#I didn’t want to draw his hat which i guess is fitting now

[problemdogz]

congratulations on your voice gig mom, I hate you for ruining the greatest anime ever but I got you a cake

[whereismyhat5678]

I'm gonna take a lot of time

GIVE US ALL THE HEADCANONS JUICE!

please 🙏

ALRIGHT THIS TIME IT’LL BE A MIX- (I missed some things about Peppino and I’m just gonna do the people that come into my head at the moment-)

ALRIGHT HEADCANNONS IS A GO-

- I FORGOT TO MENTION- When Peppino got older, like present Peppino, he got into playing golf, he’s pretty good at it too! He wears the entire set he got the golfer dad hat the golfer dad fit he got everything. I wanna draw him in a golf fit now-

- Peppino’s parents were pretty tame, his Father was a mechanic/chef and his Mom was a stay at home, she was THE SWEETEST person you would ever meet, Pep was definitely a Mama’s boy- His Father was good too, he taught him how to cook and make GREAT pizzas

- After The War Pep was still a bit uneasy but he still kept in touch with his parents, they always told him if they ever needed them they would be there (Now in the present he still talks to them! They’re great ❤️❤️)

- As a kid Peppino was a bit of a rascal, he liked eating a ton of sweets which is why he was a bit bigger than most kids, BUT he could REALLY do a good punch, he was the strongest kid around, if you needed him to do something he’ll do it as long as you pay him 5 cents or give him candy 🤷‍♀️

(- I guess the anxiety didn’t really start until the War….. That shit really does something to you…..)

- But still I think before the war he was still athletic at the least, yeah he was, again, chubby but he could run pretty fast and was really good at punching- He was gonna do football but he ended up doing soccer cuz he loved the sport so much, he was great at it

- As a Teen he was still really talkative but more serious- you get that teen angst once you get older y’know? Yeah that was him, he wasn’t much of a trouble maker but he did stay out late nights and partied a lot, this is also the time he was a big flirt, to girls AND boys 🔥 (“Yeah I like boys too, watcha’ gonna do about it?”)

- I SHOULD ALSO MENTION when he was a kid he met Mr. Stick

- I call Mr. Stick Samual since at the time of picking a name for him I kept meeting people named Samual- It was pretty funny-

- Stick was a pretty shy kid, it was mostly cuz he was bullied a lot and not many kids liked him (except for Peppino, they were good friends)

- Y’know Eustace Bagge from Courage the Cowardly Dog? Remember that episode that showed a younger version of him and he didn’t have any hair? Yeah that’s what I picture Stick to look like as a kid-

- Poor honey was lonely, and unfortunately he had to move away for a short time because his Dad got a new job :(

- Should I mention his parents? His Dad was a big ol’ business man and his Mom was a Doctor, unfortunately his mother was really overprotective and feared for her baby which passed to Stick as a kid and therefore was even more scared, nervous? He was just anxious-

- I think Stick doesn’t talk to his parents much because, one his Mom didn’t even want him to move out, and two his Dad, although tried to be there like hanging drawings on the Fridge and called him Sport and stuff like that, he just was really busy, and wanted him to be in the same business as he was which intrigued Stick but he just didn’t like the feeling of being tied down by his Mom so he moved back to where he grew up as a kid. FAR AWAY.

- When he did get back it took him a while to find Peppino but when he did they got lunch and just hung out, they had a good time knowing each other again :] (Throughout the years they did change a lot, Pep got more anxious and had a bit of anger problems and Stick was more stuffy and serious, and other than the fact that after Stick dropped from his job and kind of become a con artist and…. Asked for money most of the time- They were still good friends, although Pep was annoyed with the fact that Stick made him pay at the Tower, he’s still angry about it-)

- Stick met Burton at a lab, Stick took engineering science (unfortunately he didn’t stay for long but he still likes inventing-) and he met Burton as an appointment.

- Burton is the most gentle soul imaginable, after their appointments Stick started to want to be around him more, which they ended up doing when after Stick was kicked out (for a certain accident 😬) and moved in together in their new apartment.

- Like the concept art, the apartment they live in is haunted, Stick constantly is seeing shit in the building and he’s scared but a bit intrigued, he’s gonna do something about it eventually 🤷‍♀️

- Burton stays at the apartment most of the time, he cooks and he cleans and Stick does- whatever the fuck he’s doing to get money- and come back to a very loving caring kind husband 💕💕

- Yes they did get married, and Burton’s brother the Pizza Pope helped them, he is a very supportive brother 🫶🫶

- When Stick comes home angry he goes straight onto Burton and screams into the void of softness (his chest) and hugs him afterwards, Burton is like a big ol’ pillow and he’s very comforting 💗💗💗

- ALSO, I’d like to think Burton is very soft spoken, like a very calm comforting deep voice. And he almost reminds me of a big cuddly teddy bear 💖💖💖

- Burton asked how Stick got all the money and why he was gone for so long, (poor hun was worried sick SOMEONE GIVE HIM A HUG) Stick replied, “TOWER”, and walked to bed and stayed there for hours, he was very drained-

Oh I have some Brick headcannons now YAAAY-

- All the rats in the Tower have their own personalities, and the poor things probably got hurt along the way from Pizza Head not only from him experimenting on the Fake clones and having them loose, therefore they attacked a lot of the rats, but they also just have to generally fend for themselves because of how dangerous the tower is…

- Brick is a civilized rat, although he is feral when he needs to, and he didn’t trust humans much before Pep, trust me, he had a grudge.

- He likes to play chess, poker, any type of card game really-, he’s athletic, a therapist, a doctor in philosophy, AND he’s known for being the BEST cheese maker there is, he makes the best home made cheese delights!!

- HE ADORES CHEESECAKE, specifically strawberry!!

- He’s also a smoker, not to often to were he’s addicted but he favors having a cigar or cig or just a pipe every once in a while (he favors the pipe-)

- Have I mentioned that although he doesn’t do it often, he can cook! Mostly stews or anything made with cheese- he can be a pretty good chef 💪💪

- He’s also quite strong, his claws mostly help with defense and he has a strong jaw but other than than he can throw a good punch.

- Okay, when he finally got to meet Gustavo he was VERY skeptical, and Gus tried to get him out of the dark by being sweet but it really didn’t work. Brick did not trust him.

- Gus was jumped by Brick

- After a little…. Incident…..Brick saved Gus, and Gus is forever grateful, and Brick, well, he discovered being pet was the best thing in the universe. ESPECIALLY BELLY RUBS 🫶🫶🫶🫶

- Brick was corporative with Gus at the least, the Tower was the worst thing to happen and Brick hated it, so he was more than happy getting Gus and Pep out with the reward of being set free from the tower.

- When more levels were completed Gus and Brick started to bond, and once Brick found that he really did like being with Gus, he started getting protective…

- If anyone were to threaten to hurt Gus, you are getting jumped. By a 220 pound 6’7 beast that has the bite strength of a jaguar.

- He will kill someone if told too, but Gus would never have him do that. He did almost kill Snotty though-

- AND FINALLY, after moving in with Gus and Pep he wanted to bond more with Peppino since he’s seen that Gus REALLY likes him, therefore he feels he should like him too. After a few attempts it finally happened where Pep patted his head in contentment. Brick was finally able to go in the bed with them both, he is very happy now :]

(Gus wanted him on the bed to begin with, it’s just Pep was hesitant)

ALRIGHT FINALLY I’M DONE- I know it was long and a bit of a scatter hopping to one character after the other but hey- HEADCANNONS ARE AWESOME 👏 👏👏

[chilling-in-the-void-alone]

I want to make pathetic rambles about the distortion for a second,, so I’m gonna do that 👍 (if you don’t like “critique” (barely that) for the common neon colours portrayal of the distortion just scroll past I guess?)

While I am an enjoyer of the neon eye-scorching distortion/spiral,,, I won’t argue its fun to draw and its fun to look at. But it honestly isn’t how I imagined the distortion and I want to ramble about how I imagined it (before fandom changed it a bit for me I guess??) I imagined it as slightly off desaturated warm colours if that makes sense. Like the colours you find on your grandparents floral sofa, but off. Like colours that should look nice together but they are just slightly the wrong hue and saturation and end up clashing when put together. Kind of like a long hallway with warm lights that end up warping the colour of the wallpaper into something just slightly different.

(Maybe its just that I’ve been thoroughly affected by the horribly long hallway to my therapists office,, it could have come out of a horror story, one day I’ll write something based on it lol). Now for my “reasoning” eg I want to dissect why I got these vibes from the statements about the distortion. 

So in Helen’s statement (Mag 47: The New Door), which I’m pretty sure is the first time we get to know what is in the hallways properly, “the walls were papered over in a swirling green pattern. Running down the middle of the faded yellow carpet was a rug, black and thick”, the colours just read as off for me here, it does rely on the green I’m imagining but yeah weird desaturated colours that don't fit together. 

There’s also the general ties to childhood/nostalgia?? that it has a couple times, I’m not actually sure if that was intentional (as many other statements regarding the distortion don’t have this but oh well some did and I latched onto it I guess)

One statement that stands out to me is ‘Mag 146: Threshold’ with the distortion following the statement giver since childhood. The vibe of the first segment of the statement with the skipping rope, has the kind of feeling I’m talking about, "I look over, and in the weak orange glow of my nightlight, I can see the heavy wooden handle of my skipping rope moving slowly across the floorboards" its hard to find a quote that really works for it that doesn't just include me copying and pasting the first segment but yeah that part is what I'm talking about.

As I've said before, the colours you find on your grandparents floral sofa, sun bleached from time and just slightly off from what it looked like originally, currently being affected by the orange light of the kitchen in the evening before being picked up. you know, nostalgia.

Or (can't forget my favorite person to subject my friends to rambles about) Michael Shelley and how he was affected by the incident of his his friend getting taken by "something like [the distortion]" (Mag 101: Another Twist) during his childhood which caused the whole domino affect with the institute and The Great Twisting. 

It’s Warped nostalgia I guess?

Generally, I find it all really interesting seeing other peoples interpretations of how things look and such, as tma is a podcast. I guess I just wanted to throw my hat in the ring for how I imagined the distortion 👍 and explain why I think I imagined what I did during my first listening :D

also I didn't mean for this to get so long, apparently instead of writing my comparative essay I wrote this instead

[welcome-to-my-reality]

@spacecatdet​ @bluiex​ Sadly, I'm not an artist nor am I good at describing visual looks of people. Also I didn't really put too much thought into the fungi choice it was just "poisonous mushroom? ok good" lol. Also my sporelingsona makes some assumptions on the Father/Mother Spore AU so unless it's approved by you two, at a baseline this is an au because afaik some of these concepts are not universally canon among the various different spore au's. (i.e. Scar & Grian having kids which are ‘royal sporelings’) Also his story is way angstier than I intended LMAO... Oops? I really just wanted to make him just an ordinary caretaker/protector kinda guy but I guess I wanted to be quirky :P

My sporelingsona's name is Telperion. However, it was not always that. The boy before Telperion is long gone, and when he wasn't - he was a nobody. He grew up in the poorer part of town that was overlooked by many mayors of the district. Though the new mayor, Mumbo, was making a significantly better effort than his predecessors it wasn't enough to get the young ones life out of the gutter. His parents vanished early on, and he lived on scraps and the desperate hope that one day his parents would return. They wouldn't, not ever. Eventually, one week he did not gather enough pity from the more fortunate townsfolk to get by, and in a fit of dejected delirium, ran off into the forest where everyone was warned not to go, by way of people vanishing mysteriously. He ran and he ran, until he collapsed face first into- was this grass purple? And writhing? He didn't know. He saw figures surround him, but when they saw someone on the cusp of adulthood, clearly struggling - on a path which end was drawing closer, they let down their guard. They beckoned their Father, who's heart panged for the young one and he held out his hand, deadly gaseous wisps flowing out from him. For a moment, the scene looked familiar. Sitting low on the ground, with a tall man reaching his hand down. It felt like home. It felt like his dad found his way home, though he knew the Father wasn't his. (Not yet, at least.) Uncaring of the consequences, he held out a shaky hand and joined the hivemind.

Thus, Telperion was born.

Now, onto what the actual 'sona is. His associated fungi is the Green-spored parasol - Chlorophyllum molybdites. There are many small growths on his body, but there is a large one on the left side of his head, angled as if it were a classy wide-brim hat. He wears a mixture of grey, pick and gold, with the most notable article of clothing being a long, pink scarf that trails to the floor. It's loose enough that it frees his neck to allow shrooms to grow and spores to spread from his neck and it's settled nicely on the canopy of shrooms on his shoulders. Mycelium has woven in the thread of the scarf, reinforcing its durability and allowing him to control it like a tentacle - mostly used for defense.

Speaking of defense, because of his lack of supportive figures in the past, he has taken up the role of a caretaker, and will watch over, guide and protect newly-turned sporelings, or sporelings born amongst their citizens. Normally if they are threatened, he will attempt to subdue and restrain - though, not without violence - the intruder before either turning them or questioning Father or Mother for their fate. However, due to his loyalty and respect to Father Spore for personally saving him, if a royal sporeling (direct offspring of Father and Mother Spore) is among those he is watching for that day - whether they are simply in the group or he is specifically tasked to watch over them specifically - he will abandon all pretense of trying to add to their ranks and assault with extreme prejudice until they are nothing more than a feast for his ravenous charges. I mean, he’s a caretaker. Gotta feed the kids ;) Notes: I just reread the hivemind post and it specifically says “You have been turned by the mycelium and now a sporeling. We want to see what you look like!” so oops on that front, this is based off my OC that I made when I was like 12 and I’ve been running with it since because... why not lol?

this is what my gaudy MC skin looks like so imagine a big ass parasol shroom on his head, a long ass mycelium ridden scarf, more realistic clothing and that’s pretty much him 

also im sparkle anon hi

[ran-orimoto]

I am on cloud nine to see Junzumi fandom waited years to have so much content monthly. Drawings, stories. Thank you. Do you accept prompt games? The story of Junpei crying over the Koujirou newborn made me crying. Would you writesone similar shot? Izumi and Junpei deal with baby or Izumi conceives him and tells Junpei or whatever but I want more them x family stories.

{ • This Anon asked me to write this at the beginning of September. Of September, guys. And I’m showing up with this today, which is really embarassing but at the same time I tried writing as much as I can to make myself forgiven. This isn’t really any of your prompts, but I had this idea in my mind and I wanted to write it. It kinda fits, I guess?

• Some dialogues are in italics to indicate Junzumi is speaking italian

• I will explain more about my silly “worldbuilding” hcs on AO3 very probably. }

“SOMETIMES WE LET OURSELVES THINK”

Izumi rushed out of the weirdly-silent kitchen, three large dishes distributed on both her hands. She turned her head from a side to the other making her tall hat risk to slip off her head, but she didn’t really care when it actually happened.

“Who cares…” She muttered, trying maintaining her calm.

She couldn’t help beaming when she spotted Junpei standing in front of the only occupied table with his arms and legs splayed in a very theatrical fashion. In other occasions, she wouldn’t have needed to get closer to understand what he was holding and the reason why a toddler was clapping his hands enthusiastically. Still, that night she was aware she herself absolutely had to be the one serving those steaming meals, so she walked to the table with a triumphant appearance and that wide smile that could have never missed while she was facing clients.

“Here is your dinner!” She announced, placing the plates on the tablecloth with impeccable precision Junpei and the whole family silently observed in awe.

Then, she bowed at them and Junpei did the same, accidentally hitting the table and making it shake, its full glasses included. Izumi glared at him, as fast as a bolt not to be noticed, but she melted at the sight of the lively kid laughing at Junpei’s clumsiness. Reassured, she proceeded to apologize to their clients, explaining them unfortunately the blackout from a while before had greatly slowened the preparation of the last orders of the night, which were the adults’ spaghetti alla chitarra in ragù di polpo and the little boy’s cotoletta alla milanese.

“We will offer coffee when you’re done, and also our cantuccini, which I personally find extremely good along with a good liquor,” Junpei politely added , before vivaciously grinning at the child and his big orbs looking up at him with expectation. “And I can’t forget about this little obedient gentleman’s dessert!”

Izumi sighed as he struggled to put his colourful tissues in the many pockets of his apron…And the ones of the trousers hidden under it…And the other ones of his sweater. She did hope he wasn’t going to forget those things in there again, just like it had happened last time she had loaded the washing machine, had turned it on and had soon discovered she, indeed, he had made such a disastrous mess. She knew she should have checked every inch of his clothes, -maybe his socks too, who knew-, but back then tiredness had won over her after having waited for Junpei to return for the whole night: she hadn’t seen him for more than three months and she was so glad he was finally on holiday now.

They left the trio of diners alone, so they could savour their so-longed food.

Waiting for them to finish, Izumi and Junpei started preparing the restaurant for the night: she went outiside with a pile of blankets under her arm, while he was sent to the storage room to get a broom, a mop and a bucket.

Despite the fact they were pretty far from each other, their amused gaze would occasionally search for their partner’s silhouette or even their shadow. Both wanted to see each other in the middle of their assignments, especially Izumi, who found it hard not to often turn her head in his direction to spot the knowing looks he was sending to that child as well.

Sometimes…Just sometimes…, She told herself as she overlapped layers of soft blankets in a box laying on the ground. Suddenly, she felt a lump in her throat. She gasped at the realization she couldn’t give a proper continuation to that sentence wanting to take shape in her mind.

Thus, she stood up and forced herself to ignore what Junpei was doing. She contemplated the starry sky, instead, and those tall trees offering a partial frame to that scenario.

She considered her thoughts could have never been sent away by the wind of that night: only a much stronger and faster wind than that breeze could have freed her. Actually, it dawned on the young woman letting them leave on those impalpable, weak waves would have pushed her to spread her arms to the firmament to get them back and hold them tightly against her chest, so they would have never parted from her again.

Sometimes…Just sometimes…

She heard cheerful voices coming from inside and approaching her pretty rapidly, until Junpei’s orbs peeped out from the door window, accompanied by smaller ones showing up at the level of his knees.

“Chef, which dessert would you pick for such a good little man?”

She blinked at him impassively, too shaken by the effects that night was provoking on her, but she managed to crack a kind smirk by controlling whatever was happening in her soul.

“Chef Orimoto recommends…A good chocolate soufflè!” She happily exclaimed, totally gaining her composure back by putting her hands on her hips.

“Un fondant au chocolat!” Junpei echoed, resorting to that bit of french he had had to learn to play some tenor roles. He sniggered at that flan taking consistency in his imagination, excitement filling his veins at the mere drawing its contours in his fervent fantasies. Still, an intrusive memory destroyed that fantasy in thousand pieces, the same destiny his grin met. “W-wait, what?!” He shouted, dismayed, letting the kid’s hand go and taking Izumi aside for some seconds. His spheres, which were filled with the colour of his favourite food, were swelling of disappointment. “At lunch you told me we had no chocolate soufflè left!”

“Yes, I did. But now I will cook another one. I’m a chef, remember.” She simply replied him, doe-eyed and as lovely as she could get, and she abandoned him with his mouth open.

“This is unfair. Unfair!”

…

Just under an hour passed before the couple could finally close the restaurant and go to bed. The kid said goodbye to his larger, much larger new friend with a hug making his parents gasp in shock. Needless to specify Junpei didn’t mind that sign of affection. He limited himself to laugh so softly it looked like if he was in the grip of a hiccup attack. After all, how could he have kept himself from reacting in that way? It was so endearing to see those minuscule, -from his perspective, at least-, hands trying to spread as much as they could to press themselves against his belly.

Out of blue, the child reached out to him with a short arm, trying to find something in his shorts’ pockets with the other.

“For you,” He chirped, placing on Junpei’s palm a little toy train. “Because you said you liked twains. Mamma said I will share lot of my toys because the stwork is taking little brother here soon. I want to share my twains with you, Signor Junpei”.

It took a while for Izumi to make him follow her back home, but he still seemed so thunderstruck when she managed to make him move.

She sweetly smiled as they headed home below pinkish whispers of wind blooming like cherry trees, before Izumi’s mellowed sight.

Sometimes…Just sometimes…I like losing myself in thoughts.

XXX

After they had got married, the next step had been to buy a house that was theirs and only theirs; a house they could have called home; a house they could have decorated the way they pleased unlike the impersonal apartment they used to share in Venice.

Surely, both didn’t really expect Izumi would have got the chance to open a restaurant so soon. They imagined they would have remained in Venice for their whole existence, among gondolas and frequent floods, whereas life had eventually led them to the italian star par excellence: Milan.

There their previous efforts had allowed them to buy a lovely two-storey house that wasn’t that far from Milan’s center. That was an advantage for Izumi, who had decided to settle her restaurant in a pretty large alley of that zone, and for Junpei too, since he didn’t need to take the tram to get to La Scala theatre. His dream was to get to perform on that brilliant stage someday, -like it was for every opera singer, after all-, but for now he would keep on settling for rows of offers coming from the most disparate italian theatres…And for watching refined shows at La Scala.

They had taken months to finish furnishing the rooms of the first floor, besides their bedroom and bathroom, and there was still so much to do! Moreover, their living room was still missing the sofa they had ordered from a shop and there was a sort of hole making that room area look so empty.

Therefore, when the following morning that sofa finally got home, Izumi couldn’t resist to immediately try it.

Certainly, it would have been much better if the delivery hadn’t arrived so early, when they were still in their dream world, sleeping in the weirdest positions because the previous night’s tiredness had been stronger, much stronger than their good will to get rid of their work clothes and decently put a blanket over their bodies.

When Junpei opened the door, he was so sure he looked like some ghost with a considerable weight on, and who knew why he had refused help from the delivery man. Izumi found him forcing the packed sofa through the passage of the door and ran to him when he fell on the parquet, after having succeeded in his intent.

Now the sofa was at the center of the living room, just like it was supposed to be, and an exahusted yet happy Izumi was tasting how comfortable it was with her eyes closed. She heard the noises Junpei was producing in the kitchen, from him dropping a pod in the coffee maker to his thumb heavily pressing the power button; from him slowening his movements not to pour the beverage on the cupboard to him…Probably drinking it all in one breath, predictably burning his tongue.

He obviously cursed, but his pain didn’t keep him from approaching her with clumsy steps and placing his hands on the backrest.

They rapidly shifted, though, and rested at the sides of her neck transmitting a warmth that wasn’t only a physical sensation. Gentle palms went up and down on her skin and filled her chest with invisible fluttering butterflies.

“It’s perfect,” He whispered, so slowly it seemed he didn’t want to wake up a dormient angel.

“This is exactly what it looked like in your project,” She underlined and, in response, he bursted in a loud laughter whose power projected itself on her shoulders, making those caring hands suddenly generate an earthquake spreading in her whole body.

“It’s so weird to hear something I’ve designed has come to life, not going to lie.” He managed to confess among his chuckles which mixed with occasional ones coming from her.

However, she still gave her best to sound and appear as serious as possible, raising a slender index in his direction with simulated confidence.

“Well, first of all, it’s not that hard to decorate the rooms of a house…”

“You think so? Geez…”

“Secondly, you stayed grounded and didn’t imagine weird stuff,” She continued attempting to suffocate her desire to let her repressed giggles free. She couldn’t help recalling the complex wedding cake he had drawn on a random paper before they got married: it was as tall as San Marco’s belltower, -as he had jubilantly described back then-, it was made of enormous amounts of chocolate he had calculated with strange multiplications, divisions and equivalencies, -which she had obviously ignored in his blabbing-, and, most of all, it was impossible to be prepared. That was the reason why what he got was an ordinary three-layered wedding cake covered with strawberries and cherries, -choice made by the bride, who had also baked it, of course-, and with some chocolate chips here and there, -a generous concession to the groom since she couldn’t stand the idea of getting him disappointed during their special day…-.

“I like thinking big,” He shrugged, amused, as if he had plunged in her same recollection. He decided to sit next to her making the pillows she had accurately put on the sofa bounce and fall off it.

“And I’ve grown big. Maybe too big,” He winced in embarassment, scratching his head and hesitating before getting them back.

Izumi answered him by getting closer and latching onto his thick arm. She didn’t really care about the pillows on the carpet, since now that his broad presence was there, next to her, her contemplation of their new living room had changed nature before her sight. The scenario seemed to have transformed: it looked brighter and more colorful, fuller of meaningful symbols and signals peeping out each object, each corner, each millimeter.

“We’re at home,” She found herself muttering with emotion because ,at that moment, her reality finally crystallized, along with the awareness another brick had been added to the stairs of their life together. And yet, staring at that living room made her feel like there was only something missing to complete the picture of the most serene sky she had ever admired.

But she had never got the occasion to even engage into a minimal conversation about it, due to how busy they were, especially him with his opera and theatre rehearsals.

“Yeah,” Junpei blinked, pensive, and she braced herself for another odd comment of his. “I was thinking…”

I had no doubt you were, She rolled her eyes with affection and waited for him to continue. She allowed a part of her to begin growing a pinch of expectation making her hold onto his arm more tightly.

“I was thinking something is missing but I don’t know what it is.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her free hand flying onto her trembling chest as she pressed her lips: could he be…?

Trusting that unreasonable hunch, she pressed slightly more, searching for a safe icy ground to walk on.

“Cos’è?” She chanted in his flushing ear. “What is it?”

“Un soave non so che,” He quoted some aria he was the only one between them knowing. His chocolate-coloured eyes increasingly grew dreamy at her teasing getting imprisoned in his melody, until he tensed. “Oh! I know! Maybe we need a fireplace.”

“A fireplace?” Her crescendo sagged immediately along with her receding smirk.

“Yes, a fireplace!” He exclaimed and proceeded to create confusing patterns with his hands, adapting them to different poses and angulations. “I think it would fit below the television. If we had one down there, we would get a lot of warmth from the fire. At the same time, we would still be far enough from it, though, and the heat wouldn’t bother us that much. Trust me, I’ve dealt with fireplaces since I was a kid. If fire gets too hot, you will get a headache and feverish cheeks. The same will happen to you if you stay too near to it while relaxing.”

“You need balance, right?” He snatched a smile to her despite how disgruntled that unexpected turn was making her feel. His explanation was strongly reminding her of a moment they had shared in Digiworld: both sitting in front of a bonfire, her listening to a collected Junpei speaking about a philosophical concept and losing himself in metaphors and instances.

“You always need balance. This is…The only good thing my father has ever taught me, I suppose,” He grinned, focusing his attention on her again. “You know, sometimes I like thinking about us doing the most disparate stuff together and I love realizing I wouldn’t really want anything else from my life because I’ve got the balanced family I didn’t know I needed. We compliment each other, right? And no, I’m not only talking about you cooking and me eating your delicacies…Or maybe that’s another way we reach our balance, hm?”

Silence fell on them. Izumi frowned, unfortunately unable to express her gratitude because of so many doubts crowding her mind and overlapping with those already existing.

“Izumi? Have I said something wrong?”

…

She wanted that. He didn’t want that, apparently, at least, or ,perhaps, that impression was just a way to mock herself in an illusion about something she cared about and really wished for.

Lying her heavy spheres on the tidy details of the living room, she convinced herself a similar development would predictably turn that place in a mess, and she would have never liked to assist to a hurricane conquering that place. But again, they had bought such a huge house with some areas they still needed to organize and they weren’t really going to transform each of them in guest rooms, right?

Sucked in her world, she got startled when Junpei deeply inhaled and parted from her, making her feel cold because , right in that instant, she had started wondering what that house would look and feel like, completed yet without Junpei around. It would feel as empty as it used to be at the beginning of that adventure of theirs.

She observed his face warping in a very hilarious way, his cheeks bloating like a hamster’s and his lips slightly puckered. Then, he turned to her with comically-enlarged eyes.

“J-Junpei?”

“If you want to say something, say it and clearly!” He playfully scolded her and imitated one of those pretty exasperated sentences she had often shouted at him, back when they were younger and he just used to be a dude hopelessly chasing the girl he had loved for ages.

Izumi exploded in a laughter.

“You’re so right. I should be honest and tell you, even if I don’t know how to do that, for some reason”.

“Just do that. Then we’ll deal with what will come next.”

She stared at him for some seconds even if she didn’t really intend to, but she was really glad her pupils had ended up on his serene traits. What was the worst that could have happened to her? Surely, they would have remained together even if his reply wouldn’t have met her expectations: that was what mattered the most to her, after all.

She searched for a contact with his hand as she brought herself to overcome her nonsense, -in her opinion-, fears. Successively, like she would always do, she started a serious conversation with a question.

“Junpei,” She began. “Do you think that balance you have found in our life could be compromised if…If…Well, if we welcomed someone else in our family?”

“Someone else? Eh, I knew it, Izumi!”

Her green irises widened at his malicious snigger.

“Oh c’mon, Cara, you’re talking to the infallible Detective Shibayama. This is too easy! Let’s begin saying you were the one asking me not to send that little prankster away from the restaurant some days ago. Yesterday you asked me to cut that cod for her. I gave her some pieces but you begged me to give her the whole fish. And I’m your husband before being the great Detective Shibayama…I do notice when something makes your beautiful eyes shine the brightest.”

He was referring to a little stray cat that had showed up at the entrance of the restaurant from nowhere, meowing desperately until someone, who had happened to be Junpei, had opened the door. He would have taken the cat away from the restaurant if Izumi hadn’t dashed outside to check who Junpei was talking to. She couldn’t deny she was the cutest cat she had ever seen in her life and she had unavoidably fallen with those big light yellow orbs the creature curiously looked at butterflies with.

But this isn’t what I wanted to talk about!, She attempted to keep herself from getting way too distracted, but he continued talking about that matter, for her dismay.

“-And I did see you bringing those blankets outside yesterday night. I saw them before I came searching for you with the little boy.“

Izumi blinked at him. She blinked at him again, and then again and again.

“Hey, I’m not against getting a pet,” He reassured her, feeling like his confession had inhibited her. “After all, I’m always forced to leave you alone and…A pet could keep you company when I’m not around. I did play with the idea to get you a poodle once, because you do remind me of those…”

Izumi threw him a friendly fist on his belly muttering one of her “What in the world are you saying, you idiot!”. Nevertheless, she soon, too soon, quieted down, just like he did to mimick her mood, so puzzled.

“Hey, if you don’t want a poddle for Christmas and you want that cat so badly, it is fine. It was just a silly proposal.”

“Now you’re making me realize I would like that cat too,” She huffed. “Uffa, Junpei, it’s not fair. You’ve managed to make me change topic again!”

“Have I ?”

“Yes and…It was already so hard for me to talk about that, like I’ve already said,” She abandoned her weight against the backrest. The breaths that splayed her lips didn’t help her feel lighter about the circumstances, especially now that there was a beautiful grey tuft scampering after gusts of wind in her mind. Perhaps, that was a signal she had to resign to her failure. That day, at least. She could have tried again in the future, a future in which they would already own a cat she could have cuddled as much as she wanted…And held…And taken care of…Someone she could have given the whole love of the world to.

Uh…

“Okay, something tells me I’ve barked up the wrong tree, haven’t I ?”

She bended her head with mechanical movements and gave him an inquisite glance.

“I might have jumped to a hasty conclusion if that cat wasn’t what you wanted to talk about.”

Her mouth stretched on its own, wiping that crumb of melancholy that had fallen on its corner.

“Even the greatest Detective can fail,” She mocked him and that big grimace that had just appeared below his ashamed eyes.

“I suppose….”

She slipped closer to him again and they soon found themselves in the position they had left a while before, but this time there were many more question marks hovering above them. Furthermore, Junpei seemed to have perceived a different aura coming from the way she was resting by his side: he probably could feel her curled frame pushing against his sitting one with more intensity, as if she wanted them to melt in a much more intimate hug.

“Should I get worried?” He asked her with a wisp of voice. “You don’t look angry, though, which is good. When you are angry at me, your eyebrows seem to twich, you can’t help clenching your fists and jaw, you glare at me like if you’re about to evoke Trieste’s bora and turn it against me. You become scary. So. Scary. Anyway, this means my clownery at the restaurant from yesterday hasn’t annoyed you that much.”

She would have liked to ask him if it was true she would transform so dramatically whenever she got mad, but his last observation got the priority over anything else.

“I can’t deny your clownery at the restaurant does make me sweat. And a lot. But you make so many people smil-“

“What a relief,” He cut her short, so content. “Then, let me tell you this: if I had more time, much more time to stay at the restaurant, I would even set up spectacles for kids, with cards, flowers, motley handkerchiefs, a top hat and, why not, marionette too. And if I wasn’t so busy sometimes I often risk to even forget about my birthday, if I wasn’t so tense and terrorized whenever we…”

“Junpei?” She grew a bit concerned about the blatant sadness that was darknening his joy. What in the world could have turned him off so unpleasantly? Another proof she should have never ventured in that conversation that day, also because they were clearly exhausted. What they needed was their comfortable bed and not that demanding discussion for sure!

Then, he picked something from his pocket and he examined that object with a longing stare. Her ear resting on his shoulder let her acknowledge the more powerful beats pulsing in his veins and making her slightly swing up and down.

“If you ask me, there’s something missing. Definitely. But it’s not a fireplace, I guess,” He made the item spin in his skilled hands, which were showing to know how to deal with certain objects with a delicacy you wouldn’t expect on him. “I might have got confused because it’s warmth what I wish for, but it’s not that kind of warmth you get from a fireplace, perhaps? Dio mio, what the hell am I talking about? I sound so cringe.” He put the object on the short table and crossed his arms. He was wearing a very evident pout, but not one of those conveying irritation or disgust. It was more like if he was upset and very confused. “Sometimes, just sometimes,” His words amalgamated with his shaky breath. “I let myself think because it would be nice, heck if it would be nice. But I end up biting my tongue everytime it happens”.

Izumi felt overwhelmed by that quite unexpected development and would have liked to swear at that knot in her throat taking shape in there again. Nevertheless, luckily, Junpei interpretated her silence as an invitation to keep on going and opening himself, something he had improved at but also an event that was still so rare.

“Whenever we call each other and you tell me how much you miss me, I allow myself to imagine things”.

“Things,” Hers wasn’t a question without intonation. If only Junpei could have read her thoughts, he would have known how many meanings those things had to the chords of heart.

“Yes, kind of things that make me smile. I don’t want to imply you can’t take care of yourself, because I’m aware you are the bravest and best woman in this world, I am! I’m not talking about something like that. It’s just that we’ve been lonely since we were children and I feel like we’re constantly searching for warmth and light in our life, especially when we are not physically together. I could get them from a fireplace, but how would I get those when I’m far from you and I’m aware you’re all alone here?”

He stared at the floor and the abandoned pillows while she looked at him, feeling like she had fallen in some sort of déjà vu someone was enjoying editing the way they pleased. At the beginning, for a considerable amount of time, she just wanted to pronounce his name and repeat it over again and again. He had always claimed to be someone not being that good at dealing with words, those words he didn’t have to learnt at heart, at least. On the contrary, she had always believed he knew how to pick the simplest yet most effective phrases to easily access to her soul. In the past, she would often hide those emotions from him and the world, but now she had learnt to welcome them, not caring if they would make her so tacit for what felt like ages.

“So,” She said when she felt ready enough to face him again. She chuckled at his flushed cheeks, not realizing hers didn’t look that different. Indeed, hers’ round surfaces were also so humid and those drops on them were shining thanks to the rays of that budding Sun, getting higher and higher in the sky. “You do want something else from life, after all.”

He softly gasped, his lips trembling as he raised his head to her, his orbs getting more and more lucid.

“Yes,” He told her with a sniff. “I want that fondant au chocolat you didn’t allow me to eat yesterday.”

She fiddled with the point of his nose, pressing it with her index. She slowly made that finger slide on a cheek of his and rubbed that spot with it. “Only if you get me that cat before that.”

XXX

In a certain sense, she was satisfied about the fact their serious discussion had eventually dived in a bowl of chocolate, had sneaked into an oven and had taken the shape of a couple of cute flans.

They weren’t really people who adored living in a frozen atmosphere where darkness and cold ruled. Like Junpei had reminded her, they had always been creatures of light and fire.

And ,most of all, they didn’t really like making plans. Junpei used to adore scheduling whatever he wanted to do on a trip or during holidays, but she had recently got the impression he had learnt to follow the wind just like her. She wasn’t sure what that could mean about the future of their family, but she was certain she would have understood it when the right time came.

Finally tucked under their blankets, she heard the sound of the fabric below her stretching and pulling under a stirring Junpei.

“I was thinking…”

There was she, rolling her eyes again and pouring every gram of affection she owned in that small gesture.

“Let me guess. You want to project a new bed that doesn’t creak so hard when you move.”

“Ah, this is really good, Izumi! A bed completely made of steel wouldn’t be that comfortable. It would kill my back. No way,” He got even closer to her by rolling on himself. Now less than a centimeter was separating them and the scent of chocolate mixed with the one of toothpaste penetrated in each other’s nostrils.

“I was thinking…”

“Be quick. I want you to have a good nap, so you will be prepared to get me that cat tonight.”

“Right. Right. But, hey, listen: you asked me if a…If a…If a baby…”

Both gulped at that row of letters occupying that space left between them. Izumi told herself the shadowed room wasn’t dominated by a faint black anymore, but was taking life through streaks of colours twirling over their bed.

“A b-baby…?”

“If a b-baby could break that balance we’ve found as husband and wife.”

Right: she had asked him that, but she wasn’t certain whether it was still that important to her to get a reply. Even so, she encouraged him to continue and she raised an eyebrow when he addressed his odd wince at the ceiling.

“I mean, Cara, if we are still so tied to the elements we were given in Digiworld in some way, wouldn’t she be a little tempest? Beautiful, yes, immensely beautiful like you, an Ophanimon on Earth, but still a little thunderstorm. She would obviously break our balance, but not only that.”

“Didn’t I tell you to sleep?!”

Izumi pushed him away with her whole strength, concealing another emotional attack that had suddenly taken over her.

The breeze she had breathed in the night before gently slipped in their bedroom, bringing along variegated shades of pink and reflecting in those liquid crystals bathing her eyelids.

Afterwards, she pouted, though, and the turn to roll on herself in Junpei’s direction arrived.

“Hey,” She nudged him, sounding as irritated as possible with her hiss. “You are already showing gender preferences, aren’t you?”

But wasn’t she unconsciously doing the same ?

That puffy baby with that familiar spiky hair she found herself holding in her dream had visited her in her slumber just because she had fallen asleep on Junpei, right?

XXX

{ • “Un soave non so che” (A sweet something / literally: A sweet something I don’t know) is a quote from Rossini’s Cenerentola (Act I).

• Trieste is a city in Friuli Venezia Giulia, in the North East of Italy. Bora is the strongest wind blowing in Italy, which is typical from there. }

[bluejay-writes]

Sae My Name - Chapter 2: Madam Vanderwood

Fandom: Mystic Messenger Rating: Mature Chapter 2 Wordcount: 2563 Pairings: MC (Jin) / Vanderwood, other background ships. Notes: This fic is focused around a trans MC, which plays a big role in her story. She is the focus character, though the rest of the RFA and side characters do play a part. Specific Chapter Notes: I really wish I could draw, I would love to show you actual images for the selfies Seven sent. Related, if you want to see how this chat is -supposed- to look, with its inline images etc, check out Ao3. You can also read this on Ao3, updating every Monday.

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“So, Seven.” Jin said, staring at her twin who had collapsed upside-down over the back of the sofa to talk to her. “You said… we have a mom? And a brother?”

Seven almost visibly wilted.

“Mother died. I’m still not sure what happened, but I think our father got to her.”

“Oh. That’s… I… I’m sorry, Seven.”

“She wasn’t great.” Seven said. “It still hurts, but… she was really horrible to us. She kept Saeran chained up most of the time, and made me run her errands, and when she wasn’t drunk she was abusive. You were probably better off with father.”

“Oh hell no. I was only ever allowed to leave the house for photo shoots to make our father look like a good family man, and even still I wasn’t allowed to talk. If I did, I got beaten until I…” she paused and bit her lip. “Anyway, I was kept in my room unless I was being taught by the private tutors he hired who I’m sure had an NDA.”

“But our father was never photographed with a daughter.”

Jin sighed. 

“That’s because he doesn’t know I’m a woman.”

“What? How?” Seven fell over and righted himself so he was sitting up. “How does that work?”

“Um. Well.” How much do I trust him? Can I share this? “I…” Jin sighed and unconsciously started chewing on a fingernail.

Seven held up his hand. “Only share what you want to. I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

Fuck it. If he was going to rat me out he’d have done it.

“I’m actually your brother, I guess.”

“You’re crossdressing?” Seven said, and Jin did not know how to read the way his eyes lit up.

“Um. No, not really? Yes, technically? Where do I start…?”

“How about the beginning?” Seven said, and Jin sighed.

“Fiiiine. Got any snacks?”

Seven got up and came back with two bags of Honey Buddha Chips and some cans of PhD Pepper. Jin grinned. 

“Okay, okay, we might actually be siblings. You have acceptable taste in snacks.”

“God Seven provides.” Seven said, and Jin laughed.

“So, yeah. Um. I’m biologically a boy.”

“Fooled me.” Seven said, and gestured for her to continue.

“Fooled father and his goons too.” Jin said, sipping her soda. “At first, it was just a way to get out, but the longer I dressed and acted like a girl, the happier I was. Eventually I just realized I didn’t really fit as a boy, so… here I am.”

“Well, I have a whole bunch of cute girl outfits that you can borrow…” Seven said, and Jin laughed.

“What? Why?”

“Cosplay! Honestly, crossplay is a lot of fun and if I didn’t already know I’d look cute as a girl… I’d know now! You’re so cute!”

Jin laughed and stuck her tongue out at Seven.

“Anyway Jin!” Seven said, smiling. “You want me to use she/her pronouns and not tell anyone, right?”

“Ideally, yeah.”

“Done and done. All I ask is that you don’t go blabbing about our whole garbage family shit.”

“Easy deal. But… what about our brother?”

Seven’s expression immediately clouded.

“He’s probably fine.” Seven said. “In trying to hide from our father, he got taken somewhere I can’t reach him and I work for a shitty secret agency. Hacker 707 at your service, m’lady.” He tipped a nonexistent hat at her, and Jin shook her head.

“What do you mean somewhere you can’t reach him?”

“In exchange for him being safe, I don’t get to see him and I work for the agency.”

“Okay, that’s you. What about me? And how do you know he’s safe?”

“I have a whole disc full of pictures they gave me of him being happy, and I just… I just hope. And you? I don’t know. Maybe V would tell you where he is, let you two meet up, then you could tell me he’s okay. That he’s happy.”

“Seven… I… I don’t feel good about this. Why would separating you two even help? Father is an entire time. I don’t understand why you’re not safer together. If he got one of you, wouldn’t the other drop everything to help? I just found out you even existed and I sure as fuck would.”

Seven went quiet. “I’ve been thinking the same myself for awhile, actually, but V keeps telling me not to, and… I don’t know how I’d find Saeran now, even if I tried.”

“Who is V to you? He wasn’t surprised about, well, me.”

“Like a dad, really. He and Rika got us out of that house. I owe them everything.”

“Rika?”

“The old party coordinator and V’s fiancée. She died about a year ago. Suicide.”

“Oof, that’s rough. I’m sorry. God, losing two moms. I’m sorry Seven. Do you want a hug?”

Seven looked at her and set aside his soda.

“More than anything.”

Seven ordered (probably way too much) pizza and went off to play video games in his office, leaving Jin with free reign over his media collection, causing her to choose a novel and bury herself in it. She hadn’t really had a moment where she didn’t have to look over her shoulder in a long time, and quickly became absorbed in the fantasy world.

“Zero Seven, why did I have to go pick up pizza if you’re not even playing your stupid game on your night off?” a voice said almost directly above Jin’s head, and she flinched, eyes looking up to meet those of the irritated man looking down at her. When did he get here? How did I miss the door opening? Does he even blink?

“Uh. Sorry, I…” Jin started, realizing she should probably say something to the enigmatic brunette staring down at her. Seven’s loud voice rang across the open living space, interrupting her lack of ability to form a sentence.

“Madam Vanderwood! Thanks for getting pizza!”

The brunette, Vanderwood apparently, looked up at Seven, back down at Jin, back at Seven, and then spun on his heel and went into the kitchen.

“Nope.”

Seven bounced past her and ruffled her hair.

“I never thought I’d manage to pull one over on Vanderwood. C’mon, dinner’s ready, and you need to eat.” Seven said, and Jin checked what page she was on and shut the book.

The first thing Jin noticed when she walked into the kitchen was how tense the non-ginger in the room was. The second thing she noticed was the pile of abandoned takeout chopsticks on one of the counters. Snagging a set of chopsticks, Jin snapped them apart and used them to secure her unruly hair up in a makeshift bun. Much better. She thought, before turning her attention to Seven and… Vanderwood.

“So, Madam Vanderwood.” She said, before he could ask whatever was on his mind, “Are you Seven’s henchman, or like, leash maybe?”

She saw his hackles rise at being called a henchman, but he outright laughed when she suggested that he was Seven’s leash. Seven was less amused.

“Hey! I don’t need a leash! I’m a well trained pupper!”

“Uh huh. I’m sure.” Jin said, snagging a piece of pepperoni-pineapple pizza. There were already multiple slices missing from it, and she eyed her dinner companions carefully. No one liked pineapple on pizza. It was the one way she ever got enough food on a pizza night… making sure there was a pizza only she would eat. But… of course her brother also liked pineapple on pizza. Made sense, she supposed. Would their other sibling also like this abomination of a pizza? Jin needed to know this now. For science.

“So, Zero Seven. You know we’re not supposed to have family, right?” Vanderwood said, coolly.

“Yeah, well. She found me.”

“I did what?”

“I mean, you showed up in an apartment whose security is my job, and chatted in an app that is also my job.”

“Oh, legit. I didn’t mean to, though?” Jin said, trying to stay calm while it was very obvious that Madam Vanderwood was not at all calm. The only people that simultaneously made her feel safe and at death’s door like this were father’s goons.  Jin looked at Vanderwood, then at Seven, meaningfully. Seven just shook his head before patting her hand quietly. So, no, not one of father’s men then… good.

“Anyway.” Seven said, loading a plate up with more pizza. “I gotta get back to raid. Vandy, you should come so I can explain everything going on with Miss Jin. Jin, enjoy the pizza.”

Vanderwood took another slice of pizza, watching Jin carefully before following Seven off to the office. Jin could see them talking, since the office walls were glass, but decided to just read more of her book while she gorged on pizza and PhD Pepper. Surely they could see her as well, so could tell she wasn’t getting up to some kind of nefarious mischief. Hopefully. She wouldn’t put it past that Vanderwood person to take her out if she was a threat to whatever he actually was protecting.

Jin has entered the chat Yoosung★: Jin is here! Jin: Um. Hi Yoosung! Sorry I couldn’t hang out. How’s raid night going? ZEN: Wait, you met Yoosung?! I thought you were going to meet V and Seven! Jin: Well… Yoosung★: Jin forgot some stuff at my usual coffee shop so I picked it up for her and Seven brought her by to get it. Raid night is d ZEN: You gotta meet the rest of us now, you know, it’s only fair. I don’t even know what you look like! Jin: Yeah, you’re totally right, I do need to meet everyone else to be fair. I mean, this whole chat thing is still weird to me, but… Yoosung★: She’s cute! Also… she looks oddly familiar. Like that one girl in my figure drawing class. Jin: Yoosung! You can’t just say these things! Also… I am that one girl in your figure drawing class. Jin: [Seven's Blushing / Heart Eyes Emoji] Yoosung★: Why are you using Seven’s emoji? Jin: They’re close enough, so I’m stealing them. ZEN: What do you mean close enough? Jin: I wish Seven were in here so I could ask him why I can’t send photos on this phone. 707 has entered the chat 707: The answer is ‘because you can’t’, but I can share the photos I took earlier. Jin: Where the heck did you come from suddenly?! Stalker! Also when did you even take photos? Jumin Han has entered the chat Jaehee Kang has entered the chat Jumin Han: Ah, Jin is here. Jaehee Kang: Oh. Mr. Han came right away as well. ZEN: Jaehee! Seven’s going to share pictures of Jin for us. Jaehee Kang: With permission, I hope. Jin: For sure. It’s only fair, I mean V and Seven and Yoosung have all met me in person, and it’ll only be weird if y’all haven’t at least seen a photo, right? ZEN: Here’s me right now, Jin. ZEN: [Zen's Album, Photo #8 , headphones on,] Jin: Well, if I had any doubts that you were in fact the musical actor just as Jaehee said, I don’t now! Yoosung★: Oh, are we sharing selfies! I’ve got one! Yoosung★: [Yoosung Photo 9, closed-eyes grin] 707: Here’s a cute one I took of Jin earlier. 707: [Photo of Jin with her hair fanned out around her head while she lays on the couch reading, her face half-obscured by book] Jumin Han: Oh, Jin is beautiful. ZEN: Seven, be serious dude, that’s just you in cosplay. 707: Is not!!! 707: I have proof that Jin and I are not the same person! 707: [photo of Jin and Seven together, smiling - Jin's hair is up with takeout chopsticks.] 707: See? Both of us! Jin: How did you even take that that second one?! ZEN: Huh, my neighbor has hair like that. Yoosung★: Seven! Ready check just fired, let’s go! Yoosung★ has left the chat 707 has left the chat Jaehee: Such style! We should go shopping together sometime, Jin. Jin: Ooh, I’d love that. And Zen, I promise we’re not neighbors.

For the first time that day, Jin felt like her emotions were doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing in a situation.  She was terrified, and trying to pretend everything was fine. That’s how she should be feeling while in a strange car with a man she had known for a sum total of five minutes, if you only counted the time they were within 50 feet of each other.

“So, why are you taking me to get my things?” Jin asked, carefully watching the stoic driver.

“Because.” Vanderwood said, curtly.

“And I’m supposed to just accept that reasoning?”

“Yes.”

“Well I don’t. Try again.”

“Ugh. Because that idiot is busy raiding and someone needs to keep you safe.”

“I can keep me safe. I’ve been fine for a year.”

“Right. Let’s just pretend I believe that. And can you imagine the hell that will rain down on Zero Seven if you get reclaimed by your father?”

Jin paused. She really had no argument about that. “It certainly wouldn’t be good. Doesn’t make me comfortable alone in a car with some rando.”

“You were plenty comfortable in the bunker earlier.”

Jin blushed, turning her face toward the window so he wouldn’t see it. “That’s different. That’s my brother.”

“That you just met today?”

“Try convincing me he’s not my brother.”

“Not my point. Shouldn’t you be more wary?”

“You’d think that, but for all the years I was trapped with my father he was free, so… I’d say he’s doing better than me. Which means I should listen to him, you know? Trust and shit.”

“And what did he say to you about this expedition?”

Jin sighed, and looked down at her hands in her lap. “That I should accept your help.”

“So now that you understand, tell me anything that might be important in regards to safety when we are collecting necessary items.”

Jin paused, still wary, but gave in after Vanderwood raised an eyebrow at her silence.

“My place is a half-basement apartment, shares a wall with a guy next door who likes to sing along to showtunes a lot.”

“Sounds like the RFA’s pretty boy.”

“Oh. You mean Zen? Yeah, my neighborhood’s way too rough for his kind.”

Vanderwood chuckled, and took the highway exit towards her neighborhood.

“Anyway there’s a fire escape that leads down from the roof, and a shared interior set of stairs that lead to it. I figure if anything goes wrong I can take the roof exit and meet you around the other side of the building or something.”

“Not a bad idea. Only works if they don’t know about the stairs.”

“Fingers crossed that he hasn’t hired anyone smarter than the idiots who’ve been trying to find me for a year then.”

Vanderwood grumbled, but accepted the point.

“Alright, keep your phone on in your pocket so I can hear if anything happens. Everything should be fine, but I don’t want to deal with Seven if you fuck this up somehow.”

“Me, what about you?”

“I don’t make mistakes on jobs.”

“Oh.” Jin nodded. She’d forgotten that this was the kind of thing that they supposedly did.

“I don’t have a lot, so this should only take about fifteen minutes, tops.”

“Make it ten.”

Here are Zen and Yoosung's selfies that were referenced in the chat:

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

hi I’m here to review the Clementine comic. it’s not good.

Does this even need an introduction? You know why I’ve gathered you all here today. You know the comic exists, and you probably know that it’s not great and we’re all upset about it. 

Myself included. I am not okay. At all. 

Skybound could’ve literally spit in my face and I’d come out feeling better than I did reading this comic, because this comic is an insult to the original Telltale games and Clementine as a character. 

This comic is a fancy fanfic. Glorified fanfiction. It’s not canon, and Skybound and Tillie can pretend that it is, but it’s not. Bold of them to assume we’d just accept this from people who didn’t work on the original games and never wrote for Clementine before, and based on this comic alone, any chance of us taking it seriously is gone. 

I’m gonna go through every single page, every panel, of this comic and give you my review. So I guess if you’re worried about spoilers [though at this point why would you?] then be warned, spoilers for the entire comic ahead. 

I also wanna add that I have nothing against Tillie Walden. I know a lot of dingdongs are harassing her on insta over this comic and that’s not okay. You telling her how much you hate her isn’t going to change anything. If anything, you keep being assholes to her and she’s just gonna block everything out, even things simply critiquing her work in hopes that it helps her improve. 

You’re allowed to be upset about the comic and share your feelings about it, but don’t take it out on the actual human being like that. Besides, like I’ve said before, if Tillie wasn’t gonna make the comic, Skybound would’ve found someone else to do. This was coming no matter what because Skybound wants that coin. 

That being said, I’m not going to hold back my opinions on this comic. Skybound and Tillie made this comic, they put it out there and asked for money for it, therefore I’m allowed to explain why it’s garbage as well as ponder over the questionable intent and whether or not Tillie actually has played these games. Y’know, it’s like how I have nothing against Kent, but sometimes he says things I disagree with and well, y’know how it goes. 

Alright, this is gonna be long, so let’s go--

The first few shots we get are of the school, two people sleeping, and Clementine’s empty bed. Nothing super note-worthy, we have no idea who is sleeping in the beds, it’s just there to establish that it’s early and everyone’s still asleep. 

The drawing of the school looks fine? Not super accurate, but I can give it a pass since it’s a few years later, I assume. What I can’t give a pass is how you managed to already mess up on the first page of your comic. 

Because..... why are you implying that Clementine’s room is upstairs? First of all, seems kinda dumb to put Clem, who has only one leg and has to walk with crutches, upstairs. Also, if you’ve played TFS and paid any attention to where her room is actually located [the dorms] then you’d know there isn’t any stairs leading to their floor. It’s the side building next to the admin building, you walk through the door, go down the hall, take a left and their dorm is right there sooo..... 

Oh right, it’s probably done this way so that we can have such a suspenseful moment where Clementine is sneaking out while the others are asleep and her foot makes a creeeeeeakk that could wake everyone up, thwarting her plans of abandoning everyone quietly so she doesn’t have to deal with any consequences. 

Because yeah, Clementine is sneaking out with all of her supplies because apparently, she’s been planning an escape from this place for a while. 

And just look at how gosh darn happy she is about it. You can’t see or hear me, but know that I’m laughing. Don’t worry, I will talk about her abandoning everyone later.

But first, I have a gripe with Clementine's design in this comic. It doesn’t look like her. This art of her right here is the most accurate we get throughout all 12 pages, and it’s the best looking, too. 

Moving on, she slams the door shut while this walker changes faces and hair between panels, so that’s cool. I will say, I like the idea of the Ericson crew putting spikes on the door. That’s fun. 

Though Clementine slamming the door shut while trying to sneak out seems counter productive but it fits with the theme this comic has of inconsistency, so it works. 

Next we have Clementine going to what I believe is the fishing shack by the river, and she’s going through some things that she’s stashed away, telling us that she’s been planning this escape for a while. 

Oh good, she has a map. Well at least now she won’t get lost out there in the woods while she makes her escape... also that last panel with her profile.... why does it look so funny? Like this page of the comic doesn’t look too bad, but there is something off putting about her eye there and how she has zero expression. 

And it turns out that rustle was a walker, and Clementine is super inconvenienced by this and gives us our first piece of witty dialogue.

Yeah you dumb walker, can’t you see Clementine is busy running away from home and abandoning all of her loved ones without a single goodbye so she doesn’t have to witness the consequences of her selfish actions?? Gosh, so rude.

Just a heads up, the dialogue in this comic is stilted, emotionless, and bland. The words have no flow, no charm, and never feel like they should be coming out of Clementine’s mouth. Then again, the upcoming graphic novels this is tied to are for young adult/middle graders so I guess we have to dumb everything down so their baby brains can process it. 

.....Why does her face look like that? Also, interesting that she decided to move her ponytail to the other side of her head.... which is a thing that happens throughout this comic, her hair will randomly change sides. 

I believe it’s a metaphor for her changing and inconsistent personality. 

So yeah, Clementine is just making off with the supplies she gathered [I’m sure Ericson doesn’t need ‘em anyway] and she’s just so gosh darn annoyed at all these small inconveniences bothering her.... because it’s just too early for this. 

.....Again, why does her face look like that?

I’m sorry, like I get it, Tillie’s style is supposed to be purposely messy yet minimal but it doesn’t work. When you do a comic in a more messy style, usually it has charm and heart put into it. Effort goes into the messy look, and when things are minimal, that usually means more clean, yeah? So you put them together and just..... that is nothing resembling Clementine’s face. 

Can we just--

Look at canon Clementine’s face. Look at the way her eyebrows are shapes, how wide her eyes are with her eye lashes. The dirt on her skin, the lines-- there is so much personality in her features. It doesn’t matter if she’s wearing a neutral expression or she’s expressing anger or joy or sorrow or whatever. 

Now, is it fair to compare a model of Clem from the games to the Clem in this comic? Well, I assume that if Tillie is doing this comic, she would use references from the game to ensure that Clementine is recognizable, especially now that she’s no longer wearing her signature hat. 

So why does she look like this? Why do I look at these drawings of her face and see nothing but a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth? You might as well draw me a simple smiley face. And I get that it’s a comic, and it’s a lot of work to draw the same character over and over again and you gotta cut corners somewhere, but maybe put some effort into the close up shots of her face so that we can actually see it’s her? 

Other fan artists have made comics in their styles that shine bright with Clementine’s personality, so what happened here? 

Anyway, surprise..... it’s not a walker annoying Clementine. 

........Why does AJ look like that??? I’m sorry, I hate to do the same thing I just did but--

Just because you put Clementine’s hat on AJ that doesn’t automatically make it him. I just.... wow. This feels like there wasn’t a single reference involved, like if someone gave Tillie a basic description of AJ and she just did this. 

But appearances aside, what is AJ saying? He says that he knew it, that Clementine’s leaving and I cannot stand this dialogue. It’s unnatural. Again, I know you wanna dumb it down for all of us because I guess we dumb.... but this conversation does not feel natural. 

“I knew it. You’re leaving.” “AJ....” “I’m coming.”

Even if you changed it to, “I’m coming with you.” it would sound more natural. Hell, he doesn’t even question WHY she’s leaving, he just stands there like “I’m coming” like??? I’m sorry, have you ever heard a single word this murder baby has said? I assume you have because I assume you actually played TFS, right? Soooo.... what happened here?

.....whY DO THEIR FACES LOOK LIEK THAT KSAJDLKJAS:LKDJLKASJD:L--

So now we’re getting into it.... into the bullshit. 

Clementine tells AJ to go back to the school, and AJ says that she wasn’t even going to say goodbye..... and then more bad dialogue that sound unnatural when you try to fucking read it. 

First off.... AJ’s reaction to Clementine attempting to leave is barely anything. Again, I hate to keep questioning if you actually played TFS, but AJ would throw a fucking fit if he caught Clementine out here ALONE like this, attempting to leave. 

And then he says “Like last time? You were going to come back?” this sentence makes my brain hurt. I just.... “Like last time, right? You’re coming back?” UGH

Wow, I feel nothing. 

I’m sitting here watching these two imposters with fucked up faces who are supposed to be Clementine and AJ and I feel nothing. 

I’m not even going to comment on the faces anymore. You can see it. You know. 

So yeah... AJ tells her the #1 rule, and reminds her that she promised.

Y’know.... she promised that she would never leave him again? Remember? At the McCarroll ranch? That flashback that was in TFS? The one you would watch if you played the game? 

Why is she looking straight at me when she should be looking at AJ as she says this? Is this Clementine’s way of telling me she’s sorry for what a shitty direction this is taking? I wouldn’t know because her face isn’t doing anything. Just because you draw a couple of tears that doesn’t mean I’m feeling the emotional heartbreak you’re attempting to convey. 

I don’t have enough middle fingers for this.

Well, my hat’s off to you. Ya did it. Ya fucked up everything single part of Clementine’s character in the span of two pages, I’m almost impressed. 

First off, the baby thing is weird. Why is she calling him that? She’s never called him that, which you should know.

Second, she’s not happy and that’s why she’s leaving. Clementine isn’t happy, and AJ can’t make her happy. Ericson can’t make her happy. So she’s going to go out on the road to.... what, be unhappy by herself? 

I’m sorry, but apparently we need a few reminders here of who Clementine is, because this isn’t her. 

This is Clementine. 

Clementine fought for years to find a home, something she hasn’t had since she was an eight-year-old girl before the apocalypse. The motor-inn wasn’t a home, the cabin wasn’t home, the ski-lodge, Howe’s, Wellington, Richmond, Prescott, none of them were home. 

She struggled for years, dealing with trauma after trauma while out on the road. She went from group to group, watching people she cared about die and she was powerless to do anything about it. Whenever she let her guard down and become comfortable, it bit in her in the ass and left her heartbroken.

She was there when AJ was born. She grew close to Rebecca while she was pregnant, she let herself do that even after everything she went through with Christa. Clementine had a bond with AJ even before he was born, and after Rebecca died, she did what she could to keep him safe, despite play choice. 

She cried when she thought AJ died and when she found him in that car again. She swore to protect him, to raise him right and love him. All they had was each other. 

And when she joined the new frontier and AJ got sick, she risked everything to save him and she was devastated when they took him away from her. When she found out he was alive, she is willing to go as far as helping Lingard overdose [INJECTING HIM HERSELF IF SHE HAS TO] to figure out his location. She did shitty things to find him, she killed people at McCarroll Ranch to find him again. 

Clementine raised him and he is her family, do you understand that? She went to hell and back for him, she taught him how to protect himself, and even though she made mistakes she sacrificed everything for him. She promised him that they would have a home of their own one day, she talked about how much she wished for a world where she didn’t have to worry about fighting and killing and AJ could just be a happy kid. 

She fought for Ericson, she watched her friends die or become mutilated by someone from her past. She allowed herself to be vulnerable enough to pursue a romantic relationship with Louis or Violet because she felt safe with them, felt safe at Ericson because it’s their home now. 

And when Clementine was bit, she thought she was going to die but she still fought to make sure AJ would be safe and happy without her and it was heartbreaking. She’s dying and the only thing she cares about is AJ. Not herself, not what’s going to happen to her after she dies or turns... no, she tries to make AJ smile again, she makes sure he remembers the rules, and she tells him that she loves him. 

Then he cuts off her leg, and she survives. AJ saved her fucking life, and she got to wake up at home and live to see her family again. She got to push AJ on a tire swing, she got to eat a hot meal and laugh with her friends, she got to make plans with her lover/best friend for what’s next for Ericson, and she got to talk to AJ and tell him the truth... and she asked him if she did a good job, and he’s honest with her right back. 

Hell, she tells him to keep her hat. Her iconic hat. The one thing she has left of her father, possibly her more cherished item. She lets him keep it. 

The last time we see Clementine, she’s happy. She’s sitting on the steps by herself, staring at her family with such fondness in her eyes and a smile on her face because she finally did it. She finally found a home where she can breathe. She has a bed to sleep in, she has AJ with her, she has a boyfriend/girlfriend who loves her and who she loves back, she has friends she can rely on. 

Clementine smiles, and lets out a small laugh. 

She doesn’t have to run anymore. 

And now you have the balls to tell me that AJ and Ericson don’t make Clementine happy anymore. 

She abandons everything to go back out on the road again, and that’s proof enough for me that you don’t understand a damn thing about Clementine or her journey. 

“ I don't even know the person I'm talking about... It's like all we have in common is the same name.” 

....Anyway.

Wow, Clementine found a car and kept is stashed. How lazy and convenient for this bullshit plot. 

And this is the part where I have to tell this comic to fuck off. 

What, you think if you throw in an incredibly inaccurate flashback next to a current pair of hugging Clem and AJ that I’ll feel anything but anger? That flashback is a slap to the face. It’s snowing, but the only time we’ve seen snow is in S2 when AJ was a literal new born, so why is he that big? Is that supposed to be from ANF because that ALSO doesn’t look like that AJ, and that’s not the outfit Clementine had on... AND there was no snow. This is cheap and meaningless. 

Any fan of the series who has played through the games could tell you this. 

So.... AJ runs into the woods and then we get this garbage.

This comic is awful. It misses the point of everything TFS, and the rest of the series, stood for. There is no heart here. I feel no happiness in reading it, and I don’t detect any passion behind it. It’s a lifeless comic that retcons everything in order to throw AJ away and start fresh with a new adventure for Clementine that makes no sense because the cow isn’t profitable unless it’s milked. 

This isn’t canon, and it won’t ever be canon, and honestly? At this point, I have no faith in the graphic novel trilogy. It will take a lot to do a turn around from this, and I don’t even know if that’s possible. 

Again, to reiterate, I don’t have anything personal against Tillie Walden herself. She’s just doing her job, and from what I’ve seen of her as a person, she seems like a sweetheart. I don’t want anyone giving her shit because I think the comic isn’t good or that you agree with me. All of my anger is directed at the comic itself, her work, not specifically her.... and a little bit at Skybound, because they’re the reason this is even a thing in the first place. 

So yeah.... there ya have it. 

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Wed 7 Apr ‘21

Louis left Tulum and went to Mexico City, and we got airport pics from both ends: the gathered fans were told by his bodyguard that they should keep their distance but that yes, pictures would be allowed. Thank you Louis! We got to see him a little for the first time in so long, in videos of him walking by (and getting ready to walk by) and blurry pics of him with his guitar, and Oli and Charlie- I’m excited to someday see the footage of whatever they’re working on. But for now, finally some proper pictures of the long long hair, or at least the below the hat part, all flippy and like...LONG! It’s on his SHOULDERS! Early pics had some interesting shadows around an elbow, prompting a flurry of NeW TaTtoO?? excitement, but when more pics were posted we could see that no, his elbow remains the same, false alarm. Once that tattoo kerfuffle died down the interest refocused on his shirt, which featured- a whole damn pile of skulls!

Louis went through a long phase of wearing skull shirts a while back, and the fact that it was during a period of a lot of very pointed t-shirt messages (and that he kept doing it more than ever despite knowing what we were reading into it) seemed to reinforce the theory that he did in fact mean things by it, and seeing him say yes to fan photos while wearing this shirt for the occasion… well! WELCOME BACK public Louis, we MISSED YOU! Yesterday’s shirt was for the band Obituary- is the band name a nod at the fact that Syco, generally considered to be the main target of previous skull shirts, is now dead and gone (rest in pieces assholes:))? Is Louis drawing attention to the livestream that band did a few days ago for their album ‘The End Complete’, and if so, is that also about Syco or about… something else? Inconclusive, but if we were meant to find their song “End It Now”, that can truly only be about one thing!! Am I to believe that SBB himself, Mr “I like to draw the fans’ attention to the lyrics of things” just, whoopsy, missed that! I mean, you would think every band on earth has lyrics about “ending it“ with the number of times he’s made that mistake, damn… he just never learns. Poor Louis, gosh how embarrassing! Lol. Anyway, I’ve seen people wondering lately what will happen when all the fans that have joined us in this time of lockdown and of no real contact with Louis will react when their version of Louis has to compete with the real one- and him barely being back at all but immediately reminding people that he is not a dad FFS feels like an excellent beginning, this should be good! BUCKLE IN friends! The real Louis is sooo much more fun than the boring made up one, just get ready to enjoy the chaotic energy and trying to keep up with him….

Oh also Louis liked a Snuts tweet about being underdogs as they fight to get the release week UK #1 for their new album, and a charity says they reached out to Louis AND LOTTIE to play in their celeb footie match PLEASE, HOW CUTE WOULD THAT BE? Come on Tomlinsons, say yes!

Liam has a big interview in Glamour to promote his BAFTAS performance! If *I* were doing the piece I would have really gone hard on the Two Liams angle of the performance (in which Liam will be accompanied by a hologram of himself) but alas they are boring and only interviewed one of him- maybe the part where he says “you're on stage, you're a certain type of person, and at home you're a certain type of person” sort of counts? The “that's always something I've really struggled with” makes it not so fun though, but that’s a Liam interview for ya; worrisome and makes you want to hug him a lot. “I didn't actually realize this for a long time, but I often give a little bit too much away,“ he says, and today is no exception. We catch up on the time since last we heard from him, when he told us he was going to take some well-earned time off and try to focus on writing new music; he continues to have difficulty with downtime unfortunately. Oh Liam, I do wish it were easier for you to take a break! He says, “I stopped working and I had a full, proper month off [and that was] really hard. And it was all a bit dark for me for a little bit... not being able to go anywhere, not being able to do anything. It really, really hit home. And I just found myself sat in the same place day in, day out. And I was like, okay, I really do not know what to do with myself” and “for me, learning to relax has always been quite a hard thing to do because I feel like if I'm not moving forward, then I must be going backwards.” He goes on to say “so, in a way it's kind of a blessing in disguise, as this has all kind of taught me to relax a little bit more. And to not be so worried about that, like the world is not going to fall over if I don't do something today,” and I wish I believed him, but that’s Liam’s way, to be like oh I need to add something upbeat and end on a cheerful note! So IDK. He also talks about drinking too much, at the beginning of lockdown especially, and how he’s dealt with it by getting back to working out and dieting. There’s nothing there that he hasn’t talked about before (he’s publicly addressed both his struggles with alcohol dependency and has talked a lot about his disordered eating though he hasn’t himself named it that) but after publication Glamour edited the piece to omit the part about his drinking-- I’m guessing the augmented reality app people didn’t feel it fit their ideal image (sigh). What that leaves is him saying how nice it was to be able to eat what he wanted during lockdown but that having the boundaries and rules in place of restricting his food again has made him feel better about himself, which if you ask me is still plenty distressing. Oh Liam :( <I’ve never wanted to hug someone so bad/ Spongebob meme> On a slightly more cheerful note, he tells us he feels supported and heard by a manager that he’s close to, and by Louis, and that those relationships are good for him (the interviewer does ask about Bear, but financee Maya is not mentioned even once in this article). The piece ends with a startling response to a comment about his upcoming performance: “I'll see you wherever you want me in your house, I guess.”

Niall posted about his Masters (golf) fantasy league and he was seen out and about! He was photographed in London driving a car the size of a house and on the street carrying one of his dozens of different reusable water bottles, with his hair floppy and down- is it a new haircut or just unstyled??- and shorts and little roundish shades. Hello Neil! There was a rumored sighting of Harry in London as well but no pics and like we know he’s there anyway so… shrug. And iHeart award nominations are up, and they’re pitting louies against harries, ouch. Will it be nasty (well when isn’t it even without this voted category, sigh), or will the louies simply steamroller everyone as per usual? Only time will tell, but if so harries can console themselves with their likely wins in the Male Artist of the Year, Best Lyrics (Adore You), and Song of the Year (WS) categories.

[altariaas]

your face all made up (living on a screen) 

Adrien knows, to some degree, that it’s the important things that are the most important to say out loud, but it would help to know that someone’s actually listening. It would also help if things would stop breaking every time he acknowledged his emotions, too. 

i’ve taken a total of three steps into this fandom but sure, let’s skip to season 4 and fall face-first into the Angst™, as it goes. I just think Adrien should get a little raw powers of destruction sneaking out of control in his daily life. as a treat. Post-Rocketear so lots of spoilers etc.

Adrien walks home from the fight against Nino’s akuma with a raging headache, a developing case of massive anxiety, and a purpling bruise the size of a basketball on his shin.

The last one isn’t actually from the akuma. Those injuries got neatly miraculoused away, along with Nino’s heartbroken betrayal. No, the bruise is from Adrien’s incredibly stupid attempt to funnel his tornado of emotions into something concrete by kicking the front gate, only to completely miss and slam his shin into the solid steel rungs instead, sending him stumbling back in a pained fit of trying to think up creative curse words that won’t result in his father murdering him if he overhears.

Metaphorically, of course. Father’s not a murderer, except when it comes to the slow death of Adrien’s social life.

Though he really…can’t entirely blame that on Father, either.

And there comes the developing case of anxiety. Adrien swallows, a feeble attempt to banish the souring feeling in his stomach and the aching tightness in his chest. He wraps his arms around himself, staring up at the mansion and fighting the increasing urge to run. The inside of his cheek stings as he chews at it, already abused from how hard he’d bitten there earlier when Nino had started making…observations. Accusations. Wildly misdirected statements that definitely aren’t any insight to how Nino truly feels about what might be the truest version of Adrien’s slowly splintering self, if he’s going to be dramatic about it.

Overly passionate, Father’s voice echoes hollowly somewhere in the back of his head. Prone to fits of drama, just like his mother.

Spinning abruptly on his heel, Adrien beats a steady path away from the mansion gates and toward…somewhere. Somewhere that won’t make that developing case of anxiety worse, and where no one can witness his fits of drama.

The urge to send the front camera a rude gesture in farewell is violently stifled as Adrien keeps his arms wrapped tightly around himself, like the action will keep everything in neat and perfect and safe from view. He feels more than hears Plagg rustle curiously in his front pocket, but Adrien ignores the action, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

Then the sharp reminder of how it felt when Ladybug ignored him in favor of Rena Rouge comes back and bites him solidly in the guilty part of his feelings, so Adrien pats his front pocket reassuringly.

“Just taking the long way home,” he murmurs.

Plagg’s eyes are calculating, almost greener than usual as they stare at him, and Adrien feels uncomfortably perceived. Not in the cold, bug-under-a-microscope way he feels sometimes when Father looks at him, but a hot kind of uncomfortable, the way he feels when someone looks right past the Adrien Agreste mask and sees—

What? What do they see? An awkward boy stumbling back against a wall because he never learned what his real self was supposed to look like? Hollow flirting and annoying with a capital a?

Fits of drama, Adrien reminds himself. He shouldn’t take it so close to heart. Not when Nino looked so devastated, so heartbroken. Not when Ladybug’s been giving him uncomfortably clear signs that Nino might’ve been right.

“If you say so, kid,” Plagg finally replies. “But I better get that camembert sooner than later.”

A half-smile tugs at Adrien’s mouth. “Sure, Plagg.”

At least Plagg still wants him around, masks and all. It’s a small comfort, but Adrien clings to it, his arms tightening around himself. Sure, things didn’t go…wonderfully, today, but it’s not all so bad. He got slammed into a van a couple of times, and maybe a couple of busted ribs, but that’s nothing, comparatively. And sure, Father’s finding more flaws in him to coldly evaluate than usual, and Nathalie’s growing paler and sicker by the day, and Ladybug’s either freezing him out bit by bit or starting to forget about him entirely and he isn’t sure which is worse, and his schedule is slipping further and further from manageable by the day and Nino dislikes a side of him so much it sent him straight into an akuma and—

“—kid, stop!”

Adrien’s thoughts cut off abruptly as his foot catches, his sense of balance going horizontal as he stumbles, and proceeds to nearly slam the rest of him face-first into the concrete. Plagg’s sharp warning echoes in his ears as he rights himself with a panicked yelp, hopping once while frantically hoping no one was around to see — whatever that was.

“Kid,” Plagg starts, but he doesn’t finish. He’s left the front pocket, his eyes bright green as he stares at him.

Adrien blinks, shaking the slight sense of vertigo off. “Sorry, sorry, I—”

Huh. What did he do? Rubbing the back of his head, Adrien glances at the street he stumbled over. He frowns.

The culprit is a jagged, snaking tear in the concrete, half a meter deep and the length of Adrien’s arm. He stares at the spiderwebbing cracks that branch out of it, fine grains of crushed concrete already scattering in the slight wind.

Weird, he thinks. He doesn’t remember fighting Nino this far down the street. Lucky Charm should’ve fixed that, even if he did.

“Adrien,” Plagg says, and there’s an uncharacteristically cautious edge in his voice. “What was that?”

Adrien cups a hand around Plagg, running a finger over his head in apology as he draws him out of view again. “Lost in thought, I guess,” he says, ducking his head. “Sorry.”

Plagg doesn’t reply, still staring at him with a look Adrien can’t quite identify. He feels oddly disoriented, like he actually did fall and hit his head, and now it’s spinning in retaliation. Across the street in front of him, the stoplight flickers — red, then orange, then red again. It flickers out entirely, before snapping back to a bright, acidic green. Adrien rubs his eyes.

“Let’s…let’s go home,” Plagg finally says, tucking himself back in Adrien’s shirt pocket. He doesn’t entirely meet Adrien’s eyes as he does, but he curls up against his chest, solid and warm, and it’s almost enough to banish the ache that lies beneath.

“Okay,” he says, softly. “Home, then.”

————

There’s a memory Adrien has, from when he was younger. It’s one he holds tightly to his chest, tattered and frayed as it is.

He was much smaller than he is now — barely six years-old, maybe, and small enough to hide behind the large statues his mother would put funny hats on to make his father laugh. She’d done just that earlier, standing tiptoed on the staircase as she’d slipped a terrible orange bowler hat on the pretty lady Nathalie said was from Greece. Adrien had giggled behind his fingers and his father had laughed, an unfamiliar sound that’s faded in memory now, but a bright and real one nonetheless.

It had been a good day, until mother had come down with a cold during dinner and Adrien had jolted out of sleep from a nightmare about giant, ugly orange hats that snatched up his mother with their ribbon-like fingers and took her away from him forever.

He’d sprinted through the house like the horrible hat monsters from his dream were on his heels, slipping in his socks up to the cracked door of his father’s study.

He hadn’t needed to knock, then, or even schedule a meeting. He’d slid through the doorway and barreled into his father, only to be caught by strong arms and swept into his father’s lap, warm and safe from any monsters that dared to follow him here.

“I’m worried about your mother, too,” his father had said. “But it’s just a cold, you see? Nothing to go slipping and falling down the stairs about.”

He’d received nothing but a sniffle in response.

“Alright.” Fingers had pinched around his nose as his father sighed. “How about we read a story then, until you’re not so frightened? Just you and me.”

The book they’d started that night was about a prince and a planet and a rose, and Adrien still remembers the sound his father’s voice made as it resonated where Adrien’s cheek pressed against his chest, his arms holding tight and warm around him, like nothing bad could slip in from outside and hurt him.

It’s a favorite memory of his, one Adrien finds springing back to mind whenever Father gives him a smile, half-formed and distanced as they are.

Lately, though, it’s a memory that stings to think about. It makes it harder to look Father in the eye, for some reason.

————

“And like, I really can’t say this enough, but I’m so sorry.”

“I told you, Nino, it’s fi—”

“No seriously, dude, I’m really sorry, I—”

“Nino.”

His friend finally jerks out from his puddle of miserable apologies, and Adrien gives him a weary smile. “It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I dragged you into the boiler room then got akumatized,” Nino says, distressed. “That’s worse than like, the plot of eight different horror movies.”

“Your head was shaped like a giant blue tear, it wasn’t that scary,” Adrien assures him.

“I am ninety percent sure I remember shoving you to the floor,” Nino moans, not reassured in the least.

Part of Adrien’s mind, the part that sounds a little too much like a spurned cat whom hell hath no fury, or however the saying goes, wants to pipe up with the fact that getting shoved to the floor was five-star treatment compared to what Nino (akuma, Nino’s akuma, that’s important) had proceeded to do to him afterwards.

The bus-slamming thing had hurt.

Not as much as hurting Nino would’ve, though.

So instead, Adrien gives Nino the kindest smile he can, lays a gentle hand on his arm, and says, “As if the akuma gave you the biceps to pull that off.”

“Hey,” Nino knocks their shoulders together, his guilt ridden expression easing just a bit as he gives him a half-hearted grin. “I’m ripped, bro.”

It takes Adrien a moment to reply, too busy fighting the overwhelmingly — traitor — urge to follow the warmth of contact with Nino like a starving animal. He doesn’t need to fight for too long — his brain throws everyone thinks you’re a joke at him just in time for Adrien to hunch his shoulders in and give Nino an awkward little grin of his own.

Maybe his brain’s a traitor too, though, because he doesn’t remember Nino even saying that about Chat Noir.

He thinks.

Hopes.

Actually, his brain can go sit in a corner if it’s going to keep throwing stuff like this at him. Shaking anything and everything knowledge-wise that belongs to Chat Noir from his mind, Adrien turns his attention back to the scribbled game of hangman they’ve been playing on the corner of Nino’s history notes. Group projects are supposed to be fun, anyways, especially with Nino.

“Uh, c,” he guesses.

Nino adds a single c to the blank letter spaces. Adrien squints at the paper, his mouth downturning at the suspiciously familiar arrangement he has so far.

_adia_t, ca_ef_ee, d_ea_y

“Nino,” he says, carefully.

Nino smirks. “Mm-hm.”

“If this has anything to do with perfume ads—”

“Uh-huh?”

“Then I hate you.”

Nino cackles, scribbling in the rest of the rest of the accursed phrase as Max loudly hushes him. Adrien rolls his eyes and huffs, but he’s unable to stop the small smile of amusement. It quickly fades as his words to Nino echo with an uncomfortable emphasis in his head.

You’re being stupid, he tells himself. Adrien pushes away the nagging feeling. Nino knows he’s not serious. He knows Adrien doesn’t actually hate him. Just like Adrien knows Nino didn’t mean it, when he said all that stuff about Chat Noir.

His fingers tighten around his pencil. He’s not supposed to be thinking about that. Nino apologized, to Chat Noir himself, and just because Adrien can’t get the sting out, it doesn’t mean that Nino meant anything genuine by it.

Overly dramatic, Adrien reminds himself. Way too emotional.

The ache in his chest makes itself known again with a pang, and Adrien bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at Nino from the corners of his eyes.

Maybe he should tell Nino he cares about him, just to be sure. The words form in his mind, only to catch abruptly in his throat, thick and cloying. He thinks of how thoughtlessly he’s been able to tell Father he loves him. Thinks of how easy it’s always been to tell Ladybug how much she means to him.

He thinks of how neither of them seem to like meeting him in the eyes, lately.

He swallows the words, opting to smile brightly at Nino instead. It’s probably for the best. Nino’s always been better at picking up on people’s feelings, anyways, and he doesn’t need the kind of nagging assurance Adrien does. And it’s not like Adrien’s had much luck telling people he loves them, lately. Actually, if you look at his track record, he probably hasn’t…had any luck at all.

Adrien shakes his head, shoving the coldness creeping into his chest as far to the corner of his mind as he can, and sketches out enough blank spaces on the paper to spell fake mustaches are the new sexy.

If he can still make Nino laugh, it’s fine. He wouldn’t be laughing if he thought Adrien was annoying and obnoxious.

So see? It’s fine.

————

Adrien thinks about elastics, sometimes. The stretchy, rubber kind that Mme Thurston uses to pull back the longer locks of his hair while she’s doing his makeup, tying it up in a neat little explosion on top of his head that makes him look like a blond weed. She makes it look easy, twisting the little bands around and around, until they’re tight enough to hold his hair in place.

(Adrien’s hair is always easy, of course. Chat Noir’s hair, on the other hand, would probably give Mme Thurston nightmares. Mainly because Adrien has a fun little habit of shaking his head side to side until it’s an unrecognizable blond disaster, but that’s not particularly relevant.)

(Ladybug doesn’t even need to use elastics, opting for the soft strands of ribbon that hold her pigtails in perfect place.)

Adrien doesn’t normally use elastic bands either, but he likes the way they feel when he’s nervous, stretching and rubbery, then snapping perfectly back into place, like he’d never twisted them all out of proportion at all. The way he can hook his fingers in both ends and pull and pull and pull, but they never quite snap.

Felix has a fun trick with those, when they do photoshoots together.

(When they used to.)

He’ll press a little elastic against Adrien’s arm and pull the end back, just far enough, then let it snap back into place, stinging little red marks when it slaps against skin.

“Stop it,” Adrien scowls at him, but the expression wavers. Playful isn’t a word he uses along with Felix very often, but photoshoots are always more entertaining with him, at least. Or they were, until his mother disappears, and family photoshoots grind to an utter and complete halt forever—

—just for now, his father says, until something changes, until that something happens, until that metaphorical other foot that’s always hanging over Adrien’s head finally stomps its way back to earth and demolishes him in the process—

Felix replies by stretching another elastic between his fingers, shooting it toward him this time like a little slingshot. Adrien snags it out of the air, slotting it between his own fingers to fire back. It misses by a miserable meter and a half, because at the time this conversation takes place, he and Ladybug haven’t stayed up all night practicing their aim by trying to hit the left ear of Le Stryge on Notre-Dame.

Felix snorts, snatching the elastic from the floor, and makes a show of placing the band back against Adrien’s wrist. He pulls it back with a meaningful look, like an exasperated teacher. “It’s the bounce back that hurts,” he tells him. “Not the stretching part. When it snaps back to place—” He demonstrates by releasing the band, and Adrien flinches at the tiny sting. “—that’s the part that hurts.”

Four years later, having up close and personally experienced what a shattered ribcage stabbing into your lungs feels like, Adrien wants to correct Felix on tiny little elastic bands and what actually hurts, but the point, he guesses, is that he still remembers what it felt like.

He still thinks about those elastics sometimes, and how far they can be pulled until they snap back into place. How the little rubber band can make it so far, get so close to breaking, only to snap right back to where it started.

(Chat Noir doesn’t use elastics, either.)

————

For all that Adrien will stand by stuffing the worst of his emotions into a box and never thinking about them ever as a perfectly reasonable way to go about handling things —and whatever Plagg says doesn’t count, he’s a kwami who compares emotions to cheese — Adrien really does believe in communication as key.

Living it out is just. Another thing entirely.

But Adrien’s lived his life with a cold mansion’s worth of words left unsaid, so on principle, he really does believe that if something’s important, you should say it. Maybe nobody will really listen to you, or take you seriously, but at least you’ll have said it, and maybe at some point they’ll remember you said it, and it’ll mean something to them.

But maybe that’s what stopping him this time — he just can’t decide if it’s the idea of not being listened to that scares him, or the idea of actually being heard that’s worse.

It’s not like he wants to tell Ladybug he’s upset. It’s not like he even wants to be upset.

It doesn’t change the fact that he is, kind of, a little bit, (a lot) — but again, on principle, Adrien just — he doesn’t like being upset. It’s all uncomfortable and hot and it sits on his chest like a rock, weighing heavier and heavier until he learns to get over it.

It’s only worse when he tries to say something about it, because that never works. Maybe it’s a really sucky side effect of being homeschooled for most of his life, but every time Adrien opens his mouth to tell someone he’s upset with them and here’s why, it always backfires spectacularly. There’s a weird moment where something happens and the other person says their part, and suddenly Adrien’s complaints sound so stupid he wants to crawl in a hole and hide. There’s a dizzying one-eighty and Adrien’s suddenly the one in the wrong, and the other person’s upset at him, and now he’s got to apologize before he makes it worse than he already has.

And granted, most of those other people are just Father (or Father’s tinny voice through the phone), but he’s already enough to beat the lesson in.

Metaphorically, of course. Always — always metaphorically. Adrien’s never doubted otherwise.

“Maybe I’m just that bad at arguing,” he mutters, swiping darkly at his phone screen.

“I dunno,” Nino says, his voice consoling. “I mean, you were pretty good at it when you argued me into watching that one anime the other night.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t upset with you about that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Nino winks at him. “Unless your voice going all high-pitched about why Sailor Moon is the peak of animation is your default setting.”

“I wasn’t upset with you, though,” Adrien shakes his head, cutting him off. “I’m never upset with you.”

And he isn’t, really. Not even when Nino tells him, in an admittedly roundabout way, that he’s annoying and irritating and has loose and shady moral commitment to love and all its forms (or something like that).

He means, it stings, but only in the way Felix’s little rubber band snaps do. Not enough to justify picking an argument with Nino. Not to justify upsetting him, and possibly losing the one friend who’s stuck by him through the worst and actually shares stuff with him these days.

Adrien bites down on the inside of his cheek. If he’s not careful with the way his train of thought’s been steering itself lately, he’s going to accidentally show Ladybug how upset he is, and that’s—

Well, the fallout of that will hurt a lot worse than a little elastic band snap.

A lot worse than it already does, so. Back in your corner, resentful thoughts.

“Uh-huh.” There’s a quiet edge of suspicion in Nino’s voice, and Adrien stiffens, suddenly feeling horribly seen. The look Nino’s pinned on him doesn’t help at all, searching and curious and—

Concerned? Upset? Angry?

Adrien doesn’t know. He thinks it’s concern, but he’s also been thinking Ladybug’s been amused with him when she’s apparently just been annoyed, so who knows, really—

Shut up, Adrien tells his subconscious furiously. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“It’s okay, if you are,” Nino says hesitantly, perhaps having picked up on whatever storm of emotions are slipping through Adrien’s schooled expression. “Upset, I mean. At your old man or me. It’s better to talk to people upfront, y’know? Otherwise…”

Nino’s expression twists in guilt, and Adrien’s lungs feel a little like they’re shriveling up and dying. Or maybe that’s just his chest on the whole, collapsing in on itself and taking Adrien’s ability to breath right with it.

He isn’t upset. He’s not. He doesn’t need to talk to anyone upfront about it, because there’s nothing to talk about in the first place. He’s not going to be overly dramatic about this too, he’s not. He’s just— it’s just—

Is it personal? Was it something he did, that made Ladybug trust everyone else but him? Did he slip up at some point and he just — he can’t remember? She’d told him, she’d promised they were fine after New York, but maybe she’d changed her mind without telling him and decided he needed to figure out on his own where he messed up if he was ever going to be worthy of her trust agai—

“I’ll be — I’ve gotta — restroom,” Adrien stammers, shooting up from his seat and all but sprinting for the doors.

“Wait, Adrien—!”

Nino’s panicked call is lost as Adrien flies down the hall, slipping down the stairs to the bathrooms on the first floor where he’s less likely to be found. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to cry, or anything so humiliating, but there’s an awful crushing sensation in his chest that makes him think he might do something he’ll regret. Or say something, any of the raging thoughts that bang off the insides of his skull with hurt. Something he won’t be able to take back.

Adrien wavers, planting both hands on the edge of the sink and staring at the white porcelain. His breathing sounds odd in the echo of the bathroom, wavering and off-beat. His vision swims traitorously, so he glares up at the mirror instead, only to falter as he catches sight of his reflection.

He looks…not great. Pale skin and bloodshot eyes in the way that’s likely to make Nathalie call a doctor on him. Which would be just fantastically ironic, considering she’s the one who needs a doctor, even if she’s never going to admit it and keep lying to him. Just like Ladybug, all careful smiles and words chosen with forced, casual caution, staring at him with eyes that are a million other places except actually seeing him.

Stop, he tells himself furiously, squeezing his eyes shut. Stop. Ladybug is not Father. Ladybug is Ladybug, his best friend and partner and he trusts her, he trusts her to have her reasons for not telling him. He has to trust her. He does trust her, he—

A sharp cracking sound tears Adrien from his thoughts, and he snaps his head up to find seven of his own disjointed faces staring back at him. He blinks, and suddenly the faces are clinking to the floor, broken fragments of the mirror scattering around his shoes.

His first thought, apart from a bizarre sense of not being entirely in his body, is a well-timed curse word.

Instead, what he gets out is, “Seven years bad luck,” muttered, almost absently, beneath his breath.

Typical. He wonders if moonlighting as a black cat-themed superhero that leans heavily into exaggerated acrobatics counts as crossing one. Like he needs more bad luck, right now.

What he actually needs, is…

Is…

He needs an escape.

From everything, it feels like, but for now, Adrien will settle for an escape from the school bathroom with all the mirrors that just broke.

…somehow.

————

For all that he throws fits of drama about it, the thing is, Adrien has escaped.

He’s made it out of the house, to school. He’s learned physics and grammar and math that Nathalie taught him six months ago, and he’s learned how to play hangman and cut class and tell your friend’s fortune with folded paper. He’s made friends, real friends, and he’s learned how to muffle loud giggles on the phone at night and what kinds of snack food Nino likes and doesn’t like. He’s learned how to pick up on a whole slew of emotions other than disappointment and apathy and mildly reserved approval, and he’s learned how to tell when other people are hurting.

(He’s learned how to tell how he’s hurting, but he’s unlearned that one faster.)

He’s learned the words it takes to voice that Father isn’t always right, learned how to curl his fingers tight enough into his palms that they don’t shake so much anymore, and he’s learned how to stretch like a rubber band against people’s anger, bending without breaking.

(He’s also learned about the perks of night vision and bone density and six different ways to trip someone up with the leather belt you’ve got tied around your waist like a tail, but he can’t credit school for those.)

And he thinks — he thinks he’s come so far, he’s learned so much, he’s so much stronger now—

Then his father’s eyes soften just enough to resemble the eyes of the man who held him close and told him how much he loved him, loves him, who stayed up all night reading Adrien’s favorite book to him and whose lap was the safest, warmest place in the world, and Adrien—

Hates himself. Hates himself as he snaps right back into place, right back into the Adrien who crumbles at Father’s slightest snap of tone. Hates himself so much it stings.  

Because it’s so much easier to do that, than it is to hate his father.

————

Adrien doesn’t particularly want to go to the photoshoot after school, especially not now that mirrors are literally breaking at the sight of his face, but — and here’s the fits of drama again — like everything else Father’s deigned to want, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Technically, though, Adrien fantasizes as he fixes his eyes upward so the makeup artist can do her best to hide the darkening circles beneath them (“—really, dear, do you sleep at all these days—”), he could give himself a choice. He could make it fun, too, striking the perfect pose before transforming into Chat Noir right smack in front of the entire studio crew, and then Father would have something truly inspired to review that evening. A perfect snapshot of Adrien cataclysm-ing his merry way out of the studio and out into the gloriously free outside, that’s what.

Except then Adrien would have way too many choices to make, and even less all at once. The identity thing, being one. How to avoid Ladybug murdering him and dancing atop his grave, for another. Not that he thinks Ladybug is capable of murdering anyone, of course—

(—no, that’s solely reserved for him and his powers alone—)

—but he can imagine she’d be angry, were he to stage a reveal that way.

Were he to stage a reveal at all, Adrien thinks sourly, blinking until the stiff feeling of the makeup beneath his eyes fades. His makeup artist’s had to use the thick kind today, the extra-strength stuff that’s going to take forever to wash off. He stifles the urge to swipe at it, trying to relax into the feeling instead. Makeup is familiar, consistent. Sure, it’s technically another lie, but it’s one Adrien’s at least aware of. Makeup, he can see through. He can put it on and take it off himself, exercising some tiny semblance of control over what’s being hidden from the world.

Everything else, though…

“Carefree, my boy, carefree,” Vincent implores, his eyebrows furrowing as Adrien snaps himself back to the present. “You look as if you’re being drowned in mud, not soaring above the clouds.”

Adrien’s cheeks puff up as he blows his breath out, short and frustrated. At least Vincent is every bit as prone to fits of drama as he is, he reminds himself. It’s better to be stuck with someone passionate than someone as open as a brick wall, even if it is just Vincent antagonizing him with a camera again.

“Sorry,” he offers, giving him a weak grin. “I’ll get it this time, promise.”

Vincent doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he rambles about lighting and angles instead of scolding Adrien, which he can’t help but be grateful for. It allows Adrien a moment to let the smile drop, staring at the ground instead of the brightening lights around him.

He toes sullenly at the smooth linoleum of the floor, the solid black of Father’s logo glaring back at him from the side of his sneaker. Maybe he should just get more sleep. Maybe all the ugly tangled emotions in his chest are just residual buildup from being overtired, that’s all. Ladybug mentioned the stress getting to her a little while back, her own eyes bloodshot and exhausted. Adrien’s brilliant solution had been to take her to the movies, which had gone just as brilliantly as every other time he’s tried something like that, which is not very well at all. He’d been worried about her, though, even before she’d thrown him from a roof on accident. Ladybug carries so much on her shoulders, and strong as they are, Adrien knows what it’s like to be strung so tightly that even the slightest extra weight feels like it’ll snap you. He sees the same weight in his own eyes, now, even blinded by the studio lights.

His stomach twists. Ladybug’s eyes aren’t half as bloodshot lately. There’s an easiness to her that wasn’t there before, a lightening of tension, and yes, Adrien’s happy she’s feeling better, he’s nothing but glad that she isn’t so exhausted and worn, but…

But she’d trusted him before, even when she was strung her tightest. And now that there’s relief in her eyes, now that he’s taking a backseat and Ladybug adds more allies to their roster by the day, allies that she knows but he doesn't, allies that Alya and Nino probably know too, just like everything else, now that—

Was he the problem? Was it his fault, that Ladybug’s eyes turned shadowed and her movements wavered? He’s tried, he’s tried to be a rock for her, to be something constant and consistent as Adrien himself wants, but the horrible feeling that he’s not enough is now warring with the awful feeling that he’s the problem in the first place, because — why else? Why else would she shut him out like this? Why else would she decide he’s untrustworthy, after all this time, why—

The lights against his vision suddenly flare painfully bright, so bright Adrien’s forced to stagger back.

Vincent jolts away with a cry, waving his hand frantically as the camera sparks and sputters. Echoed cries of surprise ring throughout the studio as the overhead lights flicker wildly, turning the studio into a frightening mockery of a particularly bad nightclub.  

Adrien stumbles again, alarm coursing through his veins like a cold burst of water, and he darts for the intern nearby, who’s fallen over in her scramble to back away from the strobing lights. She’s just taken his hand when the lights go dark, plunging the studio into blackness. Before anyone can react beyond a frightened shriek, the lights snap back on, bright and steady as if nothing’s happened.

Adrien slowly pulls the intern to her feet, staring at the blazing lights as his vision swims, blinking against the sudden onslaught of dark spots in his eyes.

“Is it an akuma?” the intern asks, her eyes wild with fear. “Should we — should we evacuate?”

Adrenaline shoots through Adrien’s veins, his head whipping back and forth as he searches for a spark of purple, for the familiar edge of butterfly’s wings. But there’s nothing out of place, save the sputtering camera Vincent’s fretting over. There’s no sign of garish transformation, no following explosions, no loudly proclaimed demands for miraculous. In fact, if Adrien hadn’t seen it himself, it would appear as if nothing’s ever happened at all.

“It could’ve been the power lines,” someone suggests. “This place is pretty old, you know.”

“With Agreste’s standards?” someone else mutters. “I doubt it.”

“The camera is broken. Unsalvageable,” Vincent announces over the outbreak of murmurs. To his credit, he barely sounds shaken. “It must have been a power failure, or a blown fuse, I suppose. Nothing we can help.”

Vincent’s word is all the rest of the crew needs, and before Adrien can clamber up to inspect the lights himself, he’s being ushered from the studio, another intern furiously muttering about how she refuses to be fired for losing a model to “subpar building inspections” or something along those lines.

Adrien, who is already anticipating Father’s reaction himself, can’t blame her for bailing the moment he’s in the Gorilla’s hands.

————

Adrien is six years and three months old when his father finally finishes reading Le Petite Prince to him, and he comes the closest he ever has to throwing a fit at the ending.

He doesn’t actually throw a fit, of course, because then his father might not read to him ever again. That they finished this book together is already more precious as anything Adrien’s ever owned, and he won’t ruin that with his dramatics.

“Not all stories have the happy endings you want, Adrien,” his father tells him. Adrien feels his arms tighten around his shoulders, where he sits snugly in his father’s lap. “Sometimes you must make the most of what you have.”

Even at a young age, Adrien knows that he has quite a lot. The knowledge only grows as he does, just how much he has from his last name alone. His room alone could rival some people’s homes, Adrien has no right to want for anything.

And yet.

Sometimes, Adrien thinks back to the deep timbre of his father’s voice as he reads about yellow snakes and desert flowers and feels a stinging sense of loss so sharply it takes his breath away.

Other times, though, Adrien thinks about his father choosing to read a story about a boy who could only return home by letting a snake poison him, and wonders what that says about their relationship.

It’s not even Father’s icy tone that hurts anymore, really, Adrien thinks, as he picks at his dinner. Not that he’s likely to hear that tone tonight. Father’s locked himself firmly in his office again, and even Nathalie is nowhere to be seen. It’s quiet enough that Adrien’s gotten away with heating up the cheapest dinner they have in the house, and scouring enough cheese for Plagg that he won’t be complaining for a month.

Well, a day, maybe. Plagg’s a special kind of greedy.

But it’s painstakingly clear that Adrien will be dining alone, tonight. There hasn’t even been a single message fro Nathalie, informing him of all the lessons he’s been falling short in lately. Adrien twists his fork in his hand, setting it down with a weary sigh as dark spots flicker before his eyes again.

At least there won’t be anyone to lecture him, he tells himself, tapping absently on the table. The smooth wood looks immaculate beneath his fingers, the edge of his pinky still a bruised purple from the other evening, when Adrien misjudged the distance from the rooftop to his own window.  

Father won’t be able to lecture him about that, either, so it’s a good thing, really. It’s a good thing, that no one will be saying anything to him about the studio mishap earlier, or the darker than usual circles beneath his eyes, or he way he’s been showing up late more often than not to everything. Not about his slipping grades, or the way he keeps forgetting to hide his glare when photoshoots run longer than they’re supposed to.

It’s a good thing, Adrien tells himself, as his fingers clench around the table’s edge. It’s a good thing that he’s alone tonight. Being alone and unseen is much better than the alternative. It’s a good thing, that he can stew in whatever ugly emotions keep threatening to rise to the surface all by himself, where he won’t risk hurting anyone else with them. He can’t mess anything up if no one’s there to see it, so really, it’s a good thing, it’s—

It hits him, all-encompassing and overwhelming all at once.

Unwanted, thick and horrible and choking, the sensation of being traded out and traded off and stepped over, left behind and left out and laughed at in vicious whispers, closed doors and closed expressions and locking him out, like bars sliding down from the ceiling and cutting him off, trapped in place like an animal in the zoo, entertaining for a heartbeat than easily moved past for something better, unwanted and untrusted and alone, alone, alone again—

Adrien buckles and something howls in his ears, his hands burning as his fingers crunch through wood and his vision whites out.

For a heartbeat, Adrien isn’t Adrien — he’s the swelling of flames as fire catches light, he’s the pull of the undertow as it rips across the shore, he’s the blazing burst of lightning against metal, he’s on the edge of a cliff and stepping off—

And then he’s Adrien again, small and shaking and breathing in large, heaving gasps, trying desperately not to throw up all over the table.

“—drien, kid, Adrien, please!”

Adrien tears his hands from the table as if it’s shocked him. Black flecks drift from his fingers as they tremble, and Plagg splits into three as he flits in front of him, six pairs of green eyes staring at him in blazing concern.

“Plagg?” He barely recognizes his own voice, and his throat feels like sandpaper.

“Breathe,” Plagg orders as his image solidifies back to one, more serious than Adrien can remember him sounding. “You gotta breathe, Adrien.”

He does, in stuttering, shaky gasps, because Adrien will do anything Plagg asks him to. He’ll light himself on fire if he wanted, because Plagg is all he’s got.

Plagg is here, and that means more to Adrien than anything else could.

“Breathing,” he finally croaks out. “I’m — breathing, see? S’all good.”

It is most certainly not all good, because Adrien still feels like he got thrown off a building and into a blender, but Plagg almost looks frightened, looking from Adrien to the table to Adrien again, and—

Adrien freezes. The table. The stupidly, enormous, ridiculously expensive, lonely table his family’s supposed to use. The table he definitely, most certainly felt crunch under his hands.

Adrien follows Plagg’s gaze downwards, and suddenly feels like he’s going to throw up again.

“Oh,” he whispers.

Ice coats the inside of his chest, cold and creeping. The sidewalk. The mirrors, the studio camera, and now this.

“Adrien.” Plagg sounds so very serious.

He could explain most of it away. It’d be — it would be easy.

But this?

Adrien stares at the half-decayed table, ashes still flaking from the sides in a way that’s horribly distinctive of his cataclysm. A spiderwebbed path of smoldering destruction, all tracing back to where his fingers had been white-knuckled at the table’s edge.

Something snaps in the chandelier above him, cracking once and fizzling off into sparks.

It feels like something’s snapped in Adrien’s head. Maybe he’s lost it. Maybe he’s finally gone off the edge, and that — that can be his excuse, when Father asks him what, exactly, he did to the table. He can tell Father they’ve both lost it, they’ve both gone mad, and wouldn’t mom think this was all so funny—

A sound like a sob rips itself from his chest, before Adrien can strangle it into submission. He can’t lose it now. He can’t break down, he has to — he has to come up with a way to explain this, he has to find an escape, or Father’s going to be so angry, and so cold, and…and…

Adrien goes still. Like ice, numb and calming, he realizes he doesn’t have to worry about excuses. He doesn’t have to worry about any of that at all. No one’s coming. Not to check on him. The silence of the house is overpowering, the tiny patter of the vaporized table bits as they land on the floor almost thunderous.

“Adrien,” Plagg repeats, softer this time. “I need you to look at me.”

Slowly, he lifts his head, meeting Plagg’s bright green eyes with his own. Something in Plagg’s expression goes tight, a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes before he schools them back into careful calm.

“Oh, kid.” Plagg’s voice is gentle. It still sounds like a lament.

Adrien tears his gaze away, swallowing. His fingers, still shaking, curl into unsteady fists. They feel odd, almost scalded. Adrien ignores it.

He can hide the table, he tells himself. He can fix the chandelier. No one will notice. He can hide this.

He’s Adrien Agreste.

He can deal with a couple of cracks in his facade.

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

REMEMBER BACK WHEN WE GOT INVITED TO A MASQUERADE??? And we figured out the masquerade guests are definitely the sacrifice meant to summon their eldritch deity and that the party will probably be the location of the final ritual? ANYWAY WE’RE CRASHING THE PARTY, which means we need costumes.

The party is Alice in Wonderland themed; Sammy hasn’t read the book but got kin-assigned the March Hare by Joey, so naturally i’ve been doing nothing but drawing this loser in a dapper rabbit costume for an entire week

---

Anyway have a little smattering of out-of-context quotes from session 11

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] Sammy just has no magical powers. [Jack] YET. [Sammy] Yet. Correct. ...He doesn't want any. [GM] Half of him doesn't want any. [Sammy] That's... accurate, yeah. Half of him ALSO wants the OTHER half of him to stop having magical powers. [Jack] No Magical Girl transformation? [GM] *laughing* Is that what that is? [Jack] I'd watch a magical anime where the main character drugs themself and then becomes a weird... religious... madman! [Sammy] That does sound compelling! Maybe you should see if you can find a franchise that contains that element, and then become a big fan of it and draw a bunch of fanart for some reason. [Jack] Yeah, I dunno, I mean... it's so tiring getting into new media, I need to get a friend who will drag me into it. [Henry] And then you guys can start a roleplaying game with it and drag me into it! [GM] There's an idea! [Jack] Yeah! Someone should get on that! [GM] And if there was such a theoretical game... people might have to figure... what they're doing when they wake up!

[Sammy] We were put in a situation before where we were told that the only thing we could do was kill the host, but we found a way around it last time, [Peter] What way was that? [Sammy] Complicated.

[GM] Henry is the first to notice the apparent cultist, camping out, looking tired, trying to spot you guys. [Henry] Uh, Henry is just going to tap Sammy on the arm and point him out. [Jack] Bros! You've got to unionise! Look at these working conditions! [GM] Maybe one of these days you won't spot them, right? Hope springs eternal!

[GM] Okay, you can make an intimidate! [Sammy] Okay! *rolls* FIFTEEN IS -- this is the only thing Sammy's good at now -- fifteen is a hard success!

[Jack] I'm proud of him! [Sammy] Someone has to be.

[GM] Allison chats with everyone, and gets you into the costume room! Everyone seems relatively friendly! [Sammy] Except Sammy. Sammy doesn't seem friendly.

[Joey] My idea was, Joey would be Mad Hatter -- [Sammy] Because he needs a hat, [Joey] --Yeah, so he can have a hat -- I was thinking Sammy could be the March Hare, Jack could be White Rabbit, and then Henry could be the Dormouse, [Sammy] Yes! And then the Haiti boys are all the Mad Teaparty, which is great, because the Mad Teaparty is canonically trapped in a time loop. [Sammy] Because we tHOUGHT ABOUT THIS TOO MUCH,

[Jack] Kin-assign Pete! [GM] He's content to wear anything that looks like it fits him, as long as people aren't trying to push a co-ordinated effort. [Joey] (Pete can be Caterpillar,) [Jack] Catter-pete-lar [Sammy] Oh my goodness. Completely unnecessary. [Jack] This is a pun that Jack might make, out loud, to Pete [GM] Pete laughs, despite himself! [Sammy] I feel like, Jack would make this pun, and then Jack would be SO pleased with himself that Pete would laugh, because Jack was so happy about it. [Jack] Yeah that sounds canon. ....It IS canon!!

[Jack] You can like, actually pretend to be people who decided to come to this party to enjoy it, and not just steal and/or murder!

[Henry] I want someone on the help, because I feel like we would have more control if we had someone on the inside, [Henry] And Henry does have a very forgettable face, apparently!!

[Joey] What are the staff wearing? Target red shirt, khaki pants? [Sammy] Perfect! Everyone will fall for it! Based on my experience wearing red shirts into Target!

[GM] I guess this does mean Joey misses an opportunity to dress up Henry. [Joey] *excited gasp* Wait, wait, [GM] What? [Joey] Sorry, this has nothing to do with anything that's happening right now in the roleplay, but I just suddenly realised that (1) when Henry got married, was Joey his best man, and (2) did Joey get to pick out his tuxedo for him [Henry] UHHHH... I feel like, Henry usually defaults to Joey for outfits and stuff, but he would hesitate a bit to ask his best friend who has an obvious crush on him to help dress for his heteronormative wedding!

[Joey] There probably is at least one of the wedding photos where Joey is insistent on standing very next to Henry -- while Henry's next to Linda! -- but, [GM] ...but also, Joey is here, [Joey] But also Joey is here. [Sammy] ...absolute disaster of a man... [GM] But the tuxedos look good! [Joey] Yes. Henry was properly fitted.

[Sammy] I don't want a full-- I don't want a freakin' fursuit, because-- [Henry] (FNAF in the distance)

[Sammy] But I feel like, since both White Rabbit and March Hare are, like, dapper rabbits, they could do something like, yeah, splicer mask and also a hat. [Jack] I mean, Jack's not opposed; Jack likes hats. [Sammy] Jack absolutely should have a hat, I agree. [Jack] He's getting so many hats! So many hats, and so many boyfriends, [GM] He can't be stopped! [Jack] >:3c He shouldn't be stopped.

[GM] I'm still just stuck on the phrase "Dapper Rabbits."

[GM] If Joey and Allison are talking further away, I guess it's moot. Though Allison did see Prophet Sammy! He changed in her room. [Sammy] Well, nobody explained him to her. Sammy just showed up the next day and hoped that we wouldn't talk about it, and then we didn't! It was great. [Jack] Sammy's over here, hoping that Allison is distracted by Joey so that none of this conversation is being listened to, [Jack] MEANWHILE, smash cut to the other side of the room, where Joey is explaining SillySam,

[Joey] A lot of Joey's lack of giving information was to keep her out of it, and not paint a target on her back... but now? She has a target on her back, so... Sure! You can also sacrifice yourself, for the greater good!

[Sammy] I'm sure someone in this party will thank Allison. It won't be me. But I'm sure someone will.

[Henry] Henry's already smearing his blood on people, he's gonna agree to whatever at this point.

[Sammy] DEFINITELY not a cult, now hold still while we put this guy's weird glowing blood on you, it's fine. [Jack] Welcome to the flock!

[GM] What does this mean for Prophet Sammy's sacrificeability rating on Henry, though? Now he's potentially long-term useful... [Sammy] I mean... [Jack] The Prophet isn't here so he doesn't need to know about this! [Sammy] ...I feel like, if something has greater value, then it's an even more impressive sacrifice. That's why you sacrifice an unblemished sheep, traditionally. If it's not a blemish-- [Sammy] Like, that's most of what he was worried about, like, “does this make you not fit for sacrifice.” But if it's actually a really cool thing, ...!

[Sammy] Sammy's nervous. [Jack] Jack is also nervous. [Henry] Henry is also nervous! [Jack] Oh, that's always a good sign, [Joey] Joey's going to be confident! [Henry] ...Of course he is. [Joey] Someone has to be! [Jack]...is he "Confident" or "Confident (Fast Talk)"? [Joey] YES. That last one. [Sammy] *muttering* That's the best we got, unfortunately.

[Sammy] If Jack or Henry express nervousness, Sammy agrees with them. If Pete is nervous, then Sammy will very aggressively say that Joey knows what he's doing.

[Sammy] Allison, don't use a spell to bind people's souls together in order to avoid crunch,,, [GM] You never know when something might be handy! [Sammy] I mean, [GM] Waste not want not!

[Henry] Does Henry have to draw in blood on himself...? [GM] No, Henry has a lot of his own blood on his person.

[GM] Aw, man, Bendy should've commented on the rabbit outfits! I'm sure he'd find that hilarious. [Joey] ...why...? [GM] WHY? It's just objectively funny! No additional reason is needed!!

[Joey] Joey will go through his notes, and confer with Henry and Bendy on, okay, shall we try this, and see if we can help Bendy as well? [Henry] Henry is down to try! [GM] Bendy is worried about Henry overexerting himself. [Henry] ...Henry is down to try!

[Jack] Worst case, Jack looks at the symbol, and then he can be seeing-eye rabbit for the rest of the group!

[GM] Norman wonders what the plan is! [Henry] Bold of you to assume,

[Sammy] We're having such a good sleepover! We did a weird blood ritual, and we're braiding each other's hair~ [Joey] Having a fashion show, [Sammy] Yeah! We went out and got clothes, [Jack] Can't believe Joey called a boy, [Sammy] Gotta ask Joey about the boy he likes... wait, no, don't do that. [Jack] I'd say it's time to play seven minutes in heaven, but I think we, we did that early. [Sammy] WE DIDN'T DO A VERY GOOD JOB,

[GM] Norman wants to see how this plays out. [Joey] Okay, well, try not to get sacrificed, then, [GM] He laughs, and thanks you for the advice! [Sammy] *Hypnos Hadesgame voice* "Try not to get sacrificed, okay?"

[Henry] Allison is very helpful, and not weird at all!

[Joey] We already have the banjo case full of ritual circles, and Joey would rather have the emergency circles than Sammy carrying around bOTTLES OF INK. [Sammy] WHY, WHY WOULDN'T YOU WANT THAT TO BE HAPPENING? WHAT WOULD BE THE PROBLEM WITH THAT,

[GM] Make a sanity check! [Jack] Wait, what's happening? [Sammy] Joey was trying to think too hard.

[GM] Sammy does manage to catch that there's a little-- next to the kitchen, when you go into the place where they're serving food, there's a sign that says "Sheep Shop" over it. And there's a person wearing a sheep mask, handing out food. [Sammy] OKAY, THAT'S FINE,,, I don't feel like Sammy has actually read Through The Looking Glass, so I don't know if he knows why this is happening. I think he's just concerned. [GM] Excellent. Ideal response.

[GM] And Joey has NEVER seen the symbol EVER because he's incredible at not looking at creepy symbols! Which you wouldn't expect. [Sammy] I'm sure Joey will put this in his autobiography.

[Jack] :/ No Hashtag Gay Rights at this party,

[GM] Seems to be another party-goer; in fact, you recognise the voice! [Joey] Ohhh. Kyle -- I don't know his actual name, but -- [Sammy] (Dennis!) [GM] (Yes, that's-) [Joey] -- Kyle.

[Henry] Henry is going to try to sneak up on Moonlight while he's distracted! [GM] OH! ...Okay! He's very distracted, Sammy just screamed! [excited noises from everyone beCAUSE NO ONE EXPECTED THIS] [GM] You successfully sneak up behind him! [Henry] I'm going to grab the staff! [GM] Make a Brawl check, with advantage! [Sammy] (He has SO many limbs that don't work my dude, you got this,) [Henry] That's a success! [GM] You snatch it! [Henry] I RUN!!!

[Joey] We're just both escorting Jack, now. [Sammy] Would you say Jack is late, for a very important date? [Jack] Well YEAH, his Face Removal was scheduled like 2 dreams ago!!

[GM] He'd have to roll for it, to see if it felt familiar to his trip to Carcosa. [Jack] Extreme success! [GM] Then he would pick up that familiar feeling! [Jack] Oh, nice and homey at this party! Really nice. Nostalgic! It's been a while. [Sammy] Hm, [Jack] Maybe he should go play the piano, for old time's sake! [Sammy] NO

[ahatintimepieces]

Fabric Hearts

Remember the first part of that build-a-bear au I wrote for @smieska-draws? It’s back! But now the au name makes sense! Imagine!

Luka, known as the Snatcher to most of the mall locals, runs the Kraft-a-Kid while his daughter, Hattie, runs around with her friends. There’s definitely nothing suspicious about Luka. The rumors that he snatches the souls of children and stuffs them into the dolls are completely unfounded. Probably. Most likely. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.

This is, of course, another au that Smieska and I both developed and like to swap ideas for SO send her your love and adulation because I couldn’t have written this without her ;o; <333 Here’s the link to the piece she did for first part if you haven’t seen it yet (which u should because it’s fabulous and incredible). Without further ado, here it is!

Words: 4,131

The door squeaked open as Luka recorded the number of tiny, elastic collars with bright bells in the back.

“Dimitri can’t make it today,” he warned without looking up from his clipboard. His golden gaze flickered up towards the boxes filled with cotton stuffing and he quickly counted them as footsteps approached. “If you get a sudden influx of customers, come grab me.”

“It’s me, Dad,” Hattie’s voice came from right beside him.

“Did I stutter?” He glanced down without missing a beat. She gave him a deadpan stare as he grinned. His sharp canines glinted in the unnaturally bright florescent lights. “Come on, kiddo. How about you help me with my business endeavors instead of frittering away your summer romping around the mall?”

She readjusted the brim of the top hat she made from her millinery lessons at the fabric store. Why his child fixated on hat-making out of everything she could have taken an interest in was beyond him but even he had to admit her royal purple top hat was well crafted.

“I’m going with Belle and the others to get lunch at the food court,” she said, ignoring his jesting. “Can I have money?”

“You know if you had a job you wouldn’t need to be asking me,” he lamented dramatically before wedging the clipboard between his arm and side. He reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks.

“I’m not even twelve.” She blinked up at him with large blue eyes. “There are child labor laws.”

“Excellent.” He nodded, opening his wallet. “Don’t let anyone in the mall convince you otherwise. But,” he slipped out a bill and gave her a pointed look, “if you accept this, you have to do me a favor.”

“I already cleaned the bathrooms last weekend,” she whined.

His grin widened.

“Tough luck, kiddo.” He twisted the bill in the air, watching her nose scrunch as she seriously weighed her options. After a second of letting her think that she was going to have to do her least favorite chore, he extended the bill towards her. “Just bring me back a coffee and I’ll consider us even.”

Relief instantly flooded her features as she took the bill.

“I can do that! Your usual?” She headed towards the door.

“That’ll work,” he said, tucking away his wallet and grabbing the clipboard again.

“Thanks, Dad!” she chirped before moving to open the door.

Just as she reached for it, the door swung open, and she stumbled back. Luka immediately dropped the clipboard and slipped behind her with the speed of shadows dodging the light. She smacked into his legs, and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder as Alex walked in with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, kid! I didn’t see you there.” Alex winced, looking from Hattie to Luka’s hard glare.

“I’m fine!” Hattie promised, giving a bright smile until she placed her hand over Luka’s fingers. She jolted and twisted around. “Dad, are you okay? You’re really warm.”

“It is hot in here.” Alex tugged at their collar, wincing.

“The thermostat dial was probably nudged,” Luka dismissed, pulling away and stooping to grab the clipboard. “I’ll take a look.”

“Should I get you water?” Hattie asked.

“I have water. Now go have fun.” He shooed her towards the door. “The sooner you leave the sooner you can run my errand.”

Hattie hesitated but when he returned to his task of recording inventory, he heard her retreating footsteps.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered as they crossed over to the table for the employees. They dropped their backpack before grabbing the light purple apron with their nametag.

“Let’s just be careful with how forcefully we open doors, hm? I don’t want to deal with any workplace liability cases. They’re a pain.” Luka shot the teen a toothy grin. Glancing back down to the clipboard, he added in a more monotone cadence, “Anyway, Dimitri can’t come today, so once Ember leaves, it’ll just be you and me for the rest of the day. If it gets too crowded on the floor and I’m not around, come find me.”

“Right.” They nodded firmly. While wiping back their bangs and smearing the beads of sweat on their brow, they hurried out. Once the door closed behind them and Luka was alone, he let out a sigh.

The flame that had flared when Hattie nearly got hit crackled noisily in his otherwise empty chest. Luka placed one of his pale hands over the flame and counted out the seconds between metered inhales and exhales. The snap and pop of embers faded and when he glanced towards the thermostat, the temperature in the room lowered back to a comfortable range.

Not that he was bothered by the heat, but he didn’t need his employees passing out.

Ember’s shift ended as he got to counting the unstuffed plush shells. As she hung her apron over the hook, she informed him that two separate groups had just entered the store. Luka nodded, finishing his current count before getting ready to help Alex on the floor.

He brushed back his long, spiky hair into a ponytail. Stray strands the color of soot fluttered against his cheek, and he tucked them behind his ear.

They reflected a warm violet when they caught the light.

With his hair as contained as he could manage, he grabbed his own amethyst apron with the Kraft-a-Kid’s signature logo; a stylized baby goat and parent goat waving a friendly greeting. After draping it over his black suit and making sure it didn’t displace his dark purple tie, he tied the apron with nimble fingers, clawed at the tips. He double-checked that the pocket had extra thread and a compact sewing kit before he clipped on his name tag and headed out into the workshop.

Alex snapped their head up from one of the stuffing stations, looking relieved when they spotted Luka rounding the counter. Alex returned their full attention to the small girl and her mother while Luka smiled at the two teens with a younger child hovering by the bins of unstuffed shells by the entrance.

While he didn’t know them personally, he recognized Brooke and her younger sister Hali, who worked (or in Hali’s case just hovered around in the back when not at daycare) at their uncle’s travel agency, and then Makoto, who worked at the jewelry store. Judging from their uniforms, the teens were probably using their breaks to accompany Hali. Since he often heard good things about their work ethic and Hali’s sweet nature from Mari, he assumed he had an easy session ahead. He waved them over.

Brooke and Makoto shared a nervous look while Hali bounded over with a bright smile.

“Why, hello there!” Luka pasted on his most vibrant customer service smile as he lowered onto the seat by the stuffing station. Cotton and soft fibers filled the glass tank decorated to look like hearty trees and branches climbed around the edges. The machine itself matched the lilac walls and brown and bronze gears that decorated them. The bins and shelves that held the merchandise throughout the store were all structured to look like spools of golden thread.

Holding an unstuffed goat with dark brown fuzz and silver horns, Hali shyly smiled up at Luka as Brooke and Makoto slowly joined.

“I see you’ve picked your new friend!” Luka held out his hands and Hali gingerly lowered the flat goat into his palms. “Before we bring them to life, how stuffed do you want them to be?”

“Um?” Hali tilted her head with a blank expression.

“Do you want them to be firm or squishy?” Luka clarified, fitting the goat around the nozzle and getting his foot ready over the pedal.

“Fiwm, pwease!” Hali declared in a cutesy voice.

“Excellent choice!” Luka set to work, pumping the pedal as he filled out the head of the goat plush. The machine roared to life, blowing air and fluff with the force of a vacuum. Though, his ears perked when he caught Brooke and Makoto in an intense discussion as they remained a couple steps back. What he couldn’t hear over the machine, he pieced together easily enough.

He knew the rumors and could guess what was on their mind when they mentioned the Snatcher and stolen souls.

Luka smirked as he pulled his foot from the pedal and the machine hushed.

“Now it’s time for my favorite part.” He beamed, pulling off the firmly stuffed goat and then reaching for a bucket full of small felt hearts. “The soul ceremony! Go ahead and pick the heart that most resonates with you.”

“If it’s just a heart, why is it called a soul ceremony?” Brooke asked, her voice quivering as she pressed closer to Makoto.

Hali, meanwhile, was completely enraptured with picking out the right fabric heart.

“Hearts, souls, same thing, really,” Luka soothed with a toothy grin, giving the teens a considering look.

Makoto’s gaze flickered down to his fangs. She lifted her chin, trying to project an air of confidence. But her furrowed brows wavered.

“Souws awe heawts?” Hali gasped, looking up with awe.

“Absolutely!” Luka kept his voice cheerful, gesturing to the bucket. “It’s what gives your new friend life! I imagine without one, they would feel pretty empty and hollow.” Keeping his chin tilted down, he lifted his eyes towards the teens and lowered his voice just a touch. “Wouldn’t you feel pretty soulless without a heart?”

The two stiffened.

“Pwobabwy!” Hali chirped, completely unaware of their increasing unease. She dug around the hearts and pursed her lips. “How do woo know which heawt is the best?”

“That’s up to you!” Luka bounced effortlessly back into an upbeat cadence. He pinched a heart with a checkerboard pattern in red and white. “The nice thing about these hearts is that they’re blank slates. They’ll be filled with whatever you put into them. But don’t put in too much!” he added with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t want your new friend to be more you than you!”

Brooke squeaked in fright and his grin stretched.

“I wiwl take this one, then!” Hali held up a solid red heart.

“Great! Hold on to it, now.” Luka placed the tub back down. “First, why don’t you rub the heart on your hair so your little buddy will always have soft fur!”

Hali beamed at that and rubbed the fabric heart on her hair. When she pulled it back down, some of the blond strands followed the heart while the strands too far away stuck up from the lingering static.

“Well done! Now, rub it against your funny bone so your friend has a sense of humor.” Luka tapped his elbow when Hali crinkled her nose for a moment. Her eyes lit up in understanding and once the heart was granted good humor, Luka added, “and why don’t you strike a superhero pose, so that your pal will hold courage.”

Hali giggled as she placed her hands on her hips and preened.

“Fantastic. Lastly, I want you to rub the heart between your palms!” Luka motioned for her to mimic him as he demonstrated. “Now, when it’s nice and warm, give it a clap to start its heartbeat!”

The clap resounded through the workshop and the teens jolted behind her.

“That should do it,” Luka praised, holding out his palm. Hali handed the heart over, and he slipped it into the goat, tucking it snuggly away in the cotton and fluff.

He then set to filling out the rest of the plush. Once it was stiff and sturdy, he handed it to her, asking if she was content with it. When he received an enthusiastic nod, he took it back and sealed the hole. He snipped the extra thread with the scissors in his apron and then passed the goat back to Hali.

“Here’s your new friend! Be sure to visit our shop in the back! We have plenty of accessories and outfits for the newest member of your family,” Luka recited the same sales pitch as always. “Once you’re ready, head over to an open kiosk so you can fill out the adoption papers. If you need any help, Alex or I will be overjoyed to assist.”

“Thank woo!” Hali hurried over to the accessories, hugging the goat to her chest.

Luka clasped his hands and turned to the teens. When his gaze flickered to the floppy hooded doll in Makoto’s arms, her embrace tightened.

“Ready?” He motioned for her to hand it over so that he could stuff it.

She looked to Brooke, who shrugged with uncertainty. Makoto stepped forward.  

Keeping his tone light, he went through the same script as always. He asked if she wanted the doll to be firm or squishy and, in an effort to loosen her up a bit, offered to add any fun sound boxes or scents to the plush. She remained on edge until he asked about the nametag on her uniform as the machine roared to life again. She explained how her boss liked to give everyone themed nicknames and she was saddled with “Makoneko.” When he asked if she appreciated the nickname, she pointedly rolled her eyes as he removed his foot from the machine pedal again. Her shoulders relaxed when he chuckled.

“Your turn to pick a heart,” Luka twittered in an overly cheerful voice as he held out the bucket.

“Do I have to do the ceremony?” Makoto hesitated, plucking the first heart she saw. Rather than scared, her bored expression mirrored that of many teens who wanted to skip the step.

Perfect.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He shrugged casually. “What is a heart without a heartbeat? A soul without a person behind the personality?”

“What?” She faltered, shoulders slowly stiffening again as Brooke’s eyes widened.

“I only mean it’ll be a sorry existence for this little friend.” Luka waved the stubby hands of the purple plush toy. “And you get out what you put in.” Her brows dipped in slight confusion, and he smirked. “You have to at least start its heartbeat. You don’t want to bring a ghost home, do you?”  

“Just do the ceremony!” Brooke hissed through clenched teeth.

“F-fine,” Makoto said, slowly lifting the heart to her long black locks. “So, hair for soft fur?”

“Does it look like this one has fur?” Luka gestured to the doll with the yellow spiral in its hood. He scoffed, turning up his nose. “Of course not! No. First, why don’t you rub the heart against your belly so that it’s full of laughter.”

“I thought that was the elbow.” Makoto crinkled her nose. Though she rubbed the heart against her stomach, eager to get it over with.

“There is a difference between telling good jokes and laughing at them, kiddo,” Luka offered with a smirk. “Now, how about you jump up and down a few times? I’m sure your friend would love to share some of your energy.”

“What does that mean?” She jolted.

“Just that exercise keeps the heart healthy,” Luka said placidly.

Her eyes narrowed but she eventually gave a sluggish skip.  

“Then, rub it against your ear, so it will always listen.” He smiled brightly, being sure to bare his teeth. Once she complied, he clasped his hands together. “I’m sure you know what to do now! Warm it between your palms and then clap to start the heartbeat!”

She let out the breath that she had been holding, relieved it was finally over. She gave a small clap before passing the heart back. He slipped it into the doll.

“Any names in mind for your friend?” Luka prompted as his foot tapped the pedal.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled curtly, purposefully trying to let the whirling air in the stuffing machine drown out her answer.

“How’s this feel?” he asked a few seconds later when the machine hushed again. He pulled the doll from the nozzle and passed it back to her.

“Good.” She returned it after assessing the squishiness.

“If you haven’t got any names, I always thought these particular dolls looked like minions,” he prattled, closing the seam. When she didn’t respond, he continued lightly, “so Minion might be a good name.” He glanced up to meet her gaze and lowered his tone. “You did make sure it’ll listen. It’ll be an obedient little kiddo.”

Her breath hitched.

“Obedient to who?” she challenged, maintaining a fragile glare.

“All done!” Luka snapped upright after snipping the excess thread, pretending he hadn’t heard her question. “Welcome your friend into the world!”

Makoto accepted the doll, her gaze flickering between it and Luka with uncertainty.

“Same as always,” he droned in his peppy, customer service voice. “Browse to your contentment. My daughter recommends the plush purple cherries. You want to keep your buddy happy and fed! Make sure to finalize the adoption and meet Alex or I by the counter.” He glanced over to find the other young girl with her mother already at the cash register. “Looks like it’ll be Alex!”

Makoto nodded numbly as Brooke stepped forward and looped her arm through hers, rescuing Makoto by tugging her away.

“One more thing,” Luka began, keeping his eyes on his clean-up routine. The teens’ footsteps paused as they hovered. Though his smile laced his voice, his enunciation was sharp. “I’m sure the Snatcher doesn’t have to tell you but be sure to treat your new friend as you would yourself. You put your soul into bringing them to life, after all.”

The teens gasped.

“Have a good day, kids.” Laughter laced his voice.

They rushed away as he chuckled.

While he finished cleaning up, Hattie returned with her friends. As soon as she spotted him behind the stuffing machine, she rushed across the tiles decorated to look vaguely like a forest path.

“Here’s your coffee,” she chirped, holding up the cup.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, pushing to his feet and picking stray fluff from his apron. Once he was as clean as he was going to get, he accepted the drink. He held it towards his lips, pausing to quirk a brow at young Muriel and Timmy as they passed the stuffing machines to check out all the colorful outfits. Belle, meanwhile, joined Hattie with her azure bow bouncing in her dark coils.

“We’re going to head to the bookstore.” Hattie shrugged. “Tim’s friend is hosting a card game tournament.”

“Remember to be back by six,” he instructed. “Don’t go snacking after four or you’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I know, Dad,” she huffed dramatically.

“Also, Mom says hi, Mr. Kingsley,” Belle pipped in.

“Tell Mari I return the sentiment. Now get your friends to stop loitering.” He turned back towards Hattie and rose his voice so Timmy and Mu could hear. “They scare away customers.”

“Says the Snatcher,” Timmy whispered to Mu.

Luka covered his smirk with the coffee cup. His gaze shifted over Hattie and Belle and he watched as Makoto and Brooke fled the store at a brisk pace. Hali struggled to keep up, but she managed to meet his eyes and offered a cheerful wave.

“Fine,” Hattie sighed. “Come on, guys!”

“I need to stop by Mom’s before we head to the bookstore,” Belle mentioned as she and Hattie turned to leave. “I left my cards with my backpack.”

As the girls left, Luka turned to head back towards the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. He immediately winced.

“Ugh, tepid,” he grumbled as Timmy and Mu ran past, hurrying out to follow Hattie and Belle.

After making sure the kids all had their backs turned and Alex was busy with something on the counter, Luka summoned a gentle ember to his hand. While the flame harmlessly licked the cup, the coffee warmed inside until steam wafted from the hole in the lid. He took a tentative sip and swallowed the scalding liquid.

The flames in his chest crackled and popped, and the knots in his shoulders eased.

He snuffed out the ember in his hand as he lowered the cup. Mist trailed from the lid as the coffee maintained its heat.

“I think you scarred those two for life,” Alex muttered as Luka returned to the counter.

“Which two?” he asked, mind still on Hattie and her friends.

“Brooke and Makoto.” Alex glanced up, shaking their head with a scolding expression.

“I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Luka said calmly. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee during his momentary break. “If those hooligans are letting their imaginations run wild, it’s not on my conscience.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex gave him an unimpressed look. “Also, I think we’re running low on the beach ball accessories.”

“I noticed,” Luka muttered, swirling his cup pensively. “Those aren’t particularly popular, and we are getting near the end of the season…”

While they discussed whether they needed to send out an order or if they would make it until the fall selection came out, Hattie rolled on the balls of her feet as she, Timmy, and Mu waited for Belle to return from her mom’s flower shop just across from Kraft-a-Kid. Hattie idly watched all the mallgoers, thoughts blank, but Timmy and Mu had their eyes locked on Kraft-a-Kid, thoughts whirling noisier than the stuffing machines.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Belle announced as she bounced out with her deck of cards.

“Hattie.” Timmy whirled around. “Your dad’s magic!”

“Timmy, he doesn’t steal souls, we’ve been over this,” Hattie whined, crossing her arms.

“If he doesn’t steal souls, then what’s with his coffee?” Mu snapped, nodding her head towards the display window where Luka could be seen leaning against the counter inside the workshop.

Hattie squinted, trying to figure out what was out of place with the steaming coffee cup. After a moment, she turned to Belle, who shrugged.

“It’s hot!” Mu gestured wildly, causing her blond mustache to bob with her movement. “Look at that steam!”

Hattie blinked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Belle supplied dryly. “Because Hattie ordered it hot.”

“But he said it was tepid!” Timmy argued. “We heard him!”

“He probably thinks it is,” Hattie said, knitting her brows together. “He likes his coffee hot enough to burn his tastebuds.”

“You aren’t getting it!” Mu huffed. “It wasn’t steaming when he said it was cold!”

“Okay, but even if he somehow heated it up, that didn’t have anything to do with stealing souls,” Belle appeased.

“That’s what we mean!” Timmy urged. “If he can use one type of magic, he can use others!”

“I regret the day I told you about those rumors,” Hattie grumbled.

It didn’t matter as much when strangers said it, but instead of laughing with Hattie when she told them that people thought her dad was some kind of heartless, soul-snatching monster, Mu and Timmy had latched onto the conspiracy and ever since refused to let go. She couldn’t talk about new product plushies or designs around them anymore because they would just start a debate about which shell would best hold the souls of children.

“Look can we just get going?” She started walking in the direction of the bookstore and Belle matched her pace. Mu hurried to catch up as Timmy trailed behind, keeping a watchful eye on Kraft-a-Kid.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen anything weird?” Mu insisted. “Heard any screams of children he caught? Seen any dolls move in the corner of your eye?”

“You know he laughs like a cartoon villain?” Timmy added.

“The store is literally called Kraft-a-Kid!” Mu continued. “Open your eyes, Hattie!”

“Kid is just another word for baby goat!” Belle argued. “It’s cute!”

“We aren’t talking about this anymore!” Hattie snapped, tugging down on the brim of her hat. She turned away from them and focused on Belle. “So, what deck are you using? The one with fairy types? Or your cat themed one?”

“Both!” She grinned mischievously as she happily helped to redirect the conversation. “I combined them because I wanted to use all my favorites. How about you?”

“Going with the forest deck.” Hattie glanced up, where her deck was safely tucked away in the hidden compartment she stitched into the top hat.

Timmy and Mu huffed, letting their argument go as they pipped in with talking about their own decks. But it was only a matter of time before they started back on their theories about her dad’s supposed magic. Trying not to deflate too much, she kept her eyes forward. She swallowed her frustration and focused on the upcoming tournament.

Besides, even if her dad did have magic and only used it for heating up coffee, it hardly seemed something a heartless monster would do.

Right?

[pascalpanic]

‘Nilla Bean (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x gn!Reader)

Summary: A cowboy in your coffee shop is not the way you’d expected your morning to go, but you’re not complaining; especially not when he’s as attractive as he is.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: talk of food/eating, brief allusions to alcohol, lots of flirting, sexual innuendos, I think there’s like a single use of fuck

A/N: okay I’ve been thinking about this FOREVER but I finally went ahead and wrote it!!! hope u guys like it, I’m a sucker for a coffee shop AU as a barista myself :) thx @theteddylupinexperience for helping me name it and motivating me to write it lol

When you started your shift this morning, you’d groaned as you tied the apron around your waist, expecting an uneventful day. Most were. If you were lucky enough to see someone you knew or to have an especially nice customer, you’d consider it a good day. You didn’t know when you walked in that it would be the good day to end all good days: nothing could top this one.

Weekday mornings in the fall aren’t particularly busy. The majority of your customers come around the morning rush, and the remaining ones are usually retirees or house-spouses and their young children. It’s enjoyable, days like these, that don’t require you to dash about the shop.

The only problem, really, is having nothing to do. You clean the coffee grinder, wipe down tables, wipe down everything else, then do it all again. Restocking, usually an endless chore, isn’t even an option; no one’s using anything in the first place. You and your coworkers chat, deep-cleaning the coolers, washing the blender stations, and doing the dirty work. When a customer comes, you’re the lucky one who gets to go take their order and put your task on hold first.

It seems like you’ve done every task twice, even when your manager introduces yet another idea for you to deal with. To bide your time, you prep coffee for later, rearrange the case of pretty little pastries that sits next to your register, and doodle on your station with a paint pen, humming to the soft music playing in the shop.

People come and go, some picking up mobile orders and some ordering from you, some choosing to eat inside and some taking their food to go. You sip your drink happily between customers- a white mocha with caramel.

At one point, you’re in the back and washing dishes when a coworker peeks his head into the back. “Hey, you got someone up front!” He informs you, and you nod and wander out through the swinging doors.

Well. That’s certainly a sight for a Tuesday morning.

The man standing at the register is wearing a painfully well-tailored suit jacket, with gray tweed and patches on the elbows. Beneath it is a white top and a black tie, and the man wears jeans on the bottom half. Interesting.

Perhaps more interesting is the large cowboy hat perched atop his head. The man’s face, below the brim of his Stetson, is incredibly handsome. He has an aquiline nose, a neatly trimmed mustache that wouldn’t work on anyone else, and warm brown eyes that make you smile softly.

“Hi,” you comment as you log into the register. “Are you a part of our rewards program?” You ask as part of your regular spiel.

The man furrows his brow then shakes his head. “Uh, no. No I’m not. Can you sign me up now?” He asks, and his voice makes your chest flutter with the tone. It’s rich and smooth, with a beautiful southern twang.

Looking at your register and back at him, you shake your head. “It’s just an app on your smartphone, really easy,” you tell him.

“Ah, damn,” he groans and pulls it from his pocket. “I’m shit with technology. Why don’t you just… type it in here?” He says, handing you his phone with a notes page open. His thick fingers accidentally lock the phone as he hands it to you.

You tap the screen to wake it and find the background to be a picture of a cute little pig all covered in mud. “Uh, you locked it,” you chuckle. “What’s the password?”

The man looks down shyly. “1-2-3-4. Don’t make fun’a me, I’m like a grandpa with these newfangled phones.”

It’s endearing, you have to admit, and it makes you giggle. “Not a problem. I’m not here to chide you on your security choices,” you shrug. You type in the code and find the app, starting the download for him before handing back his phone. “Can I get a name to start your order?” You ask as you look up at him.

His eyes hold a warmth there, radiating off of his smile. “Whiskey.”

“Your mother named you Whiskey?” You tease as you type in the name, returning back to the main page of beverages. “Some kind of legal name.”

The man shakes his head. “Nah, that’s just what I go by at work.”

Whiskey likes conversation, you notice, and it makes you chuckle a little. “You got a real name then?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow beneath your visor.

The man tips his hat. “Jack Daniels, at your service.” He says and offers you a hand, which you take and shake.

“That’s a lie. You’re telling me your nickname is Whiskey and your real name is a type of whiskey?”

The man shrugs. “My momma had a real funny sense of humor, I guess. My daddy loved the booze so they went with it. I work for Statesman, so I suppose it’s fitting.”

“Ah, the distillery,” you nod with a smile, not grasping the depth of what Statesman actually does. How could you? “Well then, Jack,” you say with an honest grin on your face. “What can I get you to drink?”

Whiskey, Jack, whatever his name is, looks up at the menu, scanning the different beverages. “Well. That sure is a lot of choices. I’m new to the area, so I don’t know the menu yet, and I don’t know the first thing about coffee other than how to make it in a machine,” he admits to you. “What would you recommend, sugar?”

Sugar. Your heart beats a million times faster at the man’s words. You’ve had lots of weird and creepy men call you different things, but you’ve never been flustered and enjoyed it. This man is getting to you, quickly. “Well, how strong do you take your coffee?”

He thinks about that for a second, fiddling with the button on his suit jacket. “Pretty strong. A little sweet, with cream. I usually take it Irish style,” he admits with a chuckle, tapping a belt buckle that you realize is a tiny flask. Jesus. That’s not cheesy.

“Well, we don’t serve alcohol,” you laugh and look down at your screen. “We have all kinds of flavors.” You list them all off, off the top of your head, now staring at the ceiling to recite them all. “And our seasonal drink is pumpkin spice.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Wonderful and all, but what do you like? You seem like you’ve got a good taste, darlin’, tell me what you’d recommend.”

God, these names are going right to where they shouldn’t, especially not when this handsome man is leaning on your counter and flirting with you as he orders his coffee. “I like vanilla.” You shrug.

The man laughs and stands. “I hate to say it, sugar, but I’m not a very vanilla man,” he says, his head tilting down and his dark, sultry eyes peeking out at you from just below the brim. His voice is seductive, implying something else other than the flavor.

Oh fuck. “Oh, not like that,” you laugh as your face floods with warm blood, anxiety coursing through your veins. “Not vanilla in that way.” Fuck, that’s even worse, you think and grip the counter so as to not physically cringe at your words.

“Not like that, huh?” His words are still so seductive and flirtatious it makes you want to combust. Maybe you will, if he keeps this going.

“N-no,” you stammer, looking down at the menu screen again. “I mean, I just think it’s underrated. People dismiss it as boring, but it’s really just as interesting of a flavor as anything else. It tastes really good with our espresso.”

Jack tilts his head to the side, a smirk on his face. His lip pokes out just slightly to wet his lips and you shiver involuntarily, your skin pricking up all across your body. God, you hope he can’t see it. “I’ll trust you on it, ‘nilla bean,” the man drawls and stands up straight again. “Triple espresso with vanilla and cream.”

You nod and ring that in. God, if he keeps going with the nicknames, you’re going to melt into a puddle here and now.

“What are these?” He asks as his fingers trace over the drawings on the counter, lifting them and finding the pink and green powder of the dried paint has transferred to his fingertips.

God, he makes you nervous, but in a good way. In the best way possible, a way that makes you want to knock that cowboy hat off his head and find out if his lips are as soft as they look. “I draw when I’m bored. It’s been a slow day,” you chuckle as your own fingers trace the crawling vines and flowers you’d painted there. “Sorry about the transfer,” you chuckle and your fingertips brush his, making you involuntarily shudder again at the contact. His fingertips are calloused and radiate warmth.  “Uh, can I get you anything to eat?” You ask and gesture at the bakery case.

The man inspects it for a moment, looking at the various foods lined up under the soft white light. “I’ll take one’a these,” he says and pokes a finger towards the chocolate chip cookies through the glass. You nod and take one out for him, putting it in a little paper sleeve and handing it over. “How much is this gonna hurt my wallet?” He asks, pulling it out from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Give me one second.” You type in your code for your employee discount, which takes a moment.

“What’re you typin’ there, ‘nilla bean?” He asks, brow furrowing.

Looking up at him, you push your visor up your face and smile a little. “Oh, I’m giving you my employee discount. It’s ridiculously priced here.”

Jack frowns. “You don’t have to do that for me, sugar. I’m just a regular ol’ customer.”

It’s your chance, you realize, to say something or stay silent forever. “Well, I like you,” you admit and take the credit card he hands you, swiping it through the machine. “And I’m hoping you’ll at least become a regular. I’d like to see you more,” you tell him with a grin.

The man’s face lights up, even beneath the shadow of his brim. “I’d like that too,” he nods and pockets his card when you hand it back.

A beat of silence passes as the two of you smile at each other, both of you lovestruck immediately. “Uh, your drink will be right up over there,” you say and nod to the other end of the café. “Are you going to drink that here or take it to go?” You ask.

“Oh, here,” he nods.

“Perfect,” you say with a small smile. “Then I’ll just bring it to you when it’s ready. Nothing better to do today,” you shrug and wander down to the other end before Jack, Whiskey, whatever can refute you.

You take the cup from your coworker, humming to yourself as you put some vanilla and cream in the cup, pulling the espresso shots. When it’s ready, it barely reaches the halfway mark of the small cup, so you top it with a little whipped cream. You suspect the man has more of a sweet tooth than he lets on.

Pocketing a pink paint marker, you put a lid on the drink and walk out to the dining room, setting the coffee down across from him. He’s munching on the cookie he’d ordered, looking up at you with unintentional puppy dog eyes. “Hey there.”

“Hi,” you smile and pull out the chair across from him, sitting down and pulling out the paint pen. “I put a little extra whipped cream on top. I thought it would go well with the espresso, make it a little creamier or something.”

As you uncap the paint pen, Jack’s brow furrows as he watches you. “Whatcha doing there?” He asks as you bring his cup closer to yourself and write something on the top.

“Being brave,” you chuckle and cap the pen, sliding it back. “I gotta head back. Enjoy it,” you say as you stand and pat him on the shoulder.

Only as you walk back to the register does Whiskey comprehend exactly what you put on the top of his cup. It’s your phone number, in that chalky pink paint, and a smiley face beneath it.

Jack may not be great with technology, like he told you, but he immediately pulls out his phone and takes a photo. Then he enters the number into a contact, filling out the name: ‘Nilla Bean.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Built on a Lie

Prompt: I like the possible idea of Janus being a absolutely crushed to find Roman bleeding out due to a bruised ego in his room after pof was uploaded. After all most Sander Sides Fans hated Roman after he mocked Janus's Name.

Thanks for the prompt, babe! I hope it’s what you wanted!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: arguably roceit i guess??? it’s just focused on them, can be platonic or romantic if you want. same with LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Warnings: sympathitic janus even if it might not seem like it, sympathetic feral protective remus, roman is a hurt boi

Word Count: 5010

The wedding is tough.

After the wedding is an ordeal.

After after the wedding…hurts.

The Mindscape is all but deserted. No one wants to come out to the common areas for risk of running into someone who they had…disagreements with or getting swept up in a painfully awkward conversation. Patton lingers in the kitchen, Virgil almost never opens his door, Logan works, and Remus, well…Remus is the only one still behaving as normal.

Janus is grateful for his consistency.

In all honesty, and oh, the irony, he doesn’t enjoy this. He doesn’t enjoy the others walking on eggshells constantly, nor does he thrill at how they seem to jump at everyone, not just him. His point was made. That is his job.

But he’s not so sure he fully anticipated the cost.

At the very least, Logan seems to get over their troubles first. He approaches Janus a few days after the wedding and offers one of his philosophy books. Janus accepts it gratefully and by the time he’s finished it, Logan starts talking again. It’s not the greatest thing for the Mindscape that Logan is willing to talk to the others again.

Patton comes around next, simply because he’s the kindest. Janus pities him a little for it. But sure enough, the common areas start to ring again, drawing Remus out from the depths to cause his chaos.

Virgil appears next, summoned by the repeated calling of Remus’s antics and Janus’s exasperation. And sometimes, well, sometimes it seems like they’re back in their hallway, with Patton and Logan looking on with the air of some bemused anthropologists.

All the Sides reemerge and start trying to figure out what’s going on except for Roman.

Roman is nowhere to be found.

“He…he just needs some more time, I’m sure.”

“Roman is prone to fits of dramatics. It is unsurprising that he chooses to have a repeat performance.”

“Princey’s a bit of an asshole, it’s gonna take him a while to own up to what he did.”

“Catch!”

Janus grunts and staggers under Remus’s weight, eventually getting them both with their feet back under them on the floor. He adjusts his hat and looks disapprovingly at the amount of slime Remus has managed to get all over himself.

“What were you even doing?”

“Exploring the precise relationship of viscera to ventricles inside the heart of a blue whale!” Remus shakes his sleeve. “They lied about how bit the veins and arteries are.”

“How did you—nevermind,” Janus sighs, “I don’t want to know. Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Not paying attention.”

“…Roman’s not or you’re not?”

“I’m not!” He flicks some slime at Janus’s hat. “But you should be!”

“Yes, well, when slime starts to emerge from every corner again, I’ll chase you down.”

“Ooh, promises, promises.”

Janus doesn’t hurl some of the slime at Remus as he sinks out.

Roman still hasn’t appeared and the others are starting to notice. Thomas isn’t exactly in a position to do a whole lot of things, but at the very least he’s not doing what he perhaps should have been capable of. Logan notices and at first, chalks it up to the fact that they are in a pandemic; lapses in peak physical and mental performance are not unexpected, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s a little more than that.

The Mindscape grows dimmer, more sluggish. Thomas doesn’t seem to want to do much of anything, let alone work.

“I don’t understand,” Patton mumbles one afternoon when they meet—sans Roman—to try and figure out what’s going on, “I know I’m having a few—um, it’s not Thomas’s feelings that are causing us problems.”

Janus doesn’t make a note of how Virgil quickly presses his arm against Patton’s shoulder.

“There are certain things that are to be expected under times of great stress,” Logan muses, “and certainly any pre-existing problems will be exacerbated, but…this was not anticipated.”

Remus cranks the chainsaw and sets about carving up a new slice of…whatever he’s working on. “We’re in a pandemic, Spectacles!”

“I am wildly aware.”

Virgil stares at the chainsaw—which is fair—then up to Remus. “You ever been in a pandemic before, Remus?”

“Nope!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Okay, so that makes sense. But L’s right, this feels…weird. Like we’re missing something pretty big.”

In unison, they all look towards Roman’s seat.

The room falls as quiet as it can with Remus’s chainsaw still in the background.

The big, red, overstuffed armchair looks…different, without Roman lounging in it. The blinds aren’t drawn but it looks like the coloring has faded significantly, as though it’s been out in the sun for far too long. The seams look as though they’re struggling and there’s a dark imprint on one of the arms.

It’s not a shock to Janus to discover he’s never really looked at the chair before.

“Has anyone heard from Roman,” Logan asks quietly, “since the wedding?”

Virgil shakes his head, glancing around. Patton looks down at his chest.

“You think this is Roman.” It’s not a question.

“HIs tantrums do not normally last for this long,” Logan continues, adjusting his tie, “and whilst I admit that perhaps our circumstances have contributed more than I anticipated, I do not believe that is how Roman feels.”

“Princey has been away for a really long time.”

“Thomas is starting to get hurt by it,” Patton mumbles, laying a hand on his chest, “I can—I’m starting to feel it a little.”

“So we need to get Princey’s head out of his ass again.”

Logan sighs. “Most likely.”

“I didn’t want to rush it,” Patton says, glancing at Janus, “but you guys are right. I think he’s being selfish now.”

At the word ‘selfish,’ Remus freezes.

The chainsaw splutters and dies to the floor with a heavy clunk.

“Remus,” Patton scolds, “be careful with the…”

He trails off when he notices what the rest of them have.

Remus is standing completely still—an impossibility for Remus—his head tilted back, eyes fixed on a point in the ceiling. His nose quivers, almost like a bloodhound.

His nose twitches.

His lip curls up into a snarl.

His morning star appears in his hand with a growl as he tears off toward the stairs.

“Remus? Remus!”

“Wait!”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Remus!”

Janus closes his eyes, reaching out to see if he can tell where Remus is going. His eyes shoot open.

“Roman’s room. Now.”

Virgil grabs Logan and Patton and sinks out.

Janus tries to appear in Roman’s room only to hit something burning cold. He hisses and flinches away from it, only to realize that he hasn’t materialized properly and is stuck. The burning cold reaches further, further, into his scales, digging under them, until Janus yanks himself away and appears, panting, in the hallway outside Roman’s door.

Virgil appears too, still holding the others. “What the fuck was that?”

“Did he block us out?”

“None of us have the ability to do that, other than Thomas.”

“Did he get Thomas to block us out?”

“I don’t know!”

A loud crash jerks their attention to Remus. He raises his morning star again and drives the spikes deep into the bright red of Roman’s door.

…that isn’t nearly as bright as it should be.

Remus snarls again and wails against the door. The wood starts to creak and buckle under the onslaught. He hefts the weapon again and shatters the door with a thunderous crack.

The morning star is hastily flung aside as Remus claws at the splintered wood, yanking it away from the hole he’s made.

The door groans and yields.

Remus rushes through, Virgil on his heels. Patton and Logan attempt to follow only to run smack into both of them.

“Why’d you stop, kiddos, we can’t—“

“Let us through, why did you—“

When those two fight their way through and into silence, Janus sighs and gingerly steps through, nudging Logan and Virgil aside to look at what’s got them so shocked. Roman in the middle of a sobbing mess of tissues, probably, or an empty room signifying he’s gone off on some quest in the Imagination, or even a pouting Roman glaring at them for ruining his door.

He gets around Virgil’s shoulder and his blood runs cold. Burning cold.

If they weren’t in Roman’s room, he’s not sure he’d be able to recognize this as Roman.

His pristine white costume is stained an ugly brown. The gold trimmings fall limply off, hating on by barely a thread. His hair sticks to the floor in horrid, matted clumps. His hands are speckled and stained with more blood, some congealed and crusted from the puddle on the floor. His legs bend at awkward and uncomfortable angles. One of his arms is stretched away from, reaching for something.

Or anything.

They dare not move. They dare hardly breathe.

Remus takes a step forward. Then another. Then another. He circles the body on the floor, not caring about stepping in the blood, crouching down on the far side. His face is drawn, paler than Janus has ever seen it go, he looks sick.

If…if Remus looks this bad—

Remus looks up at the others. His face darkens.

“Explain,” he whispers, his voice low and soft and dangerous, “now.”

No one can find words to even try.

When no one says anything, Remus crouches down and, with a tenderness that shocks Janus, lays his hand on Roman’s side.

“Roman,” he whispers, almost inaudibly, “Roman, can you hear me?”

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Ro-Bro, it’s—it’s me.”

“Wha’re you…here?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Remus growls, looking up at them again, “maybe no one was.”

“’S fine.”

“Roman, it is about the furthest from fine that it could be.”

“…’ve had worse.”

“…okay I was wrong. That is the furthest from fine it could be.”

Judging by the way Roman’s body slumps, his eyes must fall closed again. “You c’n go. D’n’t have to stay.”

“Not on your life.”

“’S fine, Re,” Roman slurs, “the others will…wonder where you are.”

Remus stiffens. His hand tenses on Roman’s side.

“No,” he says softly, “they won’t.”

Roman twitches, his head rolling up. “‘M sorry, Re.”

“What the absolute fuck are you apologizing to me for?”

“Thought they’d…care.” Roman’s head waivers and drop back down. “‘Bout you.”

Patton can’t stifle his whimper.

Roman twitches again. “Wha…”

“They’re not gonna wonder where I am,” Remus growls, “because they’re here.”

Roman’s going to panic. He’s going to freak out and they’ll have to reassure him. Or Roman’s going to be angry and they’ll have to stop him from hurting himself. Or he won’t believe Remus and that…that might be the worst.

…Janus should really stop thinking that.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’re they here, Re,” Roman mumbles, his body sagging to the floor again, “‘m I late for s’mething?”

Remus snarls and Roman flinches.

“Don’ be mad, Re, please, ‘m sorry—“

“I’m not mad at you, Roman.”

“But you’re mad.”

“No.” Remus stares at them, his voice still even and soft. “I’m enraged.”

Before they can say anything, Roman hisses and jerks. Remus’s hands instantly flit to Roman, searching for whatever’s hurt him.

“What’s happening, Ro,” he growls, “whose ass do I need to kick?”

“You can’t,” Roman wheezes, “can’ stop it.”

“The hell I can.”

“No, you—you actually can’t,” Roman says, reaching for Remus’s hand, “help—help me sit up?”

“Ro, you’re—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“’S fine.”

“I don’t think it is!”

“Please?”

Remus sighs, gingerly wrapping his arms around Roman’s bruised and bloody body. “Come on then.”

Roman’s costume clings to the floor and his back as they sit up, the stain darkening and drying on the belly of his tunic. His head lolls against Remus’s chest, breathing heavily for a moment before he finally looks up.

Oh, his face…

It’s an absolute mess. Blood and salt and other things Janus couldn’t hope to figure out cling to every scrap of skin they can as he squints at them.

“You broke my door.”

“You were in trouble,” Remus replies easily, hoisting Roman to sit properly.

Roman sighs, his breath rattling. “Did I miss a meeting?”

“We…” Logan swallows. “We just came from one.”

“Oh.” Roman closes his eyes. “I’ll…gimme a minute, I’ll—“

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“I gotta do the meeting, Re.”

“The hell you do.”

“You—you don’t have to worry about the meeting, Roman,” Logan says firmly, taking a step closer, “we—what happened to you?”

“What d’you mean?”

“What does he mean?” Virgil explodes. “Roman, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Roman hisses again. “Don’ have to shout, Virgil.”

“Of fucking course I have to shout! Look at you!”

“I believe that might be more of a reason not to shout,” Logan says quietly. Virgil huffs, balling his hands up into fists.

“What the fuck happened, Roman,” Virgil repeats, “and don’t pretend like you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

Roman sighs again, something whistling, what happened to him?—and sits up away from Remus. “I can’ shout, come closer.”

Logan and Virgil immediately walk forward, crouching down a respectful distance away. Patton takes a moment longer, creeping forward and reaching out a trembling hand toward Roman.

“K-kiddo,” he mumbles, “I’m so—so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“’S okay,” Roman slurs, leaning back against Remus, “’s okay, Pat.”

“Patton?” Logan turns. “What do you know?”

“Yeah, Patton,” Remus growls, “why don’t you tell us.”

Patton shrinks back. “I—I—“

“Shh,” Roman mumbles, clumsily patting Remus’s hand, “don’ do that, ’s okay.”

“No, Roman, it’s not.”

“...kiddo?”

Roman nods.

Patton takes a deep breath. “You guys know that—how Roman gets hurt sometimes when Thomas does something that, uh, doesn’t turn out great?”

“We all get hurt, Pat,” Virgil says, “that doesn’t explain this.”

As if on cue, Roman hisses again.

“No, no, Virgil,” Patton mumbles, “it’s—Roman’s the only one who gets physically hurt when this stuff happens.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he looks at Roman’s injuries. “Of course…”

Despite everything, Roman smiles tiredly up at him. “Figure it out?”

“You’re the Ego,” Logan mumbles, “and thus it follows that you would get…bruised.”

“Wait, that’s a literal thing?”

“Apparently so.”

“Jeez, Princey,” Virgil mumbles, “you coulda told me.”

“You were busy, didn’t wanna give you anything else to worry ‘bout.”

“That’s not—Roman—“

“But Thomas has been inside,” Logan interjects quickly, “alone, he hasn’t—we haven’t done anything since the pandemic began.”

“It’s a pandemic, Lo,” Roman says, “no one’s doing much of anything…besides staying inside, reading things, watching things…”

“So how is this happening to you, Roman,” Patton says, wringing his hands, “what—what’s doing this to Thomas?”

“Fuck,” Virgil says, burying his hands in his hair, “Princey has this been happening to you since the wedding?”

“Mm,” Roman hums, leaning heavily against Remus.

“People are watching the video,” Logan whispers, “and they’re—well, they’re talking about it.”

“Are they—are they still saying Thomas should’ve…” Paton gulps. “Done something different?”

Logan shakes his head. “I’m sure they are but Thomas…Thomas hasn’t been looking at the comments from the video, not really. Virgil and I have specifically told him not to.”

“So then why is Thomas still being hurt by it? Why are people still attacking Thomas?”

“Not—“ their heads all jerk around to look at Roman— “not Thomas.”

He waves a hand at himself.

“Wouldn’t be like this if it were them attacking Thomas.”

“Then what—“

“They’re attacking you?” Virgil’s eyes go wide as they scan over Roman’s injuries. “Directly?”

“Mm.”

“Oh, kiddo—“

“Princey, what the hell—“

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve—“

“What for?”

In response, Roman’s eyes raise slowly, and look at Janus.

Everyone else follows, looking back toward the door, realizing that Janus hadn’t moved closer with the rest of them.

Roman’s gaze isn’t cold, but it makes him feel cold.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“My name,” Janus breathes, “it’s…they’re mad at you because of me.”

“Told you,” Roman slurs as his eyes close again, “gotta come closer. Can’ shout like this.”

Janus swallows heavily, his throat dry, clutching his cloak tightly around him as he edges closer. Roman mumbles to himself until Janus is close enough to hear him.

“There we go…” He cracks a bloodied eye open. “You’re right. They’re angry at me. Rightfully so, but…yeah.”

“Because you made fun of my name?”

They all rush forward as Roman keens, his hand flying to his gut and hissing.

“Fuck, Princey, is it—is it still happening?”

“Mhm.”

“How do we—how do we stop it?”

“Can’t,” Roman mumbles, “wasn’t lying. Nothing you can do. Not until it’s over.”

“It’s been ages since the wedding, Roman, how much longer is this going to go on?”

Roman makes a vague noise of ‘I don’t know.’

“But—but—“ Logan looks frantically back and forth between them— “surely they can’t all be angry at you, that would be—“

“They’re not,” Roman mumbles, “not all of them, but it’s—it’s most of them.”

“How is that possible?”

“Some of them really don’t like me—“ Roman hisses again— “some of them really like J-Janus or Remus or…or Logan, or Patton—“

“What?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“And some of them just think that it’s—what I did was—“ Roman stifles a whimper, biting his lip— “really bad.”

“But then why…why aren’t the rest of us being affected like this?”

“You’re not the Ego.”

Remus snarls again as Roman jerks, a new bruise blooming on the underside of his neck.

“…ow.”

“We have to get you cleaned up,” Logan mutters shakily, trying to stand.

“Not much point right now,” Roman sighs, absentmindedly nuzzling into Remus, who tightens his grip protectively around Roman, “‘m just gonna get all messy again.”

“Not if we stay with you,” Logan promises, “not if we help.”

“…don’ have to.”

“What the hell are you—“ Virgil shakes his head. “Of course, we’re gonna help you, Roman.”

Roman just looks at them and closes his eyes.

“Ro—kiddo,” Patton says, reaching out for him, “why don’t you believe us?”

“You haven’t exactly…done that before.”

“We didn’t know!”

“You did.”

Patton’s retort dies in his throat. He looks desperately around for something, anything—

Janus is in shock.

Roman…oh, Roman…Janus knew Roman was the Ego, but he didn’t—he hadn’t—

Fuck, were the bruises from what he said still there? Not—not just that awful, awful thing about comparing Roman to Remus, but…from before?

How many times had Janus hurt Roman…and hadn’t cared?

“…I’m sorry, Roman,” Logan murmurs, breaking the silence, “will you let me help now?”

Roman looks up at him. “I’ve been awful to you,” he mumbles, “you don’—don’ have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do,” Logan says, “because you’ve been wonderful to me too…and I am not blameless in this either.”

“But they don’t know that.”

“I do,” Logan says firmly, “and they will.”

The smallest smile tugs at the corners of Roman’s mouth as Logan stands up to go fetch the first aid kit.

“Princey, I—Roman,” Virgil stammers, “fuck, you—oh my god—“

“I’ve been awful to you too, Virgil.”

“And I’ve been fucking worse right back!” Virgil squeezes his hands tight. “And I—you’re the only one who gets yelled at for it. Fuck, I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, I’m gonna—can I help too?”

“…if you want.”

“I’m gonna go help Logan get the shit,” Virgil mutters, getting to his feet and tearing out after Logan.

“…oh, kiddo…”

Patton’s eyes begin to tear up.

“I thought—I thought you needed more time—“

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Pat,” Roman manages, “it’s not fun, trust me.”

Patton’s laugh comes out more like a sob.

“I won’t hold it against you, and you can—“ Roman hisses again— “help if you want.”

“Do you think you can drink something?”

“…I’ll try.”

Patton’s gone in a flash.

Janus looks at Remus. Remus glares at him and pulls Roman closer.

“…we should…try and get some of that off,” Janus tries, “so we can see what, um…”

Remus’s stony silence as Roman starts to drift again cuts off Janus’s words.

“…Remus…”

“You are very, very lucky,” Remus whispers, cutting him off, “that I’m not about to leave my brother’s side for a long time.”

Janus nods.

“Start on the buttons,” Remus says, “at his wrists. I’m not sure how much of this we can save.”

He immediately sets to work, trying to communicate how sorry, sorry, sorry he is with every gentle brush of his fingers against Roman’s skin. Remus summons something for them to lean Roman against as they start to gingerly remove the tunic. It’s worse than Janus thought.

Roman is one big pulsing wound, little nicks here and there and varying shades of purple, red, green, yellow, all coming from one massive sore in the center of him. As they watch, more injuries appear, little bruises that make his breath hitch, and occasionally a small swipe along his ribs. As Janus works the cuff over his wrist, one of his fingers blackens and swells as it breaks.

“Oh, Roman…”

“Sit up, Ro,” Remus whispers tenderly, peeling and unsticking the tunic from his back, “okay, there we go. Are most of them…up here?”

“They all look to be coming from…that,” Janus says, indicating the giant wound, “so…”

And indeed, as they watch, Roman keens again and the wound deepens, more blood beginning to trickle out.

“Are all of these—“ Janus indicates the injuries littering Roman’s body— “comments?”

“Mm.”

“Then what—why is this one…?”

Roman’s eyes drift closed and his head lolls back.

“’Oh, Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache.”

No.

No.

“’Otherwise, between you and Remus—‘” Roman winces as the wound digs deeper— “‘I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.’”

…no…

Janus reaches out a trembling hand and lays it next to the wound. It’s…it’s warm under his touch but…wrong.

A snarl jerks his hand back and he looks up to see Remus glaring at him.

“Remus—“

“Save it.” Remus glances toward the door. “The others will be back in a moment anyway.”

Sure enough, Logan and Virgil bust through the broken door, their hands full. Logan immediately sweeps his gaze over Roman and kneels down, reaching out.

“May I touch you, Roman?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you.” Logan slots a hand gently behind Roman’s hand. “We’re going to try and get the blood off of you first, alright?”

“Mm.”

“This might sting,” Logan cautions, starting to rub an antiseptic towel down Roman’s arm, “my apologies.”

Virgil takes another one and carefully cleans Roman’s other arm, mindful of his broken finger. As they work, Patton reappears, holding a bottle of water and a glass of juice.

“Come on, kiddo,” he says softly, taking Logan’s place behind Roman’s head, “drink this for me?”

Roman manages a few sips of each.

“Good job, kiddo, there you go…” Patton glances down. “Does it seem to be stopping at all?”

As if it can hear him, the wound starts to bleed again.

“Oh, Roman…”

Logan glances between the wound and Janus, his brow furrowed.

Please, Logan, for once…don’t be so smart.

The way Logan’s eyes widen and narrow say that it’s too late.

“This one seems to be the origin,” Logan says instead, turning away, “all the others seem to stem from it.”

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, “so what’s that one?”

Janus’s mouth runs dry as Logan turns to him expectantly.

“Well,” Remus growls, “go on.”

“I don’t—what if it just makes it worse?”

“That didn’t stop you before.”

“I didn’t—“

“Oh, shut up,” Remus cuts him off, “you knew. You knew.”

“Remus—“

“You wanna know how I know that?” Remus draws away from Roman just enough to clench his fists. “Because I found you after the wedding. You were all curled up on the floor and you were so upset.”

Roman stirs. “…Re…”

“And I asked you why, and you said it was because Roman made fun of your name,” Remus continues, “and I thought: ‘huh, that feels a little weird. Where have I heard that before?’”

Patton shrinks out of Remus’s line of sight.

“Then I remembered! The courtroom,” Remus continues, a manic smile on his face, “and your little plan to make sure Roman felt like he had no idea what was going on.”

“…J, what is he talking about?”

“Oh, he’s not going to tell you,” Remus says, “but I will.”

“Remus—“

“You said that you knew Roman,” Remus says, talking right over him, “and you knew that if you pushed him in the right direction, you’d be able to get him to listen to you easily.”

Even Logan pauses.

“Do you remember what you said, Janny?” Remus’s eyes bore into Janus’s mind. “Do you?”

“…Remus, please.”

Remus’s grin drops.

“You said,” he whispers, “that if you just fucked with his name, he’d be in the palm of your hand.”

And he was.

"Conveniently, everyone seems to have forgotten that. Forgotten what you did. Or they don't care."

Remus tightens his grip on Roman. 

"But not me."

Guilt presses hot and thick against Janus’s throat. Unbidden, huge, fat tears start to form in his eyes as he stares at the wound on Roman’s gasping chest. Distantly, he thinks he can hear the others muttering but all he can think about is how much of this is a lie.

Roman isn’t the evil twin.

Roman isn’t Remus.

Roman isn’t stupid.

Roman isn’t worthless.

Roman isn’t a toy or a puppet or a tool.

Roman isn’t selfish or greedy or arrogant.

Roman is hurt and scared and Janus is so, so sorry.

He lets out a growl of his own and presses his hand hard to the wound.

Lie. Lie.

This is a lie.

Truth is hard and unyielding and painful but nothing is more painful than knowing that all of this is built on a lie.

Janus grits his teeth and concentrates, his hands trembling as he presses it against the wound, searching, searching for—

There.

He closes his fist around the lie and yanks, pulling the words and the hurt and the ache out of Roman’s chest in a bright flash.

When it’s gone, Roman’s chest is heaving, bruises still littering his torso, but the big wound is nowhere to be seen.

Panting, Janus clenches his fist until the lie shatters into pieces, the shard disappearing into harmless puffs of air.

He looks back.

Logan and Patton are staring at him open-mouthed. Virgil has his hands bunched up in his hoodie. Remus just stares at him, his face unreadable.

And Roman…

Roman looks up at him, panting too, but it doesn’t feel quite so wrong anymore.

“I can’t promise that this one won’t hurt you ever anymore,” he vows, “but I can promise that it will never have that much power again.”

Roman reaches out a hand. Janus lets him pull him closer.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

Janus huffs. “I can also promise that you’re not nearly as sorry as I am.”

They let their eyes fall closed as Janus’s hands steady Roman, landing lightly on his sides and just resting there. Roman tips forward and his forehead lands against Janus’s.

For a second, the room just breathes.

“Can we clean you up,” Janus whispers, “the rest of the way?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, Roman,” Logan says instantly, “what do you need?”

“Can I—wanna sleep.”

“I don’t think you’ve got a concussion, so that should be alright…” Logan glances at Patton. “Let’s have you drink a little more and then you can rest, hmm?”

“Okay.”

“Come on, kiddo,” Patton coaxes, “here we go…”

As Virgil and Logan set about cleaning again, Janus runs his hands slowly over every injury he can, plucking out what little lies there are and sending them away. He can tell by the weight of Remus’s stare on him that he’s not in the clear yet, but the way Roman starts to sag slowly makes it easier.

“Alright,” Logan murmurs after a while, “I think that’s all we can do.”

“…sleep?”

“Yes, Roman, you can sleep now. Would you like us to help you to your bed?”

Roman blinks, his hand reaching out for— “Re?”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“Re…” Roman mumbles sleepily as he all but collapses into Remus.

“…yeah I’m okay with that.”

Logan jerks his head towards Roman’s mattress. Together, they drag it down to the floor and help Remus get Roman onto it. Logan murmurs that he’s going to go put the first aid kit away, but that he’ll be right back. Patton gathers up the glasses and leaves with the same promise.

Virgil glances back and forth between Remus and Janus.

“…you guys remember that this is about what Roman needs, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay good.”

Virgil reaches out to brush a little of Roman’s hair out of his face.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

Logan and Patton reappear at the door and slot themselves in around the mattress. Remus looks at Janus.

Janus deliberately sits between Roman and the door, something he’s seen Remus do too many times.

Remus nods.

This conversation is far from over, but right now…

Right now, Roman mumbles sleepily and grabs onto Remus’s sleeve.

There is truly so much that they never see, isn’t there? Logan wasn’t wrong, the amount of Roman that’s never been on camera is truly staggering.

Janus has let that lie of omission cause too much damage for too long.

Right now, he’s got work to do.

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-Amortentia- Blaise Zabini x Female Reader

   ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: BLAISEEEEEEE DADDY- im sorry. yeah yeah i’m changing the canonical storyline- cry about it. I’m also fully aware  Amortentia does not work like this lmao. 

   Request: you can make the summary short and less revealing for more fun hehe. Also it's totally up to you, dear! Only if you feel comfortable with it and no pressure! I hope you had a great weekend and drink more water ily <3 - 💐

   House: Hufflepuff

   Possible Triggers / Warnings: Slight slut shaming in the beginning, Draco being a little shit, 

   ☼-☪-☼

   you had been alone most of your life with your parents being on constant business trips from the ministry that would last for months on end. You were practically raised by your nanny, but she couldn’t teach you everything. You became socially awkward.

   you never had any friends back at home which meant you had no experience  communicating with people your age. You were walking awkwardness basically. It came at no surprise when you were sorted into Hufflepuff, even though both your parents were Slytherins- they weren’t disappointed in you though.

   you had just managed to scramble by through your first four years of school. Four long years without any friends, but you didn’t mind. You could get by just by yourself. You were a strong independent woman and knew how to get yourself out of sticky situations. 

   unless it was stuck up Hufflepuff’s- then you were screwed 

   one fine day in your fourth year you were heading to the quidditch field so you could go watch the game. Slytherin against Hufflepuff. They were both tied at two wins against each other so you were eager to see who would win. You wore a brown buttoned sweater with a nice pear of tan overalls. 

   the fallen leaves under your foot made a satisfying crack noise as you walked along the field. The cheers and other various sounds of students were definitely drawing nearer. You popped another flavour bean into your mouth when a harsh push came to your shoulder, causing the box of flavour beans to fall.

   you watched as they spilled out onto the grass with a look of solemn in your eyes “Dang- that was my last box” you mumble before a couple of snickers were heard in front of you. You look up to see three students wearing their regular Hufflepuff robes with there own casual clothes underneath.

   “Drop something?” one asked. A girl with light brown bobbed hair and green eyes spoke. You nod once “Uh yeah, just my flavour beans. I- uh i can just buy new ones” you spoke, already starting to clam up “Your a hufflepuff aren’t you? Why aren’t you wearing yellow?” the girl asked somewhat accusingly. 

   alert alert. Confrontation detected. Activate escape protocol 17B

   you didn’t answer and went to walk past them when another one of the three, a blond boy with blue eyes pushed you back to where you were standing. Shit. You fold your arms over your chest, looking at the ground “Your one of those Slytherin groupies are you, a house traitor?” the brown haired girl accused. 

   you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. This made the two Hufflepuffs more annoyed “What? Cant speak? Let me guess, your like those Draco fangirls. Sweetie. Your def not pretty enough for him” she adds, making the boy aside her laugh. 

   did she just say def? Have you ever even talked to Draco Malfoy? Not the time to be thinking about that. “I uh-” before you could speak anymore the girl held up her hand “Don’t even try to defend yourself, Slut” you went wide eyed. No one has ever been so nasty to you.

   “I’ve never seen two Hufflepuffs go at one of their own, before” a girls laugh came from behind you. She had black shoulder length hair and bangs with brown eyes. Pansy Parkinson. In front of her was two boys dressed in Slytherin Quidditch uniforms. 

   You quickly identify the platinum blond boy with pale skin as Draco Malfoy. The hair was always a dead give away and the other boy was slightly taller then him with dark skin. He was very handsome for a boy your age. What was his name again? Oh! Blaise- Blaise Zabini. 

   “For Hufflepuff’s you two are quite nasty” Draco spoke, a grin playing on his lips. The boy Hufflepuff rolled his eyes “Yeah whatever Malfoy, what’re you going to do. Tell your father?” that struck a nerve in the young Malfoy as he went to lunge at them until Blaise put a arm out, blocking Draco.

   “Now, Now. Let’s not get physical. You see, me and my fellow housemates overheard your very deplorable conversation with this what seems like sweet girl. Honestly, how can you bully someone who can’t even get a word in?” Blaise spoke in such a proper way that you almost couldn’t tell he was insulting them.

   the girl and boy were silent as he spoke for a while until the girl spoke up once more “Oh so she’s one of your play things, Zabini?” she questions with a smug look. Blaise’s neutral expression switched into a disgusted one “I don’t have play things. I actually have respect for other woman”

   Blaise didn’t let them get another word in before he stepped in front of you “Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you did they?” he asked, using his hand to lift your chin and inspect your face. Touching- “No” you say in a meek voice. He nods once with a small smile “Good, now let’s go”

   you tilt your head sto side. Go? “Um- go where?” you ask. Blaise gestures towards the quidditch field “The game of course. Me and Malfoy here have to get ready and you and Pansy will meet Theo in the Slytherin bleachers to watch the game of course.” as he spoke, Pansy skipped to your side, linking arms.

   “Yeah! We can watch them make fools of themselves. Now lets go new friend!” Pansy said excitedly before practically dragged you towards the bleachers, leaving Draco and Blaise alone. The young Malfoy turned towards Blaise with a puzzled look “Since when did you involve yourself with Hufflepuffs?”

   Blaise rolled his eyes before walking off, not answering his housemate

    ☼-☪-☼

   7th year

   after that day you became part of Blaise’s friend group. He’d talk to you as much as he talked to Theo, Pans, or Draco. Ask you how your day was, invite you to sit with him at lunch and even sneak you into the Slytherin house at times. 

   some people found it strange. A slytherin spending so much time with a Hufflepuff, but as stated Blaise didn’t care much of opinions hat didn’t come from his friends, but all his friends adored you. Case closed. It was around the end of sixth year is when your feelings changed from platonic to romantic.

   you no longer saw him as your best friend that saved you from a bunch of nasty Hufflepuff’s all those years ago. You now saw him as someone you wanted to be with, all the time. To hold his hand, have him hold you, for him to just call you his. You fell hard. 

   but there was this fear, this fear that it would ruin everything you had with him. It was too great a risk, so like any normal person. You kept quiet as mouse and refused to let anyone know your feelings. Except for Pansy of course, but she found out on her own. Then told Draco, who told Theo.

   everyone knew except Blaise actually

   it was lunch and the Slytherins were waiting for you to arrive, Draco cleared his throat, getting the attention of the rest of them “I have a terribly good idea” he says, making Blaise look at him curiously “And that is?” he asked, leaning in to here what his housemate had to say. 

   Draco reaches into robe and pulls out a pink heart shaped bottle. “What in the hell? Why do you have a love potion?” Pansy asked with a amused chuckle. “Well- Y/n confessed to me that she had a crush on someone, but was too afraid to tell them. So i’m going to slip this into her drink to move her along”

   Pansy and Theo both look at each other knowingly. They know full well that little ferret was lying. Y/n told Pansy first. What was he playing at? “That is so wrong on so many levels, Malfoy” Blaise spoke up first, looking at him in distaste. 

   “Hey! She told me that she wished she was more confident so she could tell this person there feelings. I’m being a good friend!” Draco retorted, another lie. Blaise face drops a little “Who even is this person she’s confessing to. It better not be some low life Gryffindor” Blaise grumbles.

   Pansy’s eyebrow wiggles “Is that jealousy i here, Zabini?” she teases. Blaise rolls his eyes before looking back at his plate “Y/n can like whoever she want’s” he grumbles. “Really? ‘Cause your stabbing your steak” Pansy asked, leaning over across the table. 

   Blaise was indeed repeating jabbing at his food with his fork “I will use the slug-vomiting charm on you” he spoke, gritting his teeth. Pansy just smiled innocently “Cursing Pan’s i see” a voice came from behind him. Blaise turned his head around to see you, holding a textbook “Sorry i was late, got caught up”

   you take a seat next to Blaise, seeing a full plate and water put out for you “Thanks for saving me some food?” you say with a small smile. “I did actually, because i’m your favorite” Draco gives you a sweet smile, one that you laugh nervously at “Uh- sure?” you reply. 

       ☼-☪-☼

   once finished your food, you reached for the cup of water and took a sip. As you go and place it down you notice that they were all staring at you? “What?” you ask and Theo gives you a smile “Feel any different?” he asked. You purse your lips together and slowly shake your head “No, i feel alright”

   Draco huffs and places his head in his hand. You look over at Blaise who had went back to eating his food. You notice something on the corner of his mouth and grab the napkin on your table. Reaching up you wipe away the food on the corner of his mouth. 

   Blaise flinches and grabs your hand “What’re you doing?” he asked, gazing down at you. You snicker a bit at his reaction and gently tug your arm out of his grip “You had something on your mouth, didn’t want it to mess up your handsome face” you reply.

   Pansy chokes on her water, which turns into a coughing fit. Blaise stared at you blankly, just blinking mindlessly while Draco punched the air. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   now, mind you. A typical love potion last up to 24 hours, but Draco being the idiot he was accidently poured half the bottle into your drink. So it was safe to say it was going to last more than a day. “Your a bloody fool, Malfoy!” Blaise exclaims. 

   “I didn’t mean to pour half of it! Someone bumped into me!” Draco retorts while both Theo and Pansy eat a box of flavour beans they were sharing, just casually watching the chaos unfold. “That my be true, but you still served it to her! You took advantage of her vulnerability!” Blaise shouts back.

   Draco’s face fell, yeah could be a little prick sometimes, but he also cared about you deeply. He couldn’t tell Blaise he was your crush, but he could try to make it right. “I’ll make the antidote, but it will be a couple days” Blaise nods “Sorry for shouting” he says. Draco nods once before leaving the hallway.

   “Hey guys” jeez- you just snuck up on people. Blaise steps towards you “Shouldn’t you be heading to charms class?” he asked, crossing his arms “What? Do you have her schedule memorized?” Pansy questions with a small laugh. 

   Blaise exhales deeply “I have a copy of it actually. Anyway-” he says and turns his attention back to you. “What do you need?” he asks, his tone changing to a more calm one. “Can you walk me to class?” you ask. Blaise raises a brow “Why?” he asked, not that he would have a problem.

   “I want to spend more time with you” you spoke very nonchalantly. You almost wondered how you even spoke those words yourself. Blaise looks stunned for a moment, before a smile made a way to his face. This was just the potion talking, you were spewing nonsense he thought   “As do i? Let’s get going shall we”

   you smile brightly and grab his a=hand, interlocking your fingers. Blaise gives you a small nod before covering his mouth with his hands. Both Pansy and Theo watch them walk away “5 galleons Blaise confesses to Y/n by the end of this whole ordeal” Pansy points, chewing on a flavour bean. 

   Theo watched along her and nods “Your on, 10 galleons they both end up being friends again”

    ☼-☪-☼

   it has been TWO days and Draco still hasn’t made the antidote. He claimed it was because he had to gather all the supplies without Snape around, which was probably true. Blaise had started to kind of- sort of- maybe- like the attention you were giving him. 

   oh yeah- surprise! Blaise had had a crush on you even longer then you did, he just knew how to keep his composure around you. It was easy for him, but it didn’t make him any less terrified of what would happen if those feelings were revealed. 

   currently, you were both sitting in the courtyard, studying on a bench, your choice. “I think that’s enough for the day. I’m surprised you asked me for my help. You usually never ask me for any academic advice” Blaise spoke, knowing full well why she asked him. The love potion. 

   you look up at him, closing the textbook in your hands “Well, you and Draco are the smartest people i know, but i prefer your company more” you smile lightly as you begin to cram the textbook into your bag. Blaise feels his heartbeat pick up once again. 

   It’s just the love potion. It’s just the love potion. It’s just the love potion. Think rationally Zabini! “I’m glad to hear that” he nods once. You both stand up from the bench and the curiosity gets the better of him. “So, what people have you’ve been talking too the past couple days?”

   he wanted to know if you had actually been talking to your crush. So he could murder them talk to them man to man/woman. You shrug your shoulders “Just you guys, who else would i be talking to?” you spoke “Oh! i have an exam to take in potions! i’ll see you at dinner!”

   you spoke with haste before leaning up to kiss his cheek “Bye Blaise!” and with that you ran off towards the entrance. Blaise held up his hand for a moment before exhaling “She’s- been only- talking to us? Who the hell is her crush then?” he thought aloud before picking up his things and walking away.

   both Pansy and Theo pop up from behind the bushes “For a genius student, he sure is a idiot” Pansy spoke, eating the last bit of her cauldron cake. Theo nods “I thought Draco would be done with the antidote already?” he says. Pansy grinned evilly.

    “Yeah...he should, but i keep hiding the ingredients. Blaise needs more time to realize she’s into him” she spoke, wiping her mouth off. Theo gasps and wacks her shoulder “That’s cheating! and you ate my last cauldron cake!” he sighs, crossing his arms. 

    “Yeah? Cry about it Nott”  

    ☼-☪-☼

   “It’s done!” a loud shout came from the dorm hallways of the Slytherin house towards the common room. Draco came running towards them, panting like a dog. “What’s done?” Pansy asked, sitting next to Theo eating a bowl of popcorn. No- they don’t know where she got it either. 

   “The antidote for Y/n’s love potion. It took so long because i kept misplacing everything. All we need to do is sneak it into her drink at dinner tonight” he explains. Blaise shot up from the loveseat he was sat on reading a book and snatched the vile from Draco. “Hey! What the hell?!”

   “I’m not lying to Y/n anymore then i have to. I’ll catch up with you guys later” Blaise said before walking out the portrait door. “Alright that’s our cue!” Pansy and Theo stood up “What’re you guys doing?” Draco asked with a confused expression on his face. 

   “Spying on Blaise and Y/n to make sure they confess to each other” Theo explains, walking away with Pansy. Draco blinked a couple times before shaking his head “Guys that is such an invasion of there privacy and trust, they are our friends and we should be respectful......i’m coming with you”

   bestie things i guess

    ☼-☪-☼

   Blaise had just made it out the dungeons when he bumped into someone “Watch where your- oh Y/n. Why are you down here?” he asked. You chuckle and push away from him “I was going to see if Pansy wanted to have another sleepover, why are you out here? Dinner hasn’t started yet”

   Blaise thinks of his next words before holding up the vile “I need you to drink this Y/n”

   “What why?”

   “Just do it”

   “But-”

   “If you trust me you will. I would never harm you”

   “...Okay”

   you grab the vile from his hand and pop the cork off. You look at the vile then Blaise who nods once. Exhaling, you pour the strange liquid down your throat, twinging at the unfamiliar taste. You feel almost a swirl around your chest before you look at Blaise again “What was that?”

   Blaise places his hands on your shoulders, your face heating up slightly. Once again you were back being unnerved by this guy, but you didn’t notice “How do you feel about me Y/n?” he asked, making your E/c eyes widen a bit. “I’m sorry- come again?”

   he sighs deeply and looks you in the eye. Ooo eye contact, scary. “the same i did yesterday?” you say vaguely. because who the hell asks that kind of question. Blaise lets go of your shoulders and rubs his face with his his hands. He was frustrated. “Y/n, how do you feel about me?”

   you shrink at his gaze. The first thought that ran through your mind was that Pansy had snitched to him that you were in love with him “I’m so sorry- i didn’t want to tell you because i thought you would think i was weird!” you spurt out, confusing Blaise just a tad more. 

   “What are you talking about!?”

   “Pansy told you about my crush on you didn’t she!?”

   “Your what!?”

   oh if the world could swallow you whole now “Oh merlin- i thought that’s what she told you!” you shout before trying to activate escape protocol 17B again and walk away. Blaise almost thought about letting you leave but you liked him! he was terrified you didn’t! but you do! So, why would he let you leave!?

   he reaches back and grabs your arm, stopping you from walking any further “I get it. You don’t want to be friends anymore” you spoke sadly. Blaise stepped towards you, but you looked down at your feet instead of him “Your right, i don’t want to be friends anymore Y/n”

   you felt your heart shatter. That was until one of his long arms wrapped around your waist and other pointed your chin up to look at him “I want you to be mine and i, yours” he spoke, a slight grin on his lips. Say what now? did Blaise Zabini just confess to you?

   “Oh...”

   “Is that all you have to say to that? I just spilled my heart out to you”

   “What- what should i say?”

   “Yes?...No?”

   “Oh! yes- yes. Definitely yes! ”

   “That’s a relief. I thought i had just made a full of myself”

   “You are no fool Blaise Zabini”

   Blaise gave you a small smile before leaning down. Oh shit. He stops midway, lips centimeters from yours “It is okay if i kiss you, correct?” he asks. We love a consent king. You nod slowly, making his smile grow wide before he presses his lips to yours. 

   “5 galleons you little shit, hand it over!” you both pull apart as three idiots come falling out a nearby broom closet. Pansy spilled her popcorn all over the hallway floor in the process. “Screw you Pansy, you cheated you pig!” Theo snaps back, Pansy hitting the back of his head “I am no pig!” 

   Draco was just lying face first on the floor, hoping no one would notice his presence. “Oh right pug-face!” Theo smirks. Pansy gasps before pulling out her wand “You are dead you queer!” she shouts. Theo pulled out his wand as well “You have a girlfriend, homo!” he shouts. 

   Pansy sputters for a moment “That’s besides the point!” they both circle each other as Draco picks himself off the floor “I shouldn’t have come” he mumbles, dusting off his robes. Both you and Blaise look at each other before bursting into laughter. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @dracosathenaeum @pxroxide-prinxcesss 

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody- I have no words for this other then- what the fuck did i just write? Anyways, peace!

[just-another-muddafucka]

unwanted visitor*

pairing: max cady x fem!reader

summary: a good deed turns out to be the worst choice you could possibly make... maybe.

warnings: explicit language, slight dub con, fingering, choking, face slapping, predatory vibes, huuggeee age gap (but reader is of legal age), daddy kink

When the last bell of the day rang, you were more than happy to pack your books into your bag and hurriedly get out from behind your desk. All of your frustrations washed away the minute the final bell rang throughout the school. You walked with a pep in your step down the hall and to the left where your locker was. Quickly putting in your combination, you unlocked the metal barrier and shoved your history textbook inside and huffed as you fixed your lopsided headband that kept your hairs away from your face.

“Y/N!” You heard your friends squeal your name as they ran to you, all laughing and talking at the same time.

“If you’re gonna ask me to go to the mall again, the answer is gonna be no,” you giggled and held your binder to your chest as you shut your locker and made sure to rearrange the numbers. “My parents are coming home tomorrow and I have to clean up and stuff.”

“And stuff? What’re you gonna do? Rub one out the last night you’re alone?” Alana, the loud and dirty one of the group, questioned you and made an obscene gesture with her fist and mouth.

You shoved her and covered your blushing face with your binder as your friends giggled around you. You rolled your eyes at her filthy antics and walked in between them. “I’ll let you guys know though, okay? I have studying to do and food shopping.”

“Oh, let me know when you go food shopping. I need to get more snacks,” Beverly, the insanely smart and talkative one of the group, told you as she fixed her glasses on her nose. “I ate too much of everything again and my parents are gonna freak when they see how empty the cabinets are. Especially my dads secret stash. No wonder he keeps a lock and key.”

You and Alana shared a look and laughed. Alana wrapped an arm around Beverly’s shoulders as you three made your way out of the school. There was still a bustle of students here and there - some waiting for the bus, some waiting for their parents, others just loitering. Alana and Beverly were chatting amongst themselves, and judging from the way Bev was sucking her teeth annoyingly, Alana was probably saying something dirty or poking fun. You were in your own head as your eyes scanned your surroundings.

They suddenly landed on a beautiful red mustang parked across the street. The man in the driver’s seat was significantly older than you. You weren’t sure if he was a parent or a teacher, but his eyes never left yours the minute you spotted him. A nudge to your arm brought you back down to earth and you quickly turned your head to focus on your two friends.

“We’re gonna head to the arcade. Danny’s supposed to meet us there. You sure you don’t wanna come?” Bev asked you, furrowing her eyebrows and biting down on her bottom lip with her brace covered teeth.

“I’m sure,” you smiles and fixed the straps of your bag and held your binder tighter to your chest as you took a few steps back. “I’ll see you guys Monday!”

They both bid you a goodbye and went around the school to where the football field was to cut a shortcut. You trotted down the steps and began to make your way home which was just a 10 minute walk, 6 minutes tops if you ran. But do you really wanna run in a skirt? You shook your head to yourself and giggled softly. The air was so fresh and clean. It rained last night and today was a beautiful morning. The smell of grass and flowers overwhelmed your senses as the birds chirped around you.

“Excuse me, young lady,” you heard a gentle southern voice call at you from beside.

You gasped and looked to the side and saw the man you had seen before. He rests one elbow on the the drivers side window as the other rests on the steering wheel. He was wearing a sailor’s hat and had a Hawaiian shirt on, only the top three buttons undone, showcasing a hairy and well built chest with tattoos. He had some on his arms as well and it gave you butterflies. He lowered his sunglasses just a smidge and gave you a charming smile. Up close, he looked so handsome and rugged.

“I sincerely apologize for startling you,” he told you. “Do you, by any chance, know where Collins Avenue is? I’m afraid I don’t have a map and I have a doctor’s appointment.” He seemed so friendly. It made you feel at ease. You stepped closer to the car and looked down the street, missing the way his eyes roamed you up and down.

“You’re gonna go down that street here. And then when you’re about to pass that yellow house, you’re gonna make a right. And then there’s gonna be a blue house at the corner, then you’re gonna wanna make a left and then keep going straight!” You told the directions and gave him a bashful smile, hugging your binder closer to your chest again. “Do you get it, mister?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, darlin,” he huffed and licked his lips, sucking his teeth and tapping his thump against the steering wheel.

“Well, I can draw it out for you if you’d like? I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand,” you giggled quietly, making the man smirk as he bit his lip.

“Would you like to take a seat inside so you’re more comfortable?” He offered and unlocked the doors of his car.

“I’m not allowed to get into cars with strangers, mister,” you told him softly, nervously biting your lip.

“Well look at how smart you are!” He praised you, causing your cheeks to blush pink. He didn’t miss that and grinned wolfishly. “My name is Max Cady. And you are?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him, taking a small step towards the car when he outstretched his hand to shake yours. His hand was so much bigger than yours, fingers long and veins protruding on his hand and arm. You swallowed down a whimper at the touch.

“See, now we ain’t strangers anymore,” he winked at you, laughing quietly as you looked down. “I promise you, I’m a respectful man and you seem like a lovely lil lady.” He fingers tapped against his thigh as his knee started to bob, a sign of impatience. But he needed to get you to trust him. He needed to simply wait it out until it was the right time. When your hand touched the handle, something inside of him jumped for joy. “There we go!”

You opened your binder and turned to a clean sheet of paper, pulling out a pencil from its pocket and beginning to draw an outline of where Max needed to go. You can feel his eyes on you as you neatly scribbled down street signs and little squares as houses. His scent suddenly filled your senses. The cologne he was wearing smelled so intoxicating. You wanted to bury your nose in his neck to keep that scent around you. You bit your lip and squeezed your thighs together under your binder, hoping he didn’t realize your squirming. Oh, but he did. His eyes trailed down to look at the exposed skin hidden under your pink checkered skirt, your white thigh highs fitting so snug around you. It looked so soft and supple. He needed to squeeze your flesh and sink his teeth into them to leave his mark. He suddenly wonders if you bruise easily.

“So, you go to this school here?” Max asks you, wanting to make small talk to keep you longer. “I hear it’s the last month before summer.”

“Yes, I do! It’s my last year too, and then I go to college,” you beamed with excitement and he almost found it adorable. “I can’t wait. It’s gonna be so exciting.”

“No kiddin’. What’re you studying?” He licked his lips and looked at your neck and collarbones, suddenly wondering what you’d taste like if he trailed his tounge across. How long would he have to choke you to make you pass out?

“English! I wanna be a writer,” you gave him a shy smile, watching as his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled back at you. Man, was he handsome. “I never asked where you’re from, Max. I recognized your accent.”

“Oh, just a lil town up in Georgia,” he shrugged. “Nothin’ too special, I guess.”

“Georgia? I heard they have great peaches up there. I always wanted to go to a peach farm,” you pouted.

“Can I let you in on a secret?” His voice dropped down to a low baritone hum as he moved closer to you, the heat of just him engulfing you like flames. His breath tickled your ear. “They ain’t that good.”

You burst into a fit of giggles and covered your mouth with your palm. Max chuckles to himself and elbows you lightly. Your skin was soft. His hands twitched as he moved back to his spot. And what perfume were you wearing? It smelled like strawberries and rose water.

“Um, here you go, sir - Max!” You handed him the paper and closed your binder after putting your pencil away. “If you just follow those directions, you’d be out on the main street and then the doctor’s office should be around there. I promise, you won’t get lost.”

“Well, since you’ve been such a lovely samaritan, I do believe you deserve a reward,” he tells you and reaches over to open the glove compartment, the back of his hand briefly touching your knees as he rifles around and pulls out a heart shaped lollipop. “Somethin’ sweet for a sweet peach.”

You blushed and took the lollipop with a soft thank you, sir. You unwrapped it and popped it into your mouth, immediately letting out a soft moan, not even realizing it as you suckle and lick. Max never once took his eyes off you. His face changed into one of seriousness. He need to have you. And if he couldn’t right now, he’d find a way. When you went to look at him, he immediately gave you that charming smile of his.

“How about I take you home? You’ve been so good to me and I would just feel so bad letting you walk alone out here,” he told you and laid a large hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down as he looked into your eyes. Almost hypnotized, you nodded. “Where do you live, peach?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

When Max stopped in front of your house, he took notice of the absence of cars in the driveway. You turned in your seat and gave him a blushing smile. He rests his arm on the seats behind him and spreads his thighs comfortably. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes look down before quickly looking into his again.

“Thank you for the ride, Max. I do hope you get to the doctors office safely,” you told him gently, leaning over the console to give his stubbly cheek a kiss, once more smelling that cologne.

“Pleasure’s all mine, peach,” he grins and tips his hat to you like a gentleman, savoring the little giggles that escape your red tinted lips that was from the lollipop.

He watches as you exit the car, waving back at you as you walk up the long walkway that leads to the steps. When you reach the top, you unlock the door, turning back once more to wave at Max. He gives you a wink as you shut the door. His smile drops from his face at an instant as he puts his car into drive and parks a few houses down. All he has to do is wait now.

When you get inside the house, you drop your bag down with a sigh and envelope the silence that fills up every room. You hated silence with such a passion. It was so quiet, yet so loud at the same damn time. You needed excitement and wonder and boisterous adventures. You trudged up the carpet steps and enter your lonely room. Tugging off your shoes, you neatly put them back in the empty space under your bed, pushing them back just a tad so your bedsheets cover them. You remove your headband and run your fingers through your hair. You sat down on the edge of your bed with a sigh. Coming home to an empty house was the worst feeling you ever felt.

“I need a dog,” you mumbled to yourself and walked over to the radio that sat on your windowsill, sliding in your favorite tape of Queen and smiling happily again when Somebody To Love came on. You hummed along to the lyrics and began to pick up any dirty laundry lying around. You had to make sure the bathroom was in tact as well before your parents came home. You made a mental list in your head of things you needed to do as you left your room and entered the small laundry room just beside yours. You loaded the washer, poured in a small cup of detergent, and turned the novel so that it would start rotating the clothes around.

You walked down the steps and entered the guest bathroom that was adjacent to the back door. You put your handle on the knob and turned it to make sure it was still locked before you left for school and after you came home. Just as you walked down the hallway to check the front door, the familiar Hawaiian shirt caught you off guard in your kitchen. You gasped and pressed your back against the walk beside the steps. Max Cady was standing in your kitchen eating an apple from your bowl of fruits.

“You should learn how to lock your doors, honey,” he tells you, taking another bite out of the apple as he motions with his hand around. “I mean, anybody can just walk in.”

“Wha-What’re you doing here, sir?” You whispered helplessly, feeling as thought you’re about to collapse just from how fast your heart is beating. “My parents will be home a-any minute, you need to go.”

“The calendar says otherwise,” he tells you condescendingly and steps in front of said calendar. He points to a circled date that was tomorrow and reads aloud, “Mom and dad come back.” He turns back to you, seeing the evident fear in your ears and the tremble in your body. “Now, why on earth would you go and lie about somethin’ like that? Your parents taught you about strangers, but I guess they ain’t teachin’ you about lying.”

A small tear rolls down your cheek as you try to muster up a response, but all that comes out is a feeble, “Please.”

Max sets the apple down on the countertop and begins to stalk towards you just as you make a mad dash for the front door. You swing it open just when his strong arm wraps around your waist, lifting you from the ground and throwing you back down behind him, causing you to scream and fall on your hands and knees. He slams the door and chases you up the stairs as you helplessly crawl. You sobbed and fought at his rough hands as they grab your arms to slam you against the wall, making one of the picture frams fall onto the ground. You cried and clawed at his skin, trying to smack his face to catch him off guard.

“Get over here,” he growls and enters your room, throwing you onto the bed and slamming the door shut with his foot. “I do believe you need to learn some manners.”

You cried and hiccuped as you hugged your knees to your chest, desperately holding onto them as grabbed onto your pillows as well. You watched with tear filled eyes as Max turns off your radio. He gets on his knees on your bed. You helplessly shake your head and cried out when he grabbed your ankles and dragged you down onto your back, causing your sheets to come undone and your stuffed animals to become disheveled.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whimpered and closed your eyes tight, feeling his nose against your damp cheek as he chuckles in your ear.

“Kill you? Oh honey, I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he tells you, his southern drawl becoming thicker. He sits up straight, looking down your body and at how your thighs are trembling, your skirt pooled around your hips to show your tight gray panties. “Look at what we got here.”

You hiccuped and fearfully opened your eyes to see him staring down between your thighs with such hunger. You go to close them, but he smacks your thigh with such force that it makes you cry out. You rub at that sensitive and pained flesh, suddenly wishing that you never interacted with the man. He grabs your blouse and rips it apart, your buttons flying everywhere. You hear some clatter onto the ground as you lay helpless under him.

“I don’t want to hurt your pretty lil self, so how about you just cooperate, hm?” Max sternly tells you, pointing a finger down at you as if scolding a child. When you let out a small, “okay,” he nods in approval. “Now, have you ever been touched by a man?” You shake your head no. “You ever been touched by a woman?” You shook your head no. “You ever touch yourself?” You shook your head no once again. He laughs to himself and rubs a hand down his jaw. “You shittin’ me?”

“No sir,” you weakly whisper. “I’ve been saving myself.” You jump from his boisterous laugh. “What?”

“Well, I never thought of you to be such a holy girl.” His fingers gripped your thighs and he groaned as he saw the flesh turn white before pink. “Sweet, little innocent thing, hm?”

“Yes sir,” you whispered, your thighs trembling as his fingers moved further down until they stopped at the rim of your panties. “W-What’re you gonna do to me?”

“Well, I wanna choke the life out of you and destroy every inch of this body of yours, but I’m a gentleman,” he grins and tips his hat before putting it to the side. “I like you, Y/N, and I think we’re gonna get along just nicely.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, sliding the blade under the fabric of your panties and lifting up in quick succession as he rips the fabric out from under you. He whistles and licks his lips as he first sees your bare cunt.

“Freshly shaved, just how I like ‘em,” he grins and rubs his fingers against the lips of your private parts. You jumped from the foreign feeling and gasped, thighs trembling to fall shut as he applies pressure to the swelling button hidden beneath your lips. “Thatta girl. Just let daddy do what’s best for you, hm?” He forces your thighs further apart and notices a small string of arousal sliding out of your tight hole. “What do we have here?”

You’re nervously panting as you play with the locket around your neck. Max slides his fingers to scoop up slme of your slick and shows it off to you with a filthy smile, spreading his fingers lewdly to show you the strings of arousal that look like saliva.

“I-I don’t know what that is,” you softly tell him. “And I don’t want to know. So can you please leave me alone, sir.” More tears filled your eyes as he laughed at your pathetic attempt.

“Darlin’, we’re just getting started,” he tells you and suddenly roughly shoves in his middle and ring fingers inside your tight cunt, laughing maniacally at the way you scream out from the painful intrusion. “That’s what I like to hear!”

You try to shut your thighs, but his large body and his arm between your legs stop you from doing so. He reaches over and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing and forcing you further down ontk the bed. You cough and grab onto his forearm, digging your nails into his tattooed and hairy skin. You kick your feet out as he begins to move his fingers in and out of you in quick succession. You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to distract yourself. But every single one of your thoughts are violated by Max. He squeezes your throat much harder than the last, relishing your weak gasps for air and the wet sloshing of his fingers inside your virgin pussy.

“You think I didn’t notice those little fuck me eyes looking at me inside the car?” He crooned. He removed his hand from your throat, watching with a hungry expression when you weakly gasp for air, your eyes dazy and unfocused. He slaps your cheek condescendingly, loving the small whimpers that leave your lips as he does so. “You wanted me from the start, little peach.” He leans over with a hand planted in the side of your head. You look up at him, thighs trembling even more as he speeds up his fingers, the tips prodding at this sensitive part inside of you that forces more slick to pour out.

“Mmhmmm,” you whimpered softly and threw your head back as your toes curled in your thigh highs. This feeling was so foreign, yet it felt so good. Max knew what he was doing, and yet you didn’t want him to stop. “Please... daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” he grins, crooking his fingers and moving his wrist upward as he ferociously begins to finger fuck you. You gasped and reached down to grab his forearm, but he shakes his head and laughs at your weak attempt.

“Oh G-God!” You squealed, eyebrows furrowing and cheeks burning up as the churning in your stomach envelopes into something bigger and stronger. “I-I feel... I feel... uuhhnnggh.”

“Let it happen,” he growls, slapping you in the face just as you squirt all over his hand and forearm, your juices spilling out onto your bedsheets and his pants. “Look at that!” He laughs as you try to catch your breath.

“Wha-What just happened, Max?” You whispered, feeling so dirty from letting an older man - a stranger - touch you so inappropriately, and you liking it.

“Oh honey, that ain’t nothin’,” he draws out and begins to unbuckle his belt. “We’re just getting started.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

TAGS: Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed <3

@robert-de-niro-only-fans @droogiesanddiscourse @robert-deniro-love

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. you know whats also bad about the red eyes? not only do they look awful on persephone's pink color, they're not even a unique feature? like we've seen hades' eyes go red, we've seen eros' eyes go red, and ares' eyes are ALWAYS red, so even this idea its her "unique queenly trait" doesnt even hold up?? because we've seen it on other characters before?like at least the blue glowing eyes looked unique and even gave her a possessed, otherworldly look, something with the red eyes just dont have.

2. The faces in the latest ep (not fastpass).... Ew

3. I saw someone praise lore olympus art, specifically the ones where Apollo is playing his lyre and Daphne is covering her ears while her hair is split in two (yuck! Bad decision looks awful) so we can see Apollo, the one where she transforms into her hibernation state (weird perspective, chin and neck, I think, also what the hell was that supposed to be?) and the last one before cutting to Thanatos (which, I admit looks a little better that the other but I still got distracted Apollo's arm among other things).

Now, Rachel is a professional artist like 15-25 years older than me (I dunno her age) drawing one of the most liked webtoons.

I feel like I'm nitpicking or being too harsh or crazy because I think it is a little terrible and this person thinks it's amazing and I know art is subjective and all but like the difference of opinion is jarring. I am by no means a professional and my art leaves a lot to be desired and I guess I don't have incredibly high standards (or do I? I'm second guessing). Is it really that good?

Because I know that Smythe commits more than a few anatomy atrocities. I wanted to redraw a few panels two years ago and I noticed a few things that Don't Work Like That.

4. ok but that other anon is right. we shouldnt have to go off old tumblr asks or random tweets to understand what's going on and who the characters are. rachel doesnt realize you have to actually write whats going on, not putting the readers on a scavenger hunt trying to figure out what they're even reading.

5. im honestly surprised LO hasnt ruined more mother figures at this point. maybe maia will be next and depicted as neglectful and hermes is only the way he is because hes acting out to be noticed by her, maybe dione will slut shame aphrodite, who knows, the possibilities are endless when its about ruining every mother figure to prop persephone and hera up and to avoid giving the characters actual personalities that isnt dependent on mommy/daddy issues.

6. I hate the clothing choice for Daphne in run for your life. It felt like she was drawn in a sexualized manner when she shouldn’t have been because she was running away from a r*pist. Like she almost had a nip slip, we almost got her ass, it was like Rachel was trying to fit her butt and chest in a lot of the frames like some video game with the token woman character. Like if a different dress was choosen or how she made Daphne tie the dress, I just feel like Rachel can’t draw outside of pinup sexy that well. Like sexy is fine for sexy scenes but running away from a r*pist is not sexy. (I probably sounded really lame, but the way Rachel presents the story in a feminist way but can only draw one way in not even the same style is annoying)

7. Things I think would have been better for the story instead of focusing so much on HXP

-Expanding on Minthe’s and Hades beginning of their relationship (he couldn’t of fallen for her since she didn’t laugh at him and when she yelled at him said it’s not your fault but you have the hat I think that would have added to his character more to see him more than a 40 year old who hits on barely legal)

-Leto’s kidnapping of Demeter. Both we/are close with Hera, and probably know or each other or may have been friends. Like I wanna know how Leto kidnapped her but also how are they interacting since they probably know each other and Demeter probably had Hera’s back when Hera ended their friendship.

-Ares return to Aphrodite. We don’t get to see much of her character but we know this is something she’s wanted, but they way it was handled was so flat, We assume Aphrodite told Ares that his gf slept with his father to save their son but we don’t actual read any words between the couple. And then they’re living together. I wanna see how they actually interact and stay together like their better moments. Like how well did he settle in, did they talk about how long he left for or is he mad like come on that’s something interesting but I feel like RS can’t write outside of HXP

-the deal with Echo. Why do people think Echo could possibly be Hera’s gf if she’s her assistant. Yeah they do dirty work together BUT I didn’t get a wiff or sexual tension or anything. Was it that she was there with the doctor? It just seems like Hera is that CEO trope who has the assistant always by her now.

-a little more of Pysche and Aphrodite friendship. Like Pysche says Aphrodite is lonely (and we can assume a part of that is Ares) but also because she “doesn’t have many friends” so why not a solo scene of just the two of them being actual friends. Like what did Aphrodite say when she brought back a purple nymph that was gonna help them with their work.

-Hermes not talking about Persephone. I feel like that 99% of what his character is and then just a little bit of himbo. 

-Maybe Thantos and Minthe started flirting/hooking up. We’re they friends first or flirts first? Was it after Hades and Minthe got into a fight or something else? What did Thantos like about Minthe and what does she like about him? Why did she stay with Hades with Thantos was there (it’s not like she wanted to be queen of the underworld) How did Thantoas and Thetis meet and become friends? Idk if I was seeing two guys and one of them actually liked my friend I might consider leaving Hades for him. But again hades did have the power to control everything in Minthe’s life (job, home, everything) I do like Daphne and Thantos But I feel like the transition could have been better if we knew more, but again RS can only focus on one thing and that’s HXP.

------FP Spoiler/Mention------

8. FP SPOILERS— I’m done. I’m really done. We called it. We FKN called it. They got married behind the readers back, Demeter didn’t respond to the question as she actively avoided it and time was up, Apollo is somehow involved in the trial- THIS WHOLE THING IS A MESS AND IM TIRED OF HOPING THAT IT GETS BETTER. Four FKN years of this??? I’m done with this Webtoon even though I’m FKN stuck in it. I’m so FKN done.

9. Fast Pass spoiler (kinda) OH MY GOD, I JUST REALIZED THE POMEGRANATE PIN IS JUST PASTED ON EVERY FRAME, NOT EVEN RE DRAWN FOR PERSPECTIVE, NO, JUST COPIED AND PASTED, REGARDLESS THE OUTFIT ANGLE AND LIGHTING, IT'S HILARIOUS!!!I mean, I knew the art was decaying, but this just made me laugh out loud of how bad it looked.

10. persephone’s pomegranate pin just looks like a giant fly that landed on her and won’t leave LMAO