#to be so unconcerned about his mind being altered)

[the--highlanders]

tbh the phantom piper is like. the epitome of how much some audios could benefit from directly acknowledging 6b rather than siphoning the plot off into 'two and jamie are travelling alone but we're not going to address it/we're going to throw in a mention to victoria being at graphology lessons so it's feasibly s5'

but if you think about it. the actual implanting of the shard into jamie's brain is quietly treated as quite horrifying?? the story makes a point of the fact that they needed 'two security guards and a sedative' to subdue him for the operation. he clearly didn't want this. and yet two's able to talk his way out of getting one himself. which begs the question of why two let jamie go through the process, and only spared himself. either you assume that two has deliberately enabled jamie to be implanted with the shard so he can study it (which is horrifying in and of itself, and if the author genuinely wanted to set the story in series 5, really begs for a callback to evil of the daleks and their newly rebuilt trust - but the story doesn't explore this avenue at all), or. two just let jamie have the operation for fun I guess. there's no explanation.

whereas if this was directly acknowledged as a 6b story. there's so much more scope there. jamie's already had his memory wiped once, so automatically the implications around the shard deleting memories feel way more personal. surely that's something that would strike home for him (rather than being quite chill and unconcerned about the whole thing for a lot of the narrative, as he is in the story, without a huge amount of attention paid to that being quite ooc). but then in terms of two's motivations, if he'd been sent by the cia to investigate the implants, and he actually had been forced to allow jamie to undergo the operation - that's potentially super interesting!! possibly for the first time they're each finding out first-hand just how risky working for the time lords could be for jamie!! the audio's themes of memory and consent just work /so well/ for 6b - and it can't play with that at all, because it doesn't fully acknowledge 6b itself.

[gravidwithlore]

Part 2 of my Usurper x Prince piece

Augustin couldn't shake the fact that something was wrong. Something was unsettling him, drawing his mind out of the pleasant hazy fog he'd been happy to wade through the past… how long had it been? 

It couldn't be the children, he had just checked on them, fed them, left them to be burped by their amazing nursemaids. It wasn't the little ones in his belly, safe and content, just starting to stretch and explore the shelter of his womb. It wasn't his husband, caressing his body, swaying him back and forth, whispering praises as he pressed kisses to the crook of Augustin's neck. His husband… his husband-

Augustin's eyes shot open, and in the mirror he could see a sickly green flash leave his eyes as the enchantment over him was banished. It all washed over him. The call to travel home, the looming threat of war from within his kingdom, news of General Kane's treachery, his carriage ambushed on the woodland path, being kidnapped, being held hostage, Kane's enchantment fogging his mind and rendering him under his thrall. More clearly now, he remembered his wedding, his so-called honeymoon, his brain-washed joy as his belly began to swell with the would-be usurper's babies, his heavy gravid form paraded through the remains of the battlefield of his home, waddling through the debris as his so-called husband led him to the royal vault, draped his naked form with all the jewels and finery from the vault that he could. Augustin shivered with revulsion as he remembered sitting on Kane's lap as his father, though greedy and incompetent, still his father, was led to the usurped throne in chains, staring in horror, as all that Augustin's enchanted clouded mind cared about was finding pleasure on the traitors cock. He remembered giving birth to his first-borns, his magically altered mental state making him find the pain pleasurable, made him whine and pout at the thought of his babies leaving his body, how Kane encouraged him to spread his legs and push by promising to knock him up again as soon as possible, he cringed as he remembered how eagerly he labored after, how many times just the sensation of giving birth alone made him cum. And how Kane made good on his promise, making sure he was well and truly knocked up with another set of heirs, how much pleasure it gave his little brain-washed broodmare brain to feel his second-borns move in his belly as his first-borns suckled at his constantly weeping tits. 

Which is how he arrived at that moment in the middle of the night, in front of the mirror, Kane's amused villainous chuckle reverberated through his blood, as he gently swayed them back and forth, one hand fondled one of Augustins tits, already leaking even after having just fed their children, another tenderly but firmly wrapping around what may have once been his waist, his hand resting across the already expansive dome of his belly. 

“Caught up quickly, have we?” Teased the usurper, his husband, Augustin thought with disgust.

Augustin felt like he'd just tried to run the length of his kingdom, all the suppressed rage and shame bubbling up at once, leaving him frozen in place, staring at a reflection of himself simultaneously familiar and shockingly different to what he remembered.

“Or do we need another minute to process?” Kane teased again, frustratingly unconcerned, almost dismissive in how he continued to fondle Augustin's body, which had gone stiff and un-receptive in shock. Augustin's breath hitched, and he swallowed as he tried to form words of his own for the first time in over a year. 

“You're a monster.” Augustin whispered, still in shock, suddenly afraid that Kane would snap his fingers and he'd be a just brain-addled empty-headed broodmare yet again, a few seconds of realization and clarity to see the fear and despair in his eyes before sending him back to foggy oblivion. 

Kane just chuckled again and shrugged, not phased in the slightest. Augustin opened his mouth again to speak, but no words came out. His mouth clicked shut in an attempt to start over and try again. His mind swam in confusion, still parsing which over the past year or so had been real and which had been the enchantment. There was so much he wanted to say, he wanted to curse Kane out, he wanted to rail against him, denounce him, and cast him out, to call the guards, to have him bound and in chains. With no little amount of horror, he realized none of that would work. Kane was officially the King, and though Augustin had been Prince all his life, by birthright should be the one to hold the throne, everyone in the castle served Kane, and he was simply just Kane's royal baby-maker, there or gone by Kane's command. 

“Why?” His breath hitched, and it came out as barely a whisper, but nose buried in his throat Kane clearly heard him, as his eyes snapped to meet Augustin's in the mirror and a devilish smile spread across his face. 

“Well, well, well. I underestimated you, my love.” The last he spoke with honeyed venom, clearly trying to get a rise out of Augustin. “I expected at least a few more rounds of name-calling before you actually started thinking. Now, why, what, my dearest?” 

Augustin fought down the urge to punch Kane right in his shit-eating grin and spoke again.

“Why dismiss the enchantment? And why now?”

“Hm. Well…” Kane paused, Augustin assumed for dramatic effect, and shifted their positions so that his arms loosely wrapped over Augustins already prominent baby bump, his chin easily resting on his head. “I remember you used to be quite a smart lad, the pregnancy brain might get in the way of that now, but I could always use someone like you by my side.” He drawled. 

“So, basically, you're such a sad paranoid old man, that you no longer trust anyone or anything, much less your council and advisors, and now you're desperate enough to come crawling to me, your brain-washed broodmare.” Augustin rolled his eyes in disdain. “Pathetic.” 

He could feel Kane tense, his jaw tighten, in the mirror his eyes cold and hardened, the mischievous glint gone. “Perhaps, it simply has been getting annoying to tell you it's not the right time to be dry-humping my leg and begging to be railed about 50 times a gods-damned day.” He spoke evenly, an eyebrow arched in annoyance. 

“Oh please, you love that shit, you degenerate freak. I've seen that look in your eye, when you bring me to council meetings, knowing I'm going to beg to impale myself on your cock, in front of everybody. I'm sitting on your lap, you traitorous snake, I can feel how hard you get at everyone's scandalized faces. Now, what do you really want?” Augustin’s eyes shone in the mirror as he glared at Kane, focused for the first time in a long time. 

“Yes, well.” Kane briefly broke eye contact to glance down at the swell of Augustin’s belly, running a hand down it's expanse to cup it at the base of his womb. “Perhaps, you're correct. The other councilors and nobles aren't quite bonded in the way that we are. Perhaps, I think, with time, we would make an excellent team.” 

Augustin let the statement, the admission, the metaphorical baring of his throat hang in silence around them. Kane must feel like things are dire, or is just extremely lonely, a little voice in the back of his mind offers, to take on the unbrain-washed former enemy as his closest ally. He was putting on a convincing front, as if he was the one offering Augustin the opportunity of a lifetime, a deal he was hoping he would be desperate enough to grab before it was too late. But Augustin had been born a prince, not the village dunce.

“What if I said no?” Augustin whipped around to face Kane. He wanted, no, needed, to see his reaction firsthand. No more mirrors, no more illusions.

“W-what?” Kane stumbled back, narrowly avoiding a bludgeoning from Augustin's belly. For the first time in a long time, he appeared genuinely shocked.

“ What if, I said, no?” Augustin repeated more firmly, keeping unrelenting eye contact. For a moment Kane seemed to be at a genuine loss for words. His eyes drifted down Augustin’s form, and surprisingly, something in his eyes softened. 

“You know-” He paused, a huff of a laugh escaping his lips. “You know, I only set your enchantment to enthrall you to do 2 things. To marry me, and get pregnant with my heirs.”

“Your point being?” Augustin crossed his arms, annoyed.

“I never commanded you to love them, to genuinely care for them, our children. And yet, here we are, wide awake in the middle of the night, because you knew it was time to feed them. Despite the fact that we have the best wet nurses in the kingdom at their beck and call, sitting by their cribs day and night, might I add. Despite everything, you still love our babies.”

“Are you threatening my children?” For the second time that night Kane looked genuinely taken aback, greatly offended even, a very relieved part of Augustin observed.

“No, I am not threatening our children! Don't you want a better world for them, a better world than the one your father would have left them, a better world than those insipid greedy bastards on the council would leave them with?” He pleaded. “We could make that. Together.” 

“And let's say I believe one word of your ‘leave the world better than you found it’ bullshit, you traitorous liar. How are you going to explain the sudden return of my complete mental capacities to those bastards on the council, hmm?” Augustin raised an eyebrow. 

“As if I care what they think.” Kane rolled his eyes in disdain. 

“You should.” Augustin jammed a finger into his chest. “How long do you think you're going to last on this throne if you don't? Because I'd say you'd last maybe about as long as my father did, if you're lucky.” 

For a moment, Kane took in his words and considered them, carefully. Very carefully.

“So then, what do you propose?” He asked with unfamiliar hesitation. 

“Once we figure out an reasonable explanation for why I'm suddenly back to my intelligent old self again, you'll treat me as an equal. Not a royal baby-maker, not as a common concubine, not even as an advisor. An equal. Who you listen to, and respect. Got it?” 

“And?” Kane pushed his luck even further, confidant he'd be able to get away with it. 

“And I won't slit your throat in your sleep.” 

Kane laughed. A man so used to sleeping with one eye open, it wasn't that he underestimated Augustin’s resolve, but that he already expected it, planned for an inevitable betrayal from everyone he'd ever met. A different tactic was needed then, but it wasn't as if Augustin had much left to bargain with. Looking back on the events of the past couple of years, the only thing he had left were his children, and they were off limits as bargaining tools. Except maybe…

“And-” Augustin snapped, bringing Kane’s attention back. “And I'll keep fucking you.” 

Augustin watched as he started to laugh again, then realization dawned on his face, the seed planted the thought began to spread, much like the babies growing in Augustin’s womb. Kane was a man who had climbed his way to power, tooth and nail, and against all odds he'd won it. And as a man who had clawed his way to power, over time he'd become accustomed to the trappings of power, some things he'd never grow accustomed to the way that people born into nobility are. But certain things he'd grown quite accustomed to in his, so far, short reign.

“I'll keep up the act, doting loving adoring husband, who only wants to please his King. And whenever you want, I'll spread my pretty little legs and beg you to fuck baby after baby after baby in me. Even when I'm about to pop.” In spite of himself, Augustin was making himself wet, teasing Kane, reminding him of how quickly he'd gotten hard again after he'd broken Augustin’s waters his last pregnancy. From the way Kane’s eyes darkened he could tell he was thinking the same thing. 

“Then it seems we have a deal.” Kane’s devilish smile spread across his face, his expression both relentlessly teasing and desperately wanting all at once. 

“Good.” And for the third time that night, Kane’s face twisted into shock as Augustin pushed him several steps back, his knees hit the edge of the bed and he landed heavily on his back. “Now that that's over, you’ve gotten me all hot and bothered, playing with my tits and rubbing your hard-on all over my ass earlier, so why don't we hurry up and seal this deal, hmm?” 

Augustin ripped down Kane’s sleeping pants, then lifted his own short shift as he climbed onto Kane, pinning him down between his thighs, their throaty groans of relief harmonizing as Augustin sank down onto his cock. 

[hinamie]

I’m super fresh to jjk (great timing right?) and Gojo’s character is interesting! He’s an OP mentor (which has become a bit of a trope) but he subverts that trope by still being in his prime, which means we actually see him being the world altering powerhouse opposed to only seeing the aftereffects (al a All Might)

Not only that… he’s a bit of an ass? And while I am still susceptible to the charm there’s little doubt in my mind it’s in part cause he’s got the “white hair anime pretty boy” buff

He’s not suave! He’s not smooth! He’s a tall guy with nice hair and curious fashion choices who’s special power is CALCULUS! (turned physics) he’s got the sweet tooth of a toddler and a reckless approach to every situation that boarders on suicidal (it’s almost like he’s got some serious trauma and self esteem issues nuzzled up with that god complex)

I get the horny content I do! I am not immune to the “white hair anime pretty boy” buff… but like… I also wanna see stuff that actually brings attention to his issues, I wanna get a sense of his interiority, I wanna see evidence backed arguments about his favorite digimon! (The digimon thing is mostly a joke… but with the amount of smut I’ve seen it would probably be refreshing…)

He’s got the unconcerned air of a prodigy who has yet to fail, I think he’s probably got some empathy issues that he’s compensating for, (honestly he reads as on the spectrum for me, when I was younger I’d just straight up ask my friends if the thing I knew was “bad”, would be an acceptable approach for the circumstance. And seeing that panel where he asks Geto if he should kill the higher ups made me flashback)

There’s just so much stuff that makes me wanna stick him in a Tupperware and shake it like a toddler discovering the joys of dry beans in a peanut butter jar…

ah the joys of early blorbo discovery :'> gojo might not do it fr me but i cannot deny that there's a lot there and I'm glad you're having fun exploring his character! that's the important thing

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi, I hope you’re ok. I just wanted to give you a heads up that someone who also writes for Mitch Keller is a little concerned about your character being called Sunny, because the MC in their fics is also called Sunny 🙄.

They made a post about it yesterday, and said they’d be keeping an eye on it. I just wanted to let you know as i really love your Mitch Keller fics, I think your ability to come up with the stories you do is mind blowing and absolutely incredible. I’m not sure if they’ve reached out to you at all or if they’re looking for some tumblr beef

https://www.tumblr.com/marmie-noir/763182933106442240/have-you-seen-this-i-havent-read-it-but-the

Hi Babe,

Thanks for flagging it! I had no idea that this was a thing! Honestly I just live in my own little blog, doing my own little thing.

Also I just want to say thank you so much for your kind words on my fics! It means the world to me that you enjoy them so much and I really enjoy writing Mitch because I think he’s such an interesting character.

Nobody has reached out to me which I feel would be the adult thing to if they have an issue with me. As far as I’m concerned it’s just a weird coincidence.

The person in question can be as concerned or unconcerned as they like, it’s not really an issue for me. If you know me and know my work in general, you know I’m not going sneaking around blogs looking for characters and ideas to steal. I have far too many of my own. I’m certainly not lurking on the tags because frankly I don’t have the time or inclination.

I’ve not looked into their character Sunny but here’s some info on mine so there’s no confusion. (Spoilers for two upcoming fics Rhinestones & Her Name Was Lola…)

Mitch and Sunny met at one of his rodeos in Texas, she was singer/songwriter and Ms Oklahoma 2014. They spent a wild night together. She was engaged to a councilman who was boring as fuck, whom Mitch begged her not to marry. She left him at the alter opting to continue a relationship with Mitch.

Mitch made Sunny a promise – which we find out he broke in Her Name Was Lola… and she’s very hurt by it.

Her name is a play on Sonny & Cher, her mom was a massive fan and chose the female equivalent of the name Sonny because in her head there was only one Cher.

She was born and raised in a trailer park before earning money for her family through beauty pageants, which is incidentally how she ended up engaged to the councilman – she craved financial stability, having lacked it growing up and he needed a wife who looked good on his arm.

She likes to wear yellow sometimes to remind Mitch of their first night together – usually lemon yellow or pastel.

Girl knows how to scrap with the best of them and was taught how to shoot by her mom, it’s something they used to on a Friday night when the whiskey bottles from her father started building up.

Sunny and Mitch were together for a long time until his addition issues become too much. She couldn’t stand to see the man she loved kill himself so she left. She had tried getting him into rehab previously several times but he resisted.  – Both Babe and Mitch call her ‘the one that got away’ before she returns to Tulsa.

She spends a few years bouncing around, playing songs around the country before she finally ended up back in Tulsa. She heard Mitch had gotten clean and decided to see for herself.

Currently she helps out behind the bar and plays live music but when the bar shifts into the casino, she becomes house entertainment/hostess, splitting the duty with Mitch and making sure all the patrons have what they need.

If anything else needs clearing up feel free to give me a holler. I like to think I’m a pretty open and approachable person.

[fjtrickster-blog]

Another ROTTMNT rant

Unpopular hot take: Mikey in ROTTMNT can be a pretty selfish little jerk.

Don't get me the wrong way. I rather LIKE the idea of Mikey being emotionally intelligent and the most empathetic etc. I don't really mind that take but I have to admit sometimes it feels like the fandom puts too much emphasis on that. Dr Feelings was a bit and not a reflection of the majority of his personality.

Evidence that Mikey can be selfish and a total jerk:

"Nothing but Truffle" this whole episode is a great example. Mikey is straight up a complete jerk to Todd the whole time. Mikey's continued love and admiration for a mad chef who is effectively a cannibal mutant is played for laughs but this episode in particular really highlights this side of Mikey.

the b plot in "Shell in a Cell" Mikey might or might not be doing this on purpose but certainly the idea that Mikey is empathetic and emotionally intelligent is undercut while he's continually taking things from Donnie to the guy's complete frustration because Mikey doesn't notice how angry he is. To be fair the show does have the running joke that the other brothers dunk on Donnie a fair bit and the show also tends to pass the working braincell around depending on who is the main focus but this is something he does. To be fair this is very much "youngest sibling" behavior (I should know I am one)

"Pizza Pit" I just want to highlight one of Mikey's very fun quotes which is from this episode which again demonstrates that Mikey at times will shoot first and ask questions later if he's angry. "You destroyed my favorite thing in the world! You will feel pain"

"Man Vs Sewer" Mikey is not only completely unconcerned about Raph who they KNOW gets "weird" when alone he also actively seems to sabotage their efforts by goofing off.

"Mystic Library" speaking of goofing off. Mayhem is actively in danger and Mikey just instantly disqualifies himself from the rescue on a whim.

"You Got Served" Mikey is the one who is actively provoking Leo from start to finish. Leo is normally depicted as the irresponsible one but Mikey is the instigator on this whole mess. Hueso seems to blame Leo but that very much as the feel of an older sibling more or less going down because of the younger siblings behavior.

"Repairin' the Baron" and "Hidden City's Most Wanted" I'll admit as much as I don't mind that Draxum is ultimately redeemed the whole redemption arc of his is poorly handled and I personally think Mikey's attitude over it is the peak of his selfishness in a lot of ways. Mikey helping out Draxum on his own, risky but in a "I believe people just need a chance" cartoon logic understandable and fair. However in the episode he tricks everyone into showing up for a dinner party with no warning. HE TRICKS THEM. Leo was nearly KILLED by this man. Splinter's body was traumatically altered. He has threatened and actively attacked and tried to murder all of them, never mind the whole genocide plot he had going. Yet Mikey ignores all that to FORCE everyone to play happy family because HE WANTS IT. Worse he TRICKS his family TWICE. Splinter who has clearly been trying to reconnect more with his sons post season one just wants to spend some father son time with Mikey. Mikey IGNORES THIS and SELFISHLY AND SECRETLY brings Draxum along. Mikey knows Splinter wouldn't approve so rather than ask him he just does it regardless of Splinter's feelings much like the first time. His reasoning for these events isn't even anything more than a selfish desire. He decided Draxum is family and thus instantly everything is water under the bridge to him. Everyone else's personal feelings be damned. It's one thing for Mikey to choose to forgive Draxum and help him. It is another for him to force that choice onto everyone else and accuse them of being selfish. There's no good explanation. Mikey just wants more Dad's.

Let's all not forget Mikey's first bit is "Dr. Delicate Touch" who consistently rudely and flatly blurts out the truth of the situation. It's comical sure but also hardly empathetic.

Do I think Mikey isn't emotionally intelligent? No I think he is but I also think he uses this to wrap his older brothers around his little finger and get them to do what he wants at times and get away with it. I will admit this is PEAK youngest energy. He's the baby, he can do no wrong. He's channeled that energy so well a lot of the fandom has been tricked into thinking it as well. Again, do I mind? Only a little. I kinda wish there was a little more shade thrown at Mikey. There are fics out there but I haven't seen a lot. Still I mostly just wanted to get these thoughts out there. They were eating a hole in my brain.

[anonymous-harpy]

I did more DBZ Human AU art and massively updated Baby-Vegeta Yōji's backstory and lore as well as added some more GT to this AU. And did a few things with @amiz06-certified-b1mb0's Cooler again.

I tried my best to emulate the magazine cover style for these two pictures... Btw that Cold/Cell art uh... Helped me to draw Yōji's moosley chest.

I have miss spelled Tusfruain too many times, it'll just keep changing until I settle into using one singular spelling. Like Saulza's name

My boy's main looks... *Screams in all the flaws I can't ignore*

But I do love the new looks. I gotta come up with more suitable looks based on his alt Fighterz skins ...

Uhm, but LORE TIME:

Yōji is still has his tragic backstory of watching his family murdered and is out there get revegences.

The major revision here is that while he was an orphan, he did end up with a decent family that instilled him with morals (I'ma just slide this currently incomplete fic in right here, Vanguardian on AO3 ) so he's just trying to get his hands on Vegeta… so there some moral conflict about taking him out since he's got kids… but not enough to dissuade him still.

And rather than Yōji being the one to build his own criminal empire from the ground up, he's just very effective at smooth talking and schmoozing his way to take things over in one fell swoop. Like a parasite. Well he watched his family's meger estate be viciously dismantled once it was just him, a little kid. He's a fast learner you know. Helps to have hyperthymesia

I was looking for a way to explain how he could keep up with everyone given his altered backstory, weonlyneedonepersontobecalledperfect i figured being able to remember everything would suit my needs. Jack of all trades master of none? How about just jack of all trades with incompetent lackeys to fuck up your plans….

Because of course he can't do everything himself and has had to come to rely on others -which he despises. He installs willing puppets wherever he goes, to get whatever he needs (or wants) and he knows how to get things done, though it's often a bit messy since he's impatient. So flies on the walls of important people? Yeah that sounds about right.

And to revise how he came to meet Cooler- 

 Well Yōji was looking into Capsule Crop for information about Vegeta and the company's many rivals (I'm assuming that RR Army and of course the Real estate Lizards are the main/only ones soooooo), and part of that investigation meant planting spies and possibly breaking into a good newspaper company to get more leads.

All of it yields useful stuff for the revengeance seeking Tusfruain… and the attention of a lot of people. Not directly of course, but everyone knows that someone is up to something and starts looking into it. Helps that he's unconcerned with changing his appearance to avoid attention. The only problem is is someone caught a fussy picture of him (prolyBuuifwerebeinghonest), and while it's not enough to link to anything just yet, Hercule directs to defamation to Yōji's Blackstar and Business persona and so a target's painted on his back.

Though luckily Yōji doesn't mind tweaking his appearance and it's uncannily easy to walk around disguised as Vegeta.

And while Yōji was out and about parading as Vegeta he's spotted by my favorite squad and is followed back to one of his many "legitimate" business. A "club" is a very loose term that he's unafraid to stretch the meaning of as far as he can legally take it. Honestly though while he's completely heartless in GT I'm gonna say he's actually decent to his regular employees, looks out for them and all that… though he still gonna scream and shout at Para Brothers when they fuck up

(You're always meaner towards your family than you are strangers. "Familiarity breeds contempt"). I mean he couldn't do anything without the cash flow, so there's not reason to not make sure everything covered.

Anyhow, while in the middle of washing out the temporary dye, our best boys break down the door of the office with they best boss in tow and Yōji responds to being cornered by four strong fighters in only the way you would expect from someone who got their finger caught in the cookie jar: lies through his bloody teeth to spin things around to his favor.

He's a parasite for a reason…

Somehow, and after getting the snot beat out of him by Cooler they come to a sort of agreement: Yōji's aligning himself with Cooler's family -though not publicly or in an overly obvious fashion because Yōji's trying to cause a serious scandal that doesn't to be traced back to them. And in return Yōji doesn't get beat up even more or have his "good name" immediately esposed and tied to all the city vices he's servicing.

And at some point along the way Yōji and Cooler go tit for tat back and forth for little favors (Yōji doesn't worry about getting caught gathering information through brute force or unusual methods for Cooler and in return Yōji gets property to buy through his shell companies), Which eventually turns into bigger ones that ultimately leave Yōji with enough dirt on Cooler that they're on equal footing again. AKA, Yōji used one of his shell companies to sponsor Cooler's band and the parasite loves to remind Cooler that he got outplayed in the long run.

Not that Yōji really asks for anything major. He just likes pissing off Cooler til he's mad enough to want to hurt him…

This is a dynamic… and I have no idea why I decided on this for any Coolbabe stuff I have… but it's what I got going for me. And I stand by my unhinged parasite and his endless faults.

I cannot accurately convey Yōji's height... but honestly that makes this so much better.

I've got a couple more ideas to doddle, but honestly I've got other things to get to... Including but not limited to making use of the Colgate twins in this AU.

Alright back to the void I go!

[naancypants]

1x13 “The Whisper Box” analysis

“I am stuck in a dream of my perfect life” 

This is one of the first things Nancy says after realizing she is in an alternate reality, confirming for the audience that what we’re seeing is essentially, in Nancy’s mind, what would be a perfect world. If she could take the life she currently has and turn it into what she considers her perfect reality - this is how everything would look.

That established, let’s dive in.

The first and most obvious difference is that Kate Drew is still alive and cancer-free. What I find fascinating is that in Nancy’s ideal reality, her mom does still have a cancer scare - but what makes this so great for our heroine is how it draws upon the most earth-shattering event of her life and alters the ending. It’s much more poignant for her this way, because instead of eliminating a negative situation altogether, this scenario rectifies it, vicariously allowing Nancy to relish in the flood of relief she always wanted.

This universe sheds some light not only on Nancy's emotional attachment to Kate, but also her attachment to Kate’s death. Ever since she lost her mom there was a dark cloud over her life. Nancy’s key to escaping this head trip of hers (and moving forward from her grief) was to say a final goodbye to her mother - something she never got to do in real life - and this, in an ironic and bittersweet fashion, grants Nancy closure and peace. She had to let go of her heart to find her way home.

Carson is only painted in a positive light here, because at this point in the show she has finally arrived at a good place with her dad. She feels grateful for that and would not change anything about him or their relationship.

We learn that in this universe she doesn’t even know Nick yet, let alone have a romantic history with him; they do, however, still exhibit their prior pattern of experiencing and acting on their chemistry. This is not a surprise given Nancy’s emotional state in real life. Nick was the one to initiate their break-up, so while he still cares deeply for Nancy, Nancy is the one who was blindsided/rocked the hardest by their split. The show makes it clear she isn’t over Nick at this point in the timeline, so it’s not surprising that being with him is part of her ideal reality. Their never having met in the beginning is symbolic of Nancy’s desire to start over with him. She has a lot of regret regarding how she handled things with Nick and would love a clean slate to conduct a do-over.

Another notable point - in the real world, Nancy has recently caught Nick and George together in some 👀 moments. Given that she still has feelings for Nick, it makes sense that his fast-tracked bonding with George might bother her on some level. Hence, in her perfect life, Nick and George have already dated and ended things on a sour note. One less thing for Nancy to worry about.

In Nancy’s perfect life, George is more open and affectionate. I find this super sweet. By now Nancy has really come to value George’s friendship and she simply wishes that George wasn’t so weighed down with stress and emotional walls. Therefore this version of George is happy, carefree, and fully comfortable in her own skin - they also appear to be much closer in terms of friendship.

I’d like to reiterate now that Nancy’s perfect world is first and foremost founded on her reality. With that in mind, rather than changing all the details of Bess’s life to grant her something more favorable than living out of a van, she simply wishes for her friend to make the most of the situation. In this universe we see Bess living it up, embracing her unusual lifestyle for everything that it is, and also having become a social media star. Here she is positively glowing. Nancy’s greatest wish for Bess is to be happy, thriving, and free from anxiety.

On multiple occasions in this episode it’s mentioned that Ace is pretty much the same. This show in its earlier stages often treated Ace as the ‘comic relief’, so a very shallow reading of this episode could dismiss these as throwaway lines; but given Nancy’s psychological revelations regarding literally everyone else, I truly don’t believe his role would be so trivial. Therefore, without getting TOO dramatic or shippy about it 😜, I think what we can take from this is that there’s genuinely nothing about Ace that Nancy wishes were any different. From where she’s standing, he seems content with who he is and has become an important part of her inner circle (per 1x08, she considers him her friend). I think that Ace is still maybe a bit of a background player for her at this point (remember this is pre-library scene), but he’s such a steady and dependable one that there’s nothing about him she would want to change.

Ryan Hudson is a charitable man who is doing The Most for Horseshoe Bay, using his power and influence only for good. This is the man Nancy wishes Ryan was, instead of the one who’s made countless destructive decisions and caused far more harm than good. Plus, a smaller detail, but Ryan’s hair is much more natural and un-moussed in this reality because he is unconcerned with upholding a certain image per his family name (and, if we expand our thinking here, this version of Ryan may have cut ties with his family completely). Ryan is more comfortable with himself here, as there is no overhanging sense of guilt re: Lucy Sable or even Tiffany.

Lucy is still present via the ghost under the sheet, taking the form of Hannah Gruen and dropping Nancy the clues she needs to further her investigation. Nancy’s connection with Lucy is far too strong to be broken by any universe - but since both Kate Drew AND Tiffany Hudson are alive in this timeline, it’s unlikely that Nancy would know much at all about Lucy Sable. Therefore she doesn’t make any physical appearances.

It says a lot about Nancy at her core that so much of her ‘perfect life’ is about everyone around her being happier, healthier. And based on Nancy’s surprise at the idea that “you all like me” in this universe, it appears that she does still struggle with some of the anxiety her mother said she had. Of COURSE her friends like her, but it tells us a little something about Nancy’s inner world and psychology. I think that detail is a GREAT take on the Nancy Drew character. It makes her a little more vulnerable without removing any of her courage, her boldness, or her strength.

[sidespart]

The Fall of Romulus Part 5

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue     Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4

The first time Virgil had seen Patton, it had been on the battlefield. The larger man was on his knees, three men wearing the same uniform as Virgil strewn around him, fresh blood gushing from deep gouges on his face. He’d looked up at Virgil like he expected to die, his eyes bright with relief.

The first time Virgil had seen Logan, he’d barely been more than a kid. Even skinnier than he was now, drenched to the bone in his threadbare apprentice robes and shaking with rage. He’d thrust a handful of coins across the table at Virgil and Patton, newly minted heroes for hire, and demanded they kill his master.

The first time Virgil had seen Roman, he’d been singing to a horse.

It wasn’t even his horse.

Virgil had wanted a break from the noise of the tavern and the simmering tension between his companions. But standing in the dark in an unfamiliar town had been unappealing and so he’d ducked into the taverns small stables. The hayloft was more of a glorified shelf, set close to the ceiling, but standing amongst the horses meant potentially having to explain himself to the horses’ owners and so he’d clambered up and shimmied his way into the narrow space, ducking down out of sight.

He just wanted a few minutes peace. Long enough to figure out what to do.

Logan had accepted a job. Without consulting either Patton or Virgil. It was a simple enough assignment -to transport a crate full of merchandise to a town on the other side of the mountain pass. So why could the townsfolk not deal with that themselves? Because the pass was full of bandits. Obviously.

Logan said they needed the money and he wasn’t wrong. Patton said they needed a break and he wasn’t wrong either.

They had been travelling from one skinflint town to the next for what felt like an age…but half the reason travel was taking so long was that right now they didn’t have enough coin to even to rent horses. Which meant Patton was going to end up dragging the gods-forsaken chest the entire way. Which was going to aggravate the hip injury- which he still refused to acknowledge existed - and leave all of them vulnerable to attack, since Logan wasn’t winning any fights unless it was a debate and Virgil…Virgil did better with the element of surprise.

Looming out of the darkness, his eyes glowing purple and his crossbow held aloft – Virgil had watched many an enemy turn tail and run at the sight of him with great satisfaction.

Actually aiming that crossbow, in broad daylight, at attacking bandits and successfully hitting one? That seemed less likely to be satisfying for anyone. Except maybe the bandits.

So now there was a stalemate, both Patton and Logan bristling at each other over their meal. Both waiting for Virgil to be the tiebreaker.

Hence the hiding in a hayloft.

Maybe if Logan had just talked to the them instead of making decisions for everyone-

“Who’s the prettiest girl in this stable? Is it you? I think it is!”

Virgil froze.

“My lady fair is pale as night and strong as all the stars that bright th- hey!” holding his breath, Virgil slowly turned his head until he could see the man below, who was currently trying to tug his sleeve out of the mouth of a blond mare. It was the bard from the tavern. Even without hearing his voice, the bright white outfit and ridiculously flouncy red jacket gave him away.

Virgil frowned. It was still relatively early in the evening and the bard had had a good audience – even Patton and Logan had looked away form their argument to appreciate his tune. Why leave now?

“Okay, okay you don’t like the classics.” The bard was back to petting the mare’s nose, “but you’re still stunning despite your terrible taste. And a beautiful horse deserves the most handsome of riders hmm?”

Virgil rolled his eyes and relaxed back against the hay. The movements of over the top performers were none of his business.

“That you singing back there?”

Virgil tensed again.

Two men were blocking the exit. Both big, broad and wearing matching insincere grins.

The one who’d spoken had a knife in his hand. The bard apparently didn’t notice and stepped away from the horse with his arms spread wide.

Under the dim shaft of moonlight spilling from the stable door, the silky material of the bards jacket seemed to shine.  It highlighted his pockets, where the thin material was sagging under the weight of his bulging coin pouch

“Always a pleasure to meet my fans!”

He gave them a cheeky bow, his pockets jingling as he moved.

Virgil resisted the urge to bang his head against the ceiling.

If this idiot wanted to get himself stabbed was it really Virgil’s responsibility to intervene?  What would Logan call this – natural selection?

“Must’ve made a pretty penny.”  It was the second man who spoke, he leaned carefully against the stable door as knife-guy stepped forward. “Nice voice like that.”

He looked pointedly at the bard’s jacket pocket. The bard took a half step back, almost disappearing from Virgil’s view.

“Your town is very generous.”

“Yeah. Good people” The second guy smiled. “Drop it.”

Virgil heard the bard sigh, deep and theatrical. But, much to Virgil’s relief, he threw the bag down on to the ground between them. Murder, Virgil was probably morally obligated to try to stop. But if the two robbers just took the bag and ran? Well. Patton was constantly asking Vigil and Logan to keep out of trouble so he could hardly disapprove.

Knife-guy grinned dumbly and reached down to his prize. Virgil tensed himself, he wasn’t going to be able to leap gracefully into action form his confined hiding place but he could potentially…roll onto the guy if he tried anything.

He didn’t get the chance.

As soon as the wannabe thief bent down the bard was on him. A blur of white and red shot out from beneath the hayloft, slammed the butt of a sword – had he always had a sword? – down on knife-guys skull sending him sprawling to the ground.

The second man let out a shout but before he had chance to take more than a step forward the bard was there, sword swinging though the air before coming to rest less than an inch from the man’s throat.

There was a pause whilst the man just gaped at the bard. Breathing heavily.

“You have a choice. Leave now, with your head still attached or…”

There was a yell and Virgil cursed himself for being distracted as knife-guy barrelled towards the pair, weapon raised high –

Only for it to instantly be knocked out his hand by the bard’s sword. The big man let out a high pitched yelp as blood spurted from where his fingers had been moments before, the knife clattering to the ground. The second man aimed a swing at the bards head but he dodged low, springing back up to deliver a punch of his own to the man’s throat, which left him gasping for breath.  

At this point, knife guy clearly decided he’d had enough, running for the door with his bleeding hand clutched close to his chest. The second thief, seeing his backup flee, shot the bard a venomous glare and hurried after.

And then there was quiet.

“Sorry about that.” Virgil startled – was he talking to him? “My precious babies.” No. The bard was heading back towards the horses, who had been remarkably unconcerned throughout his ordeal.  This gave Virgil his first proper look at his face.

He looked young. Not much older than Logan. And tired.

“Did those mean old robbers scare you?” he cooed “Not to worry – your hero is here to save the day!”

With the bard facing the horses, Virgil took the opportunity to squirm out of his hiding place, managing to land lightly enough on the stable floor behind him.

“Hey.” He said.

The hero’s shriek of surprise was so loud that the horses reared up in their stalls.

 After hasty explanations, Virgil had hired him as extra muscle for their trip. It’s wasn’t t an ideal solution, but the knowledge that there would be extra protection around for Logan and Virgil eased some of Patton’s tension. And since Sir Sing-A-Lot  had pissed off two would be thieves who were presumably still in town somewhere, he was willing to leave quickly and for cheap which suited Logan.

He met them the next day about a quarter mile out of town, performance outfit replaced with something moderately more travel worthy and sword strapped to his side. Virgil had suggested he stay the night at the tavern but he had shaken his head. Said if he went back in there the bartender would insist he stay to play another night – and then he’d have to let him down, which would be far too painful to bare.

Virgil privately thought skipping out halfway through the night was probably letting him down worse, but whatever. One mans loss is another man’s gain.

It was only when he’s was making the introductions that he realised Roman hadn’t brought his horse. Which led quickly to the realisation that there were three would be thieves in the stable that night.

Virgil spent most of the first day with his eyes fixed on Roman, waiting for him to betray them and skip off with the loot himself. But as the hours past and the bard did nothing suspicious he slowly started to relax.

It was only going to be three days.

***

Three years later, Virgil was growling to himself in his mother’s language as he swept his eyes across the room again, finding absolutely nothing. Not that he expected to -the small room wasn’t exactly flush with hiding places. All he had managed to unearth in the first frantic search was one of Roman’s notebooks, tossed under the bed with its leafy bookmark a few inches away. Patton had carefully put both away in his own coat pocket, a look of abject misery on his face as his hands ghosted over Romans drawings.

The thing was. It wasn’t like adding Roman to the group had instantly fixed everything.

But-

But Patton got sad sometimes. And Virgil, he’d been through a lot of the same stuff as the big guy but he didn’t know how to reach him when he got like that. Virgil was pretty sure he actually made things worse. But Roman – Roman distracted Patton without even trying half the time. He’d sing, weave a story out of nothing, disappear down a side street and reappear with a gaggle of kids and two puppies he seemingly conjured out of nowhere. The two of them had the same bright energy and when they got together they laughed loud enough to banish any shadow.

And Logan – Logan had this need to prove himself. All the time. He needed a challenge to throw himself against or he wilted. Patton hated arguing and Virgil frankly didn’t have the energy but Roman? Roman loved it. The two debated everything, from poetry to politics and threw themselves into preparation with more gusto than seemed healthy. The first big blow up they had, Virgil had looked over at Patton, panicked, before realising both men were grinning ear to ear. Relishing the debate in a way that Virgil didn’t really understand.

And as for Virgil himself…well actually he had always been perfectly fine and Roman basically drove him crazy.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was, the four of them worked better as a four. They balanced each other out. Even if they sometimes went too far and hurt each others feelings, they always apologised and moved on. And even if having four meant that their could never be a tiebreaker and every decision had to be discussed around and around until someone gave in…that was just what family was like.

And now Roman was just going to walk away from them? Without even saying goodbye?

Unacceptable.

“This is all my fault.” Patton wailed for third time. “I never should have left him alone.”

And on top of everything he’d upset Patton? Virgil was going to find their wayward bard and bring him home. And then kill him.

“Tell us what he said again.” Logan demanded imperiously, notebook and pen at the ready as he stared Patton down.

Virgil sighed and answered for him:

“He told him he wanted to leave the city. And now he’s left the city.”

Logan frowned. “The city gates are closed at sunset – unless he had a royal decree he would have been unable to leave last night.”

Virgil grit his teeth, “Okay, so, assuming he didn’t know that – because none of the rest of us knew that – he left the inn to try to leave the city.”

“So then why leave the inn at all?” Logan continued, pacing up and down the limited floor space and utterly ignoring Virgil “Why not just wait till morning? It makes no sense unless.” He paused at the window. “Unless he was taken against his will.”

Patton and Virgil exchange wide eyed looks. Virgil was normally the one jumping to worst case scenarios, not Logan. “You, uhh, you got any evidence for that one Lo?”

“He left his sword.” Logan pointed. “Amongst almost all his other possessions – he told Patton he wasn’t safe and then he leaves without taking a weapon? It’s illogical.”

“I’m not sure he was thinking logically.” Patton said softly, looking at Romans neatly piled possessions. “You didn’t hear him guys he – he sounded so scared.”

Virgil flinched. Fingers flexing uselessly. “Okay. Okay so. What spooked him? Something in the forest?” He asked, thinking guilty of Romans thorn scratched hands after he’d got himself lost trying to escape Virgil foul mood. “He was totally spaced out last night.”

“He seemed fine this morning.” Patton said  with a frown “Logan?”

“He was fine before we saw The Crone.” Logan murmured, “he was, if anything, too effervescent. But when we left he seemed…” he trailed off, adjusting his glasses before glaring defensively at both of them “he didn’t say anything so I can’t be sure – but, he was very quiet. The Crone was northern so I thought perhaps homesickness? But I don’t believe he was scared. Not until the episode.”

Virgil nodded, Logan had already described the episode – Romans sudden sprint through the city street and subsequent panic attack – in detail, although he’d been unable to pin point what had set him off.

“Um I’m sorry …The Crone?” Patton looked horrified, “Logan, do you mean our customer?”

“I. Uhm.” Despite everything Virgil couldn’t help but grin the flush of embarrassment that quickly took over Logan’s face. “She was from the North” Logan told them with great dignity, “Roman has told us many time that it is considered rude to ask a strangers name on first meeting.”

“But, did you…know she was form the North? Before you started calling her crone?” Virgil couldn’t resist teasing.

“Logan that is so rude!” Patton said, giving his best disappointed dad eyes.

“SO rude.” Roman ginned  “honestly Patton – Virgil - this kind of behaviour reflects poorly on you as parents. I personally think you should send him to bed without supper.”

And Patton laughed, a secretly pleased smile at being compared to a parent and Virgil rolled his eyes and shrugged Romans hand off his shoulder and Logan let out an offended humph before reminding Roman, again, that he was only a few years older than him and if he was a child Roman was too and a brat besides – an old and well-worn argument that made all of them laugh, tension broken.

Except it wasn’t. Because Roman wasn’t there.

Instead Patton’s exaggerated disappointment mellowed into real sadness as he glanced around the room again and Logan hunched his shoulders, burying his face in his notebook. Silence filled the room.

“I’m going to uh, look outside again.” Virgil jerked his thumb awkwardly to the door and set off without waiting for a response.

Definitely kill him, Virgil thought. Once they were sure he was okay.

**

Apart from his unusual eye colour, pointed ears and a youthful complexion well into his thirties, Virgil had inherited very little from his mothers people. But his night vision was undeniably better than his fully human companions.

Not that it was doing him much good right now. Didn’t matter how good your eye sight was if there was nothing to see.

It was easy enough to track Roman from the open window, down the wall of torn climbing plants to the ground, but after that the trail immediately went cold. If this was a small town with a dirt road there would at least be footprints, but on the cobblestone streets of the well-to-do there was nothing to follow.

He could be anywhere.

Virgil kicked a pebble with a snarl, sending it clattering across the square. Reluctantly he started to prepare himself for the long climb back up to their room, when he was distracted by a faint whinnying.

The tavern connected to stables.

Huh.

Well….he knew Roman had been prepared to steal a horse before…

Quietly, Virgil slipped around the corner and into the stables. This was a far cry from the glorified shack where he had first met Roman. The ‘stables’ was more of a courtyard, with various coaches and waggons parked in the centre, and an enormous number of stalls ringing the outside. Virgil guessed it was shared between the tavern and the several other buildings that bordered the square.

His heart began to race.

He hadn’t really expected to see much – how would he know, after all, if a horse was missing? But with this much money in one place, there had to be a guard. Someone who might have seen Roman pass through.  

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his expectations low, and began to search.

**

“Virgil. Did you kidnap a child?!”

Virgil winced. The force of Patton’s disappointed dad glare was a lot less funny when it was directed at him. “I mean,” he tried “is it kidnapping? She lives here! It’s not that bad!”

“I would say it’s significantly worse that calling a woman a crone in the privacy of your own head.” Logan muttered under his breath. Virgil glared at him.

“And I don’t live here,” the girl offered brightly “I just work in the stables.”

They were in the inn’s kitchen. Somewhere that they were absolutely not allowed to be. But between cancelling the promised performance, negotiating a week’s stay in an already overbooked establishment and then almost immediately afterwards cancelling that too and the panicked interrogation of the few remaining customers when they’d first discovered Roman missing; Virgil didn’t think the inn’s landlord could really get more irritated with them.

Although the whole kidnapping thing was probably not going to help.

“Here you go sweetheart.” Patton said, pushing a mug of sweet tea towards the girl and taking a seat next to her. He did not offer Virgil or Logan a cup.

“Thanks Mister Pat!” She smiled sweetly up at Patton before turning away from him and sticking her tongue out at Virgil. Virgil gestured wildly between the girl and himself but Patton just sipped his own drink, nose in the air.

Virgil slumped in his chair, glowering.

He’d found her sleeping in one of the empty stable stalls. The space was clearly being used as a hut for the stable boy – or in this case girl – with a small wooden bed pushed against the back wall and a desk covered in half cleaned riding gear near the entrance.

Elated to have found a possible lead he had rushed towards the bed and shaken the occupant awake immediately. And released in one horrifying instant that he was a fully grown man shaking a literal child who probably couldn’t even see him in the darkness.

She yelled.

He yelled.

She threw a horseshoe at his head.

He had managed to bundle her half way back to the inn - one hand clamped over her mouth despite the fact that she was biting him - before Patton appeared, ripping them apart with a growl and then blinking a Virgil in complete confusion when he realised who the would be kidnapper was.

“I – we – just want to ask you some questions.” Virgil said in his calmest I-am-not-deranged-I-have-just-had-a-very-long-day voice “Okay, um, sweetheart?”

All three of them stared at him.

“’Sweetheart’ sounds odd when you say it.”

“I know it does Lo’.”

“It might be the tone of voice.”

“I know it is, Lo’.”

“I’m Lucy.” Said the girl. Lucy sat back in her chair, swinging her legs back and forth. “Are you gonna’ pay me? The last guy gave me five gold pieces.” she grinned at them expectantly.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Okay well, that’s ridiculous.”

“We don’t have much money.” Patton told her, “but I can make you another tea?” She considered him for a minute but was clearly already besotted with her ‘rescuer’, so she just smiled and held out her mug.

“Now,” Patton asked gently as he poured a refill. “What guy is this?  And…what did he ask you to do for that kind of money?”

She shrugged, unconcerned. “Just some rich guy. He wanted to know how many people had come in today, and then for me to let him hang around in my hut until his friend got there.”

“So you left your post?” Logan said disapprovingly. “What time did he arrive? What did he do? What friend was he meeting?”

“He paid me five gold pieces so he could sit in a shed” she told him. “If the guy wanted a horse he could have just bought one. And I just went and sat on the roof anyway, the market was way too busy.”

“Smart.” Virgil said. She glared at him, just long enough to let him know that his approval meant nothing, before continuing.

“He came just after four o’clock, that’s when Tommy goes home and I take over. And he didn’t do anything. Just sat there all grouchy. Then he left with the pretty guy.”

“Pretty?” Logan asked sharply, making Lucy giggle.

“Yeaaaah he had pretty eyes and a lute and really cute short hair. He was way better looking than the rich guy. I think he was a musician.” She sighed.

The three men glanced at each other, excitement building.

“Was he being taken by force?” Logan asked, steepling his hands “Could you see any sign of a struggle? Was he restrained in some way?”

“Logan don’t scare the kid for fucks sake.”

“Oh sorry, the one you kidnapped?”

“Guys.” Patton’s glare quelled them both into silence. Lucy took a long sip of tea, thinking before answering.

“He just walked up to him and they left together right away. I couldn’t hear nothin' but, they didn’t have time to say more than hello before they left.”

“So much for that theory.” Virgil muttered, disappointment settling in his chest. Not that he wanted Logan to be right, that Roman had been taken away by force but- this meant he really had just decided to leave them.

Logan wasn’t convinced. “A physical struggle is not necessarily required to move someone against their will – he could have been coerced.”

“How coercive can you be in one sentence??”

“If he was lying in wait and recognised him instantly the obviously we can assume they knew each other.” Logan told him snottily “Groundwork could have been laid beforehand.”

Virgil frowned, he hadn’t thought of that. But Roman hadn’t arrived until well past four – how had the mystery man known to come to this particular inn?

“Can you tell us anything about the first man?” Patton asked Lucy, “What he looked like or – ooh how about you draw a picture of him!” he produced Romans notebook from his pocket and opened it too a blank page.

“He was just some old rich guy,” she insisted “he was wearing one of those fancy patchwork coats. Pink and blue, and he had dark hair…” she shrugged. ”I don’t remember anything else, sorry Mister Pat.”

“What about an emblem?” Logan asked.

“What’s that?”

“A symbol of his house. Lots of rich people have them, maybe on a bit of jewellery or embroidered on his clothing?”

“He had a cape clasp with a pattern on it.” She said doubtfully, “it wasn’t fancy though just- here – “ she took the note book from Patton and hastily scribbled three interlocking Vs, the largest in the centre.

“We can go to the library and look for it when they open.” Logan told them brightly “If it’s one of the noble houses in the city we should be able to find an address.”

“And we can go see the cro – the customer too” Patton added putting a hand on the scholars shoulder, “Logan says Roman seemed down after they left- she might know something.”

“Right.” Virgil nodded absently.

“One of us should go to the city gates before they open,” Logan continued, “If he still intends to leave the city we can watch for him there.”

Virgil thought of the hordes of people making their way through the city gates. Spotting one man in amongst that throng was going to be near impossible. And even if they found a symbol that matched the child’s drawing, there was no guarantee they would be able to track down the owner. And from Logan's description, Roman hadn’t left his sight whilst they were at The Crones house, what could she possibly tell them that they didn’t already know?

And even if they found him. What good was that, if he truly wanted to leave? It’s not like they could order him to stay.

He felt one large, warm hand land on his shoulder and squeeze gently. “We’ll find him.” Patton told him reassuringly. At the table, Logan was scribbling in his note book again, eyes bright with excitement as he continued the barrage of questions at an amused looking Lucy.

Virgil nodded, and did his best to smile back.

It had been a long week on top of a long month of traveling, and none of their leads were things they could follow right now. They needed to sleep. Get enough rest for a full day of bard hunting in the morning.

And then, well.

If Roman wanted to leave he could leave.

But he was going to damm well explain himself to his family first.

Virgil glanced at Lucy who was watching them with open curiosity.

“I don’t suppose we could convince you not to mention the whole…kidnapping thing to the land lord right?”

She smiled at him. “That’s gonna cost you more than tea.”

Vigil sighed.

chapter 6 

[everybodyscupoftea]

april fools

pike jj x reader ft. cody and tyler

the boys do their best to prank you

happy april fools folks. consider this my prank :)

warnings: cursing, not edited, video game violence (?)

You knew it was going to be a weird one when you woke up after JJ the morning of April 1. Admittedly you forgot, barely keeping up with the dates anymore with your senior year winding down, so when you checked your phone and saw a text from your sister about a pregnancy scare, you figured it out.

Before getting out of bed, you sent back, a pregnancy scare before 9 a.m.? amateur hour

JJ was moving around in the kitchen, so you sat up, shivering when the blanket was gone and the AC hit your bare arms. You walked to the closet for a sweatshirt and froze when the door opened, all your clothes gone.

Blinking a few times as if they’d appear, your jaw dropped. Obviously JJ had done it, but how long had he been awake to completely clear it out without you waking up? Where the hell had he put it all?

“JJ,” you called out.

All movement in the kitchen stopped as he yelled back, “What’s up?”

“Where are my clothes?”

It sounded like he was fighting a smile, “What?”

“My clothes, where did you put them?”

Your lips twitched, fighting a smile, when he appeared in the doorway, visibly pleased with himself. He played innocent, “Whatever do you mean?”

“All of my clothes are gone.”

JJ hummed, “You sure?”

Stepping aside, you dramatically waved your arm at the empty closet to get his attention, “I’m positive.”

“Emperor’s new clothes type beat,” he replied, ignoring the empty closet completely as he turned on his heel and went back to the kitchen. Before he was fully out of your vision, he called over his shoulder, “Hungry?”

You sighed, resigning yourself to your fate, “Yeah, I could go for food.”

To your surprise, he actually cooked for the two of you, sliding a steaming mug of coffee across the counter before he went back to whatever he’d been doing when you interrupted him. After a few seconds, you walked away and grabbed one of the blankets draped over the couch to wrap around yourself to block out the strong AC blowing through the living room.

“Cold?” JJ asked when he looked back at you.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “I wanted a sweatshirt.”

“I’m sure there’s one in your closet.”

You snorted, “You are so lame. This prank is so dumb.”

“Not a prank. Why would I prank you?”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, “I’ll get you back, Maybank.”

“I just don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered, passing a plate of eggs and toast to you. 

The two of you ate mostly in silence, your head leaning on his shoulder, when he sat down on the stool next to yours. It was comfortable, and you felt your eyes shutting again, not originally planning to wake up as early as you did. 

“Tired?” he asked quietly.

You hummed, gripping onto his shirt after another lazy bite, “Little bit.”

“Why’d you get up?”

“Thought it was later than it was ‘cause you were gone.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“S’okay.”

“Wanna take a nap?” he asked, shifting slightly to make his shoulder more accessible to you.

You exhaled heavily, “Nah, I should wake up, I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

He reached across his body to tap your nose gently, “We could get dressed and go for a walk.”

Thinking for a few seconds, you nodded, “Yeah, let’s do that. I need clothes though.”

“I’ll grab you some,” he reassured.

You grinned victoriously as he walked over to your roommate’s closed door. She’d stayed the night at her boyfriend’s and had clearly given him a key to her room to store your clothes in for the day.

“You gave that up much quicker than I thought,” you gloated.

“Yeah, well, it was a pretty dumb prank.”

With a head shake, you rested your chin in your hand, “No, I liked it. It was very you.”

He smiled, “I knew you’d like it. Cody said you wouldn’t, but I knew.”

“I’d hope you know me better.”

“I’m going to text him and tell him you said that.”

You snorted and shook your head, amused at his antics. He was ridiculous, but you loved him.

-

Cody texted you at 1:30 exactly that he was there to pick you up, and you grabbed your booksack before heading down to his car. The two of you had made plans to work on homework at the library together.

He was parked next to your car, right outside the entrance to your building, and you smiled, tugging the passenger door open, only to pause when Tyler was sitting in the driver’s seat, not Cody.

“Um, hey,” you greeted, confused, and looked down at your phone to double check that it had, in fact, been Cody that texted you.

“What’s up,” Tyler returned, turning the music down slightly as you hesitantly got in the car, buckling up.

He drove toward the library without explanation, so you finally asked, “So, where’s Cody?”

“Who?”

“Okay,” you trailed off, more confused, “why aren’t you driving your car?”

Tyler shrugged, “Didn’t feel like it.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you spoke slowly, trying to work it out, “Did we have plans today?”

“Library to study,” Tyler answered as you thought he would, so you checked your phone again, scrolling through you and Cody’s texts.

“Yeah, I made those plans with Cody.”

“No you didn’t. I don’t even know who that is,” he rebutted, unconcerned.

“I have the text right here.”

Tyler snorted, “It’s easy to fake texts.”

You knew what was going on, especially after JJ’s “prank” so you shrugged, leaning back into the seat, trying your best to figure it out. After a few minutes of thinking, you sighed, “Okay, I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“What’s the point of this one? You aren’t pretending to be Cody, so what’s the point?”

“The point of what? Aren’t we going to study? Plus, I don’t even know a Cody, and I certainly don’t want to pretend to be one.”

“I don’t,” you rubbed your forehead, “okay.”

He found a parking spot near the library entrance and got out, grabbing his booksack from the back seat, all while you sat still, mind still whirling. Tyler raised his eyebrows, “You coming? I wanna fit a bunch in before we leave for dinner.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re getting burritos,” Tyler answered, sounding excited. It confused you again, Cody being the bigger burrito fan out of the two of them.

You relented, “Okay, sounds great.”

The library was fairly empty, and he found an empty study room with a whiteboard for the two of you to sit. He took immediate control of the markers and started working through something in one of his programming classes.

He wrote silently, the only sounds in the room were your typing and his squeaking when he pressed a little too hard on the marker. It was comforting, and you fell into the reading you were doing for your sales class.

It wasn’t until your stomach started to growl that you stopped, slamming your laptop shut while your eyes swam a bit from all the reading you’d done. Tyler capped his marker and spun around to look at you.

“Hungry?”

“Very.”

He nodded, “Same, let’s go get food.”

You were packing up before he finished talking, and Tyler laughed. He took his time, messing with you, and you sighed, “Ty, can you please go faster?”

“Who?”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, “are you actually pretending to be Cody?”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, then who are you?”

“JJ’s my name,” he answered confidently.

“Right,” you bit the inside of your cheek, “now I’m really confused.”

“Confused about what?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“We’re getting burritos,” he answered, tone in his words that sounded very close to an unspoken ‘duh’ and you bristled at his defensiveness, far too tired to figure it out what the hell he was doing.

“The three of you are being weird.”

Tyler squinted at you, confused, and you rolled your eyes. If anything you could get a free burrito out of it which would absolutely make up for all the confusion they were putting you through that day.

-

Tyler brought you to the house instead of back to your apartment, and you shrugged, unbothered. JJ’s car was there, so you could just go chill in his room if nothing else. When you got inside, the smell of chocolate smacked you in the face, and you knew Cody had been baking.

You followed as Tyler beelined to the kitchen, an eager look on his face. Cody was standing there, apron wrapped around his waist with a closed container in front of him, likely containing the dessert you were smelling.

He waved, “Hey guys! Want a brownie?”

“God yes,” Tyler groaned.

Cody’s lips twitched and you steeled yourself for disappointment, already reading the look in his eyes. He waved you over and opened the container slightly for both of you to reach in and take one. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe for him to have altered the taste, but you weren’t expecting to feel nothing. Confused, you reached around until you hit the bottom of the container, feeling something sliding under your fingers.

“What the hell?” Tyler muttered, clearly feeling what you were.

Cody was shaking, trying to hold in his laughter as you took hold of whatever it was and pulled your hand out. You groaned when you looked at the paper. Tyler looked over and took in the cut out of the letter E, sloppily colored brown in colored pencil.

“I hate you so goddamn much,” Tyler pouted.

“Do you have some in the oven or something?” you asked, not giving up hope just yet.

He smirked, “You are smelling a candle my friends.”

“Fuck you,” Tyler muttered, stomping off to his room.

You laughed at his response and reached out to knock Cody’s shoulder, “That’s the best one today, bud.”

“Yes!” he cheered, “I knew I could do it!”

His words reminded you of JJ’s from earlier that day, and you rolled your eyes, realizing what they’d done.

“Did the three of you really have a competition to see who could prank me best?”

Cody nodded eagerly, “We absolutely did, and you just won me $100.” 

“Oh my god,” you muttered, “I hate you all. I’ve been so confused all day.”

“I told them, you just gotta keep it simple,” he informed you.

You bit your lip, “I won’t ask for a cut of your winnings if you actually make me brownies.”

“Oh, deal,” he responded, immediately jumping into action.

With a smile, you pinched his cheek, “Thanks, bestie. I’m going to find JJ, text me when they’re done.”

-

JJ was sitting at the foot of his bed, playing a video game, when you walked into his room. He smiled and tilted his head up, asking for a kiss, and you gave him one, dropping down next to him afterward.

“Hey,” he whispered, setting his controller down.

“Hey,” you answered, “I think you owe Cody $50.”

His face dropped, “God damnit.”

“Sorry, bud.”

“It’s alright,” he sighed, “his prank was pretty good. He got me too.”

“I’ll give you one of my consolation brownies.”

JJ perked up immediately as the round of his game finished, “Fuck yes.”

Before you could respond, he turned away, waiting for the next one to start, and you settled down next to him, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees to watch.

“What is this?”

“Valorant.”

“You don’t play this one very often.”

He bit his lip, concentrating, and answered distractedly, “Yeah, I just started like two months ago.”

When he died, he sighed, grip tightening around the controller in frustration, and you squeezed his shoulder, “Looks complicated.”

“It’s not so bad,” he admitted, “but I’m playing a different character than usual.”

“You playing with randoms?”

“Nah, some of the brothers,” JJ told you before perking up, “wait, do you wanna prank them?”

Leaning back, you weren’t sure what the fuck he was suggesting, “Um, maybe?”

“Play in my place for the rest of the game. I’m about to de-rank anyway because they suck.”

“Show me,” you answered, actually excited. He muted and explained the controls and the role to you while playing through a round to show you. As soon as it ended, another team loss, he passed over his headset and the controller.

“Should I unmute?” you asked him as the buy period ended.

“Up to you,” he answered, almost getting drowned out by one of the brothers barking orders. You bit your lip and decided to try a round on mute first before doing anything else. It went better than you thought, you even managed to get a kill, and JJ was impressed.

“Okay, definitely unmute and just pretend like nothing is different.”

You laughed and hit the button on his discord voice chat, unmuting yourself. One of the brothers asked JJ a question, and you answered, buying him the gun he asked for. The boys went silent, and you didn’t say anything else as the round started.

“Right,” one of them trailed off, “I’m going A. Maybank go B like last time, it worked.”

You played another round, winning again, and they started to get more excited. No one asked what was going on, and they kept calling you Maybank, screaming when they finally managed to tie it up at 10. 

JJ was cheering too, clutching onto your thigh tightly as you leaned forward, focused, tongue sticking out slightly. It started to feel more natural, you getting the hang of it, and you even managed to win a 1v1, putting your team up 11-10.

“Oh my fuck, I might not de-rank,” JJ hissed, voice cracking in his excitement.

“Shush,” you whispered back, “I’m focusing.”

“Right,” he backed away, hands up, “sorry, carry on.”

The next few rounds were intense, going back and forth until you finally clutched it out, killing the last two guys on the other team to finally win the game.

“YES!” one of the guys screamed into his headset, “Fucking awesome, Maybank...or whoever you are!”

“Holy shit!” JJ yelped next to you, yanking you into a tight hug. You laughed, tossing the remote to the side and left the Discord call so he could kiss you. When he pulled away, he beamed, “Wow, you’re so much cooler than me.”

“I know,” you teased, squeezing his shoulder.

“Now that was the best prank,” he said, “I’m giving you $50 for that.”

“No need, just let me know when you’re about to de-rank again and I’ll save your ass.”

JJ laughed, head tossed back, “Will do, sweetheart. Will do.”

[iamnmbr3]

New Loki 30 Second Clip Thoughts

it took me a while to get myself to watch this one just bc I felt pretty nervous after the last trailer but it was actually pretty good

The Good

This was hands down my favorite of any of the trailers BY FAR. None of it made me actively cringe. It was quite watchable and felt much better and more in character and actually exciting. Also I liked the music and the way the shots were intercut.

Loki felt much more Loki-like in terms of his affect. His expressions were for the most part controlled and subtle and seemed much more characteristic of him which was lovely to see. His movements were also smaller and he stood stiller in a way that's more normal for him; there weren’t many grand, exaggerated gestures. I felt like I could see Loki in this trailer rather than just Tom Hiddleston playing some other role. 

We’ve seen the Asgard clip before but I’m still super excited by it. 

The tone of this trailer felt like it leaned far more towards exciting and dramatic, rather than silly, which was definitely really nice to see and hopefully reflective of the series as a whole. 

The trailer actually felt like it centered on Loki rather than on the TVA or the TVA characters which also was really nice.

Given that we see Mobius actively shushing Loki and not letting him get a word in edgewise I have marginally more hope that he might be intentionally being written as grating. If he’s supposed to be an antagonist then he’s a great character because he embodies all the people who treated Loki with a double standard and refused to listen to him.

Miss “tick tock it’s cringe’o’clock” Minutes had no speaking part in the trailer which immediately earns it lots of points. If the writers intuition for her to be a Jar-Jar on steroids intentionally cringy character they’re doing great bc every time I see her I wanna break her dumb clock face.

The Bad

I don’t trust Disney AT ALL. So while this trailer is better I still remember all the issues in the other trailers - like Loki using ooc dialogue like “crap” or being stripped and humiliated as a joke (I think everyone would be outraged about that if it happened to Nat in the Black Widow movie) and I find it hard to trust them that this new and better trailer is actually more reflective of the show than those first few trailers (tho I hope to be pleasantly surprised). I remember the Russos saying Steve an Bucky’s relationship (along with Steve and Tony and Wanda and Visions) would be a central aspect of IW/Endgame and that being complete lie. So yeah. The MCU does not have my confidence so even though this trailer is a positive sign I’m a lot more hesitant than I might otherwise be. 

Loki seems just a bit too docile here. His affect is much more Loki-like in this trailer, but he’s seems a bit too “tame.” Look at how loki handles being powerless and threatened in TDW. He acts as though it doesn’t concern him and shields himself by affecting carelessness (except for a few times when his facade cracks) and mocking his captors. Or think about how he acted with Natasha when he was captured by the Avengers and expecting to be tortured. He uses cutting humor and a veneer of coolness and threat as a shield when he’s vulnerable. Loki should snap and snarl when cornered. Or affect an unconcerned confident cool aloof air.

This is extremely nitpicky but I’m gonna talk about Loki’s hair (AGAIN) for a second. On the positive side I’m glad they explained the length difference with that laser cutting scene in the previous trailer. However, as of this trailer it’s still weird to me that it’s so fluffy/curly. I think it’s because it’s Tom’s actual hair vs a wig. The problem is that Loki’s hair-type basically changed without an in-universe explanation bc in-universe his hair even when it’s short tends to be very straight and sleek. 

The Ugly

Based on some of the publicity it seems the show is taking the position that Loki has never been powerless before and this is the first time he’s been out of his element. That seems to be why they’ve written him as a bit too docile here. It’s like the writers bought into Loki’s posturing and thought all those others times he was powerless and out of control he was actually in control and fine and unruffled rather than just ACTING like it. In actuality he’s almost never relaxed or in-control during his screen time in the MCU. The closest is probably the “never doubt that I love you” scene; after that everything in his life just keeps going wrong. 

They mistook personality for circumstance and confused Loki ACTING in control with him BEING in control so when they thought they were changing his circumstances by making him no longer in control for the first time, what they actually did was change his personality by turning him into someone who no longer uses performative disdain, confidence and humor as a shield in vulnerable moments to put on a show of being in control, thus fundamentally altering his character and making him feel off and ooc. 

In the trailer with the forced stripping scene Loki very openly shows alarm when he sees the TVA agent kill someone. Contrast that to the scene when he’s walking to his death at Thanos’s hands. He’s not in control, nor does he think he is. He’s also confronting the being who tortured and mind-controlled him but although he’s frightened he acts cool and collected and in control to the bitter end. Because that’s how Loki is, even when he’s afraid. ESPECIALLY when he’s afraid. And that’s what they missed with the characterization I think. Though definitely he was cooler and more collected here. So that’s a big step in the right direction. But he still feels just a bit too declawed. This trailer was definitely a step in the right direction and I certainly hope that the actual series will fix some of these apparent issues and be even better. Loki is such a fascinating and special character with so much potential and I really want this to be good.  

[obsessionsposts]

*+:｡𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 ｡+* = 𝓓𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮

Pairing: Yandere William Afton X Detective!Fem!Reader

Yandere type :Sadistic,Possessive,Delusional

Archetype: Sociopathic serial killer.

Warnings: Dark themes, Children deaths, Implied Child abuse, Major Character death, Gore, Non-con, Age Gap, Murders, Unhealthy relationship, Supernatural stuff, Angst, Dehumanization, tortures, Manipulation, Suicide, Depression, Delusional / unhinged serial killer,Unethical experimentation,spoliers for the novels so beware.

Recommend song to listen to: Sister location-Menu theme.

Notes: All Characters belongs to Scott Cawthon(Apart from yourselves,ofc). Second, Ima follow the novels so there might be spoilers and I will alter some of it.

Taglist: @storybookstalker , @fandomtrashgoddess, who wants to be tagged hit me up. ^_^

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𝓐𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓻' 𝓼 𝓕𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓻, 𝓪 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓕𝓪𝔃𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭. 𝓐 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓪𝔂 𝓪 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓼, 𝓾𝓷𝓪𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓾𝓻𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭. 𝓨𝓮𝓽, 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓪 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓭 -𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮.

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July 13th, 2033.

Once, a place of joy for children to gather and celebrate their happiest day. Now, it's an antithesis of what it used to stand for.

It became an attraction, a horror attraction, for the brave to dwell in. If they're lucky enough to survive the night, they may uncover the secrets which tarnished the restaurant.

The walls were decorated by cracks resembling spider webs, and dust covering its exteriors. The checkered floor were shabby with dirt and grime. Some rooms, held what's left over of the beloved mascots of the past.

However, there is one room sealed from the public eyes. That's the safe room, where a lone chartreuse rabbit is hunched against a grey wall.

...

...

...

"̷͔͂A̷͚̓ẖ̶̔h̴͙̓h̶͌͜h̴͖̔h̵̳̄h̴͉͗,̸͕͒ ̴̩͝d̵̛̤a̵̺͋m̷͉̈́n̴̺̑ ̵͓̀ţ̸̒h̵̓ͅo̸̓ͅs̸̱̚ë̶͖́ ̴̟̀k̶̨͘i̵̝͊d̸͚͝s̸̢̿.̵̪̋ ̴͚̀T̶̀͜h̸͖̚ê̴͇y̷͙͂ ̶̨̉ṯ̴̾h̴̭͌ȉ̴͚n̶̯͝k̶̩̓ ̸̺͊I̸̖̒ ̴̤͗a̸̭͐m̵͔͘ ̷̬͊ṱ̸̓o̷̺͛ ̴̫͝b̴̘̐l̸̜͑a̸̩͊m̷͎̾e̶̼͘,̷͙̄ ̵͈͒w̴̗͗ḧ̸̟e̴̤͋n̸̼͛ ̷̢̆ť̶̫ḫ̵́e̷̳͛i̵̱̇r̴͖̀ ̵̭͆ń̶̠a̵̮͊i̶̱͗v̵̤̾e̷̛͉t̸͎͠e̵̱̓ ̴̘̆a̸̜̚n̶̢̅d̸͙̈ ̸͈̃i̷̲̚d̴̜́ì̵̤o̵͉̐č̷̖y̷̯͘ ̷̤̐b̴͓̐ř̴̗o̴͍̿u̷̝͌g̶̢͑h̶̜͘t̵͓̂ ̸͕͂t̸̯͝h̷̟̿è̷̮m̵̖͒ ̸̪̈́t̵̗͝h̶̯̐e̵̞̿i̴͉͂ṛ̴̋ ̶͉́d̷̘̀ë̴́ͅm̷̹̈ǐ̸̖s̶̗̑e̶̮̽.̷̼͐ ̶̫̚H̶̛͙a̴̰̒h̷̰͝a̷̢͑h̸̫͗a̷͈͆h̷͇̏a̶͎̎,̷͙̓ ̴̭̄b̷̝̎u̸̳͛t̴̪̅ ̶̘̊Ĭ̶ͅ ̷̥̓m̶̳̈ụ̷̏s̴̥̀t̸͈́ ̴̥̊ǎ̵͈d̴͓͠m̶͚̌i̸͎̅ṱ̷̈́ ̸̫̊s̷̳̀é̴͚e̶̹͋ȋ̵͇ǹ̵̠g̴̗͊ ̷̠̎ṱ̶̅h̴̯̒e̴̻͠m̸̡̕ ̵̯̃ĉ̵̞r̸̥̾y̸̟̏ï̵͇n̷̛̻ğ̷̤ ̶͚͑f̷͎̍o̴̧͛r̷̫͐ ̵̪̓h̶͔̀ę̶̓l̵̗̈́p̶͖̉ ̶̥̽a̸̞̋ǹ̶̻d̸͚́ ̸̖̃d̸̺̈́r̵͇͌o̴͎̔w̶̬̒n̶̩͆i̸̤̎n̵̰̊ğ̵̩ ̶̩̇i̴͖͂n̵̫̎ ̶̈́ͅt̷͖͘h̵̝̿e̷̜̎ȋ̵̝ṙ̴̺ ̶͎̋ṕ̴͈ǫ̸̔o̸̥̍l̷̠̏ ̷͍̒ō̷̝f̸̲̌ ̸̨̆b̶̦̍ĺ̸̟ȏ̵̬ȏ̷̝d̶̻̐ ̸͉͆i̸̭͂s̶̠͠ ̸̻̃a̷̞͆m̷̳̈́u̴̳̎s̶͚̆i̵̳͛n̷̪̊g̵͎̋.̸͙̈́"̴̢̆ , the decaying rabbit cackled as he remembered how he was killed by his petty victims, especially by that golden bear.

"̴́̄͜"̵̫̃N̵̟͂o̵̫̔͝ń̷͖e̸͔͚̐̅t̶̤̽̓h̸̪͝é̵͇̎l̷͚̩̀e̵̡̝͘s̸̡͊͋s̶̰̈,̶̲̎͝ ̶͚̓͌t̴͍͋h̶͎͂̾a̵̡̛t̴̮̊ ̴̛͎d̸͙͉͝͝ő̵̰̲̍e̶͇̞͠ś̸̳̫n̶͍̖̓'̸̝̇̀t̴̺̐ ̴̛̲̗̕m̴̬̼͘a̴̤̍ť̶̫t̸̯̣̍̓ḙ̷͚̚ȓ̷̠̲̾ ̴̫͙͠ń̷͈̬̄ỏ̸̜̒ẃ̸̢̢.̵͇͒̉ ̶̨͘W̴͋͑͜h̵̜̪͐̓a̵̡̜͒t̸̞͔͑ ̴̳̍́m̴͔̊a̷͖̋ṯ̸̅t̴̬̉ė̵͎̳r̵̀͜s̸̻̉̓ ̵̞̄į̸̆s̶̨̭̈́ ̵͔̑̿ț̴̛̏h̸̠̖̆a̶͈̎̇t̷̘̓ ̸̭̅Ì̷̗͠ ̴̭̇̏w̶̝͗i̸̜̹̇̍l̸̺̼̿l̷̤̓̂ ̴̞̥̈̉g̸͓͑͜ȋ̴̮̫̎v̶͔͋͝e̶̥̒ ̶̘̐ÿ̸͈́ơ̴̪͈̔u̸̗͗̾ ̵̧̋a̶̙̰͒̓ ̴̺̣̇̐ẃ̷̞͜a̴̺̓r̵̨̤̒̆m̸̭̍ ̵̪̻̿w̶̖̟͆͌ȇ̸̺l̵̖͛c̷̭̩̾o̵̝̕m̷̫̣̒e̸͖͈͋,̴̤̪͒ ̶̞́̉M̴͙̔͗i̴̩̓̆c̸̳̆h̸̠͠e̶͆��a̸͍͇̍l̶͓̮͂.̵͚́͝ ̶͕̀A̸̝͑ș̷̱͝ ̴̣̫̇͠f̸̘͘ͅo̵̧̙͌̐r̴̨̀ ̵́͊͜y̸̟̓͘ò̵̪̓ȗ̵̟̻,̴̛̞̍ ̶̩̀m̵̝͛ỹ̷̖̗͆ ̵̰͂̿d̸̛̦̪e̴͚͙̓a̵̛̲̥ŕ̶̯̘ ̷̡͇̑(̶͍̐͆Y̵̧͝/̸̗͚͌̈́n̴̰̆)̸̙͠ ̴̩͈͝i̶̮̻͠s̴̡̙̉͠ ̶͚̋t̵̩̚ẖ̴̨̔ä̶͉́t̸͍̱̐̾ ̵̼͔̇̓d̷̞͕͌e̵̠̲̎̅a̸̛̲t̶͖͇̔͛h̷̛͔̙̆ ̶͎̇̀w̵̫̑ö̸̡́̔n̴̟̕'̵͎̈t̶̢̂ ̵̱͔͒̉h̸͙̜̽͝ọ̵̈́͝l̴̩̤̆d̸̬͛͜ ̴̮̄̉m̷̞̥̀ë̷̟ ̶̼͋̈ͅb̴̟͓͌ạ̸̓c̷͕̒k̷̪̙̈ ̷̺̂f̷̥̱͆r̵̪̹͘͠o̷̢͂m̸͇̋͒ ̴̨̼͠t̵̰͍̊a̵̗̓̿k̴͓̻͐͠î̵͍̑n̴̳̚ͅg̵̱̾̅ ̸̹͔̋y̴̗̚o̴̦̅̐û̷̹ ̵͉͔̈a̷̠͌g̷͉̞̒̀a̷̛̠̒ị̵̉̚n̴̯̦̈́.̶͉̆͂", Springtrap rasped and gurgled as blood began to seep in his alveolis. The spring locks attached to his golden suit began to convulse, thus crushing his entrails even more; Painting the ground with his blood.

"A well-deserved fate for a demon that leeches on the suffering of the innocent.", A whisper was heard as the beast screams, while it was impaled and crushed by metal rods.

The only thing that distracts him from that excruciating agony of being springtrapped, is the sweet memory of his intractable pet.

He recalls the first time he met her, an intriguing detective who was paying a visit to his subservient co-owner.

He remembers her with clarity, as she walked past those brown gateways to greet her friend with a heartening embrace. He was envious of the relationship Henry shared with her. Irked, the blonde had the thing he desired more so than his own wife as he progressively 'watched' her.

However, Afton sadistically simpered at the thought of stealing another cherished person from him. Just like how he took poor little Charlie out of the picture.

William-at that time- was vigilant enough not to reveal his surprise to Det.(L/n). A sinister grin covered his visage, as he isolated her and began to disclose his secret to her. Only to see her pretty little countenance, twists into an enticing expression of fear and a lovely tint of determination.

Oh, how did he miss seeing the fear reside in her enrapturing pupils?

And, how much did he adore the mind games between him and her? Quite an intimate activity they both share, in his perspective.

But nothing surpasses the time, when he tormented her in the safe room at the first location. Her tears cascaded from her face, as he burrowed himself deep inside her moreish core.

As life goes, nothing good ever last. That nuisance he called Charlie and her bandwagon kept on chasing him. Until, they cornered him and he became the thing he and Henry created.

A twist of an irony, he presumes. At this point, Springtrap didn't care. Nor, was he ever capable of doing so to begin with.

The two regrets he had in his mind is never killing that damned pest he called his son, and letting his pet escape. A shame, really! He had a gift to give her, a gift that he worked day and night on to make it ideal.

However, a ring called from far away.

It appears to be, there is a curious guest.

One, so foolish to come here just to die uncovering the ghosts of the past. Or, for a silly monetary gain. He is unconcerned about the reasoning, as long as he is able to suffice his insatiable thirst of blood. He can feel it, the urge to coil his rusted hands around the night guard and crush their puny skull into bloody mesh.

"T̵̡͕̏̄ȟ̶̰̯̓o̸̹͑s̵̹͚̈́e̸͔̅̚ ̴̪̎ć̵̪̬u̸͔̦̓r̶̯͈͘s̴̠͛́e̸͈͆̕d̷̮̉̕ ̷̼̟͌͐c̸̡̪͆̅h̸̎ͅį̴̍̐l̷̞̙̈̔d̴̨̝̎r̵̯̂͠ĕ̴̪̝̀ņ̵̃ ̶̙̀́t̵̗́̉h̶̢͇͂i̵̢͕̅͒n̵̞̗̾͑k̸͇̈̌ ̷̞̃͝Í̶͚'̷͕̓̕m̴̯͈͆͘ ̸͈̀d̸͔̔ȇ̵̹̽͜ḁ̸̡̒̓d̵̟̈́,̶̜̞̈́̄ ̸̝̳͆͛b̶̞͙̚ư̵͕̣̇ẗ̷̜́̕ ̵̩̠́̂ṱ̸̩̈́ĥ̷̯ę̶͖̆y̸̛̙̏ͅ'̷̜̒ͅr̸͖͂ê̷̯̖̈́ ̵̲͛ ̵̩̄̌i̵͚̦̔g̷͕̓n̷̜͖̉̊ỏ̸̲͘ṟ̷͓̓̄a̶̰̚n̵͓̝͗̚t̶̨̀͛ ̵̯̀ť̸̖̹͗o̶̼͚͛ ̶͚̉t̵̻͝h̷̭̳́̑e̵͕̬͒ ̶̭͘f̵̺̓ả̷͜c̵̭͗͘ţ̸́ ̴͉̫͊͑Į̵̈́͗ ̵̣̋̏ạ̴̔l̴͖̉̎w̵̜͌ä̴̲́ý̸͙̞s̸̙̆̀ ̷̓ͅç̶̥͛ó̷̳m̸̥͐̏ḙ̷͍̆ ̴͖̔͘b̸̨͍̀͠a̷̛̱̞c̷̗͒k̴͔̀.̷̳͖͝ ̵͉̂F̸̱́̂͜o̷̧̘̅̾r̴͓͔̔͝ ̷̮̓n̸̖͌̓ó̷͔̑ẃ̵̱̀ͅ,̵͉͚̊ ̶͍̚͝I̵̪̪̔ ̷̖̎w̵͕̠̃̿i̵̯͝l̴̪͌l̸̜̄ ̶̣̆̍l̶̫̀͝è̴̮̭a̴̰̎v̷̨̟̒e̴̟̥̍ ̴̜͈̓̏ả̸̤ ̶̘̈́m̶̙̱͌́e̸͈̒̈m̸̢̄̈́ȍ̷̡ï̸̥͈r̷̢̮̔ ̸̨͆t̶͕̞̏o̸͆̎͜ ̴̳̤́ȓ̵̗͐ḛ̵͌͂m̷̬͗͛i̵̗̒n̴̗̓̋ď̵̠̉ͅ ̷̨͔͝t̸̛̞h̵͚͠ë̷̟́m̴͖͋͆ ̴̜̖̂̌o̴̼̣͘f̸̥̔ ̴͓͍̈́̈́t̵̥̀ͅh̴̻̀͗ė̸̝͉͒ȉ̷̺̠r̴̼̀ ̷̯̔̾Ŏ̸̞̙'̷͓̱̚l̴̺̘̈́̓ ̶̯͗̈́f̴̩̏̽r̵̢̆ǐ̶͖ë̷̬͍́͘n̵͊̎ͅd̶̞̦͒.̴͎͝ ̵̨̢́̈́Ä̸̡̱f̸̙̌̌t̵̻̆̇͜ę̶͍͑r̵͎̮̒w̷̻͎͐a̸̹̓́r̷̛͉̖d̷̪͑ŝ̴̜̭͒,̵͇̬́ ̸̜͒͂Ì̶ͅ ̶̻͑̿ŵ̷̩͕i̵͖̫͑l̷͔̠̃l̵̜͋̄ ̷̝̔s̵͚̱̄e̸̩͌ẽ̴̘̎ḱ̶̞ ̵̦̣͒y̶̲̓͊o̵̫̲͂u̵̥̽̑ ̷̟́m̷̟̆̍ỷ̸̯̀͜ ̴͎̯̓̓ḻ̷̳̏ȕ̵̧͔͗v̶̡̄ ̵̗̉̆a̸͉̺͌͊n̴̫͝d̶̮͎̍ ̵͓̓̽y̷̼̚̚ò̴̹͍ù̵̗͜ ̶̫̓̈́ẃ̶̼̌í̵̯̄l̴͈͋̅l̶͍̼̒ ̶̢̈́w̸̫̑o̷̧͒͝r̷̙̻͐s̶̼̖͑̀h̷̚͜ḯ̵̜p̶͔̫̆ ̸͇̾͘m̶̰͕̏e̴̙̒ ̶͎̎͂a̵̟̐̀s̶̞̲̋ ̷͖͎̓͝Î̵͕̣͑ ̷̙̤͑̚d̵̨̍̀e̵̪͎͌̈́ĺ̴̜̆i̷͉͝v̴̞̻́̕e̴̝͓̅͆ṛ̴̾ ̸̢̏͌y̵͑̓͜ô̵̳̙u̷͇͛̇͜r̸̩̲͝ ̷̔̂͜g̶͎̙̒͗i̸͙̽͆f̵͉͆̓t̶̜̕", With an eternal grin carved into his face, he begins his hunt for his prey. Stomping through the halls, with bloodlust coursing through his wires and vessels.

A/n: Viola! Finished with the prologue. By writing this story, I don't and never will condone the actions of William afton. This is dark (based on the warnings), so reader discretion is advised. Otherwise, buckle up.

[turtletotem]

If he wanted you, he'd ask for you

A/B/O fic for Cherik Week! Set post-XMA, or... almost-post-XMA. A little over 2k words.

Erik thought things had been going well.

He, Charles, Jean, and a team of architects were elbow-deep in plans to rebuild the mansion, with certain enhancements; it would all happen very quickly once it began, but had to be planned down to the centimeter, first. All the students who could be sent home safely had gone; the remainder, along with Charles and Erik themselves and a smattering of other adults, were staying in a camp of startlingly luxurious tents down the hill from the mansion site, alpha and omega students kept separate by the larger section of betas in the middle. No one had commented on Erik and Charles sharing a tent; everyone was sharing with someone, and if Hank McCoy had muttered something under his breath about keeping enemies closer, Erik had chosen not to hear it. He knew he had plenty to make up for.

But he was making up for it, he thought, in some small way. Helping with the students, helping with the mansion, helping Charles. It wouldn't bring back the entire city of Cairo, but nothing else would, either, including his death. Those were Charles's exact words, over a chessboard in the privacy of their tent, when they talked about the diplomatic efforts Charles was making on his behalf, and the scars inside Erik's mind where Apocalypse had used some form of persuasion power to steer Erik, Storm and the other horsemen in the direction he wanted them to go.

Erik had thought that too much had happened between them for him and Charles to ever return to the easiness, the deep understanding and connection they had once had, before everything went wrong. Instead, he was shocked speechless sometimes by how much of it was still there—and how much more of it he could feel waiting, behind scars and defensive walls, inaccessible now but still there, if they could find a way to bring it out of hiding again. They slept in their separate beds on opposite sides of the tent, but small touches were beginning to reappear—fingers that brushed as they passed a dish, hands clapping shoulders to celebrate a good joke or small breakthrough. Three days ago, Erik had dared to swipe his palm across the newly bald expanse of Charles's head and call him Professor Eggsavier. Charles had laughed and pushed him off, letting their hands linger together.

The next day, Charles moved into another tent, alone.

He hadn't explained it beyond a casual mention that they had a spare now that the Letson twins had gone home after all. He hadn't reacted to Erik's surely visible dismay and hurt, had acted like he didn't hear his stammered questions. He had simply disappeared into the other tent, and not come out since.

"You don't think someone should check on him?" Erik demanded, at the little outdoor kiosk that mostly served as Hank's office.

"He's fine." Hank sounded baffled by Erik's anxiety. "He's keeping in touch," he gestured at his temple, "any time I need him. He just wants a day or two to himself. Heaven knows he's earned it."

"Of course he's earned it, but you don't think it's out of character? He's not the kind of man that just takes a day or two to himself, he's always up to his eyebrows in everything that's going on—"

"What would you know about it?" Hank said irritably. "When have you ever been in his life for more than a month at a time? Leave him alone, Erik. If he wanted you he'd ask for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to get done."

Talking to Raven was just as frustrating.

"Let me get this straight," she said, barely looking up from the math tests she was grading, because somehow lessons had to go on. "The man you've nearly killed multiple times, who is putting his neck all the way out trying to get you pardoned by multiple governments for the unforgivable shit you did in fact do, and that we can't prove Apocalypse manipulated you into doing—this guy has made himself somewhat less accessible to you, and you consider that some kind of emergency?"

"He's not 'somewhat less accessible,'" Erik snapped, "he's basically disappeared! He hasn't come out of that tent in three days now, not for anyone or anything. Not for Storm's nightmare, not for Carlo's broken arm, not for a potentially disastrous supply problem with the construction—"

"You make it sound like he's ignoring everyone! We've heard from him whenever we needed to." Telepathically, she meant. And they had, everyone had. Except Erik. Erik hadn't heard a word. "Leave him alone," Raven said, pinning him with a gold-eyed glare. "He'll come out when he's ready. You're the last person in the world who should push him."

She was probably right. But Erik was an old hand at ignoring good advice.

The fourth night, he dreamed that Charles was calling for him, calling for help. When he woke, there was nothing—no psychic echo, nothing—to indicate that it was anything but his own dream. He got out of bed anyway, and slipped through the camp to Charles's tent.

He felt resistance as he approached, a telepathic shield trying to turn him away. But Erik was too accustomed to the feel of Charles's telepathy; he wouldn't say he was immune to it, but he had the ability to question it, counter it. He clenched his teeth and pressed forward, into the tent.

It was silent inside. Erik stood still, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, more complete here than out under the stars. Nothing seemed strange or out of place; the tent held all of Charles's expected belongings, his wheelchair waiting by the bed where Charles lay still and peaceful.

Too peaceful. Too still. Absolutely nothing unexpected. And telepathy was still buzzing at the edges of Erik's mind.

"You're altering my perceptions," Erik said. "Stop it. I don't know what you're hiding, but I'm not leaving until I find out."

"I could make you leave." Charles's voice, his physical voice, hoarse and strained; so the image of him asleep in the bed was definitely an illusion.

"Do it, then," Erik said, and waited.

After a moment, he heard a sigh—half-agonized, half-relieved—and the illusion melted away.

The tent was a shambles, Charles's books and papers randomly piled if they weren't thrown around the floor. The bed was a mess of tangled sheets, Charles sitting up against the headboard with his face flushed and chest heaving, and everything was heavy with the smell of—

"You're an omega," Erik breathed, staggering back against the wall of the tent.

He had never once considered that Charles might be an omega—and wasn't that strange in and of itself? Charles clearly wasn't an alpha like Erik himself, but Erik had always assumed he was a beta; betas were more than twice as common as either alphas or omegas, and his scent had never hinted at anything else. It wasn't as if Erik really cared. His feelings for Charles would have been the same, beta or omega or fellow alpha, and anyone who wanted to argue about it could meet the sharpened point of Erik's favorite paperclip. It didn't matter, but—some deep instinctive alpha part of Erik was thrilled beyond words, was already thinking about things like bonding and scenting and children, they could have children—

"I once hoped that my paralysis might at least mean being spared this," Charles said, panting and dashing sweat irritably from his eyes, "but it only makes it harder to ever—be satisfied."

"You're in heat."

"Yes, thank you, I am an omega in heat," Charles snapped, "do you have any other obvious facts to share with the class?"

"Why did you hide it? You've hidden it all this time—or do the others know?" They'd been so unconcerned with his withdrawal into solitude…

"Only Raven," Charles said. "I keep the rest from suspecting…" He tapped his temple. "As for why I hide it, I think you have enough of a brain to speculate."

"There are certain disadvantages, yes," Erik said slowly, stepping closer almost involuntarily, "but to go to these lengths…?" It had been hundreds of years since omegas were treated as chattel, decades since they faced serious prejudice. One might still encounter the occasional tasteless joke or even raging bigot, but that hardly seemed like enough to make an out-and-proud mutant live a lie.

"These lengths," Charles said bitterly, "ensure that no one tries to take advantage of my heat. No one can abuse what they don't realize exists."

Erik stopped, only a few steps away from the bed now. Charles's scent, sweet and smoky, was intoxicating—but his words had a dampening effect on any desire Erik felt. "Take advantage," he repeated. "Charles, who took advantage of you?"

Charles didn't answer, not aloud, but images flickered in Erik's mind of a stocky, brutish young man with greedy eyes. Erik had never seen him, but if it was who he suspected, Charles had once described that young man as having a mind that had never once thought of anyone but himself, in all his life.

"Your stepbrother," Erik said.

"He was an alpha," Charles whispered. "He knew what I was before I did. Only my powers kept him away—mostly. Usually."

"So you learned your only safety was in hiding." Erik didn't realize he had come closer again until he saw his own fingers trail across Charles's hand. He tried to pull back, but Charles caught his hand, held it tightly. His skin was fever-hot, and Erik's body wanted desperately to answer that fever with his own. He swallowed, forcing himself to stillness.

It was still incredible to him that he'd never known this. He'd shared Charles's bed for weeks, before Cuba—but an omega experienced heat only two to four times a year. Luck, good or ill, had kept Charles out of heat during that time, and during their brief reunion in Paris a decade later. His scent should still have given it away, but Charles was uniquely situated to disguise that, not in physical fact but in everyone's perceptions of it.

"So you've never had anyone," Erik said, "to help you through a heat? No one?"

"No."

"That sounds miserable."

"It is." Charles laughed blackly, writhing half-consciously against the headboard. He was, of course, naked—Erik couldn't imagine his skin tolerating clothing right now—and in a state of arousal intense enough to make Erik wince even as the sight made his mouth go dry. How much could Charles feel, there, now? He knew Charles did have some little sensation in that area, and with the increased sensitivity of heat…

"You're staring," Charles said.

Erik forced his eyes away. "Yes. I'm staring because you're beautiful."

"Beautiful? This is beautiful?" He had never sounded more bitter and broken, not even in the plane on the way to Paris.

"It could be." Erik looked down at their joined hands, where his thumb was stroking the back of Charles's hand, gentle as breath. "You have someone to help you now. If you want me."

"If I want you? You could be anyone right now and I'd want you! You understand that, don't you? Of course I want you, someone, anyone—but I can't trust anyone—"

"I can't do anything to you that you don't want," Erik said, tapping his own temple. "Everything's in your hands, Charles. You can even wipe my memory afterward. You could even wipe my memory right now, send me back to my bed with no idea this conversation ever happened."

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't."

Because you took my hand. It was too delicate to say aloud; Erik knew Charles would hear him regardless. You let me see the truth, and you let me take your hand.

Charles pulled him down and kissed him.

 In the morning, Erik woke sore and exhausted and contented down to his bones, at peace in a way he couldn't remember ever feeling before. The windows in Charles's tent were tied shut, but sunlight peeked around their edges and glowed faintly through the material of the tent itself, giving the space a sepia haze of morning. Charles was breathing slow and even, nestled against Erik's chest. His heat had peaked and broken, sometime during the frantic passion of the night. Charles had been overwhelmed enough to cry with sheer relief. That had never happened before, apparently; he'd always had to endure days of the heat slowly withering and trailing off, unsatisfied.

Thinking of it, Erik couldn't help tightening his arms around Charles and brushing a kiss against the crown of his head. He hated that Charles had suffered so much, so unnecessarily. Hated that he might suffer just as much again, next time, without Erik…

"That's up to you, love," Charles said sleepily, and Erik looked down in surprise.

"What?"

"Whether you're here next time," Charles said. "That's up to you."

"You're not going to wipe my memory and send me away?"

Charles snorted. "I don't think it would work now even if I wanted to. Or haven't you noticed we're bonded?"

"Is that what that is?" He could feel it now, the subliminal hum between them, the way their scents mingled together, the deep rightness of Charles's skin against his. Bonding wasn't the be-all and end-all that the poets tried to paint it as, Erik had known that for years. But… everyone agreed it was nice. If this was what it was, it felt nice.

"Look at that smile," Charles murmured, tracing fingertips over Erik's mouth. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see that smile again."

"You can see it anytime you want," Erik said, and drew him in for another kiss.

[cadence-talle]

Roses Linger With A Sigh

Pairing: Alvar Vacker/Ruy Ignis

Wordcount: 1,786

Notes: I’ve had this in my drafts for a while and I finally worked up the motivation to finish it. Enjoy! (Also: Walgreens is a convenience/drugstore and the BBG is a public garden in Brooklyn.)

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @clearlykeefitz, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @molly-sencen, @lemontarto, @appalyneinstitute1, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @linhamon-roll, @hyperlollypop, @never-ever-too-many-fandoms, @keeper-of-the-lost-queers, @impostertamsong, @vibing-in-the-void

“Fuck Walgreens,” Ruy growls, slamming his hands down on the counter. His only employee, a young woman named Umber who’s always wearing black hoodies, doesn’t even flinch. 

“They’re marketing them as The Best Roses in NYC,” she informs him in a bored tone. “And they’ve got lines up the block.”

“Ugh.” Ruy gags. “They’re probably not even natural roses.”

Umber shrugs, tallying another mark on her inventory sheet. She’s not much of a talker, and she has a tendency to scare small children, but she’s a good worker. And it’s not like Ruy had much of a hiring choice, anyway. Very few people want to work in a flower shop. 

“This is going to destroy our monthly budget,” Ruy groans. “Valentines is our busiest time of year.”

“Yep,” Umber says. 

“We don’t even need that much money! Rent isn’t even that high! All we need is, like, a few hundred dollars a month! Is that too much to ask?”

“Yep.”

Ruy sighs. “Can you work the counter this morning? I’m going over there to see for myself.”

“Sure,” Umber responds absently. “Don’t get distracted by the cute guy.”

“The what?” Ruy blinks.

“Never mind.” Umber waves a hand towards the door. “Have fun.”

-/-

Two and a half minutes later, he stands inside Walgreens, staring at the display of roses. Sure enough, they’re chemically altered- larger than normal roses, petals too red to be natural. Ruy supposes they’re pretty, in a shiny plastic way. 

“Can I help you?”

Ruy spins around to see an employee, clad in the stereotypical blue shirt, giving him a bland smile. His nametag reads Alvar. 

(He is also extremely hot. Ruy chooses to ignore this fact.)

“No. I’m fine.” Ruy responds icily. “Just great, actually.”

“Okay,” Alvar says. “Tell me if you need anything, I guess.” 

He turns away and manages to take two steps before Ruy calls “Actually, hey! What are these?” He points to the rose display. 

“Uh.” Alvar blinks. “Flowers?”

“No,” Ruy shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not. Those are not flowers. They’re aliens. They’re disgusting.”

“Sir,” Alvar starts, calm tone beginning to slide into annoyance. “Please stop shouting about the flowers.”

“Stop calling them flowers, then!”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store,” he says. “Or we can have security escort you. Your choice.”

Ruy snorts. “Like I want to be here anyway. Have a nice day with your fake flowers.” He marches towards the door as Alvar turns into the makeup aisle, muttering under his breath about crazy fucking customers.  

-/-

“And then he just kicked me out. Like I was a piece of trash or something!” Ruy stabs a tulip into the floral foam, making sure it’s standing up straight. On the other side of the store, Umber wraps a bouquet in paper and sets it in a bucket of water, waiting for pickup. 

“I don’t even know why I’m so hung up on it, either. I just- he was so rude-”

“You think he’s hot,” Umber says bluntly, “and you hate yourself for thinking he’s hot.”

Ruy stares at her. “What-”

“You’re very easy to read.” Umber stands up, grabbing her lunch container from the back area. “I’m going on my lunch break now.”

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

Umber shrugs and ducks outside. Through the slightly-vine-obscured window, Ruy can see her heading towards the coffee shop a few doors down. He sighs and moves into the back room, gathering up some more soil for their potted plants. 

He hears the doorbell chime and he calls “just a second!”, grabbing soil bags at double the pace.

“Why are we here again?” an oddly familiar voice asks. Ruy can’t quite place it. He turns to move back into the shop, peering through the gap between the soil bags. There’s a teal-eyed girl standing there, rolling her eyes at someone out of Ruy’s sight. 

“It’s Mom and Liv’s anniversary tomorrow,” she tells whoever’s standing next to her, “and you haven’t gotten them anything.”

“I was just going to pick up a box of chocolates or something. God knows work has enough of them.”

The girl wrinkles her nose. “No one wants your shitty Walgreens chocolate.”

“It’s not that bad-” whoever’s talking stops suddenly as Ruy staggers into the room, setting down the soil bags and brushing his hands together. 

“Sorry about that,” he says, glancing down at the soil one more time before looking up at his customers. “What can I…”

Alvar from Walgreens stares at him, eyes wide. 

“Oh,” Ruy says cooly. “You.”

The girl- Alvar’s sister? She looks way too young to be his sister- raises an eyebrow. “Do you two know each other?”

“No,” Alvar says at the same time Ruy says “Unfortunately.” 

The other man glares at Ruy, jaw twitching. “We’ve… met.” He says finally. “Biana, can we just buy the flowers and get out of here?”

Biana looks at her brother, smirk pulling the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, sure,” she responds. “What do you think? Lilies?”

“I actually don’t care,” Alvar says, following her into one of the aisles. Ruy watches them, eyes wide. 

What the fuck. 

Biana sets a pot of lilies on the counter, smiling sunnily at him. “Just these, thank you.” Ruy nods and rings them up, mumbling out a “have a good day” as the two leave. The bell behind them chimes merrily. 

What the fuck. 

-/-

He’s still confused the next day when Biana enters the store again, still smiling but this time with a tiny blond girl beside her. They’re talking at a speed Ruy can’t even comprehend, and Umber wrinkles her nose. 

“You take care of this,” she says. “I don’t like kids.”

Ruy doesn’t answer; working with Umber, you get used to stuff like that. He gives the girls in front of him his best customer grin. 

“Good morning, what can I get for you?”

Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. Well, nothing right now, at least.” She tilts her head towards one of the signs in their window. “You do flowers for events, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Ruy says. Biana pumps a fist and hands him a folded piece of paper. 

“Ok, that’s all the information. We’re having a party in the BBG on Wednesday night, and we need flower arrangements.”

Ruy is pretty sure the BBG makes flower arrangements, but he’s not going to argue with business. “All right. You need to pay up front, though.”

Biana produces a credit card (who are these girl’s parents?) and waves a cheery goodbye. Ruy flips open the paper.

Wednesday, 7:00-11:00 pm. Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Client: Della Vacker. Fifteen bouquets of marigolds. 

And a note, scrawled at the bottom in perfect slanted script:

Feel free to come dance. -BV

“Hey, Umber,” Ruy calls. “What do you think of a party Wednesday night?” Umber pokes her head out of the fertilizer aisle. 

“Can I wear a suit?”

-/-

The Brooklyn Botanical Garden’s conservatory is lit from the inside, strategically placed lamps and fairy lights hiding among plants and flowers. Ruy’s just finished hanging the last bouquet on a column when the doors open and the hosts enter. 

First is a woman with long, sparkling braids, avidly talking to a woman who Ruy assumes to be Biana’s mother. Next is Biana and someone who must be her brother; same teal eyes, same wide smiles. And the fifth is…

Ruy should have expected this. Should have figured something was up when Biana called him the second time to make sure everything was in place, should have been suspicious he was being paid so much for such a simple job. But he didn’t think it was probable; what reason would this fifteen-year-old girl have to orchestrate such a thing?

Now he knows. Biana Vacker is just a terrible person, same as her oldest brother. 

“Good evening,” Ruy says, stepping down off his ladder with one last tap to make sure the marigolds are secure. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Vacker.”

“Della,” she corrects. “The flowers look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Ruy smiles. “I’m afraid my assistant and I have to be going now, however-”

Umber appears next to him, giving Ruy a look that is both unconcerned and really angry. “You promised me a party,” she says calmly. “We have nowhere to be. We’re staying.”

It’s very hard to argue with Umber. 

So six turns into seven, and the guests arrive, and people are celebrating… something. Ruy’s still unclear on what it is. 

Umber is gone, off somewhere dancing or drinking or summoning demons (who knows what she does in her free time) and so Ruy is left leaning against a column, watching people dance by. It’s not fun, exactly, but it’s not too bad. 

At least, it’s not too bad until Biana moves over to him, dragging a very annoyed Alvar.

“Look,” she says impatiently. “If you’re not going to dance, at least talk to your friend.”

“We’re not friends,” Alvar says in a tone akin to a frustrated five-year-old. Biana rolls her eyes.

“Whatever. I’m gonna go dance with Marella. Don’t set anything on fire.”

Alvar groans and leans against the column, closing his eyes briefly before turning to face Ruy. 

“Do you want to dance?”

“I- what? Why?” Ruy sputters. Alvar shrugs. 

“It’ll get Bi off my back. And you seem like the only one here who won’t talk my head off.”

Ruy considers. “You know what? Sure. Let’s dance.” 

They sweep onto the floor as Ruy tries frantically to remember his middle school waltz lessons. Alvar jerks his head toward one of the bouquets hanging on the wall. 

“Nice flowers. Walgreens roses are prettier, though.”

“They’re-” Ruy starts, noticing the corner of Alvar’s mouth twitching. He starts to laugh and Ruy joins in.

You’re right. The Walgreens roses are a joke.

“You know I actually don’t care about the roses, right?” Alvar asks when they’ve both calmed down. “They’re the worst.”

“Then why do you work with them?”

Alvar shrugs again, moving them across the dance floor with some sort of fancy box step Ruy can’t hope to replicate. 

“I needed a job. Walgreens was hiring.”

“Oh.” Ruy thinks of his own store, shelves crowded with supplies they don’t have the time or manpower to organize. Before he knows it, his mouth opens. “Well, we could use an extra hand. Over at the store, I mean.”

“Are you offering me a job?” Alvar cocks an eyebrow at him. Ruy does his best not to flush.

“If you wanted one.”

Alvar flashes a quick, sharp grin and spins them around, dipping Ruy close to the floor.

“I think that sounds amazing.”

-/-

Walgreens beats them out for rose sales on Valentine’s. Ruy doesn’t even care. 

[sidras-tak]

beej and lydia stay married, no romo

I love lesbian!Lydia as much as the next person with functioning brain cells and good taste, but I also kind of love aroace!Lydia who is perfectly content to be conveniently married to Beetlejuice because there are some pretty fun perks to it, even without any romance or anything. (Obviously, this is a platonic fic, please do not tag as ship!)

-

Lydia, a senior in high school and stressed out of her mind, summoned Beetlejuice in the middle of the night. He yawned. “Lyds, if you summon me at 3 am one more time, I’m taking away your summoning privileges.”

She waved an unconcerned hand. “Forget about that. Are we still married?”

His face scrunched up. “Technically, yeah.”

“Great,” Lydia said. “If I’m married, I get way more financial aid for college. Especially since your income is zero. Makes us look poorer.”

“Hell yeah, cheat that system!” Beetlejuice cheered.

Lydia smiled and stretched, looking up from her laptop for the first time in hours. There was a glint of mischief in her eye. “Do you think I can claim the sandworm as a dependent?”

-

Lydia came armed and ready to this family reunion, and it was a good thing, too, because Aunt Margery came swooping in for the kill nearly as soon as she caught sight of Lydia. Lydia endured twenty minutes of prodding questions before Margery said, “Oh, and I nearly forgot: I met the nicest boy a few days ago. Perfect for you—you simply must let me introduce you!”

Lydia fished around in her pocket for the wedding ring she kept there for this express purpose, slipping it on discreetly. “Oh, Auntie,” she said with mock sincerity. “Didn’t you hear? I got married.”

Margery gasped, “No! Why haven’t I met him?”

Lydia put a hand to her heart dramatically. “Tragically, my husband died shortly afterwards. I know he’d want me to stay faithful to him, though.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” Margery sighed.

“Quit telling people I’m dead,” Beetlejuice complained, invisible to everyone but the Deetzes.

“Sometimes I can still hear his voice,” Lydia said, wiping a fake tear from her cheek.

-

“Lydia,” Beetlejuice said solemnly, hat in hand. “I’m cheating on you.”

Lydia gasped and tossed aside her book. “Say it’s not true! How could you?”

“I know,” Beetlejuice said, throwing an arm across his eyes. “Alas, my bootycalls were too sexy for me to resist their siren call. Don’t worry, it’s been going on for a long, long time.”

“Who? Who stole you from me?” she cried, leaping to her feet. She shook Beetlejuice by the shoulders. He clasped her wrists with his hands to stop her.

“Adam,” he admitted. He paused for dramatic effect. “And Barbara.”

“Betrayed by my own parents!” Lydia sobbed. She collapsed on the couch, shaking.

“How many times are you two going to do that?” Adam asked tiredly from across the room.

“Until it stops being funny,” Lydia said, standing up and straightening her dress. She high-fived Beetlejuice.

-

When Lydia was twenty-five, she and Beetlejuice got each other ten-year anniversary presents. She got him a mug that said “#1 husband” and had used all her artistic skills to sharpie in the word ‘dead’ between ‘1’ and ‘husband’. He got her a shirt that said “world’s best no-longer-a-child bride”. It hadn’t been altered or specially ordered. She figured it had come from the Netherworld and promptly added it to her pajama collection.

“Love you, Beej. No romo,” she said.

“Back atcha, kiddo,” he said. “Now, I’m gonna go have sex with both of your ghost parents. Happy anniversary!”

“Disgusting,” she said fondly.

-

Delia was usually pretty good about letting Lydia be herself, but there were certain things Lydia was sure she would never be able to let go.

“You’re twenty-six now, Lydia. It’s time to start thinking about dating, settling down, having a family.”

“I’m still married to Beej, remember?”

“He doesn’t count! There’s no certificate! No witnesses!”

Lydia held up one finger and dug around in her backpack. She came up with a crumpled piece of paper and handed it over.

“What’s this?”

“Certificate. Witnesses include you, dad, Adam, Barbara.”

The certificate had been produced by Beetlejuice many years before, when Lydia needed to send in paperwork with her financial aid application. The “judge” who “presided” over the wedding was none other than the Right and Honorable Judge Bee T. LeJuice. Lydia had used it on many occasions and, surprisingly, it held up against examination.

“Plus,” Lydia said loftily, “The only person we know who can annul Netherworld marriages is Juno and Beej kinda murdered her. So I’m stuck with him.”

Delia sighed and said, “well, if he’s the only option, I guess I don’t mind not having grandchildren."

[nobodyfamousposts]

Felix July - First Kiss (Felix Culpa)

@felixmonth

When Felix had his first kiss, it had been an overall unnoteworthy affair. He would be surprised if anyone remembered.

Which was naturally why every detail of it was imprinted in his memory like cheap and ugly-looking stamp haphazardly placed on a child’s hand.

It had been for a photo shoot. He honestly didn’t even remember what specifically it was for. Something promoting a charity? Or a school? He remembered standing stiffly in this horrendous suit that was itchy, ill-fitting, and all too stiff. He remembered it was hot and much too bright—summer maybe? The air was hot and muggy, which only made the suit worse. And there was that girl—that stupid vapid brat of a girl who would insist on holding his hand no matter how little he did to reciprocate or how much he tried to pull away.

He was all of 9 years old, if he remembered correctly. And he hated it. He hated being there.

They were taking pictures and Felix wanted nothing more than to get it over with and go inside where it was cool and he could finally get some water. But the girl he was partnered with kept wasting time with her obnoxious voice and inability to follow simple directions, making the whole thing last longer than it needed to. No one seemed to notice or even really care. He was hot and dizzy, and looking back he was sure he had probably been suffering some manner of dehydration and heat exhaustion.

Then finally it was the last shot and Felix was relieved. Just one more, he had kept telling himself. Just this one last thing and he could go home and sleep in his room.

He remembered the girl’s loud voice all too close to him again calling out his name and out of reflex pulled his hands to himself to protect them from her grasp. He realized too late that it wasn’t his hands she was aiming for as he felt two sweaty palms grabbing his cheeks and a face mashing against his own in what he was afterwards informed was supposed to be some semblance of a kiss. Her lips were dry and while it may have simply been his childish imagination, even to this day he described them as being like plastic.

He heard a shutter go off. Followed by cheers. Like this complete invasion of his person was something to be happy about.

He was left confused. Dazed. Not out of awe or love but out of dizziness and panic because someone just grabbed him and forced her lips on his own and he wasn’t even coherent enough to know if he was okay with that or not. Nobody had mentioned a kiss in the pictures. Nobody had told him this would happen!

Felix was nine years old and had just been kissed. And all he wanted to do was push the little offender away and hide somewhere.

He remembered looking around in confusion, hoping someone could explain to him. But nobody did. They all just smiled at each other with big grins like this was expected or perhaps a nice surprise that none of them saw any problem with.

Everyone was so proud. “His first kiss!” One commented, not that the individual should have known or that it was anybody’s business in the first place.

They cooed and oohed and ahhed like it was something adorable and sweet and romantic before promptly forgetting about the whole thing and moving on to whatever else was unfortunate enough to catch their fancy.

But for Felix, the gross feeling remained. It lingered, even. That stale plastic feeling that remained on his lips no matter how many times he wiped and rubbed them. No matter what he did, the feeling never went away.

Even when he went home, it was still there. He washed his face a good three times to no effect. And he didn’t understand it. He was nine. No one had spoken to him about it or asked how he felt. And he could only reason that maybe it was because they weren’t supposed to? Or that it was something he was supposed to know and deal with? Maybe this was normal and that was why nobody talked about it?

So for a time, he was convinced that he had an allergy to kissing and made a note to avoid doing it again in the future.

He’d developed a bad habit of biting his lip after that. No matter how many times his parents or agent or photographers insisted he stop—because heaven forbid Felix bruise his precious lips, or worse, get an overbite! It took a good while to break himself of the habit, and that was only because of the constant interference of the adults he was forced to work with to stop him.

It all only furthered his dislike of people.

___________________

An ornate door slammed open as Felix barged into the beautifully but rather out datedly beautiful room.

“Marinette!”

He might have been relieved when he saw her, if it were not for the way she barely responded to him, instead remaining stationary at the window seat and oblivious to the world.

Felix groaned. Because of course the akuma had gotten to her as well.

Of all the stupid things—!

Why? WHY did Rossi have to go and mess up the theater performance?

It shouldn’t have mattered that Marinette had gotten the role of the Princess for the play, and to be fair, the girl hadn’t even wanted the role. But Adrien had been selected as the Prince—which Felix was inclined to believe might have have more to do with either some sort of behind the scenes bribery or that the Director had just been intelligent enough to figure that he would get more attention and notoriety by having the male model as the star. Either due to her own infatuation with the boy or because she knew full well what would likely happen with just about anyone else in her place, Marinette chose to keep the role. The Director was overall rather pleased, and the two seemed to do rather well in their practice together.

But Felix knew neither Bourgeois or Rossi were happy with the decision. He also know that at least one of the two was bound to try something to sabotage the play.

Unfortunately, Felix had put his money on Chloe, given her previous antics during Clara Nightingale’s music video. He hadn’t counted on Rossi pulling a particularly vindictive stunt and damage the set and costumes. Or that she would try to blame Marinette to try to get her in trouble.

They were just lucky the Director hadn’t bought her story, but it did still cause a major setback for the play and the Director WAS still rather upset about the whole thing. And that was all that was needed to create an akuma.

A reality-warping akuma of all things, and one with the power to recreate his “masterpiece” in the real world. So far, he’d managed to change the other students into a legion of knights and summon a dragon—though Felix had been pretty certain there wasn’t supposed to be a dragon in the story. Then of all things, the man had transformed the Bourgeois hotel into a castle.

One with a tower.

And stairs.

WHY did there have to be so many stairs?

How Felix had managed to break into the place was a mystery. WHY he had done so was an even greater one. He was fairly certain he had lost his mind somewhere in the midst of the day’s antics.

Except that wasn’t it and he knew it. No, he knew the real reason he had forced his way here instead of doing the sensible thing and hiding out until Ladybug and Chat Noir could defeat the akuma and return things to normal.

It wasn’t even the stairs—though heaven knew his legs no doubt hated him after trekking up to the top floor. No.

It was that he was only there trying to rescue her because she had taken a hit trying to distract the akuma from him in the first place.

Stupid guilt.

Stupid akuma.

Stupid Rossi, wherever she was. No doubt hiding somewhere safe and watching the madness unfold.

“Marinette!” He hissed, grabbing her arm. It was cold. Was she supposed to be this cold?

Dull blue eyes stared at him blankly.

“Marinette, we have to go!” Quickly. Before the akuma returned.

But she didn’t respond. If anything, she appeared altogether rather unconcerned with his warnings or even the fact that he was there at all. Which was particularly concerning, given the aforementioned AKUMA on the loose.

“My Prince will be coming soon. I must wait here for him.” Her voice was as empty as her eyes.

“Snap out of it!”

But she refused to move. She merely remained sitting in place by the window, either unaware or unconcerned with where she was, the akuma attack, or the current state of things.

That settled it, he realized. She was clearly under the akuma’s control. It made sense. Knowing Marinette, if she had been herself, she no doubt would have found a way out of here herself by now.

For a moment, Felix questioned if he shouldn’t simply try to force her to leave with him, but she was clearly under the Director’s control and fully intent on obeying whatever commands he had given her. He could attempt to carry her out, but even assuming she didn’t fight him, she would be little more than dead weight as she was—and that wasn’t including the extra weight from the dress and accessories she was now adorned with.

He would almost say she looked pretty. Almost. The outfit was clearly based on her design for the original dress, but when the akuma managed to grab her, it had altered the entire thing—making it more extravagant than it needed to be and with extra accessories. The mask seemed to fit her face perfectly, mostly pink but with extensive silver engravings. In turn, the headpiece she now wore was also made of silver and inlaid with pearls. The dress was pink and silver, and also adorned with a multitude of pearls and silver leaf engravings.

It was beautiful. But he couldn’t help but feel it had looked better when it had been her own.

He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for this. He had to get Marinette out of here.

Felix glanced around the room, but there appeared to be nothing of use. Part of him idly noted that this was likely once Chloe’s room. He might have found it humorous if he wasn’t already stressed and focused on greater concerns.

He had to get Marinette out of there.

But how…?

He started running multiple plans through his head. Questioning the logistics and tactics of whether to try to simply pull her or force himself to carry her out when a certain…other thought came to mind.

It was a play, after all. One based on a fairy tale, if he recalled.

Now, Felix was well versed in books and tales enough to know how the fairy tales of old truly tended to end. But most people weren’t generally as aware—usually caught up in the Disney stories and happy endings. The Director, for all that the man took his art quite seriously, certainly appeared to be one of them.

And how did most people think fairy tales ended.

He groaned at the realization.

Why had Adrien had to go and disappear on him?

“Marinette, please!”

She remained unmoved.

Felix wanted to throw something.

Where was that blasted boy when he was needed? He had told the other blond they needed to get to her together, but the next thing he knew, he was alone and Adrien had just gone and run off somewhere!

At least Chat Noir had arrived to help, for all the good that did. But Ladybug was nowhere to be found. And while Chat could take down the akuma, he could do nothing to purify it or undo the damage caused if Ladybug wasn’t there.

They needed Ladybug. And if she was already taken down, then he needed another way to save Marinette.

‘True Love’s Kiss breaks any curse!’ He remembered the way his mother had intoned the words when she used to read to him. The way Rose had so naively insisted the same and how the Director had smiled in agreement.

It’s a reality-altering akuma. And if it can make reality work how it wants…

Felix groaned again in frustration.

This was why he had tried to bring Adrien here! Any fool could have seen how much Marinette adored him. And if this was supposed to follow the story, she needed to be kissed by her true love!

It was Adrien! It had to be!

And the idiot should have KNOWN that!

How could he remain unaware as to how the girl felt? Was he really that oblivious? Or was he simply trying to ignore it out of some perceived politeness?

Felix didn’t know. He really didn’t care. He just…

He just wanted Marinette to wake up.

A kiss to break a spell, right?

He caught himself biting his lip.

“I’m sorry.”

She merely continued to stare at him.

No, not even at him but through him.

And somehow…for all that he hated touch and especially kissing…

He hated that look on her more.

That damn blank look. Like a doll. Expressionless and empty…

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was always vibrant and full of life.

It was…one of the many things he admired about her.

He reached out slowly. Her eyes didn’t even seem to register his movements.

She should never look like this.

He took her face in his hands—her skin cold to the touch.

She should never feel like this.

He lowered his face to hers, eyes closed tightly and apologies screaming in his head.

Contact.

Her lips were soft. Smooth.

Warm.

He hadn’t realized how warm she could be before.

He pulled back, barely grazing her lips with his own as he waited.

There was a shuddering breath that he was sure wasn’t his. A gasp. The feeling of air on his skin.

And blue eyes. Shining and lovely.

“Felix?”

[mareebrittenford]

I’ve never believed in magic. I’ve never seen anything that’s convinced me of it, especially not living here in Anaheim, California. It might feel magical to make that big trip to Disneyland, but outside of that shiny spotlight, it’s all boring or depressing. 

There’s no magic here. It’s not a special place to grow up. It’s too far from the beach to be cool, too far from L.A. to be hip. It’s dull suburbia, pushing the edge of seedy.

Perhaps that’s why I felt so drawn to something that felt a little outside of normal. The Fairy House. 

I’d never noticed it before this last summer. I call it The Fairy House because it looks like something straight out of a fairy tale, the old-fashioned kind that hasn’t been processed to remove the nasty bits. It’s got a real wood shingle roof covered in creeping vines. There’s diamond-shaped windows of wavy colored glass and a fence that looks like drunk elves built it in the middle of the night out of materials they thought were pretty. It even smells special. Rich and damp and green, despite the baking dry heat that’s overrun everything else.

It’s obviously just a house. A funky, water-restrictions-ignoring old house that’s shoved its way into my head. I don’t even know why I noticed it. There are other old houses that are falling apart around here.

But somehow it’s just special. Cute. Not quite belonging.

I’ve altered my running route, to the point of doing extra miles in the summer heat, just so I can run past it. It keeps my mind occupied for the rest of the run, coming up with stories about what if. What if it really was enchanted? I’ve been reading up on older versions of the familiar stories. The kind where there’s no magical save at the last moment. The kind where people die for making bad choices. 

If the house were really enchanted, I’d say there would be a 50/50 chance of my fascination being a curse or something. But I wonder, as I stop in front of it and breathe in the sweet smell of flowers and grass, if this was how Hansel and Gretel felt. This strange desire to know. To see. To go inside.

In the end, they’re just silly stories to keep my mind entertained on the long solo runs. Around here people know better than to believe in magic. When you’ve seen backstage, you know that it’s all a trick. All there is to magic is people working to create the illusion.

The house might not be a planned illusion. But my stories about it are just stories, like an oasis in the desert that evaporates when you get closer.

I’m fifteen, so even if I’d ever been taken in by the idea of magic, I’m too old for it now. I have more important things to worry about. School. Getting into college. 

When I meet up with the track team the week before school starts, I casually suggest that we take the run along Orangethorpe. Because there’s trees. Everyone wants shade, right? Of course it’s already late afternoon, since no one wants to run in the full heat of summer if they can avoid it. So shade isn’t that important.

I still want to run past my fairy house. It’s been a few days, and I miss it.

Lionel, the new team captain, rolls his eyes. He knows my motive. He’s one of the few people that has bothered to keep up his training over the summer. He’s also one of my best friends. I’ve made him run this route enough times for him to complain about it. 

“You need to be careful, or people are going to start calling you the girl who obsesses over weird houses.”

I roll my eyes, but he ignores me, turning away to call out and get the attention of the messy group. He has to clap his hands and yell a few times to get their attention.

Now would be the time to give an inspiring speech about the exciting competitions we have in the season ahead of us, and Lionel makes an attempt, but he’s not much for inspiring speeches. He’s a tall black guy, his long, lean body the ideal runner’s build. He’s going to be good at most of the captain stuff, and he’s got a great eye for talent. But he’s not what you’d call a natural public speaker. We’ll have to find our inspiration elsewhere.

That doesn’t matter today. It’s traditional to make this first run easy. The hell workouts will come in the next few weeks. 

“It’s better to start soft so these out-of-shape idiots don’t quit on us,” Lionel told me earlier. Their commitment level isn’t the best anyway. We aren’t exactly an all-star team. 

I mostly tune out his speech and focus on twisting my hair into a rough French braid so it doesn’t frizz or tangle too much. Of course as soon as I start sweating I’m going to have a frizzy halo around my face, but at least it’ll be kind of controlled. 

Lionel finishes talking, and we all straggle off down the street, some people dropping to a walk almost immediately.

I fall into step with Lionel in a pack with a few other kids who haven’t skipped training completely over the summer.

“Oh wow, I wonder why we’re running this route,” he says smirking. He knows very well why.

“Why are we?” asks Brad, dropping in on my other side. He crowds me a little, and I edge closer to Lionel. Brad has never forgiven me for only going on one date with him. That was one more date than I should’ve. It gives me perverse pleasure to see that his pale skin is now bright red and he’s streaming sweat. Someone didn’t stay in shape over the summer.

“Lyse has a local tourist attraction she likes to cruise past,” Lionel says. He puts on a high-pitched voice. “If you would turn your attention to the building coming up on your right. It’s a falling down old house, which our esteemed teammate Carlyse believes to be inhabited by fairies—” I elbow him in the side, and he makes a choked sound as if I’ve done him some actual harm. Carlyse is my full name, but he only uses it when he wants to annoy me.

“What?” Brad frowns. “What are you guys even talking about?”

We’ve just reached the house, and I flick my thumb at it in annoyance. “This old house. I think it’s cute. And I don’t think fairies live there.” Okay, when I’m right in front of it… maybe I do. Or something like that.

Brad shakes his head. “Why are you guys always such jerks? I'm not an idiot. It’s a model train store. Perfect for nerds. You should visit.” He snorts in annoyance and gives up his battle to keep up with us, dropping back to a walk. 

I look up and down the street. It’s a light industry/retail area, and the fairy house is sandwiched between a mattress outlet and a janitorial supply store. Further down is a sporting goods store, and a FedEx depot. There’s lots of businesses. But one thing there isn’t?

“Hey, do you see a model train store anywhere?” I scan back and forth.

“Nope. Just your dopey house.”

“What was he talking about then?”

Lionel shrugs, unconcerned. “He’s just pulling your leg. You know how he is. Or maybe he got confused. There is a model airplane store down on the next block.”

How could he look right at the fairy house and see a model store, train or otherwise? It’s weird. I look back over my shoulder and see him with a couple other teammates who have stopped to walk too. They’re laughing and pointing at the house.

Obviously he’s not confused. Just Brad being his usual asshat self.

I resolve to put him and the stupid house out of my mind.

I actually succeed for a week or so.

This is the opening from my new book The Liminal Gate. Check it out!