#The Milk Carton Kid arc

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Colder Weather

Paranormal Preteens AU: Episode Twenty-One

A JSE Fanfic

Welcome to the third season of PNPT—both in the sense of the time of year, and in the sense of an arc of a story. The kids have laid low for a while, but they're still planning to meet up and talk about stuff, just to be sure nothing's happening. But something does happen. JJ gets something strange from their school. Could the Circle or Anti be involved? Read to find out! :D

More of this AU | From the Start

++++++++++++++++++++

Winter break was coming up. A week after the paperpillar incident, the school officially put its Christmas decorations up—though some teachers had their classrooms decorated since the beginning of November. The kids hadn’t had any trouble from the teachers belonging to the Circle. Which was a bit strange. After all, Mrs. Karter went out of her way to confront them. The Circle must have known what they talked about. Maybe the Circle was also waiting. Waiting to see what the kids would do.

Well, the truth was, not much. They’d agreed to lay off the supernatural hunting until after the holidays. And even if they hadn’t, the end of the term was fast approaching, and that meant they had to get through exams before they could finally have their winter holiday. 

“I hate exams,” Chase complained one day at lunch.

“Yes, you have said that a lot,” Schneep muttered. “And I tell you, once the exams are done, they are done. You do not have to worry about them.”

JJ shook his head. It’s the buildup that’s the worst. The anticipation. And then when it’s finally the day, there’s a time limit to complete it. It’s too much pressure.

“Yeah, well, at least you get fucking hundreds all the time,” Marvin said, idly tearing apart his empty milk carton. “Imagine what it’s like for those of us who aren’t actually that smart.”

You’re very smart, Marvin, just not in a school way, JJ said.

Marvin blinked. “Yeah. And... we’re in a school.” He gestured around at the cafeteria. “Where did you think we were? Fucking outer space?”

JJ rolled his eyes. Okay, I get it.

“Stacy, what do you think about exams?” Schneep asked.

Stacy shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I don’t really have strong feelings? Uh... I think I hate homework more, though. At least at school it’s usually quiet. So hard to do my work when Roxy is watching Barbie movies in the next room.”

“Anyway, d’you guys think we can meet up after school today?” Chase asked. “I already asked Jackie, and he said he was free all day. We can go to Zelly’s and talk about... stuff.” He gave them all a meaningful look.

The greenlight and Anti? JJ asked.

“Don’t say it out loud!”

JJ raised an eyebrow. I didn’t.

Chase blinked. Then he burst into laughter. “I-I didn’t even realize—that just slipped right by me!”

JJ also chuckled. Most people in this school don’t know BSL. They won’t realize what I’m saying.

“Pretty helpful!” Marvin said cheerfully. “I’ve asked him to help me with exams before but he’s always denied it.”

Because it would still be obvious what I’m doing, I’m not getting you in trouble for that, JJ said.

“Well, I don’t have anything today, either,” Stacy shrugged. “So yeah. I can go to Zelly’s after school.”

“Chase, should we not study?” Schneep asked. “If you are so concerned about exams, studying will help.”

Chase groaned. “We’ll have plenty of time to study today! We’re not gonna be there until bedtime!” He rolled his eyes, then looked right at Schneep. “And if you’re worried about Mom, she’s not gonna be too bothered about us not studying every day. Even with tests coming up.”

Schneep nodded slowly. “I suppose that is true... she has not been like that...” He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Well, if that is the case, we can do so, too.”

JJ frowned. We can’t go directly after school. I have to go to the dean’s office.

“Huh? Why?” Stacy asked. “Did you do something?”

I’m not sure, they just sent a note to my homeroom. I think I’m supposed to pick something up. He sighed.

“Well... be careful.” Chase frowned. “It could be a trap.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna go with him,” Marvin said. “They couldn’t stop me if they tried! And if it does turn out to be something with those Circle guys, I’m prepared.” He drummed his fingers on the table, sending tiny ripples of green light across its surface.

“So... we can go around dinner time, then?” Chase said. “Maybe?”

The others agreed that would work out for all of them. Shortly after, the lunch period ended, and they headed off to their respective classes.

++++++++++++++++++++

JJ’s last class of the day was his Physics class, up on the third floor of the school. It was a long walk down to the first, ground floor where the dean’s office was. Not to mention he had to stop by his locker on the second floor to grab all the textbooks he’d need for homework that night; he never wanted to carry them all around, all day. 

He finished stuffing his bag with the books and turned around, waiting for Marvin to meet him here like they’d planned. He looked one way down the hallway—

And then something flew down the hallway from the other direction and hit the back of his head.

He turned back around, surprised and a bit nervous, and saw a paper airplane at his feet. “Sorry!” a voice shouted, and a boy his age ran up to him. “I wasn’t aiming for you! Guess the design needs some work, haha.”

JJ froze up a little. Oh shit. River Bailey was talking to him.

River was a boy he had a couple classes with, with messy blonde hair and big green eyes. He always wore a brown leather jacket with fur around the collar. Even when strict teachers tried to get him to take it off, he would just put it back on whenever they weren’t looking, like it was a game to see if he could get away with it. Some time last year, JJ realized that he was starting to feel... weird whenever River was around. Like... his face kept getting hot. And he just wanted to stare at him. And he wondered what it would be like to talk to him, really talk to him, outside of school projects, but thinking about that made his stomach jump a little. And then, at the end of last school year, JJ finally had a name for these weird feelings. But he didn’t ever want to say it out loud.

Oh no he’d been quiet for too long. JJ smiled, then reached down and picked up the paper airplane, handing it to River.

“Thanks!” River grinned and took it, examining it. “Yeah, it must be a bit unbalanced.” He looked at JJ. “You’re... Jameson Jackson, right? The quiet kid? With the twin?”

JJ nodded.

“Wicked. Is this your locker?”

JJ nodded again.

“Cool. Mine’s on the corner, there.” River pointed.

It was?! How had he never noticed?!

“See you around!” River smiled and waved, wandering off.

And JJ just stood there, waving back. Wanting to follow after him, but finding his feet rooted to the spot.

Footsteps came up from behind him. “Oooooo.” Marvin appeared at his side as if by magic, grinning. “River talked to you. Congratulations!”

Jameson shoved him. He looked around, slightly panicked, but the hallway was now empty except for the two of them. Don’t say stuff like that! he signed quickly.

Marvin nodded. “Yeah, yeah. D’you know if he knows sign language?”

JJ shook his head. Probably not, to be honest. I’d have to use the notebook.

“Did you?” Marvin asked. “Use the notebook, I mean.”

He shook his head again. There was no time. It was just a passing exchange. That’s all. He looked down at his bag, pretending to zip it up. And I need to get to the dean’s office, remember?

Marvin frowned. “Boo. Fuck the dean’s office. You could’ve had like... an actual conversation. Maybe he’s... you know.”

JJ shook his head again, more fervently than before. He’s probably not. And that’s fine. Now let’s go. He quickly started walking, and Marvin hurried to catch up, falling into place by his side.

A flight of steps and a long hallway later, JJ walked into the dean’s office. The room had glass for walls on two sides, looking out into the school’s front entrance. One of the other walls had windows looking out the front of the school, observing the car park. JJ and Marvin were both very familiar with the layout of the office. The first part was where the receptionist sat, in a big metal desk with an old clunky computer on it. There were a lot of chairs to wait in here, along with a book where you could sign in if you were late to school and missed homeroom roll call. Behind the receptionist desk was another glass wall with an empty doorway in it that led into the dean’s office proper, which was a lot more personally decorated than this front area.

The receptionist—maybe that wasn’t the proper word for the role but neither of the twins knew what the proper word was—looked up as the twins entered. She smiled warmly. A nameplate on her desk identified her as Mrs. Lowe. “Hello there, boys. How can I help you?”

JJ nudged Marvin slightly, and he said, “My brother got a note to see the dean? His name’s Jameson Jackson.” As Marvin spoke, JJ took out said note and passed it to Mrs. Lowe.

“Alrighty, one second.” She took the note, and used the mouse to click something on the computer. “Okay, everything’s set! I’ll go get Mr. Worrall.” And she stood up, going through the empty doorway into the office.

Think it’s worth it to sit down? Marvin asked JJ.

No, hopefully we’re not here too long, JJ said.

Do you think it’s another award thing?

Definitely. That was the only reason he ever went down to the dean’s office. There would be an award ceremony later, but there was always a moment at first when they let him know he won something, maybe passed out a small certificate. They apparently hadn’t contacted Mam and Dad this time, but they didn’t always.

Mrs. Lowe returned with Mr. Worrall, the dean, in tow. “Ah, Mr. Jameson Jackson, always good to see you down here!” he said, clapping his hands together and smiling.

Jameson nodded and smiled back.

“Feels like just yesterday I saw you in here for Excellency in English—or was that Excellency in Maths?” Worrall chuckled in a friendly, but slightly fake-sounding, way. “Well, I’m sure you remember this one. The Royal Choice for winter term. Three years in a row! Very impressive, very impressive. In fact, it’s so impressive, that this year, before the actual assembly, we wanted to give you a little gift. Think of it as an early Christmas present.”

It was then that JJ noticed Mrs. Lowe was holding something. A green gift bag with white tissue paper. She walked over to him and held it out. “Congratulations, Mr. Jackson.”

Well... this was new. Sometimes the awards came with little trophies or medallions. Stuff like that. JJ would think that this was something like that, but the bag was a bit bigger than necessary for a trinket that small. Even so, JJ smiled and took the bag, signing Thank you with his other hand.

“No, thank you, Mr. Jackson, for being such an exemplary student!” Worrell smiled. He knew that sign—but JJ knew from experience that the dean couldn’t follow a full BSL conversation. “Please, carry on. The assembly will be on the nineteenth, at nine o’clock. Please let your parents know.”

The last day before winter holiday. That made sense. JJ nodded again, still smiling, then turned and waved goodbye, heading for the office door with Marvin right behind him. The adults didn’t stop them; apparently they had nothing more to add.

The two of them were quiet until after they left the building. At which point, Marvin started talking. “That was a bit weird. I mean, I’ve never heard of them giving out presents with the award stuff—but then again, I’m not really involved in all that, so I wouldn’t know. But don’t you think it’s a little suspicious?” He leaned closer to JJ. “We know some of the teachers are in with the Circle. And he said the teachers have given you this present. What if it’s—it’s some sort of trap in there?”

JJ considered that. But there’s a chance it could be real, he said. And Mam and Dad would be so upset if they heard that I got some special gift for my academics and we... like, got rid of it or something.

Marvin grumbled. “They don’t have to find out. We could, you know, fucking lie to them?”

Okay, but what if they talk to teachers at the assembly and they ask about how I liked the gift? JJ pointed out. I think we should play it safe. If it turns out to be some Circle thing, we can get rid of it later, and say that we lost it.

“Fiiiiine.” Marvin shook his head. “I think this is a fucking stupid idea, though. What’s in the bag, anyway?”

Let’s wait until we get home, JJ said.

“You can fake your first reaction for Mam and Dad, yknow.”

Well, also it’s cold and I don’t want to waste any more time out here, JJ said, hurrying over to the school bike rack.

“Okay, that’s fair.” Marvin followed him, and the two of them unlocked their bike chains and quickly pedaled off down the street, hoping to get home quickly.

++++++++++++++++++++

Mam was in the kitchen when the twins got home, talking with Granmam. But she immediately stopped once she saw them come in. “Hello boys!” she said, smiling. “Was the ride home from school okay? Oh, what d’you have t’ere, Jameson?”

JJ had put the gift bag into his school bag for the bike ride, but stopped outside to take it out again. He set it down on the kitchen table. I got another Royal Choice award for the term, he said. And the dean said the teachers wanted to give me a gift for getting it every term three years straight.

“Oh!” Mam’s eyes lit up. “Well, take it into the living room, we can open it up t’ere!” She hurried out of the kitchen and towards the staircase. “Rob! The school gave Jameson...” Her voice faded away as she climbed up them.

“Congrats, lad,” Granmam said, giving him a small smile. She was holding a mug in her hand, which she took a sip from. “Either of you want tea? I jus’ made a kettle.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Marvin said. “Thanks, Granmam.”

Same. JJ nodded.

“Very well.” She took another sip. “Well, let’s see what all t’is nonsense is about, t’en. To the livin’ room.”

The whole family crowded into the living room. “Here, sit on the sofa, Jameson,” Dad said, angling him perfectly. Mam was fiddling with the camera, getting it set up. Meanwhile, Granmam sat in the armchair in the corner, frowning while the parents couldn’t see her, and Marvin was sitting on the floor, using a cat toy to play with their kitten, Sinney. Her big green eyes followed the end of the string diligently, but she wasn’t quite coordinated enough to catch it yet.

JJ sat down on the sofa, watching all this, trying not to squirm. “Alright, go on, show what it is,” Mam said encouragingly. He nodded and opened up the gift bag, pulling out the tissue paper until he could see what was inside. What... was it? He’d been expecting something like a congratulatory T-shirt, or maybe some sort of water bottle. This was... weird. He reached inside and pulled out some sort of toy. A doll, made of soft fabric and cotton. It wore a smaller version of the school uniform, and had brown yarn hair and black button eyes. He held it in both hands and squeezed the torso until his fingers touched, going all the way around. There was a tag around the arm that read “Congratulations! Hollewych Secondary School is happy to have you!”

Marvin looked up, seeing it. “What the fuck is that?”

“Language, Marvin,” Dad said idly.

JJ turned the doll around and held it up for the rest of the room to see.

“Whaaaat the fuuuuck?” Marvin said, eyes going wide.

Granmam raised an eyebrow. “Bejesus. T’at’s an odd t’ing to give your student, isn’ it?”

“Oh, but I t’ink it’s cute!” Mam said, sounding delighted. “Here, Jameson, smile for the camera.”

JJ did so, smiling while she took a couple pictures. As soon as she was done, he turned it around, looking at it again. Studying it. Yeah... this was weird. This was very weird. And a bit creepy. He didn’t like the dead stare of the button eyes. He shivered, then quickly put the doll down, deciding to change the subject. The dean said they’d give me the certificate at an assembly on the nineteenth, at nine o’clock.

“Oh good! I can put in a vacation day request,” Dad said. Behind him, Marvin rolled his eyes.

“We’ll be right t’ere, cheering you on!” Mam added cheerfully.

Marvin groaned slightly. Granmam glanced at him, then cleared her throat. “Well, take yer mans up to your bedroom, t’en, Jems. Put it somewhere... safe.”

JJ nodded, standing up. Oh, before he forgot. Mam, Dad, some friends invited us out to dinner. Can we go?

“With exams coming up?” Mam frowned.

“Come on, Em, he’s clearly been working hard enough,” Dad said. “You can go, Jameson, don’t worry. But remember when bedtime is. You need to be home before that, so call us well before then. To account for driving times.”

JJ nodded again. He picked up the doll and looked over at Marvin, jerking his head back to the hallway. Marvin carefully moved Sinney off his leg and stood up, and the two of them headed upstairs to their bedroom.

Marvin closed the door as soon as they were inside. “Okay, but we can agree that thing’s fucking weird, right?” He pointed at the doll. “Who the fuck gives something like that as an award for—for whatever the fuck you did?”

JJ tossed the doll into the corner, where it disappeared behind a pile of dirty clothes. It’s creepy.

“Huh? I mean, I guess? I don’t really see it, but if you do, sure. It’s more like—like why the fuck would you do that? That’s such a weird thing to give you. It feels... personal.”

It does. JJ shuddered. Perhaps that was partly why the doll was creeping him out. So... do you think it might be from the Circle after all, then?

“Oh, for sure. I’m not sure why, but it definitely is.” Marvin glared into the corner. “Maybe it’s supposed to spy on us or something. Throw it out the window.”

We can’t do that, JJ said. You know Mam and Dad will ask about it for a while. They might even want to put it in the living room or something.

“Fuck them! Come on, JJ, say it with me.” Marvin began chanting it. “Fuck them! Fuck them! Fuck them! Fuck—”

JJ laughed. He shook his head. Stop it, they might hear you.

“They’re downstairs, they can’t hear shit.”

Okay, but seriously, we can’t get rid of it yet, JJ said. We should at least tell the others and get their advice.

“Hmm... yeah, we shouldn’t leave them out of it,” Marvin agreed. “Let’s get changed and get ready. Sounds like Dad wants to drive us there.”

The twins quickly changed out of their school uniforms and into more casual clothes. Then they hung around their room for a while before it was time to go. JJ tried to concentrate on the book he was reading... but somehow, he kept finding his attention drawn to the corner where the doll was. It felt like he waited forever before it was finally time to leave for Zelly’s.

++++++++++++++++++++

“Ah man, everyone else is here.” Chase plopped down into one of the last seats at the table. “I thought we’d be early.”

“Dad dropped us off so we got here faster than we usually do,” Marvin said. “Which like, just makes me want a car. To get places fast. But I do like biking, but it takes so long, y’know?”

“Takes longer in other places,” Jackie said, taking a drink from his glass of water. “We’re really lucky that we can walk to a lot of places.”

Schneep sat down next to Chase and picked up the menu. “Did you all order the orders yet?”

Stacy giggled. “Order the orders.”

“What? It is correct in grammar.”

“No, it is, it’s just funny to hear. Anyway, we didn’t, we told the waiter we were waiting for you.” She giggled again. “Told the waiter we’re waiting.”

Schneep frowned. “English can be strange. But I suppose German can also be strange.”

“So.” Chase folded his arms on the table. “Have any of you guys seen anything weird? Uh, especially, like... Has Anti shown up to any of you guys?”

The group all shook their heads in unison. Not since he knocked out Mrs. Karter and said that stuff about challenging us, JJ said.

“Which was so strange,” Stacy muttered. “This is all like... a game to him.”

“And it’s not to us?” Jackie said. “To you guys?”

“I got pushed down the stairs,” Marvin emphasized. “That’s not a game! That’s—that’s child endangerment!”

Jackie burst into laughter. “God, you’re right, actually.” He coughed, and stopped laughing, becoming serious again. “I’ve been looking more into Jack McLoughlin. I still don’t know where he is or where his family moved to, but Ram’s dad told me something strange when I was over at their house for a game. Apparently the McLoughlins moved really suddenly. Ram’s dad worked with Mr. McLoughlin, and he didn’t tell anyone at his work that the family was moving. Not even his bosses. He just didn’t show up one day, and when the work called him, he quit over the phone.”

“Maybe he simply hated his job?” Schneep asked.

“Maybe. But I’m just saying, that’s not how it usually works. And I don’t think the kids at school knew Jack would be going away until right before he did. He wasn’t really talking about it, y’know?”

Chase frowned. “Weird. I remember Mom and Dad talked about the move for a long time before we moved here. I told all my friends at school, and packing up the boxes took a while, and like... there was stuff with the mail, I think?”

“Moving is a whole process, especially if you’re moving countries,” Jackie agreed. “It’s strange that they just kinda... disappeared one day.”

Maybe they had a reason they had to get out of town fast, JJ said.

“Like Anti,” Stacy added in a quieter voice.

“Like Anti,” Jackie said, nodding.

“Ah... this is not too important to the matter,” Schneep said slowly. “But... what do you mean by ‘a game’? Were you playing sports at your friend’s house?”

Jackie laughed. “I mean, I’d be down to, if my friends wanted to. But nah. We usually meet up at Ram’s house for... uh...” He paused. “Have... you guys heard of Caverns and Creatures?”

“That nerd game where you pretend to have magic?” Marvin asked. Unconsciously, Chase, Stacy, and Schneep all glanced at the cape Marvin was wearing before looking away.

“Yeah, the nerd game where you pretend to have magic. I mean, my character doesn’t have magic, but others do—anyway. We, uh... do that. There. Ram’s good at running campaigns.”

“Campaigns?” Schneep asked.

“That’s what you call a C&C game,” Jackie explained. “It’s a whole thing. If you guys ever want to learn more about it I’d be happy to show you guys.” His eyes lit up as he said that. “I love to get people into it, and I’d love to try CMing sometime—Uh, I mean. If you guys don’t think it’s weird.” Jackie coughed, suddenly looking awkward.

“Uh... I’m not... usually into magic and stuff, but... if you’re interested, maybe?” Chase said reluctantly. He hoped that nobody at school would hear about that. But—no, he shouldn’t care about that. It’d be something fun with his friends. Still... playing a game like that was a step far into the dorky crowd. He wasn’t a dork... or at least not that much of a dork.

We can talk more about it later, JJ said. For now, me and Marvin have something to tell you.

“Yeah.” Marvin nodded, backing him up.

The others all instantly sat up straight, all their attention on the twins. “Did something happen?” Jackie asked. “More stuff about the Circle?”

“Well we think so, but I guess we can’t really be sure, it could just be something weird that happened,” Marvin said. “But I mean everything weird has been connected to greenlight or the Circle in some way in this town so I think it has to be connected too. So you all know how JJ had to go to the dean’s office after school? It was cause they had to tell him he got some award or something. And the dean was like ‘because you’ve won this award so much for the last couple years we’re giving you an extra present’ which I guess makes sense, but when we got home and JJ opened up the bag it was this weird doll thing. Like, a plush doll with button eyes. It was so weird.”

It looked creepy, JJ added.

“I can imagine,” Jackie muttered. “But... yeah, that’s very not-normal. I’ve never even heard of that happening.”

“I got an award last year for my art project, I didn’t get a present with it,” Stacy said.

Schneep shook his head. “That is not a thing in Germany, either. You may get a little sticker or something, maybe a medal, but not a toy. Very strange.”

“I dunno much about all that school award stuff, but that sounds freaky,” Chase said. “So, you think the Circle made that happen somehow?”

JJ nodded. We know that some of the teachers are involved. They could’ve pulled some strings to make it happen.

“I bet it’s some sort of fucking... spy thing,” Marvin said. “To make sure we’re staying out of their way like Mrs. Karter told us to. We gotta get rid of it, right?”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Stacy shrugged. “Is that why you brought it?”

The twins both looked at her, identical expressions on their faces. Mostly confusion... with a bit of fear. “Wh-what do you mean?” Marvin asked.

Stacy pointed at JJ’s bag. “Your shoulder bag is kinda unzipped and I can see something that looks all soft and plushy in there. Is that it?”

JJ looked down at his bag. His face drained of color, and he slowly reached down into the bag—oh so slowly, like he was waiting for someone to stop him. But nobody did. He grabbed something, pulling it out through the gap where the zipper is undone. It was a doll, with brown yarn hair and blue button eyes, wearing a tiny blue jacket and black pants. He gasped in surprise upon seeing it, dropping it on the table.

Marvin frowned. “When did you grab the doll? I didn’t see you do that.”

I didn’t. JJ’s signs were shaky. I know I left it at home.

The other kids stared at the doll on the table. “...Jameson,” Schneep said quietly. “Is it... supposed to look like you?”

“Oh. Oh my god, yeah, i-it’s wearing the same outfit you are!” Jackie gasped. “And the brown hair and blue eyes—”

“Wait a second, I don’t think it had blue eyes before!” Marvin protested.

It didn’t. JJ shook his head. And it was wearing different clothes.

“What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?” Marvin said under his breath. “Okay, I’m with you now. This is creepy. And it’s definitely some greenlight shit. We have to get rid of it.”

“How do we do that?” Chase asked.

“It’s fucking fabric and cotton, just tear it apart!”

“Noooo nonono, I-I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jackie said hurriedly. “You guys know about voodoo dolls, right?”

“Hmm?” Schneep blinked. “No, what is that?”

“You know about so much, but you’ve never heard of a voodoo doll?” Chase asked.

“I do not know everything, Chase.”

“It’s fine,” Jackie said. “Uh, basically, a voodoo doll is like—well I think it’s based on a real thing in real life, there’s like a religion in America called hoodoo, I think? I don’t know much about that, though. But in pop culture and shit, a voodoo doll is a doll that’s meant to look like someone, and whatever you do to the doll happens to the person. Like, if you stick a pin in its stomach, the person will feel a sharp pain in their stomach. Or if you hold it underwater the person will have trouble breathing. This doll might be sorta like that.”

JJ was now as white as a ghost. Do you think that’ll happen to me?!

“I don’t know! I-I never thought they’d exist in real life—I mean, like I said, the idea of them in pop culture is probably based on something real but I bet it’s really exaggerated—but other than that, I didn’t think they would—they would—you get what I’m saying, right?” Jackie looked around at the others.

“There’s definitely something weird about how it looks more like JJ,” Marvin muttered.

“But if the doll is like how Jackie described, we should not destroy it, should we?” Schneep fretted. “I do not want JJ to get hurt.”

“He’s not going to get hurt,” Jackie said, looking like he regretted bringing up the possibility. “Here, JJ, just give it to me. I’ll hang onto it. Paul can use it to climb on.” That was what he named the paperpillar after it had shrunk down.

JJ quickly handed the doll over. How is the paper caterpillar, by the way?

“Good, it’s good.” Jackie put the doll in his backpack. “He acts more like a toy than a real animal, I think. One of those robot ones. Doesn’t need to eat anything other than paper, and likes wandering around or ‘sleeping’ sometimes. I’m trying to figure out how to buy a terrarium or something without Dad asking me about it.” He looked around at the others. “Anyone else have anything they wanna report?”

The group all muttered various ‘no’s.

“Great, so we can get food and chill, then,” Stacy said, picking up the menu. “I didn’t know they did actual food, either.”

“I think it’s a new thing,” Chase said. “But last time Schneep and I were here, we got the chicken fingers, they were really good.”

“I want to get that again,” Schneep said. “And I want to hear more about this Cavernous Creatures game Jackie mentioned.”

Jackie laughed a little. “Caverns and Creatures. I think it’s really fun! I mean, I wasn’t too keen on getting into at first, but Sly dragged me into the group he had with Ram, Mincy, and Celine, just for a oneshot, and I really liked it. It can be a bit complicated, though.”

“Isn’t there, like... maths?” Chase asked, making a face.

“It’s just addition and subtraction. But all the numbers could really put people off, I get it.” Jackie grinned. “But it’s mostly very creative. Like writing a story together. Each person makes a character, and they fill out details about the character on a sheet, and that’s where they can also write down the spells and treasure the characters get over the course of an adventure. Then the Cavern Master runs the game, giving you scenarios that you can work through! It’s like—like if any of you have ever played those old text games on computers—”

“Oh, I know those games!” Stacy gasped. “I love those games! And the ones where you click on stuff and do puzzles, too!”

“So... it’s like a video game... but it’s all in your brain?” Chase asked, tilting his head to the side as he considered this.

“Well there’s a board,” Jackie said. “And little pieces you can move around—but the pieces are usually pretty expensive so Ram just uses anything they have around the house.” He laughs.”But yeah! Kinda like a video game in your brain.”

“Oooo.” That did sound more fun than Chase thought. There would still be math, but he could put up with math if the rest was fun. “Okay, I’m kinda wondering about it too, now.”

“What about you two?” Schneep looked at the twins. “Are you interested?”

Marvin scoffed. “How dare you assume that I... would not be interested in a game where you can cast magic spells. Do you even know me?”

JJ chuckled a little. Marvin’s always been curious, but we’ve never known enough people to try it out in a group.

“Yeah, and you have too, don’t lie,” Marvin said, bumping his shoulder against JJ’s.

A little bit, JJ said slowly. Marvin rolled his eyes.

“Well, if all of you guys are curious I could... maybe... ask Ram to borrow some of their CM stuff,” Jackie said slowly, trying not to look too excited. “And we could hang out and try it out.”

As talk moved on, JJ slowly started to relax. The doll changing had really freaked him out. But it was fine now. Jackie could keep it, and they could figure out if they could get rid of it later. Everything was fine.

++++++++++++++++++++

When JJ and Marvin got home from dinner with their friends, their dad sent them straight upstairs to get ready for bed. Even if bedtime wasn’t actually for a couple more hours, he wanted them to be ready. Marvin groaned and complained but did it anyway. JJ did it without the groaning and complaining.

The two of them spent the last couple hours before bedtime hanging out with Granmam, all of them watching Sinney play in the living room. The time passed surprisingly quickly, and soon, it was 9:00 and time for bed. “You two are old enough t’get at least another hour,” Granmam complained. “But no arguin’ wit’ your parents, I s’pose. G’night, lads.”

They headed up the stairs—Jameson was sometimes nervous around them, ever since their birthday, he couldn’t know how Marvin could handle it—and into the room. “I’m gonna be tossing and turning,” Marvin muttered, heading straight for the bunk bed ladder. “Too fucking early.”

JJ shrugged. Good night, anyway. He turned off the overhead light and walked over to the bunk bed... and noticed something. A shape on his pillow. He couldn’t really make it out in the darkness, but he knew it wasn’t there earlier. Confused, he walked back over to the light switch, flipped it on, and hesitantly looked again—

It was the doll.

JJ let out a little shriek and backed up.

“Jameson?!” Marvin leaned over the side of the bunk, knowing that something really serious must’ve happened if JJ screamed. “What is it?! Are you okay?!”

He didn’t answer. His eyes were locked onto the doll... which was now wearing smaller copies of his pajamas. Slowly, he walked forward and grabbed the doll, holding it by its arm and as far from his body as possible. He held it up for Marvin to see.

“What the—” Marvin started to yell, then quickly corrected himself to a whisper-shout. “...what the fuck?!”

JJ shook his head, speechless. It was definitely the same doll. Either that, or someone had broken into their house to put an identical doll in a different outfit on his bed. He wasn’t sure which option was creepier.

“Throw it out the window!” Marvin hissed.

JJ didn’t argue. He ran over to the window, threw it open, and dropped the doll into the bushes below. Then he spun back to face Marvin. We have to tell the others!

“Gimme the phone, I’ll call them.”

The phone was on their dresser. JJ grabbed it and handed it to Marvin. Then he paced back and forth while Marvin tried to call their friends one by one.

“Ugh, no use,” Marvin finally said. “None of them are answering.”

Text them, then, JJ said. They’ll see it in the morning.

“You’re a faster texter, you do it.”

JJ took the offered phone and quickly typed out a message, sending it to all of their friends. The doll is back. It showed up on my bed despite Jackie taking it. I threw it out the window but it might do something like that again. Me and Marvin are gonna try to sleep now but call as soon as you see this no matter the time. He didn’t want to put the phone back on the dresser so he instead set it on the floor next to his bed. So he could lean over and grab it if he heard anything happen.

“Do we just fucking go to sleep now?!” Marvin asked, staring at the window.

I guess we try to?? JJ said.

“I... I guess? I don’t... know what else we can do...” Marvin trailed off. “Do you, um, think Mam and Dad would get upset if we left the lights on?”

JJ nodded sadly. You know how they are about the bills.

“Yeah... But is it worth it to keep them on anyway?”

JJ shook his head. I don’t think so.

Marvin was quiet for a while. “Well... if you don’t think so, we won’t do it. But... fucking hell.”

Yeah. That was the best way he could put it.

They turned off the lights and each climbed under their blankets. But JJ knew Marvin would still have his eyes open, looking towards the window. He knew it because he was doing the same thing.

The night was silent. But even so, it took them both a long time to fall asleep.

[dollhousemary]

supernatural amvs i’d sell my soul to see….2!

(mostly destiel this time because i had hardly any on the last one and i’m tired of holding back)

sunrise, sunset amv with a focus on family/parent-child relationships

mini cas amv set to a recording of the poem “epitaph” by merrit malloy

destiel amv set to all the things by the milk carton kids

destiel amv set to how to rest by the crane wives

mary amv set to wax & wane by alana henderson

cas amv set to vincent by don mclean

destiel amv set to undeniable you by jukebox the ghost

destiel amv set to pretty little things by the crane wives

destiel amv set to all my little words by the magnetic fields

destiel divorce arc amv set to i’ll wear your ring by trixie mattel

cas amv set to when love loves alone by madison cunningham

destiel amv set to you matter to me from waitress

general amv set to children will listen from into the woods (the liz callaway version)

destiel amv set to the spiritual by jukebox the ghost

destiel amv set to the book of love by peter gabriel

dean amv set to metaphor by the crane wives

cas, anna, and uriel amv set to icarus by the crane wives (maybe more of the angels too?)

destiel and bellarke parallels amv….doesn’t even matter what song it’s set to

mary amv set to all my daughters by dodie

the parents of supernatural amv set to lament from into the woods

destiel amv set to little fall of rain from les mis (the 2012 movie version i’m sorry. i grew up with it 😔)

[lover-of-mine]

end of season 2/ beginning of season 3 of Lone star is really chaotic. They burned down the firehouse, almost killed tarlos, killed Tommy's husband, tried to convince us Billy wasn't that bad, Billy closed the firehouse, the firehouse was about to be torn down, they broke up tarlos, they exiled Owen to the woods, there was a storm, TK almost died again, Owen ends up in a hostage situation with illegal immigrants that Marjan rescues him from, Grace has her kid in a tour bus, tarlos gets back together and a billionaire that made money from selling milk cartons pays for the 126 to be reopened because Paul saved his kid. And that's like? 6 episode? That somehow feel dragged as fuck? Like the 4 episode arc with the storm was a pain to get through the first time. Not now watching it back to back doesn't feel as bad but God THERES TOO MUCH HAPPENING.

[thelostboys-rp]

{Arc} The Milk Carton Kid

Laddie had once been reported missing by his family. After his ordeal with the Lost Boys, he returned home and was reunited with his parents. On the anniversary of his disappearance, his life abruptly falls apart.

1. Have You Seen Me?

Summary: Laddie hasn't been in school for nearly a week, and his friends are worried.

2. Family Isn’t Always By Blood

Summary: One week later, Laddie receives the reassurance from his friends about his situation.

[makerofmadness]

i’ve decided to keep making incorrect fnaf quotes because it’s fun

Michael Afton: Do you take constructive criticism? Fazbear Entertainment: No, only cash or credit.

-

Freddy, watching Chica and Bonnie fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt? The Puppet, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other. Freddy: Then... who’s the strongest out of you three? Chica: The Puppet. Bonnie: The Puppet.  The Puppet: Me.

-

Gregory: Please could you go to the shop and get a carton of milk, if they have avocados get six. Glamrock Freddy, coming back from the store with six cartons of milk: They had avocados!

-

Michael Afton: When I said bring me something back from the beach I meant like a conch shell! Ennard: *Struggling to hold a seagull* Fucking say that next time!

-

Henry Emily: I saw you fall, saw the sinners lay on your corpses... Spring Bonnie: Hey, what’s up with Henry? Henry Emily: I created you, made the pieces perfect, others marveled at your beauty… their gazes may have held envy, though, for none are perfect but you. I was only looking away for a moment, but you were gone. I had failed you. And I fell into despair. The only way to save myself was to create, but I knew… this time I knew I was only making you to die. And I apologize. For I will undoubtedly fail you again. For a short time, there will be peace and beauty, but none in the face of us shall lay undisturbed. The greatest have fallen, and will continue to fall, and I weep for you for being born unto this place, where brother eats brother, and the undeserving rise to fame. Those that have gone against you know they’ve wronged you, and they will stand before the creator, knowing they have sinned. Do not worry, little ones, you will be avenged. Fredbear: ...He made some rock towers and went somewhere else for twenty minutes and when he came back the rock towers were destroyed and people were sitting where the towers once were, so he was sad and made more rock towers. Fredbear, to Henry Emily: Hey, who even is the creator? I thought you were an atheist! Henry Emily: SHUT THE HELL UP, FREDBEAR! I’M TRYING TO BE DRAMATIC AND MYSTERIOUS!

-

Sun: I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

-

Roxy: If looking good was a crime, you’d be a law abiding citizen.

-

Balloon Boy: I know what a prism is! It's where you put bad people.

-

Michael Afton: Are you a cuddler? Freddy: I'm a machine of death and destruction. Michael Afton: Freddy: ...Yeah, I'm a cuddler.

-

Gregory: You can't wake up if you never got to sleep.

-

Freddy: That's not funny. Golden Freddy: I thought it was funny. Freddy: You don't count. You started laughing in the middle of a funeral because you started thinking of a meme you saw on Facebook.

-

William Afton: I could kill you if I wanted. Michael Afton: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

-

Golden Freddy: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”. Golden Freddy: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.

-

The Puppet: You need to be more careful! Freddy, who was dragged into the Puppet’s issue: Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

-

Henry Emily: What do you have? William Afton: A KNIFE! Henry Emily: NO!

-

The Puppet: Ugh, there’s always that weak bitch in the group who isn’t down with murder. The Puppet: *glares at Endo-02* Endo-02: Well, sorry I have morals!

-

Roxy: You're pathetic! Gregory: You're pathetic-er! Moon: You're both losers.

-

Roxy: Do you even know what an amulet is? Glamrock Chica: Of course I do! I eat amulets sometimes. I like the ones with cheese and onions! Roxy: Chica, those are omelettes. Glamrock Chica: Oh. Then I’ve got nothing.

-

Chica: *Gasp* Bonnie: wHAT?? Chica: What if soy milk is just milk introducing itself in Spanish? Bonnie: *inhales* Freddy, in another room with Foxy: Why can I hear screeching?

-

Glamrock Freddy: The odds of this happening by coincidence are vanishingly small. Vanessa: I would say infinitesimally. Daycare Attendant (either/both): And I'd say teenily-weenily. We all know words.

-

Michael Afton with a gun to Scrap Baby’s head: What happens if I pull this trigger? Heaven? Scrap Baby: Bold of you to assume I'll go to Heaven.

- William Afton: They don’t make them like me no more. I’m the last of my kind. Michael Afton: Thank god.

-

Phone Dude: War is heck!

-

Monty: What? I'm not aggressive! Gregory: Last Tuesday, you wacked me with a pair of crocs and stole my chocolate chips? Monty: Survival of the fittest, bitch.

-

Phone Dude: I really like Eminem. Phone Guy: I prefer skittles. Michael Afton: He’s talking about the rapper. Phone Guy: Why would he eat the wrapper?

-

Foxy: I lost Balloon Boy. Mangle: How did you LOSE Balloon Boy?! Foxy: To be fair, he is very small.

-

Circus Baby: I feel awful about killing you.

Michael Afton:

Circus Baby: Even though technically you never even died, so I don’t know what you’re bitching about.

-

William Afton: Why are you always trying to aggravate me? The Puppet: To relax.

-

Gregory: You look mentally ill. Vanny: I am. Let’s go.

-

The Puppet: Some people are like slinkies. Bonnie: What? The Puppet: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. Bonnie: Bonnie: Please don't push Freddy down the stairs. The Puppet, pushing Freddy down the stairs: Too late.

-

Michael Afton: *pitches an idea* Henry Emily, impressed: Huh, there might be something here! Helpy, under his breath: Yeah, a lawsuit.

-

Freddy: Golden Freddy doesn’t look very happy. Chica: That's their happy. They're just a bitch.

-

Monty: Okay, if we can't do it by sheer force, we'll do it my way. Roxy: But your way is sheer force!

-

Toy Chica: You seem familiar... have I threatened you before?

-

Spring Bonnie: Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to burn your house down.

-

The Puppet, looking at a dead phone: How do we bring this thing back to life? Magic? Live sacrifice? I know a guy in town-

-

Gregory:

You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river.

Roxy (”shattered”):

Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in their own pool. Big difference.

-

William Afton, shooing Henry Emily away: Can you go be depressed over there? You’re bumming out my whole area.

-

Michael Afton: Hello, my name is Failure, and you're watching my life crumble into pieces. Michael Afton: *waves his finger and sings like he’s in a Disney Channel intro*

-

Michael Afton: You're alive. Scraptrap: There's no need to sound so disappointed.

-

Foxy: *looks at Balloon Boy* Foxy: Baby boy. Baby. Foxy: *looks at Jeremy Fitzgerald* Foxy: Evil.

-

Jeremy Fitzgerald: Frtiz has no survival skills, his need to win has replaced them. Phone Guy: That can't be true! Jeremy Fitzgerald: Watch this. Jeremy Fitzgerald: Hey Fritz, race you to the bottom of the stairs! Fritz Smith: *Throws himself out a window*

-

The Puppet: Given the circumstances, I will let you hug me for four to five seconds. Freddy: Forty five seconds?!? The Puppet: No! I said four TO five seconds. Freddy, hugging the Puppet: Too late.

-

Golden Freddy: No thanks. Golden Freddy: I'm god.

-

William Afton: And then they ran into my knife. They ran into my knife ten times. Henry Emily: You mean you stabbed them? William Afton: They ran into my knife.

-

Foxy: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO- Balloon Boy: It was me... Foxy: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

-

Funtime Foxy, knocking on the door: Eggs Benedict, open up! Michael Afton: It all started when I was a kid. Funtime Foxy: That’s not what I- Funtime Freddy: Let him finish!

-

Glamrock Chica: Where are your parents? Gregory: What are parents? Glamrock Chica: That’s just about the saddest thing I've ever heard.

-

Gregory: I’m sick and tired of being called 'mortal' like, you don’t know that. Neither do I. I have never died even ONCE. Nothing has been proven yet. Stop making assumptions. It’s rude.

-

Henry Emily, at William Afton’s funeral: I need a moment with him. Everyone: Of course. *They leave* Henry Emily, leaning over William Afton′s coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not dead. William Afton: Yeah, no shit.

-

Happy Frog: Ah ready for another fantastic day of being better than Freddy Fazbear.

-

Henry Emily: The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was changing his name to William Afton.

-

Bonnie: Damn, the power went out. Freddy: Don’t worry, I got this. Freddy: *shakes rapidly and starts to light up* Bonnie: What-? Freddy: I swallowed a glow stick! Bonnie, on the verge of tears: WHY WOULD YOU-

-

Freddy: Hey besties- The Puppet: Die. Freddy: What did I do to you-

-

Gregory: Get in, loser, we’re committing vehicular manslaughter!

[burnoutandbookworms-ohmy]

Ranboo and Phil decided to joke about irl lore, so naturally you and an entire Discord gotta start generating a bunch of scenarios. 

Techno screaming “AND I’LL PUT TO THROUGH YOUR TEETH” and then RUSHING at Quackity while carrying a fake pickaxe

Wilbur “blows up” the Vidcon building/L’Manberg by throwing TNT plushies and Phil smacks him him with the toy diamond sword to kill him.

Any CC says “it was never meant to be”. Screams, cheers and salutes from various fans ensue. 

Alternatively, the instrumentals for Hallelujah play and there are suddenly several people saluting.

Techno and Dream coming in to blow up L’Manberg again. More plushies, destruction of (what I imagine to be made of cardboard or Legos) this country continues.

Tommy getting Dream to take off costume armor at the Disc Finale.

Dream taking off this costume armor to reveal a prisoner outfit with an extra mask underneath his mask.

More under the cut:

BBH carries around this giant plush red Egg and is in what looks like the edgiest of dark leader cult robes

Skeppy ends up wrapped in a red blanket while Bad, Ant and Punz circle him. Just, going around a random red Egg like it’s a summoning circle. Whatever or whoever’s in the Egg just pops out at some point.

Foolish spends several hours of the con crying over a chandelier as he picks up and puts down several foam Minecraft blocks.

He does the whole "god brings down lightning strike thing" but he just pulls out a yellow pool noodle lightning bolt and throws it at the Eggheads. Ranboo and Tubbo are vibing nearby

And by vibing I mean crouching behind a table yelling "IS FOOLISH JESUS" but Ranboo’s too tall so absolutely none of his body is being hidden by the table. 

Ranboo and the Dream voice but Dream's just kinda chilling there behind him with the cheapest mask ever. He’s T-posing and Ranboo just keeps laughing because how can you keep a straight face when Dream is just THERE trying to tell you how you may or may not have blown up a community house.

"You blew up the community house," Dream says, as he T-poses while circling Ranboo like the Earth around the sun. Ranboo is trying to maintain his lore voice and failing. Tubbo is probably cackling somewhere.

Phil is laughing constantly the entire time trying his best not to but it is Phil. He must laugh.  Foolish proceeds to get everyone in the DSMP to shift dance with him live.

Alternatively Vid Con lets Dream use the intercom, the only problem is that people would randomly here "You blew up the community house." with ABSOLUTELY NO CONTEXT.

Ranboo carrying grass blocks but it's just him holding a giant grass block plush.

The duel between Dream and Tommy but it's Nerf Guns or rubber arrows

Exile arc but the walls being built around L'Manberg is Legos being surrounded by this tiny country or those foam blocks at trampoline parks.

Tubbo's execution but once again it's just this really big Nerf gun or something. Maybe with some streamers or confetti for the fireworks

They do all the Tales for Karl but every single one of them is scuffed. Techno and Quackity are somehow the most accurate to their characters, Ranboo just has a milk carton taped to him, and Tubbo has a fake mustache for the Wild West one.

Dream just has the fakest fake wig on for Ranbob. The other Karls in the Inbetween are just the other CCs but with Karl hoodies on. They have really cheap bad wigs for the Karls too.

The Pit but it's the Dashcon ball pi-[GUNSHOT] 

The Masquerade but when Techno orders Ranboo to kill Karl it's just a fake Minecraft sword.

DUCK DUCK GOOSE IRL

The Pit "effects" are a bunch of confetti and water guns.

Ranboo's characters having a lot of milk but he just reaches into a backpack and pulls out boxes and boxes of those small juice/milk boxes you'd drink as a kid. When it gets to Ran he replaces those boxes with an incomprehensible amount of grass block styled foam blocks.

BBH trying to convince Techno to join the Eggpire and successfully getting Ranboo down to the Egg but it plays out like Techno and Puffy just looking down at Ranboo, who is crouched on the ground/mat thing next to a big red plush Egg and mumbling.

THE EGG VOICE IS JUST BAD OR ANT WHISPERING MENACINGLY BUT REALLY LOUDLY AND NONE OF THEM CAN REACT TO IT PROPERLY SO YOU HAVE THEM ASKING THIS DEAR EGG TO REPEAT

Prison but it's the equivalent of a time out corner

The Tommy death scene but Dream has a bowl of mashed potatoes

Revival scene but Tommy's just literally yanked over by Dream as a way of representing him being revived. Like Wilbur just looks up from his competitive solitaire game and Tommy’s yoinked away.

Quackity has a paper plate with the Mexican flag colours for Mexican Dream’s mask.

Dream XD but Dream stands on a stool while T-posing the entire time, Techno and Phil standing buy a cheaply decorated table or chairs making a table for the End portal. He just carries away each chair or the whole table to break the portal. 

Alternatively, the End portal is a pile of boxes and DreamXD just BODY SLAMS into it to "destroy" it.

Jack Manifold crawling himself out of hell but he literally crawls across the floor or something into a different patch for the land of the living

Bonus: FUNDY PUSHING JACK OFF THE STAGE FOR THE MANIFALLOFFBRIDGE BIT (obviously not too hard that he’d hurt himself)

[good-rwbyaus]

An AU where Jaune is like a big brother figure for Oscar and Whitely.

big brother jaune /  mod lilac

I’ve had quite a bit of this written around Volume 5. I haven’t had the time to watch further into RWBY. :(. There’s only two pieces for this one. Might continue it in the future. 

1. Baggage Check

“-hate her! She left us both behind and never looked back! And what’s worse is that Weiss went and did the same thing!” Whitley stomped at the snowy grounds overlooking the Schnee Mansion. 

“She knew what Father was like after Winter ran off! Making sure we only made friends with the right sort of people while the wrong sort would be “persuaded” to stop. The random people that kept an eye on us without even trying to hide. Not being allowed to leave the house unless it was an ‘approved’ destination!”

Whitley gritted his teeth as he looked up at the Bullhead that brought them all to the cliff overlooking the manor.   

“And when Father was finally letting up, she goes off to become a huntress in an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT KINGDOM!” The kid panted to catch his breath, years worth of grievances finally finding its way out.  

“She left me behind,” the boy said softly, sniffling, “She knew what Father would be like, and she chose to leave me behind.“

“And because of that, I’ll hate her forever.” 

Jaune could only stand there mouth agape at Whitley’s sudden outburst; all he had asked was about how his eldest sister was. And well…he got this.

From the looks of it, he wasn’t the only one at a loss, given the way Oscar’s been eyeing him anxiously expecting him to say something.

But what do you say to something like that?

—————————–

2. First Encounter

It all started when Weiss brought them to the Schnee Manor to recuperate. It’d been late in the evening, and everyone decided to hit the hay. Sadly for him, he found himself waking up in the middle of the night, stomach growling, so naturally he went downstairs to raid the fridge.

Weiss said to treat this place like their home, right? 

Only to find a white-haired boy beat him there first. The kid stared straight at him like a deer in headlights, not even noticing the milk carton he was drinking from beginning to spill its contents onto his pajamas. 

“Uhhh…hey. You’re…” Jaune nudged his chin towards the boy.

The kid pulled the carton away from his mouth in a panic. 

“There weren’t any cups!” 

His eyes couldn’t help but glance at the counter. Porcelain mugs and glass cups lined the shelves.

The boy traced the path of his gaze and reddened. 

“They’re all dirt-” he hastily shot out. 

“Hey kid, relax,” he brought his hands up hastily, “I’m just looking for something to eat.”

“I’m not a kid. I’m Whitley Schnee, heir of the Sc-”

“Oh, you’re Weiss’s little brother,” he interrupted. 

The look of fury in Whitley’s eyes told him that might’ve been the wrong thing to say.

“She is no sister of mine, “ the boy said unhappily as he crossed his arms, eyes glaring - as if daring him to say otherwise.

“Okaaay then,” he said diplomatically before keeping quiet.

The boy fidgeted for a moment before impatiently saying, “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

“Oh yeah. I’m Jaune Arc, one of y-”

“Wait, Arc? As in Julius Arc? As in Hero of the Great War and wielder of Crocea Mors Arc?” the boy asked with shining eyes. And then as though realizing how fanatical he sounded, he added with a controlled harumph, “Not that I care about Hunters or matters pertaining to them.” 

“Errr…yeah, that’s my great-great-grandfather.”

“You really don’t look the part,” Whitley said dubiously, back arched straight as he eyed the bunny onesie. 

“Hey. Don’t diss the onesie, “he countered grumpily, “you know how much cereal I had to eat to redeem it?” 

“Wait. From the Pumpkin Pete drawing?” Whitley replied incredulously as he leaned forward to examine the bunny in the dim lighting. The boy’s head suddenly lifted over to look at him. Even in the darkness, Jaune could tell he was being glared at. “You know they only made ten of those?”

“Well, yeah. I wouldn’t have eaten so much cereal otherwise.” 

“Y-you’re wearing a collector’s item like common clothing. That’s a crime.” Whitley accused, jabbing a finger in his direction.

“What crime?! They’re pajamas! They’re meant to be worn!” Jaune defended.

Creeeaak.

Both of them ducked down in unison as if to hide in the dark, a still silence between them. After a tense couple of seconds listening to the fading footsteps , the pair looked over at each other. 

He wasn’t quite sure who broke the silence first, but he remembered letting out a chuckle. And then it became outright laughter at how ridiculous they were being. The boy beside him seemed to have been infected by the same mirth that had overtaken him because he began doing the same. 

It was right then in the dark during a midnight snack run that an unlikely friendship was forged. 

[ahatintimestorybook]

A Royal Problem Chap.9 Cooking Lessons and Realizations

Hello everyone! Here is the next chapter, and it's another filler, but the last filler for now since the next arc/act is going to be the next chapter.

For this story I plan some filler chapters in between certain arcs just as a breather since the arcs on the chapters will be long as shown from my Dead Bird Studios one. Especially the next arc, which I think you guys would like.

Also thanks to ReaderDragon for being my Beta Reader. You're the best!!!

Enjoy the chapter!!!!

Vanessa

It was that same dream again.

Vanessa

Come here.

Vanessa froze, and stepped back from the voice who was calling out to her. As she stepped back the ghostly figure got close to her.

What’s wrong Vanessa?

I thought you cared for-

Vanessa’s eyes quickly opened and saw she was still on Hat Kid’s ship, sleeping in her bed. She turned to see if she woke Hat Kid or Snatcher up, but saw they were still asleep. The latter was snoring loudly, which Vanessa was used to back in the day. She sighed seeing it was all just a dream, a horrible dream that could have turned into a nightmare if she hadn’t woken up. Vanessa lied back down and turned to Hat Kid, not falling back to sleep at the slightest. The dream still played in her head as well as the previous dream of-

Vanessa stopped at her thoughts when she smelt something in the kitchen. It smelt like food, knowing it was C.C cooking breakfast for her, Hat and Snatcher. She wished she knew what time it was, but since they were up in space it felt like nighttime. Slowly, she got out of bed and went over to the window to see where the sun was pointed. It looked like the sun was rising, which relieved her. Vanessa looked back at the two kids sleeping before walking to the kitchen to see what C.C was making.

C.C was humming a song as she put flour, milk and eggs into a bowl and started to mix it all up. She was going to make pancakes for the kids today, and decided to come earlier to cook and surprise the kids with a big breakfast. As she mixed the pancake batter, she heard the door open and turned to see Vanessa peeking from the door.

“Good morning, Vanessa.” C.C beamed.

“Good morning.” Vanessa whispered walking in the kitchen. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

C.C chuckled. “You're not. I just started making the batter.” She explained. Vanessa tried to look up, but was still a bit short to see what the pancake batter was supposed to look like. C.C then moved one of the chairs for Vanessa to climb up on so she can get a better look.

“Thank you.” Vanessa said, giving a little curtsy before getting up on the chair and seeing the pancake batter.

“You can mix it if you want.” C.C suggested handing Vanessa the mixing spoon. Vanessa looked at the spoon and slowly took it from the cat. She was never offered to mix anything, sure she made cookie dough, but that she made herself, and the cookies were “to die for” as everyone said. It still confused her to what that means.

Vanessa stared at the bowl and at the spoon before putting the spoon into the bowl and started to mix, hard. C.C grabbed Vanessa’s arm stopping her from mixing too fast. “Woah. Woah slow down there.” Soon C.C felt Vanessa flinch the second she grabbed the young princess’s arm. Quickly, she pulled away. “Sorry darlin’ didn’t mean to grab ya there, but you were stirring fast.”

“It's. Alright.” Vanessa whispered as she rubbed her arm. C.C frowned realizing something was bothering the girl, she was going to ask her but with how early it was she decided to hold off on it for now. Vanessa continued to mix, slowly this time till the batter turned nice and smooth. “Does this look good?” She asked, showing the batter to the cat chef.

C.C looked at the creamy pancake batter and smiled. “Yes, that’s perfect!” Vanessa smiled and clapped in joy. She handed the batter to C.C who started to make the pancakes. “Would you grab the eggs, bacon and fruit for me please?”

Vanessa sighed hearing the word bacon, as she walked over to the fridge grabbing the carton of eggs, a package of bacon, and a small fruit platter. Vanessa put the fruit on the table and handed C.C the bacon and eggs. The cat smiled and grabbed a few eggs to scramble them along with bacon to cook. Vanessa watched in disappointment when she saw the bacon cooking. She gave a sigh, which caught the cat’s attention.

“Anything wrong darlin?” C.C asked.

“Yeah.” Vanessa sighed.

Before Vanessa could answer, C.C answered for her. “Is it the bacon?” She asked. Vanessa nodded. C.C slightly chuckled. “Now, why in tarnation would a sweet little girl like you not like bacon?”

Vanessa sighs. “Because Luke likes it. No. Loves it more than me.” She whined.

C.C stood there quietly for a bit before laughing. The cat chef laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach. Vanessa was confused, and tilted her head over why C.C was laughing. C.C started to calm down from her laughter and turned back to the young girl. “Sorry for laughin’ darlin’.” she apologized. “But, isn’t it a bit much to hate bacon just because Luke likes it more than you?”

“That’s what everyone said.” Vanessa mumbled.

The chef cat gave a small smile and ruffled Vanessa’s hair a bit. The young princess looked up at the cat. “Well, let’s put it this way.” C.C started. “What do you love more than Luke?”

Vanessa thought and snapped her fingers remembering, “I love sweets. Like cookies, strawberry shortcake, chocolate cupcakes, chocolate pudding with cookie crumbs on top, cookie dough ice cream, macarons,”

C.C cut that young princess off, “basically every known dessert in the world?” She asked.

“Yep!” Vanessa beamed.

C.C smiled at the young princess knowing she acted a lot like Hat Kid when it came to sweets. “So, how did you handle bacon when Luke liked it?” C.C asked.

“Easy, I banned bacon at the man-I mean home. I banned it at home.” Vanessa explained, catching herself as she had a role to play as Hat Kid’s little sister. She couldn’t mention anything about the manor.

“Well that’s mean.” C.C commented. Vanessa shrugged. The princess didn’t know how to reply to that. With that C.C could continue with her explanation. “So, back to your favorite foods. How would you feel if Luke decided to ban sweets at home?” She asked.

Vanessa felt her eye twitch thinking of Luke, her love, banning sweets from her. She would never allow Luke to touch any of her favorite foods. “If Luke ever touched my favorite foods, I’d kick him below the belt. Hard.” She threatened.

“Woah. Woah. Easy there tiger.” C.C reassured as she put her paws on Vanessa’s shoulders. Vanessa started to calm down, but glared at the cat chef. “Now do you wonder why I asked that?” She asked.

Vanessa opened her mouth, but closed it realizing the chef cat was right. Even though Lucas didn’t look upset when she banned bacon in the manor, he might have been holding it in for her. If Lucas did it to her, she would have been upset that she’d go through a tantrum. Something a princess should never do.

Though Lucas was never like that. He was kind, sweet, and would take a bullet, a sword, or any harmful weapon for Vanessa. It made the young princess feel guilty that Lucas was nothing but nice to her and she just treated him like a toy.

Vanessa closed her mouth realizing the truth and nodded. C.C gave a light chuckle and pet the girl on the head. The princess gave a small glare at the cat chef, she already knew what C.C was trying to tell her.

“You see Vanessa, you can’t force someone to give up something they enjoy out of jealousy. You have to understand that you're making the other person feel bad. You can’t control everything in their lives.” C.C explained.

“Wow. You should have told me that many years ago.” Vanessa thought to herself. “I understand.” She mumbled, as that was the only thing to come out of her mouth.

“Good.” C.C replied. “Now, would you like to help me cook the pancakes and serve them to Luke and Hat when they wake up?” The cat asked as she handed a spatula to Vanessa.

Vanessa gave a small smile and nodded as she took the spatula from the cat. The rest of the morning Vanessa helped Cooking Cat with flipping pancakes, and making scrambled eggs and bacon on the side. The princess then put the plates on the table and waited for Hat Kid and Snatcher to wake up.

Once the two other kids woke up, like Vanessa smelling the delicious food C.C was cooking they sat down at the table and enjoyed their breakfast together. “C.C, these chocolate chip pancakes are the best!” Snatcher beameed.

“Ah don’t thank me, Vanessa helped with breakfast.” C.C reminded the young boy. Vanessa smiled as she took a big bite of the pancakes she made.

Snatcher froze, not taking another bite of the pancakes. “Vanessa did what now?” He asked.

“Vanessa helped me cook.” C.C repeated.

Snatcher gulped and pushed the plate of food away from him. C.C and Hat Kid were confused over why the former ghost pushed the princesses cooking away from him. “I think I’m good for breakfast for today.”

“Why?” Hat Kid asked. “I thought you loved bacon?” She reminded the former ghost as she held a piece of bacon with her fork.

“I do! I do!” Snatcher replied to Hat Kid, reassuring her. “It's just…” Snatcher’s voice trailed off as he tried to find the right words to tell Hat Kid explaining about why he wouldn’t eat Vanessa’s cooking. “Vanessa is not the best cook.” Vanessa gave the young prince a glare when he said those words.

Hat Kid gave a small glare to Snatcher for his response. “Snatcher, I don’t think Vanessa’s cooking would be bad if C.C was right next to her the entire time.” She explained.

“Plus I kept an eye on Vanessa, and she didn’t do anything bad with the food.” C.C added.

Snatcher raised an eyebrow as he turned towards Vanessa who just drank her orange juice with a smile. The former ghost sat back down with a glare, and continued eating his breakfast. After breakfast Hat Kid and Vanessa decided to do the dishes together.

“Are we doing anything today?” Vanessa asked as she dried the plates.

Hat Kid sighed, “sorry just another relaxing day.” She replied.

Vanessa pouted as she cleaned up one of the plates and put them in a stack. C.C and Snatcher were cleaning the table seeing the young girl sad over another boring day. The cat gave a smile and spoke up, “well today I’ll be baking cookies. Why don’t you and Luke help me?” C.C suggested.

The young princess gasped in surprise. Snatcher on the other hand froze hearing he and Vanessa will be baking cookies together. A certain memory went through Snatcher’s head; he and Vanessa baked cookies as their first date, which ended with a food fight and almost burning the kitchen of the manor. It was funny back then, but any happy memory with him and Vanessa felt like pain in his chest.

“That would be great! What do you think, Luke?” Vanessa asked. She froze seeing Snatcher frozen in fear like that. “L-Luke, are you okay?” She asked as she put an arm on his shoulder. Snatcher snapped out of it and faced his ex. The latter stepped back a bit.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Sure I’ll bake cookies with you two.” Snatcher replied, stuttering a bit. Vanessa clapped her hands in joy as she hugged her prince tight. Snatcher was uncomfortable with Vanessa hugging him, but she was happy so Snatcher just gave her a light pat on the back.

Hat Kid smiled seeing the royal kids had something to do so she can be focused on finding Time Piece shards and other important time travel stuff. “Well, looks like you have something to do.” Hat Kid said. Vanessa giggled in joy, still hugging Snatcher tight. Snatcher sighed, but gave a small smile knowing he had something to do.

However, that smile faded when Snatcher was given an apron with his ghost face on it. “You just love to mess with me kiddo.” He glared. Hat Kid giggled as she helped Vanessa tie her apron on.

“Come on Snatcher, it looks good on you.” Hat Kid complemented as she finished tying the apron on the young princess. Vanessa looked at her apron and saw it was green with little cats patterned on them. “It was my sister’s, but she gave it to me to remember her by before I left.”

Vanessa giggled. “It’s adorable!” She replied. Hat Kid smiled in agreement. The hat-wearing child then took out a green bow and tied Vanessa’s hair up into a ponytail so it won’t be in her face while she cooks. The young princess smiled seeing how pretty her hair was tied up, it made her feel like a different person.

Snatcher rolled his eyes as he and Vanessa walked into the kitchen where C.C was waiting for them. C.C had everything laid out in front of her for her and the royal kids to start baking cookies. “Are you two ready?” C.C asked.

“We are!” Vanessa beamed. C.C smiled and the three got to work on the cookies. C.C held a cookbook as she gave two bowls to the respective royal kids. The cat then read off the instructions and made Snatcher put the wet ingredients in the one bowl, while Vanessa put in the dry ingredients, though it did cause a massive flour explosion that got everyone covered in flour.

After cleaning up as much flour off of them, Snatcher and Vanessa put the dry and wet ingredients in one big bowl as Vanessa opened the bag of chocolate chips and dumped the entire bag into the dough. “That’s a lot of chocolate chips. You sure you want that much?” C.C asked.

Vanessa smiled. “Of course! I love chocolate chip cookies, and a lot of chocolate chips are better!” She explained as she mixed the dough together. C.C rolled her eyes and gave a chuckle.

“I’m surprised the queen of Subcon loved sweets.” C.C noted.

Snatcher chuckled. “Yep she sure do-” Snatcher cut off as he and Vanessa turned to the cat. “Did you just call her the queen?” He asked.

C.C nodded. “I did, Prince Lucas.” She replied.

Snatcher and Vanessa were both in shock that C.C knew the truth about them. They thought Hat Kid did a great job telling everyone that they were siblings, but looks like C.C looked right through the lie. “Y-you knew?” Vanessa asked.

“Of course! I knew all along.” C.C replied as she walked close to the kids, “I’m guessing a Time Piece did this?” She asked.

“Yeah.” Snatcher replied. He went on to explain what happened before turning back into kids. The fight, the Time Piece breaking and being found by Hat Kid not long after. C.C took all of this in and nodded understanding the situation at hand.

“I’m guessing she did the whole you two are her siblings just to hide the fact that you two messed with her Time Piece and regressed into kids.” C.C explained.

Snatcher and Vanessa nodded, but something came to the princesses mind. “Wait, how do you know about us?” She asked.

“I learned about you guys when I was a kitten. You guys were the rulers of Subcon before going missing and an evil witch took over your kingdom.” C.C explained. Snatcher and Vanessa looked shocked, outsiders of Subcon dubbed them missing?

“What do you mean by missing?” Snatcher asked.

“Well an evil witch cursed the kingdom, turned you the monsters, and that was the cause of the fall of Subcon, right?” C.C asked. Snatcher and Vanessa were still shocked and slowly looked at one another. The outsiders of Subcon saw them as missing then what truly happened. Vanessa felt a bit relieved to know not many people knew her actions was the reason Subcon got destroyed. However, how would everyone react when she told them the real story.

“Your sort of right.” Snatcher mumbled quietly. C.C couldn’t hear him, but Vanessa did and elbowed him hard. Snatcher glared as he rubbed his shoulder as the princess smiled smugly as she finished the cookie dough.

Once the dough was done, the royal kids and C.C started to mold the dough so it could form into a cookie. Vanessa was good at this part, except for the fact the cookie dough balls were different sizes. Some were big, and some were normal sized cookies.

The royal kids put the cookies in the oven and waited for them to bake. As they waited, Snatcher cleaned up the kitchen as Vanessa sat on a chair waiting for the cookies to be done. The young prince glared at the young princess and marched up to her.

“Vanessa.” Snatcher growled. Vanessa turned towards the young prince, “could you at least help with cleaning up instead of sitting there?”

“But I like watching the cookies bake.” Vanessa replied, not looking up at the young prince. Snatcher growled, fuming a bit. He knew Vanessa didn’t like cleaning up. He remembered the dinner dates he had with her and Vanessa would leave her plate there as she went to her room to wait for him. He didn’t want the servants to do much of the work so he ended up doing it for them.

C.C gave a soft chuckle as she put her paw on Vanessa’s shoulder. “I bet the cookies will bake faster if you help Prince Luke with cleaning.” She suggested.

“C.C” Snatcher interrupted. “Could you just call me Snatcher from now on?”

“Sure.” C.C replied with a smile.

Vanessa thought for a bit, she didn’t like cleaning but if C.C told her cleaning could bake cookies faster she could help Snatcher a bit. “I guess I could help.” She said. Vanessa was handed a sponge as Snatcher pushed her towards the sink that was filled with the bowls used for baking. The princess sighed and got to cleaning the bowls.

Cooking Cat walked over to Vanessa to see how well she was cleaning the bowls and saw Vanessa just scrubbing the bowls a bit before putting soap in it and leaving it there. “A lesson in cleaning, Vanessa.” C.C spoke up. “Scrub the bowls thoroughly with hot water with the sponge.” She continued as she showed Vanessa how to scrub the bowls.

“Oh. Okay.” Vanessa replied walking back to sink and cleaning the other bowl like how Cookie showed her. The young princess smiled as she cleaned the bowl and put it on the drying rack. Drying the dishes wasn’t too hard as she had to use a dry towel to clean them. C.C put the bowls back on the shelf, and by the time the princess was done the cookies had about 5 more minutes left. The princess gasped in joy as she saw the cookies were almost done.

“That’s how I got the Mafia to clean up back in Mafia town.” C.C whispered to Snatcher. Snatcher chuckled loving how sneaky the cooking cat was.

After the five minutes were up, the cookies were done and left on a plate to cool. The smell of the cookies made the royal kids sigh in happiness. Once the cookies cooled down it would be time to eat it with a nice cool glass of milk.

C.C chuckled and put her paws around the royal kids. “Well now, I’d say this was a successful cookie baking!” She commented. The royal kids smiled and giggled knowing they had a fun baking experience.

Soon, Hat Kid came in and smelt the cookies from her room. “Wow, you baked these delicious cookies!?” Hat Kid questioned.

“Yep.” Snatcher and Vanessa replied at the same time.

“And, they did it without a fight or argument.” C.C added.

Hat Kid smiled and ruffled the royal kids heads. “I’m so proud of you two.” She said before pulling the two into a tight hug. After letting go of the hug the kids grabbed a cookie and went ahead and ate. The cookie was soft and warm and the extra chocolate chips made it sweet.

For Vanessa, this was the best cookie she had ever eaten.

[nalu-nalu]

Lazy Ass

author: nalu-nalu

pairing: kageyama tobio x hinata shouyou

rating: 16+ (mild swearing)

chapters: 1/?

word count: 4,707

characters: kageyama tobio, hinata shouyou, yamaguchi tadashi, yachi hitoka, ukai keishin (coach), hinata’s mom!!

tags: fluff, angst, sfw, takes place between tokyo and brazil arc, kageyama is embarrassed, hinata’s mom is my favorite, seriously she’s my favorite character i’ve ever written, more platonic than romantic

summary: following the defeat of karosuno in the spring tournament, some of the team members are worried about hinata, who hasn’t shown up in a few days, and is ignoring everyone. kageyama decides to find hinata himself. 

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24409771

an: i really like this and might continue it? though maybe it should just stay as a one-shot, who knows. this is my first haikyuu fic, so be gentle plz <3 

***

It had been a week since the Spring Tournament.

A week since Karosuno had lost to Kamomedai in the quarter finals.

A week since the team boarded the bus for a final time, and drove home in complete silence.

Kageyama remembered the trip in vivid detail. The quiet sniffles in the back from the third years, trying to remain strong, and the constant fidgeting from both Nishanoya and Tanaka. Hinata was seated in the far left corner of the bus, separated from everyone else. His fever still hadn’t broken, and was ordered to sit as far away from the rest of his team as possible. Kageyama expected some sort of resistance from the ginger-haired ball of energy, but surprisingly, Hinata surrendered voluntarily. He had been far too quiet since the moment he left the court, and hadn’t said more than two words to anyone. When Yachi had quietly suggested to him that someone talk to Hinata, Kageyama had merely scoffed and walked away. There was nothing anyone could say to Hinata. His emotions were more valid than those any of his other teammates were enduring. If Hinata had stayed on the court for ten more minutes…

Kageyama shook his head free of the thought and stared at the vending machine in front of him. He stared intensely at his options. Milk or yogurt…His fingers hovered over the two options.

“Hey Kageyama…” a soft-spoken voice came from behind him.

Kageyama whirled around to face whoever had just denied him the opportunity to make his decision, only to find a concerned Yamaguchi standing behind him. Kageyama’s face softened, “Oh, hey Yamaguchi. Sorry I didn’t know it was you.” He turned back around to face the vending machine, and jabbed the two different buttons, deciding fate would make his decision today, “What’s up?”

“Well uh… I was just wondering if you’d spoken to Hinata at all.”

Kageyama knelt down and grabbed the dispensed milk carton. It was always milk. “No, why would I have.” He peeled the straw off the back and disposed of the plastic wrap, stabbing the carton with the pointy end. He brought the straw to his lips.

“Well it’s just that…” Yamaguchi shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, “He’s your friend right? Aren’t you worried about him?”

Kageyama paused, and lowered the carton, “Why would I be worried about him. We had a break this week. No practice until Monday, remember?” In reality, Kageyama had been aware of his noticeable absence the past few days. He hadn’t spotted him in the gym or in the club room. In fact, Kageyama couldn’t remember seeing Hinata anytime after getting off of the bus last week. While this seemed somewhat out of the ordinary, it wasn’t cause for any concern. None of the club members had been spending much time together after a Tokyo, and Hinata — who had taken up the brunt of he blame and placed it on himself — seemed like no exception.

“I guess he hasn’t come back to school yet. We think he’s home, either still sick or…”

“Doesn’t feel like he can face any of us.” Kageyama finished Yamaguchi’s sentence. He glanced over at the gym, which was devoid of any life. The sound of balls being hit and sneakers squeaking on the floor were absent. He sighed and turned back to face Yamaguchi, “Well I don’t know what you want me to do about it. Why don’t you just go and visit him. Or I don’t know, text him? You have his number you know.”

“Well I thought about it, but some of us were thinking that it might be a good idea if you’re the one who talk to him, being his parter on the court and all.”

Kageyama choked on his milk at the mention of being Hinata’s partner. He coughed and cleared his voice, “Just because I pass to him doesn’t make us partners. I just set it to whoever has the best chance of getting us a point.” He shrugged, “Hinata just happens to be that person some of the time.”

Yamaguchi’s eyebrows furrowed, “So you aren’t worried for him in the slightest?”

“Nope, not really. He’s probably just moping because he thinks he’s the reason we lost.” Kageyama turned and tossed his empty milk carton into the nearby trashcan.

Yamaguchi’s ears turned red, “How can you say that? You know it wasn’t Hinata’s fault!”

“I never said it was,” Kageyama replied flatly, “I just said that’s probably what he thinks.”

“So you really don’t care?”

“Nope, not it the slightest.” Kageyama waved him off as his strode back into the main building, leaving Yamaguchi at a loss for words.

But he did find himself concerned. He just couldn’t let Yamaguchi know that. Hinata would never miss a chance to practice, let alone a whole week. Sick or not, they’d usually had to drag him out of the gym kicking and screaming. A mirage of scenarios found themselves doing laps inside Kageyama’s head: Hinata was killed by the fever; Hinata was kidnapped by someone while biking to school; Hinata’s family decided to take a sporadic vacation without notifying anyone; or worse, Hinata had decided to quit volleyball.

Kageyama realized he had stopped walking, and was standing in the middle of the hallway, contemplating the different scenarios. “Fucking Yamaguchi…” He murmured to himself as he reached for the phone in his pocket, and found himself absentmindedly searching for Hinata’s number. He stepped to the side and leaned on the wall, finding Hinata’s contact information. He held the phone up to his ear, listening to the dial tone, while other students glanced at him and walked by without saying a word.

Not even a week ago, the volleyball club were the kings of the school. Everyone either wanted to be them or be with them. Now, it seemed that the members of the club were sick with the plague.

Kageyama listened to the dial tone, and when no one picked up, he listened to the voicemail, “Hey, it’s Hinata! I’m probably at practice or biking or sleeping, so sorry if I missed you! If you wanna, you can leave a message, but honestly I don’t know how to work the voicemail on this thing and-“ His voice was cut off by the beep. Kageyama considered leaving him a message, but changed his mind at the last second, quickly snapping his phone shut. He twirled it in his hands for a moment, and glanced at the clock at the end off the hall.

For a moment, he weighed his options. He could continue on with his day and forget about Hinata. This seemed like the wiser option, considering the other would be far more embarrassing; making it seem like he had legitimate emotions for someone other than himself. Not that he didn’t, he’d just rather have others believe otherwise.

But before he had made a concrete decision, he found himself walking back out of the building and into the chilly January air. Kageyama cursed under his breath and shoved his hands into his pockets, beginning his descent to the main road. He’d never been this spontaneous before, except maybe on the court. Although even then, he was still thinking ten steps ahead of everyone else.

When Coach’s store came into view, Kageyama paused. God what the fuck am I thinking. He turned to head back to the school when he thought about Hinata, either lying dead in the trunk of someone’s car, or pathetically wallowing in his own self pity. He rolled his eyes and continued heading down the path.

He wandered into Coach’s store, where Coach sat with his feet propped up on the counter, a cigarette hanging limply out of his mouth. He glanced up from the magazine he was flipping through, a look of concern flashing across his face, “Hey kid, didn’t expect to see you in here today. Something up?”

Kageyama shook his head nonchalantly, “Just came to grab a couple pork buns.”

Coach glanced at his watch and his eyes narrowed, “School get out early or something?”

“Optional early release.” Kageyama shrugged and fished for his wallet in his back pocket.

Coach chuckled, “Of course it is.” He noticed Kageyama’s wallet in his hand, “It’s on me kid, put that cash away.” He turned to grab a bag for the pork buns, “Did’ja say a couple of ‘em? You meeting up with anyone?”

“I’m a growing boy,” Kageyama replied shortly, “guess I’m just extra hungry today.”

Coach slid the bag of pork buns across the counter towards Kageyama, “Alright…” He sounded unsure, “Hey, just don’t make this a habit, okay? We don’t need you being suspended, or worse, banned from club activities.”

Kageyama gave a halfhearted nod and grabbed the bag, “Yeah, Coach. I won’t. Thanks for these.” He nodded, and headed for the door, waving at Coach before being blasted by the frigid air once he stepped outside.

Probably wasn’t the best idea to stop at Coach’s store, he thought to himself as he shivered into his jacket. Continuing the down the path, Kageyama reached for his phone with his free hand, checking for any messages, specifically a reply from Hinata. Nothing. Not that he was surprised.

“Now that I’m going soft, might as well…” he muttered under his breath as his contemplated giving Hinata a second call. The phone rang three times before sending Kageyama to voicemail, “Hey, it’s Hinata! I’m probably at - ” Kageyama flipped his phone shut and stood at the bottom of the large hill Hinata biked up and down daily. What a fucking tryhard, he scoffed as he began he trek up the hill.

Once he reached the top, he was completely out of breath. Panting, he suddenly wished he had bought a water while stopped at Coach’s. He slowly began his descent, thoroughly winded, and somewhat impressed that Hinata managed this journey not once, but twice a day.

Despite being the best workout Kageyama had received all week, and his newly increased lung capacity, he swore to never climb up that hill again, and vowed to take the bus home. He stood at the bottom of the hill with his hands held behind his head, trying to catch a breath, and hoping the pounding muscles in his legs would sooth soon. He paused, and realized that he only had a vague idea of where Hinata lived. He remembered something about Hinata living near a park, and his block number being relatively low, but he lacked the information necessary to find his place from his current position.

Kageyama swore under his breath and took a seat on a bench to his right. He looked at the sky momentarily, taking notice of the slow, but prominent movements of the clouds, as they seemed to swirl around each other. He sighed, and pulled his phone from his pocket.

Now who can I call without being thoroughly judged… He wondered. He scrolled through his contact list, pausing every once in a while to consider the consequences of contacting one person over another, before finally spotting a name that he’d been looking for. He called up the number, hoping they would pick up.

One dial tone, two dial tone, three dial tone. Kageyama was losing hope quickly, and coming to the realization that this was the dumbest thing he had ever done, when the phone clicked and Yachi’s voice came through the speaker, “Hello?” She whispered softly.

Fuck. She must be in the middle of class, “Uh, hey Yachi. I didn’t mean to disturb you or anything, it’s just - ”

“What’s wrong?” Yachi interrupted abruptly, “You’ve never called me before. I didn’t even know you had my number saved. I saw you calling and immediately excused myself to the restroom. Now what’s wrong?”

“Why does anything have to be wrong in order for me to call you?” Kageyama countered bitterly, “What if I just wanted to say hi?”

“Haha, very funny. Tell me what’s going on.”

He took a deep breath, “You can’t tell anyone okay?” He took the silence on the other end of the phone as an acknowledgement, and he continued, “Yamaguchi came up to me at lunch today

and - ”

“You talked to Yamaguchi?” She interrupted again.

“Well yeah and - ”

“I can’t believe he actually went through with it… We talked about it, but no one ever actually agreed to approach you…”

“Who is this ‘we’ everyone keeps talking about?” Kageyama questioned angrily, “Why is everyone talking about me behind my back?”

“No no,” Her voice dropped, possibly trying to avoid being heard by anyone else, “we were just worried about Hinata and well, you seemed like the only person that he respects enough to - ”

“Well congrats, Yamaguchi guilt tripped me into it.” He cut her off. “Now do you know where he lives or not?”

Yachi’s end of the line went silent for a moment, and Kageyama could almost hear the smirk on the other end of the line, “Yeah.” She relayed the information to Kageyama, and he mentally took note of her instructions.

“Hey can you just, not tell anyone about this?” Kageyama unceremoniously pleaded.

“Yeah sure, but will you tell me what he says? He hasn’t talked to me either and… well I’m just really worried about him.”

Kageyama nodded, “Yeah, sure. That is if he even wants to see me.” He paused, “Thanks for the uh, help, I guess…” He sheepishly and bitterly acknowledge, and said a quick goodbye before snapping his phone shut.

He stood, the searing pain in his legs already dying down after his odyssey over the hill. Yachi’s instructions were at the forefront of his mind and he walked the path that Hinata biked everyday.

“Walk along the main road for a while, and then take a right at the intersection where you see the big cherry blossom tree with a wooden swing. Then, take a left at the yellow house with lots of flowers. If you keep walking down that road, there’s a dead end sign, so just follow that, and Hinata’s house is the last one on the street.”

Kageyama paused, and stared up at the aforementioned house in front of him. What the fuck am I doing, this is so stupid. He took a step forward, then another, until he reached the front door of the medium sized light blue house. He raised his closed fist, and knocked softly, praying that no one would hear, or that no one was home.

His delusion however, was thwarted when a short, stout blonde woman opened the door almost immediately. She was a good foot shorter than Kageyama, who seemed to tower over her menacingly. He slouched his shoulders, in an attempt to make himself seem smaller. The woman’s facial features were soft, and round, and her hair was cut short. Upon first glance, she didn’t appear to resemble Hinata in the slightest, but upon closer inspection, Kageyama realized that they seemed to shared the same light brown eyes.

“Hi,” she smiled sweetly, “can I help you?”

“Um…” Kageyama sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “is Hina - I mean, is Shouyou here?”

The women’s light eyes darkened, and she gave Kageyama a once over, “Shouyou hasn’t been feeling too well the last couple of days.” Her eyebrows furrowed, but her eyes softened a bit, “Wait a minute, you must be Kageyama.”

“Uh, yes ma’am - ” He felt his arm pulled as Hinata’s mother dragged him into the house. She gave him a light shove into the kitchen as she closed the door behind them.

“I have heard so much about you Kageyama!” She began rummaging through the cabinets, pulling out plates and cups, “Shouyou will just go on and on about how wonderful you are.” She paused and looked thoughtfully into space, “Although I do remember a time where he wasn’t quite as fond of you… Something about, a middle school game?” She waved her hand and filled one of the glasses up with orange juice, “Would you like orange juice sweetie? We also have water or milk, I could make you some tea as well - ”

“Um,” Kageyama cleared his throat, the throng of information he had received from Hinata’s mother overwhelming him. “juice is fine I suppose.”

Hinata’s mother smiled, and poured the juice into a second glass as well. “Now Shouyou tells me that you’re one of the best setters he’s ever seen. Said you were even invited to a fancy training camp in Tokyo for the best of the best, is that right?” She pulled fruits and veggies from the fridge, and began to create a platter.

“Uh, yes ma’am.” Kageyama shifted his weight awkwardly, his cheeks and ears reddening.

“Oh no need to call me ma’am sweetie, just call me Machi, or Obāsan.” She grinned and continued preparing the platter in front of her. “You can take your shoes off as well if you’d like! Just set them down over there by the others! Set your bag down too! There’s slippers as well if that’s something you like!”

“Oh, uh, thanks ma’am - I mean Machi.” Kageyama slipped his shoes off and grabbed them by the heels, setting them next to the plethora of other shoes stacked near the door. He set his bag down next to them, but kept the pork buns clutched in his hand.

“I wish I could’ve seen you boys play in one of the tournaments, but Shouyou made me promise not to come, said something about me embarrassing him.” She waved her hand, “Ah but that’s silly, I would never embarrass him. Now Natsu on the other hand, well she could do some damage.” She pulled a large tray out from under the counter, and placed the glasses and the platter of fruits and vegetables on top. She carefully held the tray out to Kageyama, “Shouyou’s room is up the stairs and to the right, and the rest in right across from him. Make sure he doesn’t only eat the fruit, he needs some vegetables as well.”

Kageyama gingerly took the tray from Machi, careful as to not spill the glasses full to the brim with juice. He set the bag of pork buns on top, and hesitated momentarily, “Thank you, Machi.” He thanked her uncomfortably.

“Of course sweetie!” Machi stared up at him, a sudden look of concern in her eyes, “Shouyou hasn’t been in a mood to talk, but maybe you can try to convince him to go back to school soon? I worry about all of the lessons he’s missing, not to mention the ramifications from the vice principal. I would hate if Shouyou somehow ended up on his bad side.” Her look of concern transformed into one of hope, “I bet if anyone can get through to Shouyou, it’s you! He really looks up to you, you know.” She smiled warmly at Kageyama, her face closely resembling Hinata’s, before turning around and beginning to clean up the food she had taken out, “Just holler if you boy’s need anything. I’ll be here!”

Kageyama was frozen in place, trying to comprehend the overload of information that had just been shoved down his throat. He did his best to smile, although he was sure he looked more menacing than thankful, and turned around to climb the set of stairs leading from the kitchen. He carefully held the tray steadily, thankful for the years of hand training he had, and slowly ascended the wooden staircase.

Once he reached the second level, he turned to his right. The door was shut, and decorated with small dinosaur stickers that were beginning to peel off. Kageyama smirked, hoping these stickers were a recent addition and not some left over child memorabilia. He balanced the try with one hand, while prepping himself to knock on the door. His hand was curled into a fist, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually knock. God this was such a stupid fucking idea. But before he could stop himself, his fist beat three times against the door.

He heard a groan coming from the other side, authorizing Kageyama to enter. He turned the handle and enter Hinata’s room.

Hinata’s room looked exactly like Kageyama had imagined it, not that he had actually imagined it before. The walls were plastered with professional volleyball team’s posters, with the two posters Yachi had designed hanging above his bed. His desk was empty, except for the bottles of empty sports drinks littered atop of it. The closet was wide open, showcasing what looked like an explosion of clothing, with every drawer open, and seemingly every piece of clothing pulled out, including his underwear. Kageyama found himself blushing and looked away. Hinata’s duffle was sat next to his bed. It was half open, and Kageyama could see that it clearly hadn’t been cleaned out since Tokyo, spotting Hinata’s uniform, and shoes hastily shoved inside.

Hinata was curled up in his bed, facing the wall. It wasn’t too cold in the house, but he was bundled up completely in blankets. The only movements he seemed to be making was the rise and fall of this body, and indication that he was still breathing.

Phew, well now I know he’s not dead.

“What is it ma. I already told you, I’m not hungry.” The lump on the bed mumbled.

Kageyama awkwardly cleared his throat, and tried to find an object to look at that wouldn’t seem weird if Hinata caught him.

After an odd moment of silence, Hinata turned around slowly. His signature ginger hair was sticking up in odd directions, and seemed to be in need of a thorough washing. He had deep bags under his eyes, and his cheek bones seemed more pronounced than usual. In fact, his whole face had a skeletal sort of look. His eyes — which Kageyama had entirely determined to be the same as his mother’s — were sunken in to his face, and seemed to be more dull and lifeless than usual.

Kageyama cocked his head and stared at Hinata, who had just come to the realization that Kageyama was actually in his bedroom. Upon said realization, Hinata threw his covers off and quickly threw the piles of clothing spilling out on to the floor back into the dresser’s drawers, and shut the closet door. He kicked his duffle under the bed and grabbed the sweatpants hanging on the back of his desk’s chair. He quickly pulled them on, to Kageyama’s relief, as he had only been wearing boxers, and the shirt that he had purchased at the Spring Tournament.

Hinata, red in the face, quickly blurted, “What are you doing here?”

Kageyama shrugged cooly, “Dunno. Heard you were being quite a baby, holing yourself up in your room and refusing to go to school.”

Hinata furrowed his brows, “Who told you that? My mom?”

Kageyama moved the empty bottles of sports drink to one side of the desk, and set the tray down on the other, “Nope. You just did.”

Hinata found himself at a loss for words, flustered and confused, “Okay, but what are you doing here.”

Pulling the desk chair out, Kageyama took a seat and grabbed a carrot from the tray, taking a bite out of it. He chewed and swallowed, paused, and gave Hinata a pointed look, “Everyone’s saying that you’re ignoring them. Thought you could be dead.” Another shrug, “Forced me here, saying that I’m the only one to motivate you to get your lazy ass out of the house and back on the court.” He popped the rest of the carrot into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully, “But honestly, now that I’m here,” he gave Hinata a once over, “I can see you are perfectly happy isolating yourself from the rest of the world.”

Kageyama grabbed the bag of pork buns from the tray and tossed them to Hinata, “From Coach,” he muttered, “he thought they might cheer you up I guess. They probably aren’t warm anymore though, so I’m not sure how appetizing they’d be.”

Hinata opened the bag and inhaled the intoxicating smell, greedily stuffing his hand inside and pulling out a room temperature pork bun, and taking a large bite out of it. He smiled while chewing, before remembering who else was in the room with him, and put a scowl on his face.

After an uncomfortable amount of silence, Kageyama finally broke, “So are you coming to school Monday or not.”

Hinata looked down at his feet as he continued to chew on his pork bun.

“I mean,” Kageyama continued, “I’m sure if you decided not to come to practice, we could replace you with someone else. Yamaguchi is tall enough to be a decent middle blocker, or maybe we’ll get a talented group of first years that could take your place…”

“No!” Hinata exclaimed, standing up abruptly, “You can’t replace me!”

“Sure we can,” Kageyama grabbed a second carrot, “anyone can be a decoy.”

“But -” Hinata started.

“Anyone who thinks that their problems are bigger than the team doesn’t belong on a team anyways.” Kageyama cruelly taunted, “I mean, do you really think we lost in Tokyo because you’re the best player on the team? Do you think that without you, our team is terrible? Because honestly,” Kageyama shrugged, “you’re one of the worst players on the team. Just because you can get from one place to another quickly, doesn’t mean you’re any good.” He sighed and toyed with the carrot in his hand, “We lost because the other team was better than us. Plain and simple.” Kageyama stood and stretched his arms upwards, “If you’re really gonna act like this any time another team is better than us, then maybe you shouldn’t stay in the club. We don’t need whiners bringing the rest of the team down.” He walked back to the doorway, and stood for a moment, hoping that being harsh with Hinata was the right move.

As usual, he was right. Hinata grabbed Kageyama’s arm and turned him around, “I’ll be there on Monday,” he said, determined, “and I’ll kick your ass in practice.”

Kageyama snorted, and challenged Hinata with his eyes, “Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try.” He yanked his arm out of Hinata’s grip and grabbed the door handle, pulling it shut as he walked away, “Oh,” he paused before the door was completely shut, “don’t tell anyone I was here today. I don’t need my reputation hurt.”

“But I thought you said that - ” The door was pulled shut in Hinata’s face before he could finish his thought. He sat down softly on his bed and smiled to himself, before pulling a second pork bun from the back and taking a massive bite out of it.

Kageyama made his way back downstairs and into the kitchen, where Machi was impatiently waiting, pretending to wipe down the already impeccably clean counters. She pretended to be surprised when she saw Kageyama approach.

“Oh! Done so soon? I hope Shouyou was playing nice, he can get a bit rowdy…”

Kageyama gave her his most realistic looking smile, and thanked her for the hospitality, “I really do have to go though, but mother wouldn’t be too happy if I wasn’t home in time for dinner.”

Machi smiled back, before her look turned to that of concern again, “Do you think that…Shouyou will go back to school on Monday?”

Kageyama slipped his shoes back on and grabbed his bag from beside the door, “I don’t think there’s any doubt.” He thanked Machi again, and exited through the front door.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally exposed to the fresh air again. Hoping he’d never have to do something that embarrassing ever again. He stepped off of the sidewalk, but paused when he remembered he had no clue where the nearest bus stop was. He smacked his forehead and recoiled into himself, realizing what the quickest solution was.

He awkwardly walked back up the steps to the front door, and knocked for a second time that day. Machi appeared almost instantaneously, looking puzzled.

“Sorry to uh, bother you again, but could you tell me how to get to the nearest bus stop?”

[intothestarkerverse]

Welcome to My Dark Side (2)

Sequel to ‘Time of Our Lives’

Tony Stark has done his best to fit into the 21st century by embracing his new role, new family, and even his new nicknames.  Determined to become a hero worthy of calling Peter Parker his life partner, everything seems to be going better than he could have hoped…until Tony’s efforts to help Peter uncover the truth behind his parents’ death put everything he knows and loves in terrible danger.  In the face of absolute darkness, how can love and life survive?

(STORY CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS)

Read on AO3

“You have breakfast yet?”  Tony eyed the six year old perched on a stool at his breakfast counter.  Her responding expression was beyond her sparse years, little mouth drawn into a serious frown, brows furrowed, dark eyes humorless with their intensity.  “Guess I should ask if you had anything good for breakfast, instead, right?”  Without waiting for a response, he turned back to his cupboards, plucking two bowls, two spoons, a carton of milk and a box of cereal out before precariously balancing his bounty back across the kitchen to the counter.

Morgan immediately perked up at the sight of the sugary breakfast treat that Pepper tried very hard to keep away from her growing daughter.  The fact that she had dumped Morgan on him this morning because she had an early morning conference call with someone in Japan just meant that Tony had a chance to spoil her, and spoil her he would.  Tony couldn’t bring himself to look on her as a daughter no matter what genetics said about the matter, but he’d always wanted a little sister and Morgan Stark was special in every single sense of the word.  He loved that kid and he’d happily murder anyone who even breathed on her wrong.

Morgan examined the box of cereal carefully as Tony prepared their meal, amused by the sugar-covered pieces of processed grain in the shape of tiny arc reactors and corresponding red and gold iron man helmet-shaped marshmallows.  “Let’s not tell your mom about this, huh?”

Morgan cocked her head at him, providing him with a half smirk as she chewed.

“Yeah, okay, don’t know what that means.  Kid, you’re the most cryptic six-year-old I’ve ever met.”  He enjoyed a few spoonfuls of his own bowl before he thought to ask, “Happy’s taking you to school in a bit, right?”  Pepper hadn’t said anything about Tony playing chauffeur, but he also hadn’t been paying much attention when the mother and daughter had arrived early that morning either.  Pepper could count her lucky stars that he didn’t require a lot of sleep and that he was still almost obsessively focused on the puzzle that Fury had presented to him after the fundraiser or he’d likely have been down for the count like most of the civilized folk in Manhattan at that hour.  As it was, he’d been deeply ensconced in his workshop with something that was going to benefit his future plans with Peter...a project he’d had to artfully hide from Pepper before she connected the dots and realized something he’d rather she not know.  

“Mhm,” Morgan barely afforded him a grunted response around her heaping mouthful of cereal.  It really was a shame how Pepper fed this kid.  Cutting sugar out of her breakfast food regimen was un-American.  School plans settled, the two fell into a companionable silence, eating their cereal and glancing over the graphics of the Old Man on the box from time to time.  Some kind of idle statistics about his do-gooding and IQ adorned the back.  The IQ was off by twenty points.  He was going to have to make them fix that.  

Tony didn’t realize Morgan had finished her cereal until he looked up from the box to find her staring at him with that same intense expression.  “You okay, Maguna?”

“How come you and daddy are the same?”

Tony almost spit his cereal out.  Somehow, he managed to swallow it in a gulp and stall for time with a little coffee as he coughed and sputtered on the soggy grain and milk.  “Uh, well, it’s just genetics kid.  You and the Old Man are a lot alike, too.”

“Um...no.  You and daddy are just alike, TJ.”

“Okay...well...there’s an explanation for that...”

Morgan pursed her lips and raised both brows at him, moving to a kneeling position on the stool so she could lay across the counter and reach out to place her hands on his face.  “You look just the same.  And sound just the same.  And your fingers are the same.  You’re the same as my daddy.”

Yeah, okay, so she was a Stark and he really should have seen this coming.  He could almost pity Howard in this moment if this gave him any clue about what he’d been like as a six year old.  Christ.  Tony cleared his throat, searching for something to say to explain it all away.  Instead, all he could do was stall for time.  “How did you figure this out, Kid?”

“Miss Friday helped me.”

“Seriously? What do you have to sat for yourself, Fri?”

“You told me to assist in Morgan’s education whenever possible, Boss.”  Tony let out a long sigh, that had not been what he meant.  “She asked me about your fingerprints and voice analysis and how they corresponded to Mr. Stark’s so I provided her with detailed comparisons of both.”

Tony tapped the back of the little girl’s hand on his cheek with his finger.  “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

“Cause I am.”

“Mhm, and what made you think to compare my fingerprints and voice with your father’s?”

“My teacher said everybody has a voice that is just their own and not like anybody else in the whole wide world but you and daddy sound just alike.  Sometimes when you put me to bed I close my eyes and pretend you’re him.”

God, she was actually trying to kill him, now.  Tony felt his throat constrict as he plucked her hands off of his face and gave them a tight squeeze.  “I’m not your daddy, Morgan.  I wish I was because you’re so damn smart and beautiful and amazing, but I’m not.  You’re right, though, I’m not you’re brother either.  I just....I really need your mom and everyone else to believe that I am so can this be our little secret and I promise that sometime real soon I’ll sit down and tell you everything, okay?  For now...believe me when I tell you that your daddy is out there watching everything you do and he’s so freaking proud of you kid.  Whenever you see a rainbow or a shooting star or something crazy good happens to you out of the blue, that’s your dad telling you how much he loves you.”

“3000.”

Tony blinked away the tears in his eyes, clearing his throat and abandoning the counter to tidy up.  “Exactly.”

“Boss, Happy is here to pick up Morgan for school...” Saved by the AI.

“You hear that, Maguna?  Get a move on or you’ll be late.  Wait...I want a hug first.  Yep, that’s the stuff right there.”  He buried his nose in the little girl’s hair for a moment and gave it a good ruffle with his fingers before he let go.    “Be good and kick butt in school, okay?  Love you, kid.”

“I love you too, TJ.”

“3000?”

A pause.  “2005.”

“Ouch.”

~~~~~

“I’m still not sure about this.”

“What’s not to be sure about, Beautiful?  I’ve thought of everything.”

Peter turned back to the holographic read outs with a long sigh.  They were blueprints of the old Oscorp labs, or at least what little information Tony had been able to hack his way into at Shield, along with a few other reports that looked like weather and topographic readouts of the area.  Peter knew that this was their best bet, but he didn’t like it.  He didn’t think he could attribute it to his Spidey Sense, or Peter Tingle as the rest of the Avengers had taken to calling it (thanks to May).  No, it didn’t feel quite the same.  There was no sense of impending danger, just a heavy blanket of foreboding that was threatening to choke off his air supply.  Tony obviously didn’t feel the same, so maybe he was just being silly.  Or maybe he wasn’t.

Peter was supposed to tell May that he was going on a spring break trip with Tony, MJ, and Ned.  While MJ and Ned were actually going to go to Florida to live it up, he and Tony were heading to upstate New York to infiltrate Osborn’s lab.  Ned would be armed with a special Stark Phone that Tony had outfitted with the tech to provide realistic synthetic substitutes of Tony and Peter.  If May or Pepper sent texts, they were going to get varied and believable responses meant to replicate the young men’s actual speech and text patterns.  If they called or video chatted, a variant of the BARF technology was going to provide a realistic computerized response that would again fool the older women into thinking they were both in Florida living the good life by utilizing actual noise pollution and visuals from Ned and MJ’s vacation.  The guilt of leaving May at the airport thinking they were taking Tony’s private jet to Florida when they were instead flying headfirst into danger...it was almost suffocating and he couldn’t ignore the worry any longer.  “What happens if we’re not back in a week, Tony?”

“If we’re not back by the time that MJ and Ned have gotten back, than Friday is going to reveal our true destination to May, Pepper, and Fury so arrangements can be made.”

Funeral arrangements or just rescue mission arrangements?  Peter wanted to ask, but he knew better than to say any of that out loud.  He and Tony rarely fought, but Peter knew that nothing made Tony angrier than mentioning their own mortality.  “Are you sure this is a good idea?”  Because Peter wasn’t sure at all.  He’d heard Tony’s argument a hundred times but part of him still felt sick at what they were planning to do.

“Your parents are out there.  They’re alive.  We don’t leave men behind.  Besides, if there is something big and nasty coming than we need to know what it is and how to stop it.  I refuse to do what the Avengers did and just sit around waiting for the Big Bad to come knocking down our door.  We’re not going to be surprised again, Peter.  Whatever this bad thing is...we’re going to identify it and even after we close that gateway...we’re going to be ready for it because there’s no guarantee that closing the gateway will end the danger.  None.”

Peter could only nod slowly.  “Yeah, okay.  No, you’re right.  Of course you are.  I’m just...I’m nervous about getting my hopes up and visiting another world and just...everything.”

Tony laughed, reaching out to tug Peter across the room and into his arms.  His lips ghosting against the younger man’s, breath hot against Peter’s mouth as he embraced him, “We had sex in two different times, Baby, now we get to consummate parallel earths.  Tell me that’s not hot as fuck.”

“Depends on the parallel earths.”

Tony snorted a laugh as he nuzzled into Peter’s neck and nipped at his ear, “You need to stop worrying.  We’re superheroes, Baby.  Arguably the two best superheroes on the planet.”

“Only because Thor is off world with the Guardians...”

“Honestly, you and Thor.  If I didn’t know better, I’d be jealous.”

Their conversation died off as the Quinjet came to a quiet landing.  Peter held onto Tony for several more seconds, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of the older man in an attempt to calm the frenzied beating of his heart.  Finally, though, he gently pushed himself away and tapped his watch to engage the Ironspider suit.

Several things became apparent to Peter as the two descended the ramp from the cloaked jet plane.  This was clearly going to be even more difficult than Peter had thought.  Fury hadn’t been lying when he said that Shield had sealed the lab in an attempt to prevent anything from the Gateway from breaching the outside world.  From outward appearances, it looked like the entire building had been encased in a giant block of cement.  “Uh, so...” 

“Don’t worry, I had the Iron Legion working on our way in for the last twenty-four hours.  Believe it or not, inside this cement, there’s another layer of titanium.  Anyway, it took six suits, but we have a way in.  Follow me.”  Iron Man circled the building with Spidey close on his heals.  The moment they turned the corner, Peter could see the suits.  It appeared that they’d concentrated their repulsers into a succession of laser-like beams that had sliced a rectangular chunk of cement and metal to reveal one of the doors on the blueprints.  “I’m leaving them on guard duty while we’re gone.  Friday will make sure that nothing comes out of this facility until we get back...and if by some miracle something gets by, she’ll radio the New Avengers.  You don’t have to worry, Pete.”

“Famous last words.”  It was in times like this that Peter found himself missing Mr. Stark.  Tony just hadn’t experienced the level of failure and defeat that Mr. Stark, or even Peter, had.  He didn’t know to expect the worst, but Peter did.  He cast a wary glance at the Iron Legion, biting his tongue as Tony moved for the door.

It came open with a pop, the musty smell of stale air, dust and mildew washed out around them.  Peter only got the smallest whiff before he felt the filtration system in the suit come online. 

The interior looked like nothing but darkness.  No light could penetrate from the concrete and titanium covered walls, so there was nothing visible beyond a few feet into the entry.  It wasn’t as if Mr. Stark hadn’t thought of those concerns a long time ago.  Something as mundane as darkness was hardly any match for Iron Man.  Lighting and night vision had been built into the earliest models of the suit, after all.  As Iron Man stepped into the abyss beyond, that tech came online to illuminate the area around him and several feet in front of him.  A similar array of artificial illumination ignited on the Ironspider suit as well.  Gulping back his fear, Peter reached out to close the door behind them and they were bathed in black.

The entire facility was filthy, awash with dust, debris, and cobwebs.  Out of the corner of his eye, Peter caught sight of what he could only assume was the corpse of a fallen Shield Agent, but he did his best to avoid looking at it for too long.  Still, the momentary glimpse of the skeleton was burned onto is retinas.  “Tony...”

There was something wrong with that sight.  The body.  As much as he wanted to avoid looking, he couldn’t help but glance back towards it.  “Tony, if the building is sealed...how is that body not mummified...”

Tony was already bending over it to examine the bones as the oddity of the body struck him as wrong at almost the same time.  “I think these are tooth marks...”. He held up an ulna, running an armored finger over the grooves on the bone.  “These are definitely toothmarks.  Friday says they appear...humanoid.”

Peter certainly hoped that Tony couldn’t hear him gulping in fear behind his own mask....but with the sensitive comms, he probably could.  “Tony...what are we locked in here with?”

“I don’t know.  Let’s just...be careful, and hope that Peter Tingle of yours is on point tonight.”

“Spidey sense.”

“Hmm,” Tony reverently replaced the bone and stood, brushing off his gauntlets.  

“I prefer the term ‘Spidey Sense.’ “

“Give me one good reason why I should call it Spidey Sense, Baby, because that name isn’t nearly as funny...”

“Because you’re the only thing that makes my peter tingle.”

Tony had to brace himself against the wall to support himself as he laughed.   “God, Beautiful, every time I don’t think I could love you more...you go and drop one of those gems on me.  Damn.”

Peter’s response was lost on his lips.  He felt the telltale warning of danger shiver down his spine as he caught sight of movement just at the periphery of their location.  There wasn’t time to warn him, there was really only time for Peter to fire a quick line of webbing at his lover and tug him back as something dark and terrifying lunged from the shadows.  Peter could swear he could hear it moaning the word ‘meat.’  

“What the fuck...” A repulser blast bit into the wall inches from the creature, scorching its arm and the tatters of what appeared to be clothing and once more driving it back into the shadows before either hero could get a good look at it.  “Well, at least we know what ate the bodies...”

“Yeah, Tony, that’s not nearly as comforting as you think it is.”  Even worse, perhaps, were the observations from both Karen and Friday that the creature had no heat signature and wouldn’t be visible on infrared.  Now their trek through the building was much more careful and calculated.  There were signs of the creatures everywhere.  Claw marks on the walls, ransacked rooms, shattered furniture, the little skeletons of rats and mice and anything else unfortunate enough to have been sealed into the lab with them.  It was only the knowledge of the Parkers’ distress call that kept Peter moving through the corpse of the once thriving laboratory.  His parents were alive.  They’d escaped this place, and so would he and Tony.  They just had to.

At least Tony seemed to know where he was going.  He’d studied the blueprints much longer than Peter and had no doubt pinpointed precisely where a lab with a dimensional gateway would be located.  Neither man mentioned the occasional sound of shuffling footsteps, the soft grunts and moans, the momentary glimpses of shifting shadows.  There were clearly more than one of those things in there with them, but for the moment, they were hanging back.  Maybe Tony had scared them with the repulser.  Or, maybe as with many of the hunters in the animal kingdom, they were stalking their prey and waiting for exactly the right moment to strike.

The Gateway didn’t look anything like Peter had imagined it would.  Shows like Stargate had always made them out to be large and imposing, a shifting, whirling mass of colors housed within an intricate metal or stone structure that provided it shape.  This portal was anything but. 

Peter could barely make it out without one of the specialized lenses of his suit.  To the naked eye, it appeared as little more than the somewhat fluid appearance of very hot air on a humid July day.  It was in that subtle wavering of the light that the slightest glimpse of a world beyond their own could be captured...but never long enough to make anything out.  A quick sweep of the area showed that the portal was being maintained by a strip of metal along the ground that was joined to a large and imposing computer.  While Peter had been examining the Portal, Tony had been taking stock of the technology.

“They cut off power to the lab in the hopes that it would cause the Gateway to close.  It didn’t, which means that whatever is powering this portal isn’t coming from our dimension anymore.”

“That’s comforting.”  Peter reached out to touch the shimmering air.  As his finger hit the air, the tip of it vanished.  He felt nothing.  No pain, no tingling, no disconnection.  Nothing to suggest it was a portal to another world besides the fact that the tip of his finger had vanished before his very eyes.

“Peter, stop poking the portal.  It has a radiation signature...”

The young man withdrew his hand quickly, glad that Tony couldn’t see what he was certain was a guilty look on his face.  Neither of the men had withdrawn their suits since entering the laboratory.  The air inside the lab was breathable, if their read outs were any suggestion, but also so stale that it would likely not be pleasant for either one of them.  Besides, with those monsters running around, it seemed smart to have some kind of protection on hand.  Now, with what looked like a radiation signature emanating from the portal...the suits were staying on for the foreseeable future.

Tony was busy patching one of the main computer terminals into a handheld arc reactor to allow him to reboot and access the information they both hoped was still accessible on the hard drives while Peter was pacing the lab like a nervous animal in a zoo.  Just like a nervous animal in a zoo, he could feel what was an indeterminate amount of eyes trained on his every movement and his inability to know where they were or what they were planning was making his every instinct scream warnings in his head.

Desperate for some distraction, Peter started to look more closely at the room itself.   It looked as if the place had just been abandoned in the middle of a shift.  There as a mug of coffee by one terminal with what appeared to be dried contents of a cup still housed within it.  A stack of granola bars and food from what must have been a break room vending machine  sat next to a swath of complicated equations that Peter picked up and shuffled through silently.  Not everything was immaculate, however.  A few desks had been upturned.  Chairs broken.  There were bullet holes in the wall near the door and the door itself had clearly been forced open from the outside by organic means.

“I think...I think after they sealed them in here, my mom and dad must have gathered some supplies and tried to stick it out in here.  But um...whatever’s out there...it must have wanted them pretty bad.”

Tony glanced up from the computer, the expressionless mask of his armor giving Peter no hint as to what was going on in the mind beneath.  

Peter’s foot met with something on the floor and it skittered forward.  Upon closer inspection, he recognized an old school camcorder with a tape still housed inside.  “You um...you think you can make this work?”

Tony had already Jerry-rigged a thumb drive to the computers’ memory to download any and all information he could.  Waving Peter over, he took the camcorder and in a matter of minutes had it once more powered up, tape rewound.

For several seconds it appeared to be a tape recording the team’s initial attempt to establish the Gateway.  Then, the scene cut out and a familiar face came into frame.

She was a little older and much less put-together than she had been the last time that Tony and Peter had seen her, but there was no mistaking Mary Parker for all that she and Peter resembled one another.  She was dirty, sweating, tired, but still very much alive as she addressed the camera.

“If you’re seeing this, than that means you came back for us...which...all due respect, Fury, but that was stupid.  I told you we’d be okay if you sealed us in here, that we’d figure something out...and we did.  I think.  I hope.  No, I’m sure that we did.”

A loud sound shook the frame and with wide eyes Mary glanced off camera where Richard was shouting “Hurry up, Mary, we don’t have a lot of time here.”

“Right.  Right.  We can’t stay here, Fury.  The anomalies are...they’re not like we thought.  They appear to have higher brain function, an ability to communicate.  They’ve displayed a remarkable ability to reason and hunt and now that they know they’re trapped in here with us...that we’re the only food supply left...they’re pretty determined to eat us.  So uh....it’s time to go.  And since we can’t get out of here through the door....we’re going to use the Gateway.”

“I’ve had a little bit of time to work on the math.  I think I understand how this thing works at least as well as the men who built it...which arguably isn’t very well.”  She held up the swath of complicated equations that Peter had seen on the desk nearby.  “It’s all here.  I’ll...leave if for you.  Hopefully...hopefully it‘ll still be here for you.”

Another loud sound, a curse from Richard, and Mary paled considerably.  “I’m sorry...I’m sorry I’ve got to cut this short.  I...I can’t shut the Gateway down because it’s not being powered by our dimension anymore.  Unless or until we find the power source, this thing is open for good...but I can change the world it opens up to.  We’re not going to the world where these things originated...but beyond that.  I don’t know.  I’m going to try to make it home, Fury.  But if we don’t...you keep your promise and you make sure my baby boy is taken care of, you hear me.  You owe us that.”

The sound of wood splintering, of those creatures hissing and screaming and moaning.  The camcorder dropped, still recording and slid against a desk, catching the image of Richard and Mary Parker as they ran through the Gateway to the screams of the monsters they left behind.

Peter closed the camcorder, hands trembling slightly.  “Tony...if those things are as smart as she says...why aren’t they coming after us?”

Tony hazarded a glance towards the broken door and rubbed the back of his neck with a gauntlet.  “I don’t know, Beautiful, but I don’t like it.”

Peter considered it for a moment.  “Maybe they’re trying to get out again...”

“I don’t care how scary they are, Peter, there’s no way they’re getting past the Iron Legion.”

“So...when they can’t get out the door and they realize that we’re the only food source...”

Tony cursed, “Yeah.  I think the ones we can hear are sentries...”

“They’re watching to make sure we can’t get away.”

“‘Fraid so.  Or hoping that when we get done here we’ll leave them an opening to get out.”

Peter was already gathering the papers his mother had left behind, stuffing them into a briefcase he’d found discarded beneath a desk.  He threw the camcorder in with it and after a moment’s hesitation grabbed the handful of granola bars as well.  They probably didn’t go bad, right?  And he might get hungry later.  “What I don’t get...is why they didn’t go through the portal, too.  If they’re smart and they’re hungry and they’ve been surviving in here for over a decade....why not try that other world out?”

“Because your mother was smart enough to leave it open to a location they wouldn’t be able to utilize, Pete.  Radiation signature.  Whatever is on the other side of that portal is deadly for them...at least as deadly as it would be for us.”

“But my parents...”

“They didn’t go through to that world, Pete.”  Tony gestured to a read out near the floor where a long alphanumeric sequence could be seen.  “You can see most of the readout on the video.  It’s not the same.  After your parents went through...they must have found a way to redial the Gateway and make sure it emptied to someplace...innocuous.”

Peter didn’t know if this new made him feel better or worse.  “Okay...so...what’s our next move...” His words died on his lips, replaced by an anguished cry brought on by what felt like the pain of being set on fire.  His Spidey-Sense had never felt like that before.  It had never been so strong that it was excruciating, but as his gaze moved from Tony to the doorway and he caught sight of what had triggered the tingle...Peter completely understood.

His Spidey Sense was right.  

They were so totally and completely fucked.

[fanficsaremylifeline]

Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Summary:

Tired of Tony and Steve's constant fighting and bickering, the other Avengers sentence them to couple's therapy.

***

“DAMN YOU, STARK!”

Ugh, it was way to early for this, Tony was only two coffees in and dealing with Steve required at least two more cups. His holy coffein intake didn't seem to matter to Steve though, as he came storing into the living room, interrupting Tony and Rhodey's highly intelligent discussion about Jeopardy.

“What?”, Tony shot over; he was however pretty sure that he didn't want to know and most certainly didn't care.

“When the milk is empty, just throw the damn carton out! Is that so hard?”, Steve moaned and gestured around with the empty carton.

“And who says it was me?” Steve was completely right, it had been Tony. But before he'd admit to that, hell'd freeze over.

“Please, can we not argue about it like five-year olds? Just throw out the milk so I know to get a new one.” With a sigh and an exasperated and frankly quite condescending eye roll that Tony did not miss, Steve turned and walked out again.

“For fuck's sake”, Rhodey groaned, once the door had closed behind the super soldier. “Correct me if I'm wrong, JARVIS, but that puts the milk-fights somewhere in the mid-twenties, right?”

“It was indeed the 26th time Stark and Rogers have fought over the milk”, JARVIS reported. “Add that to the 19 discussions about profanity, 23 about appropriate levels of music during night time, 11 about Star Wars, 17 about Star Wars before Captain Rogers had seen them, 28 about how to make proper coffee, 24 about cars vs motorbikes, 16 about Monopoly and 8 about how to pronounce GIF. Together that makes 172 in the last 16 days.”

“You kept fucking count?”, Tony groaned. “you Rainman...”

“No, not Rainman. I currently feel like something between Ms Doubtfire and Mary Poppins. So either you two get your shit together or I'll turn all Nurse Ratchett/ Ms Trunchbull on your asses, capiche?”

“Yes, Mum...”

“Just get your damn coffee”, Rhodey grumbled and turned his attention back to the rerun of Jeopardy.

“Ok, but hear me out.” Tony pulled up the holographic model to show Bruce what he was talking about. “If we manage a miniscule version of the arc reactor, the Hulkbuster wouldn't be just some giant armour, but could fulfil some minor automated functions.”

“What kind of automation are we talking about here?” Having that powerful a reactor comprised into something that was supposed to take down Hulk, without blowing up an entire city block... Bruce wasn't too sure about that.

“Mostly for movement. We're talking about copious amounts of weight here, and without some form of automation, Thor'll be the only one who can actually move in it.”

“Yeah, I get that. It's just... Does it have to be arc-technology? Last time it was Hulk against Ironman, I almost blew up half of New York and was this close to giving you a heart attack.”

“But that's why we need to make it smaller so...”

“TONY!”

Ugh, not again. Steve stormed into the workshop and stared Tony down.

“Steve, please. Me and Tony are very busy and...”

The super soldier barely graced Bruce with as much as a fleeting glance and pointed right at Stark. “Next time you're hungry, stay the hell away from my leftovers!”

“Right, because I would voluntarily eat your sprouts with cabbage and shit”, Tony scoffed and turned back to the Hulkbuster model.

“Every time I put my name on it. And of all the Avengers you're the only one disrespectful enough to ignore that.”

“Oh, so now I'm disrespectful?”

That was it for Bruce. Those two could continue for hours like that and Bruce was not gonna do that to himself. And, as much as hulking out might help to get those two idiots in line, Bruce really was not keen on doing that either.

Neither seemed to notice him leaving the lab and after the door had closed behind him, Bruce leaned with a heavy sigh against the wall. “JARVIS? What's the count?”

“193.”

.

“Boss, your presence is required in the briefing room.”

“Oh, come on.” Tony hated being interrupted mid-project with a passion. “Scale 1-10 how important is it?”

“According to Agent Romanoff it is at a 17.”

“Fine”, he groaned, put the wrench down and trudged upstairs. It couldn't be an imminent mission, JARVIS hadn't sounded any alarms, so there was probably no need to worry.

Or maybe there was, at least judging how all the Avengers stood around the table, eyeing him sternly.

“Where's the fire?”

“For weeks, you and Rogers have been at each other's throats”, Clint began, and Tony was already done.

“Right then.” Tony turned on his heel and walked back towards the door. The locked door. “What the fuck, J? Unlock the door!”

“I am not authorized to do that.”

“Excuse me?” Tony stared at the camera. “You are my AI. My command trumps every other command you're given.”

“Not if I deem it crucial.”

“Traitor!”, he hissed before turning back to the Avengers. “Taking over my AI comes with dire consequen...”

“Shut it, Stark”, Nat interrupted and motioned for him to sit back down next to Cap.

His hands raised in mock-defense, he complied.

“And now listen, both of you. Your bickering is making everybody miserable.”

“Amen to that”, Wanda threw in.

“We're not that bad”, Steve stated, and Tony nodded along.

“JARVIS?”

“In the last 4 weeks alone have been 256 incidents. This number accounts only for altercations within proximity to the tower and all tech linked to my server.”

Granted, Tony got how that might be annoying. However... “That is so not on me.”

“Excuse me?” Steve turned to Tony, pure offence written all over his features. “Clearly the team cannot excuse your behaviour or they...”

“It's on you both”, Natasha made clear. “And everybody suffers for it. So you left us with no choice: you're being sentenced to couples therapy.”

“No.” Both Tony and Steve stared at her with wide eyes, their jaws on the ground.

“You can't be serious”, Tony protested once he caught himself again. “We do not need therapy!”

“Tony's right”, Steve nodded.

“See?” Tony gestured between himself and Rogers. “We're agreeing on something! There's absolutely no need for any type of counselling.”

“Your opinion doesn't matter”, Banner made clear.

“Yes, it does! I run this damn team.”

“And I finance this damn team”, Tony finished Steve's reasoning.

“As your doctors, me and Helen already signed off on it. And so has Fury. You're going and that's it.”

Fuck. Tony slumped back in his chair. Therapy. With Rogers.

“Everything is handled with utmost discretion”, Vision explained. “The SHIELD-approved psychologist has already signed a NDA and should arrive at the tower as we speak.”

“THE FUCK?”, Tony yelled out, “our appointment is NOW?”

“So neither of you can weasel out of it”, Rhodey shrugged.

That was the worst part about all this: his honey-bear being part of all this. It felt even worse than JARVIS being part of this conspiracy.

“Fine”, Steve just groaned, “Let's get this over with.” With that he got up, looking at Tony all expectantly until he too, followed suit.

“Conference Room C”, Nat fake-smiled and waved them away.

Tony was in no hurry to get there any time soon and inspected the spectacularly unspectacular white walls of the hallway.

“Come on!”, Steve complained.

“Why?”

“Because we shouldn't let the doctor wait!”

“I couldn't give less of a fuck about that doc or your annoying need to be perfectly on time.”

With an eye roll, Steve just turned and strutted off towards the conference room. Fine with Tony; he could very well do without the nagging.

He was gonna get them back; Nat, Rhodey, Clint, all of them. And if it was the last thing he'd ever do; Tony was gonna get his revenge.

.

Mark was nervous, immensely so. He was about to start counselling Captain America and Ironman! How in the name of everything that was good and holy in the world was this real life?

It was incredibly bizarre; as a kid he had collected the Captain America baseball cards and just two weeks ago he gifted his son the newest Ironman action figure; his daughter never went to sleep is she didn't have the Avengers-blankie.

But there wasn't time for more than two deep breaths, the door opened and in walked Captain America. Keep it together!

“Hello, Mr Rogers, the name is Mark Simmons; it's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise”, he smiled and shook the outstretched hand. “Please excuse my partner's tardiness; it's his form of protest.”

“Don't pretend like you want to be here”, Stark scoffed as he walked through the door, before he turned to Mark. “Good day, doctor. Just so you know, up until ten minutes ago, neither of us knew about this...” - he waved his hands around, gesturing between the three men - “arrangement. And to be perfectly honest, neither of us really fancies the idea of therapy.”

“Your honesty is appreciated”, Mark smiled. “Since I'm already here though...” He motioned for the two to sit down and, less willingly than anything else, they complied.

“Well, since neither of you know what to expect from me or our meetings, let me explain what it is I do. My name is Mark Simmons and I specialize in business psychology; you could say couple's therapy for a co-workers. What I'm here to do, is to get the communication going.”

“Oh there is no issue there”, Tony rolled his eyes. “This one's more than vocal about what I apparently keep on doing wrong.”

“Not apparently”, Steve hissed.

“It doesn't seem to bother the others.”

Oh dear. Not even five minutes in and Mark already feared the worst; this would be a tough one.

“I understand that your situation is a difficult one”, he commented, when he finally got a word in, “since you not only work but also live together. But that's why it is important for us to get to the bottom of it all, of where all this tension stems from.”

“We don't like each other”, Stark shrugged”, what more is there to it?”

“More than you'd think. I do need to say right away that this will only work if you are honest with me and each other. In return I assure you that I will be transparent about any and all methods and intentions.”

“That does sound reasonable”, Rogers nodded. Still, even though he seemed to be more open to the whole idea than Stark, the Captain was just as apprehensive; he just tried to hide it.

“No promises”, Stark made clear and Mark could only smile.

“Thank you for your honesty, Mr Stark.”

“Tony.”

“Right then. If you'd be willing I would like to hear some of the typical arguments you have, so I can get a better picture of the situation.”

“Ask JARVIS, he keeps a log”, Tony snorted.

“It is not my job to counsel JARVIS” - whoever that was - “you two are my clients, so it's from you I'd like to hear it.”

“He's just got one to many sticks up his ass”, Tony shrugged and toyed around with a screwdriver he got out his jeans pocket.

“No, he's just a sloppy and spoiled prat, who never learned how to share and live with others.”

“I am not sloppy! I mean sure, I can get sloppy in bed...” He left the rest unsaid, and a smug grin played over his lips.

“You see”, Steve groaned, “everything is a joke to him! I – honest to God – can't remember if I've ever had a serious conversation with you.”

“Well, maybe I don't want to have a serious conversation with you”, Stark shot back.

“Well, doctor”, Steve forced a smile, “I guess there you have it.”

Wow. This was gonna be just great.

.

“Hey Tones.” Rhodey, that traitor, walked into the lab and shot Tony the smuggest grin. “How was your first session with Dr Simmons?”

“You're an asshole”, Tony grumbled and turned his attention back to the motor he was repairing.

“Thanks dear, I love you, too.”

“Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?” Tony must have looked sufficiently pissed off, since the smugness in Rhodey's look changed to something sombre.

“Me and the rest of the team were thinking that whatever is going on between you and Rogers can't continue like this. It's breaking the team and it's breaking the two of you as well. So you're gonna deal with it.”

“And what if I don't?”

“Then we're gonna lock you two in a room with Hulk.”

“Proactive choice. Just gotta warn you: this is gonna end in disaster.”

“Can't be worse than it is now.”

.

“So why don't you just throw the empty milk carton out?”

It's been thirty minutes and the two Avengers were still fighting over the damn milk. But, instead of giving Mark the chance to dig a little deeper and guide the conversation towards what really upset them, they kept on talking over him. If their last four sessions were anything to go by, they probably forgot Mark was there.

“I have more important things going on in my head to check if I finished the milk or whatever.”

“Right because it's too much to ask for you to take these three seconds to check that.”

“Yeah, but guess what, Rogers: I don't owe you shit.”

Ah, finally, they got to a bigger issue. For a few moments they just stared at each other, Tony's defiance head-on meeting Steve's confusion.

It was the super soldier that broke the silence. “That has nothing to do with me wanting you to do this for me. It's just the proper basis for a bunch of people living together.”

“And why am I the only one that gets your speeches? Clint drinks the juice right out of the container, Vision has zero instinct about privacy and walks right through walls, Thor eats everybody's pop tarts and I don't think I can recall a single time that Wanda cleaned the microwave. So please, Captain, what is it about me that is so unbearable or well, more so than the others?”

“Because you do it on purpose!”, Steve cried out. “All that bullshit didn't start until about two or three months ago. So what the hell changed that you felt the need to be such a pain?”

“Because I can't allow myself to like you.” Tony all but spat the words in Steve's face, got up and turned to Mark. “Thanks, doc. For everything.” Not sure whether it was meant sarcastically or not, Mark just stared after Ironman as he walked out.

“Well”, he eventually cleared his throat. “I guess we can stop talking about milk, leftovers and swearing.”

“Yeah...” Until now, Steve had stared at the closed door, only now he turned to Mark. “Let's just hope he shows up next time...”

.

He didn't.

But Steve hadn't really expected anything else. All week, Tony had kept away from Steve, not once did they run into each other.

After Tony missed another appointment, Steve got worried. Fine, he had been worried ever since Tony had told him that he couldn't like him, but now he allowed the worry to come through.

“Bruce?” The scientist was – as he had been for the last few days – by himself in the lab.

“Steve, hey”, Bruce smiled and waved for Steve to come inside. “What's going on?”

“Have you seen Tony these last few days?”

“Of course not”, Bruce chuckled, “he's in his house in Malibu.”

“Wait, what?” Steve couldn't help his face from dropping.

“Yeah, he said something about some issues with the LA branch of SI.”

“Oh. Right then. Thanks.” With an awkward wave, Steve turned and walked out, as Bruce's concerned looked burned into the back of his head.

Right, SI LA needed its boss every now and again; it made plenty of sense for Tony having to go there somewhat spontaneously.

Something in Steve's gut felt so very off about it though. Disappearing from one moment to the next, not even cancelling their sessions with Dr Simmons... Something was not right and Steve felt somewhat responsible.

Unfortunately, very impulsively so; as much as he hated flying, Steve found himself in the next machine to California.

All through the flight, he had thought about what he wanted to say, but now that a cleaning lady, Miriam, led him through the villa, his head was pretty empty.

In a wide light-filled room, Tony sat on the floor, screwing around with something that looked like it had once been part of an Ironmansuit.

“Tony.”

“Rogers, what the fuck do you want?” Stark didn't even look up.

“I want to check on you.”

“Could've just called.”

“Would you have picked up?”

“Probably not”, he admitted, still not gracing Steve with as much as a fleeting glance. “Thanks for flying out though and have a safe journey back to New York.”

“Tony, I'm not leaving until you talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?”, Stark groaned, threw the wrench on the ground and glared at Steve. “Seriously, what do you need to hear to fuck off?”

“The truth.”

“How original.” With a roll of his eyes, Tony got up and wiped the oil off his hands. Steve doubted it was of use, the rag that had probably once been white was almost black by now.

“Tony, please.”

“Why?” He strutted right up to Steve but he wasn't about to let himself be intimidated. “Why do you care?”

“I care about you and our team. And I thought we have gotten close, I do consider you a friend. And that's why I care about you.”

After staring at Steve for a few moments, Tony dropped his head. “Fuck”, he mumbled. “Right here goes. I'm sorry for screwing with you these last weeks. It was all my fault and I'll be good from now on and we no longer need to deal with the shrink. Deal?”

“No”, Steve made clear. “I flew to LA so we can work on what has the entire team upset and isn't good for the two of us either. So tell me, what I can do to make you more comfortable around me, and I'll gladly do it.” He took two careful steps towards Tony. “Please.”

“I appreciate that, but there's nothing you can do.”

“You said you can't allow yourself to like me.”

When Tony stayed silent, Steve continued: “Is it because of Howard?” It had to be, Tony's Dad was the only thing that connected them profoundly enough for Tony to hate Steve.

“What do you think?”, Tony scoffed. “The great and amazing Captain America, Howard's greatest ever creation, I just never could measure up to.”

“Tony, I'm so sorry...”

“Can it”, Tony interrupted him, “because it's not your fault. You were dead then, it had nothing to do with you and everything with Howard being the worst.”

Wow.

“But you don't want to end up like your Dad, so you forbade yourself to like me”, Steve finished the explanation and interpreted Tony's shrug as affirmation of his assumption. “So why be a pain in my ass then?” This part, Steve didn't really get: Tony could just stay away from Steve, the Tower gave more than enough opportunities for that.

“Just because”, Tony mumbled, as he actually blushed. What the hell? As hard as he tried, Steve couldn't remember Tony Stark ever being flushed.

“That's not an answer.” Steve was aware that he was entering dangerous territory; a cornered Tony was even more dangerous than he normally was. But what was the alternative? Him and Tony just avoiding each other, pushing it all way down until it all blew up in their faces?

“Rogers, please...” Tony's voice went softer, almost a whisper, the exact opposite of how Steve had expected Tony to react.

“Tony, you're seriously worrying me.” Steve took another step towards Tony, who looked like he just wanted to bolt. “Please, what's bothering you?”

“You are, damnit!”, Tony yelled out. “The fact that you're nothing like the damn asshole I pictured you to be throughout my childhood. The fact that you're actually a pretty great guy. The fact that I like you, no, that I like you too damn much.”

Steve couldn't follow. The part about Tony's childhood and Howard, he got. But the almost desperate look in Tony's eyes... “I get that all that, with me, Howard was, or still is...” At Tony's exasperated face drop Steve halted mid-sentence. Was he missing something? Judging by the way Tony looked at him, he probably did.

“You really don't get it, Rogers, do you?”

His meek shrug was only met with a Stark-typical eye-roll.

And then everything seemed to happen at once. With two big steps, Tony closed the last bit of distance between them, grabbed Steve by the shirt collar, pulled him down and pressed their lips together.

And Steve's mind just went blank. Of all the things he'd expect Tony to do... This was not one of them. Frozen in shock, Steve could do nothing but let Stark kiss him.

“Here you go”, Tony shrugged, once he broke away and took two steps back. “Now if you'd please fuck off, I'd be very grateful.” With that he turned and motioned to walk off.

“Tony, wait.” Steve heard himself speak, before he realized he had done it. But it was all so very much in a haze, and Steve wouldn't bet a lot on this being real life and not just a dream, so before he knew it really happened, he grabbed Tony's arm, pulled him back and immediately their lips met again.

After a few shocked moments, Tony's arms wrapped themselves around Steve's shoulders.

Steve had no idea what was really happening, but he didn't care, because it felt amazing. It was electrified, passionate and all the little things that irked them about each other seemed to vanish, making room for desire to run wild.

“Rogers”, Tony mumbled after a while, “what is...”

“Shut up”, Steve shot back, not in the mood for talking.

“Works for me”, Stark chuckled, and, with his hand on Steve's neck, he pulled him down and deepened the kiss even more.

Was this a good idea? Probably not. Did Steve care? Fuck, no.

.

When Steve woke up the next morning, he wasn't quite sure where he was. He definitely didn't know this enormous bed, and these silky bed sheets were not to his taste.

Oh. Right. He was in LA. In Tony's bed. And very naked.

Shit.

What was more, he was alone in Tony's oversized bed. There was no genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, but a note.

Steve,

sorry, had to dash. Help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen, if you want.

I'll see you in New York.

TS

Shit. With a loud groan, Steve fell back into the cushions. What did he think? He didn't, that was just it. Or he thought with the wrong body part. Sure, it felt good, very much so. Kissing someone hadn't felt that good ever since he kissed Peggy. And then... Passion just took over.

That was admittedly the weird part, Steve wasn't someone who just let himself run over with desire and just jumped right into bed with whoever kissed him. Well, he and Tony had a lot of pent up tension between them and now they just had the need to get it all out.

I'll see you in New York.

Well, maybe things would be a little more relaxed between them from now on. But Steve doubted that.

.

“Omigod”, Nat sighed, “I can't believe I'm saying this but I liked it so much better when they were fighting.”

“Tell me about it.” Clint fell down next to her on the couch. “The way Cap just silently stares at Stark is seriously creepy and so awkward.”

“And Stark barely ever talks any more when Steve is in the room and flees as soon as he's got the chance”, Wanda observed.

“If it weren't those two, I'd say they're boning”, Clint giggled, until he stopped dead. “Omigod. Do you think that Steve and Tony...”

The assembled Avengers just looked at each other with wide eyes.

“It would explain so much”, Nat eventually broke the silence.

“All that bickering and fighting is just unresolved sexual tension”, Bruce commented.

“We gotta fix them!”

“Right”, Nat scoffed, “because they both would react so positively to us walking up to them and telling them to bone.”

“Maybe we should stick them back in therapy.”

“Because that went over so well the last time.”

“What then?” Rhodey looked around the group. “There's gotta be something we can do!”

“We'll leave that to you”, Nat suggested, “you're the only one who can get through to Tony.”

.

With a ping the elevator doors opened and Rhodey walked into the penthouse, already dreading in what state he was about to find his friend. “Tones? You in here?”

“Platypus!”, Tony beamed and staggered towards him with wide open arms. Shit. He was really hammered.

“Here”, he handed Rhodey a bottle, clearly not realizing that it was already empty. “Drink with me!”

“How about we switch to water?”, he suggested and took the still half-full bottle of whiskey out of Tony's hand.

“You're so boring”, Tony moped and walked over to the kitchen cabinet, where he got another bottle. “So boring”, he repeated after a generous sip. “Just like Steve. He's so stupid and boring.”

“Yeah, I know.” Gently, Rhodey guided Tony to a couch and all but pushed him down. “I'm not worried about Rogers, though.”

“You should...”

“Nah, I'm only responsible to look after you.”

“I'm fine”, Tony claimed, however swaying and slurring a lot more than fine would suggest.

“I know you are. That's why you ran off to LA, avoid Steve since you're back, lock yourself in up here and drink that much again.”

“I'm really fine”, Tony repeated. “Look!” He T-posed and shot him a kissy-face. “I'm so good.”

“Right, then you won't mind talking to Steve, would you?”

“But I don't want to.” Not unlike a child throwing a hissy fit, Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest; all that was missing was Tony sticking his tongue out at Rhodey.

Well, if Tony was gonna act like a four-year-old, then Rhodey'd pack out his parental voice. “And why don't you want to talk to him?”

Thankfully, he was too drunk to pick up on James' condescending tone. “Because he's stupid.”

“And why is he stupid?”

“Because he is.”

“Tony.” This was gonna be a tough one.

“Rhodey”, he mocked him.

“Well, if you're fine, then I can go.” He got up off the couch and, as he had expected, he couldn't get two steps until Tony stopped him.

“Don't go”, he mumbled, grabbed his arm and pulled him back on the couch.

“Alright, I'll stay”, James smiled. “You gonna tell me what has you upset though?”

Tony clutched a pillow and looked down on the floor. “We... we had sex.”

“You did what?” Oh damn. They were right, the Avengers were damn right about them.

“He... He just didn't get it, so I showed him. And then he kissed me back. And then...” Instead of finishing his sentence, Tony took another sip from his bottle.

Well, damn.

“Sounds to me like you and Steve have quite a bit to talk about...”

“Talking fucking sucks”, Tony groaned and slumped against Rhodey's side.

“It helps though”, he shrugged and put his arm around Tony's shoulder.

“Still sucks”, he mumbled and snuggled into the embrace.

Rhodey had lived through enough of Tony's drinking sessions to know that a) Tony was about to fall asleep, that b) Rhodey would not be able to move until he woke up again, that c) the chances of getting thrown up on were at least in the high seventies and that d) this disaster human being was his absolute favourite person in the entire world.

“I love you, Tones.”

“I love you too, Honey-bear.”

.

5 days. 5 days since Steve had flown to LA to confront Tony about their 'situation'. 5 days, since Tony had grabbed his shirt and kissed him. 5 days, since Steve kissed him back. 5 days, since Steve had just about the best night ever. 5 days, in which Steve couldn't think about anything else than the surprisingly soft lips, the taste of coffee, the strong hands on his body and most of all, how good being with Tony had felt.

And with all that came a realization: that flutter in his stomach that came every time Steve was around Tony was not dread, awkwardness or anything like that, it were the butterflies in his stomach going into overdrive.

When Steve finally gathered enough courage to talk to Tony, he ended up standing in front of a locked door.

“I'm sorry, boss has restricted access to anyone.”

“JARVIS, please.” In the worry about his friend, Steve didn't give too much thought to him currently trying to reason with a bodiless robot. “You can't tell me that he's doing alright. Let me please talk to him.”

“Since he is not in imminent physical danger, I am not authorized to ignore boss' orders.”

“Is he drinking?”

“Yes.”

“With his history, it's more than dangerous for him to be locked up all by himself with these amounts of alcohol, don't you agree?”

“I do”, he admitted and the door opened for him.

“Thanks, JARVIS, you're the best.”

.

“Tony?”

Damnit. JARVIS was really keen on disobeying all of Tony's orders, was he? “One of these days”, he groaned towards the general direction of the camera, “I'll donate you to a high school.”

“I believe my fosterlings there would be less determined to kill themselves and be more grateful for my unwavering support.”

“You sure as fuck aren't supporting me”, Tony hissed, as Steve walked all through the penthouse in search of him. If Tony was lucky, Rogers would respect the sanctity of the bedroom, where Tony had created a make-shift workstation on and around the bed.

“I have your best interests at heart, even if you might not realize it.”

For fuck's sake.

“Tony?”, Steve called again, closing in on Tony's location.

“He is in the bedroom”, JARVIS announced and boy, if looks could kill, Tony would have to install new security cameras.

“Can I come in?”

“Whatever”, Tony grumbled and the door opened to the sight of a nervous Steve.

“Hi.”

“Rogers, I don't know what went wrong with you that you can't seem to get I don't want to see you.” Tony didn't even bother with looking up at Steve and hoped to whoever was in charge of hurried prayers that the super soldier would see it as nonchalant and not recognize the pained insecurity. Which, by the way, fucking sucked.

All of this, of what happened these last few weeks, months, fucking sucked.

It started to suck, when Tony got to know Steve for who he really was: not the absolute pinnacle of American perfection who Tony would never be able to measure up to, but instead.... Sure, Steve was all that, but so much more.

As much as Tony pretended to be exasperated and annoyed by his in all honesty at times pathetic tries to catch up to modern technology, his determination was really commendable and quite adorable. Same with his annoying righteousness; knowing about Steve what Tony knew now, he could recognize and appreciate how passionate Rogers was about the things most important to him. And that undying loyalty... But not – as Tony had thought – to the US army, the government and blindly following orders, but to the people closest to him. Even to Tony. Who had been quite the dick. But even though he didn't understand a word of it, Rogers often listened to Tony's engineering rants. And listening to Steve going on and on about injustice or whatever, Tony just got roped in by that seemingly boundless passion.

And with all that wrapped up in *that* package... Yeah, Tony really had fallen for Steve. And he hated himself for it.

Why of all people did it have to be Captain America that made Tony's heart skip a fucking beat? And why in the name of Edwin Jarvis did Tony 'confess'? Why couldn't he have just stuck to the fucking plan, ride these damn feelings out and be enough of a pain so Steve would hate him?

But no, Mr Impulsivity just couldn't leave well enough alone and keep it in his damn pants, could he?

“I'm sorry, Tony”, Steve eventually apologized.

“For what?” For being a giant idiot, who didn't get what was going on? For pushing what should have been left alone and thusly making everything a million times worse?

“Yes, to all of those.”

Tony didn't even realize he had said all this out loud, but whatever. Not like all this could be even more fucked up...

“But there's a bit more I need to apologize for.” Almost cautious was Steve's movement as he walked up to Tony, who sat on the bed. “I'm sorry that I'm so slow and dumb when it comes to feelings. I'm sorry I brushed all of your actions off as you being nothing more than a childish pain in my ass and some other choice words I feel like leaving out of this right now”, he chuckled and yes, that was indeed a blush creeping up Steve's face. “Because I know you're not like that.”

“Oh?”, Tony shot over, rife with sarcasm. “Then what am I like?”

Steve locked eyes with Tony, sincere and earnest. “You're so generous, intelligent, caring, admittedly quite funny and supportive of everybody important to you. I know you like to play all that down, hide behind the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist tag, but that's all it is. A tag. But that passion, that fire... You light up every room you enter and that's not because of your genius-billionaire-bullshit, it's because of your big heart.”

Huh.

As much as he hated to admit it, Tony was speechless and could only stare at Steve with wide open eyes.

“And I'm especially sorry that it took me so damn long to realize that all that has roped me in long ago.” Steve scooted closer, bringing them mere centimetres apart. “It took LA to make me understand that this weird feeling in my stomach whenever you're around, had nothing to do with dislike or annoyance. More like the exact opposite.” As he spoke, Steve's voice went quieter as he leaned in closer, and before Tony could compute any of this, Steve's lips were on his.

.

“What the fuck?”

When Nat opened the door to the kitchen, she couldn't quite believe what she saw: Tony, making coffee and Steve's arms wrapped around his waist, with his head rested on Tony's shoulder.

“Hi Natasha, want a cup?”, Tony asked, barely looking over.

“I'm good”, she waved him off and pulled Clint, whose jaw was still on the ground, to the table. “Let me guess, therapy did you two a world of good.”

“We might not be that pissed about it any more.” Tony turned around, and leaned against the somewhat blushing Steve.

“Thanks for forcing us to go”, he grinned.

“We told you.”

“Yeah... Guess that wouldn't make you the smartest person in this building after all...” Steve grinned over at Tony, who smacked Steve's side.

“It's definitely not you, I could have told you that long ago”, he shot back with a smirk.

“Oh really?” Steve raised his eyebrow and Nat felt like she was about to get sick.

“Oh god, what have we done”, Clint hissed over, staring wide-eyed at Tony and Steve. Flirting. Actually flirting.

“We've created a monster, that's what we did.”

[polygarnstars]

part 1: 4, 12, 15, 18, and 19

If you think I’m going to have common sense and not answer all of these in a single post, I have Bad News lmao

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? Smart, mostly. “Gifted”. This very much Did Not Last lmaoooo

12. name of your favorite playlist? I literally never make playlists I’m a stupid fuck who uses their spotify premium to skip freely through all my thousands of liked songs on shuffle until I find something I want to listen to lmaooooo (Having said that: Rey and I put together a playlist for some characters we were entering a contest to win last fall which I titled Story and Song after the TAZ arc and also because we wrote Way Too Much for it and I’m Very Proud Of That)

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? Okay upon reading this I initially genuinely couldn’t remember any of the books I read in school because for the last several years of my schooling I just fuckin Sparknotes and TV Tropes-ed everything lmao... having said that, I do remember enjoying Maus! It was neat having a graphic novel assigned amongst all the “literary classics” that I couldn’t sit through a sitting of without falling asleep, and it may be the furry in me but the depiction of the characters/people as animals was Good :0c See, if all history was depicted with methods like this, I’d maybe actually be able to remember it ghfdjhgjfkdl

18. ideal weather? Depends on the day, but generally: Between like 65-80°F, not humid, not a lot of wind, and either sunny, partly cloudy, or drizzly but not outright storming. Basically decent temperatures without feeling like I’m walking through soup because of the humidity and weather that’s not completely gray and boring. Aka what Maine basically never is lmaoooo

19. sleeping position? I change positions every five minutes I swear to god (don’t take that out of context gfhdjbhvjd). Usually with at least one arm draped over a pillow that is Definitely Not Being Mentally Portrayed As A Character I Like To Supplement The Fact That I Did Not Get Enough Affection To Be A Functional Adult As A Child ghfdjknbhgfjdk

21. obsession from childhood? bold of you to assume i don’t still obsess over nintendo games (and just video games in general tbh)

23. strange habits? OKAY I COULDN’T THINK OF ANYTHING FOR THIS AT FIRST BUT I HAVE ONE NOW: MIDNIGHT FRIES

28. five songs to describe you? Speeding - LightsDaydreaming - ParamoreMusic - Mystery SkullsNo Lullaby - SIAMÉSLonely Dance - Set If Off+Bonus because it came up on Spotify while I was shuffling for songs for this and it’s a Mood: Pineapples Do Not Belong on a Pizza - Vargskelethor

29. best way to bond with you? I don’t know I usually just scream about ocs or video games with people and suddenly it’s been a year??? @riskreyes how has it been a year since we started talking but also how has it only been a year??? Wild bvhfdjkbhvgfjdk

30. places that you find sacred? Lmao I’ve never had anywhere like that really. Need a goddamn lock on my door :p I guess... the woods by my house? As a little kid before things got shitty my neighbor’s cousin or niece or something would go out there wandering around catching frogs and stuff in the spring or almost falling into the frozen streams during winter. When things started to go to shit in my life as a teenager I would hide out there to get away and nobody would find me. I haven’t been recently but the last time I did my friend and I walked along the train tracks and dove off into the woods by the side to avoid the amtrak coming by, it was great lmao. Uhh, other than that... I dunno, Boston and New York and New London all make me feel good to visit. Probably mostly because during those trips I don’t feel trapped in a dying land like Maine feels like bgvhfdjkhvgfjd

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? ......my entire wardrobe is my work outfit, excessive graphic tees, and jeans. So uhh... I dunno. I guess my NWTB shirts are pretty rad, I’d kick a dude’s ass wearing Nate’s merch

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? if i have to see another ad for some fuckin branch of the us military while i’m just out here trying to watch people play video games i swear to god-

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Oh boy I don’t know how weird these are but do you want a list??? I can give you a list hang on- In 4th grade we had a day of class where we all just had a party and ate chips and salsa and stuff because the pats won the super bowl and our teacher was Obsessed- In middle school my math class started working out of college textbooks, which is a bit much when you’re 11, advanced classes or no. Yet somehow none of the other students had any problems with this- Also in middle school, the school counselor really wasn’t very Good at his job so I usually just ended up playing Rock Band in his office instead of talking out any of my Many, Many Problems. I played the drums, for the record- Also in middle school, one time I straight up fell down a flight of stairs? Like, a full flight of stairs. Fuckin somersaulting down the stairs. The binder I was carrying broke open, papers went everywhere, my arm got cut open somewhere along the way and started bleeding. I get to the bottom, the other students are staring at me in horror, aforementioned counselor fuckin steps out of his office which is, of course, right at the bottom of the stairs, all concerned because what the fuck a kid just fell down the stairs, right? And so I, laying on the floor disoriented and laughing, declare, and I quote: “That was fun, let’s do it again!”- THE MOTHERFUCKING MAC AND CHEESE MUFFINS IN HIGH SCHOOL. Macaroni and cheese baked into the sweet batter of a muffin. I refused to touch the stuff but a friend of my did and it was bad enough he had to go to the trash can and fucking empty his stomach in it.- SAID FRIEND ALSO MANAGED TO GET A CARTON OF MILK THAT EXPIRED A MONTH BEFORE SCHOOL STARTED AT THE START OF ONE OF OUR YEARS IN HIGH SCHOOL and if I didn’t trust cafeteria food before that sealed the deal on me Never Trusting It Again- OH BUT SPEAKING OF CAFETERIA FOOD one time in the old school before the renovation, in like freshman year I think? I laughed so hard a piece of spicy chicken strip flew up my windpipe and got stuck in my nose and it was too big for me to snort out so I had to suck it back down and for the rest of the day all I could smell was burning- ON ANOTHER FOOD RELATED TOPIC down in the library I was on my iPad and 3DS because I had Long Since Given Up On School and some asshole dudes threw a rotting orange at me and it splattered all over the screens of both? So I picked up the remains and chucked it back at them and yelled “Do you wanna fucking NOT?” and they all ran off. The librarian heard me yell and saw me throw the orange back at them and she just didn’t give a fuck lmao- The librarians at my school were cool as shit really during one of our years we had to do x hours of volunteer work so I did some adjustments to the library catalogue for mine but the thing is I was fast enough at it that there really wasn’t enough to fill up my required hours so instead of giving me more to do they just sort of let me and my friends hang out playing Yu-Gi-Oh and called that good lmao. (For the record I only had one starter deck so I let my friend pick half of the cards and I would use the half she didn’t want. I managed to fuckin WRECK her with throwaways it was Iconicque)- OKAY ONE LAST LIBRARY STORY on the last day of finals I was hanging out in one of the smart tv rooms in the library right? My last finals weren’t for a few hours and lord knows I wasn’t gonna study, ADHD ass couldn’t do that and I’d already given up on school lmao. So I fucking... I brought my Wii U to school, hooked it up to the smart tv, and just started playing Splatoon there in the library. One of the librarians walked past to check on everyone, stopped at my room, watched me play for a minute (I noticed her and just sort of nodded and waved like ‘Sup’ so she Knew what was going on), and then just LEFT. Like, she didn’t give a fuck. Shoutout to the librarians, the Chillest- ALRIGHT LAST STORY LAST STORY I straight up never got all the credits I needed to graduate lmao. I was missing half a credit but they let me go anyway and to this day I cite the reason as being my high scores on the SAT/PSAT? I was the first student at the school in like, a decade, to have gotten an award from the National Merit Scholarship Corporation for my performance on them, and I guess they must have thought that me failing to graduate on time would look bad on them because, uh, yeah, it would, if people found out their teachers couldn’t handle a ~smart kid~ to the point that they did poorly enough to not even graduate with the rest of their class nobody would be willing to send their kids there lmao. And that’s the story of how I graduated when I wasn’t technically supposed to!!!

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? That’s a good fuckin question hey shit memory what was that thing that made us laugh so hard we couldn’t breathe again?...Don’t remember? Yeah I thought so lmaoI dunno, probably a joke in some let’s play? Or... god. Now that I think about it was probably the Slicer of T’pire Weir Isles moment actually. Holy shit, that was good.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? That I’ve ever tried? Jesus, I dunno, I have issues with texture more than flavor. I Refuse to eat my mother’s stuffing because it’s literally just soggy ass bread. In terms of pure flavor alone? Her shepherds pie. It’s just... there is no flavor. It’s like eating cardboard. I’m begging you, De, use seasoning. If I ever have to eat shepherds pie that just tastes like tin from canned peas and vague hints of unseasoned beef again I’m going to go on a murderous rampage.That said? F in the chat to Cameron for that mac and cheese muffin. Rest in pieces

73. favorite weird flavor combo? GVFHDJBVDN JUST GONNA MAKE ME SHARE THE DILL PICKLE/CHOCOLATE PUDDING PACK COMBO FOR ALL THE WORLD TO SEE HUH

93. nicknames? Gar, Garn, Lane, Bill, Master, Pants, Shortpants. The first three are self-explanatory, first two are shortenings of my name and then my masc/surname. The latter four come from usernames of mine - Bill from Bill Ciforce (If you stack a Bill Cipher on top of two other Bill Ciphers, you get the Ciforce), Master, Pants, and Shortpants from MasterShortpants in reference to one of Link’s nicknames in Skyward Sword

95. favorite app on your phone? Does the internet app count? No? Lmao. Spotify I guess :p Need me some Tunes

[krispyweiss]

Old Year Resolution: Don’t Let 2019 Slip Away Without Hearing These Albums

The year 2019 was another great one for new music. Old artists, new artists and in-between artists alike released a bevy of spectacular new recordings.

Here are 10, technically 11 by 10 artists, of Sound Bites’ favorite studio releases of the year nearly gone - live and archival recordings are excluded - albums everyone must sink their ears into before turning the sheet music to 2020. The capsules are taken from the blog’s reviews at the time of release and presented in no particular order.

Jeremy Spencer - Latina Nights and Yearning Winds

The former Fleetwood Mac guitarist Jeremy Spencer bookended the year with a pair of low-key, digital-only albums that continue the path he’s been blazing since re-emerging with a vengeance in 2006. Both fully instrumental, Latina Nights and Yearning Winds turn what seems to be destined to be background music into much more.

Our Native Daughters - Songs of Our Native Daughters

There are supergroups and then there’s Our Native Daughters. Featuring former Carolina Chocolate Drops Rhiannon Giddens and Leyla McCalla; Birds of Chicago’s Allison Russell; and Amethyst Kiah, this band of multi-instrumentalist black women tells the stories of America’s darkest open secret, its legacy and its impact on women of color on its exceptional debut, Songs of Our Native Daughters, which features one dozen originals and a cover of Bob Marley’s “Slave Driver.”

Tedeschi Trucks Band - Signs

The band squeezes 11 compact songs - and nearly as many musical styles - into Signs’ 46-minute runtime and the result is unquestionably the finest of Tedeschi Trucks Band’s four studio album to date.

Willie Nelson - Ride Me Back Home

At 86 and making what is by most counts his 69th studio album - and eighth since 2015 - Willie Nelson has no business releasing a canonical LP consisting mostly of original material. But that’s exactly what he’s done with Ride Me Back Home, an 11-track, 43-minute trek across country and western, jazz and blues where a flaccid cover of Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are” is the only soft spot.

Marc Cohn and Blind Boys of Alabama - Work to Do

It’s a miracle Work to Do actually works. The album pairs a white, late-middle-aged Jew (Marc Cohn) with a group of black, elderly Christians (the Blind Boys of Alabama). It links three studio recordings with with seven live tracks, finds the co-billed stars performing alone and together and the result is - miraculously - seamless cohesion out of a sea of incongruity. Nothing about Work to Do indicates the Frankenstein of an album should work. Yet every single thing about it does. Praise Yehweh. And Jesus.

Delbert McClinton and Self-Made Men + Dana - Tall, Dark & Handsome

Working with Self-Made Men + Dana, Delbert McClinton has fashioned an LP that spends most of its 40-minute runtime dwelling in the era between the Depression and World War II, before jazz, country and blues became American rock ‘n’ roll as we know it today. McClinton’s voice isn’t as powerful as it once was - dude is 78 - but he’s a vocalist who knows how to use his raspy gift.

Van Morrison - Three Chords & the Truth

Three Chords & the Truth is Van Morrison’s 41st LP and sixth since 2016. And while he’s been on something of a hot streak of late, this record, with all original material for the first time since 2012, burns brightest among its contemporaries as it bounds from the blues of Morrison’s earliest days to the jazz-tinged pop of his commercial heyday to the religious leanings of the Avalon Sunset period.

Todd Snider - Cash Cabin Sessions, Vol. 3

When Todd Snider released Eastside Bulldog - a hard-punching collection of lightweight garage-rock numbers - in 2016, he said: “I don’t think people that like me are going to like it that much.” That was then. Now, the people who like Snider are going to adore Cash Cabin Sessions, Vol. 3, a 35-minute collection of 10 acoustic tracks and two spoken-word intros that follows the arc of Snider’s wildly entertaining solo shows.

The Milk Carton Kids - The Only Ones

Returning from the full-band detour that was 2018’s All the Things that I Did and All the Things that I Didn’t Do, the Milk Carton Kids - Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan - reverted to just two guitars and two voices on their latest release. While last year’s experiment was a success, the return to home base is welcome as The Only Ones takes a different kind of leap. Where previous acoustic LPs triumphed on their tender beauty alone, the Kids sound all grown up now as their songwriting matches their performance.

Matt Rae - Crazy Fingers

In a world where one more Grateful Dead-covers project seems like twice-baked overkill, here comes Matt Rae with one that shouldn't be missed. Crazy Fingers finds the guitarist offering up nine instrumentals that focus heavily on the 1970s-era Robert Hunter/Jerry Garcia songbook with the traditional "Cold Rain and Snow," Phil Lesh‘s psychedelic C&W oddball “Pride of Cucamonga" and Merle Haggard's "Sing Me Back Home” tossed in to widen the scope.

12/29/19

[muggle-writes]

Stretch Thursday

Prompt: "In front of the protagonist, the grocery store clerk just packed several large glass bottles on top of the eggs. The protagonist hears them crack."

Constraint: write in first person

(I vaguely knew how this was going to end, but everything between the first paragraph and the actual prompted moment, and then most of what came after, surprised me on its way out of my fingers.)

Gods above, could this checkout line move any slower, I wondered. Sure, there were only two people in front of me, but the haughty swaggering lump of a human being in front was questioning everything, in search of a nonexistent bargain:

(readmore should be right here but it's not hey tumblr please build a functional app ever maybe?)

Why didn't you accept this week-out-of-date coupon? Why did that coupon only apply to one package of frog eyes, not four. Are you sure this naga skin rucksack isn't on sale? I'm pretty sure the sign said it was on sale. (the leather shoulder bag in a similar size was on sale.)

The poor clerk - Ashley, their nametag said, a pin on the lanyard instructing people to use She or They pronouns - was the only person on checkout duty in the early afternoon. She seemed flustered, but answered every single question in the same patient, even tone of voice.

I wouldn't be able to do that. Actually, when I worked in retail, I got fired from three different jobs for intimidating customers when they started acting like that. Like just because they cleared out a nest of giant rats on the outskirts of town or prevented a band of goblins from establishing a camp in the caves just across the river, that they're entitled to luxury and hero worship, or at least special privileges, from the rest of us. Thank goodness I finally got a job with the local theater, my talents in projecting illusions finally celebrated for dressing the actors up with "no effort" (on the part of the makeup team, not that I don't stretch my magic as far as it can go and then some every night at rehearsal and for hours at a time eight days straight when our shows are open to the public, to turn the bright-but-plain frocks into resplendent ball gowns and every other bit of nonsense that was asked of me). And that's so much better than when I was viewed with suspicion by peers and teachers alike because apparently creating tiny intangible dragons or silent fireworks and lying about my character are the exact same thing, who knew?

I reeled that train of thought back in. There was no need to be bitter about high school bullies considering I'm now living the (pre)Broadstreet dream, and most of them... Well, even the "successful" ones still work ten hour days at tedious office jobs to keep the heat on and the wards up.

The one thing that bitter spiral was good for was that by the time I forced it out of my head, Ashley was calling "have a nice day, Sir" in the same perfectly-bland tone at Mr Cheapskate as he stalked off, carrying three bags on each arm and leaving his cart half-blocking the checkout lane.

He nearly got blown off his feet as he stepped from the store's heat and calm across the ward line, a generous two feet outside the door, into the frigid wind the meteorologists were calling a sneak peek into the blizzard that should hit this weekend. Good riddance.

I met Ashley's eyes as they tapped the rune to pull the items on the conveyor belt forward. I rolled my eyes sympathetically at her forced smile and dead-exhausted eyes. (Not literally dead! Apparently my brain was stuck in high school again because I could almost hear Mrs Primfoot growling about teens and their inability to describe things accurately. Come on. The zombie revolts in Rhodesia were fifteen years ago, and hyperbole is hilarious. Do people just lose all sense of humor when they turn 30?)

Ashley didn't roll their eyes back, she probably worried about losing her job over disrespecting customers in front of other customers, but their lips twitched and their smile seemed a little less stiff.

"Just these two things?" Ashley asked, with professionally-faked curiosity, picking up a large carton of eggs to scan them. "Eggs and milk to wait out the blizzard?" Eighteen goose eggs was a bit much for waiting out a two day storm, even for a bigger family, but some people liked to overprepare. Gods knew I'd seen weirder purchases when I had to check people out. I'd seen weirder people too. This woman, with her sapphire blue, floor-length dress and gray roots belying her dark brown hair, appeared absolutely normal, even with her curls adding at least two inches in height, making her appear barely shorter than me.

"Those are golden goose eggs," the woman corrected her in a syrupy sweet tone that sent a shiver down my spine. Ashley's eyes widened - probably in recognition because they'd been too professional for anything else, but I wouldn't have blamed her for expressing horror. The only customers worse than the adventurers who thought they were better than everyone else, were the governor's many cousins, who were obscenely rich through none of their own effort and not only thought they were better than everyone else but that we were all too naive to understand that.

"For my sweet niece's fourth birthday," the woman continued as though it were obvious.

I couldn't hold back a snort and immediately faked a coughing fit so she wouldn't turn and lecture me in that same patronizing tone.

Even if a dozen golden eggs wouldn't cost me over a month's wages, the yolks, with the flakes of gold leaf suspended throughout, gave them an awful texture no matter how you prepared the eggs, and they inevitably tasted metallic. No toddler would appreciate that, not even if she was already spoiled so rotten as to only accept the priciest of gifts. Well, if the kid was allowed to smash the eggs raw and then go "panning for gold" she would probably have a blast, but something about this woman's perfectly symmetric makeup, smooth, manicured nails, and shockingly hairless arms told me that she would accept nothing less than the most picture perfect cuisine, which meant she was likely to boil the golden eggs so she could present them, polished to the classic shine.

Regular egg yolks turn chalky and disgusting when you boil them, boiled golden eggs are infinitely worse.

Ashley didn't respond beyond a mild "ah, of course" as they efficiently double-bagged the eggs and set them aside.

The woman made a vague disgruntled noise in the back of her throat, but didn't say anything.

Ashley reached for the next item, the package of six tall carafes that I was now sure were something other than plain milk. Sure enough, when Ashley picked up the package, their hand moved in an arc, as though the carafes weighed less than they expected. The additional height caused the yellow light from the enchanted ceiling to dance across the bottles, drawing my eyes to the anti-theft runes stamped on each one.

Suddenly I recognized them. If I were going to blow an entire paycheck on luxuries, I certainly wouldn't buy the two or three golden eggs I could afford with that amount, but I might splurge on a set of these corruption-identifying bottles. They were supposed to be equally good for home canning, for jams and pickles and the like, and for potions. the not-quite-clear, milky white glass promised to turn sickly green if the contents of each bottle went bad, or if poison was added, intentionally or otherwise, or if the properties of the potion inside changed even if it was still safe to drink.

As Ashley was starting to tuck the bottles into a new bag, the woman cleared her throat. "Dearie, I'm sure those will fit in with the eggs. No need to waste another bag."

Ashley hesitated. "Ma'am, it's Magemart policy to bag fragile items separately and"

"It's fine, it's fine," the woman interrupted. "There's only two items, and I don't need all this extra plastic.

"Of course, Ma'am," Ashley agreed, monotone. They opened the top of the bag of eggs, which had folded itself shut.

As Ashley tucked the bottles into the bag with the eggs, I thought I heard a sharp clink, like glass on glass. Odd, but whatever. maybe one of the bottles is loose in the package. and ran into another.

"This is your total," Ashley said, straightening up and indicating the display. Either the lack of reading the final price was another breach of policy or there was a clause in the policy about not reading numbers with more than four digits aloud. I don't remember exactly, my own job at the Magemart closest to my apartment lasted barely three days, the shortest of any of my retail jobs.

The woman swiped her credit card, and was just tucking it back away into her wallet when one of the carafes exploded with a tinkling crash that seemed to echo for ages. I flinched at the sudden noise, and Ashley jumped back with a yelp, unflappable facade forgotten.

We all looked at the fluorescent green shards for a moment. I couldn't quite believe my eyes - either I'd badly misunderstood how CI bottles were supposed to work or there was something really horrendously wrong with those eggs. Besides just being golden goose eggs I mean. All of the other bottles had dangerous green cracks spreading throughout, and another looked like it might fall apart into thousands of shards like its fellow at the slightest provocation.

Almost before I had processed what I was seeing, the woman had rallied enough to shout in Ashley's face, leaning over the counter. "What the devil did you do?"

Ashley cowered, silent tears building at the corners of her eyes. They still looked stunned, frozen in place.

"Hey!" I shouted, feigning confidence and trying to get in this woman's face to protect a fellow cashier. She ignored me. "You were the one who told them to put everything in one bag!"

That got her attention. It wasn't quite what I meant to say, but I was having trouble figuring out what I meant to say, and that slipped out in the meantime.

"And you want to defend her for what? Selling me defective goods?" the woman demanded, equally happy to yell in my face. At least I'd kind of gotten into this knowingly. "CI bottles don't work like that! Or if this is some new function, then that means these golden goose eggs are poisoned or spoilt and they shouldn't be selling them to me!" she insisted.

"What do you expect her to do?" I asked, meeting her continued shouting with a tone that I would call 'panicked' but that Sierra once called 'dangerously quiet'. "How should she have known? Is she supposed to spend her shift finding any magical item that might interact with other things, and taking it around to set it on every other item it might possibly be bagged with, to make sure there's no unexpected interaction? Should they be doing that instead of checking people out, while they're on the clock?" I tried to make the scenario obviously illogical but I think I rambled too much to get the point across.

The woman only squinted at me for a long moment before putting her nose half an inch from mine and shouting even louder than before, "I! Want! A! Manager!"

I wiped spittle off my face, and she stamped her foot, which seemed to be the impulse needed for the second and third bottles to shatter, with another echoing crash.

Someone in line behind me muttered about a manager, before rushing off. ...Probably. I didn't exactly turn to look, with the woman still glowering in my face. Hopefully they ran off to get a manager who would take this belligerent lady out of my and Ashley's faces.

Fortunately, that's exactly what happened. A manager showed up to talk to the woman right around the time she started making threats, and Ashley and the line of people waiting to check out shuffled over to a new register without glass shards everywhere.

We all kept our positions in line, so it was finally my turn to check out. My heart was still pounding from the confrontation as I handed Ashley the bag of moonstone chips to scan.

They offered me a weak smile. "Illusion magic? Isn't that really hard to learn?" Ashley asked, with a tiny but genuine spark of interest in her eyes.

I nodded before I fully processed the second question, already fumbling for my company credit card. "I work hard at it," I said, stretching the truth a little. I certainly didn't have the usual trouble developing the basics, but I push my limits near-daily at the theater and stumbling out of my comfort zone proves to me that I can do more.

"Will that be all," Ashley asked, but tapped the appropriate button on the register before I could reply, my card already poised over the place to swipe it being answer enough. "Your total is 10.53," she said, the next line in the cashiers' script that I still unfortunately have memorized.

They skipped the part of the script asking me if I wanted a receipt, just grabbed it when it printed and scribbled a quick message on the back of it, before finally presenting it to me, holding it out with the handle of the plastic bag with my moonstone inside. "Here is your receipt Ma'am."

I grabbed both, gently, and before I could pull my hand back to look at the message, she flipped her hand over to grab mine.

"Hey.... Thanks," they murmured, then let go.

I flashed her what was either a reassuring to smile or a pained grimace. Hard to tell from inside my own face. "Cashiers ought to be allowed to yell back at people like that," I said. "I'm glad I could get her attention off you."

Ashley opened their mouth to respond but the person behind me in line cleared his throat, and she turned to him, professionally flat expression back in place.

I flipped the receipt over to read what Ashley had written. It was her phone number and the message

I get off at 5. May I treat you to coffee?

I pulled out my phone to text her a yes, and fumbled putting the basket back into the stack for future customers twice before I paused typing long enough to focus on putting the basket away.

I wasn't really bothered by my klutziness. For once my hot head earned me a hot date instead of a hot mess.

[thelostboys-rp]

{Arc} The Milk Carton Kid

Laddie had once been reported missing by his family. After his ordeal with the Lost Boys, he returned home and was reunited with his parents. On the anniversary of his disappearance, his life abruptly falls apart.

1. Have you Seen Me?

Laddie hasn't been in school for nearly a week, and his friends are worried.

2. Family Isn’t Always By Blood

One week later, Laddie receives the reassurance from his friends about his situation.

3. Lost But Not Broken

Not everything happening in Laddie's life is gloomy, as an unexpected bright spot shines over him at school.

4. Full Circle

Laddie returns to the very spot where he was first discovered as a desperate runaway.

5. Moving Out and Moving On

Dwayne, Paul, and Star take matters into their own hands when it comes to helping out Laddie.

[sandflakedraws]

Hey so I've been considering checking out abot for a while now. But before I do, I wanna know what the draw is for you. What do you like so much about it ?

Strap yourself in, we’re about to go through one longass hell of a ride. Fair warning that this gushy love letter has a good chunk of spoils for canon mp100 and abot alike, so do with that what you will. (though i keep most of the spoils to the earlier chapters so i can leave some firsthand experience left)

ABoT has 5 main (not all) attractions for me, most of which are incredibly personal :1. nuanced, actually mature depiction of abuse2. lack of a ‘perfect savior’3. plotting cause+effect4. scene setting (okay this one is more a taste thing that i happen to really love)5. incredible writing all around

Part 1. Nuanced, actually mature depiction of abuse.

I was an abused and neglected child. As such, it’s very easy to see where some of the appeal of this type of fanfic would come from. Course, I’d encourage a looksie regardless because it’s written with respect to the subject matter, and because fics like these have great potential to expand on human understanding and empathy.

THAT SAID ! In order to talk about the depiction of abuse in abot, I first need to talk about the abuse in mp100 canon.

To be frank, I think phantomrose96 handles it better than mp100. Especially the execution and aftermath of said topic.

For comparison I’m going to use the Mogami arc (an arc i do like, perhaps less than the majority of fandom, tho this’ll likely shed a light on why)

The depiction of abuse between abot and canon have some similarities. In both cases, Mob is uprooted from his foundations of support, and the strain goes on for a lengthy amount of time. Canon!Mob’s experiences are 6 months long, and abot!Mob is 4 years. The differences start hereafter, though.

For starters, with canon!Mob, we learn about his torture mainly through his own POV, with Mogami making commentary. His firsthand experience is bolded and put at the forefront, and functions as the end note of the scenes which feature them. Mob is isolated, ostracized, and bullied. He is beat up at several points. One such instance sees him lose a tooth. His bullies torture a cat to death, smash a brick on his head, and stab him with an exacto knife.The ‘maturity’ of canon!Mob’s abuse comes firstly from the severity and cruelty of it. And secondly, for how it could drive him into using his psychic powers against people willingly. It highlights that one can be as shaped by their surroundings as by their choices.It’s dark, and it’s weighty.

However, the abuse in the arc is used a mechanic, and is glossed over once its primary use is over with. No abuse in this vein crops up after this arc.

The point of it’s presence is to raise the stakes, to showcase “this is fucked up” and then move on when the lesson is learned. We only get 2 peaks that Mob even remembers it. Once is with Mob acting quite fearful when Mogami shows up again, and the other when Mob goes to help a cat off a pole.

Still, the fact remains that it’s never mentioned for the rest of mp100. 

And thusly, Mob is presented with no means to process or deal with the trauma other than to, presumably, remain quiet about it. Or otherwise, for the reader to assume that the experience was relegated to subconsciousness. After all, we’re told expressly with Minori that the memory begins to fade as early as a day after. 

This stance can be detrimental to those who experience abuse, as it can imply that no help exists for the survivor to seek. That it’s better to simply forget about it, and move on without guidance.

Which, y’know, could work fine if it was ONE’s intention to showcase that some people don’t deal with trauma outright, keeping it hidden.

But there is a difference between “purposefully writing someone to seem unaffected when they really are” and “purposefully writing a macguffin to clear the way of an old arc to make room for a new one" 

I love ONE’s writing, I do, but it seems very clear to me that he was giving himself an out for having to write long reaching consequences of such a brutal arc going forward. Folks can get from the arc what they want, and that’s hella valid. I mean, shit, my trauma was never front and center either when I was Mob’s age. 

However, there’s a clear delineation between coincidence and intentionality. 

By having the abuse all happen in a dreamlike world, he gives himself an out. The characters are more or less able to skirt around the issue, or otherwise forget about it.ONE thereby dodges having to write further complications to the story he wants to tell.

Enter A Breach of Trust.

In Abot, the aftermath of being abused is a part of Mob’s day to day life, like actual trauma do. And here, the process of dealing and coping with said abuse is the main function of it’s appearance in the fanfic.

The four years Mob spends on his own are broadly covered in a punchy ~1k words at the beginning of chapter 4 (the fic is 133k words long, for comparison). They are to let you know the nature of Mob’s problems, without lingering unnecessarily on them, exploiting them, or making them voyeuristic. And in fact, Mob gets out of the Mogami house in chapter 8 (again, in a fic 24 chaps long).

The rest of the chapters where Mob makes an appearance are about addressing what he went through, and trying to help him. 

As opposed to mp100 canon, we learn a lot of information as to the nature of what mob experienced through Reigen. He often has sad or horrified responses, as one could expect to have in his shoes. But his response is not the end note of the scenes which feature them. Instead, it’s the actions he and Mob take, in equal turns, to bring about change which gets the end note.

I’ll use the milk scene in chapter 11 as an example.

Reigen learns a piece of information about Mob’s life, namely that he was denied milk:

“You have milk?”

“Uh…yeah. Not even expired. I bought it like two days ago.”

“But Shishou said…” Mob swallowed the words. His breathing picked up, eyes flickering across the single carton of milk in Reigen’s fridge. Slowly, his voice almost choked, Mob answered, “Yes, yes please…”

Reigen’s response:

He couldn’t fathom what sort of world the kid had just escaped, but he knew now he didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to make Mob relive it, not if it was something so horrific that a single glass of warm milk could move him to tears.

The end note of the scene (literally the last line):

“Here,” Reigen said, sliding his mug across the oaken table. “Have mine too…”

Abot, unlike a good chunk of media, seeks not to use traumatic experiences as a throwaway mechanic for a separate, main focus. Or as a stand in for faux character depth or grittiness. I’m lookin at you Kaneki Ken.  Or worse, as an inevitable reality. No.

The actual maturity of abot!Mob’s abuse, which I’ve been hootin about with the title card, comes from its application to Mob.

It will not be brushed off as a bad dream. It will not be relegated to subconscious, or forgotten. It is not a ‘shortcut to coolness’, or a ‘dark history’ to earn abot!mob some tragic backstory cred. Nor will it be “solved” with a single long talk, or hug, or even to just put Mob back in his house.

Abot seeks to offer a more layered, real world approach to it. That trauma, fictional or not, does not make you cooler. That it takes several, seemingly small steps to start on the path of recovery. And that there is no reaching your “before” status, but just changing the shape of your “after”.

For that matter! Mob also has agency of his own. It is not Reigen that springs Mob from the Mogami house, but rather Mob himself, taking matters into his own hands. 

There was no plan to it. Mob moved. He raced to the door and the inky world beyond. His feet collided with cold stone. Stone became grass, which sheared away before each footfall, leaving wet pulp and mud beneath his beating steps. The vastness of the open sky and the world stretching off in all directions, even after four years, could not overwhelm him more than the image of his dead Shishou scorched behind his eyelids.

Mob will fight on matters he considers important, calling the cops, for example.

Mob’s jaw moved, his wide eyes steeled over, harder now, resolve tight in his face. He looked up to Reigen. “I…wouldn’t like that, Mr. Reigen.”

He’ll voice his own opinion, draw his own conclusions, set his own goals.

His hands twisted in his lap, eyes dropping to them for a moment before they flickered up with new, burning resolve. “…If you could teach me…”

“Teach you?”

Mob nodded vigorously. “How you’re getting rid of it.”

And Mob is not relegated to cowering at all times either.  He’ll enjoy things he likes, build himself up, amongst other things.

The rain drenched him. Through the blues and pinks, water could pass. Water wasn’t living, so it wasn’t stopped, it wasn’t shredded. But it felt alive enough to Mob. It felt like something that wanted to reach him, and could.

Mob shut his eyes and smiled. Even if he couldn’t suppress the barrier now, that wasn’t reason enough to give up, not this time around. This time was different.

Rest assured that this journey is as much an active choice on Mob’s part, as it is Reigen’s. Reigen is simply a guide for Mob. And he’s meandering through his guidance half the time, which brings me to part deux.

Part 2. Lack of a perfect savior

I will be the first to admit that Reigen is hilariously flawed. Abot!Reigen likewise. And yes! This is another reason why I like Abot ^^

Preface in place before I talk about this, I am. a tough ass customer. We just had a whole previous section of analysis to illustrate that (which confession time, i cut that down by half), but to go more in depth - It is extremely easy to take me out of a story. And this is because, ironically, I love storytelling.

For better or worse, when I’m consuming media, I cannot turn off the storytelling part of my brain. Ergo, if I see something that can be improved, I’m launched back into a 4th person perspective, no longer engaging directly with the content. Sometimes it’s minor enough where I don’t mind any. But unfortunately, more often than not, it’s enough to get me to drop things when too many instances pile up. 

And as one of those Hoity Toity Connoisseurs of the hurt/comfort genre, the human version of the Messianic Archetype™ is both a common occurrence, and a surefire way to get me to drop your story upon first sight.

I cannot engage with media that have regular ass people know exactly how to react, what to say, what to read into, on the first try, when the nature of human existence so chaotic and varied.

Maybe that kid is hiding under the table because you’re wearing fuchsia, maybe it’s because your voice sounds like someone they had a nightmare about, maybe its because the lights hurt their eyes, maybe it’s because they feel safer in cramped spaces, maybe they’re eating ants. You don’t know. They don’t know. Getting things wrong is as much a part of the process as getting things right.

SO!!! ONCE MORE WITH FEELING!!! ABOT!!!

Phantomrose makes it clear, as early as Reigen & Mob’s first meeting, that we’re dealing with a regular ass human fuckup, even in the midst of the rose filter from Mob’s POV.

In the scene, Reigen is presented as being undoubtedly ignorant as to the true nature of what the hell is going on. He, mistakenly, does not believe that the barrier is real. All he knows that is Mob has come from some Yikes and needs help. Oh, and in Reigen’s limited knowledge, he thinks there’s a confirmed Dead Man off somewhere too.

And yet, despite the pressing circumstances, or y’know, having a presumed corpse he should probably mention to somebody, Reigen does not call the cops.

“Okay. Okay… Do you—just—do you want to come to my house? Just for tonight. It’s…late. Don’t feel like dealing with any more police officers tonight anyway. Maybe we just…go sleep. Get you some clothes or, a shower probably. It’s…I’m tired. You’ve got to be tired too.”

We get an explanation for this later on, in chapter 14…

What if he ran off again, back to his dead Shishou’s basement…?

…but. Were the audience not clued into Mob’s circumstances, one would argue that though well intentioned, Reigen’s messing up. And despite the many things Reigen does to help Mob (which he does, he really does) this motif continues throughout the fic.

With Reigen sometimes saying insensitive things to Mob.

“No, I’m…” Mob paused. He hiccupped, voice still hitching, body still trembling. “I’m sorry Shishou is dead. I did something to make him kill himself. I know it.”

“Good, Mob. Good…”

Mob stared up, jaw slack, baffled.

With Reigen often acting as much as his own interest as in Mob’s.

“Toast, Mob, it’s going to be toast. And eggs. And yes. This is breakfast for both of us, and you’re going to help.” Reigen looked the boy over, and the feeling in his chest was almost manic. He was looking at something maybe he could fix.

Where Reigen will make logical assumptions, but false ones nonetheless.

“I’m going to grab just a handful of things from those aisles, okay? Not going far. I just want you to stay here, with the paper, and pick up our order when it’s ready. Okay? It’s another exercise. I’m still here. I’m still suppressing the barrier. I just think you’re strong enough to stand here for a moment by yourself. Can you do that?”

–carved things up, sliced them, killed them…

Mob’s mind filled with static.

He nodded. It was the only thing he could think to do.

Reigen smiled, and stood up from his crouched position. He turned on his heel, toward the left side of the store. He rounded the edge of the counter, and suddenly he was gone.

And yes ! As a survivor, this shit is important to me. 

These scenes showcase that comfort does not have to be found gift wrapped, pure and untainted, and delivered by an angel spluttering down from the shiniest parts of heaven. No. It can be found in people who are flawed and sometimes selfish and who are just trying. It can be found in folks like abot!Reigen.

In folks who weren’t predestined by some holy undertaking, but rather who are just making the best of the circumstances they find themselves thrust into.

SPEAKING OF WHICH,

Part 3. Plotting cause + effect 

I’ll be honest and say this is something I learned very recently from Phanrose. 

From my creative perspective, as long as an action is in character for someone, I can find a way to make it happen. A good showcase for this is, ironically enough, Attic Au, and it’s many incarnations. I can adapt to circumstances to cause what I want to happen. 

This is, again, a tie-in to the way I rationalize the chaotic nature of human existence. Sometimes shit can just do, and as long as you pull hard enough emotionally, you can get people on board. So I spend a lot of time on the “why”, with my “hows” remaining fairly lose and interchangeable.

Abot takes this in the opposite direction. She says ‘okay but what if I use the chaotic nature of human existence to cause everything to bump into eachother’.

And honestly I’m kinda tripping over it ?? Like it’s extremely fun ? Connecting all these dots? And it doesn’t feel convenient either. It feels like a logical progression.

To use early examples, as I have been for the most part:

Jun hires Reigen to investigate her husband Tetsuo disappearing at weird hours.

“That’s really all I want from this.” She looked up now, palms in her lap, eyes set to Reigen. “I want you to just figure out what’s going on because I can’t.”

Reigen then discovers that Tetsuo is being possessed.

A thousand memories assaulted him at once, tainted with the raw smell of incense, the grittiness of salt between his fingers and under his nails, dimmed lights and candles and incantations and that dread in the air, like pressure, that he felt whenever a Spirits and Such case turned out to be real.

Reigen decides to confront Mogami 2 different times. The first time he learns his identity, and the second time Reigen gets too close to hitting on Mob’s presence for Mogami’s comfort.

“Why did you buy cough syrup today?” Reigen blurted out. “You miss that taste too? Tetsuo doesn’t have a cold. It’s not for him. You got other puppets I don’t know about?!”

Mogami threatens to kill Tetsuo and take Reigen, so Reigen makes a bargain (with newly cut up hand to make his 1 sigil out of 1000 work).

Reigen thrust his hands down and out, body displayed unprotected. Sweat slid down his face, soaked through his suit, mixed with the blood in his palm. “Come possess me! Space for rent right here, y-yeah? Yeah! Not gonna resist. Not gonna fight. All I’m gonna do is slam you with these tags if you get too close!” 

The tag works, banishing Mogami. Mob notices the lack of Mogami’s presence, and goes looking for him.

Even when Mogami left the house, his aura only ever grew fainter, steadily diffused as Mogami established distance between himself and the house. It was an easy blip to detect at all times. It was a constant thrumming presence in Mob’s life for the last four years.

And it had vanished in an explosion that left Mob’s psychic core ringing.

“…Shishou?” Mob called through the door.

Upon finding Mogami’s corpse in the attic, Mob makes for the streets, thinking Mogami has freshly killed himself and that he can no longer stay there.

Mob shot down the hall, took the stairs two at a time with his hand skimming the banister. His mind wasn’t clearing. His thoughts weren’t forming. The reality of what he’d seen beat in heavier against him with each passing second. Mob let out another keening crying, finding no response in the black house.

Another brush of wind, Mob turned toward the foyer. He’d been right—the front door had been left open.

This makes for a wonderful storytelling device. Firstly, it makes the audience both wary and excited for the consequences of any actions in the future. If any action can seemingly build off one another, what’s to say a throwaway moment wont come back to haunt us? 

Plus! Aside from making scenes engaging, it also subverts some tropes while it’s at it.

Reigen, despite literally being a PI, does not find Mob on a missing person’s case. And does not discover Mob either of the times he followed Tetsuo into the Mogami house. Instead he only finds Mob by the boy crashing into him. Which only happens again because of a set up in chapter 3.

This carries on and spills over into Ritsu’s plotline too! Which nbnmbxn, I haven’t touched on as much in order to leave a good chunk of story there to peruse as you will.

I’ve learned a lot just from watching pr96 chisel out a story. And you wanna know what else I’ve learned?

Part 4. Scene setting 

OKAY I FESS UP THIS IS JUST ME HAVING A THING FOR SETTINGS BEING INCORPORATED INTO THE ATMOSPHERE OF THE SCENE OKAY, OKAY.

With that out of the way, she’s damn good at it yall.

Phantomrose96 likes to employ what I call mood scenery. Where the physical objects present in a setting take a backseat to how the characters feel about it, and therefore flesh it out all the better.

Compare how Reigen sees his apartment:

Reigen cringed a bit as he looked about, taking in, remembering the mess decorating the living room. The ashtray on the table overflowed with cigarette butts, staining the wood around it with sooty acrid residue. Three empty plates were pushed to the table’s edge, scraped of food and left to stagnate for…how many days, Reigen wasn’t sure. Empty beer cans gathered in a herd near them, a few on the floor, leaving sticky coagulated rings around their rim and smelling of staleness, of stagnant fermentation.

With how Mob sees it:

Mob’s apprehension eased off. The look was replaced entirely with something like confusion. He pulled out of his blanket cocoon, let his eyes rove over the apartment in full inspection. The confusion never left his face.

“It’s so much cleaner than Shishou’s house.”

Scenes like this are peppered and expertly handled throughout the entirety of abot. 

As a comic illustrator, I often struggle with coming up with backgrounds that tell you a bit about the circumstances of the people who live there, and about the mood of someone viewing it. But Phananarosa does it.

And, like. every setting is like this. Instead of getting fatigue at scene changes, I eagerly dive in because what’s not to love !!! It captures just enough details that it can be fleshed out, without boring the audience with a surplus of inconsequential details.

Teruki walked past the rows of lockers. Further back were bathroom stalls. Three sinks lined up beneath a wall-length mirror. This area existed as its own pocket, seemingly separate from the rest of the lockers, and the light only scarcely touched it. The shadows grew heavy along a gradient, the farthest sink half shrouded in darkness. Even farther back, crowned by a single burnt-out hanging light, was a row of four showerheads, no curtains separating one from the next.

It is no coincidence that some of the backgrounds I consider to be some of my better ones, are ones I made for abot.

It’s very apparent that Phanro9 knows what she’s doing with the words she chooses to dress these with. And, you guessed it, TIME TO SEGUE INTO

Part 5. Incredible writing all around

Okay now I can just gush about some the extra little details that GhostFlower96 uses that just make her tale that much more fun to read.

Amazing dialogue. Especially in Reigen’s case.

“Gottaswirl the eggs to seal in the moisture. Gotta just…put extra butteron the toast, I guess, so you don’t taste the black part cuz that’sprobably bitter, so you—never mind I’ll make different toast thatisn’t burned, gimme your plate.”

You ever tire of reading fics where the characters sound the same ? Spectreblossom has got you covered!

He thrust a hand out, palm open to Ritsu. “My name is Teruki Hanazawa. I’m the esper who’s better than you.”

Ritsu stared at the offered hand. He fought the instinct to step back. “The spirits didn’t say anyone owned them.” He paused, and weighed his options. “And who says you’re stronger than I am?”

Say you wanna feel ur heartstrings tugged because god oh god he’s a mess but he’s still good for something. we got a fresh supply

Beside them, the rice pot boiled over, glutinous water dripping down the black pot’s side and charring against the newly cleaned grating. The sauce bowl sat stagnant and undissolved, a colloid of new and stale ingredients perhaps unsalvageable for the recipe. Broken spoons, filthy sponges, open containers of starch and sugar and soy sauce littered the counter tops, the smell of something burning lingering overtop.

And at the center of the mess, Mob sliced the knife clean through the red bell pepper.

You wanna be haunted by singular closing lines? Already on it.

Thebarrier swept back around Mob, like the curtain drawn at the close ofa play.

Kids ? Being written like kids ? In phantomroseyboboeybananafanafofoseyfiphimomoseyphantomrosey’s fanfic? It’s more likely than you think! 

“After this, can we go back to the park?” Mob asked. He wobbled, tilting his head over his shoulder to ask Mogami directly.

“We go to the park every day.” Mogami answered. He walked the sidewalk, thin silver hair catching sunlight and twists of icy wind. The hollow pockets beneath his eyes were deep, but not unkind, intently watchful of Mob who dipped and wavered with each balance-beam step.

“Yeah, because I like it.”

You want some de-glorification of teenage violence? Boy have I just the thing.

He felt 9 again, scared, weak, unsafe, and he cried quietly while he watched the consciousness leave Teruki’s body.

Limp and loose, Teruki’s hands dropped from the tie around his neck.

You like metaflours and symbopolism ? WE GOT THAT TOO

Reigen looked over his shoulder. Mob shut the door behind them, turning to investigate the apartment with wide captive eyes. “…It’s warm,” he muttered, and stepped in line behind Reigen.

You wanna feel like you got punched in your chest ? Even on things you knew already ? Even things you had every tool in your belt to see coming?

Reigen stopped. He lost track of his own words as his focus fell entirely on the sight in front of him. The kid was standing halfway between the bathroom and the living room, his hair still a bit wet, and his borrowed clothes soft and loose. He stood a head shorter than Reigen, and his wide eyes stared back, lost, waiting for instruction. Waiting as though he needed permission to even get his sheets and go to bed.God, it really was just a kid…

fuck ing , d we . g o t       tHat    t o o         goddammit

If you wanna read, you can start here ! Or here, on tumblr.