#PLEASE NOTICE THE BLACK HOLE BEHIND SHERLOCK

[seenthisepisode]

cinematic parallels

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 5 | You practically whipped it out and peed on her.

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly and Tom face their first big industry event, a Marvel party.  Tom finds himself unprepared for how he feels about Molly.  Particularly how he feels about Molly being friendly with a certain Captain. 

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

-

Molly made a quick recovery and things went back to the usual routine. For her. Tom found himself wearing his better workout clothes. The ones without the holes. And wearing cologne and shaving.

“Did you shave?” Molly asked one morning, running her hand over his chin.

“Yes.” 

“Shame, I kind of liked how you looked with the stubble.”

Tom’s smile faded, and he started shaving only once or twice a week from then on. 

-

“I need you to go shopping.” Tom mentioned one day on his way out. 

Molly didn’t glance up from her reading. “Just make a list and I’ll go to the grocery store today.”

“No.” Tom fidgeted. “There’s an event. A party.” He cleared his throat. “For Marvel.” Tom tugged at his hair.

Molly’s eyes bugged out. “This isn’t just some party, is it?”

“No. It’s a big deal. All the stars will be there. Kevin Feige and some other execs. Think you handle it?”

Molly smirked. “Piece of cake, I have been charming VIPs for years. What kind of look do you want? Sweet wife or damn that’s his wife?”

Tom pulled her close. “Somewhere in between. Have Emma help you. I have no idea where to buy women’s clothes.”

“Will do.” Molly kissed his cheek. “Have a good day.” She pressed her hand on his chest.

“You too.” He returned the kiss on the cheek and stepped out of the door. 

Molly grabbed her phone and dialed Emma.

“So where does someone go to get a cocktail dress in this town?”

-

Molly caught Tom digging in her wardrobe the morning before the event. 

“What are you doing in there?” Molly called out from the doorway. 

Tom jumped and hit his head on the door. “I… I… was… just looking to see… if…” he sputtered, searching for a story.

“If you could see my dress before tonight.” She waved a hand, gesturing Tom out of the room. “Out.”

“But I need to make sure we coordinate.” Tom whined. His fingers lingered on a garment bag.

“That’s my wedding dress.” she sighed. “If I give you a color, will you yield?”

“On my honor as a gentleman.” Tom smiled.

“Black. Now leave. Your sister is coming over in a few hours to do my hair.”

Tom wrinkled his nose. “How long does hair take?”

She patted his cheek. “Oh you sweet summer child.”

-

Tom did the best to ignore the giggles coming from Molly’s bathroom. He fiddled with his jacket and shirt sleeves. He selected a black tweed-like suit with a grey shirt and tie. They should coordinate, he thought. For photos. 

A loud burst of laughter came from the bathroom. Tom strolled over and knocked on the door. Emma popped her head out.

“She’s not ready yet.” 

“We need to leave in fifteen minutes.” Tom countered.

“Give me ten.” Emma shooed him away. “Now go away.”

Tom shoved his hands in pockets. “It’s my house, you know.” he muttered.

“Our house!” Molly piped up from behind the door.

Emma turned to her. “Don’t engage. It only encourages him to stick around.” Emma’s head snapped back to Tom. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m going! Ten minutes, Em!” 

 Tom paced the living room floor. Twelve minutes later, Emma stepped in and cleared her throat.

“I present your stunning wife.” 

Molly stepped into the room and Tom’s breath caught in his throat. This was unlike how he had ever seen her before. Her tiered ruffled black dress hit right above the knee. Cut low in the front and back, it was sexy but not scandalous. Her hair pulled back into a low chignon. 

“Yeah…” Tom breathed, staring at Molly, who fidgeted in place.

“Thanks.” She caught the time. “Shit! Tom, we need to get going. Thanks so much, Em.”

Emma hugged Molly. “My pleasure. Next time we use the big bathroom. Or maybe my brother will renovate that bathroom to a his and hers.”

“Huh?” Tom frowned, glancing at Emma.

Emma giggled. “That’s my cue to leave.” She hugged Tom. “She really is your match, Tom.” Emma whispered in his ear.

Molly waited until the door shut before reaching over, playfully smacking Tom’s chest. 

“Brilliant acting job there! You had me going for a moment there.” 

Tom chuckled. “Right. Right. Let’s go.” He wrapped his arm around her waist.

-

Molly wasn’t lying when she said the party would be a piece of cake. She charmed everyone she spoke to. Tom most of all. He beamed, watching her from across the room. 

“You are positively glowing, Thomas.” Benedict sidled up next to him. “I guess that means the rumours are true.” Ben sipped his drink.

“Hmmm?” Tom turned to his friend, lost in thought. 

“Earth to Tom.” Ben mocked. 

Tom frowned at him. “I’m sorry, something distracted me. What was the question?” 

“Would that something be that young lady charming Mark Ruffalo, who is sporting a pretty diamond on an important finger?”

“And they said you shouldn’t play Sherlock.” Tom mocked. “That young lady happens to be Molly.”

“And what would be Molly’s last name?”

“Hiddleston.” Tom muttered.

“Is this a mysterious third sister?”

Tom threw Benedict a derisive glare. “Why don’t you just come out and ask the question, Benedict? It’s not a sister, that’s my wife. I got married. There, happy?” Tom huffed, downing half his cocktail. 

“Yes. But more importantly, are you happy?” 

Tom glanced over at Molly, laughing at something Mark said. “I am. I really am.” 

“Then, congratulations.” Ben clinked his glass with Tom’s.

-

Molly sidled up to the bar to catch a breath. 

“Cranberry and soda with a twist of lime.” she ordered, leaning against the bar. 

“Finally a moment alone with the belle of the ball.” A deep voice said next to Molly.

She turned to face none other than Chris Evans. He sipped on a bottle of beer, wearing a black on black suit with a brown tie. It shouldn’t work, but it did. 

“Captain America, himself.” She smiled and extended a hand. Chris shook it. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Most people just call me Chris. And you, what do people call you?” He flashed a smile which she returned.

“Molly.”

Chris took another swig of beer. Molly licked her lips, watching. “So what do you do, Molly, besides charming the pants off of everyone in the room?”

- 

Tom’s head snapped around at Molly’s laugh from across the room. 

“Excuse me for a moment, Ben. I think Molly needs me.”

Benedict’s furrowed at how Tom could know that. Then he spied where Tom was beelining. The bar where Molly and Chris Evans stood in quite the animated conversation. He snaked his way through the crowd to get a better view.

-

Molly giggled. “That is too funny, Chris. Is it true that…” she sensed someone behind her. It was Tom. “Tom!”

“Oh you met Molly.” Chris offered.

Molly snorted. Tom’s hand wrapped around her waist, squeezing tight. Her stomach fluttered at Tom’s touch. 

“I have.” Tom snapped back. “She’s my wife.”

“Oh shit!” Chris held up his hands. “I’m so sorry man. I had no idea. Congratulations. That’s quite a girl you got there.” 

Molly smiled and relaxed against Tom. He kept his death grip on her waist, but he did smile at Chris.

“Darling, Benedict is dying to meet you. Can I steal you away?” 

Molly twisted to gaze up at Tom, cupping his cheek. “Of course, love.” She reached out to touch Chris’s arm, not noticing Tom’s smile faltering. “Steal away.”

Tom leaned down and kissed her lips before leading her away. 

-

After a quick chat with Benedict, Molly excused herself to the bathroom. Ben leaned into Tom.

“What the hell was that?” Ben hissed.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Tom tugged on his jacket.

“I mean that little territory marking over there with Evans.” Ben commented. “You practically whipped it out and peed on her.” 

“Don’t be crude. I was just… making sure Molly met you.” Tom lied. 

“Bullshit. You were jealous. Why? She married you.”

Tom sipped his drink. “It’s complicated.” 

“Then explain it to me.”

“Not here.” Tom hissed. 

“Then lunch, tomorrow.” Benedict offered. “Just you and me and the truth.”

Tom paled. Molly came back and wrapped her arm around him.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Nothing. Other than me missing you.”

“Aww.” Molly leaned her head against Tom’s chest. “I’m going to the bar. Do you gentlemen want anything?”

Tom perked up. “I’ll come with you.” 

Ben mumbled into his glass, emptying it. “Just whipping it out.” Tom shot him daggers.

“What was that?” Molly questioned.

“I am just heading out.” Ben said, covering. “Sophie will be expecting me.”

Molly leaned over and kissed Ben’s cheek. “I can’t wait to meet her. She sounds delightful.”

“She is.” Ben nodded. “Tom.” He extended his hand, and the two gave a quick hug.

“Benedict.” Tom responded tensely. 

Tom stuck to Molly’s side for the rest of the event. She appreciated the attention but was a little sad she didn’t get to finish up her conversation at Chris. She could swear Tom was keeping her from Chris. Molly shrugged off the feeling. 

She chattered on the ride home. 

“That was a lot fun, Tom. Everyone was nice.”

“They were.” Tom responded, gripping the steering wheel tight.

“Mark, Ben, Chris, and Robert.” 

Tom bristled at Chris’s name. He plastered on a smile. “But I’m the one going home with you.”

She placed her hand on top of his and ran her thumb over his knuckles. Each swipe sent electricity through Tom. 

“I hope I was convincing. You don’t think anyone suspects?” 

“What?” Tom glanced over at her. His voice grew more tense.

“About us. The whole fake marriage.” 

“Oh. No, darling, you were perfect.” 

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. The first true thing he had said for most of the night. Molly wasn’t just lovely. She was perfect. Damning and infuriatingly perfect. And he was in love with her. And she wasn’t in love with him.

Tom feigned being exhausted once they got home. 

“I’m off to bed.”

“Me too.” Molly pulled off her black pumps. Tom headed towards his room. “Wait. I forgot! Will you get my zipper? Emma had to do me up.” She spun around.

Tom gulped. “Sure.” His fingers shook as he tugged the zipper down. His fingertips grazing across Molly’s back. Her skin soft and warm.

“Th.. thanks.” Molly stuttered.

“You’re welcome.”

She held the dress up by crossing her arms in front of her. She kissed Tom’s lips. “Night, Tom.”

He kissed her back, not how he wanted to. He wanted to rip that dress off of her and push her against the wall and kiss her until she lost her breath and then kiss her some more. Just for good measure. 

He leaned back. “Good night, Molly.” His voice low and soft as if he didn’t trust to speak too loud. As if he would spook her and ruin everything.

Molly’s head dropped, and she headed to her room, door clicking shut.

“Shit!” Tom yanked his tie off. “Real fucking smooth Hiddleston.”

-

Tom begged off their run that morning, claiming he was too tired from last night. In fact, he didn’t get up until he had to leave to meet Benedict for lunch. 

Molly sat up when Tom came into the living room.

“Are you feeling okay?” She beckoned him over and she pressed her hand to his forehead. “No fever.”

“I’m fine. Just tired.” He kissed her cheek. “I appreciate your concern, though. I’m off to meet Ben. Think you’ll be okay for a few hours without me?” 

“I think I can manage.” Molly mock pouted. “But hurry home.”

“Yes, darling.” Tom smiled and gave her a quick peck before walking out the door.

-

Ben was already seated when Tom arrived at the pub. 

“Look like shit, Tom.” Ben commented.

“I didn’t sleep well last night.” Tom grabbed a menu and ordered a coffee and water. 

“The wife keep you up?” Ben sipped his beverage.

“Not exactly.”

“Yeah, what is that all about? And why would you be jealous of Evans?”

Tom groaned. “Can I at least get my coffee?”

“Nope.” Ben grinned a wide grin.

Tom sighed. “Okay so here is what happened…”

Benedict sat there silently while Tom relayed the whole sordid tale. He left nothing out, not even Clive. 

Tom gazed up at his friend. “Say something, Ben. The silence is deafening.”

Benedict pressed his fingers to his lips. “And Luke doesn’t know?”

“No.”

“And not your mother?”

“No. Just you.” Tom huffed. “And Molly.”

“Obviously. Seems rather simple.”

“Simple?! How is anything simple?! I am in love with her, Ben.” Tom stabbed at his food. “She’s all I think about.”

“See, simple. Tell her how you feel.” Ben smiled. “The two of you are already married. Seems like you skipped all the hard stuff.” 

“And when she rejects me? Not so simple. I can’t lose her.”

Ben stared at his friend. “You really are blind, aren’t you? I saw how she looked at you last night. There is something there, and it is not you paying off her student loans. Molly genuinely cares for you.”

Tom’s brows raised. “You think so.”

“I know so. Now let’s come up with a plan for you to woo your wife.”

Tom grinned. 

-

Molly settled back onto the couch, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Tom?” she called out while moving to answer the door. “Did you forget your key—” She stopped short upon seeing who it was. “Oh, Chris.”

Evans stood there wearing a plain tee that clung to his classic A-frame torso. Molly stared for a bit. 

“Hi!” He smirked at her.

“Um, Tom left to have lunch with Ben.”

“Actually, I am here to invite you out to lunch. We never got to finish our conversation.” 

“Let me grab my coat.” 

Chris grinned as Molly grabbed her purse and coat before locking up. He slung an arm over her shoulder. “Now where is a good place to eat around here?”

[mochiusagifanficchaos]

Sherlock x Mute!Reader •Part1•

„So, do you guys know what you want to eat?", asked John Watson in a slightly impatient tone. You could tell that he was hungry and did not felt like waiting any longer, just because the Holmes brothers made an eye-contact-battle.

Mycroft cleared his throat and gave the menu a quick look.

„Yes", he said and waved a young girl with a white apron over to the table.

You saw a man at a table right in front of the window waving so you quickly made your way to him. On the way, you struggled to get your notebook out of your pockets from the apron but had it in your hands, right at the moment when the man began speaking.

"One steak and one spaghetti.", he said and turned away from you again.

How rude, you thought, but nodded in a polite way and smiled.

Then you looked at the guy sitting on the right side of the table, wanting to know what he was going to order, but the man wasn't even looking up to you. His eyes were fixed on a paper that was lying in front of him on the table. You already knew him.

Since you have started to work at the Café you saw him now and then, always sitting at the same table, never ordering something to eat, rarely a cup of tea.

"Nothing for me, thank you.", he suddenly said and changed the pages of his paper.

Puzzled you let your pen slide back in your pockets, nodded once again and turned around.

"Why aren't you going to eat?", the men who ordered the food asked and just got a cold: "I don't eat when I'm working, digestion slows me down.", as a response.

"How did you know what I was going to order?", you heard one of the men asking as you walked back to the counter to give the cook your note.

You turned around again to face into the direction of the three men.

The man with the short dark hair, well the 'rude man' to put it into better words, just opened his mouth to say something, but got cut off by the guy in front of him.

"Your finger John, ", he said, his eyes still analyzing the papers in front of him. "It's on Spaghetti."

The man, called John, sighted and turned his glance to the window: "Obvious. Of course."

"WAITER!", someone suddenly yelled and you winced, nearly dropping your notebook.

You looked around to meet the gaze of two angry-looking men which were wearing expensive-looking suits and hats, black leather gloves and were smoking a strong cigar, you could smell it, even though you were on the other end of the Café.

Slowly you walked to the two men and bowed slightly, which was meant as an excuse.

"Not even an apology. Tsk.", the man with the cigar in his hand said and dumped the ash down into a vase.

You took the cigar out of his hand angrily but also carefully.

He rapidly stood up from his chair and crashed his fist onto the wooden table.

You flinched back a little but calmly pointed to a sign over the counter.

It showed a red crossed out cigarette.

Unwillingly he slowly sat down again, still glaring at you, but you just responded with a sweet smile.

You went to the counter again, putting the cigar into a trash bin and came back to the table, whipping your pen out and holding it over your notebook, ready to write.

Since none of them was talking to you, you looked the man on your right into his eyes, raised an eyebrow and tilted your head a bit. Your way of asking what he wanted to order.

After some seconds the man understood: " Two Cappuccino, please."

You nodded and gave him a polite smile again. Hearing the other man getting something out of his pocket, you looked at him, noticing that he just fetched a new cigar.

You gave him a warning look before bringing the cook the note with the two Cappuccino.

Right in time.

He was just placing two plates on the counter, took a peep at the note, looked at you and you nodded. Making the drinks was your job and you knew it, but the cook, or well the Chef, with his brown hair tied up into a plait, and his big belly, stretching the white shirt, always wanted to make sure. He was a nice guy, never being angry, even when you made mistakes, he was always calm.

And for some reason, the man that never eats here did not need to pay his orders, which also counts for his friend, John.

You learned that right on your first day here and embarrassed yourself.

The Chef went back into his kitchen and you behind the counter, making two cappuccino and some black tea.

You wanted to be attentive towards the man who was here so often and thought it would be a good idea to bring him a cup of tea. He does not need to pay it anyway.

You took the water boiler off of his socket and poured the hot water into a cup with a black teabag.

And over your hand.

You pulled your hand back out of reflex and squeezed your eyes tight, whimpering silent because of the pain pulsing in your right hand.

Fast you let cool water run over it and flinched as the water hit your burned spot.

With tears in your eyes, you grabbed a little can of milk and poured a bit into the tea.

Blinking the teardrops away you grabbed the two plates in your left and the tea in your right hand, bringing it to the table with the 3 men.

You placed the food in front of John and the 'rude-man' and the tea in front of the other man.

He was still looking at his papers, ruffling his hands through his brown, messy hair.

"Thank you.", he said in his warm voice while continuing to dead glare the black letters on the paper. "And hold your hand under lukewarm water, because of your burn."

You nodded, confused, about the fact that he knew that you burned yourself but put it off with the explanation that he saw your red hand.

Over 30 minutes had passed now and your hand still felt like it was burning. You placed it under water, put ice on it, holding it under water again but it just wouldn't get better.

It even got difficult to carry plates and glasses with your right hand, forcing you to go more often to a table because you couldn't carry it all at once anymore.

Luckily the Cafè wasn't well patronized today so you could spend some time on cooling your hand.

You just wiped your hand dry as you noticed John and the other men standing up from the table.

Hurriedly you wrote the price of the steak on a paper from your notebook and ripped it out while rushing to them, giving the 'rude-man' the bill.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow: "Why do I have to pay? I thought Sherlock gets free food here.", he said arrogant and wanted to return his bill, but you already wrote something on a new one and showed it to him: 'Fiat from the Chef, sorry".

Groaning he pulled his wallet out of his pant pockets and gave you the exact sum.

You looked at him disappointed. Not even a little tip. Are you this bad at your job or is this guy just as rude as a tart?

"Where's Sherlock?", John suddenly asked and looked around the Cafè. You also looked around but he was nowhere to be seen. "He already left?", John asked again but you just shook your head before going to the counter to put the money into the till.

From the corner of your eye, you saw someone moving next to you.

You looked up and saw Sherlock standing next to you with your Jacket over his arm.

Wondering you replied his eye contact and tilted your head again like you always do when you wait for an answer.

"Come with us. I already talked to the Chef, don't worry. John needs to look at your hand, he is a doctor.", he said and walked to the front door.

Confused you took of your apron and hung it onto a hash on the wall, following Sherlock, who was already waiting outside.

Your mother always told you not to go with strangers, but it felt like you already knew him for a long time.

Well, you knew which kind of tea he liked with how much milk if that isn't something.

Sherlock was heading for a door left from the Cafè with the Number "221B" written on it.

He unlocked the door and went in, the 'rude-no-tip-man' called for Sherlock: " Are you going to attend the matter??"

"Yes, yes, maybe.", it came out of the house.

"It is from national concernment!"

"I know Mycroft."

Sighing he turned to John: " Goodbye, Doctor Watson.", and turned to the street to wave for a cab.

"Goodbye.", he responded.

You followed Sherlock into the house, John gave you the advantage so you needed to look around for the door in which Sherlock went by yourself.

But since only one door was open, you found it easily.

With an uncomfortable feeling, you stepped into the room.

It smelled like cigarette smoke and it definitely needed to be a window opened to let some fresh air inside. On your right side was a big yellow Smiley drawn on the wall with... holes.

You wondered what they were but Sherlock already answered: "Gunshots."

You looked at him blank.

Your head slowly tilted to the side and you furrowed your eyebrows.

He waved the sentence with his hand out of the air and pointed to a grey leather armchair, next to a brown-red fireplace.

"Sit down, John will take care of your hand.", he said and walked into what looked like a kitchen.

You set down on the armchair and sank into it. It was really comfortable, you had to admit

and you liked the big red carpet right under your feed.

John came through the door with a small white box in his hands. He smiled at you and kneeled down before you.

"Give me your hand", he said, opening the box with his right and carefully grabbing your hand with his left.

He sprayed something on it which smelled like sanitizer then rubbed a white cream on it and bind your hand with a bandage.

You smiled thankfully at him and tried to move your fingers, but a sharp pain rushed through your hand and made the once cold cream felt burning hot.

"No, no. don't move it. I am going to give you a new bandage with cream tomorrow and in 2-3 days it should be better again.", he informed you and closed the white box again.

Then he stood up and slumped into the red armchair in front of you.

"So, what's your name?", he asked you, still with this warm smile on his face. It seemed like he still hasn't noticed that you were mute. You automatically grabbed to your pocket, to get your notebook, but it was empty.

Then you remembered. You forgot to take it out of your apron. Goddammit!

Now you were sitting there, helplessly looking back at John Watson.

"She is mute.", Sherlock said, coming out of the kitchen and walking over to a messy desk, taking a paper and pen from it and giving it to you.

"Oh.", John answered surprised. "I thought she was just very shy. How did you notice?"

"She didn't talk one word back in the Cafè, even when she was scared. Do you remember? The two guys with the cigar? "

You scrawly wrote something under your name on the paper and showed it to Sherlock.

'I was NOT scared!'

"Of course, of course."

"That's all why you knew she is mute?", John asked again and got a disappointed look from Sherlock.

"My good friend, John, you are the doctor here. I assumed that you would notice the characteristics of a mute human-being! Especially because she got a thin scar on her throat."

"Yes, yes! My god Sherlock, I admit that I am a man with a small little brain which is, like you say, boring inside.", John huffed. " What was her name again?"

"Y/N.", Sherlock answered.

"Why are you letting her sit on your chair anyway?"

"Because she is hurt."

"You normally never let someone sit in your chair, no matter if they are hurt or not."

"She brings me tea."

"Mrs Hudson also brings you tea."

"Mrs Hudson isn't making the tea right."

"Ah. Of course.", John rolled his eyes at Sherlock.

He just ignored him and gave you something, which he was holding in his hand the whole time.

"For the tea.", he said with the same expression on his face like always. It wasn't a deadly serious expression, just a nonemotional, even though you thought his eyes were looking more gentle than usual.

Part two will be up next weekend! 😊

[sherlockfanficwriting]

Sherlock BBC "Moriarty's Games" (x reader)

A/N - Hello everybody. It’s been a while! Here is a very angsty x-reader story to get you all welcomed back! If you like angsty Moriarty and Sherlock problems, then this story is for you!

Summary - Being Sherlock's sister doesn't usually cost you deathly problems. But one day, when you receive a suspicious text, your whole life changes. Will your brother notice its hints? Or will you fall prey to his worst enemy?

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

You tossed in your bed, relishing the last moments of peaceful slumber. Before your alarm even rang, you had silenced it. On the lock screen of your phone was a message. You squinted your eyes a few times, readjusting to the bright day.

Unknown number

Shrugging it off for later, you walked yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. As you brushed your teeth you swirled the loose strands of your hair into a messy ponytail - multitasking at its finest. After you washed up, you grazed through the closet. A row of plain and simple colored clothes stared back at you. You decided on a loose mini black skirt paired with a tighter cream colored shirt that had sleeves up to your elbow. It was spring and you would certainly not be seen with pants everyday.

Ring

Your phone let out a text notification. You sighed, already knowing it was from the unknown number. After you dressed yourself and put on a pair of canvas shoes, you finally unlocked your phone to view the message.

Unknown number

Today’s going to be a good day, isn’t it?

Your stomach dropped. The words. The length. The question. It wasn’t just any unknown number. You quickly gathered your purse and walked out of your apartment. Stepping to the edge of the curb, you frantically waved for a taxi. One came veering off the road and you hopped inside.

“Baker Street, please.”

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

You threw the driver a five and ran up to the apartment door, swiftly unlocking it. You skipped up the steps and knocked on Sherlock’s flat door. A few moments later, someone came and opened it.

John, seeing that it was you, gratefully smiled. “(Y/N)! How are you? You look lovely.”

You nodded at him with a small smile. “Is Sherlock here?”

John noticed your urgency and led you inside. Sitting on the couch reading a newspaper was your brother. Without looking up he said, “Good morning, (Y/N).”

You walked besides him and said, “We have a problem.”

His eyes shot to you. He read everything about you and said, “Show me your phone.”

You handed Sherlock the phone and showed him the text. “I’m certain it’s Moriarty. The words and everything about it. It fits his tone. He’s up to no good.”

John sat in front of Sherlock, a worried look plagued on his face. “Why don’t we text back?”

“No,” Sherlock said, “That’s what he wants. I’ll tell Mycroft. I know he’s not afraid of anything. This text means certain things.”

You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and looked down at the floor. Your mind raced through possible scenarios and situations. Moriarty had a plan. He was just watching it fall into action.

“Sherlock, don’t call Mycroft yet. Moriarty knows you would do that. I think we should text back.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “(Y/N), you know better than this. That’s a bad decision you’re making.”

You walked over and grabbed your phone out of his hands. “We have a couple of options. Call Mycroft and he’ll do something stupid and panic or just text him back and play it out. There's no harm in doing that. This doesn’t require much thinking, yes?”

He shook his head. Your brother was angry. On more complex issues, you two would thrive. But on a simpler decision, all hell breaks loose.

“Fine. You-,” Sherlock started saying, but was interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Mycroft,” he said.

You and John looked at each other. You knew what this meant. Sherlock picked up the phone, silent. You could hear Mycroft’s voice booming through it.

“As did we,” Sherlock said, hanging up the phone.

You pondered on the situation quickly. Your brothers were known to quarrel over small things. You couldn’t risk them doing something stupid.

“I’ll be back later,” you said, walking to the door.

“(Y/N)? Where are you-?” John started asking.

“Let her,” Sherlock interrupted, angrily.

You walked out of the flat without even bothering to wave for a taxi. You needed time to think. You walked a few blocks and sat down on a concrete railing, overlooking the pier. You held the phone arms length from your face, inspecting the text.

It has to be Moriarty

You texted back with shaky hands.

You’ve got the wrong number

You swallowed, not believing that was the right thing to say. Did you act on impulse? All you could think about was how annoying your brothers got during a situation like this.

Beep

You caught your breath. They texted back. You unlocked your phone and stared at the text.

See you soon

Immediately, without having time to process the text, a pair of arms forcefully wrapped around you and pulled you back. You fell from your seat and strongly picked up by someone. Having no chance to scream, someone placed tape over your mouth, rolling it three times around your face. A large dark mask was placed over your head, blocking you from any sight. Another pair of hands grabbed you, manhandling you, as you were roughly thrown into a car. You could feel the leather seats and hear the men’s rushed words. A fury rose deep inside you. How couldn’t you see Moriarty’s plan? All the time you’ve spent against him and you couldn’t forsee his tricks? You fell right into his trap.

Your arms were tightly bound together. You started to move your legs around, but quickly stopped. Having them tied together would inhibit any plans you would need to escape. You were surprised they didn’t tie them, but decided to act calmly instead. You breathed calmly as the car drove off. Sherlock would notice in a few hours at most, you hoped.

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

Sherlock

“No. John I’ve just told you this! Moriarty’s waiting for us,” Sherlock said. He ran his hands through his curly hair in distress. He didn’t know what to do or how to act.

John stood up and paced around the living room. “We need to get Mycroft. It’s better if we stay together. I know you don’t know Moriarty’s specific ideas.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. John was right. He didn’t know his plans, and he didn't like that. “Fine, we’ll go to Mycroft," he said, giving up.

John stopped walking and asked, “Where’s (Y/N)?” His eyebrows furrowed inwards and an expression of concern glazed over his face.

Sherlock looked up at him, suddenly remembering your absence. 

“She said she’ll be back later.”

“Why don’t you call her. I don’t think it’s best she’s alone now,” John said.

Sherlock pulled out his phone. As he clicked on your number, a cold iciness ran through his body. How did he just let you leave? He held the phone against his ear, intensely waiting for you to pick up, but you didn't. Sherlock’s heart slightly dropped. He knew something was off and started to feel guilty.

“She didn’t pick up?” John asked, concerned.

Sherlock shook his head as he stared at John. He abruptly stood up and walked to the kitchen. He paced to and from and opened a cabinet just to slam it shut. Anger filled throughout him as guilt clouded his mind. John put an arm on his back, offering comfort, but Sherlock moved him out of the way.

He knew what they had to do next.

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

Your POV

You tried to stay calm, but you couldn’t help the tears coming from your eyes. Who knew what could happen to you? Moriarty was ruthless. The car slowed to a stop and the doors immediately opened. The man sitting next to you grabbed you and dragged you out of the car. You couldn’t regain your balance and fell on rugged hard concrete since you were subjected to an entirely black vision. You winced in pain, already feeling the blood oozing from your knee. The man stood you up and aggressively walked you inside somewhere. You were terrified. You couldn’t see and you were restrained.

“Over here,” a man said in the distance. His voice was strong but monotone. It wasn’t Moriarty’s.

You were walked another way and violently thrown on the ground. You tried getting up, but were forcefully shoved back down again. The floor was cold and you can already feel the bruises appearing on your hands. There was no luck.

“Don’t move!” A loud voice boomed.

You shuddered and stayed still. Someone removed the mask from your head. Your eyes darted everywhere, inspecting your surroundings. You were in a warehouse, but you couldn’t locate which one. A man stood in front of you to your right, looking you down. Another man stood by the door. His arms crossed on top of his chest. You didn’t recognize them.

“Well, look who we have here!” A voice defiantly said.

Suddenly, Moriarty appeared from the corner. He wore a dark suit paired with a large smile - a sadistic smile. Your heart dropped. You knew it was Moriarty but actually seeing him scared you even more. Part of you was hoping you were wrong.

Moriarty walked closer to you. He bent down to your level.

"I didn't think you would be this easy. You believe you're so smart, don't you?"

You tried hard not to spit in his face. Making a move on him would only dig you in a deeper hole.

"You think you're smart? You had to get me because you can't even get Sherlock. That definitely sounds like a smart person to me."

Moriarty's face turned angry and he slapped your neck, not hard enough to inflict pure pain. His smile returned and your heart sank even deeper. Suddenly, he grabbed you and forced you to stand up, his hands painfully clenching your arms. You struggled and tried to stand away from him, but he was too strong.

"Bring the chair," Moriarty said.

His guards brought a chair and placed it in the corner of the room. Tears escaped your eyes and you were absolutely out of luck. All of the men here outnumbered you. If it wasn't Moriarty, you could outsmart them and escape, but that wasn't the case.

Moriarty sat you down on the chair and stepped away. You tried kicking him, but to no avail. His guards tightly wrapped your hands and legs together and to the chair.

"I plan on leaving Sherlock a little surprise when I'm done," he said, laughing.

Moriarty signaled to the guards. They walked out of the room. As soon as the door shut, he focused his glare on you.

"We're going to have a lot of fun."

He walked up to you and ripped your necklace, that Sherlock gifted you, off. You tried to keep an expressionless face. You didn't want to show any sign of weakness. Moriarty softly ran his hand along your collarbones only to tear your blouse off. You were terrified and saw a completely different side of him. Your skin felt cold and you couldn't help but feel vulnerable. Searching the room for an escape, you focused your eyes away from him. You couldn't concentrate.

"Such perfect skin......it would be a shame if something happened," Moriarty said.

He pulled out a gun from his pocket and threw it on the floor. He held a sharp knife and stared down at you.

"Just tell me what you want," you sobbed, pleading.

Moriarty chuckled.

"It's you."

The blade pierced your skin and you winced and shrieked in pain. You could feel the blood drip from your chest to your lap. Your eyes focused on your legs which were decorated with bruises and scratches. You wondered if this was it for you. It very well might be.

You forcefully spit on Moriarty. You didn't care anymore. He angrily slapped your face.

"You're going to regret doing that!"

Moriarty went in to kiss you, but as he got closer to your face, you bit his neck. He yelped and stabbed the knife in your skin. All you felt was pain, but you were satisfied with inflicting pain on him. Your perception of time began to distort. Your vision changed and your heart beat slower. You knew what was happening. Part of you wanted to hold on, a moment you never knew you would be experiencing so soon. The other part of you wanted to let go - become released from all this pain. Your eyes closed and you felt yourself on the ground, in and out of consciousness.

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

A door was suddenly shot down and you opened your eyes. You were conscious, but asleep, and the noise awoke you. The pain was constant, but you felt it even more now. Your vision adjusted to the sight in front of you. It was a wall. You wanted to speak, but you couldn't. A chill ran up through your body, and you felt your skirt folded up lifted higher than it was before. You whimpered and felt as if your heart was crying.

"(Y/N)!" A voice cried.

You couldn't move, but someone ran up to you and turned your shoulder slightly over. It was Sherlock. His eyes were full of tears and he wrapped his arm around you tight. He looked at you with pleading eyes. You sensed his guilt and pure sadness. But, he masked another emotion. Sherlock saw your skirt and unfolded it. Suddenly, time moved at a different pace. Sherlock carried you off the ground and quickly ran out. You tried to keep your eyes open. You noticed Moriarty on the ground and a load of policemen and paramedics nearby. Commotion and noise filled the room. You felt a hand caress your head and you knew it was John's. Lestrade spoke to you and squeezed your hand. You couldn't talk. You felt your body being transferred to someone else. They walked away quickly, your head bobbed slightly.

You heard an incredibly loud thud and scream.

"How could you do this to my sister?" Sherlock screamed. His voice faded away as you were rushed out. You didn't know what was happening, but you maintained a certain calamity that you didn't know you possessed. Nonetheless, you were scared. You tried to navigate the possibilities of your situation. All of a sudden, someone gripped your hand.

"(Y/N), I couldn't save you. I'm so sorry. How could I?" Sherlock cried. He buried his head on your side. John's voice echoed around you. He demanded the paramedics to work quickly and for everyone to move. You felt something on your chest and knew it was John, trying to stop your bleeding.

You used all the effort you had left in you to stroke Sherlock's head.

He didn't know that he had saved you.

Until next time..............

[vintagevalentinex]

Decode, I

Okay so you asked for it and here it is!  The first installation of my Mycroft Homles/Reader series.  I have to confess, I’m really nervous about this.  This is actually a story I’ve been toying around with in my mind for at least two years.  It’s really special and important to me so please give me feedback, it is greatly appreciated.

I apologize for the lack of Mycroft in this first part!  I needed to set up the story and this was the best way I could think of doing it.

@girl-next-door-writes​

Decode, I by vintagevalentinexx Mycroft Holmes x Reader ~1400 words

“Please be sure to study for the upcoming final.  I would like to remind you that I will not be providing extra credit.  Good luck and I shall see you after the long weekend.”

You began to pack of your briefcase…err, it wasn’t precisely a briefcase, it was more like a black leather tote, but you knew you had to keep up appearances.  In a field dominated by old stuffy men, it was definitely difficult to further one’s career.  You weren’t one to try to conform to the standards that these stuffy old men set; you figured that people had been doing that for long enough. Where was it in the rules that said that a Harvard professor couldn’t wear a damn sundress to class?  It was hot outside, after all.  You knew it would be hard for people to take you seriously unless you wore pants, but you didn’t let that get in your way.

You were a bright child, always doing substantially better than those of your age.  During your childhood it had been recommended that you skip a few grades, but your parents decided against it, wanting you to be able to socialize with children your own age.  This made you reserved; the little boys and girls wanted nothing to do with a “know-it-all.”  You didn’t need them, or anyone, really.  You had yourself.  You had long ago made peace with the fact that you would live your life in a solitary existence, no one able to keep up with the whirlwind of your mind.  Shaking those feelings off, you made your way out of the building, making your way back to your apartment to continue your presentation for a convention on ancient languages.

John huffed after Sherlock, muttering and cursing to himself as the basically stomped all the way to Scotland Yard, Lestrade meeting them at the entrance.

“Sherlock, John! Glad you could make it!  Thought you might want to take a look at something that was delivered here today…”

Sherlock brushed past Lestrade.  “Yes Gavin, anything to not listen to the incoherent babbling of Mrs. Hudson all day.”

“Greg, it’s Greg damn it!”

You poured over another tome of text, your eyes growing weary.  It’s only a matter of time before I need glasses with the hours that I keep.  You mused to yourself, scribbling down some extra notes that you might need for your presentation. You jumped at the sound of your phone ringing, your mind not as focused and weary from translating texts all night.  Floating around your apartment and speaking in a very enthusiastic Italian, you starting collecting your belongings, placing them in your carry on for the weekend symposium on ancient languages.  It was nearing midnight when you finally were able to get off the phone, your things packed haphazardly in your suitcase.  Knowing you had an early flight you finally laid down, succumbing to sleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

“Well…here it is boys, have at it!”

Sherlock and John peered at the crisp looking brown envelope that was sitting rather inconspicuously on Lestrade’s desk.  John looked back up at Lestrade perplexed, while Sherlock began to rant.

“Really Graham, your inability to open an envelope is the reason as to why you’ve summoned me from Baker Street.  Has the Scotland Yard really become so inept?”

Lestrade threw his arms up in the air, his face reddening, “Sherlock my name is Greg damn it!  And if you could so kindly remove your head from your arse you’d realize that the envelope was open.  Look at the contents.  And for the last time.  My. Name.  Is.  GREG!”

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock picked up the envelope, spilling the contents onto the desk.  His eyebrows rose but only a millimeter, the corners of his lips curving into a smirk.

“Now this is definitely not boring, Inspector…”

John gasped as he eyed the contents of the envelope, now strewn and spread out.  There were photos of three, very random seeming people, gruesomely murdered, their eyes removed, and it seemed as though their tongues were cut out as well.  Amongst the scattering of photos was a thicker, smaller piece of parchment. Scrawled out in a blocky lettering was what seemed to be a code of some sort, symbols that at first glance looked like a jumble of random scribbles.  John watched as Sherlock’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Can’t get it right away, can you?”

“I require silence John.”

“It’s really bothering you that you can’t solve it, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you have dates to flounder on?”

“I’m married Sherlock.”

“Oh…right.  Well do shut up then.”

It had been a long flight.  The duration was naturally long, but your neighbors on the plane made it seem as though you were on the plane for eons.  Between the crying babies and the whiny man behind you requesting the flight attendant every five minutes, it was needless to say that you were absolutely exhausted.  You hung up your “professional attire” in the closet and left the rest of your belongings in your suitcase.

Sitting on the edge of the bed you wondered how you were going to be received tomorrow at the symposium.  It wasn’t as though you wanted people to “like” you.  Hell, you’ve dealt with people not liking you your entire life.  Why should it change now?  What you were really concerned with was that your colleagues took you seriously.  You shouldn’t have to dress like a frumpy old school marm in order to be taken seriously, and there was no way in hell you were going to be anything but yourself.  You were going to march in there tomorrow, in your dress and blow the toupees off of those stuffy old men if it was the last thing you did.

Sherlock paced his flat, the slip of parchment in between his fingers.  He had been staring at it for hours, HOURS, and he was not any closer to figuring out with the solution could be for the cipher.  It was absolutely infuriating to him to have to resort to what he was about to do.  He picked up his phone.

“Well hello little brother.  And to what do I owe this call?  Not holed up in some jail cell, are we?”

“Save it, Mycroft. I have an interesting proposition for you.”

“Do you now?  And what could I possibly want from you, brother mine?”

“There’s a case I’m working on.  A code.”

“And you can’t solve it? My, that must be absolutely aggravating.”

“Do you want to look at it or not, Mycroft?”

“Text it to me.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he heard the click from the other end of the line, signaling that Mycroft had indeed hung up.  He took a picture of it on his phone, quickly shooting the text to Mycroft.  About ten minutes later, Sherlock smirked to himself when he received the reply:

Give me 24 hours.  -M

Running your hands through your hair one last time, you grabbed your materials and stepped out of your hotel room, ready to deal with the tedious mingling that was going to these kinds of events.  But you couldn’t complain too much, you were getting paid, after all.  Glancing at your phone, you noticed you had a voicemail.

“Were you able to solve the code, Sherlock?  We just received another envelope.  Same MO, more pictures, and another paper with funny letters on it.”

“I am working on it Inspector, may I remind you that I am doing your job.”

There was an audible exasperated sigh at the other end of the line, as if Lestrade was reigning in his emotions.

“Look, the real reason I phoned was because I reached out to a contact I had in the states.  There’s this professor…consults with the FBI and the lot on breaking codes.  Happens to be in London for the weekend…might be worth it to talk to the old man.”

Sherlock abruptly hung up on Lestrade, breezing past Mrs. Hudson as he left.

“And where are you off to in such a hurry?”

He turned, his lips in a half-smile.  “I have to see a man about a message, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Please call me back at your earliest convenience.  It is of the utmost importance.”  You shrugged your shoulders, tucking your phone away until after your presentation.

Next Part!

[aprils-arcadia]

Killjoy

Members: Kihyun, Changkyun Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1,5k Summary: Once again Kihyun finds himself at the mercy of one of Changkyun’s drunk plans.

A heavy sigh escaped Kihyun’s mouth as he slowly noticed where they were headed. Changkyun had always been very good at taking back roads and weird shortcuts to throw Kihyun's sense of direction off, making him realize too late where they were going, too late to turn around.

The night was stuffy and humid and if it would have been up to him he’d have spent it holed up in his air-conditioned apartment instead of walking around in the middle of the night. Unsure where he was going but already dreading their arrival. He could feel his shirt stick to his body and cursed himself for having agreed to go out tonight. It would turn out like usual anyway. They turned a last corner and Kihyun was equally proud and agitated of having guessed correctly. 

Changkyun on the other hand was in a completely different mood. He’d been happily strolling down the narrow lanes and alleys for the past 20 minutes, seemingly devoid of worry or care. It was a nice change of pace and Kihyun liked seeing him that way, that’s why even when he wasn’t in the mood he’d almost always agree to come along. Because for once it didn’t feel like the young man in front of him was carrying the weight of the world on his steadily broadening shoulders. Unfortunately this kind of thinking always got him to the same point. 

Another friday. Another fence.

 Changkyun had stopped in his tracks and turned around towards Kihyun, wearing his brightest smile. He gestured towards the fence and nodded. 

“Pretty good, huh?” He looked like a little kid wanting to be praised for finally having drawn the sun not in the corner but as a standalone wobbly circle - a truly magnificent feat.  

“Nope, not gonna happen.” Kihyun crossed his arms before his chest and briefly saw the mischievous glint in Changkyun’s eyes flicker. 

"Come on! Don't be such a chicken! It won't be dangerous." 

"You also said that the last time and we ended up in jail! So no thanks!" 

“That was one night. And it wasn't THAT bad.” Changkyun shrugged with his shoulders like the night had been equal to being downgraded from a 5-star hotel to a 4-star one. And not like they were forced to sleep sitting against a cold stonewall constantly questioning if closing their eyes would even be such a good idea.  

“Not that bad? May I remind you of that one creepy bloke that sat in the corner staring at us the entire time. And how in his end-of-the-world rant he told me to ‘watch out for the fairies’ because they were coming to steal my crackers.” 

“Dude that guy was hilarious. Come on you gotta admit it was completely worth it”

“Worth it? We broke into an aquarium at 3 am because and I am quoting here ‘the fishies might be lonely’.”

“You say that like it was a bad idea.” Changkyun said defensively.

“Because it was for God's sake and now? Now you want me to break into an amusement park. What is it with you and the desire for breaking and entering every time you get drunk.”

Over the last 4 years Kihyun had become pretty familiar with the two vastly different behaviours Changkyun exhibited while drunk. Either he’d turn deeply philosophical wanting to discuss the meaning of life and the existence of the universe for what always felt like a million years or he’d want to do something dangerous or in his words exciting. These déjà-vus had to stop but Kihyun wasn’t able to figure out how to break that circle yet.

“Because it's fun,” Changkyun simply said. “Isn’t it?”

Kihyun hated to admit this and the words would never leave his lips unless they’d be tortured out of him but it was fun. It was irresponsible and dangerous but the sight of the huge fish tanks illuminated only slightly was a sight he’d not forget so soon. The eerie sounds of the water lapping onto the glass that would never have been audible during the day. The opportunity to enjoy the place completely devoid of humans. He didn’t like how they got there and he surely disliked how they left but he greatly treasured those moments in between. 

“So let's hear it, what's your plan?” Kihyun asked purely out of curiosity. Maybe this time around Changkyun would have come prepared and not rely completely on his highly questionable ability to improvise.

“Easy. You give me a boost over the fence and then I'll pull you up.”

“That's the plan?”

“Yep”

“The whole plan?”

“Indeed.” Changkyun nodded sharply.

“You’re kidding, right?” Unfortunately Changkyun’s face remained unchanged. “That is not a plan. Not in the slightest. Seriously how is that supposed to be a plan?”

“Oh come on. It's not like you have a better idea.”

“I don't and you know why? Because I don't wanna end up in JAIL again.”

“But it would be so cool, don't you think? All the lights and the music.”

Kihyun looked towards the pitch-black park behind the fence and back to Changkyun.

“You do notice that everything is turned off right?” He said, cocking up his eyebrows and eyeing Changkyun in his perfectly patronizing way of stating the obvious to an apparently oblivious person. 

“But we can turn them on.” Changkyun stated matter-of-factly.

“No sh*t, Sherlock. Great idea. How do you intend to do that? Do you know where the control room is? How do you plan on getting in there? Please, do enlighten me.”

 “You know, I don’t like it when you ruin a perfectly good idea with all that realism. Why do you always have to be such a killjoy.”

“Killjoy?” Kihyun scoffed. “Seriously? Well one of us has to be the responsible adult in these scenarios. Otherwise you'd probably be dead in a ditch right now.”

“Like hell I would.”

“Do you even remotely recall all the things I prevented you from doing? Like at all? Believe me you’d be dead by now if it wasn’t for me.” Kihyun said, holding his head high.

“Yeah as if. And also we’ll never know because you are such a boring killjoy and wouldn't let me try it.”

“For good reason.” By now Kihyun's voice was raised and he could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface. Why wouldn’t he listen. Once. Just once. 

Kihyun’s phone started to vibrate and snapped both of them out of their bickering before it would turn into a fight. 

“It’s Shownu. I gotta take this.” Kihyun felt the tension leave his body as he picked up the phone and heard the calm voice of his roommate. Kihyun walked a few steps further down the road but immediately regretted leaving Changkyun’s side the second he heard the distant clatter of metal. 

“Don’t you dare!” Kihyun turned around sharply, his eyes glaring at the young man that was now suspiciously close to the fence, tugging at the rusty chain links. Sometimes hanging out with Changkyun felt like babysitting a toddler that you couldn't leave alone for five seconds or they'd start chewing on the crayons.

Only their responses differed greatly from Changkyun, who dramatically gasped and placed his hand comically over his mouth and not to forget the middle finger flung in Kihyun’s direction. An especially rude toddler he might add.

 “Yeah got it. Thanks for letting me know.” Kihyun hung up. 

“What’s up with Shownu?” Changkyun yelled as Kihyun made his way back to him. “Did you ask him to come along?”

“No, I didn’t and there is still nothing for him to come along to because we are gonna head home now. Shownu just said that he will spend the night at work.”

“That’s perfect!” Changkyun exclaimed.

“And how is that?” 

“Obvious. He can bail us out anytime.”

“Shownu did not become a police officer just to bail your sorry ass outta jail everytime you so please.” Kihyun responded exasperatedly.

“But he definitely would. It’s the perfect night for this. Come on.”

Kihyun rubbed his forehead. This was getting exhausting. He knew the look in Changkyun’s eyes all too well and knew that he would not be able to stop him tonight. He’d have to trank him and carry him home if he wanted to achieve that. So the only reasonable thing left to do - and he hated himself for doing it - was to give in. 

“Arggh, to hell with this.” Kihyun grunted. “Let’s do this.” Because at least that way Changkyun would not get into trouble on his own and maybe he would be able to prevent at least some more severe incidents by not leaving Changkyun’s side.

“Awesome!” Changkyun was getting ready at the fence to give Kihyun a boost. 

“Great, so we’re not even following the tiny bit of a plan you had,” Kihyun said while already swinging across to the other side. “Just great.” 

[ebaeschnbliah]

THE  WALL  HAD  IT  COMING

________________________________________________________________

Sherlock BBC, Series One, episode three, The Great Game starts with Sherlock shooting the wall in the 221b livingroom because, according to himself, he is massively bored. It’s the wall behind the sofa, the one with the famous fleur-de-lys wallpaper (x) and the yellow smiley face sprayed on it. The story doesn’t reveal who is responsible for the smiley on the wall, but Sherlock himself should be the best guess, I think. The paint used for it, is most likely the same as in TBB, used by the Black Lotus gang for their secret code … ‘Michigan M hardcore propellant zinc’ (x). Spray cans of that paint turn up three times in TBB. Sherlock finds one on the train tracks (transport), another one inside a bag at the Yellow Dragon Circus dressing room (masks) and a third one was used by members of the Yellow Dragon Circus (emotions) to spray their threat onto the windows at 221b, the night they abducted Sarah and John (respectively John and Sherlock, mirrored). 

When Mrs. Hudson notices the holes shot into her wall, she tells Sherlock ... 'I’m putting this on your rent, young man!’. This means that Sherlock will have to pay with currency as compensation for the damage he has done to wallpaper and wall. 

The smiling yellow face and the wall covered with this distinctive, by now famous wallpaper …. what could be the meaning of that combination, particularly with regards to Arwel Wyn Jones’ Twitter statement: ‘It’s nearly all about the wallpaper!’

TBC below the cut ….

On the meaning of walls and wallpapers

A wall is a solid structure built to enclose or shut off a space. It separates one thing from another, it guards and provides cover.

A wallpaper is a thick decorative paper used to cover the walls of a room, to make it look different. 

Basically, a wallpaper is the facade of a wall. Shooting at it, leads to holes, to openings in wallpaper and wall. Viewed metaphorically, one could say Sherlock’s activity (born out of hundred years of boredom and frustration) results in ... ‘chinks in the armour'. And in his case those holes, those ‘chinks’ are clearly ‘self administered’. 

A facade and guardian

It’s just a façade. Remind you of anyone, Mary? A façade.

Sherlock’s facade is a strong one. The whole purpose of the facade is to protect the ‘eternal friendship’ and to hide the truth

John can’t ever know that I lied to him. It would break him and I would lose him forever – and I will never let that happen. Please … understand. There is nothing in this world that I would not do to stop that happening.

The confrontation of LIE and TRUTH 

It takes place inside a room - the bedroom of the man who owns a library full of secrets and scandals. A character who is the master of the ‘wastepaper bin’ inside Sherlock’s ‘harddrive’ where all the ‘deleted information’ is stored. The multiple mirrors in the room create the effect of a mirror cabinet, while the walls are covered with a very special wallpaper ... Harlequin’s Vortex Spirals ... Momentum - Vortex.   (Outtake)

What a fitting name for the wallpaper used in this special scene. Another word for ‘vortex’ is ‘maelstrom’. I imagine this must be exactly what Sherlock is experiencing right here. A real maelstorm of contradictory emotions. One half of his being at war with ... ‘the other one’. 

And it seems like a whole regiment of funny Smiley faces observes the drama that takes place in front of their dark eyes. The whole wall is smiling. 

Some close-ups on the Smiley’s hiding in plain sight. Once you’ve discovered them, you simply can’t unsee them anymore. 

An attempt to delete unwanted information?

Then why am I smiling? Ask me.

Twenty years ago Jim Moriarty killed Carl Powers because the boy, for whatever reason, laughed at him. Now Sherlock puts a hole in Magnussen’s head, maybe out of a similar reason? Because he makes fun of John and Sherlock? Because he …. knows? And so Sherlock tries to destroy the key that locks the ‘wastepaper bin’.

Crumbling masks, dropping facades

This scene in TST is the pendant to the one in CAM Tower. While there, Sherlock is hit by a bullet high above the ground, surrounded by walls of glass, in the room of a man he calls ‘shark’ …. here, Mary the facade, is hit by a bullet underground, also surrounded by walls of glass, behind which real sharks are circling in their tanks.

A high-up mind-scenario versus a deep-down emotion-scenario. And inside his mind, as the author of his own stage plays, Sherlock writes his facade out of the play. He decides to drop his facade in order to finally deal with emotions and love. 

In saving my life, she conferred a value on it. It is a currency I do not know how to spend.

Dealing with love … high on drugs

Serial killer Culverton Smith from TLD, father of Faith, is a reflection of serialkiller Jeff Hope from ASIP. Both characters love to talk to their chosen victims and deem themselves ‘verging on nice … as far as serial killers go’. Hope and Smith, and also Smith’s daughter Faith act as mirrors for John Watson. Both men also share a rather noticeable trait … they are well equipped for a strikingly ‘toothy’ smile. Especially Culverton Smith. Maybe that’s the reason why Sherlock surrounds the pictures of Smith’s smiling face with circles and thus creates a different sort of ‘Smiley’ spread all over the walls and surfaces of 221b ... for drugged Sherlock to shoot at in the state he is in.

And by the end of that episode Eurus (emotional Sherlock) aims her gun at another ‘funny’ face … and shoots.

Huh. He’s making a funny face. I think I’ll put a hole in it.

The wall had it coming … once more

The (for now) last episode of Sherlock BBC closes again a circle backwards to the beginning. While restoring 221b after the explosion of the passions grenade, it is John who sprays the new Smiley at the wall behind the sofa … observed by the yellow face itself, at it seems. 

And a smiling Sherlock shoots at it. This time though without being reprimanded by John or Mrs. Hudson. 

Then Sherlock playfully blows away the smoke from the barrel of his gun ...

Two times Sherlock aims at a ‘smiley face’ but doesn’t shoot

Bet you never saw this coming 

The Great Game:  Sherlock tells John that Mycroft ‘was over the moon’ because Sherlock had been able to retrieve the stolen missile plans, that big brother even threatened him with a knighthood again. It’s a blatant lie though. Sherlock never returned that plans to Mycroft. Instead he arranges a secret meeting with Jim Moriarty and offers him the plans ... as a little ‘getting-to-know-you present’. For some seconds Sherlock thinks Jim and John might be the same person. 

SHERLOCK: What if I was to shoot you now – right now? JIM: Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face.

Sherlock doesn’t shoot because hidden snipers are aiming at him and John.

Not on my watch ...

The Final Problem:  Eurus forces Sherlock to decide between Mycroft and John. In a clever move Mycroft tries to manipulate Sherlock into shooting him instead of John. But Sherlock sees through his brother’s smart plan and decides to end the game by sacrificing himself. 

Not in the face, though, please. I’ve promised my brain to the Royal Society. I suppose there is a heart somewhere inside me. I don’t imagine it’s much of a target but …  why don’t we try for that? 

Sherlock doesn’t pull the trigger because hidden ‘snipers’ shoot tranquilizer darts at him and John. 

Sherlock BBC, The Smiley’s from S1-S4  a summery by @devoursjohnlock

Drippy yellow paint  by @tjlcisthenewsexy

.

I leave you to your own deductions. Thank’s @callie-ariane for the scripts.

November, 2019

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century Fanfiction

Meet the Family 

Sherbeth

Holmes meets the Lestrade family.

Sherlock Holmes would admit to rarely feeling nervous. He had stared down James Moriarty numerous times, fallen from great heights and found himself in life-threatening situations on an almost regular basis and never bat an eye at it. The situation he currently found himself in was not like any he had found himself in and he was a bit anxious.

Having been courting Beth for almost a year, it was time to make the trek to meet her family in America. Holmes had spoken to most of her immediate family previously, her parents, her twin brother and her grandfather, the Lestrade family patriarch via holophone but they were not the ones who concerned him. He was being introduced to the entire Lestrade family, aunts and cousins at a family dinner at her grandfather’s house, in Holmes’ honor. Beth explained to him that he was sort of a mythic hero to the family, his cases told to the younger generations like fairytales and how Gregory Lestrade worked right alongside the famous detective.

While he does own the infamous Inverness and deerstalker, that is decidedly ‘country wear’ for him. He had to wonder if he needed to pull out those iconic items just for the family. Holmes always dresses smartly; a finely tailored suit and tie are his staples while conveying an anachronism. His pocket squares always accent the color of his tie and his black leather shoes are always shined to perfection.

“Should I bring these?” Holmes asked as they packed, holding a brown deerstalker and matching Inverness with a gold clasp and buckles on the sleeves.

Beth cackled, “First, you’ll swelter in the heat. Second, they know you’re not the character the world knows. Just be yourself.”

Holmes never felt compelled to live up to his literary caricature, not that he believed that that was what the family was expecting, but when you are meeting your significant other’s family who seem to have a high regard for you, you feel a tad nervous regardless. Not only that, but this was the family he had put in charge of his final wish, to be reanimated. If the process went sideways, he feared that anyone else would not be objective enough to know when it was time to reinter him. He couldn’t express how grateful and indebted he felt. Still waters run deep within the great detective and he steeled his nerves. Sherlock Holmes had other matters to worry about during this holiday.

Inspector Gregory Lestrade’s great-grandson, Andrew left London and moved to America where he started a family. The Lestrade family still resides in the same city Andrew settled in. Policing was a strong tradition in the family, with Beth’s great grandmother, grandfather, father, brother and forefathers and foremothers working with the local police department.

Holmes and Lestrade had flown from London early in the morning. Beth spent most of the flight asleep on his shoulder. He with noise-canceling earbuds, listening to an audiobook. Matt left a car for them at the airport. Once Holmes stepped out of the air-conditioned building, the oppressive heat and humidity of Beth’s home state assaulted him, despite the night air. Beth wasn’t too keen on going back home during the summer months, saying that the weather was one of the reasons she left. This was the only time she could get enough time off work to do so.

“How do you stand such weather? I feel as though I need gills just to breathe!” Holmes complained.

Beth laughed, “You’ll get used to it. Wait until its noon and it's one hundred plus degrees, then you can complain. Ever see a tornado, Holmes?” She teased.

“I’d rather not.”

As Beth drove, she pointed out local interests; this place is where famous so and so got their start, someone of prominence died right there. They left the small metropolis and drove on a dark, rural skyway dotted with houses, cemeteries, farms and the county water tower. After a twisty skylane lined with the tops of trees, a small burg emerged.

“I wrecked my first car there. Totaled it. Wasn’t my fault.”

“That place has the best cheesecake.”

“That’s Grandpa’s house,”

“I had my prom here,”

Beth dropped the speed as they pulled into a neighborhood and a home at the center of the cul-de-sac. Matt’s car was in the driveway, no less too excited to meet the great detective to wait until the dinner.

“Ready?” Beth asked.

Holmes beamed confidently, “My dear, you make it sound as though I am meeting my judge, jury, and executioner.”

Beth made a face that cast doubt on that logic. He may be Sherlock Holmes, but he was still the man dating their daughter/sister/niece. He needed to live up to their standards.

They walked in and the sleeping home sprung to life. Matt and her father David, previously asleep on the couch and recliner in front of the tv jolted awake at the sound of the door opening.

“Beth?!” Tresa Lestrade called from the hall, eager to see her daughter. Tresa was a sprite of a woman, short and petite with brown hair and warm brown eyes.

An old brown, greying boxer with floppy jowls named Stewart hid conspicuously behind the couch, warily watching this new human. His stranger danger alarms were going off.

Matt scrambled from the couch to Holmes and Lestrade. “Oh my god, you’re really him! Holy shit, dude!” he gushed, “I mean, yeah, I’ve talked to you on the phone but gah! You’re really here! Can I get a selfie, an autograph? Oh my god, this is so cool! Hey, so about that Red-Headed League plot hole…”

“Matt, calm down. You’re going to have a heart attack,” Beth chided, “Sorry about him, I think that cage training isn’t working,” She teased her twin. He was so awestruck by Holmes that he let it slide.

Holmes smiled good-naturedly, shaking Matt’s hand, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

“Out of the way, out of the way, shoo!” Tresa urged, trying to get to her daughter, pushing her son and the 250-year-old detective.

She hugged Beth tightly, showering her with kisses, “You need to come around more! I can’t go so long without seeing you!”

“I know, mom, I know.”

David Lestrade joined his family at the door. David was a tall, burly man with more salt than pepper hair and beard, “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Holmes. I’d never thought I’d ever get to see you standing, let alone in my own doorway.” He said, offering his hand.

Holmes took it, “Yes, I do owe your family an abundance of gratitude. I would not be here today without you all. I simply cannot express it.” Holmes was struck by how much David looked like a larger Gregory Lestrade.

Tresa turned to Holmes, “I’m speechless. It’s really you.”

“You have a lovely home, madam.”

“She’s cleaned, like, all day for you guys,” Matt said.

Tresa laughed, “Well, on that note, I’m going back to bed. Matt, can you grab their bags, please? Put them in Beth’s old room. Beth, I’m sure you can show Mr. Holmes around from here?”

“Please, call me Sherlock.”

“You’ll have to give them time, something about showing proper respect and whatnot,”                Beth said.

“Why do you still call him Holmes?” Matt argued.

Beth shrugged, “Force of habit. Hafta on the job though.”

“Whatever,” Matt said dismissively as he and David carried in the luggage.

Matt stretched and groaned like a Yeti, “Yeah, I’m going to bed, too. Night.”

“Don’t you have a place of your own?” Beth jeered.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like driving back only to come back in a few hours,” Matt answered simply.

“You live, like, five miles from here. You just want to hang out with Sherlock, you nerd!”

“I’m a nerd!? You’re dating him! What does that make you?”

“Kids!” David barked.

Holmes was enjoying the comedic scene in front of him. The Lestrade residence was so different than his own growing up. It felt like a library where you couldn’t speak. Here, it was lively. It truly was a home.

Matt grumbled as he stalked off down the hall. David turned to his daughter. David hugged Beth, their foreheads touching, “Oh how I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Dad.”

David regarded his daughter for a moment, then Holmes and followed Tresa to bed.

“I’m sure you noticed the elephant in the room; Stewart over there trying to hide. He’s a few bulbs short of a full Christmas tree. He’s friendly but a doofus.”

Holmes slowly approached the dog. When he was at a respectful distance, he offered his hand. Stewart sniffed it and promptly sneezed into his hand.

Beth howled with laughter as Holmes cleaned his hand with a kerchief.

“C’mon, I’m beat.” Beth said, leading Holmes to their room for their stay.

It wasn’t lost on Beth that her childhood idol was now sharing her childhood bedroom with her. Most of her things had long since been packed away and sent to London, leaving little trace of a young Beth Lestrade who spent hours reading Watson’s journals, the published casebooks or watching anything Holmes related. Now, it was simply a guest bedroom with neutral bedding and accents. The garish red walls that Beth begged to be painted when she was fourteen was covered up by Tresa as soon as possible.

Pictures of the family dotted the room; on the desk was a replica of a daguerreotype of Inspector Gregory Lestrade himself. The senior pictures of Matt and Beth framed the window; Matt with an aw-shucks grin in blue jeans and his letterman’s jacket and Beth, her hair and makeup expertly done, in a blue dress. Her eyes, even then, soul-piercing, could make you confess your mortal sins.

Matt and Beth’s childhood and teenage trophies remained. Countless awards of varying sizes, colors and shapes stood on a bookcase by the door; Beth’s for karate and gymnastics, Matt’s for American football.

In the dark room, the lovers turned to face each other in bed, legs intertwining under the sheets. They whispered as to not wake the family.

“You’ve never told me what your parents were like.”

Holmes shrugged, caressing Lestrade’s arm with the tips of his fingers, watching goosebumps arise. “There’s nothing much to say, really. They were both teachers and strict authoritarians. They were firm believers in the ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ method. Once, when I was a young lad, eight or nine years of age or so, I punched Mycroft in the face, knocking out one of his teeth. Mother shut me in a closet and promptly forgot about me until morning.”

“Jeez, Holmes, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, my dear. I bear no resentment for them. Mycroft and I both knew we were loved, though the sentiment was rarely uttered. We were not abused and rarely went without. Our parents simply had their own way of doing things.”

“I once punched a boy who had been teasing me and Dad took me out for ice cream as a reward. Okay, what about Mycroft?” Lestrade asked.

“I suppose you can say we had the typical older brother/younger brother relationship. He found me annoying and to be a burden. I do not wholly disagree with this assessment. When he went out with friends or to buy candy, Mother would insist he take me. I was a curious child and had to examine anything I found interesting, rocks, dirt, discarded newspapers. I would follow people I found interesting, wanting to learn about them. I most certainly slowed him down. My turn. Why did you leave?” Holmes asked, admiring how the moonlight cast its glow on her face.

“I wanted to make my family proud and join the Yard.” She replied, toying with and caressing his hand and arm. She locked eyes with him, a mischievous glint sparkling in her eyes. “Besides, someone had to take care of your wrinkly ass while you were in that honey.”

Holmes drew her close, Lestrade giving a startled yelp, “I didn’t hear any complaints from you about it before we left London,” he husked in her ear, kissing her neck.

~*~

Morning came far too early for the weary travelers. All Beth wanted to do was stay under the covers with Sherlock and sleep until dinner. The way Beth’s warm body was curled into his own was divine. Holmes, usually hating inactivity, was thinking along the same lines until he heard sniffing at the door.

“Stewart!” Beth exclaimed, not moving or opening her eyes, “Chill out. It’s just a new person, not a pox upon the house.”

The old boxer sighed and laid down, his tags clanking on the wood floor as he did. The world stilled once more for several moments. Eventually, Beth sighed and sat up, “Well, I’m awake.”

Taking Beth’s cue, Holmes got up and dressed for the day as Beth played on her phone. The sounds of a home waking up could be heard; running water, a coffee maker, the opening and closing of cabinets.

Holmes offered his hand to Beth as encouragement to start the day. She took it and groaned as she was pulled from the comfy bed.

As they passed Matt’s room, Beth used her best ‘cop knock,’, yelling, “Get up loser!”

They could hear Matt startle awake and a flood of profanities aimed at his sister. Beth giggled.

The scene in front of them in the kitchen was an utterly domestic one. Beth’s parents in their robes and pajamas, the morning news on as they started breakfast. The table was already laden with syrup, butter, jams and steaming coffee. Though Stewart sitting on a chair at said table was a bit out of place.

“Don’t ask,” Beth said. “It’s his chair.”

“Good morning!” Tresa said cheerfully in a singsong voice, “I hope you’re hungry!”

“Because it’s waffle time!” David announced excitedly as though he was a sports commentator.

“Dad makes the best waffles. I have literal dreams about them.” Beth did like her carbs.

“It’s the nutmeg,” David said proudly, grinning ear to ear.

Matt shuffled tiredly in the kitchen and plopped down. Holmes noticed how Beth and Matt both sat, their legs on the chair curled into their bodies. Beth only sat that way when she had just woken up.

Stewart visibly avoided looking at Holmes.

“Beth, Matt, will you take Stewart out please?” Tresa asked.

The twins groaned and complained, but ultimately acquiesced, taking Stewart out the backyard.

Holmes was left inside with Tresa and David. He knew what was coming, the ‘if you hurt my daughter’ speech. Holmes’s mind was divided if he should ask David first while they were on the subject, but he doubted Beth would like that.

David wasted no time and Tresa leaned in. “Now, man to man, I need to know that you have Beth’s best interests in mind. I’m in an awkward position here. I feel like I’m speaking to an elder and I’ve only read how you were characterized. I don’t know exactly what was truth and what was fiction. You have been described as cold and had an utter apathy towards the law. Gregory always complained that you were hard to work with and to be blunt, utterly misogynistic. However, from the few times I have spoken to you, you don’t seem anything of the sort. You certainly respect and care for Beth, and I haven’t seen anything troubling. Basically, I’m asking, what’s true?”

“Shall I say I have softened in my old age?” Holmes countered. He took a drink of his coffee, strong coffee only a police officer could brew. “What you have read was about a proud man. Later in my life, I was humbled by my own mistakes, namely the case of Ann Kelmot, my friendship with the Munro boy and my own defects; my deteriorating brain. I have always strived to not look at myself as the character Dr. Watson has portrayed me to be, but I will admit, that fame got to me at times. I have what a precious few have received and what many more pray for; a second chance. While morals and values fluctuate from person to person and pious will never be an accurate descriptor of my person, I do intend to do better this time around.”

David listened intently and nodded. He took a drink of his own coffee, “Well, in that case, welcome to the family, Holmes,” he said holding out his hand to the elder.

Holmes shook David’s hand. David looked to Tresa and nodded. She agreed.

A peaceful silence settled for several moments.

“Beth leave Matt alone!” Tresa chided, “a bunch of wild animals they are. Can’t say a nice thing about the other! Knock! It! Off!” She said as she tapped on the window, getting their attention.

Both men stood up from the table. Beth had tackled Matt to the ground and were wrestling over an unknown argument, Stewart running and jumping around them as though he were a part of the game he thought they were playing.

“You sure you want her?” Tresa asked Holmes, sighing.

The twins trudged in, Stewart rushing ahead of them, their heads down, ready for a lecture.

Tresa put her hands on her hips. “Well?”

“Beth said – “

“Matt said – “

They said simultaneously, pointing at each other.

Tresa held her hands up, “I don’t even want to know anymore. You’re both adults. Just keep it out of the hospital, okay?”

The twins muttered affirmatives. Matt started to walk off, but Beth feigned a lunge at him, startling him for a second, before heading to the living room.

Beth looked back and forth towards both men at the table, “Dad…why do I feel like I just walked in on something? Oh zed, you didn’t give him the ‘I’m not afraid to go back to prison and to chop you into a million tiny pieces’ talk? Do you know how many boyfriends you’ve scared away?”

“No need to fret, my dear,” Holmes said standing up and taking Beth’s hand in reassurance, “It was a simple talk between a father and his daughter’s suitor. I am no worse for the ware, though I do believe we all agree that I have passed the test, at least the preliminaries?”

David winked in response. “You should thank me for scaring away those boys, Beth, you would have never met Holmes!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Beth muttered as she skulked off to change.

Beth emerged in a pair of denim shorts, a tank top and a simple grey shrug with three-quarter sleeves. Around her neck, she wore the delicate gold locket Holmes had given her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing the geometric tattoo of a sigil long thought to bring protection. Simple studs in each piercing of her ears complimented the gold necklace.

At first, it had been a bit jarring to see the modern fashions women wore, so uncovered. In Holmes’s time, their bodies were hidden and shapes altered. Now, women were encouraged to wear what they pleased. Though Holmes couldn’t deny the benefits of being able to regard Beth’s beauty without having to account for layers and layers of fabric and boning. Beth wasn’t much of a girly girl, but she endeavored to always look nice and put together.

“Hey, Sherlock, let’s take a walk around the block before it gets too hot,” Beth said after breakfast.

Holmes nodded and followed Beth outside.

Though the pavement was cracked and pitted, the neighborhood was a nice one with well-maintained homes and mature trees and gardens. There was just enough shade and a breeze to keep the walk enjoyable.

“I kinda need to tell you what went down right before you were resurrected,” Beth said once they were a few houses down.

Holmes nodded, listening.

“Obviously, I had to get my family involved ‘cause dad had the code to the lockbox that had all your papers in it. We basically had a big family meeting to discuss if this was a good idea.”

“Someone was against my reappearance,” Holmes stated.

“Kinda. It’s my Aunt Maggie. We won her over. She was very against the idea while she was your caretaker. She worried that you may not have been able to take all the stress. If you were on her watch, you wouldn’t be here. Look, the last thing I want to do is to put drama between you two, but I know she may say something, and I just wanted you to be aware of that.  Just give her time, give her space. Everyone else is really excited to meet you.”

“Yes, a formerly dead man is a great party guest.” Beth wasn’t sure if he was joking until she saw the grin on his face. She matched his but knew this was a symptom of a bigger issue, it just wasn’t the right time to talk about it.

“Oh, and my cousin Luke thinks you’re Jack the Ripper.”

Holmes stopped in his tracks, “Excuse me?”

Beth laughed, “I mean, the evidence lines up…I bet the only person in the world who can get away with murder is you.” She teased.

Holmes huffed, “I know you think you’re complimenting me, but you’re really not.”

By the time the couple made it back, Tresa was scurrying around the kitchen, her arms laden with groceries and utensils, “I’m heading to Grandpa’s early to start cooking with Jett, Mag, and Kas. We don’t want Grandpa trying to cook for all of us by himself.” She explained. She gave Beth a peck on the cheek and flew out the door.

While David puttered around the garage and Matt played a loud video game, Beth and Holmes went back to their room for a nap. Travel may have advanced since Holmes’ time, but jetlag was still a thing. Beth sat an alarm for ten minutes before dinner.  

~*~

They pulled into an older neighborhood and landed in a driveway littered with cars and a blossoming magnolia tree to the side, partially obscured by a fence. Beth led him into the open garage and opened the door to the home without knocking. Inside the Lestrade clan was scattered around the living room, on the sofa, loveseat, recliner and the younger generation sitting on the floor. The house was already smelling of a delicious dinner cooking. They were in the midst of conversation when they heard the door open and the room fell silent.

“My word, it’s actually him.” Grandpa Adam said.

“Hey everyone,” Beth greeted, “Holmes, let me introduce you; that’s my grandpa, Adam, next to him is my Aunt Jett and Maggie. Maggie’s daughter Kassie, her kids Brittany and Wesley. Jett’s son Luke and his daughter Lucy and son Ben.” Matt and David had arrived a little before Beth and Holmes.

“Hello,” Holmes nodded.

Holmes and Beth took an empty seat.

“How are you finding the 22nd Century, Mr. Holmes?” Adam asked, not taking his eyes off the man.

“I am adjusting well, thank you. Without all of you, I may not be here. I truly thank you all for the care you have provided. I know it was a hard and inconvenient task, one you did not volunteer for.” Holmes knew that the now American based Lestrade family would make regular trips to London to check on him before his return.

“It was my pleasure,” Adam said.

“Think nothing of it,” David said.

“Can you deduce anything about me!?” Brittany, a young girl with long brown hair asked excitedly, running up to the detective.

Holmes examined the girl for a few seconds, rubbing his chin as he took inventory. He wasn’t one to use his talents as parlor tricks, but he did want to show off a bit.

“You are an artist and a quite good one at that. Before Beth and I arrived, you were helping your great grandfather in the garden and lastly, you were given the unfortunate task of giving Spike the pug his medication.”

Brittany gawked. “How did you do that?” She asked, as though she had just seen a magic trick.

“Easy. There are paint stains on your shoes. While inexpensive paint nowadays washes off easily, allowing for a novice painter to make mistakes, the more costly products do not, due to the ingredients that give them their quality. Your parents would not buy you such costly paint if you were not any good. There is also dirt clumped on your shoes, as well as your great grandfather’s, and no one else’s. Notice the color and consistency of the dirt, red, almost clay-like that is common in these parts. You do not just pick up the clumps from walking around, but from working in the garden where the soil has been tilled and the red clay dirt exposed, from the garden I saw as Beth and I came in overhead. There is also fresh produce on the counter. As for the pug family,” Holmes said, looking past the young girl to the family of snorting pugs itching to come inside, staring at the human family through a nose smudged glass door. He returned his attention to her, plucking off several white hairs from her shirt, showing her. “You are positively covered in dog hair. From what your cousin tells me, Spike puts up a fuss when it’s time for his medication.”

The room clapped. Oh yes, Holmes was going to enjoy this night. He regaled the family in the tales of his adventures, new and old, with Gregory and with Beth. Soon dinner needed to be tended to. Most of the older Lestrade family had gathered in the kitchen, preparing dinner as the younger generation showed Holmes around. Beth sat on the counter with a can of soda.

“What’s he doing?” Kassie asked. The family soon gathered round the window, watching the famous detective.

“It looks like he’s hunting for something?”

“Did he drop something?”

“He’s probably looking for bees. He’s been wanting to diversify his colony that he keeps in Sussex, part of his original brood.” Beth answered, with the mild interest of someone who has heard enough about bees.

“He’s gonna get stung!”

“He can tell you how many times he’s been stung, in both lives.”

Aunt Jett shivered, “’ Both lives’, ooh that gives me the heebiest of jeebies. He seems so…calm. Acclimated? How did he take when he was first…revived?”

“He took it in stride. He knew what he was doing. He really misses Watson, the real one.”

“Does he talk about it…y’know death?” Matt asked.

Beth shrugged, “He says that all he remembers is going to sleep in 1947 and waking up in 2103 as though it were the next day.”

“What about the depressive episodes? Dr. Watson said he could starve himself for days!”

“He does have his issues, I’ll give you that, but he made first chair violin in the London Symphony Orchestra. He’s already gotten music to learn. That should keep him occupied enough. I’ve never seen anything alarming when cases were scarce. I think he’s figured out how to actually live with himself. If he gets freaky, well, I’ll get Matt’s pea shooter and shoot a Valium down his throat.” Beth said, mimicking a slingshot as Matt grabbed his throat and pretended to choke.

“And what about his other vices?” David asked, his large arms crossed over his chest.

“Not a thing. He barely drinks.” Beth answered, shaking her head.

“He could be hiding it,” Maggie said, stirring at the stove.

“He could, but I would have seen evidence or track marks. We’ve been having sex for quite a while. Pretty sure I would have noticed.” Beth replied casually. The family stared. “Hey, you asked. All he wants to do is play the violin, solve cases, play with his bees and occasionally box and fence. He’s doing great, I promise.”

Matt took the opportunity to change the subject, “So has he got a new batch of Irregulars?”

Beth took a drink and nodded, “Yeah, they’re pretty good kids. They’re getting close to graduating. They’re almost always over after school. Guess it helps when you have homework about the Victorian Era, and you know someone who lived through it. He’s teaching one of the kids, Daniel Wiggins, how to box actually. The resident computer whiz, Joshua Tennyson manages Holmes’ social media presence. Deidre Owens keeps him up to date on the new slang which is absolutely hilarious. It’s like a foreign language to him!”

“They aren’t homeless, are they?” Luke asked.

“Oh no, not at all. They all have decent enough families. I ran a background check on all of them long ago. Though Deidre and Wiggins aren’t above exploiting tourists for cash.”

“So,” Grandpa Adam said, “What’s it like working with him, the Master?” Pride and joy swelled in his voice.

The family listened as though they were about to hear the conclusion to a long-awaited saga.

Beth smiled, “It’s pretty great actually. Well, afterward, during the matter it’s like pulling teeth. He does what he wants which temporarily puts me in an awkward position with Greyson but who cares, Greyson can go fly a kite. He’s gotten too comfortable behind that desk, which he promptly forgets about once Sherlock closes the case.

“He comes on strong when excited about a case, asking questions and making deductions in rapid-fire,” Lestrade said, snapping her fingers in time, “He’ll rarely tell you what his plan is and you’re just caught up in his storm, along for the ride.”

By then, the kids and Holmes had settled in the living room and were giving Holmes a crash course on all the incarnations of his persona. They were hanging on to every word.

“In this one, they made Watson a girl and you have a lot of tattoos!” Lucy said.

“Tattoos? Me? Heavens!”

“You’re a mouse in this one!” Ben said, showing Holmes the character on his tablet.

“And a dog in this one!” Brittany said.

“Where’s Watson now? The robot, I mean?” Wesley asked.

“Probably playing mother hen to the Irregulars, watching too many soap operas and American baseball with Wiggins,” Holmes answered.

“Did you really shoot words into the walls of Baker Street, Mr. Holmes?” Ben asked, his eyes wide.

“Unfortunately, I did. I never got the deposit back from Mrs. Hudson either. I wouldn’t suggest it.”

The kids laughed, awestruck at the man.

“Do you really go in disguise, Mr. Holmes?” Lucy asked.

“I do! My closet is comprised mostly of costumes and disguises rather than my everyday clothes.”

“I bet you’re a really good actor, Mr. Holmes. Can you do an American accent?”

The question and answer session turned into the kids asking Holmes to do various accents and nailing them.

“I’m surprised at how well he’s taken to them,” Kassie said.

“Well, they are flattering him. He’s peacocking if anything.” Beth replied.

“So, he’s normal now?” Luke asked, continuing the conversation from earlier.

Beth snorted, “Normal isn’t even a setting on the washer at Baker Street. He still argues with the Yard and he’s still arrogant as can be. He still gets up close and personal with the crime scenes. He’s still Holmes, but maybe a better version of him.”

By then, the kids had lost interest in Holmes and had wandered off or to play with the dogs. Holmes found a large assortment of family photos on a shelf.

“That’s my mom,” Maggie said, noticing Holmes was looking at a certain picture.

“She’s beautiful,” Holmes remarked. Beth had that same bright grin as the woman in the photo.

“She was something else. She could drink coffee, crochet and watch tv at the same time. Those fish on the wall? Dad didn’t catch them, she did.”

There was a pause.

“Mr. Holmes, there are things you may not be aware of in this family, some past trauma if you will. My mom died of Alzheimer’s right before your return. It was an ugly battle, unfortunately, Beth and Matt saw a lot of it. I don’t want to see a repeat performance.” She said, looking squarely at the detective, almost accusatory.

“And you have my word that neither do I. Sir Hargreaves has ran my genome backward and forwards. He has seen no mutations in any of the genes pertaining to my memory. While he cannot prove that I will succumb to senility once more, he can neither do the opposite. I must remind you, as bizarre as the sentence sounds on my lips, that I died of old age. Far before any more distressing symptoms or more dramatic memory loss could occur.”

“Sir, I saw you dead. I saw your corpse. You scare me, a little bit. I vouched for your return, but it’s different seeing you, standing there. I don’t mean to put pressure on you, but you don’t know how much you mean to this family. We grew up hearing your stories. Do you know the impact you made on the world? Modern forensic science would literally not exist without you. When Beth was in the Yard’s academy, there was a mandatory class on your deduction techniques. Dad, David and I certainly used what we learned from you when we wore our badges. There are countless other ways you were remembered.”

“Yes, there is quite an ugly statue of my likeness far too close to Baker Street.” Holmes knew there was no logic behind this meeting. It was merely an aunt, traumatized by the prolonged death of her mother, trying to shroud her niece from another round. There was nothing either of them could do but Holmes knew that she had to get it off her chest.

“Just please, Mr. Holmes, take care of yourself, for Beth?”

“It is my every intention,” Holmes loved Beth dearly, more than he thought he could love a woman, anyone. At times, he felt in his past he was a robot, cold and analytical but now, he was alive, human. He wanted to do right by Beth and even the Irregulars.

“Dinner’s ready!” Adam called from the kitchen, a welcome reprieve for both Maggie and Holmes.

The meal was set out on the dining room table and everyone took a seat.

Adam carefully stood up, his aged knees slightly shaking as he did so. He raised his glass in the air, “I would like to raise a toast to our guest, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. It is truly an honor having you at this table. Your visage is a sight I thought I’d never see in my lifetime. You, alive and well, is the culmination of generations of hard work for this family. We also must raise a toast to Beth, for it was her tenacity to finally go through with it. We were so very proud of her before our guest was resurrected, and we are just as proud that she continues to work with you. You may be adding our Beth to the Holmes family, but we can assure you, you are a part of the Lestrade family as well.”

“And good luck with Beth, you’ll need it,” Matt said behind his glass.

The table laughed as Beth slugged him in his arm, teasingly.

“Kids…” Tresa warned.

“Sorry mom,” The twins muttered, the smirks on their faces saying it wasn’t over.

“And Beth, let’s keep Holmes from heights, whaddaya say?” David teased after the toast.

“Can I just point out that one of his latest batch of Irregulars speaks only in Binary and only Holmes can understand him without looking at his readout?”

“I merely recognized the pattern over time,” Holmes replied, simply.

The dinner was a jovial and warm one. Holmes had been welcomed into the Lestrade clan. Family stories were told, old cases were discussed, and laughter was all around.

After dinner, the couple slipped out the back door.

“As you can see, Grandpa Adam and Grandma Hannah had a bit of a green thumb,” Beth said. Along the edge of the fence and property line that dipped off into a shallow creek were several tall pear trees that provided a shaded path. There was a blossoming dogwood tree in the corner and off to the side of the house was a produce garden.

Holmes and Lestrade walked hand in hand under the grove of pear trees. A mighty oak, stories tall dominated the back corner of the backyard, a rope swing swaying in the breeze hung from a low, sturdy branch.

Beth sat down on the old piece of wood that made up the seat, “Grandpa made this for me and Matt when we were little. I spent a lot of time out here. Push me.” She said as she kicked off.

He pushed her for several minutes before he could wait no longer. Holmes caught the ropes as it came back towards him and steadied Lestrade. He moved to face her.

“Know that I do not take this proposal lightly. I may have caught up with times in some ways, but in others, I have not. I do not care for this so-called serial monogamy for myself. Forgive me if I do not have a flowery speech made up, but I never thought I’d meet a woman like you, who has enraptured me since day one. Will you marry me?”

Sherlock Holmes for the first time, dropped to one knee for a woman, not caring about the dirt below him. From his pocket, he pulled out a velvet ring box and opened it, revealing a Marquise cut diamond on a gold band, flanked by a dainty round diamond on each side.

Tears of joy welled in the Inspector's eyes, “Do you need to deduce my answer?” She said, pulling Holmes in for a kiss.

[woods2006gal]

Chapter 07 - Hunteri Heroici

Addison raises an eyebrow when she finds Dean grabbing a couple of beers out of the gas station’s coolers. “Dude, it’s ten in the morning,” she says, joining him. She had a bottle of orange juice and an apple in her hands. Dean stares at her. “What?”

“When did you switch bodies with Sam,” Dean questions.

“Excuse me for not wanting to die of alcohol poisoning,” Addison counters, heading towards the register.

“Maybe you could use some alcohol poisoning,” Dean retorts. Addison shoots him a confused look. He grabs her arm and pulls her off to the side. “You don’t think I haven’t noticed that you haven’t been sleeping.”

Addison raises an eyebrow. “You’re talking to me about not sleeping.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Hey, I’m relying on you to cover my ass.”

Addison shakes her head and walks up to the counter. After paying for their groceries and gas, they make their way back to the Impala where Sam was on the phone and pumping gas. “Right, yeah. No, just, uh…just call us whenever you find something. Yeah. Yeah, course. Right, I - I, uh…Yeah, hey, you know what? Uh, Dean’s here. He really wants to talk to you,” Sam says, then shoves his phone at Dean.

Dean shoots his younger brother an annoyed look. “Mrs. Tran, yeah, hi, uh…” He hangs up and tosses the phone back to Sam. “Tunnel. What’s going on in Tran-land?”

“Well, uh, Garth finally got them to his houseboat, but Kevin’s having a lot of trouble reading their half of the tablet,” Sam explains. “So far, bits and pieces. Nothing about boarding up Hell.”

Addison raises an eyebrow. “Garth has a safe houseboat?”

“I don’t even ask questions anymore.”

Sam takes out the pump out of the Impala as Dean walks over to where Castiel was leaning against the Impala and reading the newspaper. “What’s the word, Cas,” Dean asks him.

“It’s a shortened version of my name,” Castiel replies, not looking up.

“Yes, it is. I meant what’s the word on the Word? Any, uh, tablet chatter on angel radio?”

“Oh, I couldn’t say. I turned that off.”

“You can do that,” Addison questions, exchanging a look with Sam.

“Yeah, it’s a simple matter of blocking out subsonic frequencies. I could draw you a diagram if you want.”

“No, that’s — we’re good. Why’d you flip the switch,” Dean asks.

“Because it’s a direct link to Heaven. And I don’t want anything to do with that place — not anymore.”

“So, what now? Move to Vermont, open up a charming B&B?”

Castiel sighs. “No. I still want…I still need to help people. So, I’m gonna become a hunter.”

Addison snorts. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I could be your forth wheel.”

“You know that’s not a good thing, right,” Dean tells the angel.

“Of course it is. A fourth wheel adds extra grip, greater stability.” Castiel holds up the newspaper. “I even found a case. Oklahoma City. A man’s heart jumped ten feet out of his chest. It sounds like our kind of thing, right?”

Sam exchanges a look with Dean and Addison. “He’s got a point.”

“Excellent,” Castiel brightly replies. He taps the roof of the Impala and starts to walk away. “I’ll see you there.”

 “Wait, Cas. Cas,” Dean yells, causing the angel to look at him. “If you want to play cowboys and bloodsuckers, that’s fine. But you’re gonna stick with us, okay? None of this zapping around shit. Capiche?”

Castiel nods. “Yeah, I capiche.”

“All right, then.”

Dean walks over to the driver’s door. Addison opens the door behind him and starts to climb in. “Can I, uh, at least ride in the front seat,” the angel asks.

Dean and Sam exchange a look. “No,” they say together.

~*~

“Coroner said his heart was ejected from his body,” the detective tells the hunters and angel. They were all in the morgue, taking a look at the body from the case that Castiel had found them. “Got some air too. Found it in a sandbox.”

“Any idea what happened, detective,” Sam questions.

“A lot of people are thinking drugs, Agent Nash. An assload of drugs.”

“There are no narcotics in that man’s system,” Castiel tries to quietly tell Dean. Except he’s loud enough for Addison, Sam, and the detective to hear him. “His molecules are all wrong.”

“And you don’t think that’s what happened,” Addison asks.

The detective pulls back the sheet covering the victim’s body. An heart shaped hole was in the middle of his chest. “Never seen an eight ball do that.”

“Whoa. Who called it in?”

“Friend of his named Olivia Kopple. She saw the whole thing,” the detective explains, pulling the sheet back over the phone. Her phone rings and she looks at it. “Oh. Ah, shit. I have - I have to take this.” The detective hands the file to Sam. “Here’s everything we got. Knock yourself out.”

Sam nods. “Thanks.”

“Listen, you see anything weird, anything out of the box, you give us a call,” Dean tell the detective, handing her a business card.

“Whatever you say, Scully,” the detective replies, taking the card and walking out of the room.

“I can’t sense any EMF or sulfur,” Castiel says, looking over the body. “Mr. Frieling’s arterial health is, uh, excellent.” Addison raises an eyebrow when he leans over the body and sniffs. “Mm. He did recently suffer from a…mild, uh…” He sniffs once more. “What is that? Bladder infection.”

“Cas, stop smelling the dead guy,” Dean tells the angel.

“Why? Now I know everything about this man. So we can—”

“Do you know he was having an affair,” Sam interrupts, looking up from the file.

“What?”

“Strike one, Sherlock,” Dean mutters. Addison smacks his chest.

“According to Olivia, they would meet at the park every Thursday at 12:45, walking to the Moonlight diner, where she always ordered a Caesar salad, dressing on the side. They would chat about everything and she’d be back on the road by 1:30.”

Castiel looks between the three hunters. “You don’t think she’s telling the truth.”

“Way too much detail. And it sounds very rehearsed,” Addison tells him.

“Plus, we drove past the Moonlight diner on the way into town,” Sam continues. “It’s attached to the Moonlight motel.”

“Okay, well, let’s say that, uh Gary here’s on the prowl, but he’s playing it safe because…” Dean trails off as he lifts up Gary’s left hand to reveal a wedding ring. “Dude’s married. Doesn’t want anyone to see his ride parked out in front of a by-the-hour fleabag.”

“So, he stashes his car at the park across the street, meets Olivia there.”

“His wife probably found out about it and it broke her heart.”

“So, she breaks his,” Addison reasons. “Very witchy.”

Dean nods. “Yes, it is. Guy was living a lie and it came back to bite him in the ticker.” Addison pats Castiel’s shoulder. “But nice job on the bladder infection.”

~*~

Mrs. Freling was a woman in her early forties. With perfectly styled brown hair and perfectly done make up. She wore a black dress and layers of jewelry Her house was a standard two story home in a suburb with an perfectly done kitchen. She was sitting at the kitchen table. “I don’t understand,” she says. “Gary had a heart attack. Why would the FBI—”

“The parks are government property,” Dean interrupts. “We just got a few questions for you.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll handle this. I’ve done research. I can crack her,” Castiel whispers to the trio. Addison watches as the angel walk over to the table. “Now, Mrs Freling, I don’t want to bother you. I - I really don’t. But I - I do have just one question for you.” Castiel slams his hand down on the table causing Mrs. Freling to jump. “Why did you kill your husband?!”

Mrs. Freling sobs. Addison shoots Dean a look, imploring him to do something. “Agent Stills. A word, please,” Dean says.

Castiel walks over to Dean. “What? I was being bad cop.”

“No, you were being bad everything.”

“Please, forgive my partner,” Sam says, sitting down at the table. “He’s, uh, he’s going through some stuff.”

“Listen to Sam,” Dean whispers to the angel.

“What he was trying to ask…is…is there any way Gary might have had secrets…something he was hiding?”

Mrs. Freling shoots him a confused look. “Hiding? Like what?”

“Was there anything that Gary might have been doing that raised suspicions,” Addison softly asks.

There’s a knock at the door, then it opens. “Deb,” a woman calls out. The group turns to see a light haired brunette woman enter the room with a casserole dish.

“Olivia,” Mrs. Freling greets, walking over and hugging the woman.

Addison exchanges a look with Sam. “Are you okay,” Olivia asks.

“As in mistress Olivia,” Dean quietly asks, looking over at Sam and Addison.

“This is awkward,” Castiel states.

Mrs. Freling wraps an arm around Olivia and turns back to the hunters. “I’m sorry. What did you think Gary was hiding?”

“That he was sleeping with her,” Castiel blurts out.

“I know.”

Addison frowns. “You know?”

“Gary and I…we…had an arrangement. He was seeing Olivia and I was spending some time with our neighbor P.J.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll put this in the kitchen,” Olivia says, walking away. Mrs. Freling walks with her.

“Fucking suburbs,” Dean lets out once the women are out of ear shot.

“So, she’s not a witch,” Castiel asks, looking between the trio.

“Just the best wife ever.”

“Then what killed her husband?”

“Who gives a fuck,” Dean excitedly mutters. He looks over at Addison with a smirk on his face.

Addison pats Dean’s arm. “Never happening.”

~*~

Addison and Sam look over the edge of the building. It was a long drop to the street below, where police officers and crime scene techs were taking care of the body. “This case is fucking weird,” she mutters to Sam. They walk back over to where Dean and Detective Glass were standing. “This looks like a suicide.”

“It was,” Detective Glass tells them. “Guy left a note. He invested everything in Roman Industries and lost it all when they crashed and burned.”

“So, why call us,” Dean questions.

“Because I have two witnesses who swear that Madoff here floated in mid-air for a good ten seconds, then he looked down, and splat. Not sure I buy that, but the way they were talking, it sounds something straight out of a—”

“Cartoon,” Dean finishes.

“Hey, detective,” a crime scene tech calls out.

Detective Glass shrugs. “You said you wanted weird.”

“Thanks.” Dean turns to Sam and Addison as Castiel joins them. “She’s right, you know. I mean, the whole heart jumping out of the guy’s chest, the - the - the delayed fall - that’s straight up Bugs Bunny.”

“So, we’re looking for some sort of insect-rabbit hybrid,” Castiel asks. “How do we kill it?”

“No, we don’t, Cas,” Sam amusedly tells him. “That’s a character, like, uh, like Woody Woodpecker or Daffy Duck.”

“They’re little animated movies. You know, uh, the coyote chases a roadrunner, and then the…” Dean laughs. “The anvil gets dropped on his head.”

Castiel frowns. “Is it supposed to be funny?”

Dean wipes the smile off his face. “No. It’s hilarious.”

~*~

Addison doesn’t look up from her MacBook as she lounges on a bed in their motel room. Castiel was sitting at the end of her bed, watching TV. Dean and Sam were at the small table. The angel turns off the TV. “I understand,” he says. “The bird represents God. And coyote is man, endlessly chasing the divine, yet never able to catch him. It’s…it’s hilarious.”

“I got no idea what we’re hunting,” Dean says, closing the book in front of him. Addison raises an eyebrow when Castiel grabs a toiletry bag out of one of the duffles. “Maybe it’s a Tulpa. Maybe it’s  some - some crazy god who watched too much Robot Chicken. I - I - I mean, is there a link between Heartbreak Hotel and Free Fallin’?”

Sam sighs. “Not that I can find.”

“All right, well, I’m gonna call it. Cas, you gonna book a room or what?”

“No, I’ll stay here,” Castiel replies.

Dean stares while the angel goes through his toiletry bag. “Oh, okay. Yeah. We’ll have a slumber party, braid Sam’s hair. Where are you gonna sleep?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Okay, well, I need my four hours, so…”

“I’ll watch over you.”

“Not happening,” Addison tells him, closing her MacBook. She sets her laptop on the nightstand and walks into the bathroom. Dean had been right. She wasn’t sleeping well. Every time she went to sleep, she was woken up by nightmares of their time in Purgatory. Most of the time, she wasn’t able to sleep. Makeup hide the dark circles under her eyes. Coffee and energy drinks helped her stay alert. But only for a short amount of time. There’s a knock on the door, then it opens.

“Cas got wind of another cartoon like activity,” Dean tells her.

Addison nods. “Just give me a couple of minute and I’ll be ready to go.”

Dean shakes his head. “You’re staying here.”

“Dean, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Ads, get some rest. Or I’ll make Cas do that thing that will force you to sleep.”

Addison rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll stay here and try to get some rest.” Dean presses a kiss against her cheek and walks out of the room. She leans against the counter until she heard the motel door open and close. She runs a hand through her hair and walks out of the bathroom.

~*~

Dean runs a hand over his face and takes a swig of his beer. He was sitting at the small table in their motel room. Sam was still at the police station, going over the files of the other robberies while Dean and Castiel had gone back to the motel room to research. Addison was curled up in bed, asleep. “Your father,” Castiel says, flipping through John’s journal while sitting on the other bed. “He had beautiful handwriting.”

“How you feeling, Cas,” Dean questions the angel.

“I’m fine.”

“Well, I just…I - I - I know that when…I got puked out of Purgatory, it took me a few weeks to…find my sea legs.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy you’re back. I’m fucking thrilled. It’s just this whole mysterious resurrection thing - it always has one mother of a downside.”

Castiel closes the journal and looks at the hunter. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Maybe take a trip upstairs.”

“To Heaven?”

“Yeah, poke around, see if the God squad can’t tell us how you got out.”

“No.”

“Look, man, I hate those flying ass monkeys just as much as you do but—”

“Dean,” Castiel snaps. “I said no!”

A tense silence fills the room. Addison lets out a snore. Dean closes Addison’s MacBook. “Talk to me.”

“Dean…when I was…bad…and I had all those things…the leviathans writhing inside me…I caused a lot of suffering on Earth, but I devastated Heaven. I vaporized thousands of my own kind and I - I - I can’t go back.”

“Cause if you do, the angels will kill you.”

“Because if I see what Heaven’s become…what I…what I made of it…I’m afraid I might kill myself.”

Addison shoots up in the bed. Dean’s at her side in a matter of seconds. “I’m fine,” she says, hand pressed against her chest. 

Dean pulls her against his chest. He presses his lips against her forehead. “Giant spiders,” he asks.

Addison shoots him a soft smile. “The biggest.”

“Hey,” Sam says, entering the motel room. “Got something.”

“Good,” Castiel replies. “Excellent. What?”

“So, this black hole guy, before he tried the bank, he robbed a house across from the park where Gary blew a gasket.”

Dean runs a hand down Addison’s back. “So, uh, what, you think the house heist and Gary’s corpse are connected?”

Sam holds up a file. “According to the file, they happened at pretty much at the exact same time. Here. Check this out. Okay.” He spreads out a map with X’s on the bed. “Here’s the house and Gary died across the street here. And that building from this morning - right there. The black hole hit that too.”

Addison frowns. “That’s where the banker did his jump.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what are these other Xs?”

“Well, those are the places that stuff got stolen. But nobody got dead. Take away the graffiti and these all look like just normal smash and grabs. But I made a few phone calls, talked to some people who are nearby - neighbors and whatnot - and they reported a whole lot of crazy.”

“Like,” Dean questions.

“Like a jogger bumping his head and sprouting a four inch lump. Or a kid walking into a wall and hearing birdies. Basically for fifty yards around each robbery, people were living in a cartoon. But it didn’t last long. I mean, five, ten, minutes at each place,” Sam explain.

 “About the length of time it would take a thief to get in and out,” Castiel says.

“Exactly. But whenever power he’s using, it’s - it’s - it’s not targeted. I mean, it’s - it’s kind of like an area of effect. I mean, picture him in a - in a bubble of weird and anything that touches it gets daffy.”

“So, this Animaniac can step through walls, can toss an anvil,” Dean asks.

“Yeah, but he’s warping reality to do it. So if someone happens to be nearby meeting the girl of his dreams…”

“His heart leaps out of his chest,” Addison finishes.

Dean frowns. “Okay, so, smashing the rent a cop, that - that was on purpose, but the rest of them…what, is that just collateral weird?”

Sam shrugs. “Maybe.”

“So, we’re looking for a thief,” Castiel reasons.

“And the deposit box he was after. Now, the house, the office - every place he’s hit belonged to someone living at the Sunset Fields retirement home,” Sam finishes.

“So, you think out guy’s there,” Dean asks.

“Worth a shot.”

“All right. Well, let’s gear up. It’s wabbit season,” Dean says, standing up.

Castiel frowns. “I don’t think you pronounced that correctly.”

~*~

Addison follows the boys and Castiel into the day room of Sunset Fields Retirement Home. A man using a walker and wearing an oxygen mask walks past them. Dean presses himself against the wall. Addison rolls her eyes upon seeing the look on Dean’s face. “It’s not that bad,” she softly tells him.

“You can’t tell me this joint doesn’t give you the herbs and or jeebs,” Dean argues.

Addison smiles at him. “Hello,” a man wearing a suit says, walking up to them. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” Dean replies as they each pull out their FBI badges. “Agent Crosby. FBI.”

“Sorry, I’m Dr. Dwight Mahoney. I run Sunset Fields.”

“We need to question your residents,” Castiel tells him.

Dr. Mahoney frowns. “Well…why? About what?”

“Grand larceny, mostly,” Sam explains.

“Of course. Um, by all means, ask away. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Great,” Dean replies, looking around the room. Dr. Mahoney walks away. “All right, let’s do this. No flirting, you two.” He looks at Addison and quickly unbuttons another button on her shirt. She shoots him a disbelieving look. “You always get more info from folks when you look more slutty.” Addison narrows her gaze and buttons up her shirt. She pushes past him. Dean smirks, watching her walk away.

“Hey, you know, you should totally tell Ads about that thing,” Sam reminds.

Dean shrugs. “I’ll tell her when the time is right.”

A half hour later, Addison is examining a board with pictures of different residents. She glances to her right and finds a man with a tray of food in front of him. He was staring off into space. “You all done here,” an orderly asks. “All right.” The orderly notices Addison. “It’s creepy, right? A lot of these people…they just tune out and live in their own heads. It’s like the real world is too much for them and they just run and hide, you know?”

Addison nods. “Yeah,” she softly says. She wanted nothing more than to run and hide from the nightmares that were constantly plaguing her. She wanted nothing more than the ability to stare off into space and not feel like something was after her.

“Hey, what do you got,” Dean asks, walking up to her with Sam.

“Um, nothing. Uh, no hex bags, no EMF. You guys,” Sam replies.

“Nada. Half the folks I talked to don’t even remember being robbed.”

“Do you guys remember a man named Fred Jones,” Addison asks, looking between the brothers. “I think he was either a contact of my dad’s or John’s. He lived outside of Salt Lake.”

Dean smirks. “Yeah, that guy gave me my first beer. I don’t even think I was double digits.”

“Right, yeah,” Sam agrees. “Me too.”

Addison raises an eyebrow. “Well, that explains why my dad never left me alone with him. Anyway, he was psychic, right?”

“Psychokinetic. Why,” Dean asks.

Addison taps a photo. “He’s in room 114.”

“Cas,” Dean loudly whispers. They turn to see Castiel kneeling in front of an orange tabby cat. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve almost cracked him,” Castiel argues, staring at the cat.

“Now.”

Addison shakes her head and walks away, with the boys behind her. She easily finds room 114. She knocks on the door frame before entering. Fred was sitting in a wheelchair, watching cartoons. “Mr. Jones,” she softly says. She kneels down next to his chair. “It’s Addison Sloan. Do you remember me?”

“Fred,” Dean loudly asks. Fred doesn’t acknowledge them. He turns off the TV. “Fred! Hey!” Dean claps his hand, but Fred continues to stare up at the TV.

“So, you really think this one man is causing all these…shenanigans,” Castiel asks, looking between the hunters.

“Well, if he is, he’d be surrounded by a circle of crazy, right,” Dean replies. “Hang on.” He picks up a thick book from the dresser and smacks it against his forehead. A cartoon like noise is heard and birds chirping. Dean shakes his head, making an cartoon noise. “Bingo.”

Castiel frowns. “But how?”

“Fred’s got juice,” Sam explains. “I mean, an average psychokinetic can move things with hims mind, but a guy like Fred — you get hime worked up, he can reshape reality.”

“All right,” Dean says. “So, where’s his off switch?”

“I don’t even think he knows that we’re here,” Addison responds. 

“Do we…kill him,” Castiel asks.

“Excuse me, Agents.” The hunters and angel turn to see Dr. Mahoney standing in the doorway with an orderly. “Did he just threaten to murder one of my patients?”

~*~

Addison walks into the day room of Sunset Fields with Dean. They stare at the walls that were covered in cake. Some of the employees were wiping cake off of the residents. “Oh, you got my message,” Castiel says, walking up to them. Good.”

“What the hell happened,” Dean asks, looking around.

“There was a pastry mishap,” Castiel explains.

Addison nods. “Yeah, we can kinda see that.”

“The frosting reached near supersonic speeds. I thought—”

“Hey,” Sam interrupts Castiel, joining them. “Fred’s gone.”

“What?”

“Oh, fan-fucking-tastic,” Dean mutters. “Way to take your eye off the ball.”

One of the employees pushes a woman in a wheelchair. She stops and stares at the group. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Well, trust me, sweetheart, you got bigger fish.”

The elderly woman pulls off the oxygen mask. “Charles, she’s wearing my diamonds,” she says to Castiel.

The employee tries to push past the hunters, but is blocked. “Wait.”

“What? What’s wrong,” the employee asks.

Castiel grabs the woman’s arm to show them a diamond bracelet. “This is Mrs. Tate’s bracelet,” he says. “Where did you get it?”

“Answer the question,” Dean tells the employee.

The employee looks between them. “My boyfriend gave it to me.”

Addison nods. “And where can we find your boyfriend?”

~*~

Addison rubs her face as the Impala pulls to a stop outside of the bank. She had stayed behind while the boys went to talk to the orderly. She wanted nothing more than to just lay down and sleep for a full night without any nightmares. The boys had spent the drive catching her up on what she had missed while they were talking to the orderly. “All right,” Dean says as they climb out of the Impala. “Jones had got to be close. Ads and I’ll hit the bank. You see if you can find him.”

Addison follows Dean over to where a large black circle was drawn on the side of the building as Sam and Castiel walk down the street. “Do you think this is really gonna work,” she asks.

“Only one way to know.” Dean reaches his arm into the circle and pulls it out. He grins at Addison. “Awesome.”

“You first,” Addison tells him. She watches as he climbs through the circle. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Please don’t let me die.” She climbs through the circle and finds Dean standing on the other side with a grin. “Okay, that was pretty cool.”

“It was awesome. Come on.” Dean motions to the back of the bank. They walk to the back and find the safe wide open. Dr. Mahoney was empty the safe deposit boxes into a duffle bag on the table. Dean pulls out his gun and cocks it. “What’s up, Doc?”

“You let me walk and half of this is yours,” Mahoney tells them.

Dean glances at the bags. “I think I’m gonna pass. I’m not really into stealing from sweet old ladies.”

“I’m not stealing from them. I’m stealing from their children. Little bastards think they can drop their folks off at a home and visit twice a year, maybe. I took care of all these old geezers. I think I deserve—”

“Shut up,” Addison snaps. She had her own gun drawn and aimed at the doctor.

“Fine. Have it your way.” Dean starts to lower his gun. Mahoney flings papers at the two of them and shoves Dean into the wall. Addison takes off after him. She fires her gun, but a flag with the word ‘bang’ shoots out instead. “Welcome to the fun house.”

“Time to Roger Rabbit this shit,” Addison says, as Dean catches up to her. “You go after Mahoney. I’ll figure something out.” Addison takes off in a different direction. She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a large sharpie. She quickly draws an ‘X’ on the floor. She ducks out of the way as Dean and Mahoney reach her. Mahoney pulls out a frying pan from his jacket and hits Dean in the face with it. “Holy shit!”

“Give up,” Mahoney taunts. “I’ve been dealing with this crazy for months! And you, idiots, bring a gun to a gag fight.”

“That wasn’t the only thing we brought,” Addison replies, waving the marker at him. “X marks the spot.”

Mahoney dives out of the way just before an anvil hits the ground. He grabs the bag of stolen goods and runs towards the black hole. He runs into the wall and crashes to the floor.

���Looks like somebody turned off the boob tube,” Dean tells him.

“Good,” Mahoney says, pulling out his own gun. “Means I can use this.”

“No!” They turn to see Fred, Sam, and Castiel in the bank. “You are never going to hurt anyone again,” Fred angrily tells the doctor. Mahoney tries to stop from pointing the gun at his own head, but is unable to fight against Fred’s powers. He fires a single shot. The hunters flinch.

“Now that’s all, folks,” Dean mutters.

“My god,” Fred says, looking around the bank.

“Fred. You good,” Sam asks.

“Now I’m good. In a month, yeah…” Fred sighs. “Nobody gets sharper with age. I’m gonna lose control again and somebody’s gonna get hurt…again. You got to make it stop.”

“There might be a way,” Castiel says. “The procedure will be painful and…when it’s over, I’m not sure how much of you will be left.”

Fred takes a deep breath and looks at the angel. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

~*~

Addison closes her eyes. She buries her face in the pillow. They had left Castiel with Fred at the retirement home that morning. Fred was safe, happy trapped in his mind. They had checked into another motel in a different town. Sam had retreated to the bathroom, calling dibs on the first shower. She feels the bed dip down. Dean pulls her back against his chest. “I’m here,” he softly says. “I got a gun under my pillow. You’re gonna get a full night’s worth of sleep. No nightmares. You’re gonna dream about you and Scarlet Johansson at beach. Rubbing each down with the sun screen.”

“That sounds more like a dream you’d have,” Addison amusedly replies. She rolls over and tiredly smiles at him. She places a hand on his cheek, feeling the five o’clock shadow he kept. “I love you.”

Dean smiles. He softly kisses her. “I know.”

Addison presses into him. “One day you’ll actually say it.”

“Yeah. But I like sounding like Han Solo.”

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Enter the Kitsune - Prologue pt6

Warnings: Strong language

Masterlist

—

Prologue part 6

Gently encouraged to keep moving through the gate and into the castle proper I felt a little like a small animal being herded. No one was listening to me at all it was frustrating and I really was starting to get angry again.

Back home I managed to maintain two faces easily. I was able to relax and be more myself when I had downtime. Then when I was working, I kept up the very polite, “you say jump I ask how high” customer service attitude not just to survive but because I enjoyed my work and wished to progress further. I had to fit into the unspoken requirements for the job. Which more often than not meant playing the part of matching someone else’s idea on what I was supposed to be

It was a bit pathetic that you still had to fit a general idea of what a female should be in the workplace. You would think that after all the years of achievements to stand as a recognised equal next to a man that we were past acts like this. But in truth even when the laws did change you still got pigeonholed by someone with what is now considered an out of date view of the world where women should stay at home and rear children.

Can’t say any of that ever interested me. I liked my home as much as the next person. Kids were… well, they were ok as long as I didn’t have to be around them. I don’t dislike them per se but in all honesty, I don’t think I ever really got on with them even when I was one. Call it self-preservation and a higher value of my own sanity thing. Actually, my contemporary opinion on what I want to do even in modern times is met with more than a few people calling me weird. Why do you think I’m going to change my mind? Is it really so hard to imagine I’m just not falling over myself with a desire to grow a small human in my body?

---

While I was lamenting my current situation, a young man dressed in red had also arrived at Azuchi town. With his luggage in one hand, he brought the other up to the crown of his head and ran it through his short brown hair as he looked around.

“I didn’t expect this to be such a cheerful place.” He sighed as he looked around at the hustle and bustle of activity as the locals went about their daily business. “Now where has Sasuke gone? I haven’t heard from him since yesterday. Well, he can look after himself so I’m sure he’s fine.” Warm brown eyes shifted to the main structure of Azuchi Castle, turning cold in a flash. “Justice is coming. I hope you’re prepared, Nobunaga.”

---

Inside the castle, Mitsunari had successfully managed to guide me to the room he said had been prepared for me. It was larger than my bedroom back home. It was what I suppose as a westerner you would call traditional Japanese. Not a massive shock given I have found myself in historical Japan.

The paper shade on black lacquered lamp base looked to be the main lighting source for the room. There was a kimono on display hanging up on a stand, like the most beautiful piece of art in a museum. The walls had sliding doors for storage and some shelves for displaying items. There was also a small shrine space, an unopened packet of incense sat on top of it with a packet of candles next to it. There were some fresh flowers and the tatami mats on the floor seemed to be brand new. By the window, there was a painted screen and a writing desk. A small brazier was also in the room with a kettle. Guess I can make my own drinks at least.

“Lady Aerion, this room is yours to use as you like. I hope it’s enough for you.” Mitsunari looked a little nervous as he showed me the room. His sincerity in wishing to make me comfortable was endearing and made me smile.

“Mitsunari. The room is beautiful. I was actually expecting something much smaller, I’m not even sure what I would need such a large space for.” I tried to reassure him.

“It would be wrong to expect a Lady to stay I a room any less than this. I made sure that you were supplied with some basic items but if there is anything else, I would gladly fetch it your you Lady Aerion.” Mitsunari’s fussing was like watching a very adorable puppy wishing to please its master.

“I don’t suppose you can just call me Aerion can you?” It was a long shot and to be honest I had no idea on the proper protocol in these situations. But I didn’t wish to be given an honorific title, something about it made this situation even more unsettling.

“But you’re a lady and Lord Nobunaga’s saviour. I couldn’t possibly.” Mitsunari was protesting and I really hated to put him in a situation that was going to make him uncomfortable as he had been the only truly kind one I had met so far in the group of samurai. I pushed a little more trying to at least get this one thing. I can’t escape and I can’t control anything but I just want this one small thing if I can.

“Please if you could. I’m not used to any of this. People using titles and fussing over me. It’s not a requirement to make me happy. I’d feel more comfortable if you could just call me Aerion and treat me normally.” My imploring words made him pause to consider something. His violet eyes looked away from me for a moment before returning and his bright smile was once more back on his face.

“I understand. Then I agree on the condition that you stay as familiar with me. Will that be all right, Aerion?”

“Perfect, Mitsunari.” Happily nodding I returned his smile and he seemed to relax even more.

“Thank you. Now, please relax here. Someone will come to fetch you soon.” Smiling politely, he left with a small bow and slid the door closed behind him as he left.

Alone in the room, I sighed. It really is a beautiful space but honestly what the hell am I supposed to do now? The feeling I had earlier of being a small animal herded into their room was increasing with each passing second. Feeling a little claustrophobic, I went to the window and opened the screen a little to look out.

A low roof of a small structured building was just a short distance down from my window. Guess it’s some sort of storage or something. The rest of the view was of what looked to be well-maintained paths. Not the most exciting view in the world. With nothing else to do, I sank to the floor and tipped out my backpack.

My useless dead smartphone slipped out along with my smoke damaged clothes. A small tourist’s Japanese phrase book, hair brush, make up bag. The contact book I had with the details of the shoot we did in Kyoto so I could find the places the office had set up and arrange thank you gifts later was also there, post-it notes and tabs sticking out of it looking like a rather flat bird with coloured paper feathers. I also had some fabric samples a friend had asked for but there was nothing that I could even consider to be really helpful here. The rest of my things were all back at the hotel in the future. I wasn’t exactly MacGyver I couldn’t turn any of this into a weapon or tool to aid my escape.

I reached out for my favourite hoodie. It really had taken some damage. One sleeve had a tear on its shoulder where it looked like the stitching had been yanked apart. One ear on the hood had a burn in it that made it look like it had had a bite taken out of it and the other was laying limp against the rest of the sooty fabric. I suppose this could have been a whole lot worse. I let out a long sigh as I ran my hand over the damage when I heard a sound above me that was like a hollow hammer.

-Tock-  

Looking up at the sound. I saw part of the ceiling pull back and a familiar head appear out of the hole.

“Excuse me, Aerion. I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“Sasuke? My god, what are you doing up there?” I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him. I didn’t think I would even see him again, at least if I did it wouldn’t be so soon.

“I hid myself when those men arrived and followed your trail. As to why I’m up here it was the easiest way to get into the castle without being detected.” He was speaking as if just popping out of someone’s bedroom ceiling was a totally normal thing to do.

“Well, I’m happy to see a friendly face. You planning on staying up there playing at being Tom Cruise or you coming down?” I asked stuffing everything swiftly back into my bag and put it to one side.

Sasuke jumped down landing silently. After replacing the ceiling tile, he slipped a couple of fingers into the edge of his face mask and pulled it down revealing his face. I hadn’t exactly taken much time before to notice but he isn’t exactly without his charms. His glasses managed to frame his naturally inquisitive brown eyes which also somehow made him look more attractive. Great now is probably not a time to remember that crush you had back in high school on that one teacher that just made me forget how to breathe every time you had to take their class. Get a grip Aerion!

“In watching you I’ve managed to piece together much of what happened. You’ve gotten yourself into some trouble.” As Sasuke offered his observations he took his glasses off to give them a wipe before replacing them once more.

“The words no shit and sherlock spring to mind, to be honest. But you’ve been here longer than me you’ve probably been through much more.” I gave a dry laugh as I looked around the room for some sort of seat to offer him. Chair… Why is there no chair here?

“I suppose the answer to that would all be relative to the individual. There’s trouble, and then there’s trouble. That said, I forgot to tell you something important.” As if to answer my unspoken question Sasuke gathered up two large cushions from a far corner and placed them on the floor. He sat with crossed legs on one and motioned with his hand at the other for me to copy him. I don’t honestly think sitting crossed legged is going to be easy in this kimono but I could kneel and then lean onto my hip if I get sore or something. Guess this getting used to the past thing is more difficult than I expected. “I told you I was researching a way for us to get back home. Recently, I was able to confirm that the wormhole opens here at fixed periods.”

“Really!? Well, that means that there will be one again at some point that can take us back then.” I replied excitedly as I took my seat.

“I understand your excitement but please keep your voice down. It would be very bad if I were caught here, I’m not supposed to be here after all.” Sasuke was composed as he kindly reminded me of the situation. True it could be a disaster for him and me if that happened. “To be as concise as possible the next wormhole will provide our way home. Leaving the rationale behind its recurrence aside, according to my data… The next traversable wormhole will appear in three months. I’m still calculating its location, but chances are good that if we make contact with it, we’ll return to the present.”

“It’s great news that we can get back. I’m a little worried it’s not a simple as you just made it sound though.” He nods at my assumption.

“We have three months to wait. During that time, it would be safest for you to stay here.” Sasuke had dropped the bombshell that I really didn’t know how to react too.

“You want me to stay here? In a castle owned by, and full of madmen. I think I’d be safer trying to be adopted by a pack of wolves. Why don’t I just leave? I could go with you…” I was aware I was not being rational. I could feel a surge of emotion balling up in the pit of my stomach. It was not a nice feeling in the slightest and made me feel nauseous.

“I mentioned this countries history before but. We’re in the midst of a chaotic civil war. One that by my calculations, is now further away from ending than the one in our original timeline. I would have suggested you leave but Nobunaga and his men seem rather fond of you. I seriously doubt they’d let you go so easily.” Fond of me? What is there to be fond of we just met.

“Given they just tracked me and spent a large part of the night on an Aerion hunt you might be right.” I wasn’t exactly sure that what they did was out of “fondness”, but I couldn’t argue that they would go looking for me if I just left.

“Don’t worry. I’ll come by and check on you. If you run into any trouble, send a smoke signal.”

“Smoke signal? Thought this was feudal Japan not a cowboys and Indians movie. Guess I’ll work something out though.” I giggled as I imagined the men I had met a so far dressed in costumes.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Sasuke’s tone was now deadly serious. I sat up a little straighter preparing myself for some bad or at least earth-shattering news. “Don’t get deeply involved with the people of this time.”

“What is that meant to mean? I’m going to be here for three months. I can’t avoid all contact with them.” His choice of words confused me. To be honest I knew slightly what he was hinting at but I was just a little hopeful that I was mistaken and had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

“I mean to say, don’t fall in love. It might cloud your desire to return to the future.” And there were the words that confirmed I had been right after all. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Love? What do you think I am a school girl? I’m not about to just develop feelings for some random historical warlord. Have you even spoken to any of the guys here?”

“If you say so. I would also recommend that you keep the fact that you came from the future a secret.” Sasuke shrugged and it was a little difficult to tell if he believed me when I talked about the whole “love” thing or not.

“I can agree with you on that. Not that anyone believes me in the first place. I mean if I was them, I wouldn’t believe me either.” I sighed looking at my backpack, the only thing that kept even me from disbelieving my own story given how unrealistic it all felt.

“I’ll be with my employer in the city. If anything happens, I’ll be able to come to your aid quickly.” Sasuke attempted to reassure me that I was not alone.

“What are you--?” My question was cut short and unanswered as Sasuke shot a look at the door and quickly moved to stand.

“We’ll speak later. Farewell.” With his brief goodbye. He pulled his mask back up with one hand and leapt out of the window like something from a martial arts movie. It’s not even been a full day and I think I might be starting to get used to just seeing that guy disappear.

The door to the room glided open.

“I see you weren’t able to get away from Nobunaga after all.”

--- 

[cherry-slushie-cosplay-blog]

Freshman Year Quotes

Ok so I did a list of all the stupid shit I heard in my Freshman year of high school. Enjoy.

(T) - Teacher (AP) - Freshman Assistant Principal

FRESHMAN YEAR ----

"Any weeb brethren, see me after class I want to be friends." *class is totally silent* "*loudly* I have a seven inch penis." "I'm a farmer bitch I will throw my crops at you." "You can teach tiny cil- chilr- chilud- chiluden, wait what?" "I'm telling Jesus!" "Jesus already knows." "(T) Use your 5 sols! Haha, get it? Like soul?" "Bold of you to assume I have any at all." "HE CALLED ME THE N-WORD, HE CALLED- oh shit you're a girl my bad I'm just messing around trying to get someone in trouble. Have a nice weekend!" "Eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, sieben, acht...FUCK!" "How do you make an equilateral square?" "I think my back has scoliosis." "I've got a bag of chicken." "Why do you have a bag of chicken?" "Because. Why do you have a bottle with mangos on it?" "This- this is mango-flavored tea!" "AND THIS IS CHICKEN-FLAVORED BAG" "...and some condoms have spermicide which kills off the sperm. Don't ask me how I know all that, Mrs. ********." "Are you from Russian?" "Sit your ADHD-filled ass down." "If we were in hell, do you really think I would be here?" "(T) Yes." (T) "Is stupid written on your forehead?" "I don't know, is it written on yours?" "His forehead's big enough for it." "That looks like an orgy pile over there." "Why do you guys always sit behind me?" "If we want to kill you, you won't see it coming." "Is this what Julius Caesar felt like?" "You're so tiny! You look like a doll!" "And you look like a cock-riding motherfucker." " Technically, time is a construct." "Technically, none of this matters and we're all gonna die soon." "Will you two shut up please?" (T) "My 2019 has been completed, I made a student cry." (This was January 10th btw) (T) "As long as you do your best and turn that in, you'll be fine." "What if my best sucks and I get a bad grade?" "Ok that was good I'm gonna give you that." "I'm gonna put on black lipstick and go to sleep." *Aggressively singing Dream Daddy For Me* "What's that?" "A grapefruit." "Bitch that ain't a grape." "No, grapeFRUIT." "It looks like you put Kool Aid in an orange." "Dude it's called a grapefruit." "No, fuck you and your Kool Aid orange." "I ate a mouse dongle." "Why the fuck would you do that?" "I don't know, I just did." "Racism is my bitch. I bend racism over and take it from behind." "A function is an input and a function...oh wait hold on I messed up- stop laughing at me I got this." "James Charles did one of Bob Ross's tutorials on his forehead." "So he has a big forehead-" "Shut the hell up ***** no one cares." "The answer was D! D as in 'Dinosaur chicken nuggets'!" (T) "What are the first ten amendments?" "I know the ten COMMANDments." "No one cares, we're not in Christian school." "YES WE ARE HAIL MARY" (T) "Do your work or the Lord may strike you." *this was at the religious girl from the previous quote* "What time is it?" "It's fuckin uhhhhh noon o 5." "Noon o 5?" "I forgot the word twelve." "I SEE HEADLIGHTS" "Hm?" "Headlights is nipples." "If this is a test I'm gonna throw myself out the window. I was about to go to the hospital this weekend and I'm still gonna make it happen." "I won't T-Pose for dominance but I will screech and make your eardrums bleed." "Does anyone remember Llamas With Hats?" 4 people: "caAAARRLLLLL" "Pagans terrify me." "Why?" "Every pagan I know of is a furry." "sKeDaDdLe SkAdOoDlE yOuR dIcK iS nOw A nOoDlE" "NO NOT IN MATH CLASS" "Doodlebops." "shUT THE FUCK UP" "I watched that yesterday, I have it on DVD." "WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE DOODLEBOPS ON DVD" (T) *random Chewbacca noise* "My brain is smaller than my dick." "If you feel stupid, you should." "What about King Solomon?" (T) "What has Solomon ever done for America?" "What have YOU ever done for America?" "Nothing should be in your mouth unless it's a banana." "What type of banana?" "A yellow one, duh." *laughter* "Or a green one, whichever you like more." (T) "For the people who I'm signing these for: are you going to the farm-" "YES WE FINNA BE COWBOYS" (T) "What y'all playing over there?" "Chess." (T) "I hope you lose." (T) "If you're stupid, it's your fault." (T) "Let's go guys!" "hoLD ON I'M SAVING MY POKEMON GAME" "There's people taking pictures down there - should I pour Monster on them?" "When you gave me my pencil I was like 'I like Zoe, she's nice' in my brain and then my brain somehow connected that to 'You tryna smash?' and another part of my brain said 'No, stop, she'd cut your dick off'." "That's the strangest intrusive thought I've ever heard from a friend." "How many of y'all think I'm gay?" *about 6 people raise their hands* "Ok then." "May I please go to the bathroom?" (T) "You just have to get out of here at any chance you get, don't you?" "I'm serious, I'm really hungry, does anyone have any food?" "I have lotion." "Fuck you." (T) "OH MY GOD SHE HAS TAP SHOES CAN YOU DANCE???" "...no" (T) "YOU STILL LOOK GOOD" *watching Sorcerer's Stone* "Who's at the window?" *ta-da it's Malfoy* "Oh it's a blonde-headed lesbian." "Shit fuck goddammit bitch pussy fucking Jesus Christ." "I have ibuprofen, you know." "Nah, I'm good." "I'm a lil loli short and flat~ My head is for pat- wait fuck what was it" "Hello~ my fuCKING HIP OW" "Are you ok?" "I popped my hip...Hello, my name is Elder Price~" (T) "Here, it's legal to marry your 2nd cousin twice removed." "I'm doing it." (T) "******** no-" "Fuck (insert name of school district), man. On my mom." "I wanna fucking die I hate this class." "No. I look like Jesus, I'm telling you no. Therefore, Jesus says no and you're not allowed to die." (T) "How else could we have solved this?" "With a calculator." "Did Diego steal his money from Dora?" (T) "I don't know, moving on." "All y'all talking about how your souls are dark black, mine is baby blue. It's brighter than your hair." "uwu my stomach hurts" "I'm serious I'm not on my phone." (T) "Oh really?" "I swear to GOD she wasn't!" (T) "Oooooohhh" "Holy shit Zoe you're gonna send **** to hell." "You were staring at me for like 20 seconds before calling on me!" (T) "No, my glass eye was staring at you. My real eye was over there seeing that stuff, and over here I didn't see sHIT." "I heard there's G-Spots in your ass, why don't you shove it up there and have some fun." "How about no?" "Suit yourself." "I don't like raw fish — it makes me sad." "100 senators!! Come ON, Sen - a - tors!" "Shut up go stick your head in a dick." "I want that Mormon Milk." "I'm begging you to stop talking." "I'm salivating for that salvation." "Shut the fuck up."

BONUS: SCHOOL'S POWER OUT

"My god that sun is brighter than Kirishima's smile." "Zoe is turning into Trina." "I'm breaking down~" "Come over here anyone who wants to take 'Golden-Hour Mental Breakdown' selfies and/or get Pocky." "Anyone who refuses to let their anxious child come home will be personally smacked by me with Zoe's copy of 'Half-Blood Prince'."

NORMAL SCHOOL

"Stab me in the ovary or whatever you said." "CORRODED ARTERY YOU ARE MALE" "Same difference." "Perfect boy lookin-ass- no homo." "What the fuck" "People think that Sherlock Holmes isn't real because he was written in a book. God was too but you don't see people denying HE exists, do you?" "Ok do a burpee." *burps loudly* "No a- you're a fucking idiot." "Heyyyyy Zoe, can we- holy shit is that Pornhub?" "How do you make a baby crawl in a circle?" "I don't fucking know." "Ok...do you know how to make one stop?" "When did you get here!?" "Couple minutes ago." "???" "I'm quiet and people generally don't notice I'm here." "...do you need a hug?" (T) "What'd you do this weekend?" "Some sewing." (T) "What'd you sew?" "Robes…" (T) "For what?" "*increasingly embarrassed* A costume." "From what?" "*very red by now* Harry Potter…" "Which character?" "*wanting to crawl into a hole* Draco Malfoy…" "*polite clapping from entire class*" (T) "He's on the road to alcoholism." "I'm doing a 21-Day challenge of not talking, if I do - punch me." (T) "Oooohhh this is gonna be fun." *knock at door* (T) "*presses face against door window* What's the password?" "bitCH GIVE ME BACK MY CAPRI-SUN" "It's not Capri-S-" "IT'S BOOTLEG CAPRI-SUN GIVE IT BACK" "Holy shit you turned the Jesus-freak gay." "What happens if you don't deletus the fetus?" "Then the abortion isn't completus." (T) Can you see where I'm going?" "To hell." "Oh look, a wasp." "KILL THAT SHIT" "Oh man I can't hear my eardrums." "How the fuck would you hear your eardrums?" "That's the POINT." "I like a p p l e s ~I like 'em big and juicy-" (T) "NO." "Everyone raise your hand if you want Mr. **** out of the room." *80% raises their hands* (T) "Even you?" "What do you mean 'even me'!?!?" "******? ******!!" "What?" "If I ask you a question will you be a douche?" "Probably." "Understandable." "What the hell am I reading?" "Words." "Mr. **** do you like donkey ducks?" (T) "I'm not even going to answer you." "I'm scared of homophobes." "Homophobophobia." "If gay is a slur does that mean that African American is a slur?" "Who has my mcfreaking phone? WHOMST HAS MY PHONE" (T) "Ooh free charger! *wraps cord around neck like a scarf*" "Whee whee mone me jam apple laff-yeti" "If someone is being homophobic, give them dyslexia." "Troom Troom life hack: if someone is harassing you — eat them." "Troom Troom banana hack: if someone is harassing you — shove a banana up their ass." (T) "Take that hat off." "I'm a gangsta." "I'm never gonna use this shit. Do you think I'm gonna go to McDonald's and say something like, I don't know, 'Oh riddle me dubious'? NO." "I'm gonna meticulate you until you get dyslexia." "What the fuck does that even mean?" "I'm gonna meticulate your rectum." "Please stop." (T) "See that girl? She likes bad boys." (T) "Ask her, she has tape." "What the hell has made you think I have tape?!?" "I don't care if you have 106% in this class, you can kiss my fat ass!" "No, PICasso." "I like Costco-" "No." "Holy shit *points at red train in movie watched in class* it's the Hogwarts Express." "Stop it." "Choo choo bitch we goin' to magic school." (T) "Guys Mr. ***** is in here, quick make it look like you're doing math." "3 + 7 = 9!!!" "Are you serious?" "MOVE IT, MUNCHKINS!" *shoves us apart and runs off* "Excuse-moi, I'm gonna beat her ass." "Oh my god someone's weave is on the floor." "Only at (insert school name here)." "THERE'S MORE THEY THREW IT OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW" "*handing out books* Take this dick, *throws book on student's desk next to me* and here you go. *places book gently on my desk*" "waIT TAKE THAT BACK I WANT A 'HERE YOU GO' WTF" (T) "-and so the corn salsa would be 20...thaaaat's not one of the answers oh no." "You fucking whore, happy birthday." (T) "How do you know you are college and career ready?" "Because Jesus loves me." "Last time I shit my pants was in middle school." "rePEAT THAT?" "I'm gonna show up tomorrow with AIDS." "Did you just say you'd show up with AIDS?" "Yeah." "Why??" "Cause HE put his spit on me." "I'm borrowing your chair. To sleep." "I'm straight as a line." "Oh? *makes loop-de-loops in the air* You mean THIS line?" (T) "I will decimate you. I will wipe your name from the earth." "Is the government making us take this test?" (T) "No, the district is making us take it." "Well the district can suck my ass." *calling every white person in a certain scene of Ernest Green a toothpick* "Is it just me or does ******** seem like he'd end up having a job at Chuck and Dale's?" "GIVE ME BACK MY PHONE I WANNA WATCH MERLIN" (T) "You boys don't know how to chop down a tree, do you? You wouldn't be able to do that." "Yes I would, I do it in Minecraft all the time!" (T) "Ok, remember to put your name on your paper." "No. I have no name. She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Voldemordita." "Stop it." "Shut up, both y'all gay, always smackin' each other's asses in class." (T) "Easy, Luigi, we're not watching a movie." (This was a sub for Civics class and he had just walked in 2 minutes prior. The student's name was not Luigi) "Hold on I'm gonna be Oprah: YOU GET A CALCULATOR, YOU GET A CALCULATOR!" "Y'know ***** still needs one." "F R I C K" *girl walks into a desk* "There's a desk there ****." "I KNOW fuck OFF" "I feel like we need to warn her about everything when she walks." "Watch out for life, ****." "Can we do it on paper?" (T) "No, this is not Burger King." *leaving the room* "Remember, cocaine is not your friend. I'll kick your ass." (T) "Wow! It's Good Friday, and you're talking about your baptism and stuff like that, and you said 'oh my fricking god'? For shame." (T) "I'm on a lot of drugs and alcohol right now and I can't feel anything." "Oh my GOD USE A YARDSTICK" "No." "MR. ******** I'M GONNA HURT HER" "Gonna stab her with the yardstick?" "I need bail money." "I need money PERIOD." "DRAW. A STRAIGHT.  L I N E." "NO, FUCK YOU" "You know you're gay when it takes you 3 tries to draw a straight line." "DON'T TAKE MY JOKE" "You definitely know you're gay if it still isn't straight after 3 tries." (T) "What would you do if someone came into your neighborhood?" "Who's neighborhood? Mr. Rodger's?" "I have 15 pets." "I have 13 siblings, does that count?" "No but it does mean that your parents need to learn how to use a fucking condom." "Hi my name is J. Michael Tater Tot welcome to the Dairy Dome." "Dyslexia? I thought you said...cannibalistic tendencies." "What?" "I couldn't think of anything that rhymed." "You need to flex seal your anus closed." "If you don't fucking shut up I will shave off your eyebrows using my toenail as a razor you cunt." "Sippy Cup looks depressed." "Sippy Cup, you going through some shit?" "Hit or Miss, I guess they never miss, huh? You got a boyfriend-" "Yep." "I bet he doesn't kiss ya!" "Haha nope." "Ew I look like Casper." (T) "...and we're going to write a paragraph." "Oh you're FUNNY." "I think I'm switch. Like, I'm good with being sub, but I'd like to dominate my bitch too. Like F.B.I get on the ground open your legs." "Ms. ******* that's really bright-" (T) "YOU'RE bright." Video: *talking about how important this song is to them* (T) "I don't care stop talking." "I peed on the desk again." "Key word: AGAIN???" "You should send ****** and I to get them." "That is a HORRIBLE idea." "What do you mean it's a horrible idea? You don't know me!" "What do you mean 'I don't know you?' We have gone to school together for almost 4 years." (T) "Look, I know you're obsessed with me, GET TO WORK." "He's harassing me." "You harassed me first. It's not harassment if you do it in self-defense." "You can have the benefit of my middle finger." "It's the progression of the climb of the rocket." (T) "Oh my GOOODDDD JUST SAY IT LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING" "Fine. The speed." (T) "ExACTLY." "Oh look a firetruck's outside." "Whee whoo whee whoo- oh my god you're serious. Oh god it's (crappy fire department) jesus christ." "I think we need to potty train our classmates again." "AGAIN???" "Well, yeah. They're supposed to be." "'Supposed to' and 'are' are two different things." "Mr. **** can I put mascara on you?" (T) "No." "Whyyyyy?" (T) "Do I look like a Barbie doll?" (T) "Mascara girl is the one who's talking." "You act like I don't have a name!!!" "Do you?" "What the hell are you doing?" "It makes your eyelashes look nicer." "Yeah; easy, breezy, beautiful: Covergirl. Get with the program." "James Charles is QUAKING." "Sister shook." "Give me my paper." "Bitch I'm gluing my fingers together, I didn't fucking take it." "Do you have a charger?" "No, but I have a notebook full of English notes." "I don't have any round characters, all of mine are gay and sad."

BONUS 2: BIRTHDAY

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you for your birthday all I have is Reese's and duct tape." "Wait it's your birthday??? HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO-" "NO STOP SHE DOESN'T WANT THAT" "Thank you." "You're welcome." (T) "Pay attention my dudes." *collective groaning from entire class* "*asking for tampons*" (T) "*holding a marker* I can throw another red one at you." "I don't get it. *sudden realization*" (T) "***** pick your jaw up off the floor, I was joking." "I'm tired of the word 'domain'." "Oh yeahhhh me too, cause we hear it a lot in physics now." "Domain, domain, domain; I hate it." "I'm in a domain of hating myself." "I'm joking, I love you." "I'm not joking, but I love you too anyways." "**** don't lose your Crocs again." (T) "Get that earbud out of your ear." "No, this is keeping me sane." "Why is my name 'desire'??? I put it as 'pee pee poo poo'!"

NORMAL SCHOOL

"I've finally done a fraction! I flipped it over, turned it around, smacked its ass and had it call me daddy." "PARDON???" "What?" (in Physics talking about electricity) "Ok positive top, negative bottom-" "ME?" "He said you can't learn if you burn but you do learn. You learn fire is hot. Also the sensation of being burned alive as you are consumed by flames." "*shows Thanos smut* Spoilers for Endgame that no one asked for." "Legend has it that if you work at the Dairy Dome, you get free tickets to Domegame." Have a marvelous Monday, a Terrific Tuesday, a Wonderful Wednesday, a...Thesis Thursday. I couldn't think of anything." "You look like a frog." (T) "And you look like a squid." "Someone today said I looked like a drug dealer magician. Would you like *sweeps off hat* MARIJUANA??? Or...*pretends to pull something out of hat* COKE??? Perhaps some *flourishes* *whispers* acid???" "I'm gonna Detroit Smash him to hell." "LGBT, let's get this bread." "My hero academia as in Aizawa can shove my ass up his head- wait hold on" "*talking about Ariel* She's hot but that doesn't excuse the fact that she put her entire species in jeopardy for some dick." (T) "Does anyone not have medicine in their bag that ******* cannot have while I look down at the floor because I dropped my pen?" (T) "*reaches for paper*" "Ah ah **** no swipin'." *in science class* "Nothing's happening but I saw that bitch SPARK and I'm terrified." "I'm basically teacher today, your assignment is to do nothing. YOU get an A." "SHUT UP MOTHERFUCKER I'LL EAT YOUR ANUS THEY DON'T CALL ME RECTUMUS PRIME FOR NOTHING" "EXCUSE ME" "What was the word again?" "David Hasselhoff?" "What, no???" "This is why you shouldn't scratch yourself, here." "*instantly shoves necklace in mouth*" "I wouldn't use that as a chew fidget, I got it off the ground in Louisiana." "*chews even more aggressively*" (T) "Don't mess with me I will throw something at you, I played softball for 14 years." "Really???" (T) "Yeah. I was the captain biatch." "James Charles looks like the dragon from Shrek." "***'s touching my wenis." "Gay fantasies don't really matter." "Yeah, I mean, did you see the way that Tony and Cap looked at each other in Endgame?" "When he was, a young boy, his father, took him to the dark lord, to kill the principalofawizardachool" "He said son when, you grow up, will you b-" "HE SAID WILL YOU, GETSHANKEDINABATHROOM-" "Watch out: I have peanut butter and a knife!" (T) "All you need is at least a 60% to pass the test-" "BOI I GET 40S AND 30S IN YOUR CLASS AND YOU KNOW IT" (T) "So you used to go to (other school name)?" "Yeah. But people growling and barking at me was a little much." (T) "Were they furries?" "Dude, tornadoes in Kansas are no joke." "But you go to Oz." "THERE AIN'T NO YELLOW BRICK ROAD AFTER A TORNADO" "Uh, yeah! Yellow brick road to HEAVEN." "Toto isn't god” "You awakened something you didn't want to awaken." "Is it god??? Is it Totoro? Remember to pay your taxes or Hong Kong will come eat you." "Today's weather is cloudy with a chance of rectal prolapse." (T) "Who's at the door?" "It's ***." (T) "Who's ***?" "***. Your student." (T) "*opens door* Who are you?" "I'm nobody." "Who is commander in chief of the military? My  p e n i s" "Are those grandma shoes??? Can I  e a t  them???" "She sounds like a fetus screaming for extra guac at Chik-Fil-A." "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN" "*singing the Boku No Pico theme off-key in a loli voice*" "I will hit you." "I'd feel bad for you but you have a 69% and that causes you to get a D and I can't look that over." "Do you ever wonder where babies come from? Cause I don't. All you have to do is pee into a lady's Digornio." "rePEAT THAT??" "Don't forget to degrade your dog." "Imagine a world: where you have 2 fetuses hanging from your eyebrow."

BONUS 3: GIANT, END-OF-THE-YEAR CIVICS TEST

"Why the fuck is Christmas a national holiday???" (T) "Ok, the president during WWII was...Roose-" "-A PARKS" (T) "Are you even paying attention?" (T) "What happened on September 11th, 2001?" "9/11!" (T) "We're gonna need you to be a little more specific, buddy." (T) "What's a state that borders Canada?" "I deadass was about to say Arizona, I need sleep." "WHAT is your name?" "*****." "WHAT is your quest?" "To clap the best pussy out there." "*through laughter* What is your favorite color?" "The color of the next pussy I'm gonna crunch." "I got a Voltage from the ROTC room, and I dropped it and someone said 'OOH', picked it up and yeeted with it." "WHAT THE FUCK I'D SHIT ON THEIR HOUSE" "Can we play a song after our presentation?" (T) "As long as it's not like 20 minutes like an Allman Brothers song." "Huh?" (T) "You know how when you have an acid trip, people tell you to listen to the Allman Brothers?" "..." (T) "I'm old." (T) "If this eye starts drooping, there was something in the brownie." (T) "*teaching us Piccolo Mini*" "You just made me feel dyslexic." "YOU GUYS WANNA KNOW THE TEA??? I'M THE REAL HOE" *applause from class* "BITCH WE BEEN KNEW" "*unintelligible*" (T) "What?" "*still unintelligible*" (T) "I still didn't hear you." "You talk like your handwriting." "I WILL THROW THIS CROC AT YOU" "I will literally pay a dollar for one." "I will literally eat these." "Petunia is not a phone." "Electronic device, then." "She's not an electronic device, I gave birth to her." (T) "**** that's the whitest you've ever sounded." "My dingaling is messed up." "Mine too." (T) "Ok so say you wanted aides-" "I DON'T WANT AIDS WHAT THE HELL" (T) "IN THE CLASSROOM. CLASSROOM AIDES. HELPERS. "Can we talk while doing this?" (T) "No, this isn't Burger King." "What is your obsession with Burger King????" "HE'S SPRAYING IT DOWN. HE'S SPRAYING IT DOWN. HE'S PUTTING THE WHITE NECTAR ON THE RAMEN SINK" "Have you ever seen a 14 year old looking badass?" "Have you ever seen a beaver chomping down on a carrot? Cause I wanna see that." "I don't wanna go to Papa Louie's Arcade, Papa Louie can pop a cap in your ass." "Micheal does a Thanos Snap in season 14." "Cas, I don't feel so good." "NO" "Your Crocs are in sport mode." "My cock is hard." "THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID" "It's ok lil diglett I'm gonna evolve you." (T) "Stop it." "I'm gonna evolve you it's fine, you're weak but you're gonna get better. *throws stress ball at teacher*" (T) "******* looks like Ted Bundy" (T) "He's falling asleep. Hey, ****, are you sad you can't have an abortion?" "What???" (T) "If you don't like high school relationships, who's that guy you keep making out with in the hallway?" "*pointing at random places on the map in the civics classroom, threatening to deport each other to random places*" "You're jiggling my titties." "*half the class is singing I Write Sins Not Tragedies*" "I love you!" "Shut it, I'm doing a presentation." "I love you!!" "Stop." "I love you!!!" "God damnit, *******, I'm gonna hit you." (T) "If you drop any f-bombs during the presentation, I'm gonna kill you." "Bottom, take the apple." "I'm not black, I'm O.J." "Balls. That was the word." "HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET 'BALLS' FROM 'THE BUCKS ARE WINNING THE FINALS'??" "Who's this? Tom? No I don't wanna streak with you. Stranger danger." "Why is it called Field Day if it's only 2 periods?" (AP) "I- That's actually a good question." "ALRIGHT THIS IS WHAT WE NEED TO DO-" "*gets literally kissing distance from him* *salutes* Yes sir?" "We're playing cornhole." "Stop laughing, how is cornhole inappropriate?" "Mr. **** this is the type of yardstick that could take your kneecaps. Do you want me to take yours?" (T) "I'd like to see you try." "Is that Ratatouille?" "Ratatouille isn't the rat. That's Remy, you insolent fuck." "I'm gonna call you the 'G' word." "What's the 'G' word?" "Jew." "That's…porny." "...send it to me." "Where you going?" "To hell." "WHY" "*shrugs* Seems fun." "You see, this is why I need to work with you. I'm your insurance."

BONUS 4: FIELD DAY

(T) "Are you part 1 or part 2?" "Uh…" (T) "Top line or bottom line?" "Bottom- no, top- uhhhhh…" "He looks like a top." "I still don't understand why we fucking dropped Bohemian Rhapsody for a song from fucking  T W I L I G H T." (T) "*throws a marker at the Assistant Principal*" *various cheers and "OHHHHHH"s from the class* (AP) "Are you actually serious." Not a quote but in the 2nd to last week of school, we spent almost the entirety of 4th period Algebra (including the teacher — he started it) throwing dry-erase markers at each other and didn't even stop when the AP (seen above) came in. (T) "*walks through the middle of the room*" "FIRE" *8 people pelt markers at him* "Wait you guys realize he's gonna throw all of those back, right?" "I have a D I'm hanging on the edge my dudes." "I did a math? I did a math!!!" "You did meth?" "YES!!!" "*gets head shoved out of window* OW! FUCK, ****** MY TIT" "You exude strong Kenny energy." "Why?" "Cause you die a lot? Cause your heart was replaced with a baked potato? Cause your family's poor?" "*laughing so hard we can't breathe*" "*leaves the cafeteria to calm down from laughing too hard*" "I'm having elementary school flashbacks." "Shut your social justice warrior ass up." "You ok?" "I stabbed myself." "Sorry, only girls get it. Also, this is my last customer today." "Hold on, if it's only girls, why does HE get it?" "Hi." "OH SHIT YOU'RE A GIRL MY BAD"

NORMAL SCHOOL

“Did I just witness a drug deal?” "Why do you look like a dad?" "I need some weed in my system again, I'm fucking drained." "There's a fucking big-ass run in my tights — I'm gonna eat my own ass and then some." "Hi I'm ***** and Mr. **** can suck my 13 inch dong. My Long John Silver." "This ignorant pickle of a person can die." "This cashew of a long dong. Cashews look like telephones." "A shirt says Mr. **** can suck my magnum horse, my stallion." "His mom should've fucking swallowed." "Spit his ass in a Dixie cup." "I will tattoo my eyes shut." "I'm talking about this mongoose man that's called Mr. ****." "Can you speak some Spanish?" "Hola, como estas, sugma." "Sugma?" "Suck my fuckin' balls lmao" "It's your sugar daddy. *shows picture of Andrew Jackson*" "It's Mr. **** as a woman." "That's fucking Christopher Columbus." "*howling laughter*" "I was just thinking 'have it stop raining so that I don't have to walk in it', but then I remembered I have work today so it should keep pouring. The more the sky cries, the less I cry. Unless I'm on drive." "Excuse me sir, *raises leg* my penis has fallen off." "I pray you get AIDS." (T) "Please throw away your sheet music, it's illegal to copy sheet music and I don't wanna go to jail." "*loud smack* I am so sorry, I didn't mean it to be that loud! Come here baby boy, let me give you the sweet taste of my mother milk." "It's not mother anymore, it's daddy now." "Dude what if you were born with a set of words that if said, would implode your testicles." "Bomb go boom, Mormons go extinct." "MR. **** YOU TOOK OUR NOODS" "DON'T TAKE THE NOODS" "NOT THE NOODS!!!" "****, I thought you were Catholic." "The pencil's black." "Like my ass-cheeks." "Someone stole it!!!!" "Like ****'s virginity."

BONUS 5: WATCHING INSIDIOUS (FOR SOME FUCKING REASON)

*kid falls off ladder* *various banshee screeches from students* "They're kissing AGAIN. This movie is NOT appropriate." "I'm hearding weeeesssst~ I don't know what to dooooo~ " That's not how you make a superpowered baby. You kill the mother and put her on the ceiling." "Wait, pause. What the hell?" "F.B.I, open up." "IT'S DALTON." "PUT A CHAIR ON THE DAMN DOOR" "HOW WOULD A CHAIR WORK AGAINST THE DEMON" "He's in a deep sleep. Wake him up with true love's kiss." "It's a pedo-demon! Everyone run!" "He's cheating on her." "What if this was linked to Supernatural?" "Ooh she's echoing now." "My legs are shaking bruh." "Is that blood on the window?" "No, it's a tree." "SMACK THE CHILD"

NORMAL SCHOOL

"I figured out why I'm so quiet today." "Oh, really?" "Yeah, *shows trembling hands* I'm on vibrate." "I can't wait to go to church."

BONUS 6: LAST DAY OF SCHOOL

"The first thing I ate when I came to this country, it was in the airport and it was Doritos." (T) "They gave me the shortest teachers' gown they had. I have a baby gown." "That isn't a happy little bush." "IT'S. TREE." "Hello ladies, *winks* *blows kiss*" "I'm GAY." *I Will Survive playing really loudly* "******* you're not in our friend group so get the FUCK OUT." "Now I can swear! FUCK Y'ALL BITCHES I'M GOING TO EAT YOUR KNEECAPS" "Oh shit it's an end of the year fight!" Four kids got into a fight at the same time and one got tazed."

[dnps-trashcan]

i would love you to write me a fic! (i'm lazy af) you can enterperet it however, do what you like! the only things i would love to have included are 1. more in depth into phil's anxiety as well as dan's 2. something about dan's old emo-ness coming back up and 3. lots of fluff! no/little smut. tysm! love you 💙

The Cheeseburger

The smell of thick grease was in the air from the second Dan and Phil walked into the bustling McDonald’s. Looking around, there was only one table free in the downstairs seating area, and the queue was winding down the entire length of the room, people stood nestled among the eating customers. The music was quietly playing Ed Sheeran.

The two British lads had come to this fine dining establishment with one goal in mind. To get Dan a cheesburger. He’s been craving it all day, and after working so hard and going on runs every day he’d decided he deserved a treat, so he’d decided to come down, and Phil, being the trusty sidekick, had come along with him. 

“So, mate, do you want to stand in the line or should we order on those fantastic machines?” Dan asked. Phil was a bit confused about why Dan was speaking in such an unusual way, but didn’t question it as Dan often does some pretty strange things. 

“Well, the line looks like it will take less time for Sherlock season 5 to come out, so I think the card machine is a safer bet.” Phil replies.

“Fair point.” Dan agrees and the pair approach the wonderful machines. Dan taps on the burger section, and hears a ‘D’ note on piano sound come out. His eyebrows draw together as he frowns in confusion. He looks at Phil. “Did you hear that?” he asks, and Phil nods, saying “yeah, what’s going on?”. Then, the two long lads notice a sign taped to the machine, and it read, “The machine is undergoing technical difficulties, strange noises are possible. We apologize for the inconvenience”. They read the sign, both shrug their shoulders and carry on looking for the delightful cheeseburger on the list of options. Phil locates it and taps on the picture. They select the no meal option, and proceed to the payment. A single cheeseburger costs 99p, “what a bargain”, Dan thinks, while Phil is calculating how many sponsorships he’s going to do next week so he can pay for Dan’s lavish splurges. 

When the screen takes them to the payment page, however, Dan realises he has left his card at home, and only has a single pound coin on him. They were going to have to pay at the till. The line had decreased slightly while they’d been ordering, yet it still took up more than half of the shop. Dan sighed as he tapped ‘pay at counter’. He ripped off the receipt and walked to the end of the line, with Phil following after him. 

They stood in the line for a few minutes, towering over all the people around them. Phil, who was subconsciously watching the workers hand out orders to people, noticed the teenager call out “cheeseburger?”, wait for a few seconds then shrug and put the cheeseburger back onto a tray behind the counter. He nudged Dan, quietly saying, “um, I think they may have just called your order, but we haven’t paid yet so we can’t collect it”. Dan’s eyes widened, but he shrugs his shoulders, replying, “maybe someone else also ordered a cheeseburger, we’ll see if they call ours after we pay.” There was no need to worry about what would happen before he knows that it definitely was his cheeseburger, Dan thinks, although he can feel the weight start to settle in his gut. Despite denying it, he knew that that had been his cheeseburger. 

When it’s his turn to pay, Dan hands over the receipt from the machine and his one pound coin. When given the penny change, Dan sees Phil’s face light up from the corner of his eye. Instantly he knows what Phil wants to do (and internally he himself does too). Dan smiles at and thanks the girl at the counter and (falsely) begrudgingly hands over the coin as him and Phil walk towards the spinny coin donation box. Phil is grinning at this point, as he knows what he is about to witness. This miracle of physics has never once gotten old for him in all 32 years that he’s been alive. Dan’s eyes widen in anticipation as Phil places the penny in the special slot; secretly, he enjoys this equally as Phil, but he must keep up his macho persona, so he keeps his expression neutral. Phil mentally prepares himself and then lets go of the coin. As it spins, his eyes get rounder and rounder, and his smile gets wider and wider. Even Dan cracks a smile, both at the childish wonder on Phil’s face as well as the literal magic happening before him. When the coin finally falls into the hole at the center, after a full 82 spins, Phil sighs, and straightens up. If only they’d had more change, he thinks as his lower lip slightly sticks out in a pout.

The elongated lads now take a place in the cluster of people waiting to collect their orders. Dan’s stomach is still tight when he’s reminded of Phil’s earlier observation. After about a minute of waiting, he looks over at Phil, and starts to speak, “do-”. Phil interrupts him, “Dan, I think that was your cheeseburger, and you are going to have to ask for it at the counter.” His words are slightly faster than normal as he’s also feeling that dread in his stomach at the thought of having interact with the person behind the counter, as he knew what was bound to happen. “How about we wait a few more minutes until we’re absolutely sure that that was actually my cheeseburger”, Dan replies. Phil nods in agreement but he knows that they’re both delaying the inevitable. 

After about 5 minutes of waiting for their order, the line has managed to decrease down to one person, so Phil, despite the heavy feeling in his stomach, turns to Dan and says, “Dan, you have to ask for that cheeseburger, and we need to get home.” Dan sighs, and says, “but can’t you do it, Phil?”

Phil knew Dan would do this, which is why he was dreading it from the second he realised that that had been Dan’s cheeseburger. “But it’s your cheeseburger”

“But you’re my best friend…”

“I don’t even like cheese”

“But I’m too scared”, Dan said with a pout, putting on his best puppy eyes.

“Dan, you know those don’t work on me, I’ve been desensitised over the years”

“But pwease Phiw, pwease”

“Dan, no, it’s your cheeseburger”

“Pretty please???”

“I’m too scared too,” Phil admitted.

“But please do it,”

The two overgrown men went back and forth like this for a full 15 minutes, until Dan finally relented. He could do this. This year and the last he’d overcome so many difficult things, such as actually exercising, and his perfectionism problems, so he could do this one little thing, and then he’d even get a cheeseburger out of it. Phil sighed in relief when he saw Dan steeling his shoulders as if preparing for battle, he knew he’d won. Phil watched Dan semi-confidently stride forward towards the counter, and say “hi-”, with the rest cut off because Dan suddenly lost all confidence and became a bumbling buffoon. But Phil could relate as he’d done the same on multiple occasions.

Dan had awkwardly explained his situation to the McDonald’s worker, going back over what he’d said a couple times, and with his heart in his throat the entire time, but after much palm sweating and embarrassment, he’d managed to get his point across, and he walked back to Phil, triumphantly holding up his cheeseburger, sporting a huge grin. Phil grinned back at him with pride, and the pair casually walked towards the exit. Just as they were passing over the threshold, a noise rung out from the speakers. It was louder than the pop song on the radio, and louder than the chilled chatter from the patrons. 

It was a single G note.

Dan, instantly paralysed with fear, collapsed to the floor and went into the foetal position, shaking and crying about how “it’s not a phase mom!!11!!!111!”. Phil looked on in shock, along with several other parents who were also looking at their traumatised children. He shook his head, and pulled out his portable trolley, dragged Dan onto it, and pulled him the rest of the way home. This happens every couple of days, so after the 18th time Dan collapsed in Tesco’s and wouldn’t get up until he could “join the black parade”, Phil had invested in one of these handy trolleys.

It was only when they had gotten home, that they realised, that the sole purpose of this outing, the delicious, warm, cheesy, cheeseburger, was currently lying squashed on the floor of the McDonald’s, from where Dan had dropped it then fallen on it.

Hit with the realisation, Phil asks Dan gently, “do you want to go back to get another one?”

Dan laughs manically, “I am never going back there ever again.” Dan states firmly, his left eye twitching.

[jadekitty777]

Successive Failure

I’m a little later then I said I would be on this one. I intended to release this one in-between the hiatus, but one of the final scenes was giving me some trouble, but I still hope it was worth the wait! Ever since this volume decided to bring Qrow’s addiction as a more prominent plot point, I wanted to try my hand at a proper introspective piece for him, and this is what resulted.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 6k

Ao3 Link:  Successive Failure

Warnings: Lots of cursing and alcoholism

Summary: No matter how many times Qrow has tried, he has never able to put the bottle down for good. You’d think that’d be his greatest failure in life. You’d be wrong. [A What-If scenario of Volume 6, Chapter 9 – What if Team RWBY found Qrow in a different way]

~

“Give me the strongest you got.” Qrow ordered the moment he sat down.

The bartender’s curvy mustache waggled as he gave him a sharp look over. “You ain’t from around here, are ya bud?”

Annoyance tinged through him. He knew some bartenders were always out looking for the next strange person to talk with; but Qrow certainly wasn’t interested in spilling his life story. “You’re a regular ol’ Sherlock. Can I just get my drink?”

The other was not amused with his attitude, not that many ever were. In answer, he reached under the bar and placed a bottle on the desk. It was pretty unassuming, just a shade of dark-green, with a label on it that read ‘King Taijitu Venom’ on it. The two-headed Grimm hissed at him from underneath the title.  “Argus’ breweries are some of the finest in the world. To the point some of the bottles need special permission to be exported. But this one right here?” He tapped the bottlecap. “Is so potent it’s been illegalized for transport. Only people in Argus can purchase it, and only by the shot.”

As he scanned the words, he quickly discovered why. 67.8 APV. He’d never had anything stronger than 35 before, and it had knocked him on his ass by the end of the night.

He had to admit, it got his interest piqued. “Is it that good?”

“Let’s just say one shot has put even the biggest of guys under the table in the hour. You? I’d give twenty minutes.”

He slid a lien card across the bar, smirking confidently. “That a challenge?”

~

Qrow has had many terrible ideas over the course of his 40-year lifespan. Sneaking from one bar to another to take two shots of pure poison in a bottle somehow only ranked in the top five.

Still, as he wandered around the streets of – where was he again? Didn’t matter. As he wandered the streets, trying to find his way back to the house, he had to wonder why he didn’t try this sooner. He felt great! The liquor had burned like whiskey but tasted as fine as a martini. Worth every bit of the 200 lien it cost him.

“W-Whoa!” Qrow stumbled as the ground underneath him upheaved, grasping onto a light pole to keep himself upright. A bubbling in his chest turned into laughter and he swung himself around it, doing a decent rendition of ‘Singing in the Rain’ in one of those wishy-washy musicals Tai liked to watch. He let go of it, kicking up some snow bunched along the curb of the sidewalk, before tapping and twisting across the road, going on about sunshine in his heart and other such nonsense.

As he twirled once more on his heels, he noticed two bright lights coming towards him. Ah, right, the spotlight! Time for the big finish! He held up his arms, grinning widely, as the lights sped towards him.

“QROW!” The voice – a fan no doubt – was echoed with a great big noise that must have been the baseline reaching the crescendo.

He took a deep breath, ready to belt out the chorus for his audience – when something slammed into his body with enough force to jar his bones and rattle his brain around in his skull. It made the whole world spin.

“What were you doing?!” The voice, his fan, shrieked from above.

He blinked away spots, confused on how he’d suddenly ended up back on the sidewalk. He craned his neck, trying to focus on the tiny lady atop him. As her face came into view, his heart leapt. “Flowerbud?”

“Ruby!” Another, more boisterous, woman yelled, before she came into view. Huh, when had Raven dyed her hair? “Is he alright?!”

Okay. Not Raven. She wouldn’t care about his wellbeing for a millisecond.

“What kind of idiot stands in the middle of traffic like that!” This third lady was much shriller as she came to stand beside not-Raven. Unfortunately, even in his wildest woes of drunkenness, he couldn’t forget the face of a Schnee.

Which had an even more unfortunate side effect of pulling him out of his stupor enough that he realized it was not Summer but his niece hovering above him. It was also her fist that hit him hard enough on the chest that some of the air rushed from his lungs, making his voice squeak ironically when he gasped out, “Pipsqueak?”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Uh,” It took a moment to calculate, “Just two shots.”

“You’re lying!” Something seemed off about Ruby’s voice, but he couldn’t place why. Maybe he was still hearing Summer’s ghost in its tone.

Another hit jolted him from that train of thought. He swiped out for her hands – and was she using her semblance to keep them away from him because he was having an awfully hard time catching them. “Will you cut that out? Everything’s fine.”

“Fine? …Fine?!” He flinched a bit, her voice too loud. “Nothing’s fine! Oscar’s missing, everyone’s upset and you almost got hit by a truck! You, you-!” Lost for words, she just gave a yell of rage, before she was up and storming down the sidewalk, her cloak billowing behind her like a windstorm. After a moment, she gave another cry, kicking a Styrofoam coffee cup so it skittered across the concrete.

He knew something was really wrong though when she fell to her knees, pulling her hood up over her bowed head, wailing loudly.

“Ruby!” Yang hurried over to her.

Above him still, the Schnee and – wait, where’d the fourth come from? – shared a look, before the former nodded her head towards the sisters. “Go on. I’ll get him home.”

“Are you sure?” Blake looked between her and him warily. Not that he cared about that. Not one bit.

“Don’t worry. I’ve… done it before.”

He did however care about his niece who sounded really, really bad. “Kiddo?” He called to her, struggling to get to his feet. By the time he’d managed it though, dainty fingers were wrapping around his bicep, tugging him away from the sidewalk and away from his niece. “Hey, leggo!” His assailant didn’t answer nor concede. He tried to pull away, only to stumble even more when black glyphs appeared under his feet, magnetizing his boots and forcing him to stay on the path. “Ice princess, ya hear me? I said let go! I have to check on Ruby!”

“You’ve done enough.” She wouldn’t even look at him.

He was glad she didn’t because he knew that tone. Had heard it all his life, sewing itself into his head like a song that he couldn’t find the rest of. A tune that just wouldn’t quit replaying those few beats, no matter how many times he tried to distract himself from it.

It was the tone that said: I’m disappointed in you.

~

When Qrow was 30, he had hit rock bottom.

It had been a slow weathering. At first it was simply the pressure of the underground mission, the secrets so few knew looming along his back like a phantom. Then, Raven left, carving a hole in his team and family that not even Summer and her boundless optimism knew how to correct. She didn’t get long to try before her life was stolen next and with it, she might as well have taken Tai’s as he lost himself to grief so endless, no amount of effort could pull him out of the pit he’d fallen into. Qrow, left alone for the first time, felt like he’d lost all semblance of control. Aimless, guideless, he turned to the only thing that could bring him joy anymore, as false as it was.

He was no stranger to drinking. In the tribe, it was common place for twelve-year-olds to be declared men, and with it, were allowed to sip on the neck of a bottle. At Beacon, he made a lot of his connections through rave parties and throwaway dances, always with a cup in hand and praised for his ability to find ‘the good stuff’. Maturity and fitting in, that’s what drinking meant for him.

Until it didn’t anymore. For as much as he scoffed at his sister for it, he knew – whether physically present or not – he was just as good at running away.

As the years progressed, he became more of a master at that than anything else. By the time he’d truly woken up, Tai had gotten a new job as a teacher, Yang was seven, and Ruby was five. And apparently Qrow, drunk, stupid Qrow, was their babysitter.

But that was kind of the thing about black out drinking. He made promises he hardly remembered and had entire weeks months of his memory just splotched out like a gothic painter got a little too eager when they put the paintbrush to his brain.

So when he finally woke up to a puppy he hadn’t even known Tai had adopted yapping incessantly at him and found the house disturbingly empty, nothing but the grooved tracks of the girls’ play wagon disappearing into the forest left behind, he knew he had fucked up. Cursed himself as he rushed out after them, taking to the sky as he prayed to whatever Gods he didn’t believe in at the time that they would just let him be lucky.

Just this once, please, just this one time and he’ll never drink again.

They answered and he got to bring both the girls home that day.

He repaid Them by trying to convince a seven-year-old to keep a secret she shouldn’t have to hold.

Tai found out anyways, because Ruby was too wide-eyed over just how cool she thought her uncle was to understand why she wouldn’t tell her daddy about his brave rescue.

Qrow remembered that day with more clarity than he would have liked, down to the very way Tai manhandled him out of the house and tossed him into the dirt.

“I’m done.” Tai had seethed. He was beyond livid, red in the face and every inch of him shaking as he contained the need to pummel him six feet under. “You either get your fucking act together or you get the fuck out of my house.”

Though he’d later be grateful, the Qrow that day was nothing but indignant as he rose against him, “The fuck? I save your kids and you kick me out?”

“You were supposed to be watching them!” Tai shrilled back. “I’ve tried my best to be patient and understanding and all you do is spit that back in my face! And you know what? I’m tired! I’m tired of giving you extra money every week. I’m tired of calls at 2 A.M to come pick you up from the bar. I’m tired of having to explain to the girls why their uncle is never around, even when he is.”

“At least drinking’s a better excuse then the damn pity party you’re still throwing.” Even as he said it, he knew he had crossed a line, and deserved every bit of the black eye he received for it.

“You know what? Fuck off.” Tai snarled down at him, before turning back for the house. Turning back from him. “You want to go kill yourself, then be my fucking guest!”

“Y-Yeah well-!” Qrow scrambled for a response, digging as dirty as he could go, “I’m sure you’ll be happy to be rid of me! Better off without your bad luck charm hanging around, right?!”

For a moment, it made his brother-in-law pause but when he looked back at him, there was no sympathy, only disappointment. “Wow. Playing the manipulative card? I thought you were better than that.”

And then, to add salt onto the newly cut wound, the door was slammed in his face and Qrow found himself homeless.

He’d like to say he’d immediately cleaned up his act and came back into the house with his tail-feathers tucked between his legs, but that’d be a lie, so he didn’t. In fact, he never told anyone how he spent the next few months, scavenging about and doing less than savory missions for quick cash to feed his addiction.

His second awakening came when he found himself locked in a prison in Vale after trying to steal a six-pack from the grocery store. Nothing was more pathetic than being given his one phone call and realizing he had absolutely no one to dial.

So he called Ozpin, explaining without explaining that he found himself in a bit of trouble and needed some cash. He had expected to be hung up on. He had hoped to be wired the money. What he got was his former headmaster coming down to the station in person to bail him out. And boy, was that ride back to Beacon ever awkward and uncomfortable, Qrow silently wishing he could sink into the leather seats until he disappeared for good.

Oz didn’t ask any questions until they were closed up in his office, making Qrow feel like he was seventeen and about to be scolded for breaking the holographic projectors in the computer lab. Again.

“So, care to tell me what that was all about?” Ozpin asked, pouring him some hot chocolate.

“Don’t suppose I can just say no and accept a week’s detention like the good ol’ days, huh?” Qrow accepted the cup, even if he likely wouldn’t drink it.

He chuckled in return. “I’m afraid not. Being a graduate means I can no longer dole out corporal punishment.” He pushed off from the desk he lent against, saying as he rounded it, “However, I’m still an excellent listener, if you want to talk about anything.”

He stared hard at his reflection in the muddy surface. “Who says I got anything to say?”

The other sat down, humming, “Well, I suppose if you don’t we can merely spend the time catching up. It has been quite awhile since I’ve last seen you.” Qrow slunk down a little more in his seat, pretending he didn’t know why that was. Oz went about pouring his own cup, adding as he did, “It’s a little ironic you showed up, actually. Taiyang called a few days ago, asking if I’d seen you.” Brown eyes peered at him over shaded spectacles. “He’s worried.”

That finally got him to snort, crossing his heels on the edge of the desk. “Yeah. Sure he is.”

There was a sigh, Oz dropping all pretenses that he didn’t already know what was going on. “Qrow, I understand why you might feel that Tai’s actions were out of spite, but-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a burden.” He slumped further, setting the full cup on the floor. “Got it.”

His old headmaster gave him a reproachful look, before sternly saying, “No. You are not the burden, Qrow. Your drinking is. You need to separate yourself from the vice if you hope to beat this.”

Beat it? He could hardly live without it. “Drinking IS part of who I am.”

“Do you truly define yourself in your head as a drunkard?”

“Well… what would YOU define me as?” He challenged right back.

“A huntsman.”

It was so simple.

And yet so wrong.

“Ha, haha!” Qrow smacked his own forehead, craning his neck over the back of his chair as he laughed towards the ceiling. “You got to be kidding me! Oz, I haven’t done an honest mission in years.”

“Then do one.”

“Okay, it was funny the first time, not so much the second time.” He spat.

“I’m being serious.” Oz turned slightly, bringing up a display to the left of him, scrolling through a listing. “How about Grimm control in the western sector? Or escorting the trade lines in Argus?”

“H-Hey.” Panic suddenly clogged his throat, Qrow sitting up straight. “Oz, wait. I’m out of practice.”

Hardly deterred, the man hit a few keys to pull up a new list. “Well, there are certainly plenty of easy rank missions to be done as well. How does transporting rations to stationaries sound?”

“Bad. They all sound bad.” He snapped. When that didn’t even earn him a cursory glance, he smacked the top of the desk. “Oz!”

There was a horrible screech as one of the cogs underneath the glass surface suddenly popped out of place, the rest of the gears coming to an awful, ear-piercing stop. They both looked down at it, Qrow giving a low groan before thumping his forehead on the cold, glass surface.

After a moment, he heard a sigh. “It’s easily fixed Qrow. Other things, I’m afraid, are not. Especially the longer you allow them to remain unrepaired.”

When he turned his head to peer up at him, he didn’t know what to make of the look Ozpin was giving him. It was full of compassion and, worse yet, understanding in a way that made his stomach flip sickeningly. “Look, Oz,” He said as he sat up, “I get what you’re trying to do and I appreciate it, I guess. But, it’s not…” that bad. The rest of the sentence faltered in his throat. He hadn’t slept in a bed or had a decent meal in weeks.

He tried again. “I can-” Stop? If he had the means to get it, he’d be downing a shot in a heartbeat.

“I don’t-” Need help? He was just in jail, for maiden’s sake!

And as he tried to find a way, any way, to justify himself, to argue for a desire on the worst of days even he hated, he realized he’d run out of excuses.

If he didn’t do something now, then what? How much further could he lose control of his life, until he couldn’t come back from it?

For the first time in a long time, Qrow remembered what it was like to be afraid of himself.

The strength he found to finally speak was tenuous at best, coming out as nothing but a whisper, “I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?”

Oz’s smile was kind. “We all do things in life we regret. But, it’s not in those errors that we should crucify ourselves. Rather, it’s in those choices we make after those errors that we should judge ourselves.”

And so, Qrow made one.

For the following months, he stuck around Beacon and spent his days in a waking hell as he forced himself through a rough detox. Daily shakes, cold sweats, physical, aching pain that wouldn’t quit no matter how many painkillers he swallowed down. On the worst of them, the ones where the need became so strong he knew he was going to fail himself, he would have Ozpin lock him in the vault, knowing it was the only place his wings couldn’t get him out of.

When he returned to Patch, it was on orientation for Signal’s new school year. He never really felt cut out to be a teacher, but being a headmaster himself, Ozpin was able to secure himself the opportunity, encouraging him to take some time to recover and retrain himself while also helping the future generation do the same. In a few years, Oz told him, he’d want to see him return to the field as a Huntsman once more.

It was the first time in a long time that Qrow felt eager for something that didn’t come in a bottle. After being lost for so long, finally he was able to remember what he had wanted in life. To be a legend, unforgettable and revered.

But, first, there were a few people he needed to make things up to.

Ruby and Yang were simple. Young as they were, they couldn’t grasp the full impact of what had happened that resulted in his sudden disappearance, just the sorrow left behind and the joy of his return. However, blindsided as he was, Taiyang wasn’t so easily swayed, making it clear he’d have to earn his trust back. So used to breaking things in life, Qrow wasn’t even entirely sure how to fix that, but for once, he wanted to. This was the only family he had left, and by Gods, he was going to make sure he kept them. So, he stuck around and proved to Tai, to the girls, and even to himself that he really could be a functional adult and he didn’t need a crutch in life to get by. What had weathered away was rebuilt even slower, but little by little he was invited to spend more time at the house, doing everything from sharing dinners to marathoning series together. Eventually, he started to call it home again.

It wasn’t until Tai gave him permission to train Ruby that he truly felt forgiven though. He’d never taken anything so serious in his life as he did showing his niece how to be the extraordinary huntress he could already tell she would be.

Despite all his efforts though, he never stopped drinking, not really. He couldn’t manage to fully abolish the itch that would bite at his skin whenever the temptation would get to be too much. The most he accomplished was making sure his addition wasn’t the thing running the show anymore. But it was something. Something he could take a measure of pride in and hold onto.

His life was his again and he was going to make the most of it.

At 40, Qrow found himself waking up in a hospital and was hit once more with the realization he had fucked up.

~

Three problems made themselves immediately clear the moment he opened his eyes:

The headache beating across his skull was so terrible, taking a jackhammer to it would have been kinder.

The incessant beeping coming from somewhere in the general vicinity just needed to shut the hell up.

The soft whimpers of someone crying was simultaneously the least bothersome and the most terrible.

The last measure was magnified tenfold when he finally turned to see who it was.

“Ruby?” His tongue felt heavy and slurred, even though he knew he was anything but drunk right now.

She jerked, a startled gasp escaping her. She hurriedly wiped at her face. “Uncle, you’re awake!”

He glanced around the room, at the high-tech gizmos settled against the walls and the IV line going down into his wrist, and a sinking feeling started to settle in his gut as he pieced together where he was. “Why am I here? What happened?”

“When we got back, you were on the floor and you wouldn’t wake up. We thought you hit your head.” Ruby swallowed some, her lip trembling. “We weren’t even sure you were breathing and even when Jaune tried to heal you, you just started to-” Her voice caught and she looked away.

Something in him felt like it was breaking, seeing her cry like this. “Rubes, hey.” He tried to reach out for her, but she dodged his attempt, hurrying for the door.  

“I got to go tell the nurse your awake. He needs to check, things. I’ll be back in a second.” She couldn’t manage to even look at him as she slipped out the door.

It was more than a second, or even a few minutes, and Qrow didn’t have to wonder why. The image of Ruby, strong, surefire, almost unshakeable Ruby, probably holed up in a bathroom somewhere to compose herself because of him left a bad taste in his mouth and a guilt so heavy he was sure it’d crush him. (Gods, he wanted a drink.) The least he could do was try and look a bit more presentable by the time she got back and not like… not like he was dying. He struggled to sit up, but just a few inches sent a ripple of pain through his stomach and he swallowed down the instant nausea before he could throw up over himself. He laid still as much as possible, waiting out the agony until it passed.

Alright, bad idea.

He looked around, trying to think. Some beds came with remote-y things, right? It was Atlas tech but Argus was a close enough neighbor, maybe they’d imported.

He had just spotted a possible candidate to his plight, tucked away in the corner of a side table, when the door opened and in walked his niece and a young man in earth-toned scrubs. A gray and white banded tail curled around him as he approached the bedside.

“Mr. Branwen, it’s good to see you up. I’m Nurse Arma.” Qrow tried not to snort over how on the nose that name was. Unperturbed, the nurse continued, “Let’s sit you up, okay?”

Sure enough, the remote he had been eyeing was the right one, and the gears underneath it whirled, slowly lifted him into a sitting position. Qrow had to shut his eyes against another roil of pain – not just in his gut but all over, like he’d been zapped by a thousand volts of lightning dust.

A hand fell to his arm, pinching lightly. “Looks like you’re mostly hydrated again. How are you feeling?”

He glanced quickly to his niece, hidden in the far corner of the room and still refusing to look at him. “Well, ain’t the worst I’ve ever felt, if you can believe that.”

Arma chuckled, writing some things down on the chart he carried as he looked over one of the nearby machines. “Glad to see the alcohol poisoning didn’t destroy your sense of humor.”

“Wait, what?” The fact hit him like a train wreck. He’d been bad before, but he’d never… “That’s what happened to me?”

The smiles were gone, the other turning away from the IV bag to focus on him. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

Last night? A quick glance at the window told him that the sky was a soft, pale shade. He had grown so accustomed to reading it during his years when a clock and a calendar weren’t exactly common finds in a woodland camp, that he knew it was early morning. “I left one bar to go to another and then, I think there were some lights? That’s it.”

That was apparently not what the nurse wanted to hear as he frowned down at him, before glancing across the room. “Ruby, would you like me to tell him, or would you prefer to?”

She withdrew a little further in her corner, murmuring back, “You can. I can’t say it.”

“Alright.” Arma set his clipboard down on the side table, turning his full attention back to his patient. There was nothing about that piteous look that Qrow liked. “The story I was told is your nieces and her friends were out looking for one of your teammates that had gone missing.” Missing? Who had-? “During their search, one of them spotted you running into the street, right in front of a truck. Your niece here used her semblance to get you out of the way, but you were so intoxicated you couldn’t answer why you’d done it. You don’t remember that?”

Qrow could barely breathe. “I… N-No.” Had he been trying to…?

Oh gods, and Ruby and Yang had both witnessed it.

The armadillo Faunus only nodded and continued, like he wasn’t shaking up Qrow’s entire psyche. “One of them brought you back to the house, before going back out to continue her search, hoping you’d be able to just rest it off. But in the meantime, your blood alcohol concentration continued to rise, until it reached dangerous levels. That was when your teammate that was supposedly missing returned to the house, and he found you lying on the floor, unconscious and unresponsive. He called the rest of your team to notify them of the emergency, and they all rushed back home. One of your other teammates tried to use his semblance to heal you. He didn’t think that it wouldn’t work for a non-physical wound.”

He braced himself as he braved asking, “So, what happened?”

“If I had to guess? His semblance probably jumped your BAC into the highest peak possible.” The man held out his hands like a consolation even as he delivered the blow, “You had a seizure. Two, in fact. One there, and one shortly after you were admitted to ER. During the first one, you bit through your tongue enough that we had to stitch it.” Well, that explained why talking hurt. “The one here was much more severe. You would have asphyxiated on your own vomit had you not have had anyone to clear your airways. After that, the doctor ordered a catheter to clear some of the fluid in your bladder and an IV for the dehydration. We’ve been monitoring your progress overnight. Thankfully, no other complications came up; but, as you can imagine, it was a pretty scary experience. For everyone involved.”

Qrow couldn’t look up anymore, and instead stared down at his trembling hands, feeling the shame and humiliation tangling its way through him. “Yeah…”

He heard a sigh, Arma picking back up the clipboard. “You’re very lucky, Mr. Branwen. Had they been even an hour later, you probably wouldn’t be here anymore.” He stepped towards the doorway, saying as he went. “The doctor will come check on you in a bit and release you once she’s confirmed you’re well enough.”

With him gone, the following silence was almost suffocating. It felt like it took everything it had in him to speak up. “So uh, hey kiddo, what say we order some hospital food and complain about how awful it is?”

No answer.

“Or, maybe a game? I’m sure my Scroll’s somewhere.”

He saw her jaw twitch but her eyes remained stubbornly focused on the window.

His hands curled into the sheets. “Ruby. Say something. Please.”

“You want me to say something?” She said, turning, a storm in her gaze. “Okay. I’ll say something.” She stomped towards him, stopping at the end of his bed and yelled, “Do you know how mad I am at you?!”

“I-”

“No! Shut up!” She cut her hands through the air, her voice rising another octave, enough to make him flinch. “Do you have any idea what it was like, coming back to you just lying on the floor like that? I’ve never been so terrified as I was sitting out in that waiting room, wondering if you were even gonna make it!” She hitched over another breath, tears flowing anew. “What was I gonna do if you died, huh?! What was I gonna tell dad? That his best friend was just too STUPID to control himself? And Yang’s so upset with you, she won’t even come in here!” She lifted her arms up to the ceiling as if to curse the heavens, “I don’t even know I feel! I’m hurt and sad and, and- I just want to shove Crescent Rose through your head!”

As quickly as it was there, the bluster blew out of her, and as her arms fell and her body slumped, Ruby looked almost small again, in a way that made Qrow remember the innocent, little girl who so looked up to him for so many years. Looked at him like her idol and hero and who would go around school telling anyone who would listen about how her uncle was just the best and she was going to be just like him. Who would bounce at the end of his bed, bright-eyed and begging him to tell her another story about his missions or who would don her blanket like a cape and go running down the halls, fighting off imaginary foes.

And in her visage now, he could see that vision of him shattering around her. It pained him, to realize he’d caused it. He never meant to fail her too.

Ruby sniffled, saying to the tiles, “I know what Professor Ozpin did hurt you, Uncle, and it’s been real hard for you. But you were wrong about something.” She looked up, catching his gaze and holding it in a way she couldn’t before. “You said no one wanted you, but that’s not true. I will always want you to be a part of my life.” The words struck him in the chest, and he couldn’t breathe again. “If dad and Yang were here, they’d say the same. I know you think you’re unimportant and unneeded, and I think you focus so hard on that you can’t always see it, but you are family. And us losing you will break it more than you think it will.”

Qrow twisted the sheets in his hands. “Ruby, I-” His voice faltered. Fuck.

“I just…” She lowered her head. “I don’t know what else to do, uncle. What am I doing wrong?”

His eyes widened.

“If I could just figure out how to-”

“Stop.” Though his voice had been firm he barely felt steady, everything around him ready to upheave. He watched the way his knuckles turned white, the way his arms trembled. The way a single droplet fell from his chin, splotching a wet spot into the sheets. “Look. I know you want me to say I’ll just quit and everything will just be fine. But, I’ve been trying for years. I… don’t know how. To stop.” He chuckled bitterly, hitching over a sob. He couldn’t remember the last time things hurt this bad. “It’s like my semblance. I don’t want it, but I can’t get rid of it, either.” In the corner of his eye, he could see the blur of red growing closer. “But none of this is your fault, kiddo. All this? Being here today? It’s on me and me only. You, Yang, Tai?” He finally looked up at her. “You guys aren’t the reason I fail. You’re the reason I try at all.”

This time, when she hugged him, he didn’t try to pull away like he had at the farm. Instead, he sighed and sunk into it, enjoying the rare warmth and comfort it brought, even if he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

“Uncle Qrow?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Qrow blinked his eyes open, staring at the silver rose-patterned emblem pinned to Ruby’s coat, seeing his reflection in it. He smiled weakly back at it. “Yeah kiddo, love ya too.”

~

Qrow stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting the last button to his dress shirt. “Gotta say, my normal clothes are definitely more comfortable than that scratchy gown y’all threw me in.”

“I’ll lodge a complaint with the fashion department, just for you.” Arma quipped, placing a tray on the side table, nodding to it. “Your personal artifacts.”

“Thanks.” He still felt sore and his tongue was a definite mess – he’d decided to take a look at it the moment he had access to a mirror – but after a small meal and enough water to fill a lake, his nausea and his headache had both tempered. Enough for the doc to clear him for release.

“Take care, Mr. Branwen.” Arma headed for the exit but as he reached the threshold, he paused, looking back. “And… for your sake, I hope I don’t see you back here.”

“Yeah, me nether kid.”

Once he’d left, Qrow crossed over to the table, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He pocked his scroll. Slowly slipped back on his bracelets. Then his rings. And, finally, his necklace. All the while avoiding the largest item there until it was all that was left.  

He sighed, reaching out and picking up the flask, hearing the slosh as he did. It triggered the itch, the one that left his skin tingling, his mouth watering.

If drinking two glasses of the strongest alcohol in the world was only in the top five worst things he’d ever done, he was pretty sure him undoing the cap of his flask was vying for the number one slot.

“You’re such an idiot.” He whispered as he lifted it.

~

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, following the signs down the hall to the lobby. It wasn’t hard to spot Ruby, between her standout clothing and her high-pitched voice shouting his name as she waved him over.

“Gee, glad the whole cavalry didn’t come running.” Qrow jibed.

She shoved him for it. “They’re outside. The staff doesn’t like a lot of us, uh, ‘weapons-toting kids’ hanging around.”

“Well, at least we’re already here when firecracker decides to deck me right back through the front door.”

“Uncle…” She reprimanded as she turned for the exit.

He followed after her. “Bet you five lien she does it.”

“That’s awful!” A beat, then Ruby smirked. “How about a box of chocolate-chip cookies instead?”

“Deal.” He chuckled, throwing an arm across her shoulders as they walked through the doorway.

~

Back in room 104, it wouldn’t be discovered until the orderly finished cleaning up the room.

Left upturned in the sink just outside of the bathroom was single item.

A metal flask, the last droplet of alcohol having drained out of it some time ago.

[zebraslovescupcakestoo]

An entry journal of a normal kid.

(A Kingdom Hearts/SVTFOE/Harry Potter/ Epic Mickey/ BBTIM AU)

Entry of an earth kid, day 106.

Hello private journal. It's me again, Felix Lockheart.

Before I start writing in another crazy adventure I had that sounded that came straight out of a fantasy magical princess fiction, although in this this case, magical 'princes,' I wished to revised on the summary and reflect on these past few months since then.

Before my life took a twisted 'magical' turn, it was almost upside down. I was just a quiet, average teenager that is one year away to get my beginner’s licence for a 50cc scooter. I don't have many friends apart from acquaintances and my family consisted a chief policemen who's my father, a older single mother of a sister who's doing just fine and kids of her own that are twins, which are at the time, quite a hand full!

What I meant is that I was almost a lone wolf, awkward socialist. I was one of those type of teenage boys who tried to be cool yet I have that geeky side of me who's interested in detective novels from Sherlock to Poirot, and Nancy Drew to Case Closed. I have an unusual talent of finding the details that most people missed and sometimes... it makes me distant from people. No matter how hard I tried to be normal, the other kids were treating me as an outcast, without the 'bullying' part on most days.

I tried numerous times to have some shed of acceptance until that one faithful day that I met my two new friends.

Oswald and Mickey Disney.

It started almost three months ago, March the XX, I got called in the principal office during a history test, which I luckily finished before the announcement was made. I was a bit worried, I do wanted to be noticed among my peers but NOT as a delinquent.

Upon arriving at the principal office, my first impression is 'what are those two who's appearances look like they've just graduated from kindergarten here and what does it have to do with me?' and there was my father and the principal himself.

Long story short, I was 'elected' by the principal and the teachers to be their tour guide while my father, who's constantly very busy at work, had explained to me that we will be having these 'foreign exchange students' living in our home... and that 'I' was the one to take care of them... I was in complete shock, mentally disturbed and thought is my life going to get weirder than it is?

That would be one of my biggest asking mistake I would have ever made.

I told myself at the time, that this is nothing special and that it will pass. It all started when we, me and the two bizarre guys, had just finished showing around the halls and a couple empty classrooms.

I wanted to write here a couple of reminder notes about the two 'foreign kids' that turns out to be unique if anyone new.

The first one I want to talk about is Mickey Disney, the younger sibling. I would describe him as the up-beat, enthusiastic, sun shine, positive, semi-innocent, lovable little brother. He is a very popular, well-liked kid even in my world. (I will explain in a bit!) Although sometimes, he acts like he's younger than his age but it is without cruel intention.

The second one I needed to talk about is the elder sibling, Oswald Disney. Also known as 'the type of guy I wished to be but can't cause it ain't happening!' He is what I describe the 'dark mysterious prince' type. He's the calm and collected, down-to-earth guy and he's probably likes to get on my nerves from time to time just to tease me... He's what I'd like to called the blue power ranger type. He's probably fit in with the cool kids much better even with whatever he's wearing at the time.

Back to the first day flash back, it was in the cafeteria that sparked our first 'mishap adventures' of the day and so on.

I've just finished showing and explaining the function of the cafeteria and which seat to avoid due to the 'clique systems' that was still a tradition in this school. While it's true that the faculties had enforced anti-bullying and zero tolerance policy, some of the kids had found some loop holes and it was a bit sneaky from one stand point.

The two brother's asked why but before I had to explained, the lunch rush started and the popular kids were at the front of the line. Upon look at me, they were snickering, laughing and they must have thought that I finally 'belong' to a group... of weirdos.

Mickey then asked me why are they laughing and I lied to him that it was nothing. But Oswald on the other hand, told him the cold hard truth that they were laughing at us and that they were mean. That made his unusual, heart shaped, cheek marks glow in a deep red tone when he made an angry expression and he 'marched' towards the popular kids. I immediately tried my best to pull him back but he was very strong and didn't even flinch when I pulled him back. He's smaller than I am yet I'm older...

Upon sawing their 'new' younger student, they just raised an eyebrow before he asked why are they laughing at me. One of them just plainly yet made some sort of an mocking English tone like Mickey doesn't understand our language, just when he clearly said it flawlessly to them. That triggered him to cast some sort of spell from his hands and into the tomato sauce which cause the saucy food to transform into one of those slime looking monsters. It almost attack one of the now frighten kids until the other 'foreign' student, Oswald cast some other spell that caused the tomato sauce monster disperse into a big splattered  mess all over them and the cafeteria. He also cast another spell that makes them 'forget' on what just happened after Mickey ducked me down and then once he cast it, they quickly made the popular kids hold big spoon to look as if they were the ones who caused it before pulling me away from the scene. I remembered those 'star struck' dazed look when they had their memories erased while I was dragged out to the nearest empty classroom.

Just when the people outside of the classroom were all coming after the situation in the cafeteria, I almost blasted out until Oswald covered my mouth to keep quiet a bit longer while Mickey cast another spell that causes the room we're in to be 'inaccessible' for the normal people like me... THEN I started to freak out and demanded what the heck are they REALLY are.

That’s when Mickey revealed with a rainbow effect magic that they are magical princes from another dimension. I was still in a blank state of mind until Oswald snap his fingers to appear his Compact Communication and showed me a video message of their grandfather, who is the current king of the 'other dimension' they said they belong to.

I've already mentioned this at the beginning of this journal, but I will rewrite it in this part again for a better understanding.

It began with his introduction as the king of the place called Toonland. His name is King Yen Sid. He is currently the ruler of that world until he retired his crown to his son-in-law when he had his coronation after weeks marrying his daughter. Years passed and they have kids together which is Oswald and Mickey until one faithful day, there was the horrible Black Ink Disaster that invaded their kingdom, almost destroyed the whole kingdom with it's powers until their parents had to made a very difficult decision. They had to 'sealed' the black ink disaster in exchange of their lives...

I remembered that moment when I glanced behind Oswald's Compact Communication device, I can see Mickey's eyes filled with sadness and Oswald's painful expression upon the mention of their parents.

Since then, Yen Sid had to reclaim his position as king due to the fact that his grandsons were still too young at that time and they needed to complete their magical training before they can try for their Keyblade training at the age of sixteen. This was a needed requirement in their world in order to become the next king.

And here I was thinking that there's nothing more dangerous than my sister's first attempt in driving lessons. I was proven wrong again.

So upon the years they were growing up, they've developed in their separate ways their unique skills. If all worked well, both the brothers would be able to stand a winning chance against the black ink monster and freed their parents.

So just to keep it short, they decided to 'train' them with a compatible 'familiar,' which was needed for training, and among the counselors, Keyblade masters, sorcerers, yadda yadda yadda, they pin pointed- drum roll please....

Me. I was the only person in the whole 'dimensions' who can help them. BOTH of them.

Yeah, I know. Quite a load full to take in...

Looking back, it was quite a school year for me. Not only in my daylight hours, but also in my evenings and weekends.

Like my father had said, they moved in our home. I wondered if he ever asked any questions beyond their appearances, like how and why are they're here. Later I found out from Mickey who innocently said in a private conversation between us two that Yen Sid had 'convinced' him to take them in in my care... Guess the apple didn't fall off far from the family tree...

Since I was old enough to be left alone at nights, I was used to being on my own. I ordered take outs or cook my meals for one and then spend my time to do almost whatever I want due to the fact that I did mentioned that my father is a chief policemen. I also wanted to write a statement that just because my dad is a high ranking policemen, doesn't mean I can get away with anything and that I am responsible enough to take care of myself.

The only new problem was is that these two, at the time, weren't exactly the best roommates. When we first arrived at my house, Mickey was like a child who'd seen the outside world and visited his friend's house for the very first time. Oswald on the other hand, just stands there and examined every details from where I was standing. When he walked up to the door and reached the handle, it was locked. He kicked it down before I could get the chance to take out my house keys.

It was also the same time that I had to lay out the rules starting no kicking down locked door unless it was an emergency.

I've already written many of our early adventures from the beginning of this journal, but here were a few short stories to remind me:

Our founded 'neighbor's club' from day two with just us three.

The lecture of the Toonland history and reenactments of certain events.

Learned more about Mickey's life and Oswald's.

The second part of our tour guide to the gym and how we barely escaped the jocks for using dodge balls. By the Disney's magic again!

The library trip that ended up in a unicorn brawl.

Learned more on their life stories.

Learned about one of their adversaries, the ink minions and heartless, that travels from worlds to dimensions and 'attack' the normal people.

Help them with more complicated spells by being at their side.

Learned MORE about their lives....

And more stories goes on and on. I also wrote in this journal about the time our bonds grew deeper which I've already wrote it several times before...

Mickey have grown to be more responsible and well behaved since coming to my world. I knew in the beginning that he was thinking about his citizens, his family and that he loves them a lot. Especially to his big brother he said that he looks up to. He eventually learned to control his magic well and learned that he needs to think before he acts. Especially if he's willing to help others.

One story time, he told me that he wanted to grow vegetables even bigger to combat a famine crisis from one town over in his dimension. He did the spell successfully, but unknown to anyone, there was a praying mantis that got caught in his spell... Just to show he IS a nice guy, just sometimes things got off sided for him and that he didn't meant any harm.

Oswald also had grown in his personalty as well. At first, I thought he just needed to learn not to kick down doors. Boy, was I wrong! I will not lie, he was so bad with people that it made me more of an approachable person! I then learned more about him that he had lost a dear friend from an early age and he was almost over it until the 'Black Ink Disaster' happened that took their parents. It almost made him shut down completely if it wasn't for his grandfather and his little brother to come around, but it made him became more distant from people, including his own people.

I wouldn't be lying in this entry if I never understood why he would felt that way. If I'd lost someone who's dear and close to me, I'd be avoiding anyone just for not feeling the fear of losing someone again. Eventually, he learns to be more opened and kind to other people, after we had a conversation or two.

He was much more mature and on my level, but he was just as difficult to handle as much as his little brother sometimes.

Despite all of that, they manage to grew stronger in their magical abilities and in their character developments. I would almost considered them lucky to have those responsibilities from someone like me who's just an average kid that involves trying not to get into trouble and getting good grades. Which is another bundle of stories that I can always read back from previous entries.

The only problem is that their main threats, now including mine, were the Black Ink Minions and the Heartless that I've previously mentioned over and over again in here. Seems like these low level monsters are after the princes' lives, but unfortunately for them, they are NOT underestimated when it comes to combats.

Among training lessons stories that I wrote in this, I also wrote their battles, especially the big and special ones that stood out most.

At first they were mostly going after them. Over time, they became aware that I was a friend of them and from then on, I was their target too. Eventually, I did manage to learn self defense thanks to them, but I was still a bit short from the big leagues where they are since I don't have magical abilities.

After one high school year passed and one week before summer vacation starts, we had an unexpected visit from their grandfather and my old man who wanted to discus all three of us spending time together in their home country for the summer since we are such close friends and that I deserved a 'peaceful retreat.'

Which was understood in this world among the normal people who doesn't know the 'REAL' story...

When my father went to the kitchen to make a phone call arrangement for my passport, the king had cast the 'casing' spell just for all four of us to prevent future interruptions from the real time. Like it's frozen in time except for us.

Now the REAL reason on why us three needed back in Toonland is cause the princes were needed to aid the now immediate threat to all of us. Turns out there was two people who are commanding the Black Ink Minster's minions and then there was another one who commands the heartless. Despite their King's magical abilities and his best warriors at hand, they still needed help.

Thus came a big yet risky decision from the counsels and Keyblade masters alike that the princes will be required to learn the art of the Keyblade as soon as I finished my school days...

Just my black, cat luck! I spent most of my year in a school and I will be spending my summer vacation in another school. The only highlight is now it's my turn to take a breather since I'm their 'familiar' and I don't need to do much. Their subject studies and mines were very separate 'subjects' from each other, OK?

Then, fast forwards to my last day of school, I was relieved for a brief moment once the final bell rang. I sat at that desk a few more seconds while the rest of the kids bursts out of that door frame. It looks like a scene where the puppies were going all out at once, only this time the door was almost ripped off. I left second last kid from school so that I don't get run over from heels and wheels. When I arrived home, I was mentally prepared to face another three months in another school unknown to my family. What I DIDN'T expect is that the two brothers had already packed almost everything in my room in one of their own trunks that happens to be the same ones they've packed with when THEY arrived. (If I have a 'realistic' wish, I want those kinds of suitcases. It will help me move much better in the future!)

My family, included my sister and nephews at the time, wanted to wish me a safe and fun summer in their 'foreign' country before I left. Inky and Winky wanted to go with me, but my sister wanted to let me have my own time...

If only they knew them just as well as I do. They both had SUCH a hard time on understanding personal space in the first few days!

I have already wrote down there the method on how the heck did we traveled in another dimension, so just to keep it short recap, They ran THROUGH that brick wall in that naked part of a museum. I almost felt like one those stupid guys in JACK@&& that got caught in one of their pranks. The only saving grace from getting our face smashed in was their magic to open up the portal. We were then landed in the royal court of Toonlan's castle.

I was greeted by the whole kingdom. I'm talking about the commoners, royalties, merchants, aristocrats, you name it under one big castle!

...and my first interaction with them is that I arrived landing on my face on the red carpet. You know, THOSE first awkward impressions. Welp! I had worse...

Thankfully, they were in great cheers when they noticed that the princes arrived with me. So I guess that means that they were popular and very well liked. Unlike me who's aside a stranger in their land, I was an outcast as usual... even if I'm right in between them the entire reunion.

If ever I ask for a brother complex, these guys would be at the top of the list. Mickey was the center of attention without making a scene and everybody was attracted to him. Oswald on the other hand, I wanted to say he's more like 'playing it cool' and he's surrounded by the mature audiences and the 'cool kids' crowd... Even in this dimension, I would still be out of place. The only thing I did was standing near the appetizers that looks almost like a buffet for aliens... I'll skip the details of it to spare you from vomiting in this journal.

Suddenly Mickey rushed over to get me and dragged me to his circle of variety of friends. They seemed like they've been from a kid's cartoon characters with bright, colorful and positive attitudes. I also heard that Mickey will be enrolled in those Keyblade mastery classes in a day or two and that he's gonna be in the Hufflepuff Sorority in that school called Hogwarts. Sounds too familiar... I think I've read it in a book ages ago. Then Oswald came and asked them if he can 'borrow' me for a while too. Almost everyone's attitude changed except his little brother, like one of THE coolest older kid just walked in from their Pokemon trading card game. I way stared down by the 'cool kids' like in my world, but they didn't picked on me like they would. At least not yet. They seemed like they were fine with me and my awkwardness and  then got introduced by one of the teachers of the sororities. Oswald was accepted in the Ravenclaw Sorority... That got me worried when I realized one tiny problem.

If I'm both their familiar, how can I be at their sides if their houses host different classes from each other? I mean, I've haven't been in colleague yet and have zero idea of their life styles, especially here, but if they're in different houses, how can they practice without me being there? Even if they can do it on their own, they still need me for backup.

It was more than their spell boosts. One time when we fought off a blueberry jam glob monster that Mickey accidentally cast a multi-spell to make more blueberry jam cause we ran out  and it was big and it nearly ate him. I unconsciously grabbed a peanut butter jar and it was afraid of it. He lets go of Mickey and thankfully Oswald can in to save the day by casting an oblivion spell. (This spell is hard to master from what they said. Yikes!)

But my worries were then put to rest when I was told later by their grandfather that they'll be taught together and that we will not be separated. Also, most of the teachers will be visiting here instead of us coming over unless we came for a visit. Part of me was a bit relieved that I don't NEED to be in another prison cell like school, but at the same time, I wanted to see what it's like in there... I mean, one of them had a dragon at the party as a familiar for Pete’s sake! And it was only a few months old when I asked.

Anyways, I think I've sum it all up for now. We are indeed to start those training in a day or two. All of the things from my room is now set up by magic and that 'our' bed is a king sized one that can easily fit all three of us... I sometimes asked why can't we get a separate one. Then I was told is to 'bond' to my 'user' and that it eases them...

Sounds like it's an excuse for a 'too close for comfort' resort. Anyways, I will write in a new journal soon since this is my last entry here and I need more space to write.

I hope that in my next journal, I can write my adventures here in Toonland and discover more stories about the royal Disney family.

Singed: Felix Lockheart.

----Author’s Notes------

I hope that you like another one shot. I used multiple AU universes but it’s mostly on Star Vs The Forces Of Evil. I really LOVED the third and fourth season and that I wished that I would have watched the first two before that.

Now, I just wanted to say one thing before I forget, I did heard about the Harry potter series but I’ve been ‘banned’ to read/watched them when I was growing up. For separate reasons. I’ve only used the wiki fir house sororities references and a couple of movie clips for story purposes.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoyed a fun fanfic and I hope you have a fantastic day!

Kingdom Hearts, SVTFOE, Harry Potter, and Epic Mickey are under Disney.

BBTIM AU and Characters belongs to Marini4.

[hedgewolf-hunters]

Silence is golden

Drake: Hey you guys want to see one of my adventures from last week? Than take a seat and open those ears up cause have i got a story for you.

In the city of Etrinitat on the corner of main and etheral st a two story old-fashioned wooden establishment sits. The sign a top the doors reads, Alpha & Omega, Bar and grill. Inside was a bustling collection of mobians big and small from avians to deep diggers to the deepest underwater divers. A female dark red wolf is behind a bar counter serving older customers liquor drinks and scaring off under age kids. She has two blue stripes under her sea blue eyes and her hair like fur is done in a single massive braid. Shes wearing a sleevless leather jacket with a tank top underneath, dark blue skin tight jeans and spiked boots on her feet.

"Mom im cutting out early today." A maroon colored male wolf with hedgehog quills barely extending from his head says to the female. He has a black stripe going down the only two quills he has and the same matching blue stripes under his glowing amber eyes. The male is in a sleevless parka, black zipper boots, and gloves with a slightly raised bump on the knuckles.

"Yeah and do what my son?" She asks. Turning to him after serving another customer. The boy places down a crystal double tapping it so a hologram of a bounty appears. Its of a raccon with a list of crimes.

"Drake this guy is an sociopath with a hard on for killing hunters and civilians. Not to mention he probably has a following with him." The woman says.

"Mom i know this. Its the reason i took the job in the first place. You know physical attacks either don't connect or do any real damage, not to mention I'm probably one of only two other people in this building who can actually get close to him." Drake says.

"Sky let the boy go. He needs to learn to take care of himself anyway, and he cant do that if you hold him back from jobs or doing them alone." A purple hedgehog says from the door leading to the kitchen. Her eyes are normal amber compared to the boys, her quills done in a ponytail are greying slightly at the tips as they stop just past halfway down the door. She has a single white stripe on top of her head down her middle quill and a black stripe down each of her outer quills. Shes dressed in sports top and short, and hightop shoes with a chef outfit over it all.

"Thank you Aunt Aura. See mom even Auntie thinks i should give at least one solo job a shot. Look if it doesnt turn out to well than i will not ask again to take a solo. But if it does than can you please just let me do my own every now and then?" Drake asks his over protective mother. Sky bites her lip wanting to say no but knowing they both have a point.

"Fine. But if you get into any trouble trigger the flare and your brother will be there to back you up." Sky says locking a braclet around her second sons wrist.

"Will do ma. Alright ill be back in a couple days. He's in the grassland plains. How he hasnt been caught already, besides his psychotic nature, ill be finding out soon enough." Drake says picking up the crystal and running out the door. He kicks into high gear once outside the bar and runs across the city in a minute flat to the west wall gate.

By nightfall Drake has finally escaped the great forest that surrounds his home and the city. He groans stretching.

"Damn i really wish i had dads super speed, but no, it went to Scarlet and Inferna only. Me and Bane gotta push just to keep up and i have to push harder since Bane can clear the forest in minutes thanks to his wings." Drake grumbles to himself as he stretches his sore legs. A orb flies out from his jacket.

"Oh stop complaining. Your compensation for these little differences is me and our shared abilities. After all none of them can use the Astral plane, like i told you to use, to travel nearly instantly." A feminine voice says from the orb.

"I got excited and forgot ok. No need to chew my head off Aster. Besides wheres the adventure in instant travel? If we had we wouldn't had to chase away those pups from the cargo transport and kept supplies running to the city." Drake says to the orb. The feminine voice huffs and returns to his jacket.

"Fine but when this job is done we go home my way. Last thing we need is for you to lose your prey fending off adolescent feral wolves again." Aster says before going silent again. Drake chuckles as he starts running again headed to the city of the plains Primous.

Day break arrives and Drake yawns from his room inside a old fashioned inn. He arrived around midnight in the city and could only find this building to rest in. He stretches getting a few pops in his back from sleeping on the lumpy mattress. He grunts as he gets up off the bed and walks to the sink in the room. He spashes ice cold water in his face and reaches into one of his inner jacket pockets. Seemingly deeper than it looks he pulls out some morning hygiene tools.

Half an hour later Drake heads down to the main floor and walks out waving bye to the shop keep. The town is now bustling with buisness, cars driving by pedestrians walking around and kids heading to schools nearby. Drake smiles as he jumps up onto the roof and takes in a birds eye view of the city. Whistling as the crowded busy streets clog up in the mornng traffic. A few sky scrapers litter the city and a few cathedrals, his targets usual dumping sites. Smirking Drake jumps from the building and lands on the sidewalk, he heads into the deeper parts of town blending in as much as he can.

Three hours later Drake is stopped at the last cathedral in the city.

"The place where it all started. A city inspector came to check on the building and found several dead bodies placed in various forms of worship. The cops caught video footage of the raccoon in question shortly after the bodies were found in other cathedrals. Mobians have been scared of this place ever since and the neighborhood has been evacuated do to that fear." Aster says while Drake stands by the doors.

"And some mobians have come to worship him as a new messiah with the messages he's left with the last seven victims. I wonder why is it than that they cant trace his signal during the 'Prayer' as its been labeled. Someones gotta have a clue to where this loon is." Drake mumbles as he stares at the gothic doorway of the church. He scratches his head as he turns around and bumps into a young female raccoon.

"My bad little lady didnt see you there." Drake says taking a knee to help her up. She shakes her head with a small smile as she takes his hand of help. Drake smells the blood and goes wide eyed for a second before passing out from a needle in his neck. Aster stays silent as Drake passes out.

"See momma I caught the bad man after daddy." The raccoon girl says pulling the needle out and waving at a bush. The female fox that ran the inn Drake slept at walks out.

"Good girl. Now lets get him inside before anyone sees." The fox says grabbing Drake by his feet.

An hour later Drake groans awake strapped to a table with a light glaring down at him. He thinks back to what happened before he fell out. The flash back coming back he sighs and grinds his teeth a little.

"Seems someone is noticing his mistake." Aster says. Drake glares at his jacket quickly and than lays back.

"Cant blame you for that one, i deserved it. Guess the bait was too good for him to pass up." Drake mutters under his breath to Aster. She snorts in reply and Drake feels something hovering over his hands.

"Not yet, let the bait settle a little more. But if you feel like im in trouble...feel free to get dirty." Drake says the sensation leaves his wrist as Aster sighs. Drake whistles a tune from his childhood as he waits for the next half an hour till his target appears. A four foot tall raccon with well built frame wearing a priests robe.

"Hello my little sheep. Glad to see your comfy in your protective bindings." The raccoon says.

"Well you left me on this slab with nothing to get comfy with so i made do." Drake replies.

"Heh you are quite the talkative type arent you little sheep." He says.

"No shit Sherlock, I've been stuck up here for half an hour with nothing to do but whistle an old lullaby." Drake says

"Hmm, do you know why you are here little-"

"Call me little sheep one more time and I'm gonna tear a hole through your windpipe." Drake interrupts the raccoon getting tired of that comendering tone that follows the words.

"Fine than hunter, i assume you are here for my head but it seems you're about to lose yours." The raccoon says dropping the fatherly tone to his true thug accent. He walks towards a table with a bloody cloth over it and powerlines leading out from underneath it.

"You assume I'll lose my head here, but let me ask you, do you know why i didn't tear your daughter in half before the needle touched my skin? Or why I didn't drag your wife out of the bushes when they hid behind me?" Drake asks making the raccoon stop in his tracks. Aster uses the moment to slice the straps lightly, enough that they can be broken with even the slightest move. The raccoon turns around glaring at Drake.

"Dude you think I didnt notice the table setting in the back of the inn? Or that i was being followed from cathedral to cathedral? Not to mention your ladies eyes when she heard me say i was a hunter." Drake says. The raccoon looks confused.

"Than why did you allow yourself to be captured?" He asks walking over to Drake puzzled now.

"Honestly i didnt know you would send your own flesh and blood to capture me, that threw me for a loop for a second. But its just how I hunt by myself. I dont go looking for prey i let them come to me." Drake finishes with a grin freeing his hand and grabbing the raccoon by his robe and tossing him over the table with the power tools. Drake quickly curls into a spin dash to free himself and stands up on the floor. Two gunshots in his direction make him turn towards the firing squad of the wife and child. Rubbing the bridge of his nose Drake summons Aster in physical form. A scythe blade with a gap where its connected to the curved staff, a smaller blade growing out the opposite side. Gold trimm visibly and bulbously formimg a drip down pattern down the staff till it reaches the bottom where the gold turns into a spear point.

Drake spins the scythe around in his hand as he walks towards the two females. Bullets bounce off the scythe like rubber as Drake gets closer to them. Once the ammunition is out Drake stops spinning the scythe and grabs a point on the foxes collar bone that sends her to sleep. He back steps the small Raccoon and slams the wood down across her back before striking her several times with his fingers in specific locations to immobolize her and put her to sleep as well.

"Now that the peanut gallery is take care of, where were we?" Drake asks gibing Aster one final spin before resting her against his shoulder. The male Raccoon has stumbled back on the floor.

"You are some sort of Demon, you must be!" He exclaims. Drake snorts as he grips Aster with both hands.

"Hear that Aster, he thinks we're demons." Drake says. A shimmer from the balde makes the Raccoon back up more.

"Ah if only he could hear me, id havea few choice words for him to show him how demon like we are." Aster says to Drake. Drake grins watching as the man scrambles for a knife. He stops a few feet away from the raccoon whos now on his feet with a serrated blood covered machete. Drake leans one foot forward and one foot back, lowering Aster to hover above the floor he holds her with both hands at the ready to swing. The raccoon charges at Drake like a scared child wildy swinging the machete. Drake waits till hes within two feet of them and swings Aster in an upward arc going right through him, than coming back down in the opposite direction. He side steps as the raccoon passes him still swinging scared. Drake finishes by slicing aster through his neck. All three attacks leave no mark on the raccoon whos confused as he felt the blade go through him all three times.

"Im gonna give you two options now psycho. Come quietly and live out your days in a jail cell nice and comfy. Or." Drake says snapping his fingers. The cuts slowly form where the blade touched, not deep like they should be but enough that they are drawing faint amounts of blood.

"I let your cuts form fully to the point of no return." Drake says making a slicing motion with his thumb across his throat. The raccoon gasps in pain feeling the sensation of the two across his body getting deeper agonizingly slowly.

"Please, just stop the pain! Take me in but stop this torture." He begs. Drake raises a brow and steps over to the writhing raccoon.

"You think this is pain? You think i should show you mercy that you never showed to twenty others? No this isnt pain and suffering, this isnt torture yet little sheep." Drake says makimg the raccoon look up at him for a moment. In that moment drake showed him something few others see unless he wants them too.

"Remember you know nothing of suffering, pain, or torture. I'll take you in but you nore your family will remember the other. Of that i will make sure of." Drake says lifting Aster and slamming the spear point down onto his targets head.

Drake: No i didnt kill the guy. Aster can sever bonds and memories with her spear point. I simply took all threes memories of being together from the point of the killings. The wife thought he had left her and the child and thats the way it will stay while the shit rots his life away in prison now. And quick note from the mun that no more stories this week. He'll have more ready next week but this week he will be focusingnon his other project. If you want to Rp with us we can do that or answer questions. But no stories for the next six days.

[pennywaltzy]

Someone Who Understands (COMPLETE)

So this one was always supposed to be short but I never had the motivation to finish it until this round of @wipbigbang . This was a belated Christmas gift for @mcbangle that had been claimed by @onceinabluemoon13 that is now finished! I hope you all enjoy this.

Someone Who Understands - After the dissolution of her engagement and the crap week that follows, Molly just wants something to go well. So when she gets a bouquet of flowers from an unknown person she expects the worst since that’s the way her life seems to be going at the moment. But when Sherlock reveals it’s Janine who sent the flowers and Janine tells her she thought Molly could use something to brighten her day after the hell Sherlock put her through because she understands, Molly’s life takes a turn she didn’t quite expect it to.

READ CHAPTER 1 | HELP ME SURVIVE? | COMMISSION ME?

Oh, it had been an absolutely shite week, Molly thought to herself as she trudged from the Underground stop towards her flat. Sherlock high on drugs, then him getting shot, then John and Mary separating, and then finding out details she wasn’t even sure she had wanted to know… Her head had been in a constant spinning state, and that wasn’t even taking into the fact her own life, with the end of her engagement. Not that that had really come as much of a shock to many, really, not since the return of Sherlock.

No, of course not, she thought to herself bitterly. And the whole time he expertly times coming out of my bedroom in his pants to Tom’s arrival he’s off wooing the damn maid of honour from Mary’s wedding and planning to propose to her. that fact stung the worst, that Sherlock had almost single-handedly ruined her engagement with that stunt while she was asleep in the guest bedroom while he had no intention of doing anything with her. And then he had the cheek to comment on her lack of ring while high as a kite! He was lucky all she did was slap him three times! She really wanted to give him a black eye, really. Or a kick in the bollocks.

And then he had to get himself shot. By Mary, of all people. She had gone to check on Mary after Sherlock texted her to, with an uncharacteristic “please” in the message, and Mary was crying and it all just rather spilled out, the whole story of how she had a hidden past and was in Magnussen’s sights and had shot Sherlock and all she could do at first was sit there in shock. She should have been angry, should have walked out in a huff. Didn’t she love Sherlock? Shouldn’t she have wanted to hurt Mary for hurting him? But when Mary explained, she understood. Sherlock had pushed. Sherlock had pushed limits he shouldn’t have, goaded her in a situation he shouldn’t have and she did what she had to do.

Molly had leaned over and given her the biggest hug, holding Mary while she cried on her shoulder for she had no idea how long, and then told Mary to get some things, she would be staying at her place for a while, until things were sorted out. No women should be alone at a time like this. Mary gave her the most grateful look imaginable and went off to pack a bag, and Molly sent Sherlock a text that Mary was staying with her and her home was not a bolt hole for the time being. He sent a text back with the word “Understood” and his initials, and that was that.

And she hadn’t heard from him since.

It had been a week since that had transpired, and in that week she’d had a heavy workload, she’d dealt with some of the most insufferable DIs in the Yard and Tom had come to clear out the last of his things. That last part had been excruciatingly bad, and she’d spent a few hours with Mary afterward, finishing off a bottle of Louis Latour - Meursault 2014 while Mary commiserated with her, eating a pint of Häagen-Dazs Yuzu Citrus and Cream ice cream while she had a Magnum Almond Tub. The worst of it was Tom wasn’t even particularly angry about anything. No pointed comments about Sherlock, no asking if there were any of Sherlock’s things about, no insinuating she was a horrible cheater. No, he said the barest minimum to her, instead simply walking around with boxes, occasionally asking if there were certain things she would prefer to keep, and then he left, leaving her key on the table by the door. She had never felt more miserable ending a relationship before.

Which led to today and a rather nasty hangover and low threshold for bullcrap. It had gotten to the point she started getting snippy with the people giving her attitude, and Stamford, the only person who knew about her engagement ending, stepped in on her behalf before it got to a point where official complaints were being made and suggested she take an early day and go home and relax. She was thankful for the suggestion because if she had to deal with one more idiotic person, she would most likely be fired on the spot.

This was unlike her, she knew, but she didn’t know how to make things better. She had never been in quite this position before, to have her personal life feel so...bleak. She could have been happy with Tom, really. Maybe not deliriously happy, but happy enough. She loved him, she cared. They could have made it work.

Oh, who was she kidding? She wasn’t in love with Tom. Sherlock had done her a favour. But the man she was in love with had been playing at a relationship with someone else, so...she had no clue what to do there.

She finally got home, rather surprised at that because she had been so lost in her thoughts, and reached in her handbag for her keys. She noticed, though, there was a floral arrangement on the ground and then she smiled slightly. Probably for Mary from John, she thought to herself before kneeling down to pick it up. It was actually quite lovely and she was surprised it hadn’t been snatched, even though her front door was behind a gate; it looked like a mixture of multicolored lilies and roses and looked so vibrant and cheerful. There was a card stuck inside and she looked at it, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw her name on it.

That was curious.

She managed to shuffle things around so that she didn’t drop the flowers and could still get her keys out, and took everything inside once she got the door open. It didn’t appear Mary was inside, so she took it all into her blue tiled kitchen and set the flowers on the counter before opening the envelope. Inside was a card with hearts on the front, and when she opened it in perfect cursive was written "Deep inside you there is a roaring fire that is not cooled by comfort or tamed by fear. A fire that burns in all things."

She stared at the note for a long moment and then set it down. Most people would be flattered to receive a note and flowers from a secret admirer, but most people did not have the friends she had. Most people had not lived the life she had. There was only one thing she could do: call Sherlock Holmes.

CHAPTER 2