#the eyebrows because. how is he gonna dye them. its actually possible though he just thinks it's too much work

[seth-burroughs]

Yomi in his blue hair era. Headcanon time! He cut and dyed it shortly after the Blank Week - when Makoto said he tried to leak homunculus information, it couuuld be possible that he just wanted to leak the pre-BWM research, but consider that: that's so BORING lmao. I always interpreted it as him simply just Knowing and being the only (that we know of, at least - Dr. Huesca is another candidate for the Those Who Know crew, but his respawn form kept asking Yuma "tell me, what happened during the Blank Week?!" and also he tried to escape KW, which would probably kill him over and over. I mean, he could also have some sort of hazmat suit for the sun but I'll feel that'd be kind of. reaching.) KW resident that knew they were all homunculi, besides Makoto of course. Makoto tried to bond with him over it but Yomi just told him to kill himself every time so after a while he just stopped trying. He changed his appearance for two reasons: 1.) so he wouldn't get jumpscared by his human version every time he looks in the mirror, and 2.) he likes the color RED 👍👍

Also: part 4 of Yomi birthdayposting. Let's fucking GOOOO

[astrojoy]

Hiiii! Can I join your exchange game? UwU 💕💕💕💕

Can I choose 3 questions? In exchange, i'll also answer you 3 questions <3

My initials are V.D <3 I want you to answer :

- Future spouse characteristics, looks

- Career ( what is it about )

Now onto your reading <3 UwU I'll also answer for you the same questions I asked <3 (I'm pretty confident in my intuition <3)

Future spouse looks :

- long hair ? he could dye it blond or he's blond (and he looks freaking good in it)

- sharp jawline

- honeyed skin

- straight eyebrows

- proportionate body, tall, more on the slim side but still thicc in some places 😏

- seductive smirk 😏

- tapered eyelids?

- small and thinner lips but it's smexy 😏

- idk but he's quite good looking for me 😳 also has attractive bone structure, taller than average

- idk but his vibe and looks can quite resemble Hyunjin from stray kids, just more defined, mature and more seductive ( also bigger eyes) ?? ( idk if it's true but when I think about him (your fs) , I think about him ? )

Future spouse characteristics :

- SMART, knows how to trick you 😳 (but no one thinks he's that smart)

- lmao why did I get seductive- 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️(only to you)

- seems quite bland but is actually a very interesting person ( but they rarely let their interesting side on )

- loves books ? loves researching before working on something

- quite a neat person, loves cleanliness

- 😳 i got virgo / aquarius vibes from this person 😳

- Moon in Capricorn or aspected by saturn ?

- INTROVERT but can also be social . They love small groups.

- 12th house placements ?

- Cap rising or aspected by saturn 😳 damnn-

- hard-working and generous? he's trusted by many people

- loves to stare deep into your eyes and hug you 💕💕💕

- you awaken his sexuality ??? lmao- (quite unrelated)

- damn why did I feel pain in my chest? He could have been hurt by someone who he trusted 😔 ( so that's why he doesn't want to love anyone-)

- loves ranting, late-night conversations, tea time

CAREER :

- counsellor?? provide help to people? Or some kind of job related to that kind of thing ( oh or tarot reader-)

- You'll be pretty comfortable with your job, it also makes a decent amount of money that's enough to make you feel satisfied

- People trust in your advice 💕💕💕💕

- I sensed that this is the path you wanted to go so there is not many things to say 💕💕💕💕

Thank you and i hope i get it right 💕💕💕💕💕💕

MA'AM OML OK OK OK I'M NOT GONNA SAY MUCH BECAUSE THERE'S A LOT TO EXPLAIN BUT EVERYTHING YOU SAID WAS 100% CORRECT AND I'VE BEEN TOLD THOSE THINGS ALL THE TIME OML JEEZ YOU ARE BLESSED WITH A GIFT CUZ- 👏

Crazily accurate. Like you got everything and idk how. Mind blowing. Even the reference I've been told before- are you a mind reader? 🤨 LMAO OK OK onto you 😏

FS Characteristics

- Making choices is a difficult task. It can be on anything at all. The seem to get stuck with the pros and cons of each one. They need someone to help them haha

- SUCH a romantic person. And I mean SUCH. They are super super romantic. I'm talking about cheesy and cuddly very often. Think of pisces, libra energy for that

- Ride or die. They believe in loyalty. Sticking together through Thick and thin. Doesn't matter what, if you are their lover or friend, you best bet they will be at the party but then jumping off a cliff to safe you

- Protective. They are protective of whoever they love. If you guys have a kid, that kid won't have to worry about getting hurt around them. If you get hurt? Lord help who ever did it

- Dual sides to them. They can be really silly, goofy at times but when it comes to being serious they put all that siliness quickly away and instantly change for the mood

- They were betrayed once in love. They were close go whomever it was but that person literally back stabbed them in some way, broke their heart. Cheater?

- They are really attracted to a peaceful environment. They love flowers, etc. Think of someone meditating in a meadow of blossoming dandelions, the slight gust of wind while the trees sway.. That kind of peace. That's what they look for. WAIT OMFG I LOOKED AT MY CARD JUST NOW AND IT HAD AN OWL WITH A DANDELION IN ITS MOUTH- OK OK let me explain. I never said this before but 90% of your cards had birds in them. Now what's funny is an owl was on another card. Literally there is a normal bird, another normal bird, a baby bird, an owl over an egg, another owl, 2 cranes and etc. These cards are from 4 different decks 2 of which are oracle

- So uh... Might have a favoritism towards dandelions 😏 being hopeful too!

- A true softy. Got so much on this in particular

FS Looks

- Wears glasses for sure

- Beautiful big eyes 🥺

- Brown eyes

- They have a nice body

- The chest and upper back are prominent, nice one no matter the gender

- Feline features honestly

- Freckles

- Dyes their hair different colors

- Fluffy soft hair

- They dye their hair a dirty blonde often though

- 18+ whatever gender this is, they have nice COUGH areas ✨😁✨

- Thin nose (random but yeah)

- Woah I got my camera card, very photogenic face and/or body

- For sure styles their hair different from time to time

- Average height

- Dry skin

Career

- There's a lot of options here actually. I got my good karma card, so this tells me you actually have more free will in career than you think. You earned this in a past lifetime so in this one, whatever you want, go after it

- Singer (literally had my Singer + sing card come out)

- Teaching people self-love through whatever career you pursue

- LOTS of wands, creative cards. Your career is revolving around the arts, femininity, creativeness

- I got images of fashion, clothes, jewelry also came out

- Entertainer

- Something you will find fun but took a lot of work

- Possibly something with fitness, telling people they are "sexy" beautiful the way they are

- Standing up for people in your career can happen

- Fire energy. Firefighter came with my creative wands cards

- 2222222 lots of 2's

- 101010

Have a beautiful day!! 🥺💖

EDIT: Found a random card- apparently my guides wanted me to see it. "Healing" you will definitely be healing people in some way. Even got the self-love card 😏

[c-rose2081]

Storybook Days

(Chapter 1)

—

It’s Summer in Auradon, and Audrey is tasked with babysitting the VK kids while the others are busy. Not sure what to do with them, Audrey agrees to read from a book of stories Dizzy found in the royal library. Except the book is actually enchanted; and now Audrey, Celia, Dizzy and the twins are stuck inside its pages, having to go through each story until they find a way out.

—

“Ben, you can’t be serious,”

It wasn’t very Princess-like to whine, but Audrey Rose didn’t care much for being proper at the moment. It was a bright and clear Summer day in Auradon, and the young King had just dropped a last minute bombshell on the heir of Auroria, “what do you mean I have to babysit?”

“I wouldn’t do this unless I had to, Auds.” Ben said, only half-apologetic as he quickly signed off on some papers while trying to kick on his left shoe, “but Evie’s presence at the Royal Picnic has been requested,”

“So what!” Audrey insisted, following Ben across the study as he gathered up his leather jacket and motorcycle helmet, “why not take the little heathens with you to the stupid picnic?”

Ben shot Audrey a warning look as she lifted her hands and scoffed, “sorry. I just mean they are troublesome and annoying, and I don’t want to babysit,”

“Audrey, you know I’d love for them to come, and for us not to be having this conversation. But four VKids running around with a bunch of stuffy dignitaries is a disaster waiting to happen. This Picnic is really important,”

“But why can’t Uma do it? Or your parents?”

“Because Uma, Harry and Gil are on the isle this weekend doing outreach, and mom and dad will be at the picnic,”

“Ugh, but Ben...”

“Audrey,” placing both hands firmly on the girls shoulders, the boy shot her a dazzling, Kingly grin, “remember what you said to me after Barrier Day? About wanting to make amends?”

“Yes,” Audrey grumbled, “I’m the one who said it,”

“This is a perfect opportunity. It’s just one afternoon, till tomorrow, and Mal and Evie would certainly appreciate it,”

“But the VKids hate me, Ben,” Audrey insisted again as the King walked from the office with a pink Princess in tow, “Celia put chili powder on the rim of my teacup the other day. I could’ve died,”

“It was a harmless little prank, Audrey,” Ben chuckled, swiveling around on a heel to cup Audrey’s cheek in his hand, “you’ll be fine. I have full faith that you can watch them for a night.” He reassured her, “please Audrey? For me?”

Giving the girl his best beastly pout, Audrey folded her arms tightly against her chest.

“Fine. But you’ll bring something back for me, right?” Audrey asked, admitting defeat with a deep sigh and an eye roll, “a piece of cake or...”

“Something sweet for my favorite Princess.” Ben agreed, hurriedly kissing the back of Audrey’s knuckles with a smile, “you’ll do great, I just know it. Evie left some instructions on the fridge, and you have us all on speed dial. Now I have to go or I’ll be late,”

Leaving the Princess at the top of the steps, she watched Ben mount up his motorbike and speed off with an army of staff behind him. This left the castle unusually quiet, and Audrey placed both hands on her hips as she exhaled deeply.

“Babysitting duty,” She scoffed under her breath, tipping her head to rub the place between her eyes, “what a world this is.”

Once upon a time, Audrey would’ve been invited to the Royal Picnic. Naturally though, after her little stint with Maleficent’s Scepter, things had been a bit rocky with the other royal families in Auradon. She was shielded from the gossip by spending the Summer in Beast’s Castle, while her Mum, Dad and Grammy patched things up in Auroria with broad, fantastic strokes. But she still caught wind of the whispers going around. None of them pleasant.

Turning and walking back into the castle, Audrey closed the door with a shallow BANG, and rattling echo. She walked towards the kitchen, still trying to soothe the headache she already felt coming on. Of all the people in the Castle, Audrey was the favorite target for devilish pranks. The VKids were little brats, running around like they owned the place and being spoiled rotten by Evie. And though Dizzy could be sweet on her own, she was Celia’s right hand minion when push came to shove.

Grumbling nonsense under her breath, Audrey swept by the island towards the fridge. Here, a scrawled note in Evie’s hand lay stuck under a magnet. It wasn’t just instructions; it was an entire schedule of things to do.

“These kids live better then I do,” Audrey mumbled, raising an eyebrow at some of the items Evie had listed.

Bake Cookies

Croquet on the Lawn

Movie Marathon

Run Baths

Bedtime Story

“Bedtime story?” Audrey mumbled with a scoff, “you’ve got to be kiddi-EEK!”

Audrey leapt up with a shriek as something cold was dropped down the back of her dress. Shaking herself hard to dislodge the ice cube from lace and satin, Audrey groaned in frustration as she whipped around. Celia and Dizzy were on the floor, holding their tummies as they laughed. The Twins were peeking in through the doorway, not laughing but staring at her like she’d take their heads off.

“You little brats!” Audrey hissed, “get off the floor. Front and center,”

“We don’t take orders from you, old hag.” Celia cackled, rolling over onto her stomach, “why aren’t you at the Picnic? Didn’t get invited?”

“As a matter a fact I didn’t,” Audrey seethed through her teeth, “so now, I’m stuck here watching you four,”

“Awe what!” Celia complained, finally getting back to her feet and brushing off her skirt, “but Evie had a big day planned.”

“Yeah well, Evie’s not here,” Audrey hissed, holding up the list in her hand and waving it around, “and I’m not interested in catering to your every desire. So you can just forget about that,”

“You’re kinda mean,” Dizzy complained.

“You just put an ice cube down my dress, scared me out of my skin, and now you expect me to play nice? I don’t think so,” Audrey hissed, tearing up the list in her hands and tossing it on the counter. Turning to the twins, she pointed at them, “you two, in here with me. We’re gonna have a chat,”

Hesitantly, the blondes scuttled in. Four VKids now faced off with a very peevish Princess, the girl placing both hands on her hips with an animalistic huff, “alright, twerps. Here’s how this is gonna go. I don’t really care what you do. Go hide in your rooms, watch TV all day, play with swords in the armory, whatever. Just leave me out of it unless someone’s dying,”

“What will you be doing?” Celia asked, “plotting to curse Ben and Mal’s first child?”

Both Ceila and Dizzy sniggered behind their hands as Audrey clenched a fist tightly.

“I really hate children,” she managed under her breath, folding her hands together as though in prayer, “listen, I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. I get that, and I’m really quite reasonable. So just stay away from me, and you can do whatever you want. Kapeesh?”

Four pairs of eyes blinked up at her in confusion as Audrey rolled her eyes and translated, “do you understand?”

“Yeah, we understand,” Celia nodded, glancing at her companions before pinning Audrey with a hard stare, “but we want waffles for dinner.”

“Deal.”

“And we want to watch an R rated movie!” Dizzy added as Audrey lifted a brow but shrugged. If it kept the little monsters away from her, it was worth the risk.

“Fine. Anything else? You two?”

Glancing at the twins, the blondes shook their heads quickly as Audrey clapped her hands together and sighed in relief.

“Great. I’ll be out by the pool enjoying what’s left of today. You stay in here and do whatever, and we’ll be peachy. Kay?”

Nodding in agreement, Audrey turned and walked from the kitchen. Changing into her favorite bikini and hat, the Princess found her way to the pool a little while later. Not trusting the water — lest Celia put dye in it that would make her skin turn blue — Audrey found a comfortable spot on a lawn chair and dropped the sunglasses down over her eyes. For a while, the world was peaceful. But Audrey should’ve known better then to trust the VKids word on anything.

While she slept, Celia managed to drop a scorpion on her from the upper balcony. Where she had even gotten such a thing, Audrey wasn’t sure. But it pinched her fair skin a few times before she was able to knock it away, causing horrible red welts to form. Upon running inside, she slipped and fell on oil that had been lift on the marble and slammed back first into a suit of armor. There was laughter above her on the stairway, but Audrey was to busy rubbing the long cut which she now had on her forehead from the fall to notice.

It was an afternoon of one vicious prank after another. From simply stealing her clothes while she was showering, to locking her in a broom closet which they had somehow tricked her into, it was constant pain and torment. Her own little hell on earth. By the time dusk was falling, Audrey was exhausted and in pain. Her head ached from a possible concussion, and her stomach burned with the scorpion stings. Her mouth tasted a bit like ash from the Alo-Vera gel Dizzy managed to spread on her sandwich while she wasn’t looking. And she just wanted to close her eyes and sleep.

Thankfully, after putting the movie on and shoving plates piled with waffles into the kids hands, the terrible two had shut up. The film was long over now, and Audrey assumed the four had made their way to bed. She herself was trying and failing to sleep when the slow open of her door made her heart still. Not another prank. She couldn’t handle any more today.

“...Audrey?” Dizzy whispered. Ignoring the girl in hopes she’d simply go away, Audrey winced as her shoulder was gently tapped, “Audrey, are you awake?”

“...I am now,” the Princess groaned, rolling over to face the VKid. Dizzy was haloed in the hall light, but Audrey could see the tears streaming down her face and what appeared to be a book in her arms. Sitting up slightly, Audrey’s brows furrowed, “hey, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep,” Dizzy croaked, “I had a nightmare,”

“A nightm-” pausing, Audrey sighed and nodded, “from the movie I bet.”

“It was really scary,” Dizzy whimpered.

“Ok. And what would you like me to do?” Audrey asked, not entirely sure how to proceed. After all, when she was young and couldn’t sleep, she never went to mum or Grammy. They just sent her back to her room with a sleepy grunt and a ‘go back to sleep, Audrey’, and that was it. Comforting a scared child wasn’t something she did, let alone something she ever had experience with.

“Can you read me a story?” Dizzy asked, “I found a book in the library.”

Glancing at the clock, it was only about midnight as Audrey rubbed her face tiredly and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, fine. Go turn on the light,”

“Is it ok if the twins listen, to?” Dizzy asked, crossing the room to the light as Audrey sat up.

“You aren’t planning on waking them just to hear a story, are you?”

“No, they’re already here.”

At being mentioned, two blonde heads in night caps glanced around the doorway.

“Ah, I see,” Audrey rasped, “well come on then. Might as well read to everyone,”

At the invitation, two short bullets zipped like mice across the carpet and landed on the mattress with a PHOOPH. Dizzy followed after, climbing to sit next to Audrey on her right side as she handed over the book.

“Where did you even find this thing,” Audrey asked, blowing dust from the beautiful embossed cover, “it’s ancient,”

“I dunno. It was on one of the bottom shelves,” Dizzy shrugged, “so what’s it about?”

“A book of fairytales,” Audrey told her, reading the inscription on the first page, “this book, bequeathed to Beast and Belle on their wedding day. May it find you well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Glancing up at the new voice, Celia leaned in the doorway. Though she appeared casual and unbothered, Audrey could see the dark circles under her eyes, meaning the movie probably got to her as well, despite her facade of bravado.

“It was a wedding gift,” Audrey told her, “come to hear the story?”

“I thought you weren’t interested in that kind of thing,” Celia grumbled, though she made her way towards the bed anyway and crawled up to sit on Audrey’s other side. The twins laid across her legs, blinking up at her with sapphire colored irises.

“Well, one small story won’t hurt. Despite all the torture you put me through today.”

Celia said nothing to this as Audrey turned back to the book, flipping the page to the first story: Little Red Riding Hood.

“Once upon a time,” Audrey began, “in a wood not unlike this one, a little girl in a red cloak was making her way to her grandmothers house...”

[troddensodden]

Physical Features OC Ask Game !! 👁 What is your OC’s eye color? Do they have any eye-related habits, like winking or rubbing their eyes? Do other people tend to notice their eyes? 💇 What is your OC’s hairstyle? How do they maintain their hair? Do they wash it and/or cut it regularly? Have they ever dyed their hair? 👖 What type of clothing does your OC generally wear? Why? Do they have any “signature” accessories?

since its the only ask i have so far, im gonna answer each of these for all three of my current ocs :D hope thats okay!

cedric: fallout 4 || alistair: fallout 4 || emil: fallout new vegas

eyes—

-cedric: blue-green eyes! however he actually only has one, in a sense, because a bomb once blew up close enough to his face that it burned the skin, and damaged his left eye enough that he went blind in it. he tried to take care of the injury, but the commonwealth doesnt exactly have many medicine or skincare products. it ended up getting a pretty gnarly infection, which only made it worse after scarring. so now, he wears an eyepatch over it! he regularly wears a gas mask out in the wasteland, mostly for radiation protection but partially because he is somewhat insecure about his eye, and the look of the skin around it. when he isnt wearing one though, people do definitely notice his eyes for that reason, more than anything else. he doesnt have any particular habits, other than consistently wearing an eye covering.

-alistair: his eyes arent anything particularly special, really. just a plain dark brown, dark enough to look black from a distance. he doesnt have any specific habits, per se, as he is a synth and thats not necessarily in his program. however, if hes close enough with someone, he will make a fair amount of (bad) jokes or comments and accentuate them with a wink or an eyebrow raise. also, when hes frustrated he sometimes will rub his eyes with his palms, or do long drawn out blinks and eyerolls. his eyes arent all that notable though, so people dont take much notice of them often, outside of their expressiveness.

-emil: a sort of grey, green, hazel, blue, combination? really, they dont seem to have much of a set eye-color. its hard to determine. so on the occasion that someone asks, theyll give a different answer every time, sometimes answering with a color that is definitely not even close to the actual color. furthermore, theyre quite the mischievous and flirtatious type in some cases, so winking is something they do quite often, and are able to do with either eye. other times, theyll look someone up and down when facing them, but with an absent expression that makes it hard to tell whether theyre checking the person out or sizing them up. their eyes dont get noticed often because again, they arent anything particularly special, but when in a relationship, they do find that partners seem to take a particular interest toward the confusing matter of their eyes, specifically the color.

——

hair—

c: pre-war, he kept his hair relatively well-managed, a tidy crop with maybe a bit more length than the "average" mens cut. post-war, however, he frankly sees getting his hair done as too much effort, only occasionally stopping for a trim and otherwise letting it grow out, and tying it up if it gets in the way. his boyfriends quite fancy this, liking to play with it when they spend time together. maccready, on occasion, will even braid it if hes stressed or in a bad mood, as a way of calming himself down. (when he does this, cedric tries to keep the braid in as long as possible.) washing hair isnt necessarily easy, in a world where even just clean water itself is in short supply, let alone soap. however, he does try his best to clean it when he can, because he doesnt like the feeling of dirty hair. he also has never dyed his hair, because hes always been content with his natural brown color, even if its a bit "plain."

a: he keeps his hair close to a stubble, consistently. his hair doesnt grow very rapidly, but still, he will likely be seen getting his hair cut every couple weeks to keep it from growing out. he likes looking put together, and will rarely ever be caught genuinely dirty. any chance he gets to clean himself, he will, and any time he needs a haircut, you can bet he'll be on his way to the nearest place that offers it. he refuses to dye his hair, saying that it creates a look of unprofessionalism, (and hair dye doesnt go well over black usually.) nobody really understands why hes so insistent on looking put-together and professional all the time, but they accept it, even if he sometimes takes more time to get ready in the mornings than anyone else.

e: shaved on one side, long on the other. its also naturally got a bit of curl, which adds volume so it doesnt get too flat and stringy when it goes unwashed. they dont wash their hair as obsessively as alistair, though they will do a quick clean if they get the time. they dont particularly like the idea of using irradiated water to clean off, but its that or use purified water which is in relatively short supply. however, foraging is a bit of a strong point for them, so they will use natural supplies for cleaning off if possible, from plants and such. keeping hair maintained is hard in a relatively desolate area like the mojave, but whenever they find scissors and some free time theyll do a trim. scissors arent exactly a match for a nice set of clippers, but you learn to make do. they have dyed their hair with some temporary colors before, but never anything permanent—they actually quite like their natural gingery-blond color.

——

clothes—

c: whatever will protect him while also being comfortable enough that he can tolerate him with his sensory issues. however, in situations where he needs to looks somewhat "official," he will wear his minutemen-issued jacket over a decent shirt and pants set. however, he will rarely ever be seen without some sort of mask, unless the situation happens to be one where a gasmask or something similar would be improper. even then, the eyepatch stays on. so id say the eyepatch is somewhat a "staple" of his wardrobe, though its less of a fashion choice and more of what he deems a necessity.

a: if possible, he would regularly wear a button-down and pants that match. however, in an irradiated post-war wasteland, with hostiles around every corner, thats not a particularly feasible option; thus, he wears whatever is available that is in good condition but also effective. effectiveness is his priority, of course, but it does frustrate him if his clothing doesnt at least look decent. people see him as a bit of a pansy for it, but when he was in the institute, he was used to wearing a uniform that was focused on looking clean rather than being highly functional. so after escaping, that stuck with him a bit. he does, however, have an accessory he refuses to be without, and thats his and noras wedding ring. even after forming new relationships and finding a new purpose in the world, its impossible to move on from someone who was his whole world, what feels like only a few months ago.

e: emil most definitely prioritizes function over fashion. appearance is important, sure, but they recognize that it definitely is not the most important, when youre traveling across a hot desert full of giant scorpions and gang members. however, one thing that they always have, whether theyre wearing it or just has it in their pack, is this one puffy jacket, with a fur-lined hood. they found it in the dresser of a destroyed house they were scavenging through, and it somehow was in near-mint condition. the reason it was so special to them, though, is because it had a note in the pocket, from a girl to her older sibling. the girl being emils sister, who moved away with their father after their parents got divorced. the letter was addressed from her to them, but was never sent. and sure, while they knew that this almost definitely confirmed she had died, they were just happy enough having something from her. so they never go without the jacket, even though its warm (and a bit heavy.) impractical, but sentimental.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirteen: black and silver

“Wow, what a story, honey.”

Sam had arrived into the harbor outside of Avalon right as the rains completely arrived, and she traded in a dollar for four quarters so she could call her mother and give a follow up as to what was going on with her. Once she had arrived at the harbor and took her back to her brand new house, Esmé thus treated her to a nice warm cup of a fusion of chai and black tea: it was tea time at the point anyway.

The house was a cute little cottage nestled in the low hillside that overlooked Avalon and most of the harbor right under a rouse of ponderosa pines and a palm tree: the small yard was decorated in small lush chaparral shrubs and bushes of bright pink pearly Catalina manzanita. Warm heavy wood lined the living room floor and the floor of the small but cozy kitchen; the wall behind them and the small comfy couch was a rich royal blue and carried a couple of framed photographs, one of which was Sam herself as a five year old girl. To the right stood the hallway which extended to her bedroom as well as the guest room and the spacious bathroom. Everything in that house was a warm amber or a royal blue, such that it reminded Sam of the shows in Boston and Providence.

“If I didn't know better, I'd swear we were in New England,” she confessed to her.

“Always wanted to live on Catalina,” Esmé told her as she lifted the tea bag out of the dark blue silver lined tea cup to ensure that it had completed steeping. “And I had a feeling you would like it, too. But the whole thing with Bill, though—that's—” She swallowed and Sam could see the agony in her face. “—I feel like I could've done something had you said something about it to me.”

“Well, see, that's the thing, though, Mom, is—I had no clue what he would do,” she confessed with a shake of her head. “He threw a glass at Belinda's head when they were getting me out of there. Missed her but he threw a glass at her, though! He actually locked me into the house at one point. The boys actually had to bust through a window just to get me out of there. They were about to go over to Germany, too—I'm glad they did because I know that man would've been furious about it. Surprised he never addressed it to me.”

“What's Germany like, by the way?”

“Beautiful. Just gorgeous—like Catalina or upstate New York but cleaner and a bit homelier, though. We were there for a week, and so Alex and I hung out for a full day together at one point. Went through the Black Forest and had authentic European beer on the train, too.” She dared not tell her mother that she left him there at the train station nearby the border to East Germany.

“I'll have to introduce you to him, though,” Sam told her as she held the cup of tea close to her chest. “He's really sweet, Mom.”

“As sweet as Joey was?”

“Sweeter. As kind as Joey is to me, I feel like there was something missing between us, like there needed to be something more there with us.”

“Did you feel any chemistry between the two of you?” Esmé asked her.

“Yeah, I did,” Sam replied. “But—I'm not sure how to explain it, though. All the touches and the little grins he'd show me—you've seen his crooked little smile.”

“Oh, yeah. Just like the man I used to know when your father and I were together at first.”

“Speaking of which... did you ever find him again?”

Esmé shook her head.

“I haven't seen him since your father and I got married,” she confessed. “And he was about to head back up to the northern half of the state, but that's—that's where it starts and ends, though. I couldn't exactly say where he had gone off to or what he planned on doing afterwards.”

The tag on the tea bag dangled off the silvery edge of the cup as she took a sip.

“Mmm—have you tried this tea, Sam? Locally grown. Practically everything here is locally grown and supported. We get things from the mainland, but it's rather endemic, though. It's especially the case over in Two Harbors.”

“This past summer, Louie and I took a road trip from the Bay Area back to Elsinore, and we went all along the coast, along the Pacific Coast Highway and the 1—and he showed me that one part of the Salinas River, right before it gets to the ocean.”

“Oh, I love that part of the state,” she told her, “all along the coastline. I considered moving to outside of Ukiah, right up close to the coastline up there but this place here on Catalina came up and it was an offer I simply could not refuse.”

“Nice little boat ride, too,” Sam added.

“Oh, yes. It's not often, though. Things are pretty self sustainable around here. I figured if it's really something that you wish for, like it's imperative that you return to the mainland, that's probably the one time you go across the Channel with the boat or with the sea plane. Some forty years ago, eight inches of snow fell on the mountain right over here.”

“Wow,” Sam raised her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah, you don't really think of an island off the coast of California as having snow,” Esmé chuckled. “But it happened. Hawai'i gets snow every so often, too, so does Seattle. And coincidentally, so does the Bay Area. It's nothing like Elsinore or the San Gabriels or northern Nevada, but it does happen every so often, though.” She took another sip of her tea and then shook her head and closed her eyes at the flavor. Sam took a sip herself: rich and subdued at the same time, and almost minty as well, and with a kiss of sugar to augment it a bit.

“Ooh, that's nice,” she remarked.

“See?” Esmé smiled at her and she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “So what are they like? The other band you're friendly with now?”

“Testament? They're dark but they're not like... satanic, though. They've got skulls and things surrounding them and their image, but I promise you, they're not satanic, Mom.”

“What are they called again?”

“Testament. I mean, it's even in the name. It should be indicative that they're not satanic.”

“Sounds more like they're about to preach a sermon of sorts,” Esmé confessed. “Like I think of the Old Testament.”

“Preach and give us what for—but not in the way in which Bill did with me, though. Their church is one of—guitars and hard fast music and having fun, too. Having fun with all of us ladies, too.”

Esmé laughed at that.

“Oh, god,” Sam declared and she picked out a delicate pink petit four from the plate on the narrow coffee table next to them, “one time—this was last summer, actually—we were all touring over in Boston and a few ladies were walking past us on the sidewalk and they called the four of us—Marla, Belinda, Zelda, and me—all satanic for hanging out with a bunch of metal boys. And Zelda was like 'yeah, a band called Testament is satanic!' and Marla and I both laughed out loud at that.”

Esmé herself chuckled in response to that as she held her tea cup up to her lips once more. Sam took a bite of the little cake in all of its light fluffiness, and then one more bite of it.

“What are they called again?” she asked her.

“Who, Zelda's band? The Cherry Suicides. It conjures the image of a human sacrifice—like a virgin giving herself up—or simply a woman stabbing herself in the chest.”

“So violent,” she remarked with a shake of her head.

“But that's what makes them so awesome, though. That same night, we were in Boston, and they were allotted right before Anthrax and Testament's sets. They did this song called 'Dead Witches', it was like a seven minute long jam. One minute of hardcore punk and then their guitarist Minerva just launched into this big long solo. Given they're a punk band, their songs are usually only a couple of minutes. But right there, they just showed that they're as a big of a power house as the boys themselves, too.” Sam sipped on the tea again so as to wash down the petit four.

“They're all real nice, too. These four tough looking chicks all the way from Providence, but they're so kind, though. They love their fans and they're easily some of the most polite people I've met.”

“They've been through a lot, too, you said.”

“Yeah, they have! All the break ups and the drama with the record labels and—” Sam shook her head as she thought about Aurora. “Long time coming for them, though. I hope I get to see them again.”

“You're gonna have to go back to the mainland anyways,” Esmé pointed out.

“Yeah, I promised Alex I would.”

“You said he's sweet.”

“Yeah, he is. He's funny—he's the kind of guy you don't really like at first until he finds a way inside of you. He's got this little bit of gray hair over his brow, too. He turned twenty back in September.”

“Twenty years old and he's already going gray?” Esmé gaped at that.

“He's been going gray, though,” Sam pointed out. “I remember him telling me about it but I don't remember the full details, though, except he's had it since he was like fourteen. When we first met him, it was like this little sliver over his brow and now it's this little tuft. It's weird, too, like it's just this little tiny bundle of gray hair on that part of his head, and just that part of his head, too. The rest of his hair is completely solid black.”

“Huh.”

“Aurora told me her—grandmother, I think it was—had something similar to that. No idea what causes it, either.”

“Maybe it's a birthmark. It's a long shot, but it is possible, though.”

“Could be, but—who knows, really.” Sam shrugged her shoulders. “He's been dyeing it, too.”

“Can't blame him,” Esmé admitted. “A boy his age going gray so early—you might as well keep your hair uniform.”

“He says it ages him.”

“And it does, too. I remember the very day your father initially went gray—and yes, it aged him several years. I remember the day I started going gray, too. Can't imagine how it makes him feel.”

They sipped on their tea in unison and the rain outside fell even harder on the rooftop and porch outside.

“I'm gonna assume the other reason why you moved here,” Sam started again, “and not the coastline is because this feels like the quintessential place to write a novel.”

“Exactly!” Esmé declared with a laugh. “There's only a couple thousand people here and no one to bother me, either.”

“Except me of course,” Sam pointed out.

“You're not bothering me, sweetie. You never bother me—if there's anything I can genuinely take away from you living so far away for a few years, it's that I miss having you around.”

“Well, even though I consider New York as my home, I can always ensure a trip out here. I might as well ensure that, anyways: I've got friends out this way.”

“So nice of them to bail you out of there, too.”

“Yeah, I mean—Greg got me out through the back window the first time around and we got down to Alhambra without sparing any expense. And then Eric literally busted through a window to get me out of that house. And then they took me to Germany for a week.”

“And you like the Bay Area, too.”

“The Bay Area is stunning. They took me to the place where Cliff's ashes are spread out—and it just felt like a—a—a pilgrimage of sorts. Eric showed me where he was from. Louie and I took a road trip together down the coastline.”

“And Alex took you home.”

“And Alex took me home, right,” she echoed, that time in a soft voice. “And he was in Aurora's wedding, too...”

Maybe she had in fact been far too hard on him as she sipped on the tea some more. She thought of him over there on the mainland, with the guys all around him. She hoped that, since she was on Catalina with her mother and not over there with them, that Bill would keep his distance from Reseda. She knew that he was far and away from there, and yet that fear still lingered over her.

At the same time, she began to think about Joey again and moreover, how in the world he managed to find a new woman to substitute her back home back East. The only way he would have found out is if someone back there told him, and as far as she knew, Louie never approached him once. In fact, the more she thought about it, the less sense it made to her. The only way she could even so much as find out about it is if she sought answers from the man himself, and it would be a little bit before she got to see him again in Long Beach.

That is if she could.

Afterwards, Esmé treated her to a bite of dinner at one of the cafes there in Avalon. Given it was raining, they retreated inside of there and shared a pina colada, even in the middle of December and a week before Christmas.

If nothing, Sam was glad to be around her mother again, even if Ruben was up in the Bay Area from that point onward. If nothing, it would be a rather interesting Christmas there on Catalina with all of the manzanita and all of the endemic plants about there, much like on her road trip with Louie: her mother joked about having a small palm tree in the front room of the house for the tree, although it made legitimate sense to Sam.

She knew that she would have to get used to the idea of having a split household from then on: divided over the entire state of California and she considered on returning to New York when all was said and done. However, she had her doubts about that, especially with Joey having his hands on another woman.

She took a warm shower to rid of the feeling traveling had given her and then she curled under the covers in her old bed tucked away there in the guest room. All the while she thought about Joey himself. She pictured him with his hands all over that other woman and she wondered if Frank genuinely saw them hold hands with one another or if he caught a fleeting glimpse of them and put two and two together. But she couldn't help it: she pictured him with a long and lanky supermodel, not a stubby little dark haired woman such as herself.

She rolled over onto her back and she wondered if he would return to her if she was a supermodel herself. Long narrow legs with big stiletto heels. The perfect hourglass shape to her body and her breasts so perky that no one could resist them. She could have the boys all to herself if that was the case with her.

If anything, as she thought about it more, she wondered as to why all of the guys even liked her in the first place because with every glimpse in the mirror, especially when she stood there after her shower and examined her nude body, she just saw a plain young woman with dark hair and dark eyes. She looked just like every other woman on the street as far as she could tell.

Nothing discernible as far as she could tell, either: nothing like doll-like features with Belinda or ever changing hair like Marla, or even something interesting like premature grays or having parents who hailed from both sides of the Korean peninsula.

And she bounced around with her weight as if it was the easiest thing in the world: but at least this time around, she was on the downswing. She glanced down at her body as it lay underneath the covers: the tips of her feet pointed up down at the base of that narrow mattress. She let her hand slide over the sheet, towards the right side.

She could still feel Cliff there next to her. She could still feel his presence, even with his smell gone away from her olfactory memory and even with the feel of his body vanished from the caress of her hand.

She could also feel Joey next to her. They were so close a few times. She actually got to put her lips around him not once, but twice.

And then, just like that, he went off with another woman all because she didn't resemble to a supermodel.

So many questions and all she could do was fall right into a dreamless sleep.

It wasn't until she awoke the next morning to the dense marine layer and the feeling Christmas was upon her when she realized she hadn't seen the mysterious man for months, as if he had vanished from her dreams forever.

After breakfast, Esmé drove her back down to the harbor for the next boat ride back over to San Pedro.

“I'll be waiting for you, sweetie,” she vowed to her as she held her in her arms away from the rain.

“No idea how long the show will be, though,” Sam confessed as she ran her fingers through her dark hair.

“I'll be waiting for you regardless of it, though.” She flashed her a wink and blew her a kiss before Sam boarded that little blue and white boat with her purse on her shoulder and her questions ready for Joey; she also had her explanation ready for Marla and Belinda, even though she had faith Alex had told them about it. She took her seat on the starboard side and peered over the edge to the gray ocean waters down below.

Twenty two miles across those waters and with the marine layer overhead, and soon the edge of California emerged in view: the coast seemed to extend on either side of them for as far as the eye could see. Sam thought about the Highway 1 on her road trip and how it all felt so endless and eternal at the same time, even if it was obvious the end of it came soon enough.

As the coast became clearer and clearer, she spotted that car in the parking lot before the dock. Even from a whole mile away, she recognized his tall body and those jet black curls. She didn't even have to see that little tuft of gray on his head to know that it was him there.

They reached the dock and Sam bolted off of the boat first and she hurried up to him.

“It's the damnedest thing, I can literally see you a mile away,” she told him as part of her greeting to him.

“You wanna know something?” he asked her as he set a hand on her shoulder.

“What's that?”

“I can, too. A mile out and I saw you peeking over the edge.”

“You could literally see me?” she chuckled.

“Yeah! Anyways, come on—the doors don't open until way later but—you know the drill.”

Alex drove her up to Reseda with nothing more than the side streets. He was silent the whole way and she could only assume that he had told Marla and Belinda what had happened. But she could only assume regardless of it all.

They reached the club in question and he parked around the back in the alleyway, much to where Sam thought she was about to bow headfirst into the dashboard in front of her.

“Sorry—I'm still trying to get used to it,” he confessed with a shrug. She let out a low whistle.

“Well, at least you weren't speeding,” she pointed out. He climbed out first; she followed him up to the back door there. All the memories of the Stormtroopers of Death tour returned as he held the door for her. She walked into the back hallway there, where two women congregated around Greg and his bass guitar. He nodded at her and Alex, and they both turned for a look back at them.

So he didn't tell them because they just got there themselves.

“THERE SHE IS!” Marla declared at the top of her lungs.

Belinda's snake pendant glittered under the pale lights with each and every step of the way. She threw her arms around her first and then she gaped at Sam. Marla shook her head and gaped at her.

“What the hell, Sam? Why'd you bail on us?”

She was taken aback at that. “I did?”

“Yeah,” Belinda followed up as Greg joined them there at the back door, “after you got the news that Joey had left you for another woman, you just sorta—went rigid and then you disappeared out of the cafe and just started walking up the road. We tried to get you back with us, but you were like 'no! I'll get there on my own!' Didn't even tell us where you were going, either.”

“Wow.” She slowly rubbed her hands together at the sound of that. “I—I don't even remember doing that. I can't believe I did that to you.”

“You must've just blacked out,” Greg explained. “Like it hit you so hard that your mind went completely blank.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that yesterday after I dropped her off at San Pedro,” Alex followed up, “like—it sounds like she just completely blacked out.”

“Yeah, you were completely checked out at that point,” Belinda added. “I couldn't even get you to pay any attention.”

“Well, yeah, I mean—Joey is my guy. At least, I thought he was.” Sam stopped herself because the tears were coming back to her. “Did—Frankie give any more explanation as to why he went with another woman?”

Marla and Belinda glanced at one another, and then the former shook her head: her neon green hair shimmered about under the bright light of the backstage area.

“No, he just said, 'tell Sam that—I spotted Joey with another woman, and they look in love, too. Probably more so than the two of them.'”

Sam closed her eyes and bowed her head a bit.

“If we see him, we're gonna have a long talk with him,” Belinda vowed.

“The three of us or just me?”

“We'll help you,” Marla promised her. “Aurora's not here right now—obviously—so she's way out of the loop.”

“Push comes to shove, since he took your heart from you—we'll take something from him,” Belinda added.

“We won't go that far,” Marla told her off. “Especially since there's more than likely a good explanation behind it.” She fetched up a sigh and shook her head again. “San Pedro, you said, Alex?”

“My mom lives on Catalina now,” Sam pointed out. “Remember?”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! Okay, so you went to your mom's house.”

“And Alex drove you there, too,” Greg added with a nod.

“I was driving down yesterday and there was traffic on the freeway when I got to Bakersfield, and I was like 'ah, jeez.' So I took a detour all through some farmland and I saw her walking on the side of the road. I was like, 'is that Samantha? Oh my god it is!' So I pulled over and got her in the car with me and I drove her there before the snow hit the Grapevine.”

“Drove me all the way down to the docks,” Sam added in a soft voice; something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she spotted a man with his back turned to them. But she remembered his head of thinning black hair, still long and down past his shoulders. He was talking to Louie as she approached him from behind and tapped on his shoulder.

“Hey, Scott!”

“Hey!” He put his arms around her. “How've you been?”

“Been over at my mom's house—she lives on Catalina, now. Twenty miles off the coast.”

“Wow.” He raised his thick eyebrows at that. “So how's life in Elsinore? I heard some things about that.”

“I don't live there anymore. Marla and Bel got me out of there. I might find my way back to New York officially soon enough.”

“Cool!” He gave her a high five at that.

“By the way, how'd you find out about my living in Elsinore?”

“Marla. I saw her running down the street a while back and I asked her what was going on, and she told me to take her over to your old school—I was driving. She did some things in there and then she came back out and she told me what happened to you. She asked me to keep it between us and so I did.”

Louie raised his head and nodded at her.

“Hey—poison garden,” she greeted him. Louie hesitated and then he laughed at that.

“Poison garden!” He bumped fists with her and Scott looked at them both, confused.

“It's—a long story,” Sam told him.

“It really is,” Louie added, and then he laughed at something behind her. She turned for a look back at Greg and Alex with Marla and Belinda: Greg slung his bass over his shoulder and then he let it rest right onto his back.

“You're gonna do what Joey did, aren't you?” Louie joked as the three of them walked on over to that side of the backstage area.

“Nah—just wanna see what the crowd's gonna be like out there.” He poked his head out from behind the curtain for a better look out to the front row of the crowd: Louie and Alex joined in, as did Sam and Marla right behind them. They were met with a sea of heads, a few of whom near the front had little elephants on their sleeves. It took Sam a second to realize that those were the Republican elephants with their red make up and the little white stars on their feet. Alex had his eye on all three of them and he frowned at the sight of them.

“What's up?” she asked him.

“Yeah, this new album is definitely gonna be titled that,” he assured her. “Practice What You Preach.”

“This is bringing back all those memories of when we were first starting out,” Greg added, “we were playing in clubs up in the Bay Area. And there were a bunch of people who were talking about Reagan and we weren't having any of it.”

“Oh, yeah, it's definitely gonna have that title.”

The bunch of them backed away from there and Alex snapped his fingers.

“What?” Sam asked him, and he gestured for her to follow him. But he only led her to the little table tucked in the corner right behind him where he had set down a black backpack for safe keeping.

“I forgot to show you this, by the way,” he told her as he unzipped the front pocket, “—when I took you down to San Pedro yesterday.”

He flashed her a Polaroid photograph of a silver menorah on a table somewhere. All around the base stood a series of little yellow marigolds: each of the eight candles were lit with those pure yellow flames.

“Candles—lit for me?”

He opened his mouth to say something but he was cut off by Greg singing off key to something. Alex turned his head in his direction as Greg slapped and plucked at the thick bass strings.

“What's all this?” Alex demanded.

“Nana na na na! Nana na na na!”

“Greg!”

“Huh?”

“What're you doing?”

“Sorry, I was just singing. We are getting paid to do this, you know, Alex.”

“True.”

The back door swung open again and Alex set a hand on Sam's shoulder so as to get her out of the way. Chuck and Tiffany stepped inside, away from the fine drizzle that began to fall over Los Angeles.

“I saw our pals from Slayer in the crowd here,” Chuck pointed out.

“Where's Slayer?” Sam wondered aloud. “Where's Slayer? Where's Slayer?”

“I didn't see them, either,” Marla added.

“They're there, though,” Tiffany assured them, and Chuck's face lit up at the sight of Sam.

“Hey, Sammich! C'mon over here. I got something to give you.”

“Well, it's from me and him both,” Tiffany corrected him.

“What is it?”

He kept his hand behind his back and he showed her a thoughtful look on his face.

“Close your eyes and hold out your wrist,” he told her. She did just that and she felt something smooth brush against her skin. He tied something right atop his wrist.

“Okay,” he told her, and she opened her eyes. He had given her a bracelet of black onyx beads and fire opal sugar skulls.

“Oh my god, Chuck, it's beautiful!” she gasped.

“It's a friendship bracelet. I got one, too!” He showed her the twin bracelet on his wrist as well and she threw her arms around him.

“Thank you,” she whispered right into his ear.

“And thank you,” he whispered back to her.

“Hey, if nothing, we can name our new album Poison Garden,” Louie joked to Greg and Alex.

“No!” Sam whirled around and she pointed over at Louie himself, and he lunged back a bit as a result.

“No?”

“That's 'not' to you!” Scott called out from across the floor and Marla and Belinda both cackled at that.

[dannyphantom-rewrite]

What's "how to get to cracker barrel" ?

What's "how to get to cracker barrel" ?

Oh now that, that one isn't Actually a wip. It's a short story I finished ages ago that later ended up being inspiration for one of the plotlines in an anthology style audio drama podcast I want to make some day. There's 4 main characters:

The Mckellen sisters Jamie and Lady who aren't Actually sisters but pass rather well for twins since one of them is actually a changeling, Natalie Anderson, photographer and lady's GF, and Gavin Walker, a mage still haunted by the death of his fiance, Caleb Adams, mostly due to the fact that his fucking ghost won't leave him alone.

Art by @unded-bun (click image for higher quality)

I'm leaving out a lot of details, but I'd be happy to fill in the gaps if anyone asks.

I'll Also throw the story itself under a read more here, bc I'm still super proud of it even though it's a few years old now.

A small hotel on the outskirts of Savannah, Georgia. There is a Sonic Drive-in across the busy street. Bright neon lights in the window state, “Open 24/7!” A Greyhound bus is idling in the parking lot. A man, Gavin Walker, climbs off and crosses over to the hotel. He walks easily, but not confidently. Approaching the hotel’s entrance, he spots a cat eating from a plastic bowl in front of the door. The feline is small, and feral. He is black, with white paws. He does not pay Gavin any mind as he enters, only continuing to crunch on dry cat food.

There's a desk on the left side of the lobby. The receptionist smiles kindly as he checks in. Her eyes are tired. Gavin gives her a knowing nod, and travels deeper into the building. There is a sign marked, “Out Of Order.” on the elevator. This is a good thing. Gavin takes the stairs, of which there are three flights. This is also a good thing, because three is a good number. He enters the hallway, which is old, and worn. The walls bear chipped yellow paint, and the floor, faded red carpet. Gavin continues down the hall after checking the time on his phone. It is exactly 11:59PM. He turns the device off and begins to count the seconds. At sixty he has stopped in front of the elevator. The fluorescent light above him flickers. The elevator does not have an out of order sign on it. It is the same elevator as before. Gavin enters.

He presses the button for the first floor. In the lobby the check in desk is now on the opposite side of the room. The lights are off, the receptionist is gone. It is daytime outside now. The bus is gone and the Sonic is closed. The road is vacant. There is a cat outside. She is white, with black paws. She looks up at Gavin as he approaches. They lock eyes, and he kneels in front of her.

“Hello, cat.” He says.

“Hello, Mage.” Says the cat.

She flicks her tail, “What is it you seek?”

“Direction.”

She nods and stands, before making for the road. The Sonic across the street is closed, but it was never empty. A Sonic is not a sit down restaurant. Customers are expected to pull into a parking spot and order over an intercom, and then a waitress delivers their meal directly to their car. Gavin’s pretty sure places like Sonic were more common in the 1950’s, and he knows that drive in diners are a dying breed now a days. The thought gives him a strange sense of nostalgia for something he’d never actually experienced, and he shudders involuntarily.

The cat sits down in the parking spot furthest from the building. She watches as he presses the the button on the intercom, listens, ears swiveling, as they are greeted with static. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Gavin can see something moving within the darkened restaurant. An outline of a figure, only vaguely humanoid. The thing moves like a deranged ape, long, long arms dangling to the floor and dragging it forward. Its back is hunched, legs short and stumpy. Gavin can not see its face, and he does not wish to. The intercom crackles to life.

“WhAt can aH’ do fER ya’lL?” Drawls The Thing in the Sonic. It’s got a southern accent thicker than congeling visera, and the pitch of it’s voice fluctuates wildly. Gavin glances uncertainly at the cat, and she nods.

“I’m looking for Direction.”

“Ahhhhhh……” groans The Thing, “WEll, watch’ Yer goNna wanna dO is hEad doWn the road, bout maybeEEee…..foUr, five miLeS, an’ yer gOnna wanna look fer’ weEl, watch yer gonna wanna fiNd is soMeTHing’ idEaliZed, ya knOw? Like uh, somethin’ kinDa romanticized, an’ a liTtlE faKe in sOme senSe but reAlLy true in anOther, ya follow?”

“Yeah.” said Gavin, even though he did not follow at all.

“Yep,” Continued The Thing, “n’ yer gOnna wanna gEt yourself sOme rasPberRy lemONade when ya get theRe, It’s some gOod shit, lemme tell ya.”

“Alright, I’ll uh, I’ll do that.”

“Good, GoOd, That’s Good. Y'all have a niIiiccceee daaaaaay nooooow.” And then the intercom crackled once more, and returned to spewing static. Gavin released the button and looked around for the cat, hoping, maybe, for some more guidance, but she had long since abandoned him. He started walking down the road, away from the Sonic Drive-In, and The Thing inside, and hopefully towards where he needed to be.

Gavin started to think as he walked, which was not something he liked to do often. He much prefered to act in the moment without much consideration for the consequences of those actions until they themselves became the moment. Gavin did not like to think because he often thought much too deeply, and it sometimes scared him. Gavin thought about a lot of different things in quick succession, he thought about the missing greyhound bus, and The Thing in the Sonic, and wondered if the disappearance of one had to do anything with the appearance of the other. It probably did. He thought about what The Thing had told him to do, and why he was doing it. He thought about why he’d come here in the first place, to this inverted little section of Georgia. And he thought about Liminal Spaces, about busted elevators and darkened hotel hallways and empty stairwells. The air shifted suddenly as a pickup truck speed past him, it had a faded confederate flag on the back window.

Liminal Spaces, simply put, were the areas between one place and another. The small spots in the middle of point A and point B where reality seems to be altered in such a way that the change is almost imperceptible, and yet, it is still enough to leave you feeling so impossibly strange.

Liminal Spaces can also be doorways, if one knows how to properly open them.

Gavin isn’t sure how long he’s been walking down this empty stretch of road, but it’s been long enough that he can no longer see the Sonic Drive-in behind him. It’s not even a dot in the distance now, just gone, as though it were never there to begin with. He keeps going. He walks until his feet hurt, and his legs ache, and keeps going even after that. At some point he sticks his thumb out towards the road, tired enough to risk hitch-hiking, but no cars have gone by since the pickup truck. And at some point he takes a moment to rest. He sits down on the shoulder, and just breathes for a while. And then when he stands again, he sees the Cracker Barrel just down the road. Exhausted as he is, he knows it isn’t possible for him to not have seen it earlier. Gavin decides it’s best not to dwell on that, though, because this is exactly the kind of place where Cracker Barrels can just pop into existence. (Although, as he enters the restaurant, he remains somewhat annoyed that it couldn’t have decided to do it a little sooner.)

The front of the Cracker Barrel is a store selling all manner of things. There's a back corner full of vintage candy, a small section of organic make-ups, and another full of knick-knacks like salt and pepper shakers, and dreamcatchers, as well as the usual crap that tourists like to buy, T-shirts and mugs and what not. Gavin has never actually been in a “regular” Cracker Barrel, so he’s not sure if this is a completely normal thing, but he’s certain that a “regular” Cracker Barrel would not also be selling such wares as bottled crocodile tears and Unicorn meat slim jims. There aren’t a lot of people in the store, and yet Gavin finds it impossible to get a good look at any of them. The people look normal, but they move like extras in the background of a film. The only person in the room with any notable features is the waitress standing by the back. She’s short, and her hair and eyebrows have been dyed a vibrant blue. As Gavin follows her into the seating area he can't help but stare at her hair, and he finds himself thinking that it can’t possibly be dye, it’s too bright, somehow. She smiles at him as he sits, and her teeth are a just little too sharp.

Once he’s seated, she says, “Can I start you off with a drink?” Her voice has a pleasant, lilting tone to it.

Gavin thinks back to The Thing in the Sonic, “A Raspberry Lemonade? If that’s something you have here?”

She nods, and goes off to get him one. Gavin leans back in his chair and takes in his surroundings, trying to relax. The decor in the Cracker Barrel has a sort of vintage, rustic feel to it, there’s things like black and white photos, and old advertisements on the walls. All the furniture looks antique. There are quite a few other customers present. Most of them look like the same nondescript folk from the front, but a few stand out. There’s a woman in the back corner, she’s dressed in black furs and her head is an ember eyed wolf skull. She’s sitting across from a man with the skull of a stag upon his shoulders, the antlers adorned with ivy. There’s something resembling a giant moth sitting two tables away, slowly crunching its way through a Caesar salad. Occasionally, there’s a figure leaning against the kitchen doors, they look as though they’re made up of television static. Gavin’s eyes start to hurt from trying to look at them, so he turns his attention to the menu instead. The waitress returns with his Raspberry Lemonade, and he orders the Country Fried Shrimp.

Gavin takes a sip of his drink and finds that he agrees with the Thing in the sonic. It’s definitely some good shit.

“Funny seeing you around here, Gav.”

Gavin looks up from his drink, almost spills it in surprise.

“Is this seat taken?”

Gavin manages to shake his head.

Caleb Adams pulls out the chair across from him and sits. Gavin stares at him. He’s wearing a T-shirt that reads, “NORMAL HOROSCOPES: Making your day a little more magic whether you like it or not.” Gavin’s not sure if it’s supposed to be advertising for a psychic’s shop or if it’s some strange indie band he’s never heard of. Knowing Caleb, it’s probably the latter.

He finally manages to speak, “You’re dead.”

“Yeah?” Caleb leans an elbow on the table, and props his head up in his hand, his smile never wavers, “And?”

“And- and I don’t know, Fuck, I don’t know.”

The waitress briefly interrupts his existential crisis by depositing his Country Fried Shrimp on the table. Gavin looks down at it and tries to focus on the smell of greasy seafood instead of the dead man sitting across from him.

“You seem confused.” Caleb’s voice sounds uncharacteristically sympathetic.

Gavin nods.

He sighs, frowning “Eat your lunch, and then we’ll talk.”

Gavin eats what he can, but it’s a large portion, and he’s somehow not that hungry. He takes a final bite, and pushes the plate across the table, silently offering Caleb the rest of the shrimp.

The barest hint of a smile returns to his face, “Thanks, but no.” And then he’s frowning again, “Why’re you here, Gav?”

“I just went where I was told to-”

He shakes his head, “No. I don’t mean the friggin’ Cracker Barrel, I mean Here.”

And Gavin doesn’t really know what to tell him. That he’s here because he felt lost and desperate? That he didn’t know what to do anymore? That it doesn’t matter anyway because he’s fine, everything's fine and he’s just tired?

But he doesn’t tell Caleb any of that, he just says, “I miss you.” And he can’t keep his voice from cracking.

“I know you do.” Caleb places a hand over his, “But this is damn near one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done. You knew this place wouldn’t be safe for you.”

He feels numb, “I didn’t really care.”

“Gavin,” Caleb grips his hand now, “Look at me, please. I mean, really look at me.”

So he does, he looks up at him, and finally, meets his eyes.

They have not changed. Death has not reduced the amount of compassion behind them, nor faded the sea blue color. Gavin stares. Eyes are supposed to be a window into someone's soul, a way to truly see into them, and Gavin just stares because Caleb’s eyes are still capable of conveying so much, and he can feel tears running down his face…..

“It’s time to go home, Gav, okay?” He gestures to the window, and the Greyhound bus has pulled up, “Your ride's here.”

And Gavin knows has to force himself to look away and loosen his grip, and he can’t bring himself to.

“It’s alright.” He says, “It’s going to be alright. I’ll take care of the bill, Please just let go.”

And Gavin finally, Finally manages to tear himself away.

He does not feel anything but relief as he leaves, as he boards the bus and settles into a seat. He leans back, and watches through the window as the world shifts and shimmers and is suddenly dark and starry once more. As the Greyhound pulls out of the Sonic parking lot, Gavin closes his eyes, and slowly falls into the comfort of a deep, dreamless sleep.

[sell-our-skins]

Day 4 of Paradise Motel Week Post Canon AO3 Link ~ Hum Hallelujah “Trying to honor the dead is really difficult when the person who killed them is *right there*”

The Girl was struggling to close her backpack. It was a fairly cheap thing, recently bought by her mom. The shade reminded her of apricots, and all of the times she used to steal fruit flavored candies with Ghoul. Actual fruits were impossible to come by in the zones, or at least they used to be, but with BL/ind being gone, she supposed that she could try a real one now.

It was hot in the car. She was sitting in the passenger seat and the sun was beating down on her through the windshield. Her door was open, occasionally giving a short gust of wind. ‘Mom’s getting the keys,’ she told herself. Soon she could crank up the air conditioning and try to relax. That was, if the bag would actually close.

The zipper refused to budge. She gave it another exasperated tug, “Motherfucker,” she hissed out. Stupid zipper. Stupid backpack.

“Motorbaby?” Maya poked her head into the front seat of the van. Her dark hair, which was streaked with the occasional grey, was pulled up into a loose bun and a leather jacket thrown over a plain green tank top, “You need help?”

The Girl sighed, silently handing her mom the backpack in defeat. Maya smiled warmly, opening up the glovebox in front of the Girl with a gentle click. It was filled to the brim with trinkets from their adventures so far. The older Killjoy pulled out a half melted blue candle and began to carefully rub it over the zipper lining.

The Girl arched one of her eyebrows.

“Don’t question me, child of mine,” she warned with a chuckle, setting the candle down on the dashboard. Maya firmly grabbed the stubborn zipper, and closed the bag with ease.

“I take back my eyebrow raise. You’re clearly a deity in disguise,” Maya rolled her eyes, handing the Girl her bag and buckling herself up. The Girl carefully set the fruit-colored-bag in the backseat.

Maya started the van, and she started to head towards Route Guano. It was only now sinking in, what they were doing and where they were going. The Girl could feel her stomach flip with anxiety and her head filling with doubts.

It was apparently visible in her face, since her mom commented on it, “You know, we don’t have to do this. We could… make an altar for ourselves. Just a family thing.”

She actually considered it for a second, but no. She wasn’t going to let some asshole ruin her day

“I’ll be fine.”

--=+=--

The two Killjoys pulled up to the Ultra V hideout, which was formally some type of restaurant. A fast food place, most likely, but it was nearly unrecognizable. It was covered in spray painted tags and other interesting looking ornaments. However, today, it was also decorated with different types of desert wildflowers.

Pretty much as soon as the car had stopped, a teal haired Killjoy burst through the front of the restaurant, followed by their pink haired twin.

“KIIIIIIID! KID KIID!” the twins called out, running towards the car as fast as they could. The Girl felt a little smile appear on her face as she opened the door and hopped out of the van. Instantly, Vaya had pulled her into a tight hug and loudly exclaimed, “I can’t believe you actually came!”

“Yeah, glad you could make it, tumbleweed,” Vamos tried to play faer previous excitement off casually. Fae leaned against the van, a caricatured version of looking cool. Though they somehow made it work.

“Don’t scratch the paint, pup,” Maya piped up, hopping out of their car with a bag slung over her shoulder, “Can ya’ lend me a hand?”

“‘Course, Ms. Psychic,” Vaya called out, letting go of the girl and rushing to the other side of the van, their sibling following closely behind.

Merely a few seconds later, Vinyl came walking towards the group. The Girl gave him a wave, grabbing her apricot backpack from the backseat. Vinyl pointed at her backpack, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, uh, I got it. You can see if mom needs help, though,” he nodded at her words and travelled around the vehicle. The Girl glanced over at the doorway. The last member of the Ultra Vs was just standing there. Staring back at her and leaning against the doorway. His hair had faded slightly, turning a sort of pinkish red.

She sighed and looked up into the sky. Probably around 4.

‘You’ve been through hell and back you can deal with this,’ she ran a hand through her hair and made her way into the Ultra V hideout. Val’s eyes were practically staring right through her. Like a snake watching its prey. The Girl just tried to not acknowledge it.

She looked around at the now decorated restaurant. There were a handful of wildflowers in a variety of colors in cans and petals on the ground. A desk had been pushed out into the front room, making a makeshift altar. It was extremely plain, the only things on it being a faded polaroid of Volume in a soft yellow frame, a couple bad luck bead bracelets placed on the corners of the picture frame, a bag of chips, most likely stolen from Tommy, and a hair dye kit in Electric Frankenstein.

She opened up her bag and began to pull things out of it. Beads, photos, and other precious items. The Girl started to add things to their shared altar, making sure everyone had a section. Her family, her friends, no one was left out.

“Surprised you’re even here, halo head,” Val finally piped up, after what quite possibly could have been the most awkward silence.

‘Halo head,’ she mused to herself, ‘haven’t heard that one in a minute.’

“I’m here to help, don’t get sour,” she said with a sigh, carefully setting out both the battery powered and real candles.

“Help with what? None of this even… matters,” he moved away from his spot in the doorway and towards the altar she was working on.

She didn’t even dignify his sentence by turning to look at him, continuing to set out the picture frames. Val was just trying to get a rise out of her, she knew it.

“I mean, what deity is this for, again?”

“The Phoenix Witch,” the Girl strung a string of bad luck beads around the top of the desk.

“Yeah, the humanoid in a feather coat.”

She gave Val a somewhat annoyed look from over her shoulder, “Just a few months ago you saw me explode into a ball of green electricity,” she went back to what she was doing.

That seemed to set him off, really make him flare up, “I’m not gonna let some bomb with a silver tongue make my crew-”

“Heyyyyy!” Vaya announced their presence as they burst in through the front door. When they noticed how tense Val was, they cleared their throat, “Hope I didn’t interrupt your little get together.”

“Nope, we’re fine,” the Girl put on a fake smile. Apparently it was believable enough, because they let it go with a shrug.

Vaya was followed in by the rest of the Killjoys, all holding different bags filled with goodies.

Val’s anger seemed to fizzle out, since he practically slunk back into the background. It was like a sparkler, going from loud, bright, and fiery to silent in a matter of minutes. A sparkler in Poison Red hair dye. It still made her frown when she thought of it.

--=+=--

The altar was almost completely done, and Vamos was helping with the finishing touches. It was packed full of gifts and photographs, all meant to honor the ghosted. Maya, Vinyl, and Vaya were all in the restaurant’s kitchen, cooking both for the altar and for all of the other Killjoys. There was laughter coming from the kitchen. Well, Vaya and Maya were laughing, Vinyl was trying to fight the smile that wanted to appear on his face. The others were able to hear due to the openness of the restaurant. Val was hunched over on the couch, scribbling in his notebook.

“Lookin’ pretty shiny,” Vamos adjusted one of the frames near the back, since the glare of the lights had made it difficult to see. In it was a photo of Dr. Death Defying and Cherri Cola that the Girl had stolen out of Dr. Death’s station. Faer smile faded almost instantly.

“Christ, I kinda miss the old man,” fae mumbled, tone somewhat sorrowful, maybe even regretful. Fae brushed some of their neon hair out of faer eyes and continued to stare at the frame for a moment. Val shifted on the couch, no longer hunched over. No, now he was listening.

“Yeah, but, I guess… it happens… in a way?” the Girl struggled to find the words, she could feel herself getting somewhat choked up.

“It wasn’t his time,” Maya added, her tone laced with bitterness, “It’s a damn shame, but he’s with the witch now”

“God can you hear yourselves? He was a broken record. A dust angel. What’s the point of all of this?” Val’s voice snapped through the conversation. Everyone was tensely staring at Val, now. A stiff silence having come over the room.

“You wouldn’t know a broken record if you were hit over the head with one,” the Girl snapped back, after what felt an eternity, “The hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just enjoy something for once?”

Val wrinkled his nose at her, storming out of the building without another word. Fuck.

“Guess you really blew up on him,” Maya tried, her joke falling flat.

--=+=--

It had only been around 15 minutes. The Girl hesitantly poked her head out of the door, looking at Val, who was sitting on the stairs.

“What?” he didn’t look up at her, like he thought the pavement was the most interesting thing in the zones. The stars were just starting to pop up in the sky, the sun sinking behind its spot in the hills.

The Girl just plopped down next to him and stared up at the sky, “You don’t have to like me, Val.”

Val looked up from his pavement, staring at the Girl with a look of mostly confusion.

“We just can’t keep pretending like we aren’t bothered by each other,” she ran a hand through her hair, focusing on a particularly bright star.

There was a beat of silence, “And I know you’re too stubborn to agree. It’s fine,” she hoped that her words came off as lighthearted. The last thing she needed was Val snapping at her again.

“You like the stars?” he finally spoke up.

She broke her staring contest with the bright star to glance at her fellow Killjoy, “Yeah, uh…” The Girl ran a hand through her hair again, debating whether to share what just popped into her head.

“Party, they used to tell me that when you got ghosted you would get turned into a star,” Val looked over at her, his face unreadable, “It always made me feel better, when I would hear people talking about claps going South on the radio. Made me feel like they were just… turning into stardust.”

He looked like he was processing her words, struggling to find the right response.

“Shiny,” is what he finally landed on.

“Yeah, shiny.”

[it-will-not-last-the-night]

Daybreakers 2020 - Ryuji Submission

@p5daybreak

Character: Ryuji

Day: 3rd

The Mark of a problem child:

“So, the blonde hair…why’d you do it?” 

Ren asks him one afternoon. They were up in the attic of Le Blanc, the one which somehow passed for a room, waiting on Ann and Yusuke. With nothing but time to kill Ryuji had plopped himself down on the floor, propped up against Ren’s bed, and dug into a new manga he picked up that morning. Ren, on the other hand, decided to waste time by asking something he’d been meaning to ask for a while, but never really found the moment too.

“Huh?” Articulate as always Ryuji gave a grunt, lowering the magazine, and peering over it to his friend, his best friend, perched on the edge of a chair, peering at him through glasses Ryuji is certain he doesn’t need.

“The dye, was it because of Kamoshida?” 

It’s an obvious guess and it isn’t like it’s incorrect. Not completely. Still the question is one Ryuji can’t exactly answer clearly off the mark. Which, when he thinks about it, is kinda weird. How many times have people asked him to explain the story behind having dyed his hair blonde? How many times was the first thing people noticed, and wondered, about him his hair? You’d really think he’d have some good answer prepared for it by now.

“Well…”

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The last time someone asked him about his hair had been just a few weeks ago, when chance had found him and Ann waiting for Ren (and Morgana of course) up on the roof of Shujin. They’d been doing their normal thing; she was looking at her phone, whether really reading something or pretending he didn’t know, and Ryuji was bouncing his leg on the ground to try to stop the thought of his imminent expulsion from creeping in. 

That’s when she’d brought it up. 

“Ryuji…um…I don’t wanna be rude but…your hair…when you dyed it blonde was it…because of…him?”

In all honesty she’d actually first asked him to stop bouncing his leg so much, it was distracting her. Then he’d scowled and made some sardonic comment about how he was sorry that his potential expulsion was inconveniencing her, to which she’d rightfully snapped at him that it wasn’t like she wasn’t going through a tough time either, and by then he felt so guilty that the two had drifted into a mutual funk over him. 

He’d clenched his fists over his knees to stop a kneejerk reaction (very literal, he knew, but Ryuji was a tactile sort of guy) and gave a lough exhalation before answering, the sort of thing he’d do to calm his nerves before a big run. 

“…yeah, that was…yeah to get back at him, that asshole, to show him I didn’t care, that I could…stick it to ‘em, he was gonna have to watch me parade around right under his nose and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it,” he had answered, very convincingly. That was because it was at least partly true. Just not wholly true. 

But when he thought about the whole truth, that at the time, when he’d actually done the dyeing, he’d been thinking of Kamoshida, yeah…but he’d also been thinking of Kobayakawa, of Kawakami, Chouno and every other teacher and…the students too. Nakaoka, Takeishi and, yeah, Ann too. Anger. That’s what he’d felt when he was dyeing his hair, anger had been almost the only thing he’d felt for the past year. When he thought about that it just made him feel guilty, he didn’t want to bring it up.

Besides, trashing Kamoshida helped break the foul mood and make Ann smile so that was more than enough for Ryuji.

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

There were other times before that too. He remembered Kawakami giving him that ‘why do you put me through this’ look as she asked him for the umpteenth time why he’d done it. Of course, it wasn’t as if she was actually interested in an answer, Ryuji had come to learn none of his teachers really cared for any answers he could give them. 

“You’re only making things harder for yourself; you realize that, right?”

And, obviously, in one sense he did completely understand that. The more he dug his heels in, the harder things got. It’d be the sensible thing to lay low, try to avoid any attention, and just bury his nose in his books and try to get through Shujin as quickly as possible.

Being sensible had never been particularly high on Ryuji’s priorities though, and every muttered comment, every resigned shake of the head, was just further fuel for the anger which kept brewing inside of him. 

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Although there’d never been a time Shiho had asked him about his hair, not in so many words at least, Ryuji could remember a time he’d caught her staring at it. Although it made his stomach twist itself into knots to think of it now, at the time he’d just scowled and moved on, he was as angry at her as he was at everyone in Shujin. Kamoshida might have broken his leg but every single student and teacher was to just as guilty to him back then. If he hadn’t been so quick to just dismiss everyone else, he might have noted the haunted look in her eyes that was soon to become her default expression for the following year.

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When his mother had come home (late, because she had to spend her whole day and almost her whole night working for a son who didn’t even have the decency to make things easier for her) to find him struggling over a basin to get the dye to take they’d stood for a moment in mutual silence.

The truth was that there had never been a carefully calculated, planned, or intended motion or reasoning behind why he’d one day just decided to start dyeing his hair blonde. It hadn’t been something he thought out, it’d been something he’d felt.

For a second, looking at his mom, he’d had that sudden moment where he realized he’d let his temper make him act without thinking and he hated himself a bit for reminding himself of his own father. Being a burden to his mom had always been the only thing he’d really been scared of, the one thing in his entire life he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to take after that man, to make things harder for her just like he had.

That had been, after all, the whole point behind the running. Here was something he was good at, something society rewarded him for. He was popular, he had future prospects, he’d grow up to be a star athlete, he’d get that track scholarship, and then his mom would never have to waste even more of her time than she already did on him.

But somewhere between his bone snapping and the third or fourth day in recovery that idea had come crashing down and, in its place, the only thing Ryuji could think to do was…dye his hair blonde?

“Mom…it’s…” Ryuji wasn’t even sure how he would have finished that sentence but, as it turned out, he didn’t need too. 

“It’s a good colour but you’re going to make a mess of it dear, let me help,” she didn’t necessarily on some unspoken level just intuitively understand why he was doing it, after all he wasn’t sure himself yet why either. But she didn’t need to. A mother didn’t need to be psychic to help. Just having here there, to reaffirm that he wasn’t making a mistake, was already more than enough.

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

“It’s like…you know…” Ryuji throws a line into a sea of terminology and hopes he’ll fish up something good as Ren cocked an expectant eyebrow. The words he’s looking for come to Ryuji in one of those rare moments where he feels like he’s summoning Kidd to back him up, that strange sensation where, for an instant, everything interlocks and fits together even if a voice is pounding so loud in his head it feels like it’s going to burst.

“It’s…a rebellion,” he says, with a small shrug, hoping the answer came across less terribly than it suddenly sounded to him when he said it out loud. Judging by the slight smile Ren was suddenly sporting, nodding as if it all made sense somehow, it did.

[kpophours]

Nightbringer

➵ VAV: (hunter) Lou x fem. (witch) reader / one shot, hunter AU, witch AU / fluff, angst

➵ warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, sexual suggestiveness

➵ word count: 4.7k

➵ series: Baron, Ayno, St. Van, Ziu, Lou, Ace

​"So you're basically saying that a rogue vampire is stalking the city?", Youngbin's face inside your mirror contorts with worry. 

You nod, staring into the scrying glass in front of you, wringing your hands, eyebrows knitting together in worry as well. 

"That's definitely not good."

"I know. Can someone from our Coven take a look at this?"

"Mhm, maybe Ayno or Dawon. Their campus is only about an hour away from the rogue.", Youngbin thinks out loud, making you shake your head. 

"Not them. You know they have enough stuff to do with their research projects and buddy program. No need to trouble them any further."

The older warlock sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're right. I'll see what I can do and let you know, okay? Just... don't do anything rash."

You smile angelically at him. "Wouldn't dream of it, Binnie." With that, you lazily wave one hand, his face vanishing from your mirror. 

Looking back into your scrying glass, you gnaw on your lip. You know the city that rogue vampire is stalking right now - you know it very well actually. 

It's the city your boyfriend lives in.

The probability of the rogue ever meeting him is very slight indeed (probably going towards zero), but nevertheless... an uneasy feeling spreads through your whole body. And being a witch gifted with the power of premonition, you learned to trust to your gut very early on in life. 

So you finally stop contemplating, grab your phone and dial Lou's number. 

He picks up after a few rings. "Hey babe, what's up?"

You can't help but smile as soon as your hear his deep voice. "Hey. I just wanted to ask if you're planning on coming over to my place this weekend.", you ask, twirling some strands of hair around your finger and continuing to stare into the scrying glass, not wanting to miss anything the rogue vampire is doing right now (not that you could actually intervene if anything should happen, but still... it makes you feel a little bit better).

"Uh no, sorry. There's something urgent I need to take care of before I can come see you again.”

You curse silently, closing your eyes for a few seconds and taking a deep breath. Time to bring out the big guns. "I just... I had a hard week. Police training is stressing me out and..." 

You hate manipulating him, but lying to maybe save his life is worth it, right?

"And there's been a death in my family."

Technically, it's not a lie - your Coven just sacrificed one of the older witches for the annual Halloween ritual, but with her being a necromancer it won't take long before she'll be back again. 

"What? Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Of course, I'll come as soon as possible. Are you okay? Do you need anything right now?" Lou sounds worried, his voice all soft now.

"No, it's okay. I just need you.", you answer.

"I'm gonna start packing right now. I'll let you know when I'm on my way, okay? Try to get some sleep, if you can. It's getting late."

You smile. "I'll try. See you soon."

With that, you hang up, letting your head fall into your hands. 

You hate lying to him like this, but it's for his own safety - he's a mere human being, so he's too vulnerable. 

You would do anything to protect him.

"I'll send you everything I've managed to gather so far.", Lou says into the speaker of his phone, picking up his travel bag and shouldering it, "If you need anything else, I'm just a call away, okay?"

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. Where are you going, anyway?", the deep voice on the other end of the line asks.

Lou thinks about this for a second before replying: "There's another case I have to take on."

"The details, I'm stunned." St. Van sounds more than just a little sarcastic, making Lou grin, before he answers: "Keep me updated, okay? We need to eliminate that rogue vampire as quickly as possible."

"I know - and I'll do whatever I can to do just that. Don't worry, okay?"

"Worrying is kind of my job as a hunter."

"I know. But you can trust me."

Lou knows this to be true - he and St. Van met by chance a few years earlier and since then, some kind of weird partnership/friendship has blossomed between the unlikely pair. A hunter and a vampire actually working together? Something unheard of before - but times are changing, the new generation of hunters being more open-minded towards the supernatural world. And Lou actually likes the vampire (even though he'd never admit to that), so he knows he can trust him with this case. 

So he simply says "I know.", before hanging up, smugly imagining St. Van's slightly offended look in his mind. 

He knows he has a duty as a hunter - therefore he's more than thankful St. Van has agreed to take this case.

Because Lous also has a duty as a boyfriend - and his girlfriend calling him in the middle of the night and asking him over when there's been a death in her family definitely calls for fulfilling his duty.

So he sends the promised files to St. Van, quickly locking his apartment and jogging towards his car. Before starting the motor, he sends you a quick text to let you know he's on his way, before driving off into the night.

You stare at your phone, heart already feeling lighter thanks to Lou's text confirming he's actually on his way.

You sigh, leaning back and stretching your arms above your head, yawning loudly. It's definitely been too many all-nighters for you by now - but being in police training at the moment as well as monitoring rogue creatures are time-consuming jobs, to say the least.

You tiredly rub your eyes, deciding some camomile tea will help with your restlessness. Boiling some water, you stare off into the distance, trying to sense if anything's wrong in your city tonight.

But apparently, the supernatural world is resting as well.

Taking your steaming mug, you sit down on your bed, turning the pages of a new spell book you found recently. Ayno has had a bit of trouble with one of his spells backfiring: he was apparently trying to dye his hair again, but Dawon messed up his concentration and the spell managed to somehow hit a friend of theirs just entering the apartment. Ayno asked for your help to find a counter spell and return his neighbors' hair to its natural state again. 

Sipping your tea, you read through some pages before concluding that this, unfortunately, is not the right book. You'll definitely need to look for another one (but a witch can never own too many spell books, right?).

So, you slam it shut and look towards your desk. Your scrying glass is waiting for you, but your eyelids are getting heavier with every second. Maybe you should listen to Lou and try to get at least some sleep tonight.

You shuffle over to your desk and stop the scrying with a simple wave of your hand, before stashing the small silver mirror and your new spell book away, locking the bottom drawer of your desk with a simple spell.

Looking around your small studio apartment, you nod once, pleased with yourself. It definitely does not look like a witch lives inside this apartment, your decor being stylish yet homey, but not like... witch-y. Lou won't find anything weird when he arrives, just how it should be. 

You quickly slip into your pj's, before pulling the covers of your bed over your head.

Seconds later, you're already out like a light.

You awake during the early morning hours, when the sky is slowly beginning to turn a pale blue, the mattress dipping beside you. 

Groggily, you open one eye, being greeted by your favorite smile in the whole world. 

"Hey baby.", Lou murmurs, sliding both arms around you and cradling your body against his.

"You're finally here.", you murmur sleepily, burying your face in his chest and closing your eyes again. 

He chuckles. "Finally? It's been only two hours since you called me. I made good time driving here."

"Mhmm.", you just make, already half-asleep again.

"Sleep, baby. I'll still be here when you wake up."

That's the last thing you hear before drifting off once more.

Lou plans to stay for a week, his job as a freelance graphic designer making this possible, and you finally begin to relax again.

The rogue vampire is still on the loose, but your power of premonition tells you he won't be a problem for long anymore, someone - or something - is coming for him.

The next Saturday, Lou tells you he needs to get back home tomorrow. The whole day, you try to come up with a plan to make him stay for even longer - the rogue one is still on the loose after all. 

In the evening though, Lou suddenly changes his mind - looking up from his phone, smiling at you. "Is it okay if I stay for a bit longer? Someone wants to meet me and talk about some details for the new website they’re envisioning.”, he asks - and you're obviously over the moon, agreeing immediately. After pressing a soft kiss against his lips, you resume cooking your infamous Curry for dinner, humming contently. 

That night, you awake in cold sweat, your whole body trembling and making you feel like you need to throw up. Lou is still soundly asleep beside you, one of his arms lazily thrown over your middle. 

You slip out of bed as quietly and carefully as possible, crossing your apartment and hurrying into your small bathroom. You make a complicated gesture with one hand, being greeted by Youngbin's worried face inside your bathroom mirror afterwards. 

"It's the middle of the night!", you hiss, "Why did you wake me?" 

The man inside your mirror doesn't even look remotely sorry for waking you. "This is urgent, Y/N." 

He's using his leader-voice now, letting you know that this is not your friend you're talking to right now, but the leader of your Coven. 

You bite your lip, shifting from one foot to the other. "What is going on?", you ask nervously, trying to keep the volume of your voice as low as possible, not wanting to wake your boyfriend. 

"Eve is back."

At this, you startle, actually taking a step back. "What? That's not possible. S- she was banned. She wouldn't dare to come back here!", you whisper, suppressing a shiver.

"Well, she did. You need to be careful from now on, okay? We don't know what she's planning. But I'm sensing something big." 

Youngbin's gifted with premonition as well, but his power is weaker than yours. Knowing this makes you hesitate. "Why do you sense something and not me, though?"

"My best guess? She's using some demonic power to block you.", Youngbin says, knitting his eyebrows together and staring right through you, his mind beginning to wander, "But I'm not completely sure about it yet. I'll talk to the others, maybe Rowoon can manage to lift the block. I'm thinking about sending Jaeyoon over to you. He will protect you." 

But you quickly shake your head at his suggestion. "I don't need protection. I can handle this on my own." You know Jaeyoon is one of the strongest defensive spell casters of your Coven, but you definitely don't need your warlock-ex around your apartment while your current boyfriend's here as well. 

"Y/N, this is no joke. Eve wants to kill you."

"Thanks for the reminder, I definitely forgot about that.", you retort bitingly, crossing your arms in front of your chest and scowling at Youngbin, who simply stares back, a dark expression on his face as well.

After a few seconds of silence, he finally sighs: "Okay. You win, no further protection for you. If you die, don't you dare come back and haunt me." With that, he vanishes from your mirror.

A knock on your bathroom door makes you jump. "Babe, who you're talking to?", Lou asks from the other side of the door. 

You tousle your hair, silently cursing at Youngbin for waking your boyfriend and open the door. "Me? Oh, I was just... mumbling something to myself. I’m in desperate need of more sleep.", you answer, sliding your arms around Lou's naked torso and pressing a soft kiss against his collarbone. 

He grins down at you, raising one eyebrow in a suggestive manner. "Sleep, huh? I think I have a better idea." With that, he picks you up and carries you back towards the bed, making you giggle. 

"Is that so? Well... I don’t think I’m opposed to your idea.", you answer when he places you gently back on the mattress, pulling him down to you and kissing him deeply.

Sleep can definitely wait for another time.

Lou gazes at his watch again, impatiently tapping his fingers against the steaming coffee mug in front of him. 

Inseong's not late, but he's way too early this morning - all thanks to him wanting to have breakfast with you, before you had to go to your police training.

Just when he wants to order another cappuccino, the door opens and a tall, lean man with blond-dyed hair steps through. His desert fox eyes zone in on Lou, a small smile lighting up the man's face.

"Hey, Lou! How's it going?", Inseong asks, shaking Lou's outstretched hand and clapping him on one shoulder, before sitting down on the other side of the small table. 

"Can't complain. How about you?"

"Same, same. So, what brings you to my beautiful city this time?", Inseong asks, propping his chin onto one hand and gazing at the younger man in a slightly critical manner. 

"Some personal stuff. But now I'm staying because of a new case. Did the Council contact you as well?"

"Yep, just yesterday. So, the Nightbringer is back, huh?”

Lou nods. "It seems like it. What do you know about her? I just heard some rumors and stories, but..."

Inseong immediately interrupts him: "What's that saying? All the stories are true. And that's the case here as well. Believe me, Nightbringer is the worst kind of witch there is, I haven't seen anything like her in years." He actually sounds a bit impressed. "My parents used to tell me about her, about her thirst for power. At first, she sacrificed a bunch of humans to be granted even greater power by some demon - a Prince of Hell apparently. After that she grew even more power-hungry, almost killing her entire Coven when she tried to drown their powers as well." 

Lou shakes his head. He knows a Coven of witches and warlocks is usually like a big family, there's trust and love between them, so a betrayal like this... well, it's unheard of.

"Why did she vanish, though?"

"Well, as far as I know, some of the younger witches and warlocks of said Coven managed to blindside her while she was drowning the powers of the Elders, making her lose some of her own power in the process. She was shunned after that and had to leave the Coven. But apparently she's back now.", Inseong finishes his tale, interlacing his fingers in front of him and gazing at Lou. "And our duty is to make sure she won't sacrifice any more humans to some demon. We have to track her - and end her. With the Council finally managing to get The Colt, we can take her out with just one bullet.”

Lou nods, smiling slightly. "Well, let's do this then - I'm here to assist in any way possible."

Inseong grins. "Sounds good to me."

You try to track Eve with the help of a miniature scrying glass you always carry with you, but apparently Youngbin was right - she's using something to block your power.

Even Rowoon can't figure out what kind of power she's using, just that it's something demonic. 

It keeps you on edge the entire week and Lou staying with you isn't helping at all - the opposite, actually. If Eve shows up at your apartment, he will be in grave danger as well.

But he doesn't leave, saying he still has a job to do in your town. 

As much as you love his company... it's driving you crazy right now. You just want him to be safe - and with an evil (and crazy) witch out there wanting to kill you... well, he won't be, not while he's staying with you.

As a precaution, you cast some defensive spells around your apartment, which definitely won't stop Eve from entering, but will hopefully manage to slow her down for some time.

What you don't know, is Lou finding these spells, thinking they were put there by Nightbringer herself - he quickly and quietly deactivates them, being paranoid that the evil witch has found you thanks to him. 

He definitely doesn’t want to leave your side as long as this case isn’t solved, as long as Nightbringer is still out there, stalking your city and threatening innocent humans like yourself (... if only he knew).

Thanks to your defensive spells being disabled, you don't awake until you feel a silver blade pressing against your neck, drawing blood. Your eyes widen when you see the dark figure hovering above you.

Eve hasn't changed much - she still has the same long hair, the same light green eyes and the same, slightly maniac grin. 

You whimper slightly, eyes sliding towards the still sleeping form of your boyfriend beside you. 

Not Lou, please not Lou, don't kill Lou, you just think over and over again, your whole body beginning to tremble. 

Eve's grin widens. "Hello, daughter.", she hisses, grabbing a fistful of your hair and dragging you out of bed. You groan, suppressing a scream and closing your eyes.

You are prepared to die tonight. 

If you’re being honest, you have been kind of waiting for this to happen ever since your mother was shunned and exiled. All thanks to you.

You mean - you betrayed the woman who gave birth to you. 

You shunned her. 

Thanks to your betrayal, she had to leave her Coven and this city.

You know all this - and would do it again and again, to save your Elders and friends, to save your Coven as well as all the innocent humans your mother wanted to sacrifice in her maniac thirst for power.

Innocent humans like Lou.

"Let's take this outside.", you whisper, "Mother."

She raises one eyebrow. "Oh, because of your human pet?", she says wickedly, "Mhm, no, I don't think so."

With that, she pushes you from her, throwing you against the wall with the help of a spell, your head hitting the concrete with a dumb thud. 

You yelp in surprise and pain, not having anticipated her strength - where did she get all that power from? You were sure she lost most of it thanks to her being shunned and exiled by her Coven.

You fling one hand towards her, casting a silent spell, but she deflects it almost lazily. 

You feel a small trickle of blood running down your cheek, your head beginning to spin. Almost automatically, your eyes slide towards the bed, tears forming in your eyes.

It will be your fault if Lou dies tonight.

... Neither of you have noticed him waking up - his heart almost stopping when he takes in the scene in front of him.

Why is Nightbringer here? In your apartment? Why is she battling you - not him?

His shock lasts only for a few seconds though, before he jumps out of bed. He sees your eyes widen when they slide towards him, but he lays one finger on his lips, signaling you to keep silent.

"Please.", you whimper, not knowing if it's for him or the witch in front of you.

Thankfully, Lou has stored The Colt, given to him by his father and The Council just a few days ago, underneath your bed. He carefully reaches for it without making a sound, dark eyes trained on Nightbringer. You quickly look away from him and fling both hands out, your hair whipping around your head. 

„You were always weak, daughter.“, Eve - Nightbringer - says, lazily waving this spell away as well, „The only good thing about you was your gift of premonition - which you used against me. We could have shared the power I was searching for, Y/N. But you had to betray me.“ 

Silent tears slide down your cheeks, mixing with the blood from your wound. „I never wanted power, mother. And you betrayed me - us, first. Our Coven. How could you?“, you retort, trying to keep her attention on you so she won’t notice Lou silently loading his weapon. 

„Our Coven was weak. There’s so much more for us in this world - why do we hide from humans? Why do we cower in front of vampires and werewolves? The demons can provide us with so much more and all they want is some mere human blood in exchange for unlimited power.“

You choke. „Some mere human blood?! You killed 20 people! They had lives - they had families and jobs and-" 

Before you can continue, she waves her hands and your head begins to feel like its splitting in half; pain consumes your whole body.

This time, you can’t suppress the scream. 

Then, a shot rings through your apartment. 

The pain inside you stops and you fall to the floor, panting, vision blurry with unshed tears. 

Suddenly, Lou is beside you, talking to you, but you don’t register any of his words. 

You just stare at the woman - no, the body laying in front of you. Your mother’s light green eyes are open, but unable to see anymore. Blood pools around her body - oh God, so much blood.

„Y/N? Please, baby, look at me.“ 

You finally look up. „Who are you?“, you whisper, whole body trembling. 

That couldn’t have been an ordinary colt Lou used - knowing your mother, she had protective spells around her, a normal bullet wouldn’t have been able to pierce her shield.

Lou grimaces. „I could ask you the same.“, he simply retorts.

You gaze at one another, silent for a few seconds. 

„You’re a hunter.“, you finally say.

„And you’re a witch. You’re the daughter of Nightbringer.“

You shiver when you hear the name the stories have given your mother - you and your Coven always refused to use that name. Names have power, names spur fear.

„It’s not like I chose to be her daughter.“, you defend yourself immediately and Lou nods. 

„I never said you did. I heard what you said to her - I know you’re nothing like her.“

You release a deep sigh at that. „No, I’m definitely not. I was the one who betrayed her, after all.“, you mumble, glancing down at your hands. 

Red with the blood of your mother. 

There was no love left between you anymore - but still, she was the woman who gave birth to you. Who raised you, who made your favorite cake for birthdays and hung your silly paintings on the fridge. That was before she became crazy and power-hungry, before your father died and took a part of her with him. 

But still. 

She was your mother. 

You wipe away a lone tear running down your cheek, gazing back at Lou.

„What… what now?“, you ask in a small voice. 

He raises one hand, gently stroking your hair. „Let’s get you cleaned and stitched up. And then, I guess, we should talk.“

You bite your lip, nodding and closing your eyes for a second. „Sounds good to me.“

Three weeks later, you startle awake in the middle of the night, trembling and feeling sick to the stomach.

This time though, it’s not thanks to Youngbin calling you to him - this time it’s thanks to your constant nightmares, making you relive your last conversation with your mother as well as her gruesome death.

The bed beside you is empty.

Low murmuring can be heard from your bathroom; you quickly tiptoe towards it.

“What do you mean, you won’t be able to leave your apartment? The sun’s not even that strong at the moment.” Lou sounds annoyed and you knit your eyebrows together. 

What’s going on? Who is he talking to in the middle of the night? 

Your boyfriend sighs. “I’ll try and see what I can do. I’ll get back to you as soon as-" in that second, you open the door. 

He turns around, phone still in his hand. He immediately begins to softly smile at you. „Oh, hey babe. Why are you awake? Did I wake you?” 

You shake your head. „No… it was a nightmare again.“, you just mumble, hugging yourself tightly and choking on unshed tears. 

Lou takes your hand, pressing a soft kiss against your palm. “Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a second.” 

You gaze at him critically, before nodding and retreating towards your bed. You snuggle back into your blankets and pillows, waiting for Lou to join you. 

Just minutes later, he slips between the covers and pulls you against him, pressing light kisses against your cheeks, nose and finally, lips. 

„Sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.“, he mumbles, warm breath fanning over your face, „But that was St. Van.“

You raise both eyebrows. „He didn’t catch the rogue yet.“, you say and Lou nods. 

„I know. He attacked a young woman and St. Van takes care of her now - he doesn’t want to leave her side. So I guess I’ll have text Inseong to take a look at the situation. He seemed to be very interested in the rogue vampire, last time I talked to him.“

You nod. „That sounds like a good idea. Do that, then.“

Lou smiles at you, his eyes forming little crescents. 

You pull him closer to you, kissing him softly.

„I’ll use my scrying glass tomorrow and see if I can locate the rogue.“, you say, when you break apart again.

Your boyfriend leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. „Good idea. By the way... I was thinking about something… Do you think your Coven would be interested in starting some kind of... I don’t know, partnership with us, the hunters?”

You think about this for some seconds, before slowly nodding. „I would say so, yes. We’re a pretty young Coven and more open-minded than some of the older ones. I’ll definitely talk to Youngbin about it.“

Lou seems pleased. „And I’ll talk to The Council, I know he’ll listen to me. This could mark the beginning of a new chapter, you know?“

You smile. „Where the human and supernatural world stand side-by-side against evil forces.“, you say.

He smirks. „That sounds very dramatic. I like it.“

You giggle, kissing him again. „I’m a witch - we have a flair for the dramatics.“

„Oh, I know. That’s why I love you.“

You soften at that, blushing a bit. „Well, I love you, too. You’re actually pretty okay for a hunter.“

Lou huffs playfully. „First of all, I’m not okay, I’m amazing - at everything. And especially at being a hunter!“

You smirk. „Well, you didn’t find out about me being a witch until I was literally casting spells in front of you. I think that says a lot about your skills as a hunter, so-“

Before you can continue, he begins to tickle your sides, making you laugh.

„Say that I’m an amazing hunter!“, he threatens, not letting go of you, even though you’re gasping for breath.

You shake your head. 

„Say it!“

„NO! I’ll say that you’re an amazing boyfriend, though.“, you gasp out, finally making him stop his torture of you.

He actually blushes a bit, beginning to grin like an idiot. „Well, I’ll take what I can get.“

With that, he kisses you again.

[masterlist] | [requests] 

[bethhxrmon]

All I Ask of You Pt. 26

“Take a look at that town, take a look at how far I’ve come” - “I Can Do Better Than That” from The Last Five Years

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female OC

Word Count: 2,481

Summary: Everyone’s together, everyone’s happy

Warnings: None, I think I used the word fuck?

A/N: I’m super hyped for what’s coming next! All the character interactions and new ideas I’m getting are great. As always, I love hearing from you guys so please feel free to message me or send me an ask or anything at all!

The masterlist can be found in my bio so these chapters can show up in the tags!

“Okay, it’s official, there’s nothing in all of Nebraska,” Harper stated, staring out the window.

It had been hours since anyone had seen anything aside from the open road and the yellowing prairies. There wasn’t anything interesting to look at, leaving all four teenagers with nothing to do aside from find every single possible way to be the most annoying people on the planet.

Annie was trying to get through War and Peace, though she was doing better than trying. She was around two hundred pages in. Granted, that had more to do with her not sleeping than anything else. If she slept on the drive at all then she wouldn’t have been nearly as far as she was.

Harper had given up on sketching around halfway through Missouri. There were too many bumps on the interstate for them to get anything done. Not to mention that Tony had already put a cap on how many times they were allowed to cuss at the road. So naturally, they were left with nothing to do.

No one let Peter do anything except sit and sleep after he got car sick the day before, and it was for the best. Deep down, Peter had to know that, but it also meant that he couldn’t really do anything except talk about different stuff with Ned.

Meanwhile, Ned was easily having the time of his life. Sure, the drive was definitely a bore, but having everyone in that minivan was easily the best part of it. Getting the chance to go all the way across the country while seeing everything along the way was great. And he never missed a chance to point that out.

“I think if I had a dollar for everytime you said that, I’d be a trillionaire,” Tony replied, “And if it’s any consolation, we’re about to stop in Wyoming.”

Annie raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t that in Canada?”

“No, it’s above Colorado and under Montana. Definitely America,” Ned said, shaking his head.

Peter gasped, “Oh, yeah! It’s that Area 51 place that’s actually not real. Mr. Stark, are you taking us to get abducted by aliens?!”

“Are you kids being serious? First singing Wizard of Oz all the way through Kansas and now this?”

Pepper laughed, “Come on, they’re just having fun. At least, I hope so.”

“Well yeah, I might be a dumb actress, but I at least know all fifty-one states,” Annie deadpanned.

Harper smirked, “I’m telling you, Ned, we gotta dye her hair blonde!”

“Oh hell no! I might actually kill you if you do that,” she exclaimed.

Everything went oddly silent. The only thing that could be heard was the car and the faint tones of classic rock.

Annie rolled her eyes, “Come on, it’s a joke. If I don’t joke about it now then it’s gonna be a touchy subject for a really long time.”

“M-maybe it should be,” Peter said.

She shook her head, “No, because as far as the rest of the world’s concerned, I did nothing wrong. Anyways, um… what’re we getting for dinner?”

It was hard to not get worked up over the situation. Annie figured that right then was the perfect time for her to get over everything. Plus, she hadn’t thought about what she’d said. But if she could make light of it, then everyone else should have too.

They didn’t have to deal with thinking about what she’d done periodically. That by all rights, she should be getting thrown in prison or into a juvenile detention center. Or somewhere that people went when they killed someone else.

Except, what was she supposed to do if it was an accident? Wasn’t it supposed to be different since that guy was a criminal? But then she couldn’t help reminding herself that she had let him go months ago. That if she had just listened to Peter, all of that could have been figured out months ago. In a way, it really was her fault, but she didn’t know how to even begin to talk about it.

“Not sure, you do you kids feel about McDonald’s?” Tony asked.

Harper huffed, “I swear if we have to go to another fast food place, I’m gonna scream. You’re literally a billionaire. The least you can do is take us to a Denny’s or a diner or a burger place.”

“Harper… isn’t that a bit much?” Ned asked.

They shook their head, “Nah, he’s a billionaire, do you know how much money that is? Because I definitely do. And in case you didn't know, its kinda a lot."

           "But you don't have to be a jerk about it," he muttered.

While Ned and Harper started to get into an argument, Peter and Annie began laughing. No one seemed to question Annie and Peter periodically using each other as pillows. Though Peter ended up sleeping on her more often than the other way around. And while Annie wasn’t about to say so in front of everyone else, she liked playing with his hair as he kept drifting off. Or feeling him leaning against her shoulder and kissing him on the forehead when no one was looking. At least, when she thought no one was looking.

“Seems they’re getting along great,” Annie said, smirking a bit as her eyes darted between the others and Peter.

Peter shook his head, “They’ve been doing this for the whole day.”

“Oh, that’s just Harper. If they’re not being a smartass then that’s when you should be worried,” she assured him as the minivan was cut off by a huge semi truck.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Tony exclaimed.

Pepper chuckled, “Language, honey.”

“What?! I’m the adult here!” he responded incredulously.

“Look, all I’m saying is that a million seconds lasts twelve years, one billion would last for almost thirty-two years, it’s fucking wild!” Harper pointed out.

Peter laughed, “So… this isn’t too crazy to you?”

“Oh, not at all. Trust me, I’d take this over walking on eggshells with my dad for months on end. This is way better,” she told him.

While they kept watching the grass and cows pass by, Peter wrapped an arm around her. There was only so much left of the day, and the sun was just starting to set.

“Awww, look at the happy couple!” Harper cried out, seeing Peter just about to kiss Annie on the cheek.

“There better not be any funny business back there,” Tony warned.

Pepper rolled her eyes, “They’re in a minivan with you, I don’t think anything would be happening.”

Annie felt her face heating up and she buried her face in the crook of Peter’s neck. Why couldn’t she just catch a few more minutes alone with him? Just enough time to curl up to him and hold him without anyone pointing it out and making a huge deal out of it.

At the same time, it was huge. She’d been wanting to be with Peter for months. And then there was that point where it was hard to tell if she liked him or Spider-Man more. She really wished that she had just gotten over her worries and just went for it earlier. It would have saved her so much time, but she couldn’t think about what would have happened if things were different. If Peter wasn’t Spider-Man and if he wasn’t as honest with her as he was being.

Maybe it was obvious that Annie was thinking about something, or Peter was just being really affectionate, but he hugged her close. It made her lean up against him and she rested her eyes for just a little. Though, all she could really remember was Peter gently playing with her hair.

“Oh, come on, she barely slept at all last night, just let her rest for a little while,” Harper pleaded.

Tony huffed, “I’d let her sleep, but we need to get into the hotel rooms.”

“Seriously? I’ll get everything for her,” they insisted.

“No, no, I’ll get it for her, I can take it super easy,” Peter said.

It was Peter shifting slightly that had woken her up. Though she kept her eyes shut for just a bit longer before opening her eyes. The last thing she wanted was Peter feeling bad for waking her up.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, “You know, you guys aren’t good at being quiet. Where are we anyways?”

“Some place in Wyoming. And it’s kinda late, so you know what that means? We gotta go get dinner!” Harper exclaimed.

“It’s more than just some place in Wyoming, it’s the state capitol! We should stay and tour around,” Ned said, getting out of the minivan to grab his luggage.

Pepper laughed, “You know, we need to get all the way over at a decent time. We can do more touristy stuff in Tahoe.”

“Yeah, besides, there’s not much to tour here anyways. Come on, what is there here?” Harper asked, gesturing around.

“Well, there’s a nice sky. Haven’t seen that in awhile. Seriously, Peter, you gotta see this,” Ned practically pulled his friend out of the minivan, Annie following right behind.

Once in the room, Harper couldn’t stop teasing Annie. Pointing out that they definitely noticed that she was constantly cuddling up to Peter. That they couldn’t understand why she hadn’t done anything sooner.

Annie pulled her brush from her suitcase, raking it through her wavy hair, “I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Figured out what?”

“Why it took me so long… come on, you know that I can’t just ignore all the shit with Greg. I mean, I could for awhile. Like, until I moved away, but when I first started liking Peter, well, come on. I couldn’t just make the same mistake twice,” Annie said, yanking her brush through a rats nest that had formed in her hair.

Harper frowned, looking at the sketch they had been trying to do earlier, “You’re right… I didn’t really think about it. While you’re at it, you should probably tell Peter about your baggage.”

“You can’t be serious. It’s been over a year, and no. No don’t look at me like that. What happened with Greg and what he ended up doing wasn’t my fault,” Annie insisted, setting the brush on the nightstand.

Harper closed the book, “But he deserves to know anyways. How many things did he tell you about that he was scared of telling you?”

“But it means nothing now!” she exclaimed, sitting on the bed.

They shook their head, “It means a lot now. With Carnival running around New York. You know what he’s capable of and what he can do. Peter deserves to know too.”

“I know… but can’t it just wait? Things are already difficult, I just want a little more time with him. Well, more time for things to be as normal as they’re gonna be. Please, this is the best things have been in weeks, Harper. I’ll tell him at the cabin or wherever we’re going. It’ll matter there more anyways.”

“Fine. But if that ends up hurting you-”

“It won’t. Greg’s not even around anymore. You know that. Carnival is, but he isn’t, there's no reason for me to make a big deal of it. Especially when it won't make much difference."

Right then, there was a knock at the door. There wasn't supposed to be anything to worry about, but what if someone heard? She just wanted more time to keep things normal. However, if she had been overheard, then she wasn't so sure how that was going to work out.

Although, it was obvious that Harper did not hold the same worries that she did. When they opened the door, it was only Peter and Ned coming to get them for dinner. Which was supposed to be at an unspecified location.

Harper huffed, “I swear, if it’s McDonald’s, I might actually kill this guy. Enough said.”

It ended up with them going to a burger place in the downtown part of Cheyenne called Two Doors Down. Something which Harper was quick to voice their relief over.

“Oh, come on, some chicken nuggets never hurt anyone!” Ned protested.

They rolled their eyes, “So you say, but I even look at another chicken nugget, I’m gonna throw myself out of the minivan.”

Annie slipped an arm around Peter as they sat in the large booth, “See? Told you they like him.”

“Yeah, so Harper’s always like that?” Peter asked.

“Hey! I can hear you two talking shit!” Harper snapped.

“I thought I grounded you from cussing,” Tony said, taking his seat.

Harper grinned, “Well, actually, you said I was banned from cussing at the road. I’m cussing at my dear friends. They’re not the road.”

“We’re friends?!” Ned exclaimed.

“Um… yeah? You’re a chill dude, a um, hoot and a half if you will,” Harper replied, as Tony rolled his eyes.

The man sighed a little, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Okay, fine, Harper, you’re grounded from cussing for the rest of the night.”

“What?! This is a violation of my first amendment rights,” they scoffed before messing around with the napkin around their silverware.

Annie laughed, “Actually, it’s really not, but whatever you say, Harper.”

“No one asked you!” they snapped, crossing their arms.

When the waitress made it to their table, which was full of laughing and chaos mainly thanks to Harper. They were the first to order, getting a burger that was supposed to have a few slices of pineapple on it. Ned went for the spiciest burger that they had, asking for them to try and make it as spicy as possible. Peter asked for the burger that had avocado on it. And Annie, wanting to continue the trend of odd toppings went with a burger that had an egg on it. Getting to the adults, Tony got a blue cheese burger, also wanting to continue the odd pattern. However, Pepper unintentionally wrecked it by ordering a normal cheeseburger.

Tony shook his head, “I’m disappointed. I thought you were gonna get that tortilla burger and keep this trend of funky burgers.”

“Oh? That was supposed to be a thing? Well, sorry about that,” Pepper responded, giving a shrug.

It was easily the most relaxed things had been in Annie’s opinion, and she couldn’t help smiling a little bit as she felt Peter’s hand reach for hers under the table. Everything that had happened was still on her mind, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like things were falling into place. She had her closest friends and she was finally with Peter.

For just a little bit, she had a chance to really forget everything from earlier. No one knew aside from everyone at the table. And they weren’t holding anything against her. Annie knew that everything was going to get fixed. It had to.

Taglist: @flushings-here / @gaypanda / @parkerpuff / @gryfinpuffs / @ijustdontknowsometimes / @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy / @buzzinglee / @lcy-thot / @twilightparker / @dolphinsarecuteandstuff / @moonstruckholland

[today-only-happens-once]

Family

Title: Family

Word Count: 3675

Summary: for asofterfan’s Punk!AU. Patton is protective of his little brother, Thomas. ““Pat,” Virgil says in a low voice as he steps closer, alarm twisting his stomach. “Are you hurt?””. Platonic/familial dynamics all around.

Warnings: discussion of violence, injury (lots of bruising mostly), cursing (more than normal in my fics…Punk!Logan curses a lot okay), mention/hints at abuse and neglect, nausea mention, some angst/hurt/comfort, let me know if I forgot anything else.

Author’s Note: Long AN is long, sorry - Behold, the fic that caused me tremendous self-doubt and second-guessing. I am in love with @asofterfan’s Punk!AU. (Special thanks to them for letting me and others create within the context of this awesome AU) I tried to do as much research through their headcanons and art as I could, but I’m sure there are inaccuracies. This will also inevitably pale in comparison to the development of their AU so please check it out if you haven’t because it’s awesome. I kinda wanted to explore Patton’s relationship with Thomas a bit but also the Analogical dynamic and this is what happened. Yikes. The self-doubt and writing insecurity never really went away with this fic (can you tell from how I’ve been rambling?) but like might as well post it, yeah? No? *drops this here and then sprints far away*

Also, editing done by yours truly so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff, @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @lizaelsparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999

…

Virgil shakes the can of spray paint as he surveys the brick wall in front of him. He has the image in his mind of the final product, but it always takes him a moment’s pause to figure out where exactly to start. A light, late afternoon breeze tugs at the loose strands of his hair. Logan sits on the ground in the alley with a book in his lap, his back against the wall and one knee propped up.

He turns the page, then glances up at Virgil. “It helps if you actually, y’know, use the spray paint.”

The corner of Virgil’s mouth twitches. “You don’t say?” he quips dryly.“You know, you said you’d keep a look out for me.” He looks at the wall a moment longer before beginning. The hiss of the canister cuts through the sound of birds chirping and tires rolling on pavement as cars passed by, oblivious to the two teens deeper in the alley.

“And I am,” Logan replies. His gaze narrows at the page for a moment before looking back at Virgil. “Although I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. Nobody around here cares much about artists painting on the walls unless they’re police, and those guys don’t really do much around here. There’s about a 99% nobody’s going to even notice us, let alone care to do anything about it. ”

“Yeah, but with my luck?” Virgil sprays another line. “I don’t love those odds.”

Logan smirks and flips the page. He brushes a strand of blue hair out of his eyes. Virgil eyes the book in his lap as he grabs a different color and resumes painting. He coats the red brick in a glistening dark black streak. “What are you even reading?”

Logan glances up, adjusting the frame of his glasses. “Judith Butler’s Bodies That Matter. It expands on the gender performativity argument she proposed in Gender Trouble.”

Virgil arcs a skeptical eyebrow at his friend. “You’re reading advanced gender theory? For fun?”

“Nothing is binary and everything is gay,” Logan replies with a lift of his shoulder. “They want proof? This book offers it, or tries to. At least, the binary part. I’m still reading.”

Virgil continues working, hesitating less between lines as the image starts to take form. Distantly, the wail of police sirens cut through the air; it’s too far away for either of the punks to even look up.  For a while, the only sound between them is the hiss of Virgil’s spray paint cans and Logan turning pages. The sound of footsteps makes both boys pause, but as they glance down the alley to the street, the two girls walking by don’t even glance in their direction.

Virgil doesn’t usually tag in broad daylight. But he was trying a new design that he wanted to see in daylight, and sketching it out over and over only made him feel most antsy about finding out what it would actually look like. Before he placed it anywhere that would actually get noticed, Virgil wanted to make sure he knew what he was doing with it. And even though a part of him was more on edge due to the fact that the possibility of him getting caught was higher without the cover of dark, his shaking hands stilled as soon as he’d begun. He supposes art was funny like that sometimes.

It’s almost an hour later when Virgil takes a few steps back and surveys his own work. Logan looks up at him for a moment before marking the page and jumping to his feet to stand by Virgil.

Virgil purses his lips, his gaze narrowing. “That line isn’t straight,” he says, pointing it out to Logan. “It curves a bit to the left.”

“So? I’m never straight,” Logan replies, almost deadpan save for the slight smirk that pulls at the corner of his lips. “It looks good, Virge.”

Virgil is quiet, then reaches for the canister at his feet. “I’m just gonna fix one thing.” He steps back up to the wall, adding a few strokes of the purple to add some dimension where Virgil felt it was lacking. “Hey,” he says as he works, “Logan?” He tries to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

“Hm?”

“Mind if I maybe crash at your place tonight?” he asks without turning around. He can never look Logan in the eyes when he asks, and he hates how often he does so. But last night had been… rough, to say the least. He had a feeling that Logan had seen the bruise on his arm during lunch, even though the teen had tried to keep his sleeves pulled down.

“C’mon,” Logan says. “You know you don’t need to ask.”

…

By the time the two boys get back to Logan’s house, it’s almost five. The sun is low in the sky, just about ready to set. Logan’s driveway sits empty, as usual, as they get closer. It’s not until they’re walking up the driveway when they notice someone sitting on the front steps of his porch.

Logan and Virgil share a glance as they get closer. The familiar head of pastel blue-purple-pink hair is leaned back against the railing, his eyes closed.

“Patton?”

At the sound of his name, Patton opens his eyes.

“Hey, Logan,” he says, his voice sounding oddly strained. Virgil looks at him closer, and notices the way the pastel punk has his arm wrapped around his chest. The way he’s curled in on himself a little. Something is wrong.

“Patton, don’t take this the wrong way but what are you doing here?” Logan asks.

“I, uh…” Patton gives them a pained smile that looks a lot more like a grimace. “I need your help.”

“Pat,” Virgil says in a low voice as he steps closer, alarm twisting his stomach. “Are you hurt?”

“I… yeah.” Logan is already unlocking the door, but his gaze flashes back to them at the answer. Virgil wraps Patton’s arm around his shoulders. He winces as Virgil—who is being as gentle as he can—pulls him to his feet.

“What the hell happened?” Logan demands as Virgil helps Patton inside. His brown eyes are practically blazing with fury. It’s not that Logan isn’t used to patching people up. Usually himself or Virgil after a late night call. (They were both used to that particular arrangement, Virgil thinks with a bitter taste in his mouth.)

But Patton is an entirely different story. Everybody loved him; and if you didn’t love him, then you had done something to get on his bad side and you were afraid of him. Patton was almost a perpetually warm person, sincere and well-meaning even if his love and affection could feel like a bit… much, at times.

Logan may have the sharper temper, but Virgil can feel his own anger bubbling in his chest as the reality that someone had hurt Patton sinks into him.

“I’m sorry,” Patton is saying quietly as they make their way up the stairs. “I didn’t mean to bother you guys, I just…”

“Shut up, Pat,” Virgil tells him, but not harshly. “You don’t have to talk about it unless you want to.”

“Take him to my room,” Logan says. “I’m gonna grab the first aid kit.” Virgil nods his understanding and leads Patton to the door at the end of the hallway.

Virgil flips the light switch as they enter Logan’s bedroom. The room admittedly helps ease some of the uneasiness in Virgil’s stomach. Logan’s room—with its dark blues and blacks on the walls and bedding—always felt safe to Virgil. The teen smiles faintly to himself at his stuffed turtle John and Logan’s octopus Tsugarensis sitting side by side amidst the pillows near the headboard. Bottles of hair dye sit on his desk.

Patton is quiet as he sits down on the edge of the bed, glancing around the room. He catches Patton’s quiet hiss as Virgil extracts himself out from under the other punk’s arm. He notices then that Patton’s hands are bruised, the knuckles split. The teen also has a dark bruise forming along his cheekbone.

Virgil shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He’s used to the one being hurt. It’s not often that he finds himself on the other side of the situation, and if he’s being honest, he hates it. It’s tying his stomach in knots despite the familiarity and vague sense of safety Logan’s room provided.

“I’m sorry, Virge,” Patton says softly, staring at his hands in his lap. “My mom isn’t home and I didn’t want to scare Thomas. But I needed help and I wasn’t sure where else to go, and Logan lived closer, so...”

Logan interrupts the conversation as he comes into the room with a box in his hands. “Patton, you’re gonna need to take off the vest at least.” There’s a surprising and rare gentleness in the request that Virgil has only ever hear Logan use when Virgil had been injured.

Patton nods, then hesitates. He sucks in a bit of a breath before shrugging out of the turquoise garment. Virgil bites his thumbnail, watching the way Patton clenches his jaw against a wince. Logan glances at the pastel punk out of the corner of his eye, setting the box on the bed beside Patton and kneeling in front of him.

The unasked questions hang heavy in the air of the bedroom. Virgil wants to ask what happened, but he is too well acquainted with injuries one would rather not talk about to force that kind of conversation on Patton. From the subtle glances Logan keeps tossing to him, he’s pretty sure the blue-haired teen feels the same way.

“Can you raise your shirt, Pat?”

Patton presses his lips together, not answering at first. Slowly, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and—visibly gritting his teeth—pulls it up and over his head. He averts his gaze as he sets his shirt beside him.

The sight of Patton’s chest is one Virgil is too well-acquainted with, but seeing it on Patton makes a faint nausea rise in Virgil’s throat before he swallows it down. Across his ribcage is a brilliant—painful—smattering of purple, yellow, and a very angry red. Something that looks suspiciously like a footprint marks his right side. Logan goes suddenly very still for a moment, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

Patton swallows. He offers a weak smile, even though he isn’t looking at either one of them. “Is this where I say ‘you should see the other guys’?”

Guys plural? Virgil thinks, anger sparking all over again in his chest.

“You’re damn right,” Logan replies, his voice deceptively even. “If not after you, then after me.” He looks up at Patton, who still won’t meet his eyes. “Is anything broken?”

“I don’t… I’m not sure,” Patton whispers.

Logan nods stiffly. “Then this might hurt.” Gingerly, he starts prodding around Patton’s chest. Feeling for any broken ribs. Virgil winces in sympathy as Patton sucks in a sharp hiss.

“It was because of Thomas,” Patton says after a long moment of silence, as Logan continues to press around his chest.

Virgil’s gaze flies up. “Thomas did this?” That definitely didn’t make sense. Thomas and Patton adored each other.

“No, no, no!” Patton says quickly. “I…” He sighs, some strands of his pastel hair falling into his eyes. “Thomas has been struggling with some kids in school. This morning when I went to get him up, he yelled at me. I don’t even remember what about. He’d… never yelled at me before. But I told him he had to go to school. He said I…” Patton cuts himself off suddenly, shaking his head. Virgil’s brow pulls together at the unfinished thought, but Logan cuts in before he can ask about it.

“Well, shit, Pat,” Logan replies, pulling his hands back from Patton’s torso. “You could’ve told us. We would’ve backed you up.” He pulls the wrapping off the bandage.

Patton lifts a shoulder. “I didn’t even know. He didn’t tell me what was happening. I waited for him for a while after school but when he didn’t show up, I went looking for him. Found him cornered by a few guys who had him shoved up against the locker.”

Virgil’s brow furrows together. As bubbly and warm as Patton was, one thing you did not do was mess with someone he cared about. Especially his little brother. “You and Thomas fought some guys?”

Patton shakes his head. “I got their attention, and told Thomas to get out of there. He didn’t exactly want to, but he knows I would’ve kicked his ass harder if he’d stuck around. Thomas isn’t much of a fighter.” Patton’s hands curl into fists on his knees. Virgil isn’t sure if it’s in anger or something else.

Logan secures a bandage over the pastel punk’s ribs. “No offense, Patton,” he says, “but you’re hardly the most likely one to throw a punch yourself.” He glances at the bruised and split knuckles along the other teen’s hands.

Patton looks at them too, relaxing his fists and flexing his hand before wincing. “Yeah, well. That wasn’t exactly my intention either.”

Logan takes his hand, cleaning up the abrasions along his knuckles before wrapping them. “You had your knife with you, at least?”

Patton glances up. “You know I don’t bring it with me to school.”

Virgil’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out and checks the ID. It’s a text from Roman.

Have u seen Pat?

The purple-haired teen sighs to himself and texts back. Yeah. He’s at Logans. Why?

R: Thomas just called me. He seemed worried bc Patton didn’t come home.

Thomas had recently gotten involved in theatre alongside Roman in the second half of his freshman year. Roman had given Patton’s little brother his number in case he needed a ride to rehearsal.

The phone buzzes again. U know what happened?

Long story. Just tell him Pat’s safe and with Logan, Virgil texts back quickly.  

R: Thomas said he might be hurt???

Virgil hesitates a second before replying. Yeah. He is. I’ll explain later. Virgil pockets his phone and ignores it when it buzzes again. He knows Roman is already plotting revenge, and Virgil isn’t too far behind him, but he has bigger priorities at the moment.

He can see Patton’s jaw jump. He hears how shaky the pastel punk’s long inhale is, even though he tries to cover it with a cough and a smile.

“Hey, uh, Logan?” Patton asks as Logan finishes securing the bandage in place.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” Patton flexes his grip and finally locks gazes with the blue-haired teen. “You’re good at this.”

Logan and Virgil exchange a quick glance that Patton doesn’t seem to notice before the teen shrugs. “Don’t mention it.”

There’s a moment of silence before Patton sighs again, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just can’t believe Thomas didn’t tell me.”

Virgil slips his hands into his pockets. He leans back against the edge of Logan’s desk. “Maybe he thought he could take care of it himself.”

Patton runs his fingers through his pastel hair to brush it out of his face. He looks unconvinced. “It’s just… I was always supposed to look out for him, y’know?”

Logan sits back on his heels. “The kid’s not so little anymore, Patton,” he says, but not unkindly. “You’re gonna graduate in a few months, and Thomas is gonna have to know how to fight his own battles. Even when he gets in over his head.”

Virgil snorts. “Oh, he definitely will. Kid’s got a bit a rebellious streak in him, I swear. We’re rubbing off on him. In a few years I bet he gives you a run for your money, Logan.”

Logan jokingly puffs his chest out. “Good! Somebody’s gotta call the teachers out on their whitewashing of history when I leave.”

Patton groans, but a small smile is tugging at the corner of his lips. “Great. So my brother is gonna get into even more fights.” His tone is light, but the real concern leaks through regardless.

Logan pushes himself to his feet and crosses his arms over his chest. “So we’ll teach him how to defend himself before we all go our separate ways.”

Something falls in Patton’s eyes at Logan’s words. He opens his mouth to reply, then closes it. Virgil’s gaze narrows as Patton clasps his hands together, seeming to rethink what he’d been about to say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Sure. That… That’d be great.”

Virgil frowns, opening his mouth to ask what was wrong when Patton’s phone buzzes loudly. The teen grabs it out of the back pocket of his jeans and cringes as he answers. “Hey, Thomas. I’m okay.”

Logan closes the first aid kit and steps out into the hallway. Virgil follows him, wanting to give Patton a moment alone on the phone with his brother. Logan heads straight for the bathroom, sliding the kit under the sink before turning to face the purple-haired punk. 

Logan blows out a breath. The spark of fury is back in his eyes. “God damn it.”

“I know,” Virgil says. “But you know Pat got in his fair share of punches.”

Logan’s eyes glance up to the teen across from him. “C’mon, Virge. You saw the same damage I did. That wasn’t a fair fight.”

The corner of Virgil’s mouth twitches humorlessly. “When has anything in our lives ever been a fair fight, Lo?”

“They’re cowards.”

“Yeah,” Virgil agrees. “But Patton’s not.”

Logan opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of the bedroom door opening makes him close it.

“Guys?” Patton asks.

Logan steps out of the bathroom. “Yeah?”

“Thomas is kind of freaking out,” Patton says, his shirt and vest back on, waving the phone in his hands. “I should probably get home before it gets worse. But, uh,” he smiles, awkward and embarrassed. “Thanks, again. For helping me out.”

“Sure. You might want to get some ice on that,” Logan tells him, gesturing at Patton’s chest. “I don’t think anything is broken but it’s still gonna hurt for a while.”

His smile softens into something a bit more sincere, and also a bit sad. “Yeah. I will.” He’s about halfway down the stairs when he stops and looks back at the two of them. “I’ll see you guys at school?”

“Yeah,” Virgil answers for them. “We’ll be there.”

“To beat up some guys if they so much as show their faces,” Logan adds under his breath.

“We might have to wait in line once Roman finds out,” Virgil replies just as quietly. When Patton grins, Virgil can’t quite tell if he heard them or not.

“Don’t know what I’d do without all of you guys,” Patton says, and then he’s down the stairs and out the door.

Virgil smiles a little to himself as the door closes behind him. Logan leans against the wall in the hallway, his eyes still looking at the door Patton had just walked out of. “You think Thomas knows?”

Virgil lifts an eyebrow at the other teen before letting his gaze fall back to the closed door as well. “That Patton would go to hell and back for him? I’m not sure, but I’d bet so.”

The corner of the blue-haired teen’s mouth curls up in something between a smirk and a smile. “I guess Thomas and Pat are kinda like us, huh?”

Logan says it lightly, but there’s a certain weight to his words. Virgil locks gazes with him, expressing the unspoken truth that Virgil would absolutely go to hell and back for Logan. He’d go to hell and stay there for Logan.

For any of them.

And he knows, as much as he sometimes thinks it shouldn’t be true, that they all feel the same way.

Virgil shrugs a shoulder and plays it off as soon as he knows Logan understands. “What? One big happy family?”

There’s a subtle earnestness in Logan’s eyes that catches Virgil off guard. “Sure. Why not?” Logan says. “You know. You, me, Roman, Patton. Hell, even Thomas is practically all of our kid brother at this point.”

Logan pushes himself off the wall, his voice just a little quieter as he continues.

“I don’t know what it’s really like to be part of a not fucked-up family, but I’d guess this is pretty damn close.”

….

[franeridart]

what are your thoughts about bakugou and midoriya's relationship? platonic, i mean

I live and die for it, every part of the manga in which that relationship is shown progressing is between my favorite parts of the manga and I’ve reread them a hundred times and cried over them way more than necessary - the battle trial one? yes, the end of terms exam? absolutely yes holy shit, the post-license exam fight? god yes fuck me that’s my absolute fav, the rescue arc? shit yes between all the reasons why that arc’s my fave the change in the deku/baku relationship is definitely a worthy of note one

It’s an interesting relationship, a painful one that’s making both of them grow so so so much, a rivalry they both need to better each other and keep each other straight on the path to become two great, all-around heroes - I’m not sure they’ll ever end up having the type of relationship Izuku has with Todoroki or Bakugou with Kirishima, I don’t think it’s possible for them to be friends like that, they’re just too different to properly fit like that and to avoid stepping on each other’s toes every single day of their lives they’d have to change their core personalities too much, but they did end up being able to coexist (Bakugou’s even giving Deku tips!!!) and I do think they’ll be able to cooperate and support each other in the end. If one day they’ll be able to make fun of each other in a friendly manner and egg each other on and be honest with each other without it escalating into a full blown fight I’d truly be happy, that’s probably my main dream for this whole manga. For them to have a healthy rivalry, one in which they can maybe even laugh together. I think it might happen, I’m waiting for it to happen

Anon said:Hi Fran! I'm obsessed with your BakuShimaNari work. Here's a cute thought to hopefully cheer you up a bit while you're unable to draw: they're all in their early 20s and Denki likes to poke/smooth out the little crease between Bakugo's eyebrows and tease him about getting wrinkles early from all the scowling he does. Bakugo flicks him in the nose and says he's starting to get crows feet from always grinning like an idiot.

Oh my god. Oh my g o d this is the sweetest thing I’ve ever read. Oh my g OD I’m just imagining them doing that and Kiri in the background watching them like they’re most precious thing in the world I’m dying rip me this just made my whole life thank you so much anon *sob*

Anon said:You are wonderful. That BakuKiriKami art just made me cry again after this chapter but I so needed it. I hope your hand heals up quickly!

I hope so too!!!! And thank you so much, I’m glad you liked it!!! ;A; tho I’m sorry for having made you cry rip 

Anon said:Maybe Kirishima's hair is like haru from fruits basket, it changes colour when it reaches a certain length, and he decided to either dye the roots to match the long part or the long part to match the roots.

I’m effin laughing my ass off imagining the “you’ll never convince me that hair is natural” scene but with Iida I’m crying

But seriously if his hair did something fancy like that I don’t think the current Kirishima would try to hide it? Hair that naturally grows like that is flashy!

Anon said:KiriBaku, KamiJirou, AshidoSero, u feel me? I personally ship TodoMomo and IzuOcha as well but u know each to their own

tbh I ship all the ships mentioned in this ask to at least a certain degree, so yeah, I definitely feel you haha

Anon said:Fran can i ask why you ship BokuTeruKuroo ? like i understand why you ship BoKuroo, they are friend and so funny and cute with each other but do they have interaction with Terushima ? because i watch the anime and only start reading the manga and there's no interaction between them in it

What a question lmao no, no they never interact with Teru, it’s a crack ship haha I don’t really have a reason to ship it tbh, I just think Teru’s personality would fit nicely with Bo and Kuroo - Teru’s one of my fave characters in Haikyuu and I like shipping my faves around, but he’s interacted with only his teammates and Karasuno so everything else is just crack... I like a whole bunch of Teru ships tbh, bokuroteru is the one I’ve drawn the most for a bit by accident and a bit because they’re the ones with the most entertaining possible dynamics, to me? They’re a bunch of excited silly kids, that’s fun!

Anon said:I am literally in tears over the last chapter when will Horikoshi step away from my sunshine boy and let him rest? This isn't what I meant when I said I wanted Kirishima to have a bigger role in this arc

;-; boi do I feel this ask 

(I still want more of him tho, last time he hadn’t been around for a few weeks I was a complete mess, pls don’t take him away from me again Hori ;A;)

Anon said:Fraannnnn why would you do this I had enough feelings about THIS EXACT SCENARIO and you had to go and make me feel more with your beautiful art How could you

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m taking this as you’ve liked it!!! Which makes me happy tbh haha though I’m sorry for the more pain, that wasn’t my intention #oops thank you anyway, tho!!

Anon said:i wanted to cry bc of ch 143, kiri was amazing and fat was amazing and and .... but really though ...hori just doesn't wanna give it to us, does he ?

I don’t think I’ll ever have Kirishima’s backstory at this point. I’m giving up. I’ll just make up my own version of it. Kirishima’s had a beautiful past with a lot of happiness a great family with loving parents and both older and younger siblings that love him more than they love air, he’s got three pet turtles and a dog and the only reason why he had his hair dyed black was because he went through a really intense goth phase. That’s it, that’s my version, Hori can keep the sadness for himself

(...not please gimme the actual backstory already I’m dying)

Anon said:U ok after ch143, Fran? 'cause I'm not... 😭

...how can anyone love Kirishima and be okay after 143 tbh ;-;

Anon said:your answers to the ask for what would baku get the others ommmmmmg. fran you are AMAZING!! >///

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m happy you liked those omfg!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you!!!!

Anon said:I feel so bad abt the new chap bc my boy kiri is gonna hate himself so much abt being '''useless''' even if he wasnt and oh goodness he's going to beat himself up for this forever... i thought hori was gonna give him a sudden 'bout of strength & realization' to beat the enemy, but instead hes getting quite the realistic(which is good but sad) outcome from the fight... hes gonna be so mad with himself while recovering boy pls no u were great ;~;

I really hope something’ll happen and he won’t feel like that, but who knows ;-; on one side it would mean that his character arc still isn’t over, which is a lot more Kiri for me and that’s great, but on the other please don’t make him suffer anymore ;;--;;

Anon said:Though it was kinda 'forced', thank you for drawing mineta. I really liked seeing him in your art style. He's perverted but like Denki he's a good kid as well, too bad most people have him blacklisted. Hopefully that will change in the future. Thanks again ;D

You’re most welcome! As I said once already I don’t really care for Mineta, so including him in stuff when it makes logical sense to isn’t much of a problem for me hah maybe, if I’m lucky, one day he’ll grow as a character and out of the walking trope he is, and that might just mean I’ll start drawing him more by himslef too haha

Anon said:i havent been involved in a fandom for 4 years but now i am and its ur fault with ur gay boys i cant handle all it, fk my life. (ps. love how u draw denki, his hair so floofy, bless u)

!!! Happy you like my take on him!!! :O also I love how you called them “your gay boys” yes, yes they are, my beautiful gay boys hahaha

Anon said:Thanks to you I'm absolutely obsessed with bakushimanari and I can't get out. It's literally???? The cutest friggin thing??? I can't believe I never thought of it before coming across your blog. But now it's my OT3 and!!! Thank you for introducing me to this sweet ship!!! I absolutely adore your art and it inspires/motivates me to make my own fluff filled fanart.

YAY OH MY GODS!!!!!!!!!!!!! more bakushimanari fans I can make happen the more I’m happy, tbh!!!! they’re soft and good and happy I wish there’d be more of them around aaahhhhhhhhhhhh !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:you color nicely (｀∇´)

sob thank youuuu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this actually means to me more than you probably thought it would haha rip bless ur soul anon

Anon said: ti adoro bye

GAH non sono certa di meritarmi addirittura un adoro ma!!!!!! grazie ;A;!!!!

[indigomasquerade97]

A Shift In Perspective pt3

Okay, here’s the final part to my entry for @arc852 . Enjoy!

'Where the bloody hell is he?' Jack asked aloud, glancing again at the clock on the wall. It was nearly lunchtime, and Mark still hadn't returned home. He'd been gone nearly twelve hours now.

Jack fidgeted on the couch cushion. Mark had never done this before. He'd never just stay out all night like this.

Worst case scenarios began to form in his head. What if Mark had gotten hurt on his walk? Or kidnapped? What if the giant goober was dead? If anything had happened, there would be no way for Jack to find out. He couldn't open the door or windows, and even if he somehow found a way outside, he'd just be walking aimlessly in a world built exclusively for humans. And if any of them saw him, they were likely to snatch him up and he'd be stolen away from his search. Away from his best friend.

There would be no way for him to fight them, and they wouldn't listen to his pleas for search and rescue. He was just a dumb animal to humans, after all. Why would they ever listen to him?

Click.

Jack's head snapped up at the noise. The front door was creaking open. He sniffed, wiping at his wet eyes. He stood up, determined to hide his moment of indulging in depressive thoughts. He had a giant to reprimand.

As soon as Mark walked through the hallway, Jack let him have it.

'Mark Edward Fischbach! Where the fook have you been? I was worried sick, dude!' He yelled out, used to having to raise his voice to be heard by his human. His natural loudness helped immensely. Mark froze, his relieved smile turning into one of uncomfortable shock. Yeah, you'd better look uncomfortable, Jack thought irritably. How dare his human scare him like that!

Then someone was chuckling. A human wearing a dark cape sauntered in after Mark, looking thoroughly amused by the standoff.

'And I thought Takota was a handful.' He joked. He seemed amused that both of them had green dye through their hair, though the humans was a lighter, more vibrant colour.

'Uhhh... who's that?' Jack asked, trying to repress his initial fright at being around an unknown human. Mark was here. Jack was safe.

'Um... this is Jason.' Mark introduced awkwardly, and Jason waved pleasantly. He was shorter than Mark by a few inches, and younger than Jack first thought. He couldn't be older than eighteen. But he seemed non-threatening.

'Okay, pleasantries aside... Mark, where were you?' Jack demanded. Back on track. I'm mad at 'im!

The two humans shared a glance. Mark looked like he was lost for words. Jason looked amused, silently laughing at his struggle.

'Um... would you believe me if I said I was abducted by giant aliens? And Jason's one of 'em and saved me?'

Jack glared heatedly. Really? Mark was going to go with a ridiculous story like that?

'Do I look like a fookin' idiot?' He asked. Jason snorted, failing to hide his mirth.

'He ain't bluffin, half-pint. I got him and a bunch o' others out of the beginnings of a major slave trade. We only just got around to getting him home, since he's been trying to convince me to come for a drink the last hour.' Jason said, smiling warmly. Jack rounded his glare on him.

'Look, I know you humans think my kind are stupid and gullible, but aliens don't exist!' Jack declared. Jason raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

'A hundred years ago, humans didn't think you guys existed, either,' He said, leaning forward almost ominously, 'Just because you haven't met one, doesn't mean we don't exist.'

Then something frightening happened. Jason's form began to melt and pixilate, becoming a swarm of colours that squirmed and waved before returning to their initial pristine shape. Jack felt himself pale, especially when the kids eyes began flashing different colours.

'Expand your horizons, eh mate?' Jason said, leaning back casually with a small chuckle.

'Uh, anyone want something to drink? Okay, in here.' Mark quickly led Jason into the kitchen, which gave Jack a moment to compose himself. He blinked, a hand clutching at the thick fabric over his heart. Jesus, that was terrifying!

Mark returned soon after, holding a bottle cap full of soda and a giant cookie. He gingerly placed them in front of Jack.

'I, uhh... I'm sorry about scaring ya, dude,' Mark said timidly, smiling hopefully, 'Forgive me?'

Jack glared at him, then glanced at the cookie bribe. It was a chocolate chip, and looked delicious.

'Never! I'll never forgive you for abandoning me!' Jack declared dramatically, bending down to drag the cookie closer, 'I'll just take this with me!' He sat down and pulled off a chunk, taking a bite. Just as chocolatey as he'd hoped. Mark was smirking at him almost triumphantly. Jack pointed at him mock accusingly.

'This means nothing!' Mark laughed, gently nudging him with his knuckle. Jack nearly did a double-take; the familiar action was much slower and gentle, as opposed the the careless speed Mark usually portrayed.

'Whateva you say, leprechaun.'

'You two are adorable, you know that?' Jason said, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. He held a small cup of water in one hand, which he didn't drink from.

'You aren't gonna have your drink?' Mark asked. Jason smiled, gently placing the cup on the coffee table.

'To be honest, this form can't actually consume food or liquids like that.'

'Then... why did you come over?'

'Truth be told, I wanted to see your relationship with Jack,' Jason said, looking sheepish, 'You guys really are close friends, huh?'

'Yeah...?' Jack said, glancing up at Mark. But he was too distracted to notice his silent look of inquiry.

'Actually, I was wondering if you two would like to partner up with us,' Jason continued, sitting down in a chair opposite them, 'I need to send a memo to my mentor so she knows this planet is liable to go down a dark road. We want to try and avoid that if possible.'

'And... where do we fit?' Mark asked. Jason sighed.

'This “pet trade” is unacceptable,' He said heatedly, 'I want to create a movement to outlaw the trade and form legal rights for the smaller folk.'

The two friends glanced at each other. A movement to put an end to the horrendous trade? Sure, their friend Phil was a lawyer and was doing what he could to help, but there was little support from the general public to support such a reform. But, if the alien truly wanted to help...

'How would we do this?' Jack asked, his interest peaked.

'We need to show the population that your kind is not the stupid, lesser beings that the media claims you are. If we can prove that, we can begin to show how both your species would benefit from a mutual agreement rather than a master/pet one,' Jason explained, 'They need to see a Tiny being treated as an equal rather than an animal. With enough exposure and prompted discussion, eventually the people will become more open to the idea and we will have a stronger case.'

'Well... it's Jack's choice, really.' Mark stated after a moment.

The two looked down at Jack, who felt put on the spot. He gulped, thinking it over. Their friends were very vocal about their views of Tiny's, and they were practically ridiculed for it. If they went on a higher scale like this, that mild ridicule could morph into full blown hate and death threats. It was risky...

But he thought about his family back in Ireland. They were constantly in fear of being discovered by humans. And if they ever were, they would be damned into a life of servitude for some human. There was no guarantee they would find a kind human, and even most of those still saw them as mere animals. If they could do this, they would not have to live in such fear. They would be free. He, and all his other friends would be free of the looming threat of losing ones free will.

'I want to help.' He declared, feeling determined. Nothing would deter him from this!

'Excellent,' Jason said, standing up, 'I will get in contact with you at a later date. For now, I need to get everything sorted.'

And then Jason fizzed out of existence, leaving no trace of his presence. The two friends were left alone. They looked at each other.

'So... you were serious before? About him being a giant to you?' Jack asked.

'Yeah.'

'… Did he grab you? Or pick you up?'

'… Yeah.'

'Did ya squeal like a wee girl?' Jack grinned as Mark blushed with embarrassment.

'A little, yeah.' Jack began to cackle with amusement.

'Ha! Oh jasus! Now you know what its like!'

~

Marshal strolled through the hallway, practically ripping his hair out. He tried desperately to ignore the men squabbling around him like seagulls, but found it harder than he thought.

'Sir, please-'

'Slow down-'

'Mr President-'

You have been missing for hours-'

'Where have you been?'

They were too loud. He needed to get away. He needed to think. He needed time alone!

He rushed towards his office, the gaggle of men still on his heels. He sighed, turning to face them once he got to his door.

'I will inform you of my whereabouts at a later date,' He said, discretely backing into the room, 'But for now, I need a few minutes to recuperate myself.'

He quickly shut the door, locking himself from their concerned demands. He sighed, resting his head against the cool wood. It was nice to be alone for a moment, even if he could still hear their muffled voices on the other side.

He turned to his office, the symbol on the polished floor shining despite the relative dark. Faint sunlight lit up the edges of the closed curtain, and he reached out to switch the light on. The lights remained stubbornly off, despite the repeated attempts.

Marshal sighed in annoyance, rubbing his temple as he strolled towards his desk. Light outages weren't common, and it made the actual occurrences all the more annoying. But he didn't open the door to inform anyone of the problem. If he did, the room would be invaded by the very people he was trying to get away from. But maybe a nap would be better than catching up on paperwork, anyway?

'Afternoon, sir.'

Marshal gasped, flinching back at the unexpected voice. His big chair spun around, revealing a pretty teen girl. She was wearing modest clothes, all black and making her partially blend into the dark. She had her arms crossed, a serious glint in her blue eyes as she silently appraised him. He took a deep breath, frowning at her. How did a sixteen year old girl get passed security?

'Who are you?' He demanded, 'How did you even get in here?'

'You can call me Ashley,' She said, smirking as she added sarcastically, 'and I fazed through the wall.'

'You aren't supposed to be in here!' Marshal said, stepping closer so he would loom over the shorter girl. His attempt to seem intimidating fell short when he tripped over his own two feet, planting a hand on the desk to keep himself from falling on his ass. She rolled her eyes at the pathetic attempt.

'I have to disagree,' She said, calmly standing up, 'We have a lot to talk about.'

Marshal shook his head, turning his back to her. He had to call in security. While he doubted the girl was a real sort of threat, he still couldn't allow someone to simply break into his office.

But he froze when he noticed the second intruder, idly throwing an apple in the air like a softball. Marshal felt his heart begin racing. Familiar dark green eyes, flaming lime hair, shimmering grey cloak... Jason smirked at his look of horrified recognition.

'Hey mate,' He muttered, cocking his head as he tossed the apple again, 'Didn't I saw we'd see each other again?'

Marshal opened his mouth to scream, but a slender hand covered it and effectively silenced him. He struggled against the girl, but her willowy form betrayed her strength. She had no trouble dragging him to his chair, dumping him into it.

Marshal was near hyperventilating, eyes darting between the two beings. There was little doubt in his mind that the two were aliens, though he didn't know how they were able to appear before him like this. Weren't they meant to be huge?

'W-what do you w-want with me?' He demanded, trying to keep himself from stuttering, and failing miserably. The girl looked sheepish, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. Jason's hard expression never changed as he tossed the apple.  

'Your planet is progressing to the point where our enemies are becoming aware of you,' She said, shrugging apologetically, 'We need to form a contract with you so we can legally get involved when they inevitably attack.'

'But... your just talking to me?' He asked. First contact should have been important enough to warrant a meeting with all world leaders, right? Then why were they only talking to him?

He flinched when Jason snorted, twirling the apple absently in his hands. As it was twirled, Marshal noticed a large slice had been cut out. With how he concentrated on twirling the fruit, it was almost reminiscent of a calming exercise... His eyes were quite red at that moment, though he never looked right at Marshal.

'Don't let your head swell, mate. The others are talking to other leaders as we speak,' He said, eyes flashing as he looked up to glare heatedly, 'Your not special enough to warrant special treatment!'

'Okay Jay,' Ashley warned, placing a calming hand on his shoulder, to which he backed down immediately, 'The world leaders will be getting in contact soon enough. We just wanted to have a word with you first.'

Marshal gulped, believing he knew exactly where this was going.

'Word about what?' He asked, hoping playing dumb would help him now.

'About that.' Ashley said, nodding to the cage sitting on a nearby desk. It was empty, the bowl of pellets untouched. His young female Tiny was instead sitting on the desk with her blanket over her shoulders, contentedly munching on a slice of apple as she watched the confrontation. When their eyes met, she smiled, but her eyes were full of dark glee and resentment.

Oh fuck...This isn't going to end well.

The end?

[lentils-writes]

Day 9: The Middleman AU

(so, okay, this is based on an obscure TV show that only had one season. I wrote what I think is a pretty good primer for the series that you should read before reading this so you get the idea of how it works; unfortunately the YouTube link no longer works, but it’s likely you can find streaming options if you google. You can also buy it on iTunes and Xbox Live, I think. Please watch it, it’s amazing.)

The illegal sublet Melinda shares with another young, photogenic artist. 7:30 A.M.

Melinda’s in the middle of her morning yoga routine when her Middle-watch buzzes loudly. Sighing, she opens it. “What, Aida?”

“Have I interrupted something important?” Aida asks, her tone just tending towards sarcasm. “More important than protecting the world from evil?”

Melinda rolls her eyes. “What is it today?”

“There’s a ghost tiger rampaging downtown. Boss wants to debrief you before you head in. Get here as soon as you can, if it isn’t an imposition to you.” Aida switches off her side of the comms, and Melinda sighs and goes to get ready.

Her roommate, best friend, and maybe possibly secret crush Kara, who primarily spends her days either working on her newest performance art piece or protesting her new pet cause, is in the main room mixing what seems to be red dye into corn syrup. “Hey, MM,” she calls. “Headed to the temp agency?”

Melinda nods. As far as Kara knows, every morning for the last four months she heads to the Jolly Fats Wehawkin Employment Agency and is sent out as a temp to a new job. “I should be home for dinner. You?”

“I’m mixing fake blood to protest the new fur shop opening downtown today,” says Kara. “I’m gonna soak myself in it. I think it’ll really add visibility to our cause.”

Melinda blinks. “I hear toothpaste and rubbing alcohol take dye off skin,” she says. “You want me to grab some on the way home?”

Kara smiles. “That’d be great, if you wouldn’t mind. Thanks, MM!”

Jolly Fats Wehawkin Employment Agency, fifteen minutes later.

Aida’s at the front desk, as always, to keep up appearances that this is a temp employment agency and not the headquarters for the Middleman operations. The Organization Too Secret To Know (O2STK) insists on the utmost secrecy in their mission to protect the world from evil. Melinda doesn’t pause to say hi to Aida, because that would be pointless, but she does say “See? I’m here.”

“And not a minute too soon,” Aida says, her smile sickly-sweet.

Melinda rolls her eyes and continues on into Middleman HQ to get her Middle-Clothes on, then on to meet her boss.

The Middleman is there as usual, in his green suit and black tie with his thinning brown hair perfectly styled, and looking worried. “MM!” he says. “We have something very important to discuss.”

“Ghost tiger?” Melinda asks, raising an eyebrow. “We’ll need a big catnip mouse.”

“This is serious, MM,” scolds the Middleman. “If it were a regular tiger, that would be bad enough, but a ghost tiger’s strength and abilities are unknown and should therefore be approached with the strictest of cautions. We’ll have to leave immediately.”

Once they’re in the Middlemobile and driving, Melinda asks, “Has the tiger hurt anyone yet?”

“Not yet, but I presume that’s only because everyone has been extraordinarily lucky thus far. This is a spectral carnivore - we have no idea what damage it can cause to the physical world!”

Downtown. 8:15 A.M.

Once they’ve parked, the Middleman pulls out the Psychokenesis Meter to locate the tiger. “It seems to be located on Third Street!” he says, starting to jog briskly. Melinda follows him, resting her hand on her Middle-Gun just in case.

The scene that greets them shouldn’t be surprising, at this point, but it is. A glowing, translucent blue tiger is in front of a building has has a giant FUR ELISE sign on the front, menacing not only a group of store employees but also a group of protesters that are huddled together outside. A few of them are still shouting slogans. Including a girl covered in what looks like fake blood and not wearing much, if anything, else…

“Oh, [BEEP],” says Melinda.

—

The police accept their fake IDs from the Paranormal Zoological Association without question. Then, of course, they have to figure out what to do about the tiger, and quickly.

“I’d like to see if the Concussive Stun Field Generator would work on it,” the Middleman says, “but first we have to get everyone out in case it doesn’t.”

“Yeah, using that thing if it didn’t work would be basically like saying ‘hey Mr. Ghost Tiger, thanks for stopping by, we brought you a buffet.’”

“It’s actually Ms. Tiger in this case,” points out the Middleman. “Female tigers are smaller than males, but no less dangerous. Anyhow, perhaps it might be best to distract it or try to stare it off. Shout at it, make loud noises.”

“Hey!” calls Melinda. “Hey, tiger! Look over here at us!” She pulls out her Middle-Gun and fires it at the tiger, but the laser beam passes harmlessly through it, luckily not hitting anyone else, and all it does is growl at her and take a step towards her. “[BEEP],” she mutters.

“Language, MM! Here, try this Middle-flare, it might keep its attention.” He tosses her a red flare and a book of matches.

Melinda lights the flare, while still yelling. “Tiger! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries! You’re a stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf herder! You’re the opposite of Batman!” Then she starts rotating through the curse words, which of course all get bleeped out, and then (just as she’s really starting to get concerned about how close the ghost tiger is getting, the Middleman snaps his fingers and rummages in his pocket and pulls out what looks like a tape recorder. “This might be just what we need.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a Feline Hypnosonic Cannon,” says the Middleman, pointing it in the tiger’s direction and pushing play. “A Middleman hasn’t had  cause to use it since the Great Feral Cat Invasion of 1943. It - well, observe.”

Sure enough, the device doesn’t seem to be making any noise at all, but the tiger is staring at it as if it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. She opens her mouth as if to roar, but instead yawns, and then she slowly lays down right there on the cement and goes to sleep, head pillowed on one paw.

“Um,” says Melinda. “So it’s like a dog whistle, but for cat lullabies?”

“Essentially, yes,” agrees the Middleman. “I’m told it plays a specially pitched version of Pachelbel’s Canon, although obviously I can’t confirm that.”

“Huh.” Melinda’s about to say more, but just then there’s a roaring noise and everyone starts screaming again as two ghostly grizzly bears charge out of the shop, and one turns and starts running towards the protesters. Including Kara.

“Leaping lesbians!” says the Middleman, alarmed.

“[BEEEEEEEP]!” growls Melinda, running at top speed and knocking Kara to the ground, out of the way of the oncoming bear.

They both get the wind knocked out of them, and it takes Melinda a moment to be able to move again. While she’s sprawled on top of Kara, Kara manages to gasp, “MM? Is that…”

Melinda groans and rolls off of of her. “Do you have a plan yet?” she calls to the Middleman, who’s frantically rifling through his jacket.

“Not presently,” he says, running after one of the bears, “but I’m thinking very hard.”

Melinda looks around quickly. Most of the people nearby have scattered, but one woman is curled into a ball nearby, as if hoping it will make her invisible. She’s muttering something, and when Melinda steps closer, she hears that it’s, “I never wanted this, I never wanted this, this is too much” over and over.

“Ma’am,” she says. “Do you know something about this?”

“I…I just wanted to curse them a little!” the woman exclaims, near-hysterical. “I didn’t know this would happen! I’m sorry!”

“It’s a curse?” Melinda asks.

“I’m a witch. I tried a little black magic, I didn’t realize…” The woman starts to cry. “I’m so sorry!”

After coaxing a little more information out of the hysterical woman, Melinda dashes over to the Middleman, who’s trying (without much success) various Middle-weapons to see if they’ll work on the bears. “It’s a black magic curse!” she says.

“Oh!” says the Middleman. “Excellent!” He pulls out what seems to be an ordinary water bottle and chants something in Latin before dashing over to the destroyed storefront and sprinkling some of the water around it. Almost immediately, the bears vanish mid-growl.

“What was that?” Melinda asks.

“The Water of Perpetual Blessing,” says the Middleman with a shrug. “Useful for any situation involving demons, black magic, or other general spiritual badness. There shouldn’t be any more issues here.” He raises his voice so everyone who’s still nearby can hear him. “Terribly sorry for all the mess today. The, ah, spectrals have been dealt with, and it should be safe now. Please feel free to return to your shopping or protesting, respectively.”

They’re about to leave when Melinda hears someone calling, “MM! Melinda!” She looks back, even though she shouldn’t.

Kara’s running after them, looking confused. “What are you doing here? What kind of temp job is this?”

“MM, we must leave,” says the Middleman urgently. “If your friend finds out about what you really do, there may be dire consequences.”

So Melinda jogs alongside him, leaving Kara calling after her.

Corridor to the illegal sublet Melinda shares with another young, photogenic artist. 5:30 P.M.

Melinda dreads going home, but Aida threatens to make her alphabetize the case archives - all the case archives - if she doesn’t “stop hanging around wasting valuable air.” Even the Middleman looks apologetically at her and says, “You have to face your anxieties sometime, MM. Especially regarding relationships.”

So now she’s walking very slowly so it’ll take a little longer to get up to her sublet. She runs into Trip in the corridor, tuning his guitar quietly as usual. “Hey, Trip,” she says, smiling. Even if she’s in the worst mood, he can always cheer her up.

“Yo, Melinda May,” he says with a lazy grin. “You know what you shouldn’t stop?”

“Believing?” she asks. Noser is sort of like the building’s musical Sphinx, offering riddles to anyone who can answer them.

“Nah. Thinking about tomorrow.”

“Ooh, got me again,” she says.

“You seem down,” he says. “Need a song?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll be alright. Just a long day, a lot happened. Thanks though.”

“My pleasure.”

She’s unsure of what to expect when she gets home. The bathroom door is closed, and when Melinda knocks there’s a long pause before Kara says, “Trying to get the dye out.”

“Want help?” Melinda asks. It’s not like they haven’t seen each other naked before. Probably more times than the average best friends/roommates pair.

There’s another long pause before Kara says, “Yeah. Come in.”

Melinda does, and Kara’s sitting in the tub with a tube of toothpaste and a bottle of rubbing alcohol and looking pissed off. “I can’t believe I did all this work and it was barely even appreciated,” she grumbles. “Sure they canceled the opening, but it was because the store got all smashed up. They’re planning on another grand opening once the repairs are done.”

“Well, you can just do this again when they reopen,” Melinda points out, sitting down on the floor and taking the toothpaste tube from Kara. “Where do you want me to start?”

“My back,” mutters Kara. “Can’t reach back there.” She winces when Melinda starts to spread the cold toothpaste across her back, but then holds still. After a moment or so of silence, she adds, “What exactly is it that you do, MM?”

Melinda sighs. “If I could tell you, I would. I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”

“So don’t!” Kara says. “I won’t say a word to anyone else. I promise.”

“Kara,” says Melinda, “I really can’t tell you. It’s not just about my job, it’s about…about the safety of the world. It has to be a secret for your own good.”

Kara shakes her head. “That sounds like [BEEP].”

“I know. Please believe that if I could tell you, I would.” Melinda concentrates on washing Kara’s back for a minute. “You’re the most important person in my life, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Kara closes her eyes and leans into Melinda’s touch. “Same to you. I just…worry that maybe you’ll go off and get a real job one of these days, and be able to live in a real apartment, and leave me behind.”

“Well, don’t be an idiot,” Melinda says fondly. “Because that’s not gonna happen.”

“I mean, before this morning I was pretty sure ghost bears weren’t gonna happen either,” snarks Kara.

“Shut up.” Melinda runs her fingers through Kara’s hair fondly. “You’ll never get rid of me.”

Kara leans back and turns to kiss Melinda’s cheek, so quickly Melinda’s not quite sure if it actually happened. “I’d better not, MM.”

Melinda smiles and keeps scrubbing the dye out of Kara’s skin.

[ipreferweird]

Reticent and Red in the Face

Jinx studied the monitor, drumming her fingertips against the arm of her chair as she thought of new attack formations. She had stared at the screen for so long that her own battle strategies began to look less like meaningful plans and instead coalesced into a giant mess of symbols. She closed her eyes for a moment, musing the idea of sleep when she felt it: a gust of wind alerting her of his presence.

“So I take it that 'Evil never sleeps' is more than just an expression for you bad guys,” Kid Flash said, and Jinx didn’t have to open her eyes to know that he had that irritating grin plastered on his face.

“You guessed it.” She replied a moment later, her eyes fluttering open after deciding that ignoring him wouldn't make him leave any faster. "Now you know our big secret: After becoming a level three villain, you no longer need to sleep."

"Too time consuming?" he asked, tilting his head.

"No," she replied, giving a small yawn. "It's just not evil enough."

He chuckled, happy to see that he had caught her in one of the rare moments that she wasn't annoyed by everyone else's existence—his in particular.

"In that case, you guys have it great," he said, leaning against the wall. "All we get after level three is a pat on the back and a golden star from Batman."

She snickered at the thought of the Dark Knight carrying around something as cheery as a sticker when she caught a glimpse of red in her peripheral vision.

"A rose," she said, slipping it out of her hair. "And its red," she deadpanned as she placed it on her lap. "What a surprise."

"You don’t like red?" He asked, running a hand self-consciously through his hair.

“No,” The villainess said quickly, shaking her head. “I don’t have a problem with red— “Well that’s good to hear,” Kid Flash said, letting go a sigh of relief. “But, just to clarify: you’re tired of roses?”

She closed her eyes again. “Slow on the uptake as ever, Flash. Yes, I’m tired of the roses.”

There was a fleeting moment of silence, and next thing Jinx knew, she felt a familiar breeze; Kid Flash was gone just as quick as he had come. The only indication that he hadn't been a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep wasn't the red rose, but instead the bright red apple that had been left in its place.

The next day she found a red crayon outside her room and a poem that had been written crudely with it. This crayon is red This paper is white We’d make a cute couple You know I’m right! --your favorite speedster, KF Taking a pink marker from her art set, Jinx sat down and wrote a poem in reply. You’re an idiot That poem was dumb, too Enter my room again And I’ll murder you —Your greatest enemy, Jinx She wordlessly slipped it under the door and went about her day. Another week went by full of strawberries, cherries, and cupcakes with red icing. Jinx didn’t mind though, and neither did the boys on her team. No one questioned where the boxes of goodies had come from, and no one seemed to care who sent them. It was, after all, more food for the team—and they didn’t even have to steal it, which everyone agreed was a plus. A few days after the red gifts started appearing, she and the rest of the Hive Five had surprisingly pulled off a successful bank robbery. As they rounded the street corner, Jinx heard the wailing siren of a police cruiser, cursing as she saw its blaring red lights. Jinx continued to swear as her pink eyes scanned for their parked getaway car. When she finally found the spot, she unleashed a piercing scream of frustration; instead of their getaway car, the only thing there was a small, red toy truck. “Mammoth,” She ordered, rubbing her temples. “Find a vehicle for Gizmo to hotwire. Now.” He nodded, being prompted to move quickly by the angry pink sparks that flickered around her frame. “Not that one!” she growled a second later, and he placed the toy truck back on the pavement before moving towards a yellow SUV.  

The day after the Hive Five broke out of Jump City Jail, someone set off the security system when they approached their doorstep. “I think it’s one of those cruddy Titans,” Gizmo shrieked, pulling up their live security cameras. Jinx perked up, leaning towards the screen as she expected to see a familiar face. But she sagged back against the wall once the image showed, cursing herself for the twinge of disappointment she felt when she didn’t see Kid Flash. This one was also a redheaded guy, but he sported a larger frame, an athletic build, and a focused expression that Jinx was sure she’d never catch the cocky speedster wearingl

He was obviously a hero, judging by the way he carried himself—shoulders back and head held high. The possibility of the Titans delivering an attack on their home base sent them into a frenzied panic, and the sound of the hero knocking on their steel door only worsened it and prompted them to take defensive stances.  Billy multiplied, Mammoth picked up a couch and prepared to hurl it; surprise or not, they were all ready to attack first. “Quiet, idiots,” Jinx muttered, readying her hexes as she approached the door. “I don’t think he’d ruin a surprise attack by knocking.” “What are you, crazy?” Gizmo shrieked, waving his arms. “You can’t let a hero in—“ With a press of a button, the door slid open, and the hero in question was standing before them. “Hello,” he said, giving a slight wave of his hand and prompting her expression to furtherly harden. If anything, his greeting had confirmed their worst suspicions: He was definitely a hero. “Are you, Jinx?” He asked, his cordial Russian accent not fitting his appearance. Jinx raised an eyebrow. “That depends, who’s asking?”

“My name is Red Star,” he said, extending a gloved hand, only for it to awkwardly fall back to his side when Jinx failed to shake it. Ignoring his hand wasn’t an act of impoliteness on Jinx’s part—at least not purposely—she was too busy realizing why the speeding idiot had sent this Titan to her base.   Red Star. Of course.

Red Star cleared his throat, removing a small box from behind his back. “I have a package from—”

“—from Kid Flash,” Jinx deadpanned, taking the red box and examining its yellow bow. “I Figured.”

She almost closed the door, but instead did something so uncharacteristic it frightened her onlooking team. “Um, thanks Red Star,” she said, the words tasting foreign on her tongue. Afterwards followed another awkward pause as Jinx racked her brain for a ‘nice’ way to end their encounter. “I’m going to go now,” she said at last, closing the door in his face as she took the—surprisingly—neatly wrapped box to her room. “Sorry that we asked you to look after Jump on such a short notice,” Robin said, sighing before adding, “Again.”

“Usually we don’t call for so many favors,” Robin said, running a last minute check on their security system. “But the Brotherhood’s been forcing us to travel all around the globe, and I don’t like leaving the city unmonitored— “

“It’s cool Robin, I wasn’t doing anything important.” Kid Flash said, rummaging through their refrigerator as if he was at home. “That is, unless you consider cleaning out the Justice League’s fridge important.”

Cyborg shook his head, “I still can’t believe you cleaned out our entire fridge during your last stay. You even ate Starfire’s weird Tamaranean Lortmog stuff.”

“It actually wasn’t that bad,” Kid Flash said, then in afterthought adding, “That is, after you pick out the crawling parts—“

“Well, thanks again KF,” Robin interjected, not wanting to hear about the monstrosity that was Starfire’s cooking. “Remember to check the security system periodically and to feed Silkie twice a day.” Robin paused. “Also, please keep your flirting to a minimum while you’re in Jump. And especially don’t flirt with the villains.”

Kid Flash’s eyebrows scrunch upward. “Why would I do that?”

“Maybe because tons of them are around our age and you’re you?” Robin suggested. “The Flashes are as famous for their flirtatious natures as they are for their speed.” Kid Flash rolled his eyes. “And the entire Bat family is known for their fixation with clowns and brooding. Seriously Robin, I’ve got this.” Robin frowned, noticing that Kid Flash didn’t promise to not flirt with criminals, but instead of pressing the matter, he placed a box into Kid Flash’s hands.

“This arrived on the doorstep for you earlier today,” He said, crossing his arms. “It didn’t have a sender label.” “Rob, come on dude,” Beastboy said, sticking his head in the doorway. “We’re gonna be late for Spain.” “By the way,” Robin said, turning before he left. “If that box has any puppets in it, burn them.” And with that he and his team left without another word or explanation.

Kid Flash flipped the box over, curious as to who would send him a gift. He decided it was probably from a fan, and hastily began tearing off the crudely wrapped decorative paper. A quick glance at the contents revealed the sender, and in a blur of red and yellow he was dashing towards the Hive Base.

“Really?” Kid Flash asked, eyebrow raised as he held Jinx’s gift—if you could even call it that. “A pink wet floor sign?”

“Think of it as a memento of the great times we’ve spent together,” Jinx said, fighting the upward tug she felt the corners of her lips give as she watched his stunned expression.

“Oh yeah,” said Kid Flash, smacking his forehead in mock realization. “I forgot how much I enjoyed the concussion you gave me the last time you had one these.”

“Luckily for me,” Kid Flash said, rummaging through the box, “The next time it happens we can have matching hair.” He waved the box of pink hair dye she gave him for emphasis.

“I figured that would be your favorite part of the gift,” Jinx said, twirling one of loose strands that fell from her horned hairstyle with a smirk. “I mean, pink is a great color, after all.“

“I’ll admit that it’s a nice color,” Kid Flash said, opting to examine the dye before his admirative stare at her hair became too obvious. “But red’s better.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s the color of sunsets,” Kid Flash pointed out. “And they’re pretty cool. “You mean boring,” Jinx corrected. “, and overrated.”

“Tulips are red,” Kid Flash said, and, as if to prove his point, he pulled one out of what seemed like thin air.

Kid Flash: Fastest boy alive, bane to her existence, bearer of flowers.

“Too bad that I’m allergic,” Jinx said, wilting the flower with a flick of her hand. “To both them and your pick-up lines.”

“Funny you should say that,” Kid Flash said, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously as his smirk grew even larger. “Because your cheeks turn pretty red when you hear them.”

Jinx tilted her head and quirked an eyebrow in reply, which only seemed to prompt Kid Flash to keep talking. “Everyone knows that super speed makes speedsters fast,” He said, taking on a wistful tone that Jinx wasn’t accustomed to hearing. “But everyone forgets that it also makes everything else seem to slow down. It’s kind of strange when the fastest cars are brought to crawl and every drop of rain hits the ground in slow motion.”

“But the best part,” he said, closing the distance between them. “Is what you notice about the people.” Jinx realized all too late what he was suggesting, and immediately froze. She forced herself to show no signs of any emotion other indifference in hopes that he’d drop the subject altogether. But even she noticed the subtle change in her stoniness, and she swore inwardly because that meant that Kid Flash had saw it too. “You notice when the when the corners of their lips begin to tug upwards into a smile,” Kid Flash said, his own smirk widening as if in demonstration. “And the moment that their glances last a millisecond too long. You notice the way their eyes dilate and light up when they see something—or someone—they like.” “And you definitely notice when their cheeks redden the moment they begin to blush—kind of like yours are right now.” He said, nonchalantly pointing an accusing finger at Jinx.   She didn’t need super speed to see what he had pointed out; Jinx had felt the blush spreading against her will the moment he had stepped close. She decided then and there what she would do: After knocking Kid Flash out cold with a quick hex to the temple, she’d drag him far away, update the security system, and pretend they’d never met—all of which was far easier than giving him the satisfaction of admitting her attraction. But before she could do any of that, a breeze snapped her back to her senses. Kid Flash had stepped away, and was once again leaning on the wall, nonchalantly examining his glove as if he had been there the whole time. “But then again, you did say you were allergic to tulips,” he said, his tone smug as ever. “It could be an allergic reaction, I guess.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes. “What was your point, again?” “That everyone loves red,” he said in a singsong voice. “Your cheeks just happened to be an example.”

“Well I don’t love red,” Jinx declared. “A month of your gifts has made me realize how much I despise the color.”

“Is that so?”

“It is,” she coolly replied, and began counting off with her fingers.

“I hate red apples, red cars, and worst of all, redheads,” she said, not skipping a beat as Kid Flash feigned a hurt expression.

“Pink is an all-around better color. It’s powerful, its’ fashionable, it’s—“

“—delicate,” Kid Flash finished, and Jinx looked up to see him reading from the screen of his communicator. “—and empathetic. Known for representing a lack of power, pink is typically categorized as a sensitive color.” He read, not trying to hide his delight as Jinx’s confusion gave way to irritation.

“Unlike red, its more brash and exciting counterpart, pink is calm, non-threatening, and passive— “ He was cut off as she pulled him into a kiss, his usually cluttered mind going blank the moment her mouth met his. Jinx’s heart fluttered against her ribcage and Kid Flash felt his nearly stop as he focused on one amazing, undeniable fact: he was kissing Jinx. The soft lips that touched his, the cheek that he was caressing—they belonged to a villainess. It was wrong, and Robin would kill him for it later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care since right then, in that moment, it felt right. “How’s that for passive? “Jinx asked, grinning as she pulled away. The pink eyes that held his gaze had a sense of unsureness that didn’t fit her bold actions and tone, and before he could answer her question the familiar ring of his communicator filled the air.   He silenced it and searched for signs of uncertainty, longing, or anything , but instead all he found was the unperturbed, cool gaze that everyone knew Jinx for.

“Looks like you’ve got some hero duties to tend to,” she said. “Yeah,” he replied, not attempting to hide his dismay at the communicator’s timing. “I’ll see you later?” He asked, cursing himself for the blatant hopefulness in his tone.

Jinx shrugged. “You know where to find me.” Moments after Kid Flash left, Seemore came, muttering curses about how he had saw the stupid hero and that he had ‘told Gizmo to update their defense system’ after his last break-in.

“Are you ok Jinx?” he asks, stopping mid ramble as he frowned in concern. “Your face is all red.”

She absentmindedly raised a hand to her cheek, feeling its warmth and ghosting over the spot that Kid Flash had touched mere moments before.

“Allergic reaction,” she mumbled, closing the door without another word.