#ahead for the questions she would normally ask. but apparently that's too complicated now???????

[ectonurites]

sometimes i think my mom was designed in a lab to make me feel the need to punch a wall

[kiwikiswia]

hey @9617saphs totally didn't forget about this but, sighs

first of all, *them (blasts you with spelling mistake gif)

second of all, you SHOULD'VE TELL ME THIS IN THE ASKBOX dumba dumma I literally just found this from scrolling the tags of the post (i don't usually check activities <- scared) and found out you rb'ed my post which i'm sorry for noticing it late but then again you should've send this to my ask it's literally an ask game!!!! dum

(/lh /nm at the fullest i hope the way i word it kinda funny/unserious makes me actually sound not mad at all, I just feel like this funny)

anyway back to the answer,

I actually kinda expect someone will ask this 😭but at the same time I have to thought of the answers like "how do I make you know that this character mean so so much to me" since wooooords are hard and idk if anything I say is comprehensible to people but aight I'll try.

ok what was the questions aga- okay.

long post ahead whoops!

1.) How do I feel about this character?

short answer, I have uncountable arts and comics ideas about them what do you think i feel about this character

long answer,

the "they look cool but tf is that goofy ass hair tie brah is that a feather duster 😭" -> "grumpy cold freak /neu" -> "wait actually. I need to learn more about them" (no reason, but full of spite and curiosity) -> "FFUCKCKFUFUXKCUDK WHY ARE YOU SO COMPLICATED" (trying to figure things out) -> "ough this is not normal I'm not normal actually. /pos" -> "self projection beam go" pipeline.

can a character I used to mock on turn into character I've written and theorized on a lot? Into a character I self project onto? apparently engel from the hit game pk2 can do this to me, and as one of the most mysterious character in the game engel gave me so much headache long time ago it's making me insane (still am) but worth it! but I can't escape now! i might be forever staying in this regalle hellhole! wow!

2.) /r pair you like of this character

Need I Say Anything next question

3.) /non r pair you like of this character

the above answer goes too here actually. i've ever mentioned somewhere they're like. a secret fourth thing to me. their love is something incomprehensible to the world it *can't* be classified as merely and only romantic. sure it can be seen as such but I don't rlly want to strict the two's relationship under a status.

but for other answers is of course the other two of the main 4, leif and especially evelynne

don't get me wrong I do am insane more about zefirengel and the writing I have about their dynamic is a lot more (yes i'm biased thanks to the past me and how I want to bring back that old spite. sorz), but

never forget that evelynne is canonically the only person in regalle that engel has positive relationship with. they're friends and lynne mentioned engel helped her since the early days she became a merchant and said multiple times they're nice despite that cold cover of theirs. how'd they get along in the first place? that's the question. there's so SO many things I thought of about their friendship story and her perspective prove a thing that engel isn't always a very quiet cold and meanie person and can be soft and nice if you actually get them right.

(though smth to note I see them as queerplatonic. I think lynne would shriveled up if she found out she's in a romance with someone for a second and. idk they fit better as that honestly I don't think they understand romance or want to aha)

and leif. goodness. if they interact more perhaps prism may fall into apocalypse they're too powerful. they could be a good student-mentor duo. Leif called them "librarian friend" and I believe he would ask for guidance to engel despite already have gwynelle. engel too would admire his bravery and determination to help everyone and just being so friendly with anyone. how's he's just. a contrast with the so-called arrogant and strict aegles. I can list MANY similarities they have esp like. their mindset. actually If i have to list what things are the main 4 share the same it would be uncountable since each second passes I would thought of a thing then another.

OH AND DON'T FORGET GRETTA THEIR SO-CALLED SISTER i can't even say anything here it would be a lot LOT. God what are you two hiding. what are your motives to hide on places? what. what. what. wh

engel why are you such a complicated character (i AM the one making it complicated) (i give too much a fuck)

4.) unpopular opinion of said character

bitches who call them librarian aegle version of peanut pk1 needs to be executed

(this one is [mostly] for me ->) also people mostly thought they're mean and "annoying" or just see them like "ok sure you exist but you're kinda nothing with that grumpy personality", which I get people see it that way esp when you aren't into the game deeply but you've got to know there's more than that about them and once you learned atleast their origins you realized you can make things up, interpret how they are this and that and how they act that and this, it was so much fun to figure out how their actual personality blend with the others. you can actually have so much fun with them considering the many things about them unrevealed. truly the character to self project onto. it's fun.

5.) what you wish happened to this character in canon (?? smth smth around this I forgot)

grabs kurechii devs' shoulders. hey.

I know they really just seem really want to stay distance and unbothered by the people in regalle but. c'mon. can you develop more interactions of the main 4 with each other. I promise I know how to get it right I can help you I can give you ideas. more things about gretta and engel please. where could this engel enthusiast get other sources to learn about them. hey. can you still make them able to befriend others despite have to stayed mysterious. do I have to stay making things up forever like this. hey. hey. are you really gonna make them stay mysterious forever. that would be so bad you know. hey. can zefirengel become the 2nd sapphic rep of this game. why did you make them terrible. can they be more developed actually whether it's onto the healthy yuri or toxic yuri or tension yuri lead but can you not just left them like that. hey. h

.

ok that's all for now props if you read all that and idk if what I'm explaining is accidentally out of topic or I fully don't answer what the question asked aka I go off with what the question asked or. I actually just yap nonsense or nothing at all but idrc at this point i. certainly talk about things. and. I think my brain's fried from typing all of this. have this little doodle okay bye

[inkmemes]

young  royals  (  2021  )  sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  netflix’s  swedish  ya  drama.  non-contextual  spoilers.  trigger  warning  for  mentions  of  sexual  activity,  drugs,  alcohol,  death,  implied  internalised  homophobia,  bullying.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“at least you can stay for a cup of coffee?”

“hey, wait up. did you sleep together?” 

“he's probably making out with someone. forget it.”

“i can't take it anymore.”

“what are you doing?”

“and he had to finish your sentence. what's going on? you like him.”

“every time you see your dad, you get all depressed.”

“you're still here, so obviously you must want something.”

“are you high? what the hell are you on?”

“does this make you horny?” 

“i like [town name], but i don't want to live here forever.”

“you can leave now. go home. i'm staying here for the weekend.”

“do you want chocolate?”

“how do you feel?” 

“it's kind of hard to tell them apart, you know.” 

“you're a worthless drunk.”

“you … you need to figure out what you want. and you can take all the time you need. and i respect that. but you have to do it by yourself. i don't want to be anyone's secret.”

“you have to stop pretending that you're not afraid.”

“that's the thing, i just don't want that.”

“it's something new. something fresh.”

“can we talk privately for a minute?” 

“and if anyone gives you a hard time, you know, just let me know, and i'll take care of it.” 

“you do know you don't need to hide?” 

“are you gonna let us in?”

“promise to let me know if there's anything i can do.”

“hey, we won't go blind from your moonshine, right?”

“i'm just getting a good vibe. that's all.”

“you're so fucking pathetic.”

“you realize that this will have consequences?”

“he's such a fucking idiot.”

“i wanted us to have a few minutes alone.”

“when you're young, love feels like the most important thing in the world.” 

“i really like you.”

“felt like i had to rescue you from that situation.”

“it got so damn hot in there, i thought i'd get some fresh air.”

“you are allowed your own opinions. it's cool.”

“i've seen the way you look at each other.”

“here, this one is a little big for me, but i think it'll look great on you.”

“do you think royal dick is different than regular?”

“you're the only one here i feel i can actually talk to.” 

“i haven't heard anything yet, but i'll tell you as soon as i do.”

“you can't just lie here jerking off.”

“i don't want to go to some fucking boarding school!”

“i've missed this place so much.”

“are you going to horror movie night on friday?”

“but i like you. and that is not fake.”

“you don't need to share everything.”

“we should go to a concert again sometime.”

“you're fucking crazy!”

“where have you been? i've been trying to reach you.”

“just don't use the school's wi-fi for porn surfing. could be embarrassing.”

“but no matter what, they can't dictate what you say.”

“sorry about last night.”

“i don't want to talk to you!”

“i don't wanna sound like an idiot.”

“i was thinking, would you like to have a sleepover at my place? because that's something friends do. it's going to be really cozy.”

“i think maybe we should forget about that.”

“you can't really see that it is you.”

“i mean, it could be anyone. it's so fucking stupid.”

“i don't want to say anything.” 

“now you're doing it again. you're trying to take care of me.” 

“i can take it, it's okay.”

“that's not true. i haven't spoken to my parents.”

“we haven't done anything wrong.”

“you're beautiful! you're so beautiful.”

“i'm gay, [name].”

“seriously? what the fuck is your problem?”

“you keep letting people piss on you!”

“i just assumed you didn't want special treatment.”

“keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“so you thought you'd start spreading false rumours without having any proof?” 

“i just didn't want to lose you.”

“uh, there's pizza left if you want some.”

“everybody thinks you're perfect. you know that, right?”

“he's just been outed.”

“i'm going to fuck this up.”

“he bloody ruined my fucking life!”

“why are you sitting in your room sulking when you have a crush to hang out with?”

“hi. sorry, i was feeling a bit better. so i thought it was okay that i hung out with some friends.”

"everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want.”

“i woke up in my own bed. that's always something.”

“could i just have one second? just one second alone, please?”

“i’m sorry. but it was, like, the only way.”

“i thought, everyone deserves a second chance.”

“i'm sorry about the mess. i wasn't expecting such distinguished company.”

“i just don't want you to be treated badly again.”

“oh, fuck.”

“you don't even… aren't you even gonna answer me?”

“i didn't know that one was supposed to sign up.”

“in real life, you don't pay to get ahead.”

“and what the fuck does your dad do?”

“let's try to have some table manners.”

“it's, like, really serious.”

“who the hell can live like this for three fucking years?”

“that's what happens when you buy the cheap ones.”

“i need your help with something. ”

“being a prince is not a punishment, but a privilege.”

“it's awesome to just chill out.”

“or maybe he lied about that too. what do i know?”

“you have to give people a chance.”

“you have to try to see it from my perspective.” 

“what the hell's this?”

“what happened to "we should forget about it"?”

“stop being so fucking stubborn and try to understand my situation.”

“sometimes it's better not to say everything.” 

“i was just bored.”

“have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“sometimes it's better to keep quiet.”

“can i get you some coffee?”

“nobody else cares about these things.”

“i lost track of time.”

“everybody does the same things and everybody knows everybody.”

“thanks for rescuing me yesterday.”

“remember when he came up to us the first week and was like, "what's up?"”

“i need you to delete all our texts.”

“i can't keep doing this anymore.”

“are you gonna let them go on with their bullshit?”

“i want to be with you.”

“here's a blanket, a pillow, and bed sheets. there you go.”

“okay, yeah. you don't seem to have grasped what i'm trying to say.”

“it's usually boring as hell.”

“he's been dealing to us for months.”

“i don't want to talk to him.”

“don't you wanna date [name] anymore?”

“i don't know why he's started texting me again. he knows i don't want anything to do with him.” 

“yeah, we had a shitload of drugs.”

“we could murder someone, and nobody would say a word.”

“she needs some fun.”

“he's just doing it to fuck with me.”

“it's such a weird question.”

“i just wanted to say hi. i don't believe we've met. ”

“but i still want us to be friends.”

“if i were to stay here… would you… like to keep me company? just you and me.”

“everything's, like, upside down now.”

“have you always lived here?”

“damn it. sorry. shit. i completely forgot.”

“i'm sure someone has a story to tell.”

“you've got to put yourself first. i mean, no matter what he thinks about it.”

“come on! you can't just sit there stuck in your room.”

“you can snuggle up in my safe arms if it gets scary.”

“i want to live a normal life.”

“let me have a look. you can hardly see it.”

“any other dick that's been sucked?”

“you just expect everything to be on your terms.”

“i want to know everything!”

“you don't have to go there. i'll take care of myself.”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” 

“i'll just stay in and go to bed early.”

“thanks for explaining the schedule.”

“i'd rather die.”

“i don't want you to be mad.”

“promise to tell me if something is wrong.”

“i can't be dressed like this if you're dressed like that.” 

“it's really complicated.”

“it feels like you don't care what people think about you, or if you have a lot of friends and stuff.” 

“nobody asked you to come. feel free to leave if you want.”

“well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this!” 

“there isn't so much to do around here.”

“you've become such a snob.”

“i know you're only trying to help me.” 

“do you like it here?”

“i don't wanna go in there. we're not even invited. fuck this.”

“don't you think it's weird [name] invited us to come?”

“if they hadn't been here, would you've, uh, made out with me?”

“so, you're an actual proper couple now?”

“you're thinking about someone else.”

“you're right. we're doing this together.”

“thanks… for nothing.”

“why are you even so obsessed with him?”

“i want you to hold me.”

“call me when you want to be picked up.”

“what the fuck do you care?” 

“i don't think we're a couple or anything. i don't know what it is.”

“you never asked me!”

“your focus should be on comforting me so that i can comfort him.” 

“it's not that hard. you have to be able to keep up appearances.”

“famous people make videos like that.”

“maybe somebody forgot to tell me, as usual.”

“just make a move on [name] and show him what you want.”

“you wanna stay a while and jam?”

“have you talked to your parents about it?”

“a diverse bunch of losers, who'll never amount to anything.”

“why can't i decide how the hell i want to live?”

“apparently, i'm the only one who doesn't know everybody.”

“i used to have straight a's on every test.”

“it will damage our reputation.”

“i'm fucking starving.”

“why is it called tax "evasion" but welfare "scam"? it's all right that rich people cheat, but when poor people do it, it's messed up. for rich people, it's not even called "welfare”, it's called "deduction."”

“what the fuck is rowing?”

“what the hell have you done, [name]?”

“good voice, man.”

“why can't i just have a relationship with him?”

“did you have fun last friday?”

“all the people are fake. they're made out of metal.”

what do you want me to say? i'm sorry!”

“is this some kind of prank?”

“i like you when you are yourself!”

“but you like him, don't you?”

“she shouldn't talk to you like that.”

“are you into him?”

“something's not right, i think we should head back to the road.”

“do you have trouble sleeping?”

“doesn't anyone care what i want?”

“just don't tell anyone that i've been here.”

“i was going to text you back, but…”

“your only mistake was that you hung out with the wrong kind of people.”

“i just wanted to help.”

“i know you'll use anything to get high or drunk.” 

“it's time to stop being so selfish.”

“i just want my fucking money.”

“you should've planned ahead. didn't you bring a sandwich?” 

“who the fuck wants to be normal anyway?”

“you fucking told me you were the one i could always come to!”

“i take it back.”

“i can see there's something going on.”

“i have to finish getting ready, so if you could please leave.”

“no one likes me when i'm myself.” 

“i hope you have a nice christmas.”

“i'm gonna do the wrong things, say the wrong things.”

“my mom is gonna kill me.”

“do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“i cannot be dragged into this.”

“i like you too.”

“you're no longer a part of my family.”

“it's well-suited for smaller people.”

“i assume that he thought that it would make him popular.”

“i didn't ask for this!”

“it's no problem. i like doing it.”

“it feels like i'm gonna throw up.”

“don't i get any breakfast?”

“whatever i do, i can't do anything right.”

“we haven't been to any party whatsoever.”

“did you get my texts?”

“i think it sounds romantic.”

“uh, wait, you have to come to the horror movie night on friday.”

“i liked what you said in there, [name].”

“okay, maybe he used to be a player, but love can actually change you.”

“it's nice to make an effort and dress up for dinner.” 

“i'm in a fucked-up situation and i'm trying to talk to you.” 

“you don't understand. i was gonna pay it.”

“you're not that kind of guy.”

“i was about to go outside and, um, do you wanna come with?”

“what about me?” 

“it was… okay, i guess.”

“can i sit with you?”

“you call this a scary movie?”

“i have a million things to take care of, i don't have time to talk to you.”

“have you lost it completely?”

“but i'm starving.”

“this past year has been difficult for me.”

“i don't get it. she's making it into such a big deal.”

“no, this won't work. just take it off, please.” 

“i'm not like that.”

“fuck you. it's not a crush.”

“then i know that i can't count on you.”

“can't you come see me in [town] sometime?”

“it's just that we can't be seen together.” 

“he was still sleeping when i walked in.”

“doesn't bother me at all. i've seen it. absolutely. 100%.”

“[name] is really getting on my nerves! seriously.”

“i want us to be friends again.”

“i thought you and [name] were friends.”

“make sure you check your dms. okay?”

“you think it's fun to fuck with people like me?”

“never spend money you don't have. okay?”

“you think i'm stupid?”

“this sucks.” 

“how nice to see some smiles.”

“this isn't just about me, but my entire family.”

“i'm going to marry her.”

“are you threatening me?”

“don't you realize the shit storm that follows if i come out?” 

“i don't want you to talking to her.”

“remember what we saw during movie night? when they sat next to each other?”

“i love you.”

“i just want to hang out with you.”

"there's no point in having a back-up if you never use it."

“pretend i'm saying something clever.”

“how's [name]? he must be totally devastated.”

“what do you think they think we're talking about?”

“everything is fake. everything in the world is fake.”

“[name] is dead.”

“it just wasn't what i thought it would be like.”

“since when did you start liking him for real?” 

“what a fucking douchebag. god!”

“what the hell are you saying? chill out!”

[phoenixyfriend]

Uncle Ben and Little Luke

AKA we combine several types of time travel for maximum Soft Chaos, let’s go

EDIT NOW THAT I’VE WRITTEN THIS UP: jfc this ended up much angstier than initially intended uhhhhhhhhhh sorry

So a common enough thing I’ve seen in time travel fics is characters getting de-aged when tossed back physically, to neither the age they should be in that time, nor the age they were from the time they left, but whatever is most convenient. This is usually de-aging OT Obi-Wan into his TCW self, for reasons relating to, chiefly, removing the damage of Tatooine absolutely destroying his body alongside PTSD-driven alcoholism, but also because fic writers are horny, and Ewan McGregor playing a late-thirties negotiator is on average more appealing to people than Alec Guinness playing a vaguely feral desert hermit.

So, here’s how it plays out:

We take Luke and Ben from some point in the OT. There are a variety of options depending on how angsty we want it to be. My first instinct is ‘right after Owen and Beru die’ but I want to have that sweet angst where Luke knows that his dad is Vader and that Obi-Wan was trying to convince him to kill his own father without telling him that.

We’ll go with shortly after Bespin, and then they end up significantly before TPM. The Obi-Wan of the timeline proper is, eh, let’s say eighteen. Not really ready to be a knight, but old enough that we don’t have to worry about “if we go save Shmi, do we somehow wipe out Anakin?” which is absolutely a worry. Anakin is a toddler, and is in no place to be evil, on account of being literally two years old. He can’t even explode people with his brain yet.

Now, Ben finds himself mid-thirties, as is traditional. He’s not upset at this, because his joints hurt so much less than they used to! His knees aren’t exactly teenage-perfect, but by the Force are they better than they were in the years before he died! His hair has color! He doesn’t have arthritis! And, goodness, no physical withdrawal symptoms! The psychological aspect is still there, but nonetheless, he’s in much better shape than he last remembers being.

Luke looks like he’s about six. He was recently twenty-two. This is not an upgrade. Ben keeps having to carry him. He can’t see over the counter when they enter a bar for information. He can’t enter the bar in the first place. He’s very annoyed by all of this.

Ben is not annoyed. Ben is having a lot of emotions, actually, but annoyance isn’t one of them. He didn’t get to help raise Luke the way he might have if Anakin hadn’t lost his shit, okay, he sees a small Luke and he wants to hug him and cry.

Luke would like to be able to purchase a speeder part without the lady at the stall asking him if he needs his “dad’s” permission.

Once they figure out when and where they are, they need to decide where and how to leave. There are general shenanigans to gamble their way into enough money to hire a ship. They are in the ass end of nowhere, but definitely not Tatooine. There appears to be a jungle. There appears to be a significant variety of man-eating creatures. There appears to be a temple to the Force of questionable origin. None of this is actually helpful, except for the moment they find a “baby’s first lightsaber” in the temple.

Luke only has one hand and, being a six-year-old, his body is growing too fast for him to bother with getting a wired-in prosthesis the way he could as an adult. He can get a more basic prosthesis, but nothing that attaches to the neurons. He’ll outgrow it too fast.

He’s tiny and he’s not used to doing things with just one hand. He uses the Force to do what one hand can't, and every time someone tries to tell him he's misusing the Force he whaps them with the empty sleeve.

So, you know, they find out what year it is. Ben has a breakdown. Luke is upset that he left behind his friends. Ben admits to him that Leia was his twin. Luke stares in horror because dude, she kissed him, you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier???

Ben points out that Beru and Owen were keeping Luke away from him for nineteen years, and then they had about three days of awkward travel to find Leia in the first place, and then Ben died. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to figure out how to tell him.

(This sparks an argument that lasts several days. All onlookers assume that Ben’s son is throwing a tantrum. He doesn’t correct them, even though this is a very valid reason to be upset, because the truth is much harder to explain.)

Sooooo they travel. Mostly, Ben plays Sabacc, cleans house, and pays their way towards Coruscant. Luke still really wants to learn to be a Proper Jedi, even though Ben is pretty sure that Luke would have... a lot of difference of opinion with the Temple, but sure. Coruscant. They can at least stop by, and see Qui-Gon, and Mace, and Quinlan, and Bant, and everyone else that’s still alive and not tragically deceased in the horror following the start of the Clone Wars and then the birth of the Empire, and Ben can have a nice sob over all his dead friends being alive again.

Ben is only barely holding it together while Luke is in the room with him at any given point. But it’s fine! It’s fine. He’s fine. All of his loved ones have come back to life! It’s great! HE’S FINE.

He is not fine.

Luke is also grieving all the people who haven’t been born yet, but he’s... significantly more okay than Ben is.

The closer they get to the Core, the more often people just assume Ben is Luke’s father, and then look shocked and uncomfortable when Luke flatly calls him by his name, and they just... compromise. This is the point at which Luke starts calling him “Uncle Ben.”

Ben cries in his bunk later that night. Luke overhears it and wonders how the HELL Ben is more unstable now, when there’s a chance to fix things and no Vader or Empire trying to kill or capture both of them, and all his friends are alive.

(Luke will later learn a lot about PTSD and realize this is actually a fairly normal situation, to process significant events and emotions only after gaining safety or catharsis.)

(Twenty years on a ball of sand with an alcohol addiction and debilitating fear of the man you raised as your own brother is not, in fact, safe or cathartic.)

At any rate, they’ve settled into that pattern by the time they reach the Inner Rim. The Inner Rim is the part of the galaxy at which they’ve collected enough money (and mental stability) to travel a little better, and to take a few more risks.

Risks like “manipulate people with those baby blues.”

Ben tells Luke that he’s a menace, after he pouts so cutely that he gets a free scarf added on to a purchase that Ben makes. Luke responds that Ben has no room to talk, since he flirted a free breakfast out of that one inn owner.

Also, Luke is currently physically six. That is objectively a situation that sucks. He deserves to use it for all it’s worth if he’s stuck like this.

“You know, if you keep wearing all-black and looking longingly at the velvet cape and Space Chanel boots, the temple is going to worry that you’re a darksider.”

“Uncle Ben... you told me, yesterday, that I sparkle so brightly in the Force that it’s almost blinding.”

“Yes, but the gloves--”

They don’t agree on this, but Ben relents. He does actually understand good fashion, unfortunately, and he’s not unaware of how much Leia taught Luke about such things.

Luke’s about forty years ahead of the curve, of course, but Skywalkers are prone to such things. It’s usually in regards to technology, granted, but...

They get to Coruscant. Ben is very obviously a Jedi. He knows all the right words and walks like a Soresu master and feels warm and comforting in the Force. They let him in with minimal questions. They note down “my first padawan left the order to have a child, but died shortly after; I consider Luke here to be my nephew, and have raised him as such,” and move on.

Luke is vaguely annoyed because he already had an uncle (and aunt) that raised him, but he admits that a person can have more than one uncle. He can live with this. Ben was more family to Anakin than Owen was, in some ways, so it’s kind of true. Luke is even working on feeling more childish affection for Ben instead of the complicated mess of emotions that come from being lied to about some very large and important subjects, and then seeing the person saying those lies have regular emotional breakdowns due to something as small as Luke saying he likes the curve of the hull on that freighter.

(Apparently he sounds just like his father did as a child. This is almost heartwarming.)

The thing is! The thing. The thing is, they almost make it to the Halls of Healing to get looked over for weird viruses, or Outer Rim Parasites, or whatever the hells needs to be happening. They almost make it without Ben having a flashback to dead younglings or brainwashed troopers or the declaration of a Sith Empire. They almost make it without incident.

Then Ben sees Qui-Gon, and freezes, and does not move again.

Luke cannot get him to restart.

People are staring.

They haven’t even made it to Medical, Uncle Ben, come on.

Young, local Obi-Wan comes over and asks if there’s something he can do to help. Or maybe this “Ben” knows Qui-Gon? Master Jinn doesn’t recognize Ben, but maybe Luke knows more?

Luke does know more, but what Luke actually says is “he probably needs a mind healer.”

(Ben will not appreciate this.)

(Ben is unfortunately standing in the middle of the hallway and completely unresponsive, and is unable to argue with this assertion.)

(Ben is pretty much proving this assertion entirely correct, actually.)

Obi-Wan is helpful, if a little bitchy in the manner of most late-teens individuals, and offers to help get Uncle Ben down to the Halls of Healing. It involves Obi-Wan gently pushing on Ben’s shoulders, and Qui-Gon offering to carry Luke so he can be in Ben’s sights (because Ben is a Mystery, and Qui-Gon is quite fond of those, so he wants to stay involved). Ben kind of just... shuffles on down.

There are medical tests. They ask about how Luke lost his hand. He refuses to talk about it. They ask how Ben got all his scars. Luke says he doesn’t know. They ask if he knows why Ben looks like he’s been through a war. Luke says it’s because he probably was.

They check for foreign viruses. They find evidence of thus-far-unpatented vaccinations. They ask Luke if he knows what he’s vaccinated for.

“How would I know? I’m six.”

They agree that this is a good excuse.

(It is not. He’s lying. They do not know this.)

They do some more tests. They find a lot of questionable medical bullshit in Ben’s body. Most of this is from the clone wars, but they don’t know this. Someone realizes they haven’t gotten a ping back from the Shadow Network regarding “do we have permission to pull the medical file of a Jedi that isn’t in the normal database? We’re assuming you know who he is, since we don’t.”

The Shadow Network does not know who Ben is.

The healers, of course, go “huh, that’s weird, but maybe the name he gave his nephew was fake. We can’t exactly ask ‘Ben’ for more details right now. We already had to sedate him. Let’s check the DNA!”

The DNA pulls up as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The padawan who brought this guy in two hours ago.

“Huh, that’s weird. Let’s call in Kenobi and ask if he knows what’s going on.”

Obi-Wan absolutely does not know what’s going on.

They ask Luke.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, lying through his teeth and not even pretending otherwise.

“You’re not a very good liar,” teenage Obi-Wan tells him.

“I’m not trying to be,” Luke says. “Can you get Master Yoda? I feel like we’re going to need him.”

They normally wouldn’t get Yoda on the request of a six-year-old, but they also normally don’t have a catatonic thirty-something Jedi who looks like he’s been through a war popping up in the medical database as the pimply teenage padawan that broke his pinky trying to do a Badass Ataru Flip last week.

Or... whatever Luke i... is... oh dear.

“Young one,” Qui-Gon asks, while people whisper-shout behind him, not realizing he’s cutting the Correlian Knot and just asking the kid himself. “Do you know why your midichlorian count is so high? It’s almost unheard of.”

“Uncle Ben said my dad was the Chosen One,” Luke says, because he is capable of being a little shit and is actually really eager to let Ben deal with some of the fallout. He feels for the man, really, but he’s also tired of being the one to field every single question.

Also, the expressions that pass on Qui-Gon’s face are hilarious.

(Luke may or may not be more affected by his six-year-old brain than he would like to admit.)

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon says, sounding more than a little strangled about it.

It takes another three hours for Ben to wake up.

He listens to the questions. He hears what they say his ‘nephew’ said. He looks at Luke.

“Is this revenge for not telling you about Leia?”

“It’s not revenge,” Luke does not lie. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s pretty easy to explain.”

“It’s not my secret.”

“This is revenge for the Leia thing.”

“No,” Luke says. “Revenge for the Leia thing was when I ate a live frog in front of you.”

This is the point at which someone interrupts and points out that they appear to be stalling.

“Oh, he is,” Luke tells them. He gestures at Ben. “I can’t tell you more, because it’s more his story than mine.”

“I’m afraid, Master, that I am very likely to have an emotional breakdown if I allow myself to consider the reality of this situation for longer than the fraction of a second I already have,” Ben reports, full of false cheer. “Suffice to say, I am far from stable and have only held out this far for Luke’s sake.”

“Can you explain why you have my DNA?” Obi-Wan asks, as the person who’s most concerningly involved in this situation.

“You can,” Ben says, smiling like there is absolutely nothing wrong in the slightest, ever. “I’m you, from the future. I actually died and spent a few years dead before coming back. I’m not sure why I’m younger than I was when I died, but I appreciate being able to put on my shoes without my knees attempting to mutiny.”

“He needs a mind healer,” Luke reiterates, in case the strained grin hasn’t made it clear. “So do I, but not as much.”

“I have felt literally every person in this Temple save for Luke and Yoda die,” Ben reports, looking a shade more manic than a few seconds earlier. “It’s very overwhelming to feel you all being alive again. I may be approaching a mental breakdown, and I’ve been rather strictly advised against using alcohol to treat my traumas again.”

Luke kicks him in the thigh. It’s not a very hard kick, because he is very small, and he does actually like Ben. “I’m not letting you turn into an old drunk again.”

After several seconds of silence, a healer quietly suggests that everyone clear the room, and asks if someone could fetch Master Yoda as the youngling requested.

(THIS IS ALMOST THREE THOUSAND WORDS. I started it less than two hours ago. Why am I like this.)

[starcloud-nova]

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

 Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

 Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload  Okay, let’s talk HeroCon. 

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

[lettheladylead]

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 7: Huey [ao3 link]

It’d been two days since her chat with Dewey and Goldie found herself still in Scrooge’s home. Normally she would’ve left the morning after her little visit, but he’d been so busy with all of his family’s craziness that they hadn’t really had a chance to talk yet. Donald had apparently just left on a trip with his girlfriend and some clone children and everyone was adjusting to all the news and everything they’d been through.

So Goldie figured she would just...wait around. She’d informed the necessary people that she was alive, shockingly, after being missing for a few weeks, so she could take a few more days to herself. And it wasn’t like Scrooge didn’t know she was there; she’d still spent both nights in his bed, but he’d been falling asleep pretty quickly and getting up early and this whole situation they were in felt disturbingly domestic. She’d probably need to leave sooner or later, before anyone started to think she was moving in.

At that particular moment, Goldie was situated on the living room couch, wearing a tank top and sweatpants and flipping through the channels on the TV without much thought. Scrooge was at another meeting at the Money Bin and if she didn’t know any better she’d almost think he was avoiding her with all of his late night meetings. Actually, she didn’t really know better, since this was kind of a new situation for them, but...well...what was she supposed to do about it? Go with him? That sounded terribly boring.

A home redecorating show she liked came on and Goldie decided to forget everything else and just sit back and try to enjoy it. Overthinking things with Scrooge never worked out well for her. It was one of many reasons why after over a hundred years, she felt out of place just sitting in his home without him.

The pitter patter of tiny feet coming her way didn’t ease that feeling at all, either.

She glanced to the right as the other triplet - Huey, she was confident she had that right - picked himself up and plopped himself on the couch next to her. She’d never had a single conversation with this child, but she’d stolen from him and knew he kept a ridiculous number of things hidden under his tiny little hat. It was fascinating. But otherwise she didn’t know much about him or why he would be attempting to interact with her.

“I’d like to go over some scheduling issues,” he said suddenly, pulling a notebook and a pen out from under his hat.

Goldie glanced around the room briefly and then back at him. “...with me?”

“Yes,” Huey responded matter-of-factly. “If you’re going to be staying here for a while or living here or whatever’s happening with you, ideally I’d love to add you to the shared family calendar.”

“...what?”

“...but assuming you’re just here for a few days and then coming and going at your leisure, just knowing ahead of time when you and Uncle Scrooge are having your date nights would be perfect.” He took notes while he was talking, as if Goldie had given him even a single answer. “I like to know where he is in case we need him for anything. I’m sure you understand.”

“I, uh…” Goldie took a moment to go over everything he said and quickly shook her head. “Your uncle and I do not have ‘date nights’.”

“Well maybe not this time around since he’s been so busy, but isn’t that the plan?” Huey asked genuinely, still taking notes on who-knew-what. “Once he’s free I assume you’ll get dinner and have a talk about your relationship and our family. And other adult date stuff.”

Goldie responded to that with the most neutral, unemotional stare that Huey had ever received. She took the remote and muted the television before turning her whole body towards the nosy child next to her, lifting her feet up onto the couch. “And why exactly do you assume that?”

Huey tilted his head at her. “Oh...sorry, isn’t that right? Dewey said you’d been wandering around waiting to talk to Uncle Scrooge so that’s just the conclusion I drew. Plus you’re...y’know, still here even though he’s not. And you’re not stealing anything.”

“I have other hobbies.”

He pointed to the TV with his pen. “Like the Property Brothers?”

Goldie glanced at the screen and then back at the kid. “Even if, hypothetically, you were right about all of that, I am absolutely not ever joining your family calendar.”

Huey shook his head. “I don’t know why you’d say that like it’s a bad thing. Don’t you want to be organized?”

“I’m plenty organized by myself.”

“But if you were synced with us, then you’d know when Uncle Scrooge or Louie is available to spend time with.”

Goldie paused for a moment and stared at him. She’d barely spoken to her favorite of Della’s kids since arriving at the house and having him brought up felt like some kind of dig. She wasn’t sure how to respond to it without getting defensive and she wasn’t even sure what she’d be getting defensive about. “...I prefer the element of surprise. Keeps the boys on their toes.”

Huey shook his head and shrugged. “So how long are you staying here? Can I at least know that?”

“I’m not really sure,” Goldie answered, leaning fully against the back of the couch. It was pretty comfy. “Not too long. I’ve got other places to be.”

“...extremely vague and unhelpful,” Huey mumbled, jotting something down in his notebook. “You and Uncle Scrooge are quite the pair.”

Goldie only responded to that with a short hum, grabbing the remote to get back to her show.

“Can I ask you something else?”

She sighed and put the remote back down. “It’s not like I can stop you.”

Huey turned his body fully towards her, one leg up on the couch and one still dangling. “Well...if I’m making you really uncomfortable or anything, I can stop.”

Goldie raised an eyebrow at him, surprised by the suggestion, but quickly waved it off. “What’s your question?”

“Are you planning on marrying Uncle Scrooge?”

If she’d been drinking anything, she would’ve spit it out at that moment. Goldie could say with absolute certainty that she did not see that question coming. “What could I have possibly said to make you think that?”

“Not you,” Huey said earnestly. “I just noticed that everyone seems to call you Aunt Goldie and I remember in one of Uncle Scrooge’s journals he wrote about marriage when he wrote about you so I assumed you two have had a conversation about it at least once or twice. Right?”

Goldie’s eyes widened and she felt heat rising in her chest that she couldn’t explain away as simple heartburn. She hoped her face wasn’t red to match, because this kid was clearly observant and blunt and she didn’t need the whole family thinking she wanted to get married and move in. “I, uh…” Goldie cleared her throat awkwardly. “...no, it’s not something we’ve really talked about.”

Huey looked at her in confusion. “Not really or not at all?”

She grimaced and sighed and moved her hands around her face as she tried to put her thoughts together. “It’s not...I mean, it’s not never come up, it’s just...it’s complicated. It’d be hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

Goldie frowned and barely stopped herself from glaring at him. “...y’know what, if your uncle is the one writing Goldie McDuck in little hearts all over his workbooks, maybe you should talk to him about it, hm?”

Huey blinked up at her. “I guess I can do that. He’s just always very secretive when it comes to you.”

That got her attention a little more than it should’ve. Goldie sighed internally and didn’t bother trying to stop herself. “...what do you mean by that?”

“Well, like…” Huey moved so both of his legs were dangling again and he could swing them around. “I love romance a lot. I love to read about it and watch romantic movies...my friend Fenton and his girlfriend Gandra are so sweet together and Uncle Donald and his girlfriend are also really sweet together and I really love that for both of them. But then you and Uncle Scrooge seem like you’re happy sometimes but then when I ask him about you he gets all grumbly and doesn’t answer my questions, so that’s not a good sign. But I’m really curious about it because I know there’s all different types of romance out there and I don’t even know how the two of you met.”

Goldie hummed quietly and stared at the wall over the TV, considering her response. She definitely wouldn’t describe her and Scrooge’s relationship as ‘sweet,’ but she’d never tried to sum it up into one word before. “...the way we met is also very...complicated.”

“It seems like everything about you two is complicated.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” she said with a short, quiet laugh. “I do love your uncle, but it’s just-...!”

Huey gasped, and Goldie froze at the realization of what she’d just said. She stared directly at Huey who looked more excited than he’d been for any of the rest of their conversation. He was suddenly fully engaged thanks to her accidental use of the l-word. She glanced away from him and hoped she could stumble over that, but she’d paused for too long for them to simply move past it.

It wasn’t like she’d never said it before, but absolutely never to someone in his family. That would be...too much.

“You do?!” Huey asked - his notepad down and leaning towards her and putting his hands on his cheeks. “Does Uncle Scrooge know? Has he said it too? That’s so romantic!”

Goldie groaned and looked back at the TV, only to see the couple fixing up their house snuggling on the camera. “I mean, look. We’ve been...well, it’s been over a hundred years, so yeah these things are bound to be said at some point-”

Huey let out a tiny, adorable little squeal that Goldie refused to find endearing.

“Alright, I’ve changed my mind!” Huey announced, grabbing his pen and notepad again. “I’m completely fine to call you Aunt Goldie!”

“Wait, what?” Goldie stared at him, feeling very confused like she’d missed a whole big part of their conversation. “You know we’re still not getting married, right?”

“Well, Aunt Goldie,” Huey said with a smirk. “I now know that you’re mutually in love and probably have been for a very long time, so whether you want to be or not, that means you’re part of the family!”

She sighed and lightly scratched her neck.

“Do you have any other family?”

Goldie looked surprised at the sudden question, not expecting this child to suddenly change conversation topics like his brother. “...no, I don’t.”

“Oh,” Huey responded, looking a little sad. “Did they...I mean, you’re as old as Uncle Scrooge, right? So they’re...uh…”

“Dead, yeah,” Goldie said with a shrug.

“I’m sorry!” Huey looked down at his hands. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

She watched him look like he was about to go into some shame spiral and Goldie quickly reached out a hand and plopped it on his head. “Don’t worry about it, it was a long time ago. And we were never close to begin with,” she added with another shrug.

Huey glanced back up at her, blushing a bit from the unexpected physical affection. “Does that mean you never introduced them to Uncle Scrooge?”

Goldie couldn’t stop herself and let out a short laugh, moving her hand from Huey’s head to cover her beak. “Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled as she collected herself. “No, God no, absolutely not.”

He moved his hat back to the position he preferred it in. “Have you met Uncle Scrooge’s parents?”

“Ah...sort of-” Goldie started, but suddenly she froze. She thought about his line of questioning for a second before turning to glare at Huey completely. “What are you writing?”

Huey looked up from his notebook and let out a small chirp as he noticed Goldie’s expression. “Um...I’m just taking notes…”

“Taking notes about what?” Goldie asked as she reached out and grabbed the notebook away from him. Huey struggled to grab it back but Goldie held him down with her other hand.

She scanned over the open page and saw that he’d written notes on all the information she’d given him (about herself, about her and Scrooge’s relationship) and her tone of voice and expression when talking about them. She flipped to another page to see similar notes and rolled her eyes before throwing the notepad back at Huey.

Huey caught it and did his best to avoid her gaze.

“Should I even ask?”

He shoved the notepad and pen under his hat again and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Goldie pinched the bridge of her beak. “I’m not upset, I’m just confused. Did Scrooge tell you to come talk to me?”

“Huh?” Huey mirrored her confusion. “No, of course not! It was nothing like that!”

“Then…?”

He sighed awkwardly. “Dewey said he got an interview with you and I didn’t believe him and then we got into an argument about it and he said he had the best interviewing skills in the family, but I’m the one with the Interviewing Badge which I’ve had for several years so I wanted to...prove him wrong, I guess.” Huey covered his eyes with his hands and sighed. “Ugh, this is so stupid. I’m really sorry.”

Goldie raised an eyebrow and reached over to tug his hands away from his eyes. “Kid, it’s fine. I can always understand the urge to prove you’re better than someone else,” she said with a smirk.

Huey looked at her for a few moments before smiling. “So it’s okay if I show this to Dewey?”

She glanced at his hat and then back down at his eyes, which were sparkling and genuine and he was just a very cute kid and Goldie hated how that seemed to be something that affected her these days. She held back a sigh and let go of his arms. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s not like I said anything that’s a secret.”

“Thank you, Aunt Goldie!” Huey said happily right before he jumped forward and wrapped his arms around her neck.

Goldie let out a surprised OOF! and didn’t hug back, just stared off towards the wall on the other side of the room.

Huey moved back away from her and kept smiling. “Louie’s right, you’re a lot nicer than Uncle Scrooge says you are!” he said as he hopped off the couch. “Thanks for talking to me! I hope you didn’t miss anything important on your show.”

“...nothing important ever happens on this show,” Goldie mumbled as Huey waddled away - probably towards the boys’ shared bedroom. She frowned and tried to will away the blush on her cheeks from the light physical affection. It was disturbing to her how much a little hand-hold or a hug made her feel like she had butterflies in her stomach. It was more than disturbing! She was practically going soft.

She sighed and thought about what Huey said before he left. Maybe she needed to have a chat with Sharpie.

[a-simple-imagine]

Look Pretty

Requested by anonymous: “Would you please write something with Hermione x reader where they are at slug horns party and the reader is trying to help Hermione escape Cormac and the two are dancing around their feelings for each other or something?”

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 4k

A/N - I’m not sure how i feel about this one tbh but I hope you enjoy it

You had never been one for parties; large social gatherings where people just stood around and talked? What exactly was fun about that. You'd much rather spend your evening in the common room but alas you find yourself stood before a full-length mirror inspecting your outfit for any imperfections. It was considered a privilege to be invited to Slughorn's Christmas party; it was only for esteemed guests and high achieving students. Each student was also supposed to bring a date; this could be anyone the student saw fit. High achiever or not. After some convincing from Hermione, you had agreed to attend the party but now your nerves had you feeling like you could throw up. Outfit number five was beginning to look worse by the second and you wanted nothing more than to just snuggle up in your bed. Y/E/C eyes stare back at you and a defeated sigh slips past your lips. How you wished Ginny or Hermione were here to fight your doubts with their uplifting compliments. Maybe you should change? The first outfit you tried on had been nice.

"How much longer are you going to be?" An impatient Harry Potter calls out to you; it was surprising that his voice carried so well from the common room. Then again, it was rather quiet this evening. With one final glance over your chosen items of clothing, you reluctantly commit to outfit number 5. With a quick spray of something flowery as a finishing touch, you descend the stairs to join your fellow wizard.

"Calm down, Harry. I didn't know you were in such a rush."

"I'm not," He turns around just as you reach the bottom step, his smile beginning to fade. "I just never expected you to take so long- you look nice."

"Really?" You look over yourself with a grimace. It didn't feel nice. "I'm not too sure I like it anymore. Maybe I should have worn something else."

"I honestly think you look lovely," He assures you with the kindest of smiles. Such a genuine boy, you have no reason to doubt him.

"Then thank you," It was hard not to feel a little embarrassed. "You look... rather dashing yourself, Mr. Potter," His dress robes were nothing to write home about but they suited him well; sleek black paired with a reddish shirt and a black bow tie.

"Shall we head out?" Harry holds out his arm in offering to which you gladly accept. Looping your arm through his before leaving the Gryffindor common room together.

It was a pleasant evening as the two of you wandered through the corridors. The quiet corridors a stark contrast to the normal hustle and bustle of Hogwarts School for witchcraft and wizardry. You rather liked how peaceful it seemed. The looks of strangers, on the other hand, you didn't appreciate. Don't these students have better things to do?

"So who did you end up inviting to the party?" Harry asks, relieving you of your increasing self-consciousness that came with the silence.

"No one," Your first choice hadn't been available so why bother with another. It just seemed like an unnecessary task. "Everyone had dates already- Who did you ask?"

You knew whoever it was they were just a substitute for who he really wanted to go with. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have agreed to let you tag along. "Luna,"

"Loony Lovegood?" It was a nickname that often drifted around the castle for the unique Ravenclaw. And not always with the nicest intentions but she welcomed it like it wasn't supposed to be an insult which you found rather intriguing. "interesting choice."

"I wasn't sure who to ask, honestly." He defends his choice. Harry Potter was the chosen one, he could have invited just about any girl to this party and they probably would have said yes. Not to mention that you had overheard that Romilda Vane was hoping he would ask her. She's basically obsessed with him. "And she's my friend so why not?"

"Oh it wasn't an insult- I actually adore how weird she is," Perhaps Harry had been wise to bring his eccentric friend; she'd surely liven up any dull party with her unique tales. "She's like the perfect dinner guest."

You look to him from the corner of your eye wondering what exactly he is thinking. You probably would have asked him if he hadn't already arranged to go with Luna. "You should have just asked Hermione," Harry says after a moment bringing a sour taste to your mouth. Your relationship with Hermione could be easily summed up in one word; Complicated. She was one of your best friends and you wouldn't change that for the world but you also couldn't deny that you had begun harbouring feelings for her as well. "She would have said yes."

With a heavy sigh, you let your arm drop from around his. From the moment you heard about the Christmas party, you had been under the assumption that you'd go with Hermione But when the time came to actually ask her, Harry informed you that she had a date already. Which was fine. She was allowed to go with whomever she likes. "How do you know?"

You hadn't expected to sound so bitter but it couldn't be helped. His shoulder bumps against yours and you weren't sure if it was intentional or not. "Call it a feeling."

"You know what potter? I don't remember asking for your opinion," you huff defensively, storming off just a few steps ahead. "You can't talk anyway- why isn't Ginny your date tonight?"

"Why would Ginny be my date?" You have to stop yourself from laughing. He couldn't be serious. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that he had a thing for the Weasley girl and honestly who could blame him; Ginny was a talented young witch, very smart and beautiful.

"It doesn't take a genius to work out you have a thing for her." You continue with a roll of your eyes. "I know it. Hermione and Ron know it. Everyone knows it- even slug club thanks to you making a fool of yourself during that dinner party."

"I didn't make a fool of myself."

"You did though," You chuckle, thinking back to the night in question. It was a slug club dinner party and Ginny had shown up late. She may as well not have come at all considering you were eating dessert by the time she arrived. Hermione suggested it was because of Dean and you wouldn't be surprised if that was true. "You basically leapt out of the chair, Harry. It was really awkward to watch."

"I was just being polite," You highly doubted that. "And she is with Dean anyway so I suspect they'll be attending together."

"I guess... Dean's cute but Hermione says they're always fighting," Extra emphasis on the always. It wasn't really any of your business but as a close personal friend to the youngest Weasley, it was hard not to get involved. "You two, however," you glance towards the chosen one in all his glory. You come to a stop before him, adjusting his crooked tie so it sat perfectly straight. "Would make quite the pair."

All talks of crushes were lost among the wind as you rounded the corner almost crashing into the young Ravenclaw that stood waiting patiently. Catching yourself before the collision, you take a few steps back. "Hey Luna," Her outfit could not scream Luna Lovegood more if it tried; it was silver and reflective. "Don't you look... shiny."

"Thank you," Had you meant that as a compliment? You weren't too sure but she took it as one. Falling behind, you listen to Luna’s ramblings during the short walk left to Slughorn's office. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings which resembled a tent. There were way too many people here for your liking which made it awfully hot and stuffy. You almost instantly found yourself alone within the crowd feeling terribly awkward.

When with friends like Harry, Ron and Hermione, you could talk forever given half the chance. But being put into a situation surrounded by complete strangers and you'd freeze up; it was hard talking to people you either didn't know at all or only saw in passing. Hiding away in the corner of the room, you search the room for someone you knew. You spotted Neville walking around offering drinks to the guest from his silver Tray. Ginny was halfway through a conversation with Dean; thankfully she seemed to be smiling. Meanwhile, Snape was looking very bored as Slughorn drones on about one thing or another. You never expected to see Snape here but apparently he had been a past member of the Slug Club. No surprise there considering he went on to teach potions. After what felt like a lifetime of standing awkwardly on the sidelines, you finally spotted Mr. Potter just outside the makeshift walls. "I told you not to leave me alone with these people," You whisper-yell as you push the fabric aside. Harry seems surprised by your sudden interruption but all attention has turned to his companion. It was none other than Hermione Granger in a little pink dress; she looked beautiful even as she shoved something into her mouth. "What are you two doing?"

"Hermione is hiding from Cormac," Harry answers, signalling towards the other girl with a flick of his wrist.

"McLaggen? That's who you came with?" Cormac McLaggen, in your less than favourable opinion, was as sleazy as they come. He had shown interest in Hermione but she had never shown any in return. So why had she chosen him over you?

"I didn't have a lot of other options," you share a look with Harry who looked almost sympathetic towards the situation. He was the only one who knew that you had planned to ask her and was also the one to crush your dreams. "Oh god, he's coming over here," She quickly reaches for your hand which brings heat rushing to your cheeks. "Come with me,"

Following her lead, you crouch down and allow her to drag you back into the crowd leaving Harry to deal with McLaggen. "Why are you here with him if you don't even like him?"

"Because he actually asked me." Her words felt like they were directed at you but maybe you were just trying to make something out of nothing. You wanted to tell her that you had planned to ask her from the start but you don't. Now safely on the other side of the room, her hands slip away from yours. "But he's so bothersome. I don't think I can put up with it much longer."

It was her fault but again you keep that to yourself. "Why did you drag me along? I'm not trying to avoid him."

"As a distraction so look pretty." Look pretty? Before you can ask what exactly she meant by that, her hands are against your arms, spinning you around quickly to face a rather irritated McLaggen. This didn't feel right but it was too late to pretend you hadn't seen him now.

"What am I supposed to say?" Your whispers for advice are ignored or more accurately unheard. This conversation was destined to be very awkward.

"Where'd she run off to now?" He comes to a stop before you, running his hand through his dusty blonde hair.

"Who?" He had obviously meant Hermione. But it seemed you were running on autopilot as the word drifted off your lips before you even had a chance to think. He probably thought you were rather idiotic now but then again did you care what this slimeball thought about you?

"Your friend?"

You swallow a lump in your throat. Guess the plan now was to continue playing dumb in hopes of him giving up. With your bottom lip wedged between your teeth, you pause in thought for just a moment. "You mean Harry?"

"I'm obviously talking about Granger? She was just with you?"

"Was she?" Surveying the room, you pretend to search for the girl in question. Luckily enough she was nowhere to be found so your act must look rather convincing.

"So where did she go?"

"Who?" Fighting back a smile, your attention returns to McLaggen; his growing annoyance was evident in the creases forming across his forehead. If it had been anyone else, you'd probably feel bad for them. Although, you will admit that it was rather harsh on Hermione's part to be leading him on like this instead of making her intentions clear.

"Hermione Granger?"

Your shoulders rise in a quick shrug. "I don't know what to tell ya mate."

"Nevermind- I'll find her myself." With a sharp spin, he morphs back into the crowd finally leaving you in peace. You let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding as the pressure to cover had been elevated.

"So where is Hermione," This time the source was none other than Harry Potter; who was now standing by your side watching the party unfold. Neville seemed to have bumped into someone who was now causing quite the stir.

"No clue, she ran off somewhere," Stopping a waiter as they pass by, you take a small glass off his silver tray. The contents were golden yellow and you weren't quite sure what it was exactly.

"I don't understand why she agreed to come with him anyway." Sure, he had asked her but that didn't mean she was required to say yes. That had been her own choice which no longer made sense considering she was actively running away from him.

"Who knows," Harry muses aloud. "maybe it's because Cormac doesn't try to hide his interest in her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You look to him with a scowl. You had never tried to hide your feelings for Hermione but the same could be said about trying to show them. It wasn't exactly something you went around announcing to everyone.

"Nothing," He offers you a flash of a smile as he slinks away to save himself from the upcoming argument. "If you'll excuse me."

Harry scurries away leaving you alone at the party once more. It seemed only fitting for you to take your leave now and head back to the dorms; you hadn't wanted to come in the first place. Plus you didn't feel like having to deal with Hermione and Cormac anymore. The commotion drew your attention for a moment but with a heavy sigh, you head for the exit. Why on earth would Draco Malfoy of all people gate crash such a lame party?

"Thank you," Remnants of your drink now spilt down your chin as you coughed in surprise. Hermione Granger has suddenly appeared once again bringing with her an aura of sweetness.

"Don't- do that," you swat her arm playfully, wiping away your flavoured drool. "You- almost- killed me."

"You're being a little dramatic," a gentle smile paired well with a roll of her eyes. "What did you tell him?"

"Cormac? I decided to play dumb and act like I had no clue."

"Must have been rather easy for you then," You raise a brow; was that a joke?  

"You do realise that agreeing to be his date, has probably given him the wrong idea?" You muse, placing the now empty glass down. It was feeling sticky between your fingertips, "And as his date, you shouldn't be running away from him. It's awfully rude, miss Granger."

"I had to bring someone," Hermione looked away from you, a heavy sigh drifting into the crowd. It seemed whatever had happened regarding Draco had sorted itself out. "And he just so happened to ask me."

"You can't avoid him forever," You wonder where the man in question has wandered off to. He couldn't have gone far. Catching Luna Lovegood's gaze for the first time since arriving, she gave you a little wave.

"That's part of the problem."

"Maybe you shouldn't have come with him in the first place, Hermione." You insist sharply, glancing back at her. "You always had other options."

Had you not spoken about the party beforehand than perhaps you wouldn't be filled with such bitterness.

"I would have said yes," Hermonie gently takes your hand in hers. Her thumb dancing delicately over the back of your hand; your entire body seemingly relaxes. "If you asked me, I mean."

Her words felt invasive; as if she had somehow managed to read your mind. Recoiling from her touch, you step away. Crashing into a rather tall lady with deep dark brown hair. She shoots you a less than favourable look before moving on. "Who said I even wanted to ask you?"

"Harry," Seems Mr. Potter had decided to try and play Cupid where he wasn't wanted. You make a mental note to talk to him about it later.

"You could have asked me," you throwback sourly. "Instead you chose McLaggen- someone you don't even like," A harsher tone but you remain quiet in order to avoid drawing unwanted attention. Heading for the exit, Hermione trails after you like a little lost puppy. Why couldn't she just leave you alone? "Maybe next time you should stop playing games."

"Who did you come with?" Hermione asks softly. It's almost drowned out among the noise. 

"No one." Your head drops. "I thought about asking Ron but he was busy with Lavender." The sound of the party grew distant as you stepped into the empty hallway. "Stop following me 'mione, go back to the party."

"I'd rather stick with you," Hermione brushes up beside you, falling in line. It was cooler out here and you were grateful for it.

"What about McLaggen?"

"All the more reason to leave," An uncomfortable silence falls over the two of you as you head back to the dorms. You never realised how eerie this place was when it wasn't full of students.

"Did you know Lovegood sleepwalks?" A harmless question to fill the void. "So she sleeps with shoes on although I think slippers would be the smarter choice."

"What?"

"She's an odd one," you smile softly at her. "But interesting,"

Speak of the devil, Miss Lovegood rushes past the two of you. Her dress twinkling in the moonlight.

"Heading back too, Luna?" You call out bringing her to a stop. The blonde turns back to the two of you.

"I am," She nods offering up a tiny smile as she waits for you to catch up. If it wasn't already awkward before it definitely was now. Nobody was speaking to each other so it was just like some weird silent adventure back to the dorms.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Luna?"

"It was alright," The blonde responds quietly. "I did manage to lose Harry a lot."

"Typical Potter," you shake your head in disapproval. "I was thinking..." You bump your shoulder against Luna's. "we should have tea together sometime?"

"Tea?" She muses out loud, "That sounds lovely."

"Great. I will send you an owl," Then Luna just up and turns down the corridor to your right. That wasn't the way to the Ravenclaw common room but maybe she wasn't heading back? With a little wave, you watch her skip away.

"You can be quite forward it seems,"

"What?" Your brows furrow.

"I just don't understand why you didn't ask me? We could have gone as friends?"

"I don't see why you're so mad at me when you're the one who had a date," you fight back.

"You're so oblivious,"

"Enlighten me then,"

The girl comes to an abrupt stop making you slow down. Turning to face Hermione, she seems unable to meet your gaze. "I wanted to ask you but I heard that Zabini was going to,"

"Zabini?" Never, in a million years, would you have thought that Blaise Zabini was interested in you. It was not a bad thing; Blaise was very cool and mysterious but also like too cool for you. Way too cool. "I wonder why he didn't."

"You would have said yes?"

"Better than going alone." You shrug a little.

"There you go then," Hermione huffs, storming past. Was she angry at you for considering another date when she herself attended the party with someone else? "Next time you need a date, go with him."

"Passive-aggressive much,"

"Forget I said anything,"

It was a silent walk back to the common room other than the moment Hermione had to say the password for you to get inside. The problem now was that you happened to share a dorm room with Hermione so there was no way to escape her judgemental eyes. After getting changed, you decided it's best to just retire for the night.

"I would have liked to have attended with you this evening had you actually asked me," Hermione expresses quietly. "When you didn't, I made other arrangements."

"I don't understand why I have to be the one to ask?" You respond. "You're perfectly capable of doing it. And besides, you didn't have to go with McLaggen, Hermione. That was a choice so you clearly didn't want to go with me that badly."

"You can't be serious," She groans loudly. "Why should I have to go dateless because you can't be bothered to ask me unless you don't have any better options."

"That's not even accurate," you growl back. "You're just making stuff up now."

"Will you two shut up," Ginny Weasley interrupts, leaning against the doorway. 

Heels held in her hands suggesting she had also just returned. "Everyone can hear you arguing."

"It's-" Ginny glares at you; shutting you up. Falling against your bed, Hermione sits upon her own as the youngest Weasley enters the room. "It's not fair that you insist on playing games and then get mad at me."

"It's not fair that you're mad at me because I found another date when you didn't ask me,"

Ginny sighed loudly. "Hermione. She didn't ask you because by the time she worked up the courage you already had a date. She was always going to ask you, she just thought you'd wait for her." Then her eyes fall to you, she looks very unimpressed. "Hermione on the other hand, heard you'd be attending with Zabini and so she was planning to make you jealous by going with McLaggen okay? you both like each other so either sort this out and go to bed or go argue somewhere else."

Ginny leaves you alone with Hermione and neither of you seems to know what to say. You were just a little surprised she would go out of her way to make you jealous, it seemed a little childish which wasn't her style. "Who knew Ginny could be so scary?"

The two of you share a smile which transforms into gentle and very quiet laughter. "You were scared to ask me?"

"I wouldn't say scared just... I didn't know if I had to ask officially. I kinda just expected us to go together but then Harry said you had a date." You shrug, fiddling with your hands. "You tried to make me jealous?"

"Don't," Hermione buried her face in her hands. How sweet she was. "I'm embarrassed enough."

"I still think you should have asked me," you lay down against your bed, snuggling against the sheets. "But I'll make you a deal. Next time I need a date, we shall go together okay? No matter what it is, you will always be my first choice."

"Alright, deal," you try to look at her but it's hard from your position. Listening as she climbed into her bed and switches off the light.

"You looked really pretty tonight."

"Thank you," she mumbles. "As did you."

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

The Passed Out Princess Chapters 1-2

Pairing: My CMC (Uyu, Dan Byeol) x Suit Saeran

Description: On days 7-9 of Ray’s route, the player is denied food as “Saeran” makes his presence first known. But, what if MC fell very ill under this method of torture due to a medical condition? Sadly, my custom MC, Uyu (full name Dan Byeol), would deal with exactly this dilemma.

Content warning: Descriptions of throwing up, passing out, and meal skipping. Every food related issue mentioned is strictly medical, and based on my own condition.

This was written under the assumption that you have played Ray’s route in full, so route spoilers ahead! This takes place during the very beginning of day 8, and according to the timings and contents of the chat rooms, it would take place before Saeran cuts contact with the RFA and before he installs a camera to monitor MC in her room. It is timed to match closely around to when I’d get sick myself.

My CMC’s condition deals chronic with low blood sugar, meaning she has to eat to keep it up or suffer the consequences as seen here. It is not diabetes related, it is something she is born with as am I and is linked to more complicated matters I left out to keep it simple. Some symptoms include: growing light headed, severe dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and passing out. See all chapters

I wrote this with flexibility for whichever HC for Saeran you follow (DID or BPD), because whether or not he has one of the following, Rika has drilled it in his head that Ray and Saeran are separate entities, and Saeran views it this way. Consider it written the way Cheritz writes him, with nothing exactly too set.

To make things easier for myself, I’m uploading multiple chapters on each post, chapters only separated by lines. Here is 1 and 2

Ping!

The sound of Dan’s phone alerted her to rise and greet the day with a new chat room open.

As the morning sun took its place in the clear blue sky, the little woman sat up in her big bed, bangs sticking out in all directions as her head thumped with a dull pain. Hunger induced pain, she noted, as her stomach felt empty.

Despite the beauty of this early morning, the light pouring through the windows creating a rosy glow which engulfed the princess room; there was no beautiful light shining on the brunette’s new situation, seeming so dreary and dim.

Uyu still found herself wrapped up in this place, whisked away to a castle tucked deep within mountains known as Magenta. Every corner of the building was constructed brick by brick with a beautifully ornate architectural design, but the bright exterior was only a façade. If she was left caged like this for long, what would become of her? Driven to insanity, perhaps she’d attack and claw at the walls which confined her, unable to turn her anger to Saeran, the real victim in all this. The “savior” made it clear she was the true ruling figure who lurked about as the moon rose, the mastermind behind this place’s pain and suffering.

The night before, after being so kindly introduced to “Saeran”, this golden-haired angel confirmed herself to be quite the wicked witch of the west indeed, and it took everything out of Uyu to not call her harsher names to her face.

Mint Eye was hell redecorated to wear the guise of heaven, but pretty gardens and saccharine words could not fool her. Because Dan wore no wool over her eyes, the savior had no intention of allowing her to live long enough to become the new narrator of “The Yellow Wallpaper”; and she had no shoes to click together at the heel to wish her way home with who she came here for originally.

Just as Ray’s suit did, he changed, flipping like a light switch.

Saeran, the name V previously called him by, did succeed in giving her a good fright, his attitude being the least thing she expected to see after Ray’s earlier sobs over the phone.

Uyu was mainly focused on one solid question after their encounter, though. Just what did that “cleansing” entail in full detail? What did this place do to him, to make him weep and beg for a warm hand to hold one minute, only to push back and try to scare her the next?

It was as if he was caught, dragged by the feet somewhere inescapable, a pit damp and dark down under; rising from a shivering grave cold to the touch.

If it weren’t for her position, she wouldn’t have allowed it.

Now more than ever, this room built on the foundation of fantasy and delight felt like a birdcage which barely allowed her to wiggle an arm through its bars. She relied on her song, her sweet words which Ray claimed to tickle at his heart and hold a power over him like no other before. Her goal, of course, was to use this for good, influencing him to learn to appreciate and care for himself like he should. But now, she felt unable to do even that much, not that she’d give up trying.

Saeran wished to dismiss her and her actions entirely, evident from his need to spew the fact that he bestowed upon her the label of being less than a person, his toy. His play thing.

That sick twisting she felt pooling in her gut upon first hearing the term “cleansing” seemed all too in place.

Ray, as sweet as her prince charming was, had a knack for leaving out important details about this museum of wonder. To her best guess, it was done to avoid panic as none of what went on here could be viewed as normal, or ok. He only briefly mentioned things like the “elixir”, such as on the night V arrived to spiral this place’s plans into chaos.

That was the night she could officially mark a great importance in staying, despite the vast network of lies.

Uyu wasn’t entirely stupid, she had an idea of what the elixir might be a while back, but it was still hard to process regardless.

Saeran threatened to give her one of these cleansing ceremonies...and said he could “draw out the maximum pain in the process”, telling her whatever happened to him hurt. A “no duh” moment indeed, but it was confirmation.

Ray suffered, for no reason other than he was too enwrapped in his blooming feelings for her, something that shouldn’t be taken as a negative but was. It displeased the savior that his chains which bound him by the ankles began to jingle with his new yearning to take flight.

She couldn’t allow herself to lie down and give the savior the satisfaction of breaking her, not when she still had so much to do, and not when Saeran and the RFA were at risk.

As the cool night-time air blew around them, feeling its whisper through her long locks of hair, Ray opened up about Mint Eye’s beliefs as a sanctuary for the “weak”, who had no choice but to lock themselves away to avoid further hurt.

He clearly viewed himself as someone in this category. Weak. But Saeran? Saeran shoved and shouted, which felt like a complete opposite to Ray’s whimpers and pleading. He even went as far as to accuse her of manipulation, of treating Ray like a puppet as she watched him dance to the harp she plucked.

Looking past his outburst and itch to watch her squirm, there stood a man seething with hate sparked entirely by twisted lies and his own fears. He gave himself away rather quickly as he attempted to say she messed with “hisna vefeelings” for some “big plan”.

She had to trust that there were boundaries he wouldn’t cross, being so close to her and forceful...and that was where her panic truly lied. But for now, she’d bank on the idea that he just wanted to scare her, staying alert in case he went too far. There were vases around from Ray’s various gifts that could be used as a weapon during the extreme. Unlike her, Saeran had no fighting skills either, but currently she was a bit too ill for those measures.

For once, a room so pink made her feel neither cozy nor at home.

Uyu’s fuzzy morning vision was then attracted to a black blob hanging on the doorknob. With a little eye rub, she made it out to be a dress, and a rather pretty one at that. In the way it was cut, it would expose much of her shoulders and upper back, the top front of it connected to a bow tied around the back of a neck piece with strings of fabric; like an attached choker. She could only assume it was a “gracious gift” bestowed upon her from the man she saw take Ray’s place. Apparently, he has a thing for black.

Her little device chimed again, and then once more, third time giving her the last push of annoyance she needed to reach over and respond to the opened chatroom.

She sighed with relief seeing Seven was the person active online, as she could now pester him with questions about what he was seeing on his end of the fight. They typed away, Uyu expressing concern for both of the hackers as they discussed Ra-Saeran’s new careless and aggressive tactics to snag him a victory.

As time passed, Jumin joined to ask questions as well, mainly circling around the governmental commendation from the Prime Minister to recognize the RFA for their charity work. Uyu stuck to her gut and pushed against the idea of it being a complete positive.

While both V and Seven acted oddly around the idea of the commendation, the RFA was also just a small organization which had only held two parties previous to Rika’s “passing”. The award was too fishy to trust in her judgment, especially now that she understood things going on around here weren’t at all what they had seemed to be.

Mint Eye wasn’t the only organization she was caught in that held its secrets.

After a bit of talking, Jumin agreed that the prime minister’s reasoning had to be figured out before any final decisions could be made. Everyone logged off, Seven returning to the battlefield and Jumin to stitching in his car.

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

The need for food grew worse.

Uyu showered and changed into the outfit provided…not having much of a choice to do otherwise unless she wanted to rewear old clothing. She felt down and sluggish as she dressed the way her toy maker willed, the dark frills of her attire tickling against her thighs as her step dragged. She was still ok enough to make herself look presentable, even if done at such a pace.

Her hair changed to a solid dark brown color as it took in the shower water, the gold ombré reaching her tips returning upon giving it a blow dry, making sure Saeran would have less to scoff next he saw her. She wasn’t aiming to avoid his crude comments, but instead trying to make herself feel good. Call her smelly all he wants, she knows she isn’t.

Saeran was aiming to play into her insecurities, maybe full well knowing she had so very many of them as he tried to wind her up. The least she could do was confirm his lies to be lies in the ways she knew how, if not for him then for her. She couldn’t allow him to figure out what made her gears stop, whether his words were true or not. This was no game of knife throwing, and she was no target.

11:00 AM crept up on her as she moped around quietly in her dollhouse, waiting for Saeran to come and try to take a good yanking on her marionette strings.

Dan sat upon the bed as the empty-headed feeling and banging in her temple raged, shifting to lay down fully and make herself more comfortable. If she stood for too long, she’d sway and wobble as her vision turned to black, purple and green swirls, momentarily clouding both her sight and mind.

Despite her numerous texts and occasional calls, she still heard nothing from Saeran. Not a peep.

She was growing restless as well as worried for him, and what would become of her as she continued to go unfed.

Her phone buzzed, shifting her attention over to it groggily, eyes half lidded as she wanted to sleep off this sinking feeling. Soon, she’d start to go down like the Titanic as lunch time acted as her iceberg.

Uyu hoped it was her self-proclaimed master, only to let out a grumble seeing that it wasn’t. Instead, it was Zen who had logged on.

She chatted with him, trying her best not to voice her ever-growing discomfort from skipping last night’s dinner as well as that morning’s breakfast, lunch time now creeping just around the corner.

After a quick talk, she’d call Saeran again...as uncomfortable as that conversation would be, it was her only viable option to kill the onslaught of nausea.

As they talked for a while, Yoosung joined the conversation as well….with talk of food; stew he was in the middle of making to be precise. She felt her stomach churn and rumble as the need for rest fell over her like a weighted blanket, being the only escape from the inevitable vomit now building up inside.

She logged off within another couple of seconds as the hot sweat began.

Dan swallowed thickly as her stomach went haywire, guts twisting, coaxing her to run to the toilet and empty out the water she could at least keep herself going on from the bathroom tap.

Leaving her phone on the bed, she rose to her feet best she could, stumbling till she reached the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. There, she fell to her knees, pulling her long hair back and away from her damp face, lifting up the toilet seat before her.

Within a mere moment, she felt the contents claw at the inside of her throat with a burning sensation, attempting to break free. She shuddered as her body suddenly fell in temperature, before allowing whatever her tummy could offer up to slip past her lips, color in her face all too faded away, displaying her illness. Gagging and choking noises echoed throughout the small room as the rather clearish liquid flowed from her mouth, tears from the discomfort blurring her vision as she blinked them away.

She stayed like that by the toilet for a while, throwing up a couple more times before making certain that event was over for the time being. Uyu considered herself extremely lucky that none was able to touch her or end up in her hair, but not nice to say vomiting wasn’t new to her. She knew the tricks.

Oddly, when something like this would happen, it gave her a tiny amount of strength back. It was strangely relieving, although emptying her stomach further. Her tummy was able to untense a tad.

She blew her nose and wiped her eyes before giving it all a flush down.

A fast teeth brush followed before she stumbled over to bed where she had left her phone. She fiddled with the RFA app until she could reach Saeran’s contact profile. Trying not to let the dread of being ignored again wash over her, she dialed up his number, both nervous and praying this time for a response.

After that last fit was over, her condition would move her into another stage, passing out being the only thing to come next without the blood sugar spike she needed.

The ringing went on for what felt like an eternity as she groaned and pressed her face into the pillow.

“Pick up...pick up damn it please pick up…”.

Uyu wished that she had made a bigger fuss over this earlier rather than attempting to swallow it and wait it out. Being distracted by “the savior” and Saeran’s screaming was something she shouldn’t have allowed herself to do in the midst of endangering her own health. What was she thinking? She knew it would reach this point, it always does if left unchecked. She internally cursed herself for not speaking up more assertively.

After another moment, his angry voice finally came through the speaker and she sighed softly with relief. The last she had heard from him was at four in the morning.

“Feeling this lonely and desperate already, hmm? Tch...what makes you think you have the right to contact me over and over again when I’m doing important work unlike you?”

She huffed on the other end, which he paid no mind.

“All you do is fiddle around like a good for nothing. You didn’t seem so happy to chat with me last time we spoke, but now you’re all eager and ready? You’re just itching for another visit aren’t you? Impatient little princess~.”

He let out an airy chuckle, finding her repeated acts of calling him rather amusing.

“Don’t worry. I have play time all planned out for you soon, you pest. I’ll bother you ten times more than you ever bothered me-”

She cut off his angry rambling, mumbling quietly as she spoke.

“Saeran...can you please come here? I’m not well right now and I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself functioning...I already threw up-”

“Speak up, you complainer! Seriously? You want to see me so badly that you’d put on an elaborate show? Princess...you can’t win any sort of sympathy from me by acting like a brat. Ugg, I’m going to hang up now. I’ll be imagining the million ways I can punish you for this later, stupid toy. I’m busy! Too busy for a bug like you to understand! You waste my time-”

“Wait please...please come here...it’s harder for me to explain over the phone. I...mentioned this problem earlier..please…”

And she had, briefly attempting to bring it up as he invaded a chat room between her and Jaehee.

“Begging now?”

He took on a sad tone of childish mockery as he continued.

“Please please please...please come see me... AHAHA! You airhead. I know what your medical records look like, and therefore I know you’re spinning a lie. You’re not to be trusted just as my savior says. There’s nothing there pertaining to some sort of eating issue other than the fact that your weak little body can’t handle milk…‘Uyu’~.”

He teased at her chosen nickname, and while the irony was why it was picked, this was less than fun.

“Now quit whining over an empty stomach when it hasn’t even been a full day! It’s no fun to see you give up so fast!”

Dan tried her best not to slur her speech, the task assigned to speak up being too hard of one to follow.

“Fine...fine don’t believe me. But…..it doesn’t hurt to come anyways. Since you want to see me suffer….or whatever….”

“Or whatever??? Toy, if I come see you right now...you won’t like what you’re going to get. I haven’t an ounce of pity in me to give you if that’s what you’re searching for. I'm not the type to let you rest in my lap as I stroke your hair and tell you it will be alright, and I won’t give in and feed you. Instead, I’ll make sure you never wish to call me again.”

“...ok…”

“Ok? Ok?? Haha! ...ok then. Let’s see how pathetic you’ve become as you beg and plead to me in person, little actor. Playtime is happening earlier today than I had planned. Congratulations! I’m extra pissed.”

Call ended.

She let out a puff of air, dropping her phone down next to her before closing her eyes, not bothering to stand in preparation for his arrival.

Next chapters All chapters

[mimosaeyes]

This is a dream, then. A fantasy conjured by the last firing of his synapses in the moment before death. Martin silently thanks his subconscious for it. He’s never had faith the way his mother did, but if there is a heaven for him, he’s quite sure it would have Jon in it.

Post-200. Jon and Martin wake up somewhere else. 2.2k, fix-it but not really.

In case this turns out to be the last fic I finish in this fandom, I want to especially thank my beta @emberidzae for introducing me to TMA. Or, at least, for talking about it enough in my general proximity that eventually I got curious.

Someone is cradling Martin’s head on their lap, and running their fingers through his hair. Jon, he thinks absently. He’d know him anywhere, even by such tiny details as the shape of his calluses where he grips a pen, and the texture of his burn-scarred skin.

But that can’t be right. Jon is dead. He’d killed him in the Panopticon, hands shaking until the instant before the knife had plunged in. The only way he could force himself to do it was to make it as quick and painless as possible. He couldn’t falter and draw out Jon’s suffering, not when it was already such a torment to hear him groan and scream as the building began to crumble around them. Or to see the look in his eyes, the utter trust and love warring against the Beholding’s hold on him.

This is a dream, then. A fantasy conjured by the last firing of his synapses in the moment before death. Martin silently thanks his subconscious for it. He’s never had faith the way his mother did, but if there is a heaven for him, he’s quite sure it would have Jon in it.

He breathes, even and steady like he’s trying to fall more deeply asleep. If these are his last seconds of awareness, he wants to spend them just like this.

Then he hears Jon quietly ask, “Are you awake?”

Martin opens his eyes. Jon is peering down at him, his expression tender and tentative. In the weak sunlight, he looks washed out, his features rendered nearly in greyscale. There’s no trace of the bright red from when Martin had lifted a bloody hand to cup his face. The only indication of everything that’s happened is a faint mistiness about Jon’s eyes.

Furrowing his brow, Martin reaches up and touches his cheek. It’s wet; he leaves behind a fine dusting of black sand that has stuck to his fingers. “Are you crying?” he murmurs, almost confused. Surely, if this is all in his imagination, he’d have made Jon happy.

Jon surprises him with a soft laugh. “Tears of relief, Martin. Look around.”

Reluctantly, still half-convinced none of this is really happening, Martin rolls to one side and sits up. Jon scoots over a little for him, even though there’s plenty of space. The shore is completely deserted apart from them, and silent but for the gently lapping water.

“Is this...?”

At Martin’s questioning look, a smile slowly spreads across Jon’s face. It’s a complicated one, balanced between joy and disbelief, sadness and resignation. “Somewhere else,” he affirms.

“But I—” Martin stares at Jon. There’s no blood on him, no wound; only a tell-tale rip in his shirt where the knife had gone in. “I killed you.”

“I told you to,” Jon objects. His hands come up as if to touch Martin, who rocks back on his haunches.

“I killed you,” he repeats, this time in a whisper.

Jon watches him for a moment. His shoulders lift in a helpless sort of shrug. “Or maybe,” he says, “you killed everything that wasn’t me. Everything tethering them there.”

Martin can feel tears welling up in his eyes. He’s shaking his head slowly, but he doesn’t know why. It’s not like he can deny the physical fact of Jon, here with him, miraculously unharmed and apparently, entirely human. It’s not like he wants to, either. He just hadn’t been expecting to wake up again — in a world he may have helped to doom, next to a boyfriend he was supposed to have died with.

It’s a lot to process.

A single sob escapes Martin, and at once Jon is hushing him, almost vaulting forward in his rush to pull him into a hug. They meet awkwardly halfway, in a tangle of clumsy limbs and warmth. 

With Jon’s arms around him, Martin lets himself just cry for a while.

It feels long overdue. The back of Martin’s throat has felt tight and strained since the moment he woke up to find Jon gone. He’d rushed to find Georgie, Melanie, and Basira, and then he’d rushed up the countless flights of stairs in the Panopticon, not daring to stop and catch his breath for fear he’d be too late. He was, anyway, and the moment Jon had turned around to face him, voice crackling with static and eyes illuminated as if from within, it had all come crashing over Martin: Jon had left him behind after all. He’d broken his promise, been so willing to die in some perverse kind of atonement that he hadn’t even waited to say goodbye.

Martin hardly dares to believe he’s here now, rubbing soothing circles over his back and murmuring, “It’s okay. Shh. I’ve got you.”

It takes some time, but eventually Martin subsides. The trembling stops and his breathing slows. Mildly embarrassed, he pulls back from the embrace. “Don’t ever,” he says wetly, poking Jon in the chest, “do that to me again.”

“I won’t,” Jon says softly. He waits until Martin has settled back on the sand, then takes his hand and interlaces their fingers. 

For a while, they both stare out at the water, the way the seafoam stands out against the dark beach.

“Any idea where this is?” Martin asks.

Jon shakes his head. “I think Iceland has black sand beaches, but... you know. That’s back in our reality.”

Martin lets out a long breath. “It worked, then.” His voice is muted with weariness. “We saved the world.”

“And doomed every other one.” Without letting go of Martin’s hand, Jon pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them.

“Not everything is your fault, Jon. We all agreed on the plan.” 

He waits, but Jon gives no sign of having even heard the words. He watches him for a long moment, biting his lip. Then he clambers to his feet and pulls on their linked hands. “Come on.”

Jon blinks up at him. “Where are we going?”

“On a walk,” Martin tells him.

The beach looks the same in either direction, and a steep wall of volcanic rock prevents them from going farther inland. Undaunted, Martin starts off towards the left. Jon follows, possibly from force of habit. They’d gone on many such walks together, in the halcyon days at the safehouse before the world ended. 

Normally, Martin would point things out as they passed them by — good cows being a bonus, of course — but this place seems eerily devoid of life. There aren’t even any seashells or bits of driftwood. The air is still. The fog sits in heavy reams.

He’s just wondering if he should bring it up when Jon abruptly starts talking. He’d given one last statement, he admits, up in the Panopticon before Martin arrived. Becoming the pupil of the Eye had given him answers, at long last, about how the entities came to be. 

Jon’s train of thought is uncertain, and he frowns a lot as he rambles. Sometimes he stops and gazes out across the water, the look in his eyes vacant. It’s probably just a side effect of his being ripped away from the Ceaseless Watcher, Martin tells himself. Probably.

“We created monsters,” Jon says at last, “and then I set them loose on the whole universe.” He stops walking and hunches his shoulders. “What does that make me?”

Martin closes his eyes for a moment. “Jonathan Sims, you are not a monster.”

Beside him, Jon’s breathing goes shaky. “But I told you—”

“That I wouldn’t want to see what was left of you?” Martin interrupts. He hasn’t forgotten the desperate look on Jon’s face in that moment, when he’d first refused to leave him. “I’m looking at you right now, Jon, and you know what I see?”

Illogically, he’s almost angry at him; that’s how frustrated he is that the man he loves cannot seem to stop blaming himself for everything. “I see someone who has given everything to make things right. Who chose kindness, even though he’d been marked and manipulated. Even though he kept getting kidnapped and hunted and hurt and — and used.”

Jon is staring at him now, wide-eyed. Martin thinks about the way he’d looked in what he thought were their last moments together. Beautiful and beatific. He touches two fingers to Jon’s chin, tilting it up. “It’s not monstrous to protect the people you love,” he says. “It’s human.”

With his free hand, Jon swipes at a tear that’s running down his cheek.

“Okay?” Martin presses, but gently.

Jon sniffs. “Has anyone ever told you,” he says, “that your pep talks can be rather aggressive?”

He’s deflecting, but Martin decides to let him get away with it. He’s pushed hard enough for now. In any case, he thinks his words have hit home, at least to some extent. There’s still guilt in Jon’s eyes, but although it runs deep, Martin thinks it looks a little less sharp.

Pulling back and turning to resume their walk, he says, “They have to be, to get through your thick head.”

A corner of Jon’s lips quirks up. “That sounds like something Basira would say.”

“Is she alright, do you think? And Georgie and Melanie?”

Jon waves a hand. “I’m sure they’re fine. They’re probably putting the world back together already.”

“Probably make it better,” Martin muses. He sighs. “They’ll have their work cut out for them.”

A beat. “And what about us?” Jon asks quietly. “What do we do now?”

They fall silent, each contemplating the question. 

If they’ve ended up in the same world as the entities, Martin figures, at some point they’ll probably have to start seeking out organisations like the Magnus Institute, working out who the next Archivist is. And if they somehow stop the apocalypse from happening, it’ll only be for a while. There will always be another attempt to foil. 

By some miracle, they’ve made it here. Maybe they’ll be able to build a life together, and enjoy it for a while. But mostly, the future Martin sees stretching ahead of them is just full of more danger and guilt and sacrifice. 

Jon must be thinking along the same lines, because he sighs and says, “Do you know what this reminds me of? It’s like I thought the play was over, but it turns out it’s only the intermission.”

“What did you want it to be?”

For the space of several breaths, Jon is silent. “A good epilogue,” he says at last. “I’d like to think we deserve that much.”

Martin swallows past a sudden lump in his throat. There isn’t really anything he can say to that, so instead he gives Jon a little nudge, and keeps walking.

When he next looks up, his eye snags on a shape on the shoreline ahead of them. It’s the first thing they’ve come across since they woke up here and started walking. In tacit agreement, they both wander over to get a closer look. 

It’s a small boat, complete with a set of oars. The wood has only the faintest suggestion of brown. It’s been bleached to a light grey, though how long that would have taken, Martin can’t guess. 

He clears his throat. “Is anything about all this just a little bit on the nose to you?”

“What?” Jon asks, still peering at the boat. Then: “Oh.”

This looks more like an ocean than a river, Styx or otherwise, but Martin can’t deny that there’s something ethereal about this place. Interstitial. Plus, there’s the otherwise inexplicable fact that Jon’s wound is gone. Honestly, he should have put it together sooner.

He notices Jon watching him then, his head canted and his expression fond. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Jon says. “You’re just... taking the possibility that you’re dead very well.”

“So are you,” Martin points out.

Jon shrugs. “I’ve had time to get used to the idea. Besides, you’re here.”

His smile, at that moment, is a brittle thing. Martin finds he has to look away from it.

They never seem to get enough time, do they? The cottage in Scotland. That week at Upton House. And now this. Part of Martin is tempted to try and stay here, in this final pocket of respite. He knows that’s irrational, though. 

Maybe this is just a very dramatic-looking beach, and they’ll feel very silly when they wash ashore. Or maybe they’re right. Maybe they’ll get in that boat and... pass on, head towards the light — any one of the phrases people have invented to give shape to the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns.

Either way, Martin realises, they have to find out. And at least they’ll find out together. Subconsciously, he tightens his grip on Jon’s hand.

“What are you thinking?” Jon asks softly.

Martin looks at him for a long moment. “I did want to take you rowing.” Such light words for the weight of what they imply.

“Where you go,” Jon says, “I go.”

Martin smiles. “That’s the deal.”

It takes them a while to get a rhythm going after they push off from the shore. Martin rows, and after a while, to his mild delight, Jon starts singing a sea shanty under his breath, keeping time to the beat of the oars. 

And as the shore disappears behind the fog, Martin is surprised to find that colours start to filter back into the world. Pinks and yellows, the likes of which the sky above his head hasn’t contained in so long.

He looks at Jon, who looks back at him and nods. 

They meet the sunrise. They leave the world behind.

[also available on AO3 here]

[my TMA fic on AO3]

[leahseclipse]

Difficult day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: (based on a prompt) Spencer and Reader give up coffee and help each other by trying to find ways to keep each other awake.

Warnings: Mentions of murder (not real, just ironically, don’t worry, nothing dangerous there.)

Word count: 2.3 k 

A/N: Hi there- so uh, this fic is rly meant to be a silly little one, so it's a bit whack,(and not rly written well to me) I just wrote it bc the idea was there and I felt like writing it at 1am……………...so hope u enjoy a bit lmao (also i never drank coffee once, so I just researched stuff online and wrote it)

**

          Deciding to start the day without coffee probably was a bad idea to think about, it just hit them while they were talking, and Spencer sort of announced the idea.

“Hey, why don’t we try to give up coffee, and see if we can survive without it, you know.”

What a...excellent idea.

She’s now looking like a zombie, wandering around, and can’t resist the idea of closing her eyes. 

 Y/N has been up since 6AM, and it’s about...11 now. Which felt more like a whole day.

The worst of all, is that she couldn’t even bug Spencer about it either, he decided to do it as well, but at least, she has a coffee-deprived friend to support her.

The real problem, is that, Hotch might not be happy with the consequences, which are...sleeping at work, so, not working.

What a great day ahead of them, yay.

She’s probably making a fuss about it, as after a bit of searching, it only lasts about a few days or so, but right now, she just wishes it could stop right now.

She already knows that as soon as Spencer is going to walk in the room and launch the subject, a mountain of facts is going to fall, and she wouldn’t even be aware of how long it’s, and when it’s ever going to stop.

Because, even if there’s four facts (which isn’t about to happen), he develops each of them in the form of essays, which seems like a whole conference.

Y/N doesn’t mind, it’s not annoying, she likes to hear about it, it gives more knowledge and stuff, but when it ends to be an essay long, especially when she doesn’t happen to have drunk coffee, things get complicated, in terms of focus.

Such as, being slightly, just a little, really not much irritated, but mostly tired as hell.

Working is not in her plans at all. Sleeping is.

Taking a day long nap, as much as possible, but, fucking work, has decided to annoy her, as much as it could, with a wonderful surprise: a pile of papers, that you have to read, think about, write about- as you think about it, make sure it’s well described, filled out, so your boss doesn’t bug you with it, causing you to re-write it, which...makes you lose motivation, as you have to go through the whole process, which makes you...even more tired.

She seriously has no idea how she’s going to make it through the whole day, and strangely feels like the coffee machine has been mocking her since she arrived.

All she wants is to hide it with whatever is in the room, or smash it against a wall, but that isn’t...possible, as not everyone is doing ‘their challenge’, if that can be seen as one, because to y/n, it’s more of a torture.

If Spencer didn’t have that pretty face to protect, she would punch him in the nose as soon as he’d appear in front of her.

That wasn’t even her idea, she didn’t think that when she mentioned it, he’d take it seriously, resume the subject and make it real.

She really regrets talking about it, because he didn’t just skip it or talk normally, no, Spencer doesn’t do that.

He really had to take it as far as he could.

Now she possibly wants to kill him, but unfortunately remembered that he’s going through the same thing, and will probably want to either kill her, or attempt something less violent, such as making her talk about a subject that interests him on purpose and make an essay out of it.

And, of course, steal all ways of distraction, and make sure she can’t go, because he also ‘tortures’ her by asking questions, and when she can’t answer, he develops it even more which makes the rest of the essay late, and last longer.

Again, it isn’t in a mean way, just annoying her as well.

They often do that, find ways to annoy each other, it’s kind of a habit they picked up throughout the years, they both find it distracting and can be a nice way to distract each other when work happens to be quite annoying.

But, never has she thought that he’d take the joke to the point of what keeps her awake. 

That sneaky bastard even left a box of tea on her desk, and she would have probably thrown it out if it wasn’t so expensive.

If only he wasn’t doing it as well, oh, how she would have grabbed a knife from the kitchen to throw it at him.

Also, also, as if it couldn’t get any better, one of them had to stay awake, in case one happens to fall asleep.

Double the dose of fun.

She can’t wait to see him cross...the door.

Strangely, as soon as she told it, Y/N saw a well known face make his way through the bureau.

She even had to keep her from standing up and possibly strangle him.

He didn’t even stop to talk to other people, just said ‘hi’, and basic stuff you say when you arrive at work, and arrived at the conference room.

It happened to be empty, so she took the occasion and settled there.

“Oh, you’re already there? Thought you’d come in later.”

“I came early, because I knew that I’d ignore my alarm and possibly arrive an hour later than you...or not at all.”

“Okay. How are-”

“Dead. What about you?”

“The same.” Spencer said, as he sat up. “So, about it-”

“...knew it.”

“...why don’t we discuss so, you know, we distract ourselves from...the fatigue, and...all of the other effects that come with a coffee withdrawal?”

“Do I look like I have the energy to do that?”

“...no.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“To distract ourselves, as said.”

“My head hurts, I want to sleep, I’m pissed off, how do I even do that?”

“By trying to avoid bright lights...oh, yeah, that doesn’t work.”

“As figured.”

“So...if I understood well, we’re screwed for the rest of the week?”

“Exactly, genius.”

“Great plan.”

“It was your idea.”

“Can’t deny.”

“You could have chosen something else than fucking coffee Spencer.”

“I didn’t have any idea but that.”

“Come on. You always have a ton of stuff in that brain, and just on that day: nothing.”

“My brain lagged.”

“Oh, I forgot your brain is a computer now apparently.”

“It is one, I am my own computer, I just have a system that can fail, like a regular computer.”

“Which OS are you on? Genius OS? Because your ‘intelligent’ system sucks right now. I prefer Windows.”

“Hey, when we agreed to do that, insulting each other wasn’t part of the thing.”

“It’s the only thing I have in mind, because if I don’t do it, I’m either killing you, or sleeping to try to calm down. I could also do both. Murder, then sleep, and I just pretend someone walked in and killed you while I was sleeping.”

“...that’s not very nice.”

“It’s the nicest thing I’ll probably be saying today, so, enjoy.” 

“I didn’t know that included you being rude. I’m also tired, but I don’t act meanly.”

“Oh, sorry, did I hurt your feelings?”

“...yes.”

“Too bad.”

“Rude.”

“ ‘s not.”

“If you continue like that, you’re going to be the one keeping watch.”

“We agreed on the other one doing it if one of us falls asleep. None of us are, we’ll see when one of us sleeps.”

"Is this a contest or what? You know that the minute one of us puts his head down on the table, they'll be out if nothing wakes them up?"

"Yeah, I know. But if that's a contest of who can stay awake longer, you're going to lose, you've been on coffee much longer, prepare to suffer."

"You look dead, you're the one that's going to sleep first. I almost caught you dozing off when I walked in." 

"No you didn't."

"I did."

"...no."

"You're lying. That small "no" gave it all away."

"I talk like that in general. It's nothing."

"You talk like that just today. The only thing that hasn't changed is your squeaky voice."

"I don't have a squeaky- I have one."

"Told it."

"Oh, shut it."

"You'd be too sad.without my knowledge."

"No...I wouldn't."

"You're smart because of me."

"Mhm. 'f you tell so." She says, propping up her chin on her hands. 

"You're already giving up five minutes in. You're very strong."

"Am not. I'm just...putting my hand on my hands, just that."

"Just that."

"Exactly."

"You don't know...how to lie properly." He said, stretching up a bit. 

"You're going to be sleeping in a bit too."

"Don't you know me by now? I'm stronger than you."

"Hm. Elevator accident."

"That doesn't count."

"You had a small voice."

"I was just scared, okay? I- I don't like being in small spaces for too long."

"Says the 'strong man'."

"Okay, I'm not as strong as I said, but just a bit more, because being at your level equals being weak."

"Hm. Okay." Y/N lazily responds, as a pair of heels begins clacking onto the floor, the sound growing closer, until a familiar face comes in.

"Is there a meeting I wasn't informed of or what?" Garcia asks.

"No, we just sat here. Trying to stay awake, and y/n is that close to sleeping."

"Shut up, you were about to as well."

"And you're just here like that? Imagine if Hotch even found you guys."

"Yeah that'd- y/n. Y/N." Spencer raised his voice, trying to get her attention.

"Let me." Garcia interrupted, walking to her as she shook her. "Y/N, wake up and stand up, you two are going to follow me."

"Hm…? Where?"

"You're going to stay in my office for a bit, but just for today. I'm taking a risk by doing that."

"Do we get to sleep there?" Spencer asked.

"Just for a bit. Not all day, I'm doing you guys a favor here, you're going to have to find a big way to thank me if Hotch finds out and yells at me."

"Deal." Y/N answers, quickly stretching as she stands up, lazily walking to the exit along with the two.

*

It's been just half an hour until Hotch begins to wander around, wondering why he can't find either of them anywhere.

He just saw them walking in, and now, they're nowhere to be found.

No one else saw them since, and the only person left to ask would be Garcia, she's been in her office all day.

Just when she begins to make her way back, a stern voice calling her name interrupts her.

"Garcia. Did you see Reid and y/l/n?"

"No, I haven't seen them all day..must be doing work." She answers.

"They're in there, aren't they? They're nowhere else."

"...maybe?"

"They're supposed to be working, and I doubt that's what they're doing right now."

"But Hotch, leave them; this is how true love starts in fanfiction. Don't you see it?"

"Fan what…? I really have to get you drug tested some day."

"Fanfiction you know, it's stories that people write, it's all cute, in some they fall in love and all, so, that's why you have to leave them, they fell asleep on each other, and it's so cute."

"Garcia, I thought you agreed to stop reading that stuff at work, didn't you?"

"...I read them on breaks." 

“Fanfiction or not, love or not, they’re not supposed to be sleeping, so, please don’t force me to break that door to come in.”

“Don’t yell, they were really tired, so I...offered them to stay. Mostly because I wanted to help, but also because they’re so cute, I couldn’t resist seeing them sleeping together.”

“That depends on how quick they can wake up.” Hotch announces, stepping to the entrance of the room.

When they both step in, you’re both sitting on chairs and Spencer is sleeping against y/n’s shoulder, while her head is on his.

As soon as Garcia wishes for Hotch not to wake them up, he steps further in the room, clearing his throat as his foot tapped against the tiles.

It didn’t take much for them to wake up, everyone knew that when Hotch’s voice was to be heard, you definitely had to be awake if you wanted to avoid a sermon. 

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" Y/N stated, as if it could make the situation somehow better.

"Reid." Hotch said.

"I'm there, I- oh, did I...fall asleep on your shoulder? Sorry for that."

"As much as I'd like to reassure you, Hotch is behind, so that'll have to wait."

"Oh...sir." 

"Care to explain?"

"Well uh...I don't think I actually have one."

"...we didn't have coffee for a day or two because we decided to stop so, yeah."

"Does this even look like a valuable reason?"

"No." They both admit.

"If I see this happen again, you're aware of the consequences."

"Yes sir." Spencer responds.

"Absolutely." Y/N answers, as the eyes of the group follow Hotch leaving the room, a sigh exiting their lips. "That was...the worst moment of my life."

"You two are disappointing, I was so excited to see a real life fanfiction, but you had to get caught."

"Garcia it doesn't exist, stop reading these. It's not like we're in love."

"It's because you don't know how to recognize true love y/n. You're a newbie."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Fairy tale stuff, you know. The couple falls in love, eventually gets married, has kids , and everything ends well."

"I think we should talk to Hotch about getting you to take a drug test or other." Spencer pointed out.

"We should."

**

[athela-3]

crushing defeat

1.7k words; gen/comedy; hints of shipping if you blink, look here, and look away again; if everyone gives aspec vibes that’s my bad, I have no idea how allos work; 3 am nonsense is practically its own genre; mild language (canon-typical); no content warnings.

Yuki’s never had a crush before. Normally that’s not a problem, but now that he really needs to know what it’s like, nobody else in Mankai can seem to give him a straight answer. And what does cake have to do with anything?

“You. Elite Swindler. What's it like to have a crush?”

Itaru looks up from his phone and finds himself face-to-face with Yuki's inquisitive eyes. “Um.” He blinks, stalling for time while he forces his brain to take a U-turn from his game. “Why do you ask?”

Yuki sighs, swatting aside a strand of hair and tucking it behind his ear. “My character's supposed to be in love, but no matter how many times I try saying my lines it never sounds right. The Director said I should try asking around to get an idea what it's supposed to feel like, and you're sitting right here. So are you going to tell me or not?”

“Huh.” Well, that sounds like something she would do, Itaru concedes. He sits up, placing his phone face down on the sofa next to him. “If I have to describe it, I'd say it's inconvenient. Just because you like someone doesn't mean you'd like liking them. It's kind of like pulling a gacha and getting an SSR. If it's your favourite character, cool, but if it's a character you don't like and you already have three other copies of the exact same card, and now you have to grind all over again… not cool.”

Yuki rolls his eyes, and for a second Itaru thinks he's about to be on the business end of his trademark sarcastic zingers again. “But what is it like? It can't be as sappy as it looks like in Muku's manga.” Beat. Slowly, with dread creeping into his voice: “Is it?”

Itaru opens his mouth to answer, only for a better idea to spring into mind. He cranes his head to look into the kitchen, where Homare is nursing a cup of some fragrant tea blend with a complicated, bougie name. “Hey, Homare? How would you describe the feeling of falling in love?”

There's a brief pause, filled only with Yuki's wide-eyed Oh-No-You-Didn't stare, which Itaru diligently avoids. Then Homare places his teacup on the saucer with a gentle plink and replies, with the absolute certainty of an astronomer looking at the night sky: “Devotion astride with every doki doki… a sugary somnambulism, nefelibata's mazurka of watchfulness, feather-light fingertips painting patient litanies!”

“Exactly.” Itaru grins. “See? It's not that hard.”

Yuki's expression is flat, but Itaru thinks he can see the gears turning inside his head. Eventually he sighs. “Fine. You've made your point.”

“Look, that's all I've got,” Itaru shrugs. “Besides, why don't you ask someone who definitely knows what it's like? Have you tried asking Muku?”

“Duh. He tried to hand me a bunch of romance manga for reference. But that's fiction. If I want my acting to be realistic, I need to look at real life examples.”

“Why not ask Masumi then?”

“And listen to him babble about the Director for the next three hours?”

“Mm. Kazunari?”

“I'm not an idiot. I already asked everyone in my troupe.”

“Tsumugi?”

“I would, but he's not home. Tasuku says he's out tutoring. And before you start, I already asked the Muscle Freak. He mumbled something about high expectations and ran off.”

“Citron?”

“You've got to be kidding me.”

“Taichi?”

“The Dumb Dog? That's… a good idea. Plus I needed to check on his sewing anyway, he's supposed to finish them this—”

“Yo, Taruchi, where are you? Don't just go AFK on me like that!”

They turn to see Banri emerging from the stairwell, phone in hand and an annoyed look in his face. Itaru waves him over at once, relieved to find a potential back-up partner. “Banri! You gotta help me out, man. I need you to describe what having a crush is like.”

Banri stares slack-jawed, caught totally off-guard. “A crush? It's distracting, that's what. I mean, they're all you can think about, right? No matter what you're doing or where you go, you just keep thinkin' about 'em.”

Itaru snaps his fingers. “Right! And you know you've got it bad when you keep finding excuses to be around them. Or when you do weird stuff to get their attention, like giving them things or teasing them or picking fights with them—”

“Why would you pick a fight with someone you like?” Yuki squints, thoroughly unimpressed. “You can't expect them to fight with you and then magically like you back afterwards. That's just stupid.”

“Well,” Itaru grins, “it is.”

“Ah, but such is love!” rejoins Homare, his sentence punctuated by a neat clink as he places his drained teacup in the sink. “Even the greatest of geniuses are fools when it comes to love. Perhaps I should write a poem about that… the overripe ache of tenderness, rotting one's mind even as it enriches the soul…”

Banri shakes his head sharply. “Yeah, whatever. Just get the interrogation done with so we can start the next match.” With that, he marches off into the kitchen, brushing past Homare without a word to fetch a glass of water.

As the poet leaves, still murmuring fancy thesaurus words under his breath, Itaru turns to Yuki and raises his eyebrows. “So? Think you got a better idea now?”

“A little,” Yuki admits. “You're not so useless after all.”

“Huh. I don't know what I expected. Guess I'll take what I can get.”

At that moment, the front door swings open, and in walks Juza, carrying a bag full of groceries in each hand. Behind him is the Director, bearing an identical bag in her arms and pulling the door shut behind her with her foot. “We're home!” she shouts.

“Welcome home, Director, Juza. Whoa, that's a lot of loot today.”

She laughs. “Turned out there was a sale, and since it's important that we save money I thought we might as well stock up ahead. I was lucky Juza came along to help, otherwise I couldn't have carried all of this back alone.”

While she stops by to talk, Juza keeps heading for the kitchen to unpack his groceries, only stopping when he realises his roommate is blocking the way. When it becomes apparent Banri has no intention to step aside, a scowl clouds over his face. “Move.”

A corner of Banri's mouth quirks upward. “Or what? You can't touch me, your hands are full.”

“Don't have to. You can stand there if you want, but the Director won't like it.”

Begrudgingly, Banri inches aside just enough for Juza to squeeze through. When he sees the topmost layer of groceries, he makes a small wolf-whistle. “Three bottles of strawberry milk? What d'you think this is, Hyodo, a damn onsen?”

“Ya gonna stand there babblin', or ya gonna make yourself useful?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

“Oh, Banri? Since you're already in the kitchen, and you're not doing anything,” the Director chimes in, industrial-grade cheerfulness dripping from her every word, “why don't you help me make dinner?”

Itaru snorts. “Curry duty? Ouch. I'll press F for you later.”

“Actually, tonight is sweet and sour pork. I got a deal on bell peppers, but they have to be eaten quickly,” she tells him, before calling out to Banri: “You can start by washing and chopping them, by the way.”

“The Currian chooses not to make curry?” If Yuki's eyebrows rose any higher, they'd completely disappear behind his fringe. “Did you hit your head on the door coming in?”

“I'm sorry, we can have curry tomorrow if that's what you want,” the Director smiles sweetly, and Itaru wonders if this is what she's like in the office. He tries picturing her giving instructions to her juniors and suggestions to her superiors, all in that inhumanly saccharine tone of voice. The mental image alone gives him the chills. “Oh! How's your role study, Yuki?”

“Eh, it's a work in progress.” He pauses, eyeing her with a slight squint. Oh, no, Itaru thinks, here we go again. “But now that you're here, why don't you tell me what you think a crush is like?”

“Me? I haven't had a crush since…” her voice trails off. She walks to the kitchen, places her groceries on the counter, and starts unpacking them alongside Juza. “I don't remember. What I do remember is that when you've fallen in love with someone, you want them to be happy. You remember the little things they like and don't like, because there's no feeling like seeing them smile and knowing it's because of you, or something you did. If they're happy, you're happy. But if they're upset about something, then you feel bad too, even if it wasn't your fault.”

Yuki hums a wordless acknowledgement, face scrunched in thought. “And you?”

Silence. After a few seconds, Juza looks up from the cabinet he is currently stuffing with raw pasta. “…Me?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Who else?” Banri snorts. “Oi, gimme the pineapple. I can't find it in this mess.”

“Didn't get any.”

“What, so we're making sweet and sour pork without pineapple? Who eats sweet and sour pork without—” Realisation dawns in his eyes. He blinks, as if startled, glances at the Director, and looks away again. “Oh. Huh. Well, that's interesting.”

“Whatcha talkin' 'bout, Settsu?”

“None of your business. Now answer the damn question already so we can cook in peace.”

“We ain't cooking, you are,” Juza points out. “An' I dunno.”

“You don't know?” Yuki presses impatiently. “Or you're not telling?”

“Dunno. Never had a crush.”

“Tch. Of course you've never liked anyone. All you like is cake.”

Itaru nods comprehendingly, shooting up in his seat. ”Banri's got a point, you know, the cake does kind of give it away. Bet you also like dragons.”

“Wait,” Yuki interjects, “what's cake got to do with anything?”

“You don't know?” Itaru twists to face the boy completely. “Aw, man. I thought you of all people would know. Do you like cake?”

“What does it matter?”

“C'mon, it's just a yes or no question!”

“They're OK? I'm not that big on sweets, but I like the really pretty cakes. Especially the ones with edible flowers on top.”

“The real question is,” Banri looks up from the cutting board and points the knife at Yuki, “would you rather fall in love or eat cake?”

“What kinda stupid question is that?” Juza mutters, still playing grocery Tetris with the cabinet and therefore completely missing the death glare Banri sends his way.

“Shut your cakehole, nobody asked you.”

Yuki's brows furrow, and Itaru notices his eyes flickering to Juza before he settles on a reply. “If I had to choose, I guess I'd choose cake. Having a crush sounds so exhausting. Besides, I know what cake's like, so I know what I'm getting myself into.”

Itaru claps his hands together, triumphant. “See? Congratulations, you're Team Cake! Don't worry about the dragons, we'll get there when you’re ready.”

“But what does any of it have to do with—you know what, forget it.” Yuki throws his hands into the air, mere millimetres away from clocking Itaru's head. “I should've asked someone who knows what they're talking about. You guys are hopeless.” With that, he turns on his heels and makes his exit, presumably off to interview the next hapless sap to cross his path.

“Good luck!” the Director calls out.

Itaru shakes his head. “And here I thought we'd get more affinity points than that,” he mutters. “Talk about being hard to please.”

“Don't blame him, it is a tough subject to crack,” she points out. “Oh, does that mean you're free right now? In that case, can you please make some rice while I get the pork ready?”

“Welp. Is this a mandatory quest?” She nods, and he sighs, slowly stretching to his feet and pocketing his phone. “All right. But you owe me cake. All this talk's got me craving a slice.”

“I'll grab you some tomorrow, how's that sound?”

Banri's head snaps up again. “Hey, if he gets cake for helping, then how come I don't?”

“You don't even like cake,” Juza grumbles.

“I’m just sayin’, it ain’t fair. And don’t pretend you don’t want some.”

She reaches past them to grab the packet of pork on the table and laughs. “All you had to do was ask. You know what? I'll get you cake. Both of you.” She pauses to scratch her chin. “Come to think about it, maybe I should just get a nice big cake for everyone to share. I've got a feeling we're all gonna need it come tomorrow.”

[five-rivers]

Darkness/Poison

This is part of the ‘Doorways’ series (aka Danny is an eldritch abomination and Jack and Maddie have no normal friends so they decide to go on a road trip to make sure none of their friends from college have become semi-satanic soul-eating holes in reality AU).  

AO3 link to series.

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The Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle did not have the smoothest ride in the world, but Danny was used to it.  Also, he had driven the Specter Speeder through the Carnivorous Canyon and ridden in Johnny 13’s sidecar.

Point being, if his parents didn’t want him to fall asleep, they should have told him.  Or, at least, not dragged him out of bed at four thirty in the morning (both to get an early start and to avoid the reporters and other undesirables who had taken to circling Fentonworks like vultures).

Look.  Danny might have been an unspeakable eldritch horror, a superhero, and one of the richest human beings on the face of the Earth, but he was also a teenager.  Not to mention sleep deprived.  

Besides, Mom and Dad had said their next Paranormal Research Club friend was miles and miles away.  They wouldn’t reach his town until much later in the day.  Danny had plenty of time to sleep safely.  

Which is why he was so disgruntled when Dad shook him awake with a cheery “We’re here!”

“Where’s here?” asked Danny, rubbing his eyes and noting sadly how far away his portal back in Amity Park was.  

“Breakfast,” said Jazz, voice heavy with sleep.  Apparently, he wasn’t the only one trying to take advantage.  

“’Kay,” said Danny, briefly wrestling with the seatbelt.  He caught Mom staring as he opened the door.  “What?” he asked frowning.  

“Nothing,” she said, unconvincingly.

Whatever.  Danny could figure it out later, when he was more awake.  He jumped to the ground.  

“I think you guys will really like it here!” said Dad, waving at the building.  “The food’s great!  An old friend owns the place.  Your mom and I used to come here all the time before you were born, when we were commuting between Amity and Chicago.”

Danny nodded along, staring up at the neon sign that read ‘Red Flower Dinner.’  Then his brain caught up, and he slowly turned his head to look at Dad.  

“’Old friend,’” he said.  “What do you mean old friend?”

Dad blinked at him, uncomprehending.  Jazz came to his rescue.  

“Dad, we’re doing this whole trip because all of your old friends are lunatics,” she explained.  

“They’re not!” said Dad, defensively.  “Besides, Marianne was never part of our club.  She didn’t even go to U of M.”

“She was a waitress at our favorite hangout,” explained Mom.  “She got enough saved to buy this restaurant around the time we graduated.  She’s few years older than us.”

“Saved?  I thought a relative died, and she got an inheritance?” asked Dad.

Danny groaned.  “Do you not see how suspicious that is?”

“Come on, Danno!  We can have normal friends.”

“No, you can’t.  If a normal thing ever interacts with our family in any way, it immediately becomes abnormal simply because of how unlikely it is for anything like that to happen.”  He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars.  

“He’s got a point,” said Jazz.  “Maybe we could go to a different dinner?”

“But,” said Dad, “she makes the best breakfast. And she really is normal.  She wasn’t involved in any ghost stuff.”

“Are you really telling me you never talked to her about ghost stuff at all?” asked Danny, suspiciously.  

“Well, we did,” said Dad.  “But we talk to everyone about ghost stuff.”  

“Dad…”

Dad inhaled and heaved a huge sigh, shoulders sagging.  “Alright, Danno.  I get what you’re saying.  We can go somewhere else…  Even if it won’t be as good.”

Okay.  Now Danny felt bad.  

Unfair.  

“Well,” he said.  “I guess we could check and make sure she’s not, you know, haunted or anything.  That’s why we’re doing this, I guess.”

Dad brightened immediately, and Danny had to grab the back of his shirt to keep him from running in.  

“But remember, if I say we have to go, we have to go.  That’s the deal.”

Dad nodded.  Danny let go.   He sighed as Dad disappeared into the building.  

“Is the food really that good?” asked Danny.

“Marianne grows a lot of her own herbs,” offered Mom with a shrug.  “Everything she makes is at least decent.  But, well,” she grimaced as she held the door open for her children. “The reason we liked her so much was that she always seemed interested in our research.  We liked talking to someone who took us seriously.”

“Wonderful,” deadpanned Jazz.

The décor inside the dinner was bright red and floral.  The seats and benches were upholstered in shiny, dyed leather.  A long glass counter displayed pies and other desserts under bright lights.  The air was warm and smelled faintly of cherries.  A radio station played quietly in the background, blurring the chatter of the other guests.  

Danny rubbed his eyes again.  Ugh.  He was tired. Sleeping in a moving vehicle was a special kind of unrestful.  Heh. Unrestful dead.  More like unrested dead.  That was him.  

(Someday, he was going to track down the first person to say, ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead,’ and give them a stern talking to.)

“Marianne!” boomed Dad, waving at someone in the kitchen behind the order window.

There was a gasp.  “Jack Fenton!  Is that you?” A woman with greying brown curls leaned out, then ducked away briefly before reappearing through a door.  “I haven’t seen you in years!”  She threw her arms out, hugging first Dad and then Mom.

Danny bristled at the perceived threat to his parents but managed to control himself.  This was nothing.  Everything was fine.  Just because every one of his parents’ friends so far had something weird and potentially fatal going on so far, it didn’t give him the right to police their every interaction with other human beings.  

“Are these your kids?” asked Marianne, excitedly. “Oh, my goodness, you must be Jazz, and you’re Danny?  I’ve only seen you in pictures, but you’ve grown so much.  You’ll be as tall as your dad in no time.”

“Hope so,” said Danny, knowing there was no chance of that happening whatsoever.

Not with his human body, anyway.  

“I hope we’ll get a chance to talk,” she continued, “but I have things on the stove.  Why don’t you go ahead and find a seat?  We’ll get to you soon.”

“Looking forward to it, Marianne!” said Dad, waving again.  

“Is she alright?” asked Mom quietly as they slid into a corner booth.  

Danny wound up in between Mom and Jazz, which was good, because Dad tended to elbow whoever he was sitting by.  In this case, Mom, who could take it.

“I think so?” He rubbed his eyes.  “But I can’t just sense everything. Don’t forget that.”

“Stop rubbing your eyes,” said Mom.  

“They’re itchy,” said Danny.  “I think I got some sleep sand in them or something.”

Mom’s expression softened.  Danny blinked at it and wondered when he’d gotten so used to seeing an edge of suspicion on her face.  

“It could be allergies,” she said.  “It’s that time of year.  Or it could be that you keep rubbing them.”  She tugged his hands away from his face.  “Either way, it isn’t healthy to keep touching your eyes, sweetie.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t have a point, but Danny wasn’t entirely sure he could get sick.  Not anymore.  Maybe if he was far enough away from Amity Park, spread thin enough between his two major physical manifestations…  If his body was human enough…  Maybe figuring that out could be a fun family bonding experience.  Not.  

He yawned.  He wanted to go back to sleep.  Being in here, with the warm scented air and not-quite-white background noise, only made slumber more inviting.  

Still.  His family’s ability to protect themselves was lacking.  Danny at least had to stay conscious in case Marianne decided to channel the spirit of Locusta or something.  Ancients, wouldn’t that be typical?  

A waiter came, introduced themself, and handed out menus.  Danny failed to process most of the waiter’s prepared speech, and his eyes drifted down to the menu.  

It seemed… normal, for lack of a better word. Slightly worn, a couple stains on the paper behind the plastic protector.  The pages had a border of blotchy red flowers.  The items were all typical breakfast foods.  Nothing jumped out at him.  

He wasn’t even hungry.  Actually, if he thought about it, he was a little nauseated. Sometimes that happened when he didn’t eat for a while, though, so maybe he was hungry, after all?

Why did bodies have to be so complicated?

“What are you getting?” asked Jazz, who was morally unable to make a food order until she’d taken a poll.  

“I don’t know,” said Danny, folding his arms on the table and letting his head rest on them.  “I’ll probably just get whatever you’re getting.”

Jazz frowned at him and repeated the question to their parents.

The waiter came back after a few minutes.  

“I’ll have the Variety Breakfast!” said Dad, excitedly.  

“The number five, please,” said Maddie. “Sausage links, not bacon.”

“Um,” said Jazz.  “How about the Red Flower Special?”

“Excellent choice,” said the waiter, smiling. “Marianne grows all the seasonings for that herself, and the presentation is lovely.”

“I mean, it’s pancakes, right?” asked Jazz, nervously.  

“It is, it is.  What would you like for your side?”  It took just a few seconds for the waiter to get the rest of Jazz’s order, then they turned to Danny.  “And what are you having today?”

“Same as her,” said Danny, waving in Jazz’s general direction.  

“Good choice, good choice,” said the waiter.  “We’ll be back soon!”

“Thanks!” said Dad.  He reached over Mom to pat Danny on the shoulder.  “See?  This is just a completely normal restaurant.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, dubiously.  He’d believe it when he got out of here with his questionably mortal coil and squishy, murderable human family intact.    

Okay.  Maybe he was being a bit overdramatic, now.  Was it because he was too far from the Amity portal?  He’d been sure it wouldn’t significantly affect him, though. It wasn’t as if physical distance meant much in this context.  Sure, he wasn’t on his home turf, but still…

Of course, he was a teenager. Teenagers were supposed to be overdramatic.  At least, that’s what he’d heard.  Being a teenager didn’t come with a manual any more than being a half-ghost superhero did, quirky TV shows about middle school notwithstanding.  

Yeah.  That sounded reasonable.  He was a teenager who’d been woken early, and it was still early, and that meant the world was terrible.  Excellent math.  

He sipped at the water the waiter had left him, pleased with himself.  

Which is when his and Jazz’s orders arrived. Danny caught a glimpse of red on him plate, abruptly recognized the prickling feeling in his eyes, expelled the water he was drinking from his nose, and propelled himself sideways across Mom and Dad and out of the booth.  

“Ah!” he said, pointing at the red-tinted pancakes and the pretty little flowers on top.  

The plating really was nice.  Just like the waiter said.  

The whole dinner was staring at him.

“He’s got allergies,” explained Jazz, her voice just a little too high pitched.  “Just—Really horrible allergies.  To flowers like this.”

“Blood blossoms,” said Danny.  He was reasonably certain the things wouldn’t kill him, he wasn’t sure that anything short of something like Gula could kill him, but every encounter he had with them had been painful beyond belief, and he doubted that their being cooked would help very much with that.  

“Right.  Blood blossoms.  The name always slips by me…  Haha.”

“Oh my gosh,” said Marianne, rushing out of the kitchen.  “I am so sorry.  I didn’t know anyone was allergic to them!  It’s just, you guys always talked about how they were lucky, and they got rid of bad spirits, so I thought I’d incorporate them, and they’re red, which is also lucky, and they taste so good—”

“Marianne,” said Mom, poking at one of the flowers, “where did you even get these?  I thought they were extinct.”

“Oh,” said Marianne, “my uncle, the one who died, well I guess they’re all dead, now, but…  The one who left me enough to buy the dinner?  He worked in seed conservation.  I got his personal collection.”  She sniffed, apparently on the edge of tears.  

“Ah,” said Mom, glancing at Danny.  “That’s interesting.  Um.”  She slid out of the booth.  “I’m really sorry, Marianne, but,” she gestured in Danny’s direction.  “Food allergies.”

“He’s had breakouts just from being around them, before,” added Jazz, helpfully.  

“Oh, no, no, I understand.  Um.  One second, let me give you my number, I don’t want to fall out of contact again, oh, dear.  Tracy! Give me your notepad!”

It took several more minutes for all the Fentons to make their way back outside, most of which Danny spent staring into the dinner through the large front windows, keeping an eye on his family. Maybe he didn’t have ‘allergies’ in the typical sense but being around blood blossoms was making his skin itch and prickle unpleasantly.  

Eventually, however, after Dad had shoved most of his order down his throat in a single go, they all got back into the GAV.  

“Oh. My. Gosh,” said Jazz.  “You two have no normal friends.”

[chibienvychan03]

MC Learns How to Cook

No way. No how. It just could not be. You followed the recipe exactly. No short cuts. No substitutions. Yet somehow you wound up with this thing… While you would rather not waste food, you were definitely not going to it or gods forbid show it to a certain CEO/chef. You recalled the last time he witnessed your cooking.

 Victor takes one look at your latest cooking creation if it could be called one. “… Congratulations. You’ve created a new substance. I’m sure the scientists will be interested in how you managed this.”

 At this point, your eye is twitching, and you struggle to fight off the urge to strangle your boss. After all, he’s in charge of your paycheck along with everyone in your company. Think of your poor employees. Must remember them.

 “Thanks for your… suggestion. I’ll keep that in mind.” This is the last time you’ll let Victor come over before you’ve finished practicing on whatever dish you’re trying to create. You dump your creation into a container you’ve brought before cleaning up. All the while you’re purposely ignoring a certain person.

 Victor sighs a long one. He says something that you pay little attention to as you’re taking out your frustrations on the poor cookware. They won’t clean themselves after all. Once you’re finished and Victor’s kitchen is back to normal, you grab your dish and storm out of there.

 Your anger and frustration are completely apparent, and if Victor doesn’t pick up on it, well he may as well be the dummy or blind. As tempting as it is, you somehow manage to refrain from slamming the door shut. No need to owe Victor any more than you already do.

 The strange multicolored black lump had to be useful for something. The first thing that came to your mind was paperweight, but it might attract unwanted pests and would probably start rotting. Out of the question. Using it as a weapon? No. First of all Gavin would hear about it, and second you couldn’t think of anyone in your life that warranted such a treatment including Victor. At the same time, you hate wasting what was supposed to be food. Maybe it would make good fertilizer? Surely it wouldn’t kill the plants. If it did… oops?

 After taking out your frustration on the black lump, you shove the now pulverized stuff into a container and took it outside your home. You glanced around to make sure no one (or camera) was looking before you deposited your “fertilizer” onto a random bush. The leaves hid the evidence.

 Back at home, you went online and searched for available cooking classes. Even if it costs a lot of money, there was no way you were going to him and asking him for lessons. You’re already deep in debt with him. Plus that smug smirk of his even if he looked handsome wearing it. It took awhile to find a good instructor within Loveland, but you found someone who was about to start classes. When you went to register, your jaw dropped at how much, but then again, the classes were small, and they provided everything including the ingredients and apron.

 So worth it.

 You open your wallet to pay for these classes. If the teacher was anything like the reviews said, you knew this was going to be a great learning experience for you.

 On your first day there, you managed to get lost until you ran into another person who was in the same class as you. At least he knew how to get there. The two of you arrived a few minutes ahead of the class starting in spite of you getting lost. Well he didn’t. There was a total of six students. Hence the high costs, but you kept thinking how great it would be to show up Victor… not outdo him, more like show him you could do more than what he anticipated.

 Your teacher looked awfully familiar. Had you seen him somewhere? Not recalling where you had seen him frustrated you. Maybe once introductions were done, you’d remember… wait a moment, you recalled reading a name when you signed up. Why couldn’t you pull that information up? It was like your brain needed rebooting.

 “My name is Kalvin, and I’ll be your instructor for the next three months,” the guy introduced himself. That was when you realized he had many cooking videos where he showed step by step how to make quite a few dishes. Not that you were his fan or bookmarked his profile on the video website. Nope.

 As it turned out, the person who helped you find the place was name Levi. He looked like an expert when handling the knife. You, on the other hand, appeared to be drunk. Your vegetables were lopsided no matter how hard you tried. It was frustrating.

 “You’ll hurt yourself that way. It’s better to have a good grip on both the ingredient and your knife.” It was that guy. When you looked over at his station, his vegetables were perfectly cut. He picked up one of your and showed you where to position both your hand and the knife, but he didn’t cut the eggplant. Instead he handed it back to you.

 You attempted it and almost cut yourself if it weren’t for his quick reflexes. “Thanks.” On your next attempt, he helped you by moving your hand and knife where they should be in order to not cut yourself. It felt different than what you were used to, however, you managed to cut the eggplant into decent sized pieces. Not as good as certain people though a lot better than when you first started.

 Your neighbor gave you a few tips on handling a knife and returned to his station. Maybe the two of you could be friends after this or something. The other students appeared to not be the friendly type as none of them bothered to greet you during the break nor did they help you when you were struggling. At the end of class, you all made a couple edible dishes… at least yours was. When you looked at your classmates, they all looked good… and smelled good too. Sigh.

 Once you finished cleaning up your station, you found that guy waiting for you. “It’s not safe for a lady to walk alone at night.”

 What a gentleman and caring too. “Thank you for staying… and helping me out.”

 The guy shrugged it off. “Everyone has to start somewhere. Myself included. Let’s just say I have a way with knives.”

 Something told you that you didn’t want to know what he meant by that. “Whatever it is, you’re an expert with it. Me? I’m clumsy.” You walked alongside him, and he even slowed down his speed to accommodate yours. If only a certain person… then again, it wouldn’t be him and didn’t feel right.

 “It takes practice. Trust me I cut myself a lot when I first started.” Ouch. It reminded you of yourself when you first attempted to cook. Needless to say, you now kept a first aid kit and a couple of fire extinguishers in your kitchen.

 “Sounds painful.” If he wasn’t there while you practiced outside of class, you knew you’d need those bandages perhaps several.

 “Anyways if you want help practicing, let me know. I’m self-employed.” Did he just read your mind?

 “Please. I don’t want to look like a fool in front of him.” Your cheeks become a bright red.

 “You’re learning how to cook for your boyfriend?” he teased. When you glared at him, he held up his hands. “Sorry. I’ll avoid that landmine.”

 You shake your head. “We’re not dating.”

 “But you like him, otherwise, you wouldn’t be doing this.” How observant he was! Could this become any more embarrassing?

 “How can you tell?” You hesitantly ask.

 “Because there’s a guy I like.” Did he just say he liked a guy? “If that bothers you…”

 You shake your head. It didn’t bother you at all. “No, I’m just surprised since you know… a lot of people don’t admit it to someone they first meet.”

 “This guy doesn’t even know I exist… He is rather selective about what he remembers, and he cares about only one person who isn’t me.” You want to comfort and reassure him, but it’d feel a bit awkward or at least until you get to know each other.

 “So you’re hoping to win him over?”

 “The guy’s probably straight, and even if he isn’t, I probably don’t stand a chance,” your classmate sighed a long one. “But still his dietary habits are… not good for his profession. It’s physically demanding, and bad eating habits wind up with complications later on in life.”

 You began thinking of your own dietary habits and wince. His words were true. If anything, you’d at least learn how to cook healthy for yourself. “When you cook, you can control the salt, sugar, and fat contents.” He nodded his head.

 “You forgot it’s cheaper too.”

 “Yeah, easy on the wallet.” You two laugh… well his was more of a chuckle. “You want to exchange numbers?” You took out your phone and show it to him.

 “Why not?”

 After exchanging numbers, you reached the bus stop. You were about to board the bus when he started to walk away. It turned out he didn’t need the bus, but rather wanted to make sure you got on safely. This reminded you a lot of a certain cop, but he was away on a mission.

 Since you knew when classes would be held, you were able to change your work schedule to accommodate it. Anna, being supportive of your desire to learn and the fact she knew why you decided to take lessons in the first place, took charge whenever work ran late or for any sudden changes like a shoot being postponed and reports being delayed. She said it was for only three months, not three years. You decide to treat her to a well-deserved vacation once you finish your classes. Thanks to her efforts, you never missed a class.

 Also thanks to Kalvin and your friendly classmate your cooking improved by leaps and bounds. This time you could handle a knife without cutting yourself! You still needed to work on cutting the ingredients into the same size and shape, but that came with practice as they told you. Focusing on your cooking had become easier. You’re able to cook a dish without having your mind wander too far. It helped to have more than a pair of eyes watching your cooking. It was embarrassing at first being reminded to turn off the stove, lower the heat, or something else. About a third into your class, you didn’t need that many reminders which your new friends praised you for. Friends as in the teacher and the nice classmate.

 You were excited for today’s lesson. Dumplings! Two classes ago, Kalvin announced you’d be making dumplings and that you’d get to decide on which ones you wanted to make. He also needed to know as they needed to buy the ingredients for it. Once you handed in your list, you were told not to change. Otherwise you risk not having the proper ingredients for the filling. Trading ingredients was sometimes done, but not that often. Somehow with the way your classmates interacted with you, you doubted they would trade any of their ingredients with the exception of that one person. Rather than risk it, you had made a list of what you wanted to make and gave it to them last class.

 When you reach your station, you started preparing for your lesson. You glanced over to your classmates. They were all busy with their own preparations. Your only friend was already prepared and waiting for your teacher to arrive.

 “Looks like someone is in high spirits today,” he said in a casual tone, no teasing. “But it’s no surprise. We’re making dumplings, and we get to pick the filling.”

 Nodding your head, you completely agreed with him. “There’s someone I want to thank. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be able to attend every class.”

 “She covered for you?”

 “Yeah, and she volunteered for it too! She’s someone I can count on.” In fact, you thought of her more as family than an employee.

 “That certainly deserves a thank you gift.” She wasn’t the only one you plan on thanking. You also wanted to thank him for mentoring you in spite of his work even if he was his own boss. That was something the two of you had in common except he didn’t have employees. He was what they called an independent contractor or something similar to it. “What did you pick?”

 You listed off what you wanted to make much to his amusement. The ingredients were mostly the same, and the way they were cooked too. Plus you wanted to learn as much as possible. You rolled up your sleeves. “I can do this.”

 “Don’t rush yourself. We have class tomorrow and can finish it then.”

 “Yeah, but I don’t think I can keep quiet about the gift any longer.” You felt like you had drunk several mugs of espresso. “And what if they don’t like it?”

 “Have faith in yourself. Don’t forget. Failure is an option. Take it as a learning experience instead of beating yourself over it. It doesn’t do you any good ruminating on what if scenarios.”

 The way he said it, something terrible had to happen in his past and that something changed him. You weren’t close enough to ask and you doubted he would voluntarily tell you. Some things were better left unsaid as someone once said. “You’re right. I may stumble, but I get back up on my feet and move forward.” After everything that happened in your life, you had become a stronger person.

 You chat about everyday things, namely you complain about your work and unreasonable boss. Thankfully he was willing to listen to you vent. Some of his commentaries were hilarious and gave you ideas on editing certain pictures. You didn’t plan on showing anyone else, lest, they managed to make their way to that person.

 Then you noticed him looking at his watch and frown. “Our teacher is late. He’s never late. I hope he’s okay.” As soon as he mentioned it, you pulled out your phone and looked at the time. He was right. Your teacher was definitely more than late. Kalvin usually arrived there early in order to prepare for the lesson. Your lesson should have started about ten minutes ago.

 SLAM!

 You jerked in the direction of the sound with a start, heart racing. It couldn’t be Kalvin as he had never slammed a door, not while you were in class with him. Your friend didn’t appear to be affected by this as if he was used to this. Why couldn’t you be that way? But no, you had to be jittery and full of nerves. Instead of your friendly teacher, you see a taller and much thinner man make his way to where Kalvin normally stood when demonstrating to the class. It turned out your usual teacher was sick, and he was there to help as he owed Kalvin a favor. Two classes. You hoped you would be able to survive this.

 “He looks familiar,” you blurted out.

 Your teacher looked in your direction as if he heard you, and you could see his eyes widen a lot. What? He never introduced himself but launched directly into the lesson. Still you get the feeling you know him from somewhere.

 You didn’t have much time to dwell on this as your teacher instructed you to gather your ingredients from the walk-in fridge. Room temperature ingredients were already at your station, but the ones that needed to be chilled were in in the colder room. Each student had a couple bags with their names on them. You groaned upon finding yours. They had to put it just beyond your reach. Stretching out was useless as was jumping and tippy toeing.

 A hand reached over your head. You turned around to find your male friend. He was definitely taller than you, but not a whole lot. “Thanks.”

 “No problem.” When he handed them to you, you almost fall forward. Those ingredients were heavy, yet, he handled them as if they weighed nothing. “Here, let me help you.”

 You followed him out into the much warmer room and discover you were the last two to get your ingredients. Your instructor narrowed his eyes at the two of you. What was his problem? It wasn’t that long, and helping others was a good thing, not bad. Your only friend in this class, Levi, placed your ingredients at your station before heading to his.

 Mystery teacher appeared to be less than pleased by this. Now that you gave it some thought, he looked downright pissed. Was he angry or upset at you? It wasn’t like you could help being that short. Maybe your strength could be improved… okay, it needed a lot of work on it, but that took time. Gentlemen were rare and far between these days. A rare species even! Your other classmates, who happen to be all females, weren’t fond of you. Now your substitute teacher wasn’t either. You hoped he would be there for only a couple of days. There were only two nice people in the class, and one of them was absent.

 As he began explaining the method for making the filling, there was that nagging thought in the back of your head. No matter how hard you tried to kick it out, it kept returning. You knew this guy from somewhere and sometime. It was a matter of figuring out where and when. Something hit your leg. You glanced over to the only male student who nodded towards the front of the classroom.

 Oh crap. It looked like you had spaced out for a bit. Instead of being caught by the mean teacher, it was someone on your side. Phew. You focused your concentration on learning how to make those delicious dumplings. Then maybe just maybe you wouldn’t have to spend a fortune buying them at your favorite place. Yours wouldn’t be as good as theirs, but that would be akin to comparing a first-time student to an experienced teacher.

 Grumpy, your substitute teacher, moved onto filling and folding the dumplings. He showed the different techniques and dumpling presentations. While he made it look easy, you knew your first dumplings would wind up as lumps of dough with meat fillings. Easier said than done as the saying went. After Grumpy answered a few questions and showed the others again, he told you to get to work.

 Your filling turned out to be acceptable. Eating raw meat was definitely not a good idea. Grumpy taught you to take a spoonful of your filling and cooking in order to taste test it. It took a few attempts to get the seasonings right. First time you couldn’t taste anything. Second time there wasn’t enough salt. Third was too much salt so you added some extra ingredients. Third time the veggies were undercooked, but the taste was good. You mentally noted you needed to add more time in cooking the filling.

 When you looked over at the others, they were well on their way to finishing their dumplings while you were just starting the assembling portion of it. You had an extra day, but did you really want to spend it with Grumpy over there? Not really. All right, time to get marching or rather folding. You had an idea of how much to add and what to do, but your clumsy fingers kept messing up. As you thought, your dumplings looked more like blobs, tasty ones. The first few batches tended to be the practice ones. You planned on eating your failed dumplings and giving the rest to your friends. Hopefully you’d end up with more successful dumplings than failed.

 By your tenth one, you had made a little progress, but you still wouldn’t give them to your friends especially Kiki. You would never hear the end of it from her. Just as you were about to start crying, Levi came to your rescue yet again. “Need some help?”

 You nodded your head. “I can’t get them right.” The failed dumplings proved your point.

 “It’s not hard once you know a trick,” he said as he grabbed a wrapper. He then proceeded to make a dumpling, explaining every step.

 Grumpy was there for only two days. After that, you wouldn’t have to deal with him or so you thought. Through his explanation, you couldn’t help but think that you had met this person somewhere. Not only that, but his voice sounded awfully familiar, one that you heard several times. Hard as you tried, your mind couldn’t pull out a name. It frustrated you to no ends. Yet, you couldn’t put too much thought to it as your teacher appeared to be the no nonsense, get it done type.

 Making the filling was the easy part. Assembling was a different story. Your clumsy fingers kept messing up your first dumpling. At this rate, you’d need a third day to finish all the dumplings you planned on making. The others managed to get the hang of making theirs. Why did you have to be the slowest? Just as you were about to cry, your friend walked over to your station.

 “Don’t you have dumplings to make?” Your teacher glared at the guy. Where did Grumpy come from? Was he secretly a ninja or something?

 Your friend raised his hand to show he meant no harm. “We didn’t want to trouble you since you were busy helping another student.”

 “That is why I’m here,” Grumpy said, still glaring at your friend. “I’m the teacher. Got that?”

 “Understood.” Your reinforcements made a strategic retreat, leaving you to face the Grumpster by yourself. At least there were other witnesses. He wouldn’t try anything while there were others who would witness it, right?

 “What’s your problem?” Grumpy asked. That was what you wanted to ask him.

 “Err… folding it, but I think I got it!” You demonstrated your new folding technique. While it wasn’t that good, it was a lot better than your first dumplings.

 “Do it again.”

 Okay. You repeated the process. This time Grumpy made some suggestions on how to further improve your dumpling as well as speeding it up. Oh oh oh! Why didn’t you think of using that? It saved you time and effort. In spite of his cold attitude, Grumpy turned out to be a knowledgeable teacher. Yet, you kept thinking that you were supposed to know him.

 Those hours were a lot shorter than you imagined them to be. Thanks to Grumpy’s and Levi’s assistance, you were able to assemble all your dumplings, but cooking them all was a different story. Class ended. Your last batch of dumplings were not fully cooked. They needed a little more time.

 “Aren’t you going home? You’re finished.” Why was he still here when he did not have to be? He already finished his and packed them too.

 “I could, but I’m not letting you go the bus alone,” Levi stated. It reminded you of Gavin, the way he was protective of you, but more of an overprotective big brother way than someone who could be interested in you. “It’s getting late.”

 “Go home,” Grumpy said, appearing out of nowhere again. “Class is over.”

 “Sorry teacher, it’s dangerous for her to be alone at this time.” The two men seemed to be in a glaring showdown. One of them was definitely taller than the other. Was Grumpy this tall? You hadn’t noticed as you were too busy trying to make dumplings last time he came to your station.

 “I will take the young lady home,” Grumpy said in a very authoritative tone. This was too familiar.

 “You have a vehicle?”

 “What do you think? Of course, I have a vehicle. A lot safer than your motorcycle.” That arrogance and haughty tone could only be… no way.

 If he was who you thought he was, it was mind blowing. Wasn’t he already busy with TWO business? Granted one of them was a side business than full time, Still… You didn’t want to believe, but all the evidence pointed in that direction.

 You pointed your finger at him. “VICTOR!?”

 Good thing the other students already left. Otherwise, you’d make yourself look like a fool again. If Victor was in disguise, then he also didn’t want anyone to know…. Oops? You just outed him to your newest friend.

 “Took you long enough to notice, Dummy.” With that, Victor took off his disguise.

 “… I heard nothing. I saw nothing. See ya next class.” Levi didn’t appear or sound intimidated by Victor. No, it felt more on awkward being the third wheel.

 “Who is he?” Victor demanded to know as he stepped close to you, pinning you between himself and your station.

 “He’s a classmate… and a friend. Why?”

 “I don’t trust him. Stay away from him.” Victor sounded very cold and very angry. There was a look about him, something feral. It sent chills up and down your spine.

 “Are you jealous?” you blurt out. Open mouth and insert entire leg. Why stop at your foot? Why not put in your entire leg?

 “Me? Jealous? Where did you get that absurd idea?”

 You giggled, not believing him. “You’re jealous of my gay friend.”

 “Are you deaf? I’m not jealous of your what did you say?” Victor blinked in disbelief as if he couldn’t comprehend what you just told him.

 “My gay friend. Yes, Victor, he likes guys. You have a problem with it?”

 The bright blush on his cheeks spoke volumes. “No, I do not.”

 You decided to press your luck. “He’s more of an older brother to me. You know? Looks after me, helps me, and encourages me without being interested in that way.”

 “How do you know he likes guys? He could be lying.”

 You were now giving him the ‘I can’t believe I have to explain it to you,’ look. “We went to the mall to shop and look at cute guys.” Victor’s eyes widened. “Kiki and Willow came too. You can ask them. They’ll vouch for us and that my friend likes guys.”

 “You looked at ‘cute guys?’”

 “Is there anything wrong with appreciating the aesthetics of men?” Apparently those were the wrong words to say as Victor’s attitude darkened quickly. “I can’t believe I have to say this to you of all people.”

 “You—”

 You cut him off. “Just because I like how something looks doesn’t mean I love it. I like looking at art, but I’m not in love with art. I love cute animals, but I’m not in love with them. I love eating good food, but I’m not in love with them either.”

 “This appreciation is superficial?”

 “YES! If a good-looking guy is mean and nasty, I wouldn’t like him even if he paid me to.” You hoped this would drive home your point.

 Victor appeared to be distraught over something. Was it what you said? Why was he suddenly quiet? Wait a moment, did that mean you’d lose your funding? Victor wouldn’t be this petty, would he?

 “You’re heavy. Mind giving me some space?” At this point, he was practically on top of you.

 “Do you dislike me?”

 Eh?

 “Never mind.” Victor pulled away from you, not letting you answer the question he just asked. However, you weren’t about to let it drop.

 “I don’t dislike you. Sure, you give me a hard time and are annoying, but that doesn’t amount to disliking. I guess you can say I’ve gotten used to you.”

 “I’m annoying?”

 “At times, yes.”

 “When have I ever been –”

 DING! Your timer went off.

 “My dumplings are finished.” You rushed over to turn off the stove, ignoring Victor’s attempts to find out what you find annoying about him. They were finished. You began taking them out and placing them into your containers. It gave you time to think of an answer. Your mind was in overdrive trying to figure out a way to redirect his attention.

 “Are you listening?” As soon as he opened his mouth to ask, you shoved an earlier dumpling into his mouth. Why didn’t you think of this before?

 Rather than spitting it out, Victor ate it. He wasn’t the type to waste food. “Not bad… for a dummy. Why are you smiling like that?”

 “From you, that’s practically a complement,” you sounded pleased. You knew your cooking would get better, but for your first lesson, it was good.

 “What are you going to do with them?”

 You glanced over to Victor who had that look. “I’m giving them to my friends.”

 “……”

 “You’re not getting any.”

 Victor’s stance became rigid as he narrows his eyes at you and folds his arms over his chest.

 “I’m going to make more with better ingredients.”

 Victor relaxed a little. “You noticed the quality of the ingredients?”

 You laughed at his observation. “Of course, I did. I may not be an expert at cooking, but I am when it comes to tasting. Besides it should be obvious.”

 “Obvious?”

 “Cooking classes aren’t going to give you the finest ingredients… at least this level.” Done! You finished packing your dumplings. As you were about to start cleaning up, you notice Victor grabbing the pots. They still needed to be washed.

 “What are you waiting for? Get the rest.”

 Between the two of you, you cleaned up your station in no time, and Victor insisted on carrying your dumplings to his car. You wanted to split the load between you two, but he wouldn’t have any of it, saying that you were too weak to carry it. Consider it a reward for improving that much in such a short amount of time, according to him.

 “Why didn’t you come to me?”

 You blushed. “You have a large company to run and a small shop. I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

 “What’s one more thing?”

 “Hey!” You pouted and puffed your cheeks while looking away from him. “I also wanted to surprise you with my cooking skills. Besides weren’t you encouraging me to be more self-motivated?”

 Victor appeared to be stunned for a moment. “Heh. Never thought you’d be using my own words against me. That’s a first… and it’ll be the last time.”

 “Is that a challenge?”

 “You want it to be?”

 “Bring it on, Tsundere!”

 “Dummy, I’ll make you regret saying those words.”

[quicksilversquared]

A Christmas Liar

After Ms. Bustier mentioned the annual school charity fundraiser in class, Lila seems determined to raise funds for her own "charity", aka herself. There's no way that Marinette is going to let that fly, but how successful will she be in taking Lila down in time for the holidays?

links in the reblog

It started with a normal morning in Ms. Bustier's homeroom class.

"As you all know, it's fast approaching the holiday season, and our collège always does a fundraiser for a charity before Christmas," Ms. Bustier told the class, smiling widely. The first few cut-out paper snowflakes had appeared in the classroom window that morning, and they all knew that the collection would only grow as December went on. "So remember to remind your parents to check their emails for details soon! Our student representatives have been hard at work brainstorming what to do this year."

Marinette smiled, even as she kept drawing in her sketchbook. Jagged Stone had commissioned an outfit for his Christmas present to Penny from her, and wanted the design ready to be sent to his seamstress as soon as possible so that he could have it ready in plenty of time. He had told her not to rush, of course- "you have so much going on, and I don't want to put you behind in your studies!"- but Marinette wanted to try to get things done early.

After all, akumas could appear and eat up her free time without any notice, and so she was going to take advantage of any extra time when she could.

"Oh, a charity fundraiser?" Lila asked from the back of the room, and Marinette mentally sighed before setting her pencil down. Clearly she wasn't going to get anything done now, if she had to deal with Lila's nonsense, and her nonsense-o-meter was going wild. "That's so wonderful! Do you think that- oh, no, I suppose it would come off a little self-appreciating, never mind..."

"No, go ahead!" Ms. Bustier reassured her quickly. "What is it that you wanted to ask, Lila?"

"Well, I was wondering if maybe I could put forth one of my charities to be considered for the fundraiser's proceeds," Lila told the class, and even without turning around, Marinette could picture the way that Lila would press a hand to her chest delicately, doing her best to look bashful. Adrien's eye roll from in front of her told Marinette that her mental picture probably wasn't very far off. "But I suppose that could come off as, well..."

Ms. Bustier perked up. "Oh, how could I have forgotten that we had someone in our class who had done so much charity work before? I don't think it would come off as self-serving at all! In fact, it could add an extra connection and an element of interest to the whole thing if the school picked one of your charities. Marinette, could-"

"Student council has already settled on a charity for this year's fundraiser," Marinette said at once, not even bothering to look up. She could see exactly where this was heading, and she was going to put a stop to it. Now.

In front of her, she could see Adrien's hastily-hidden grin out of the corner of her eye.

"But this is special, Marinette," Ms. Bustier implored. "Surely they'll understand and want to support a fellow student's charity efforts! This is a pretty unique opportunity!"

"We've had multiple meetings about it, thinned our selections down, did all of the background checks and verification on our final pick, filled out all of the paperwork to submit to Mr. Damocles, and let the charity know so that we could get more information to post around," Marinette informed her, because seriously? Ms. Bustier was going to fall for it, just like that? Also, she was super glad that she had pushed for the council to make the decision early this year, because at this time the previous year, they had been working on finalizing everything still, which would have made a last-minute change like this possible. It wouldn't have been fun, or easy, but it could have been possible. "We can't change it now."

Lila let out a small sigh from the back, and Marinette turned around just in time to see her shoulders slumping. "Oh, that's really a shame, then. For a minute there, I was picturing how much good I- we could do for the children in Africa with a bit of extra funding, but I suppose if they've already picked a charity..."

Ms. Bustier glanced from Marinette to Lila. "Marinette, do you think that we could do two charities instead of one, perhaps? It would just be so nice to be able to support Lila's charity!"

Marinette was honestly going to scream.

"I'm afraid that that would make things too complicated," she said instead, politely as she could and with as little teeth-gritting as possible. "We had a couple fundraiser activities in mind- which we agreed was important, in case an akuma attack keeps people away from an in-person event- plus a couple volunteering opportunities that we wanted to offer. Plus, there would be all of the paperwork and the background checks that would have to be done to add in another charity, and that's not exactly a short process. It's a lot of work."

There was also the fact that Lila didn't have any charities, and any money they earned would- if she managed to sneak her way through their careful screening process- no doubt go straight into her own pockets.

"Oh, I could fill out paperwork so that you guys don't have to!" Lila offered eagerly. "I don't mind, it's for the kids-"

"And the email letting parents know about our fundraiser and our selected charity is already scheduled to go out today," Marinette continued, raising her voice just ever-so-slightly to drown Lila out and making a mental note to talk to Aurore to actually get that email sent over lunch. It had originally been planned for tomorrow, actually, but Marinette wasn't going to give Lila any ins. "So the deadline for any changes has passed." She pasted on her best fake smile, trying not to let any signs of a smirk through as she looked back at Lila. "It's just not possible for this year, I'm afraid. Maybe you can bring it up for consideration earlier next year."

"I suppose that's fair," Ms. Bustier agreed. She smiled over at Lila. "It's my own fault for not bringing it up earlier, it just slipped my mind. Hopefully your charities will still get plenty of support! But right now, we're going to move on to today's lesson. If everyone could please get out your notebooks, we're going to start with a quick video..."

Marinette smiled to herself as she put her sketchbook away and opened up her notebook to a fresh page. This probably wasn't the last that she would hear about Lila's so-called "charities", but at least Ms. Bustier had dropped the subject and she wouldn't be getting pressure from that angle.

Now she just had to be ready for Lila's other attempts to get her hands on charity money.

  "I am so glad that you already had stuff all finalized," Adrien said in Marinette's ear as they headed for their next class. Lila was ahead of them, surrounded by several of their classmates. "I got worried for a minute there when Ms. Bustier hopped on the Lila's charity thing."

"I'm just glad that it's a school-wide thing, not just a class-wide fundraiser," Marinette admitted, glancing around to make sure that no one was going to overhear them. She had managed to get out of being blamed for deliberately denying Lila's "charity" a chance to get more money because she wasn't the only person in charge of the fundraiser, and she didn't want anyone in their class mishearing and blowing things out of proportion. Again. "I mean, it's obvious that Lila jumped on that because I'm class representative and she wanted to put me in a bad spot, but she couldn't when I'm just one of the people involved in that process."

Adrien nodded. "Yeah. I was so sure that she was going to drop it after you mentioned the background check and verification thing, though, and then she didn't. Which is...weird, honestly."

"Not really. If we tried going forward and I was the one doing the check, she would probably just say that I was making stuff up about her charity out of jealousy or spite and that was why it failed or something." Marinette had thought the same, honestly, but it became apparent pretty quickly what Lila was up to. Lila wasn't nearly as sly as she thought she was. "I'm surprised that she didn't jump on that and complain that I was just making the background check thing up because I was doubting her. Ignoring, of course, that we want to have statistics in our flyers and posters and emails about how the money is used, and how much work they get done, and their rating by a charity watchdog. That's standard."

"Which is why she wanted to do her own paperwork," Adrien added. He made a face. "I bet that she's still going to try to piggyback off of the fundraiser somehow, or at least rope people into donating some of their own money. I already heard Rose bringing it up, and Alya mentioned something to Nino about posting something on the Ladyblog."

Marinette winced. That wasn't good. She would have to forward the link to their charity watchdog site to Alya later on, maybe under the guise of providing a resource to get all sorts of charity statistics at once to put in her posting. That didn't guarantee that Alya would look at it, of course, but it was worth a try.

(Also, she could use her throwaway account to point out the charity's questionable status, and then- well, hope that other people would see her post and upvote it.)

"She's really going too far now," Adrien said after a moment, pulling Marinette out of her brainstorming of how she could keep Lila from pocketing a bunch of charity money. "I mean, she has been for a while, especially when she tried to get you expelled, but this is just the cherry on top of a heap of awful. I just don't know... I mean, she's sunk her claws in really deep now, I don't know how to fix it. I guess I should have recognized it earlier, but..."

"Well, there's no point in worrying about what we should have done earlier now," Marinette said as they went through the door for their next class, though she couldn't help but feel a bit validated, since she had wanted to stop Lila's lies ages ago. "We can brainstorm later, if you can get away for lunch. I was going to talk to Aurore then anyway."

Adrien looked puzzled for a moment, then caught on with a grin. "Aha, right, since she's on student council too. Is she the one in charge of submitting paperwork?"

"No, that was me. She's in charge of sending out the emails to families." Marinette grinned up at him. "And I bet that we can do a bit of damage control with that."

-0-0-0-0-

Aurore was all too willing to bring her lunch over to the Dupain-Cheng bakery instead of eating in the school cafeteria. After all, she told them as they headed upstairs, her lunch was leftovers and best served warm, and the cafeteria microwave was gross.

Marinette could believe that. Aurore had already floated the idea of setting up either a roll of paper towels near the microwave so that people could cover their dishes to keep the contents from exploding all over, or going the more environmentally-friendly route of having microwave plate covers instead, which could then be washed daily in the industrial dish washers that the cafeteria kitchen had. Clearly it was a Big Deal for her.

"You said you wanted to talk about the email right?" Aurore asked finally, finishing her grumbling about someone who had apparently microwaved fish and ugh, the smell was awful. "I thought it was meant to be going out tomorrow? I have a draft that's almost complete, I was just going to review it tonight to make sure that it was perfect, but do you need something changed?"

"We had a situation come up in our class this morning," Marinette told her, leading the way into their kitchen. Her mom had left out food for her and Adrien, it just had to be warmed up and assembled. "I don't know how much you've heard about the new girl in our class..."

Aurore frowned. "Lila? The one with the questionable stories?"

Adrien laughed. "Okay, so we aren't the only ones with working brains in the school, that's good to know. Yeah, her."

It didn't take long to get Aurore caught up, and predictably, she was furious at the idea of Lila trying to hijack their fundraiser funds.

"This is going to go one of two ways, I know it," she told them, pulling out her laptop and getting it set up next to her on the table. "Either this girl is going to make up a charity- name, mission, and all- or she's going to find a charity that already exists, and then she'll claim credit for it. The first one is easy enough to disprove, because no one will be able to find anything about the charity. We could just put a reminder in the email about checking charities out before donating to them, and then enter that link we've been using. But the second one...well, she could use their rating and reputation to collect money, and then- if I'm reading her character right- keep it all for herself."

They all thought about that.

"Well, if Alya posts anything on the Ladyblog, in theory any donations would have to be electronically, though a website," Marinette pointed out after a minute. "As for in-person donations, I would say that people should use checks instead of cash, but I don't know how many people use checks anymore, and besides, that's not going to stop her from cashing them if she wants."

Adrien made a choked, horrified noise in the back of his throat. "It- it won't? How do you even know that?"

"But it might deter her, since that's a traceable crime," Aurore pointed out, her eyes gleaming. She snapped her fingers. "And as for the Ladyblog- if she's capable of creating a website that looks decent, she might give Alya a link for that. So that's still a problem-"

"-unless we notice that and bring it to the attention of the police!" Adrien exclaimed, sitting up straight. He winced. "I'd hate to get Alya in trouble, but otherwise people will be thinking that they're doing something good and helping people in need when actually, they're just giving Lila spending money. And if she told them that Lila gave her the link, then she'd get off pretty fast."

Marinette nodded. Alya would probably be a thundercloud that they had gone to the police first instead of her, but she couldn't say that they hadn't warned her. She just never listened when it came to Lila.

"So we can put in a line reminding people to check charities before they donate and to make sure that any links they follow for charities go to the actual website," Aurore finished. Her fingers tapped away at her keyboard. "My older brother is a computer whiz, so I can text him and ask about things people should look for to make sure that a site is the real deal. Then I can get that typed up and sent during study hall, so it'll go out today."

Marinette could only grin. Maybe Aurore could be hotheaded at times, but there was no denying that she could really pull through. "That would be great."

  Unsurprisingly, Lila sold a sob story to Alya about her charity's website being down at the moment, so she couldn't provide a link right away.

"We're working on it, of course, because this is the best time of the year to get donations and we're going to fall so far behind with every day we miss, but the entire system is down and our tech guy is having trouble," Lila told Alya, looking positively wilted. "It's so upsetting! The longer it's down, the fewer people find out about our work, and the less budget we have to work with next year."

"That's terrible!" Alya exclaimed, frowning, and Marinette exchanged an exasperated look with Adrien. "I just wish there was a way to help..."

"Maybe you could post about our school charity instead, for the time being," Marinette suggested dryly. "Since Lila's charity is on the table for next year anyway."

"But we need budget for this year!" Lila repeated, and- yep, she was gritting her teeth. The glare that she flashed Marinette left no question that she had been trying to set up some sort of fake website and the email the night before had thrown her off. Either she was trying to make a more convincing website or- more likely- she was just hoping to wait until the reminder to be careful had faded from people's minds. Or she had had to abandon the online idea entirely in favor of throwing a pity party for herself in hopes of getting cash donations with the help of their classmates, if that hadn't already been the plan all along. "If we wait for a maybe next year, we could go into debt and collapse!"

Alya was looking worried now. "Marinette, are you sure that the student council can't switch charit-"

"It's all set up. We can't change anything, Alya, we established that yesterday." Marinette spared a glance at Lila, who was clearly working to keep a poker face. "Maybe Max can help you with your website issues, he's quite good at stuff like that. We wouldn't want you missing out on donations, after all."

"Oh, I couldn't," Lila simpered, glancing towards Max as well. "We, uh- well, my tech guy is back in Italy, so they wouldn't be able to work together, and he's quite protective of the system. Plus we were in the middle of upgrades when everything crashed, so that makes everything more complicated."

"We'll figure something out, Lila," Alya promised, patting the other girl's arm. Marinette took that as her cue to leave, but she wasn't going to go far. She needed to be able to overhear, after all. "We don't want those kids in Africa to suffer, after all! We can brainstorm before class."

Adrien caught Marinette's eye as she came back to her seat. "It sounds like she's just going to go another way, but isn't about to give up."

"No, she's got the idea of getting money into her head, and she's not about to give it up." Marinette kept her voice low, so that no one would overhear. "Which means that we need to come at the problem at a different angle. Any suggestions?"

Adrien looked unexpectedly delighted at being consulted, but then he paused, clearly not coming up with any ideas. "Uh."

"My first instinct would be to try to warn Alya and Rose and whoever else is going to get sucked in, but we all know how well that would go over," Marinette said, just to fill in the space. "They would clamp down and refuse to listen."

Adrien nodded. "Yeah. But I like what you did yesterday, where you made it sound like you would have gone along if you could and suggested trying next year. Then everyone thought that you weren't fighting against her-"

"-and was actually willing to listen!" Marinette finished, smiling. It was an approach that Tikki had suggested, and she was glad that it had worked. Well, sort of. It had worked in the moment, but just- apparently- pushed the problem off for later. "Yeah, that was nice."

"Maybe we could do something similar now," Adrien suggested. "And offer to be helpful by providing that link still. Like, it doesn't need the website, right? Just the charity name."

Marinette grinned. "Right. And there's no way that she can get around not telling anyone her charity's name. And if she does...well, either it's made up, or she's going to pick a real charity and we can find the real website."

"And congratulate Lila on her site getting back up so quickly," Adrien added with a small laugh. "It's a pain to deal with her, but I'm actually curious about what she's planning on doing going forward. Like, how long can she play this game? She's going to run out of escapes soon enough."

"Yeah, I don't know..." Marinette trailed off as Alya slid into her seat, and she and Adrien exchanged one last look before he turned back to the front, greeting Nino as his best friend entered the classroom.

"Man, I can't believe what bad luck Lila has, to have her charity's website crash at a time like this," Alya said glumly, sliding into her seat. "Lila is stressed about it, of course, but she has so many other obligations for her other charity work that she can't go out and do a collection, not that it would be easy with her throat still recovering from her laryngitis surgery. She can't be out in the cold for more than ten minutes without it causing a ton of pain, which can't be fun at all."

...Naturally.

"I want to help, but if we don't have a working link to put on the Ladyblog, I just don't know..." Alya trailed off. "I mean, we could do a door-to-door, I guess, but that only ever gets fairly minimal donations. And there's so many people who set up near the Eiffel Tower, we wouldn't have a chance. But- oh!" Alya perked up as another thought hit her. "We could put posters up at school, so more people know about it and maybe help us!"

Yeah, how about no.

"That's actually against school rules," Marinette said idly, flipping through her notebook as she waited for Ms. Bustier to call for a start to class. "All posters posted in the building have to be approved by Student Council normally, so that the walls don't get too cluttered, but there's an amendment to that that say that if the school is doing a charity fundraiser, posters promoting other charities can't go up during that time. I think it's to keep the effort from getting too splintered and distracted."

Alya slumped. "Oh."

That was not actually a lie, though clearly Adrien thought it was, if the slight frown on his face was anything to go by. Marinette had picked through the guidelines to make sure that she knew every rule that she could use to turn Lila's attempts aside, and apparently the Student Council had come up with and voted to implement that particular rule at some point in the past.

"Maybe you could do a surprise collection," Marinette suggested. "As a Christmas gift to Lila." She was improvising, admittedly, but this would be a good way to keep Alya and Rose and whoever else was getting sucked in from asking Lila too much and giving her chances to control the narrative. "If you ask her what the name of her charity is, and then you can use the website that we were using on Student Council to look at charities- it has all sorts of stats that you could use, information about charities and their work. That way, you don't need to bother Lila for all that when she's so busy."

"Oh, good idea!" Alya exclaimed. She grabbed Marinette's arm. "You know, none of the rest of us has ever organized any sort of charity fundraiser before- if we put you in charge of that-"

"I'm already busy, Alya," Marinette pointed out. She wasn't about to go make a fool of herself collecting money for a charity that didn't exist, not when she had a million other things to do. "The fundraiser for the school is already going to take up all of my time. I can send you the link that we used, but that's it."

"Oh, but-"

"She already said no, Alya," Adrien cut in, so Marinette didn't have to. "Marinette was telling me about that entire process yesterday, and it sounds like a lot of work and planning to pull something off at the level the school is planning. Asking her to plan another thing on top of that for you, instead of doing it yourself- that's not fair to her."

"I just thought that it might be a good way to repair the bad blood between the two of them!" Alya objected, frowning. "Since Marinette wasn't very welcoming when Lila first arrived."

Marinette narrowly withheld a snort. Gee, I wonder why?

"But if you're busy, I guess you can wait to try to mend that bridge later," Alya added. She sighed. "We probably won't be able to raise as much money, though, since we don't have your experience."

"Mmm," Marinette managed noncommittally, ignoring the clear attempt at a guilt-trip in favor of checking her email on her phone. Alya really had been spending too much time with Lila if she was starting to act just the same. Hopefully she would cut that out after Lila's lies had been exposed and everyone realized what a manipulator she was.

Marinette's phone lit up with a text, and she didn't hesitate to open it at once.

Adrien: Remember, if you commit homicide, you won't be around to gloat when people discover the lies.

Marinette snorted in amusement.

Marinette: I'm going to gloat for a solid MONTH after she gets found out. I wasn't very welcoming? Try SHE was a bully from the start and I wasn't about to tolerate that.

In front of her, Adrien's head gave a tiny nod as he put his phone away, just in time to start class. Marinette locked her phone and put it away, resigning herself to what was probably going to be a week of poorly-concealed efforts to get her into the extra fundraising before Alya either dropped it or realized that something was up with Lila's "charity".

At least now she had Adrien on her side.

  The school fundraiser was going well as they marched steadily closer towards the holidays, their online portal showing just how much money had already been raised by people going through the link that they had both sent out and posted on the school site. There was going to be a bake sale before the break too, with each family asked to donate two dozen cookies for them to sell at their booths near City Hall and (courtesy of Chloe) in the Grand Paris.

Marinette was really happy. People were being generous, and it really was a very deserving charity to receive the funds. On top of that, Adrien had asked for her help in baking his family's two dozen cookies, so they would get to hang out together.

(She was going to ignore the fact that Alya had tried to convince her to make another extra two dozen cookies because Lila "wasn't going to have time" because "all of her charity work"; that attempt had fallen flat when Marinette had just point-blank asked Alya why, exactly, Alya didn't just do that herself. At least with Adrien, he was just a novice baker and was going to be actively participating in the baking, but he just wanted help to be sure that his attempt turned out edible and it was a good excuse to hang out with one of his friends.)

And possibly best of all...well, Aurore's tech-savvy older brother had pulled through for them again.

"I was looking at the email that we had on file for Lila, and something about it just didn't seem right," Aurore told them as they sat together in a private study room in back of the library over lunch. "The domain on it, to be exact, because it was '.net' instead of, oh, I don't know, something actually related to the government. And my brother agreed, so we did a little searching."

Marinette was pretty sure that her jaw was on the ground. Next to her, Adrien wasn't doing much better. "You mean she was keeping her mom from finding out about everything school-related? I wondered how she got away with skipping so much school! And she was probably emailing as her mom, too, to confirm whatever stories she was telling."

Aurore grinned. "Exactly. So we did some digging, and found Mrs. Rossi's actual email. It's almost the same, just with a different domain. So I'm trying to think of what to send that wouldn't sound weird, because obviously we need confirmation that this is the right address so we can get Mr. Damocles to change it for the school system, but I don't want to come off as accusing or anything and have her tip Lila off accidentally."

Marinette exchanged a look with Adrien as she thought about it. "Well, we could just send the fundraiser email again with a comment about how we think that maybe her email was mis-entered before and is this one the correct one that we should be using. That's pretty straightforward and it asks for a response, and she might not even think to say anything about it to Lila."

"Ooh, I like that." Aurore typed that in at once, giving it a quick once-over to make sure that there weren't any errors and that the email had been entered correctly before sending it. "So, what else is going on in Ms. Bustier's homeroom? Anything new with the not-a-charity?"

"Alya's been confused about why our watchdog site doesn't list anything about Lila's 'charity'- she decided to go for the make-one-up route, apparently- and she's still been trying to find stuff on it just on Google, but apparently no connection has been made," Marinette told them, trying not to roll her eyes. "I know she and Rose were talking about trying to just go ahead with a collection of sorts anyway, so I forwarded an email talking about the importance of keeping track of how much money they raised, down to the last cent, in a ledger sort of thing." She couldn't hold back the grin. "Which Rose is really into. So even though they're trying to collect money for Lila still, at the end she won't be able to keep any of it because there'll be record of how much money they collected."

"Which, if we get in contact with Mrs. Rossi, we can make sure that that gets paid back in full!" Adrien exclaimed, scooping Marinette up in a hug for a long few seconds. Marinette prayed that she wouldn't turn red and make things weird. "Genius!"

"As long as Rose doesn't give that to Lila," Aurore pointed out. She raised an eyebrow at Marinette's head-shake. "No? You've already taken care of that?"

"She'll give Lila an electronic copy, but not the hard copy. I suggested that she might want to hold onto that to show what she did for future charity work. Which I still think is a good idea, even if Lila's charity is a sham. It doesn't change the fact that she was doing all of the bookkeeping."

Aurore made a face. "I am so glad that Samuel is doing our bookkeeping for the non-online donations, because that stuff is not fun. It's really fiddly, and if anything gets off..."

Marinette nodded. Things had gotten off fairly early on, and she had head Samuel- another member of Student Council- complaining about having to go through everything to figure out where his mistake was. Since then, he did regular, frequent checks so that he wouldn't have to go through absolutely everything again, just the most frequent donations. Admittedly, Rose was working with much smaller amounts of money- most people wanted more information on what they were donating to than just the name and "helping kids in Africa" if they were going to toss more than an euro or two into the collections basket- but it was still good practice.

Aurore's computer let out a ding, and she pulled up the student council email at once. "We already got a response! Mrs. Rossi says that yes, this one is correct, please keep using it and thank you for catching the error and were there any other recent emails that she might have missed. I'm going to forward this to Mr. Damocles with a message to note the change in email address, just a second- and done."

"Nice job," Marinette told her, leaning across the table to bump fists with Aurore. After a second's thought, she fist-bumped Adrien, too, so that he wouldn't feel left out. "That's one more thing off of our plates."

  Their fundraiser finished right before holiday break with a silent auction, with all of the items up for purchase having been donated by parents, teachers, extended family members, community business owners, and- in the case of an array of signed CD cases and posters- Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and several of their musician buddies, after Marinette had approached Jagged Stone with the request.

And of course, everyone was invited. Posters had been put up outside of the school and emails had been sent out, reminding everyone about the time and date and their charity, plus attaching a list of the items up for auction to get people's interest.

"My mom so wanted to make it, but work came up," Lila told several of their classmates when she arrived at the auction, looking sad. "And there were several things that she was really interested in, like the-"

"Ooh, barf, I can see what you mean," Aurore said, materializing at Marinette's side and wrinkling her nose at Lila. "That's a pretty obvious ploy to get people to buy things for her, isn't it? Or at least to pitch in some of their own money to help her, so that she won't have to pay them back."

Marinette nodded. It really was disgusting, but at least now Lila was moving off with the group towards one of the items so that they didn't have to hear her. She was steering clear of the signed Jagged Stone things, oddly enough, but maybe that would be a dead giveaway that she didn't actually know him. After all, Jagged Stone would sign anything put in front of him, so her going out of her way to buy a signed item when she was supposedly on great terms with him would be pretty strange.

"Do you think her mom actually can't make it, or Lila just assumed that she wouldn't know about the auction and didn't tell her?" Adrien asked. His arm was tucked through Marinette's, though she was pretty sure that it was just so that he wouldn't lose her in the crowd. "Is the fake email still on the list?"

Aurore nodded. "Yeah, up until this morning. I cleared it off so that there wouldn't be any confusion going forward."

"And I would place bets on Lila assuming that her mom doesn't know anything," Marinette added. "She wouldn't want to risk anyone asking her mom about her charity." She grinned and pointed as she noticed someone new stepping into the school. "And look, over there."

The other two looked. There, standing in the entryway and looking around, was Mrs. Rossi. She really didn't look much like Lila, but it was easy enough to recognize her from her official embassy photo.

(Her official embassy photo, where she wasn't listed as the actual ambassador, but just one of the embassy staff, but that- well, that was an interesting little tidbit that Marinette was going to sit on for a little bit longer.)

"Oh, she's spotted Lila," Aurore said gleefully, craning her neck to follow Mrs. Rossi as she wove through the crowds. "And- whoops, Lila sees her!"

Marinette hastily smothered a laugh. If Lila's expression was anything to go by, she definitely hadn't realized that her mom was getting emails from the school and was going to be coming. She had never seen the other girl look so pale before.

"I'd ask if I should go get some of that amazing-smelling popcorn that they're selling so that we can watch, but honestly, I kind of just want to let things take their course and find out later," Adrien said, glancing down at Marinette. "There's some pretty cool items up for auction that I want to check out."

Marinette considered that. On one hand, she wanted to watch Lila's downfall. On the other... well, she had been keeping an eye on the whole Lila fiasco for a while now, and she was kind of tired of it. It would probably be a bit awkward to watch, too, and there was no guarantee that it would happen right away, and they were too far away to hear anything besides.

...yeah, her decision was pretty well made.

"That sounds like fun," Marinette told him, before glancing over at Aurore. "What about you?"

"I might go point Mr. Damocles in her direction," Aurore commented, glancing around the crowd. "Or maybe that can wait until later, since I don't want to throw everything at Mrs. Rossi at once and disrupt the auction with an akumatization." She sent them a slightly sheepish grin. "But you know I like my gossip, so..."

Marinette had to laugh. That was so very Aurore. "All right. We'll bump into you later, then."

Aurore grinned in return, and then was off. Marinette watched her go for a moment, then let Adrien lead the way off into the crowds surrounding the tables. It was amazing to be able to sit back and relax after the past weeks of planning and making sure that everything, from the online link to the cookie sale to this, was going to go off without a hitch. They were well on track raise more money this year than they had any other year, and that was amazing.

And to think that she had had a hand in setting all of this up...well, Marinette just couldn't be prouder.

It was fun investigating all of the donations with Adrien, even though- as part of Student Council and also part of the team that had photographed and logged all of the donated items- she had seen them all before. Marinette couldn't help but peek at the bids despite herself, grinning when she saw some of the higher ones.

"This is amazing," Adrien commented once they had made the rounds and had gone to browse through the assorted refreshments available for purchase. "There were a lot of nice things donated. And people are definitely bidding plenty of money."

"Yeah, some people will spend more to win the prize than it's worth," Marinette told him. "Like with the voucher for stuff from our bakery- the top bid right now is for more than the value of the voucher. It's interesting, but I think that people see it as buying the item, and then making a donation on top. Or something, I don't know."

"That's really cool," Adrien commented, then pointed. "Oh, look, Nathalie and the Gorilla are here! They said that they might show up and do some shopping. I honestly thought that Nathalie was just saying that to be nice, because she's been sick and hasn't wanted to go out, but I guess she's been feeling better lately."

"Oh, that's good," Marinette said, before a memory made her frown. "Wait, I thought you commented on her being sick, like, three months ago. Is she still having problems?"

Adrien shrugged, but he was frowning, too. "I don't know. She had been having these weak, dizzy spells like Mom used to before she disappeared for a bit before I commented on it at school, I think. Maybe whatever treatment she was getting finally kicked in, I don't know."

Marinette frowned even deeper. Nathalie had been showing the same symptoms as Adrien's mom before she vanished? That was a really weird coincidence. And for both of them- presumably both, at least- to have those same symptoms for an extended period of time?

If Mrs. Agreste and Nathalie had been related, Marinette might have guessed that it was a genetic thing. But since they weren't- again, that was an assumption- then the chances of them both separately having the same condition...

"I cannot believe that I fell for such a manipulative, thieving, disgusting liar!"

Alya materialized at Marinette's side, clearly steaming. Rose, Mylène, and Juleka weren't far behind her. Rose looked like she was close to tears, and the other two just looked lost.

"Pardon?" Adrien asked politely, but Marinette could see the amusement glimmering in his eyes.

"Lila's been leading us all around by the nose, making up stories about her life and about her nonexistent charity- and I've missed a dozen akuma attacks because I was wandering around in the cold, trying to raise money for her! I offered to make a posting on the Ladyblog so that I could put up a link to her site to raise more money! She was probably just planning on pocketing it all!" Alya scowled deeper. "I can't believe we fell for it! And aren't you even surprised?" she demanded when neither Adrien nor Marinette reacted. "At all?"

"Are we meant to be?" Adrien asked dryly. "After Marinette's spent so long calling Lila a liar?"

Alya faltered for a moment, then scowled deeper. "You- you knew, but you didn't warn us?"

"Yes, because pointing out the obvious lies worked so well the first several dozen times I did it," Marinette said, adopting the same dry tone that Adrien had used. "And I gave you the watchdog charity link to use. I rather thought that its complete lack of anything about Lila's charity might tip you off."

Alya faltered. "Oh."

"But we still gave Lila money that was meant for charity," Rose said tearfully. Juleka pulled her to her side, trying to comfort her. "And it was a decent amount, too."

"You have your log, right?" Marinette reminded her. "If you tell Lila's mom how much Lila got for her 'charity', then I bet that she can get that money back to you and you can donate it to another charity."

Rose perked up at once, tears drying up magically. "Oh, that's right! We can still put that money to good use! I'm glad you suggested that we keep track of everything, Marinette."

"Yeah," Juleka agreed. "Lila sucks, but at least we can get the money back."

"We should go talk to Lila's mom before she leaves," Rose decided. She dug in her bag, pulling out the ledger notebook that she had been using for their charity collections. "Aha! Yes, I have the amount we gave Lila yesterday written here. C'mon, let's go make sure that Mrs. Rossi knows!"

"Well, all's well that ends well," Adrien said cheerfully as the other girls headed off. "I bet this isn't how Mrs. Rossi saw her evening going, and Lila definitely wasn't expecting any of this, but at least now the adults can figure everything out and Lila can actually see some consequences. And hopefully next semester, there'll be less drama now that she'll be restrained- or gone, if Mrs. Rossi or Mr. Damocles decides that Lila staying here wouldn't be a good idea."

"Hopefully," Marinette agreed. She grinned over at Adrien. "But that's enough worrying about Lila and her nonsense for tonight. I think we should just sit back and enjoy the evening, don't you?"

Adrien beamed back. "I couldn't agree more."

[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts] The Shinrai no Kokoro

Summary: In which Sora temporarily makes Sabrina his captain during a trip to the Carribean. No better way to gain someone’s trust than to place them in absolute power, right?

Rating: K

Word Count: 2,691 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

- - -

It didn’t matter how old he was, where he had gone, or what his mission was as a Keyblade wielder, there was a special part of Sora’s heart reserved for sailing the Caribbean. He didn’t have time to find Jack Sparrow, or see how Elizabeth Swann was doing, though- he had come on a special mission with a very special someone in tow. Not Kairi -to whom he did promise a private leg around the archipelagos-, but none other than the disagreeable Sabrina Sidney.

Sabrina was a friend -a very close friend, if certain people had their way- of Ventus. She was always disagreeing with someone, for no other reason than she could. Ventus (with a few moments to Aqua and Kairi) was the only one she seemed to occasionally open up to- something that Sora (as a friend magnet) couldn’t fathom. Who wouldn’t want to be his friend? How could he not want to add Sabrina to the list of people he could trust in times of need? Her persistence was admirable, and the way she thought certain problems through would impress Sora just enough to be in awe. But she had a chronic ‘can-not-spit-it-out’ problem. So when she just walked up to him earlier today to say she wanted to go to the Caribbean in his vessel, Sora was beside himself.

Among anything, he was excited.

Wearing his pirate attire again after so long felt like a hug. His hands on the ship’s wheel was like shaking hands with a friend. He would belt out in sea shanties if he knew Sabrina would enjoy them. Just enough so she didn’t tell him to be quiet and hide away in the captain’s cabin for the trip, at least. For now, he didn’t. Instead he kept his hands to the wheel as Sabrina occasionally checked the map and compass for their course. Sora liked when she placed her hands on the rail overlooking the lower deck and stood tall as she watched the seas roll past them. Her raven hair would probably be flying if she didn’t have it tied back into a bun, helped by the numerous braids of various widths to keep each flyaway in place.

He knew she wouldn’t admit it, but Sabrina liked to dress up as a pirate too. She wore a long sleeved linen shirt that fastened in the front- the top three hook and eye clasps undone to show a small portion of her chest to give fools with less respect than Sora a small show. The necklace she wore with a medallion sized pendant also helped emphasize the area. Her canvas breeches were cut a little below her knee, with small patches of wear that looked almost strategic. The coat she wore was a deep purple with golden embroidery along the sleeves and edges; the coattails were shorter than Sora’s, only reaching to mid-calf on her.

As she stood tall, you could almost feel the confidence radiate off of her. Sora only caught a glimpse or two just to show admiration. But he didn’t keep his gaze for long- he had a ship to command, after all.

“Doesn’t this feel great?!” Sora declared, hoping to garner her attention. “The wind through the sails, the smell of the sea, nothing for miles but us and three different shades of blue…”

“And the constant reminder you grew up on an island...” Sabrina noted with a dull tone. She looked over at him, the disapproving look on her face proving to be nothing more than a major downer.

“This trip was your idea.” he reminded her, almost in a smug little voice. It didn’t phase her in the slightest. “At least have a little fun, Sabi.”

“I’m not on a Gummi Ship, I don’t have to.”

“You didn’t laugh once on the way over either,” Sora also pointed out. Not long after a wide, mischievous grin crossed his face before he said, “Although I do think it picked up your thoughts on surprising Ven…”

He was barely able to dodge her attempt to whack him. However, his hand was still on the wheel, so the ship violently turned before Sora was quickly able to steady it again. He offered a sheepish grin in a half baked apology. Sabrina huffed before returning to study the maps. Sora’s grin didn’t stop as he looked over her for a moment.

“Oh!” he then realized. “We need to establish this ship’s rules!”

Sabrina looked up again, her expression less than amused.

“What are you talking about?” she questioned.

Sora’s grin got even wider. “You, Lady Sabi, get to be my fine vessel’s captain. But only for today! We’re on a very important mission, and you’ve got the maps.”

“Whatta joy.”

Sora offered her a boastful grin as he gave his nose a little brush. “It’s all for Ven, right?” he mused. “You’ve got the maps for the treasure you’re giving him. It only makes sense to make you captain for the day. Now, where’re we headin’, captain?”

“Keep the course straight,” she told him, looking between the map and the compass, “Eastbound all the way.”

“Aye, aye madam!” Sora agreed with a salute before maintaining their course. The start of a new journey causing a buzz in his body. He was even taking it with one of the most solidary people he knew too! It was enough to almost make him want to sing. In fact… 

“Yo ho mateys, away!” the young man almost belted out at the top of his lungs, “There’ll be treasure and adventure today! Heave-ho, here we go, together as a team! Captain Sabi and first mate So-ora, are we!”

Sabrina did absolutely nothing to hide her groan as she buried her head in her hand.

. . .

The duo dropped anchor when they came to a small cove hidden behind a dormant volcano. They both took an oar on their little rowboat so they could get closer in. Sora got out first so he could help Sabrina out, she took his gesture with some hesitation. Just the acknowledgement made Sora happy. He didn’t leave her side once as they ventured further in.

“There.” Sabrina said when she noticed something on a large rock ahead of them. Sora let her go on ahead, but something out of the corner of his eye made him pause.

“Sabrina,” Sora spoke up, “I don’t think we’re-”

He didn’t have time to finish as a loud wail filled the area. Sabrina and Sora immediately recoiled from the sound. When they were able to collect their bearings again, someone else was indeed with them. A siren now sat on the rock. Seeing her caused a chill to run up Sora's spine, and he immediately went to Sabrina’s side. Sabrina, too, had become more apprehensive at the newcoming.

“Who dares to take my treasure from me?” the siren questioned, its voice not quite male or female. Its black and blue eyes flicked from Sabrina to Sora and back again with a dark gaze.

“I am.” Sabrina said without an ounce of hesitation. “What of it?”

The siren raised an eyebrow at her.

“The treasure here, the Shinrai no Kokoro, can only be taken by one who passes my test. Do you accept this challenge?”

To this, Sabrina scoffed. “Well, if you’re going to make it complicated...” she grumbled, her eye roll deliberate as well.

“Very well.” the siren agreed with a nod. The siren then opened its mouth to let out a sound that made Sabrina recoil so badly, she had to cover her ears. To Sora, it had a different effect. His muscles started to relax, his pupils dilated, and his mind took a backseat to the soothing sounds of the siren. Once it was sure he was completely under its thrall, the siren stopped its song.

“That’s your test?” Sabrina questioned. “Some high pitched wail that did nothing?”

The siren smirked at her. It then turned its gaze to Sora and gave a nod. Sabrina found it odd, immediately turning to look at Sora as well.

“Sora?” the young woman asked, cautiously looking him over. “You alright, there?”

Sora summoned his Keyblade. Sabrina let out an annoyed sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Sora raised his weapon and pointed it at her, the tip blazing in preparation of a magic attack. Sabrina immediately protected herself with Barrier before it had the chance to hit her. As she called her own Keyblade, it left her open for a new attack. The possessed young man readied his Keyblade before driving toward her. A sound of surprise escaped Sabrina’s lips as she fumbled out of the way. How she ever avoided that was beyond her- and, unfortunately, the siren was not done with Sora yet.

“Why do you seek the Shinrai no Kokoro?” Sora asked, his voice mingling with that of the siren’s. It was hard to tell if they were simply talking at the same time, or just an effect of the siren’s control over him.

“Because I wanted to give Ventus something nice for his birthday. It’s, like, a week from now. Which you would know.” Sabrina sharply told him, jumping out of the way from a rather hard hitting swing. She quickly turned to the siren to seethe, “If you’re going to possess someone, the least you could do is leech his memories before asking obvious questions.”

The siren simply offered half a shrug in response. Sabrina had some choice words for the creature but didn’t have time to say them as she happened to parry another blow from Sora. The shock of it caused him to stumble backwards slightly.

“Why give the Shinrai no Kokoro to Ventus?” Sora asked.

“Do I really have to say it?” Sabrina groaned. She almost didn’t notice that Sora was preparing to perform Sonic Blade and was nearly hit at the first blow. It would have been a successful dodge had he not clipped her arm on the last strike. 

“Fine!” she shouted in aggravation. “It’s because I like him! And since I don’t show that I like people in a ‘normal’ way, these few times when I do would mean more to the people around me. Especially for him. He doesn’t give up on me in a way that isn’t annoying or overbearing, and deserves to know that I do see it. The least I could do is remember his stupid birthday.”

The siren gave a small sound of approval at this. Why was a concept that was going to grade on Sabrina’s nerves for awhile. Not that she had much time to think. Sora, despite not being a ‘master’, still apparently knew enough to have an upperhand while possessed. Maybe the siren was just drawing out his frustrations toward her- if they truly existed. Wouldn’t that be a fun concept? It would explain why his inner mind apparently had no resistance to all of this. Not that Sabrina was going to go on and beg for him to snap out of it either.

What she needed to do was think smarter, not harder. She moved to an area where she could get a better read on his attacks. It wasn’t much, but there was a definite moment where Sora had to configure his body before attacking- like a puppet adjusting its limbs so the strings did not get tied up. It was enough of an opening that when he rushed at her again, their Keyblades let out a loud clang as they connected. Sabrina and Sora were now in a deadlock. Up close, Sabrina could see the haze over Sora’s eyes from the siren’s control.

“Why choose Sora to accompany you?” Sora asked her as he pressed their Keyblades closer together. One of them would have to give soon, their strength was close to being evenly matched in this state. Sabrina did not plan on being disarmed first.

Unfortunately, in a way, she still had to.

“It’s because you’re the only one I trust with this.” she admitted, somewhat in a grumble. “I am capable of seeing when someone wants to get through to me, and I know the Carribean is your favorite world, so of course I would ask you to help. You’re the only one I could ask. I…” (the young woman took a moment to give a small, disgusted groan) “I trust you.”

As the words came from her mouth, the grip Sora had on his Keyblade started to weaken. His pupils returned to normal size as he gave several confused blinks.

“Wait…” he slurred- his voice belonging just to him again, “You mean that?”

“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

What Sora did next happened so quickly that Sabrina was caught completely off guard. He dispelled his Keyblade, bringing her to rock forward a bit from the sudden weight change, then he launched himself at her to give a tight bear hug. The force of which knocked them both to the ground. Sora’s laughter filled the cove as he held Sabrina tight. The siren gave a small, approving smile at the display, even as Sabrina started to demand for Sora to get off of her.

Even after Sabrina managed to shove him off, Sora still laid on the ground in a happy -practically relieved- laughter. Sabrina scoffed at him as she got up. She took time to brush her pants and jacket before giving her shirt a little shake to get the sand out.

“You have done well.” the siren approved, earning the attention of both teens again. “Come.”

Sabrina adjusted herself a bit more before taking careful strides to the siren. Sora, his laughing starting to cease somewhat, also got to his feet but he did not stop her. He could quite clearly see the siren hold up the palm of her hand; a ring nestled inside that was silver with green and purple jewels embedded within it. Sabrina opened her hand as well, allowing the siren to let the ring drop on her palm. The siren smiled as she covered Sabrina’s hand with both of its own.

“The boy you give this treasure to will value it above gold.” the siren informed the young woman. “Not because it has any true value on its own, but because he knows it came from your heart.”

“As all sappy gifts go.” Sabrina huffed. The siren offered a soft smile before her form dissolved into a pile of sand.

Sabrina turned around to go back to Sora, letting out a long, tired sigh in the process. She slipped the ring onto her finger for safekeeping. It fit so well, she wondered if whatever magic kept it the perfect size would still work when Ven got it. Sora patiently waited for her to be at his side again. He gave the ring a look as well. It was rather pretty, and for a moment the two of them just admired it. If it had any rare magical abilities to it, he wouldn’t have been the one to know. But it must have had something special to it if Sabrina thought Ventus would like it.

“We’re ready to head out captain.” Sora told her, standing tall as he gave her a salute. Sabrina blinked, looking up at him with a confused glance. It took her another minute more to even realize what he was saying.

“Then get back to the rowboat.” she told him, her usual attitude returning in full swing. “We wasted enough time here as it is. The last thing I want when we get back is Aqua questioning where we went. If Aqua questions where we were, everyone questions where we were, and there goes Ventus’s surprise.”

“Aye, aye madam!” he agreed, finishing off his salute. He then gave a rather gleeful laugh as he started to run back to the ship. Sabrina watched him with a small shake of her head, unsure if she should be annoyed and amused. She looked back down at the ring then back at him.

“Thank you, Sora.” she said, soft and barely audible, before following him out.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Ghost Busted || Morgan, Adam, Jasmine, Nell, &Constance

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @walker-journal @halequeenjas @nelllraiser @constancecunningham

SUMMARY: Morgan’s plan to bind Constance gets busted.

CONTAINS: gun use (salt rounds)

Binding a soul wasn’t much more complicated than binding anything else, as it turned out; not in terms of ingredients, at least. Morgan was able to gather the herbs on her own, mostly foraged, to save her pride at the Eye of Newt, but to adhere as closely to the spell instructions, she braved Vera’s judgmental looks for the last few things. Now it was time to take stock and go over the plan one last time before doing the binding. Morgan felt for the bottle in her bag. Still there. As far as she understood it, just about any vessel that could be marked with the right sigils would do, but using any of the tiny jars she had left from her crafting days made her feel uncomfortable. They seemed so small, keeping someone in there just seemed so...unsafe. And what if she could somehow see Constance staring at her through the glass? The thought made Morgan shudder too much, so she got a nice arcane looking, opaque, ceramic jar.

The day was bright, the kind you painted on a greeting card for fall. Morgan turned at the sound of footsteps, not certain how much she should smile, with Jasmine and Adam at least partially on the fence. But this was a net good for everyone. A bottled ghost was going to kill a lot less people and cause a lot less chaos than a free range one. After they did this, she could figure the rest out on her own if it came to it. Morgan offered a small wave. “Uh, hey?” she offered. “Did you...get everything you needed okay?”

Apparently, Nell was the first back from her little monster hunting excursion. In truth, she would have preferred to still be out gathering spell items for many reasons, but the primary one stemmed from the little guilt monster that was gnawing away at her stomach. Now that she’d talked about exorcising Constance at the first chance possible with both Jasmine and Adam, it was emotionally difficult to sit here and pretend as if everything were still going according to plan, sitting next to Morgan as if nothing had changed and she would still get her revenge. But it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. There’d been multiple occasions in which she’d had to make decisions that her friends wouldn’t like for the benefit of themselves and others. Still...that didn’t mean it got any easier. Nell could only hope that Morgan might be forgiving in the long run, and still want something to do with her at the end of the day. “Yeah, I got them,” she answered as she held up her trophies. “Are the others back, yet?” Taki, her Ovinikk familiar, hadn't been far behind- looking proud as anything while he carried a few grathered herbs between his teeth.

Nell kept her response short, not wanting to say much else when she was caught up in wondering whether or not her and Morgan’s friendship would make it to see the end of the week. “I’m just gonna look over the stuff again, too.” Then she gingerly plopped herself onto the ground next to a basket of herbs, muttering to herself about their quality and picking through them with a careful hand as a means of keeping herself busy, and hopefully safe from too much conversation.

Chickcharney feathers, a catalyst for the curse. The larynx of an Aravo to bind their voice. The pelt of an Aufhocker to weigh them down to earth. A heart burst by a Carach’s fractoxtin to remind them of heartbreak. The exoskeleton of a Dearoile, to echo their life’s pain. A bone from a Gashadokura slain a century ago, to rekindle memories of fleshly deprivation A Valravn skull medallion, a symbol of death as the inescapable devourer.

Adam entered and began to place these cheery trophies of several weeks hunting in their assigned places, thoughts heavy with the twisted moral balance of what was about to transpire.

There had been no doubt in her mind that Jasmine was doing what was necessary. Whatever grudge Morgan had against this ghost mattered very little in the big scheme of things. Her ingredients had been more or less easy to gather. A mix of herbs and different salts. She was never without iron flakes and rods either. Once she had made it back to their meeting spot, she mentally began envisioning where she could lay out a salt circle. It wasn’t entirely necessary for a typical banishment, but it made things easier. Even if she had any intention of playing along with this whole binding the ghost until Morgan found a way to torture her, she’d be taking these same precautions. It all lined up with what they were doing here, just instead of Nell doing the binding, she’s simply banish Constance. Whether or not she deserved worse would be up to whatever cosmic power she faced after being thrown out of this plane. “It sounds like we’re ready then,” she said as she contemplated laying out a circle. She turned to Nell with a knowing look in her eye, “So, when are we doing this? Did we want to go ahead and knock this out before anyone else is hurt?

Constance didn’t feel at home in the manor. The walls reminded her too much of the ones she had dusted and cleaned for the Bachmans, and the environment was so unmoving save for spare objects that were fiddled with and tossed by spirits. Constance preferred to take them out to the woods where the oaks grew tall and remembered everything, even her. Or to the lake, veiled in mist and shining waters. “And did you know!” She cried, turning to Nancy trailing behind her in strange garb that had come into fashion after her death. “I taught her everything she knew about magic. Her mother was a beastly woman with no talent in her right fingernail, doing charms I had managed practically with my intuition. I gave Agnes the keys to the kingdom of the gods, which makes me the reason that tiny, ugly cow Morgan could tap into any of her magic at all. But, oh! The raptures we would find in these woods. They weren’t half so thick, and we felt so fearless and bold hiding here and--”

The sound of other voices made her stop and drift up into the trees. She had gotten better at this now, having so many ghosts to practice with and help her along. Most of the faces were familiar. Morgan, of course, tramping her muddy boots through her woods. The girl from the summoning. The boy from the classroom. And then some other woman, but if she was in league with the others, then she couldn’t be any more trustworthy. She hovered in the soggy gold and red of autumn leaves still hanging on, knowing that Morgan could see her always. There were strange things being passed, salt, herbs, some runes she recognized, and a jar.

“Those cruel, treasonous fiends,” Constance hissed. Did Blanche know about this? Was she just biding her time, placating Constance until this very moment, when she might be trapped forever? Or until such time as a suitable punishment could be given? As if being stripped of her liberty, of everything but her consciousness wasn’t punishment enough. “Nancy,” Constance whispered. “You said we could play a game today, right?”

Morgan wrapped Nell into a quick hug. “Thanks, Nell,” she said quietly. “I’m glad you’re doing better.” She nodded to the others, smiling tensely. They weren’t thrilled to be here, that much was obvious, and she wasn’t sure if any kind of thanks would smack with passive aggression she didn’t intend. “It looks like we’re gonna be all set, and the town is going to get a lot safer once we’re done and she’s all tucked a-- fuck. Nell, get down!”

Morgan grabbed the young witch and shielded her with her body as she saw Constance come soaring out of the trees. And this time, she wasn’t alone. Her iron rod was at her hip, she could give her a good whack or two and be done, but she couldn’t leave Nell vulnerable, and there was Adam and Jasmine to consider. “Okay, uh--new plan!” She screeched. “We get some salt lines down and nobody dies today, how about that?”

With the waking nightmares gone, the ghosts had also returned to their normal state of invisible. As it were Nell would have had not a single clue that Constance or Nancy had appeared if it weren’t for Morgan and Taki. Blindly following Morgan’s command, she ducked— hoping that whatever she was dodging might simply fly over her. It took a moment for Nell to make the connection between salt and spirit, and then she could only assume that it was Constance who had come for them. “Is it her? Constance?” she asked both Jasmine and Morgan. Taki’s fur had bristled into an enormous ball of fluff the moment the ghosts had appeared, hissing and spitting in disgust as the spirits approached. Remembering that last time Taki had met Constance at the ghost’s summoning and how it had ended with the familiar in the pet hospital, Nell instinctively picked up the dog-sized cat. Shit- they needed salt like Morgan had said. Focusing her magic for a split second, Nell Summoned the table salt from home, a blue canister blinking into existence in her hand. Then another appeared in her other palm, and Nell silently thanked Bea for sometimes buying in bulk. “Here!” she called before tossing the salt container to Adam. Hastily, she began to draw her salt circle, first using it to encompass the spell ingredients. Losing them would be too much of a set back to risk.

In another town, if people just started freaking out for no visible reason and tossed him salt, Adam might have questions, concerns even. However Adam was becoming accustomed to weird improv game that invisible spookums entailed that he just caught the salt contained and got to work putting circles around the important stuff.  

This was all happening more quickly than Jasmine could have anticipated. As a familiar chill ran over her, she felt her whole body tense. No, not now. Not while Nell was here and she didn’t even have a proper circle yet on the ground. This was less than ideal, but she could make do without the circle if it was just a simple banishment. Minimal distractions would be needed so she had to trust Nell and Adam could hold down the fort if Morgan threw a fit about what she had to do. Once she actually caught a glimpse of the ghost, her mouth dropped. Even if she never planned on going through with the torture, it was still shocking that she wanted to torture an actual kid. “Seriously,” she shot a glare at Morgan, “How old is this ghost? Sixteen? You want to torture a teenager?”

She shook her head and didn’t need any further motivation to push forward with the exorcism as planned. It hardly mattered to her whether or not Morgan approved of the decision. “Nell, stay back and keep everyone away,” she directed as she took her place in the room. A haphazard salt circle was laid out on the floor and she stood directly outside as she began the familiar incantation she followed for banishment rituals. The air was whipping around them, but she knew she could do this. It was only a banishment, she just needed Morgan to stay away. She could feel the familiar bolt of energy going through her as she spoke the words. Her eyes remained on Constance who was getting pulled closer toward the circle as she chanted. She could feel the fight in her, but this was the kindest outcome for her.

“Fucking Stars, she’s nineteen and a few centuries! How is that important right now!” Morgan screamed. She wasn’t going to make Constance into Jasmine’s problem. She would find her own exorcist, and maybe a plan B or C just in case they crapped out on her. Morgan was pulling Nell back to the Subaru. She was trying to shield her with her body and fish out her salt at the same time. “Salt outside the car and get inside, okay?” She turned to Adam, pointing furiously at the car, “Stuff is replaceable, you are no--!” She didn’t quite finish, because the roar in the air grew quiet and she heard Jasmine--chanting? Morgan whirled. “What are you doing? That’s not the binding, what the hell is that?”

A burst of force knocked her to the ground and dragged her through the salted earth until her head collided with a tree. It happened so fast, Morgan’s vision blurred. She grimaced, reaching for the salt pistol clumsily to her belt when she looked up and saw… some 1950’s barbie with a snapped neck. “Who the fuck are you?”

Constance screamed to the heavens. At last her body held some gravity, but it wasn’t binding her to the earth. She was being dragged towards a circle. She didn’t need to see its sigils to know it would mean her end. “Nancy!” She screamed. The leaves rose from the ground at her cry, the trees trembled. Control. A strong spirit was like a strong witch; she needed control.

All the herbs and magic playthings Morgan’s brood had gathered froze in the air, and with them, the two bodies not protected by Blanche Harlow’s words. She did not see Nancy lift her concentration, much stronger and better practiced than her own, to do likewise, nor how she approached the circle to take her place. There was an evil scream from Morgan, then the world shattered and bodies flew.

As Morgan tugged her towards the car, Nell did her best to wrestle from her grip, not keen in the least to let Jasmine and Morgan take the brunt of whatever it was the ghosts had come to accomplish. “I’m not gonna hide in the car!” she refused, though her indignance was also cut short as the exorcist began her ritual. Would Morgan retaliate? Try to stop Jasmine from doing her job? The witch wouldn’t get an answer as an invisible force threw her backwards along with the others. She landed roughly, arms scraped open by the assorted twigs and rocks of the forest floor when she’d tried to catch herself in a roll, trying to shield Taki from ricocheting off the ground as well. It was then that she officially decided that fighting ghosts was the single worst thing in the world and all its realms to go up against. How was she supposed to stab something she couldn’t see? She couldn’t even stab them to begin with. With a frustrated growl she rose from where she’d landed, wincing as her body protested the movement. The Ovinikk leapt from her arms, making a beeline towards the ghost named Nancy before erupting in an angry and thunderous dog’s bark, doing his best to ward off the spirit. Following his line of sight, Nell plucked the salt canister from where it had landed before blindly tossing its contents in the direction of the familiar’s barks, hoping it might miraculously find a hit.

Not for the first time, Adam found himself sprinting as things he couldn’t see turned his surroundings into an obstacle course. Autumn leaves were a dry whirlwind of red and gold as uncontrolled telekinesis and the sacred energies of exorcism caught everything in spiritual turbulence. Bowls and canisters shattered, sending shrapnel of glass and pottery zipping through the supernatural gale. The contradictory smells of pungent herbs and the frigid sterility of fall wind filled Adam’s nostrils as he booked it towards where the cars were parked, trying to not get pulverized as he ran across the grove.

Trying to pry off the windborn leaves that kept getting plastered against his eyes and mouth, Adam knelt by the closest car and started slating a circle around it. Adam’s world spun a bit as a stray herb bowl hurled from out of ritual space and shattered against the back of his neck. The ex-Hunter blinked flaring white spots from his vision and ignored the trickle of hot warmth down the back of his back.

His eyes cleared enough to see Morgan get flung against the tree with a blunt cracking sound.

Shit...well um, least she was already dead right?

Then Morgan started asking more nonexistent people who they were.

...that’s not good

How quickly things could spiral out of control wasn’t entirely new to Jasmine though it was different when it was just her and a ghost. Knowing how close Nell and this Adam kid were only steeled her sense of determination. The kids weren’t getting hurt on her watch even if it meant having to go up against two ghosts on her own. She laid more salt down and kept her eyes firmly between Constance and Nancy as she yelled out, “Nell, Adam. Car now. Morgan, not now. I keep the ghosts from killing us and you get the kids out of here.” There wasn’t time for Morgan to fight her on this. Constance was undeniably strong and her friend seemed to have been practiced, too. It was inconveniently her friend that was now bound to the circle as the air whipped around them at an impossible speed. Jasmine dug her heels in the dirt to try and stabilize herself against the whirlwind happening around her, but found she found herself floating in the air alongside Morgan and all the items they’d gathered.

The howls of air swirling were hard to shout over especially with no stable ground beneath her feet and Constance’s shriek still ringing in her ears. She had to keep pushing if any of them were going to make it out of this. Nancy was bound to the circle and it didn’t seem like Constance was going to join anytime soon. They couldn’t fight off both of them and Jasmine felt the fear creep up on her. Making the hair on her arms stand on end and added to the dizziness she was feeling from above the ground. Her words weren’t steady as she was whipped around, but not a syllable was missed. Right now, getting rid of one ghost would have to do as she kept going with the banishment ritual she knew like the back of her hand.

After what felt like an eternity, her chants drew to a close and Nancy simply disappeared forever. It’s what she wanted to do with Constance, but she already felt entirely too drained to perform another banishment. The floating in the air only furthered the feeling of unsteadiness, until she was no longer in the air. It was all very sudden after Nancy was gone that she found herself being thrown into the tree. The crack of bone against wood was enough to make her nauseated and she let out a pained shout as pain shot through her left arm. “Bitch,” she screamed knowing she had little else to stand on and her iron rod was too far away for her to grab in her condition.

Constance saw it all and yet was powerless to do a thing. The gravity on her body ebbed, all the energy she’d been pouring into fleeing sprang back and she shot into the trees, watching from the branches as Nancy disappeared without so much as an ‘I’m sorry.’ A thought came to her as lightning: this cruel departure had always been Nancy’s plan. If not to use her as a bridge off this miserable world so she need not bear pretending to care, then to grant Constance more time. Either way, she was utterly abandoned. Was this the so-called pleasure of lifting her gaze to anything beyond her one wish?

“You monster!” She screamed, flinging herself back down to the ground. She reached for the woman’s bent arm, as if she could will herself solid and snap it like so many twigs. The trees screamed with her as she wailed. To think she had ever considered Morgan’s friends worth sparing, that to be direct and careful was the only and best way to fulfill the fate she had written. Not anymore, maybe not ever. Constance wanted to burn it all, and for their remorse to be written on every human face as too little, too late.

Bang. A salt round fired through Constance and exploded into the trunk of a tree. The ghost turned just in time to see who had done it. Her mouth opened to scream just as she dissipated. Morgan stood crooked and seething as her spine knit itself back together. Her pistol dangled lip in her fingers. “You’re welcome,” she growled. “Now please explain to me what the hell was going on with that. You could have just taken her with iron, with literally anything else…” The last of her vertebrae snapped into place and she was able to look around. The herbs, irrevocable. Jar, smashed. Hides and fluids, destroyed. If Constance was going to be bound out of trouble, they would need to start from scratch. But there was something else that nagged at her worse. For a moment that had gone so completely off the rails, there was a serious lack of surprise and confusion among her friends. A lot of the attention was on her, and it didn’t seem like the ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘we’ll try again’ variety. “What’s going on…?”

Once the winds had returned to normal, and Morgan stopped shooting at thin air, Nell presumed the coast was clear. Crouching next to Jasmine, she took in the awkward angle the exorcist’s arm had been broken into, grimacing in sympathetic pain. “We gotta get you to the hospital.” Then as an afterthought— “You have insurance, right?” She wasn’t about to willingly lead someone else to thousands of dollars in debt. Jasmine’s injury had sparked the fire of worry in Nell’s belly, but Morgan’s question ignited it into a full blown flame, guilt beginning to pool. “I agreed...that Constance should be gotten rid of if the moment presented itself.” She was used to taking the fall with her sisters, so it came naturally to try and focus the blame on herself in this situation as well. Besides, it only felt right when she’d essentially betrayed the trust of her friend. It was true that Nell had never promised against exorcising Constance, but she’d also agreed to helping Morgan do it her way, and the two paths weren’t all that conducive. “I’m sorry,” she replied reflexively, not knowing what else to say.

It was becoming increasingly more apparent to Jasmine that Morgan hardly had her priorities straight. She was injured and others had been put in danger’s way yet her biggest worry was the fact she tried to get rid of said dangerous ghost without torturing her. Not to mention the ghost was practically a child. None of it sat well with her and she found anger boiling over in her. “What do you mean what the hell was I doing? In case you didn’t notice, we had a ghostly tag team try to kill us? Or did you not notice my extremely broken arm here… which, hey, kind of your fault for not wanting to handle this in an even remotely responsible way. A cast is going to clash with literally my entire wardrobe,” she huffed out as she tried to gesture to her broken arm but failed as she winced in pain. She shot Nell a look, “Nell, you don’t have to take the blame for this. I would have tried to get rid of the murderous ghost with or without your approval. That’s literally why I have these powers to begin with.” She quickly looked back to Morgan and rolled her eyes, “Look, I get you’re pissed and have your whole torture revenge thing, but your feelings aren’t more important than people’s lives. Which should be glaringly obvious.”

“I dissipated Constance in two seconds and I could’ve done the same with vintage Barbie too! We could have finished this just fine!” Morgan snapped. “And if you didn’t notice, I was protecting the kids while you were busy doing some kind of banishment instead of walking them into thin air!” But there was something more, something worse, and it made Morgan deflate and back away from them all. What did Nell mean by ‘agreed’ to do something in the ‘moment.’ Morgan played back all of their last conversations, searching for the time when Nell had said, sorry Morgan, but no, I think this is bullshit. She’d posed some questions, she was afraid of there being more collateral damage than there needed to be, but she never said she didn’t want to. She’d said she would help Morgan. They’d talked about what was happening to her powers. Hot chocolate. Movies. Her mom. Everything but stepping out of this. “If we had just stuck to the plan, no one else would have gotten hurt,” she said, her voice trembling with shock. “Which apparently doesn’t matter to either of you, but don’t throw your choices on me like I don’t give a shit.”  She searched for Adam in the midst of them. “What about you? After all the times I said you didn’t need to do anything you didn’t want to. Was this your idea too?”

“Nope,” Adam stated with blunt honesty as he stepped out of the salt circle and walked to the back of his car. He popped the trunk up with a click and the footballer’s head vanished into the cargo space. Some clicking and unlatching sounds were followed by Adam remerging with a tan military medic’s kit slung over one shoulder.

Adam crossed the rubble-strewn ritual space, tennis shoes crunching on pottery shards and autumnal leaves. He took a knee by the ladies and unzipped the tactical med kit with the purposeful calm of someone used to tending to grizzly battlefield wounds.

He produced a tincture of watery translucent goo with the depiction of a grotesque goblinoid creature with a distended barracuda-like jaw and bone claws on the label. “You’ll want some of this for the pain,” Adam said to his companions offering them the anesthetic tincture of reified Rawhead salvia and a stopper. “Only a drop or two though, else you’ll get muscle paralysis and shit yourself,” he explained with that gentle bedside manner Hunters were famous for.

Adam furthered purposed a splint and bandages for Jasmine, along with the more sutures, gauze, and antibacterials for everyone’s general lacerations.

“Honestly Beck, I was just gonna stab you in the spine and hold Miss Hale at gunpoint till she exorcised Ginger Casper normally,” Adam admitted, speaking of assault and threats in an amiably conversational tone. “But it looks like they’d worked out something smarter than that already.”

Jasmine could feel her blood boiling beneath her skin despite the lightheadedness she was feeling. Between blood loss and banishing Nancy, she found herself pretty zapped in the blood sugar department. As much didn’t stop her from glaring at Morgan, “I told Nell to go to safety so there was no chance for either of them to hurt anyone ever again.” Her voice was getting weaker, but fire was pushing her nonetheless. “You’re going to end up just like them on your whole revenge path.”

She eyed Adam as he tried to give her something for the pain. Her eyes narrowed and she asked, “Uhm, what the hell is that?” The mention of shitting herself was enough to make her wary of it, but if he was going to insist on patching her up she figured she better use it. It only served to make her more woozy as he went on and everything felt like it was spinning.

It was difficult to brace herself even with the numbness though Adam’s genius plan was enough to make her eyes widen. “Excuse me?” This kid was going to force her to perform an exorcism at gunpoint? “You were going to what?” She moved away as he had already placed the splint and muttered, “Ugh, you know what. Not a priority. Do you have a driver’s license? I’d like to see a real doctor and I can’t exactly drive like this.”

The entire situation had quickly dissolved into a shit show, and Nell wasn’t sure where to begin with Jasmine and Morgan. The witch didn’t have a defense for the choices she’d made other than the fact that she hadn’t wanted more unneeded innocent blood being shed on the path to ending Constance. And though Adam was doing his best to patch up what he could, it seemed that Jasmine wasn’t all that fond of possibly being made to complete an exorcism at gunpoint. Which was...fair enough. Nell wasn’t a mediator. She was better at creating tense situations than resolving them- especially when there was no common enemy to point anyone towards. The only way she knew out of a situation like this was to focus on an end task, and try to get the others to do that as well. “Let’s just get Jasmine more medical care,” she repeated, assuming the exorcist had already remembered that Nell didn’t have a car license. Latching onto the woman’s uninjured arm, she began to try and guide her towards Adam’s car.

The choice of whether or not to look at Morgan was one that took Nell a long pause to make, trying to decide if she wanted to see the hurt and disappointment that she was sure to find there. This was why she’d done her best to avoid the woman ever since she’d made her decision to get rid of Constance by whatever means were fastest. Ripping off the bandaid hurt less if the wound beneath it already had the chance to scab over. Finally she found Morgan’s eyes, knowing it was the coward’s choice not to face the consequences of her actions. But now what? What could she possibly say that would do any good to either of them? She wasn’t sorry for trying to get rid of Constance, even now. It was the right thing to do— minimizing collateral damage. The only regret she has was that of hurting her friend. “We should go,” was all she could settle on.

Adam’s hidden plan wasn’t all that surprising to Morgan, given his ‘barbed wire in a backpack’ ways and how quick he’d been to share his distaste with Constance’s age. It would be awkward in class, if the full moon didn’t kill him first, but it was nothing she couldn’t brace herself for. Jasmine’s cunning had tripped her up; most of the dutiful types she’d met in White Crest didn’t encumber themselves with lying to your face, but she’d remember not to let the exorcist’s confidence fool her into thinking that what she saw was what she got. It was Nell that left Morgan dumbfounded, staring slack-jawed and stupid as she helped carry Jasmine to Adam’s car, so focused that Morgan may as well have been a ghost herself. “Wow,” she said, too stunned to even put much venom behind her voice. “Not even an explanation, huh?” Morgan’s eyes burned as she spoke and she wished, bitterly, for even an ounce of banshee control so she could just stay hard and steady and leave. But her face was trembling on the verge of collapse, her voice full and ready to crack on the next breath. “I trusted you. I gave you a choice, so many choices, Nell, and I trusted you…” She hadn’t deluded herself into thinking she was nearly as important to Nell as Nell was to her. Nell had a family, a community that had seen her grow, friends her own age. It was an imbalance Morgan could live with, to feel like she had a family of her own. But she hadn’t reckoned on being worth so little that Nell could turn her back on her with ease, that she would be left alone in the underbrush as the sun cut red over the trees.  It took all the self control Morgan had to turn her back on Nell in kind and get back to her Subaru. “So much for that.”