#they feel stiff and i like the ones i busted out in my initial madness to design their characters better hsdklgh but those aren't fullbodie

[ichorblossoms]

by god i may actually be making grimm and yarrow refs for art fight

[yedamismymom]

Could you do a fluff for Asahi🥰

8:12 AM

Asahi x Reader

fluff

1.5k+ words

“Happy six months!”, you both cheered before blowing out the candles of the small chocolate cake that Asahi had bought for the occasion. This was the last event of your half year anniversary celebration, majority of the day having passed with fun things the two of you had planned the day before. You both had done everything you possibly could in a day. From getting custom couple rings to having a picnic in the park. Not to mention the excessive amounts of pictures you both took of each other and your shenanigans. You both were the definition of a love sick couple. “So, what did you get me?”, Asahi asked curiously after feeding you a piece of the cake. He was dying to know what you’d bought for him. He had been for almost three weeks now since you’d bought his gift in advance. You went to your room to retrieve the present, scurrying back to him and handing him the tiny gift bag. “Here it is! Open it up!” Asahi was quick to obey, swiftly tearing off the gift wrap and carefully pulling open the tiny box that lay inside it. As soon as the cover was off, Asahi’s face was unreadable. He stared at the inside with a blank expression which soon morphed into one of shock, confusion and surprise. “You got me this?”, he asked after a while, looking up at you with his brow raised. Your smile dropped, hands starting to get clamy. “Yeah, do you not like it?” Asahi shook his head frantically, taking your hands in his and sitting you back down in front of him. “No no no, I really like it, trust me. It’s just that…” He never completed his sentence, instead pulling something out of his pocket. When he brought the object into view, you too were in a similar state of shock and surprise, just as he was. Your eyebrows nearly shot off your head when your eyes landed on the necklace that he’d bought. Why? Well, because it was the exact same one that you’d bought for him. It had the same black and dark grey beads and the same obsidian pendant in the centre. The only difference was that his pendant had your initials on it and yours had his. “Well this is definitely not what I’d expected.”, you admitted, taking the necklace from him and scanning it for any other minute differences. “I’m sorry y/n. I’ll get you something else sometime later. Anything you want.”, Asahi assured you, mistaking your words. “You don’t need to get me anything else Asahi. I really like this and I’m really happy you chose this one for me. I was just saying that I couldn’t believe a coincidence like this was even remotely possible dummy.”Asahi nodded, rubbing his neck, slightly embarrassed with the miscommunication. “Well whatever, let me put it on for you.”, you said, changing the topic. His eyes lit up at that and he handed you his pendant, turning around so you could help him wear it.  “How does it look?”, he asked you. “Pretty.”, you replied, smiling at him brightly. “My turn!”, you piped up, turning around and pulling your hair to the side. Asahi fitted the necklace around you easily, tickling your neck when he was done. “Yay! Now we’re matching!”, you beamed. Asahi booped your nose and chuckled at your thrilled form. The rest of the night went by in smiles, hugs and kisses with you both deciding to watch a movie before you went to bed. Now, you sat on your bed, quietly waiting for Asahi to join you after taking a call. “What’s taking him so long?”, you mumbled to yourself, starting to get impatient. You got off the bed and walked over to your door, standing stiff as you heard his words. “Her reaction was so cute! Your plan totally worked hyung. Although, I do feel bad for pranking her. I’m going to buy her something else and give it to her later.” What plan was he talking about? When had he pranked you? You pulled open your door, making Asahi jumped as you caught him off guard. “Umm hyung, I have to go I’ll call you back tomorrow.”, he said, hanging up the phone. “What was the prank?”,you asked right away, getting straight to the point. Asahi’s eyes widened, but this time, not in shock. He just realised you’d heard more than he thought. Asahi smiled at you and dragged you back to the bed. “Don’t get mad at me, but the matching necklace thing was a prank.”, he revealed, refraining from beating around the bush. “IT WASN’T A COINCIDENCE?”, you shouted in complete disbelief. Asahi shook his head, a guilty smile playing on his features. “I was having a hard time deciding what to buy for you so I asked Jihoon hyung and he suggested that I do this.”, he explained. “THAT MEANS YOU WENT THROUGH MY THINGS YOU PRICK!” Asahi flinched and grabbed both your hands, tugging you into his arms. “Well yeah, I did.  But if I hadn't then this wouldn’t have happened, would it?”, he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. You scowled and folded your arms. “Are you mad at me y/n?” You turned your head to the side, refusing to look at him. “No I’m not. I’m just pissy and its all your fault.”, you answered, and angry pout etched on your face. Asahi chuckled slightly and turned you around. “I’m sorry baby, it was supposed to be a joke.”, he said, flashing you an apologetic smile. “Do you realise how cute of a coincidence it could have been if it had been genuine? I even boasted about it to my friends a few minutes ago, telling them that it was real even though they said it wasn’t possible. Now they’re gonna make fun of me.”, you revealed, dropping yourself onto him. Asahi held you closer, comfortingly rubbing your back. “Don’t worry y/n. If you want, I can tell them that it really was a coincidence. I won’t let them make a fool of my beautiful girlfriend.” You snickered into his neck, pushing yourself off him and fixed your gaze with his. “And why would they believe a liar?” Asahi scoffed at you and rolled his eyes. “All you took from that was that I lied to you? I didn’t even lie y/n, I just pranked you.” You nodded, no sign of doubt in your eyes. “Yes you did. Asahi, if you knowingly turn in a math assignment to your biology teacher simply because you didn’t complete your bio homework then wouldn’t that be lying?” Asahi furrowed his brows and sat up straight. “Well yeah, but this wasn’t that kind of a lie. This was you asking me if I’m throwing a surprise party for you and me denying it when in reality I actually am. I’m not supposed to tell you until it’s time for you to know. Even if I lie to you initially, I tell you the truth eventually.”, he retorted. You sighed, not knowing how to beat that. Well, it was clear that you’d lost this battle. You huffed defeatedly and returned to hiding your face in his neck. Asahi’s hands were now playing with your hair, aimlessly twisting and turning stands of it between his fingers.  It was quiet for a while, just you and Asahi in each other’s embrace. “Y/n? You’re not going to hold a grudge against me for this right?”, Asahi asked consciously. “No. I’m not.”, you spoke, sending a shiver up his neck. Asahi shuddered at that and peeled you off him, forcing you to look at him. “Might I ask why?” “Well you’re not going to let me go if I don’t tell you so I might as well.”, you said with a shrug. Asahi beckoned for you to continue. “Because not matter how pissed I am with you I can’t help but stay mad at you for too long.”, you told him, looking anywhere but at him. Asahi pulled your face to his. “And why’s that?”, he pressed. You shook your head and looked away, only to have him bring you back, this time with both him palms fixed on your cheeks. “Tell me.”, he instructed, smirking at you knowingly. “This isn’t fair.”, you whined, trying to pry his hands away. “If you don’t tell me right now, I’ll tell your friends that it was all a prank.”, he warned. You groaned out, hitting his chest in frustration. “You can’t do that. That’s cheating.” “No it’s not.”, he denied, squishing your cheeks together. “What happened to ‘I won’t let them make a fool of my beautiful girlfriend’? See? You don’t even love me.”, you retaliated, sulking dramatically to emphasise your point. “That’s not true. I love you very much. Say, do you love me?”, he asked. “Yeah. Yeah I do. Unfortunately, I love you.”, you spilled, realising a second too late that you both had just shared your first ‘I love you’s. Asahi was already smiling happily at you when you looked back at him. “You love me very much?” You repeated his words. finding them unbelievable. To say you were happy would be an understatement. You were on top of the world. You pulled him into a bone crushing hug, planting a full kiss on his lips. “This isn’t a prank right?”, you asked worriedly, more than ready to bust his ass if it turned out to be true. Thankfully and much to your relief, Asahi shook his head. “No it’s not.”

a/n: hope you liked it!

[repmet]

Fic: Iris

For FowlFest2020: Obscure Character Appreciation Day. Iris is actually an OC, but her family is mentioned so... that counts right? Shoutout to @ms-nothingspecial for betaing  and listening to me stress about word choice for far too long.

--

The fairy shuttle port at Tara was an impressive operation. Ten thousand cubic metres of terminal concealed beneath an overgrown hillock in the middle of the McGraney farm. For centuries, the McGraneys had respected the fairy fort's boundaries and, for centuries, they had enjoyed exceptional good luck.

- Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident

--

Iris McGraney is born at midnight on a full moon, which for a McGraney is the very best of luck.

The birth goes smoothly and without complications, and Iris is born quietly, wailing briefly to let the world know she’s arrived, before settling on her mother’s chest, quietly basking in the comfort of her family around her.

Iris McGraney is born lucky. Then again, her family always has been.

--

When Iris is 7 she gets sick, as children do.

Plans are made to see the doctor in the morning, but McGraneys have a certain way of treating illnesses first that most others don’t.

Iris is well enough to listen to her Dad tell her to keep the bedroom window open all night, even as he bundles her up in blankets and turns the heater on.

He puts a note on the sill along with a single gold nugget, just in case.

“We’ve invited them in before, but it’s better safe than sorry, isn’t it? And you should never ask without offering something in return. It’s rare they take it but it’s only polite.”

The McGraney’s were always digging up gold, especially near the fairy fort. Iris knew it was a secret though, or else everyone would want to come dig on their farm which would make the cows sad.

“Now, go to sleep,” her Dad tells her, tucking her in tight. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Iris doesn’t wake all night, and in the morning, the note is gone, the small piece of gold now sitting on her night stand.

Iris picks it up and runs to the kitchen.

“It moved, Daddy!” she announces proudly, the picture of a healthy child. “They didn’t take it but it moved.”

Her father laughs and hugs her.

“That’s how they let us know they were here.”

--

When Iris is 14 a severe looking boy in a suit sits down across from her at a cafe she’s in, and puts a phone on the table.

Iris recognises the model, it’s seven months away from being released and the hype is already intense.

“For a moment of your time.”

Iris stares at him.

“My parents are gonna think I fucking stole this.”

The boy sets a letter down on the table as well. Iris has a brother so she ignores the letter at first and continues staring at the boy, hoping to unnerve him. He seems unbothered, maybe he has siblings too. She picks up the paper and reads a very official looking letter from the phone manufacturer congratulating her on being selected to test an early release prototype.

It’s fake of course. Iris isn’t an idiot, she is however a teenager in a tiny village with not much going for it. In short, she’s bored and whatever the hell this is, it’s interesting. Also her parents don’t know shit about technology or how major releases work.

She shoves the phone in her backpack.

“What do you want?”

“The fairy fort on your property, I want to know about it.”

Iris raises her eyebrows, that’s hardly top-secret information.

“I don’t know, man, it’s been there for ages. We take care of it, respect the boundaries, and we get lucky.”

“In just the past fifty years your family has uncovered a lost work of Holbein the Younger, a sword owned by Íriel Fáid and seven seperate stores of gold. You’ve also never lost an animal to bovine spongiform encephalopathy in all the history I could find of your farm.”

Well it was more gold than that at last count but they’d stopped being so vocal about it and also-

“Yeah... what’s that last one?”

The kid gives her a disdainful and patronising look. “Mad cow disease.”

“Right.” This dude is a dick. “Like I said. Lucky.”

“It seems a bit more than lucky.”

Iris shrugs. “Look man, you don’t need to believe in the People if you don’t want but you’re in the wrong town. We eat that shit up here, the Hill of Tara borders our farm, there’s three fairy-dedicated gift shops in this village alone.”

He looks interested now though, leaning forward in his seat.

“The People?”

His eyes are weirdly intense, Iris can’t wait to tell her friends about this. Orla is super into vampires right now, she’s going to love it.

“Fairies, the fae, the fair folk, aos sí, whatever you want to call them. Maybe it is just luck, I’ve never seen one-” She frowns, a memory bubbling up then she shakes her head, brushing off a dream of a small winged figure on her windowsill one night. “The People is what my grandparents called them though. Capital P.”

“What else did your grandparents tell you about them? Did they have any superstitions specific to your family?”

Iris doesn't even need to think on that one.

“Grandpa Rob had this thing where he would make everyone wash their hands after we came back from church. Said it was not to harm the People with the holy water, but no one else I know does that, even the Creideamh Sí families.That means -”

“The Fairy Faith,” he interrupts. “Yes, I’m aware. I’ll need to know anything else your family knows about them.”

He pulls a laptop out of his bag which looks like nothing Iris has ever seen and her family is pretty well-off (selling lost works or art tends to help).

“This is getting to be more than a moment, dude.”

“I can take the phone back.”

Iris laughs, he’s not wrong that the phone is worth more than a short conversation, but the threat is just plain funny coming from a pre-teen who looks like he’d never seen the sun in his life and a stiff breeze would knock him over.

The man standing behind him, who Iris initially assumed was his dad but now isn’t so sure, clears his throat and there’s something in the way he does it, or maybe the way he glances down at her, that makes it very clear this tiny undertaker looking child would be leaving with either his answers, or the phone.

If Iris were older or wiser, she would be suitably unsettled but today she just waves a hand at the mountain of a man.

“Chill, I don’t mind, just weird to be honest.”

“You’re welcome to whatever opinion you please so long as you answer all of my questions with as much detail as possible. Now, tell me more about the holy water.”

This phone better be worth it. (It is.)

--

When Iris is 19 the world ends.

Kinda.

Her PlayStation is ruined at least which is annoying as shit.

More importantly, the fairy fort is gone and there’s an actual fucking fort there.

“I always thought it would be a bit less… concrete.”

She’s not sure who she’s talking to, her brother’s moved to London and her parents are out at lunch with friends. But it’s rather the sort of day where Iris thinks she might not believe anything at all if she keeps it just in her head.

The door gives a loud bang and Iris yells and leaps backwards. The banging continues and she realises there’s someone on the other side.

“Are you okay?’ she calls, trying to keep the sudden nervousness in her chest from coming through the words.

“There’s a fire in here, and the suppression systems aren’t working.”

Iris takes several long breaths, processing several things. One, her family is not mad, fairies do exist. Two, they do in fact have a fort on their farm. Three, she might be about to meet them for real. Four, it’s kinda ugly and dull, she expected a bit more… magical?

She looks up to try and centre herself and catches sight of a plane, trailing smoke and flying disturbingly low before it disappears over a hill. In the distance there’s the sound of thunder.

Right, the world is possibly ending, perhaps that should be higher on the list. That part is plain not registering in her head.

She tells herself she imagined the plane, there’s no room in her head to process the alternative right now.

“Who are you anyway?”

Iris’ head snaps back up at the question. Right, fairies trapped in a burning building. Focus.

“Iris McGraney! Stand back, I’ll kick the door in.”

“This door is built to withstand more than you, human.”

Iris frowns, annoyed. “You prefer to suffocate?”

There’s a long pause then, from what sounds like a distance, the voice calls back, “Alright, give it a go.”

Iris is a farmgirl through and through. She’s been stacking hay and climbing fences and eating well her entire life, she wouldn’t be carrying the Dinnie Stones any time soon but she could best all the local boys in an arm wrestle and carry a small calf several fields if she had too.

Her first kick connects with a satisfying crack. The second gives more of a crunch and on the third the door snaps and slams inwards. It’s a pretty cool moment, Iris wishes the day wasn’t so surreal so she could bask in it more.

Smoke starts to billow out as soon as it meets the outside air and there’s a lot of yelling and organised panic as thirty-odd fairies of differing colours and various sizes of small come pouring out, most coughing.

One, in an official looking uniform, makes a line for Iris.

“You’re a fairy,” she tells him.

“Yes, a gnome if we’re getting technical.” He pulls out a handkerchief and starts dabbing at his forehead. “Thanks for that, by the way, Frond only knows what’s going on. One moment we’re getting the call that Haven’s locking down the next the electronics start sparking and melting off the walls.”

“The same thing happened in the house.” Iris tells him, rapidly compartmentalising, there was far too much to take in today. Fairies sure, but gnomes? She pushes it in a box for later. “My phone melted, and the TV almost started a fire.”

The gnome shakes his head worriedly. “This is not good, not good. No contact with Haven and all our tech going bust. I bet it’s that Koboi pixie somehow, right crazy one she is.”

Iris nods for a moment, then shakes her head. “No, I don’t know what that means.”

“Not good, is what it means.”

Iris looks across the fields to several columns of smoke rising in the distance, the further she looks in every direction the more there are.

Not good at all.

--

When Iris is 32 her parents die.

It’s sudden and so plain, after a life of quiet magic and unrelenting luck. Her mother took a turn too fast and hit a patch of ice.

They didn’t suffer at least.

She blames the People at first, but even as the anger bubbles inside her she knows it’s only grief behind it. She’s learnt over the years they’re just people themselves, no capital letter. They can do extraordinary things but miracles are miracles for a reason.

After the wake is passed and the friends gone home, her brother reluctantly back across the channel, promising to call that same night, Iris is at a loss.

She had expected to be but still.

The knocks at the door are so frequent she doesn’t even startle when another comes. She’s not sure she’s in a mood for more well-wishers but she’s not doing well alone either so- she sighs and goes to open the door.

On the other side is a black-haired man in a three-piece suit, still pale but Iris felt less concern now that he might combust if the sun ever does manage to find him.

“Artemis Fowl, I didn’t expect us to meet again.”

“You remember me.” He doesn’t seem surprised.

“Being interrogated by a ten year old tends to stick in a girl’s mind.”

He smiles. “I was 12.”

Iris invites him in and makes tea.

It’s a welcome distraction right now because you have to be living under rock in Ireland not to know how just very extraordinary Artemis Fowl the Second is. Three doctorates, Time Man of the Year at 22, already one Nobel Prize and smart money’s on a second soon.

If anyone could have done it at 12… well.

For a moment she almost hesitates, but Artemis gives her a real smile, as if he already knows what’s on her mind.

(In the years ahead she will come to know him well enough to realise that’s exactly the case.)

She hands him a cup and sits down.

“Tell me, Dr. Fowl, did you ever find the People?”

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 8)

A/n: This part is super upsetting. Character death, graphic violence, I dare even say gore. Homophia, which I should have been warning a while back I am so sorry for that. Things are gonna get HEAVY- I am so sorry lol.

Word Count: 3800+

Playlist

Masterlist

"Nah, you're not crazy," Harleen giggled.

"Says you," Y/n teased, rolling his eyes. "You may have a doctorate, but you're also bias."

Her smile widened. "Okay that's fair." Y/n sighed, sitting back in his chair. He looked down at his hands, smile small as he got lost in thought. "What's on your mind?"

"Harleen is kind of a mouthful," Y/n told her. "Do you like the name?"

She tilted her head, as if considering. "I never did. When I was younger I had a friend who called me Lee, but with things happening-" Y/n's face scrunched up and Harleen snorted. "Exactly. Name's already taken- and it would be even weirder if I went by Dr. Lee, so I scratched it."

Y/n nodded. Then he sat forward, his elbows resting on the table. "So you've never had any other nicknames?" She shook her head and then shrugged when Y/n donned a surprise expression. "Well I have to give you one then. That's what friends do, right?" She grinned at Y/n's words and he watched the room get a little brighter. She was magic like that- as if she was made of sunshine. Her happiness was contagious, and she made the world a little better. She was accepting and also calm, making him feel safe as well as loved. She was his best friend and he was hers and they gave each other something they couldn't get with anyone else: unhindered fun with absolutely no expectations. It was an odd place to find real friendship in, but here they were anyway. "What about... Leena?" She immediately shook her head and he chuckled. "Uh... I mean, there's always Harley."

She considered that. "You know what, I like it." She crossed her arms. "Harley Quinzel." She nodded. "I'll allow it."

Y/n rolled his eyes. She was only like four years older than him, but had far too quickly fallen into a rhythm of acting like an adult talking to a child every once in a while, as a joke. Whether she was flaunting the years she had over him, or the schooling, Y/n wasn’t sure, but he refused to acknowledge it and it had become an unspoken inside joke between them. "What about you? I have to give you one now."

Y/n shrugged. "I don't like nicknames."

Harley tilted her head, the bottom of her blonde ponytail brushing her shoulder. "Why not? You like giving them."

"Well, yeah..." He bit his lip. "It's just, every bad guy has a code name, you know? Oswald Cobblepot goes by Penguin. Edward Nygma is going around as Riddler. Then there's Mr. Freeze. I just feel like if I take an alias, it'll be official you know? I'll be as crazy as the people I associate with and as evil as everyone says I am."

Harley hummed. "Okay, that's fair." She sighed, raising her hands to rest her chin in her palm. "Speaking of people you associate with. You and Jerome..."

Y/n's mood darkened. It had been a while now and Oswald was gone and Jerome still hadn't made an appearance. "I think he's mad at me." Harley tilted her head in confusion and Y/n shrugged. "I left with Alfred because Bruce needed me. Didn't give him a heads up, and then went missing for, like, months..." He shook his head. "Maybe he thinks I've gone back to my old life, or that I've left him behind. I just feel like he's avoiding me and one doesn't usually do that for no reason, so I figure-"

"What if he's just busy?" Harley proposed.

Y/n snorted. "With what? Reading a really good book series?"

Harley pursed her lips. "I guess you have a point."

"Why do you even care?" Y/n asked, raising his hands to knit his fingers behind his head.

Harley stared at him silently for a long time. She had the look on her face she always does when she'd trying to read Y/n's mind. When she's analyzing everything she learned in school and looking at the actions and words that he was currently giving as context, as well as past ones, and then somehow putting it all together to figure out the secrets sometimes even he didn't know. The same magic that made Arkham home also gave her the ability to read minds- Y/n had determined she was a proper superhero.

After she reached some kind of conclusion - she always nodded after she'd done the reading and then switched which leg was crossed over the other - a little smile teased her lips. She was trying to hide it. And failing. Y/n tried not to be curious. Usually when Harley didn't tell him something it was because he wasn't ready to hear it... but that smile. It was too late. He had to know. "What?"

Once he asked, the gate broke and she grinned. "You're in love with him."

Y/n snorted. "No. I'm not." The coy curl of Harley's lips added to her raised eyebrows to make Y/n doubt himself, even though he could feel his feelings and knew that it wasn't... he didn't... no way. "He's important to me," Y/n gave. "I care for him. But... love..." Y/n shook his head. "I don't know about that. There's been too much going on- I haven't had enough time with him."

She nodded, expression serious, as if this was a very important discovery. "I call Maid of Honor at the wedding though." They locked eyes as Y/n went to tell her off, but then a slow smile rose to her face as he realized she was joking. They both busted up into laughter.

"Whoever I marry, the position is yours." He winked at her and she flipped her hair, both of them giggling.

A timer went off. Harley stood, gathering her stuff and sighing. "That's my cue. Same time tomorrow?"Y/n nodded then stood.

He draped his arm around her shoulders. "You know, you make this place bearable. You're a real friend to me." He kissed her forehead. "What would I do without you, hm?"

She rested her head on his shoulder for a second before they began walking and it got too awkward to coordinate. "Probably the same thing I'd do without you. Be alone and miserable." She popped up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He pretended to gag and she fell into a short fit of soft giggles. "You're an idiot."

"Ah and yet what I lack for a brain, I make up with a big-" He cut off and she groaned. "Heart," he enunciated. He smirked and she rolled her eyes. "I have quite a large heart, full of love for my favorite gal." He shook her slightly, making a point that said gal was her.

"Every lesbian deserves a best friend with as little brains and as big a heart as you," Harley joked.

"And every gay deserves a best friend with as much brain and just as much heart as you." He finally let her go as she moved to the door that would lead outside. This is where they parted- her, to home, as he was her last patient as per usual. Him, further into the Asylum where he would have dinner then return to his room to be alone and sleep. Goodbyes were the pair's least favorite part of the day. "Until we next meet, Madame," Y/n initiated, pulling away to bow deeply.

Harley grabbed her doctor's coat lightly, pulling it out as if it was a dress as she bowed back. "I shall count the seconds." They laughed one last time, waving before she turned and left. He watched her go until she disappeared. She turned back several times to wave yet again, until she couldn't see him either just by turning around.

The second she was out of sight, the world lost a little color. It was a little darker. His smile got smaller and Y/n's shoulders sagged. He shoved his hands in his pockets before turning back to the hallway that lead to his room, beginning the trek.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. People rarely touched him. The only person that touched him like this was one that Y/n hated so much that his hands curled into fists in his pocket, his face suddenly cold and empty as he stared straight ahead, halfway through a step- his foot on the ground and extended, but not carrying him forward as it had been intended to. He took a deep breath through his nose. Unfortunately, in all the chaos and people getting booted from Arkham after beating on Y/n, the one person that meant the most hadn't been caught because everyone refused to rat him out.

The man who'd started it all.

"You and her..." The older guard mused, a nasty smirk on his ugly face. "I thought you were gay." He said it mockingly, like he'd caught a child who hadn't said they weren’t hungry sneaking food when everyone seemed to be asleep.

Y/n rolled his eyes, forcing his body to relax as he faced the man. The monster. "Not every girl in the world was born solely for men to shove a dick into them, Jameson." The older man glared and Y/n smiled, getting satisfaction. "As a matter of a fact, Harley and I are just friends."

"You're pretty affectionate for just friends," Jameson argued. Y/n still didn't know the man's first name. He didn't care enough too. He didn't want another name that tasted bitter in his mouth. He already had his fingers crossed he'd never meet a cute boy with the last name Jameson, because the name alone would ruin Y/n's chances before he'd even taken a shot. No reason to make it even harder for himself.

"We're comfortable around each other." He rolled his shoulder back once, slightly stiff from sitting so long. Jameson wouldn't attack, knowing that Y/n would report him instantly- especially in such an open space, with cameras and the chance of someone rounding the corner any second - but one could never be too safe, just in case. "She gets me like no one else does. But, as you so wonderfully pointed out, I'm GAY." Y/n enunciated the word, going the extra mile by taking a step closer to stress it even more. "Girls aren't my thing."

Jameson looked like he wanted to deck Y/n. The younger boy's lips curved into a mocking smile in response. Now the guard was the one who had to control himself. "You guys have a lot in common?"

Y/n shrugged, too caught up in his casual gloating that Jameson couldn't act out like he wanted to- like he used to be able to. "Enough. We talk a lot. She's cool." He relaxed thinking about Harley. "She doesn't think I'm crazy. It's nice." He cleared his throat, focusing back on the enemy in front of him... only to immediately be confused by the very odd expression on Jameson's face. "What?"

"Nothing," the man dismissed, moving to leave. "I've heard enough. You're both a waste." He shook his head as he left and Y/n glared at his back until he was gone. Then the boy turned back toward the cell and finally made his way.

Man, why did he have to be surrounded by such assholes? Why couldn't Harley be around all the time? Why couldn't he be free? They could get an apartment and talk all the time. Help each other get through life and protect each other from unwanted attention. Be themselves all the time. Make jokes and exchange irritated expressions when idiots like Jameson said stupid shit like he always tended to.

Tomorrow. He'd see her tomorrow. That wasn't too far away.

He could wait until then.

-

Y/n's knees gave out from under him and he fell, cracking them on the cement. He didn't even feel it. His attention was being completely held by the TV, which was turned onto the news. It was a small screen that had been installed in one of the Day Rooms recently. They were rarely ever allowed to watch the news, though. In places like Gotham, far too often the news held very upsetting content that set inmates off- either into panics, or into violent rages. Y/n had stood to turn it off when he'd realized what news was being shared. Someone had been murdered. Old news. This was Gotham. Then he'd heard the name.

"23-year-old Harleen Quinzel was found dead earlier today. Her body was badly beaten, with words carved into her stomach. It was the cuts on her wrist that were the cause of death, though it's been determined that none of this was self inflicted. We received a photo of the body recently. Beware: what you're about to see is not for the faint of heart."

Suddenly the screen was showing the broken body of Y/n's best friend. The sunshine girl with the bright smile and the contagious laugh. The girl who was going to be Y/n's Maid of Honor. Y/n's better half. She was limp and unmoving, her eyes wide and empty. Her skin was pale, nearly white, except for where dark, huge bruises and blood discolored it. Her hair had been cut off, the blonde locks left next to her head but clearly detached. Her shirt had been rolled up to letters on her stomach- carved as promised.

There was an L next to a G, in a circle and crossed through once. Underneath the symbol read: Sinner.

Someone was talking, but Y/n couldn't make out what they were saying. A hand in his shoulder and he looked over to see a concerned guard. A woman. She knelt next to Y/n, but she wasn't the one touching him. No, that hand belonged to Jameson, who had a sick expression on his face- a cross between smugness and victory, muted as if he was trying to hide it, badly masked by some version of concern that was so unconvincing that Y/n ripped his shoulder out of the older man's hand.

He was on his feet again and running. Out of the room and to his cell- despite all the people who kept asking him what was going on, and someone in the very back changing the channel as the news reporter announced, "If you have any information, please contact-" Y/n ignored the rules. He ignored the people yelling at him. He ignored the people trying to stop him. He just started running and he didn't stop until he was in his room, where he opened the door and closed it behind him. His heart was ramming against his chest and all he could hear was the rushing of his blood in his ears. He saw black spots and felt an emotion bubble up that he couldn't even begin to put name to. All he knew was that it was dark and twisting and it was very quickly consuming everything good.

Something in him broke. It snapped off. Something vital. Y/n was aching, but he didn't know what it was or where it had fallen to as he lost it. He just knew there was suddenly a gaping hole where something very important used to be, and he felt absolutely terrible with it gone.

On the upside, he could finally breathe. His chest loosened and his body relaxed and as the door opened behind him, he turned to see the person with complete calm.

"Jameson." The word was not a greeting, but more of an observation. No. It was an accusation. The older man smiled and Y/n's insides began to twist and boil- less like a tightening of anxiety and more like a snake, seconds from attacking. "Why?" He stepped forward. "She was innocent."

Jameson scoffed. "You think you two are subtle? You two act like you're together and then talk about how you're not- you just 'get' each other." Jameson shook his head, cracking his knuckles. "You're spreading your sickness, Y/n." The snake coiled tighter, hissing and spitting. Y/n felt his calmness very quickly drop, perfectly placed with rage. His body didn't move, he just suddenly had a bunch of energy and he was waiting for the perfect moment to use it. "You two aren't quiet either. Strutting around here acting so out of line, in front of me. Acting like you're not being evil." Jameson scoffed. "You're evil, Y/n. And if they wouldn't let me punish you here, I'd have to get more creative. Even if you don't see it, you're in love with her. What you think you are is unnatural, and I knew if you could see how you really feel-"

Y/n's hand was around the man's throat. Jameson tried to push the younger boy away or claw his hand off, but Y/n just rammed him into the wall behind him. Jameson's head cracked against the grey wall, his efforts suddenly becoming useless. "You think I'm dangerous as a disease? You're so desperate to cure me. You're about to find just how very dangerous I am, Jameson. All on my own, with just my two hands." And then he began to squeeze. Jameson writhed and fought and clawed but when he started to get strong, Y/n would smash his head again or ram his knee into the man's junk and the efforts died down once again.

It took longer than Y/n thought. Jameson started to change color, his eyes bulging and his lips moving desperately but nothing coming in or out. Just when the man seemed about ready to pass out, Y/n let him drop to the floor. He gasped, clawing to try and get away. Y/n smiled, toeing the door gently closed. Jameson squirmed away, features taken over completely with terror. Y/n felt amazing.

"You will never hurt another person, ever again." Y/n squatted down, taking the man's thin hair in his hands. "Me however?" Y/n giggled. "You've helped create a monster. Know that every person I kill in the future is on your hands. Every injury is your fault. I'm not a violent person, Jameson." He snorted. "Well, I wasn't. But it seems you fuckwads only answer to violence, so..." Y/n shrugged casually. Jameson shook his head, choking out pleads for his life. Y/n snapped the man's neck and he stopped begging. It was so easy... The silence was wonderful. Y/n felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. "I'm done sitting idly while assholes run Gotham." Y/n stood, not even bothering to do anything but leave the door wide open as he walked calmly away, grinning like an idiot.

Something had been broken and lost indeed. It was Y/n's self control. His moral compass that kept him grounded and toeing the line between good and bad. It was the thing that kept reminding him he was a Wayne. That he was a good person. That he had a family that depended on him, in some way or another. That he had Alfred and Bruce, who he did want to visit even if he also wanted a life outside of them. That he had Oswald, who most often found solace in Y/n's sanity and depended on his restraint to reel him in when people were trying to set him off; Oswald needed Y/n's sense to balance his emotions. And, overall, Y/n was driven by pure spite not to let those damn reporters be right. He would be good and successful and he would show all of them that he could be more than the black sheep of the Wayne family. The disappointment of Gotham. The failure, always in the shadow of the Golden Boy younger brother Bruce Wayne.

But those people who Y/n cared about so much had let people like Jameson walk around, unhindered and unchecked. They had let him get beat up for a very long time before he was nearly killed and their hand was forced. They had let evil people run around and control things while they locked up Y/n for being gay. For being attracted to a man even though he wasn't a woman. There were murderers running wild, with super powers and incredible genius, but the problem people were deciding to focus on was that Y/n was gay.

Well, he was done with the lot of them. He was going to get out and prove to all of them that he was more than a Wayne. More than a mistake. More than a shadow. More than evil or good. More than Bruce's older brother. More than the one dude who had feelings for Jerome Valeska. More than one more gay plague on the face of the planet.

They wanted a monster? They would get one. And Y/n wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied, even if it meant all of Gotham had to die.

-

"Knock knock."

The door opened and Y/n looked over, his face finally showing emotion as his surprise rose. "Jerome?"

The redhead smiled, striding toward Y/n as if he has a tasty treat to share. "My little lover boy." Jerome hooked his finger under Y/n's chin. Y/n yanked his face away. Jerome frowned. "Are you mad at me, pretty boy?" Y/n glared at him. "I'll take that as a yes." He leaned backward. "What have I done, My Darling?"

"You've been avoiding me. We haven't talked in, like, months Jerome. What the fuck?"

"A tad dramatic," Jerome hushed. "And not totally fault." Y/n opened his mouth to argue but Jerome gently grabbed Y/n's throat, pressing his fingers gently into the skin. Their faces were suddenly very close and despite himself, Y/n suddenly felt a thrill to finally feel their skin touch as cheek brushed cheek. "I've been busy planning our escape, if you hadn't noticed." Y/n's eyes drifted to see a nervous Jonathan Crane and Jervis Tetch. "Come with me, won't you? I think we've been apart long enough."

Y/n suddenly began to relax. He didn't manage to smile, but he did get excited. "Well... lead the way."

Jerome left an excited kiss on Y/n's cheek, letting his hand fall away from Y/n's throat in favor of shooting into the air in victory as he giggled, turning to his two partners. "And so we all escape! Come now, we don't have much time." Y/n stood as Jerome lead the way, all four of the men finding their way out of Arkham Asylum finally.

The fun was about to begin.

[trashyslashers]

Can I get bubba + the brothers with an S/O who got injured while trying to capture a victim??

FINALLY………… a request with his brothers!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s my first time ever writing for them. 

———————————————————————————————————-

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba is losing his entire damn mind over it. He thought you understood, he thought you knew how dangerous people were - how scary they were! But you stepped in and tried to catch one of the runaways, and as a result you were harshly shoved down the porch stairs, your arm almost getting broken as a result.

Bubba completely throws aside his saw in favor of scooping you up into his arms, pained and worried whimpers and coos as he ushers you into the house. He plops you onto a chair and kneels in front of you, looking over every inch of you he can get to to for any other injuries.

There is a fair amount of kind of old but still usable medical supplies laying around, and luckily that includes a sling of sorts that Bubba bundles your injured arm in. He knows a thing or two about injuries, and he’s absolutely going to be caring for you as if you were a porcelain doll that had just fallen from a shelf and cracked. 

LOTS of attention from this boy. You’ll have to remind him repeatedly that you’re an adult and you can take care of yourself because he’s checking on you every second he has free. Are you in pain? Is your arm stiff? Is it swollen? Bruised? Are you feeling sick? He, of course, doesn’t actually ask these things, but with the way he dotes on you in the weeks after your injury it’s obvious how much he’s worrying himself over you.

Chop Top:

Of course Chop Top’s initial reaction is to hightail it after the girl who shoved you over like that. You’d landed so awkwardly on your wrist that there was a nasty pop as you yelped in pain, and that was all he’d needed to know that bitch had to go. He ain’t happy one bit - nuh uh.

His immediate concern is making sure they get their head about beat in (incoming mail, y’know) for what they did to you - no one does that to his partner and gets away with it. It’s a bit scary, actually! Chop Top rarely gets angry about much, so seeing him so mad about what happened is quite the change. 

You’ll probably be in the house with your arm taken care of by the time he and Bubba get back, and that’s when it kinda pops back into his head that hey, you got hurt. He’d kinda lost that in the back of his mind during the rush of it all, but now it’s time for just you. He’s far from being the most gentle of the bunch, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try. He’s kinda shit at taking care of people, but you can tell that he means well. 

You’re entirely too nice; you went out of your way to try and step in to help and you’d about lost an arm because of it. So, because of that!, you are no longer allowed anywhere NEAR Bubba’s room when there are live victims in there. Nope. No can do. Sorry. He is not about to let you get your arm all busted up by some hussy again. 

Nubbins:

Nubbins is a bit of a combo of the two; both angry with them for hurting you, but also worried to death about you. The way your arm had twisted when you tried to stop yourself from colliding into the wall after being shoved wasn’t pleasant at all in the slightest. 

His worry for you trumps his anger at the perpetrator - one of his other brothers can catch them, he’s gotta make sure you’re okay. It’s incredibly obvious how worked up he is over the situation, he’s pretty much shaking as he pulls you up off the ground and over to the porch. 

You can barely get a word in as you’re barraged with questions from him, his voice incredibly heavy with concern. He stutters almost every word, his hands pulling at you a bit roughly as he attempts to get you to show him where you got injured. This guy kinda knows nothing really about how to take care of any sort of injury so you gotta really rely on one of the others for that kind of thing. 

While he isn’t as hovering as Bubba tends to be, he’s much more reluctant to part from you when you’re injured. He doesn’t care that they need help with getting the runaway subdued - can’t they see that you’re hurt?? He’s almost a bit afraid to touch you after the incident, he doesn’t want to accidentally harm you anymore than you already were.  

[caroline-min-max]

A Place like Home

Not since they were children have Min and Max ever felt like they had a place where they belonged, where they were meant to be. Perhaps they may have just found it with a rabbit eared woman who usually doesn’t like anyone.

Caroline and Min were distraught. Never had they expected to run into that many security guards at their latest heist. The trio had been forced to split up and hide, unable to take on the mob that had drawn their guns.

The White Rabbit and Min and reunited with one another while Max had been cornered, had no choice by to give himself up, and taken into custody. The tracker that was in his bow tie had indicated as much when he didn’t join the duo and the White Rabbit had a look on her tracking device.

He’d been moving much too fast and be on foot. He wasn’t anywhere near where they’d left the car so Max could have only been forced into a police car... A police car that was currently en route to Arkham Asylum, by the looks of things.

It would be impossible to help him now.

At home, Caroline and Min started right away on making a plan to bust Max out. The White Rabbit had a handy map of the interior and exterior of Arkham that they consulted often. She unfurled it across the dining room table.

The problem was, it was late and both of them were tired out from what had transpired. Min’s eyes began to droop as the White Rabbit slurred her words and started to lose track of what she was saying.

Min let out a snore, startling both of them. He’d fallen asleep for a moment. 

“We should get some rest first...” Min said drowsily as he rubbed his eyes. Max wasn’t in any danger and they knew where to find him.

“I suppose so...” the White Rabbit had to agree, her ears drooping. It felt wrong to go to bed while Max was in peril but she and Min absolutely weren’t at their best right now.

Leaving the map on the table, the two bid each other goodnight and walked towards their bedrooms. Caroline took off her White Rabbit outfit and donned a soft pink long sleeved nightgown. Usually when she changed outfits her entire self changed. She went from the guarded, ready to kill notorious Gotham villain, to her much more mild mannered civilian self. 

With Max stuck in Arkham on her mind it was hard switch gears. She still felt the impulse to want to do something. She wasn’t awake, and she wasn’t tired, but rather restless now. Her body was fatigued while her mind wanted to keep going over her plan.

Caroline sighed as she turned over in her bed, wondering how Min was fairing. It had to be worse for him. Depending on what side he was comfortable sleeping on he might be facing an empty bed. Never before had one twin escaped while the other had been caught. 

Was he lonely? Caroline’s heart ached at the thought of Min being in such a big room all by himself. She got out of bed. She knew she had to check on him but wondered if what else she had in mind might be a bit strange. 

She slipped on robe before exiting the room. She made her way down the hallway and knocked on the door to the twins’ bedroom. 

“Come in,” Min answered right away, not sounding liked she’d woken him up. She seemed to be right in thinking that he was having trouble sleeping too.

Caroline entered the room to see that Min had switched on the lamp that was sitting on the nightstand. 

“Everything OK, Miss White?” Min asked, worried. He and Max had investigated strange sounds she’s heard in the past that scared her. He was ready and willing to get up if it had happened again.

“Yes and no,” Caroline answered with a sigh. “I thought if I was awake you’d be too.”

“Yeah...” Min looked sadly over at the empty bed. “It’s too quiet to sleep. I’m used to hearing Max breathing and mumbling.” 

Caroline smiled sadly. That was sweet. “Min... Would it be alright if I slept in Max’s bed tonight? Would he mind? I thought we could keep each other company.”

Min blinked at Caroline, suddenly at a loss for words as his jaw went slack. It certainly wasn’t as if she were asking to sleep in the same bed as him but she was alright with sharing a room with him tonight? She trusted him that much? 

“No...?” Caroline felt bad for placing Min in such an awkward position, biting her lip for a moment. “I’m sorry, I’ll-” she began turning to leave.

“You can stay!” Min blurted out, halting her. “Max wouldn’t mind!” In fact, he could just see Max’s red face right now when he’d tell him that Caroline spent an entire night in his bed.

“You’re sure?” Caroline asked uncertainly. 

“Yes!” Min answered quickly.

“Thank you.”

Caroline crossed over to Max’s bed and looked down on it. Still freshly made from that morning... Even she would sometimes leave her bedroom without fixing the covers, feeling a little embarrassed that Min and Max were a bit more neat and tidy than her. 

It really was sad to see this bed vacant, she thought as she slipped off her robe. She pulled back the cover and go into it. She laid down and turned to her side so she could face Min, seeing him reach over to turn off the lamp before doing the same. While Min could make out Caroline’s outline in the darkness she could see him clear as day with her vision.

“This is already nice,” Caroline said with a smile. “It must be soothing being able to fall asleep looking at someone you’re fond of.”

“Unless I’m mad at him,” Min joked. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two really, truly angry at each other,” Caroline said with a chuckle. She thought of the time she walked into the kitchen one morning to see the twins squabbling over who ate all the waffles. She almost snickered at that memory, recalling how Min had smacked Max’s belly and insisted the fact he was two pound heavier than him was all the evidence he needed.

Min had to think about it too. “It hasn’t happened yet since we started livin’ with you. We’re real happy here, Miss White. Thanks for letting us stay!”

“I’m happy to have you two here. When I finally had the money I wanted to buy the most lavish house I could get my hands on...” Caroline had been in shock the day she realized she could afford living in the ritziest neighborhood in Gotham. “I just didn’t think about how empty it would be. It’s not just all the extra space but being here all by myself. It never felt like a ‘home’ until you two moved in.”

After living with her alcoholic father that would shout and break things late at night when he came out of his stupor, and then living in an apartment with paper thin walls, Caroline had thought she’d love the peace and quiet.

Instead, some days her home had felt almost like a large warehouse she was wandering through. Once the twins moved in she’d allowed them to furnish some empty rooms as they pleased and she’d filled up more space with gifts they’d bought her or from new interests they’d gotten her into.

Now living here was much more exciting. Often Caroline eagerly sought out the twins to see what they were up to or to chat with them. 

“Me and Max we thinkin’ that too!” Min agreed. “We had a OK apartment but nothin’ that felt like a place we belonged. We thought we’d never have that feeling we did again when Mom was still alive.” Min smiled sadly. “I still remember how she’d give us a kiss goodnight and say ‘See you in the morning’. She did that at the hospital too... Before me and Max left for the night... But the next time we saw her was at her wake.” 

That had been terrible... The twins had never experienced death before. Sometimes the thought of Max begging his mother to open her eyes and get up still haunted Min’s memory. His father had firmly grabbed Max’s arm and scolded him for causing a scene, Min needing to step in and calm his twin. 

Silence filled the room. Caroline knew they’d likely be a couple of Chatty Cathies but never expected such a heart-to-heart talk. It explain so much, though... Caroline closed her eyes for a moment as she collected her thoughts.

Initially Caroline had been positive that Min and Max were only so nice to her because she had favor with Two Face. She’d grown so distrusting of everyone around her she couldn’t believe anyone would extend kindness like that without ulterior motives. 

Only... They kept doing it. Long after Caroline had made it clear it wouldn’t score them any points with Two Face; they didn’t care about that. They hadn’t worked with a single woman yet and, being such a new criminal herself, were worried about how Caroline would fair.

It only got worse once she started reluctantly liking them. They’d picked up on that. 

Now she finally understood the root cause to how they treated her: Their mother. Caroline was a woman they weren’t powerless to protect. Unlike Two Face, she showed them that warmth they were craving and praised them for jobs well done. She didn’t deny that she needed them but it seemed they needed someone like her too.

Caroline opened her eyes again to see that now Min was staring up at the ceiling. Her heart was aching for him, but what could she say after that? Likely nothing, but there was something she could do...

“Huh?!” Min was startled when he suddenly felt a smooth, gentle hand on his cheek. “Miss White...” he whispered her name when she planted small, chaste kiss on his forehead. 

“Goodnight, Min,” Caroline said as she straightened back up. “I’ll see you in the morning and every one after that.” Her voice radiated sincerity. She meant it. 

Min felt tears sting his eyes; he never thought he’d ever hear those words again. He suddenly sat up and embraced Caroline, she not hesitating to hold him back. Here she was in a man’s bedroom, in just her nightwear, and in his arms. But she wasn’t afraid.

Through the thinness of Caroline’s nightgown it was more obvious than ever how tiny her frame was. Caroline was an extremely petite woman who somehow managed to have a presence more than twice her size. It almost made a person forget how frail she was. 

Min had an idea of what this woman had gone through. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her ever again.

For the most part Caroline had felt platonic fondness for the twins. Here and there, however, she’d felt something more. The first time had been when she blushed upon them revealing their talent for singing to her. Those voices beautifully singing one of her favorite love songs had sent her heart racing.

Initially she’d deemed it a fluke. She wasn’t used to men doing such kind things for her and was certain it was a momentary feeling. But now it had been happening more and more. This was becoming one of those times.

If Min actually dared to try and kiss her Caroline couldn’t be certain she’d be opposed to it. Her actions had meant to comfort him but now she was starting to want to stay close like this all night.

No... She wasn’t ready for a relationship like that. Especially when she’d had moments like this with Max as well. She had yet to favor one over the other.

Although mind reading unfortunately wasn’t an ability she’d gained Caroline noticed a change in Min’s demeanor as they continued to stay in such close contact. His breathing had quickened, and there was a slight trembling in his hands... Was she looking too much into it or...?

“Whether we succeed or fail tomorrow we’ll still be with Max,” Caroline said, unable to stand the tension anymore. Although she’d much prefer the first outcome it was still a comfort. “I think we really do need to try and sleep now.” She had to end this before Min did start getting any ideas.

“Yeah...” Min agreed before reluctantly letting her go.

Indeed Min’s mind couldn’t help but thinking about taking things further. Just when he thought Caroline couldn’t get any sweeter she kept surprising him with how caring she could be. She’d insisted she always acted out of selfishness but that just made it seem all the more special that treating he and Max so well brought her that much joy.

A woman like Caroline could never fall in love with him; she was too special. Min was certain of that. Romance likely wasn’t something she was searching for anyway, he not wanting to ruin what they did have together.

Caroline returned to Max’s bed. She made herself comfortable again under the covers, looking over at Min again to see he was facing her direction. Although she knew he couldn’t see it, she smiled and closed her eyes.

Max’s pillow smelled like him. Caroline inhaled his scent deeply, hoping that tomorrow she and Min could devise a foolproof plan.

Usually, as quite the troubled woman, Caroline would wake up repeatedly during the night. Either from bad dreams, strange sounds, or her mind insisting that she needed to get up.

It came as a surprise when sunshine pouring into the room was what roused Caroline. She’d slept for six straight hours, a true rarity for her. Min was still out cold. He was laying the same way as when she last saw him only with his mouth hanging open.

She was right to trust him. There was never a doubt in her mind. She’d let the dear man sleep and go back to her own room to change. After making a pot of coffee she’d wake him up. 

Her legs slightly stiff from all the running she did last night, Caroline gave them a good stretch before getting out of bed. As she was throwing her robe back on Min’s drowsy voice calling her name made her jump slightly.

“Sorry!” she apologized as she turned to face him. “I didn’t think I made any noise!”

“You din’t...” Min murmured as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes, Caroline thinking the bedhead he had was rather cute. “It’s morning already?”

“It is.”

It was more than obvious Min would need that coffee. Caroline set to work on brewing on it as soon as she could, the two then having a simple breakfast of toast and cereal before starting fresh with Caroline’s idea. 

“So we’ll count on that security clearance card still working,” Caroline decided. “If not, we’ll fall back on plan B.” She’d really rather not take such a risk but she’d do anything for Min or Max. “What do you think?”

Min opened his mouth to answer but it was an identical voice behind him and Caroline that spoke up.

“Those would have been great!” Max praised, sending a jolt of surprise through Min. 

“Yeeek!” the fur on Caroline’s head stood on end as she leaped up into the air and into Min’s arms. She clung to him around his neck as she look back at the intruder. “Max!” she gasped. “Why didn’t you say something earlier!”

Completely focused on her course of action with Min, Caroline wasn’t paying attention to any noises at all. She’d completely missed the sound of Max using his key to open the door and it wasn’t loud enough for regular human ears like Min’s to hear.

“I thought maybe you and Min would still be sleeping and then I didn’t want to interrupt!” Max explained. “I’m sorry I scared you!”

Caroline sighed into Min’s shoulder, it suddenly dawning on her where she was. He was supporting her delicately, being careful about where his hands were. In fact, he was stiff as a statue from his shock at suddenly having Caroline in his arms.

“I apologize, Min,” Caroline said, both their cheeks slightly pink. “You can put me down now.” Min obliged, Caroline then surprising Max when she hugged him, pressing her forehead against his torso. “I’m so glad to see you. How did you get out of Arkham?” she asked as she looked up at him. Even she had never escape this fast.

Max grinned. “Without you there they decided to take me to the regular jail! You taught me and Min so many ways to escape they probably still don’t that I’m gone!”

Caroline laughed lightly. The fools! She did think she’d spotted some new faces on the scene; they likely hadn’t realized that Max was special. Back when the twins first started out a plain old jail for the typical Gotham scum was more than suitable in containing them. As the White Rabbit’s henchmen they’d learned more than a thing or two from her.

“Well that was certainly lucky!” Caroline couldn’t help squeezing Max tightly. He and Min really had paid attention when she taught them escape tricks. 

Max hugged Caroline back, glad to receive such a warm reception upon returning home. He’d truly been touched to see her and Min planning out the details of how to get him back. 

Min looked on with a sad smile on his face. So this is what it looked like on the outside to see Caroline hugging one of them. She seemed so happy in Max’s arms; maybe even happier than when she was in his? Min couldn’t be sure. He tried not to dwell on it.

“You have to be hungry!” Caroline suddenly realized as she abruptly let Max go, taking a step back. “Go ahead and sit down! I’ll make you an omelet!” She looked over at Min. “Could you put this map away for me please?”

“Sure, Miss White!” Min answered before he started rolling it up. 

“Thank you.”

“Welcome home, Max,” Min said with a happy smile. He was elated to see his brother no worse for wear.

“Thanks, Min!” Max replied as he took his seat. 

Max looked around the kitchen he’d become completely familiar with. He smiled at the rabbit magnets that were stuck to the fridge where they sometimes left notes for one another. He eyed the higher up cabinets that Caroline would need a step stool to reach if she was being stubborn and didn’t want to ask for help. He smoothed a wrinkle out of the pink tablecloth in front of him.

His gaze lingered on the rabbit eared woman who was busily gathering the ingredients she needed to make his breakfast. He turned his head when Min returned and took his place, leaving an empty chair in-between the two of them where Caroline would sit.

Home... Indeed this was. It wasn’t so much the house itself but the people that resided in it with him that made it feel that way. This was where they should be. Max was glad he and Min had finally found it.  

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I’ll Meet You At The Bottom (Part 3)

I am still bitter to say that my favorite joke didn’t come back to me. For that I’m actually pretty disappointed in this chapter, the first version that my computer ate was so much better. :/ I hope it’s still enjoyable for you guys anyways.

Sokka hadn’t seen her at the window since that night but the image of her was imprinted in his mind. Even so he crafted a quick sketch just to make sure that the image stayed vivid. His brush work still wasn’t up to par but he had a newfound determination to make it so. Not exactly masterful with backgrounds yet, he simply spread a layer of black over most of the background, leaving only enough white to expose the border—which he decided would serve as the window frame. He filled that white space with gold paint. It looked decent enough, but such was easy to say when one was only working with two colors and a simple pattern. Even so, something seemed missing, lackluster. He decided to add a little texture, hoping that it would add a little something. At the same time, he feared that it would be hard to add the second layer of paint if he did.  With a brief moment of reluctance to precede, he began dabbing a cloth at the canvas. Every good artist would have to take a risk at some point, he figured that he might as well start early.

It would take an hour, at least, to dry. Sokka set the brush down and starched his arms. He was thankful for how well just that portion of the painting had taken his mind off of things. If he would have known, he may have taken to painting portraits earlier on.

 “How’s your painting coming along?” Katara asked, she squinted at the gold framed black square. “What are you painting?”

 The innocent inquiry took the man by surprise. “I…uhhh…” Sokka stammered. He hadn’t even thought to come up with a clever lie, but he certainly wasn’t going to let anyone know that he was painting Azula.  “It…it’s an abstract piece.”

 “You’re pretty flustered for just painting an ‘abstract piece’.” Toph put in.

 “W-well look at it.” Sokka motioned frantically to the painting, the color in his cheeks only spreading more. “Does it even seem abstract? It’s stupid just like every other thing I’ve tried to paint.” He hadn’t quite meant to beat himself up like that, but it was much better than coming out with the truth.

 “It’s not that bad.” Aang shrugged. “You just started it after all.”

 Katara nodded, “It’ll probably look great after you add some more color and splotches and… artsy stuff.”

 “Yeah. Artsy stuff.” Sokka agreed, instantly flooded with relief.  

 “I think you should add different shades.” Zuko suggested as he crossed the grass. “Maybe add some greys or something.”

 Sokka rubbed the back of his head, “thanks for the suggestion but it might be a bit too late for that.” Truth be told he wasn’t sure if he was correct; the paint might still be wet enough for him to do so, but one artistic leap of fate was enough for one day.  He looked back at his canvas, he was itching to fill it.  Right then it was as empty as the real window frame.

 .oOo.

 Azula looked at the powder sitting atop her dresser. She’d seen Chan use it before, he said it was a real trip and was kind enough to slip her some. She told herself that she had only accepted it to feel the kick of adrenaline, knowing just how much trouble it could bring if she got busted. And when that didn’t work she convinced herself that she had accepted the mystery substance to prove to herself that she wouldn’t actually inhale it. But as it sat undisturbed it became increasingly difficult to resist. She did go through the trouble of sneaking out of her room and into the palace dinner party to retrieve it, after all. Not to mention she was already hooked, what was one more thing?

 She had her fingers around the pouch containing it when there came a knock on the door. She hissed a quick, “fuck” and tossed it under the dresser. She made a point of loudly approaching the door, in hopes that the person on the other side would decide not to barge right in. She had her hand on the knob, poised to twist it, but decided against doing so. “Leave me.” She demanded, entirely uninterested in uncovering the identity of her visitor.

 “Would you like me to leave your food at the door?”

 Her lip curled back, the last thing she needed was for one of her servants to nose around and out her, “of course I would!” She spat. “Have I ever invited you in before?”

 She heard the rustle of cloth and then a stiff and uncertain, “well…no.”

 “Well then...” She rolled her eyes.

 Azula could picture the man bowing. She heard a soft clatter and waited for the footfalls to grow distant before poking her head out and fetching a plate of dumplings that she wasn’t actually hungry for. She ate one or two regardless and went straight back to her initial conundrum. She felt under the dresser for the pouch, by the time it was in her hand, her fingers were tainted with dust.

 She stared at it for some more time, admitting that she didn’t know how much she could inhale at one time without hurting herself. She looked at her arms and remembered that she didn’t care. With a final burst of hesitation, she opened the pouch—thanking and cursing Chan all in the same sniff.

 .oOo.

 Sokka carefully swept a finger over the bottom right of his painting. Upon inspection, his finger had come up clean. It hadn’t taken as much time as he thought for the painting to dry. He was both nervous and thrilled to continue. He took a seat, deciding that it would do him well to actually plan his next line of attack he could just do everything in one more layer or he could have third. He rubbed his chin, staring at the canvas as if it would tell him what it wanted him to do.

 Picking up his brush, he had at last made his decision. He created a blend of color white and brown—more heavy on the brown. He stuck his lip out, that mixture wasn’t right. It was much too dark, he was painting Azula, not Katara. His second attempt was just as unfulfilling, this time it was to loaded with white. He was about to mix a third when he recalled the look of the princess while she stood at the window in broad daylight. No, he realized, he had created a quite accurate blend. It would have been too light a year or so back, but as things were, he had it just right. He put his brush to the canvas, hoping that his hand could recreate the image that clung so heavily in his mind.

 Minutes bled into hours and he scarcely noticed the rumble of his stomach nor the call of his bladder. It wasn’t until Katara offered him a moon peach that he finally turned form his work. “That’s not bad at all.” She noted as she tossed the fruit at him. “You choose a very light tone for the skin. I would suggest adding some color.”

 It took a degree of willpower to bite his tongue and not inform her that he was going for accuracy. He truly wanted to, but Sokka had no desire to answer the questions that would follow. So instead he replied, “I don’t want to waste all of my brown paint.”

 Katara laughed. “I’m sure Zuko would be willing to buy you some more.”

 “You’re probably right.” He agreed, “though I’m sort of hoping to be done with this layer tonight.”

 “You can’t rush art, Sokka.” Aang gave his input.

 “Hey, you guys want to see my painting?” Toph asked. “I call it, The Orange Hand. I made it with my own hand.”

 Sokka almost didn’t’ want to tell her. But he did, “Toph, that hand is pink.”

 “Oh.” Toph muttered. “I knew that.”

 “I’m sure.” Sokka agreed sarcastically. He turned back to his own artwork. He supposed he could add a bit more brown in some places. It would give it a more life like quality. “Say Katara, from that window,” he took special care to point to the window next to Azula’s, “how do you think the light would fall on her face?”

 “It depends on the time of day.” Katara replied.

 “How about during sundown.” Sokka replied.

 Katara moved closer to the painting. “Now don’t get mad if this is off, because I’m really just guessing.” She mumbled as she indicated to the places where she though he could add a little bit of darkness. “Hey, wait a minute! Didn’t you say that this was an abstract painting?”

 Sokka was thankful for his turned back, he was flustered all over again. “I changed my mind. I couldn’t come up with anything good. Anyone can splatter paint on a canvas and call it art, you know?” Inwardly he scolded himself for being so careless, he was never good at secret keeping.

 “Who are you painting?” Katara asked the question he dreaded.

 “No one really, I mean I haven’t decided yet.” He hoped that he wasn’t stammering again. “I might try to make up my own character.”

“You should give her a cool tattoo! Like Sparky Boom Man’s!”

 “Thanks for the suggestion, Toph. But I don’t think I’ve had enough practice for painting tattoos like that.” For a good while his friends watched him paint, it only made him a little squeamish. By the time they retreated back into the palace, he put his brush down and looked at what he had done so far.

It was awkward at first to only have a naked figure on the canvas, knowing exactly who it would morph into. But until it dried enough for him to add a layer of clothing, it would remain that way.

 .oOo.

 “Hey! Boy, where are you going?” Came a sharp demand.

 Azula looked around but the voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and it wouldn’t stop echoing. She shrugged and continued her stroll. The hallways were buzzing with energy, that tossed flashes of blue and purple that ping-ponged from one end to the next. She could feel the energy vibrating her to her very core. She was reaching out to catch one of those energy orbs when a hand fell roughly on her shoulder.

 “Are you listening to me, boy. We have a palace to guard.”

 She turned to stare at the man grasping her shoulder. She might have come to deduce that it was Xanu, the head of the royal guard, had his face not distorted before her eyes. At first it was quite comical—he had the face of the avatar’s bison—and then it shifted into something more disturbing. For a moment his skin seemed to be sagging right off, and then he had his real face.  

 “You may be one of our new recruits, but there will still be punishment for slacking…”

 The man very clearly had her pegged for someone else. Before that moment, she had snuck into her father’s old bedroom and borrowed one of his suits of armor. Or at least that’s what she though she’d done, as it were, she had actually acquired herself one of the guard uniforms. Of course, with the powder well and snorted, it didn’t take much to convince her that she was going to get fired for messing around on the job.

 “I’m not slacking.”

Xanu pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself. “I told them not to hire these boys. Half of em ain’t even hit puberty yet. How am I supposed to make sure they’re all on track?”

 Azula elaborated. “I’m very job at my good, actually. I’m exploring because I have to make sure the palace knows me inside and out in case I need to evacuate without being saw.”

 Xanu blinked. “Are you alright, boy?”

 It also didn’t take any effort for him to have her convinced that the powder had transformed her into a pre-pubescent boy. Azula brought a hand to her breasts, unable to actually feel them beneath the armor she decided that she must not have any. It wasn’t until he grabbed her wrist that the panic set in, she didn’t want to talk to other people. She had to get back to her room before someone found out that she had put the powder to use.

 The misfortunate head of guards wasn’t expecting to have a swift blow delivered to his privets, so when she delivered it he put up no fight. Seeing him crumple to the ground instilled a new fear in Azula. If she was a man now she would have to take extra care not to let that happen to her.  Unfortunately for the princess, the energy orbs now seemed completely hellbent on giving her a dose of karma.  She leapt up and down to doge the balls of light, occasionally having to fling herself up close and personal with the wall. Xanu watched the display with morbid fascination, deciding once and for all that he wouldn’t allow any boy or girl under fifteen join the palace guard.

 The hall seemed much narrower to Azula who was creeping along it. She found tears in the walls where none used to be. From those crevices dripped a steady flow of glitter and mud, if she didn’t hurry she would find herself drowning within it. Her stomach churned, she had to find her way back to her room but all of the doors looked the same a perfect mirror of the one next to it. The image of each door seemed to reflect endlessly down a hallway that didn’t cease. She found herself dizzy, the hall now tilting at some odd, disorienting angle. She stumbled, as the carpet seemed to roll like waves beneath her. On all fours, she hustled to the first of the doors and pushed it open. It wasn’t her room, but it was a room, one that didn’t see many guests. So she would wait it out there. Alone in a dark room where the orbs of energy elongated into shadowy fingers that poked and prodded at her. Alone in the dark where a dozen voices seemed to holler incoherently at her.

 She bunched herself up in the corner furthest from the door and clasped her hands over her ears. It was too loud, everything was too loud. But at least these voices didn’t scream her shames. In fact, they seemed to drown out the ones that did. Even so, the sheer volume had her letting herself flop to the floor on her side. The world continued to swirl and blur until she couldn’t make anything out. The colors were all wrong there was purple where there was supposed to be red and gold where there was supposed to be blue. She could see the shape of a hand rising between her ribs and on that hand was the shape of another smaller one. They threatened to burst out and split her skin. And when she looked at her arm she could have sworn that her own hand was gone. The furniture in the room swelled, seeming much larger than it ought to have been. The entirety of the room spun faster. She wanted it to stop. Oh, Agni, she needed it to end.

Not for the first time, Azula found herself isolated and horrified.

Just what had she put herself through this time?

Just what would she continue to put herself though?

[get-a-new-lease-on-life]

OC development - Excerpts from the “New Lease on Life” series

develop-your-oc:

Which OC is just… really, really weird?

Hmmm…that’s a toughie because a LOT of my OCs are pretty freaking weird. Sonja threatens to fork people if she thinks they’re getting mushy. Maggie insists on ‘naming’ her Elemental techniques like she’s in some crappy anime. Dakota runs a one-woman pyrotechnics show, frequently blows herself up with fireworks, and always ends up with no eyebrows…

Then again…

“That’s it,” Leo scolded the two arguing idiots. “Do you two even know why you’re fighting anymore?!” Donatello stared blankly at his brother and Amber blushed darkly.

'It’s either fight'im or fuck'im,’ Amber thought sarcastically. 'If I stop pushin'im away, I’ll wind up molestin'im!’ Donnie’s nostrils flared, finally picking the familiar non-scent emanating from the brunette avoiding his eyes. Pheromones?! His eyes wide in disbelief, he slowly turned to stare at her. Was she seriously turned on by their fighting?! The very idea was preposterous, but it would certainly explain some things!

Bearing a tray of dishes, two empty mugs, and a full carafe of coffee, Donnie crept through the door of his bedroom backward and closed the door as quietly as possible without setting anything down. He let out a sigh of relief at the accomplishment and turned to set the tray on the nightstand. He didn’t expect to see Amber sitting up in bed watching him with bleary eyes. A yelp of surprise ripped from his lungs and he rattled his cargo. “Uh…morning?” he greeted sheepishly. Amber’s initial attempt at a reply was cut off in a loud yawn she just barely managed to aim into her cleavage.

“E'ry man 'oo goes'out wi'g'mornin’ on'is lips,” she grumbled tiredly, “sh'be fried wi'is own bacon an’ buried wi'a stalk'a cel'ry through'is heart.” It took a minute for his befuddled expression to register; funny, it made sense in her head. “Mornin’.”

“Sleep well?” he asked with a smirk; while she blinked and tried to goose her mental hamster into doing its job, he unloaded everything onto the nightstand and set about filling the mugs. “Brought breakfast…and coffee.” If she’d had the energy, she would have perked up at the last word; unfortunately, she barely had the energy to keep her eyelids aloft much less recognize the bacon, eggs, and cinnamon rolls piled on the two plates.

“Brek…fus?” she asked as though she couldn’t recall what the word meant. Donatello was laughing at her, she was sure, but she didn’t have the energy to do more than blink at him; maybe after a cup of coffee…or two…or twelve…

The small desk lamp kicked on behind the changing screen and Donnie realized his error. Though he intended only to help his lover avoid injury in the dark corner, he didn’t take into account the effect of light and shadow on canvas; right before his eyes, Amber’s silhouette was cast onto the lit canvas screens with striking clarity. His cheeks scalding hot, he found himself unable to turn away.

Without realizing she was putting on a show for him, Amber wrenched open the clasp of her brassiere and let the garment fall away with a barely suppressed groan. “God, that feels better,” she mumbled aloud tempted to fling the hated contraption across the room slingshot style. She took a moment to enjoy her newfound freedom—unaware that Donatello could see her awkwardly rubbing the feeling back into one sore breast after the other, and the unavoidable response her body had to said massaging—then begrudgingly reached for the zipper of her jean shorts. Donnie choked and tore his eyes away, forcing him to focus on the blueprints scattered across his small desk. 'Don’t think about the breasts,’ he reminded himself almost frantically. 'Just ignore them - nothing there to see - and definitely no nip-NO, bad Donnie! Don’t think about the breasts!’

When Amber finally emerged from the little cubicle, clad in her oversized Knicks jersey and a pair of modest cotton sleep shorts, she found him blushing up a storm and unable to look at her. “What’s your problem?” she asked dryly, one under-groomed eyebrow arching to the heavens.

“Apparently,” he finally admitted, “I need to rethink the screens for the changing corner…canvas just doesn’t cut it.” Amber stood there staring at him for a moment, puzzling through his reply, then with a start, turned back to the cubicle. Sure enough, the outline of the desk lamp on the floor was cast on the screens. The way she saw it, she could get embarrassed—turn just as red as the genius was turning and start babbling in humiliation—or she could make things awkward. Amber being Amber, and Amber being shameless, it was obvious which she’d pick.

“Hey, bras hurt. You try wearin’ one'a those things all forkin’ day.”

After Amber’s unexpected stint in the Hashi, Donnie should have guessed he’d find her in the barracks. Standing in the open doorway of her small vacated room, he shook his head at the sight of her slumped face-down across the narrow bunk—clearly favoring sore buttocks and a stiff back. “It ain’t funny,” she grumbled into the musty mattress; huh, so that chuckle wasn’t just in his head. “My everything hurts.”

“You expected otherwise?” Donnie retorted too-innocently. “How’d it go?”

“I am never pissing that rat off again,” Amber swore vehemently, her cheeks blazing against the sheets. “He said I needed to work on my balance…then made me 'bout puke every time I got the hang of it…an’ added time when I fell…an’ I fell a lot. I can’t feel my arse.”

“You will tomorrow,” Donnie pointed out simply, strolling over to perch on the edge of the bed. Amber held her tongue, feeling completely ridiculous and sure she just made a fool of herself. A sudden—admittedly gentle—pat on the rear shot that belief to hell and sent spasms of pain wracking through her backside. “GAH, scunner!” she shrieked rolling away and clutching her hands protectively over her behind. “The fark, Dunnie?!”

“Guess you can feel it after all, huh?” he remarked without even the slightest visible sign of mischief; if she hadn’t seen his playful side many times before now, Amber might’ve been fooled.

“Well, NOW I can!” He was laughing at her—openly laughing at her!—and still, she couldn’t be mad at him.

“I just can’t help feeling something horrible’s 'bout to happen, Dee,” Amber admitted. “I mean, think about it—We’ve been dodgin’ the bullet this long, things jus’ kept getting’ worse, an’ now we fin'ly have a break—a chance to breathe! Hell,” she swore, her nose crinkled in annoyance, “if I was writing this story, this’d be when I’d randomly gank some poor sucker to force the characters’ hands!”

Sometimes she really worried him…

Clever hands roamed Amber’s clothed curves—Donnie was just getting in a few gropes while he could, Amber was sure, nothin’ wrong with that. Dextrous fingers made short work of her button-up shirt—men like boobs—then the clasp of her admittedly plain bra—it was an eyesore, and again, boobs. He nervously kept his eyes away from her naked bust, swallowing noisily—he’s tryin’ to be a gentleman, but boobs! The running internal commentary made her feel like a horny teenager sneaking off with her mum’s dirty novels.

Normally, someone requesting a large pizza delivery to a dark alley would be a red flag for any delivery driver, much less one on a particularly dorky grey scooter. Fortunately, this wasn’t just any delivery driver, and the customer was a regular. Full helmet still in place, she examined her nails as though bored with life in general.

A faint scraping noise changed everything. “Yer late, Mister Angelo,” the driver drawled into the darkness. Sure enough, Mikey hopped down from the fire escape and swaggered over to her—that was her cue. With all the seriousness of a fashion model, she leaned back on her scooter in a generic 'sexy on a motorcycle’ pose, swept her helmet off, and threw her head back to send her hair flying…only to squawk in pain. Her audience cackled with laughter as she fought to free one of her two grey-streaked braids from the helmet’s straps. Only when it became clear she was truly stuck did he lend a hand.

“Jeez, Sis,” he teased as Amber grumbled into her covered cleavage. “On a scale of meh to holy frijoles, I’d give that an eek!”

“Ya know,” Amber remarked leaning into Donnie’s embrace and swaying in time to the Ray Charles number playing, “where I’m from, folks call this sorta music 'baby-makers.” Donnie flinched, his eyes shooting open wide and locking with hers set off by a deep blush. She really shouldn’t have so much fun teasing him. “Ya know what they say about a man who plays crooner jazz durin’ work hours?”

“…uh…?"

- Critical error – illegal operation - reboot necessary. Send report to admin? -

Seeing the panic in his eyes, Amber went in for the kill with a waggled eyebrow. "Either he’s bangin’ the secretary or he’s hidin’ somethin’.”

“So you don’t wanna leave Mercy,” Amber repeated sharply, “but you’re not willin’ to fix things unless she apologizes first? Never mind that she may not even know what she did wrong?” Raph winced; when she put it like that, it sounded ridiculous. “In that case, ya got a third choice.” She tossed back the rest of her bourbon, then snapped, “Strap on a wah-bag, whine it out, an’ get over it—if ya really care about someone, ya don’t dump 'em over a pissin’ contest.”

Raph gaped at the woman sitting across from him—stunned by her unexpectedly harsh response. When he finally found his tongue, all he could manage was, “A WHAT bag?”

“When a horse’s hungry,” she explained tersely as she topped off his tumbler, “ya strap on the feedbag so it can eat. When a grown-ass man’s pouting like a toddler, you strap on his wah-bag so he can get the whinin’ out of his system.” Suddenly realizing something, she winced and turned beet red. “That wasn’t meant to sound sexual—just ignore the strap-on part.” Raph choked. “Note to self,” she added with a suspicious stare into the bottom of her glass, “bourbon’s bad for my filter.” '…and I need'a get laid before I start really embarrassin’ myself.’

Amber was back from her first tattoo removal appointment…and clearly just shy of drunk and leaning on Mercy for support. The blonde led her inebriated friend to her and Donnie’s bedroom, kicked the door open, and they disappeared inside. Gaping, Donnie followed, listening in on the hushed conversation.

“Nez-time,” Amber slurred as Mercy eased her down onto the bed, “I’m'a stay sober fer-it—tha’ wiz crap…”

“No one said it’d be easy,” Mercy reminded bluntly dragging the trashcan over by the bed for easy access. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen ya drunk—this’s hilarious.”

“’m no’ drunk,” Amber argued sourly. “’m fuggin’ blootert!” Without further ado, the wasted brunette passed out completely.

“I’m'a just pretend I know whatcha said,” the blonde grumbled at her unhearing friend.

The verdict? I wholeheartedly believe AMBER JEAN O'BRIEN is officially the weirdest, or at least the most awkward, character to come out of my head yet.