#and he kinda digs that someone else is as into mickey as he is

[clippy]

Question: I don't know if you talked about this already, but what's your opinion on It's a Small World in Epic Mickey? Would this be Clockboy, or is it someone else entirely?

I've talked about it a couple times but that stuff gets buried on here, so lemme break it down again cuz I will take any chance I can to talk about the boys:

So he is a version of Clockboy. Like... He is simultaneously the same and a different character, sort of like how Mickey in Epic Mickey is different than Mickey in Kingdom Hearts and how they're both different than Paul Rudish's Mickey, if that makes sense?

Original Clockboy and EM Clockboy do not exist within the same universe/canon/what have you so I do consider them different in my brain. Which. Makes things confusing for literally anyone else 😭

I had to dig this up but this is a messy flow chart of how the boys relate to each other:

I've seen it implied that the EM design of the clock tower was partially inspired by the Disneyland Paris version which... I can kinda see? It feels like a stretch imo, but taking that into account, that's why his outfit design incorporates elements of both the "real world" Clockboys, and lends itself well to him being a "definitive" version of the character for the sake of the game's story

(and here is my the only ref-like art I have of him since his ref sheet is a major WIP)

Like to keep it simple I kinda have just approached all of this like "okay. new face design = new character"

And to answer your first question: I love him. Mwah.

[turmoilcity]

i mite kill my ex

How do I celebrate really good greens fic? By shipping Butch with an original character because I am absolute ass.

And I get why people don't like it because I don't like it either. I don't want to read your stinkn' Mary Sue, self insert oc getting it on with my faves. Sue me.

But lemme tell you something

LEMME TE- LEMME TELL U SOMETHING-

I did it. :P

Bella isn't a self insert, she's a character from my Magum Opus I have valiantly tried throwing out there for like... ten years now. :)

This was written in the spur of the moment. No edits cause I'm cool like that. Enjoy my shitty, cringey writing.

Oh yeah. This is some MTH AU... idea of my character Bella actually befriending the gang (Buttercup, Mitch etc.)

Title: Pza Breath

There was a general rule about people who overstayed their welcome. Yadda, yadda, you shouldn’t let someone else alpha your territory bullshit- Whatever. Bella didn’t give a fuck that Butch of all people was staying late and just hanging out. She liked his company anyway.

“I can’t believe I have such an ass team,” his voice rumbles threateningly into the tiny black dot of a mic propped at his lips.

Her last Christmas gift. a new gaming headset and he was the one in love.

He’d joined about four tournaments since he put that shit on, and was on a nonstop roll. He didn’t even stop to eat the pizza Bella offered him, which was kinda rude since she spent allowance money on it.

“I said throw the ball to Mickey, not fucking P daddy.”

CD’s, bookbags and a textbook, littered Bella’s bed, along with her blankets messily strewn about. She lay across it, eating her pizza watching Butch talk in the headset. She was getting a little bored.

“The ball isn’t going to go in. We’re about to lose this shit. We’re about to-” He shoots up. So does Bella in defense of her gaming equipment.

“Woah, woah, woah,” she says, suddenly in front of him. His eyes are narrowed, bottom lip tucked in. She actually chuckles, “Butch it’s just a game-”

“I was on a record breaking streak and I lost it all to a swarmy dumbass.” He grumbles, eyes going sharper.

Bella holds back from laughing at her friend crying about a loss and instead focuses on the remote he tosses back, “Hey, big shit. Calm it down for a second.”

He waves her off nonchalantly, finally advancing the pizza box.

“Break this shit, and I’ll break your ass,” Bella mutters.

Butch frowns as he pulls out two slices and tilts his auburn head back. He gobbles it like a fish on a line, “Fyouh fhay the weirdesh shift.”

“Speak for yourself,” she grimmaces at uncanny, goblin Butch. She sighs and sets the headset down properly on the stand it comes with. A prideful trophy of hers. She will cherish it for eternity.

There’s a loud belch from Butch.

She laughs and pinches her nose, wafting the air. “Ugh, dude.”

“I’m bored as shit,” he smacks his lips. The cardboard of the pizza “shuffs” as his greasy big hands flips it open for another, “Let’s do something.”

“Butch it’s 11 o’clock,” Bella informs him with a look. “The only thing you need to be doing is getting rest for school tomorrow.

He feigned a yawn, airly tapping his mouth, “Boring.”

Bella snickers again, somewhat delighted he’s practically asking to stay. She flops on the bed, joining him, “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“Boring.” he says in the same tone he did before.

“Wannaaaaa… watch some youtube.”

“Bor- BELCH- riiiing.”

She laughs again, “Dude.”

He eats at the pizza some more, and says mouth somewhat full, “how come you never wanna do anything fun like… I don’t know make out or some shit.”

She’s chuckling and biting her lower lip from flat out howling, “After you did all that burping with your nasty pizza breath? I think not.”

“I’ve got some gum in here somewhere,” he says digging in his pockets with a thoughtful expression.

Bella’s still biting her lower lip, with a sly grin. She pushes his arm, “No need pizza breath. I wouldn’t make out with you if my life depended on it.”

That dropped the adorable pensive look right off of Butch’s face. His brows furrowed into a look that was a touch more serious, “Why?”

Well that was a curve ball and a half.

Once upon a time, it was true. Bella had developed the biggest crush on Butch he could have possibly ever imagined anyone having.

And it was weird. Overly, mushily weird. She thought about him every moment, lit up when someone said his name, she even had dreams about him.

It was the first time Bella had found herself truly smitten, and she didn’t know how to cope with it well.

She imagined, in his eyes, she was just a cool friend. How could she be anything but? When they met, they instantly clicked, sure, but the mapping of their friendship never came with a bump in the road. They had clicked platonically and nothing more.

She blinked furiously at him, “I- uh… it was a joke.” she chuckled trying to lighten the blow.

Butch looked the slightest convinced, “Huh… okay. Because I was going to bring up that we already kissed. That one time behind the mall for weed.”

He remembered!?

That day played like a movie she knew all too well every now and again. She figured Butch had long forgotten it. He did well on never bringing it up.

“Oh. Y-yeah.” she laughs, “Dude, you remember that?”

“Well, it happened like a day after we met. Can’t really forget it.” He rested back on her bed, hands behind his head and not second thinking what he just admitted aloud.

She looked back at him, green eyes low, hands braced behind his head and encouraging the fabrics of his jacket to pull up from his athletic, boxy abdomen. The dark cotton pulled just a bit above his navel, revealing another white article underneath. A trail of hair crept from the belt-clad waist of his denim jeans.

Her eyes lowered.

The bed bounced, squeaked, as she hopped up from her position and swung a leg bravely over his abdomen. He was taken aback.

She gripped his jacket inadvertently pulling his face close, “Kiss me,” she mocked, closing her eyes and puckering her lips.

His voice was low, “U-uh. Could I take a mint check first?”

She flopped him down, crawling off, “Butch, you suck,”

“Wait!” he said getting up, face a little pink, “I didn’t think you would actually wanna mess around! “

“Do you wanna mess around?” her playful charade was dropped for a look of genuine curiosity.

There was a hint of unsureness in Butch’s gaze to her. He turned his green eyes to his knees. "I-I… I don’t know. If you want to I guess.”

Bella put her hands on her hips, readopting the less serious route as it seemed to do both of them better, “How many girls have you actually told ‘it was up to them?’”

“All.” he snapped up.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” he laughed giving her a puzzled look, “What do you take me for? A creep.”

“Okay, okay, so you’ve got morals at least. Thats a step in the right direction for a criminal like you.”

“Nice.”

“But on that topic, how many girls have you kissed?”

Butch tucked his chin in thought, then the fabrics of his jacket hissed as he went to scratch his chin with one hand and prop his elbow with the other. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5…” he began counting to himself.

“Oh come on. You don’t expect me to believe you kissed that many-”

“Shh. Shh. You’re throwing me off.” he furrowed a brow, marking the air, “6, 7... 8, 9…. 10…”

“10!?”

Butch smiled, “Oh! Yeah, only 3…4 counting you.”

She frowned, “What was that other counting for?”

“To see how you’d react.”

She pushed his knee.

He drew his eyes to this motion, “But since the count isn’t that bad, you wouldn’t mind climbing back on me right?” His eys suddenly widened, “After, I check my breath.”

Bella was not sold. “I mean it’s surprising you’ve only kissed 4 girls, coming from a guy like you, especially if I was the last of them-”

“Hell yeah, I’ve been going cold turkey.”

“But I’m still not going to kiss you just because you’re bored.”

Butch sighed and unraveled a stick of gum, “Sucks for you, then.”

She laughed, raising a brow, “Yeah. Sucks a bunch.”

The room was quiet save for Butch’s obnoxious chewing and the few cars and crickets outside. Her window was raised, so the cool autumns air was gently disturbing the curtains in her room, outside her window was darkness aside from a street life. Living far from the city was quiet at night, but having Butch over made it feel more relaxing.

The ceiling light was starting to feel obscenely bright as time passed. She let out a yawn and a stretch.

“Don’t get sleepy now, we still got some work to do.”

She smacked her lips and scoffed, “Whatever, man.”

“Someone’s chickening out.”

“Okay, pizza breath.”

“It’s minty breath now,” he said sticking the gum out between his teeth. She couldn’t help but to laugh,

It was a moment of silence again where all that happened was Butch chewing. Bella readjusted herself on the edge of the bed, so that her knee’s could be on the carpeted floor as she swept her hoodie-dressed arms on the bedside and lied her head on top. The faint lavender scent from her sheets was picking up and doing a number on her.

It seemed both of them were thinking of something to do, but were at a genuine lost, so all they were managing to do was waste time.

He blew a tiny bubble, and it popped, “Hey” he nudged her with his knee. She grunted. “I’m bored.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Okay,” he replied instantly, the weight of his body bouncing back against her dark blue sheets. His shoes clunk against the floor, as he kicks his converse’s off as hard as he can, they nearly sail to the ceiling. Fabrics protest against one another as he shuffles valiantly into her bed, pulling up the blankets.

“Hey! Hey! Not in my bed!” Bella barks.

“But you told me to go to sleep.”

She takes a moment, to take in Butch of all people in her bed, “Yeah at your house you dumb fuck. Atleast take your God damn jacket off before you lay in it.”

“You act like your bed is so perfect,” he rolled his eyes theatriacly while the zipper of his jacket hisses. He starts tugging his jacket off, it makes a heavy noise as it hits the ground beside the bed. Bella’s eyes take in his toned arms, the faint illusion of his torso slightly hunched in his oversized t-shirt. The chains on his belt rattles as he scoots his butt into the duvet, clattering Cd’s off the edge. He decidedly faces away from her, “Good night.”

A slight hint of gleefulness is in Bella’s narrowed expression, “You know I don’t trust your dirty jeans sleeping in my bed either?”

“God, what do you want me to sleep naked? One second you’re all over me, the next-”

“Blah, blah, get the hell out out of my bed.”

“Never,” he tucks more into himself.

“Butch, seriously. I need to sleep for school.”

He feigns a loud snore. The textbook is hurled at his head. This does not deter him.

“Butch.” Bella warns louder.

He throws in a few, “Me, me, me ,me, me’s” for good measure.

“Aww, are you really asleep?” Bella says in an overly sweet voice.

“...Yes.”

The side of the bed she’s leant on shifts against her weight leaving it, and then theres a short shuffle. The wall thumps as she hits the light switch off encapsulating them in darkness, the only light emitting is from the television that is black but not fully off since she’d only shut down the game. Also the street light shines vaguely through the window.

She walks around her large bed, light from outside barely grazing her frame, and makes it to Butch. Her eye’s catches his green eyes shutting quickly as he tucks his face in her blanket.

She grins.

When she’s finally standing in front of him, the light blocks most of his features, making him look like a lump. She punches it harshly. It shudders and moans.

“Aww, Butch,” she coo’s punching it again. “What’s wrong? (punch, punch)I thought you were tired.” She punches a few more times until hands reach out from under the blankets and wraps around her waist. He rolls her untop of him, inspiring a weird shout out of Bella.

"ACK-!"

“Shh,” he says, “Wouldn’t want to wake your dad up-ow, hey!”

She’d punch him again and now the bed hisses and creaks because two weighted teenagers are wrestling determinedly atop of it. Bella definitely has the upper hand, not being wrapped in a blanket. She puts him in a good choke hold and punches him in the face a few times while he’s there for good measure

But Butch hates losing a fight, so eventually he unravells from his armadillo huddle to pin her in a head lock across his lap.

“Uh oh,” he whispers, raising his arm high above his head, she kicks, inadvertently sticking her butt up.

Perfect.

His hand crashes down loud. Loud enough for someone walking on the side walk yards away outside to here.

“You mother fuck-”

More wrestling until Butch pins her down, hands and feet, propped up over her.

“Yeah! Victory is mine!” he whoops quietly, rattling the bed and Bella underneath him. She still squirms. “Give up,” he says.

She shakes her head, laugh threatening to spill.

“Give up, or else I’ll kiss you-”

“Okay, okay I give up!”

“Yay! I win again!”

He lets go of her wrists and arm slowly, making sure she doesn’t retaliate. The bed squeaks obscenely as they get up, causing Bella’s face to heat up.

When she sits all the way up, she slaps him.

“Ow. Bitch.”

“It’s time to go home Butch.”

“But I don’t wanna,” he whines,

And honestly, Bella doesn’t want him to as well. She already knows, once he leaves it’ll just be quiet, boring and then she’d really have to go to sleep in her boring room.

But Butch couldn’t stay, that wouldn’t be right. What would her dad say if he were actually here?

“Where am I gonna sleep if you’re in my bed.” she crosses her arms.

He looks at the other side as if it’s obvious.

She snorts, “Dude, I am not-”

“I’m not going to do anything weird, I swear to God.”

Bella chuckles, “It isn’t that, it’s just… What am I gonna wear? This isn’t my usual night wear.”

She looked down at her hoodie and sweatpants dressed body.

(Ending idea: Butch and Bella share a bed, platonically. Butch says “i love you” “goodnight Butch” Butch farts. Laffter. End scene)

In the end, could this just have been a greens drabble?

Absolutely.

But would it have worked better with the greens?

...

...Absolutely. No doubt.

[gallavictorious]

”You going out? I thought you weren't working tonight.”

Mickey looks up from his tie to see Ian leaning against the doorframe, in uniform and with his hair neatly slicked back.

”Nah, it isn't work. Well, not exactly,” he says, finishing the knot and taking a step back to admire the result in the mirror. He's getting pretty good at this. Lots of practice in the last few months, ever since he took the bodyguard gig officially on the road. Clients like it when he wears a tie. ”You know the chick I've been babysitting for the past few weeks, the one whose stalker I caught trying to climb in through the fucking window? She and her dad's taking me to some fancy place, uh... Piccolo something, to thank me. Since you're working the late shift, I thought – ”

Ian interrupts, straightening: ”Piccolo Sogno? Like, that really romantic place down in West Town? You telling me the girl who has a crush on you is taking you there?” He pauses, looking at Mickey with a cross between disbelief and bemusement. ”Are you going on a fucking date?”

Mickey stares at him. ”What the hell are you talking about?” he demands. Crush? Date? What?

---

The chick's name is Charlotte Eckerton.

He was supposed to call her Ms. Eckerton, she insisted he say Charlie, and what he actually went with was usually some classic television reference that she didn't get, or – when she's was being particularly annoying – ”hey, brat”. She was probably no worse than any other spoiled little North Side princess, but Mickey sure as hell didn't get why anyone, no matter how loony, would want to stalk her, because literally all she did was go to class, study, shop, and party with her equally irritating friends. Oh, and endlessly updating her Instagram stories with every last detail about her fascinating life, of course. He put a quick stop to that, because continually announcing your location to the public when a deranged psycho was stalking you was... well, let's face it, it was about as stupid as he expected from these people.

She threw a tantrum when he swapped her phone for one with restricted access to social media apps, and she tried to give him the slip at least twice a day for the first four days, going as far as paying some other goons to attack him while she made a run for it. She was not completely stupid, he had to give her that, and he was beginning to understand why her father had come to him rather than hire a more well-established firm. The girl was a complete nuisance, and occasionally quite clever about it. Clearly needed someone wise to all the tricks, and unafraid to rein her in and tell her in no uncertain terms when she was being an idiot.

Mr. Eckerton was loaded, having made his fortune doing some IT-shit or other, and for the kind of money he was offering, Mickey was prepared to put up with a quite a lot of hare-brained shenanigans, as well as hanging out at the Magnificent Mile afternoon after afternoon, and listening to the brat's endless babble about... hair? Make-up? Bands? Whatever. He didn't really pay attention; he'd have needed to be paid hell of a lot more than he was to do that.

After a week or so of thwarted escape attempts Charlotte had exchanged overt defiance for a more subtle approach, trying to throw him off his game by suddenly gifting him stuff, like a dark gray shirt ”that goes really well with your eyes”. He took the shirt, because it was pretty nice, as was the watch and the stupidly expensive hair-product she produced in the following days. He was a little insulted she thought he could be bought so easily, though; she'd have needed to double her father's money, at the very least – or gotten him a nice car. He had said as much to Ian, who had eyed the gifts with an unreadable expression on his face, and had failed to comment.

When bribery too proved a failed tactic she started asking a lot of personal question instead, fishing for weaknesses to exploit. Her strategy was pitifully obvious, however, and Mickey gave her nothing but monosyllabic responses. Finally, she resigned herself to being stuck with him for the time being, and mercifully stopped pestering him about letting her go to whatever concert or party was happening that night. She still dressed up and put on elaborate make-up every damned evening, though, even if it was just the two of them chilling at her place, but he supposed it was something for her to do. Fuck knew he could sympathize with the boredom of being locked up.  

So that was Charlotte, spoiled and stubborn and maybe a little bit clever underneath it all. Not the worst person he could imagine babysitting, not by a long shot, but not one he'd think back on either, now that the job was done. He probably wouldn't even have accepted her and her father's invitation to take him out for a meal, if it hadn't been for Ian's occasional insistence that he needed to be ”nicer to his clients” and ”cultivate professional contacts”. This only made his husband's reaction to the whole situation all the more annoying –

”It is not a date,” Mickey says flatly, irritation coloring his voice, because Ian is smiling at him in all too knowing way. ”I probably saved her fucking life, she wants to buy me dinner. That doesn't make this a – Listen, her fucking father is going to be there.”

”Yeah, sure he will.” Ian crosses his arms, still smirking like an asshole, but there's just a hint of an edge to the smile now. ”Does she even know you're gay?”

Mickey rolls his eyes. ”Of course she fucking knows, because I open every damned conversation with 'Hi, I'm Mickey and I love cocks' like a normal fucking faggot. Jesus. It hasn't come up. She knows I'm married.”

”Like that's gonna – ”

They're interrupted by the door to Liam's room opening, the boy stepping out to give them his very best judgemental look. ”Why are you yelling? I need to study.”

”Oh, it's nothing,” Ian says casually. ”Just Mickey having a date tonight. With a teenage girl.”

”She’s nineteen, and I am not – !”

Liam frowns. ”Is this like when he was fake-dating Byron to make you jealous? Are you going to go on a fake date too? With a girl?”  He pauses, frown deepening: ””Is there a Grindr for straight people?”

Ian's spared a reply as Lip comes up the stairs with Freddie in his arms. He pauses on the top step, brow furrowing as he takes in the scene: Mickey, dressed to the nines and with a scowl to match, Ian smiling with his arms crossed, and Liam wearing his trademark look, the one that says that everyone else is a bit of an idiot. ”What's going on here?”

”Mickey's going on a date with a woman.” Liam offers it readily, a true believer in the free dissemination of information. Probably something he picked up at private school.

Mickey gives a half-choked groan. ”It's not a – ! You know what, fuck you.” With one last glare and an extended middle finger, Mickey grabs his jacket and storms off.

Ian, Liam and Lip watch him go, nonplussed. Lip glances at Ian: ”Huh. Less than a year of marriage and you've already turned him off men.”

”Yeah, well. Have to admit I didn't see that one coming.”

---

The restaurant is fancy as hell, linen cloth and candlelight, one person to take his coat and another to show him to the table. Charlotte is already there, blonde hair pulled back in a strict ponytail, something expensive glittering around her neck and drawing attention to the generious helping of skin her lowcut black dress offers.

The table is set only for two. Mickey frowns as he takes his seat. ”Your father coming?”

”No.” The smile she gives him is very innocent. ”He got held up in a meeting, so he called to say he can't make it. He said to tell you sorry, and to thank you so much for your service.”

Listen to those alarm bells going off all at once... Mickey tries to mentally shake it off. It's nothing to worry about. Just Ian putting weird ideas into his head. ”Uh, yeah. Don't worry about it. Just doing my job.” He waves for the waiter to bring him a beer. He does need a drink, quite urgently.

Charlotte leans forward, looking up at him from under half-closed lids with a very intense expression on her perfectly moisturized face. ”You were so brave when Smithson attacked me. I don't know how I can ever thank you enough. You know, my father is paying for this meal, but if there was something else you wanted... ?”

And that's her grabbing the olive from her drink and very deliberately pushing it past her lips and that's... that's her foot, sans shoe, slowly sliding down his calf.

Oh. Fuck. This is a date. Inwardly groaning, Mickey rubs a tired hand over his face, before looking straight at Charlotte: ”You know I'm fucking gay, right? Like, married to a man?”  Jesus, Ian is never going to let him hear the end of this...

Charlotte reels back just a little, mouth falling slightly open. He's prepared for shock, disgust even – but instead a dreamy look appears on her face. ”Oh my god, that is sooo hot!”

What?

---

He feigns sleep when Ian returns home a quarter past midnight, but his husband isn't fooled. ”How was your date?” he murmurs as he slips in under the covers and wraps his arms around Mickey from behind.

”Shut the fuck up.”

A quiet laugh, a kiss pressed to his shoulder. ”I take it you're sticking with cocks for now then.”

And sure, there's a teasing edge to the words, and sure, he'll hear about this for-fucking-ever, but... Mickey turns around, facing Ian. ”I guess I am,” he agrees, reaching up to run his thumb over Ian's cheek.

Whatever mischief is there fades from Ian's eyes, from his voice: ”I'm glad,” he says simply, and pulls Mickey in for a kiss.

Yeah. So is he.

---

This one goes out to @starkcravingmad​  who suggested a teenage charge crushing on a clueless Mickey, in a reply to this post. I know you didn't ask me to write it, and I have no idea if this is even vaguely related to what you had in mind, but for better or worse you planted the seed, and here we are. Didn't intend for it to get this long, or this silly, but yeah.

[morguemaw]

May I politely ask and debate to you about the whole don't pull inspiration from my ocs thing..? I think your point is you don't want people copying your ocs down to the tee but.. like.. inspiration is kinda the one thing I believe is a fine thing to steal.. even if it's like the color palette of something you like.. it's a complement if someone takes inspiration from someone else... Many skeleton ocs and aus where made by pulling inspiration from Sans and Papyrus and undertale... You even have a character based off of Sans- which in a sense is Toby's own ocs if you think about it.. I am sorry if I am coming off rude or something... I'm just trying to figure out what you mean..

🍎

Alright, this is a hot pile to dig through. Sorry if this is messy dear. 1) What i mean by it is dont use it as a excuse to copy my ideas because you cant think of something. 2) Its my ONLY request. Dont copy my chars. Colors? I dont care. Its fucking colors. Art style? Sure, just dont trace. Character designs/concepts? If you cant respect that my trust is lost. 3) I never claimed a Sans oc as my own original character. Sans isnt my property, therefore chars like Zemuf, or even chars based off of LITERAL OTHER PEOPLES OCS SUCH AS FRESH SANS, like Shark Fresh, i have NO rule over. Just dont legit copy to a full design. 4) This did come off as rude the more you typed. This was a very long winded ask of just "What do you mean by "dont take inspo"?". And.. Btw... Dont word it like "inspiration is kinda the one thing I believe is a fine thing to steal" . I dont agree with this, at all. All artists have their own rights, either legally(think disney with Mickey Mouse) , or comfortably, to request people to not copy or use them as inspo. Its a same dumb situation of someone having a generic Hyena OC with legit realistic browns and tans of a IRL Hyena, just giving it lets say bright blue hair, and telling people to not copy, even if its a extremely basic design. Though them being the creator, they request their either small, or large audience to not copy them. Its just a respectful thing to do, even if its dumb. Some dont want their colors picked, while i dont really give a shit. You can use lets say Zemufs colors for a fursona. I dont care, just say you got them from me, and i wont be mad. ( even if you dont, i really dont care. He’s fucking greyscaled. ) My legit ONLY request is dont use my character designs for yourself. Someone recently said they used Guts as a inspo for their own sona, even after i stated MANY times to please not. And as a artist, and now a steadily growing artist, im coming to terms that it will happen, but asks like this draw me back and remind me why i should feel comfortable not letting people use my character concepts for themselves. Specially when i strictly mention one *specific* one such as my sona, SG/SpiderGuts/Guts. I sometimes find it flattering, but i still personally believe it should just be respected, even if its stupid. Its my own personal comfort, and me still trying to get over truamatic stress over even being here, so its something to help me come out of my shell, and become reasonable with it.

[abundanceofnots]

Prompt! After seeing that ball gag in the basketball hoop in their room, I’m hilariously imagining Franny wandering downstairs with it during breakfast or something and everyone freaks out about it, or something similar lol

Forewarning: As you could’ve guessed, this one is pretty dirty. In fact, I’ll probably never recover from writing some of these words. You’ll know which ones I mean. Damn it, Shameless, why are these things canon?!

---

They were talking again. Loud, like they didn’t give two shits who could hear them, even though the house was full of people.

Lately, it’d become almost nonstop, and Debbie had just about enough of it – and them.

“Take it, you insatiable slut!” 

“Yes, fuckin’ impale me with your monster cock!”

As she stood behind the closed accordion door, which frankly did nothing to silence all the bizarre exclamations and assorted sex noises, she scrunched her face in disgust. Thankfully, her ears only felt like they were bleeding, and the real damage was happening just to her inner calm.

This time, Ian and Mickey were going at it at half past seven on a Sunday, throwing around words that would make even the creators of bad pornos cringe. 

They’d been on her shitlist ever since she found several dried come stains on her lilac bath robe, and really, her frustration with them only grew stronger from there. It was one thing that they apparently made sex into a full-time hobby; sounding like absolute perverts throughout their daily (and nightly) numerous rounds was another. 

Debbie could take it no more. She was long past the point of finding it funny. There were now very specific, lewd details about her older brother forever embedded in her mind – and she fondly looked back at the days when Ian was still behind bars and dearly missed.

Checking that her palm was covering Franny’s eyes, she squeezed her own eyes tightly before getting a blind hold on the accordion door. She yanked it open, immediately causing the verbal vomit to stop.

“The actual fuck, Debbie!” 

She heard scrambling and annoyed groans and, eventually, to what sounded like a fight over the comforter, the bed creaked as someone got off it. She took that as her cue and secured her hold on Franny, who started to dig her little fingers into Debbie’s palm.

“I’ve had it with you two assholes!” she raged, using her free hand to gesticulate wildly. “I was fine with the exaggerated moans and the fact that seeing your ugly naked asses around on a daily basis was now a given, but if I have to hear the words uber-masculine slut and dom top daddy one more time, I’m gonna make sure you won’t be able to stick your dicks anywhere. For a long time.” 

She paused, becoming faintly aware that someone was hurriedly trying to get dressed somewhere to her left.

“Now, I’m gonna go back to bed,” she continued, much calmer, satisfied that her case was being heard without protests, “and you’re gonna watch Franny because you both owe me. Big time.”

The room was silent, the atmosphere tense. Debbie let out a frustrated huff. 

“Just tell me when,” she prompted, too scared to open her eyes. 

For a second, it seemed like Ian and Mickey argued without saying a thing out loud. Then, settling on whatever, Ian cleared his throat. 

“Yeah.”

Debbie immediately regretted not leaving without sparing them another glance. Because while Ian was at least dressed, standing in front of her in his boxers and a T-shirt that was both too tight and inside-out, Mickey sat on the bed only with the comforter bunched in his lap. 

They were both sweaty and out of breath, and Debbie felt herself flush when she noticed the visible handprints on Mickey’s neck. 

Still, she recovered fast, piercing them both alternately with a hard stare. “Can’t believe I even have to say this, but no fucking in front of my kid!” she warned, pointing her finger at them.

---

The slam of Debbie’s bedroom door successfully burst the strange bubble they got themselves caught up in. Their eyes instantly snapped to each other. 

“I call shower,” Ian announced plainly.

“Fuck you, I call shower first,” Mickey countered. “I was about to bust a nut anyway.”

“What’s bustanut?”

It was the first thing they heard Franny say, and, yeah, Debbie was definitely going to break both of their dicks after this, wasn’t she?

“Well, Franny,” Ian started as he leaned down to her, maneuvering her a little so that she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of Mickey’s naked form as he untangled himself from the comforter, “that’s a thing adults say when they have to brush their teeth. And your Uncle Mickey has a really stinky breath this morning.”

“Like you’re one to talk, bitch.” 

Ian looked up to Mickey poking his tongue in his cheek, his loosely curled fist moving in front of his face in a rather obvious motion. He shot him a glare, but Mickey just pulled his boxers up and left the room, chuckling.

The good news was that Franny seemed content with that. Shrugging her shoulders, she hopped on their rumpled bed and started jumping on it. Ian decided it was better than having to crack the ol’ concept of male ejaculation to her on an early Sunday morning and went about his routine as usual. 

It didn’t take long until something else caught Franny’s attention and she started making low frustrated noises.

Putting on his deodorant, Ian watched in the mirror as she struggled with the cap of their lube. 

“Is this a special sauce?” she asked, all bright-eyed and curious.

Ian snickered. Franny knew all about special sauces ever since Liam started experimenting with making his own in the kitchen a few weeks ago. 

“Yeah, I guess it kinda is a special sauce, in a way,” he replied amusedly. “Uncle Mickey says he doesn’t like it, but he’s a filthy liar.” 

“Smells like strawberries.”

“Yeah, it does.” He turned, grinning at her. “Nice, huh?” 

She held the tube out for him. “Can I try?”

Instead of opening it for her like she probably expected, Ian took it from her and shoved it in the closest drawer.  

“Maybe in a few years.” 

Franny sighed dramatically, and Ian observed in real-time as he started losing his fun uncle points with her. But it didn’t matter how pouty she got; he couldn’t actually let her play with their lube. Mickey was right – that shit was expensive.

It only took about a minute this time before she got bored again. Kicking the bed involuntarily with her feet hanging over its edge, she scanned the messy room. Finally, her eyes fell on a black leathery thing laid on top of the laundry basket by the bed. 

“What’s that?”

Ian pursed his lips as he thought of the best answer, but before he could give her any, he got interrupted.

“It’s a ball gag,” Mickey supplied as he strode into the room with only a towel around his hips. His hair was wet, and the unashamedly self-satisfied smirk on his face had Ian roll his eyes.

“What’s a ball gag?”

“It’s—”

“A toy!” Ian said, a little panicky. “A toy that Uncle Ian and Uncle Mickey like to play with. Especially Uncle Mickey.”

Pausing on his way to their closet, Mickey smacked Ian’s ass. Waggling his eyebrows, he then leaned in to lightly peck his cheek.

“You betcha.” 

Franny’s eyes widened with excitement. “Can I play, too?” 

She got her hands on the contraption at the same time as Ian, who at first tried to scare her off with a stern look. Failing that, he started pulling on the strap, giving out a somewhat tentative laugh.

“Really not a good idea.”

“I wanna play, too! Please!”

“Franny—”

With an ear-splitting screech, she slipped the ball gag from Ian’s grasp and set off running out of the room.

“Crap,” Ian muttered, slapping hard at Mickey’s arm when he had the nerve to chuckle. “Dumbass, your dick’s on the line here, too, you know?”

In the kitchen, he found Franny making rounds around the table; the sex toy held over her head victoriously like a golden trophy. Thankfully, the only person sitting there was Lip, who seemed genuinely entertained by the sudden spectacle.

“Uncle Lip, Uncle Lip, do you wanna play with my ball gag?” Franny asked mid-run.

“Uh, maybe later?” Still smiling, Lip shot his brother a look, pointedly raising a brow.

“Franny?” Ian tried playing nice with a sing-song voice. When the kid slipped past him over and over again, he decided to change his tactics. “Franny! Gimme that!”

“No!” she yelled stubbornly as she took off toward the living room. Unluckily for her, that’s where Mickey, having come down the other set of stairs, caught her. 

As he walked back with her, he held her under his arm so that her tiny legs kicked the air behind his back as she tried to wiggle free. “Sorry, kid, but Uncle Mickey doesn’t share his toys,” he told her as he settled her down in the kitchen. 

Lip sniggered into his mug. 

“So, breakfast?” Mickey suggested after he passed the ball gag to Ian. “I’m fuckin’ starving.”

While Ian hid the sex toy upstairs, Mickey made Pop-Tarts. And Franny, being the good girl she was, sat there through all that and quietly sulked. 

Then, after nibbling on her breakfast for some time, she stood up resolutely.

“I’m gonna go bustanut,” she stated loudly, nearly prompting Lip to choke on his coffee.

He watched as Mickey cackled, and shook his head.

“Debbie’s gonna kill you both, you know?”

Mickey just smirked. “Can’t wait to see her try.”

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

in too deep (part 5) - jules

jules x reader

TW: drugging

warnings: beating, homophobia, threat of death, i think that’s pretty much it??

notes: ooooohhh we’re getting closer to the end! not that i’m excited for this to end, but i’m just excited for you guys to see it

i really hope that me putting homophobia in this story doesn’t make you guys think i’m homophobic bc that’s the farthest thing from true. since i changed the gender of the mickey stand-in, i felt like it might be more interesting to add another dynamic into the story so it wasn’t just a word for word copy of the original except with a girl, bc that seems really one-dimensional to me. i feel like i need to put one of those things they have in movie credits like “the views in this film in no way reflect the views of the studio that produced it” kinda thing

also i think this may be my favorite part that i’ve written, bc if you didn’t notice, i’ve never left the reader’s perspective during the whole thing, so i had to improv a bit during the parts of the movie we didn’t get to see with mickey, and maybe i’m just a lil proud of myself :’)

******************************

for the first time since you came up with your brilliant plan to siphon the gas, you actually felt a glimmer of hope. jules was smart, she’d surely find a way out of the house; and she was damn loyal, too, so you knew there was no chance she’d leave you behind. 

sadly all those hopes were dashed when you heard the basement door creak open again. 

fuck, this whole plan was dependent on the fact that no one else came downstairs! your hands clammed up, your heart rate quickening as footsteps descended the stairs, stopping dead in their tracks once they reached the bottom. 

  “where the hell’d that little bitch go?” george roared, scanning every nook and cranny in the basement to see if jules was hiding anywhere. “answer me!”

you stayed silent, more out of fear than some sort of strategy. you quickly realized this was the wrong decision as george viciously backhanded you across the face. your head whipped to the side, eyes blinking back into focus from the impact. you felt something sticky on your lips and realized it was blood. 

  “you’re so angry,” you groaned. “why? just ‘cause you’re shooting blanks?” you pouted in mock sympathy. this sudden boost of confidence seemed to be a mistake as you saw george’s expression shift into a dangerously content one. 

  “i’m gonna rip your fuckin’ heart out.” your face dropped as he spoke. “i understand you not wantin’ to tell me where she is. in fact, if i were in your position i suppose i’d do the same. but god almighty i’m gonna watch ya’ die. i’m gonna hurt ya’.”

you were stunned into silence but you decided saying something, anything, would be better than nothing. “she’s gone, man. you just need to give it up.”

this seemed to strike a nerve in him. he turned towards you again and delivered another swift slap, knocking the wind out of you. he smacked you again, the back of your head knocking into the pole and causing your consciousness to fade for a moment. 

  “you think i’m full of hot air, don’t you? only good on roughin’ you up?” he asked rhetorically. “you know i worked as a door-to-door salesman for a few years? learned a lot, but the most important thing i learned was how to read people. and at the end of the day, you’re just an open book, sweetheart.”

the name sounded like poison dripping from his lips. it made you sick, that name belonged to jules. 

  “i know your type, believe you me, i’ve seen quite a few in my time. you see, you like to think you’re tough, strong, resilient, but at the end of the day, you just value her life above yours.” he laughed to himself. “am i right?”

he chuckled again when you didn’t answer. “that’s alright, you don’t have to answer, i know i’m right. well, you people are more loyal than i thought. guess i gotta give credit where credit’s due.”

  “fuck you.” you spat. “don’t fucking talk about her like that.” he stood up again, this time grabbing something from a shelf before making his way back to you. 

  “alright, no more pussyfootin’ around, time to get down to business.” he revealed the knife, positioning it under your ear as he prepared to slice it off. 

  “sheisn’tgoingtothecops!” you breathed out quickly, hoping he’d let you keep both ears with the statement. 

  “what? what’d you say?” he seemed caught of guard by the sudden admission, backing off of you. 

  “not yet, anyway.” you took a moment to catch your breath. “i told her to wait. yeah, we got a little meet up spot. now if i don’t show up there in an hour or so, then yeah, cops galore. you’re fucked, buddy. but, if i do show up, we just continue on our way like none of this happened.”

you took another shaky breath before you continued. “if we’re being honest here, i don’t want the cops involved any more than you do. y’know, the whole ‘not gainfully employed’ thing? the cops aren’t a huge fan of that one.”

george seemed to take this into consideration, nodding quietly to himself. “what about sweetiepie?”

  “her? i don’t give a fuck about her, she’s the whole reason i’m in this mess.” you winked at her, hoping she’d understand the message. 

george snapped the blade shut, producing the key from to the cuffs from his jacket pocket. 

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

  “any last words for this son of a bitch?” george asked gloria as he trained the pistol on you.

  “oh, i do wish you’d handled things differently. we could’ve had somethin’ beautiful here.” she smiled sadly, mourning what could’ve been. 

  “i’ll see you in hell,” george mumbled as he opened the door for you. you stepped into the doorway, only to stop dead in your tracks when you heard your girlfriend’s voice. shit.

  “stop, don’t kill her!” jules shouted from the top of the steps, baby doll in hand. “i will smash it!” she held it over the railing, dangling precariously above the hardwood flooring beneath. 

  “whew, that was close.” george laughed, closing the door behind you. “unhand my baby!” gloria whined. 

  “alright, missy, calm down. no one’s gonna get hurt.” he kept the gun aimed at your head, but gloria quickly pried it out of his hands and took a shot at jules. she crouched to shield herself from the bullet that thankfully missed, but in doing so let go of the baby that plummeted to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces. 

  “get your ass down here or i’ll blow her brains out!” george shouted gruffly as jules descended the staircase. she ran to you, hugging you close and helping you to stand on your injured leg. 

gloria rushed out of the room, bloody pieces of ceramic in hand as george turned back to you. “look what you gone and did. what did i do to deserve you two?”

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

  “cooking’s a zen art for my dear gloria. i’ve found there’s a method to it: the more upset she is, the bigger the dish it takes to pull her out.” george explained. “needless to say, i think the two of you just summoned up a banquet.”

the two of you had been crudely duct-taped to some chairs in the dining room, forced to listen to the stuffy dialogue between the husband and wife. “why? why do you keep her down there?” jules asked. 

  “it’s not what you think.” he looked over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t listening. “my gloria, she’s always wanted a child. unfortunately, the good lord did not have that in his plans for us. so, i had to take matters into my own hands.”

  “oh, so you kidnapped her.” jules stated bluntly. george glared at her, but continued his explanation. 

  “as you get older, things get... complicated, and i swear to god i had no ill intentions. i just wanted to make my wife happy.” he smiled. “and she was for a bit, until she started to remind her of what she couldn’t have. she asked me to make her go away, but i couldn’t bring myself do that, so the basement is our compromise.” 

  “dinner is served!” gloria announced, wheeling in a cart full of dishes of shepherd’s pie. she placed one on everyone’s plate before she sat down. they quickly said grace before digging into their food. 

  “so are you guys gonna kill us or...? what’s the deal?” jules asked matter-of-factly. you wanted to nudge her shoulder and ask her what in the hell made her so bold, but you didn’t want to cause a scene. 

  “george, you didn’t tell them?” gloria asked confusedly. “i wanted to make ‘em squirm a bit,” he smirked. 

  “t-tell us what?” you cursed yourself for stuttering but you couldn’t help it, it came out when you were anxious. 

  “we’re not gonna kill you.” george mumbled, almost sounding disappointed. “i said we’re not gonna kill ‘ya, what are you deaf?” you stifled a grin at jules, not wanting to change their decision to set you free. “we’ve decided that, despite your piss-poor behavior, the logistics of it just don’t make no sense for us.”

  “sooner or later someone’s gonna come lookin’ for you two. now, i can hide a body like the easter bunny hides an egg, but the two of you have been sweatin’, spittin’, and pissin’ all over this place.” he paused to take a sip of his drink. “anywho, i’m bound to miss a spot. i figure we have a better chance of hitting the road. we’ll give it 48 hours, tip off the police, they’ll come by and pick ya’ up. i reckon you’ll do some time for whatever the hell you two did, but at least you’ll still be drawing breath. so congratulations, you should be thankful. you just won the damn lottery.”

jules spared a glance at you as if to say, what now? “take your time eatin’ you got another couple days in those chairs.” george muttered as he took another bite of his meal. 

screw it, you thought. we’re hungry and going to jail in the next two days, what harm could a nice meal do? you both picked up your forks and knives and tucked in to the plate in front of you. you nearly let out a moan in satisfaction as the food hit your tongue. you scooped up more greedily as you had no clue if and when the next time you’d get fed would be. 

  “wait,” jules swallowed the food in her mouth. “what’s gonna happen to her?” gloria glanced over to george, waiting for the answer to the question as well.

  “well, i’m sure they’ll put her some place nice. these orphanages, i hear they’re like five-star resorts.” george answered. 

  “does that upset you?” gloria turned to jules, a smile of mock empathy on her face. “anything’s better than down there.” jules mumbled. 

  “you got a heart of gold, jules. is your full name julia?” jules nodded in response. “my mother’s name was julia. she had a good heart, too, you remind me of her.”

  “she died of cancer when i was real little. it was a slow, painful process, but i was with her every step of the way!” she grinned as her husband blew her a kiss. “the day before she died, she told me to look in the closet, that i’d find a special surprise for me in there. it was a package, wrapped up nice and pretty, with a tiny card with my name on it. she insisted i opened it, so i wiped away my tears, tore open the paper and there it was. a doll.” 

everything stilled. every sound, the scraping of cutlery on the plate, the sound of everyone breathing, even the breeze blowing through the window decided this was a nice time to take a break. 

  “she said it was a magic doll,” she continued. “that no matter how sad i became, and believe me, i became very sad, i’d always have him with me. my ethan.”

your gut instincts finally kicked in as you spat out the food that was in your mouth, the gross pile of chewed up beef and potatoes looking oddly blurry to you. jules looked equally as mortified, probably even more since she was the one who brought about the end of the magic doll. 

  “and she was right; he was magical. and you took him away from me.” she grinned her creepy stepford wife grin once more. jules mumbled something but everything sounded miles away from you as your head swam. 

  “wha-what is this?” you slurred, the bright colors of the table morphing into one another. 

  “this is a drug overdose, y/n.” he chuckled when you sluggishly turned your head towards him. “i know, i know, i fibbed about lettin’ you live, but see, you had a veritable pharmacy in that bag of yours. you two just munched down enough pills to put a bull to bed,” his voice muffled into indiscernible nonsense, though you knew he was still speaking. 

  “f-fuck you,” jules managed, still keeping her head up. you, on the other hand, were slumped over, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. 

george got up from his seat, pulling your head up by your hair. “not so tough now, are ya’?” he jested. 

jules muttered something in your defense, but as soon as your head dropped, you were down for the count; just missing the hopeful ring of the doorbell, possibly signaling you might live to see another day. 

******************************

i should probably put a link to previous parts at the top but i have no clue how to do that lol

tags: @emmyrosee​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @willyourecognisemee​ @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass​

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Little Peach, Chapter 12

Notes: As always, thanks to my amazing editor, Drucilla!

Felt stupidly proud of a gag I did here. A few more chapters and we'll be done!

Summary: Just when it seem Mickey was at peace, a fateful reunion may put the secret he vowed to keep in terrible danger.

Bright and early the next morning, it was clear that a few changes had taken place. Pete wasn't seen barking orders or shoving around the new guards – in fact, no one could recall seeing him for quite some time. Marsupilami and Maurice hadn't returned until late that night, and now that the sun had risen, they decided to take on the day with vigor knowing the information they held. They knew Mickey would be making his routine patrols around the palace, no doubt still angry and upset over his frustrations. That would be no more! No,  Marsupilami would not let his friend wallow any further! So with sunlight basking over the capital, Marsupilami slammed the front doors of the palace open, Maurice right behind him. “Mickey! I know how you must be feeling, but starting now, things are going to be different, so you better pay attention!”

“G'morning!” Mickey chirped, one hundred and ten percent pleasant, as he used his needle-sword to take care of some weeds that had popped up around the gates. Pluto was with him, helping paw the dirt to help plant seeds, and his tail wagged, happy to see his master happy. “What can I pay attention to?”

Marsupilami paused, his finger and tail, which had both previously been in the air, starting to droop. “Uh... hang on, weren't you all mad and stuffy and cranky before?”

“What's to be mad about?” Mickey asked, twirling his makeshift weapon around like one would a baton when leading the happiest parade on earth. “It's a beautiful morning, there's peace in the capital, and I've got all my friends here!”

Marsupilami and Maurice exchanged a confused look, with Maurice merely shrugging his shoulders. “Didn't you say you were mad at us for not picking up the slack? Not that I'm complaining about you being all 'zippity doo dah', it's just...you kinda knocked the wind out of my sails here...”

“Aw, how could I ever be mad at my pals?” Mickey put a hand to his chest, sighing deeply. “It's thanks to you all that I'm here, and I can't imagine life being any better than it is now!” Of course his friends had no way of knowing that he'd gotten kinda-sorta-maybe engaged-to-be-engaged to Minnie, and he wasn't going to spill the beans right away. This was a private affair between a boy and a girl, after all! But the more he thought of it, the happier he was, and he made up his own tune as he continued to whack the weeds.

To Marsupilami, Mickey was riding the very fine line of being relieved Mickey was okay and Mickey's utter cheerfulness getting annoying. “Sooo...not feeling too bummed about being so short anymore?” Part of him was tempted to check Mickey's breakfast to see if someone had added something extra – how much booze could a little guy take before he got this plastered?

“Things won't stay the same forever, no sir!” Mickey waved Pluto down so the pup could lower his head and get some well-deserved ear scratches. “I just learned how to be patient, that's all! And the best things in life are worth the wait!” Like a beautiful girl on your arm – and at that point, with the Lucky Hammer as a pseudo-wedding present, he'd actually be able to have her on his arm!

“And the Oni King isn't that big a deal either?”

At that, Mickey's joy did take a minor break. He blinked slowly, startled he'd forgotten something so major. “Huh...well, no, of course he is. But!” He was eager to return to sheer enthusiasm. “One day he'll be gone too, so patience is our friend again!”

“Oh, he's gone all right.”  Marsupilami cut him off, hoping to actually put the first time he ever worked hard into something meaningful. “Mickey, that's what I was all gung-ho to tell you about. The Oni King has gone into hiding!”

Again, this derailed Mickey's seemingly endless train of cheer. He faced Marsupilami, puzzlement clear on his little face. “What are you talking about?”

Finally! Marsupilami cleared his throat. “Well, when you rightfully pointed out how little we do, my esteemed associate and I-” Maurice thumped his chest with both fists, “took it upon ourselves to itch some scratches. Namely, solve a mystery, and rewrite history! We buckled down and did actual work for the first time in our short yet full lives, and-”

“Exactly how long does this go on for?” Mickey interrupted, raising his hand like a child in school.

Marsupilami huffed. “Fine, I'll skip the speech. What am I but the comic relief? Anyway, we found some of the former guards who used to work here and retired...they're still kept in the loop about palace workings, in case they ever need to take up the sword again. They told me that nobody's heard from the Oni King in months! In fact, it's been actual years since anybody in the capital's actually seen the guy – he used to send his minions to do all his dirty work for him, but up until Pete gave a few ones a good thrashing, that stopped too!”

Stranger and stranger! Mickey cupped his chin in his hand, unsure what to do with this new information yet he knew it had to be vital. “Gosh, that's odd...but the Oni are still doing his work all around Japan! They had orders to attack my village straight from him!”

“We sure know it! The Princess is still getting asked to help people across the country, and it sure does sound like they're obeying his word. But no one else has seen him either, none of his lowlife lackeys have! How can they work for him if they don't know where he is?”

Mickey began to pace around in a circle, and Pluto watched him until he got dizzy. “Y'know... some of the Oni I encountered on my journey here? They didn't really want to do what the Oni King said, but felt like they had no choice. If the Oni King has vanished, how would he know if any of his men are slacking off? It's way more than paranoia, they have to be communicating somehow!”

“It's all hush-hush!” With that, Maurice made a zipper motion across his mouth. “The retired samurai told us not to tell any civilians, since they don't want to cause a panic. There has to be a reason the Oni King disappeared... it's not like he took any big losses, and last I checked, the war between us was still at a stalemate when he did vanish.”

“Hmmm...” Mickey crossed his arms, trying to dig through all the guesses in his head. It felt like the world's most complicated puzzle, and none of the pieces he had were fitting together. “Couldn't be an injury or sickness, could it? Pete joined the guards several months ago, he definitely would have healed up by then. So that leaves three big questions – Where is the Oni King? Why is he hiding? And how is he communicating with the other Oni?”

“Too bad we don't have a When, What, or Who, that'd really fill up a literary narrative.” Marsupilami quipped, and as always whenever he joked a little too close to the page, he got nothing but squints in return. “Nobody ever appreciates comedic genius. But if we could find the answers to these questions, maybe we could turn the tide in this war, and once the Oni King is defeated, the Princess wouldn't have a reason to hide the Lucky Hammer!”

“What makes you think we can solve this when no one else in the palace has?” Mickey pointed out.

“Cause they're not us! And we've got...” He counted on his fingers. “A guy who's been sheltered all his life, a mute gorilla, an abandoned dog, a rooster who is as oblivious as my tail is long, and me, a man who has only committed to one day of pure honest work.” That hung in the air for far longer than it should have. “Huh. When you put it out in the open like that, we may have a problem or six.”

It should have been a lot to worry about, and yet Mickey found himself still rather relaxed at the end of it all. “Aw gee, Marsupilami, I appreciate the help but... if there's nothin' we can really do about it, why worry? The Oni King will never get the Lucky Hammer, I can promise you that – especially if he never comes out of hiding, the big coward! And I'm willin' to wait as long as it takes for either him to show up or the Hammer to be in my hands!”

Marsupilami really doubted the Oni King was a coward, but right now, it was a better answer than having nothing at all. “Maybe he really is just a scaredy-cat.” He mused, a playful grin on his face. “Maybe he's hiding under his blankets and trembling in the dark! Just a big baby, whining and wailing about how scared he – OW!”

Maurice had been trying to mime Pete's arrival for a couple of seconds and had gone ignored, which was part of the reason Pete clocked Marsupilami upside the head with a closed fist. He was grinding his teeth so hard Mickey thought he saw bits of tooth falling out of his mouth. “Did we hire a guard or a comedian? GO CLEAN UP THE STABLES WITH YOUR BARE HANDS!”

Marsupilami rubbed his sore head, the bump there feeling so big he thought it'd never heal. “Sheesh, I'd say you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but do you even have a right side?” The answer to that was Pete grabbing Marsupilami by the tail, clutching his shoulder, and then spinning him fast enough that the jokester was tied up with his own tail.

Pete then tossed the tied-up bundle into Maurice's hands. “If I see either of you slouching for a second, I'll have you clean the castle floors with your own tongue! NOW BEAT IT!”

Maurice used one hand to slap it over Marsupilami's mouth to hide a quip, the other hand to carry him, and he ran off to do as he was told before they could land in further trouble. Pete inhaled very loudly through his nostrils, exhaled just the same, but when he turned to Mickey, he had on a gigantic smile. “Hey there, Mickey! How's it going?”

“It's... going... well...?” Mickey answered slowly, knowing the mood whiplash that occurred right in front of him probably didn't mean anything good. “And how are you...?”

“Oh, I'm swell, but more importantly, how were you things and the Princess last night?” Pete aired an elbow nudge and a wink-wink. “You get a little closer? You get a little nicer? You learn a thing or two about a thing or two?”

“Boy, did I ever.” Mickey mumbled a bit shyly, his cheeks reddening. He waved to Pluto again, this time climbing atop the pup's head so he could try to address Pete a bit more evenly. “At first, I thought the plan was crazy, but we got along real well, you could say! So I ought to thank you for it.” For all the embarrassment and mortification, Mickey couldn't say he regretted that night, nor would he have done anything different. He had the heart of the girl he liked, which made him feel ten feet tall, or what he assumed feeling ten feet tall felt like.

“You can do much more than that, old buddy old pal old friend of mine!” Pete got down on one knee, helping the conversation feel more level. “You can tell me where the Lucky Hammer is! So I – you can use it right away!” He then paused, only now realizing something. “Wait... if she told you where it is, how come you're still a pint-sized pipsqueak?”

Mickey found himself surprised as well, if only because of the gall of Pete's response. “Of course I'm not going to use it now! Sure, she told me, but I made a promise not tell anyone else. The only reason she told me is because I might...someday, sorta, might be her...y'know...husband.” Getting to the word had been a difficult hike, and he could feel his face flushing again. Saying it in his head was endless fun, but saying it to another person made him feel awkward. “A-anyway! If I used it now, why, it'd be like stealing from her.”

Pete's eyelid twitched, and a few veins began to rise up underneath his flesh. It was like it was taking every single shred of will-power not to lash out at Mickey, and even then, it was making him tremble with anger. “And...you're...okay with that? What if she doesn't marry you until she's old and gray? What if she meets someone else and changes her mind? YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHERE IT IS!”

Little by little, Mickey was starting to suspect Pete's good intentions towards last night's date. “A samurai never breaks a promise, you should know that better than anyone! I don't mind waiting as long as it takes. I trust the Princess, and she trusts me, and that's all I need.” That, and perhaps an escape route, judging from Pete's violent nose breathing. “I'm not telling anyone! C'mon, Pluto, why don't we patrol around the palace?”

Pluto yipped, and once Mickey had a good hold on his ears started to make a run for it. Pete reached up, grabbing his helmet, and yanking it down so he could scream into it until his lungs ached. He then pushed it back up, not once letting his head be uncovered, and started to chase after pup and master. “Mickey, hang on! I don't think you thought this through! MICKEY, YOU GOTTA LISTEN TO ME!”

There had to be something to make Mickey give up the secret, but for once, Pete was fresh out of ideas.

~*~

Panchito had been assigned to polish the armor and sharpen the swords, and he was working through them all very quickly. He wanted to know all about Mickey's progress, and hoped to see the results himself. The plan had been so brilliant, how could it not work? The two made for a very adorable couple, and Panchito wished them nothing but the best. He really did like Mickey, as his honest and earnest attitude was incredibly endearing. He couldn't even imagine Mickey hitting on a bunch of girls without caring about their feelings – unlike a certain parrot who just cared about his own fun. Not that Panchito cared.

Panchito didn't care that Jose loathed commitment and wouldn't even give it a chance, of course not, he thought to himself as he ran the sharpening sword across the length of the sword in his hand. He also didn't care that Jose probably felt the same way about Panchito that he did for every pretty face he came across. He really didn't care that he'd dedicated his life to learning under Jose and Jose didn't even bat an eyelash, look at how little he was caring! Not a single ounce of care to be found here! Jose could do whatever he wanted, it was his life, who was Panchito to want some of it, not that he didn't, because he didn't care, HE DIDN'T CARE ONE ITTY BITTY – crack!

Panchito looked down at the broken sword, wincing as he saw his reflection in the other half on the floor. “Maybe I need a break,” he said out loud, trying to scoot the broken piece under a rug. Yes, he needed some fresh air to clear his mind, to completely empty it of Jose. He wouldn't think of that troublesome man anymore, from here on out!

He left the storage room, turned a corner and -

Ka – An arm suddenly thrust out to his side - be - Panchito's back hit the wall – don! Revealing Jose calmly and casually pinning Panchito in place.

Reasonably enough, Panchito could now think of nothing but Jose, save for maybe why his heart was going into overdrive. If Jose knew what sort of internal fluttering he had caused, he said nothing of it. “Panchito, my good friend and fellow guard, may I have a moment of your time?”

At that moment Jose could have asked Panchito for a kidney and Panchito would have ripped it out. As it was, he mutely nodded, finding words difficult to find.

“Very good!” Jose chirped. “I have thought long and hard about what you said to me before, and how my behavior affected you. You asked me to be your senpai, and that is a very serious thing, one I never should have taken lightly. I offer not only my apologies, but a way to make up for my grievances!”

“Okay,” was all Panchito could get out, half listening and half focusing on how close Jose's face was to his own. Here he had thought he'd gotten over his fainting spells, but consciousness threatened to leave when Jose took both his hands in his own.

“I know exactly what I need to do in order to make you happy, and so, as your senpai, it is time I started behaving like one! Teaching you all that you need to know, and ensuring that my student-  nay, my kouhai, gets the best education I can provide! You'll be the only one I ever teach these things to, and I say we start right away!”

Had the divine heavens opened up, or was the choir of angels only in Panchito's head? “You mean it? You really want to be my senpai, and just mine?”

“Yours and yours alone,” Jose answered, confident that he knew the key to unlocking Panchito's future happiness. “And the first step in doing so, in teaching you all I know... is how to land you a cute girlfriend!”

Nevermind, the divine heavens definitely hadn't opened up – or the angels had fallen into the fiery pity below. “Eh?”

“Every man is satisfied when there's a lovely face around!” Jose said with a laugh, shaking Panchito's hands up and down. “I'll give you all my flirting techniques! With your face and my tricks, you'll have your own share of lords and ladies to last you forever and a half! Maybe we could even go on double dates! Doesn't that sound great?”

There was only so much Panchito could take. Wordlessly, he slipped his hands out of Jose's, and turned to walk off, his body sagging as if he was carrying thirty bags of heavy rich across his back. Jose looked at his empty hands, his mind boggled at what had gone wrong. “Panchito? What's the matter?”

“What's the matter?” Panchito repeated, so lost in his heartbreak that he didn't hear the rapid footsteps approaching from further up in the hallway. “What's the matter?! Oooh, Jose Carioca, you really want to know what's the matter!” He whipped back around, every feather standing on end. “Then you had better listen and listen good, because this is the last time I'm ever going to tell you!”

Jose was very interested to know what it was Panchito had to say, and even more when the chance was denied, seeing as how Pluto, Mickey, and Pete had run him over.

“I'M NOT TELLIN' YOU, PETE!” Mickey hollered, not realizing who Pluto had pushed over.

“YOU SPILL YOUR GUTS OR I'LL DO IT FOR YOU!” Pete yelled right back, knowing full well who he ran over and not caring one iota.

Jose watched the two of them go in and out of several rooms as the chase went on, before quietly approaching the flattened rooster. “Boy, ever since you and your friends came here, things have certainly gotten more lively. By the way, I think it'd do us both a lot of good if you weren't knocked out.” He waited, but alas, Panchito was K.O.'d by something other than his own crazed emotions for once. “Another mystery for another day, I see.” He hoisted Panchito over his shoulder, and gently pat his back. “Okay, so flirting isn't for you. I don't see why, but I'm not going to give up. I'll find some way to be your senpai properly and make you happy.” Of course it would be easier if Panchito had just up and told him, but what was life without some challenges along the way?

Speaking of challenges, what was going on with Pete and Mickey? He decided it would be a fine way to kill some time until Panchito woke up, so at a walking pace, he followed the two around, not letting go of Panchito for a moment. There was an idea of carrying him bridal style, but that came with the risk of Panchito waking up, seeing how he was being held, and fainting. Funny how Jose could guess Panchito's thinking so easily while knowing him for so little. They were certainly two of a kind, weren't they? This was why he felt confident he'd find Panchito's happiness.

Another person came across the great chase, but Goofy wasn't going to add onto the train. “Hey, fellas!” He called out as he watched them all go back and forth across hallways and rooms. “The Princess wants us all in the throne room for a big meetin'! … Fellas?” Not a single one of his words touched the intended, so it appeared he would have to do things the old fashioned way. He waited until Pluto was close enough, and then stuck out his leg.

Pluto tripped over his leg, causing Mickey to go flying onto the floor, with Pete also tripping and landing atop of Pluto. Jose managed to avoid the pile thanks to his leisurely pace. “There we go! Like I was sayin, we all gotta meet up in the throne room, okay?”

Pluto whined, managing to claw his way out from under Pete, his tail now so flat he doubted it would wag for days. Mickey dizzily sat up, unsure who to be mad at first. “A meeting? What for? Has something happened?”

“A retired samurai came to the capital just now,” Goofy answered, offering a hand to help Pete up, but it was slapped away. “And he says he needs help lookin' for someone. So the Princess wants us all to come meet him, so we can help find whoever it is. The more eyes we got searching, the bigger our chances will be, she figures.”

“We gotta waste time lookin' for some dope?” Pete growled, though his eyes remained on Mickey. “I don't have time for this!”

“Orders is orders,” Goofy replied, leading the charge with a one-two step. “C'mon, can't keep her waiting!”

Mickey chose to walk on his own two feet this time, though he could feel Pete's eyes burning holes through his skin. “Knock it off, Pete! No matter what you say or what you do, I will not tell you where the Lucky Hammer is! In fact, there is nothing and no one that could make me want to snatch it!”

Pete muttered a few threats and obscenities under his breath, but it was clear Mickey wasn't going to budge. The group gathered in front of the doors to the throne room, where Marsupilami and Maurice had been waiting and ready to thank whoever this mystery person was from preventing their stable duty. Goofy opened the doors, and all of the samurai automatically bowed. “Here we are, your highness!”

Minnie, all dressed up in her regal robes and with Clarabelle at her side, bowed her head in return, sitting atop the throne with her piercing cold stare. “It's good to see you all. As Goofy has no doubt told you, all of your help is needed for one of our own. Though they have long since stopped serving the royal family, we owe them a debt so great that helping them in return brings us much joy. Sir Mickey, no doubt you know them as Lord and Lady Duck-”

The next few seconds were a blur, as Mickey saw his mother and father, they saw him, Daisy screamed in joy and ran down to catch her son, bowling all of the samurai over, Donald tried to catch his wife and hoist her away, she kicked and hollered to be let go, and everyone was a rightly confused mess.

“What are you two doing here?” Mickey asked, having been seconds away from snatching, his eyes almost popping out at the sight of those he left behind.

“I could very well ask you the same thing!” Donald demanded, trying to keep Daisy from making a scene with his good arm.

“MY BAAAAAABYYYYY-”

“We've been looking all over for you! We thought all kinds of terrible things could've happened! That's why we came here to ask for help finding you!”

“MICKEYYYY, MOMMY'S SO HAPPYYYY-”

“So you better have a good reason for why you upset Daisy all this time! She's nearly molted over what you did!”

“PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN'T GET A GIRLFREIIIIIND-”

It's not like Mickey wasn't happy to see his family, because he was and he had missed them terribly. But he had vowed not to see them again until he was of proper size, so in a way, they were making him break that promise. That... and this was embarrassing on a number of levels, seeing as how everyone in the room was doing their best to avoid looking at the scene Daisy was making, complete with innocent whistling and thumb twiddling.

Mickey cleared his throat, hoping to capture control by any means necessary. “Well...I'm here, so you found me. I'm working as a samurai, protecting the Princess and the people of the capital! I'm here to become the sort of man you both can be proud of, so you can go home now and wait for that to happen.”

“GO HOME?!” Daisy had finally wrestled free of Donald's grip, her face soaked with tears of relief. “Without you? Absolutely not! We're all going home as a family, so things can go back to the way they used to be!”

Donald wasn't sure that exact line of thinking was what Mickey wanted to hear. “Besides, you're too small to be a samurai, you don't even know how to fight.”

“I've been learning!” Mickey countered. “Panchito's been teaching me all about swordsmanship, and...” As he glanced over at the unconscious rooster, he realized this was probably not the best time to introduce his friends. “Wow, this is just bad timing everywhere.”

“We appreciate your help, Princess,” Donald headed over to Mickey, intending to pick him up. “But we'll be going now.”

“No, we won't!” Mickey snapped, growing more irritated the longer this lasted. “A samurai must never leave their master until they're officially dismissed, and I plan on working here for a long time!”

“You are not a samurai!” Donald barked right back. “You're just a little boy with a sewing needle!”

“Stop treating me like a child!”

“You are a child!”

“No, you made it very clear I'm not your child!” Suddenly Mickey was filled with such white-hot anger that it was difficult to think of anything else but this anger, and things he'd held deep in his chest began to spill over, things he wasn't even aware he'd been holding back. “You said so yourself, I'm not part of your family! Ever since I came to your house, you never wanted me, so why should I believe you want me now? You only need me back because of Mother!”

It was impossible to pretend to ignore the conversation now, with all eyes staring accusingly at Donald, who could feel himself shrinking under their gazes. He nervously tugged at his collar, fully aware he had no rebuttal. “Well... um... w-when I said that, I was very angry...”

“I do need you back!” Daisy whined, trying to hold out her hands so Mickey would jump into them as he always did. “I've missed you so much! You have to come home and get out of danger!”

But this time Mickey didn't run into the loving embrace of his mother. “And do what, nothing for the rest of my days? You never let me help, you never let me outside, I might as well just be some stuffed doll to you! Both of you only cared about what you wanted, and never about what I wanted! I'm not going back just to make you both feel better! Like it or not, I'm an adult, and I'm going to make my own decisions! And one of those decisions is doing my job! Pluto!”

Pluto barked, and lowered his head for Mickey to climb on. If these people were enemies of his master, then they were Pluto's enemies too. Donald and Daisy protested loudly, he with angry demands and she with ear-shattering wailing, but the dog was much too quick for their nimble fingers, already bolting down the hallway. No matter how much he heard his name being shouted, Mickey wouldn't turn back for anything.

Donald and Daisy looked at each other, at a loss for what to do – in fact, almost everyone in the room weren't sure what to say in this extremely awkward moment. Even Minnie's usual icy exterior was melting under the heat of this pressure, using her trademark fan to cool herself down instead of hiding herself. This hadn't been how she intended to meet her future in-laws. “Um... well... until this is resolved... I'm sure we can find a place for you two to stay...?” Murmurs of agreement were echoed by all, along with shuffling of toes and clearing of throats.

The only one not so perturbed by the family drama was Pete, who cupped his chin and began to smile darkly. As far as he was concerned, things weren't so hopeless after all.

[formerlyknownasgreyladywaiting]

I was tagged by the ever lovely and friendly @teddybeardoctorr 😊 thanks, sweetie!

1. Who is your idol?

Billy. He’s everyone’s Idol; the one we all need, and probably don’t deserve.

2. If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Thailand. As much as I miss Europe and Israel, someplace new would be best, and it looks so beautiful and fun.

3. What decorates the walls of your room?

A blackout poetry print, a painting titled “Empathy” made by my amazing late aunt, a Discworld cut paper art piece, a print of Abraham wrestling with G-d, and a canvas I had made of a sign at the Central Park Zoo.

4. Favorite color combinations?

I know it gives off supervillain vibes, but I don’t care- I love purple and black.

5. What’s on the top of your bucket list?

Whitewash, partly open door, mean teacher from high school. An oldie, but a goodie.

6. Height?

5’2 on a good day.

7. Favourite animal?

I was going to say “polar bears,” but then I started thinking about the last time someone asked me what my favorite animals was, and I realized that it’s definitely still the ankylosaurus. They were just so perfect for their evolutionary niche!

8. What’s the last song you listened to?

Dissolve by Absofacto

9. Last movie you saw in theaters?

Avengers: Endgame. Next up: Zombieland 2- Double Tap!

10. Comfort food or favorite food?

Open-faced egg bagel, scallion cream cheese, whitefish salad, capers, thin slices of red onion, and a lot of thinly sliced lox. I’ll be smelly, but it’s worth it!

11. Why did the chicken cross the road?

I dream of a world where all birds can cross all roads without having their motivations questioned.

12. Book you’re currently reading?

Small Favor by Jim Butcher.

Also, Hell by Robert Olen Butler, but I’m not really enjoying it, so it’s been on the back burner for a little while.

Sigh... and if I’m being completely honest, Bookjumper by Mechthild Glaser, but it was a freebie and just lives in my car on the off chance that I have absolutely nothing else to read.

13. Your favorite season and three things about it?

Season 1 of Firefly

Simon’s quick thinking.

Kaylee’s innocence and brilliance.

Wash. Just everything about Wash.

14. You are about to get into a fight, what song comes on as your soundtrack?

Fashion Nugget by Cake

15. If you won the lottery tomorrow, what’s the first thing you would buy yourself?

My parents’ home. They’ve been talking about selling it for a few years, but the market is kinda shit, so if I bought it, they could move at their leisure and I could donate it.

16. What fictional would you want to live in?

Discworld: magic and some tech, and parts of the world that still need discovering.

17. If you had to learn a completely new language, what would it be?

Arabic or Python, I’m torn on this one.

18. Do you wear socks to bed?

No, I’m one of those “everything under the covers except for one foot which must be cool” kinda sleepers. Socks would just mess up my whole system.

19. If you could choose only one celebrity or athlete to make out with, who would it be?

I mean, I really dig Chris Evans but, to be honest, I’m far more interested in what it would be like to kiss @greyknighterotica ...

20. If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Probably the remake of Dawn of the Dead - it really is incredibly entertaining.

21. Who’s you’re favorite celebrity/player and what’s your favorite thing about them?

Tim Curry. He is an amazingly versatile actor: heroes, villains, dopes, pedagogs, singing, dancing, voice work... he’s an icon.

22. Do you collect anything?

Books, board games, fandoms.

23. Favorite smell?

The phó restaurant near where I went as an undergrad. Cilantro, tallow, onions, garlic, tea, sriracha ... I can feel the tension leaving my shoulders just thinking about it.

Tagging: @winchesterperfection @mickey-the-red @ndb-123 @midorifox43 @toisse1 and anyone else who wants to chime in!

[lynxgriffin]

The boys are back in town

KH3 commentary continues! We’re getting closer to the end now!! Under the cut for spoilers!

WHELP OKAY as we approach the ending sooner and sooner WE CONTINUE ONWARD

TO SAN FRANSOKYO

I’m excited for this world because I looove BH6 BUT I’M ALSO NERVOUS

HEEEEERE WE GO

Cosmopolitan??

Sora: EVERYTHING’S SO SHINY AND COOL :DDD

I love everything on this world so far

OH LAWD HE COMIN’

I love…Baymax…

Wasabi: Damn fake news!

Excuse U I think we beat them pretty good

Sora: Look Fred I’ve seen and been actual monsters I’d totally buy you were one

Sora YOU DORKUS

Never tell me the odds!

NO LET THE CUTE BOYS AND GALS HELP

Tadashi :((((

Sora: I dunno, that sounds suspiciously computers

MORE MINIGAMES

Probably didn’t do that obstacle course great, but oh well, managed it

Gogo all WHEN DO I LEARN TO RUN UP BUILDINGS

It’s magic, Gogo, it’s just magic

And then they all learned from Sora’s example of BE OP AND KICK ASS

STITCH SUMMON

Now we’re all 20% cooler

Man an actual news report treating a Heartless invasion like it actually would appear

Whole lotta fighting on the side of buildings here!

HEARTLESS KAIJU

Well that was a fun boss battle there

TIME TO LEARN TO FIST BUMP SORA

ba-lalalaa

Oh no now everything’s sweet and perfect HOW LONG CAN THIS LAST

OH NOOO

*clutches chest*

Oh well that ain’t good

Slooooow headtilt

Ummm I can’t target this scary moving block of pixels thing

THIS CITY IS TOO DANG BIG FOR MY TEENY TINY BRAIN

SHEESH OKAY finally got everyone for that, that took awhile

OH NO WHO’S THIS

Whooooo isssss iiiiit

DATAKU? OR REPLIKU?

Seems like it should be Dataku what with…the theming here

Sora come on that wasn’t Riku he didn’t have the right haircut

Man that’s the kinda boss battle that’s gonna hurt a person’s eyes

Sora: Are we seriously still on that kick again??

THIS IS GETTING CONFUSING

Okay seriously, is this Dataku, Repliku or Pastku?? I’M NOT QUITE FOLLOWING YET

Sora: Seriously guys this is total BS

OH NO WE’LL HAVE TO FIGHT BAYMAX 1.0 WON’T WE

OH HI Pete and Maleficent we haven’t seen you in awhile

Is Somebodykunort finally recognizing the fact that they’re maybe someone to follow

WELL SOMEBODY TELL ME FROM WHEN BECAUSE I’D LIKE TO KNOW

Fred is so genre-savvy

Okay those are definitely the blox things from Re:Coded

YUP I WAS RIGHT IT’S EVIL BAYMAX

DARKMAX

Oh I don’t like at all where this is going

I like his scary cube claw tho

Well that was appropriately epic

Just put another good chip in him??

Or not :( Sob poor Hiro

Uuuugh just that offscreen CRUNCH

OH WE DID FIX HIM

NOW THERE’S DOUBLE BAYMAX

WOW WE’RE DONE that was a heck of a deal

I’M KIND OF NERVOUS ABOUT WHATEVER’S NEXT

Oh that is bad news

Oh of course Sora’s gonna run off to realm of darkness THIS WON’T END BADLY AT ALL

LET’S JUST JUMP INTO THE GATE WHERE WE DON’T KNOW IT GOES IT’S FINE

HEY IT’S OUR HOME

*gasps* MASTER KEEPER

SORA WRONG TAKE DONALD AND GOOFY WITH YOU

EVERY TIME YOU DO THIS

TERRIBLE THINGS HAPPEN

YOU WILL NOT BE FINE YOU DUMB CHILD TAKE YOUR GUARDIANS WITH YOU

*tears out hair* jdsakldjal they NEVER LEARN

OH NO IT’S DARKQUA ISN’T IT

Well time to wreck Mickey’s shit absolutely I guess

“GREAT NOW I HAVE GUILT”

OH. OH HI REPLIKU

Oh damn here we go

Sora: HEY GUYS WHAT’S HAPPENI—ohhh

OMG IT’S THAT KEYBLADE

The power to explode everything

LMAO Aqua just zipping over the water like that

Oooof okay okay okay now it’s a proper versus Aqua battle, this is gonna be a toughie

Well that was indeed challenging but we managed it!

Aqua noooooooooo COME BACK TO US QUEEN

TAKE MY HAND I’M A STRANGER IN PARADISE

Yessss aaaaaaaaa

OH NO SOB

WE SAVED THE QUEEN

WE DID IT

SHE SO RELIEVED TO NOT BE IN HELL ANYMORE

Wow okay, back at Radiant Garden

Benched Nort Buddies

Demyx: Backstabbing sounds like a lot of work actually :/

REALLY, Vexen? You’re doing the actual backstabby for atonement??

Xehaort this is what you get for splitting your soul 13 ways, you never agree on anything ever again

DID YOU REALLY JUST SAY DEMYX TIME? DID YOU??

IDK about that in this universe you probably could grow bodies on a body tree

Ienzo: TF is happening here

IT’S SURROGATE DAD

OH NO IENZO. OH NO :(((

*clutches chest* They reconcile…

ARE WE REALLY GETTING TO WAKE UP VEN NOW??

Aqua please don’t blame yourself, you were in hell

Castle Oblivion lookin’ good anyway

THAT WAS REALLY FUKKIN COOL

OMG I’m so happy…I love Land of Departure…

THERE HE IS

THERE’S THE BOY

Ohhhhhh noooooooo

The OTHER The Boy

Venty-Wenty, seriously??

PLAY AS THE QUEEN, PLAY AS THE QUEEN

THE POWER OF THE QUEEN COMPELS YOU

Sora: Can we get to the helping part now??

C’MON VEN WAKEY WAKEY EGGS AND BAKEY

It was in you aaaaaaall along

Lie down / Try not to cry / Cry a lot

SUNSHINE BOY IS HERE

FUCK YEAH

HE’S HERE THE SUNSHINE BOY IS HERE

And Vanyeetas just nopes out of there

Yes they are realizing all the things!!

*flails* ThE GOOD BOYS!!! ARE FRIENDS

Man yeah this is seven now, isn’t it

Reunite all the families!

I love…everyone…

Aqua: It’s okay you don’t remember you were like four years old

Aqua all like I’M FINDING ALL THESE CHILDREN I HELPED OUT I’M SO PROUD OF YOU ALL

Please let them girl bond now

Lea: Will y’all start paying attention to me now

Lea: THIS IS AN INSANE AMOUNT TO GET MEMORIZED   —YEAH NO SHIT

I’m just 100% full of delight at this bullshit

WE’LL JUST HAVE TO FIND EVERYONE ELSE

YES COUNT DONALD AND GOOFY

HO BOY that sounds like an indication to run around and do what’s needed before we jump into the start of endgame stuff

VEN…YOU ARE SO GOOD…

M E A N W H I L E

Pete: Please…stop making me dig up everything…

What’s in the booooooox

Oh Lea…still needs his two friends back :(

OHAI SAIX

Hey you took Xion’s ice cream

Man that must’ve been a hell of a week

Lea: I don’t need dumb tattoos anyway I CAN CRY ALL I WANT

I’m kind of worried about some things mentioned here tho

Man this is just cutscene city ain’t it

Hi again Repliku!

Riku: Don’t talk to me or my edgy son ever again

Get it, time to himself, HURR HURR

PAOPU FRUIT TIME??

LET THE KAIRI FIGHT PLZ

OKAY SO. I suspect this is my chance to go around and do stuff before things totally go to shit!

So that’s what I’m gonna do next! Level up, find lucky emblems, cook rat food, all that goodness

MORE COMMENTARY WILL BE…AT SOME POINT

[richard-the-boy-wonder-blog]

Guess whos evil anD HATES ME, ITS KATIE! @not-reddie ❤❤❤

Eddie: *He sings in the shower every morning when he gets up. And its not your cute dainty singing, oh no. Its a full out concert in the bathroom, he sings along to ‘eye of the tiger’, 'we are the champions’, 'boys are back in town’ all the best jams.

*Eddie knows how to cook. Since his dad died his mom kinda stepped back as a parent and left him to learn how to do basic grown up duties. Hes really good at making spaghetti much to Richies humor.

*He is a really bad rage gamer. The losers have monopoly night which use to be dark souls night till Eddie shattered a ps2 controller.

*Actually a thicc and juicey boy. This kid is eating well and it shows.

*Eddie is a metal head. He likes NIN, Korn, Marylin Manson, Tool, but worst of all ICP. No one knows he likes ICP but 'piggy pie’ and 'boogey woogey’ are his jam.

*Eddie is also fairly good at doing voices along side Richie. They like to talk to each other in Mickey Mouse and Goofy voices all the time.

*He cannot own a fish or plant because IT WILL DIE.

*After Eddie moves his medical transcripts are taken literally and he ends up an addict for a year.

*Hes got a terrible terrible laugh. Is not cute or anything itll start off normal but then hes just wheezing and snorting till he basically passes out and clams down.

*Hes good with cars, hes the one who rebuilt Bills firebird.

Richie: *He has the Austin Powers theme set for his alarm, he dances to the coffee pot every morning in nothing but boxer breifs, crocs, and a blue robe to his while the song plays.

*Hes an ass man?? Guy, girl, his age, or 50 years old Richie Toizer digs the booty.

*Richie and Bill had their own band, '2+2.’ They both were lead guitar and vocals and only ever played Tenacious d.

*Richie has a real hard time telling people to 'fuck off’ or to 'go fuck themselves’ because hes afraid theyll actually leave him.

*Because of his sensory overload (a side effect of adhd) booming noises piss him off, stomping on the floor or when someone knocks too loud on the door it instantly throws him into a bad mood.

*Richie does a really good Selvester Stalon impessionation, its probably his best and most obnoxious voice.

*Hes a cat person for the simple fact that no one else really likes cats and they’re super chill and goofy.

*Both points above being said, he makes up voices for his pets and when hes lonely he makes them “talk” to him.

*The Chinese take out place a block over from his apartment know him by name because he once ordered every item off their menu and ate it all with chop sticks including his mochi balls.

*If you cant find Richie hes on the roof.

Ben: *This. Boy. Is. Good. At. Makeup. And. Hair Fight. Me. Ben heard Bev complaining one day about how hard it was to get ready in the morning so natrually he studied beauty blogs night and day for a month to help her.

*Hes your go to man with an problems you have, hes damn good and listening and giving back good feedback on the issue.

*Hes the one who loads the coffee pot because hes the only one who knows how.

*Ben joined the Marines after marrying Bev to carry on his familys tradition of serving the country.

*Because Beverly hangs around him so much, and speaks so highly of him, Bens first male crush was Richie.

*Hes a mamas boy through and through, it might not show as bad as Eddie does but he would kill for his mommy.

*Hes been a licensed contractor, and a very sucssesful one at that, since he was 17.

*Bens favorite day is Tuesday because then he gets to wear his 'taco Tuesday’ shirt.

*He wears really nice cologne and uses really nice minty shampoo and conditioner. Ben never smells bad ever.

*He knows all the names of the carebears.

Stan: *Whos severely lactose intolerant but loves cheese to the end of the earth? Stanly.

*Stans a really good drawer and writer but doesnt flaunt his work. What poems and art he has done are all hidden in a little notebook he carries everywhere with him.

*When he gets angry or excited he spout off in Hebrew, he hates it but everyone loves it.

*Hes clinically depressed as well as Mike so they have their own little get togethers in his room to talk and just be soft and warm together.

*“Joy to the world” by: CCR is the one song Stan cant not sing and dance along to.

*Speaking of dancing, Stans a damn good dancer?? He doesnt like to dance in front of others but sometimes he really can’t help himself.

* Hes got a tramp stamp that only Bill and Eddie know about.

*Stan is a really terrible drunk, like hes a mess and a hot one at that. His 21st birthday was a nightmare, thats where the tramp stamp came from.

*Stan fucks with everyone more than anyone else does but hes so suave about it everyone else points fingers at everyone but Stan.

*He doesnt know it but the brownies in the back of the freezer are Richies editable… He has one every Friday.

Bill:

*Still has bath toys and he uses, cleans, and plays with them regularly.

*He really likes otters and has big dreams to go to an aquarium sometime.

*He hates Monday’s with a burning passion, he hates Monday more than Garfield. So on Monday he makes everyone pancakes for breakfast to make it better.

* Bill is a babysitter for Georgie and a writer on the side. Being an uncle is a full time job with benefits.

*Real life superwholock nerd fan: Billiam Denbrought.

*He was a swimmer in high school and he cant grow hair on his legs anymore because of it.

*He pure edits all the losers homework and essays.

*He makes it a point to take his dogs and Eddie down to the park to play catch/fetch every weekend.

*His worst fear outside of losing his brother is Spiders or creepy crawlies in general.

*HE DONT EAT HE DAMN VEGETABLES. HE IS THE PICKIEST EATER AND IT MAKES EVERYONE SO MAD.

Mike: *Super flirtatious, like he doesnt even know hes flirting hes just really good at it.

*He collects stuffed animals. At first he was just having a hard time getting rid of his baby toys but now its a problem.

*He loves the color yellow?? Its his color, is room is painted yellow, his car is yellow, his favorite sweater is yellow. Mike really likes yellow.

*Spicey food makes him cry. Not because it makes him sad but because its fucking spicey.

*Chivalry and manners are alive and well in this one. Hes a complete gentlemen to men and women alike but even moreso to children.

*Mike is ticklish, way super ticklish, you even wiggle a finger at him at hes like: “FKDKF FHHEHEHEHEHE STOOOOOOOP.”

*Hell never say it but alot of his songs are about Bill. And not just cause they in love but because Mike genuinly loves and looks up to Bill as a person.

*He can play the guitar, bango, harmonica, piano, cello, the triangle and he can sing.

*Mike kisses all his friends platonically on the lips and no one has ever questioned it.

*Hes really good at riddles and rhymes.

Beverly: *She totes around a huge bag full of crap 24/7, its like Eddies fanny pack but 1000× larger and its full of crap theyll never need.

*Bev will not drink milk, i dont know why she just doesnt.

*She makes all hers and Richies clothes and fixes all the torn, ripped, and button missing clothes in the house.

*Beverly is a tree climbing champion.

*Beverly believes in faries because she is one and shes not ashamed of the fact.

*She talks in her sleep loudly too. All the guys will stay uo during their sleep overs just to hear what stupid shit shes gonna say while klonked out.

*She volunteers at the animal shelter, soup kitchen, and cleans uo trash off the side of the road for fun.

*When shes sad she listens to he Srgt. Peppers Loney Hearts Club Band record on repeat till she feels better.

*Shes always wanted to play Rizzo in Grease.

*She helps Mike run their greenhouse which she and Ben built together.

[ase-trollplays]

All the tarot questions for Karell, GO

oh jesus that’s so many D: This is gonna take a while.

the fool: do you have any nicknames?

He!! yeah!, but a!most none of them are good! The rea! popu!ar ones are bastard!, assho!e!, douchebag!, jackass!, and “I’!! ki!! you!” That !ast one’s not rea!!y a nickname!, but I’ve had enough peop!e shout it at me that i’m counting it!

My matespirt !ikes to ca!! me babe and sweety!, which I fucking !ove!

Just don’t ever ca!! me kitty cat! Serious!y!, don’t! There’s a !ot of bad shit attached to that nickname that I don’t fee! !ike re!iving!

the magician: have you ever written a poem or song about somebody else? 

Damn right I have! Check it out! This guy was one of those pretentious hipster fuckers!, and he was giving me a!! kind of shit! So I paid a guy to dig up some dirt on him!, and hoooo!y shit did he de!iver! So I went to an open mic night he frequents!, got up on stage!, and read off everything I found out about him in the form of a poem !ike the wor!d’s most embarrassing spoken word with my own amazing commentary! His ass got !aughed right out of the bar!

the high priestess: what is your dream date? 

I’m a simp!e man with simp!e romance needs! On my idea! date!, I bring my date to my hive!, and we make a super e!aborate three course mea! together! Once everything’s perfect!y cooked!, we sit down and eat together! I break out the bubb!y, and we get a nice buzz!, then head up to my respite b!ock for some passionate!, tender !ove making for as many rounds as we can go! Afterward!, we shower together!, watch some tv or movies -- c!othing optiona! -- then when we’re too tired to keep our eyes open!, we share a recuperacoon for the night!

the empress: do you think you will ever get married?

Nah!, not rea!!y! That kinda thing’s most!y for monogamous tro!!s! I got too much !ove to give to on!y devote myse!f to one tro!!!

the emperor: what are some names that you like?

I a!ways !iked the name C!ayde! It sounds !ike the kinda name a badass rebe! wou!d have or something!

the hierophant: do you believe in ghosts?

Yeah! I mean!, it’s a thing with rusts that they see ghosts and shit!, right?! I don’t think an entire caste wou!d decide to just !ie about that shit for no reason!

the lovers: do you have a crush?

Oh fuck yes! I met this he!!a cute named Arndan!, and hooooooo boy did I fa!! hard for him! Dude is cute as FUCK and such a soft boy! I just want to wine and dine him and spoi! him rotten!

the chariot: thoughts on astrology?

Eh!, i don’t give a shit!

strength: what is your dream occupation?

Mi!itary chef! I used to wanna be part of the acrobatta!ion!, but I can’t ignore my passion for cooking! I’d a!so !ike to one night be the persona! chef for Her Imperious Condescension herse!f! How fucking kickass wou!d that be?!

the hermit: what is your favorite soda pop?

Root beer!

wheel of fortune: first three songs that come on shuffle?

“Stray Cat Strut” Stray Cats

“We Are Number One (Remix)” The Living Tombstone

“My Dick” Mickey Avalon

justice: favorite color of rose? 

Shit!, I dunno! I’m not rea!!y a f!ower person! I’ve seen pictures on!ing of b!ack roses! I dunno if that shit rea!!y exists!, but they !ook badass so I guess that’s my favorite!

the hanged man: favorite movie soundtrack?

Basica!!y every superhero movie soundtrack ever!

death: what are three things you want to do before you die?

I wanna do something so big and crazy and amazing that I earn an ancestor tit!e and schoo!feeding !essons in the future ta!k about me! I a!so want to he!p my ‘rai! Noru with his PTSD so he’s not a!ways afraid of what peop!e think about him and faking being okay! I guess the !ast thing I wanna do before I die is surpass my boss as the best fucking cook on A!ternia!

temperance: can you describe a strange dream you’ve had?

I had a dream that I was pi!oting a mecha bu!!dozer in space!, and me and my crew were on a mission to castrate a big ass space gori!!a!

the devil: do you enjoy thunderstorms?

Nah man!, my !usus gets crazy anxious when it’s storming and shit! He starts getting rest!ess! and screaming and running and swinging around a!! the fuck over the p!ace !ike he’s on fucking speed! I gotta try to keep his scared ass ca!m so he doesn’t tear a!! my shit apart!

the tower: favorite colors to wear?

A!! of them! I !ike making peop!e guess which co!or is mine!

the star: have you ever seen a psychic?

Yeah! Fuck if I remember her name!, but she was a fortune te!!er for an invisib!e ghost circus! She’s the reason I figured out I was crushing hard on Noru and Musc!es! Me and Musc!es don’t date anymore!, though!, so that kinda sucks!, but Noru and I are sti!! going strong!

the moon: have you ever written a love letter?

Nope! If I !ike someone!, I wanna be super direct and te!! them a!! that mushy !ovey-dovey shit to their face! I don’t have the patience to write shit out when I get in my fee!ings!

the sun: do you believe in magic?

Sure!, why not?!

judgement: do you enjoy school?

Schoo!feeding was broing as shit! He!! no!

the world: do you like waking up early?

Yeah! I !ike getting my day started at soon as possib!e!

☀️🌙✨ tarot questions ✨🌙☀️

[rrrawrf-writes]

stuff i wrote at work 12

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | this is pt. 3 | pt. 4 (paired with a rhiot fic; skip to the bottom half for winn) | pt. 5

i figured i ought to at least give some links to the whole dang thing if i’m still going to be writing this crap :| kinda messy, sorry, but i know if i repost them at all i’ll also have to go through and edit them and that’s more effort than i want to spare at the moment.

here’s some sam. if the ending seems familiar, that’s because i posted a sneak peek earlier this week.

Rembrandt glanced sidelong at Sam. “I’m sorry for the mess he made of your clothes.”

“Hmm?” Sam looked blankly at Rembrandt, then down at his outfit. He only had a few smears of blood on his shirt; the knees of his jeans were soaked, though, from kneeling in blood. “Oh. It’ll wash out.”

Rembrandt arched his eyebrows. Sam shrugged. “Not the first time I got blood on my clothes.”

“Ah,” was Rembrandt’s only response. They had reached the end of the hallway by then; Rembrandt leaned forward to hit the down arrow. When the doors slid open, Rembrandt frowned at the far wall.

A mirror ran around the top half of the elevator walls. A spiderweb of cracks spread across the glass just ahead of them, eye-level with Rembrandt. 

“What happened here?”

“Guy didn’t wanna get in the elevator.” Sam propped himself up in a corner as the doors closed. “Hunt got a little rough.”

That was an understatement. Winn had balked and argued, digging in his heels until Huntington literally slammed Winn into the elevator, cracking his head against the glass. Even then, Winn had been too busy arguing with them to notice Sam heal over the cut.

“Interesting.” Rembrandt took up post in the center of the elevator as they made their long journey to the ground floor. Sam patted his pockets, and frowned when he couldn’t find his energy bar. He must have eaten it already.

“How bad is the leg?”

Sam, his mind wandering again, looked up. “Sorry?”

“His leg,” Rembrandt repeated. “Can he still use it?”

“He really shouldn’t,” Sam said warily. “But if he absolutely had to...”

The small smile on Rembrandt’s face was not comforting. Sam closed his eyes, remembering similar conversations, similar expressions, with Edrian.

Why did he agree to this?

“There’s no way Yale is on the level,” Rembrandt said abruptly. “You still have plenty of contacts around here, don’t you?”

Sam nodded, and Rembrandt went on. “Good. Put out some feelers. Idiot never could keep his mouth shut. Someone must know what he’s playing at here.”

“Okay.” Sam couldn’t even pretend enthusiasm, not even when Rembrandt pressed a thick envelope full of cash into his hands, and entreated him to buy some new clothes. Sam mumbled something noncommittal and started down the street.

Eli waited for him in the parking lot of a fast food place, sitting on the trunk of his car. He was engrossed in his phone, looking up as Sam called a greeting.

“Got you some food, it’s on the seat,” Eli said, sliding off the car. “Where’s Vinn?”

“Who?”

“Vinn. You know, skinny thief guy.”

Sam frowned. “Thought his name was Lynn.”

“No, pretty sure it starts with a ‘V.’“ Eli slid into the driver’s seat, reaching across to move the three giant, greasy paper bags out of Sam’s way. “Maybe it’s Ben? Anyway, where is he?”

“Rembrandt shot him.” Sam eagerly took the bags of food from Eli’s hand, and when he caught the horrified look on the other man’s face, Sam quickly added, “In the leg. He’s fine, but Rembrandt won’t let him go.”

“Aw, man,” Eli muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. Sam shrugged.

“We thought that might happen,” he reminded Eli. Sam just hadn’t thought it would be quite so - dramatic. “Didn’t Gale tell you Rembrandt has a grudge?”

“Yeah,” Eli said. “It didn’t sound like a big deal.”

Sam scoffed. “It was a big deal.”

“Crap.”

Sam turned his attention to the bags of greasy food Eli had bought him. His stomach churned as he pulled out a wrapped hamburger; he kept hearing Winn’s sobbing in his head.

“He had to know what he was getting into,” Sam said defensively. He didn’t even know Winn. Rembrandt wasn’t going to kill him. At least, not before Eli and Sam got Winn out of there.

Sam thought he had left this kind of guilt behind years ago.

Eli looked him as he pulled out onto the road, but he didn’t say anything.

“Thought I was done with this,” Sam muttered, and dropped the fast food back onto the floor at his feet.

“What, McDonald’s?” Eli looked concerned. “We can stop somewhere else, if you want.”

“No.”

“Then what?”

Sam hesitated. He liked his coworkers - even Mickey, as childish as they were - but Sam hadn’t really been able to talk to anyone. But he thought Eli might understand - and even if he didn’t, he would listen.

“He’s another Edrian,” Sam said. He turned his voice high and mocking. “‘Fix him, Sam, but not too much, he has to suffer. And here’s some table scraps for your trouble.’“

Sam desperately wanted to hit something; he slammed his head back against the seat instead. “This is - It’s all his fault. I could’ve been a ------ surgeon by now, you know that?”

Eli ran his hands over the steering wheel, frowning at the road. “Do you want out?”

Sam snorted. “What, out of this op? How’re we s’posed to manage that?”

Eli chewed on his bottom lip. “Fake your death?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t think that’d work. Besides, Emmanuel would make that real.”

He looked down at his hands, ignoring the growling in his stomach. “It’s starting all over again. Rembrandt is using me the same way Edrian did.”

“What, to heal people? That’s not bad, Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed down the urge to yell. “He’s using me to torture people, Eli.”

His words created a short, tense silence. Sam dared one look at Eli, only to see the man staring, mouth tight, at the road as he drove. After a long moment, Eli pulled up at a stoplight and closed his eyes, letting out a short breath.

“That’s not your fault, Sam.”

Sam stared at him. “What?”

“The - what Edrian made you do.” Eli rubbed the back of his neck, fingering a scar that cut across one of his tattooed flowers. “You were forced into that.”

“You don’t - I had a choice, Eli,” Sam snapped, frustration building up in his chest.

“Did you, really?” Eli asked, stepping on the gas pedal as the light changed from red to green. “You told me yourself. He could’ve killed you if you tried to get out of it.”

“So?” Sam snapped. “That - That would have been better than becoming a murderer!”

“Sam -”

He was wrong. Eli didn’t get it. Sam pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, then bit out, “Stop the car.”

“What?”

Sam didn’t repeated himself; he just grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. Eli slammed on the brake, and Sam had to brace himself on the dashboard. Luckily, it was a quiet enough street that no one was around to see them stop in the middle of the road.

“What are you doing, Sam?” Eli asked earnestly. “Hey, c’mon, get back in the car.”

Sam slammed the door shut, dragging a hand over his head. It stopped at the nape of his neck, and he screwed his eyes shut, digging his fingernails into his skin for a moment as he fought to keep his breath steady.

“Sam.” Eli’s voice stopped him before he could walk off. The pink-haired man had rolled down the passenger side window, and he leaned across the seats to hold one of the bags of fast food out. “Take this, at least. I heard your stomach growling.”

Sam wavered, but then took the bag. Eli didn’t let go, and took the moment to fix Sam with his gaze.

“You know the difference between you and them, Sam?” he asked, so quietly that Sam almost couldn’t hear Eli over the car engine. “You’re trying to be better.”

Sam dropped his gaze to the asphalt. This time, when he tugged on the bag, Eli let go. Sam stepped back, then said, awkwardly, “I - I’m just walking back.”

“All right.” Eli’s eyes were still full of worry as Sam turned away, hunching his shoulders up.

Kawai opened her hotel door and arched her eyebrows.

“What do you want?” she asked Sam, leaning against the doorjam. He looked awful - thin and exhausted. Like he had, back when he worked for Edrian. Rembrandt must be running him ragged. Blood splatters accented his clothes.

Seeing the guy like this didn’t stir any sympathy in her whatsoever. She didn’t ask whose blood it was.

Sam rubbed his eyes. “Been talkin’ to Eli.”

“Yeah, and?”

Sam gave her a weary look. “He didn’t understand.”

Kawai straightened up and dropped her hand onto the doorknob. “Look, Sam, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we aren’t friends. Take your sob story somewhere else.”

Sam lifted a cardboard drink holder; glass bottles clinked together invitingly. Kawai narrowed her eyes. “Thought you couldn’t get drunk.”

“No, but you can.”

“Not enough.”

Sam passed a hand over his face. “He - I thought you might know better.”

She arched her eyebrows again. Sam glanced at her, then away, clearly struggling.

“Eli doesn’t - he’s so determined to give you second chances,” he said, “that he refuses to - to get it. I’m not a good person, Taule'alo.”

She started to see what he was getting at. “No.”

Sam nodded, exhausted. “Look, I mean, I know he’s trying, but… He won’t let you just look at what you’ve done, and see it for what it is. He’s so determined to make you feel better that he won’t - he doesn’ t- ”

“He doesn’t let you face up to your own past,” Kawai finished. Something in her eyes softened. “He won’t let you grieve.”

Sam looked at her for one hopeful second, then dropped his gaze and nodded.

Kawai sighed, then opened her door wider and stepped back. “This is the only time, Sam. You’re still a bastard.”

He gave her back a crooked grin. “At least I’m a bastard with booze.”

[koganphrancis]

Actual footage of Ian trying to wake up his dick.

Season H8 Episode 3: Where Everything’s Made Up And The Points Don’t Matter

The good(ish) news about this week’s episode is that compared to last week’s, nothing hurt all that much and no groups of innocent people were shamed.  

The bad news is-it still sucked.  It was written by the evil Krista Vernoff and had very little to do with what had gone on the week before.  Ian and Terror, in particular, seemed to have no connection with what happened in the last episode (except we saw a shot of Ian’s shitty tattoo at the end).

Since the demon show is continuing at least one more season, I wish they’d force writers to read the scripts they didn’t write, instead of (I’m assuming) just getting summaries or following general ideas on the white board.

Anyway, almost all the troubles the gang was facing last week disappeared as if by magic-or really crappy script writing.

Svetlana and Vee made up in less than 30 seconds.  While I’m glad for Svetlana, what was the point of even having her “impounded” for such a short time?  And the authorities are just going to drop the whole sex trade excuse Vee used to have her taken into custody?  And I guess maybe this will set up tension when they’re all working together at the bar again-but maybe not?  It was dumb.  

Kev had a bunch of DNA testing done-um, how are they going to pay for that?-and found out he’s Bart from Kentucky and his family tree only has one branch.  Can’t wait to see where this inbred storyline is going (please read that in a very sarcastic tone).  Last week’s bears are about to be replaced by next week’s hicks, maybe.  Smell that comedy gold!  

Youens plowed his car into a house and even that-or the threat of prison-wasn’t enough of a wake up call to try to return to sobriety.  (Why is he off the wagon after getting Lip on it?  I’m pretty sure Krista didn’t bother to write a reason, or maybe I was so bored I missed it.)  The main thing I took away from this part of the story was when Youens says if he had killed the woman in the house with his car, he would’ve gotten 20 years for vehicular homicide.  Really?  And Mickey got 15 for NOT killing a woman who was shooting at him when the cops showed up?  And with no physical evidence or witness testimony that he had tried to kill Sammi?  Wow, ain’t that a bitch?

Neil dumped Debbie (something Snore and Terror can’t seem to do with their Gallaghers) and told her she’s a horrible person.  When Debbie repeats that to her family, none of them even question it or try to tell her she’s not.  

Liam was barely in it.

Frank is all into this mellow “I’m a saint” thing now and it’s just zzzz.  

Fiona gets a tenant for the empty apartment, but the evil gf of Nessa is waiting on the staircase in her daisy dukes when he comes out from seeing the place and lies to him about bedbugs so Fi will rent the place to her friends, but for less money.  Cuz all these coincidences could totally happen-from her friends needing a place to Mel being on the spot when the one qualified renter comes to see the place.  Later Fi goes all South Side on Mel and it was so damn boring.  Rumbling over an apartment rental?  Yawn.

No Snore in this episode, but Lip does mention how he can’t even take care of Lucas anymore, so I’m betting we don’t see the kid ever again again.  It’s no big loss to the show, but it’s so stupid that Snore has no problems/struggles raising a kid on her own.   

Carl loses the hot tub (has to sell it for quick cash-or the meth dealer took it-I wasn’t paying close enough attention-he’s there when it’s taken away and he takes Carl’s towel from around his neck and that was actually kinda funny), and somehow (magic?) knows how to drive and operate a backhoe.  That someone left the keys in at the cemetery.  Krista, how many coincidences am I supposed to swallow?  Not to mention the rip off of Ian stealing the helicopter?  Get some fresh ideas!  You also have had them dig up a dead relative before.  

Now for Ian who every week is truly this show’s blank slate.  Last week he was acting like maybe he was manic-this week?  No sign of that.  Things start with a family-except for Fiona-council of war about the drug dealer that’s after them, and we get a new piece of Ian canon-he was a crack (or some other drug that Monica was using-Frank doesn’t specify) baby.  Ian tells Frank if he doesn’t help them figure out a way to get out of the shit they’re in with the drug dealer, Ian will take a tire iron to “old Frank”.  Frank says, “You’ve been a drama queen since the day you were born, Ian.  Wouldn’t stop screaming until you were fully detoxed.”  Ian does one of his stunned big blink looks, and the story moves, well not ON, but people keep talking.  

Oh, and just a side note, but Ian’s been shown drinking coffee at least twice in the Gallagher kitchen this season, and the cock mug is nowhere to be seen :(  

Next scene is Ian walking into Terror’s office area, all cocky.  “Brought you that chocolate flavored soy shit you like, then there’s coffee.”  (I’m not sure exactly what he says after “like” and Charter/Spectrum cable doesn’t communicate with my TV so the close captioning doesn’t work-don’t get me started on how I have to use different remotes to do different things.)  Terror says, “With a side of snark just how I like it,” in the most annoying, whiny voice possible.  WHAT is Ian supposed to see in him?  And, was that comment all that snarky?  And, should Ian be having what’s at least his second dose of caffeine on his meds?  

If I’m going to count how many times they needed Mickey in this episode, the meeting about how to deal with the drug dealer was one, Ian and his coffee intake is two, what fucking Terror says next is three...

“Thought you had to work today.”  NO!  Terror does not know or care about Ian’s schedule!  That was a Mickey thing and a Mickey thing only!  Ian LIES to everyone else about when he’s at work!  And so far in canon, Terror is way too into himself to know where or when Ian ever works.  Grrrr.

Ian says, “Soon, yeah.  So... that drug dealer that chased me?  Can’t seem to shake it off, don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  And he says it all small and scared-after walking into the place boasting about his cafe purchases-I don’t like how they keep having Ian’s moods change on a dime-especially since again, I just think it’s bad writing and not trying to tell the audience he’s slipping or anything’s wrong.  

Anyway, Mickey thought #4-Ian seems to be acting like if there’s something wrong, Terror will get into being his hero and fixing things for him, LIKE MICKEY USED TO DO ALL THE FUCKING TIME.  So, not only so much for “this isn’t me anymore” (which is so hard to take with all this running from killer meth dealers shit), but also WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU CAN’T FIX ME BECAUSE I’M NOT BROKEN?  (more of that in a minute)

Terror just smirks at his computer after Ian’s lines and Ian says, “You laughing at me?”  Terror answers, “Only cuz it’s still hard for me to tell when you’re joking-are you serious?”  And, WTF?  When has Ian EVER joked with Terror?  “I’m into cock. I’m a top.  I don’t want that up my ass.  I don’t want to hang out with Monica.  I told you I didn’t want to hang out with Monica.  I was with Mickey.”  Have they had any other conversations?  Has Ian ever said anything he didn’t mean to this asshat?  

Ian doesn’t answer, just sort of shrugs to answer the are you serious.  Terror says, “Wow, well nothing’s wrong with you.  I think it’s probably hard for a normal person to shake off a drug dealer chasing them.”   Ian says, “Gallaghers are not generally normal humans.”   T: Grief can change people. I: What? T: Ah, grief.  I mean, your mother died.  It changes you.  Maybe you should talk to the counselor.  (Krista!  We went over this ground LAST week and, while that should’ve been Terror’s advice then, it wasn’t, and why isn’t this story going anywhere, ever?) I: (creeplily turns the conversation into a come on) I’d rather talk to you. (Sits up, leans in towards Terror)  In fact, I’d rather do something with you that doesn’t involve talking. T: (closing down immediately and going cold) Ah, well, sorry, I’m busy trying to help out at risk youth.

So, yeah, that should’ve been his reaction LAST week-wtf?  It’s truly like last week never happened.  I wanted Terror to reply to that “I don’t feel like talking” call back in Mickey’s bedroom with, “Bitch, I just got you laid last week!  I’m never gonna sleep with you again, so there’s the door.”  But, no.  And Ian going from “I’m sad, please help it” to seductive or whatever the hell they think it is, is just...OOC and not attractive and as always, their total lack of chemistry makes everything worse.  But now that Terror has said no for the millionth time, it’s really coming off as rapey whenever Ian tries.  

Then, before he even starts his shift at work, Sue tells him his “uncle” was there looking for him and describes the meth guy, so Ian goes tearing out of the EMT station with Sue yelling after him that he has a shift.  If he STILL has his job after this 18th strike or whatever he’s up to...well, I won’t be surprised at all because Shameless has given up on reality more than ever and Gallaghers never get into any real trouble.  

There’s the scene at the hot tub with the guy dunking Carl and Ian trying to protect him with the bat, and then there’s another meeting to try to figure out what to do because they only have $9000 left from all the meth Carl sold, so finally they cave and go talk to Fiona and there’s a painful scene where she makes them admit she was right-which in this case she actually was, but in other cases she’s fucked up just as badly as they have-plus I’m NEVER forgiving her for saying Mickey would set a match to Ian’s life-what about what he’s managing all on his own since he’s been back?  What about the fact that Mickey did everything he could to always keep Ian safe and happy once he was back from the army?  Grrrrr.  

Anyway, the family digs up Monica and Krista waves her fairy wand again and has the meth dealer listen to Frank’s reasoning that half the meth belonged to Monica so them coming up with almost half the money is good enough-and that if the meth guy ever goes near his family again he’ll put him in the ground with Monica.  Yeah, meth dealers are known for compromising and listening to ownership rights theories.  And who wouldn’t be threatened by old broken-down Frank?  Eye roll.  

Anyway, Ian returns to the cemetery alone to try to put Monica’s headstone back together, but the pieces fall apart and he sits hard on his bum.  The camera’s behind him-and his shitty tattoo-so who knows if he’s crying or finally giving in to the fact that she’s dead and gone or what, but I won’t be surprised if he’s now completely over her death and ready to become a brand new man-yet again-next week.  Which is the episode where Ian supposedly crosses a boundary with a teen from the youth center.  Will his months of no sex except last week’s blowjob lead to him having sex with a teen?  Probably not, but cripes, what else could it be?  

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

Nichovich (pt 2 - NSFW)

For those who have asked, this is a Gallavich fic - there will be Gallavich and plenty of it - eventually. Hang tight and let me know what you think. I write stuff to entertain you guys as well as myself. xx 

Mickey wakes in the morning to find his face is covered in something that feels like cobwebs and one of his arms is trapped. He rubs a hand over his face, grunting irritably and blinking into full awareness.

“The fuck?”

Nicky is curled up against him, her ass pressed against his belly, using his left arm as a pillow. Her hair has exploded from the hood she tucked it into the night before and is all over him in a riot of red-gold tangles.

Mickey clucks his tongue against his teeth and begins to extricate himself. He hasn’t slept beside a woman since Svetlana finally accepted Ian and moved out of his bed for good and long before that she has stopped trying to cuddle up to him. Mickey simply wouldn’t tolerate more than a minute or two of awkward petting whilst she tried to arouse him into some sort of action before he would either leave or roll onto his side, turning his back on her.

Their wedding night had been the most difficult because she felt so fucking obligated to seal the deal and Mickey had just let her do whatever the fuck she wanted because his mind had been with Ian and the amazing sex they had just before he pledged himself to another.

“I’m too drunk to fuck.”

“I will help you.”

“No, just … just leave it alone.”

“No, I am your wife! I will help ...”

Mickey had lain on the fake rose petal covered sheets, tux pants around his ankles, watching as Svetlana knelt over him, squeezing her breasts and shaking her ass, tugging with futile determination at his limp dick with experienced fingers. Mickey had tried to get himself hard, tried thinking of broad shoulders and narrow hips, just to get it over with. But he hadn’t been able to muster so much as a semi with Svetlana’s lips against his skin.

“Your father always manages, no matter how drunk!”

“Oh sure, by all means put that mental image in my head right now, that oughta help the situation a lot.”

Mickey had snapped and then laughed at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. He had laughed until tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, rolling down into the shell of his ears, muffling the wet sounds of Svetlana’s renewed efforts.

Eventually she had huffed in frustration and lain down next to him with a muttered Russian curse; smoothing her dress and informing him that his stupid little broken dick did not mean she was not a citizen now.

“Congratulations. You’re a fuckin’ card carryin’ apple pie eatin’ cowgirl now. Good for you.”

Mickey retorted, tugging his pants back up and rolling onto his side, closing his eyes and feigning sleep until Ian’s face swam to the forefront of his mind and carried him away into a dream.

Nicky gives a small whimper beside him, grip tightening on his jacket sleeve and Mickey loses his patience, yanking his arm out from underneath her with a sharp tug.

The air in the van is seriously fucking cold and Mickey knows the only reason he slept so well is because there was a warm body against him. He feels more rested than he has in days despite the beginnings of a hangover lurking around the edges of his eye sockets.

He needs to shower because today is the day he’s going to make his move and he wants to look as good as he can for Ian. Mickey squints into the cracked, rust flecked shaving mirror and grimaces. His hair looks fucking awful but his mug shot is all over Southside so he can hardly just walk into a barbers!

Mickey shakes his head, jaw clenched, and picks up his cigarettes from the foot of his bed. He’s fucking insane. He must be, because he is risking everything on the fucking off chance that someone who hardly ever visited him, never wrote and generally pretended he didn’t exist for over a year, might still be interested enough to run away to fucking Mexico with him.

Fuckin’ Gallagher!

If the prick had maybe shown up once in a while Mickey could have gauged what his reaction to this whole thing might be and the whole thing could have run a lot fucking smoother! On the other hand, Ian had completely ignored him and Mickey was still crazy enough to pull this sort of shit, so really what kind of signal would Mickey have actually accepted?

“You’re gonna get a lungful of filter if you’re not careful!”

Nicky is sitting up and rubbing what is left of her eyeliner into the creases of her eyes. Mickey glances down at the tiny stub of his cigarette and scowls, wiping it out against the sole of his boot in a streak of ash.

“Want one?”

“Sure. Normally I like to have coffee first but I’m guessing you didn’t pack an espresso machine when you fled the mansion, huh?”

“What the fuck are you … you know what? Don’t care. You want coffee, go out and get it your fuckin’ self.”

“Got any cash?”

“I’m not buyin’ you breakfast.”

Mickey grouches and Nicky grins broadly at him

“Sure you are. You could have frozen to death but I made the sacrifice to share my body heat with your scrawny ass.”

“You mean you decided to barge into my bed and get your fuckin’ rats nest all over my face?”

Nicky pushes her tongue into her bottom lip and gives her apparently nameless friend a long level look.

“Why are you such a moody asshole?”

“Questions like that make you a whole lotta friends or …?”

Mickey lets the question trail off as he rummages through his small pack of things looking for scissors or a razor, anything he can use to try and neaten up his hair.

“I’m going to get coffee, when I get back, you can tell me what has you all … possum again.”

Nicky shifts herself from the bed and kicks the doors open. Mickey hastily turns his back, instantly livid. There could have been a fucking patrol car out there! Whatever this bitch is running from, she clearly isn’t expecting to be found in Chicago. Careless moron! Just like Ian! Fuckin’ careless and messing with the neatness of Mickey’s life before hopping out the door and disappearing.

“Close the fucking door! Are you some sort of fuckin’ retard?”

He growls and Nicky does so, eyeing him curiously.

“Don’t want the world to see that happy smile?”

“Fuck you. You said you’re wanted? Maybe act like it.”

“Oh, like you are? You a jail bird too?”

Mickey gives up on finding the scissors and spins on his heel, grabbing Nicky by the front of her hoodie and dragging her up onto her toes in the small space

“You breathe one fuckin’ word about what you think you know, and I promise you will not have to worry about the cops finding you anymore.”

Their noses are less than an inch apart and Nicky pushes her face closer still, baring her teeth in a furious scowl

“Take your fucking hands off me while you still have them.”

Mickey tugs a little harder on her hoodie and then twists sharply, catching the knee she brings up against the flat of his thigh.

“That the best you got, bitch?”

He is looking at her intently but there is no threat of actual violence. Nicky has been around enough violent men to recognise when one is about to lash out. If anything, this kid is trying to provoke her into hurting him and whilst that is all levels of fucked up, it is actually quite reassuring.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question!”

He snaps and Nicky makes a disgusted sound at the back of her throat, rolling her eyes. She hasn’t spent a lot of time around little boys, but she knows the build up to a temper tantrum when she sees one. Best way to stop a toddler having a melt down? Give ‘em a little shock.

She throws herself forward and presses her lips to Mickey’s, flicking her tongue along his bottom lip in a deep kiss.

“What the FUCK?!”

Mickey lets go of her instantly and staggers back against the makeshift shelving, wiping his hand roughly over the back of his mouth.

“Yeah that’s what I thought. Listen, you want to get into a fight, go find someone your own size. That’s about my size but with a bit more dick attached in case you aren’t sure.”

Nicky holds her finger and thumb up, about an inch apart to highlight just how small she thinks the appendage in question must be and Mickey eyes her with something as close to bashfulness as he can get.

“Fuckin’ psycho.”

He mumbles but the fire has gone out of him and Nicky huffs an impatient breath. She has no idea why she likes this little fucker but she actually does. Nicky isn’t stupid, especially not when it comes to her own motivations, recovering from addiction, relapsing and recovering again, multiple times leaves one with a certain awareness of incentives within one’s own psyche. Nicky’s situation is currently a tiny bit fucked up. She has escaped prison and fled, via a series of trains, countless hitch-hiking and walking in her sturdy, prison issue boots, to get to Chicago. Now she is here she has no fucking clue what to do with herself and so she is latching on to compulsively take care of this nameless, heart-broken man until she can figure out what to do for herself. It’s shitty, but it’s not a needle in her arm or a view from behind bars, so it’ll do.

“How do you take your coffee? Black? White? Sweet?”

“Black. Sweet if they have the vanilla shit. Thanks.”

Mickey twitches his nose and thumbs his lower lip, which is still tingling from the kiss. Unpleasant as it was, it is the first kiss Mickey has had in quite some time and it has brought back a hundred little memories of Ian that he can’t process with someone else watching him and he really wants Nicky to leave.

“Check the door this time.”

“Uh … yeah I got that that is kinda important to you. Should I knock three times and hoot like a barn owl when I get back?”

“You should go fuck yourself, that’s what you should do.”

Mickey quips, digging a crumpled five-dollar bill out of his pants pocket and shoving it at her. At this point, Ian is filling up his mind and body so completely that he doesn’t much care if there is an entire fleet outside the van, he needs Nichols to fuck off pronto so that he can get his hands in his pants and relive every kiss that Ian ever gave him.

“Whatever. Back in a bit.”

Nicky uses the crudely cut little spyhole to peer outside and then opens the door again, hopping out lightly and closing it behind her.

Mickey flips the little plastic catch, tugging at his belt before the metallic click of the lock has even silenced. He lays back on the airbed, shoving his jeans over his hips, releasing his dick which is practically throbbing with need and letting it hover above his belly whilst he plunges a hand into his bag. He finds what he wants almost instantly and pulls the folded photo out, smoothing it carefully before holding it above his head and looking into the bright green eyes peering out of it. Ian is flipping off the camera as he always had, smirking his same smirk and looking so damn hot in his grey tee and beanie combo that Mickey can hardly stand it.

He closes his eyes and wraps his free hand around the shaft of his cock, covering the slit with his thumb. The memory of Ian’s lips against his own is so powerful he finds himself licking compulsively along the swell of his lower lip, expecting to taste the unique flavour of his redheaded lover.

Ian’s name is wrenched from his lips as his fingers apply greater pressure and his wrist begins pumping faster and harder. God! Mickey wants it hard. He wants it good and hard, he wants to be pounded into submission by Gallagher and left in a puddle at his huge fucking feet. He wants to feel his insides turn to jelly and the almost painful stretch of his flesh as he takes every inch Ian cares to give him. He wants to feel Ian’s teeth at his neck and hear the rasping struggle of his breath as he comes close to finishing. He wants to see those beautiful hands gripping his and smell the scent of him flush on the air around them.

Mickey convulses and shudders as his orgasm rocks him off the bed, his ass peeling away from the plastic with a wet sticking sound. He lies there until his heart has stopped trying to explode out of his chest, then slowly sits up, and grabs a scrap of fabric from the floor, wiping his hands and belly on it.

Mickey chucks it in the far corner and tips a little water from his bottle over his palms to get rid of the rest of his mess.

He needs to get himself fucking sorted. He’s going to show up to see Ian covered in the dirt of days on the road, his hair a matted fuckin’ mess and now stinking of stale jizz too? Fuck sake.

Mickey grabs a burner phone from his stash and punches in the number he has memorised. It’s time to get a plan together and go meet Gallagher.

[ngeibheann]

HELL AND YOU

(Or “Proximity Rule”)

“I mean, I was dying of a fucking meth overdose. Of course, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”  The explanation of hundreds of inexplicable scars. 

Pair: Mickey // Cassidy (ANTISANGUINE)

It’s about the proximity, more than anything else. It’s the warmth shared between bodies, still barely touching, fingers splayed across shoulder blades. Mickey doesn’t exactly know how to express the feeling of desolation that coming back from the dead gives him, and Cassidy had only barely missed witnessing the ordeal for himself.  They kept to Mickey’s own room, a dingy thing at the top of the Bonn Nui, showing the age of the building quite blatantly. It was Mickey’s own idea to bring him up to a private place, and he can’t shake the feeling of being a teenager again- complete with the slinking around the home and hiding behind closed doors to avoid confrontation. He could almost call it pitiful, in the same way. Another pity would be the sobriety. “Are ya all here, right now?” He asks, voice almost a quiet murmur, the small grin evident in his voice. “Or are ya really just this touchy with everyone?” “With nobody else,” Mickey says, softly. He doesn’t realize he’s practically whispering, hands trembling slightly. “And, I’m all here. For once.” “Ah,” Cassidy makes a small noise of understanding, glancing behind himself to check the still-unkempt bed. He places a hand over Mickey’s hip, a quiet guide to let them both stop standing for a moment, at least. “Bein’ all there is the worst, innit?” “The worst.” Mickey agrees, sitting near his nightstand. “You’d think it’d suck less, but now I’m just sore and jittery.” Nobody had to know that both of those things were gifted to him, rather than a commentary on his usual state of being. Cassidy seemed almost completely willing to accept it, save for his almost uncharacteristic quiet.  As if he were studying Mickey and the way he digs through the nightstand drawer, sputtering curses when he finally procures a pipe and a small round of foil. When he turns to face the other, prizes in hand, he’s greeted by a hand on his face. Mickey flinches, almost reflexively, before sighing heavily and leaning into the touch. “Somethin’s up with you,” He warns, quietly. “Bleach fumes finally get t’ you?” “I don’t usually like when people touch me.” Mickey says, pressing an impassive kiss to the other’s jaw, ignoring the bleach comment. “You’re just, new to me.” “Careful, been told I’m a real dirty bastard,” Cassidy says, and Mickey can’t quite tell if he’s joking or not. The short kiss he gets at the end of the comment only helps to confuse him more, however. “But, I’m still a little in th’ dark about you.” Mickey keeps working away at the foil, hash crumbling away from aluminum sheet as he picks up the resin and packs it into the bowl. He doesn’t remember leaning against the other, let alone how Cassidy’s hand had somehow slipped around him and caught at his waist, fingers wandering under the hem of his shirt. But, even still, he trusts him. “What’d you wanna know?” He asks, his fingers snapping to ignite a simple flame under the corner of the bowl’s chamber. “I got about thirty-two years of stories.” “Why hang out with a succubus?” Cassidy asks, fingers skating across barely Mickey’s exposed hip. “Incubus.” Mickey says, drawing in a deep inhale of smoke, evident through the glass walls of the pipe. “Horny demon in a wig,” He half-corrects himself, watching Mickey exhale a cloud of ash-white with a near pensive grace. Mickey glances at him, handing the cherried pipe over, smile evident. “Either way, why bother?” Mickey could admit some comfort, at least in the way he takes the pipe and smokes without prompting, or the languidly absent-minded touches. But the question stuns him, momentarily. He could ask about Benny, but he knew full well that Cassidy at least liked Benny in some degree. Enough to be nice. But, every time he sees Scarlett, he goes quiet and contemplative in a way that Mickey never really expects. “Do you want the truth?” He asks, pressing slightly closer. “Usually.” Mickey sighs, wringing his hands until the pipe returns to him, which he gratefully takes as an excuse to take another hit and delay the truth of the matter. “I sold my soul to her so I could be immortal,” Mickey says through the smoke, and he feels the hand freeze against the lowest rungs of his ribs. A small sigh of “sunnuvabitch” permeates the quiet air, and Mickey offers the pipe. Cassidy takes it, quietly. “I mean, I was dying of a fucking meth overdose. Of course, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.” “First time isn’t mainline, y’know that? I accidentally killed a guy with that before and-“ His ramble stutters, almost overly nervous despite the excess of the hash between them. His hand tenses, harsh against a long, ragged scar that he had previously left unnoticed. Mickey winces, discomfort audible. “Shite, sorry-“ “No, no, you’re fine,” Mickey says, hand over his. It’s an invite to stay longer, to touch more, to revel in the quiet privacy between each other. “You wanted answers, I can give you answers.” He’s not exactly sure if it’s the high or the honest-to-god desire to be seen in full by someone that drives his momentary lack of terror. But, he takes his chance, fighting briefly with his shirt to finally remove it- chucking it onto the hardwood floor. He leaves himself bare, save for the binder across his chest. Across his body, hundreds of warped and wavering scars hatching across the near-exposed bone. The look he gets in return shifts from a curious amusement to a harsh notation of gravity, the seriousness of the implications blatant on Cassidy’s face as he puts out the smoldering hash, pipe laid simply on the nightstand. “Are these-“ He asks, fingers ghosting along the scars against his ribs as Mickey winces to the touch. He realizes this, brow furrowing when he looks to Mickey, the mental math of the tragedy slowly rolling in. “She’s got a habit of beating the shit outta me, sometimes,” Mickey admits, hands over the vampire’s to encourage their position against his body. The base fear grapples with the innate want, and he demands that they want will win. “I’m a terrible motherfucker, so I might not die, but every day’s a new kind of hell. She also, er-“ “No, no. I’m not gonna let ya sit here an’ tell me how she’s allowed t’ make ya look like a goddamned ragdoll.” Cassidy’s voice is stern, eyes hard when he stares back at Mickey. “What kinda terrible would ya have done in thirty-two years t’ do this? Or do I have t’ give ya my whole talk on th’ moral bullshit a’ God?” He’s not sure what makes him think to situate himself on the other’s lap, straddling him to keep their proximities close and their words closer. Mickey makes a mental note to thank the dealer for that, later. “I have killed so many people.” He says, barely audible. He expects disgust, anger, disdain. Something to prove him terrible and unknowable. But, receives a hold in return, forehead against his in quiet contemplation and the general quiet mutter of “Me, too”. “So, is this the terrible bastard’s club?” Cassidy asks, still not letting go. “Cause if it is, we should make membership badges with why we’re goin’ t’ Hell.” The joke gets a small laugh, wandering hands trailing down the scars until he reaches one, still raw and pink.   “Clipped me with a butterfly knife a little before you got here,” Mickey admits, sheepishly. “If by clipped, we’re talking about how she gouged me in the stomach until I passed out.” Cassidy makes a noise of what Mickey can only call begrudging dissatisfaction, palming the trace of the wound when he kisses him, hard and defiant before he could add any sort of defense to Scarlett’s action. Mickey would have been shocked, but he finds himself leaning into the attention, sloppy concern feeling worlds better than the memory of death or the tearing of flesh.

The neediness of it only implores Mickey to try harder at fussing with the buttons on the vampire’s shirt, coordination faltering as the hash sets in. The two of them, half undressed and stacked on top of one another and completely sound with themselves in the quiet.

Too preoccupied to hear the door open, Cassidy moving to lay Mickey out on the bed in a fluid motion, the bartender giving a quiet woof of impress behind the move and the much lankier vampire pinning him to the bed. The door clicks shut, and the loud sucking of teeth permeates the room behind the incoherent muttering between the two.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’ve just come to steal your bong.” Scarlett announces as she skirts across the room, digging through a closet who’s doors had long since been removed and replaced with a heinously tacky bead and macrame curtain. Mickey freezes, deer in headlights and practically mute. Cassidy, however, doesn’t take to the interruption with any measure of kindness. He stays almost too close to Mickey, an impulse to act like an inhuman shield between them.

“Go blow th’ owner of the smoke shop across th’ street, maybe.” He says, venom apparent. Scarlett turns around; glass tube in hand. Her expression feigns a sense of hurt before the grin comes.

“Oh, you’re a bold little fucker,” She says, waving the bong at the two of them. “Mickey, keep him leashed, I would really hate to have to blow your pet’s brains out.”

Mickey stays frozen, head falling to the side to stare long and hard at Scarlett, in a foggy sense of understanding. His hands stay firmly clasped around the back of Cassidy’s neck, a physical instruction to just stay put, motherfucker.

“There’s more weed in the nightstand,” Mickey says, unblinking.

Scarlett laughs, self-assured as she swipes the remaining drugs from the nightstand, smiling wide at the others on the bed, making note of the scar she had so recently gifted him.

“Glad to see you both finally got a room, crackheads.”

She leaves, as loudly as she entered, Mickey sighing heavy relief as he stares at the slow rotation of the ceiling fan.  

“You gotta just play nice,” He says, passively. “She did me at least one decent favor.”

“Favor?” Cassidy asks, incredulous. “She beats your bloody brains in just ‘cause she feels like ya deserve it. That’s not a favor, ‘s just miserable service.”

“Nah, like- she did me at least one solid,” Mickey says, looking back to him. “I mean, I think it’s pretty good.”

“What’s good about gettin’ kicked t’ shite by a demon in a wig?”

“I mean, we get to do this whole immortal thing together, right? That’s something.”

A beat between them, before a wheezing, resigned laugh.

That would be enough, Mickey thinks.

That justifies it, just enough.

[morisninethlion]

Friendship

Rating: G Pairings: Akane and Junpei, as childhood friends Warnings: none

Just some fluff of Junpei and Akane as kids, a few little bits from their life in grade school.

There’s a few 999 spoilers, not any really big ones

AO3 link

“Wh-whoa! Slow down, Pluto!”

Junpei was being dragged down the street by his dog, an excitable old English sheepdog who seemed to have caught a scent. The young boy had to run to keep up with his pet, but that only seemed to encourage the dog more, who bounded down the street with enthusiasm.

“What out!”

“Huh?”

It was all he could do to shout a warning to the girl who’d walked out in front of them, but it didn’t do her much good. Pluto jumped up onto his hind legs and knocked her right over. The sudden stop threw Junpei off balance as well, and he ended up tripping and falling on top of the girl. It took him a second to finally realize what’d happened and he scrambled off, apologizing profusely.

“I’m sorry! Bad dog, Pluto! Apologize to her!”

The dog only sat in place, panting and giving Junpei the look that always let him get away with being bad. He was a sucker, he knew it, but the dog was just so cute…

“A-anyways, I’m really sorry! Are you ok?”

She seemed to have dusted herself off and sat up- she didn’t look hurt, at least. That was good. The girl smiled and laughed a bit, much to Junpei’s surprise, and looked at Pluto.

“I’m fine, it’s ok. Are you alright, though? It looked like you were having trouble walking him…”

“Ehehe… he just gets a bit excited sometimes, that’s all. Normally he’s a lot better at walking.”

“Is that so?” She giggled again, and gave Junpei a big smile. “I’m Akane- you?”

“O-oh, um. I’m Junpei.”

Akane smiled, and jumped right to her feet.

“It’s nice to meet you, Junpei!”

She seemed to be completely over the fact that Pluto had knocked her over, and was instead examining the dog, who was still sitting pretty in his best attempt to suck up to Junpei. She held out her hand for him to sniff, and let out a surprised ‘oh!’ when he licked her hand, before giggling to herself once more.

“He’s a friendly one. You said his name is Pluto?”

“Yeah, I called him that after the dog from Mickey Mouse.”

“Aaah, cute! But, he doesn’t look too much like him…”

“Y-yeah, I guess not…”

Junpei crossed his arms in thought, a bit confused by her statement. She sure was a straightforward girl, wasn’t she? Junpei wasn’t the best at making friends, but he didn’t think this was how most people introduced themselves.

“His hair keeps hanging down in his eyes- can he see?”

“Well, kinda? I should probably give him a haircut soon, but he doesn’t like them that much…”

It really didn’t help that he was only allowed to use safety scissors- it was supposed to be his parents who’d do it, or the babysitter (who he’d accidentally lost, when Pluto had taken off running).

“Oh… just give me a second!”

Junpei tilted his head and watched as Akane reached into her bag, digging around furiously for something. Eventually, she found what she’d been looking for- a hairclip featuring the girls from the most recent Precure show that had started airing, in bright pinks, blues, and yellows. Akane smiled brightly as she pulled back Pluto’s fur and put the clip in place, allowing him to see clearly.

“There we go! Now he can see!”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Do you not like it?”

“N-no, that’s not it! I’m just upset that I didn’t think of that first, that’s all.”

“Ehe, you’re funny, Jumpy.”

Junpei felt his cheeks heat up when Akane called him ‘Jumpy’, and quickly turned his head. He’d at first just been embarrassed by the clip, with Smile Precure! boldly written on it, but he found that he didn’t want to disappoint this strange girl.

“Oh, but, isn’t this yours? I won’t be able to give it back to you if Pluto wears it home…”

“Just think of it as a gift! I don’t mind, he needs it more than I do.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive!”

“A-alright then… Akane.”

“You can call me Kanny, if you want.”

Junpei was certain he’d never seen a smile quite that bright- when he looked at her, he felt as though everything got a little bit brighter. He found himself blushing furiously, but he eventually nodded in agreement.

“O-Ok, Kanny.”

They went their separate ways after that, Akane walking off with a boy who looked a bit older than both of them, while Junpei was distracted by the frantic calls of his babysitter who’d only now managed to catch up. She went on to scold him for a good few minutes and insisted that she take the leash, making the rest of the walk a fairly boring affair.

When he finally returned home and removed the hairclip, he went to put it away inside of a drawer- but he found that he couldn’t. It was embarrassingly girly, but it had been a gift… he’d hold onto it. He figured it was only right then that he at least check out an episode of the show, so that he could properly respect the gift- and he found that he genuinely enjoyed it. Even if it was super girly, the first episode all about the main girl who liked storybooks, and getting her transformation; it was a lot of fun. He figured that magical girls were kinda like action heroes, just with frillier clothes- was that really a bad thing? It wasn’t like he’d go out of his way to watch more, but he’d at least check it out if he saw it on TV again.

A month or two had passed since Junpei first met Akane, and he’d basically forgotten about the encounter. He still used the barrette whenever taking Pluto for a walk, but he’d basically forgotten who’d given it to him, and only remembered that it was something important. He didn’t remember at all, until his first day of school- when a familiar face walked into his classroom halfway through the day.

“Hi! I’m Kurashiki Akane, I hope we can get along well.”

Her smile was as bright as Junpei remembered it, and she looked around the classroom expectantly. There were a few free seats, but Junpei quickly put his hand up to offer the one beside him. He found himself shifting nervously in his seat for the entire class, hardly able to listen- and by the time class was finally over, he couldn’t even react before Akane had spoken up.

“Jumpy, hi! I can’t believe we’re in the same class.”

“I-I know, right? What’re the odds…”

“I was really nervous, because I didn’t know anyone here… but now, we can be friends!”

“Friends?”

“Oh, um… is that ok?”

“Y-yeah, it’s fine!”

Junpei had only been surprised, because he’d never really had any friends before. He’d never really gotten along with other kids that great in preschool, and none of his parent’s friends had kids his age. He’d just gotten used to fitting in, and going along with what everyone else did.

That’s why he was so utterly confused by her words. They’d only met once before- was she really sure she wanted to be his friend? Junpei’d just have to hope that she wouldn’t take that back later, after she’d gotten to know him… no, don’t think so negatively! It was only their first day of school, after all- hopefully, they’d have plenty of time to get to know each other. After all, even though they’d only just met, Junpei had a feeling that they were going to be friends for a long, long time- or at least, he hoped as much.

Time passed in school, and Junpei realized that despite how she’d spoken the first day, Akane didn’t make any friends. She never really spoke to anyone else, and when she did, the other kids would ignore her. She wasn’t bullied, exactly, but nobody paid attention to her. She was the type of girl who’d always speak her mind, and she was incredibly smart- probably the smartest of anyone in their grade (at least, in his opinion).

He’d pretended not to see her alone, at first, but as time went on, he found that he couldn’t ignore her any longer. It was a couple months after school started that he finally got up the nerve to talk to her, sitting alone in the corner as usual.

“H-hey, Akane… do you mind if I eat with you?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. You were eating with your friends, weren’t you?”

“Them? Uh, well…” Junpei scratched the back of his neck, looking to the side. “We don’t really talk much. I’d rather eat with you, you’re more interesting.”

“Jumpy…. Ok!”

Akane smiled in that bright way that Junpei admired, and waited for him to bring his food over. After that day, it just became habit- Junpei didn’t want to see her cry. He wanted to be Akane’s friend, and that meant staying with her. Besides, it wasn’t like he was losing anything by spending time with her. He’d actually have someone to talk to if they were hanging out, so it was a win-win for both of them.

“So, Akane…”

“…”

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s just… you haven’t called me Kanny since we first met… Do you not like nicknames? I can stop calling you Jumpy…”

Junpei flushed bright red, and started shaking his head quickly.

“N-No, not at all! I just, uh, Didn’t think you’d want me to call you that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, totally. Just, uh… don’t worry about it… Kanny.”

“Alright.”

She was smiling again, and Junpei let out a sigh of relief. He’d been embarrassed to say ‘Kanny’ out loud, but if it was just the two of them, then did it really matter that much? He decided that no, it didn’t- so Kanny it was, then.

“Next, we have the rabbit’s hutch. We’ll need two people to take care of it.”

It was the day before summer vacation, in their last year of elementary school. Junpei just wanted to be done with school already so he could get home, but there were still things to do. The first these tasks was to dole out ‘summer responsibilities’.

Akane had her hand raised high in the air, eyes shining brightly. She’d always loved them, stopping by their hutch whenever she had spare time. It was also where Junpei knew he could find he whenever she was upset, quietly trying not to cry as she would pet the rabbits. None of the other kids seemed even remotely interested in caring for them though, so Junpei purposely looked away from Akane, and slowly raised his hand.

“Alright, Kurashiki and Tenmyouji.”

The teacher went on to explain their summer homework, and other boring stuff, but Junpei didn’t pay any attention. He was too focused on what was going to come- summer meant festivals, beaches, and all sorts of other fun! Plus, even if it was work, hanging out with Akane all summer would be a good time… He was caught up in that train of thought when he felt something poke him in the arm, and he looked down at his desk. Akane had passed him a note, written in incredibly cutesy lettering:

‘I’m so happy we get to work together, Jumpy! ✲ﾟ｡.(✿>◡<)ﾉ☆.｡₀:* ’

He stared at it, then at Akane, and back to the note- she was looking at him expectantly, which meant he had to write something back. He bit his lip and thought about it for a while. He didn’t want to sound eager or anything, he was too much of a cool kid for that- but he didn’t want her to think that he didn’t like her. After a while, Junpei settled on what to write, and passed the note back as subtly as possible.

‘It’ll be fun, Kanny. ^◡^’

She smiled when she read the note- that same bright smile he’d fallen in love with, that she didn’t use as often anymore- the smile he’d decided he wanted to protect. His heart pounded a bit and he looked down at his desk, trying to hide the blush he was certain was showing. She was his only friend- but she was also a bit more than a friend, to Junpei. He wouldn’t tell her that, though. It was enough for him that they were just able to see each other almost every day, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world.

He could only hope that things would continue like this forever. If they could be friends forever… that sounded nice to Junpei. He’d already decided that he’d do anything to make her happy, after all. So, whether that happiness came from just being there for her, or even if it resulted in her wearing a ring on her left hand, he wanted to try his best for her. There were many things Junpei didn't really understand yet, and love was one of them, but he figured that what he felt was close enough. No matter how kiddish it might be, he didn't really consider the idea that he might grow out of this crush. He liked Akane Kurashiki, and things were as simple and straightforward as that.

Yes, he was certain that they’d be able to spend many, many years together, just as happy as the past six had been.