#I bet he is hiding bugs in his sleeves in at least half of these lol

[hedonistbyheart]

Initiate - Padawan - Knight - Master

Qui-Gon Jinn through the years.

[madame-mimsy]

Theory Behind the Reward Tier Levels in Janus’ Corridor.

Has someone done this, already? Probably. But nothing says mental exhaustion like procrastinating on schoolwork by over analyzing the levels of tiers in Janus’ Corridor of Stored Rewards.

So with the release of the amazing art by James von Hollen (@ignoreitforever on Instagram) of each of the tiers (and the honestly delightfully terrifying images of Janus ripping through a wall like the Shining), I’ve had some thoughts on what the levels mean in relation to them because I am a Fander and we cannot leave well enough alone gdi.

See, at first I liked the idea going around that Janus was just giving tiers based on people he liked, as he’s stated that he prefers Remus over the others in livestreams. But the thing is, he obviously does NOT like Virgil, so that doesn’t quite fit to me. And the idea that it’s just giving preferential treatment to the Dark Sides made sense to me, until the new images came out and we had padlocks galore.

Instead, my theory is that each tier is based on how deep into the secrets he’s promised in his Corridor you go. The further along the more he WANTS to keep them secret, and thus the more money it takes, meta-wise, to pry those secrets loose, and why there is no Janus level tier. There’s no way he’d want to reveal everything he knows, no matter the amount. He (Janus) even got downright angry when people tried bugging him for spoilers in streams.

So instead he has the tiers listed by how willing he is to make that Side “public” or not. (Longwinded theory under the cut)

So first we have the Logan tier: the Federal Education Budget 

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From the Snake’s Own Mouth:

“Ohhh, so you decided to share with us? Then, I suppose I can share with you.”

Honestly, this startled me because of the fact that it looks so arcane and mystical, which doesn’t match how I imagine Logan at all. My friend @onnastik​ pointed out that the creature on the right, surrounded by sigils, is the demon Baur, who among other things is said to “teach natural and moral philosophy, (and) logic...” which fits the bill pretty perfectly. 

Speaking of a bill, the name for the tier fits Logan perfectly, too, to me. The Federal Education Budget is not only the budget used in the American system to make sure kids have free education until the highschool level, but is also part of the college loan system. It signifies public education, and that’s why I feel that Logan is the lowest, and thus most accessible, tier. Janus considers him bland, safe for public consumption, and maybe even wants to put up a front of logical intelligence first and foremost, to make even the broadest view of Thomas seem as intelligent as possible. 

And look at how much the basic tier gives! That’s a huge amount for just the lowest tier, and gives you plenty to enjoy. That fits the ideal of something like a broad education system, and gives a very open feel. Logan’s tier is literally an “Open Book” of all sorts of delights.

And with that horrible pun, we move to Patton’s tier:  The Monthly Allowance.

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From the Snake’s Own Mouth:

“That not enough for you? Fine. I'll give you everything from that last tier, PLUS...”

For all that it is creepy as heck, the fact that Patton’s tier is also a pun is perfect. The candles heat must surely make this... heartwarming. And the addition of blooper reels in the rewards, and the commentary, feel more personal than Logan’s open tier. Which is why I don’t think Patton was the first tier.

Patton wears his heart on his sleeve too much for Janus’ tastes, I bet. All of those emotions just out there where anyone could see? Those bloopers that showcase how imperfect Thomas and the crew are? Yikes. That is definitely something a certain snek wouldn’t want to be the most public option, though, at the same time, Patton’s gentle qualities and general love of the fandom also mean he’s a good symbol to push closer to the front of the Corridor, and doesn’t need to be as hidden as some of the others.

Also the fact that Patton’s tier has a sticker as a reward is absolutely perfect and you can’t tell me otherwise. Can’t you just imagine him going “Thank you so much, kiddo! Let’s watch some bloopers and play with sticker books! I’ll get the cocoa”? He’s the good goofy dad and stickers are fun. Bloopers and being silly are fun. It’s perfect for the sweet lad.

Then we have the illustrious Roman’s tier: A Prince’s Ransom.

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From the Snake’s Own Mouth:

“You want more? Really?? … You can only half tell, but I’m blushing over the fact that we’re worth this much to you. How about, everything in that last tier AND...”

Hooo boi there’s suddenly a lot more to unpack here. This is in no way an insult to the lovely Crew as a whole, but doesn’t it feel like this tier has more bribery going on than the last two? More self-centered reasons to join? It’s not just your name in the credits like Patton offered: it’s your name as a writer. That T-shirt (which I 100% leaped at when I saw this because holy heck it’s so pretty), and of course the mysterious Writer’s Room.

This tier feels very creative as well: look at all the stuff about influencing the show, the art of the shirt, etc. This is all about being showy and creative like our wonderful prince. But it’s not the first tier, even though Thomas is very much a creator. Why? Why is the tier for the showiest, flashiest Side just randomly tucked in the middle, not even the highest for show?

Because Janus doesn’t want Roman to be the first thing everyone sees. Our sweet boy is definitely eye-catching, but he can also be vain to the point of pompous, even annoying. And his fragile ego isn’t something that Janus likely wants to show off. Janus’ statement about “blushing” and “being worth that much to you” even feels like it matches that pride and ego. 

And that fragility is in the crown’s design, too. At first glance it seems fine. Very fantastic, with Roman’s sun symbol in lovely display. But a longer look reveals cracks, broken sections and fissures. And a slight, odd green shine, too. Hmm.

No, Roman couldn’t be made the first tier because of his pride, but his is also the last tier to not have any outright locks on it...

The Strange Dark Son’s tier: OK, Now You’re Making Me Feel Guilty...

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From the Snake’s Own Mouth:

“PLEASE, don’t give us any more money! I don’t know what we could possibly do with it! But alright… since I like you, you can have everything in the last tier, and I'LL THROW IN...”

“Now you’re making me feel guilty” is absolutely what I would expect Virgil to think about someone giving him money because they enjoyed Thomas’ content. He’d freak out, and want to make sure to do something equally nice in return, to say thank you. Hence the thank-you video. 

NGL I can also imagine him panicking and rushing around his room to pick up a random mug and just thrust it out at the gifter in return too, before hiding away in an anxious mess, but anyway. xD

The artwork for this seems to very much be in homage to the Annabelle Doll: a supposedly haunted ragdoll, kept locked in a case at an occult museum.

Something interesting about this doll’s story, though...

Wiki: “According to the Warrens, a student nurse was given the doll in 1970. They said that the doll behaved strangely, and that a psychic medium told the student that the doll was inhabited by the spirit of a deceased girl named "Annabelle". The student and her roommate tried to accept and nurture the spirit-possessed doll, but the doll reportedly exhibited malicious and frightening behavior.”

Huh. Who else do we know that when confronted with too much coddling responds by lashing out?

And this is the first tier with a lock. The glass is chipped (from inside or out?) but the lock is holding. The doll is inert and doesn’t seem likely to do anything unless disturbed, if it matches the original story. Which seems to fit Virgil relatively well. Sure, he’ll make you anxious (maybe those cracks are where the influence leeches free), but doesn’t seem intent on outright harm. Also the cracks and the creepy living doll cabinet as a whole made me think of spider webs and our boi’s Halloween decor, so I thought that was excellent, honestly.

This tier is hidden behind Roman’s shining pomp. It’s outright locked away, as if to keep it from seeing the light of day. The Dark Side tiers both seem this way: hidden from prying eyes by the splendor of the first few tiers.

And the most hidden one of all... Gross Profit.

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From the Snake’s Own Mouth:

“Oh you bougie rascal, you! Your generosity is seen and I truly thank you for it… but a few kind words from me aren't enough, I'm sure... so how about, you get everything from the last tier ALONG WITH...”

Firstly we have exclusive tier level gifts that Janus won’t even reveal. Meta-wise, this is likely more because the team has to decide what those gifts ARE, and how to safely ship them, but the way it sounds in the description not only feels super secretive, but also very much like Remus to me, as well. I’m pretty sure any and all gifts from him are a surprise in some way. Whether that is pleasant is debatable, but it’s still a surprise!

The highest tier also looks to have the highest security. Look at that sturdy, metal bound chest and huge padlock. Not only that but it also has chains wrapped around it to hold it shut, and even then, the contents are actively seeking to escape, like our delightful trashman would. Even the shuggoth-like appearance matches his presence as a shifting, terrifying and likely quite gloopy entity, capable of squeezing even where he’s not wanted.  Even the green fabric below looks stained with mud or blood or something equally as upsetting. The image does a great job of showing how hard it is to contain Intrusive Thoughts, as a whole, and is likely a main reason Janus drinks so much “juice” on his birthdays. 

Unlike the last image, this one is outright trying to break containment, and oddly, it almost seems like someone left a golden key in easy reach for just that purpose... A key which also looks rather oddly shaped, to me.

It’s hard to tell from the angle, but it doesn’t look like the eye is a simple circle, but that it has a point, like a heart almost. Or even the ornate letter D from the Corridor logo?

I can’t be sure of that, but what I can definitely be sure of is the sheer amount of lock, key, and chain symbolism our Snekky Fren has to his name.

While Janus has no tier, the entire SITE has his symbol, like a brand. 

Every post, the icon, the about page, it’s there. And the snake isn’t trapped by the lock, but guarding it. It looks to have a green highlight around where a chip is (hmm), but other than that, it looks quite solid, and well-guarded by watchful creatures that never blink.

The shape of the lock looks like it could be heart-shaped as well, like that golden key allowing the Remus tentacles to wriggle free.

They also do a heckin blep and honestly what could possibly be better? 

So yeah, that’s my way overly long ramble about the tier levels and what I think they mean. Maybe if I’m not too lazy I’ll do one on the pictures of Janus playing peekaboo with my nightmares on the about page. 

God but this art is amazing and y’all need to go preesh the artist holy heck. 

[detectivedreameater]

Cut To The Chase || Cutler and Marley

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @clarkesconvenience and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Cutler’s name keeps popping up in Marley’s files, so she decides to pay him a visit.

Marley hated paperwork, and that was all her job had been lately. Paperwork. Case file after case file. She’d gotten to interrogate a few suspects, but nothing that exciting happened in the precinct. This wasn't a place of mass murderers and drug lords-- it was a place of mystery and intrigue! And supernaturals working underground, hiding behind prying eyes! She wanted to be out in the field, she needed to be out there. But they would never let her. Queenie would never let her. And she knew, somewhere deep inside, she knew they were right. It was dangerous for her to be out there, not just for herself, but others. But she still craved it, like another part of herself. It had just been another piece of her being that Roy had taken away from her, and she was still fighting to reclaim that.

And that was when a file came across her desk and for the third time the same name had popped up. Cutler Clarke. Several people had seemed to visit his shop just before the incidents had happened, and some of them had been carrying strange objects with them, now sitting in evidence lockers. One man had even had a wad of cash in an envelope with Clarke’s name on it, scrawled in shitty handwriting. People were so stupid sometimes. 

After digging back through the evidence files, Marley had a decision to make. Something was going on here, something shady. All of the files that had Clarke’s name referenced in them were “cold”, with no clue as to what happened next or what the suspects were. It was clear to Marley though, that these were supernatural incidents. Which meant this was something she needed to take care of. She was the only one that could, after all.

It was with that that the decision was made. She grabbed her jacket and her glasses, and tucked the files away in her desk, before heading out, the thrill of a chase already exciting her. 

The shop was closed by now, but that was no problem for someone who could turn invisible. Though her abilities were still faltering every now and then, Marley had enough focus to change herself and slip through the doors, past the alarms and towards the back of the store, where she noticed a light on. There seemed to be another door in the back, and she’d bet it was locked. Again, no problem for someone like her. She stepped through the door, peering around, and found herself in what looked like a makeshift hospital room. And in the middle, the man himself. Marley grinned wickedly before deciding it was a good time to reappear, standing next to the “exam table”. She tapped her fingernails loudly on it, and when the man turned, she tilted her head. “You know, I’m pretty sure once your license is taken away, you’re not supposed to keep practicing,” she said, brushing her jacket back to expose her badge as she put a hand on her hip. “In fact, I think that’s illegal.”

Cutler peeled the surgical gown from his body like he was shedding a second skin, deep grimace set into stone features. This had been a hard one, touch and go for a little while. Even after he had practically begged his patient - no, client - to take it easy in their recovery, they had insisted on walking out of there and driving themselves home. The envelope of cash sat heavy in his back pocket, dragging his spine into a guilty slouch. He dropped the gown into the wastepaper basket at his feet, where it drifted to meet the plasticky refuse of the operation. 

The tapping of fingernails on the table behind him snapped his posture back upward, feet leaving the ground in a terrified jump for a split second. He was absolutely sure he had locked the door behind him, and yet, there was a woman standing in front of him with a predatory look on her face. I guess that makes me the prey. As she spoke, the bare fluorescents above them flashed off her police badge and his heart sunk even lower, resting in the acid pit of his stomach. 

“Officer.” Sour fear lingered at the back of this throat and he swallowed it back down, vocal chords scraping together dryly. “I didn’t see you come in.” He nudged the basket away from him with the toe of his work boot, metal scraping against the unfurnished cement. Each action was slow and practiced, an illusion of ease. As he turned to face her head-on, he busied himself with the methodical rolling of his sleeves up his forearms. “I also didn’t see a warrant. Or catch your name.” 

A wicked smile spread on her face as fear pulsed through the air. Marley couldn’t help it. At her core, this was who she was. She fed on fear, she needed it, she craved it. It satisfied her like nothing else. Taking in the gulp of fear, she ran her hands along the cool table as she began her saunter over towards the man. “You wouldn’t have,” she said, shrugging, “but that’s not the point.” Ah, so he knew his rights. Too bad those didn’t always exist in the supernatural world. Her fingers clicked against the table again. “It’s a good thing I’m not here for an arrest, then, isn’t it?” She took a moment to look around the space, confirming her previous thoughts when she’d first found it. “I really just wanna talk. Because, you see…” she lifted her hand from the table and pointed at him, “your name has come up in quite a few of my files. And I thought, well, isn’t that strange?” Arms folded across her chest. “So, why don’t you tell me yourself, why exactly that is. And what, exactly…” she gestured around her, “this is. And we'll go from there.”

There was something unnerving about the grin on the face of his impromptu guest. It didn’t fit here. She was much too relaxed for the situation at hand. Her expression was light - joyful, almost - but something else slithered underneath, flashing behind dark eyes. Hunger. “If you’re not here for an arrest, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Cutler busied himself with the familiar motions of post-op cleanup, hoping the rote repetitions would mask the rising fear in his chest. She looked around the room, and he looked at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“This is exactly what it looks like.” He felt her pointed finger like a laser beam, drilling past his friendly facade with ease. This was her job, after all, if she was to be believed. “A store room, modified for my needs.” A hand raised to his chest, distractedly scratching away the discomfort. Bugs under a microscope were less exposed. “I-I’m sorry, what-?” He blinked away the stutter, tight tongue betraying him. “ What are you hoping to get out of this? You want money? I have money.” The envelope of money landed on the operating table with a dull thud as he threw it toward her. “Yours, if you want it.” 

“But, you see,” Marley said with a slick tongue, sliding around the side of the table and stepping ever closer to him, “I don’t want to leave. And, well, can you imagine how tragic it would be if someone left an anonymous tip at the station? About some backdoor surgical center with an unlicensed doctor working out of it?” She watched the envelope flop onto the table with disinterest, frowning. They always tried this. Still, she picked it up, looked inside, then dropped it back on the table. “I don’t need your money, nor do I want it. I’m not here for that. I’m here to determine whether or not you’re a problem. So, tell me,” her voice was getting more harsh now, lower. She was done playing around. His fear was egging her on, it was so palpable, so enticing. It wasn't enough to fill her up yet, she wanted more. “What do you do here, and why have you shown up in so many of my files?” Her hand curled tightly around the envelope of cash, tearing the outer paper with sharp nails and grip. “And if I were you, I’d choose my words carefully.”

Cold sweat prickled at Cutler’s temple as he watched the money drop back to the table. He could feel it pooling at the dip in his collarbone and sticking his shirt to the curves of his back. The only thing more terrifying than knowing what she wanted was not knowing. He had paid off a cop or two since he started the operation, but she seemed utterly disinterested in bribery. “Tragic.” He echoed her flatly, stalling for time. Running through his options in his mind. There weren’t many. When he spoke again, the slight crack of his voice betrayed him. “I feel like we might have, ah, gotten off on the wrong foot.” 

He took a half step backward, desperate to put space between them. Her fingers tore through the envelope in a decidedly inhuman manner, setting his teeth against each other. “Officer. You’ve got the upper hand here, clearly. But I’d like to at least know who I’m speaking to before I incriminate myself. It sounds like you’ve already got some idea of my operations.” His eyes flicked between hers, looking for some semblance of empathy, and finding none. “I’m Cutler, obviously. Maybe we can help each other out, somehow. This isn’t what it looks like.” 

Marley inhaled the fear wafting off the man, running her tongue along her lips. This had turned out to be a lot more satisfying than she’d thought it would, but his refusal to answer her questions was beginning to grate on her. “I think I’ve been pretty clear about what I want here, Cutler,” she said, arms folding tightly across her chest. Long nails drummed against the leather of her jacket and she wondered if she would be the center of his fears if she gazed at him right now. “I’d hate to burst your bubble so early on, but there’s nothing you can help me with that I need from you right now,” she pointed out, “now answer my question, or I’m going to have to expedite this whole…” she waved her hand around, gesturing between the two of them, “process.” She wasn’t going to kill him, no-- his fear was already proving to be of more use than anything else. Maybe she’d finally found a steady meal source outside of Miriam, it certainly seemed like he was a prime candidate. She didn’t want to play her hand so soon, in case he happened to know about the supernatural, but her glowing red eyes were glaring at him through her glasses, and she was so close to showing him her true nature. Here was to hoping her head stayed straight long enough for it.

Cutler felt the tapping against her jacket in the back of his own skull, skittering any rational thought back into the corners of his mind. He had rarely heard his name delivered with such contempt, and the fluorescents reflected in her glasses were giving her eyes an unnerving reddish tone. At least he thought it was the fluorescents. 

“Alright, alright.” His eyes followed her hand as it moved in the space between them. “I help people.” The lie was sour on his tongue, flipping his stomach. “People who need medical attention and can’t seek it through more conventional means. So, that’s, uh, sometimes that’s people who don’t have insurance or-or, you know, people who you might have come across in your files. Who don’t have a great relationship with law enforcement. A lot of gunshot wounds, stabbings, that sort of thing.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to continue running his mouth. He was well aware that she would love nothing more than for him to release the anxious words behind his clenched teeth. Against his better judgement, he added, “It’s not technically legal. But it’s not hurting anyone.” 

Marley had to balk at that. “Not technically illegal?” She’d have been a hypocrite had she really chastised him for that, but the pure audacity of the statement in front of someone who was technically an officer of the law made her laugh, loud and hollow. “An illegal clinic, operating in the back of a convenience store. I feel like I’ve just walked in on a Breaking Bad spin off,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “Wait, no, that one was about drugs. Which show was the one about the doctor’s doing illegal things? Sorry, I don’t watch a lot of TV.” 

His nerves were filling up the room, almost stiflingly so. Marley didn’t want his nerves, she wanted his fear. And while she didn’t disagree with his little operation, she wasn’t happy about it, either. “What about those who can’t see a real doctor? Do you treat them? Those with...special afflictions.” Like her blue blood, or someone else’s lack of iron. Was this a supernatural doctor operating behind closed doors, or a human getting in over their heads? Either way, this man thought himself above the law, and Marley had made her decision-- he needed to be punished, and she knew just how.

Cutler responded before he had a chance to think. “House? Or Rush-” He cut himself off, teeth grinding slightly against each other as she kept speaking. She doesn’t really want to know the name of the show, Cut. If she was going to arrest him, he would rather she just got it over with. And if she was going to carry out some kind of vigilante justice, well… I guess karma is real after all, he thought to himself miserably, trying against all hope to remain focused on what was being said to him.

“Special afflictions?” His tone was light, unburdened by the implications she was throwing at him. As the words hung in the air, he thought briefly of Chloe and her mysterious illnesses, of the unnatural bone structure and brutal fang marks of some of his regulars. Strange scar tissue and injuries with no logical explanation, disturbingly inhuman-looking substances in place of bodily fluids. “I help anyone who comes to me for help. I don’t ask questions. There’s a surprising amount of medical anomalies for a-” The word doctor stayed on his lips, unspoken for fear of invoking further wrath. “-person with my skill set. Things regular doctors wouldn’t treat, or wouldn’t understand. I offer a solution that doesn’t involve being treated like a test subject.” 

It all sounded a little too good to be true. Whatever this Cutler really did behind closed doors, Marley was hard pressed to believe for a second that someone would treat the supernatural without having some sort of fallback in place. Especially someone so human. He had to have been doing something to them, threatening them, using them, exploiting them-- something. But if he didn’t want to tell her, that was fine. She had other ways of figuring these things out. Her lips twitched as she tried to fight back the anger building in her stomach, licking her lips and moving away from the desk again. “Right,” she slid her finger along the top of the table, as if to check to make sure it was clean, “out of the goodness of your heart.” Rubbed her fingers together, making sure they came up clean. “I’m curious,” she said, though her voice showed no sign of the feeling, “how’d you get started with all this? What was that spark that pushed you into pursuing this?”

Cutler felt steely guilt settling in his stomach. Strangely, the thought of being arrested was almost as stress inducing as airing his dirty laundry for a stranger. This woman was the first person to see through his facade. To understand that his job wasn’t out of some misguided sense altruism. It was penance. “Not the “goodness of my heart”, exactly. I make money from this. The store doesn’t see nearly enough business to stay afloat.” He watched her fingers, anxious to see the result. He knew he had sanitized all the surfaces, but he had also just performed a procedure. What if she found something he had missed? “You know I don’t have a license. So I’m assuming your background research told you why.” 

His voice was cold and detached, the weight of his unspoken misdeeds dragging it down into a lower register. “I have the skills, that’s never been questioned. There’s a need, I fill it.” He breathed deeply, digging deep for some level of courage he didn’t possess. “I’m about to finish up here, and then I’m going to go to bed. I’m tired. Are you going to stop me?” 

“Ah,” Marley said, smiling satisfactorily to herself, “there it is.” And really, that was all the proof she needed. She certainly didn’t owe this man an explanation, even if she knew he wanted one. “I do, you’re right,” she tacked on, “I know a lot more about you than you’d ever know about me.” And it was a threat, and her sharp gaze told him that, even if she was staring from behind blacked out frames. She wanted so bad to taste his real fear, but patience was a virtue. Instead of a small dose now, she’d wait until later, when she could get a full meal out of him. He was already looking worn and exhausted, and his suggestion to go to bed only made her smile. It curled up her lips like broken tree branches. “You know what?” she said, strutting by him, giving him a stiff pat on the shoulder, “I don’t think I will.” Headed for the door, turning her head to look back at him when she got there. “Sleep well, Mister Clarke. I heard guilt can be a real...nightmare.”

[hoodoo12]

Ménage (8/13ish)

SFW. Still snarky verbal sparring, but it’s lessening.

@beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @thewolfisapartofmysoul @dilfyjuice @janitor-boy @yogsathot

Enjoy!

She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t sit still, continually bouncing up to get something from the kitchen, drifting out of Beetlejuice’s hold even though part of her still ached to be close to him. It all just felt like too much, having gone from zero to a hundred in the attention department. It made her feel jittery, anxious, like an electric current of discomfort was buzzing just beneath her skin. Beej seemed to possessively drag his fingers over her every thirty seconds or so, and the way Dewey looked at her, turning the full force of those dark brown eyes on her, pinning her like a bug under a microscope . . . it made her uncomfortably aware of her physical self.

And then there was the apparent fondness he had for her. She supposed that angels were supposed to be fond of their charges to some degree, but the way he looked at her, the way a flush seemed to creep its way up his neck to his ears when he looked at her too long, suggested his interest was less than professional. Molly wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. He was cute, and she liked the gentle tone of his voice, and if circumstances were different then maybe she would feel more okay with the concept. But the fact remained that they weren’t different.

She sighed and refilled her coffee cup, adding a splash of cheap whiskey to the bottom before digging out a battered plastic ramekin that would suffice as an ashtray until she could get a proper one. Despite the slight tug to stay in the kitchen and hide, she came back out into the living room, setting the ramekin down on the coffee table and settling back into place on the couch. What on earth had she gotten herself into?

Molly returning interrupted Beetlejuice’s next question--something about whether angels gained wings but lost their balls in exchange, hypothetically, of course; he knew the answer, from blush that hadn’t fully ever faded and the longing looks Dewey had cast at Molly. He also wanted to ask if Molly was his only charge, or the only one he lusted after.

But she settled back against him again, and once more he felt a surge of superiority that she’d pick him over an actual angel. It was nice for a second just to revel in that.

Her heat, where the skin of her arm touched his bare stomach, was intoxicating. He resisted the urge to nuzzle into her the crook of her shoulder and neck, not because he was too shy but because he knew he’d probably moan and pop a boner in these sweatpants, and he wasn’t sure how Molly would react to that. He had a feeling she wouldn’t just be okay with heading back to the bedroom with her guardian angel wringing his hands and tutting his disapproval outside her closed door--or fuck it, open door--while they were getting it on.

Running a finger under the hem of her shirt to touch her side, soaking up the warmth there too, his train of thought jumped the track. She hadn’t seem to care, but had Molly expected him to be warm? His skin was cool . . . so was an angel’s skin warm, then? His amber eyes scanned Dewey; not much of his skin was exposed. Just his hands and neck and face, really.

Beetlejuice had a near overwhelming desire to sit up and grab Dewey’s hand, just to see if there was heat there too. He resisted the urge, of course; he’d dislodge Molly and scare them both, and probably end up with a flaming sword through his gut or something.

He didn’t need a heavenly host raining holy wrath down on him in defense of one of their own.

So instead he went back to his cigarette, looking lazily through the wisps of smoke at him.

“Well. This has been . . . something,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “You checked in on your charge. You gonna float on back up to wherever? I bet there’s a shit ton of paperwork you’ve got to get done, huh? Molly and I had a full day planned, you know. She was going to show me her gardens, we were going to take a nap . . . boring stuff that couldn’t possibly interest an angel.”

Seeing the expression on the angel’s face pinch like maybe what he’d said had hurt, then grow a touch wistful towards the end when he mentioned the most boring plans ever, Beetlejuice narrowed his eyes. He snuffed out his cigarette in the makeshift ashtray Molly had provided, and turned his attention to her.

“Molly, baby . . . do you mind giving us a few more minutes alone?” he asked.

Both the other two looked up at him in surprise. And suspicion. And protests were building up, in both of them.

He continued to address her, but kept half a glance at Dewey.

“Infernal and celestial stuff. You know. Guy talk.”

Those protests were at the backs of their teeth, ready to spill out of their mouths; he could tell. He held up a hand to continue to stall them for the moment.

“I promise no physical altercation. I won’t even raise my voice!” he promised her, before turning to Dewey to sweeten the pot for him too. “And as much as it pains me to cover this fine specimen of ghostly demonhood, I’ll put on clothes.”

He raised his eyebrows and opened his hand in a more passive gesture, glancing between the two.

“Okay? I just want to talk.”

Molly was apprehensive to say the least when Beej all but insisted that he talk alone with the angel. She opened her mouth to advise that maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea, considering she didn't want her house smashed to pieces in some sort of supernatural altercation, but he seemed serious about keeping the peace. She looked back at Dewey, who looked stunned, but nodded, and she shrugged.

"All right. I needed to tend the gardens anyway. I'll be out back if you need me."

She let her fingertips drift over Beetlejuice's cheek, even tossing a reassuring, if brief, smile over her shoulder at the angel, and tossed her hair up as she walked out the back door.

It was cool outside, overcast, the clouds silver and shifting overhead, like a portent of something to come, and she couldn't help a shiver. There was a gnawing in her gut, some sense of foreboding she couldn't put her finger on. As she pulled weeds in her gardens, she tried to push the feeling away, but it persisted. She hoped against hope that their talk went well, and this feeling would cease.

Dewey was taken aback when the demon first scrutinized his face, amber eyes narrowing as if he could see right through the angel; he supposed he was easy to read--if there was no one to see his face, there was no need to hide his expression. He was dumbstruck, however, when a demon of all people asked to talk, offered an olive branch. Even offered to put on clothes.

His first instinct was distrust, wondering what sort of hidden agenda Beetlejuice had. Get the girl out of the room, then go for the throat? As a guardian, he wasn't allowed weapons, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve that could make a demon regret pulling any hasty moves. Even Molly seemed apprehensive, but to his surprise, she stood and left the room, smiling at him over her shoulder. Did she trust them alone together? Trusted the demon not to pull anything?

Dewey sighed, his wings ruffling as he turned to face the demon on the couch. If Molly trusted him, perhaps he could take that leap of faith too. After all, besides some snarky remarks here and there, Beetlejuice had never actually threatened him.

"All right," he said, wishing he had another cigarette. "What is it you wanna talk about?"

“What do you think I want to talk about? Whether or not that Tiger King show on Netflix is worth anyone’s time,” Beetlejuice replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. At the hardening expression on the angel’s face, he amended with, “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I wanna talk about Molly, of course.”

He stood up. “I suppose you’d prefer I not strip in front of you, right?”

Without waiting for a reply, he simply flicked his suit back on. The sweatpants were soft and comfortable, but the stripes were familiar, like stepping into his skin. It gave him a sense of power that was distinctly different than throwing his weight around half dressed because it made an angel uncomfortable.

He sat back down in the same position, leaning back against the arm of the couch, in a calculated manspread. Rolling his fingers together like before, two fresh cigarettes appeared between his fingers, and he offered one to Dewey. He even went as far as to light it for the angel, then dragged on his own.

Brown eyes narrowed at the demon's acerbic commentary; so they were already off to a bad start, it seemed. Even the display of magicking his clothes back in place seemed deliberate, a show of his ability. And, Dewey had to admit, while the stripes were shabby and threadbare, they were more intimidating than a pair of women's sweatpants.

"Are all demons so considerate?" His eyes rolled as well, though he took the offered cigarette. 

"Bold of you to assume I'm a full demon," he replied mildly. He let that statement float for a moment. Once Beetlejuice had gathered a lungful of smoke, he used the cigarette to point at the angel. “You’re her guardian, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? You have actual feelings for her.”

Dewey wouldn't go so far as to thank him for the smoke yet, but his expression softened a bit, his posture loosening from its tensed state. However, when Beetlejuice pointed accusingly at him, the tip of his lit cigarette trailing a thread of grey smoke, he bristled.

"I . . . I don't know what you're talking about." He grit his teeth; even he wasn't convinced by his protests, and he hated that the demon could see through him so easily. "It's complicated."

Beetlejuice smirked at the fire he glimpsed in the angel's eyes, blew out the smoke he'd held, and brought the cigarette back to his lips.

"Thou doth protest too much, methinks. You're not very subtle. You looked like you were sunburned, blushing so much when Molly was here."

He tapped the ash off his smoke, and stared down at it in his fingers for a moment.

Dewey quirked an eyebrow at the full demon comment, but the blatant call-out of his rather embarrassing reaction to being near Molly made him, of course, flush to the tips of his ears in indignation. He could explain that he didn't have to hide anything before the demon showed up, so he hadn't ever had to be subtle before, but he took a drag off his cigarette and said nothing. No reason to give him even more ammunition.

"Hey, what do I know about angels? Maybe up there's just one big never ending orgy. In the Netherworld, everybody swings both ways; maybe it's the same up there too." He lifted his gaze to Dewey's again. "All I'm saying is that if you're having non-angelic thoughts about your charge, maybe the whole guardian angel thing isn't for you. Free will is a hell of a thing compared to blind obedience.

"Just something to consider. Something to think about."

He sighed, smoke leaving his mouth in a thin stream.

"That's the thing. Thoughts are fine, they don't hurt anything. But acting on anything . . . it's a risk. A big risk." God, Dewey wished he could be having this conversation with anyone else, or better yet, not having it at all. "I know . . . I know Molly doesn't like me. It isn't a stretch to say she hates me, and I can't exactly blame her. I couldn't be there the way she needed me to be."

His eyes fell to the floor, the hand that brought the cigarette to his lips now shaking slightly.

"If I did . . . what you're suggesting, if I rebelled to be with her, I lose everything. And the likelihood of her wanting to be with me is slim to none. Apparently, I'm not exactly her type." He gave the demon a narrowed glance, but there was no real venom in it. "It's . . . it's too big of a gamble. I'm better off just standing to the side."

Hearing that, the resignation, Beetlejuice cocked his head as if trying to see the angel from a new perspective. He knew that feeling, the feeling of being trapped, no conceivable way to change his circumstances. It was crushing, and he half wondered if angels had the option of a Lost Souls room too, because an eternity of nothingness was sometimes more appealing than an eternity of pining and slog.

As to Molly . . . he didn’t quite have an answer to that. Well, maybe.

“She was fucking lonely,” he said, in faint exasperation. “I know you’ve repeated ad nauseum about rules and restrictions and all that, but it seems like a huge flaw in that system. It taking someone so desperate for someone that they literally open their door to whatever might be strolling by to waltz right in and make itself at home before you can help is really shitty.

“She’s damn lucky there were some typos on that page and she only called up me, and not something else.”

He looked at his cigarette again, but decided he was done with it.

“I’m gonna regret this, I just know it,” he sighed, mostly to himself even as he looked up and caught the angel’s eyes again. “But if you just talk to her, if you just tell her that you wanted to do more but you were afraid for the reasons you just told me, maybe that’d convince her how sincere you actually are. Leave off the stuff about ‘saving her soul’ or whatever. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t have near that kind of pull.”

Suddenly the lit cigarette in his hand was fascinating again.

“You tell her all that, and you won’t have anything else to worry about, Dewey,” he finished quietly. “She’ll understand and realize how much better it’ll be with you, and then she’ll send me away. You’ll win either way: she’ll be safe from me, or you’ll have a reason to stick it to the man and get to be with her.”

Dewey opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to insist that even for knowing her only half a day, he’d already helped Molly more than her own angel had done in fifteen years, but he closed it and stood.

“I’ll go talk to her.” 

 tbc . . .

[iceamericanoventi]

Love Will Find a Way, Well, Eventually : 3. Bloom

“Is that it?”

Jinki raised his eyebrow to the man beamed like morning dew in front of him. He’s quite surprised with the visit of the younger. When he said he’ll stop by his café last time they met, he thought it was just formality of the courtesy talk.

“Nah, it would upset my stomach if I took more than coffee this early.”

“This is early for you?” Jinki glanced at his watch inevitably hearing such thing.

“My client and supplier abroad are still on the dreamland by this time,” he winked, makes Jinki chuckles behind the counter, “So how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

Those round eyes immediately turned brighter, “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Really?” He leaned further to his front, limb almost completely over the wooden surface. His neck stretched to the direction where Jinki’s making his order. Even from the back, Jinki still looks gallant, his back muscle subtly visible over his indigo cashmere.

“Cut it out before I change my mind,” he turned his back with cup of coffee in his hand, “Since this is early for you, do you mind if you have your coffee here instead for take away? Better for the environment.”

The blinding smile hypnotized Taemin on the spot, “Only if the boss sits with me.”

Another snorted came from Jinki, “Go pick your table then.”

***

“You seem happy this morning.”

Taemin put down the cup and support his head with his left hand on the table, while the right playing with the edge of the saucer.

“Me? Happy? We clearly didn’t know each other for a long time. This is the regular me.”

“Well, what I know is back then you were super grumpy during the whole dinner.”

Jinki brushed his hair back, the locks appeared so soft between his fingers. Taemin needs to suppress his urge not to feel it by his own hand.

“Sorry if my first impression disappointed you,” Jinki’s words halted for a moment, “My head was somewhere else.”

Minho has been texting him a lot since the next morning after they parted. He doesn’t like being accused as anything, but he doesn’t like it more when it’s actually true. He admits he was a bit rude, talking too cold to some people who weren’t at fault.

Even worse, the tall man bothering Jonghyun making the later had no options besides calling Jinki right after he finished with his shift at the hospital. And nagging Jonghyun is the worse.

“Kibum couldn’t stop wondering what the heck is going on with you during our ride home. He thought you’re on your period or something.”

“Maybe I was. Who knows?”

“Kibum was right when he said you’re a bit jokester.”

“It’s only me and you yet you keep talking about Kibum.”

“Jealous much?”

“Too early to talk about feeling. It would upset my stomach.”

Another smile adorn Jinki’s face, sending Taemin heartbeat to run faster than it’s supposed to be, “You’re interesting, Lee Jinki.”

“That’s what people said about me.”

At this rate, it’s hard for Taemin to not take Jinki’s friendly attitude as a light flirt. It seems he faced two different men. The dinner Jinki appeared like assassin in disguise, while the man before him idly looks like ball of sunshine. He sipped his coffee once more to cover his trembled lips.

“So how do I talk to you besides coming here to get my coffee?”

He expected the conversation would go this way, what else brought a busy designer like Taemin to the other side of the city, far for where his studio’s address – thanks to Choi TMI Minho – only to get a cup of cappuccino?

Besides Minho and Jonghyun, and some business partner of course, only several people has his number. Some family member doesn’t even know how to contact him besides the number of his shop. Jinki doesn’t like being disturbed. His time passed seven in the evening belongs for him, and for him only.

But something is unusual from Minho’s rants and excessive reminder to get closer with Taemin, at least try to give a chance for him. He figured that Minho must want to know Kibum better and Taemin won’t allow him to touch his precious best friend if he doesn’t get something in return. 

“Ask Minho.”

“Don’t you think I haven’t tried? I can get coffee on the ground floor of my building, Jinki.”

“Bet I have better brew.”

“Of course, the owner is such a view. I didn’t put any sugar but I guess when I leave this place I need to check my blood sugar. I might get early symptoms of diabetes.”

“Stop blurting out some non-sense.”

“Not until you tell me your digits.”

“Are you always this aggressive? Should I be worried?”

“Only to certain people,” Taemin winked playfully to finish his sentence.

“I’ll ask your number from Minho later.”

“If you had three-days rule under your sleeve, you better cancel it right here right now, Sir.”

“I think it’s safe for me to start worried now.”

***

Jinki walked aimlessly between the bookshelves, checking some new novels to enjoy with one or two glasses of Bailey’s. Yesterday he was cleaning his apartment, taking half day off from his shop to finally realize he needs to hold yard sale by the end of the night because apparently he’s certified hoarder.

He has too many books. Some of the binds almost fell off, some of the cover even ripped, and some got coffee stain or maybe wine or some liquor he downed while reading the said books. After some deliberation, he opted to bring all the books to the shop and purchased some new one to accompany him at home.

Minho said, nobody reads book anymore at the coffee shop nowadays, but Jinki spat right on him for delaying the promotional strategy he promised a while ago because the photographer suddenly ought to go to Japan for some possible exhibition the next fall.

“Five at most, Jinki.”

He looked to his the small basket on his left hand, it’s been a while he went to real book shop, there are already seven books inside, “We’ll see.”

“What’s the point of moving everything to your shop then bring back another hundred home?”

“I am not that rich, Honey.”

“You aren’t. But you are not gonna give up a book when you already like it as well.”

“Wow. The perks of being boyfriends for five years.”

“Not a perk. An agony. You could buy some nice wallet or watch for me instead piling books on each corner of your place.”

“Ouch. I’ll buy you snow globe on the anniversary of our break up.”

“Oh, how sweet.”

“I am.”

“Whatever. Gotta go, some kids need their hero.”

“I need my hero as well.”

“Then stop shutting people down and take the courage. Live a little!”

“Yes, Dad.”

Jinki shoved his phone at his back pocket and continued touching and picking and putting it back to the shelf, repeating it several times until he reached the new arrival sections. He saw a book with a teal cover with a sketch of beautiful window in embossed silver ink on the middle of it, with small handwriting right below, About.

He peek his basket again, still less than ten, I’m good. Saw him dumping the book on top piles of the others, a staff walked closer to him.

“Hey, would you like to join our fan sign event?”

“What?”

“Ah yeah, the writer of that book is holding a fan sign at the moment. There would be some little reading as well. And everyone who purchases that book today, can join the fan sign for free.”

The girl sees how Jinki’s hesitating at the moment, half whispered, she showed him to the shelf on her right, “The book just released two days ago. It’s already on the best seller wall. It’s the fifth book of the writer that made it there. I’m sure you don’t want to miss this.”

“I’ll think about that,” he walked to the check out counter to pay all of his books. It’s three in the afternoon but the bookshop is crowded as much. While waiting by for his turn, he flipped the teal-covered book to check the summary written.

‘A flower would wither, inevitably, with or without care. When a tree is not teared down by an axe, reality might override some expectation, while it stays in her might, it’s eating herself from the inside. Since nobody know, nobody care. Just like flower, inevitably, it would wither. You said a mother would always stays, it’s about love. But rain smashed down the earth, flooding the land, vanishing some hopes. So much dread, but it’s about love as well.’

He saw the writer’s name, Key it says – which he’s much not familiar with. But what irked him is the commentary notes, he saw the name of the first author his grandfather introduced him: Key did it again. Same energy, some reflection, but different touch as always.

Interesting, he thought. Retreated from the line he picked his phone and texted his manager that he’s not returning back to the shop after his afternoon shopping spree.

***

Something inside his chest is racing, thumping with unnecessary rapid pace. His eyes glued to the figure appeared at the corner of the small stage arranged at the back part of the bookshop. He looks so soft with another oversize sweater wraps him, as if the article of clothes is specially made for him. The color burgundy is contrast with the skin peeking just right above his collarbones.

Some audience by the first three rows squealing at the smile he sports when he looks at their directions. The scene makes Jinki ducked his head quickly, afraid that the man would think him a creep. A creep who stalks people they barely knew with book shopping as their excuses, hiding among some late teenagers making a fuss over small wave from the man.

Jinki stretched his neck a bit, checking for empty seat he could sneak in. He found a place on the right side next to a pillar covered by some wooden shelves, a perfect hideout until his turn for the sign.

“Hi, everyone!” his voice is still as charming as Jinki remembered, “Thanks for coming today though it’s with very short notice, you are all here! I am impressed, but also grateful to the hill.”

He stops for a while to reach his copy of the book he’s going to sign this afternoon.

“Actually, it was scheduled to be released only next month, even if I finished it early. So, I bugged my editor to chase their tails to distribute it faster. Guess I am a very good dog person!”

Roar of chuckles fill the air by the joke, but mainly by the way he rolled his eyes when he’s talking about his publisher.

“Today I will read for you some pages which are my favorite from ‘About’. This book composed by questions we have about all the simple things happened around us. Or to us. About all the things we take for granted.”

From his seat, Jinki can clearly see how the man blushed when a girl took a picture of him but forgot to turn off the flash light.

“For the first time, I don’t have main character. The story isn’t specifically centered on particular people. I want to be as inclusive as can be for everything’s happened inside this book could occur to anyone despite their social status or their point of view toward life.”

He takes his glasses and gulped down some water prepared for him before he opens the book in his hand, and started reading.

“She just left. She yelled one night, screamed her lungs out, spat on my face, at one point made me believed words came out from her, that I am useless. Ungrateful and asking too much. I had enough of you, that’s how she ended the dreadful conversation. The following morning I saw a glass of milk on the table, fifty dollars slipped neatly underneath. Cinnamon rolls placed next to it, wrapped by blue napkin, a letter laid on the top of it. No, it wasn’t letter, it was not even one paragraph, and it’s written at the back of old supermarket’s receipt. I’m sorry I had to do this, it began. I would be a bad mother if I’m with you. We shouldn’t have been each other’s pain. Since then, I resent my mother for all bad lucks I encountered for the last ten years.”

There’s no single sound from the audience. Everyone’s drown to the sooth voice reciting some lines from his book. One girl at the back even took out her handkerchief and silently wiped her tears. He bit his lips, seems reluctant to continue reading the passage.

Jinki stunned by the words. The last sentence tastes too familiar.

***

Kibum can only stare to the man walked closer to him. He blinks, once, twice, but the scene didn’t falter. The man even smiled, waved his book to the dumbfounded author. So many questions popping inside his head, starting on how on earth such an aloof personality is bothered coming to an event like this.

“I am a fan. Starting today,” he put the book in front of Kibum just like previous people before he observed. But the eyes of the said man still wedged on Jinki’s face, “You okay? Last time I checked, I’m not a ghost, Kim Kibum. Or should I say, Key.”

He took the book anyway, head still shaking in disbelief, “That name is off limit. How did you get here?”

“Err.., by subway?”

Only chuckles blurted out before he starts writing on the first page, “I thought an alien abducted you here.”

“Well, that would be less boring.”

“This is awkward,” Kibum snorted, “But thank you for coming. I mean it.”

“My pleasure, Kibum. I’ll finish this as soon as possible.”

Kibum waved to him slightly too excited, eyes glued to Jinki’s back, following him to the seat he’s sitting by himself, away from the crowd. A staff needs to tap his shoulder lightly announcing another reader already waiting on his right. He quickly apologized and detached himself from Jinki’s direction.

Meanwhile, Jinki traced the fresh ink on his copy, simple smile reappeared when he read the cute handwriting.

‘Let me know if you like the story. Or not. Enjoy, Lee Jinki! J’

He looks to the small stage, secretly hoping the later turned his head his way so he can mouthed another thank you and leave better impression. But Kibum’s of course busy signing and chatting with his fans. Sometimes he cracked a little bit too loud an excuse himself for startling people around.

Jinki is still trying taking in the entire situation without being overwhelmed. When Minho said Kibum’s a writer, he didn’t expect it would be this famous. And the way he treats each reader, furtively gave him hope. A hope of something he didn’t understand yet for what. A hope he secretly wished it was only on his misshaped mind.

“Is my book that amazing I got a beautiful man flipping the pages or is that too boring you expected some twist on the next paragraph?”

Jinki looked up when a familiar voice approached him. He was too caught up with the story line, he didn’t realize the fan signing is all wrapped up and some staffs already started clean up the chairs. Kibum smiles sincerely, and without asking any permission he sits next to him, leaned closer to check until which part Jinki already reading. Little did he know, his perfume confiscated Jinki’s respiratory system, making it hard to balance his need of oxygen.

“Care to explain again what on earth brought you here?”

Jinki closed the book and rested in on his laps, “I was buying some books. It’s the time of the month. Not something I’m proud of, but I do judge a book by its cover. Literally. And when I saw yours, it goes to the cart immediately. And one of the staff told me I got a chance to have my book signed by the author.”

“I should call my graphic designer after this and treat him a dinner.”

“You should. I’m rarely this open complimenting people.”

Kibum burst into another long haul of laughter. He looked at Jinki once again, and still, shaking his head again for this is such a weird coincidence. He was a bit ill this morning when he woke up and was still not in the mood even he got better after some medicine Amber gave him. He almost calling his publicist to postponed the book signing until at least next week.

He thanked his hard headed manager to shove him more soup and vitamins while yelling him it’s impossible to cancel the book signing which he personally asked to be added on his schedule.

“What do you think so far?”

“It’s too soon to come up with some conclusion. I’ll save that for later. But the passage you read before, I like that a lot.”

Lots of people reading Kibum’s book, lots of people said they love it. What just rolled out Jinki’s mouth, though, painted him some contentment. For Kibum, what he grasped from Jinki’s attitude back on the restaurant showed him that Lee Jinki is very hard to please. Taemin was almost all over him during the dinner, but he didn’t budge. And befriended with the designer, he got to know that Taemin is a very charming person, no one actually wasn’t drown on his vibe.

“What are you doing after this Jinki?”

He was planning to stop by Jonghyun’s house and bought some egg breads on the way knowing it was his ex-boyfriend’s favorite. The later has been bugging him with endless texts saying he’s exhausted.

“Hmm, nothing. Mostly go back home and continue reading.”

“Do you want to grab some bites?”

Jinki thanked his grandfather words as much as he cursed it. He would never say no to that kind of questions.

“Relax, it’s not a fancy dinner which might turn you into cold asshole.”

“Hey. I might be cold but I’m not an asshole.”

“We’ll see.”

***

Kibum brought him to his favorite burger joint in a very nice neighborhood. It’s close to the hyped area near Hongdae, but secluded enough to actually able to get some order served without being annoyed by some line. Kibum decided to take away and enjoy the burger while walking around with I-already-sit-for-a-very-long-time as an excuse.

They talked about books, puppies – Kibum has two –, and some stupid stuffs they encountered while walking down alleys to alleys. It’s not weekend yet, but the street’s already filled by youngsters.

“These kids are supposed to sit on their desk studying for dear life!”

Kibum couldn’t hide his anger when a group of freshman walked passes them and nearly knocked him down butt kissing the pavement. Luckily, Jinki was there snatching his arm in flash.

“Let them be. Too much studying is such a waste, they’ll stress themselves. Nothing great about being depressed.”

“Was that the story of your life?”

“Maybe, the part of being depressed in such young age sounds familiar.”

The answer brought Kibum quiet. By the corner of his eyes he catches Jinki secured both of his hands on the pocket of his coat, face straight to the front trying not to give Kibum any chance to ask something related to that.

“What life without drama, then? Now tell me, why you insist on running specifically jazz café.”

“I love jazz and I love coffee. I have the opportunity to wed them, that’s what happened.”

“But you don’t seem happy talking about it.”

“I’m not a talker to begin with. So to incorporate happy feeling on my conversation is quite challenge.”

“I wonder how I’m the writer and not you,” Jinki raised his eyebrow in question, “You always have a way with words, you know?”

“A gift. When you’re raised to argue with your folks, you’ll manage.”

They walked side by side for the rest of the journey back to the main street, both are occupied with their own thoughts. The temperature dropped as the night goes by, but neither is bothered with it. Much to Jinki preference, he likes the comfortable silence.

Sometimes he glances to his side, Kibum always caught him looking but he said nothing. So he did the same when Kibum cocked his head to check on him.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

Kibum asked the other man when he saw his car from a far.

“Nah, I’m good. Besides, I’ll be the end of your avid fans rant when they found out you drove back a newbie like me.”

Light slap landed on Jinki’s shoulder, “Stop it, will you?”

Jinki’s about to tease Kibum further, but seeing the man before him pouting like a toddler, all the will evaporated into the night sky and replaced with some funny feeling inside.

As they eased closer to Kibum’s car, Jinki hummed random song he listened to the radio blasted on the burger place which happened to stuck inside his head.

“I like that song.”

“The melody kinda stuck here,” he pointed to his temple which Kibum totally agreed with him.

“One last chance to get a ride from your new favorite writer.”

Kibum stands near the passenger door, waiting for Jinki to change his mind.

“Sounds amazing but I’m going to take the subway.”

“Your choice.”

He opened the backseat door to retrieve some of Jinki’s stuffs. He told him to leave the books in his car because he knew they will walk a lot and Jinki has at least four pounds of book in the paper back he handed back to the owner.

“Here you go. It was nice bumped into you, Jinki. Who knows you’re this, you know, remarkable.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Promise me you won’t hate me if you don’t like my book.”

“That won’t happened, I promise you.”

“A deal then.”

“A deal.”

Kibum decided that giving the other man a farewell hug is super awkward and would ruin the night. So he just nods and reaches the handle of the door, already missing the nice conversation he had even before he buckled his seatbelt.

“Kibum.”

“Yeah?”

“Umm, can I call you sometimes?”

Kibum’s smile never been this liberating.

***

It was posted on my AFF and I was thinking to cross posted it here. But, ofc, in a very very slower pace because I am that lazy yes, sloth is my spirit animal. If you’re interested to read the story, go check there. It’s already on chapter 7 lol! Thanks for reading this, I hope you like it! XOXO

[thathpheadcanongirl]

How Audrey Might Have Met Percy...

OF MAGIC AND COFFEE  by LittleLauren

"You can't just run away, Jude!" Audrey scolded her sister. She knew she was eating the teen's ear off, but this was the fifth time this has happened this month alone. "I'm far too busy for your antics. And I can't have you lounging about in my dorm room, when I have work."

"Slow down, will you!" Jude called out, holding onto Audrey's car dashboard.

She was driving rather recklessly, but Audrey had to get to work on time. She just had to.

"If you cost me my job, I swear…" Audrey muttered, swerving here and there through traffic.

"You could spare one of them," Jude complained. "You never come round anymore."

Audrey rolled her eyes and sighed as they pulled into her old street. She stopped the car right before she reached their parents' house. "When you're my age, you'll understand. Besides, you should be going to college. You have revision, yeah?"

Jude picked at her nails, and she mumbled a, "Yeah…"

Audrey reached over to inspect her sister's hair, to which she had dyed red blotchy streaks in her blond hair. "Do Mum and Dad know about this?"

Jude gave Audrey a guilty look, causing the older sister to tisk at the younger sister. "Judith Miranda Lee Tilly …"

"It's not a cry for help or anything!" her sister reasoned. "I saw Christina Aguilera have this exact thing in Teen Magazine!"

Audrey adjusted her rear view mirror, and sighed again. "You know Mum is going to blame me when she sees you, and I don't need that."

"'M sorry, Audrey," Jude mumbled.

As much as Jude running away was a huge inconvenience, Audrey really just wanted the best for her. She did not have enough money to move her out of their parents' crazy, "carnie act" household. She knew Jude didn't enjoy being part of The Topsy Tilly Magic Act just like Audrey. She could go her whole life without being a magician's assistant ever again, especially with her self-centered, delusional parents. When Audrey was younger, they'd spend so much money on the latest illusionist equipment and costumes that they'd forget to pay the utility bill. It got really bad when Jude was born and Audrey would run away to hustle her little magic tricks on the street for money to buy food. Although it sounded like a terrible childhood, she would not have learned to work for her aspirations. She was proud to say that she singlehandedly funded her way to University through scholarships and balancing 3 jobs. She believed it gave her character and independence. She chose to ignore the fact that her parents didn't seem to care about her academic endeavors.

"I'll make a deal with you," Audrey gave in. "If you keep up your grades this term, you can visit me after exams. Because I miss you too."

That brightened Jude's mood. She smiled, and hugged Audrey from the other side of the car. "Love you, Bug," she muffled.

Audrey rolled her eyes at her old nickname. "Love you, Beetle," she reciprocated. "Now, get out before the neighbors tell Mum and Dad that I was spotted!"

Despite not wanting to be seen, Audrey watched her sixteen-year-old sister run back home. She disappeared around their hedge. No doubt, a minute later, Jude would be in her pajamas, red dye taken out of her hair, black eye liner cleaned off her face, and in bed for their mother to "wake her up". That was Jude's specialty; she was the family's disappearing act. It's a wonder their parents didn't catch on.

She glanced at the time. "Shit!" She was definitely going to be late for her shift at the coffee shop this morning. She quickly debated whether or not she could make it without stopping for gas. Deciding against it, she fled down the highways. She prayed that her boss would cut her some slack…

"Shit…" she muttered again, noticing all of the good parking spots were already taken. The only spot she could find was a two-hour parking limit. She could afford to pay the fine, but she definitely couldn't afford to lose this job. "God, forgive me," she whispered as she parallel parked.

She ran into the coffee shop, quickly wrapping her apron around her and putting up her dark blonde hair. She breezed passed her co-workers to go behind the counter.

Just as she was about to take someone's order, "Tilly!" came a rough voice from behind her.

She winced. "One moment," she smiled at the customer. She turned around and already had a story ready. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Minchin. My sister ran away from home, and-"

"My office, now," he said, beckoning her to the back room in the kitchen.

She hung her head as she followed. This was the longest job she's had, but with her terrible schedule, she knew Mr. Minchin was just waiting to let her go.

"Sit," he commanded. He looked at her from the other side of his small desk.

"I'm really sorry, sir," she tried again. "It won't-"

"-Happen again?" he finished for her. He chuckled in spite of the situation. "How many times have I heard those exact words come out of your mouth?"

Audrey slumped.

Mr. Minchin considered her for a moment. "You're a good worker, Tilly. One of the best. But your tardiness overshadows that." He bent down and whispered, "And the terrible workers have to pick up your slack before they even have a chance to pick up their own."

She couldn't help but look guilty.

"I run a business here, and I can't afford to have you coming in whenever you're good and ready." Before Audrey could retort, he raised his hand. "I'm sorry, Audrey."

"Can't I at least finish out the day?" she pleaded quietly. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Mr. Minchin scratched his beard in thought. "Very well, but I need you to hand in your apron tonight," he said somberly.

Audrey worked the floor like she's never worked before. She took as many orders as she possibly could, well beyond the number of the slackers currently employed. She had a sliver of hope that Mr. Minchin would see how diligently she worked, with no break, and would take back her being fired. But, at the end of her shift, she just took her slender portion of tips, and handed in her apron.

"I wish the best of luck for you," Mr. Minchin told her as she went on her way.

She wouldn't be sad if she never stepped into that dying establishment again anyway. It was just slowing her down for a job that aided to her talents.

She counted her tips grimly as she trekked back to her car. "Bollocks!" she swore, when she noticed a parking ticket on her windshield. She knew her earnings for her last day at the coffee shop was all for naught, knowing that she literally worked to pay off a ticket.

She lowered her head, knowing what she had to do. "I'm going to hate myself…" she muttered, swiping the ticket off of her car. Her body and soul was screaming at her to just go home and see if she could knick some food from one of her roommates. But she was a proud and stubborn young woman. She got into this mess, she could get herself out.

Parking in a narrow alleyway, she hoisted a small table and a decent sized bag out of her trunk. She thought her days of hustling were over, but people seemed to like getting cheated out of their money for a cheap thrill.

"Step right up!" she called, intricately shuffling her deck of cards. "Do you have what it takes to win twenty quid? All you have to do is follow your card. It's as easy as one, two, three!"

"Mummy, Mummy!" cried a little boy. "Look at the lady with the cards!"

Jackpot.

"How about you, handsome?" she said with a winning smile. "How would you like to have twenty pounds in your pocket?"

"I could get the new Sonic game!" His eyes glistened with wonder.

"You can buy much more than that," she lied. She placed three cards on the table.

"No, Kevin," the boy's mother tried to pull him away. "It's a scam."

"Come on, Mummy!" the boy whined, tugging onto her purse.

"Yeah, come on, Mummy!" Audrey joked. "Just one little game?"

Her charming smile won the tired woman over. "Alright, but just one game."

Audrey played them like a fiddle! Pretty soon, a crowd surrounded them, joining in the fun of the game. She'd bet the twenty, but she knew he wouldn't get it the first time. Then she'd make it easier, lessening the price. Once he thought he was on a roll, his mother would bet in that she could guess because it was a "simple game". This is when the public started to get involved. Once they raised the bet it fifty pounds, double or nothing, that's when she'd change out the cards. That way, the odds will be in her favor, no matter what.

Just as she was shuffling the cards on the table, readying the card up her sleeve, she heard a cheer from the other side of the street. Everyone turned around, except the boy, who was concentrating hard on Audrey's shuffling.

There, across the street, were two red headed young men, also hustling… in her territory.

"Mummy! My card is in her sleeve!" he yelled, pointing grandly. "It's in her sleeve!"

She expertly slid the card from out of her sleeve and into the deck before anyone else could accuse her of cheating. "I assure you all, there is absolutely nothing up my sleeve," she said swiftly, but panicking inside. She exposed her now bare sleeves and continued on with the game.

Slowly, her crowd dwindled and found its way across the street. Even the boy and his mother seemed bored with her game. To stop him from whining, she let them go with half of her tips from the coffee shop. She was intrigued too.

From the lack of business on her side of the street, she decided to scrutinize her competition. She had seen the one before, but with his twin. The two were so jovial and charming. Their illusions seemed so flawless, and yet, she could never figure out how they had such success in hiding their secrets. This time, there was only one of the twins. His eyes were sunken in, he wore the ghost of a smile, he hunched his shoulders, and, most grotesquely, he was missing an ear. He was accompanied by another man, although he could have also been another brother. This man had curly red hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and a slight clumsiness about him. He definitely did not have the charm the other brother had.

Soon, she found herself part of the crowd. For the life of her, she could not understand how their tricks were working. She even went up when the curly-haired one asked for a volunteer to get a better look (the earless one was behind him, hands in his pockets, seemingly uninvolved). She could tell that the curly-haired one was so nervous and fumbling all over the place. He had her take part in the ball-in-cup trick. He showed her which cup he put the ball under, shuffled up the up-turned cups, and asked her to pick the correct cup. She knew this simple trick up and back: whatever cup she picked, would be wrong.

"It's in your hand," she said, folding her arms and looking rather pompous.

He smiled, and said, "Thinking outside the box, eh? Well, as you can see, the ball is nowhere on my person." He showed his palms, sleeves, and pockets.

She indicated to the cups, but the ball was not underneath those either. "Where is it then?"

"Why don't you check your own pockets, then?"

She could not believe it! Her pockets and sleeves began to overflowing with little Ping-Pong balls. She was absolutely flabbergasted and enraged as the crowd laughed and cheered. She stomped back to her station and watched the rest of their act from afar.

Figuring that it was useless trying to scrounge for another hustle, she turned in. She arrived back in her dorm room.

"You're home early," said Dawn, one of her roommates. She sat by their small television as she studied.

Audrey plopped down next to her friend. "I had a bad day," she admitted simply, mindlessly changing the channel.

Dawn glanced up from her notes, and declared, "I'm thinking Chinese. How about you?"

Audrey sighed. "I didn't make enough tonight."

"It's on me, love," her friend smiled.

And as she ate her dinner, she racked her brain for every possible explanation as to how the brothers were doing those tricks. It simply did not make sense.

Audrey took pride in knowing that she would always succeed academically in school. She had the very sensible goal of becoming a secondary school Literature teacher. But top marks didn't excuse her lack of income, and another flexible job was difficult to come by. So, she had nothing else better to do than to hustle on her corner.

No matter what she tried, people ended up gravitating towards the red heads and their masterful tricks. She debated whether or not she should relocate, but she knew that this was the busiest street in London. She would be losing more money if she left. Plus, she wasn't one to give up. She was there first. She owned this turf.

She scrutinized the two over the next few days, and she could have sworn they were using some sort of slender remote in one hand, controlling most of their tricks.

She decided to confront the curly-haired one, since he seemed the most susceptible to interrogation. She waited until they were packing up for the day. But before she got a chance, she was interrupted by the earless one.

"I don't know, Percy," he called over his shoulder. "But I think we have a fan."

"I'm interested in your act is all," she said airily. "Maybe we could exchange some tricks. I mean, us illusionists have to stick together."

He made a face and laughed. "Yeah, okay. Did you know magic is real?"

"What?"

"George! Who's your friend?!" Percy interjected, knocking down a few items off of their small table.

"Audrey," she said, holding out her hand. Percy shook it, smiling. "I run my own stand down the street."

"Is that so?"

"I remember you!" George said. "You used to come by a few years ago. Back when Fr- when we… I was here."

Percy glanced at George, who began to sulk again.

"We should get going," Percy said quickly. Audrey saw him packing up everything in a briefcase that definitely looked too small to hold all of their equipment, and yet, he closed it with no problem. He grabbed the suitcase and table, and with his glasses slightly askew, said with a sparkle in his eyes, "Until we meet again, Audrey." She watched the pair turn a corner and disappear from sight.

And she did meet George and Percy again. She strategically placed her station closer to the brothers' territory. Her and Percy would have silent competitions to see who would get more attention. It was always a pretty close call, but the brothers would win at the very last minute every time. Audrey was getting frustrated, while Percy looked more and more pompous. But Audrey was not one to give up. She soon figured out how to do some of their tricks (or how she thought they were doing their tricks), which made both of their acts unoriginal.

After a rather uneventful day, Percy walked up to Audrey's stand. She was ready to fight back his teasing, but to her surprise, he put out a hand for her to shake.

"I really admire your drive, Audrey," he said, smiling. "I don't think you realize how much you helped out George." They both glanced over at the brothers' stand, and George was laughing and entertaining what little audience he had. "We've been dealing with a lot over the passed few months. And your persistence gave him a reason to continue what he likes to do best."

Audrey didn't have the courage to ask what happened to his twin, but she could already deduce that it would not be a happy conversation. "I'm glad to help." She started to pack up.

"You're not going now, are you?"

"I'm afraid so," she sighed. "You ran me out of business."

Percy's eyes widened. "I never meant to do that! I'm so sorry."

Audrey shrugged. "It's alright. It was bound to happen anyway. I can't make a living on street performing, that was my mistake."

"This- this was your entire income?"

"For now, yeah," she said. "I don't have much, but I get by."

They both looked at each other for a moment, and Percy's ears turned slightly red. "Do you like coffee?"

Any other time, she would have sworn off coffee altogether. She knew that if she said yes, then they'd go to the coffee shop she was fired from a few blocks away. Then again, she didn't think she'd pay much attention to the exasperated look of old Mr. Minchin. Audrey gave a half-smile. "I love coffee."

Follow me and my headcanons! https://www.fanfiction.net/~littlelauren

[alphacrone]

bittyholtz pining

“Why are you being so rude to Jack?” Bitty asked, cornering Holster in the kitchen of Jack’s apartment. They were there for the Falconers’ home opener and the “quiet gathering” Jack had planned for after had turned into a semi-kegster, sans kegs. Half the Falcs had shown up, including Mashkov, who was currently chatting with an incredibly star-struck Ransom.

Holster frowned. “Why are you avoiding him?” He shot back, only feeling slightly guilty as Bitty’s face crumpled for a split-second before returning to an annoyed purse.

“I’m not,” he said quickly. “But you are being a jerk. He got us free tickets to the game tonight, can’t you at least pretend to like him?”

“I didn’t ask him for tickets,” Holster said, but he knew it was a weak argument. He and Ransom had been dying to go to a Falcs game for months, ever since they’d started following the team more closely.

“Then why did you accept them?” Bitty retorted and wow, he was not giving this up.

“Drop it,” Holster said, grabbing a cup from the counter to fill up with water from the tap. Jack’s fancy-ass, rich-boy fridge had a filter built into the door, and Holster refused to use it on principle. “Go enjoy the party. Running away every time Jack tries to talk to you must be so fun.”

“You’re an ass,” Bitty told him, face turning pink with anger and embarrassment.  If you want to act like a child and sulk in the corner, fine. But if you keep up this attitude, you’re not gonna have any friends left by graduation.”

He then turned on his heels and stormed from the kitchen. Holster sighed and watched as Bitty pushed through the crowd to slip out onto the balcony. Though it was only October, the night had quickly grown cold, so Holster grabbed his own sweatshirt from the chair he’d dumped it on and followed Bitty outside.

Bitty was already shivering as Holster closed the door behind him, sitting on one of the two deck chairs with his arms crossed, glaring out into the night. He didn’t accept the sweatshirt Holster held out to him, so Holster dumped it on his lap and sat in other chair, waiting a moment before speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was mean.”

Bitty shrugged, still staring out over the neighborhood. “But not untrue.”

Holster huffed and ran a hand through his hair. The night was colder than he’d anticipated and he was tempted to steal back his sweatshirt. “I still shouldn’t have said it. I know it can’t be easy.”

Bitty looked at him from the corner of his eye, frown deepening. “What can’t be easy?”

“You know,” Holster said, gesturing vaguely. “Your crush...thing…”

Bitty’s eyes widened and Holster was stunned to see he looked scared. “I don’t have a crush,” Bitty said sharply. “That would be creepy.”

Holster snorted. “No, it wouldn’t. Questionable, maybe, Jack’s kind of an asshole. But not creepy.”

“Jack’s not an asshole,” Bitty snapped. “And I don’t have a crush.”

“Bits…” Holster said, softer. “Put the sweatshirt on, you’re gonna freeze to death.”

“I’m fine,” Bitty said, shivering as he did. Holster’s heart plummeted into his stomach as he noticed unshed tears glimmering in Bitty’s eyes. He sighed again, louder and stood, snatching the hoodie off of Bitty’s lap.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said, shoving the sweatshirt over Bitty’s head. Bitty let out a muffled yelp of surprise, struggling a little as Holster manhandled his arms through the sleeves. He eventually stopped wriggling around and let Holster pull the hood over his head and tighten the drawstrings, pouting the whole time. “There, nice and toasty. Now tell me why you’re really upset.”

Bitty sniffled a little. “It’s stupid,” he murmured.

“Bet it’s not,” Holster said. “And even if it is, is it as stupid as me being a dick to Jack because I’m jealous?”

“I didn’t mean to fall for him,” Bitty whispered, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was heading their way. “He snuck up on me. I- it’s been easier, this semester, with him gone, but seeing him tonight…”

“Ah.” Holster nodded in understanding; Jack looked good tonight, even he could admit that. Between the amount of muscle he’d gained in the pre-season and the loose, easy grin he’d sported all night, it was obvious why Bitty was struggling. “Hence the hiding.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” Bitty said weakly. “You’re jealous of Jack?”

“Chyeah,” Holster said with a shrug. “Playing pro, fame and fortune, attracting awesome people like you...” He gave Bits an exaggerated wink, just to hear him laugh.

“Shut up,” Bitty mumbled, struggling to hide his smile.

“I’m serious,” Holster continued. “I attract weirdos and assholes. I guess ‘cause I am a weirdo asshole, but still.”

“You’re not a weirdo,” Bitty said incredulously. “Well...no more than the rest of us…”

“But I am an asshole,” Holster said, poking Bitty’s cheek with his finger. Bitty swatted his hand away, grinning.

“You said it, not me.”

Holster laughed and shook his head. “After I gave you my sweatshirt and everything. Rude, Bits.”

“You didn’t give me your sweatshirt,” Bitty said, scoffing. “You forced it on me!”

“Alright, I guess I’ll just be taking it back now,” Holster said, reaching over. Bitty scooted as far away as he could, kicking at Holster’s hand.

“Nuh-uh,” he said. “No take-backs.”

“You’re such a brat,” Holster said. “C’mon, I am not nearly drunk enough. Let’s see what fancy alcohol Jack has hidden away.”

Bitty grinned and stood, following Holster back into the apartment. The atmosphere of the room was wildly different than the balcony, hot and loud and cramped. The pies and cookies Bitty had brought were almost entirely gone, and Holster couldn’t help but smile at the pleased look on Bitty’s face as he noticed.

Holster found he often couldn’t help but smile when Bitty was around. Bitty was, to be cliche, a ray of sunshine in everyone’s lives. Holster only knew a handful of people he’d consider genuinely good and kind: his mom; his youngest sister, Becca; his best friend from Juniors, Dante; Ransom; and now, Bitty. These were the kind of people Holster drifted towards, the kind of people who kept him from total misanthropy.

They were also the kind of people who would never, ever love him the way he loved them.

He’d accepted that long ago.

In the kitchen, Holster and Bitty found two bottles of some local IPA. “Fuckin’ hipster nerd,” Holster muttered, though he had to admit it tasted a lot better than Keystone. Bitty snorted and brought the bottle to his lips, taking several gulps. Holster was struck by the movement of his Adam’s apple, mesmerized as a drop escaped and ran down the corner of Bitty’s mouth. Bitty reached up to wipe it away, casting Holster an apologetic glance after he realized he’d used the sleeve of the sweatshirt.

“You would not believe the shit I’ve cleaned off that hoodie,” Holster said, taking a long swig of his beer. “It’s fine, really.”

And that was another thing. Seeing Bitty in his sweatshirt -- no, seeing Bitty swimming in his sweatshirt -- was making his brain go to some very inappropriate places. Which was sort of normal; Holster knew he was bi, had known since Dante had given him the best blowjob of his life in the backseat of his mom’s station wagon, and being attracted to hot guys wearing his clothes was normal.

Except...some of the images flashing through his mind were almost domestic in nature: Bitty wearing his sweatshirt and nothing else, kissing Holster gently in the Haus kitchen as he made breakfast; Bitty pulling on his sweatshirt because the attic was too cold at night, then climbing back into Holster bunk; Bitty wearing his sweatshirt on Jack’s balcony, leaning over to kiss him for the first time…

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Something tugged behind Holster’s naval, a painful longing and realization jolting up to his heart. Despite the drink in his hand, Holster’s throat felt dry. Bitty was talking about something, chattering away, oblivious to the sudden panic in Holster’s mind.

“Uh, hey.”

They both turned to see Jack standing there, a bit awkwardly, hands in his pockets. Bitty put on a huge, fake smile; Holster didn’t bother. “Hey, Jack,” Bitty said. “Great game tonight.”

“Thanks,” Jack said. “You guys, um, having a good time tonight? I didn’t really expect a party to happen, but everyone seems to be enjoying it…”

Bitty nodded, eyes bugging a little hysterically. Feigning inebriation, Holster slung an arm around his shoulder for comfort. He could feel Bitty relax a bit, leaning a little closer. “Yeah! It’s great to meet your new teammates. They seem nice.”

“They are,” Jack said, looking down at his feet for a moment. “Miss you guys, though.”

Bitty chewed on his bottom lip, and Holster could almost see him hold back the, “I miss you, too.”

“Samwell’s not the same without you,” Bitty said instead, grip on his beer bottle tightening. “But at least we know our captains are up to the task of filling your shoes.” He looked up at Holster, beaming, and Holster knew he was totally fucked. Bitty thought he was stupid for falling for a straight teammate; Holster was a fucking moron for falling for someone as bright and kind and better than him as Bitty.

“Well, there’s two of us, so I guess we’re up to the task…” Holster said with a shrug. It was the closest he’d ever come to complimenting anything other than Jack’s ass, and he could see the surprise on Jack’s face.

“I’ve gotta go talk to George before she leaves,” Jack said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “But I do want to catch up with you guys.”

“Sure, Jack,” Bitty said sweetly. “We’ll just be here, drinking your beer.”

“Great,” Jack said with a grin. As he left, Bitty’s smile fell, and he leaned against Holster’s chest with a sad look on his face.

“Did you bring a flask to the game?” He asked softly.

Holster, in fact, had, though he hadn’t brought it out. He and Ransom had been drunk on the excitement of it all, and it hadn’t been necessary. “You need to get drunk?”

“Wasted,” Bitty said, voice hard and low with determination.

Without taking his arm off of Bitty’s shoulder, Holster grabbed a Coke from the fridge, cracked it open, and chugged about half of it. Then, with some careful maneuvering, he pulled the flask from his back pocket and poured most of it into the can, handing it to Bitty. “Jack and Coke,” he said with a small grin. “Actually, really cheap and disgusting bottom-shelf whiskey and Coke. Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Thanks,” Bitty said. He finished off his beer in two gulps, then tossed the bottle into the garbage can and began chugging from the can. 

“Dude, slow down,” Holster said. “Don’t puke on my hoodie.”

Bitty shot him an exasperated look, but slowed down nonetheless. There was something pained still in his eyes, and Holster held back a deep sigh. It was one thing to fall for someone out of his league, but it was something else entirely to fall for a guy who was in love with someone else.

“You wanna go watch Lardo beat professional athletes at flipcup?” He asked, grabbing his own beer from the counter.

Bitty nodded, the sleeves of Holster’s hoodie rolled up several times so he could hold the Coke can. “Lead the way,” he said, looking up at Holster with such warm, trusting eyes that Holster knew there was no way he was getting over this crush any time soon.

At least he could be there as a friend, Holster reasoned as he and Bitty walked back into the main room. And he would try his hardest to help Bitty overcome his feelings for Jack.

Because this feeling of unrequited infatuation? It was not fun. It hurt like a bitch.

And at least one of them shouldn’t have to feel it.

[colorofyourhair]

Civic Duty

Prompt:

Prompt Rating: T

Note: Requests are currently closed. I will make a post with guidelines when they are open again. As tumblr is the only site that will let me list an individual rating per chapter I’ll rate them as content demands. However the larger compilation on both FFN and AO3 are rated M.

Also posted here:

FFN

AO3

She positioned her coffee cup as far away from her laptop as possible. Experience had taught her that lesson the hard way. Erza bit into her croissant and instantly wished she'd went with chocolate instead of plain. She opened the network's front page while brushing pastry flakes from her shirt. The bolded headline nearly made her choke.

E.N.N. CEO HAS PRIVATE DINNER WITH SENIOR COUNCIL MEMBER.

With a fifteen hundred jewel bar tab citizens can rest assured their tax dollars are well spent on burying murdered intern sex scandal!!

Erza glanced around the newsroom before taking another bite of her breakfast to hide her smirk. The headline may be sensationalist but it wasn't exactly untrue. For the last week, the news manager had been under increasing pressure to make the reports of Gran Doma's affair with a recently found dead intern go away. For his part, the news manager resisted but if the CEO had been bought and paid for, the story would very likely get buried.

Private dinners and money changing hands couldn't bury the growing public dislike of Gran Doma and his brand of authority, though. He'd filled the Council with cronies and government agencies with family members. Erza found it to be the worst kind of nepotism. She didn't doubt he had the reach to have an intern who'd become a problem murdered without ever getting his hands dirty. So far, though, solid proof of both the affair and involvement with her death had remained elusive.

“Wow, Erza,” Lucy said from behind her. “Looks like your hacker struck again.”

“It's not my hacker.” Erza muttered, stuffing the rest of her croissant into her mouth.

“It's your thing, though,” Lucy teased. “I'd love to know who he is. Got any leads for me?”

“There's no way of guessing who they are, and no I don't. I just fix the site when it happens and that's all.”

“Sure thing, Erza. You'd let me know if you knew anything, though, right?” Lucy leaned against the edge of Erza's desk. “You wouldn't give the lead to anyone else?”

Erza sighed. “Of course, Lucy. I'd give it all to you over any one of these testosterone slinging idiots any day of the week.”

“I'm just sick of the fluff pieces, you know? I want something juicy.”

“Trust me, I get it. I'd love to stick it to all the mansplainers in IT, too.”

“At least you were promoted out of The Dungeon.”

Erza nodded as her eyes began to scroll through the lines of code. The hacker had been clever this time and her eye twitched. Lucy was still talking.

“Though, you were probably the only reason the bottom floor smelled like anything other than scorched coffee and Axe Body Spray.” Erza half-laughed at Lucy's joke but her fingers were already clicking away. “Ooh, is that Makarov over there?”

Erza jolted and her eyes frantically swept the room. She didn't need the news manager over her shoulder – not that he could've seen over her shoulder anyway.

“I'm kidding,” Lucy said, nudging her shoulder. “You need to lighten up. You've been jumpy all week. Don't tell me this hacker is getting to you?”

“Not at all,” Erza muttered, glancing around the newsroom again. “Listen, I have to go fix that snag in the office chat boxes. Want to have lunch together?”

“I'm meeting Natsu. He's got a nightshift this week and I won't see him as much. Maybe tomorrow?”

“I understand about the nightshift. Jellal's been on the ER graveyard for what feels a month.” Erza stood and closed her laptop. She would leave it behind but definitely not open for prying eyes.

“I'll see you, then.” Lucy smiled and wove her way through the maze of desks.

The Dungeon was a term used to describe the rooms of servers and Tetris-like layout of cubicles used by the IT department. Erza used to have one such cubicle until earning a promotion to the newsroom floor where she personally managed the layout of the Era News Network's front page and oversaw bug reports that were sent to the IT group in The Dungeon. Most of the time her stress level was pretty low and that was mostly due to her new desk location. Despite her expertise and time with the network, certain male employees still failed to recognize her seniority.

Erza stopped next to Hibiki's cubical and he grinned up at her in a way that might have perhaps charmed someone who didn't know him as well. He was flirtatious in a mostly self-aware way.

“And what can I do for you today, Miss Scarlet?” Hibiki asked leaning back in his chair and linking his hands together.

“Can you handle the chat situation for me, please? It should be a simple fix, I just don't have the patience today.”

“Sure, it would be my pleasure, ma'am.” He suddenly sat up and grinned. “You've seen the front page, right? I bet they're having a shit fit upstairs.”

“I fixed the CEO headline but he fucked with the code this time. I have to go through and –” Erza sighed and flicked the fringe of hair from her face. “Anyway. If you can handle that, I'd love it.”

“No problem.” Hibiki's phone chimed and he nodded subtly to the elevator. “Ichiya's on his way.”

“Thanks, Hibiki. I owe you one.” Erza navigated the cubicles – shooting a sharp eye at Ren who wasn't even trying to hide the game on his phone – and quickly slipped through the door leading to the stairs. Avoiding Ichiya would be the pinnacle of her day.

Erza kicked off her shoes and gave Pantherlily a pat on his furry head before shedding her skirt and shirt on a bee-line for the bed. The sheets were still rumpled and a light steam rolled from the cracked bathroom door. Just before closing her eyes, Erza saw Jellal's open laptop on the edge of the desk. She rolled her eyes and pulled a pillow over her head.

A slice of periwinkle blue blocked her view and the smell of his soap filled the room. Erza tossed the pillow vaguely in his direction before rolling over to her back.

“Aw come on,” Jellal said softly. “It could've been worse.”

“I suppose I should thank you,” she sighed. “It got me out of spending my afternoon fixing a stupid chat bug.” Jellal laughed and stretched out in the bed beside her. His clean scrub top was still folded on top of the chest of drawers and the sleeves of his white undershirt hugged his biceps.

“Anything but a chat bug,” he joked, slapping hand over his heart. “The horror!” His dimpled grin faded. “You're wasted in that office, Erza.”

“I know,” she whispered touching his cheek with her fingertips.

“Am I making it worse?”

“You're doing the public a service.”

“Maybe it's selfish but I won't do it at the cost of your stress level or job.” Jellal settled onto the sheets next to her and Erza rolled to face him. She leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth softly.

“I'll survive. I look like a hero every time I fix it. As long as you use the backdoor I gave you, it's untraceable.” Erza swiped the remnants of her lip balm from his cheek with her thumb. “I'm more worried about you and your source.” She ran her fingers through his damp hair. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“As safe as I can make it, Erza. He's a cop and if Gran Doma's tentacles are worming around in law enforcement as well as the private sector and media, we're all fucked.”

“The sex scandal headline you put up this morning had over three thousand clicks before I took it down and the front page itself cracked ten.”

“Good.” Jellal's phone alarm shattered the quiet of the moment and Pantherlily perched on the edge of the mattress. He reached behind himself to grab the phone and silence the alarm. “I work until three this morning. I went shopping so there's plenty of stuff for dinner.”

“Oh, thank you. I'm so tired I was prepared to eat dry cereal.” Jellal laughed and leaned over to kiss her before standing and pulling on his scrub top. She blew him one last kiss as he gave Pantherlily a goodbye scratch behind the ears. Once the front door of their apartment shut and she heard the deadbolt latch, she pulled the cat onto her chest. He settled into a bun and purred loudly.

Erza woke to a gentle shake of her shoulder. Jellal plugged what looked like a flash drive into his laptop. She sat up and ran a hand through her hair.

“What's –” her words were cut off by a yawn. “What's going on?”

“This is a bunch of raw files from the EPD server. My source left it for me. You're going to want to have a look at this.” Jellal slid his laptop over to her. Erza's eyes widened as she flipped through the document previews.

“Wow,” she muttered. “This is – this is pretty damning.”

“Erza we're looking at original documentation of the body and the autopsy. This is ugly.”

“It looks like I'll have a story for Lucy after all.” Erza reached for her phone. Hopefully Lucy would be awake and ready for a bombshell.

[dmitri-smerdyakov]

Stitch by Stitch (Part 3) - a Newt/Tina fic

Tagging: @pinkdiamonddolphin

We’re moving forward now to February 1941 :)

Phoenix – 22nd June 1931 – 9 (going on 10) Linnet – 13th January 1933 – 8 Leo – 3rd March 1935 – 5 (going on 6)

Tobias “Toby” – 15th October 1929 – 11 Daisy – 7th April 1931 – 9 (going on 10) Abel and Ruth – 20th November 1933 – 7 Elijah “Eli” – 28th January 1939 - 2

(A/N: Alice and Louisa are Theseus’ daughters)

“You know, Mummy, I really want a baby sister.”

Tina couldn’t help but grin as she followed her daughter to Dougal’s habitat. “I know you do, Lin – you keep telling me.”

“It’s just that I already have two brothers,” Linnet continued, pouting to herself. “I want a sister now – it’s only fair, because then there’ll be two boys and two girls. Besides, you have a sister, Alice has a sister, Daisy has a sister…I want one too.”

“Yeah,” Tina agreed, rather amused. “But I’m afraid I don’t get to choose whether the baby’s a boy or a girl – we’ve just got to wait and see.”

The eight-year-old didn’t look pleased by this answer – but she soon lit up as a familiar wizened face materialised near the Occamy nest. “Hello, Dougal! How are you today?”

The demiguise seemed to purr as she wrapped her arms around him, leaning into her embrace quite contently; Tina smiled to herself at the sight, shifting the books in her arms. It was clear that Dougal was rather fond of her daughter, and on more than one occasion she had witnessed them playing hide-and-seek together (Dougal, of course, was always the clear winner).

“Mummy brought some books down today,” Linnet informed him eagerly. “She’s gonna read a muggle book! I bet you’ll like that one, it sounds so interesting – and you’re gonna sit with me, of course, because you’re my best friend and I love you.”

It didn’t take long for Newt and the boys to join them; to Tina’s dismay, Phoenix was covered in Graphorn slime and Leo in dead woodlice.

“What in the name of-”

“I fed the Bowtruckles!” Leo interrupted excitedly. “But Titus got angry because I gave Finn extra, and he started shaking the tree and all the bugs fell in my hair!”

Tina looked at her oldest son, raising a brow. “And what about you?”

“Bertha gave me a big fat kiss,” Phoenix explained, and his cheeks were tinged pink. “Dad says she likes me.”

“She’s quite in love with him,” Newt agreed bemusedly. “The other Graphorns will have to watch out.”

“Honestly…” Her tone was affectionate, however, as she shook her head at them. “Alright, come here, I’ll clean you both up and then we’ll sit for a story.”

Thankfully it didn’t take very long at all to get the two boys clean; a quick Scourgify removed all of the slime from Phoenix, and as Tina deliberated best over how to get all of the dead bugs from her youngest son’s hair, Dougal started to pick them out for her diligently. Leo giggled when the demiguise popped one in his mouth, squirming slightly at the feel of the creature rooting through his unruly hair.

He’s just like Newt, Tina thought fondly, watching as he laughed quite happily – he’d always been so at home with the creatures in the case, even more so than his older siblings, and he was already quite enamoured with them. On a few occasions, he had announced that he wanted to be like Newt one day, to study and look after creatures too, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if he ended up doing just that.

Once both boys had been cleaned sufficiently, the whole family settled down close to the Occamy nest; the serpentine creatures cried out hungrily when they noticed Dougal approaching with a handful of dead bugs, and he was soon sitting on the side of the nest quite contently as he threw the dead woodlice into the nest. With that, Tina propped open one of her books and rested it on top of her belly; she was getting much larger now, thankfully, looking slightly healthier at six months along. She still had to be careful, the Healers warned, for she was still painfully thin and at a high-risk.

“This is a muggle book,” Linnet whispered to her brothers loudly, tucked comfortably underneath her father’s arm.

Leo’s eyes lit up. “Ruth says that Uncle Jacob reads muggle books to her and Abel!”

Thank you Queenie for the suggestion, Tina thought to herself with a smile before clearing her throat. “Alright, you guys all comfortable?” All three children nodded, as did Newt as he grinned. “How about you, Dougal? You ready?”

Dougal gave a noise of approval, hopping down from his perch and clambering to sit between Tina and Linnet.

“Okay, let’s start then.” She turned her eyes to the book and started to read. “Once on a dark winter’s day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the big thoroughfares…”

As was usual during the family’s story-time sessions in the case, Linnet was positively alive with energy as she listened carefully, eyes wide and mouth parting slightly; Leo had rested his head on top of Tina’s bump, ear pressed against it as he half-listened and gazed around the case. Phoenix stretched out on the floor on his stomach, just enjoying the relaxed and warm atmosphere as he listened to the story.

“…She was such a little girl that one did not expect to see such a look on her small face.  It would have been an old look for a child of twelve, and Sara Crewe was only seven…”

Newt had to bite back a laugh when his daughter beamed to herself hearing this sentence – seven and eight were not that different, after all, and he could immediately tell that she was quite enraptured by the story already. He had a feeling it would be one of her favourites for years to come, if her interest so far was anything to go by.

The book was rather good, of course – but Newt found it far more interesting to watch as Linnet started to fall in love with the story with every word that Tina spoke; he could see her falling in love with the idea of a little girl growing up in India, of having an ayah to help her dress, of travelling to a country that seemed foreign. It made his smile widen when his daughter looked over at him at the mention of the girl’s – Sara – father, and how close the two were; he didn’t need to be a Legilimens to know that she was comparing and noting the similarities, and it warmed his heart to think that his daughter felt that close to him.

It didn’t take long for Leo to drift off, as usual, with his face buried into Tina’s side and a hand clutching at the bottom of her blouse. They had read a few chapters, just getting into it, when Tina closed the book and cleared her throat again. “Alright, it’s starting to get late – you guys should go to bed.”

“No!” Linnet said desperately, tugging at her sleeve. “Read more, Mummy, please! I want to hear more about Sara and her Emily-doll, and about the school she’s at – please, Mummy?”

“Tomorrow night, Lin,” Newt agreed, stretching his arms out; he was getting older, he noted with a grimace, and his back was starting to hurt from sitting in one place for too long. “Come on, it’s time we all got some sleep – look, even Dougal is going back to his den.”

Linnet looked thoroughly put out as she watched the demiguise clamber back into his home. “Oh…okay. Fine. But you’ve gotta tuck me in, Daddy.”

“Of course,” He assured her placidly, smiling affectionately. “Head on upstairs and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Phoenix and Linnet headed for the shed without another word, talking between themselves; Newt gently lifted Leo from where he’d been asleep against Tina’s side and into his arms, carefully making sure he had his son’s weight secure in his arms before turning to look at his wife.

“I’ve got him…are you alright, love?”

“I’m fine,” Tina muttered, though she suddenly looked pale. “I…I dunno what came over me…another bout of nausea or something…but I’m fine,” She repeated at his look. “Honestly, Newt, don’t worry about me – all I need is to get up to bed and get some sleep, that’s all.”

He wasn’t particularly convinced by this but he didn’t want to press the matter further in case it stressed her. “If you say so, dear. You head straight to bed, I’ll sort these three out.”

“I can put the kids to bed,” She said, frowning as she pushed herself off the ground uneasily. “I’m not an imbecile, Newt.”

“I never said you were,” Newt affirmed quickly. “I merely meant that it might be best – for the baby – if you save your strength.”

Tina huffed but didn’t argue, straightening her clothes before starting up the path to the shed with him. “I am tired,” She admitted quietly. “That’s why I ended the story – ‘cause I’m just so exhausted.”

It wasn’t exhaustion from doing anything – no, it was exhaustion from doing nothing: even with the regular owls from Crawford with paperwork and files, she was bored without her job. She missed working more than she cared to admit, if only because it had gotten her out of the house every day – recently, the only times she really left the house had been to visit Queenie, and those were more often than not with Newt and the children accompanying her. The boredom was making her restless, making her slightly on edge, though she wouldn’t admit it.

Newt sighed, adjusting the weight of their youngest son in his arms as he walked. “I know, Tina. It’s not very exciting – at least, not compared to what you’re used to – and I know you wish you were back at work more than ever…if you want to change your decision, then I’m sure-”

“No,” She interrupted. “There’s no point in going back and then leaving again within a few months. Besides, if it’s what’s best for the baby…”

It has to be worth it.

“Yes,” Newt murmured softly, wishing he knew of a way to make her feel better. “It’ll be more than worth it when they’re born though, Tina, I promise.”

It’s only three months to go, Tina told herself resolutely as they left the case, three more months – it’s really not that long. I can do this.

It was dull – dull as hell – having nothing whatsoever to do as the days went on.

The work Crawford sent over by owl wasn’t easy, of course, but it was boring to just do paperwork – it was better than doing nothing, of course, but that didn’t stop Tina from being bored all the same. Reading about all of these cases made her want to go and start working again, eager to help people, and it made her feel more restless than ever.

At least now she could visit Queenie whenever she wanted; when she’d been pregnant before her sister had lived in New York, of course, and so to be able to visit her when she was feeling so useless was a great comfort.

“You don’t need to keep giving me pastries whenever I come over,” Tina sighed when her sister slid a baked demiguise across the table on a plate. “I’m eating fine.”

Queenie just hummed, making some tea as she flicked her wand around the kitchen. “I’m not trying to fatten you up, Teen, I’m just sharing Jacob’s absolutely delicious baking, that’s all.”

She and Newt are plotting together to fatten me up, Tina thought with a grimace, I just know it.

“We’re not plotting together!” Queenie denied, shaking her head. “Though he did ask Jacob to make some extra for you guys…just for fun.”

“Sure,” Tina muttered dryly, but she picked up the demiguise pastry and bit into it – it was delicious, as always. “How is the bakery doing?”

Her sister lit up, clearly quite happy. “It’s so busy, Teenie! It took a while for customers to start coming in, of course, but once word got out…well, it’s been pretty hectic since. Jacob’s having to work earlier to make sure he’s made enough of everything – I go and help sometimes, you know.”

“I’m glad it’s doing well,” The older witch said, smiling genuinely. “No surprise, really. And everything here’s been okay?”

“Oh, yeah, Teen – we’re perfectly happy!” The blonde beamed as she flicked her wand and sent the mugs to sit on the table. “Toby’s getting real excited about going to school in September – he can’t wait to learn, you know! And Daisy, she loves the books you gave her; Jacob and I really appreciate you doing that, by the way. It really helped her settle in.”

“It’s the least I could do, really,” Tina brushed off quickly. “You do seem very happy…I’m glad.”

Queenie was still positively radiant as she sat down at the table, picking up her mug and cupping it in her hands. “We’re real happy here, Teen, don’t worry,” She assured her sister. “It’s starting to really feel like home now…and it’s just as well too.”

“Just as well?” Tina repeated, quite puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“Well…” Her sister was bubbling, her excitement contagious and impossible to hold in. “Jacob and I found out we’re having another baby soon.”

Tina’s jaw dropped. “Another one?” She questioned, clearly shocked. “Already? You guys have only been here a few months!”

“So?” Queenie raised a brow. “Jacob and I like having a big family – and we was talking about a new baby soon anyway.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Tina began hurriedly, cheeks going slightly pink. “I’m pleased for you both, that’s great news, but…I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t expecting it. But I am happy for you both.”

Her sister smiled again. “I know, Teenie, of course you are. We were kinda surprised too, to be honest – I mean, we knew we wanted more, but we didn’t think it’d be this soon…”

We’re both in the same boat then, Tina found herself thinking before she could stop herself; we’re both pregnant…though she looks better with it than I do…

“Don’t be silly,” Queenie sighed, shaking her head. “If it makes you feel any better, Newt still thinks you’re beautiful.”

Tina went red. “You weren’t meant to hear that…and you shouldn’t be reading his thoughts like that…”

“He wasn’t stopping me,” The blonde stated defensively. “And I can’t help it, Teen – a lot of the time I don’t want to hear it.”

She immediately felt guilty. “Queenie, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I know you can’t help it, it’s just…I’m kinda embarrassed about thinking it. Usually I don’t care about that kind of thing, but…”

“But it’s the hormones,” Queenie agreed sympathetically. “No, they’re no fun. But you shouldn’t feel so unattractive all the time, Tina, ‘cause you’re not; if only you could hear what Newt thinks when he looks at you…you’d understand.”

“Well, I can’t,” Tina pointed out, looking down at her tea. “So there’s no point in pretending I can… I’m fine about it though, really. Don’t go worrying about me now.”

Queenie merely sat back in her seat, giving a small sigh. “I’m just saying that you should talk to Newt about it, if that’s how you feel. I’m sure he’d be willing to listen and make you feel better.”

I doubt it, Tina thought miserably, and she didn’t even bother trying to hide it from her sister, He’s barely touched me since what happened in December – it’s like he’s afraid I’ll break or something.

It was true: Newt had taken to sleeping as far on the other side of the bed as he could, avoiding touching her if he could, and she knew it was merely him being worried for her and the baby. That didn’t stop her from feeling awful about it, of course, and she felt even worse when she thought about him avoiding her.

“You should do something about it,” Queenie mused, and there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she took a sip from her mug. “You know…just a little something to let him know what you want. I’m sure he won’t mind at all.”

Tina couldn’t help but go red again at the insinuation – but it was certainly a rather good idea, nonetheless.

“I’m sorry for the mess, Newt, dear… Margaret left the girls with me today while she’s at work, and they’ve been rather excitable.”

Newt shifted awkwardly as his mother levitated a tray of tea and biscuits to the table. “It’s fine, really, Mother.”

Florence Scamander smiled weakly, looking rather tired as she sat down opposite him – it hadn’t been easy for her at all, he knew; ever since Theseus had been declared missing in the war she had looked sick, and the fact that she was looking after Margaret and Theseus’ daughters most days probably wasn’t helping matters either.

“So, how have things been, dear? How is Tina?”

“She’s…fine,” He answered carefully – he hadn’t mentioned the incident from December to his parents, mostly because he hadn’t seen them, and it would perhaps be unwise to mention it now two months later. “I suppose she’s rather bored of not working now, but apart from that…she’s doing well.”

“And she’s eating? She looked so skinny last time I saw her,” Florence sighed, shaking her head. “She’s always been a skinny thing, of course, but lately…and with the baby…well, I’m sure you understand.” He nodded, avoiding her eyes as he reached for his mug of tea. “How are the children?”

Newt gave a small shrug. “They’re fine too, Mother – we’re all fine. Phoenix is getting rather excited because he knows Toby will be going to Hogwarts in September, and then next year it’ll be his turn; Linnet is still rather excitable about the new baby – she keeps begging for a sister, despite the fact we keep telling her we won’t know until the baby’s born. And then Leo…is Leo.”

“Leo is like you,” His mother mused fondly. “Quiet, keeps mostly to himself – he certainly loves his creatures. Well, I’m glad to hear that they’re all getting on so well; I wish you brought them over to visit more often, Newt. Your father and I do miss having them come over.”

“I’m sorry,” He apologized softly. “It’s been rather busy lately, that’s all; between Jacob and Queenie moving in and the new baby…well, there hasn’t been a great deal of time for anything else.” He paused, hesitating before continuing. “May I ask… I haven’t seen Margaret since before…well, since before Theseus went missing. Is she…How is she?”

Florence’s weak smile faded quickly. “She’s not doing very well at all; she’s working overtime to provide for the children, and we’re helping as much as we can, but…but she’s very distraught still over the news.”

This didn’t particularly surprise Newt: he knew if Tina were to go missing while on active duty…well, the thought made him want to shudder. It was only to be expected that his sister-in-law was miserable by Theseus going missing.

“The girls miss him,” His mother continued sadly, looking down at her cup as her eyes glistened. “They were his world – he certainly changed after they came into his life, and he spoilt them both rotten with love and attention. Alice is old enough to understand, and she cries when she’s over here; Louisa doesn’t know a thing, but she still misses him.”

“I miss him too,” Newt agreed quietly.

“Your father refuses to speak about it; he keeps saying that they’ll find him, that we just need to wait because the Ministry knows what they’re doing…but I don’t feel very hopeful at all.”

“I’m sure they’ll find him,” He said unsurely, and he gently rested a hand on her arm. “Grindelwald will know he’s useful, probably keep him alive for that reason… Please don’t get upset, Mother.”

Florence gave a quiet sniff before composing herself somewhat. “No, I know – you’re right, of course. No use in getting upset over nothing, is there? Of course they’ll find him soon.”

Honestly, Newt wasn’t so certain that they would find his brother – but he knew that his mother didn’t need to hear those kinds of things, that they would make things worse. She needed to hear hopeful things - and if lying made her feel better, then he would do so willingly.

It had been relatively cold as they both got into into bed a few nights later, a light chill in the air, and they quickly retreated to the heat underneath the blankets.

A few minutes passed as they both warmed up comfortably, and then Tina decided to put her plan into action.

Careful not to place too much pressure on her abdomen, she rolled onto her side to look at her husband; in the moonlight, she could see only the darkest of freckles standing out against his skin, his profile sharply defined. He didn’t seem to notice her shifting, not until she sat up and leaned over him.

“Tina, love, everything alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” She assured him quietly, and she moved her face closer to his. “Kiss me.”

Newt’s eyes widened as he sat up as well and quickly moved away. “Tina…”

She couldn’t help it – it was stupid to get so emotional over this of all things, but her hormones were out of balance and…and she just felt so hurt. “What’s wrong with me, Newt?” She questioned. “Am I that…that…disgusting?”

“What? No, of course not,” He disagreed quickly, and his hand was light on her knee. “Why would you think that?”

“Why?!” Tina repeated, inexplicably angry now too. “Because you haven’t touched me in weeks! You’re barely touching me now, and it’s like you’d rather do anything but touch me!”

Newt started to shake his head. “It’s not because I’m repulsed or anything, Tina, I promise. It’s just…well…” He lowered his head, suddenly ashamed. “Since what happened in December, I’ve found that I’m…I’m rather afraid that you’ll break if I do anything like that.”

“Break?”

“I can’t help but worry that it might hurt the baby,” He continued, and his face had gone red. “I know in the past it’s never hurt our children, but the Healer said this one was high-risk and…and I don’t want to be responsible for putting them in danger like that.”

Tina was absolutely dumbfounded. “You…You’re afraid you’ll hurt the baby?” She asked, astounded by this admission. “Newt, don’t be ridiculous! Even if this one is high-risk, you wouldn’t hurt the baby at all; the Healers so far have told me they’re perfectly healthy. I just have to keep my stress levels down – and having sex isn’t going to cause me any stress, I can assure you now.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to, to be honest,” Newt muttered, still looking somewhat embarrassed. “I thought that perhaps you were…well, too tired to do it, or too concerned for the baby.”

“I am concerned for the baby,” Tina agreed seriously. “But this won’t hurt them – this will make me feel better, if anything else. I thought that you didn’t want to because…well…”

“No,” He admitted. “I did – I do. Your appearance has nothing to do with it at all; you know how I feel about you, how I think you’re stunning no matter what…and I know you often think I’m being overly sentimental when I say that, or you think I’m saying it for the sake of saying it, but I wouldn’t ever lie to you, Tina.”

Despite herself, she smiled weakly. “No, I suppose not.”

“I’m sorry if my, erm, lack of attention has made you feel like I don’t love you in that way,” Newt apologized quietly. “If I had known how you felt, I certainly wouldn’t have laid here doing nothing; I would have done something about it.” The corners of his lips were turning up now, a grin starting to light his face. “If you’d like, we could start this whole night over again – and I could show you exactly how I feel instead of just talking about it.”

A laugh bubbled out of Tina then and she met him in a kiss – it really had been too long, after all, and so there was no time wasted with soft or gentle kisses before she was pulling at his nightclothes eagerly. He made sure he was careful of the protruding bump, of course, but other than that…well, it was more than easy to love her like this, in a way they’d both become more than accustomed to and fond of over the years.

“Move over, Phoenix, I wanna feel!”

Phoenix huffed but moved away from their mother’s stomach all the same. “It’s just kicking.”

“So? I wanna feel it!” Linnet pressed her face against the bump, cherub cheek warm against the stretched skin, and waited. “I don’t… Oh!” Her face broke out into a wide grin. “That was a kick, I felt it!”

“Hang on!” Leo cried out, struggling onto his tiptoes so that he could press his ear against the baby bump too. “I haven’t felt it!”

Tina laughed at the three of them, unable to help it; this had become an almost-daily routine, the three of them pressing themselves against her stomach to feel the baby kicking. They were even starting to get somewhat competitive about it – about who could feel the baby’s movements the most.

“I don’t feel it, Mummy,” Leo murmured sadly, pouting up at her. “Where is it?”

“Here,” She said fondly, and she took his hand in her own so that she could move it to the other side of the bump. “Wait a moment, they’ll kick.”

Leo waited, eyes wide as he stared at his hand – and then he giggled happily. “Oh, I felt it, Mummy, I felt it!”

“They’re strong, huh?”

He nodded in agreement. “Uh-huh… I felt it again! Hello, Baby!” He chattered excitedly, beaming at her abdomen. “I’m Leo and Mummy says I’m your big brother – I’ve never been a big brother before! Mummy,” He started, looking up at his mother. “Do you think I’ll be a good big brother?”

“Of course,” Tina assured him before turning to the older two children. “You’re all going to be fantastic big siblings to the baby.”

“I still hope it’s a girl,” Linnet informed her, side-eying Phoenix. “We’ve got enough boys in the house.”

Phoenix rolled his eyes at her. “Says you.”

“It doesn’t matter whether it’s a boy or a girl,” Tina told them both hurriedly, sensing an argument brewing. “We’re all gonna love them, no matter what.”

“I don’t mind either one, Mummy,” Leo told her happily. “I just can’t wait to be a big brother – I’m always the little one, but now I won’t be!”

She ruffled his messy hair with a smile. “I know, Leo – and I’m sure the baby will love you very much for being their big brother.”

The children weren’t the only one excited by the kicking – Newt, of course, had always been fond of feeling the little tremors when he pressed his hand to her growing belly over the years, often cooing and talking to the bump. This time was no different, of course, and it made her feel all warm whenever she saw him whispering sweet things to their unborn baby as his face lit up.

“Hello there,” He murmured affectionately as he clambered into bed one night, pressing his face to her swollen abdomen. “Mummy said you’re feeling restless today, haven’t stopped kicking…will you kick for me?”

There was a pause – and then a series of flutters against his palm.

“Ah, wonderful,” Newt chuckled. “You’re very strong, aren’t you? You’ll be a Chaser, I bet, when you go to Hogwarts…Well, it’s time to sleep now; Mummy needs her sleep, and you do too – but we’ll talk tomorrow, won’t we? And you can kick some more then for us.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Tina laughed fondly, reaching for him. “You’re so wonderfully, absolutely ridiculous.”

Newt was grinning as he hovered above her, all bright eyes and freckles. “Maybe, but I know you love it, dear.”

“Yeah,” She agreed, voice dropping ever so slightly as a hand intertwined itself in his hair. “I do love it… I love you.”

Hooray for implied smut XD Guess what kind of material will be in the outtake story? ;)

Honestly, though, pregnant women can be horny as fuck (or so I’ve read in my research) because of hormones going crazy – so it’s fun for both of them, if you get my meaning.

Thanks for your love and support, guys, I love you all! ❤

[randomwoohoo]

Nick: Previously on Zoomorphia!

Judy: Why use the word ‘morph’ anyway?

Nick: Cuz it sounds radical! We should try saying ‘It’s morphin’ time!’-

Judy: Not gonna happen. It’s too cheesy.

Nick: Said by a mammal who announces ‘Transform’ during transformation~

Judy: Shush! We are running out of time but we haven’t mentioned the previous chapter yet!

Nick: Well~ To put it simply, folks, fuzzy bun bun here always meddles in the attack of monsters called Savage, so Chief Buffalo gave us a disciplinary penalty. Still that wasn’t enough to stop Carrots from scouting and Bam! we found a Savage and beat it!

Judy: That’s too slipshod! Can’t just skip the Hybrid part! Gosh! We’re dragging this way too long.

Nick: It’s our first time. We’ll be good at it someday. Until then-

Nick & Judy: Now the chapter 2!

Thank you everyone for reading this fic. Please leave the comments. I would love to hear you thought. I will try to make this series active as possible.

Here’s Fanfiction.net link

.-.. . - .----. ... / -.-. --- -. - .. -. ..- .

“-got a report from SCU yesterday. A Savage showed up at Cliffside Asylum. A guard informed that fox and bunny cops also showed up even though it shouldn’t be possible since they both were supposed to be writing parking tickets in Downtown!... Abandoning your post, trespassing on restricted area, encountering Savage but didn’t contact SCU… correct me if my assumption is wrong.” Chief Bogo behind a table had summoned Senior Officer Judy Hopps and Senior Officer Nick Wilde to his office, narrating violations that duo had done the day before.

    They sat quietly opposite to their supervisor. Nick was rubbing the back of his neck while Judy froze like a kid in the principal’s office. The cape buffalo shut his eyes and deeply inhaled. “I thought so… Despite being among the best, you two are such troublemakers. I should punish ya right away-” The threat caused fox and rabbit ears stand erect. They was going to voice. “-but lucky for you, new cases keep coming, old cases haven’t been solved yet. Currently, we need you to handle more investigation of illegal possession of Night howlers that’s been increasing recently. I’m counting on experts in this particular kind of cases.”

“Noted, sir” The pair responded, Nick raising right paw in a salute. “Dismissed!” Bogo bawled.

    Nick and Judy exited the room. As a door closed, they let out a groan. “That was tense.” Loosening his tie, tod whispered loudly. The partner ambled down the stairs. “I prayed so hard for him not asking what we did when we faced Savage .” The doe hissed. “Thanks tod, those hustler skills enabled me to conceal secrets.” He whined, appreciating his past life. “The less mammals know the truth about Hybrid. The better it is.” She ratiocinated. They stepped on the first floor, strolling through the hallway.

“Judy! Nick!” An enthusiastic chubby cheetah hailed the duo from across the entrance. “Hello Jude! Miss me?” The silvery female voice greeted.

    Judy changed direction, rushing towards her friends. “Hi Benjamin. Mornin’ Jasmine! How are you? It’s been a while~” The bunny greeted back, hopping to wrap her arms around bengal tigress neck. By the way, the rabbit lied. She just met Jasmine Fangmeyer yesterday… in the SCU group, who targeted them. The tiger had been recruited in the Savage Control Unit ( SCU) since the team was first formed but it was good to see their intimate without field gears.

“Sup, Clawhauser, Fangmeyer.” Nick followed, rolling his sleeves up in order to get more casual.

    Jasmine held the doe, gently put her down before addressing the fox “Hey, Wilde.”

“Jasmine and I are gonna go get a lunch. Wanna come?” Cheetah invited them, which Judy promptly replied. “Sure! That would be lovely~”

    Frankly, both Nick and Judy had a rough start with their fellow officers. The partners were discriminated against, which is inevitable because of their species. Even Fangmeyer used to sneer at Judy, thinking she was just a bunny. Nevertheless, after years of cooperation, others came to respect them for who they are. The duo did not hold a grudge; thus, the friendships were born. Nowadays, they can call each other ‘friend’ confidently.

-.-. --- -- .-. .- -.. . ...

“It’s funny… ” Judy uttered, confusing her workmates. “What, Fluff?” Nick questioned. Four of them were eating at Savanna Central local diner’s outdoor table. Guys were sitting on the same side while ladies were taking the seats of opposite side. Felines were facing one another, so were the partners.

“These days, Midnicampum holicithias has become an illegal plant. One cannot possess exceeding a certain amount which depends on legal documents one owns according to their occupation.” the doe explained. Everybody knew this fact about Midnicampum holicithias or Night howlers. However, her friends still did not understand what the doe tried to convey. “What’s funny then?” Jasmine spoke out for the rest, poking her seafood salad with a fork.

“They used to be all over the place. My family grew them to keep bugs off the produce. After Night howler case and the new law created, many label this plant as a menace. My parents even gotta find a substitute.” the doe elucidated.

“At least, those scarecrows are getting more jobs.” The tod joked. “Y’know they’re for discouraging birds, not bugs right? Besides, they’re barely practical.” His partner delivered the requisite reality-check. Both made the feline fellows chortle.

    The mention of Night howlers jogged Clawhauser’s memory. “Oh! Please remind me to hand you the case file-” He was requesting when Fangmeyer interjected. “C’mon guys! It’s lunch break. Don’t bring up the work. Anyhow,  are there anybody seeing someone… special?” She grinned cheekily. The cheetah awkwardly smiled. “Do donuts count?” He quizzed. “Sorry, Ben. No.” Tigress gave the answer Benjamin expected. “Well, I might be too good at making friends, so...” He muttered. Nick contemplated his pal’s statement. “Got friendzoned huh? Poor thing~” Fox sympathized.

“What about you, Judy?” Clawhauser passed the baton to Judy to tackle peeps’ attention. “You’ve always been popular. Must be lots of mammals hitting on ya.” said Jasmine. Every eyes pinned on the rabbit opening her mouth. “Nah~ I’m too busy working. My off-time is terribly uncertain. It’s better to hang out with my partner. We usually get off work at the same time. Crashing at his apartment for sharing meals and movie night, spending time with him in general is quite pleasant… Did I say something wrong?” Judy’s words left two big cats goggling at her. Tod guffawed at how innocent the bunny was.

“I’m not paying for this! Food doesn’t deserve even half the price!” At nearby table, dark brown slim bull moose grumbled. A koala waitress was scared by bull’s manner. Cops who witnessed the scene were about to take an action, especially the rabbit. “Hold up, Carrots.” Nick halted her. Judy was on the verge of disputing but “Quiet! You’re disturbing others!” cow moose that sit with aggressive moose scolded her probable associate. The bull angrily walked off. The waitress was unsure what to do. “Just leave him. He’s always like this.” The cow beamed at the koala.

“See~?” Nick smirked, picking up a bug burger from his plate to take a bite. “Wow! Wilde, you know them?” The tiger agent inquired, which the fox officer boastfully quipped. “I know everybody~ like reading a book, except this unpredictable cute bunny.” He referred to Judy in the way that would trigger her. Everyone anticipated a protest from the doe.

“Hey Nick, what does bug burger taste like?” Rabbit sniffed the smell of meat patty wafting through the air. Since her partner started digging in his meal, she had been captivated by the scent and the predatory ways of eating, fangs chomping breads, lettuce leaves and minced insects.

“Hmm? Like chicken sandwich but greasier I guess.” He gave a straight answer. “And how am I supposed to know the chicken taste?” She jested, resulting in a snigger from the rest.

“Kinda weird that prey’s interested in predator’s diet, isn’t it?” Cheetah presumed. “Cuz she is an unpredictable bun bun.” Nick bantered, reaching to pat Judy’s head. “Nick, don’t! Your fingers are oily!” She tried to block his paw. Bet she doesn’t even notice… Clawhauser and Fangmeyer thought, recollecting the dating question.

    The scream together with roar attracted mammals’ attention in the area. The police officers recognized the noise. “Savage ! Evacuate!” Judy directed, pushing Nick’s paw away, hurriedly taking control of the situation. Moose Savage appeared from ally. The muscular feral purple capreoline went on a rampage.

“Officer- I mean- Agent Fangmeyer to dispatch! Savage !---” Jasmine radioed while helping Benjamin clear the area. She told SCU the location detail. It was ironically fortunate that many mammals were frightened to be outdoors. Therefore, evacuation was rather easy. “Okay, team should arrive soon. Ben and you two- Jude!” She was shocked to see her rabbit friend holding a gun which is useless against most Savages. Normal gun can only slow them down at best.

“We’ll buy you some time. Go!” The doe insisted. Tigress grouched for a moment. However, she decided to leave with cheetah eventually, having no weapon and knowing how determined Judy can be.

“Alone at last.” Nick licked his paw, cleaning the burger grease off. Judy put back the gun. They confronted Savage fearlessly. “Ready, partner?” She brought out the black device with the purple circle core, 45 degree angled silver syringe on the left and maroon handlebar on the right.

“Born ready.” He turned around then fled. “Hey! Wait! Where are you going?” The doe panicked. “Hiding! No way I gonna fall asleep defenseless in the middle of battlefield!” The racing tod vociferated. “Ya gotta be kidding me!” She shouted, bewaring of the monster.

    Moose Savage attacked bunny officer. She dodged its antlers, putting the device on her in order not to inconveniently grasp the arm-sized device. Device’s belt wrapped itself around her waist mechanically. She kept hopping, darting away and avoiding all the attacks, pretty out of breath. “Finally!” She cheerily exclaimed when she spotted Nick’s blood in her syringe, meaning he found a place to hide and had proceeded with transformation. She was going to transform but the monster was still hunting her. The rabbit dived off from getting gored then rolled on the ground. Sitting with knees up, she gazed at Savage which was aiming on her. As it was hurtling towards Judy, she pressed the syringe. “ INJECT ” The device spoke robotically. Then she spontaneously twisted the handle anticlockwise. “ IGNITE ” The transformation’s broiling purple mist explosion blew the monster away, revealing the bio-armored fusion between a fox and a rabbit, Hybrid, shiny full body metal-like exoskeletons in Nick’s hustler color scheme, rabbit ears, fox tail and two amethyst headlights for eyes.

“Save~” Nick swept Hybrid’s legs before standing up, uttering a baseball vocabulary, implying he made it in time. “What took you so long?” Judy griped.

    Moose Savage arose, shaking off a daze from the stream blast. It and Hybrid simultaneously ran into one another. The monster jumped whilst Hybrid slid under it. Nick and Judy elongated claws. Cupped paws thrust upward, the claws stabbing Savage ’s abdominal skin. It slumped down ignominiously. Hybrid sprung up, striking a fighting pose.

“Let’s end this quick. I don’t wanna waste lunch break.” Doe talked with tod. She approached the injured moose.

    Suddenly, something crashed Hybrid from the side. Hybrid fell over and rolled. Fox got up on knees to observe what had just hit him and bunny.... or just bunny with his mind also in her body. “Other Savage !” Both yelled. A drooling purple spiky haired wolverine Savage emerged out of the blue. Naturally, Savages had spread across Zootopia since one year ago. It was no surprise to see more of them unexpectedly showing up.

    The moose got back on hoofed feet. Savage s were cautiously circling around Hybrid , who retracted the claws while inspecting beasts’ motion. Two monsters rapidly charged at the armored mixed breed from both left and right. Paw pressed the syringe. “ ACTIVATE ” Afterwards, Savages should assail their single prey. However, the event turned out to be them colliding with each other.

“We’re here!” An exuberant male tone pronounced. Hybrid stood a step away, mockingly glaring at the tricked monsters.

    Fox and rabbit just activated the phenomenal ability. Deception and survival are essential hustler’s skills that Hybrid adopted and applied for a fight, which consequently created the instant movement technique capacitating Hybrid to move in a split second. That was why Nick and Judy can relocate from one place to another or effortlessly elude SCU, sardonically reminding Judy of the time when she first learned that Nick was a con-artist and she was fooled by Nick pointing other way then he disappeared around a corner when she turned back.

    Hybrid span to generate momentum, swinging right leg around circularly to slash Savages’ flesh with protracted foot claw. The wolverine bent away in due course, thereby receiving shallower wound than the moose which was flopping down due to lacerations, still it was not enough to finish off the monster.

    Wolverine Savage drew back. Hybrid hounded it. Fists, kicks and claws did not reach the target. It ducked every strike and not let its foe get close. Tod and doe ceased roughing up Savage or attempting leastwise.

“Keeping a distance, I see~ Clever girl~” Fox quoted a movie. “I think it’s a male, Nick.” Bunny analysed this wolverine’s figure being larger than average females. “Doo do doo doo DO Doo do doo doo-” He hummed the movie theme, making his partner roll her eyes.

    Judy twisted the handlebar clockwise. “ FORM SHIFT-POLICE ” The device vocalized, releasing a purple fog covering Hybrid whose armour emit steam from gaps synchronously. The purple core and the amethyst headlights brightened in brume. The duo as one thrashed left arm to clear the haze, unveiling the same flamingo red armored hybrid but with some alteration, navy police hat with gold ZPD logo added to the top of helmet, rabbit ears flat against the back of head, blue arms and torso, dark scale vest, black armlets on both forearms, dark blue lower half except red feet, grey knee pads.

“Hybrid Police form. Policed to meet you~” Nick introduced Hybrid ’s other form to Savage s. They had not taken action yet, providing the partners an opportunity. Tod pushed the syringe. “ ACTIVATE ” Nothing happened. “Where is it?” Doe asked. “It takes time to summon it. You should have known, Carrots.” He informed. “No! Now, we need a pistol! That’s reason I chose this form!” She vociferated. “How am I supposed to know what to activate!?” The fox claimed. “Get a clue!!” The rabbit hollered.

    Whilst the pair were bickering, wolverine Savage engaged them. “Oh fudge!” Nick blurted out as Judy warded off the monster. Paws smacked it time and time again to divert its dashes towards them. “It’s not working! Physical strength is obviously weaker than Hustler form.” She shoved the wolverine, comparing the current form’s branch of power to the previous form’s. Savage tried to hurt Hybrid once more. “Then use a lifeline~” He suggested. Doe accepted an advice by pressing the syringe. “ ACTIVATE ” Wolverine pounced on Hybrid. Its fangs and nails hit hard.

“Easy, mate~ Ya don’t wish-” Nick used an Australian accent seeing that Savage was a wolverine which sort of reminded him of Outback Island even if wolverines are not originated from this district. “-to ruin those perfect teeth, do ya?” Judy finished the sentence. The monster was obstructed by a chain, handcuffs on both ends. Hybrid tied Savage ’s arms and muzzle with the chain, holding handcuffs in left paw while right punch pummeled the beast’s face. Next, Hybrid leaped over the dazed wolverine and hurled it across the street.

The monster, slipping out of the chain, intuitively landed on feet. Hybrid steadily strode forward as Savage recoiled. Nonetheless, distance was no obstacle anymore. The chain was lengthened. Hybrid swung the weighted chain in a large circle over the head and then whipped the monster. Handcuff smashed into wolverine’s rear. Hybrid yanked the chain back and lashed the monster’s flank with other end. It was thrashed by handcuffs on both ends, unable to defend or escape.

    The moose Savage rose after it recuperated, scuffing front right hoof on road surface. It sprinted, intending to butt the armored cop.

    The moose cried. All of a sudden, a car ran into Savage ’s side before it could touch Hybrid . The duo paused beating wolverine to look around. Moose Savage overturned. “Right on time~Just as planned.” Nick bragged about the arrived vehicle he summoned earlier. It is a hatchback sports car, painted in black with white on the doors, having a pair of sirens at the top. “It was just a coincidence, wasn’t it?” Judy felt that her partner did not plan anything. The car luckily came at the most appropriate time, rescuing them from an assault.

    The wolverine seized a chance to flee, limping down the road when Hybrid turned back. “It’s getting away!” Tod changed the subject, ignoring doe’s doubt. She focused the hobbling monster and then push the syringe. “ ACTIVATE ” The handcuffs vanished. Thereafter, a pistol, suitable for rabbit, popped up. It is a black AutoMag with a purple cylinder-like extra part and an auburn grip. Hybrid grabbed it to shoot at wolverine. Six bullets were fired in a mere second. Wolverine Savage suffered from several gun holes, beyond a dozen, as it collapsed. Nick chuckled, twirling the gun.

“Let’s finish this for real. We still have the other one to deal with.” Judy span the cylinder, sparks flying out.

“Freeze, Hybrid !” The pair, interfered, averted their gaze from the monster. “You’re here at last! Please save us~” Nick mocked SCU troop. Judy even saw tiger gal pal, full gear set, among the agents.

“Drop your weapon!” Demanding, they parked their vehicles surrounding Hybrid , sports car and Savages. The moose one bounced back, scramming through encirclement.

“I would love to stay and sign autographs but I really mustache~” He punned. Hybrid got in the sports car. “Stop!” White stallion commanded. “Can you handle Savage lying over there? Thank you, bye~” Nick saluted. Meanwhile, Judy drove off to chase the moose. SCU mammals must make a way. “Wait!” The horse grunted. When other agents checked the riddled wolverine, it had already begun to evaporated, indicating it was dead. “Darn you, Hybrid!!” He cursed.

    In the meantime, moose Savage was bolting blindly in Savanna Central, pursued by black and white. The car drew alongside the monster. The driver’s window was slid down, which allow Hybrid to talk to Savage despite the fact that it probably would not understand.

“Why vamoose, mr. moose?”

“Bun bun just made a pun.” Tod cracked up. “Guess I’m infected with your habit.” Doe joshed. Their car outpaced the moose then drifted to cut in front of it. Hybrid braked the sports car, opening the door, aiming the pistol in her left paw at Savage while her right paw twisting the device’s handlebar anticlockwise. “ CRITICAL BREAK ” The gun fired a energy ball. It exploded like a firework. The burning lights curved to strike the monster.

    Moose Savage, crumpling, completely disintegrated. Nick pretended to blow away gun smoke from the barrel though there was no smoke and Hybrid cannot blow the air because of a helmet.

“Sweet cheese. We’ve driven pretty far off from where we left your body, huh?” Judy had just realized. “We shall meet up later then.” He proposed. “Ahh, see ya, Nick.” She agreed, pulling the syringe to draw her blood out. It was teleported as she detransformed.

.- .-. -.-. .- -. .

    Fox opened his eyes. Apparently, his mind was transferred back to his body. He moaned, experiencing fatigue.

“You’re awake.” Deep gravely voice uttered next to tod.

“Hang on...” Knackered, Nick pressed the syringe, injecting blood teleported from Judy. All weariness had gone at once. “Much better, thanks for the ride, Fin.” Tod expressed his gratitude to the driver. He was presently sitting on a passenger seat of the moving van, not leaning against a wall like the doe believed.

    Back before Hybrid transformation, Nick texted his former partner-in-crime, Finnick the fennec fox, to pick him up where he fell unconscious and give him a lift. “Did you coddle my body when I passed out?” Nick examined his physical body.

“I’m being more than a generous guy. I carried somebody almost twice my size, fatass.” Finnick beefed, glancing the belt bound around fox’s waist. “Seriously, man, that thing you’re wearing is unnerving.”

“You mean MidniDriver ?” Nick tapped the morpher, MidniDriver , the devices he used with his bunny partner to transform into Hybrid. “Yeah, midnight whatever. Anyways, what’s the plan?” Finnick wondered, concentrating on the road. “Just go to the place I sent you a location. I have an appointment with Tuck boy~” Nick mentioned Jim Tuck, the raccoon who intruded Cliffside Asylum… who also accepted fox cop’s help.

- --- / -... . / -.-. --- -. - .. -. ..- . -..

[hey-i-wrote-a-story]

Chapter 8 Fishing with Grandpa

           Jacob Patterson loved being a grandfather. He didn’t think he would, what with that title marking his advancing years which he’d prefer to ignore, but he loved it all the same. He was able to dote on his grandson and shower him with treats, and gifts, and outdoor adventures without fear of spoiling him. He knew that his mother would see to all the discipline and denial and all that other parenting stuff. One of the perks of being the grandad was being the fun grownup. Besides, since his daughter’s marriage, he knew there wouldn’t be a man in the boy’s life, not in the traditional sense, so he could indulge in his old-fashioned notions from time to time with model building, playing catch, bicycle repair, and fishing trips. Today it was a fishing trip.

           It had been a fun afternoon for the both of them. The learned grandad with his near-limitless knowledge of tying flies and casting rods and watching the water’s surface for signs of movement below, and the eager grandson with his excited yearning to match his elder’s skill, making progress with every attempt. In another hour or two, afternoon would give way to evening, and as much as both participants wanted to stay out until the sun set, mom had been promised that they’d be back on the shore and ready to head for home upon her arrival. Jacob already looked forward to climbing in the backseat as his grandson regaled those in the front with stories of his adventure of Fishing With Gramps as said gramps beamed with pride. But they had to get ashore first.

           “Okay, that’s it for today, Grayson”, Jacob announced, doing his best to sound stern and authoritative. “It’s time to head back.”

           “Aww, c’mon, grandpa”, Grayson whined. “Can’t we stay out for just one more cast? I’m getting really good at it, honest. Watch, and I’ll show you!”

           Jacob rested a hand on Grayson’s small shoulder, stopping the lad from reeling back for a mighty cast of his line. “I know you’re getting good at it”, he grinned. “I’d say a fair sight better than I was at your age, as a matter of fact.”

           “Really??”, Grayson glowed at the praise.

           “Really. Why would I lie about a thing like that?”, Jacob asked, feigning offense. His white moustache bristled at the edges as he grinned. “But we’ll talk about it later after we’re on dry land. About face, kiddo!”

           Grayson whirled around in the water and bobbed about a bit. Both he and his grandfather were in chest high fishing waders, the heavy-duty variety with the boots attached. Grayson loved them. He loved the waders and the vest with its many pockets for stashing lures, and bait, and a compass, and a wad of beef jerky. He was also inordinately fond of his heavy checkered shirt and his tattered cap. He loved them because his grandfather had picked everything out for him, and was dressed the same way. So if Grayson was stuck wearing a gorilla costume, he’d be delighted with that too, provided his beloved gramps was similarly attired.

           “Now, remember how I taught you to walk in those”, Jacob cautioned. “I know you’ve got the life jacket on, but I don’t want you capsizing, all the same.”

           “But it’s fun to jump when I walk”, Grayson insisted. “It feels like I’m floating on air every time I lift my foot up. It’s like I’m an astronaut on a planet with less gravity!”

           Less gravity. The kid was sharp as a whip and getting smarter all the time. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be coaching his old gramps about new-fangled fishing techniques. “All the same, spaceman. I don’t want you going under.”

           “You’d catch me”, Grayson said confidently.

           “Not if it meant dropping this line of trout”, Jacob smirked. “Don’t overestimate your worth, there.”

           “I wouldn’t sink anyways”, Grayson assured him. “I already tested it.”

           “You did what?”

           “I jumped off the dock once when I had my waders all buckled on. I floated. My feet stick up out of the water like a life raft, but I don’t sink.”

           “When the Sam Hill did you do this, then??”

“Last time we went fishing. When you had to run up to the house and told me to wait at the dock. You never said if that meant on the dock or floating close by.” Grayson snickered as he kept hopping and bounding lightly along as the water receded from above the waist to below, to halfway down his thighs as they moved closer to shore.

“You stinker!” Jacob reached out and took hold of the back of Grayson’s life jacket and hefted him up off his feet, leaving the toes of his boots to drag in the sand and silt. “It’s dock fishing for you on our next time out, you wait and see.” Grayson laughed, amused as always when his soft-hearted gramps tried to act as if he were “taking charge” as he put it. Grayson threw his head back, snorting and giggling, trying to catch his gramps’ eye. He knew that if he met his eye while laughing, Gramps was a goner for sure and would wind up laughing right along with him, regardless how hard he resisted.

But the glint of the late afternoon sun on the water made Grayson squint. Eyes closed tight, the boy could still see a field of sparkling after-effects behind his eyelids. “Ack! Sun in the eyes!”, he cried.

“Well, get’cher head back down where it belongs”, Jacob scolded. “Don’t crane your neck like a…well, a crane. Here, we’re almost out anyways.” Jacob set his grandson back down on his feet but kept a guiding hand at the boy’s back. They were almost up on the thick grass beyond the shore at this point, the water now down to their ankles. “You alright?”

Grayson rubbed his eyes and found everything back to normal when he opened them. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay. I’m good now.” Only then did Jacob feel it was safe to remove his hand from his grandson’s back and leave him to stand on his own. For a brief time, they both just looked out at the lake, caught up in the beauty and serenity of the water, the grove of trees on the far side, and the occasional gull flying by.

“It’s really pretty out here”, Grayson said at last.

“It is that.”

“I like how it’s so quiet and you can just look at everything without having to really listen much.” He stood for another moment and did just that. “All the little flashes of light on the lake look kind of like jewels or something”, he observed.

“Yes, they rather do at that”, the grandfather said, reflecting on how often he’d thought the same thing after a day’s fishing.

“It’s cool”, Grayson offered, not yet having the words to convey his feelings about the quiet grace of nature. Then, “I like how some of the sparkles look like they’re floating up off the water. I never noticed that before.”

Jacob was about to tell his grandson about how the combination of the lake water and the fading light of late afternoon and evening can play tricks on your eyes. Or at least he was, until he saw them himself.

“I’ll be…”, he muttered. “What is that? That’s no trick of the light.”

Small sparkling puffs of energy blew lightly across the surface of the lake towards the two fishing companions and proceeded to float up to hover around their heads.

“Woooww…”, Grayson said quietly. “I’ve never seen anything like this before!”, he exclaimed. “What are these, grandpa?”

As the small cluster of energy puffs began to whisk around them, Jacob stared intently. That was a good question. What were they? Not mere seedlings or spores—they’d not glow like this if they were. Insects? They did swarm about like bugs.

“It’s way too early for these to be fireflies”, Grayson deduced. “I wonder if we can catch ‘em in jars like them, though.” He reached out a curious finger but his grandfather brought his arm back.

“Let’s not touch them just yet, Grayson. In case they have stingers or bite, like nettles or a chigger.” Something in Jacob’s mind sensed danger. The hair rose on the back of his neck as one of the glowing wisps zipped past his head. Firmly, he took hold of Grayson by the shoulder. “You know what? I’ll bet they look even better from the grass. All glowing and floating against the water like that. Let’s get out of the water all the way now.”

As Jacob began to hurry his grandson along—not much further to go—one of the energy puffs (nettles? thistles?) flew down and landed on Grayson’s waders.

           “Hey look! I think it likes me.”  Grayson reached down to his glowing passenger--perhaps it could be coaxed to climb into his hand--when a sharp spark shot for them glowing ball and burnt his finger. “Ow! Hey, watch it!”

           Grayson tried to swat the glowing ball away, but it wouldn’t budge. “I think it’s stuck”, Grayson frowned. “G’wan, shoo!” After another ineffectual swat, there were half a dozen glowing nettles clinging to Grayson’s waders. “Gramps, they’re all over.”

           Jacob tried to swipe the energy thistles away from his grandson, doing no more than gather some on himself, which clung to his sleeves and his vest.

           “They’re sure sticky little devils”, Jacob chuckled, trying his best to hide the fear he felt rising inside him with a lighthearted tone of voice. “Let’s hurry now onto the grass and head uphill towards the cabin. See if that doesn’t discourage ‘em.”

           As Jacob helped his grandson quickly lift his muddy boots from the shallows toward the soft grass, the thistles increased in number and in aggression. The buzz that was nearly silent from one or two of them became a rising hum that rang in the ears. In moments, both grandson and grandfather’s heavy waders were covered in the glistening thistles, which began to spark energy angrily, even as more of their number settled on their victim’s sleeves and caps.

           “Grampa”, Grayson cried. “What ARE they? Why won’t they come off? Make them stop!”

           “I’m tryin’, buddy! Just hold tight!” But Jacob’s words were hollow. He couldn’t brush the stinging thistles from himself, much less rescue his grandson. Jacob swung at the floating thistles with his fishing rod, hoping to sweep them away or swat them out of the air. Neither approach worked. Soon both were engulfed in a swarm of angry sparking lights. The smell of burning fabric and melting rubber began to assault the afternoon air. The stench of burning flesh and hair was not far behind.

           “GRANDPA!!” Grayson thrashed wildly, having no more effect than anything else had. The young boy screamed for his grandfather’s help even as his eyes lost their natural color and surged with a sickly orange. The boy’s soft voice was replaced by something horrible; low, wet, and gurgling. His body stiffened and his fingers gnarled like claws. His small body jerked and spasmed so violently that it was punctuated by the sound of breaking bones.

           Jacob screamed as well, but in defiance against these tiny creatures and out of fear for his grandson whom he adored beyond measure. The last conscious thing that Jacob Patterson did was rip his fishing vest from his back and attempt to drape its underside, still free from the attacking thistles, over his grandson like a cloak to protect him. He was still moving forward, arms outstretched and vest offered, as a cloud of thistles rushed in to cover his chest and back. Jacob’s eyes went orange and his shriek of pain melted into some kind of inhuman roar as he fell upon the writhing form of what had once been his beloved grandson.

           Above, held aloft by the steady beat of huge leathery wings, the monster observed with dispassionate eyes. The destruction of these two beings was total. It was still not satisfied.

             “Is that the right time? Is the clock on your dash right?”

The nervous mother tapped the small plastic disc on the dashboard, as if the jostling of her fingernail might prompt the clock’s hands to suddenly adjust themselves.

           “Gretchen, I swear to God, you could make needless worrying a full-time career. We’re almost there. Just sit back and exhale already.”

           Judith held the steering wheel with one hand and gently guided her wife back into her seat with her right. She offered a reassuring smile while keeping her eyes on the road. Gretchen began to chew on a fingernail.

           “It’s just that we are running late”, Gretchen said, trying to justify her anxiety. “I don’t want Grayson to worry.”

           “He’s fishing with your dad, for Pete’s sake”, Judith said. “The sun could set and rise again before he noticed the time. He loves it out there. Besides, we’re only five minutes late.”

           “Closer to seven, actually.”

           “Relax. Everything is fine. You’ll see.”

           When the women pulled into the small dirt lot just off the boat launch, they both had a feeling that everything was most certainly not fine. Judith quickly turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. “Pop? Gray? You guys even in from the lake yet or are you hiding somewhere gobbling down your catch?”

           Gretchen was less composed as she leapt from the car, leaving the door opened as she ventured onto the grass and across the lawn. “Grayson honey? Dad? Where are you?” Despite Judith’s jibes, it was unlike Grayson to not be waiting for his moms as they pulled up, waving the day’s catch in the air as his proud grandpa stood behind him.  She hurried to the section of lawn that dipped down into the lake. It was her dad’s favorite spot to wade out into the water and cast his line. Every once in a great while, her father would be busy untangling lines or helping her son with the fish and would fall a bit behind in their schedule. But not today. Today there was no one. “Dad?”, she called with louder voice. “Grayson??”

           “You suppose maybe they’ve gone up to the house?”, Judith offered, although that didn’t seem likely, as they rarely went inside before dark unless there was bad weather. There was an eerie quiet to the area, as if everything living or otherwise was holding its breath. “There’s not need to get all worked up”, Judith said, in a failed attempt to prevent her better half from doing just that. “It could be something as simple as your dad needing to get something from the neighbors. Or more likely, that Mrs. McGillicuddy has got them at her place and is stuffing Gray with cookies as reward for a successful outing on the lake.”

           “Even so”, Gretchen said. “They wouldn’t have left these here.” She reached down and picked up a handsome string of trout from the ground, covered in sand and stray weeds.

           Judith was now looking around with eyes as keen as Gretchen’s. “G, look. They wouldn’t have left these behind, either.” Judith stooped down and picked up two fishing rods, one child sized and one for an adult. There was also a handful of lures scattered along the sand.

           They needed no further searching or discussion. Without another word, Judith was on her phone trying to reach Jacob. Gretchen was already dialing 9-1-1. At least one of them got an answer.

           Nearby, out of sight of the two concerned mothers, two pairs of half-melted fishing waders drifted lazily down the shoreline toward the next dock. Stray bits of cloth and charred chunks of life jacket were either stuck to them or floated alongside. A glowing and stinking orange goo oozed slowly out of the ravaged waders, sinking down to settle on the lake bed below, raising a bit of sand, its lingering heat causing steam to rise off the lake surface and disturb the algae hovering around the odd plant. As it cooled, the odd orange substance mixed with the small stones and gravel along the sandy bottom, formless and luminescent, giving no indication it had ever been the doting Jacob Patterson and his young grandson.

             High above, the monster soared. Its eyes sparked, small lances of electricity arced from one orb to the other. Things were so different now. The garb, the coverings these creatures wore, had changed drastically since last it had escaped its hellish confines. It knew now that no matter how fit its prey, lack of covering would result in its loss. And weightier skins would provide little protection were the subjects too old or too young. It was getting closer. At least there was that.