit of fun writing all the little scenes hehe ^-^ also thought jack frost would be a cute/silly costume so that's why I went with that for the boys :D (also a big jack frost fan sooo yk how it is >-<)

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[alittlerobin]

Elbert/Kate/Alfons

tags: hurt/comfort; established relationship, m/m/f word count: 1.4k

The last thing she wanted to do was leave Elbert there on his own, but the moment she heard the faintest of falling footsteps out in the hall, she rushed out of their bedroom. 

She was clad only in her nightgown, her feet bare as she raced down the stairs, heart pounding. It was hours past midnight, yet dawn was still too far off to begin chasing the darkness away. The thought of leaving Elbert alone in their room for even a second, shivering and gasping with tears in his eyes, it wrenched her heart into pieces… 

But on nights like this, she didn’t always know what to say, how to calm him or distract him. Not like how Alfons did, at least. She was still learning, still struggling to find the right words or actions, uncertain if a thought would be triggering or comforting, uncertain of everything. 

She stopped on the bottom of the stairs, feet frozen from the chill and the panic, and then her eyes met Alfons’s ashen-grey gaze as he returned from one of his nights on the town. “Al, he’s–”

Alfons’s signature grin dropped immediately. 

“He’s not hurt,” she stammered in her rush to explain, the words almost choking in her throat. “He just had a bad nightmare, and I can’t… I don’t know what to do. Please hurry.”

At that, Alfons swept across the hall with unusual urgency. His jacket billowed like raven’s wings behind him and he paused only briefly at the top of the stairs, waiting for her to join him. She grabbed his hand, using it to steady her own aching heart, and together they ran back to the bedroom. 

“Al…” Elbert’s voice sounded beautifully broken as they both stepped into the room. The low light from the single lamp she’d lit illuminated his skin, making the sweat beading on it glisten. 

Alfons’s hand slipped out of hers as he clicked his tongue, crossing the room. “Tsk, tsk, my dear Elbie. You should’ve seen the look on Kate’s face when she ran down to greet me. Absolutely terrified.”

“I… I’m sorry…” Elbert’s voice was softer than a whisper and his golden lashes fluttered shut, the tears clinging to them sparkling like diamonds.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Kate replied, sitting back down on their bed. She shifted as close to him as she could without touching him, letting him be the one to initiate contact when he wanted to. 

“She’s right, you know,” Alfons sighed. “But if it makes you feel better, you can go shout your sorry’s from the rooftop.”

Elbert opened his eyes, the oceanic blue of them going wide. “...Does that help?”

“For you, I very much doubt it.” A smile was back on Alfons’s lips, but it was softer, more genuine than the one he usually had plastered on. He slipped out of his shoes, removing his coat and his tie, but when he made to shed the rest of his clothes, Elbert reached out and took hold of his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t… Leave it on, please. I…”

She knew why. And so would Alfons. 

Elbert had mentioned before that the mix of cologne, booze, and god knew what else that clung to Alfons after his nights out were a comfort. Because when that profane scent was around, it meant Alfons was around. And when Alfons was with him, no one would come and make him suffer any further on those nights…

Alfons heaved out an exaggerated sigh, but he didn’t protest. He peeled off his gloves and then pressed a knee into the mattress, boxing Elbert in between him and Kate. 

The second he was within reach, Elbert turned into him, dropping his forehead against Alfons’s chest. The rapid rhythm of Kate’s heart slowed and she sighed with relief, the tension dropping from her shoulders as Alfons’s arms wound around Elbert to comfort him. 

“You’re such a fool. Since our robin has a far more ample bosom, I'd recommend burying yourself in her chest rather than mine.”

There, just like that. Alfons always seemed to be able to drive that pain away with his nonchalance and depravity that might’ve seemed like some ill-advised joke, yet always succeeded in turning thoughts from gloom to scandal or exasperated amusement. Early on, she might’ve scolded him. Yet now she smiled, seeing a hint of the same expression gently touch the corners of Elbert’s beautiful lips. 

“Both…” Elbert whispered, his long and elegant fingers clinging to the fabric of Alfons’s vest. “I want both…”

“So greedy. Whatever will we do with you.” Alfons tutted, faking a scolding, and his gaze caught Kate’s. “Come on, little robin, you heard him. He wants both.”

As if she could ever deny him. Either of them. She moved closer, closing the distance between them and gingerly touching Elbert’s back. At the same time, Alfons’s fingers stroked over the nape of Elbert’s neck, light and soothing, like he was petting a kitten. However he didn’t lean down to whisper, casting no illusions. It was merely a touch, with no magic, no curse behind it. 

And as soon as Alfons’s fingers pulled away, Elbert turned, slipping into Kate’s open arms instead. She craned her head down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head as Elbert nuzzled into her chest, his arms winding around her waist. She stroked her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp and taking the role of whispering to him softly, reassuring he was safe there between them. No more bad dreams, no more nightmares. Not for forever, but for tonight. For the rest of tonight, he had them both there to protect him. 

His grip gradually loosened, his beautiful lashes fluttering shut. And within a few minutes, his breathing was steady and calm, lulled into a far kinder sleep. 

The last of the tension inside her melted away and she swallowed a sob of relief, glancing up. The expression on Alfons’s face was so gentle and sweet, it made her heart ache–but this time, with utter joy.

“Thank you…” she whispered, threading her fingers through Elbert’s golden hair once again. “I feel like I’d be so lost without you…”

After a long, silent moment, Alfons closed his eyes, as if afraid to meet her gaze. When he spoke, it was with an unusual strain to his voice. “For so many years, on nights like this, I tried to offer him comfort, tried to give him an escape. At times, on those days when I hadn’t been able to help him evade those vile servants… I offered him illusions, but he always broke out of them so quickly…”

Alfons opened his eyes, looking into hers briefly, before dropping his gaze to their peacefully sleeping Elbert. He reached out, picking up a lock of Elbert’s silken hair, and twisted it between his fingers. “He very rarely accepted my help, preferring to suffer like he believed he deserved. And he never sought out comfort or asked me on his own. The fact that he does so now…”

Alfons leaned down, pressing one kiss to Elbert’s golden hair and another to the back of Kate’s hand. “You may feel lost at times like these, but you’re the one who saved us both. Never forget that, my dear.”

A heat painted her cheeks and melted all the way down to her heart. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Al.”

“Of course not.” Like a shadow passing over a mirror, a haughty grin danced its way back across Alfons’s lips. “All three of us are hopeless fools. We need each other, or we’ll completely fall apart. Isn’t that disgustingly tragic?”

Kate laughed, then bit her lip to stifle it, not wanting to rouse Elbert. “I love you both.”

“Yes, yes, I’m aware. Be sure to tell him in the morning when he wakes up. I’m sure he’ll be eager to thank us by ravishing us both.” With a large and very much put-on yawn, Alfons nestled into the bed and draped an arm around Elbert’s waist. He shut his eyes, muttering out a casual good night.

With a smile, Kate tugged the blankets over all three of them and laid down as well. She cradled Elbert’s head against her chest and found Alfons’s hand under the sheets, lacing their fingers together. As she drifted off to sleep only minutes later, she swore she felt his thumb gently stroking over the back of her hand. 

This scene was the furthest thing from what she could’ve imagined happening when she was first brought to Crown Castle. But now… she wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way. 

[maraudering-times]

25 days of Jegumas - Day 22: Santa Claus - 907 words - @noblehouseofgay

Regulus is seriously regretting agreeing to take his niece and nephew to see Santa Claus. He doesn’t even like children. Except of course little Draco and little Luna. Those two? He’d do anything for them. Evidently including sitting through rush hour traffic to get to the mall just to wait in line for two hours all for them to sit on some creepy old guy’s lap for mere moments to give their Christmas wishes and get a photo. And evidently, maybe not actually anything. 

Regardless, here he was in line so these kids he loves with his whole heart can meet the man of the hour. Luna is excitedly bouncing on her feet while Draco tugs insistently at his hand, pointing at the animatronic reindeer lining the queue. 

“I see them, Draco.” Regulus tells the smaller boy. He reaches out and grabs Luna so she doesn’t duck under the rope to touch them. “Do you know what you’re gonna ask Santa for?” He asks the children.

“Uh-huh,” Luna nods, still bouncing but now holding his other hand. 

“Me too!” Draco exclaims.

“What’re you gonna ask for?” Regulus prompts. 

Luna and Draco both shake their heads. “Nope,” Luna says.

“Can’t tell you Uncle Reggie, or we won’t get it.” Draco tells him, pouting.

“You know that Santa Claus tells your parent’s what you ask for, right? They cooperate on gifts so you don’t get double. You can tell me.” Regulus presses.

“That’s a lie,” Draco pouts.

“We’re not telling you.” Luna lets go of his hand to cross her tiny little arms over her sweater. 

Regulus sighs but leaves them be. It’s not like he hasn’t bought them gifts already, he just wanted to make sure that everything they wished for for Christmas arrived on the day, he was just going to pass the information on to their collective parents.

The line shifts forward. 

“Are you going to ask Santa for a present, Uncle Reggie?” Luna asks, looking up at him with her big blue eyes.

“Oh,” Regulus looks around at the others in line with them. “This is just for the kids today, the adults go another time.” He tells her. 

She beams up at him and says, “okay,” and turns back to look at the decorations around the queue. 

Soon enough, it’s their turn. Draco and Luna barrel towards Santa Claus sitting in his big chair and happily strike a conversation up with him. Luna climbs into his lap first, Draco not far behind. They each take turns talking quietly in his ear and he nods very seriously at whatever they tell him. Santa then points to the camera and the three of them pose. Draco gets off his lap first and runs back up to Regulus. 

Luna says something else to Santa Claus before following her pseudo cousin. “Uncle Reggie, Santa says you can tell him your wish now since you’re here already!”

Regulus stammers at the two of them, lost for words. “Oh, I’m not sure, Luna Bear, I don’t want to hold up the line.”

Draco uses all his might to try and push Reg towards the red coated man. “Go on, Uncle Reggie. You don’t want to come all the way back here, do you.”

Regulus sighs, letting himself be pushed by two eight year olds and relents. “Okay, okay.” He approaches Santa and sheepishly looks at the costumed man. “Hello.”

“Hello there young man. I’m told your name is Regulus, yes?” Santa greets him in a deep timber.

“Yes.”

“You have to sit on his lap.” Draco points out. Regulus groans quietly causing Santa to laugh to himself in a much lighter voice than he uses with the children.

“Come along then, young Regulus.” Santa pats his lap invitingly.

Regulus mutters to him as he sits, “Don’t encourage them.”

“Where’s your Christmas cheer,” he whispers in his normal voice. A very young voice. 

“How fucking old are you?” Regulus snaps surprised. 

“Ah-ah-ah, no cussing in front of the kids.” Santa winks. He clears his throat then, adopting his persona again. “Now, what would you like for Christmas young man?” 

“To never have children of my own,” Regulus deadpans. 

Santa Claus stifles a laugh and nods seriously. “I’ll try my best. Now smile for the camera.”

“Over my dead body,” Regulus mutters but does as told, feigning an exuberant smile as the flash goes. Regulus gets off of his lap and turns to the man. “Thank you, Santa Claus.”

“You are very welcome, Regulus. Your photos can be picked up over there with the red headed elf.”

  Regulus nods and collects his charges, stopping by the elf to collect their photographs. The elf smiles sweetly at him and hands over two envelopes. One has two pictures of the children inside and the other one of him. Although, on his envelope is a sticky note with a phone number and name, James, scribbled on it. “What’s this?” He asks the elf.

“Oh nothing, just the direct number for Santa Claus here in case you have other Christmas wishes to be fulfilled.” She winks at him.

Regulus looks down at the sticky note then back at the man playing Santa. He gives them a parting wave paired with a secretive wink before he turns to the next child in line. Regulus thanks the elf and stuffs both envelopes into his pocket and takes his niece and nephew’s hand, leading them away from the crowd. 

[archivequinn]

MADNESS (Eddie Munson x American Horror Story: Asylum)

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

Summary: Three years after his disappearance, Eddie Munson is arrested for the murders of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney and others, but the truth is very different. Unable to convince anyone that Vecna exists and that he is innocent, he is locked up in an asylum. But the only way out is to prove to his psychiatrist that he is not insane. If he fails to convince the psychiatrist, he will be executed as a murderer. He must hurry to do so, because Vecna has returned to finish the bloody unfinished business and take revenge.

As Eddie fights for his life, how far can his psyhiatrist go to save him when she finds out he is innocent? Perhaps the only reason his psychiatrist wants to save him is not because of Eddie's innocence, but because they have developed feelings for each other over time. In the midst of all this confusion, a series of secret experiments on patients in the mental hospital and a series of dark secrets make everything more difficult.

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Mentions of execution, Execution, Death, Mental Health Issues, Asylum, Mental Hospital, Horror, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror, Thriller, Claustrophobia, Prison, Doctor/Patient, Serial Killers, Hospitals, Pain, Depression, Violence, Blood and Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, death of a family member, Nudity, Smut, Sex, Slow Burn, Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, TraumaPost-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Disorders, Smoking.

Before you read:)

This fan fiction is inspired by American Horror Story: Asylum. It contains a lot of horror and thriller content. Since the story takes place in a mental hospital, there may be various triggers. Please check the tags first as there is a lot of violence, sexuality and depression contents. This story is for adults, so close the page if you are a minor.

Please let me know if there are any tags I forgot to add. ao3 link

John and Violet were sitting across from each other in the cafeteria. Violet stirred her tasteless food with a spoon, her eyes darting to the clock on the wall. She was waiting for the evening shift to begin; it was twenty minutes to five. She was waiting for Brendon's shift to start so she could find out how and where Eddie was.

John noticed the worry on Violet’s face and spoke up. "So, this Max Mayfield you’re talking about, she’s the one who reported Eddie, right?"

Violet sighed. "She did and didn’t. They suspect Vecna used her as a puppet," she said.

Amid the chaos of the last few days, Violet had told John everything: the information in Eddie’s file, what Steve and the others had said… It wasn’t easy to process, but John was experienced because he used to be a cop and quickly grasped the situation.

"Which means the only people who can get you out of here are Steve and the others," John said. "Do they even know Max is here?"

Violet shrugged. "I don’t know," she said thoughtfully. "But why would they bring her to the same mental hospital as the guy who ‘almost killed’ her and ‘put her in a coma’?" She made air quotes, sarcastically emphasizing the points Eddie was accused of.

John smirked slightly. "We need to find a way to reach that Steve guy," he said.

Violet nodded in agreement. "How did Eddie reach him? Could we do it the same way?"

John shook his head negatively. "We snuck into the manager’s office and made a call. It was pure luck. And we got caught that time too—you saw what they did to Eddie. We can’t take that risk again," he said.

"Can’t Brendon make a call?" Violet asked.

John took a deep breath and shrugged. "Since we escaped, they’ve tightened security. They even look at the staff’s calls. So, that’s not really an option," he said.

Just then, the cafeteria door opened, and Brendon entered, carrying a metal tray with bandages, scissors, and other medical supplies. Violet stood up excitedly. Brendon approached and began to gently remove the bandage from her head.

"Eddie’s in a cell," Brendon said in a low voice. "He’s okay but very worried about you."

Hearing this, Violet’s anxiety eased a little, but she still wanted to see Eddie. "Can I see him? Will you take me to him?" she asked.

Brendon shook his head. "You’re no longer a doctor here, Violet. To get in there, you’d have to get yourself into trouble or something. And even then, I doubt they’d let you two be in the same cell," he said.

John raised both hands in mock surrender, letting out a small laugh. "Looks like it’s up to me again," he said in a joking tone.

Violet was about to give him a puzzled look when she noticed Dr Oliver and Wilson coming through the door. Oliver was feverishly explaining something to the manager. Violet turned her attention to them to listen to their conversation.

Oliver's voice was serious. “Mr. Wilson, the condition of these patients is truly appalling. They need care. How do you expect them to get better when they live in zero hygiene and cannot feel comfortable?”

Wilson responded with a nonchalant attitude “I already have too few staff and too many patients. As if that wasn't enough, you came all the way from Michigan. Be grateful if you can find a seat for yourself. Let me run my hospital and you go about your business.’’

Violet couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the exchange. Oliver’s naive determination felt familiar to her. It was like experiencing déjà vu. However, she knew it wouldn’t take long for him to learn how terrible this place truly was.

John winked at her and leaned slightly closer, whispering, "Wilson’s here. It’s time."

John’s angry outburst had caught the attention of the other patients in the cafeteria. Pointing his index finger at Violet in a threatening manner, his voice grew louder.

"Are you calling me an arsonist?!" he shouted. The wave of anger in John’s voice echoed in the room as Brendon glanced at Violet and signaled her to get up. Violet hesitated for only a moment before rising to her feet. It didn’t take her long to get into character and step toward John.

"Aren’t you? We’re back here because of you, you idiot! If you had driven properly, we’d be free now!" Violet retorted, unable to hold back her anger. "Where’d you get your license? A butcher shop? Oh wait, probably from a stove maker, since you’re so good with fire." She mimicked a lighter with her hands, mocking him.

John, furious at Violet’s sarcastic remarks, stormed toward her, closing the gap between them. Now, they were standing almost nose to nose. "At least I’m not stuck as a patient in the hospital I came to as a doctor, you lunatic!" he yelled, then suddenly leaned closer to her face and said in a low tone, "Hit me." He was trying to turn the situation to his advantage while everyone was watching.

Violet hesitated, staring at him as if she hadn’t fully understood his words. She noticed Wilson and Dr. Oliver watching the commotion from the other side of the cafeteria. Responding to John’s demand, she clenched her fist and delivered a sharp punch. At that moment, Brendon stepped in to separate them, but John wasn’t idle either. He threw kicks at Violet, intentionally missing. Violet struck a bit harder, ensuring it looked realistic.

Dr Oliver panicked and rushed over. "Please calm down; we can resolve this through conversation," he pleaded, trying to ease the tension. 

But Wilson had run out of patience. Pointing at Violet and John, he barked at Brendon, "Take them to the cells in the basement so they can cool off."

Violet barely restrained herself from smiling. Internally, she was quite pleased for having roughed up John a bit. Brendon nodded like a soldier receiving orders and grabbed both of them by the collars, escorting them out of the cafeteria. Violet could hear Oliver protesting behind Wilson, complaining about the ’’this method of punishment is barbaric and contrary to human rights’’ but she only rolled her eyes.

They began walking toward an unknown part of the hospital. The stairs seemed endless; Violet couldn’t help but think, "We’re descending all the way to hell." At last, at the bottom of the stairs, Brendon released their collars. Violet and John walked ahead now, with Brendon quietly accompanying them.

John turned to Violet with a faint smirk. "For someone so small, you sure hit hard," he said.

Violet laughed. "And for someone with all those muscles, you scream like a little girl," she shot back. John rolled his eyes but allowed a small smile to escape.

"My whole body hurts from the crash," John added. "I’ll get my rematch when I’m in better shape."

Brendon chuckled at their exchange. "You were like this when we were kids too. Always had an excuse when you lost," he said.

Violet looked at Brendon in surprise. "When you were kids? How long have you been police partners anyway?" she asked. John gave her the same surprised look.

"Partners?" he said, pursing his lips. "We’re brothers."

Violet took a step back in astonishment, studying them both carefully. "But I saw... both of you in the news article. In police uniforms," she said.

Brendon smiled. "Can’t brothers do the same job?" he replied. Violet suddenly felt like everything clicked into place. Brendon’s willingness to take such great risks made sense now; he wasn’t just here for a friend—he was here to save his brother.

Brendon stopped in front of a heavy iron door. "We’re here," he announced. Violet now focused on the scene before her. The corridor was lined with dark, narrow cells, each resembling a prison block. Behind the bars, there was only a single, uncomfortable-looking bed in each cell. The stench was so overpowering that Violet almost longed for the smell of the cafeteria upstairs.

From one of the cells, there was a stir. Violet spotted a familiar face and rushed to the bars. It was Eddie. Violet reached her hands through the bars, and Eddie’s hands clasped around hers. He had a few scratches on his face but seemed to have fared relatively well after the crash.

Brendon opened a cell for Violet and guided her inside. John was placed in the cell opposite hers. "You have a therapy session in an hour," Brendon said, pointing at Violet.

"Who’s my doctor?" she asked with a frown.

"Oliver Owsen," Brendon replied.

Violet thought for a moment and added, "Tell him to come and get me from here. I want him to see what this place is like."

Brendon nodded. As he moved to leave, Violet called out once more, "Brendon, is there a chance I could change my cellmate?"

"I’ll see what I can do," Brendon said, disappearing quickly down the corridor.

The echo of Brendon's retreating footsteps faded into the cold corridor walls. When Violet turned around, she noticed the familiar goofy grin on Eddie's face. Their hands met again through the bars, Eddie's warm palms grounding Violet's scattered emotions.

Eddie asked curiously, "How did you end up here?"

The answer came from John in the next cell. Waving his finger with a mildly warning tone, he said, "Careful with this girl, man. If you hurt her, she might kick you so hard you'll never have kids."

Eddie laughed at the comment, his grin widening. Reaching through the bars, he gently stroked Violet's hair, then pulled her closer, inhaling the scent of her hair. His lips still nestled there, he spoke teasingly, "What’s this about a cellmate situation? What did I miss now? This damned hospital can’t go a day without drama."

Violet responded with a laugh, collapsing onto the so-called "bed," an uncomfortable excuse for furniture. Eddie, meanwhile, sat on the floor of his cell, but his hand never left Violet's through the bars.

"They’ve evacuated the Michigan hospital here," Violet explained, detailing the situation. "New patients and staff have arrived. Temporarily, at least."

Eddie winked and muttered with a mischievous grin, "Here’s hoping I get a cute chick as a cellmate."

Violet swatted his hand playfully, then turned curiously to John. "We saw Eddie’s name there. We didn’t even check the one next to it. Got so caught up in my mess, we forgot."

John frowned slightly, puzzled. "Fred something. I don’t remember the last name."

Eddie nudged Violet's hand. "Your mess? What’s happened to you?"

This was the hardest part for Violet. Eddie was unaware of what Steve and the others had told her. He didn’t know that Max had woken up and reported him to the police. Violet hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Eddie, listen carefully to what I’m about to say. You know how I told you I knew you were innocent..." Violet’s voice wavered slightly. Eddie’s brown eyes looked at her with patience and curiosity. Finally, she admitted, "Max woke up."

Eddie’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Are you serious? That’s amazing news!"

Violet glanced at John for help, but he was nervously chewing his nails. Sighing, she turned back to Eddie.

The expression on his face shifted, sensing something was wrong. Violet closed her eyes and summoned her courage to reveal the truth she had been hiding.

"...And now I don’t know why she’s here, but she’s going to be staying in my room."

Those words made Eddie grip her hand tighter. His voice trembled, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Violet... you can’t stay with her... I won’t let you..."

Violet averted her gaze from Eddie's misty eyes. But John’s muffled voice startled her. Pressing his hands and head against the bars, John muttered, "What do we even have left at this point?"

A gloomy silence filled around. Violet responded quietly, "We stole the file that proved what Dr. Arthur did, but they got it back. They’ve probably destroyed it by now."

Eddie let out a heavy sigh, adding, "The only person who could prove my innocence woke up, and now she’s Vecna’s puppet. I’ve got a one-way ticket to the electric chair."

John barked out a harsh laugh. "And anyone who could help us escape thinks we’re dead. We can’t make calls, and we can’t ask Brendon to because we’re being listened to."

In the midst of this dark atmosphere, an idea sparked in Violet’s mind. A smile crept across her lips. "If we can’t talk... we’ll write."

Eddie and John looked at each other, then at Violet. But just as the idea began to take shape, the sound of approaching footsteps made Violet motion for them to be silent. The newcomers were Brendon and Oliver. The sight of the prison-like cells seemed to horrify Oliver, who looked visibly shaken.

Violet thought mockingly, You think it’s bad? You should see WARD C, doctor.

Oliver introduced himself nervously, his voice trembling. ''Violet George, I’m your doctor, Oliver Owsen."

Oliver’s extended hand reached through the bars to shake Violet’s. However, his eyes were carefully examining Eddie from head to toe. Eddie, silent behind the bars, observed Oliver while Violet didn’t let go of Eddie’s hand.

Oliver, “I’m here to get you out of here.”

Violet, “I’ll only leave if my friends come with me.”

Oliver glanced first at Eddie, then at John. His expression revealed that he understood how difficult Violet’s demand was.

Oliver “I’m afraid your friends are not my patients. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to do that.”

Violet shrugged, responding with a nonchalant tone, “Then I’m not going.”

A hint of embarrassment spread across Oliver’s face. He looked like someone trying to do his job but caught in the middle of a chaotic situation. Violet didn’t doubt Oliver’s sincerity; however, she knew he wouldn’t be able to see the bigger picture of what was happening within this system. She could explain everything to him right now, but the risk was too great. She decided to start her plan from a simpler angle.

Violet nodded toward Eddie. “You see that man standing there, right?”

Oliver nodded affirmatively.

Violet, “You’ve heard about the murders in Hawkins, haven’t you? Well, he’s the one responsible for them.”

A noticeable fear flickered in Oliver’s eyes. Eddie, seated on his bed with his head in his hands, seemed oblivious to what Violet was saying.

Violet “Now, do you know who my roommate is?” whispered.

This time, Oliver shook his head no.

“It’s Max Mayfield, the girl he almost killed. Now think about it: Does this hospital really care about its rules? I think you need to transfer this patient immediately. Otherwise, Eddie Munson might finish what he started and kill Max. And wouldn’t that also put my life in danger? After all, I’m sharing a room with Max. And you’re my doctor. You’re responsible for me.”

The sound of Oliver swallowing filled the corridor. Behind them, John silently made a gesture of awe, as if to say, Wow. He hadn’t expected Violet to come up with such a plan.

Eddie, his face expressionless, stepped toward the bars. Even though Oliver was outside, he instinctively took a step back. Eddie began speaking in a mocking tone, “If I see that redhead again, tell her I’ll rip her head off this time. I’ve got one more sacrifice to offer the Devil.”

Oliver swallowed again. Then, turning to Brendon, he motioned with his head to unlock the doors. As Brendon unlocked Violet’s cell, he gave her a look of admiration mixed with astonishment.

Violet struggled to hold back her laughter. Madness had its charm sometimes. Whatever you did, no one questioned you. After all, you were insane.

When they emerged from the basement cells and reached the upper floors, Violet took a deep breath. Eddie approached her quietly from behind and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be waiting for you in the common room.”

Violet left the common room, smiling, to follow Oliver. She didn’t know much about this new doctor, but that didn’t matter—for now, all she needed was the pen she had to get from Oliver. When they entered his office, she slumped into a chair, crossing her arms over her stomach and one leg over the other. She planned to leave after answering the routine questions.

Oliver sat at his desk, reviewing a file. His brows were furrowed, as if he were puzzled. After glancing at Violet a few times, he finally asked, “Do you know what day it is today, Mrs George?”

“You can call me Violet,” she replied with a faint smile. “It’s Wednesday.”

Oliver nodded, smiling. “Alright, Violet. Do you know why you’re here?”

Violet tried not to roll her eyes at the routine question. She was here because the crimes pinned on Eddie and the creature Vecna chasing her had led to this point. Of course, she couldn’t explain everything, but she could have a bit of fun.

“The creature Vecna, who made sure all the crimes were pinned on Eddie, started chasing me. So, I was escaping from the hospital to get away from it. Oh, and at the same time, I was going to expose the aliens from the experiments that asshole Dr Arthur conducted on people to the entire world.”

The look of shock on Oliver’s face was almost comical. He glanced back at the file and scribbled something with his pen.

“Given your scores and professional background, I find it very surprising you’re saying such things,” he said in a serious tone. “I thought you might be here because of a misunderstanding. Are you serious?”

Violet answered with a laugh. “Of course I’m not serious.” The relief on Oliver’s face was fleeting.

Violet stifled her laughter as she continued. “I mean, I admit I exaggerated with the aliens. Zombies would’ve been more accurate.”

Oliver froze for a moment before slowly tucking his pen into the outer breast pocket of his doctor’s coat. “I think I’ve tired you enough for today... I have other patients to see,” he said, closing the file. His voice carried a hint of disappointment; his inexperience was obvious.

Violet stood up and was about to leave when a nurse entered the room. “Mr. Owsen, your next patient, Fred Kirk, is waiting at the door.”

Fred Kirk... That name sounded familiar to her. Violet’s mind worked quickly. She took a few steps closer to Oliver and suddenly asked, “Can I give you a hug? Thank you for listening to me.”

Oliver stared at her, unsure of what to say, and Violet hugged him tightly, swiftly snatching the pen with a quick movement of her hand. Then she left the room.

She returned to the common room at a brisk pace. John and Eddie were chatting on the couches. Violet quickly jumped between them. Eddie turned to her and asked curiously.

“Hey, what was the plan? How are we going to reach Steve?”

“If we can’t call him, we’ll write. We’ll send him a letter. Brendon can deliver it, right?” Violet said, determination shining in her eyes.

John nodded in agreement. “But how are we supposed to write? In case you haven’t noticed, even the forks and knives are plastic. You can’t find anything that could be used as a weapon. Not even a pen.”

Violet pulled the pen from her pocket and smiled triumphantly. Eddie looked at her in awe and asked, “Where did you find that?”

Shrugging, Violet replied with a sly expression, “I guess I had to suck up to my doctor a little.”

John raised the question, “What about paper?” 

Eddie laughed and said, “We can write on toilet paper.” Just then, John pulled out a napkin from his pocket and held it out. Violet and Eddie stared at him blankly.

“What? My nose runs. I carry tissues,” John said defensively.

Eddie squinted at him mischievously. “I hope it’s just for your nose,” he said.

Violet rolled her eyes. “Come on, guys, we need to figure out what to write.”

John suggested the simplest message, as if he’d come up with something groundbreaking, “We’re not dead, we’re alive, get us out of here.”

Eddie shook his head, lightly hitting John on the head. “Why don’t we include Arthur’s entire plan too, while we’re at it? Are you crazy? How did you ever work as a cop? What if they read the letter? If they catch us, it’ll be at least three hundred volts for us this time.”

Eddie took the pen and napkin and started writing something. Then he handed it over with a grin. Violet read it aloud curiously, “The Shire is burning, Mordor is burning. But a hobbit never gives up.”

John turned to Eddie with a serious expression. “Mine made more sense. What is this supposed to mean?”

Eddie just rolled his eyes. “You just give it to Brendon, and he’ll send it to Dustin Henderson. That kid’s a genius. He’ll know it’s from me.”

As John tucked the letter into his pocket, Violet’s attention shifted to the new patients in the common room. She hadn’t seen Max yet. Doctor Oliver was now speaking with his new patient. Violet whispered, “Why does the name Fred Kirk sound so familiar?”

John had no hesitation explaining. “Fred Kirk? You mean the Brooklyn Axeman?”

Violet turned to him in fear. “What?”

John shrugged. “It was one of the cases I worked on before they locked me up here. The guy’s a serial killer. He murders his victims with an ax. Last I heard, he was caught and institutionalized. Why do you ask? You probably saw it on the news. It was a big deal.”

Violet pointed to the blond man and asked, nearly trembling, “Please tell me that’s not him.”

John and Eddie both looked in the direction she indicated. John tilted his head and calmly said, “Alright... I won’t tell you.” 

Eddie sighed and added, “Just what we needed, a serial killer. Fantastic.”

Violet took a deep breath and voiced an even darker realization, “Eddie, I’m not sure but I think he’s going to be your cellmate.”

Violet entered the common room in the morning, and Eddie noticed her immediately. He quickly walked over to her and hugged her tightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking into her eyes with concern. Violet nodded in affirmation, then answered in a weary voice, “Are you okay?”

Eddie shrugged. “My roommate broke someone’s nose on the first day, so he’ll be stuck in a cell for a few days. So yeah, I was alone yesterday. What about you? Did you see Max?”

Violet shook her head. “No, I was alone too,” she said.

When Violet noticed John smoking a cigarette on the couch behind Eddie, she frowned. “Where did he even get that cigarette?” she asked. Eddie rolled his eyes and gave her a look that said, Don’t even ask.

“Brendon came by before you arrived,” Eddie said, changing the subject. “He sent the letter yesterday by the fastest mail service. It probably reached them last night.”

“What letter?” a voice asked suddenly, making them both turn in the same direction at the same time.

Hearing a shaky, hurt voice, they both froze for a moment. A red-haired girl with tear-filled eyes and trembling hands was looking at them, embarrassed but scared. Violet guessed she couldn’t be more than 18 or 19 years old. The shock on Eddie’s face was unmistakable. “Max?” Eddie said, his voice filled with uncertainty. Max immediately ran toward him, throwing her arms around him and sobbing uncontrollably.

Eddie stood still for a few seconds, then finally hugged her back. Violet watched them in astonishment. Eddie pulled away slightly, holding Max by her shoulders, and bent down so that their faces were level. “Is it really you?” he asked. Max nodded while wiping her tears.

“When I woke up here, I opened my eyes. I don’t know what’s going on. What are you doing here? What am I doing here? Are we... dead?” Max asked, her voice trembling. Eddie glanced at Violet; they were both thinking the same thing. Could Vecna have used Max to lure them here and then disappeared? Or was this some sort of trap? They had to tread carefully until they figured it out.

Max turned to Eddie and asked, “Why are they still keeping you here? Why am I here? If I’ve woken up, can’t we prove you’re innocent now?”

Violet shrugged but said nothing. If Max found out she had played a role in Eddie being locked up here, she might just have a heart attack on the spot, Violet thought to herself.

Deep down, Violet was sure Max was genuinely herself. Looking at her, she didn’t sense the dark, ominous presence she had felt when confronting Vecna. That intense fear she had once experienced wasn’t there when she looked into Max’s eyes now.

Max wasn’t done with her questions. “And what’s this letter about?”

Before Violet could respond, John cut in, gesturing toward Eddie and Violet with his cigarette.

“These two idiots—everyone thinks they’re dead. But as you can see, they’re right here, alive and kicking. See?” John said, nudging Eddie with his foot. Eddie lightly smacked John’s leg in return, grumbling irritably.

Max continued anxiously, “Did you send it to guys? I hope they don’t make the mistake of calling here. If they do, the people here will know you’ve been communicating with them.”

Eddie smiled faintly and shrugged. “I don’t think they’d do something that dumb. I mean, these guys saved the world. More than once.”

Just then, a nurse approached Violet. “Dr. Oliver Owsen is expecting you,” he said in a formal tone.

Violet sighed, standing up, and began walking toward the doctor seated at a nearby table. “Another day of pretending to be crazy,” she thought to herself. This charade, in a way, was starting to amuse her.

She had even managed to scare the doctor about Eddie. She now realized how much fun Eddie had been having with her in their therapy sessions before Eddie's innocence was exposed.The man was afraid of everything.

Here, people could do anything—spit on the floor, behave disgustingly, or even walk around naked—and no one cared. Because you were ‘crazy,’ and that made everything acceptable. Violet pulled a chair and sat across from the doctor, her eyes still on Eddie in the background.

Oliver coughed lightly to draw attention. Violet turned her gaze away from Eddie to him, then sank back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest. The seriousness on his face made it clear that this wasn’t going to be an ordinary conversation.

“Violet, I need to ask you something,” Oliver said in a low but determined voice.

Violet tilted her head back and took a deep breath. “Are you going to ask me what day it is today?” she asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

“No,” Oliver replied, ignoring her reaction. “I want to ask you something about a patient.”

This unexpected response piqued Violet’s interest. She raised her head curiously and looked at Oliver’s face attentively. “Have you ever heard of a patient named Ginny Jones here? Or seen her?” he asked.

After a brief pause, Violet shook her head to indicate no. “Why are you asking?” she replied, somewhat cautiously.

“There’s a reason I came here. I’m not here by coincidence. I’m looking for someone,” Oliver said, his voice carrying a stronger emphasis.

Violet sighed, lifting her hands in a gesture of indifference, and yawned. “Everyone’s looking for someone, buddy. That’s life,” she replied, with little interest.

“Violet, I’m asking you to be yourself for a few seconds,” Oliver said impatiently. “It’s obvious that this isn’t you. I can see how intelligent you are. I’ll pretend to believe your crazy stories again, I promise. But right now, I need your help. I went to the corridor of Ward C that you mentioned yesterday. All the rooms had been cleared out. Someone had taken everything there in a hurry.”

At these words, Violet raised her eyebrows and began listening to Oliver more attentively. She was now certain that he was really here looking for someone. The concern in his voice made it clear how important that person was to him.

“I wish I could help you,” Violet said, with a slight hint of regret, “but I’ve never even heard of the person you’re talking about while working here.”

Oliver fell silent for a moment, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “Tell me about this Dr. Arthur,” he said finally. “And his experiments.”

Violet fell into deep thought at this point. She knew one of the biggest shortcomings here was belief. No one would believe you if you said you saw a ghost, had a murderer chasing you, or claimed that you weren’t actually insane. But if someone did believe you, it either meant they had also lost their mind or they truly knew something.

She was certain that Oliver wasn’t a madman. The fire of vengeance in his eyes showed that he was capable of truly doing something about it.

John turned to Eddie, his expression curious as he broke the silence. "What’s wrong, man?" he asked, his voice low.

Eddie tilted his head toward Oliver and Violet, his jaw tightening slightly as he watched the two of them deep in conversation. "Him," Eddie said, nodding toward Oliver. "His existence is enough."

John raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"There doesn’t need to be a reason. There’s just something... off about him," Eddie replied, a hint of irritation in his tone. "I can feel it."

John shrugged, his casual demeanor unbothered. "He’s just doing his job," he pointed out.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "There’s something weird about him. I can sense it."

Before John could respond, a staff member entered the room. John quickly tossed his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it hastily, his hand fanning away the lingering smoke. 

Eddie stretched out on the couch, arms folded behind his head, while Max sat nearby, her gaze darting nervously around the room.

"You’ll get used to it in a few days, Max," Eddie said, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

Max rolled her eyes. "I’m not crazy, Eddie."

Eddie let out a sharp laugh. "But I am. The sooner you accept it, the easier it gets."

John nudged Eddie’s leg with his hand, an insistent poke that drew Eddie’s attention.

"What now?" Eddie snapped, feigning exasperation. "Can’t you leave me alone for two minutes? You’re exhausting."

The playful remark hung in the air as Eddie’s gaze wandered to the ceiling, his eyes tracing the outlines of the religious motifs painted above.

John cleared his throat. "Uh, Eddie?"

"Hmm?" Eddie muttered without looking at him.

"Those friends you always talk about—Steve and, uh, what’s-his-name..."

Eddie turned his head, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, what about them?"

"You said they weren’t dumb enough to call here," John said, his voice cautious.

Eddie sat up straight, his posture suddenly alert. 

His gaze followed John’s, locking onto the sight of Steve standing in the hallway, wearing a blue patient outfit, his curious eyes peering into the room. Beside him was Jonathan.

Rubbing his eyes as if to ensure he wasn’t dreaming, Eddie glanced at Max, who looked back at him with equal disbelief.

"Yeah," Eddie muttered, his voice dripping with irritation. "I was wrong. They’re even dumber than I thought."

Eddie stormed toward Steve, whose grin stretched so wide it showcased every one of his teeth. Steve nudged Jonathan with his elbow, who also broke into a smile upon seeing Eddie.

Their expressions faltered, though, as Eddie’s face grew darker the closer he got. Without hesitation, Eddie smacked each of them on the back of the head.

"What are you idiots doing here?" Eddie demanded, his tone sharp. "Steve, did you forget where the hairdresser’s is? And you, Jonathan? I thought you were the smart one!"

Steve raised a finger to his lips, motioning for Eddie to lower his voice. "You might want to yell a little louder," Steve quipped. "That mustached lady over there didn’t hear you."

Across the room, a woman seated alone at a table playing with domino tiles raised her hand. "I heard you, sweetheart," she called out.

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh despite himself, though the irritation lingered on Steve’s face.

Steve leaned in slightly, his voice more subdued. "Hopper got us in. We’re here to help you."

John, now chewing on a gum, glanced between Eddie and his friends, his expression unimpressed. "Great. Did  this Hopper guy also mention there’s no way out once you’re in here?"

Jonathan and Steve exchanged uneasy glances, but Eddie’s frustration boiled over. His teeth clenched as he grabbed both of them by the arms and dragged them to a corner.

"Vecna’s in Max, huh?" Eddie hissed. "That’s what you told Violet?"

Steve hesitated, his expression grim. "I don’t think so anymore," he admitted. "Actually, part of why we’re here is because of that. Vecna’s weak right now. Even if he picks a new victim, he doesn’t have the strength to take their life. So he’s waiting—for the weakest moment, the most miserable time."

"Dustin said the best place for that would be..." Jonathan started.

"An asylum," Steve finished for him.

Eddie raised his hand like a student seeking permission to speak. "Hold on a second. Are you telling me Vecna could possess anyone here?"

Steve nodded solemnly, confirming Eddie’s worst fear.

Steve’s voice carried a determined and calm confidence. "The more of us there are here, the safer we’ll be," he said. "We have to back each other up. They’re going to release Max today. She’s going to change the statement she gave about you. Once you’re out, we’ll get out too."

A shadow crossed Eddie’s face, his gaze trembling with worry. "What about Violet?" he asked, his voice slightly rising. "And John?"

Jonathan gently placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his eyes carrying a soothing expression. "One thing at a time, Eddie" he said softly. "Let’s get you out first."

Eddie turned his head and gestured toward Max, who was sitting in the corner of the room. His gaze revealed a deep concern. "Don’t you think we should check if Vecna is inside her before we send her out of here?" he asked, his words hanging in the air like an echo.

Steve frowned, pausing for a moment as if in thought, then spoke as though he had figured it out. "Vecna hates heat," he said.

Jonathan nodded in agreement, his expression hinting at an answer to Eddie’s worry. "When he got into Will, he ran away from the fire in fear," he added. "We have a chance."

Steve’s gaze wandered around the room as he continued with a bit more hesitation. "But where are we going to find fire in here?"

A faint smile appeared on Eddie’s face. His eyes shifted to John, who was lighting a cigarette across the room. "I know," he said.

taglist: @arabellagreenleaf @cokepowder55 @nessa3nessa @25bohemianmoons @nicholaschavezslut69 @multyfangirl @t-folklore13

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

Officially in the era of the fic where Star gets to interact with people! First on the list is Megatron, because i very much think that if anyone, he would be the first to visit Star in jail lol. Primarily due to lingering unresolved issues/curiosity. It's always funny describing other character's actions in this style of Starscream voice writing due to the fact that he just constantly dunks of Megs XD

Previous chapter: Judgement Day

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Perception

Chapter 4: Lingering Ghosts

Starscream had thought slowly rusting in the Titan was bad, but this was worse. He kept hearing pedsteps through the halls. Voices of Decepticons that had long since been liberated. Saw flashes in the edges of his optics of Soundwave, Skullcruncher, Swindle– He knew they weren’t there, he knew it. But yowling growls in his audials from the croctobot, or a hum in the walls that was typically a warning of an incoming electric shock; they were too much. The Decepticons were gone. G.H.O.S.T was gone. The Auto-glitches had just repurposed their resources for their own use. It was logical. As Shockwave would say. 

Starscream’s vents were irregular as he paced, servo’s pressed against either side of his helm. His optics were locked open, although they weren’t exactly functioning. He couldn’t focus. Surely, he should be able to think of something to escape this Pit if the Autobots wouldn’t listen to him. He’d done it before, right? He’d had the assistance of technical difficulties or a select few cons- but he didn’t need them! He just needed his processor to stop assaulting his sensors with useless noise.

Even so, this place should be a better position than trapped in the Titan, he supposed. He knew its structure far better, and there were still bots somewhere around here. Not phantom bots. Actual bots. Starscream faintly wondered where they had placed Spitfire and Aftermath. Had they been incarcerated here as well? What had happened with the Quintessons? 

Had they all died in battle? Was he all alone in here?

Starscream hadn’t actually seen any of the bots again after waking in this cell, he realized. That was not a good thought. Those Autobots were far too painfully resilient to not find some impossible way to obtain victory. Of course they were still alive, they had to be. If they weren’t, he’d find it rather insulting. Even if they’d refused his help.

How long had it been? Primus he couldn’t even track the position of the sun from in here! This was ridiculous.

The quiet had overtaken the air again, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was better or worse. Starscream slumped against the back wall, staring at the energy field that contained him. If only he could psychically will the blasted thing to erupt in flames. Wouldn’t that have been a nice outlier ability. Alas, it remained as it was.

More time passed in a storm of static. Until Starscream was suddenly snapped to attention by a familiar voice. Megatron.

“Starscream.” The ex-warlord stated his designation so plainly, and it made him shoot to his peds almost immediately. 

He had to play off the reaction in a way that clearly stated he was not startled, so he seamlessly shifted his posture to lean against the wall casually. “Megatron. How nice to see you.” Starscream controlled his vocalizer to pace his words smoothly, and with a twinge of theatrical false cheer. “I’m flattered! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Megatron’s optics narrowed ever so slightly. “A question. What exactly do you hope to accomplish?” After Starscream just stared at him blankly for an uncomfortable amount of time, Megatron crossed his arms and elaborated. “I know of your schemes. That you always thought yourself better suited to lead the Decepticons. Yet I fail to understand how you can continue to be so dense as to reinstate the conflict after our rally against G.H.O.S.T. The war is over!” His volume rose to which Starscream’s own optics narrowed. “You are… frustratingly unpredictable. So. I ask you. What is it you aimed to gain from any of this?”

Starscream put a servo to his hip and a sinister grin came to his faceplate. “Oh Megatron… You are as short sighted as ever. Honestly, did you really think that any of the Decepticons would accept the way things ended? It wasn’t just me! Sure, the idea to forge New Cybertron was all my grand design and I will not share credit for that– but they all followed me because they craved action. It isn’t over. Even if you keep me here, Shockwave has clearly taken charge of his own direction. All you are is a traitor that we can easily move on from. Your defaction isn’t so revolutionary. Get over yourself.”

Megatron in-vented and raised his arms to gesture his exasperation, “That did not answer my question, Starscream.”

Starscream chuckled and gave him a mock bow, “Apologies if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear, my Lord.” He put as much scorn as he could into the title and revelled in the way Megatron squirmed. 

The ex-warlord balled his servos into fists, “Stop. Answer my question.” He demanded with the signature growl Starscream was used to, and his optics brightened.

“Aw, is the Prime’s passive little pet getting angry?” He taunted brazenly. If Starscream could push Megatron’s buttons enough, he’d surely open the cell to try and continue their conversation by way of his fists. The fool had always been easily baited. 

Megatron was clearly agitated, but unfortunately, made no move towards the cell’s controls. “Why do you still insist on antagonizing me? You know all about being a traitor, Starscream. New Cybertron my aft, you just wanted the power for yourself! All you did once you accomplished your goal was become an agent of destruction and swat your comrades aside to be scrapped! I acknowledge the mistakes of my past… but you cannot seem to make up your processor where your own priorities lie! I have proven myself dedicated to a reforged focus towards peace. You persist in being a weasley pest for little reason but for your own immediate gain!”

Starscream flinched back slightly as Megatron jabbed a digit pointedly in his direction. The absolute gall. Crimson lightly flickered between his wings as a power in his spark flared.

Megatron’s disgusting voice box continued to prattle on with his accusations. “When we were faced with the Dweller in that cave. When you sprang into action to the Terran child’s aid. That day, I had a sliver of hope, that you may actually be capable of changing your ways. I had never seen that side of you– but I suppose even then it meant nothing. What changed?! How could you betray her perception of you so flippantly, and offline sparklings no less?!”

“I DID NO SUCH THING!” Starscream shrieked abruptly with a step forward and his optics glitching red, which caused the other mech to straighten in surprise. “Hashtag, Spitfire, and Aftermath are PERFECTLY functional!! The latter two may still be in stasis– but there is no reason that they could not be rejuvenated if I had access to adequate fuel! Hashtag was clearly still capable as she got her own little payback with the energon extractor! My effort towards New Cybertron held no ill intent towards her, and she’s fine. Then, it is not as if the chaos kids are incapable of functioning without those Embershards. You do not see the other Terrans with them, do you!? No. You don’t. Those two just wanted a bit of revenge for their surprise sacrifice–of which was a necessity that I knew they wouldn’t relent to willingly. That is why they were determined to remain unresponsive! I didn’t betray anyone!” A small, manic laugh escaped him and he added without thinking, “I don’t even remember what happened after I put on that Primus damned corrupted gauntlet!” Apparently, even without the surges from the Titan, the chaos energy spikes had stayed with him. He was probably shaking too much to be taken seriously.

Megatron looked at him with a strange expression on his faceplate. Starscream wanted to blast it off, yet of course, no plasma cannon. Plus the cursed wall between them still. Seriously, why wasn’t the idiot breaking it down to beat him into the Pit by now!?

“You don’t…” Megatron vented in confusion, mulling over what had just been said. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that.”

Starscream scoffed, “Oh spare me your doubt. You know nothing. You want to accuse me of betraying the Decepticons? They abandoned ME! And you LET them! I cannot say I am surprised, but for you to say it’s MY fault?? That is just how they are! That is why I cannot count on anyone but myself! And so what if I went a bit overboard with the gauntlet’s power? Earth deserves to BURN! What reason has this place given me to harbor any opinion otherwise? Cybertron is our home, not this organic mess! And YOU got the Allspark incinerated by the Prime’s moronic decision to blow the space bridge! You want to make a new life here for Cybertronians? Forgive me if I am a bit skeptical of how to accomplish that with humans running around.”

Megatron continued to scrutinize him with regard to his statements in a way that was no longer amusing. He had no right to look at Starscream that way. Like he was insane. He wasn’t insane! This fool wanted the truth and he couldn’t even take it!

“We do not know for sure if the Allspark was destroyed…” The big lug didn’t even sound like he believed it himself. He just wanted to live in the denial of his pathetic field of flowers with that equally stupid mech he pined after for vorns.

“You only attempt to believe otherwise to savor your vision of your precious Prime.” Starscream spit. This statement brought a more pleasing air of irritation to Megatron’s faceplate that made Starscream grin again. 

“Additionally,” Megatron tried to deflect, “Humans, as a general species, are not our enemy. We are perfectly capable of coexisting. Dorothy convinced me of this. Humans are just as varied as us Cybertronians. Violence… has proved itself to not be a viable means towards real progress.”

 Starscream could roll his optics at the initial drabble, but hearing Megatron try to admonish violence as a whole– Megatron? He knew he’d gotten soft, but this was absurd. Especially when that hypocrite’s first greeting card was still a signature blast of plasma to the chassis. 

He stared at the silver mech, Starscream’s optics flickering back to blue as the crimson lightning retreated into the deep seeded hole in his spark. Starscream slowly started to laugh which devolved rather quickly as he nearly doubled over, steadying himself on the wall and covering his optics with a servo. “Y-you– HAH! Oh my Primus that’s RICH! You, Megatron, the infamous warlord. You want to preach to me about violence being wrong?! Do you hear yourself?!” Starscream struggled to articulate anything more coherent than that in his hysteria.

He thought of Thundercracker, who had held shiny ideals in his spark all those vorns ago. Before Megatron had sent them into a battlefield they should never have entered. Starscream had tried to explain to their incompetent, illustrious leader exactly why, and was subsequently tossed aside as usual. Forced to lead his trine to their demise. He had slipped away from the carnage, only to realize that his trine mates were nowhere in sight. Megatron had told him to retreat and leave them. Starscream didn’t listen, yet still had only found a barely conscious Skywarp in the rubble. Thundercracker died fighting a battle he had never wanted to fight. He had constantly asked Starscream to advocate for less brutal or reckless tactics favored by the warlord, but those pleas had never been heard. Any time Starscream had offered an alternative to ramming their helms into a wall of Autobots, he would be assaulted into submission for daring to question their lord. 

Starscream can understand caution in battle, but the absence of violence in conflict is a foolish aspiration. He had explained that to Thundercracker when they first joined the Decepticons. Now here was Megatron, standing before him after all these vorns, denigrating the framework of a cause he had forged. 

The fool seemed at a loss for words as he blankly watched and waited for Starscream’s laughter to die out. Starscream’s vocalizer whirled at the strain as he finally pulled himself together, “Be-believe me, I would love to list exactly every single reason to explain just how hypocritical you have become Megatron; but I know from experience that words are useless on your thick helm.”

Megatron ex-vented and ran a servo down his face, “Starscream… would you please work with me here?”

Starscream’s optics widened and his wings flicked back. It was his turn to be left absolutely flabbergasted. This mech truly was full of surprises as of late. Why was he talking like that? What was he trying to pull now?

Starscream straightened himself and now eyed Megatron more warily, “Work with you?” He paused for a bit of drama and to analyze the ex-warlord’s frame-language, then assumed a sweeter tone as he put his servos behind his back. “I will only agree to be cooperative if I am to get something out of this exchange, my dear Megatron. As is in my oh so self-serving nature, after all.” He placed a servo over his chassis for effect. “If you wish for me to disclose anything of interest to you, you’ll have to bargain for it.” The seeker slid up to the cell’s barrier and leaned forward with a conniving smirk. 

Megatron’s faceplate looked positively disgusted. Good.

“You are in no position to make deals, Starscream.” He proclaimed like a fool.

“On the contrary, I am in the exact position to do so! What have I to lose if you refuse? Disclosing anything you desire without anything in return would still leave me with nothing in the end. So give me some incentive, hm? Or do you plan to remove this silly barrier and beat it out of me like the good ol’ days? Wouldn’t that just be easier? Oh, but that’d challenge your cute, flimsy little ploy of pacifism, now wouldn’t it?”

Megatron threw his servo out from his side like he could smack the idea away. “That is not what I’m here for!” He insisted as his volume rose again, “All I wanted, was to try and have a civil conversation with you! But I should’ve known that’d be impossible.”

Starscream’s grin dropped, and he rolled his optics with the swing of his hips which he landed his servos upon, “Ah yes, I am sure that is all you came for.”

Megatron’s servos clenched into fists as they often did when frustrated, but the slagging idiot still wouldn’t relent to his typical violent impulses. “Fine. What could you want in exchange for giving me a legitimate answer to my question?”

“Hm, I assume my freedom would be off the table?” Starscream tried, which Megatron answered with a glare. “Pity. With my vast array of skills, I would be a far more valuable asset to you all on the outside–”

“No. Get on with it.”

Star grumbled his complaints, then paused in thought. “Well, perhaps you could permit me a meeting with Hashtag. Speaking with her would certainly be far more pleasant than being forcibly subjected to your disgusting faceplate.”

Megatron’s expression shifted to that confusing state from before, then reverted back to one of stern suspicion. “Very well, but she will not be alone. She will have an Autobot chaperon close by.”

Starscream’s wings flicked in a mock shrug, “If you insist. It is not as if I intend to manipulate her to my whim in an effort to convince her to release me from this Pit. That would be absurd. Shame on your paranoid processor for thinking it.” He tisked.

Megatron actually rolled his own optics, which Starscream found extremely amusing. “Right. On that note, tell me, what are your intentions? You still seem to be fond of the sparkling, despite your recent actions. Help me understand, Starscream.”

Perhaps the Prime had put him up to this.

“A little back and forth of being at odds isn’t unheard of, especially amongst Decepticons. Why do you act like it is so strange?”

“It’s a matter of loyalty, Starscream. The infighting amidst the Decepticons was by no means an advantage, in fact, it was a constant hindrance!”

Starscream scoffed, but couldn’t think of a good retort to the statement. It was objectively true, and he would not tell Megatron he was right. He waved a servo dismissively, “Regardless, what else was it you wanted to ask me?”

“What is your endgame?”

“Ah well, ideally I would lead the Decepticons to victory and rule over a newly forged Cybertron.” He stated plainly. “Although, determining a means at which to breathe life back into the ball of scrap it’s become, is the most tricky. But if everyone had just listened to me,” He put a servo to his chassis, “then we could stop with the silly killing each other dribble and finally reformat our government as intended, on a very much alive Cybertron. On the other servo, you just decided for yourself that you were tired of playing war with the Prime. I might have agreed with you about starting some form of delegation. But no. How could any of us have any right to be consulted by the mighty Megatron. You just up and decided to go behind our backs. And now you love to prattle about being a team. Tch.”

Megatron hummed disapprovingly of the seeker’s snark. “How did your scheme to use the Emberstone to control the Titan and destroy Witwicky possibly work toward those goals? That was a rather needlessly violent approach, and aimed towards Earth’s inhabitants, not Cybertron.”

“Well I couldn’t exactly reach Cybertron, now could I? Because someone destroyed the only space bridge. And the technology here is far too primitive to rebuild a new one. The situation changed my approach. Evidently, it was a flop, but I blame Quintus and his faulty artifact for that.” The lingering energy in his spark sent a sort of warning shock that made his optic and wing twitch. He flatly ignored it. “Now if you want any more oddly interpersonal queries answered, we can discern another trade."

Megatron stared a moment before turning away, “No, that will be all for now, Starscream.”

Suddenly, Starscream actually felt as if he didn’t want him to leave. Had he bored the mech somehow? Scrap! He hadn’t even succeeded in riling him up enough to open the door! But he couldn’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t be overtly obvious that he was intentionally aiming for a confrontational response. Then here he was, being dismissed as if he were still a soldier under the oaf’s command. No matter. At least he had scored a meeting with Hashtag. That could be something to look forward to, he supposed. 

“Uh- right then… don’t forget our deal!” It was too sudden for Starscream’s liking.

Megatron didn’t even respond to him as he rounded the corner. Conversation. Yes that mech was as skilled in that department as ever. Whether he was too wrapped up in whatever thoughts were sloshing around in his helm, or if he pointedly ignored Starscream for some reason or another; it was always hard to tell. 

Now, Starscream was left to his own devices yet again. Alone. No need to be dramatic, he didn’t actually enjoy Megatron’s company. Solitary was surely preferable. 

He just hoped they wouldn’t forget him in there for too long this time…

That’s all it was.

[lead-to-light]

whisper, we all know your a good shot, but I have a real test for you.

Shoot an apple off of Surges head, William Tell style. without missing.

"And you're trusting me to do this?" Whisper asked, watching the tenrec toss the apple up and down.

"Well if you hit me, You have two options admit you hit me on purpose and deal with everyone being mad at you or admit that you're a crappy shot. The way I see it, I'm perfectly safe," Surge said with a toothy grin.

Whisper didn't have a counter for that. Truthfully, she still didn't know what to think when Surge approached her for what she calls a 'trust building exercise.' No doubt the woman had read about the classic trickshot in a book, Surge being turning into an avid reader was not on her bingo card, and wanted to try it out for shits and giggles.

Deciding to appreciate the roundabout olive branch, Whisper had Cyan enter the wispon and took aim, "Okay put the apple on your head."

Surge moved to place the but realized something, "Pfft wait hold on this'll only work if I let my quills down." Taking her hairband off, her long quills cascaded down, allowing her to place the apple on her head. "Now I'm ready," Surge said with a soft smile, secretly very excited.

Looking down the scope at the tenrec, Whisper took a moment to take Surge in and was having trouble reconciling this woman being the same angry destructive menace she first meet a few months ago. She looked so…..content right now. With her quills down and happy smile, Whisper was forced to admit something.

"I can kinda see what Lanolin sees in her now," Whisper said quietly to herself as she began pulling the trigger.

Not quietly enough apparently as Surge shouted, "LANOLIN SEES WHAT IN ME!?"

The shout startled Whisper, throwing off her aim at the worst possible moment.

BANG!

A split second sickening squelch sounded out as the shot took out Surge’s right eye.

Dropping the wispon, Whisper shouted in complete horror, "SURGE OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY-"

Before she knew it Surge was upon her. But instead of a well justified beatdown, Surge had a completely different priority, "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY ABOUT LANOLIN SEEING SOMETHING IN ME!?"

"SURGE YOUR EYE! WE NEED TO GET YOU TO THE INFIRMARY!" Whisper was not enjoying seeing the bloody cybernetic insides of her skull.

"I'LL WALK IT OFF! NOW TELL ME!"

Watching her face slowly knit itself back together surprisingly did little to calm Whisper down, "FOR GODS SAKE SURGE-"

"PLEASE WHISPER!"

It's those two words that got her to calm down and shift her gaze rightwards. Plain vulnerable desperation was clear as day in her intact eye. Taking a deep breath, Whisper got her thoughts in order, "Okay I'll tell you. But first you have to put me down."

Surge was leaning them both over so far they were perpendicular to the ground, Whisper impressively ignoring the blood dripping onto her face from Surge’s gaping head wound.

"Sure sure," Surge acquiesced, setting her down gently. A few seconds later both women were sitting on the ground facing each other. "So?" Surge asked softly.

"So when Tangle and I got wine drunk and hired the chaotix to investigate something about Lanolin, the thing we asked them to investigate was who she had a crush on. Vector and Espio purposefully spilled beans in front of the three of us and she confirmed it while she was yelling at us," Whisper explained.

I'm not gonna tell her it's full on love. I'm not taking that away from either of them.

A short life of made up of mostly agony trained her not to grab hope so zealously, "Really? You're not lying are you?" Surge said carefully.

Looking dead in the eye, Whisper said firmly, "Surge, listen to me. I know we do not have the best relationship but I would never NEVER do something as cruel as lie to you here. You are without a doubt the most important person in her life."

"She feels the same way about me the way I feel about her?" Surge said, somehow still able to blush despite the blood loss.

Oh

It was one thing to heavily suspect it but confirming it was another thing. How could two people so different love each other?

Well I suppose that's a silly question coming from me of all people.

"Positive," Whisper said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The tenrec stiffened and Whisper worried she had overstepped her bounds when Surge wrapped her in a hug and began sobbing into her shoulder.

"T-t-thank y-you," Surge stuttered out, staining her cloak with blood and tears

Once over her shock, Whisper hugged her back. Gently rubbing circles on her back and patting her shoulder. Letting her know she was safe to cry happy relieved tears as long as she wanted. It was during this that Whisper recalled something.

What was it that Claire said once? History doesn't repeat itself but it does rhyme

[vesanal]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊The 20th Day of Writemas₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

HEY. SO. OKAY. I KNOW. I was SOOO busy today y’all (plus my long ass nap didn’t help with my time management). It’s going to be REALLY short. Sorry!!! Love y’all so much, hope ya understand! Here is the invite post and here are the prompts I’ll be doing today! :D

Prompts used:

Feeling: The ache of a smile

Dialogue: "My feelings will never change. But by God, I wish they would."

A bit short but it’s going to be worth the long longgg wait. Still sorry about that lmao. Going back to Perce again because he is pretty cool and I haven’t written for him in a bit (if you don’t count the one line of dialogue he got some time ago).

Read about the WIP here!!

Hope ya likey! 

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

Perci stared out over the stone ledge of the balcony. A view like this was an extraordinary sight to take in. Dawn’s early light reached across the sky and scooped the darkness of night into its arms, creating a landscape of bright orange and sunkissed pinks. He grazed his hand across the smoothe stone finish of the ledge he leaned over. Tracing the grooves on the light colored slate, he looked across the city’s streets. Not many populated the streets at this time of day. Most were already hard at work, having no time to play around but rather work in the vast town square. 

He shifted his focus over to the square, to the shopkeepers and merchants. Not long ago he was doing the same thing as they were. Though, he was very sure they were in a better circumstance than he was, being in the capitol and all. 

Perci rolled his eyes at himself and continued where he left off in his gaze. Happy faces and rosy cheeks filled the area. Everyone was doing their job, their part to survive. Yet somehow, their smiles created a sense of longing and uncertainty within him. He wasn’t sure whether to invite the feeling in or not. It was all just so messy now. Pain set in, he really wanted to feel the familiar warmth of his home. But he couldn’t right now. He has to do what he’s supposed to do. 

Perking up from his lean, Perci caught himself in his misery. Something bubbling beneath the surface ate away at him still. His mind wanted to reject it while body was in open arms to it. Trying to clear his head, he closed his eyes and let the mild winds pass into him much like his thoughts did. Everything and everyone came to mind. He couldn’t stop it.

"My feelings will never change. But by God, I wish they would." He breathed out with a shaking trill. 

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

(PLEASE tell me if you wanna get added to a tag list here because I genuinely don't know who to tag lol. I'll edit this and add you in!! <3 )

TAGLIST SO FAR: @sunflowerrosy @seastarblue

@thebookishkiwi @viridis-icithus @corinneglass

Our wonderful host <3 → @agirlandherquill Have a lovely day everyone!!

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 82

Another one that I love!~ Gonna be a lot of those from here on if you couldn’t tell!

Junko’s the Ultimate Fashionista (in the english release at least but hey Ultimate Gyaru has to have a little crossover right??), so of course she handles Mikan’s wardrobe the moment she’s allowed to. So . . . Extremely cute scene of her having Mikan try out clothes to see what she does and doesn’t like. 

An opportunity for Junko to pamper Mikan, AND i get to draw Mikan in a sweater???? Heaven. Also like are we all in agreement that sweaters just look fuckin amazing on Mikan?? Like I admit, I think I just like drawing Sweaters on Mikan but they just make her look so much cuter because of how god damn cozy she looks in em. 

Unfortunately that’s all I have to talk about for that topic? I think? So instead let’s shift over to a recent development involving Junkan!

I’m in the midst of working on the Junkan Christmas Eve comic, which hopefully will be getting posted on time a few days after this, and during the process of making there’s been something new with my current abilities.

I have officially hit the point of proper freehanding on these two.

Y’see this probably won’t make too much sense but i’ll do my best to explain. 

So normally when it comes to sketches I’ve done things a bit less proper compared to more professional artists. I usually get a little start on the anatomy, and then just start sketching all the character details and moving out from there. It isn’t often that I do a full sketch for the basic anatomy of a character, I only do it when I really wanna not fuck up a pose. And as you also know up till now only one piece in this event was drawn normally. Everything else is a sketch that i cleaned up and colored, or just a sketch. 

This is because generally speaking I can’t do art using my normal pen tool without a sketch to work off of, it requires a lot more finesse to use the G-Pen both because of the larger shifts that can occur in line width, and the slightly looser feel it has compared to my Pencil Tool. 

That’s all to say that I have drawn Junko and Mikan so many fucking times that I can just, draw them without proper sketches now. I’m at a point where I just need to draw the head, torso, and legs for an anatomy sketch, and then with the G-Pen I can just, draw from there. That’s big for me personally, and also fucked up because god how even??? There hasn’t been a drop in quality either so far, i’m still able to refine the expressions and i haven’t fucked up with the arms too much yet, I’d even say it’s resulted in some of my favorite Junkos and Mikans period.

Now, the catch is that again, this is only Junko and Mikan. I could prooooobably get to this point with Mukuro eventually just because her design is much simpler compared to other DR Characters? I struggle with getting her colors right rather than linework, but that’s about it and still not really useful in my main line of work unless I memorize every character that’s ever existed, and it took like 150 fucking times for Junkan I can’t do that for an obscure RPG character that I might get commissioned once and then never again. 

It’s also not something that I think i’ll apply to my normal Junkan works, because I am a perfectionist to a fault when it comes to pieces I care about and I want to make sure every detail these is exact. I need to be meticulous for ship art like this, every detail is important. And I can maximize that with sketching.

This new skill is basically useful for one thing. Speed. 

I pride myself on my efficiency, even if I have waned over the years due to burnout and overwork, when I get into it I can fuckin move with my art. And so if I need to say, make a 28 page comic in under a month? Being able to mostly skip an entire phase of the art process is very, VERY useful, ESPECIALLY because it’s a comic. Something which generally takes more time than my normal art by nature of it’s format and what it involves. When making the Comic for Day 60 it was all sketches, which was equally fast but could leave small imperfections at the time that either went under my radar or I just let slide because i was trying to be efficient. 

This is basically perfect for having to speedrun a Junkan comic, it’s all the speed with the usual amount of visual quality.

So in short . . . I’m turning into a nightmarish hell machine but specifically for drawing Junkan. I am genuinely curious how much farther I can go up from here, like, what the hell else could I be capable of with this???? Am I just gonna learn how to fuckin beam the art onto the canvas with my brain???

Moral of the story is just get mind numbingly obsessed with a ship and I guess you’ll get better at stuff??? I have no idea, i’m still kind of processing the comedic value of what this year has been because I was desperate for these two to make out. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[calissarowan]

how do you think the wizards would interact with the other villains? I esp need to know how they would get along (or not) with selina

Alrighty! Let’s do this!

Icy: The Trix come as individuals. It bugs me when they get judged as a group. She and Ogron would butt heads right away. They both want to destroy the Winx, or whatever it is they’re doing, but they don’t want to do it together. If either one tries to start saying something to do with a plan, the other will cut them off. In the end, it devolves into insults and name calling. Anagan just has to calm Ogron down and mediate. He’s probably unsuccessful. She and Gantlos get along fine; if they’re teaming up, then they find that their powers work well together. Icy creates ice walls, and Gantlos shatters them to fire the shards at their enemies. Duman’s just helping Ogron argue. And following Icy around with a hairdryer until he winds up as a popsicle for an hour.

Darcy: Gantlos doesn’t trust this woman as far as he can throw a planet. He’s strong, he can throw most things a long way, had to go for a planet to make the saying work. She’s far too manipulative, and he doesn’t want her near him and his friends. She finds him frustrating because he just sees through all her manipulations. She and Anagan are both kinda flirty, so I think they’d get along okay, and probably banter back and forth quite a bit. She’s trying to manipulate him, he’s just having fun. She and Ogron are both trying to play the other, but actually get along pretty well when they have to take someone else down. Duman thinks it’ll be funny to screw with the queen of illusions, so he shifts into Icy for a day to find out all of Darcy’s secrets, and she’s ready to kill him when she finds out, but then realises these powers are actually pretty useful, and she won’t kill him if he’ll use them to help her screw with people.

Stormy: Thinks all of the wizards are kinda pathetic, frankly. The fact that they ran from so many of their fights…ugh, it makes her sick. They weren’t overpowered, they just left when they could have destroyed the Winx. It’s disappointing. Though she gives them props for the plan where they set the building on fire, that was badass. She’s only gonna listen to Icy, Ogron doesn’t get to try and boss her around, so if he tries, she will zap him. Eventually it just turns into her electrifying everything he touches and giving him static shocks, mostly because it’s funny. Duman knows, but doesn’t say anything because he also thinks it’s funny. He and Stormy get along pretty well, they like messing with the Winx, and she and Gantlos just break everything together. She thinks Anagan is boring, because he’s quite calm and doesn’t really do much, or lose it that easily, and she thinks a bad guy should have a much hotter temper and if your job on the team is to keep everyone calm, do you really need to be on it? So she ignores him, or tries to provoke him into snapping, because she wants to see that.

Darkar: He thinks the wizards are…fine. Not the greatest evil to come from his darkness, but has to give them credit for making Earth so miserable. He’d likely command them all immediately, which would tick Ogron off, because he’s the leader, not a bird insect bird man, but Darkar would have him aware of the power dynamic very quickly, and the wizards would serve him. Gantlos would be annoyed about being ordered around, probably start a fight, and Anagan is just trying not to rock the boat. Duman’s impressed with this guy’s power and his aesthetics, and wondering what he could do with them, while Ogron’s trying to take cues from the source of all evil so he can finally end his enemies. Maybe Darkar shows them how to be better villains, and helps them to overcome their remaining humanity, the compassion or care that keeps them from achieving their goals. They’d all be conflicted about that, because they’re evil, but they’re shades of grey rather than black and white, and so maybe in the end they forgo his teachings and have to give up evil in order to escape him.

Valtor: @devilheartsblog has a really cool au where the wizards wind up working for Valtor which I totally love, actually! I just thought I’d bring that up. Now…he and Ogron would definitely be competitive with each other, since they both sorta see themselves as the best (and the most dramatic). Valtor repeatedly hits Ogron with the argument that he almost took over the universe, while Ogron couldn’t take the wings from an untrained teenager. Valtor would also very much like to be in charge, and Ogron would very much like it if he was not, so there’s plenty of arguing over leadership. Anagan and him get along fine, but Anagan isn’t letting him try to edge out Ogron. Gantlos…kinda secretly thinks maybe Valtor might be good at leading? Just that their last plans have crashed and burned so much. Though they’d clash in a fight because Valtor wants to do this with finesse and thinking it through and Gantlos wants to punch everyone until the problem is solved. And Valtor just can’t with Duman, this man is too much for him, just leave him alone. In response Duman messes with him as much as humanly possible. He’s not his friend, he owes him no maturity.

Tritannus: I am not great with Tritannus, but I know someone who is, so I hope it’s okay, but I put this question to @tritannus, and here is his take: He would probably be closed off towards the wizards, refusing to even give them any glance mainly due to his experience with older male figures, mainly his father. He slowly warms up to Anagan first, being the most approachable. Duman might be next, but Tritannus would hate him sometimes whenever Duman taunts him with his mutant form. Gantlos is probably the third. It was clear Gantlos is kind of a protector for his friends in a sort of way. If they ever met, Tritannus would not want to even look at him, believing he would be the exactly the same as Neptune. To his surprise, anytime the wizard talked, he would open up without doubting. He probably would hate Ogron the most. Ogron has a plan for the Earth fairies, he somewhat refuses to listen to the other wizards, especially Gantlos (taken from canon episode ideas). He might just take up Duman’s offer in pranking the redhead.

Selina: Ogron likes this one. She’s smart, she’s got strong magic, and she’s pretty ruthless. Immediate student and mentor energy. He wants to know everything about her book, and she wants to know every dark spell he’s got. She’s heard all about them from Eldora, so she already thinks they’re cool, but she finds out that the stories of them being heartless and pure evil are kinda bull***t, and they do care about each other, and about her. She and Gantlos have some issues when he tries to teach her how to use her powers for brute force, since she prefers manipulating and tricking and sending her creatures to fight, and Gantlos dislikes the idea of hiding behind monsters, and thinks she has to be able to hold her own in a real fight. She and Duman screw with the Winx together, and she shows him new creatures he can shift into, and Anagan listens to her about all the problems that brought her to evil, like Bloom, and being pressured to be a fairy when she’s always been a witch.

Kalshara: All the wizards: “Who the hell is this sad Duman ripoff?” They have to admit she has a few decent moments, but they can all agree, she’s a disappointment. She can only turn into a few things, can’t even mask that it’s her, and Gantlos thinks she’s a coward for repeatedly hiding behind her brother and his magic rather than just time travelling for herself. Duman challenges her to a shapeshifting competition and wings two minutes in, Ogron tries to fix her Allan but gives up and Anagan is the only one actually being cordial. He still kinda thinks she sucks, though. And Kalshara actually also thinks they suck, because they couldn’t steal the wings from a kid, and they got frozen in Omega.

Brafillius: The sentiment from everyone is just…how has this guy stayed alive this long? He’s just something of an idiot, but his magic is surprisingly powerful. Ogron just ignores him because he can’t listen to him blather, and Gantlos and Anagan actually feel kinda bad for the guy, he just gets ignored and degraded repeatedly, despite having come through with actual results a few times. Gantlos tells him to just ditch Kalshara and do his own thing, trap the Winx in that hat of his, and Anagan gets the feeling he’s mostly just being evil for his sister, so tells him he doesn’t have to do this. Brafillius likes Gantlos and Duman the best, because they just kinda just…do whatever they want, and they get results and he wants to do that. He wants Ogron’s approval, since he blatantly dislikes him so much, but Ogron still thinks this is an idiot with a dumb hat, he’s avoiding that at all costs.

Obscurum: …I don’t have much for him, honestly, but here we go. He likes to act like he’s above them, and the wizards all just think this is a tiny weirdo with stupidly-named creatures. Duman takes hordes of Star Yummies to mess around with, then realises Obscurum, despite being tiny and kinda bad at naming stuff, is actually quite dangerous. Ogron is jealous this guy also has dark vortexes and teleportation, and Obscurum is a lot less meek with them than they’d expected. He’s like that with Valtor; to anyone else, he’s the servant of freakin’ Valtor! He’s the best! These guys should be bowing down and hoping his master doesn’t obliterate them!

[eldritchxembers]

Sebastian's smile softened as he took a sip of the coffee and a bite of the banana nut bread, savoring the sweetness that lingered on his tongue. The bread was warm, comforting, and much more enjoyable than he'd expected. He didn’t usually have much of a chance to indulge in treats like this, as he worked until he was too tired to stand - that way he didn't have to dream. He learned if he ate a little, he would be far more tired at night than if he ate enough.

He looked up at Brook, grateful for the coffee and the treat. The gesture was small and thoughtful, and Sebastian wasn’t used to people taking care of him... not that he was doing a great job taking care of himself right now.

"You didn’t have to, you know," he murmured, the smile slightly embarrassed, as if he were slightly unsure of how to fully embrace the small act of kindness. "But... thank you. I’ve never been great with people doing things for me."

There was a brief silence, then he looked down at the coffee, swirling it in his cup. The warmth from both the drink and the gesture seemed to seep into him slowly. It was neighborly what Brook had done for him.

A thoughtful expression crossing his face, as he considered what he wanted to say. He had grown used to the quiet of his shop, the hum of the radio filling the space as he worked, but something about Brook’s kindness stirred a deeper reflection in him. He found himself wanting to share more than he usually did, to offer an explanation for why things were the way they were.

"My grandmother," he began, his voice taking on a contemplative tone, "she owned this place long before I ever thought about it. Long before I was born, and she built it from the ground up. When she died, I inherited it... and, well, I didn’t know what to do with it at first. Didn't really want it." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "She was a... unique woman. Strong-willed. She ran the shop with a fierce sort of care, always focused on the books, on keeping them safe and pristine. It was her life’s work. But it came at cost of her relationships with others."

Sebastian’s gaze shifted, eyes distant for a moment as he recalled the years he’d spent with his grandmother, learning her ways, feeling the weight of her legacy settle on his shoulders.

"But the thing is," he continued, "it’s not just about maintaining the business for the sake of keeping it alive. I want to do it justice, yes, but I also want to do something that matters." He met Brook’s gaze then, his eyes steady but softened by the vulnerability in his words. "I’ve spent so much of my life focused on preserving the past, I never learned how to live in the present." He exhaled. "So there you have it, one very awkward book restorationist trying to make conversation."

Sebastian was a nice guy. That was what Brook kept thinking as he went to The Ceramic Cup to get the man some coffee. Ever since leaving Mass Gen, Brook was realizing just how socially awkward he was. And of course he was - he had never had to socialize outside of work and family, not really, and now he felt like he was playing catch up. Not everyone would respond to that so positively either, to his little social quirks, but so far Brook hadn't had much trouble with the residents of Cardinal Hill. Yes, he knew that was partially due to the fact that he was a successful doctor, and society tended to give people like that more of a pass with these things (whether or not they deserved it), but still, Brook had been enjoying the neighborly, pleasant vibe of the townspeople. While the circumstances that brought him here hadn't been ideal to say the least, Brook was happy to be slowly carving out a place for himself here.

Once at the Ceramic Cup, he decided to get some coffee for himself as well, the same that Sebastian was having, and he thought maybe he should get the man snack as well. Brook wanted to show his appreciation, both for his expertise as well as his kindness. You should have asked him what he liked, Brook told himself, but alas, it was too late now. If only he could call the man on the go. With no other feasible option, Brook decided to just get something he liked and hope for the best. So a few minutes later, Brook was headed back to Sebastian's shop with two coffees and two pieces of fresh, warm banana nut bread. The smell of it had Brook practically salivating on the way back.

"Coffee has arrived!" he called as he entered the shop, approaching Sebastian once more with a smile on his face. He saw that Sebastian was slowly making progress, and Brook said, "It's okay. I want it done right, which I'm not worried about because I can tell you take your work seriously. If I need to manage without it, I'll manage without it." Setting Sebastian's coffee down in a nearby - but not too close so as not to risk spilling it - place, Brook told him about the banana nut bread as well. "I wasn't sure what to get you," he told the other man, "so I hope you like this."

[nyancrimew]

i'm a us liberal and i think you're cool

i highly doubt you're a liberal then and just think liberal = leftist which it very much does not

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Council of lovefools.

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[cent-scratchnsniff]

elaborate self hate and ungodly amounts of yapping. underneath is just the main ones without text on it