#and there’s still no fourth employee so that means it’s mostly going to be me and gerry barista-ing while our manager does managerial shit

[fingertipsmp3]

SOS two of my coworkers swapped shifts and now I’m worried tomorrow is going to be awkward and bad

[pomrania]

Okay, so I should write stuff about what I’m planning to do this month, for art. It’s not going to start today or tomorrow, but yeah.

First off, it’d be for mutuals and half-mutuals. “Half-mutual” is a term I came up with, because I didn’t know of any other term, and it just seemed to fit. It’s for when you follow my blog, and I follow your sideblog. (Or the other way around, but I don’t have sideblogs that people follow, so that wouldn’t apply to me.) I know there’s at least two different half-mutuals I have, one where I follow their cat blog and another where I follow their art blog; there may be more, even ones that are regularly active, but this is just off the top of my head.

I’m limiting it to mutuals and half-mutuals because I don’t think I could handle it unlimited; therefore, it logically follows that I think I CAN handle it with the given limitations. Which leads back into the perennial problem of people going “I don’t want to impose” or “I don’t want to give you extra work” or “I want other people to have a chance”. STOP WITH THAT.

Let’s take it in order. “I don’t want to impose.” If I’m asking you to give me something, and you give me the thing that I ask for, that is like, the exact opposite of “imposing”.

“I don’t want to give you extra work.” I’m not on salary. I’m not some minimum-wage employee getting paid the same amount regardless of how much I do or have to do. Heck, I’m not getting paid at ALL for this; it’s something I do because I WANT to do it. And if I feel like I can’t finish all of a thing in one day, you know what I do? I carry it over to the NEXT day.

“I want other people to have a chance.” This is actually a valid concern, but don’t worry, I have a system for dealing with that, and it’s worked very well in the past. Basically, you can only make a second (or third, fourth, etc) request once your first request has been done and posted; and that new request goes to the bottom of the list, like all new requests. I can explain it in more detail if needed -- either because you don’t get what I’m saying (totally possible) or because you don’t see how it solves the problem -- but it boils down to that the only way someone can monopolize stuff, is if nobody else makes a request.

If you keep following me, you’re prolly going to see the above stuff a LOT, as it keeps being a problem for every damn request-based art event I do. So like, just trust that I know what I’m doing, and I’m capable of making my own choices, and don’t try to make those choices for me.

Okay, rant over, what’s the other stuff I’ll need to talk about....

Subject matter. It’s “drawing pets as monsters”. Last year I got a lot of “vampire” requests, and I don’t know whether that’s because I put ‘vampire’ in the list of examples, or if people just really want to see their critters as vampires. I’d rather not, in general. Mostly because there’s only so many different ways to represent “vampire” and it can get boring after a while. I mean, I’m not OPPOSED to drawing critters as vampires, but I’d prefer that either a) it’s something you really want, as in “oh boy I can’t wait to see this critter as a vampire”, or b) you give me something more descriptive than just “vampire”; doesn’t have to be a vampire from a specific folklore or anything, “cute little vampire like you’d see on spoopy decorations” or “monstrous blood-sucker” would also work quite well for purposes.

Duration. Uhhh I have no idea; I think I’ll start with requests open for a week, and then see how that goes. And I’ll have to remember to put that in the post too; that it might be open for just a week, and it might end up as more than a week, I don’t know.

OH something else I need to make sure everyone knows, although I might not need to put it in the post itself. That once requests close, that does not mean that the EVENT closes; I’ll still be drawing requests that came in. This is something that people keep getting wrong and worrying about; is there a better way of phrasing it, that’ll be easily understood?

Also, my normal rules wrt the definition of “pet” will still apply; that is, a critter you have some type of connection to, past or present, and you can give me their name. The “name” thing is important because that’s what I do for file names, so without a name I can’t get past super-rough sketching (because I’m only going to put actual effort into a piece once I’ve saved it, which I can’t do without something to name the file, and I refuse to depart from my naming scheme).

[stoutduke]

DnD Wizards of the Coast (This involves Critical Role too.)

Reports of a leaked new ogl (open game license) from WOTC says that they're trying to make it so they can betray the promises of the original ogl. The original ogl allowed third party publishers and fans to make their own content using their game rules. This let creators make and distribute their own content. The new ogl makes it so creators have to register anything they sell with WOTC and if those creators are successful enough those creators will have to pay 20%-25% of the money they make to WOTC. WOTC says they have the ability to take fan content and use it as their own without paying or crediting the fan that made it. The current ogl says that WOTC can't make a new ogl like this, but it's looks like they're trying anyway. The new ogl would mean not only are they trying to steal content from creators and sell it as their own they're also blatant liars who can't be held to their word. While WOTC did address this leak, they didn't outright say it wasn't true. What they said was that you'd still be able to make content and publish it and that they're supportive of creators. That's typical corporate speak where they talk about something, leave out important details, and act like suddenly adding extra steps to running a bussieness isn't a big deal or time consuming.

They talked about how only a few people in the world will be effected by the royalties like it's not big deal, but they coincidentally didn't mention how high they'd be when they addressed it. It sounded like they were trying to undercut the issue by saying it'd only effect a few people. By a few people they mean the ones who have actually made a successful business making dnd related content. Taking a fourth of a businesses income is a crippling amount of money to take. It's also extremely scummy to suddenly require those royalties after over 2 decades of not requiring them. They basically said, "Don't worry, we're only screwing over the successful business owners really hard and adding more work to do for everyone else trying to make a living by being creative with dnd. Also don't pay attention to how we're suddenly requiring payment from people out of nowhere. We're just going to pretend those 20+ years where those payments weren't at all necessary didn't exist." What a lot of people probably don't realize is that most of the money a smaller business makes goes back into the business to pay employees and buy merch.

Normally I'd like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but the signs are pointing in a bad direction and I haven't seen anything from them that says otherwise. They haven't explicitly said the new ogl wasn't true and the former vice president of WOTC who spearheaded the original ogl is actively against what they're doing and has started trying to stop the new ogl. Here's their twitter post about it.

This part isn't proof of any kind and is mostly me hoping for the best. Matt Mercer the creator of Critical Role has this at the top of his likes list on twitter. I'm hoping this's a sign that Matt is against what's happening. My hope and guess is that since he's worked with WOTC and they sell his creations he might not be able to speak out against what they're doing overtly because of contracts with them.

Here's some links to articles about what's happening.

[adhdeancas]

Dean Winchester (and the script leaks last night) possessed me to write this.

Dean happens upon Chuck's latest book: Carry On. Except it ends differently than it really went, and the ending? It's really fucking bad.

tw: suicide mention, transphobia (quickly shut the fuck down) 

Dean doesn’t make a habit of going to bookstores. Not because he hates books, contrary to what Sam might think; he just prefers to buy used books. There’s something comforting about a book that has already been worn and read over and over, that already shows how much the previous owner loved it. Plus, y’know, big corporations are evil and all that. And Dean only allows himself to overlook that when his stomach or his wallet wins over his hatred of the shitty mass-produced products. 

This time it was Jack who won; he’s obsessed with this new fantasy series and the new book just came out, so there’s no way he can hunt it down on Ebay. He makes his way to the fantasy and sci-fi section, eyes roaming over the displays of new releases, and his eye catches on something that turns his blood cold. 

“Supernatural: Carry On, The Final Book of the Winchesters’ Epic Journey” takes up a whole table, the generic and overly serious cover jeering out at him. 

He storms over to the display, anger covering up for the way his body feels light as a feather and like lead all at once, and picks up a book. “Why is Sam always fucking shirtless?” he mutters, the only thought that allows itself from the mess inside his head to his mouth. 

“Book sales.” A voice behind him says. He turns to see a teenager with their arms crossed over their work polo, pierced lip fixed into a customer-unfriendly frown.

“People want to see that?”

They snort, a small grin turning up the corner of their lips. It reminds Dean of Cas. “No. But that’s what advertisers think all ‘women’ want,” They use air quotes. 

He raises an eyebrow and asks. “Women?”

They shrug and uncross their arms, leaning back against the display table behind them. Their nametag says Jadyn. “Supernatural’s biggest block of readers is queer. I’d go out on a limb and say a lot of those the marketers think of as ‘women’ aren’t, or if they are, they aren’t itching to see Sam’s six pack.” Jadyn smirks. 

Dean takes a second to digest that, then grins down at the book, thinking past Sam’s apparently badly-received nudity now. “So how’d they like it?” he asks, waving the book a bit and looking up at Jadyn. Apparently they know a lot about the fans of the books, and for once, he’s proud of the way the story ended. 

Jadyn’s face sets into all hard lines. “Most people fucking hated it.” they say bluntly, then, probably remembering that he’s a customer, correct. “Sorry. I mean, it got some good reviews, mostly from people who like Wincest, but beyond that, it had some problematic plot points.”

Dean winces at the reminder of the ship between him and his brother, then scrunches his whole face together in confusion. “Wait, what? Why?” Why would Wincest fans like it? What was problematic about their end?

Jadyn shifts from foot to foot. “I don’t wanna spoil anything for you-”

“I don’t care about spoilers, just give me the short version.” Dean says quickly. A quiet panic is rising in him, and suddenly he has a horrible feeling that he’s not holding the truth in his hands anymore. 

“Uh, okay… Well, the most obvious thing is the bury-your-gays thing, then there’s the fact that it completely contradicted the rest of the lore. And it was ableist, misogynistic, and messed up, like, every character’s arc.” they take a breath, clearly worked up by it. “Even if they changed any of the details too, it was all built on Dean’s death, and that’s just bullshit. Sorry.” they apologize again, apparently mistaking Dean’s stricken expression to be in reaction to their rant and swearing. 

“No, nah, you’re… you’re okay. Uh, thanks.” he waves a hand and wanders away from them, only remembering Jack’s book when he’s almost to the register. He manages to make his way back and find the damn thing, but he’s still in a fog when he gets to the register. 

“Did anyone help you in the store today?”

“Huh?” he looks up and meets the middle-aged cashier’s gaze for the first time. Brent, from the nametag, looks at him impatiently. “Oh, yeah, uh… Jadyn. Jadyn helped me.” Brent scoffs and starts typing with a shake of the head. “Uh, is there a problem?” Dean asks, a little annoyed at this cashier’s unnecessary attitude. He usually doesn’t care if an employee’s rude, because they have to deal with assholes all the time and honestly Dean isn’t much better, but this one gives him a bad feeling. 

“No, no, sorry. It’s just - “Jadyn’s” got this idea that he’s a girl. Makes everybody call him that name now too. Just-” Brent shakes his head. “I mean, you get it. Their generation, everybody wants to be special.”

Dean glares. “No, I don’t get it, Brent.” He says through gritted teeth. “Seems to me like Jadyn probably deals with enough assholes like you that her asking for a little basic decency is the exact opposite of special. Sounds pretty normal, actually.” He can see the fear creep into Brent’s eyes, and he knows the cashier is reacting to the murderous look in his eyes more than his actual words. 

Brent hands Dean his bag of books with a quiet, “Here you go.”

Dean snatches it away. “Oh, Brent?” he checks over his shoulder to make sure they’re alone and then leans across the counter into Brent’s space. “You should find a new job, one where you don’t have to interact with other people. At least until you learn how to stop being a piece of shit.” He starts to ease away but thinks better about it. “And if you think that’s a suggestion, it’s not. My husband likes this book coming out next month that I’ll need to buy, and if I see you here when I come, well… it would be really embarrassing for you to tell all your little friends that you got your ass beat by a ‘special’ guy, huh?” He pats Brent on the cheek condescendingly and leaves with a huff. 

Damn transphobes. 

He only remembers the book once he’s back in Baby, and he takes the time to drive out of town before he pulls over to read it. It’s an old abandoned church, the cross long since fallen from the roof and the doors hanging off their hinges. He sits on the steps just because being in Baby seems claustrophobic for once in his life, and going back to the bunker to look at this is just… not happening.

Dean only skims the beginning to see that it starts the same. The ground erupting with bodies, hell spitting out its most-conveniently placed nasties, Rowena sacrificing herself, Cas leaving. His throat closes up at that, at Chuck’s description of Cas’s heartbroken expression as he climbs the stairs of the bunker. He clears his throat and skips to the end, right past Cas’s death that he doesn’t have the time to think about right now, past them defeating Chuck and then stops. He goes back a few pages, trying to find the disconnect. 

The story’s different.

After Jack takes on God’s power, in the book, he’s totally fine. Not almost vibrating out of his skin or anything, not crying like the three year old he is because he’s scared. Not like it really happened. He just smiles and leaves him and Sam, and they let him go. 

Dean scoffs, skimming over the story as it just gets more ridiculous. 

In the book, he doesn’t even try to save Cas. They barely even mention him. And they never mention Eileen, either. In fact, Dean notes disbelievingly, practically the only characters in the last few chapters are him and Sam. They’re hunting again.

“What, is Chuck trying to keep the series going?” he whispers to himself, anger flaring through him. They let Chuck live, and he decided to write obnoxious fanfiction about them? He’s gonna kill that shameless little fucker. For real, this time. He deserves it.

In the book, Sam and Dean torture some vampire mime, and they enjoy it. Dean cringes; this is really what Chuck thinks of them. Then they tussle with more vamps in a barn and- 

Dean’s brain stops working. He rereads the scene again and again. 

“There’s something in my… something in my back. It feels like it’s right through me.” 

Dean Winchester dies in a dirty barn, on a piece of freaking rebar. 

More than that, Dean realizes on his fourth read-through. This Dean? He tried to drag out his speech, Dean can tell by the way he pauses for fucking drama. He would never do that. He would never talk to Sam for fifteen hellish minutes when he could be trying. Trying to live, so he can actually get his life back on track, get his family back. No, he made that speech stalling. He made that speech so Sam wouldn’t try to save him. 

“You gotta admit, I had one helluva ride.” He was strangely calm.

Chuck made him kill himself.

Dean reads the rest of the book through blurry eyes, reading an ambiguous and nothing-ending, one where he’s somehow happy to be dead and driving around in heaven alone while Sam raises a kid into hunting and cries about Dean decades after he’s died. Eileen isn’t mentioned. Cas is mentioned once, and Bizzarro-Dean doesn’t even think about seeing him, apparently. The whole book ends with a hug between him and Sam, both dead. Both alone. 

Dean rips the ending up. He tears through the stupid paper covering and keeps ripping the pages up until they’re the size of confetti. His lower lip wobbles. He throws the whole thing against the side of the building, and it tumbles through the broken doorway and drops into a pile of dust and dirt. “That isn’t the fucking ending.” he grounds out, knocking his hand against the flimsy handrail. It gives a little under his fist and he kicks at it. “That isn’t the fucking ending!”

He’s having a panic attack. Again. He tries to take deep breaths, but they’re gulping, too big, they’re making him panic more. He scrambles back to Baby and grabs his phone, presses the first number on his favorites list and waits for him to answer on speaker phone.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?” Sam sounds like he’s been laughing. There are voices in the background, and Dean tries to convince himself one of them is Eileen. 

“Hey Sammy.” he chokes out, trying to sound normal. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and then the sounds in the background. “Nah, Rowena’s just over.” he says casually. 

“So those voices in the background were-”

“Rowena and Eileen, yeah. They’re trying to convince me we need to go to Mexico. For the beaches.” A smile in his voice. Dean lets out a sigh of relief.  What’s up, Dean? You need something?” The smile drops, and Sam’s worried. 

Sam’s okay. Sam’s okay. “No, nah. Hey, you heard from Donna lately?” Dean just needs to triple-check.

“Uh, no, not since Sunday dinner… Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah, she just- she hasn’t been answering my texts. Just wanted to make sure.” Dean lies quickly. His breathing is still uneven, but his body is settling into uneven shakes. 

Sam sounds skeptical. “Yeah, well, she did tell us it’s been pretty busy at work lately. Y’know, everybody going out for the first time with COVID, getting stupid. Plus, y’know, nowhere’s drowning in EMTs right now.”

“Right. Yeah.” Dean takes a deep breath, a distant memory of Donna talking about that coming back to him.

“Pretty sure you were setting up a D&D session with Charlie while she was talking about that,” Sam laughs. Dean knows he means it as a subtle jab, but there’s too much relief flooding through him to care. Still, a string is pulled taut in him, and Sam can’t fix that completely.

“Gotta go, Sam,” Dean hangs up before Sam can say anything else, and goes to his next contact. It rings for far too long, and Dean’s heartbeat picks back up to thundering.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes out. “Cas, you know I love you, right?” He needs to test all the bounds of this, to make sure, just to make sure. Make sure Chuck isn’t still fucking with him. Because apparently, Chuck won’t let him be queer. Not in his story. Not out loud.

He can hear Cas’s eyebrow raise through the phone, and his chest is overcome with stupid fondness. “I would be a little worried if you didn’t.”

Dean grins widely. “Like, romantically. I’m in love with you. Because you’re the love of my life and I’m bisexual.” He says it all like it’s a checklist, like he expects some cosmic being to slap a hand over his mouth before he gets each next phrase out.

“Yes, Dean. We’ve been married almost two months.” Cas is smiling. It happens everytime he talks about their wedding. Dean adores it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, now it is.” His whole body relaxes, still vibrating with leftover panic, but satisfied. “I got Jack’s book.”

“Oh, good. He’ll be so pleased.” Cas pauses. “Dean, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean eases off the ground and sends a last look at the dilapidated church before climbing into Baby. “Just- read a bad book. I’ll tell you about it later. When I get home.”

[dcbbw]

Would you ever 📝 AU Romance. Riley having a pregnancy scare or how would Liam would react?

@gkittylove99!!! THIS ASK! THIS.ASK. I have to thank my pre-readers and idea bouncers @sirbeepsalot, @burnsoslow, and @ao719. And to all the folks I sent random snippets to, thank you for not thinking I was crazy!

Warnings for this full-blown fic: Slightly NSFW, Frank discussion of pregnancy termination

I awaken to feel Liam’s weight pressed against my back. His palms cover the backs of my hands as his cock sits in my center, throbbing and twitching.

“Are you awake yet?” His breath, warm and stale, tickles the back of my neck.

I respond by arching my hips upwards; I feel his groin  grind against me as he alternates his thrusts between teasingly slow and hard and rough. His teeth scrape my skin between groans of: “Throw that pussy at me,” and “You like how this dick feels?”

The head of his cock is pressed against my spot and I cry out as I release over his shaft; the pillow muffles it. Shortly thereafter, I feel his orgasm splashing against my still clenching walls. He pulls out and rolls over onto his back.

We start every morning with some form of sex. Sometimes it’s oral for me, a blowjob in front of the bedroom mirror for him, or intercourse. It’s always vanilla; we save the kinky for the nighttime.

I stay laying on my stomach; I have been tired lately. And unfocused. I think I need vitamins, maybe an iron supplement. Liam’s voice rouses me, and I turn my head to look at him.

“You need to get up, Riley. It’s time for your shower.”

“I don’t feel good,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a cold?”

I shake my head. “I just don’t feel good.”

He gives me an odd look before speaking. “I’ll make you some tea and arrange to telework today.”

And then he rises naked from the bed, leaving me alone in the room.

One Week Later

It’s Wednesday, and I am in the office. Chase and Penelope have gone to make the Starbucks run before staff meeting. I didn’t order anything; I am still queasy and it’s strongest in the morning. I feel even more rundown, and there is some heartburn. I am booting up my laptop when my desk phone rings. It’s Lynn, my boss.

“Hey! Come back here and talk to me,” she requests in her signature cheery tone.

I tell her to give me two minutes and hang up. The phone rings again. “Need me to bring you anything?” I answer, sure it’s her again. But it’s Liam.

“Don’t order a car this evening. My car will pick you up at 4:30.”

I stare stupidly at my screen. “Why?”

“You’ll find out.” And the call is disconnected.

I feel uncertainty twist my already roiling stomach as I head into Lynn’s cubicle. She looks up at me, a bright smile on her face. Her hair is in loose waves and falls just past her shoulders; her skin is clear with a rosy glow.

“You look great!” I compliment her. “How do you feel?”

Lynn is entering her fifth month of pregnancy. It’s her fourth; she’s carrying twins.

“Thanks! I feel like I’m hauling around a pod of whales. Sperm whales,” she giggles at her pun.

I offer her a weak smile as I sit in the only empty chair in her cubicle. She frowns slightly. “Was that HR offensive?” She waves her hand dismissively. “I don’t know and too fat to care.”

I shake my head slightly. “You’re fine.”

She begins to dig into a styrofoam container that holds her breakfast: corned beef hash, sausage links, grits, potatoes, toast, and sunny-side up eggs. The sights and smells turn my stomach even more. As she eats, Lynn prattles about her weekend, possibly hiring a new person to help Coco in IT, and maybe putting together an employee handbook.

I say nothing because if I open my mouth, the water and yogurt I had earlier may come up. Noticing my silence, Lynn looks up me; her eyes are critical as she studies me.

“Riley, are you okay? You look … listless.”

“I’m fine!” I force myself to respond cheerfully. “Just a little tired.”

One of her hands rests lightly against her burgeoning belly; the other firmly grips her fork as she drags it through hash, grits, and egg yolk. “Go home. Get some rest for the remainder of the week.”

“I’m fine,” I protest.

“Then go home and get even better. Answer a couple of emails, take a call and you won’t have to use your leave.” She speaks around mouthfuls of food.

My eyes fall to her belly. “Do you have names for the babies yet?”

“Peanut butter and Jelly.” She sees my surprised expression. “There’s a story there, but it’s definitely NSFW. I’m not dealing with HR today.”

She waves her hand at me in a “shoo” motion. “Go home! See you Monday.”

I rise from the chair and make my way slowly back to my desk. I shut down the laptop. I pick up my desk phone and call Liam.

“What?” His tone is curt. I wonder if he’s busy or doesn’t want to hear from me.

“I’m leaving work now. I’m off until Monday.”

A pause before he speaks. I hear papers being shuffled and him typing on his keyboard. “Call the car, go to the penthouse. Shower. Don’t answer the door for anyone, don’t be a Nosy Parker, and I’ll be there shortly.”

And he hangs up.

Once inside the penthouse, I wander around before I shower. It’s rare Liam leaves me alone here; I find it feels strange without his presence. The quiet sounds different, the sun slants through the windows at an altered angle. The stovetop and counters gleam in the bright kitchen; usually both are filled with pots and pans and food in various stages of preparation. I open the refrigerator; there is a platter of homemade meatballs, perfectly rolled and shaped and filled with onions and peppers, ready to be cooked for our dinner tonight. I wonder what else we’ll have.

As I cross back through the living room, I look up at the staircase; only when Liam requests me in his study do I venture into the upper level of the penthouse. There’s a study, home gym, full bathroom, guest room, and the only ingress/egress to the outdoor space upstairs.

I keep walking until I reach the bedroom. I pass Liam’s chest of drawers and frown; one of the drawers isn’t fully closed. I set my phone on top of the furniture and place my palm against the gleaming wood to push it close, but I hesitate. I wonder what’s inside. I look around, even though I know I am the only person in the house.

I’m going to be a Nosy Parker.

I pull the drawer open cautiously and peer inside: neatly folded stacks of boxer shorts in white and black greet me. Next to them are wife beaters, also in white and black, and short-sleeved undershirts in white. There is a wooden tray on the right-hand side of the drawer; it’s mostly cufflinks and tie clips, but I see two photographs, face down. I look at them curiously; just as my fingers reach out to touch them, my phone rings.

I jump and let out a small yell before pushing the drawer shut and looking at my caller ID. I don’t recognize the number; I toss the phone onto the bed before stripping and entering the shower. By the time Liam arrives home, I am wearing his robe and wrapped in a blanket on the living room sofa. There is a talk show on the television. He stands in the doorway looking at me, carrying a brown paper bag. It smells delicious.

And I am now starving.

His eyes look me over as he passes me the food; it’s a grilled cheese sandwich and cup of tomato soup with basil. I look at him gratefully before I bite ravenously into the gooey, melted cheese and hot buttered bread. The cheese melts against my tongue; a droplet of butter rolls from my lower lip down my chin.

Liam sits next to me; he turns the television off.

“You’re feeling better?”

I am drinking savory soup directly from the container. “I’m still tired, but my nausea has passed.”

He nods thoughtfully. “You haven’t used your supplies this month, Riley.”

The sandwich is at my lips, but my mouth does not open. I’m trying to calculate the last time I had my period. Liam watches me for a few seconds before speaking.

“You’re 10 days late, Riley.”

I stare at him, struggling to come to terms with what this meant. Or could mean. Even the most regular women were sometimes late due to hormones or something.

But I was sick in the mornings. I was fatigued constantly.

The image of Lynn’s hand on her pregnant belly flashes through my mind.

I set my food down; my mouth is suddenly dry. “What … what if I am?”

“Pregnant?” Liam asks as he stands, then makes his way to the television set. He stands there, arms folded across his chest. His burgundy tie is blood against the crisp, white shirt he wears.

I nod slowly.

“You’ll get rid of it.” His tone is calm, matter-of-fact.

A coldness spreads from my belly to chill my entire body. I feel goosebumps rise on my skin. ��No,” I whisper. “IF I am, it’s my body!”

“But my child. I don’t want children, Riley.”

“Then you should’ve taken better precautions!” I yell as I stand and get in his face. The robe falls open. I am naked beneath it, but Liam isn’t looking at my body.

“YOU said you were on birth control!” His voices thunders throughout the apartment. He takes a deep breath as he composes himself.

“However, I should have ensured that no … accidents could occur. I’ll be rectifying that situation.”

My eyes search his. He returns my gaze, his eyes steady. How could he be so callous, so cold towards a possible life he helped create?

“I’m not getting rid of our baby. This isn’t something you can throw money at to make it go away, Liam!”

He looks at me incredulously. “It’s a BABY! I will ALWAYS BE THROWING MONEY AT IT!” He shakes his head. “Best to make a one-time payment and be done with it.” He looks at me with hard, dark eyes. “And you either get rid of it or give it up. Those are your only options, Riley. You can’t have us both.”

He steps around me, headed for the stairway that leads upstairs. “Finish your food before it gets cold.”

The heels of his shoes tap against hardwood as he jogs up the stairs. And I am alone.

All alone.

I look around and my glance falls on my lunch. I gather it and take it into the kitchen; I watch red liquid splash against the stainless steel of the sink as I pour the soup out. I wrap the sandwich in its paper, put it back inside its bag, and ball the whole thing up before tossing it in the trash.

Back in the living room, I straighten the sofa cushions and fold my blanket; I carry the blanket with me to the bedroom. I place it back inside the closet; I look at my clothing. Clothing that Liam bought. My fingertips run across the various fabrics: silk, wool, cotton; it causes the hangers to tinkle against each other.

I am standing at the window, the robe belted tightly around my waist, when I hear Liam’s voice behind me. He says I have a doctor’s appointment Friday morning to determine if I am indeed pregnant. I say nothing as my eyes stay fixed on sunlight glinting off the East River, barely visible behind buildings of stone and steel.

I feel him behind me; I smell his cologne and hear his breathing. I feel tears prick my eyes.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I whisper.

“I don’t,” he answers softly.

His arms come around my waist and I feel his face drop into my hair. Then he steps away. “Dinner in an hour.”

“I’m not hungry.”

His footsteps pause. “You should eat.” And then he is gone.

That night, we do not have sex, but we do the next morning. We then spend the remainder of the day avoiding each other and not speaking.

I sit on his ridiculously oversized bed, chin resting on my knees, wondering what I will do if I am pregnant. I have my job; I have the alimony from Maxwell. I would need to find a bigger apartment, a two-bedroom at least.

I would not ask Liam for any child support, nor would I accept it if offered.

Friday morning, we are sitting in a doctor’s office. I fill out paperwork and give the receptionist my insurance information. Liam sits in a chair, an ankle resting on a thigh while he reads a magazine. When my name is called, he walks with me into the examination room.

The nurse is cheerful; she asks me questions that I answer in a dull tone.

No, I have never been pregnant before.

My period is now two weeks late.

The nausea is worse in the morning. I also have heartburn.

No pain.

Liam’s eyes stay fixed on me.

The nurse draws blood; I go to the bathroom to pee in a cup. And we wait.

The doctor comes in 20 minutes later. I am not pregnant. But she wants to do an ultrasound. I feel relief, sadness, and fear. I look at Liam, but his expression is stoic, giving nothing away. I agree to the ultrasound.

There is cool gel. Pictures of my insides show up on a screen. There are white spots on my right side.

I have gallstones; that is why I am nauseous and have heartburn and fatigue.

My surgery is scheduled for a month from Monday.

Liam asks if there is anything that can help relieve my discomfort for the next month. He inquires about foods and drinks to avoid. But he doesn’t look at the doctor when he asks his questions.

He is squatting in front of me, his thumb brushing my cheek while his eyes hold mine captive.

The doctor answers as she scribbles on paper: Ibuprofen to help with pain, and I need to limit my dairy, fats, grease, and fried foods.

At the reception desk, Liam pays the co-pay costs. The receptionist smiles at him. “Dr. Marion will see you Wednesday. Did you receive your paperwork?”

Liam nods, and tells her he will return it no later than Monday before he takes my hand as we walk to the elevator. I want to pull away because I don’t think he would be holding my hand if I were pregnant.

He won.

But I let my hand stay wrapped with his.

“Who’s Dr. Marion?” I ask.

“My urologist.”

“Is it a routine visit?”

I feel my stomach sour even though I haven’t eaten anything.

The elevator car arrives, and we board. He pushes the button to take us to the lobby. His eyes stay fixed on the metal doors as we begin our descent downstairs.

“I’m getting a vasectomy.”

And he says nothing else.

Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @hopefulmoonobject @amomentofsinclairity @ao719 @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @janezillow @marietrinmimi @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @bebepac @zaffrenotes @liyanin @liamxs-world @choiceslife @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @gnatbrain @sanchita012 @anotherbeingsworld @atha68 @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @starrystarrytrouble @liamandneca @liamrhysstalker2020 @alyssalauren @queenrileyrose @ladyangel70 @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @ritachacha @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @cordonianroyalty @superharriet

   #tw discussion of pregnancy termination #tw slightly ns*w #dcbbw answers #UnRomance AU ask #liam x riley #this isn’t Cordonia

[passable-talent]

Hi yes so I just finished the anakin punk au and it was uh perfect? And you should 100% please write more in that au it doesn’t even have to be in some coherent storyline, just more punk anakin please I am hooked

say no more my dear

I write this. and I think to myself “punks. they like weed. they drink. I should talk about that.”

and then I don’t. because I have a,,, responsibility to promote good health I guess?

don’t do drugs kids. most of them arent worth it i promise

and yes just like i mentioned wattpad in the last one tumblr is coming up on this one we’re breaking the FUCKING fourth wall

part one here

You passed out on his shoulder, exactly as he predicted, at about 2:00 AM.

He didn’t notice for a few minutes, and once he had, he had to make a very hard decision. 

He knew you were leaving in the morning, you had other places to be. And he had to get home, Cliegg was going to be pissed he’d been out this late as it was. But- just like you, he never wanted the night to end.

At 2:15, he shimmied out from under you, finding your room key quickly. Once he’d slipped it into his pocket, he picked you up, carrying you all the way back to your room. The door seemed to scream as it opened, but none of the girls were awake. He laid you onto the only empty bed, leaving your room key on the dresser, and kneeled at your beside, for just a moment. 

A night he wasn’t going to forget. One he wasn’t willing to leave behind. 

He found the notepad left by the hotel for guests and its nearby pen, scribbling his phone number onto it before smacking it onto your room key so that he knew you’d see it. 

He wasn’t taking any chances. He did everything he could to make sure that you were safe, that you’d sleep soundly, that he’d see you again. It was a bit of a walk back to where he’d left his car, at the venue, but it was worth it- he shrugged his jacket up around his neck against the cold and kept going, remembering how it’d felt to hold you. 

But, in all of his kindness, he had made one mistake. You didn’t get to say goodbye. 

You woke up in the hotel room the next morning, for a moment thinking that maybe you’d dreamed the whole thing. But then you realized you still had your shoes on, and you were laying on top of the sheets, why the hell would I do that, and you phone hadn’t been plugged in, and- 

And there was a phone number on the dresser. 

You weren’t really ‘dating’- you shouldn’t call it that. If you were going to call it that, then there would inevitably be a post on someone’s tumblr that you had a boyfriend, and who was he, where was he from, yada yada... that damn website already had half the internet convinced you were dating Padme, you didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire. 

So no, you weren’t dating. But you were texting every day. You learned so much about him, about how he was raised by his mom and worked at her friend Watto’s auto shop, about his step-brother and future step-sister-in-law, how his mom died when he was nineteen, about how he’d tried to move to California with his friend Obi-Wan a few years ago, but it fell through. In return, you told him about your life- living in the outskirts of San Francisco, being pushed into ballet lessons as a kid (as he said- ‘that’s why you look weightless on stage!’), being cut out from your family for quitting college to pursue music. 

You texted every day and every night, sent him videos from gigs, and he sent dumb little snapchats from underneath whatever car he was working on. You expected that to be it, probably for a long time- neither of you had the money nor the time to see each other more often. So you held onto the connection you had, the night you’d spent together. 

And you thought that’d be it. But- the universe has a funny way of surprising you. 

Your record label was based in LA, so you lived in Salta Ana, about thirty miles away, where the real estate was way cheaper. The band lived together, close as four friends could be, so they knew all about how you’d fallen for Anakin. Ahsoka would notice you glued to your phone, and ask snarkily “texting skyguy?” to which you always scolded her that his name was Skywalker. 

Living so close to LA made it easy to do gigs at any venue that would take you- bars, clubs, a particularly anarchist biker hall. A bar- such was the case for tonight. 

Like usual with a gig like this, Aayla had taken to instagram and called any fan in the area, so the bar was mostly filled with people who knew the music, but there were regulars, too. People who couldn’t be damned to listen to the lyrics, and just let the atmosphere move them. 

The setlist changed, when you were at a place like this. You didn’t necessarily rely on the hundred voice chorus that you loved so much, and so couldn’t include some of those songs. Your music strayed a little more to the rock end of the spectrum, when you played in places like this. With that high energy came faster music, more running around the stage, more movement, but you weren’t tired, when the set ended at 11:25. You were more energized than usual, in fact.

“Pads, I’ve never heard you solo like that!” You said, a bright smile on your face as you pushed out of the employee entrance of the bar. She gave you thanks, but not a moment later stopped dead, not saying a word, staring at you. You paused, looking at her, then Ahsoka and Aayla, who’d both stopped, too. 

“What?” Ahsoka and Aayla, though, were looking at something past you, which made you realize that Padme was, too. You turned, and leaning against the wall was- was Anakin. 

“Oh my god,” you said under your breath, dropping into a run toward him immediately. “Anakin!” He shoved himself off of the wall, letting you run into his arms, and just held you. You pulled away to look at him, amazed that after months, here he was, right in front of you, real. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, bewildered, surprised, ecstatic. 

“Visiting Obi-Wan,” he said, and he lifted his hand to your face, giving you a good look at that tattoo you hadn’t quite forgotten, dark lines reaching from his elbow to his palm. 

��And you,” he added. You couldn’t help it- you hadn’t seen him in so long, you couldn’t help the way you leaned into it when he pulled you into a kiss, and this time you weren’t exhausted, and you could let yourself feel it, you could pay attention to his chapped lips and the way he slid them over yours, still soft, even after waiting in the cold. You never wanted to leave this moment, like so many of the others that you spent with him, his hands on your face keeping away the January air. 

“Yeah, I’m heading home,” Ahsoka said, making you break the kiss. “Coming, or not?” You looked back at her with a bit of a glare, letting Anakin’s hands fall to your neck. 

“You guys go ahead,” you said, checking your jacket pocket for the essentials- wallet, phone, house keys. “I think I have a tradition to uphold.” 

The bar you’d played at tonight was a bit far away from the place you wanted to take Anakin, but you didn’t mind the walk, since it was with him. You’d been texting every day, and yet it felt different, there was so much more to talk about now. 

Apparently, Anakin hadn’t seen Obi-Wan since he’d left to move to LA, so it was a visit to an old friend as much as it was an excuse to see you again. 

“So you’re staying with him?” You asked, leading him by the arm down the street. 

“Yeah,” he said, hooking his elbow into yours, which let him keep his hands in his pockets. “He’s got an apartment in east LA, it’s got a nice couch.”

“East LA, not bad. What’s he do?” 

“He’s a talent manager, actually. Went to business school and everything.” Anakin paused, suppressing a chuckle. “He told me that he’d love to represent you, if you didn’t already have someone.” 

“Sadly, we do,” you said, playful, “but I’ll keep him in mind.” 

You’d pretend it was the winter chill that brought the flush to your cheeks- he’d told his friend about you. That had to mean you were important to him, right?

“Where are we heading, anyway?” He asked, and you, luckily, could channel your inner dramatic and turn toward the doorway you’d been heading toward all along. 

“Right here,” you said, and you took him inside. 

This was your recording studio- it was always open, so that any artist could stop in and get out whatever creativity they had. You showed your ID card to the lobby clerk, who approved it and called the elevator. Anakin followed your lead until the door closed, and just like you had on the night you met him, you pressed the button for the highest floor. 

“This is one of the buildings for our record company,” you said, the elevator so familiar. 

“Which would explain why he let you in,” Anakin said, a slight teasing tone to his voice. All you could do was chuckle, waiting for the elevator to reach the top floor.

From there, you lead him to a glass door, and swiped your ID card through a reader near its frame so you could step outside. 

“This is the rooftop set,” you said, gesturing to the wide space, “It’s where we film a lot of music videos.” This close to the door, it was hard to see over the side of the building, and so you took Anakin’s hand.

“The city lights keep us from stargazing,” you said with a smile, and brought him to the guardrail at the edge of the roof. “So I thought I’d show you the city’s version of the night sky.” Looking out across the city, there were a thousand orange sparkles, windows illuminated in buildings stretching as far as the eye could see. Criss-crossed between them were lines of red and white, LA traffic clogging the city streets even so late at night. 

No matter how many times you came up here, you’d never get tired of the view. Fifty-five stories up, there were other buildings that dwarfed this tower, but the west was free of them, so your view to the horizon was clear, even in the LA overcast. 

“Wow,” he said, looking out over it all beside you. “I’ve never- I don’t think I’ve ever been up this high.” You fixed him with a surprised expression, leaning your elbows down onto the banister. 

“No? Really?”

“I didn’t grow up in a city, like you,” he said, settling in beside you, his arm pressed to yours. You let your head rest onto his shoulder, remembering the night you met. 

“I’m glad you came out to LA,” you said, “though I’m hoping you’ll stay a while. I  want to go on an actual date with you.” You heard him exhale.

“You don’t call this a date?” he asked, and you lifted your head, looking at him, the lights of the city giving his face the slightest, golden glow. 

“Well, I mean-” If this was a date, then so had been the one after the show, back in October. Which meant this was your second date, and you’d technically been ‘dating’ this whole time, which kinda made him your- boyfriend? 

“Is it?” Anakin slipped his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together.

“This is better than any dinner and movie we could’ve gone to, I think.” He turned over your hand, tracing his first finger over the skyline tattoo that bisected your forearm. “Especially since it seems like this means a lot to you.” You couldn’t believe he’d noticed that tattoo- it meant he really was paying attention to you. 

“Yeah,” you said with a smile, lifting your arm up, his hand still held in yours, aligning the tattoo with the skyline you were looking at. “I got this done after we did our first video.” Silently, he examined the ink and compared it to the sky, seeing what you meant. 

“That’s really cool,” he said, bringing your hand back down, since his fingers were getting cold in the wind, and he had to assume yours were too. 

“How long are you going to be in town?” You asked, resting your temple down onto his shoulder again. 

“A week, or so. Watto says he needs me to work on a mustang that we’re getting- I think Cliegg told him to say that since he doesn’t want me in the city.” 

“Well, I don’t want to undermine your dad,” you said, “But I wouldn’t complain if you stayed here a lot longer than that.” You ran your thumb over the back of his hand. “It’s really nice to actually have you with me, and not over the phone.” Anakin turned to kiss the top of your head.

“Tell me about it. It’s worse for me, I promise- I listen to your music all the time, and it just makes me want to see you.” 

“Sometimes I forget that you were once just a fan,” you said with a laugh, “listening to our music.” 

“The luckiest one in the world,” Anakin added, and you almost wondered how you’d ever lived without him. 

You let a moment pass, in silence. 

“I’m twenty five,” you started, wondering if you had the courage to finish, “do you think I’m too young to be in love?” Anakin didn’t respond, at first. He turned to you, lifting his furthest hand to your face, making you look up at him. You could never get over those blue eyes- you’d forgotten how intense they were. 

“I guess it depends on the guy,” Anakin said, his teeth quickly catching his lower lip. “Do you think you are?” You reached up past his arm to his face, your first finger tracing his eyebrow before your palm came to rest on the ridge of his cheekbone.

“No,” you said, and you rushed forward to meet his lips. 

-🦌 Roe

[starlightbuck]

20 for the meet cute prompts 👀👀👀

20. You walk out of a dressing room asking if the outfit suits you, but it’s not your friend waiting outside the room like you thought. 

the way you look tonight || read on AO3

“Why are you walking so fast?”

Chim darts an unimpressed glance over his shoulder. “Because I’m a man on a mission. Now hurry up, Buckley.”

Buck picks up speed, trying to understand how it is that he’s struggling to keep up. His legs are longer than Chim’s, so shouldn’t he be the one setting the pace for the two of them? Not vice versa?

“If I walk quicker, will you finally tell me where we’re going?”

Chim had showed up at Buck’s apartment less than an hour ago and all but dragged Buck out the door without any explanation. Buck had gone willingly, mostly because he was bored and didn’t have any other plans for the day. That hadn’t stopped him from wondering what destination Chim had in mind for them.

He had asked where they were going once they got into the car. His question was met with silence so Buck decided to ask a second time. That time, Chim just raised the volume all the way up on the radio. Buck caught the hint and didn’t ask again.

“If you walk quicker, you’ll find out on your own.” Buck, having not yet caught up to Chim, sticks his tongue out at the back of his head. “Very mature, Buck.”

That stops Buck in his tracks. “How did you see that?”

“I didn’t. I just know how immature you are.”

They continue walking at an almost grueling pace until finally, Chim slows down. It’s such a relief to Buck that he doesn’t even acknowledge their surroundings until Chim is pulling a glass door open and gesturing for Buck to walk in. He does so immediately, drawn in by the cool air conditioning that directly contrasts the overbearing Los Angeles heat.

It’s once Buck steps foot inside the store that he realizes where he is and promptly does an about face.

“Uh uh.” Chim blocks Buck’s escape route, standing in front of the door with his hands on his hips. “You’re not going anywhere until you find yourself a new suit.”

It’s the same thing Maddie has been telling Buck for months now, apparently unhappy with the perfectly good suit he has hanging up in his closet. He doesn’t understand why she’s so adamant about him not wearing it. It cost him a fair amount of money and he knows he looks good in it. Why would he waste his time and money buying a new one?

He’s about to say as much to Chim, but is cut off by a wave of Chim’s hand.

“And don’t tell me you already have a suit. Maddie has deemed it unsuitable and what she says goes.”

“Doing my sister’s dirty work now, huh?”

Chim’s expression doesn’t waver, lips set in a straight line as he takes a couple of steps towards Buck. “Yes I am because she’s carrying our unborn child and I love her.”

Buck can’t say he was expecting that response and it works to disarm him long enough for Chim to grab his forearm and march the two of them to the front of the store.

“Didn’t take you for a romantic, Chim.”

Chim doesn’t rise to the bait like Buck’s hoping he will. Instead, his future brother-in-law sets his sights on one of the store’s employees and lets her know that they’re on a quest for a new suit for Buck. She is very efficient, taking Buck’s measurements and then leading him over to the first rack of suits to get a feel for what styles he prefers. Once that has been accomplished, she guides Buck to a fitting room and lets him know that she’ll be back with a few options for him to try.

“I can’t believe you betrayed me like this,” Buck whines through the curtain as he buttons up a burgundy long-sleeve top and slides on the black suit jacket.

“This isn’t so bad.”

Buck pushes the curtain aside so he can show Chim the fourth suit combination he’s changed into. “That’s easy for you to say,” he grumbles. While Buck’s been forced to change in and out of suits like some kind of Ken doll, Chim has been lounging in a comfortable armchair with a cold water bottle one of the employees brought out for him.

“I don’t think that’s the one either.”

“Why not?”

Chim shrugs, not even bothering to hide his smirk. “Just doesn’t seem right. Let’s see the next one.”

Buck clenches his fist and stomps right back into the fitting room before he can say something that might be used against him in the future. This is exactly why Buck refused to go suit shopping when Maddie brought it up, but at least she would’ve been a better shopping companion. She would’ve actually offered constructive criticism whereas Chim is just turning down everything Buck has tried on. Buck can’t tell if Chim is doing it out of spite or if he genuinely hasn’t liked anything Buck has tried on so far.

The final suit left to try on is olive green and definitely not something Buck would’ve chosen for himself. It’s why he left the option for last, hoping that any of the other suits he tried on would’ve been a winner. He changes slowly, knowing that once this suit is rejected, he’ll have to wait all over again for the same employee as before to pick another round of things for him to try on.

“Alright, here’s the last one,” Buck announces, not bothering to look in the mirror before stepping back out to face Chim. He fiddles with the cuff link, waiting for Chim’s opinion. “What do you think?”

“I think you look very handsome.”

Buck startles at the sound of a voice that definitely doesn’t belong to Chim. His suspicions are confirmed when he looks up and finds a young boy with sandy hair and glasses in the chair that Chim was sitting on only moments earlier. “You’re not Chim.”

“No, I’m Chris,” he answers with a toothy grin. The kid, Chris, is far cuter than he has any right to be. Buck finds himself smiling for the first time since stepping foot inside of the store. “That’s a nice color.”

“You think so?”

Chris nods emphatically, glasses tipping precariously on the tip of his nose when he does. He pushes them back into place and gives Buck a once-over. “It’s different, but I like it. Can you spin?”

“Spin?”

“Yeah, you know. Spin.” Chris twirls his finger around in the air to show Buck what he means. “Abuela says you have to look at an outfit from every angle to make sure it looks good.”

Well if that’s what Abuela says, who is Buck to argue?

“Make sure to do it slowly so I can see you,” Chris instructs and Buck does just that, taking his time as he walks in a small circle. He does it twice, moving his arms around during his second spin to see how the suit feels when movements are involved.

He’s just about to face Chris again to receive the child’s final verdict on the suit when Buck sees his reflection in the mirror.

I don’t hate it is the first thought that comes to mind. This might be the one is his second thought.

“Does it look good from every angle, Chris?”

Buck turns back around and almost chokes on his saliva.

Chris is still sitting in the armchair but he’s not alone anymore. There’s a man, an extremely attractive one, standing beside Chris with a collection of suits slung over his arm and amusement shining in his brown eyes.

They’re really nice eyes.

Attached to an even nicer face.

“It looks very good,” Chris answers solemnly, completely unaware of the tailspin Buck’s mind has just been launched into. What does it say about Buck that this kid is able to concentrate on the task at hand while Buck has been sidetracked by someone’s presence? “Daddy, what do you think?”

And oh. If Buck thought having this man stare at him was a distraction before, it’s nothing in comparison to how he feels when the man brings his free hand up to stroke the scruff that covers his chin. It’s a contemplative look that has Buck’s heart doing a backflip or cannonball or something else ridiculous and unbecoming of someone of his age.

So not only has Buck’s brain short-circuited, but his heart has as well.

Traitors.

“It’s a good look,” the brunette finally decides. The words shouldn’t hold anywhere near as much weight as they do. “Definitely a top contender in my opinion.”

Buck is not blushing, he’s not.

Maybe if he tells himself that enough times, it’ll eradicate the tinge of pink that he knows has stained his cheeks.

“Does that mean you’re gonna buy it?” Chris’s question breaks Buck out of his stupor. “Because I think you should.”

Chris’s dad raises his hand. “I second that statement.”

“And I third that statement,” Chim says, appearing out of nowhere wearing a smile that always spells trouble for Buck. Of course he’d choose now to show up again. “Who are your friends, Buck?”

“I’m Chris!” He holds his hand out for Chim to shake. “And this is my dad.”

“Eddie,” his father supplies, also taking a second to shake Chim’s hand.

“Buck was looking for you before.” Chris explains and Buck is glad that the kid is explaining the situation because Buck doesn’t think he would’ve been able to. “But don’t worry. I helped him and told him how handsome he looks.”

Buck doesn’t have to look at Chim to know that he’s withholding his laughter. “Oh you did, did you?”

Is it wrong of Buck to wish that a black hole will appear and swallow him whole? It’s probably dramatic, but he can live with that. At least then he would be able to retain some of his reputation. He already knows that Chim, and by extension Hen, will never let him live this down.

Buck decides it’s best to cut his losses and heads into the dressing room to get changed. The curtain muffles the voices outside, but he can still hear Chim’s laughter. Buck can’t tell if this is a blessing or a curse.

By the time he exits the dressing room again, the laughter outside has subsided and Eddie is nowhere to be found. Buck swallows back his disappointment, a fact made easier by the bright smile Chris directs at him. “Buck! Are you ready to help daddy find a suit too?”

“I-uh what?”

“Help Eddie find a suit,” Chim repeats, as if the problem Buck had with that statement was that he didn’t hear it. “I told Chris that he could keep you for the afternoon so you could pay him back for helping you.”

Buck’s jaw falls open as he stares at Chim in disbelief. Buck was only gone for a few minutes, how did Chim manage to set this whole thing up that quickly?

“I’ll take these off of your hands,” Chim says, taking the suits from Buck. “You can pay me back for the suit later.”

Chim’s final sentence is accompanied by a wink that lets Buck know he’s going to be expected to pay Chim back for more than just the suit. He’s gone before Buck can so much as put up a fight and then Buck is left alone with Chris.

“I’m ready, Chris!” The low voice comes from the dressing room right beside Buck’s and he does not think about the fact that Eddie was getting changed at the same time he was. “You ready for me?”

“I am! Buck?”

Buck glances around the room, curious as to where that employee who helped him earlier is. She’s the one who supplied Chim with a water bottle earlier and something tells Buck he’s about to be very thirsty. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

[the-starless-sky]

A Day Off of Loitering and Investigation

A translation of the first chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen’s first light novel “Departing Summer and Returning Autumn” by Akutami Gege and Kitakuni Balad.

A Day Off of Loitering and Investigation

If we are talking about the few “definite things” in this modern day and age, there are only three at best.

That Mito Koumon[1] will win.

That Sazae-san[2] will air on Sunday.

And lastly, that Kugisaki Nobara’s shopping will drag on for a long time.

Because of that, when Kugisaki said, “I want to go see Ame-yoko[3],” Fushiguro had prepared himself for the outing that will surely take a long time. It would probably take around same time as when Gojou suddenly shows up on a Sunday morning and suddenly said, “Megumi, let’s go to Parque Espana[4],”.

What’s out of his prediction was that Itadori wasn’t too keen on going.

He had thought that a television-person like Itadori would show interest in famous spots like Ame-yoko, but he said:

“No, I have some place else I want to go.”

“Oh, that so. Then let’s meet up after.”

And then they all readily move on their own afterwards.

For Fushiguro who had accepted the natural fact that he would get stuck in the middle of Itadori and Kugisaki’s noisiness, it was as surprising as the fact that corbel pieces actually don’t contain that much iron.

Of course, Fushiguro also thought to make use of the situation and move alone.

He’d go home quickly - after all, he wanted to read the continuation of the book he’d bought the other day, and he also wanted to arrange his table’s drawer and his closet.

Even so, Fushiguro is a fundamentally earnest person.

A concern like: “is it alright to let Itadori, Sukuna’s host be?” kept crossing his mind no matter what.

When we’re talking about the area around Ueno and Okachimachi[5], it is a town filled with life and history.

In the hustle-bustle from the post-war market town that continued until modern day, strange ghost stories run rampant and there lies a possibility that not yet active curses are concealing themselves somewhere.

Moreover, it’s Itadori, a person whom if you let go from your sight will suddenly buy a shitty sunglasses, and who had said Tachikawa’s[6] “essentially Shinjuku”.

If Itadori, by chance, got lost and strayed until Chiyoda Ward[7], he’d just think of it as a lucky spot, and take Instagram-able photos in Masakadozuka[8].

That’s the reason why Fushiguro chose to move with Itadori, but... truth to be told, he’s very much regretting it.

“So like, Fushiguro, if you don’t have any interest in Akiba[9], why are you even coming after me?”

“Shut up, don’t think about it.”

“’Kay. I really want to go through all of Akiba at once, y’know.”

“Do you have anything you want to buy? There’s probably nothing but manga, games, and electronics there.”

“Eh, sight-seeing. Shibuya or Shinjuku is also okay, but the Akiba I saw on TV has this otherworldly feeling to it... or, more like, it gave off a theme-park kinda feel?”

“Is it?”

If you live within the metropolitan area, you probably wont feel it, but in truth Akihabara is a strange city.

The atmosphere outside the station is particularly unique. It’s filled with anime culture to the brim as a matter of course, but in any case the amount of information from the advertisements are nasty.

The overflowing signboards with smiling game characters gave the town a theme park-y impression.

If you were to give another example, then it’s the cosplayers that sometimes mix in with the tight crowd. Maids devoting themselves to attracting customers and handing out flyers. And when you think a rare foreign car is going through the streets, for some reason a giant robot’s large scale model is being transported by a truck.

Is it possible to suppress Itadori’s curiosity in such a town? Impossible.

“Darn, Fushiguro. The game centers are lining up like convenient stores.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s Akiba.”

“Darn, Fushiguro. The maid-sans kept coming enthusiastically.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s Akiba.”

“Whoa! Fushiguro! Is that an ecchi game? Isn’t that a billboard for an ecchi game? Uwaah, is it okay, that kind of huge billboard... Oh no, I’m still a minor, will I get scolded?”

“Shut up!”

It’s a fundamentally noisy city, but for Fushiguro, Itadori’s three times noisier.

There’s still a few hours until the meet up with Kugisaki.

If he thought about that, Fushiguro’s head ached. Unknowing of Fushiguro’s feelings, Itadori was nonchalant, without a care in the world.

“I’m glad Fushiguro’s with me. This area’s so messy I’d get lost.

”It’s better than Shinjuku.”

“Don’t force that Tokyo-sense on me. Vending machines where you can use electronic money on every door, Pepper-kun[10] in front of shops, a city on this level’s only Tokyo, you know?”

“No, there really aren’t that much Pepper-kun.”

“In Sendai, you can only see it in ‘Man-made Onsen, Toposu’[11], you know.”

“Don’t pull out local shop names like it’s natural. Where the hell’s that?”

“In super sentou[12].”

“Pepper-kun being in super sentou feels more culturally advanced, ain’t it.”

“Well, well, well, anyways, rather than alone, being together with someone who’s knowledgeable about the area’s definitely more reassuring. I’m still not good with subways even now, after all.”

“There shouldn’t be anyone getting lost around the Yamanote-sen[13].”

“Aah, there it is, the Tokyoite-sense. Naturally coming out like that.”

“In reality, you don’t get lost that much anyways, do you. ‘Cause you went here and there day after day.”

“Ah, Fushiguro. Let’s eat kebab, kebab.”

“Continue the conversation, damn it.”

Fushiguro had felt that Itadori and Gojou’s rhythm are quite similar, but now that he’s by himself talking with only Itadori, that feeling only grew stronger.

After all, conversational catch-ball with Itadori is, at most, on the level of dodge ball. For Gojou, it’s more on the level of hitting-only golf, or a batting center[14].

Come to think of it, today he hasn’t seen Gojou in the dorms nor school. It’s up to him where he wanted to be during his day-off, but now that Fushiguro thought about it, Gojou really is a mystery.

As he thought such things, he let Itadori’s words in through his right ear and out through his left, going into his “gloss over” mode.

After all, it’s on almost the same frequency as the city’s noise, so if he’d just turn off his awareness he could just process it as part of the background, environment noise.

If he were to respond one by one, he’d just get tired. Nobody would tell him off even if he put his brain in energy-conserving mode, anyways.

By the way, speaking from the results, this action of his would end up making his anxiety worsen.

“...Ha?”

When he came to, Itadori was gone.

Fushiguro hurriedly turned his head, and he barely saw someone with red highlight on their hair going into the depths of a game center.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Playing a game. Ah, are you talking about the title?”

“No way in hell, you special grade idiot.”

After climbing to the fourth floor of the thin and vertically long building of the game center, Fushiguro finally found Itadori.

In the fighting game corner, going in deeper. Away from the areas where people who seemed super serious about gaming gathers, in the retro game corner where one credit to play starts from 50 yen, there he was, that Itadori.

Moreover, he’s sitting in front of an especially boring looking game machine.

As he pouted, he explained how he got there to Fushiguro.

“I mean, you know, it’s not realistic wasting hours of time just walking around outside, right. There are a lot of game centers, so I thought, why not.”

“At least say something before steering away to the side.”

“I did.”

“...”

As Fushiguro’s the one who had glossed over Itadori’s conversations, while feeling a little bit awkward he changed the subject.

“By the way, what’s this game?”

“No matter how you see it, it’s ‘Battle Corporation Warrior, Business Fighter’ isn’t it.”

“I won’t know it’s ‘Battle Corporation Warrior, Business Fighter’ no matter how I see it.”

“It’s also my first time seeing it so I’m not really sure, too.”

The game Itadori chose looked extraordinarily boring it’s miraculous.

It seemed like a fighting game, but the characters are mostly old men who looked like company employees, and everyone uses business suits properly that it’s hard to differentiate who’s who.

Even if it only costs 50 yen, Itadori’s resolution to spend money on this game is an amazing thing. Well, if he’s like this then guess he would eat Sukuna’s fingers, imprudently Fushiguro thought.

Without caring about such Fushiguro, Itadori seem to be running as usual.

He’s even looking for a competition.

“On the contrary, I’ll just ask you: you’re not going to play, Fushiguro? It’s a fighting game machine.”

“I don’t want to pay money for that kind of game.”

Even so, a fighting game machine is supposed to be played by fighting another person.

Moreover, to play an already-boring looking game like this alone just feels empty. No matter how much Fushiguro didn’t want to play, Itadori wanted to at least fight with him.

“What the heck, you’re running away? By the way, don’t tell me you’re actually bad at games, Fushiguro? You don’t have any confidence that you could win against me?”

“It’s not confidence I don’t have, it’s the will to play.”

“If you run away here it’d be treated as a loss by default, you know! Are you okay with that!?”

“Do what you like.”

“No, really, please! Then I’ll even pay for your share!”

“Are you serious? ...Sheesh.”

Losing to Itadori’s persistence, who’d even start to talk about paying - or, actually, Fushiguro just don’t want to see Itadori begging like that, so in the end he put in his own money and sat in front of the machine directly opposite to Itadori’s.

No matter what, a fighting game’s of course funner to play with two people.

As he felt deeply grateful for Fushiguro who’d finally relented, Itadori cheerfully started choosing his character.

“Then, I’ll go with ‘Company President Yamada’.”

“...Then I’ll go for ‘Chief Clerk Oosaki’.”

“What, youre going with him, the initial cursor character? Well, I guess he’d be easy to use, so it should fit a beginner like Fushiguro.”

“Didn’t you just say you’ve only seen this game for the first time?”

“Actually, before you got here, I managed to get to the third stage of the arcade mode.”

Anyways, finally the battle starts between the two of them.

“Eat this! The sure-win tactics I devised in fifteen minutes!”

“That’s a hell of a short training.”

Immediately after the battle starts, Itadori used the easy command, ‘Business Card Shuriken’ repeatedly.

The Chief Clerk Oosaki that Fushiguro controlled jumped up to dodge Yamada’s shurikens that comes in an equal intervals, surely approaching the latter. When one thought he’d turn to a strong kick after jumping in, he actually threw Yamada and forced him to the side, as he viciously beat the latter.

“Eh? Huh? Wait, wait, Fushiguro. Isn’t that a a command technique? That’s a command technique, right!?”

“...”

Small punch, small punch, medium kick, medium kick, and to top it off Fushiguro used the ‘overtime gauge’ he managed to fill with the hits, triggering a super special lethal move, ‘Overtime Rage Fist’.

Fushiguro scored a brilliant victory.

“What the hell!? ...Eh, Fushiguro, how could you use special moves? You’re good at this game?”

“No, the command chart is there above the screen.”

“So you’re cheating!”

“You’re actually not that good at games, aren’t you?”

“No, even I could win if I used commands! One more, one more!”

“The heck, this idiot actually put in multiple coins…”

Itadori who had battled it out with Fushiguro for around an hour, still lost in the end.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈« 

They both go down until the first floor’s UFO Catcher corner and bought a cola from the vending machine, engulfed by a sense of emptiness.

The feeling of aftershock left after the heat and enthusiasm cools down look very visible on their faces.

“Aah... why did I even spend 1000 yen on that shitty game...”

Fushiguro looked at Itadori, who’s currently hanging his head, with eyes that look like they’re looking at an idiot.

“If you’re satisfied already, we’re going out. You can kill time in game centers, but they eat your money.”

“That’s true... ah!”

“What? Just because you found another shitty game, I’m not going to play with you anymore.”

“No, that’s not it, Fushiguro, look, look at that!”

Fushiguro reluctantly looked at the direction Itadori pointed with narrowed eyes.

And then, his eyes widened in surprise.

“...Gojou-sensei?”

“Right?”

Truly, on the other end of the two’s sight is Gojou Satoru.

Rather, the only person who would walk inside a dim-lighted game center wearing an all-black clothes with a black blindfold can’t be anyone other than Gojou Satoru - it’s hard to think of anyone else.

“Eh... wait, Fushiguro, what’s Gojou-sensei doing?”

“Isn’t that an UFO Catcher? The ones where you could get snacks from.”

“Why? Is there a person who wanted to eat snacks so much they’d go to a game center alone and play an UFO Catcher by themselves?”

“Don’t ask me, how the hell should I know?”

“Ah, and he’s even giving up!”

“That’s fast.”

As Gojou pouted in discontent, he walked towards the game center exit with swaying steps.

Well, it was a hard to understand action, but perhaps it’s normal coming from a hard to understand person. Fushiguro decided to stop thinking too deeply.

But Itadori just couldn’t do the same.

“Okay, let’s follow him.”

“How’d it come to that?”

Itadori started to follow Gojou who had exited the game center. Fushiguro immediately drank his leftover cola, threw it in the trash can, and followed afterwards.

“I mean, don’t he look like he’s on his off mode? I feel like I don’t know what he’s up to when he’s in holidays or when he’s free.”

“And?”

“Of course we’re going to tail him.”

“Don’t say that so naturally.”

“I mean, in reality, don’t you feel curious, too? Surprisingly I feel like I don’t know Gojou-sensei that well. Of course, if you don’t feel like coming then you can just wait.”

“...”

In any case, despite all the conflicts the two had, they finally decided to tail Gojou together.

Gojou is a dependable teacher and a shaman they respected, for sure.

However, from the eyes of Gojou’s students, his frivolous personality, busyness, appearing in unexpected places at unexpected time, personal history, thoughts, and range of behavior, all point out to him being a man full of mystery. The figure of him nonchalantly walking around town was something you don’t see everyday.

In sum, Fushiguro decided to follow his curiosity.

He’s probably also very mentally exhausted from playing a shitty game with Itadori.

In any case, the two of them started to search for the figure of Gojou they had lost sight of.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈« 

Gojou was, surprisingly, easily found.

“Fushiguro, isn’t that Gojou-sensei?”

“...You’re right.”

The next thing they sighted was Gojou, walking around as he ate crepes.

Looking from the package, it’s from the rather famous crepe shop looking out the main street.

It’s one of those extra ones with cream, tiramisu, macaron, and even chocolate spray.

There it was, the figure of a 190 cm adult walking around as he ate crepes that look like the dreams of all children.

“That’s amazing, Fushiguro. It’s not something you can just do when you feel like doing it.”

“No, you won’t even think of doing it in the first place.”

“Is it some kind of a sorcery training?”

“If you can get stronger by doing that, everyone’s gonna just do it.”

As they keep a steady distance, the two of them tailed the adult chewing on crepes.

Even in the city full of wonders, Akihabara, the sight still look quite out of place.

After he finished eating the crepes, Gojou stopped still in front of a rather old looking store.

“...Vacuum tube specialty store.”

Fushiguro looked at the sign Itadori read with a dubious expression.

After thinking for a while, Gojou stepped into the jumbled-up looking shop.

“He went into a really maniac shop, didn’t he.”

A dubious-looking Fushiguro. On the other hand, Itadori tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“By the way, what is a vacuum tube? I’ve heard that name before, though.”

“It’s an electronic component. The ones you use in old radio or audio player.”

“Is Gojou-sensei an audio maniac?”

“No, he looked like someone who’d just use YouTube to listen to music, don’t he.”

“Aah, yeah, he does have that kind of image.”

As they spoke to each other, Gojou came out of the shore with a paper bag. It seems like he’d bought something.

“Oh no, we’re going to lose him!”

Itadori went after Gojou who had turned into an alley, and Fushiguro followed suit.

They were a little late and lost him for a while, but one minute hadn’t passed and they’ve already found the tall man clad in black in the middle of the crowd.

“There he is, Fushiguro. As expected, Gojou-sensei stand out a lot. He’s huge, after all.”

“He’s around 2 meters, after all.”

“He look like he’s really strong at basketball, don’t he?”

“I can’t imagine him playing basketball at all, though.”

“Relatable.”

As the two came into an agreement, they followed after Gojou’s steps.

Tailing someone while keeping a steady distance in Akihabara’s complicated streets is quite a hard labor.

Because he’s tall, Gojou’s steps are wide and he walks fast, it feels like you’re going to lose him when he drift into the crowd.

Next, Gojou went to a second hand audio shop and rummaged through the paper-jacketed analog recordings.

“Earlier you said some things, but don’t you think he’s actually an audio mania, Fushiguro?”

“No, I’m sure he’s not.”

“But he’s looking at Bach’s recordings!”

“Does he look like he has any interest in classical music? That person?”

“No, he look like he’d listen to alternative rock.”

“See? It’s definitely weird.”

For a while, Gojou rummaged through the recordings exhibited on a wagon, and after buying an old movie’s BGM collection long play record, he left the store.

As they tailed him, Fushiguro became more and more suspicious.

Fushiguro thought that perhaps it’s just them that had different images of Gojou and he’s actually a person with vintage hobbies in his private life, but soon he rethought and ended up with: “Nah, no way.”

After walking a bit unsteadily for a while, Gojou stopped in front of a store with a yellow signboard.

“Fushiguro, what’s that shop?”

“...Capsule toy. It’s the so-called gachapon[15] specialty store.”

“What? A gachapon specialty store? They exists?”

“They exist, that’s why it’s Akiba.”

“That so? Ah, sensei’s pulling a gacha.”

“I really don’t want to see the sight of a teacher I know rolling a 500 yen gacha. ...What kinda gacha is that?”

“Mushroom keychains, right? The real ones.”

“If he’s going to spend 500 yen anyway, couldn’t he just go to a supermarket and buy one?”

“You really don’t understand, huh, Fushiguro. It’s good because you can’t be sure of what you’ll get.”

“I don’t want to understand that in my life time.”

“Ah, sensei’s opening the capsule, I wonder what he got?”

“Looking at the lineup, isn’t it a poisonous mushroom? He looks really frustrated, after all.”

“Buhahahahaha, I guess you can’t eat that!!”

“No, you can’t eat mushrooms that come out of a capsule toy no matter what it is.”

Gojou unwillingly put the keychain in his pocket, and continued to loiter around.

When you thought he went to a computer store just to hold a mouse, he moved into an electronic store and tried on an electronic massager on his shoulder.

And when you thought he’d vanished, he’s suddenly inside a book store, free-reading a manga, and moved into a sideway to look at old games on wagon sale. He moved around according to his interests, wherever he wanted to go.

“...It doesn’t look like he has a specific purpose in mind.”

“Seems so.”

Itadori, now suddenly wearing a strength-measuring goggles toy, replied to Fushiguro’s muttering.

“Where the hell did you buy that?”

“In some second hand shop. I thought Gojou-sensei would be interested since he reads manga, too.”

“You’re really light on your wallet, aren’t you.”

“A man is a creature that uses their money when they think it’s the right time.”

“Was that shitty game earlier also ‘the right time’?”

“Ah, Gojou-sensei went inside a building. No, that’s wrong, I meant his ‘energy’ went inside the building!”

“You don’t have to correct yourself.”

“Oh no, we’re going to lose him. We’re following him, Fushiguro!”

“No, wait.”

“Gueh!”

As Itadori was about to step into the building, Fushiguro pulled his parka’s hood to stop him. It’s a very dangerous act, so don’t imitate him.

“You wanna kill me or something!? What’s wrong, we’re already this far in and you want to stop tailing him halfway?”

“You... don’t you see the building’s signboard?”

“Eh? ...... Eh!?”

Itadori looked up as he was told.

Reading the signboard written in a pop font, his expression turned into that of a flustered one.

――Angel Maid Cafe, “SHOW WARU☆Cupid”[16]

The rather maniac cafe located in the second floor of the building.

No, it’s not like it’s an indecent store or something. It’s an ordinary cafe with maids serving the customers, that’s all.

Even so, for normal people, it’s the kind of shop that needs a lot of courage to go in to. It’s even worse for boys in their puberty.

 “...... As expected this place’s a bit... no, even for Gojou-sensei’s level, this kind of place is really surprising.”

“Hey, his aim is probably this.”

The thing Fushiguro pointed towards was a poster on the wall. It advertised something like: “Authentic French technique! Exquisite pancakes that makes even patissiers groan!”

Indeed, that could be it, Itadori also nodded in agreement.

“This is definitely his aim, for sure. How much sweets is he planning to eat, anyways?”

“When he’s busy, Gojou-sensei tend to eat more sweets like these, after all...”

“Alright, now that the mystery’s solved, let’s stop tailing him. I mean, it’s embarrassing having to go in to a place like this.”

“That’s a clever decision for you.”

“――Welcome, Masters!”

“Eh?”

“Eh?”

A cheerful voice filled with business enthusiasm jumped out from behind them.

It was a veteran maid who had thought of them as - and admittedly they do look the part - ‘customers who are hesitating whether or not to come in to the cafe’ called them out, looking to make them the cafe’s source of income.

That’s right. Neither Itadori’s genius physical senses nor Fushiguro’s polished curse presence-sensing abilities could catch on the maid’s presence.

✄┈��┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

‘Did I do something bad in my past life?’, Fushiguro thought.

While looking on in blank surprise, he was pulled into the maid cafe together with Itadori.

As they were brought in, they were made to wear angel wings and halo made of plastic and wire, said to ‘let them feel heaven when they’re here’. Both his outside appearance and his mental condition is dead.

On the other hand... 

“For first-time customers, we recommend the Precious Set - Mellow-mellow A~” [17]

“Eh... I see. Well, I guess for the first time it’s better to just leave it up to the staff. We’ll get two of the Precious Sets. With extra melancholy.”

“Understood, Mastereincarnation☆”[18]

“Eh, what’s with that cool sounding word. Is it German?”

“It’s English☆”

“So it’s English!”

Just like that, Itadori’s already talking normally with the maid.

Naturally cheerful people... or, more like, those with party-people tendencies, and people with positive, bright vibes usually do well in places like this.

On the other hand, earnest-by-nature people like Fushiguro have the most difficulty in situations like this.

Fushiguro could feel his heart dying by the second just by looking at the fact that he’s currently sitting across Itadori, wearing a pair of angel wings and halo.

“And hey, Fushiguro, it’s about the crucial thing, but...”

“What?”

“As expected, seems like sensei’s aim was the pancake.”

“......... Yeah...”

The most important part of this investigation, Gojou, had especially sat down on the seat by the window where you can only see the neighboring building, and has since started his tea time, eating the pancake in grace.

He wore the angel cosplay very naturally as if it was his uniform, yet the way he sipped his cappuccino look like he was from a hard-boiled novel. The way he made himself ‘at home’ was in a different dimension when compared to first-time customers like Itadori and Fushiguro.

On the other hand, even taking into account the fact that Fushiguro is still a beginner, he’s almost on his limit. If he could, he’d leave this place even a second faster.

“Oi. Now that we know Gojou-sensei’s true aim, if you’re satisfied then let’s get out of here.”

“Eeh, but I ordered already.”

“Just pay for it and get out.”

“But it’s not good if the food we ordered go to waste, right?”

“...Well, that’s true, but...”

Fushiguro wanted to leave the cafe even if it meant paying for nothing, but he’s a kind person in nature, so when he’s told something like that, he just couldn’t complain.

On the other hand, his eyes that look like the deepest gulf peeking into the night, started to look duller and duller. Once again, Fushiguro attempted to turn off his awareness.

Numbness is a safety device for the living. He must protect his heart at all costs - or else, it wouldn’t be strange for a curse to be born.

It was a stark contrast to Itadori, who, despite being restless, look like he’s excited to try out an attraction in a theme park.

However, the maid cafe’s true baptism starts from here.

“Here’s Precious Set - Mellow-mellow A~”

The true form of Precious Set that one couldn’t ever guess from the menu at all is actually an ordinary looking omurice[19].

On top of the plate was a panda drawn with ketchup - and, it’s most probably a coincidence, but it look like Panda-senpai so much that Fushiguro’s heart ached.

On the empty spaces in the plate was written words like ‘Precious...! Makes me feel frazzled...!’, but the only one actually frazzled here is Fushiguro.

On the other hand, Itadori’s already completely adapted to the situation.

“Well then, I’m going to ask for Masters to add on even more melancholy on the dish~”

“What should I do to add on the melancholy?”

“Please tell me one precious, melancholic, and emotionally moving scene from your favorite anime! If you can make me feel melancholic without telling me the title, you pass~”

“Eeh. Dang, it’s kinda hard to choose. ...Ah, then that one where the main character is a boy who really admires heroes.”

“Me too, I watch that, too. It’s one of my favorites~”

“There’s this character with an inferiority complex towards his father... and then there’s the scene where he remembered that he wanted to become a hero, and he finally used the ‘left hand’ that he never used. I like that one.”

“Ah~ That’s a definitive episode, that one. But the scene choice is too cliche, so try another one!”

“Ah, then another anime. The main character lives in the ninja village. At first he got ostracized by his friends, but then he grew up and there’s this scene where he’s finally recognized as a proper ninja and got tossed up high in the air by his comrades...”

“Ah~ that’s a really emotional scene, isn’t it~”

“And the part where the teacher, who was his only ally, looked at him and got moved to tears... it’s definitely something you can’t miss.”

“Ah~ you’re going in really on point, aren’t you~”

“The part where they said, ‘Right now, there’s a hero in front of me’, right?”

“I understand, I understand so well~~~~ That’s super extra melancholic, and because I feel hit right on the heart should I add on a topping for you?”

“Ah, so it’s that kind of system?”

“It’s a 400 yen a la carte menu, ‘Melancholy Potato’ add-on~”

“Wahh, that makes no sense――! So much carbohydrate!”

“Well then, let’s say it together: Emo――i!”[20]

“Emo――i!”

In a rather messy fashion, the potato was added on on top of the plate.

It’s definitely got that ‘refrigerated food’ feel, but it seems for an a la carte it goes for 400 yen. When you’re having fun you stop caring about such things, but Fushiguro was so bothered he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but to get bothered about various things.

And when he thought so, the tip of the blade is now aimed at him.

“This Master, too, together~!”

“Come on, Fushiguro, there’s topping there, too!”

“Okay, e――moi!”

“E――moi!”

“...”

Fushiguro didn’t reply. However, the event continued.

“Well, now that we have added on the topping, let’s take a cheki[21] with the dish. Okay, come closer, come closer~”

“Eh, there’s that kind of thing in this cafe?”

“Because it’s the Preciouse Set.”

“Heeh, I don’t understand at all but I see!”

“There’s this heavenly-feel, right?

“I dunno, is there? Might be.”

“...”

“Well then, excuse me for sitting beside you~”

“Eh, aren’t you too close? I’m a bit embarrassed about these kinds of things.”

“You have to experience this kind of embarrassment to be an adult, you know~”

“Is that true?”

“Yup, it is~ Here goes, cheki☆”

“Che-cheki!”

“...”

“Thank you very much~”

“Oh darn, this is so embarrasing! Wah, my face’s so hot! It feels like I just paid off a really important thing! Am I okay? I’m still a minor!”

“Kyaa~ You’re so innocent it’s cute~ Well then, the Master over there, let’s go.”

“After all, the type of closeness is different to that of a folk dance. Fushiguro, be careful! You’ll get embarrassed! Super embarrassed!”

“Please prepare for taking the cheki~!”

“Fushiguro, it’s gonna start.”

“........................ No.”

Echoed a fragile, feeble, delicate voice like that of a dying duck.

“............ I’m......... okay......”

Fushiguro has finally reached his limits.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈« 

“Aah, I unexpectedly ate a lot. But the taste’s kind of ordinary, wasn’t it.”

“The inside of my mouth’s dried because of all the potatoes.”

Thirty minutes passed.

Fushiguro and Itadori safely got out of heaven that took 500 yen to go in to.

“Fushiguro, I got the cheki we took earlier, you want it?”

“The next time you joke like that, I’m going to jam in paprika up your nose.”

“Isn’t it just something you don’t like! No, I understand, I understand that’s the limit to your harassment!”

“There’s a temple near Kanda. We’re going to burn the photos there.”

“Does it have to be in a temple!?”

“The only thing to do to cursed pictures is burning it for offering.”

“I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t know you were in that much pain!”

From Itadori’s perspective, Fushiguro always looked like he’s in a bad mood, but today, once again he got a look at ‘an actually angry Fushiguro’.

Now that it’s become like this, even Itadori couldn’t get into his usual rhythm.

A bit awkwardly, he thought of how to continue the conversation as he scratched his cheek - and then finally he decided to go back to the start of everything.

“B-by the way, in the end we lost Gojou-sensei, huh.”

“Yeah, but who cares about that.”

“Wa-waah, I wonder where he went......”

“What’s this about me?”

““Uwaaaaah!?””

The person who stepped into their somewhat awkward atmosphere in a suprising timing was Gojou, appearing from behind them.

Moreover――

“Go-Gojou-sensei! Since when were you behind us...... huh? Kugisaki’s here, too? Why?”

“Don’t ‘why’ me, you ass.”

Behind Gojou, Kugisaki shows up in a bad mood... or rather, full of malice and resentment.

For Itadori, it would be that another angry classmate shows up.

“Eeh... Even Kugisaki’s in a bad mood.”

“Of course I’d be. Because you guys loitered around Gojou-sensei, we...”

“Oh, come to think of it, Gojou-sensei, is it your day off today?”

“Don’t ignore me, you!”

Sensing that Kugisaki would complain in a more assertive fashion than Fushiguro, Itadori quite bluntly changed the subject.

Although, in the end, the subject didn’t change.

“No, I’m working as usual.”

“Eh? But you ate crepes and walked around town...”

“If you’re as busy as me, you wouldn’t have time to walk around town and making rediscoveries if not as you work, y’know. I might look like that but I’m actually doing my job.”

“And that is?”

“Looking for a dungeon.”

“...... Dungeon?”

“To use a different term, I’m looking for a nice cursed spot that could be used by the first years to acquire experience. In other words, I’m doing preliminary inspection.”

“.........Yes?”

The memories from when he’d first transferred to the Curse Technical College resurfaced on the back of Itadori’s mind.

That day, they were going to sight-see Tokyo, but in the end they had to participate in a curse exorcism recreation in an abandoned building.

Gojou continued indifferently.

“That maid cafe’s neighboring building’s mostly empty of tenants, but a strange rumor seems to have shown up on the internet, you see. And, because of the old record shop with quite a long history rented the place, the curse story’s credibility went up.”

“Ahh, that’s why you kept looking at the window despite there being nothing to see but the building.”

“Then, this is supposed to be a task for another day, but in a happy coincidence, the three first years are all present, so... ‘This is nice, I’ll just have them challenge it today!’, I thought.”

“Eh... eh!?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve moved around the amp abandoned in the building, played recordings like what’s written on the rumors, and other stuff to provoke the cursed spirit. So, you guys will be able to meet a very lively cursed spirit no problem!”

“......... Eeh...”

Itadori immediately moved his gaze towards Kugisaki.

He finally understood the reason for her face full of resentment.

In contrast, Fushiguro looked sharp and firm.

“Alright, we’re going.”

“Wh-why are you so eager!?”

“I feel much better doing this than going to a game center or a maid cafe.”

“Eh, what, you guys went to a maid cafe? Forget Itadori, but you too, Fushiguro? You look composed but you’re actually a lecher, huh, all of you!”

“It was inevitable.”

“What do you mean, forget about me!?”

“Who cares, let’s go.”

“That’s why I’m asking, why are you already in battle mode, Fushiguro!?”

“’Cause Megumi didn’t get the chance to show his abilities in the abandoned building the other day, he’s still all about it.”

“I’m not all about that.”

“No, your face clearly looks like you’re all about it.”

“You’re actually the type to hold a grudge for a long time, aren’t you.”

“Well then everyone, be careful on the way. I’m going to go eat age-manjuu[16].”

“You’re still going to eat!?”

“Let’s just go.”

“Don’t ‘let’s go’ me! Shit, good bye, my day off――――!”

“My Ame-yoko―――!”

From a day off gone wrong, being able to get in touch with a shaman’s ‘usual atmosphere’ helped Fushiguro recover quite a bit.

On the other hand, there are Itadori who had his satisfying holiday cut off, and Kugisaki who’d missed eating Ame-yoko’s specialty, Hyakka-en’s fruits[22].

Gojou saw off the three, noisily heading to exorcise the cursed spirit, with his usual light smile.

“Hm?”

Something fell off from Itadori’s pocket. What is it? Gojou tilted his head in question as he picked it up.

And the next moment, he burst into a laugh.

“Mm, hahahahahahahahahaha!”

Gojou couldn’t stop laughing as the image leapt into his sight.

“Ku, kukuku......... Aren’t they actually having the time of their life, those youngsters.”

80% of his smile was due to the strangeness.

20% of it was due to the pleasantness.

It was said that for some time, Gojou laughed with the picture of Itadori and Fushiguro with a maid wearing angel wings in hand.

Megumi-sama ♥ ♥ Please come again!!

Notes

(p.s. I'm not very sure about some of these, please do tell me if I got anything wrong.)

[1] Mito Koumon is the titular character (also a real person, his other name is Tokugawa Mitsukuni) of a period drama. Each episode always end with Mito Koumon, in a disguise, winning in a brawl against bad guys.

[2] Sazae-san is the name of an anime that has aired every Sunday since 1946 in Japan.

[3] Ame-yoko is an area in Tokyo famous for its shopping districts.

[4] Parque Espana is a Spanish theme park in Japan.

[5] Ueno and Okachimachi is also area in Tokyo.

[6] Tachikawa is a town in Okachimachi.

[7] Chiyoda ward is a special ward located in central Tokyo.

[8] Masakadozuka is the tomb of a beheaded hero.

[9] Akiba is the short term for Akihabara.

[10] Pepper-kun is a really famous robot from Japan.

[11] Onsen is a hot spring.

[12] Super sentou: sentou means a public bath, but in super sentou they have much more facilities than a simple bath, like sweets shops, terrace, and rest areas.

[13] Yamanote-sen is a railway loop line in Tokyo. It goes through famous places like Shibuya, Shinjuku, and Ikebukuro.

[14] It's a place with a ball machine (like Mechamaru during the baseball event) that you use to just... hit balls with a bat.

[15] That small machine you put in money and roll to get some surprises. Some of them are really expensive...

[16] SHOW悪 is, I think, a pun on 性悪 (shouwaru) = ill-natured.

[17] 尊みセット・エモエモ A. I'm not sure how to translate this (this whole maid cafe sequence is giving me a headache), but 尊い (toutoi) means precious. It's usually an otaku language when one talks about their favorite characters. エモ (emo or emoi) means emotional or melancholic. It's also usually used as an otaku language.

[18] かしこまリィンカネーション☆　= Understood-reincarnation. How am I supposed to make this work.

[19] Omelette rice.

[20] I give up. It's emoi. It's just emoi.

[21] Cheki is those polaroid pictures you take with idols, usually.

[22] Hyakka-en is a fruit store that's apparently very famous. Kind of expensive (but fruits are expensive in general in Japan), and for older fruits they chop it up and place it on a stick.

Honestly the novel is a treasure chest full of cute moments and amazing characterization information. I really love it - it’s probably my best buy. If you love Jujutsu Kaisen, you should really buy the book!

By the way, they’re going to release a second light novel soon.

[janicho88]

In This Together Part 3

 Pairing- Dean x Wife!Reader

Word count- 5821

Summary-Find out what these two have been up to for the last year. What obstacles are thrown at these two now?  

Warnings- Possible sick reader, hospital/doctors, little language, little angst, fluff, implied smut, talk of possible infertility, pregnancy.

A/N-This is the third part of my first fic.  It started as a oneshot but turned into more.  The first part of this story was written, because I needed someone like Dean at the time. This miniseries I guess you can call it, is very personal to me.  I’ve lived a majority of the first two parts. If you’ve read it you can see why I wanted someone like Dean to lean on.  In this part I wanted to give the reader something I don’t know if I’ll ever have. Thank you for reading! Pictures found on google.

Part 1     Part 2

 11 months later August 2021

Slowly opening your eyes back up, you were staring out the window of your fourth-floor hospital room. This time your window looked over the street below, every time you were on this floor you had a different view. Dean was still sitting in the bed next to you, you leaned your head on his shoulder as you thought back on the last year and everything that had happened.    

October 2020 came around and your doctor let you go off your birth control.  He knew you and Dean were trying, or more not trying to stop anything from happening.  You knew nothing would happen right away and didn’t want to get your hopes up, you were also trying to stay positive that nothing was going to go wrong with you again. You were due a win.  

You had been back to work for about four months now, there were still some things you were trying to get used to at the new store.  Because of the two surgeries you could wear down easily and were mostly five days a week trying to get up to six. You had already rearranged the office and some of the shelves in the kitchen area to make it more efficient, but some of your employees kept moving things on you so you had to redo them. It would take a good year for your foot to be back to normal which was February, but it would never be pain free. As long as it was better than before you were happy.

Halloween was coming close and Sam and Jess invited you over to their house again.  Since you and Dean didn’t have any other plans you decided to join them along with Dean’s parents.  Jake’s costume this year was an adorably fierce lion.

 With things still crazy in the world and covid still around there weren’t many trick or treaters. Unfortunately, this meant more candy for Dean.  Being a Saturday night Dean didn’t have to work the next morning. and you went in later on Sundays, so you stayed for a while.  After Jake went to bed the guys turned on the, All Saint’s Day, movies Dean loves.  They weren’t exactly your favorite so at least he could try and drag Sam into his madness this way.  Dean was enjoying his brother being a bit more into Halloween now that he had Jake around.   You bid them goodnight just before midnight and took your sugar high husband home, he wouldn’t be sleeping for a while.  

Thanksgiving was late again this year, so your parents had decided like last year to do their Christmas party the week before Thanksgiving again. Even though you were working less this year you somehow got distracted and got to planning late.  This meant the first two and half weeks of the month would be filled with baking.  The nice thing about the store you took over was the regular oven it had so you could do some of it there.  Although first things first, you had to assemble your as baking list.  The night after Halloween you were sitting on the couch with the Hallmark Channel playing its Countdown to Christmas. Computer in front of you with Pinterest pulled up.  Dean walked in from the kitchen during a commercial.

“Hey Sweetheart, what are you up to?  Anything good on?”

“Nine Lives of Christmas, is on. I’m looking..”

“No, Seriously Y/N? It’s the day after Halloween, and you’re watching Christmas movies?”

You turned and glared at him. “One, I have been watching Christmas movies whenever you weren’t around for the last week.  Two, you like this one so hush.  The guy is a fireman, your missed profession. Three, I’m trying to get into the Christmas mindset to put together my baking list.”

“Oh great, it’s that time of the year again. What crazy ideas are you going to come up with this year, actually wait, let me grab a beer first.”

You laughed as he walked back to the kitchen.  Dean might give you a hard time with the Christmas crazy baking list you come up with, but you also know he very much enjoys the sweets you bake.  You two had been dating since your freshman year of college and he was always your official taste tester.  Although anything pie related was his favorite.

“I think I’m going to just do round sugar cookies again, while I was off after surgery, I watched a cookie decorating class that showed how to paint the frosting with food coloring and alcohol.”

“That sounds like a mess,” you threw a pillow at him. “I mean great Sweetheart, I’m sure they will be amazing.”

“Keep talking Winchester, see how big a hole you can dig.  Here’s a recipe for mini pie like cookies, I co”

“Yes!”

“..uld try. Okay, adding to the list      https://www.pinterest.com/pin/518406607102183606/

You were bound and determined one year you would get these cupcakes done; just not sure this year would be it. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923040748115/

“How about Christmas Cheesecake Cookies?”  You showed Dean the picture and this time he glared you.   https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923040791076/

“Do you remember the red and green Krinkle Cookies you did last year?  Your hands were dyed red and green and so was everything you touched while rolling them.  I’m voting no more dyed cookie dough.”

“Fine spoilsport.”

“How about you put the computer away and come to bed with me.”

“You’re heading to bed already it’s only, oh.  Be right there Babe,” quickly shutting everything off you chased after your husband to the bedroom.

The party was a little smaller this year, some people still weren’t all for getting together with people yet.  It was mostly family and some close friends.  Honestly, you preferred it that way, less entertaining you and your mom had to do, and the more you could relax and enjoy the night.   The best part about having this early, was your baking was now done, you had even gotten Dean to get the decorations out and most of the house was done.  You enjoyed cuddling on the couch with the Christmas lights glowing around you.  

Thanksgiving was once again split between both of your families.  You went to your dad’s mom for a late lunch and spent time with your family. Then headed over to John and Mary’s for well, for Dean dinner, you were still full, so you just picked at a few things.  After cleaning you ladies joined the guys in the living room where they were watching the game and supposed to be keeping an eye on Jake.  You and Jess talked sales you saw in the ads and tried to get gifts ideas out of Mary for her and John.  Like your mom, she wasn’t very helpful and just said you guys didn’t have to get them anything.  Usually you and your mom would hit a few stores tonight, but nothing was really open with everything going on.  The two of you had planned for the next day to get a few things before you both headed for work. It was nice to spend time with just your mom anyways.

Every year December seems to fly by, it was the second week now and you had been feeling a bit off, and more tired than usual.  According to Dean you had become a bit moody too. Which of course you snapped at him when he mentioned that. He’d been watching his step after that. One morning you were taking care of the dogs when you felt sick and had to run to the restroom.  You didn’t go into work that day, since you didn’t want to get anyone else sick, but felt fine as the day went on.  The next day at work you walked into the cooler and for some reason the dough smelled strong to you and you had to walk back out and get some fresh air.  You attributed it to yesterday’s stomachache.  Then the burping started again. Donna heard you at work and came over.

“What’s going on lady?”

“Something’s off, I haven’t been feeling well, I started throwing up and the burping restarted.”

“You know what you need to do right?”

“I know, but really Donna, can’t I catch a break.  I don’t know how Dean is going to take it if the doctor tells me there is another problem, I don’t know how I’m going to take it.”

“Okay, well before we send you into the operating room again, maybe you should see what the doctor has to say first.”

“That would be the logical thing to do, I prefer worst case scenario.”

That night when you got home from work you told Dean what was going on and when you called your doctor’s office, they actually had an opening on Friday and could get you in then. Dean was unable to go since Benny would be leaving that morning for a weeklong trip to see his wife’s family for an early Christmas.

The day of your appointment arrived, the nurse, Julie that took you back was your cousin’s friend who first introduced you to this doctor.  You two chatted on your way back to the room.  When you got to the room, she asked what was going on and when your last period was.  You explained your symptoms and how you were worried about another mass or fibroid. It had been over a month since your last, but you hadn’t been regular since your surgery and going off birth control. They took a blood and urine sample to send for tests before you saw the doctor.  The doctor pushed near your uterus to see if he could feel any bumps around there. He wanted you to get an ultrasound, so that was scheduled for Monday, your labs would be done then also.

It was a quiet weekend for you and Dean.  Monday rolled around and your appointment was that afternoon.  Dean was supposed to meet you at the hospital, where the doctor’s office was located, but was stuck in a meeting with a new supplier.  Since you were there for an ultrasound you were just supposed to see the tech who would do the test, but Julie was the one who came and got you.  She took you back to the ultrasound room.  When you were back, she told you the test results came back.  You left the doctor’s office in a bit of shock after scheduling your next appointment.  As you passed the mall on the way home you decided to make a quick stop.

That night during dinner Dean asked you what the doctor had to say.  When he called you after your appointment you said you were fine and would talk to him at home you didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.

“I’m going to need follow up appointments for the next few months, but everything is good.”

“If it’s good why do you need follow ups, what aren’t you telling me?”

You got up and went to get the package you picked up from the mall, handing it to Dean you sat back down.  He looked at you and back to the wrapped box.

“Open it.”

Ripping open the paper he looked at the open back and back to you.  “Wait, what?  Really?”

“Yes!”

You told Dean what happened at your appointment.  The results came back, and you were pregnant. Because of your history though, the doctor still wanted an ultrasound just to make sure there wasn’t a fibroid or a mass there.  They didn’t find any problems; the tech could just make out the embryonic sac the baby would be growing in.  They figured you were around 5 weeks, and due around August 14th.  Dean jumped up and grabbed you in his arms, tears were gathering in his eyes, he was so happy.

Later that night you were laying with Dean on the couch and he was going through his phone.

“Hey, the baby is about the size of an apple seed right now.  An apple seed, that’s smaller than my fingernail!”

You looked over at his phone and saw he was going through baby sites.  “Yes, that is tiny.”

“I can’t wait to see them in the activity walker car, they are going to love it like Jake does.”

“Dean, honey, you know we still have like 8 months till the baby is here, and then they aren’t going to be able to use that right away, right?”

“Yeah, well they still will one day.” He learned closer to your stomach, “right little on, can’t wait to play in the car walker daddy got you.”  You had tears in your eyes watching Dean talk to your baby, you had been so afraid this day would never come.

Wiping your eyes, “I thought you said you bought that for Jake?”  Knowing that was his excuse at the time, hoping one day it would by your child playing in it.

“Well, I, um,”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it.”

Sitting in the hospital bed you looked down at the little one in your arms, and still couldn’t believe how lucky you and Dean were to be here. Your mind went back to last year’s Holidays, and what happened after you found out you were pregnant.

The two of you debated on telling anyone about the baby yet, since it was early.  As excited as Dean was you didn’t know how long he could keep the secret.  You would only be seven weeks along at Christmas but decided to tell everyone Christmas Eve at your parents.  You were going to tell them like you told Dean.  You found some grandparent gifts for them to open. Since Sam had Jake it would be John and Mary’s second grandchild, but your parents first.

While playing games after dinner on Christmas Eve, you and Dean rigged a team game that had your parents all winning.  Handing each of them the gifts you picked up Dean grabbed the camera to record their reactions. It took a minute before it sank in, but everyone was so excited for you.  Mary and your mom rushed over to hug you while John and your dad congratulated Dean. The rest of the family joined in after the grandparents.

“The baby is the size of a blueberry now.” Dean proudly told everyone.

The two of you decided to have a quiet New Year’s Eve in.  Your parents, Dean’s along with Sam, Jess, and Jake came over for dinner, and games. The guys ended up in the basement watching some competition, while you ladies were watching the New Year’s countdown and talking babies.  On a trip upstairs Dean heard the conversation and informed everyone that the baby was now raspberry sized.

You had your 11-week ultrasound the Friday before Dean’s birthday.  You scheduled it then because you thought it would be an early birthday treat for him getting to see the baby.  They were going to confirm your due date, and there was a chance you would be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat.  Dean looked over at you with a smile when you were walking up and threw his arm around your waist.

“What?”

“You’re starting to show, I can’t wait till I can feel him kick.”

“Remind me when this kid is playing soccer in me, how happy you are about it then.”

He put his arm around your waist as you walked. “Yeah, yeah, come on I can’t wait to see our little prune.”

“I can’t wait till next week, and we’re on a different food.”

Dean was so excited he could barely sit still in the office.  They called you back and got you settled in the room before the tech came back to start.  She started and was running the wand over your stomach when she found the baby and pointed him out to you.  Dean grabbed your hand.

“Wow, Sweetheart, that’s our little one.”

“Yeah.”  You both had tears in your eyes.  

The tech turned on the volume so you could hear the heartbeat.  “There it is, wait a minute.” She was moving the wand again.

“What’s going on?” You worriedly asked.

“There’s another heartbeat.  Here, we have a shy one.”

Looking at the screen you saw another tiny dot.

“Wait, are you saying?”  You looked over at Dean and he was looking at the screen it hadn’t hit him yet.

“Congrats, you’re having twins!”

“Wwwhat?” Dean finally tuned into the conversation.

“Happy Birthday weekend dad, you’re getting two babies!” Dean’s look of shock wasn’t one you would be forgetting anytime soon.

Leaving the doctor’s office, you both were a mix of shock, nerves and excitement.  It was hard to tell which one was winning out right now.  You had the family over to the house for Dean’s birthday on Sunday and you let him share the news with everyone.  You also decided it was time to tell the rest of your friends.

You moved your gaze from the tiny bundle in your arms to Dean staring down at the tiny swaddled baby in his.  Someone had Daddy completely wrapped around his finger.  Sensing you watching him he looked up with a smile on his face. “Sweetheart, I can’t believe our babies are finally here, I can actually hold them and see them when I talk.  You did so good,” he told you leaning over to kiss you.  Dean had been constantly talking to the babies and trying to feel them kick before they were born.  Ever since you got back to your room and the twins were brought in, he had one in his arms at all times, relishing in the fact he now could.  

Dean wanted to go all out for Valentine’s Day this year.  He said it was the last one with just the two of you, and last year it had been a week after your first surgery, so you just stayed home.  Thankfully, you had a dress that had been fairly lose on you before, so you didn’t have to go find something new.  Dean had reservations at a nice restaurant in town, where you enjoyed each other’s company and the food.  You were beat by the end of dinner and headed home to cuddle on the couch.  Dean was rubbing your stomach and talking to the babies while you watched a movie, you were running your hand through his hair.  

“How are my babies doing tonight? Did you enjoy the nice dinner I took your mommy to?  I can’t wait till I can meet you guys. A few more months, you have some growing to do.  You guys are 14 weeks, that means you’re as big as lemons now.  You would fit in the palm of my hand.”

The next month went by fairly quickly, both you and Dean busy with work.  There were things around the house that would need to be done to get ready for the birth of the twins.  It seemed like Dean was quickly lessoning what we would let you do without help so you wanted to get started soon before he had you completely sidelined. You had decided to turn your guest room into the nursery and move the spare bed into the office neither of you really used.  You cleaned out some of the lighter things because you knew Dean would freak out on you if you moved anything heavy.  One night you went through Pinterest looking for different ideas for the nursery before you rushed ahead with anything.

March 16th was your 6th wedding anniversary; you suggested a quiet night at home. Dean vetoed that since you stayed home last year, again because of you.  He booked you a weekend stay at a bed and breakfast a little over an hour away near the beach.  Being March, it was too cold to get in the water, but you spent time exploring the quaint little town and its cute shops. While you were walking the beach at sunset your first night you stopped to admire the view and Dean stood behind you wrapping his arms around your stomach.

“I love you so much, Sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Babe. Thank you for doing this.”

“You know I would do anything for you.”

“I know, you have always been so good to me, and you’re going to be such an amazing dad.  These babies are lucky to have you.”

“I love spending time just the two of us, but I can’t wait to meet these sweet potatoes.”

“Really Dean?”

“What that’s what the website says for 18 weeks.”

The rest of the weekend went very well, the highlight would have to be the last walk on the beach you and Dean took before you headed home. When you had stopped and were looking out over the water you felt a flutter in your stomach, and a few minutes later another faint one.  That’s when you realized it was the babies moving.  You told Dean and he kept moving his hand around to try and feel it too but was unable.  He was still excited because it meant he would be able to soon.

Easter was the first weekend in April, you split your time between your two families.  Sam and Jess hosted this year. While you and Mary kept Jake busy the guys hid Easter eggs around the yard for him to try and find. There were only about ten, but it still took him a little while. He was more interested in playing with the colorful plastic egg then finding the next one.  Dean stood beside you while Jess was helping Jake. His hand was on your stomach when he suddenly pulled it back.

“What was, wait was that?”

“Yeah, that was one of the babies kicking.”

“So awesome! I can’t wait till we are out there helping ours find eggs, take their first steps, holding them.”

“I think your order was a little backwards, but I know how you feel, Dean.”

You had a surprise to share with both of your families. A few days earlier you had gone for you third ultrasound. Since you already had the surprise of twins you decided to find out the genders.  While you were sitting around talking after dinner you let Dean tell his family, you had told your earlier in the day.  Jake was sitting in his lap when he started talking.

“Hey buddy, do you know how big your cousins are now?”  Jake didn’t understand and just looked at his uncle.  “They are the size of pomegranates.”

“Dean, Babe, he’s not even two yet, he doesn’t know what that is.”

“He’s Sam’s kid. Sam eats all kids of healthy shi.. stuff. I’m sure he has those around the house.”  Sam just shook his head and glared at his brother.

“Do you think you want a girl or boy cousin to play with?”

Mary was looking between the two of wondering if this conversation was going where she thought. Jake never answered Dean no matter what he did to try and pull something out of him.

“How about one of each, what do you think about that?”

“Is that one you’re having?”  Mary asked not being able to wait for any more of Dean’s game.

“Yep, we are having a boy and a girl.” Dean grinned proudly.

“Oh man,” Sam started, “a little girl is going to have you so wrapped around her finger.”  They all congratulated you and Dean once more.

It was the second weekend in May and you really needed to get going on finishing the nursery or starting it.  Who would have thought the hardest part was going to be picking a theme you and Dean could both agree on.

“Come on Y/N, what’s wrong with that idea?”

“Dean, I’m not letting your obsession with scaring your brother using clowns scar our children with a clown themed nursery. Not going to happen Winchester.”  The mobile and matching blanket he found even creeped you out a little. 

“How about race cars? No, I got it!  Let’s paint Baby on a wall!”

“Um, nice thought. We were trying to keep it neutral remember?  How about when they get older, and this little guy can appreciate cars almost as much as his daddy, you can do a car theme.  Who exactly is going to paint Baby, or did you suddenly become Picasso?”

“I didn’t get to who was going to paint it yet in my planning. Fine we can do cars down the road.  Where are your ideas?”  

“You have already shot them down, you didn’t want to paint the chevron lines, the silver and blue was to girly.” You just shook your head and went back to looking.  This was going just as well as picking out names.

Dean looked over at what you had pulled up. “I like that color.”

“Seriously?”

“What, I can’t like that?”

“No, I was asking do you seriously like it, because I do too?”  

“Well we like it, but how about my little rutabagas?”

“Really Dean?  Do you even know what that is?”  mumbling something he turned back to his phone; you wouldn’t be surprised if he was looking up rutabagas. On the plus side you finally had the nursery plans worked out.

Jess, Mary and your mom threw you a baby shower the first weekend in June you were about 30 weeks now.  They had the party at your parent’s house, this worked out nice for you since you lived closest to them and it would be easy to take things home.  Dean and the guys could hang out at your house since they didn’t want to attend the party the whole time.  Jake was almost 2 and very interested in the presents on the table. You all had to keep him from trying to climb up there.  It was a great couple hours playing games and spending time with family and friends. Babies Winchester were spoiled greatly!

Dean did come down toward the end, you’re pretty sure though he just wanted food.  You excitedly showed him the wonderful gifts people gave the babies and you.  He eagerly described the nursery, told people how fast the baby was growing, and how they were now as big as cucumbers.    

Your birthday was a few weeks later, and at 32 weeks you weren’t up to doing much for it. Your families came over to the house for dinner.  Your parents and Mary had been around and helped with different projects in the nursery. John, Sam, Jess and your brother on the other hand hadn’t been over in a while, so they had not seen the nursey.  Dean was eager to show them all

“This is where my little squashes will sleep.”

Jess looked at Dean and laughed, “It’s cute that you think they are going to sleep Dean.”

The majority of the nursery was done now.  You had gone with the soft aqua color you both liked, along with white furniture and trim.  You had gone with light grey and white chevron curtains and pillows to accent it, along with soft grey carpet.

The Winchester’s always did a big 4th of July BBQ, this year was no exception.  Ever since Sam and Jess got married you rotated hosting it between the three of you.  This year should have been yours and Deans’ but since you were 34 weeks along Mary graciously told you they would have it.  The doctor had told you to really start taking things easier, so you were trying not to overdo it.  Mary didn’t let you help much in getting ready for the party, but you did busy yourself in the kitchen at home making a few desserts and Dean’s favorite pasta salad. You were thankful for them taking over you hadn’t been getting much sleep and wouldn’t have had the energy to get everything done you would have wanted.

Dean was manning the grill talking with Sam, Cass, and Benny when you walked over to join him.  You could hear him talking as you got closer.

“Right now they are about the size of butternut squash, although they could be slightly smaller cause it’s twins.”

“I could have sworn you called them squash a few weeks ago, or was that a nickname for them?” Sam asked his brother.

“A few weeks ago, they were squash, now they are butternut squash.”

“I wasn’t aware there were different squashes,” Benny added.

“You know Dean for someone with an aversion to vegetables I’m surprised by the number of them you have called your kids.” Sam teased his brother with a laugh.

“What will they be when they are born,” Cas asked.

“Babies, Cas, they will be babies.” Dean shook his head at his brother and friends catching sight of you waddling over.  “And there is my beautiful wife, and mom to be.”  Dean leaned down and gave you a kiss while his hand went to your stomach.

Night came and you were heading back to you seat next to Dean to watch the fireworks.  When the first ones lit up the sky you could feel both babies start to kick, apparently, they were as big of fans as their dad. Dean moved you around on the bench so he was sitting behind you and could have his arms around you. When he felt the babies kick, he moved his hands around and started talking to them calming them right down.  The last few weeks whenever they were really active at night Dean’s touch and voice were the only thing that would get them to settle down so you could get a little sleep.

They figured your due date was around August 14th, but since you were having twins, they would most likely be early. Because of your previous surgeries the doctor wanted you to have a C-section to avoid any issues.  It wasn’t what you really wanted, but it was what was best.  They scheduled that tentatively for Friday August 7th unless the babies had other plans.   Which they did.  You were laying on the couch Monday morning with some heat on your back to help with the pain you were having while Dean was getting ready for work. Just before Dean walked out you started to feel some cramping. You were fairly certain you were in labor now.  Dean actually took it much calmer than you thought he would. He called the doctor’s office while you went to shower and change.  When you came back, he had both you bag and the babies in the car, and called Benny to tell him he would need to handle the shop today.

Once you go to the hospital things were a bit of a blur. They checked you in, took you to a room to exam you and prep for surgery.  Dean disappeared at one point and came back dressed in scrubs.  Before you knew it, they were taking you back to the operating room Dean right beside you the whole time.  

“It’s time to meet our pumpkins Sweetheart.”

You just looked over to him and laughed.

“It’s the last time I can say that.”

“I know Dean let’s go meet our pumpkins.”  Dean smiled widely at you as you headed down the hall.

Dean was holding your hand and trying to keep you calm when the doctor asked if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord.  He did and came back to standing next to you with tears in his eyes as he watched a nurse take your screaming son.  The doctor went back to work to get your little girl and Dean once again cut the cord. He was pushed out of the way quickly because she wasn’t breathing.  The nurse who brought your son over said that could happen with C-sections and she should be fine.  It seemed longer than the few minutes it really was before you and Dean heard her little cries fill up the room, both of you letting out a sigh of relief.

After recovering you were finally in your room with Dean and both of your babies.  Your families were here and waiting for your okay to come meet the newest members.  Dean proudly introducing the babies to the rest of the family.

“I would like you all to meet Patrick John and Sophia Allison.  You spent a few days in the hospital Dean right beside you the entire time.

After everyone left your little family alone Dean sat down next to you on the bed holding Sophia, while you held Patrick.  The two of you both lost in your own thoughts and the babies in your arms before you looked over to him drawing his attention to you.

Once you arrived home your mom and Mary took turns coming over to see if they could help you or just let you get some sleep.  Dean had to go back to the shop but tried to be home as much as possible.

The twins were two months old and not sleeping well through the night which was leaving you and Dean exhausted.  You were both working during the day, and the twins were waking each other up at night which had the two of you getting up each taking one of the babies.  You told Dean that you would get up and he could sleep, but he just kissed you as he walked by saying you were in this together no matter what.  One night you had finally got them calmed down early and both of you sank down on the couch.  Dean asked if you wanted to watch anything on TV.  

“Honestly, I don’t think I could follow along on anything right now, but the back of my eye lids. How about we head to bed before the little monsters wake us up?”

“Knew I married a smart woman.”

Just as you settled into bed you heard Patrick start crying, and then Sophia joined in.

“Seriously.” Dean grumbled.

As you were trying to calm both babies down Dean was playing on his phone.  All of a sudden you head Samuel L Jackson voice reading Go the Fuck to Sleep. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cb0t9TUNLpg

“Seriously Dean?”

“What?  They can’t understand and I completely agree with it.”

Much to your surprise the twins were starting to doze back off.  If this actually worked, you weren’t sure if Dean would let you hear the end of it.  This was the quickest they calmed down for you, and also the start of hearing this every night for the next four months.  

Things weren’t always perfect, but they were perfect for you.  You had an incredible husband who always supported you and two wonderful kids who would keep you both on your toes.  No matter what happened good or bad you and Dean were in this together.

  Thank you for reading!  For now this store is complete. 

 Tag list @talesmaniac89  @deanwanddamons @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchest09 @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @katehuntington @malfoysqueen14 @anathewierdo @superfanficnatural   @akshi8278  @sandlee44    

[auncyen]

two snippets from an early draft of “when the Cat Dragged in the Trickster” that had more buildup covering the school year and the repeat requests for Ren to be given a change of heart...because I’m deleting old docs to clean up but I still like them.

The first time they checked the MetaNav because Amamiya had been requested on the Phansite, Morgana crowed at the negative result. "See! He doesn't have a distorted desire! If he was wicked before, he has clearly reformed."

The second time they checked the MetaNav because Amamiya had been requested, Morgana rolled his eyes before explaining to a mildly curious Yusuke that people were only scared of Amamiya because of his dubious past and that they weren't paying enough attention to his current impeccable conduct. Ryuji then filled Yusuke in on what said dubious past was. Ann informed everyone the result was still negative. No distortion.

The third time Amamiya got requested, Ryuji shook his head when Makoto started to bring out her phone. "He ain't gonna be on there," he told her.

"You're certain?" the student council president asked. "With a record like his..."

"He's been on the site before, I believe," Haru said. "Was he already given a change of heart?"

Ann sighed in aggravation. "No, but we've checked both times Mishima's forwarded the requests before, and he hasn't shown up then either. I mean, yeah, you'd think if he assaulted someone out of the blue, he must be distorted, but he got arrested and put on probation for it. That'd be enough to make most people reflect on themselves, right?"

Haru nodded, accepting the logic, but Makoto still said aloud, "Amamiya Ren."

"Candidate not found."

Morgana huffed. "See?" He jumped up on the accessway's railing. "Lady Ann, I say we tell Mishima to not accept these requests anymore. They clearly have no basis."

Ann frowned, thinking. It'd be a little hard when they were still trying to keep some plausible deniability with Mishima, but she could probably...drop a heavy hint. "Okay--"

"Wait," Makoto said. "You only think it lacks basis because of the app. We don't know where it's from or how it was made, so how can we trust it to be accurate?"

"Do you think the accusation has merit, then? That he threatened the writer?" Yusuke asked. Morgana gave a loud, exasperated sigh.

"I...don't know," Makoto said slowly. "Honestly, I'd prefer if Ann's explanation was right. If Amamiya's reformed, it would mean the justice system at least works sometimes. It's just...what if these are serious? Haru made multiple requests, and you still nearly missed them before I brought them to your attention."

"By blackmailing us," Ryuji muttered.

Makoto's cheeks colored. Haru squeezing her hand as gentle reassurance didn't help. "...That's besides the point. I just want to make sure no other victims slip through the cracks either."

Ryuji and Ann exchanged looks. Ryuji shoved his hands in his back pockets and leaned against the railing. "Honestly, I kind of wonder if I'd be on the Phansite if it'd gone up before Kamoshida went down," he said. "People mostly just leave me alone now, but last year there was talk about how I was gonna haul off and hit the next person who looked at me funny. Shit made me want to quit school for a while."

"You called Amamiya-san 'the guy who stabs people'," Morgana reminded him.

"Well, that's how I knew him! And I wasn't spreadin' anything--Ann had already heard about him, and who were you gonna tell?" Ryuji shot back before a gesture from Makoto reminded him to lower his voice. "Look, I know the guy's done something bad once before, and from what I've seen of him, he's a little weird. Like, I can't get a read on him at all. But none of that means he should be harassed. I guess...we should check to be sure nothing's going on...but can we do it without bothering the guy?"

"I think...both Mako-chan and Ryuji-kun have a point," Haru said slowly. Since we don't know much about the MetaNav, we can't know for sure if it's always working correctly, can we? So I think we should do some questioning ourselves to make sure Amamiya isn't involved in anything suspicious. But we must be discreet, and if we find nothing, we ask the administrator to not accept any more requests about him. I wouldn't want us to be used as a tool for harassment. People deserve second chances."

"That seems reasonable," Yusuke said. "I agree with the proposed action." Makoto nodded, and Ryuji shrugged. Ann hesitated for a moment, but...if there was a victim...and if there was a chance the MetaNav didn't always work, they needed to know, considering how much they relied on it. She nodded.

Morgana held out for a couple of tense minutes, his tail swishing in agitation behind him, but at last it slowed. "I guess...it'd reflect badly on the name of the Phantom Thieves if we ignored a request that turned out to be legitimate... very well, then. We investigate, and then we tell Mishima to reject any further requests."

Morgana's phrasing made it obvious he expected Amamiya to be found innocent. Fortunately, he seemed to be right. Morgana tailed Amamiya from a distance. Yusuke kept an eye out for Amamiya when he people watched at the station. The four Shujin students kept an ear out for any current rumors that might have any basis. Ann asked Mishima if he would be able to find more details about Amamiya's record, since the original leak appeared long-deleted and he was good with the internet and searching for information.

Mishima was more than happy to help her find information--he actually pulled up the record itself for her. The details on the trial were sparse, with the victim's identity completely missing from the record. Was that normal...? Ann hoped it was, to protect victims. It seemed the assault conviction was legitimate enough, anyway. Amamiya had pleaded not guilty, but there was an identified witness who had testified that he had attacked the man she'd been with out of the blue. The judge had made a quick ruling--Ann guessed it was a fairly open-and-shut case. The most troubling thing was that the transcript of the proceedings gave no hint into what had provoked Amamiya to assault that man, who seemed to have been a stranger, besides the allegation that he had anger management issues. That lined up with a few of the rumors, but...the rumors were based on his record to begin with. And they were all old--nothing they turned up sounded that different from what they'd heard in April. Yusuke and Morgana had nothing suspicious to report, unless Amamiya holding three part-time jobs, one of which seemed to be where he was living, counted.

It was...weird. No, she guessed it made sense if Amamiya had reformed and was working to control his temper. They ended the investigation. Ann dropped hints to Mishima that the Phantom Thieves weren't after criminals who'd already been punished.

Mishima seemed seriously reluctant to take those hints, considering they got a fourth request for Amamiya while they were waiting for Futaba to wake up. Ann hadn't even finished reading the message before she deleted it in aggravation.

-

The second snippet being a slightly different form of investigating with interesting/concerning results:

Haru and Makoto were in agreement from the beginning, with Yusuke agreeing it seemed reasonable enough soon after. Ann was the first to be won over from skepticism. Then Ryuji. Finally, Morgana's ears drooped. "We really don't know how that thing works," he said with a glance at Ann's phone. "It'd be terrible if we accidentally ignored someone in danger...all right. We investigate, and then we tell Mishima to reject any further requests."

Morgana's phrasing made it obvious he expected Amamiya to be found innocent, and Ann was a little worried what would happen if he was wrong. Still, for now, they had a unanimous vote. They started an investigation.

Makoto tailed Amamiya, with Ryuji at a distance just in case she was confronted. All she learned was that that Amamiya worked at both 777 and a beef bowl shop and seemed to be a decent employee. Yusuke kept an eye out when he people watched at the station and spotted Amamiya a few times, but never saw him do anything or go anywhere unusual, and most of what he had to say about finally seeing the transfer student for himself was "his aesthetic is appallingly drab". He also figured out somehow that Amamiya's glasses were fake, but Ann didn't know what that information had to do with anything, even if Yusuke found it the one interesting thing about Shujin's transfer student.

Morgana also tailed Amamiya, and by 'tailed' he really just strutted up to Amamiya, meowed and acted like a lost cat, and let Amamiya take him home for the night. It was a lazy approach. It was also the most informative, though not in the way Ann had expected.

Amamiya returned Morgana to Ann in the morning. That, she'd expected: either Amamiya would be conscientious and return a cat he'd recognize as hers, or Morgana would eventually slip away and return on his own. What she hadn't expected was that Amamiya looked nervous--really nervous--when he let his schoolbag down on his desk and showed her Morgana, safe inside. Morgana looked upset.

"He...must have gotten out somehow? I found him in Shibuya, after my work shift--"

"He thinks you'll think he stole me," Morgana blurted.

"Okay, okay, come on," Ann said, reaching into the schoolbag to extricate the smallest thief. She was confused. Why on earth would Amamiya think she'd suspect him of kidnapping Morgana? He'd gone up to Amamiya himself--

Well, though...if Ann didn't know that, if Morgana was a normal cat--oh. Yeah, it might be suspicious that Amamiya of all people had 'found' him. Shoot. She immediately looked up at Amamiya and gave him her brightest smile. "I'm glad you found him! I was sooooo worried about this little guy. Thank you."

"'Little guy'?" Morgana muttered, but he clambered into her desk and turned himself about, his blue eyes focusing on Amamiya. "See? It's fine. Calm down."

Obviously, Amamiya couldn't understand Morgana. But he did seem to be relaxing. He smiled back a little at Ann, an awkward thing, and she felt so lost. What had happened to the guy who'd intimidated the entire class just to let a cat sit in a desk?

[hazbinextgeneration]

Into The Casino Ch17

(Warning: Slightly suggestive content at the end.) The next day was something to make better. She slept in that day and for some reason Lou didn't have the energy to bother her for some reason, probably wanting to let her rest up after what happened, but eventually she did drag herself out of bed and start towards his office, but with noticeable bags under her eyes and visibly yawned as soon as he saw her walk in....He wasn't sure what compelled him to do it, but he sent her back to bed. Despite her light protests, he firmly told her he would have Cyber take care of anything she had to do that day and to GO back to bed. She...didn't argue much after that, but Cyber was slightly surprised to hear the reason why he asked her to take over the pet's job for the day, and she was still a bit confused over yesterday's incident, so she asked. "Uh. Sure thing, Boss. But are you feeling alright?"

He stopped midway looking through the forms and deeds to his new winery addition and looked at her. "Whatever do you mean? I feel the same way I do every morning, a bit groggy but nothing a couple cups of coffee can't fix." She rose a brow. "Well, I know that." He went back to looking at the papers but stopped when she asked the next question. "It's just that it's not like you to just outright attack someone out of nowhere, and in front of everyone no less. You don't like people seeing you angry..And you got real angry real fast." She lightly leaned her head forward. "Are you feeling ok?" He didn't move for a moment, but blinked back down to his papers and resumed like it wasn't even asked. "Well-...I guess Im just a little frustrated with the state of decay the stupid man left the winery." He sighed and gave a geneuine light scowl. "It'll cost me a small fortune to completely fix the dam place..but nothing unfixable." "...You've been frustrated before and you've NEVER acted out like that unless someone was attacking you first. Are you sure you're ok?" "...Cyber, this discussion is OVER." And he meant it. But Cyber was more than just observant. She was a super computer with legs and a voice. So for the next couple of days she observed his behavior and made lots of mental notes. More and more suspicious behavior ensued. Not at first because the following one or two weeks was pretty uneventful with Amalfia easing her way back to working and doing her work as Lou's new personal assistant. The two would talk a couple times a day, mostly about progress with things like staff's progress, Midnight's reports she'd hand in, and typical things a regular boss employee relationship would have. Sometimes he'd give her a small compliment here or there, but it still wasn't out of the ordinary for him. She did however notice his happy tone and there wasn't...there wasn't anything underlinging in it. It was hard to explain but when he called her lovely or smiled back at her smile he..it wasn't the usually smile and compliment he would give. It..actually looked like he was happy. Truly one hundred percent happy dishing out compliments like they were free hand outs, and she would've just passed all that off as normal Lou behavior as well if she hadn't seen it. Lou could give genuine compliments to employees who did a good job if he wanted to sometimes, but the amount of ones he was handing out? She would've chalked THAT one up to him fast forwarding the plan he was so excited for, IF she hand't caught it. It was only a few swings. But one day she he made her giggle at a small joke he said...It- HIS TAIL!! It wagged. It only swished maybe two or three times, but there was no denying the small movements the green tail made. .....She started to slowly put two and two together. And she now had a sneaking suspicion of what exactly was going on. Buuuut she had to be SURE before she made any true descisions. Which also didn't take two long. She came in one day bright and early- Only for Lou to shoo her away and tell her to handle the floor by herself and make sure nothing bad happened. That was normal. Sometimes he wanted just a day for himself, so she did. But a couple days later he did it again. ....And then again a few days after that. Which rose her suspicions further so when he told her again for the fourth time a little while later she decided to ask him why. He paused for a few suspicious seconds, before calmly turning to her like it wasn't and smiled at her. "Oh, Cyber. Ever the questioner. I deserve a few days off for my work don't I?" Her brow rose. "Well, yes. But you usually don't just take a whole day off and then another just a few days later. Seriously, are you feeling ok? Maybe we should have Midnight look ya over." He waved her off maybe a bit too quickly. "I assure you I haven't felt better. Now go on would you? I have a very specific thing I want to do today and I don't want to be bothered unless ABSOLUTELY needed." She hummed and did as she was asked. And if her calculations were correct as she was multiplying all this together, he should be doing it again within the next three to four days. And wouldn't you know it? He DID!! But this time with a twist, he asked her to take care of Amalfia's work for the day as she had been given the day off as well for them to discuss her position and things. She wasn't surprised this time, as he had that same smile he usually wore around the unicorn come up and she smiled. The sudden protective urge, smiling, tail wagging, strange behavior- Did she really need anymore evidence? But she didn't confront him and just smiled and went along with whatever he asked of her now. She'd ask about it when the time was right. And speaking of our cupid struck demon boss- Lou suddenly felt as if someone had opened his cold hard chest and poor lovely warm honey and cream in it. He was in a MUCH more better mood than he had been in for a while and why wouldn't he? Midnight made progress with a lot of her experiments. Including testing out those angelic fossils. Turned out they could still destroy a demon, which was fantastic! And plus that also disposes of the threat of someone taking her or scaring her off for the moment. He didn't know why but the sudden thought of having her to himself just delighted him to no end! Especially after she blatantly disbelieved Charles for him! That one thought added to the sheer excitement of it all! No one stood a chance now, she was practically in the palms of his hands. Sometimes literally. As she still enjoyed dancing with him and hearing him sing, and he was very happy to oblige. After all how could he turn away such a cute face and sparkling eyes that begged at his performances and was left staring in amazement at him. All giggling and red faced and-....All the while the warm feeling in his chest grew. There was no forcing this away now. Now while it happened so many times. He took a day off to try and busy himself to NOT feel this way and another after he felt it flair up. But for SOME reason he couldn't fathom for some reason, his brain calculated that he would absolutely adore spending the entire day with just the two of them spending time together and listening to her giggles and strange questions she'd ask him about hell. Such curiousity.~ Cyber didn't inquire anything else about him so that's a plus. In the meantime the warm feeling only began to grow and one day he had the bright idea to try and take his plan a step further. One day when he greeted her, instead of just holding her hand or shaking it, he did what a natural gentleman always did with a respectable young lady in his day. ...He placed a kiss on the back of her hand. Her reaction was instant, her face and the tips of her ears turned a bright pink deeper than he had seen before and he chuckled. His own heart giving a couple beats, ESPECIALLY when he saw the ring he had gifted her...oh I don't know. Maybe a year and some months ago now still on her finger. She had good taste.~ But he was, for once in his afterlife NOT realizing what had been going on until one day. It was just business as normal. Shifting through different papers, a few deals he managed to wrack in, and Cyber chilling right behind him. He was just sitting there, minding his own business. When he suddenly turned to a dark purple paper, and smiled. Oh how cute. It was almost the same purple as her ey-.....He suddenly froze. He couldn't explain it, but it was as if everything came back and hit him like a giant boulder at once. His eyes slightly widened and the papers slowly dropped from his hands to the desk. Oh....OH NO!! IT COULDN'T BE!! ...But it WAS!! Her smiles, and giggles, and polite words came rushing back to him and his stomach sank. He groaned and reached both hands up to cover his face all of a sudden and Cyber immediately blinked and leaned over to look at him. "Hey. Are you alright?" At this point. He didn't know. "....Shit. Cyber, I think I've fallen for the unicorn." "Mm-hmm. I know.'' "....." He whipped his head to her with a surprised look. "What the hell do you mean you know?!" She shrugged. "Lou, I ain't blind to the obvious. It was clear you started liking her after the small rage episode. It just took me a bit to piece it together." Well she wasn't being rude or smug about it. Just rather calm and straight like this was any other normal conversation. He just huffed and forcefully grabbed his papers and busied himself by looking through them again. "Well a little infatuation barely means anything really. You know as well as I do I've had a few, but none got in the way of business, just like this one won't. With time it'll pass just like all the other's and it won't change any plans." "...None of your 'infatuations' ever made you throw a chair at someone before-" "Cyber. This topic is closed!" He was absolutely sure this small crush would leave now that he realized what was going on..but oh he couldn't have been more wrong. After all he saw her everyday. Her big smile and sparling eyes accompanied by her giggles were- NO! No. no. Stop it! You're trying to get her OUT of that part of your brain. Just start thinking of Rita everytime you see her. The old bird brain was just the thing he needed to run those thoughts off. Only...Everytime she came in now and he thought about Rita, his mind would slowly revolve around to her in that pretty ball dress which would then revolve around what happened at...the...ball....DAMMIT!! He slammed his face in frustration onto the desk at one point and Cyber offered to give him an ice pack which was much appreciated since he made it clear he was NOT just going to give into these stupid feelings without a fight. ...Which is why he still took days off with her to see her smile at him- And her consideration surprised him, just the other day she asked him a question he didn't even know he wanted. "Hey. What brand of coffee do you want?" He blinked up at her a bit confused. "Black of course. I don't like all the fancy sugars and creamers much. Just a couple drops weed killer and I'm good to go." She giggled. " I know. But we have so many different kinds. Costa, Tim Horton's, Nescafe, Folgers- I want to make sure you get one you like." He blinked and gave her a small wave off. "Surprise me. Just make sure it's black if you please." She happily nodded and left as he waved her off and he was left with just his racing mind and warm feeling growing even more prominent in his chest. Oh Cyber was giving him a smile he knew the exact meaning behind. It seemed no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get the thought of purple sparkling eyes out of his image. And he SHOULDN'T be happy at the sight of her wearing rose print rose sweater and..wearing the rose in her hair that he had gifted her yesterday. And she shouldn't be allowing herself to be so comfortable around him..She...had stopped flinching so much around him and seemed genuinely more comfortable, except for actual large crowds since the incident. So for some reason he loved the great idea of keeping her to himself and keeping her away from so many prying eyes. More than once he fantasied about having a giant fantasy garden. You know. The kind with regular plants but also having things like a small stream, fairy bridge, a small gazebo and having her all dressed up in pretty greens and hair full of flowers and her just living there like some beautiful secret garden hide away-.....Which he would immediately snap out of and scold himself over. Cyber did start noticing his strange behavior more and offered the brilliant advice of just talking to her if he really felt like that. Maybe talking about his feelings would make him feel better. He severly doubted it and still thought this would all just crash and burn like all the others, but her advice still did make him think. Especially one night when the two were spending some quality boss employee time together to work on this new building project he was almost done fleshing out. He was admittedly a bit tired and his hand hurt from just doodling out the plans and signing so many things in one day. But as he sat there waiting for her to respond, some questions poured into his mind. Like- How does one decide another's worth? How does one predict another's personality or their impact they leave behind? Well unless you can see into the future and know for sure what you're dealing with then you're in for surprises. Which is what happened to him not too long ago. He could admit(just to himself) that he never expected to be surprised by someone he originally perceived as an easy pawn to his own needs. He never expected to be the one drawn to something so opposite of himself. But here he was, one moment minding himself the next- She didn't even know he was watching as she shifted through the small stack of papers in her hands. Her purple eyes narrowed and scrunched snout in thought. Suddenly her purple eyes lit up and she turned to him. He adverted his eyes just in time to not arose suspicions. "Everything seems organized already." "Is it now?" She nodded before leaning arcoss the desk to show him the neat stack of papers to him. His eyes glazed over the newspaper in his hand, raising a brow at her work. But...they both had done enough work for today and his hand was starting to feel sore after all that bland paperwork and holding the dammed newspaper for so long. "Excellent! Now, why don't you put those away, Pet? Im sure you'll be busy with other things tomorrow." She rolled her eyes but leaned away. "Ok. I get the hint." He chuckled but sat back. A slight pang of pain shot up his left arm from the movement of his body but gritted his teeth and bit it down in front of company. Just a slight cramp from signing nothing but papers all day. Anyones arm would be sore....Come to think of it. How long had they been at this paper pushing fiasco? A couple hours by the way his wrist was feeling. He reached it out to grabb at the mug on the desk when another throb coursed through his arm. A single hiss escaped his gritted teeth which caught her attention. Her brow rose and she gave him a questioning look. "Are ...you alright?" His grin came back up. "Of course. Being tired is no problem..." His eyes glanced too the cup for a moment. "..Why don't you make yourself useful and get me some more coffee, Flower? Im going to need more energy if Im going to deal with this." "Alright. You're the boss." "And don't forget that.~" She rolled her eyes but received the mug whilst standing up. Grin still present on his face. She gave him another look before laying down the papers with her other hand and turning around. He waited for her back to turn and she was walking away before grimacing and holding up his sore wrist up to his face with a hiss. His muscles were cramped and tight when he moved the red digits. Just great. He rotated the pained appendage causing more pain and his eye to twitch in irritation. Mumbling to himself, he carefully set the wrist back down onto the desk and reached his good arm over to grab the papers. Slapping them down in front of him and staring at the words typed upon them. Eyes furrowed in irritation. He didn't notice the return of the lady who stopped momentarily upon seeing his annoyed expression. She frowned slightly upon noticing it. Did she do something wrong when she organized them? Or was he not happy with something written on it? She gulped down the rock in her stomach and put a smile on her face. "Hey." He flinched a bit and looked up at her. She held up the now warm mug. "You're drink's ready." He grumbled and made a motion for her to come in. She did but tilted her head to look at his face. "Is everything ok?" "Lovely," he grumbled. She placed the mug by his free hand and straightened back up. He didnt make an attempt to grab it at first and instead glanced up at her. "Amalfia...Would you give me a moment? I have something to take care of." She gave a puzzled look, but it was probably best not to argue when Lou was in a bad mood. So Amalfia turned and began making her way out. He initially cursed under his breath and subconsciously reached for the mug as he always did when he was irritated- ...The sound of a demonic cry and shattering glass made Amalfia jump and spin back around towards the desk to a very.....panicked scene. The plant demon hissed and clutched onto his wrist, the mug shattered in bits on the floor and liquid spilt all over the desk and by the looks of it him. Well she wasn't one to stand by while her boss was in pain. Hurrying over, her hand grabbed his shoulder. "Oh my god! Are y-?" His head snapped to her. "IM FINE!!" She immediately let go and stood back a couple steps back from the flashing red eyes. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he blinked and slowly slumped back from the tense pose he was in, giving a more calm look. The two stood there for a moment before Lou cleared his throat and excused himself from situation. Still clutching his wrist. Leaving her just standing there confused and...a bit hurt as he walked out of the office clutching that hand of his. When he got there he spent a good while just hissing and trying to sooth the pain in his arm. The pain hadn't reduced surprise, surprise. But instead hurt more if that was even possible ironically. Which irritated him further. The calm darkness of the room brought some ease to his mind at least, couldn't say the same for his hand, which was stiff as a board and slightly burnt from the hot drink spilling all over everything, but that one was on him to be honest. He sighed and stretched his body out slowly. It was going to be a long night with this problem. He almost didn't hear the knock at the door but looked up anyways. "...." Sighing he rubbed his face. "If this is a report for anything, it can wait until morning." There was a small silence, and he thought whoever it was left, when the doorknob turned and the door opened slowly with a creak. The plant demon rose a brow but stared in slight surprise when a white face poked into the entrance, she gave him an uncertain look before asking- "Do you still want me to leave?" "Uh...N-No. No. Don't just stand there." He gestured a hand. "Come in. And close the door behind you." She did but slowly. The door was closed with a click and she stood there silently. He regarded her with a raised brow before looking back down to his wrist. "Is there something wrong?" She didn't say anything for a moment but looked down in guilt. "Im sorry. " "Excuse me?" "I said Im sorry. I didn't know you would burn yourself...Im sorry." She turned her guilty expression down and her ears folded back. "I-I should've checked how hot it was before I gave to you. It's my fault. Im sorry." Silence. "Don't be." ...She blinked and looked up at him. "w-wha-" "You heard me. Don't apologize for something you didn't do." He glanced up at her from his sitting position. "It wasn't your intention to harm me was it?" "What?! N-No!" "Well there you go." "Why are you holding your wrist like that?" He gave her a questioning look and she pointed to his arm. "Are you ok?" He didn't answer, only mumbled and look down to his cramping muscles, hissing as they slightly moved. She cocked her head to the side for a moment...before slowly walking her way to the bed. When she was close enough, she held out a hand towards him. When he didn't pull away she gently took a few steps closer and softly grabbed his good arm. Her eyes flashed confused worry at him. "Does it hurt?" When she reached her other hand towards his hurt wrist, he gave a sudden inhale of pain and stopped. "Its...sore. Nothing I can't take care of myself." "I can see that." "I've suffered worse." "I don't doubt that, but you're more stubborn than a hellhorse." He gave an offended look but froze when she came around to the other side of him and sat down, gently taking his hand in hers. He gave her a confused look and she smiled. "I have an idea. My father used to have bad cramps and aches, and his assistant used to fix them easily. I-I can try it. If you'll let me try that is?" When he didn't answer, she delicately pressed down on the sore flesh of the palm. Immediate pain spiked up his arm but he bit down any hisses and instead opted for digging his free hand into the mattress. Amalfia didn't seem to notice as she continued to carefully press down onto the tender flesh in strides. After a minute, the tightness in his palm decreased and he was left with a dull pain. She noticed his body loosened up on that tense aura and smiled. "Starting to feel better?" He hummed. "I suppose." His red eyes glanced over her working hands before trailing up to her face. "....You're solution is acceptable." A snort. "Just acceptable? Your way would've left you in another hour of aches and pains and acting like Midnight when one of her potions explodes." The comparion made him chuckle. "My dear. I am more capable of controlling my emotions than her." Purple eyes glanced up at him in amusement. "Oh? So acting like a baby because of a little cold air is capable control?" "Ill have you know that cold wind has severe damage on plant life, I have a right to be upset." She giggled. "Well, you're the boss." "And don't you forget that." "I haven't." She stopped and gave him a look. "To be quite honest, I think you're not given enough credit as far as Im concerned." His ears perked up at her answer. "Oh really?" She nodded. "And what do you mean by that, Pet? Id love to hear from you." She rolled her eyes. "And inflate your ego? I don't think so.....But I will say you're more agreeable and understanding than most men I've met. And actually know what you're doing. Not to mention tolerable. I don't see how you can deal with all the stuff around here with Disease and-..." She stopped upon seeing the smirk on his face. "...What?" "Don't let me stop you. Please, continue.~ But I believe you forgot a few of my better qualities.~" This sent her into a small giggle fit. Making him smike wider. "You know I have those qualities. Helping me deal with the idiots I work with....But not you. In all honestly, your work is quite admirable. " "....You really think so?" He paused for a moment, looking into those dark purple eyes staring back at him. She patiently stared back. Those purple eyes blinked and looked down to the feeling of those red digits closing around her own hand. Pink rushed to her cheeks and her body flinched when something touched her cheek. The red eyes holding neutral emotion towards the situation between them. "Yes." They were so close now and those red digits were holding her face so gently. Pushing some hair some her obviously turning pink face and he gave a chuckle. She looked so cute all flustered like this. But the calm of those red eyes and the sudden closeness was..exciting. And she thought she new exactly what this meant- So when that smile came close, red eyes slightly closing, the flustered pink face quickly turned away, releasing itself from the red digits holding her cheek lovingly and making the man pause in his actions. The red eyes blinked and quickly noticed the shy and uncomfort in her eyes. "Oh...I'm sorry." He tilted his head to try and look at her. "Was that too much? I should've asked." "N-No. I-It's ok. You didn't know," She assured him bringing up the hand that he wasn't hold and pushing some of her hair away. Her whole face radiated red and she dared not at him out of embarrasment. "I-It's just...b-b-been so long since- Well I had this kind of attention. I g-g-guess Im just a little caught off guard from it." "Hm. Yes. That-...would be very understandable." The two sat there in silence. Other than the heart beat she heard in her ears as her heartrate picked up and it felt like her pretty white face was on fire. Probably looked the part too, she wondered if she looked at all like a burnt pancake. But to him, his own cold heart was picking up a few paces fueled by the fact that she hadn't yanked her hand away and wasn't making at move as if she wanted to leave. Now if could've been because his face was also heated and cooking his brain, or maybe it was because his heart currently had cupid's arrow through it and he was under that spell but-....He asked his next question like his tongue was glued to his mouth. "Amalfia..." She hummed and glanced to him for a moment. "May I...kiss you?" It was quite obvious she was caught off guard with his question when she jumped and whirled to him. "W-W-What?!" She stuttered out. Frozen in a flustered state. He smiled and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I asked..if I may kiss you? You don't have to agree, I just want to make sure you are absolutely comfortable with such close contact." She couldn't make an coherant sentences as she stumbled and fumbled over her words. Her whole face turning a beat red he didn't think was possible and she squeaked. He chuckled at it until she unintentionally forced out the smallest littlest, ''....ok...." His smile became brighter as his only hand slowly came up to hold the back of her head and she still stop him from doing that. From leaning himself forward. From closing the distance and making contact with the sweet bliss of that warm feeling throbbing throughout his entire being, and she didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. Just..stayed...Those purple eyes wide in surprise before the closed. Until that free hand came up to wrap around his shoulders and pulled him forward- **************************************************************************************** BEEP! BEEP BEEP!! "......" A groan cut through the darkness and he groggily reached a hand out. The sharp red digits skimming along through the darkness and eventually tapping along a wood surface. The annoying beeping noise was soon done when those red fingers slapped down hard on the stupid machine that was making the stupid noise. Also known as a clock. The same hand came back and to rub the face of the person it was attatched to. The plant demon groaned and slowly opened those groggy red eyes up towards the familiar ceiling. It was blurry for a moment as his tired body just laid there for a while, senses slowly starting to come back as well as feeling and he groaned again. Blinking until his sight was finally ok enough to see things clearly. He HATED mornings. Always left him feeling tired and his body feeling sluggish....but oddly enough he felt more tired than usually. With a grunt he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting up position. He sat there for a moment before reaching up and rubbing his face again with a sigh, before running those red digits through his already pretty messy hair, his red eyes slowly blinking to the mess of clothing on the floor..And rose a brow. Did the maids forget to collect the dirty laundry? Well, what was he paying them for then!? He would be sure to have a talk with them when- He froze. Something shifted next to him...and he slowly looked to his right. Someone was right next to him. And that someone was currently cocooned in a blanket burrito with only the top of her face showing. Her nose and ears twitched slightly and her eyes still peacefully closed as the demon sat there and stared...before quickly looking back to the laundry. And freezing. Everything from last night slammed into him at rocket speed and he felt....Calm. Which was weird since you would think one would be panicking in his situation, but he felt oddly calm. Smiling and reaching over to pull one strand of white hair away from her face. Her eyelids squeezed themselves for a moment before slowly opening...the groggy purple pupils blinked at the red finger in front of her before becoming confused. Slowly looking up and freezing when the sight of the plant demon, smiling with his head in his hand, smiled at her. "Good morning, Darling.~"

All characters except Amalfia belongs to @palettepainter

[adobe-outdesign]

Little something for everyone while y’all are in quarantine. Part 2 coming whenever.

Transcript under the cut:

Five Nights at Freddy’s. Where do we even start with this one? FNAF is probably one of the most confusing games out there when it comes to trying to figure out what the hell happened in it. Everyone has their own opinions and interpretations, so I figured I’d provide my own.

Do keep in mind that I’m not going to cover every single part of the lore, as some of it’s fairly self-explanatory. Instead, I’m going to focus mostly on FNAF 4, as that’s where this Gordian Knot of confusion really stems from.

Be warned, this video’s going to contain something truly scary: OPINIONS. [scream effect] Yes, my views on the lore are much different than everyone else’s, so don’t get your springlocks set off just because my theories don’t align with yours. Because for starters…

[Why I don’t think Michael is the brother]

[Mob noises]

Okay, okay, hear me out. Basically, there are two main family in FNAF: There’s the Aftons, comprised of William, Elizabeth and Michael. Then there’s the - is this really their name? Really? okay - Emilys, comprised of Henry and Charlie.

However, in the books Charlie had a brother named Sammy. So the question is, is Sammy canon? And the answer is yes: During Stage 01, we see one of the kids disappear when left alone with Spring Bonnie, which parallels Sammy slash Charlie’s kidnapping in Fredbear’s by William.

This raises another question though: Who is Sammy in canon, then? And I’ll jut outright say it: He’s the Bitten Child. Yeah, I’m kind of amazed more people don’t realize this. The Fredbear Plush is implied to be possessed by Charlie, as its talk about putting the Bitten Child back together parallels the Puppet giving cake in Happiest Day, and the empty girl’s room indicates that the Bitten Child has a dead sister - her being the Plush explains why the Fredbear Plush cares so much about the welfare of this random kid.

Likewise, Charlie and Sammy were twins. The Bitten Child and Charlie have the same blocky sprites, and they both have brown hair and brown eyes.

Most importantly, the Bitten Child is spirited to look exactly like the Puppet. Given that he isn’t the one possessing it, the only way this makes sense if the two were related.

Finally, the Bitten Child freaks the hell out when approached by an employee in a Fredbear suit, and the Fredbear plush says that he’ll “know what happens if he catches you”. Many people believe this means the Bitten Child witnessed the children being murdered, but it’s too early in the timeline for that - Phone Guy says in 2 that the Freddy’s where the murders occurred was shut down and left to rot afterward. The restaurant in 4 is still open, meaning the murders haven’t occurred yet - given some other context, it’s likely they died in 1985.

The only other incident the Bitten Child could be reacting to… would be the kidnapping back in Fredbear’s, where William stole one of the twins while in a Spring Bonnie suit. And the only way he would know about it is if he was there during the kidnapping - which is enough for me to say with confidence that the Bitten Child is indeed Sammy.

Also, Sister Location has a lot of kidnapping references. [I kidnapped you.]

Especially in the Immortal and the Restless. Vlad represents William throughout the games - not dong much in FNAF 1, working the night shift in 2, being in the burning building in 3, and the hidden scene representing Baby not killing Michael who she thinks is William. And what is said every episode?

[The baby isn’t mine]

The baby isn’t his because Sammy literally isn’t William’s child; he’s Henry’s.

However, if the Bitten Child is Sammy, then that means this [Older Brother footage] cannot be Michael.

Now, I know all of you smart people out there are already thinking the obvious: The books are an AU. Couldn’t Sammy be the one kidnapped in canon, thus allowing Michael to still be the Brother? And to that I say: …Yeah. If you want to work with Michael being the Brother, then this is the best way to do it, and it’s entirely possible this is the correct answer. …But with that said, I’m not entirely convinced.

[Why Charlie was kidnapped and not Sammy]

For starters, there’s the simple question of motivation. Why would WIlliam be raising Henry’s kid? Killing kids is kind of his M.O.. Even in the books, he killed the child he kidnapped. The idea of him kidnapping and raising a kid is even brought up in the Fourth Closet… then dismissed because it would be out of character for him, which would be strange if he did exactly that in canon.

As established earlier, Sammy also remembers the kidnapping, which would make it weird if he was the one kidnapped and yet is just allowed to freely wander the neighborhood. What’s to stop him from telling someone else, or even just running away?

Moving on to actual evidence, the map in SL’s breaker room lists the FNAF 4 house and the minigame house as two separate observation areas. This could be to differentiate the two for the player, but I don’t know why they’d be separated in-universe unless they were two separate houses. This would also explain why the living rooms don’t look the same and why the grandfather clock is in two different locations.

Likewise, the Fredbear Plush has either a camera or a walkie-talkie in it to spy on Sammy. However, the private room also reveals that William has the FNAF 4 gameplay house bugged. He shouldn’t need to use the Fredbear Plush to spy on Sammy, given that he can watch him both through the house cameras and the (presumable) cameras in Fredbear’s - unless Sammy is still in Henry’s house, which would force William to slip a camera into the place discreetly.

Speaking of the minigame house, there are a few parallels between it and Henry’s house in the books. The house was connected to an underground location in the Twisted Ones, just like it’s connected to the Sister Location in canon. And one of the rooms contains a tiny toy animatronic - just like the ones Henry built for Charlie in the Silver Eyes.

Continuing on that train of thought, let’s look at that tiny Toy Mangle. Assuming the Toy Chica principle is in place here - that being that the literal toys in this game look the same as the Toy Animatronics - the Mangle here looks like the FNAF 2 version of Mangle, not like William’s Funtime Foxy, pointing to it being Henry’s creation and not William’s. The SL extras even reveal that Funfox was supposed to be purple at first, which doesn’t make sense if it was supposed to match the tiny toy version.

But perhaps one of the biggest pieces of evidence regarding this toy is in Mangle’s Quest. While walking, you can encounter a huge silhouette of the Puppet… which makes Mangle look toy-sized in comparison. This only makes sense if this room was Charlie’s, and the Mangle toy was hers.

This also makes sense considering that Sister Location didn’t exist at the time of 4′s release. Scott claimed you could solve the lore back then using only the first four games, and if this was Charlie’s room, you could do it by combining the knowledge of the Fredbear Plush with Sammy’s missing sister and Charlie from the novels. If this is Elizabeth’s room, the only way that could be would be if it was retconned into place behind the scenes.

Additionally, I don’t think Elizabeth’s death is the correct date for this room to be empty in 1983. Handunit says that CBEAR didn’t open until after Freddy’s closed, as it gave them the opportunity to move into the entertainment space without competition. I’d assume this also applies to the original Circus Baby’s Pizza World, which indicates Elizabeth didn’t die until after FNAF 1. Given that Michael still has eyes in FNAF 1, SL in general had to have taken place after it - it’s unlikely William waited 10+ years to finally send Michael to save her, so her death being after FNAF 1 makes more sense timeline-wise.

Meanwhile, Charlie died in the very first Freddy’s location, before the other murders. HW confirms the FNAF 4 location was this first Freddy’s, meaning that she died in 1983. This not only lines up with her death date in the Fourth Closet, but also explains why the room in 4 hasn’t been cleaned out; she only died recently.

This would also explain why Henry claims that no-one was there to save Charlie. It’s his restaurant; wouldn’t he have, like, been there and been watching her if he was the one who brought her in?

And finally, I do have one massive piece of evidence that I feel proves the idea that Charlie is the one who was kidnapped.

[Chica School Days opening]

I know, I know, stay with me. Each of Toy Chica’s husbandos in these cutscenes represent one of William’s victims and how he killed them, as proven by her talking about running over a dog which aligns with Susie’s death in both Fruity Maze and the novels. There are a total of six people she targets.

However, that’s the thing - there are six victims, one for each of the original five - and the Puppet. That means Charlie’s death has to be included in here. And yet, none of the deaths line up with what we see in the minigames… unless you assume Charlie was the one kidnapped. In which case, there is one that fits…

[Toy Chica talking about kidnapping]

There are six deaths, so Charlie must be included. If the only thing that lines up with her death is the kidnapping scene, then Charlie must have been the one who was kidnapped, not Sammy.

But that brings us back to the original problem: If Charlie was the one who was kidnapped, Sammy is still living in Henry’s house. Which means Michael is not the Brother.

[Why do people think Michael is the Brother?]

Let’s move on to explaining away some of the evidence for Michael being the Brother.

The first and most obvious piece is that we play as the Brother in FNAF 4. Michael lives in the FNAF 4 house, so he must be the Brother. Which is a fair piece of evidence. However, I do think there’s something that explains this: Midnight Motorist.

Yes, the reason this minigame has perplexed so many fans might be because they’ve been looking at the entirety of FNAF 4 wrong. Let’s start with the Yellow Guy, who’s likely Henry. Why? Well, he’s driving William’s purple car and yet isn’t purple himself, so he can’t be William yet must have a connection to him. Henry and William were friends and business partners, so the idea of this being a company car or one of them just borrowing it for the weekend makes sense.

Likewise, every minigame and cutscene in FNAF 6 pertains to one of the main characters. The Puppet minigame for, well, the Puppet; Fruity Maze for William slash Scraptrap; and Candy Cadet’s stories for Scrap Baby and Molten Freddy. Henry is the only main character who wouldn’t have something in-game pertaining to him unless this sprite is him.

Moving on, we see him interact with a green sprite. I’d wager this is Clay Burke, for no other reason other than the sprite is presumably color-coded because we know the character, and because Clay is a cop and therefore could easily kick Henry out a bar.

Out a bit from Henry’s house, we see a grave, and around the back of the house there’s a smashed window and an animatronic footprint. In the books, the Twisted animatronics specifically targeted Henry’s family, kidnapped people through aggressive means, and buried themselves during the day. Given that the Twisteds are just AU Nightmare animatronics, it’s likely one of William’s robots was trying to kidnap another one of Henry’s kids.

However, the kid being targeted doesn’t seem to be Sammy or Charlie. Henry’s wife is still present and this is a different house than the one in FNAF 4, suggesting this is early on in the timeline, as Henry got a divorce and moved shortly after the kidnapping. The kid that was targeted here was old enough to lock himself in his room and make a run for it, suggesting it wasn’t one of the two babies but rather the Brother from 4, who’s certainly enough of an Angsty Teen to lock himself in his room several times.

As we can see by the footprints and Henry’s blase attitude, it looks like the Brother escaped from the animatronic… this time. It’s likely William kept trying to kidnap him until he succeeded, locking him into his house once he was successfully captured after the Bite. The dialogue from the FNAF 4 trailer might actually apply to William; he brought home the Brother, he think he sees a ghost haunting him which is why he’s observing him in the first place, and he treats this whole thing like a sick game.

So with the FNAF 4 house out of the way, there’s only a few other pieces of evidence. The logbook shows Michael having drawn N. Fredbear… but given that the Nightmare animatronics were still in his house, it’s likely he would have seen then at some point during the night.

The logbook also indicates that Michael is Mike Schmidt from FNAF 1, with his pseudonym being a combo of his own first name and “Eggs Benedict”. FNAF 4 plays like FNAF 1 does, and you can hear one of Phone Guy’s calls in the background, meaning the Brother must have worked in the FNAF 1 location and heard Phone Guy’s messages. And while Michael does fit these requirements… there is one other character who fits them even better.

[Continued in Part 2]

[hphm-etched-engraved-everlasting]

29. Clara

It took a while to get a hold of Chester, and from a working standpoint it was understandable; I figured that it was a busy time for all employees at the Ministry. All hands on deck, so the saying went. But on Halloween, he was able to meet with me at Flourish and Blotts. Admittedly, Chester did not leave a very big impression on me--after all, he was Ravenclaw's Prefect in my younger years, and the only time we actually interacted was after he graduated when Tulip introduced me to him so we could talk about the Frog Choir. Somehow, though, he still remembered me. I suppose it came with being a prefect at all--you kind of have to commit everyone's faces and trouble-making streak to memory.

Initially, he was hesitant to help with my cause, and I probably should have been a bit more considerate with my response given that it was a huge risk to have a student sneak into the Ministry, but he eventually hinted at a lead that could potentially help--an Invisibility Cloak, perhaps not the fabled one, but a working one nonetheless.

Even if it was a knock-off, I knew it was better than nothing, and I knew Jae would help with getting one for me.

As I reached out to my good old detention buddy again later that day, I was a little downhearted to hear that the person who dealt with these items was not in the best mood with him. Just to make up for a small business flop, he proposed to gift him a few items. A Remembrall he already secured, but the other item he said he needed help from a "fashionable wizard".

There was only one friend I knew who fit that bill.

The Great Hall was packed with students preparing for the Halloween feast by the time we had arrived, some of them trying to finish their homework with their friends at the last minute before the feast began while others were just conversing with friends and passing sweets around. I glanced over at Jae tucking the Remembrall in his pocket with a pained expression over his face, and felt a wave of unease ripple through my nerves. Even if Jae and I did bond in detention last year, I wasn't always sure about his dabbling in mostly illegal trades. Perhaps it wasn't deemed to be as dangerous as dealing with the Cursed Vaults, but it was still dangerous nonetheless.

The frayed nerves eventually steeled as my eyes honed in on Andre, sitting at the Ravenclaw table now looking through a fashion catalogue. I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the sight.

"Andre Egwu, style wizard," I called out dramatically as I approached. "Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Cheers, Curse-Breaker!” Andre greeted me with a huge grin, though that faltered instantly when he saw Jae. “Huh, looks like you came to see me in time. Looks like your fashion crisis is much worse than I thought.”

“What? You mean me?” Jae’s face morphed into one of pure horrification, eyes widened at Andre. “What’s wrong with my look?”

“Noting, if you just got out of bed,” Andre quipped shortly.

“Hold up, Andre--I didn’t come to see you because Jae needs a makeover,” I tried to reason. “I came to see you because...well…”

My eyes shifted sideways towards Jae, who quickly caught on with my glance. “We need your help getting fashionable socks,” he explained to Andre. “Preferably clean, no holes would be nice…”

Now Andre’s interest seemed to pique with his raised eyebrows. “Fashionable socks, you say. Well, those are given, but do you want ankle or crew cut? Argyle or striped? Cashmere or lambswool?”

“Uh…” Jae glanced over at me with a puzzled expression. “Yes…?”

“What kind of shoes will they be worn with?” Andre pressed on. 

“Uh...regular ones, I suppose?” Jae responded.

Andre shook his head, his piqued expression melted away. “You don’t shop much, do you,” he finally noted.

“Hey, if I could wear this hoodie forever, I would,” Jae remarked with a laugh. 

“Seems like we’re more helpless than we thought,” I added with a chuckle of my own. “Will you help us, Andre?”

“Of course. You know me, I never turn down an opportunity to make the wizarding world a stylish place,” Andre replied with a nod. “If it’s not Jae, who is it that requests my expertise?”

“A back alley seller who is currently not my biggest fan,” Jae responded, his eyebrows narrowed in suspicion.

“We’re hoping that gifts would convince him to forgive Jae and secure me an invisibility cloak,” I explained further. “I need one to sneak into the Ministry of Magic. Rakepick’s Dark Artefacts are stored there--artefacts that she needs to get into the final Cursed Vault. If I can get my hands on them, I can draw her out and stop her.”

Andre glanced between me and Jae, potentially waiting for one of us to say that we were pulling his leg--but he didn’t question either of us when the catch didn’t come.

“So your ability to stop Rakepick from getting into the final Cursed Vault depends on my fashion sense?” Andre finally deduced. “Well, brilliant! I love a challenge. Now, tell me--why does this seller need fashionable socks?”

Jae did most of the explaining while I looked around at the decorated Great Hall, set with decorated pumpkins all aglow. I knew that any normal student would be looking forward to the fabled Halloween Feasts, especially given the incredible entertainment that Dumbledore arranges every year and the scrumptious food that the House-Elves prepare every year. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same--especially now as I gazed at the giant pumpkin that had the castle carved on its face. Only one person I knew well could have brought this design to life--the one person I swore to protect.

Not that I doubted Badeea’s ability to replicate the castle’s design, but I’ve known little Em’s ability to make something wonderful out of something ordinary. The crafting talents she had never really went unnoticed between me and my brother, and now here it was, on display for all the other students to see. They should at least see that she was no Emily Tyler. She is nothing like the pink-clad gossiping sass that sashayed through the halls with her haughtiness.

“So let me get this straight,” Andre finally said, twiddling his index fingers at Jae. “The seller wants fashionable socks because he’s been losing all of his to baby dragon fire?”

“He had been smuggling in baby dragons recently,” Jae clarified with a nod. “I figured it would be risky business to bring in something dangerous and untamed.”

“Then why don’t you give him a pair of fireproof socks?” Andre suggested. “They’re used in dragon care, so they’re practical, but also very stylish as well.”

“Sounds perfect!” Jae agreed with a nod. “He’ll love them.”

“I’m all in for that, but where can we get a pair of fireproof socks?” I asked.

“I got a pair for Charlie’s last birthday,” Andre responded. “I think I may have a spare that I can lend...if you bring me along to see this merchant.”

Now Jae looked skeptical at Andre’s bargain, and he tilted his head in intrigue. “Are you sure you want to come with us? This merchant isn’t exactly the best company.”

“Of course I do! I want to see the look on his face when he sees we’ve got him the perfect gift,” Andre said with a nod. “Besides, I feel guilty going with Cedric instead of helping Clara find Sickleworth.”

“Don’t be, Andre. Everything worked out alright,” I said lightly, shaking my head. “I did manage to track down Sickleworth--he lead me to my brother again.”

“That’s fantastic!” Andre beamed. “But I’d still like to come, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Well, who am I to turn down extra help?” I grinned and nodded. “The only thing we have to ensure is that we are back in time for the Halloween Feast, so everyone get a move on. We’ll reconvene in Knockturn Alley.”

---

Dust swirled around the ankle of my boots as I stepped into Knockturn Alley once more with Andre and Jae behind me, the both of them carrying the gifts we needed for the merchant. Hopefully they would be able to appease him. Whatever kind of dodgy deal gone wrong couldn’t be worth just a few more items to aid him personally.

“There he is,” Jae whispered, gesturing to a tall man with a hood that looked all too familiar. No, it wasn’t the anonymous messenger who kept threatening me back in fourth and fifth year about death coming to Hogwarts. This trader I met only once or twice, but it was enough to associate his name with his look and demeanour.

“Huh. I think I see why you asked for fashionable socks--for a dark wizard, he’s actually rather stylish,” Andre remarked with a thoughtful nod.

“Do you think these gifts will be enough?” I asked Jae then.

“Yeah, for sure. But stick close, just in case.”

Jae lead the way now, walking right up to the trader without a falter in his step. Andre and I glanced at each other before following him.

“Kim. You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face in front of me,” the trader growled, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted in a snarl. “Don’t think I forgot about the fake love potion you sent me.”

“Alistair, I had no idea that potion was actually Butterbeer,” Jae insisted. “If I knew, would I have sold it to you?”

Alistair? So I was right. The name rang a bell in my mind, and I jumped into the conversation before I could back out.

“Hold up--Alistair Fidgen?” I confirmed, mouth dropping in shock. “You’re that dodgy wizard who sold me and Charlie a fake dragon egg just last year! You thought you could pass an Acromantula egg off as a dragon egg and get away with it!”

“Oh, you again,” Alistair said with a roll of his eyes. “Look, Lin, I said I could get you one, not that I would. It was your fault for not being smart enough to figure that out.”

Andre folded his arms and shook his head at me. “Talk about hypocritical,” he mouthed to me, and I nodded.

“Look, Alistair--we both did things that we probably shouldn’t have. At least I can come clean with that,” Jae started. “So why not put our pasts aside for Clara’s sake? See, Clara’s in the market for an Invisibility Cloak, and I know you’re in the market for mending our broken business relationship. And we brought gifts for you too!” He gestured to the Remembrall and fireproof socks. “What do you say, Alistair? My sincere apologies and our gifts for an Invisibility Cloak?”

“Oh, I’ll do better,” Alistair sneered. “I’ll take the gifts, keep the Invisibility Cloak, and get my revenge all at once!”

He raised his wand, and an unknown spell flew towards Jae, leaving him completely winded though still on his feet.

“Jae!” Andre rushed to his aid, and Jae leaned heavily on his shoulder.

“Guess...he was more...upset than I thought,” Jae muttered, shaking his head.

“Get back, Jae.” I stepped forward and shielded the two boys from view with an arm. “Avis!”

The flock of birds that shot out of my wand with a BANG whizzed past Alistair’s ear and out of sight, though that was enough to shift his focus towards me instead now that Jae was out of commission.

“That,” he growled, pointing his wand towards me, “was a mistake, Lin.”

I readied my wand as well, pointing it towards him with a hardened glare. “We’ll see.”

Alistair Fidgen did not hold anything back--in fact, he was much tougher to beat than I initially thought, for one who dealt with something so dirty. In the end, I fell down once from a powerful Flipendo, only to have Andre pull me back up for another round. It was not until I managed to push him back with a powerful Depulso that had him completely out of breath, signalling the end of that duel.

“You make...quite the convincing argument,” Alistair finally acknowledged, mopping the sweat off his brow. Some of his grey hair clung to his forehead, and I cringed as they gleamed in what remained of the light. “Tell you what, then. I’ll forgive Kim and get you your Invisibility Cloak for one last thing.”

I stowed my wand in my dress and put my hand on my hip, though the attempt to look intimidating must have been rather futile. “You just lost, Fidgen. Should you really be in a place to bargain?”

“That’s funny. I was under the impression that you wanted an Invisibility Cloak,” Alistair shot back.

For someone who handled dirty dealings, he definitely had a way with his words. I clenched my fists and took a deep breath, trying to steel my nerves yet again. “Okay, fine--what do you want then, Fidgen?”

“Bring me a real Love Potion--the one Kim was supposed to bring me before--and I can secure you an Invisibility Cloak,” Alistair finally proposed. “Bring it here, or don’t bother coming back.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left, snatching the items away and stowing them into his pocket. I turned to Andre and Jae, who looked positively defeated at how that interaction went.

“That just...went completely downhill,” Jae remarked in a low mutter.

“And you don’t have any Love Potions on hand, I assume?” I asked.

“Nope. I’ve run out--I’m not expecting my next batch for a while,” Jae responded.

“Maybe Penny might be willing to lend her potion brewing talents again for this cause?” Andre suggested. “After all, she did brew the Beautification Potion, the Wit Sharpening Potion…”

“A Sleeping Draught, a Draught of Peace, a Forgetfulness Potion, and a Polyjuice Potion,” I recalled with a nod. “Well, I just hope she’s up to it. My ability to stop Rakepick from finding the last Vault might depend on it.”

“We better head back to Hogwarts in the meanwhile,” Jae said. “The Halloween Feast should be starting soon.”

“Yes, let’s. We’ll talk this through with Penny when we can.”

So many things were riding on my ability to beat Rakepick to the last Cursed Vault. I just hoped against hope that my friends would not abandon me for this crucial mission once more.

[loganscanons]

missing

Summary: Helena doesn’t show up to work and isn’t answering her phone. Precious is worried.

Precious checks her phone for the upteenth time that morning, hoping for a notification from Helena. Her phone has been within her sight all day; there’s no chance she would have missed a call or a text, but an irrational hope compels her to pull the phone closer across the desk and check the lock screen for any possible information on her employee’s whereabouts. 

In her time working at LeBeau Funeral Home, Helena has been reliably on time to work, or at least no more than ten minutes late. If anything might cause her to be any later than that, she sends Precious a text. So, earlier that morning, when thirty minutes had passed since Helena’s clock-in time with no sign of her, Precious was mildly concerned. Her phone call to Helena went to voicemail, and she didn’t get a response to her text. She brushed the concern away, telling herself there may be traffic or Helena lost track of time.

After an hour without news, Precious paced to the front of the Funeral Home.

Filarion, or Fil as he was more commonly referred to, sat in the front parlor, pouring over paperwork. He was a solemn-looking half-elf with thin, silver hair in a long braid down his back and smooth, tan skin. Half-moon glasses sat low on his pointed nose, hanging from a fine chain that looped around his neck. He looked up from his work, dark inky blue eyes peering over his lenses, as Precious came into his view.

“Have you heard from Helena?” she asked. 

“No,” Fil said, his voice soft and airy. 

She nodded and fiddled with the silver band on her forefinger. She said, “Let me know if you hear anything from her.”

Two and a half hours have passed since then, and Precious’s repeated phone calls and texts to Helena have gone unanswered. She tells herself there’s probably no cause for worry. There are dozens of reasons Helena may not be answering that don’t involve her being dead or seriously maimed. With a shaky sigh, Precious aligns the edges of a stack of papers.

But what if Helena is in trouble? The witch hunts of a few years ago left Precious with a baseline anxiety that grows in the event of silence from her loved ones. Silence could mean death. She knows Helena can hold her own, but the supernatural world is full of dangers. As she’s experienced more than once, anything could happen. 

Precious stands and grabs her purse and jacket from the closet in her office. She’ll swing by Helena’s apartment. Just to check. It will be okay. Helena will be there, probably annoying Grigor, and everything will be okay. She locks her office door behind her, and takes the front exit out of the funeral home. She’ll check in with Fil before she goes. Fil would have told her if Helena called, but she’ll ask him anyway, just in case he forgot.

“Any word from Helena?” she asks.

“No,” he says. He pulls his glasses off his nose and looks at her with a considerate frown. “Is she supposed to be working today?”

“Yes,” Precious says. She’d triple-checked, to make sure she wasn’t overreacting.

“Should we be worried?” Fil asks, tilting his head to the side.

“It’s probably nothing,” she says. She presses her lips together. The past few years have turned her into a woman always on edge. “I’m going to check her apartment. Just to make sure.”

Fil nods. She doesn’t tell him to look after the place while she’s gone. He knows what to do. Without another word, she leaves through the front door, then sits on the white wooden porch until her ride arrives. As she waits, she hears the scraping of small claws on the roof above the porch. She looks up to see a dark reptilian snout peering over the edge, watching her with two black eyes. She holds her arm out to the creature, and the face pulls back and disappears. There’s more scuttling against the shingles, then the creature launches himself from the roof, gliding down to her on leathery wings. He lands on her arm, his tiny claws hooking to the fabric of her shirt. He wraps his tail around her arm to steady himself.

“Do you want to come with me, Faux?” she asks. “I’m going to check on Helena.”

The small pseudodragon snaps his jaws playfully and snorts. He scampers up the length of her arm and settles on her shoulder, curling his long body and tail around her neck. As the ride she ordered turns onto the street, Precious puts up a glamor, making Faux appear to be a black metal necklace in the shape of a dragon. For the duration of the car ride, he rests on her shoulder, unmoving.

The driver drops Precious off in front of the apartment complex in which Helena and her mentor live. She doesn’t bother with the buzzer, knowing Grigor disabled it once Helena started making friends in the area. He’d ranted about how he’d never had to deal with the infuriating noise before, and now that Helena lived there, he heard it far too often, even if it was no more than once a month. Precious wiggles her fingers in front of the door to the complex and hears the lock click open. She climbs the stairs to the fourth floor, her calves beginning to ache as the ascent ends, then she raps on the door to Grigor and Helena’s unit. 

There’s no answer.

She glances around the hallway, her hair standing on end as she’s overcome by the sensation that someone is watching her. Someone or something has eyes on her. Faux’s claws dig into her shoulder. He feels it too. 

The hallway is empty. 

Keeping her ears pricked and on alet, Precious knocks again. She leans forward, straining to hear any sign of movement or life. She knows Grigor is home. He can’t leave. 

“Who is there?” comes a thick, Bulgarian voice from within. 

“Precious,” she answers. She glances down the hall again. Still no one.

“Who?” the voice asks, closer to the door this time.

“Precious,” she repeats. She takes a small step back, putting some space between herself and the door. “Helena’s friend.”

The door cracks open. The cloudy eye of an impossibly old man peers through the crack, glaring at her like she’s insulted his mother, spat on his floor, and then asked him for a favor. Judgmental, angry, suspicious. His coarse brows bunch in a permanent frown. In his youth, he was likely Precious’s height, maybe taller, but centuries of age have turned him into a hunched, gnarled creature. 

“Helena is not here,” he says.

Her heart sinks. If she’s being honest with herself, she knew before she left that Helena wouldn’t be here, but she’d hoped—she’d tried to convince herself that maybe—maybe if she believed hard enough—Helena would be here. 

Grigor starts to close the door. Impulsively, Precious throws her hand out to hold it open. “Wait,” she says. “Are you sure she’s not here?”

“Am I sure? Of course I am sure!” he snaps, his voice rising. “You know how I know? Is quiet! Helena is here, is never quiet. She talks and talks and never shuts the fuck up! I tell her, do not talk to me, but what does she do? Only talks!”

“Yes, I’ve had experience with that. When di—”

“Ehh!” he cuts her off. “We are watched by nosy neighbors. Is none of their fucking business. Come in.”

He takes a few shuffling steps back and opens the door for her to enter. He keeps his hunched form mostly hidden behind the door until she’s stepped inside, and then, with a strength he shouldn’t have, he slams it shut. The feeling of eyes on her dissipates.

“When did you last see her?” she asks. Her instinct is to speak the way she does with clients. Warmly, comfortingly, with a soft, understanding expression. But Grigor would see right through that, so she doesn’t bother, and instead stares down the old necromancer.

“What am I? Her fucking keeper? She is here sometimes, and then she is not. Not my business,” he shrugs. 

Precious closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, willing herself to stay level-headed. Opening her eyes, she asks, “Can you try to remember?” Before he can answer, she changes her question, and instead asks, “Can you remember the last time she was pissing you off?”

He grunts and scratches the sparse hair on his chin. After a few seconds of consideration, he says, “Last night, yes, she was here. She was here with, uh...with boy. Tall one with bad accent and ugly hat. They went somewhere I do not know.”

“Lucas?” she asks. She doesn’t think his accent is so bad, but he could do with a style upgrade.

“Yes, Lucas. Man who hunts witches.” He looks her up and down, as if he’s seeing her for the first time, and a creepy, amused grin touches his lips, “You are witch, yes?”

“Yes,” she says. Not wishing to entertain the topic of witch hunters, she hurriedly asks, “You’re sure she left with him last night?”

“How should I fucking know?” he asks. 

With nearly anyone else, Precious would keep herself composed, but she doesn’t care enough to do so with Grigor. “Because you live here and never leave,” she says, her tone short and fed up. “She didn’t show up for work this morning and hasn’t answered any attempt to contact her. So, quit being difficult and just answer the question. Did she leave here with Lucas last night?”

He grunts, glowering at her. “I think so,” he says, noncommittally. 

“Okay,” she says, letting out a heavy breath. “Thank you for your help, Grigor. Have a nice day.”

She turns on her heels and pulls open the door. As she begins to close it behind her, Grigor asks, “Helena is okay?”

She turns back to look at him. He’s half-hidden behind the door, and she can’t tell if he looks at all concerned about his missing apprentice. 

“I’m not sure,” she says. “She probably is. If I find her, I’ll tell her to come home and let you know she’s okay.”

“No!” he says. “Do not send her here. I am working, and she is distraction. Never shuts up! She talks and talks.” He pauses, then says, “Tell me if she is dead. If you find her body, maybe I bring her back. She is good necromancer - don’t tell her I say that - and is shame to waste talent.”

Precious nods, then turns toward the stairs, ignoring the feelings of eyes on her. As she descends, she sends Lucas a text, mentally kicking herself for not thinking to do so earlier.

>>Hey, have you heard from Helena? She didn’t show up to work today

On the sidewalk outside the apartment complex, Precious paces, awaiting a response from Lucas. She taps her phone against her lower lip. Five minutes pass without response. She tries calling him. No answer. How long should she wait before she decides to check Lucas’s apartment? Maybe it’s her nerves on the fritz from years of tension and anxiety, but she has a sense of foreboding. What if Helena and Lucas are in trouble?

She orders another car. This time her destination is Lucas’s apartment. His address is saved in her phone; when he was stationed in Chicago, he’d supplied all of the witches with his address, in case they ever needed his help. 

Helena has to be at Lucas’s. It makes sense! They’re friends and they were together last night, so she must be there.

Precious ignores the nagging reminder in the back of her head that Lucas is usually averse to women staying the night, even platonically. And she ignores the thought that even if Helena is at Lucas’s, that doesn’t explain why neither of them answered their phones.

Once inside Lucas’s apartment complex, Precious takes the stairs two at a time, anxious to confirm Helena’s whereabouts. She knocks on the door and takes a step back. Faux moves restlessly on her shoulder, his little claws digging into her shirt. His tail flicks the bottom of her chin. 

There’s no answer. She knocks again, trying not to be impatient. Still nothing.

“Is he home?” Precious asks in a soft whisper, touching Faux’s tail. 

At the end of the hall, a small window looks out onto the street below. Precious glances up and down the hall and a soft breeze blows down the hallway, coming from her fingertips. The window slowly opens. Bars prevent the window from opening more than a few inches, but it’s big enough for a noodly pseudodragon to squeeze through. Faux leaps from her shoulder, his talons clawing against her, spreads his wings wide and glides to the floor. She adjusts the glamor as he scampers down the hall, making him appear to anyone else as a squirrel. 

She chews her inner lip as she waits. A moment later, Faux returns, slipping through the cracked window. The window falls silently closed as he makes his way back to her. 

“Is he home?” she asks again. He climbs up her leg and arm, again curling up on her shoulder. He prances excitedly and snaps his jaws in the direction of the apartment. Again, she adjusts the glamor to make him appear as a dragon-shaped necklace.

She knocks again, louder this time, pounding the side of her fist against the door. 

A few seconds pass. She raises her fist to knock again, but she hears movement inside, so she steps back, waiting. The door opens, and framed in the doorway, Lucas, with disheveled hair and squinted eyes, looks down at her. 

“Miss Precious,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “Mornin’! Or afternoon?”

“Still morning,” she says. “Lucas, have you seen Helena?”

“Well, yes, Miss Precious,” he says, a blush creeping over his cheeks, clashing with the auburn of his hair. “She’s asleep next ta the toilet. I told her it would be better if I just took ‘er home, but we were both real drunk last night, an’ I let her stay the night. But, we didn’t do anythin’, I swear.” He rubs a hand against the back of his neck. 

“It’s just Precious,” she reminds him. “And I don’t care. I just want to know if she’s okay. May I come in?”

“Oh! Yes, sorry, where are mah manners? Please, come in,” he says, stepping back. 

As the door closes behind her, she pulls the glamor away from Faux. He’s getting increasingly antsy, his little feet kneading her shoulder. 

“Incoming,” she says, feeling Faux tense as he readies himself to spring. 

Faux leaps from her shoulder and lands on Lucas’s chest, gripping the John Deere t-shirt with his talons. Lucas’s eyes widen, and he reflexively holds out his hands to make sure the pseudodragon doesn’t fall, but he makes no noise of alarm.

“Um, can I get you anythin’?” he asks, once Faux has settled on his shoulder. His hand hovers near Faux, in case he takes a tumble. “Water or tea or somethin?”

“No,” she says. “I assume you’re hungover? Sit down and rest.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” he says. “I’m fine.”

“Sit,” she repeats.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. He sits on the couch, and Faux hops from his shoulder into his lap and playfully nips at his fingers.

Precious finds Helena in the bathroom curled up on a bathmat with her cheek against the cool tile. Her glasses lay on the floor next to her. Though her eyes are closed, Precious doesn’t think she’s sleeping. Just resting.

“Helena,” she says gently.

“Precious!” Helena says, her eyes flying open. She turns her head to face Precious. “What are you—oh, fuuuck. I had work today.”

“You did,” she says. 

She groans and presses her forehead against the floor. “I’m sorry, Precious,” she mumbles.

“Next time you decide to go out drinking, text me, in case you don’t show up for work the next day. I spent all morning wondering where you were.” Precious says. Though she tries to mask it with a reprimanding tone, the concern in Precious’s voice is obvious.

“I will,” Helena says. “I’m sorry.”

Precious says nothing, unsure if she’s ready to forgive Helena for the morning of anxiety she’d endured. She shifts the conversation, asking, “How are you feeling?”

“Bad!” Helena says, sounding upbeat. “But, it was worth it. You should’ve been there Precious. Lucas and I went to 79s and we—”

“I’ll make you something to help the hangover,” Precious interrupts. “I need to go to the store first.” She turns, then pauses. “Oh, and Helena?”

“Yeah?”

“Charge your fucking phone,” she says.

Not lifting her head from the tile, Helena gives Precious a thumbs up. “You got it,” she says.

“What about you?” Precious asks Lucas as she enters the sitting area. His head is tilted back against the couch, and he slowly lifts it to look at her. “Where’s your phone?”

“Um,” he says.

“Find it,” she says. “I’m going to the store. I’ll be back soon.” She looks at the little dragon curled up in Lucas’s lap. “Faucheuse, are you coming with me or staying here?” 

Faux lifts his head, blinks, then lowers it, and curls into a tighter ball. 

“At least make yourself useful and help Lucas find his phone,” she says, giving Faux a pointed look. He lifts his head, then springs off the couch, and begins to poke his snout beneath the couch.

After walking to the nearest grocery store, Precious returns with two paper bags of fresh herbs, fruits, and vegetables. She lets herself into the apartment, ignoring Lucas’s startled jump; he’s ready to leap into action, even with a hangover. With a quiet groan, he pulls himself off the couch and follows Precious into the kitchen.

“Where’s Faux?” she asks, glancing at him.

“With Helena,” he says. 

“Mm. Do you have a pot anywhere?” she asks, searching through various cabinets. Lucas produces one from a cabinet above the stove.

“You don’t gotta make anything, Precious,” he says.

She flicks on the stove and says, “You should go lie down. Or sit down.”

“I’m alright,” he says. 

“You’re hovering,” she says.

Lucas sinks to the kitchen floor, far enough away from the stove that he’s not in her way. He folds one knee up and watches, his head leaned back against the wall. That’s not what she meant when she told him to sit down, but she lets him be. 

After the concoction is complete, a citrusy, herbal smell mixed with warm spices filling the kitchen, Precious retrieves two mugs. Lucas doesn’t own a ladle from what she can see, so she holds each mug by the handle, and dunks it into the brew, filling it. She wipes the sides dry with a towel.

“Okay, here you go,” she says. 

Lucas pushes himself off the floor and grips the countertop to pull himself up. She holds the mug out to him, and he takes it.

“What is it?” he asks, wrapping his hands around the warm mug.

“It’s like tea. Sort of. It’ll help with the hangover,” she says.

“It’s magic?” 

“Yes.”

“I don’t know if I should—”

“Just drink it,” she says, sharper than she means to.

His eyes widen slightly, and she forces her shoulders to relax. In a gentler voice, she says, “You should drink it, Lucas. It’ll make you feel better.” 

She places her hand on top of his, a gesture of affection and warmth, and smiles at him. A pink tinge colors his cheeks.

Precious grabs the second mug and brings it to Helena. She’s still on the floor, but she’s sitting now, her glasses on and her cheek pressed against the wall. That’s an improvement. Faux is in her lap, gnawing on what seems to be a human finger bone.

“This will help, Helena,” she says.

“Mm, thank you,” she says, reaching out to take the mug from Precious.

Precious returns to the kitchen, and though Lucas protests that she doesn’t need to, she starts cleaning up the small mess she made while making the hangover cure. She pours the extra contents of the pot into a large water bottle, using magic to keep the liquid from spilling over the counter. 

“When this cools, you can put it in the fridge,” she says, leaving the lid off the bottle. “You can use it again next time, but heat it up first.”

“Alright,” he says. “Thank you, Precious. You didn’t have ta do that.”

“I wanted to,” she says, avoiding his gaze as she turns on the sink to wash the pot.

“Thank you,” he says again. 

“I’m going to take Helena home,” she says. She can handle gratitude with grace from strangers and clients, but the sincerity of a friend’s gratitude makes her uncomfortable, and unsure how to respond, she changes the subject. “I’ll check in with you later”

Lucas doesn’t have time to say anything else; Precious breezes past him, heading for the bathroom. Helena still sits on the floor, but she’s perked up and is holding her head up without the support of the wall. Faux bats at a spiderweb behind the toilet.

“You done?” Precious asks. She holds out her hand for the mug. Helena hands it to her. 

“Yup,” she says. “I feel better already.”

“It works fast. Come on, I’m going to take you home.” She places the mug on the bathroom sink and holds out her hands, palm up, offering to help Helena stand.

“Aw, man,” Helena whines. “Grigor is gonna yell at me. And that sucks with a hangover.”

“No, to my home,” she clarifies. 

“Oh! Okay,” Helena takes Precious’s outstretched hands, and bounces up with a surprising amount of energy. 

For a brief moment, Precious doesn’t move, still holding Helena’s hands. Her expression is grave, and her heart is heavy. She cares about this goofy necromancer; she can’t deny it anymore. The thought of something happening to Helena—it terrifies her.

“What’s wrong?” Helena asks. “Did I say something?”

“No, I—” Precious says. She presses her lips together and looks at the wall behind Helena.

With a suddenness that startles Faux, Precious moves toward Helena, letting go of her hands to wrap her arms around her and pull her close. She presses her face against Helena’s shoulder, holding her tightly. Helena makes a small noise of surprise, and then relaxes and returns the hug.

“If you ever don’t respond to my texts and calls for that long again, and you’re not dead or dying, I’m going to kill you myself,” Precious says in a quiet, thick voice.

“Aw, you were worried about me!” Helena says, sounding delighted. “You do care about me!”

“Helena,” she says, barely above a whisper. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” she says.

Precious gives Helena a quick kiss on the cheek, then pulls back. 

“Come on, Faux,” she says, and turns away, grabbing the mug off the kitchen counter.

[miss-tc-nova]

The Cat’s Meow - Jumin Han x Fem!Reader Pt 17-Finale

Okay, look, I know the first half of this is kind of...Anyway! Maybe not my best ending, but I giggled writing it so there. I promise that the bonus chapter coming out tomorrow will be better. 

Part 17: Thank You/Finale

                Grumbling, I flop into the chair and let my head fall onto the table. The chair beside me moves and, with a grumble, Saeran sits and lets his forehead meet the table as well.

                Things went a little crazy in the hospital following the incident with Rika. Out of it came Saeran, Luciel’s, or rather, Saeyoung’s brother who’d been manipulated by Rika. He’d caused havoc his first night at the hospital, but had come around to understand Luciel’s true intentions and Rika’s misdirection. He came to apologize to me the following day and we actually get along pretty well, taking on the suffering together in cynicism. We’re only a week in, with the doctor stating it may not even be the halfway mark.

                “You too, huh?” I mumble, feeling the deep-set ache in my muscles.

                “I considered cocaine today,” he groans. “But Saeyoung said I had to find it myself and I’m too tired for that shit.”

                I laugh a bit, turning my head to look at him. “Jumin’s making every employee remove all cigarettes and medications from the C&R building. I think he’s even put all his wine in storage.”

                Saeran lets his head fall to the side, giving me a suspicious look. “...None of that would work for our withdrawals.”

                “I know...”

                “Aww, look at our little druggies sulking together!” Saeyoung teases, sitting across from us. He’s also become a bit brighter since everyone’s been working to get him out of his secret agent job.

                “_____, are you okay? Do you need anything?” Jumin asks, resting a hand on my back.

                “Mmmeth.”

                Saeran starts snickering.

                Jumin replies in a warning tone, “_____.”

                Giggling, I push myself off the table. “I know. Meth is expensive.”

                “_____, get your facts straight. Cocaine is the expensive one,” Saeran says, earning a frown from Jumin.            

                “It’s not that price that’s the problem,” Jumin states.

                Still chuckling, I play with the end of his sleeve and look up at him. “I’m just kidding. I could really use a water though.”

                His stern expression softens and the heir leans in to kiss my forehead. “Very well.”

                We quietly watch him go before Saeyoung adds, “You know he’d probably find you meth if you were truly desperate for it.”

                “Noooo...Couple months ago, maybe. But definitely not now.”

                “But we have withdrawals now,” whines Saeran.

                Reaching out, I half-heartedly take his hand in comfort. “Be strong, Sae! We will overcome this!”

                He’s not impressed. “I hate you so fucking much right now.” Even he can’t keep a straight face through his insult.

                “I see non-druggie Sae likes to swear.”

                “He has no respect for my innocent ears!” Saeyoung complains.

                “You were watching porn last night!” shouts Saeran.

                Saeyoung points a finger at his brother. “It was holy porn.”

                “Holy porn, my ass!”

                By now, I’m lying on the table crying from laughing so hard. That’s when the rest of the group finally enters the room.

                “Hey guys!” Yoosung greets. “Oh wow, you guys look awful.”

                “Shut it, blondie,” I retort, sitting up and wiping my eyes. Jumin passes me a water bottle. “Thanks sweetheart.”

                “Hello Saeyoung, Saeran, _____,” V greets, Zen pushing him in a wheelchair. Not only was he still miraculously recovering from the gunshot, but also the eye surgery Jumin finally convinced him to have.

                Now the situation with V was much more strenuous than making friends with Saeran; I had killed the woman he loved. Honestly, the moment I could walk on my own and was allowed to see him, I fell to pieces, sobbing and begging for his forgiveness. The man assured me multiple times that it wasn’t my fault but I know it still hurts him. Still, even if I will always feel the guilt, he doesn’t outwardly hold it against me.

                He pushes a tray onto the table. “I brought treats for everyone.”

                Saeran apparently hasn’t had enough of our shenanigans. “Is it drugs?”

                Poor V is so confused. “I-...What?”

                “Sae! No one is going to bring you cocaine!” I exclaim, slamming a hand on the table.

                The room is silent for a minute before Saeran breaks, laughing. “I hate you so much.”

                I lean back heavily in my chair, staring at V. “But seriously, what’dyu bring?”

                “Uh, I brought cookies.”

                “Yay,” I whisper loudly.

                Saeran and I are the first to partake. Cravings and increased appetite are withdrawal symptoms; that combined with the fact that Saeran and I both naturally have a sweet tooth, we’re sugar monsters.

                Jaehee sits down, looking concerned. “Though you two do seem to be suffering from serious withdrawals. Are you going to be alright? Are you going to therapy or counseling or anything? I read somewhere that people suffering from withdrawals often relapse without secondary treatment.”

                “Dis is mah ferapy,” Sae replies through half a cookie.

                Saeyoung speaks up, “He’s meeting someone on Friday.”

                Jumin folds his arms. “And _____ has an appointment next week.”

                I huff. “I’m telling you, I don’t need a therapist. My addiction didn’t come from voluntary use so what’s a therapist gonna do? Tell me not to take any more drugs? That’s great ‘cause Sae won’t make me any anyway!” I glare when my boyfriend takes my cookie away.

                “Don’t look at me,” Saeran growls. “I wasn’t part of the group that made the elixir. The bathtub would be full if I knew how to make it. We’d probably just poison ourselves trying to replicate the stuff.”

                I grumble, “So, much to our dismay, Saeran and I will not be relapsing.” I reach for another cookie. “We are, however, scouting new substances to abuseTHAT’S MY COOKIE!” I snap at Jumin, who’s taken the fourth from me.

                “Substance of choice? Sugar,” hums Saeyoung.

                “You’re going to that appointment. And you’ll just complain later if you keep eating all these sweets,” Jumin replies, not bothered at all.

                Grumbling, I fold my arms. “I’m complaining now.”

                “Also, it’s polite to share and Saeran has already taken the extras.” He passes off the cookie to Yoosung while pointing out the pile Sae is hoarding. The former-cultist pulls his stash closer to his seat when he catches me staring. We glare.

                “Dammit.”

                V clears his throat. “Alright, sugar and withdrawals aside, I’d like to begin the first official meeting of…of…Did we ever decide on a new name?”

                “We did not,” Jaehee replies.

                “Oh, well then I guess that’s the agenda of our first meeting. Would anyone like to make any suggestions?”

                Jumin raises his hand. “Jumin Han, we are not naming the new organization after me,” I growl. He puts his hand down before raising it again. “Or either of the cats.” Hand goes down.

                From there, the brainstorming goes on and on until it comes down to Sunrise Charity, mostly because V didn’t want it to be called VFA, which is fair enough. After discussing some dates for the inaugural charity party, we end the meeting there and Jumin takes me home, and I mean my home.

                “Mako, I’m home!” I sing. The fold comes padding out to greet us with his chirping. Jumin kneels down to scratch behind his ears. “That took longer than I thought it would. I should start working on dinner.”

                “I could have something ordered,” offers Jumin.

                “No. I’m a big girl. I can cook for myself.” I eye him for a minute. “Can you even make anything edible?”

                He thinks for a moment. “Pancakes.”

                I gasp, hanging against him with my arm around his neck. “You should make me pancakes in the morning.”

                An embrace that brings comfort engulfs me. “Is that what you want?”

                “Yes. Also, maybe…” Supporting myself, I trace the pattern on his tie. “You could spend the night?”

                I’ll admit it, since the incident, being alone has been a bit distressing. I’ve gotten over a lot of my withdrawal symptoms while recovering in the hospital, but there are a few that still plague me. My first night home, I woke up in a sweat my first night home and didn’t go back to sleep. Jumin made a point of staying on the phone with me until I fell asleep after that.

                “Do you think we’re ready for that?” He’s concerned.

                I scrunch my nose at him. “Afraid you won’t be able to resist me in my sloppy pajamas and bed-head?”

                “Yes.”

                My shoulders droop. “Wow. Okay. Maybe we aren’t ready for that.”

                Jumin’s forehead rests against mine. “If it’s what you want, I’ll spend the night. It might be tough, but I’ll practice my restraint.”

                I sigh. “I don’t want to push it.”

                “Perhaps we should. How will we ever get anywhere if we don’t try?” He chuckles. “Besides, even if I do end up pushing it too far, you’ll just threaten me with a knife.”

                I hide my face in his chest. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

                “You threatened the life of a high-profile corporate heir.” A gentle hand beneath my chin encourages me to look up. “I promise; I’ll keep myself under control. Do you still want me to stay?”

                “Please?”

                I receive a kiss to my brow. “Very well. But first I need to run to the office to sign some documents and stop by my home for some things.”

                “Okay. I’ll have dinner ready when you get back.”

                With a kiss goodbye, Jumin heads out and I change into sweats and a t-shirt before I prepare food. Before long, he returns with a small bag.

                “How was the office?” I ask, stirring the pasta.

                “It was fine. Just needed a signature so we can begin analysis on the coffee chain tomorrow.”

                “Ew…”

                “Yes. Ew.”

                I giggle. “Well dinner’s almost done. You should go change.”

                He glances at the suit he didn’t change out of. “You want me to change?”

                “Yes! Look at this!” I pick up a magazine from ages ago that had a page of Jumin lounging in the sun in a t-shirt with a blue over shirt. “I know you own normal clothes and I demand you wear them more!”

                A corner of his mouth quirks. “Demand, huh?”

                “Yes! Especially if you’re going to be lazy with me!”

                Apparently, I amuse him. “I see.”

                “And I swear to god, if your pajamas are some ridiculous matched set they wear in comedy family movies, I’m going to have to seriously reconsider this relationship!”

                A hand feebly covers up the laugh he’s trying to contain. “So…*ahem* So I should probably go then?”

                “Are you serious?! What are you, twelve?!”

                “I sincerely hope not or you’re at serious risk of going to prison for romancing a minor.” I glare. “Also, can we discuss why you have a magazine from last year with that page dog-eared?”

                I turn back to the stove in an attempt to hide my blush. “Shut up and go get ready for dinner.”

                Sure of his victory, Jumin ambles away. With two bowls in hand, I get comfortable in the living room when in walks that man in a gray t-shirt and sweats. The bit of water in my mouth goes right back out.

                “Where did you get those?!” I shout, temperature rising.

                His smirk signals that he’s still playing with me. “I’ve had these for a while now.”

                “And yet you lounge around in slacks and a dress shirt?” I retort, picking up my bowl. “I’m going to corrupt you with my laziness.”

                “We’ll see.”

                Throughout dinner, I can’t help my wandering gaze every time I let up the reins on my brain; I begin zoning out and my eyes immediately drift to Jumin. Not only am I very much addicted to how he looks being casual for once, but the fact he’s here to spend time with me as my boyfriend is a nice thought.

                “Are you okay?” he’s caught me.

                “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

                His brows furrow. “Are your hands numb again?”

                The question draws my attention to my hands that I’ve been flexing mindlessly, trying to work through the pins and needles. This is part of my recovery, part of the withdrawal. “Yeah, but it’ll pass.”

                Jumin takes a hand and beings gently massaging my palm with his thumbs. He’s been doing things like this since I woke up. The nausea was terrible the first few days and he was there to endure it with me. The lights and volume were turned down when they became too much. He even fed me a few times when my hands would shake so much I couldn’t do it myself. I hate it but at the same time, I’m so thankful to have someone here looking after me.

                “How’s that?” he asks.

                I test my movement. Most of the foreign sensation is gone. “A lot better. Thanks.” Jumin suddenly pulls me against him and leans against me until I collapse onto the sofa. “What are you doing?”

                Jumin hovers over me, grazing his nose against mine. “I wanted to cuddle with my girlfriend.”I’m positive he can feel the heat radiating from my face. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” his deep voice rumbles.

                “No,” I say softly.

                “Good.” The man wedges his hands beneath me before relaxing on top of me, his head resting against my chest. Once he’s comfortable, he gives a very satisfied, content sigh. Adjusting to my cuddly partner, I settle in to watch the movie while running my fingers through his soft hair. It doesn’t take long for me to hear a deep, steady breathing. Seeing this man, whose entire wardrobe consists ninety percent of suits, who’s known for living high class, who’s always been the ever-vigilant business man; seeing him here in my tiny home, in a t-shirt, and fast asleep upsets the butterflies in my stomach.

                The movie ends and I have to come to terms with the fact that I need to use the bathroom and that requires disturbing Jumin. I savor the sight for just a moment longer before attempting to wake him.

                “Jumin. Sweetheart, get up.”Groaning, he tightens his grip. “Jumin, stop! I need to pee!”

                Flinching, the man props himself up. “What? What’s wrong?” he grumbles.

                “I need to use the bathroom, but maybe you should go to bed if you’re so tired.”

                Jumin sits up, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

                I slip off the sofa and reach out to brush some hair from his eyes. “It’s fine. It is getting late though; you should go to bed.”

                The man stands up too. “Only if you join me.”

                Rolling my eyes, I let a smile pull at my lips. “Alright. Let me shut everything down. Go on; go get ready for bed.”

                Once the bathroom problem is solved, I shut down the movie and clean up a bit. Ambling into the bedroom, I find my boyfriend sitting on the bed, providing Mako with enough ear scritches to get the motor running. Interrupting the bonding, I sneak my way onto Jumin’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. The response is a soft, reverent kiss in return that puts me under his spell almost immediately. For a while, I bask in the comfort of Jumin’s presence and the love he emits. My muscles ache, my head is full of dull pain, sometimes pins and needles overtake my hands, and sometimes I can’t sleep, but right here I get complete solace.

                Jumin groans and breaks the kiss. “You’re tempting me, love,” he says lowly, and I can see the lust alight in his eyes.

                “Says the man who made it much easier for me to strip him down,” I hum, slipping a hand beneath the hem of his shirt against his abs. I immediately notice the pink bleed across his face and the passion flare up. I nearly tear his shirt trying to rip my hand out. “No! Wait! I take it back!”

                He sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “How cruel you are.”

                “Eheh, sorry. We should go to sleep now.”

                I flip the lights and sneak under the covers with Jumin. An arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him. With a bit of a giggle, I hook a leg over his waist and latch onto him. The musky sweet scent accompanied by the warmth of his presence quickly envelopes me and I feel like I could just melt.

                It’s been only a couple years since I met Jumin Han, and my life since then has been everything except perfect, but all the seems so far away now. The tears, fears, worries, none of that matters now. I have the love of my life in my arms; we struggled and suffered so much to get here, but we can finally be happy. I can finally give him everything without getting in my own way. The relief is so overwhelming I could cry, but instead I just revel in the peace.

                On the exhale, I hum.

                “What’s wrong?” he asks.

                “Nothing. I’m just…happy,” I reply, resting my forehead against his chest. “Thank you for staying. And thank you for taking care of me.”

                His arms tighten briefly. “I already told you, I would do anything for you,” he murmurs into my hair.

                “I love you.”

                “I love you too.”

[acklest]

Dean: *in the produce section, watching intently as the automatic sprayer mists some tomatoes*

Sam: *watches Dean, amused* They’re called vegetables. Maybe you’ve seen pictures.

Dean: *excited, not paying attention* Dude. We are idiots. *presents the mister system* Auxiliary water tank, throw in a buncha rosaries, piped in to these things or — *runs his hand under the mist, frowning at the lack of pressure* — somethin’ better. Holy water, motion sensors? *smacks Sam on the chest* That’s so obvious, why aren’t we doin’ that?

Sam: Motion sensors. *dry laugh* Right, so you can “forget” to turn them off when I’m outside?

Dean: *fake smile* Small price to pay for demon protection. *smirks after he turns away*

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Dean: *muttering as he wearily flips through a Weekly World News that says “SCALY INFANT FOUND IN TENNESSEE CAVE” on the cover* Fake... fake... no idea... convincing. *laughs to himself* But fake. Fake... oh, come ON... not fake but we ganked it, you’re welcome. *pauses on one page, eyebrows raised* What the fu—

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Sam: *reading the grocery list, huff of annoyance* "One regular toothbrush, one lady’s toothbrush for Sam.”

Dean: *nods, words muffled by free samples* With the soft bristles.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Dean: *parks the car*

Sam: *looks up from his phone* C’mon, you only like this place because the pharmacy has a massage chair.

Dean: *counting out quarters* It’s Shiatsu, and it’s amazing. It’s like hands are squeezin’ my butt.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Dean: *in the frozen foods section looking at pizzas* You know what? I’m just gonna learn how to make these damn things. I know how to make lasagna, how hard can pizza be? *opens the door and grabs one of them, flipping it over to look at the back, mostly talking to himself* The crust is the pain in the ass part, right? Flour, yeast, a couple of hours for the dough to rise?

Cute employee stocking Hot Pockets two doors down from him: *smiles shyly* It actually only takes an hour or so for the actual rising. It’s getting the texture of the dough right that’s tricky. Took me a couple of attempts before I made something edible.*twinkling up at him* You can cook lasagna, huh? Like from scratch?

Dean: Well, I don’t -- *turns, glances down at her, registers that she’s cute with his entire body, voice shifting gear out of neutral* -- make my own noodles or anything. *pizza completely forgotten* I cook-up a mean burger, though... *looks at her name tag, smiles warmly* ...Kayla.

Sam: *faintly* Oh god. *pushes cart away*

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Sam: *flatly* No, Dean, I don’t think "extra gluten” is a thing.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Dean: *casually standing next to some junk food*

Sam: *eyes move suspiciously from Dean to the junk food, then back to Dean before he moves away from the cart* 

Dean: *waits until Sam is farther away*

Dean: *quickly hides three junk food items among the other groceries and places a fourth on top before casually walking away*

Sam: *returns to the cart and picks up the item on top* Oh, look. The decoy. *tosses it back on the shelf, then digs around and finds the other three items and sticks them back on the shelf*

Sam: *pushes the cart forward about three feet, then stops, sighing* Fine.

Sam: *backs up to grab one of the items and puts it back in the cart*

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Clerk: *scanning items, smiles at Sam* Not used to seeing only one of you in here at a time.

Sam: *grins* I can’t bring him shopping for the next few weeks. Girl Scouts can smell a sucker from a mile away.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Dean: *to himself, knocking on a lobster tank* Which crazy son of a bitch first yanked one of you eldritch nightmares outta the drink and thought “Let’s eat it”, huh? *frowns over at a crab displayed on a bed of ice* Same goes for you, ugly.

Sam: *behind him for half of that* Are you talking to the lobsters again? 

Dean: *startled* What? No.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Sam: *noticing a rotisserie chicken in the cart* That looks good. Is that what we’re having for dinner?

Dean: Oh, did you want one, too?

⭐️⭐️⭐️ 

Sam: *passes a bag of ground coffee under the scanner, it doesn’t scan* 

Dean: *fidgeting* Hate these stupid things.

Sam: That guy had like 900 coupons, I’m not gonna -- *coffee finally scans and Sam drops it into the bag*

Dean: *tries to grab the item* You hafta... wait for it to tell you or it gets  --

SCAN ITEM BEFORE PLACING IN BAG

Dean: *resigned* -- confused.

Sam: But I just scanned it. 

UNEXPECTED ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA

Sam: What? *gestures angrily at the item and its price on the screen* The screen shows I scanned it!

SCAN ITEM BEFORE PLACING IN BAG

Sam: *angrily, to the machine* I already scanned it!

Dean: *watching him, tries not to laugh but not very convincingly*

Sam: *notices, glares* I’m so glad you’re entertained.

UNEXPECTED ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA

Sam: Alright, fine. *yanks scanned item and hits the “Cancel” button on the screen* Let’s try this again.

AN ATTENDANT HAS BEEN NOTIFIED TO ASSIST YOU

Sam: *shoulders sag, rubs his face in frustration*

Dean: *soft wheeze of laughter as the self-checkout beacon begins to flash* 

Sam: It’s not funny.

Dean: It’s a little funny. *starts to choke with laughter at something over Sam’s shoulder* 

Sam: *doesn’t turn to look but closes his eyes* What now?

Dean: *can barely get the words out* The dude with the coupons just left.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Dean: *picks up a box* Sammy, the pads you like are on sale. “Engineered for all-day freshness.” 2 for $10, is that good?

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Clerk at the register: *scans 4 lb bag of salt* You two buy so much salt. Where’s it all going?

Sam: We... cure meats.

Dean: *overlapping* Flotation pod.*winces almost instantly*

Clerk: *smiles politely, eyes slightly widening as she puts the salt in the cart*

Sam: *horrified whisper* Flotation pod?

Dean: *whispering back* I know. It was the first salty thing that popped in, man. *sheepishly looks at his feet* We can never come back here.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Dean: *tosses a couple of steaks into the cart* 

Sam: *glances at them and does a double take at the price* Dean, these are almost fifty bucks just by themselves.

Dean: Are you payin’ with the credit card we just got?

Sam: Yeah?

Dean: Then it’s not even our money, Sam.

Sam: *too loud whisper* We don’t have an endless chain of fake identities, Dean, we still need to --

Woman: *walking by, overhears, and stares*

Dean: *tries to nod reassuringly* Hi. 

Sam: *awkward wave*

Woman: *walks faster*

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Sam: Just because it’s on clearance doesn’t mean you’re obligated to eat it.

Dean: *looks from the box of day-old donuts in his hands to Sam* It’s $1.79, Sam. It’s a WHOLE box of donuts for $1.79.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Sam: *checking out at the register*

Dean: *telltale hand resting on the front of his jacket* I’m goin’ out to the car.

Sam: *knowingly* Mm-hmm.

Clerk: Your total is $83.43. Cash or debit?

Sam: *passes a hundred dollar bill*

Clerk: *makes change*

Sam: *awkwardly gives her two dollars of the change back* He just stole two bags of peanut M&Ms.

Clerk: *hesitates* Oh, like accidentally?

Sam: *small nod* Sure.