#anyways sorry for being ominous in my tags

[jazzzzzzhands]

HOLY SHIT I HAVE OVER 3K FOLLOWERS

oh hi hello!! the rare bit of talking i do on here!!

i'm not sure how to celebrate! i'm not used to being! Visable!!

Im normally very under-the-radar, so to see i even have fans!!

well its all been very exciting!!

But thank you!! I'm glad to see so many of us

LOVE LOVE LOVE Wally!!

(and also dont mind my random reblogs of other fandoms and aesthetic)

I'm currently prepping art for MUCH later dates!

taking things slowly right now!

but still here, still in love with Wally! as we all are!!

I hope everyone remembers to take care of your

Body and Mind and Soul!

[fbfh]

curiosity is a wonderful thing - ch. 6

wc: 2.8k

genre: slowburn, best friends to lovers, painful tooth rotting fluff

pairing: Audrey x Ben, eventual Ben x daughter of alice!reader

warnings: ben's deeply repressed feelings looming ominously in the distance, audrey being an absolute bitch but what's new, op fixing the lore with nail glue and packing tape, Evie is a fucking icon as always

summary: After a long day fighting your way through a mountain of paperwork, you find yourself unable to sleep. Sneaking into ben's room always does the trick. Mal can't find a love spell in her spell book, but she finds something that should work almost as well.

song recs: spring fever - sub urban

a/n: the one thing that pisses me off is that there is no canonical use of love spells in the disney universe outside of descendants. they literally don't exist. genie says no making someone fall in love with someone else. you'd think they would know their own lore /lh

anyway fangz to cici as always (i am so sorry about buggy) and also as always, an optional fit for your viewing pleasure

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777

You spend the next several hours by Ben’s side as you bounce between various meetings, and of course, your etiquette lessons that you’ve been attending since you were no older than a twizzleroot blossom.  They're not really etiquette lessons, not anymore. They were when you were young, you would attend a few times a week with all the other kids your age. You’d learn how to drink tea, how to write thank you notes, and all the other things you need to know to feel comfortable in royal high society settings. By the end of middle school, most of your peers were no longer in attendance. 

You and Ben, however, used the opportunity to learn about more and more of the nuanced aspects of politics, social graces, and media training. Your parents were both glad for this, and since you seemed on track to be real politicians and not just socialites, it was a perfect fit. However, saying that you have to go to your class for advanced political studies, world history, social graces, and media training is a little too clunky for your taste. You and Ben never grew out of calling them etiquette lessons, so the name stuck to this day.

On this day in particular, you now find yourself sitting next to Ben at a large table in one of the many makeshift conference rooms on campus. You’ve been in and out of meetings and lessons and debriefings about the Isle kids’ arrival, and now you’ve finally made it nearly to the end of your to do list. Ben insisted you didn’t need to stay late with him to do all this paperwork, but you insisted equally as much that you wouldn’t dream of leaving him to do it all himself. Now as Ben skims the monotonous text, signing on lines and initialing boxes, you dig through a seemingly endless database of forms, trying to find the right one. 

You bounce increasingly obscure form titles back and forth for a few minutes. After coming up with nothing, Ben lets out an amiable laugh. He should have expected something that seems straightforward would take at least ten times as long as it should. That’s government for you, that’s what his dad would say. A knock at the door draws both your attention, and Jane pokes her head in awkwardly. She tucks a section of her dark blunt bob behind her ear, then speaks nervously. 

“Uh, hi. My mom sent me,” she says in a quiet, hesitant voice. “She said she’s going to be about half an hour late. There was a problem with some ducks in the forest, or something?” 

Ben smiles at her politely.

“Thanks, Jane.” Ben says politely. Jane nods and leaves quickly, fussing with her short hair. You let out a puff of air from between your lips.

“Even more delays…” you murmur, clicking onto page 23 out of 66 of forms to look through. “How fun.”

Ben chuckles, agreeing as he stands up to stretch his legs. He walks around for a moment, and turns on an extra lamp. It’s starting to get dark out, and the last thing either of you need right now is eye strain. Wait, it’s already getting dark out? He stops in his tracks.

“Shit.” He mutters, reaching for his phone on the table. He completely forgot about dinner with Audrey, but he has to find these forms and get them filled out tonight. You try not to look like you're listening too closely as the phone rings, but Audrey’s voice is quite hard to ignore. Before he can greet her, she’s already demanding to know where he is and why he’s late.

“No, no. I- I didn’t forget. I… well… uh, no. It’s-” Ben rambles around Audrey’s interjections. He gets up, pacing around a little, and walking across the room away from you. He doesn’t want you to have to hear this. 

“We’re just running behind. No- No! I would never intentionally… stand you up… I-” 

“Right!” Audrey snaps on the other end, forcing a smile. “Well then. Maybe we should just cancel!” 

“Wh- uh, okay. I- I’ll make it up to you. We can… uh, later this week? We’ll - before the next tourney meet? I…” 

Ben sighs and pulls his phone away, looking at the screen. Call ended. He walks back over to the table, sitting down to continue trudging through the task at hand. You wordlessly slide a teacup over toward him, the colorful porcelain filled with warm chai, perfectly sweetened. He cracks a smile, and accepts the cup. 

“Thanks, bunny.” He says quietly. You hum warmly in response. You settle back into your comfortable silence, trudging through forms and digging through documents. As you sit across from each other, the pile of completed paperwork steadily grows taller. Hours pass, and you don’t realize how late it is until you’re finally ready to call it quits for tonight. You stumble through your bedtime routine, grateful that you have your muscle memory to carry you through. As soon as your head hits your soft pillow… nothing happens. You toss and turn for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable, then let out an irritated sigh. You managed to get through such a long day and mountains of paperwork, and you still can’t sleep. 

In the opposite wing of the dorms, Ben has no trouble winding down. He’s cozy in his silky royal blue and daffodil yellow sheets, and he’s satisfied with a long day of hard, productive work. He lets out a soft breath, feeling himself teetering on the brink of sleep. Then he hears his door creak open. Soft, muffled footsteps creep across the wood floor, then grow silent as they meet the expansive carpet covering the majority of the floor. He doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel someone crouching next to his bed. 

“...Ben?”

He cracks a smile at the sound of your voice, how quiet and tiny you sound in the lateness of the night. You smile a little too when you see him fighting a little grin. After a moment, he answers. 

“Yes bunny?”

“Are you asleep?” You ask carefully. You wait in the darkness for him to answer. 

“Yes.” 

You smile at his sarcastic response, letting out a little breathy giggle through your nose. You kick off your bunny slippers - complete with little tophats - and crawl into bed next to Ben. He’s already scooching over and lifting up the blankets for you, pulling them over your shoulders the way he knows you like. 

He doesn’t need to ask if you couldn’t sleep, he already knows you couldn’t. You’ve been doing this, sneaking in for sleepovers when insomnia gets the best of you, for as long as he can remember. Something about his presence comforts you, relaxes you through even the longest, most never ending nights. No matter how tired he is, he’s always happy to be there for you on nights like tonight, he’s always happy to keep you warm and talk you to sleep. 

And that’s just what he does. He lets you lead the conversation, rambling about whatever springs to mind, emptying out your brain so you can rest. He’d like to think he knows you pretty well by now. He knows just what to do to help you settle down, to give you the best chance of having a restful night. It’s no surprise to him that you mostly seem to be thinking about the Isle kids. 

“I mean, this is real. Our actions mean they get a chance at a better life.” You mutter drowsily. Your cheek is squished against his pillow and your words are heavy with fatigue. Ben can’t help but think it makes your Wonderland accent that much… cuter. 

“Yeah,” He agrees. He traces his hand along your back soothingly. He glances down and notices you’re wearing the white button down shirt you sometimes wear as a pajama top. He asked you about it once, and you said it made you think of him. He smiles a little as he settles back into his pillows.

“I just hope they’ll be able to assimilate well.” You say, a tone of worry now present in your words. “The only thing worse than doing nothing would be having their decisions made for them because of social pressure…” 

“We’ll keep a close eye out for that.” Ben says. His voice is husky and drowsy. It fills you with warmth, with an appreciation for him and the way he stays up with you even though you know how tired he must be. You nod a little, then find yourself rambling again. 

“I just wish there was a way to guarantee that they felt welcome and not… ostracized.” You mumble. You inch closer to him, snuggling into his warm chest and listening to his soothing heartbeat. It speeds up almost imperceptibly as you do.

“Make sure they know that we know them as people. As individuals, and not just…” You continue, cutting yourself off with a yawn. You stretch a little as you do, then curl back up. Ben looks down at you, smiling a little at how sweet you are, at how clingy you get when you’re sleepy. 

“As the children of their parents…” You finish. Ben hums in agreement. He notices how heavy your eyes are getting, how your speech is slowing, how the flow of your thoughts have gone from a fully blasting garden hose to a subtly dripping kitchen sink. You’re about to fall asleep, which means he can let himself sleep too. He couldn’t have gone to bed before now if he wanted to. If he knows you can’t sleep, he won’t be able to either. But feeling your soft breaths across his skin, feeling the way your chest rises and falls as his hand lays comfortingly on your side, knowing that you’re warm and safe here, with him… Ben feels more relaxed than he has in a long time. Probably since… the last time you couldn’t sleep. 

Sometimes when it’s just the two of you like this, all drowsy and late at night, in the moments before he falls asleep, Ben sometimes gets… weird thoughts. Weird, random, impulsive thoughts that are not at all like him. Totally out of left field stuff, like… wanting to kiss you. Like, really, really wanting to kiss you. Sometimes that turns into wanting to hold you, too. And not like this, not holding you platonically, like a best friend, but… holding you a different way. Maybe wanting to hold you tight in his arms, and lay you down in his big, silky bed, and… 

Ben squeezes his eyes shut tight for a moment before relaxing his face. He puts a manual stop to that train of thought, absolutely refusing to let it continue anymore. He won’t entertain it, he won’t let it heat up his cheeks anymore. He doesn’t like thinking things like that about anyone, and he certainly won’t let himself think anything like that about you. He sighs softly. These crazy thoughts will be gone by the morning. They always are. They have to be. 

Besides, it’s so late, he won’t even remember this by the time he wakes up. That’s what he always tells himself. The last thing he would never admit to anyone - not even to himself - surfaces right before he falls asleep. It must be the late hour, where everything vulnerable feels completely abstract and intangible, but he thinks it’s a lot easier to stop himself from thinking those things about Audrey than it is to stop thinking those things about you. 

While you and Ben drift off to sleep, safe and sound in each other’s arms, someone else is wide awake. Sitting in the dorm she shares with Evie, Mal sits on her bed, scouring her spell book exactly like she’s been doing since Ben left earlier that afternoon. After hours of hitting brick wall after brick wall, Mal is met with the back cover of the book. Again. She lets out a frustrated noise, and flips back to the beginning.

“There’s not a single love spell in this whole fucking book!” She exclaims. She looks over the first few pages, reading them more closely in hopes that she somehow missed something. Evie sits across the room in front of a lit up mirror, plucking meticulously at her eyebrows. 

“Are we…” She winces, then inspects her skin and eyebrows again. “Are we sure we need a love spell?” 

Mal rolls her eyes at the question. Yes, obviously they need a love spell. Evie is oblivious to her irritation, and continues thinking out loud around her careful use of the sharp tweezers in her hand. 

“I could… just work my charm on him. All it would take is one look into my…” Another wince. “Hypnotizing eyes, and he’d be wrapped around my finger.”

She leans back, taking a final look at her work, more satisfied with her appearance now. 

“I mean, he’s not really my type, but…” she shrugs, and looks at Mal, waiting for some kind of reaction from her. Mal doesn’t look up at Evie’s eyebrows, she just keeps digging through her book and ignoring the sound of Carlos and Jay playing videogames.

“No, we need a spell. This has to work. It has to be foolproof.” 

Evie grabs a jade roller and some hydrating gel. She still can’t believe how amazing the makeup and the skincare in Auradon is. She hasn’t seen one half wilted aloe plant, and this gel is infused with roses from Aurora’s moors, glacier water from Arendelle, and caviar fished from the Caribbean. She can’t wait to get her hands on a decent blush, and a lip liner that doesn’t double as eyeliner and an eyebrow pencil. 

Evie notices the scowl on Mal’s face as she hunches over the spell book. Normally she would scold Mal for making faces that will give her wrinkles, but now that she has her hands on retinol, hyaluronic acid, and hydrocolloid patches, she can fix any stress wrinkles Mal brings upon herself. After what feels like an eternity of searching the same pages over and over, something catches Mal’s eye, causing her to stop in her tracks. It’s more of her mothers rambling annotations and scrawled notes, this time on the topic of hypnosis. 

Hypnosis can be useful as long as you’re stealthy with it. Jafar got sloppy, he kept hypnotizing that stupid sultan over and over, not bothering to use hypnosis for it’s true purpose - a means to an end. If you’re an evil genius like I am, and you use hypnosis sparingly, no one will be the wiser. Don’t get me started on that oversized calamari - Ursula has to be the best example of what not to do when you’re hypnotizing a bonehead prince to make him think he’s in love with you. Something as easily breakable as a necklace? Please. Besides, everyone knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. 

Her mother’s scratchy handwriting goes on for a while, some anecdote about her and Mal’s father, something she’d rather not read. Ever. She thinks back to what Evie said about wrapping Ben around her finger, and in one desperately needed moment of clarity, everything falls into place. A plan begins to form in her mind. 

“This… this could work.” She says. Those three, quietly spoken words get the attention of everyone in the room. Evie sets down her gua sha stone, and Carlos pauses their videogame. They all walk over, hesitant and eager to hear what Mal figured out. Mal lets out a laugh of disbelief. It seems so simple now, she wonders why she didn’t think of it sooner. She can just hypnotize Ben into falling in love with her. She can trick him into thinking that he loves Mal more than he’s ever loved Audrey, then - boom! Front row seats to coronation, which means front row seats to stealing the wand out from under their noses. 

While Mal silently hashes out the details so she can tell her friends, Evie inspects her cuticles. She really should push them back. She stands up, grabbing a cuticle pusher and an orange wood stick from her pencil cup before making her way back over to Mal’s bed. As the three of them wait with bated breath, Mal looks over the hypnosis spell again and again. After a few moments, she tucks a piece of paper between the pages, marking her spell to reference later. She slams the book shut, and looks up at her friends.

“Come on guys. Let’s go bake some cookies.”

[rehfan]

La Belle Dame avec Merci -- Chapter 6: The Dance

Eddie Munson x Unpopular!AFAB!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ readers only please - minor children DNI! – No Upsidedown; reader is technically a virgin; mutual pining; Eddie has trust issues; emotional hurt/comfort; female masturbation; male masturbation; emotional manipulation; reader is kinda shitty to Eddie; reader gets better; angst; more angst; Eddie’s mom is dead; small act of accidental physical violence; Uncle Wayne is the best 

Tagged: @bluestuesday / @ali-r3n / @winchester-angel / @iletmytittiestitty-russ / @mewchiili / @chaoticgood-munson / @welcometohellsock /

DO NOT POST TO ANY OTHER SITE. My words are mine and mine alone.

Inspired by @/hard-candy-writing ‘s ORIGINAL POST

MASTERPOST LINK – AO3 LINK

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

Saturday arrived unceremoniously despite being the day of the Sadie Hawkins dance. The dance Eddie wasn’t taking you to. You awoke to a pair of parents on a cleaning frenzy. They roped you in quickly, handing you the paper towels and the window cleaner and assigning you every interior flat glass surface throughout your three bedroom split level ranch home. “Don’t forget the sills!” your mother shouted over the disco music she had put on to motivate the three of you. She was handling the kitchen. Dad was getting the lawnmower ready to tackle the front yard for one of the last times before winter truly settled in. As you cleaned the large sliding glass doors that led to the back porch, you could hear him cursing while trying to attach the bagger for the leaves and clippings. You wondered if he would appreciate Eddie’s help. 

As soon as the thought hit you, you shook it off. Nope. He was not going to invade your thoughts. Certainly not on a domestic level. He probably had no idea how to cook or clean anyway, never mind now a lawn. But then, he might? You knew so little about him it was shameful.

And then again, you weren’t his actual girlfriend. You two had never had a proper date, no opportunity to know one another. As you wiped at the windows in your parent’s bedroom, your mind drifted to what a date with Eddie would be like. Certainly, he’d take you someplace for dinner. Maybe pizza. Maybe takeout Chinese? Neither one of you can afford Enzo’s. And the conversation? Where would you begin? Music, probably. Cosmo. Teachers. Family. Hopes for the future.

And when all was done? Where would you go? Where could you go in Hawkins? Lover’s Lake. The quarry. Skull rock. You’d heard all of these places were used as rendezvous points for the kids at Hawkins High, but you’d never been. Skull rock sounded ominous. Lover’s lake was a bit too on the nose and too cheesy for you. But the quarry? A little dangerous, a little unexpected for one of your puritanical reputation. Yes. That was the one.

Maybe tonight you’d take a drive out that way instead of going to the dance. 

Your mother called you out of your daydreams. Apparently the carpet in your bedroom wasn’t going to vacuum itself.

~080~

Early visits to the car part store and the hardware store filled Eddie’s Saturday morning. Though he was standing there between Wayne and Rocco, the auto parts guy, discussing the proper time to be adding antifreeze to Wayne’s truck and Eddie’s van, Eddie couldn’t help but feel his mind wander to you. Did you have any antifreeze for the winter? Did you need any? Maybe your dad took care of that stuff for you. 

“Fuck,” Eddie muttered. 

“Something wrong, Ed?” asked his uncle, both men paused in their conversation at Eddie’s curse.

“Hm? No. Sorry. Just think I forgot my smokes. I’ll just check the car, yeah? You good, unc?”

“Yeah, son. I’ll just be a minute.”

Eddie took a deep breath when he got to Wayne’s truck. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about you. But give his brain less than one thing to concentrate on at a time and goddamn it - off it went, thinking of you like it did just the night before. 

It was shame that had him up so early that morning. The shame of waking up in that empty bed still smelling like sweat and his own spunk. He needed to fuck you out of his system. And then there was the shame of jerking off to you - again! The only thing for it was a scrub in a hot shower…which of course meant he was rubbing another one out while trying not to call out your name. 

He leaned heavily against the truck, gulping down air like a fish out of water. Shaky hands brought out a half-crumpled soft pack from his inner pocket. He shook out the end of one of the cancer sticks and with what used to be smooth and practiced motions, mouthed the end of one, stuffed the pack back, and brought out his lighter. Today it took him three tries to get the cig from the pack into his dry mouth and four attempts to get a flame to come from his cheap plastic Bic.

He was three draws in again when he felt steady enough to swear. Two more and his hands weren’t as shaky.

“Ready to go?” Wayne asked.

Eddie stubbed out the cig and nodded. He got in the truck and Wayne settled the plastic bag of spark plugs in Eddie’s lap to hold. “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

“What?”

“Look, Ed, I’m not here to be nosy, but I like to think you’d come to me if there was something going on. I mean —, “ here he gazed at his nephew as the engine roared to life, “I worry about you. That’s all.”

“It’s nothing,” Eddie said. 

Wayne reversed the truck and backed out of the space, eyes moving between mirrors and out the back window. Shifting to drive, he pulled to the exit and waited for traffic to open up. He wasn’t looking at his nephew when he said, “Your mom on your mind?”

“Huh? No. Not really.”

“Because you get this way when you—“

“It’s not her, okay?”

“Okay.”

The truck moved smoothly into the street and headed in the direction of the hardware store. It was off Main Street in downtown Hawkins and Eddie liked it there. Something about buckets and buckets of bolts, screws, nuts, and washers all in their proper places made his brain buzz pleasantly with a calm joy. He really liked the smell there too: fresh cut wood and paint supplies. Which reminded him:

“I need some acrylics for some models,” he said. “Do you think they’d carry some?”

“We can ask, but don’t you normally scrounge that stuff from school?”

“Yeah, but the art teachers can only give me so much,” he said, shrugging. “If they don’t have any, it’ll be okay. It was just a thought.”

Wayne spared Eddie a sideways glance. The boy stared out his passenger side window, head against the glass, eyes dull, and his fingers twisted one of his rings around his finger idly. 

Wayne decided to take a chance: “What’s her name?”

Eddie turned his head, eyes suspicious. “What are you talking about?”

Wayne couldn’t hide his small laugh. “I knew it might happen again. But I’ll admit, I was hoping for sooner. Been a while since that Debbie girl.”

Eddie felt himself go crimson. “Shut up, man,” he mumbled. 

“Hey. First off, no back talk. Second, having a thing for someone is fine.” There was silence in the cab for a block or two before Wayne said, “She really pretty?”

“I suppose.”

“Wow.” Wayne let out a long low whistle. “With that kind of reaction she must be a knockout.” He threw Eddie a cockeyed grin. “She’s a stunner, huh?”

Eddie couldn’t help himself. He grinned and sighed: “Totally.”

“And she knows you like her?”

Eddie’s grin faded. No. You had no idea. He’d kissed you twice, but still you thought he hated your guts. He'd given you that impression himself. But you never knew that he’d fucked his fist over you multiple times now. He’d imagined you in his life and his bed, but you were in neither. And you never would be.

Eddie shook his head. 

“Ah,” said Wayne. He was quiet for a while after that. He didn’t talk again until the truck was parked in front of the hardware store. It was a busy morning in Hawkins and Saturdays were the days people went to Hawkins Lumber and Supply. The two of them people-watched for a minute in the quiet cab of the truck. 

“I know you don’t have much luck with the opposite sex,” Wayne began. 

“God, Wayne,” whined Eddie. “You make me sound like I’m a virgin.”

Wayne painted a mock look of shock on his face and gasped. “You mean my sweet baby boy has been spoiled?!”

“Shut up,” Eddie said, a smirk on his face as he unbuckled and opened his door.

The lumber smell hit him first. He could swim in it. “Over here,” Wayne directed eagerly with a grin. Eddie hadn’t seen him this keyed up in a minute. But it’s not every day a man gets his own brand new generator. The last two winters had been hell without one. Eddie had helped his uncle lay down the concrete patch that the small shed would sit on to house it. The trailer park red tape they went through to get that little patch put in was a war onto itself, but that mountain had been conquered. Now the crowning glory was coming home with them. All they needed to do was set her in place and hook her up. 

Wayne grinned ear to ear while talking with Sally the sales lady. Eddie gave her a polite nod as she smiled at him before motioning for her associate to wheel out the generator on a hand truck. 

When it was mounted and secured in the truck bed, Wayne sat behind the wheel, closed his driver’s side door, and sighed, happy. He turned to Eddie: “Gonna be a warm winter.”

“Finally! No freezing our asses off bundled up in blankets,” grinned Eddie. 

“Drinking hot drinks just to warm up,” agreed Wayne.

“Or worse: heading to the church for a meal.”

Wayne shook his head. “They mean well.”

“Yeah. They’re real mean. They wanted to baptize me!” Wayne chuckled at Eddie’s outrage and started the engine. “And you almost let them!”

“I almost did!” said Wayne. “Only reason I didn’t: they wouldn’t heat up the holy water first. Colder than a witch’s tit that year.” Eddie laughed and shook his head. “What? Couldn’t have you catching cold!”

They were half way home when Wayne asked, “Would she take care of you?”

“What? Who—?” But in the next instant, he knew who his uncle meant. “Aw man, leave it alone, will ya?”

“Answer the question.”

“Would she take care of me?”

Wayne nodded. “If you were sick. Or if you hurt yourself.”

Eddie recalled your soft kisses to his hand from pounding on the elevator door. He remembered you so concerned for him that he had shoved you to the floor. His gut twisted. “Yeah. She would.”

Wayne nodded and as he drove, fished out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. Eddie lit him up with his lighter. “She cares then,” he said. “That’s good.”

“I guess,” Eddie said, his head now back against the window, the same listless look in his eyes once more. 

“Ed, I may not know much, but I do know that it should be about how this girl sees you. And if you see yourself reflected in her eyes, don’t hesitate.”

“But what about your track record?”

“My track record is not your track record. Don’t look at my life and see yours. Because it isn’t. And your mother’s track record isn’t yours either. If this girl’s not abusive — words and deeds, remember — then go get her. Don’t let her slip through your fingers.”

“What if—“

Silence. 

“What if what?”

“What if my track record… is my dad’s?”

“You get angry around her? You haven’t hurt her, son?”

“No! No way! I mean… I knocked her over once — but that was an accident! I swear! I wasn’t mad at her. She was trying to help calm me and I shook her away and she fell, but I didn’t want to hurt her! And she wasn’t! She was fine. She said so!”

Wayne gripped the steering wheel just a bit tighter. He let out a slow breath. “I’ve known you your whole life, Eddie. You’ve got your mother’s heart but you do have your dad’s temper. Fortunately, you can be calmed pretty easily. Did you spot that you knocked her over right away or did it take—“

“Right away,” said Eddie. “No question.”

“And you apologized?”

“Are you kidding? I was practically losing my shit that I did it. But then she smiled at me and I—“

“And all was forgiven,” Wayne finished. Eddie nodded.

“And then she kissed me,” Eddie said softly.

“And did you kiss her back?”

Eddie nodded.

“And she doesn't know you like her?" Wayne shook his head and smiled to himself. "So what’s the problem?”

“What if I do it again? What if she thinks I'm like my dad and walks away? What if she runs? What if she’s too ashamed of me to really be with me? She’s a Loch Nora chick. You know: money.”

“Oh? Well…. She sounds pretty invested as it is,” Wayne said, “for a girl that doesn’t know you like her.” He brought his truck to a stop at their trailer, having backed up behind it, the tailgate end facing the concrete slab and wooden housing they had built. He turned off the engine. “What you’re afraid of sounds pretty normal to me. What do your instincts tell you about her?”

Eddie shrugged. “Our beginning was…kinda wild? She was using me as kind of a fake boyfriend to get back at the cool kids and I let it go, but then it started getting weird and I guess she felt it too, because she had a change of heart and now I’m so turned around by her…” He took a breath. Christ, he was beginning to nervously ramble like you do. “I think my compass is just spinning and spinning. I have no north anymore.”

“Sounds complicated.”

Eddie nodded. Wayne laid a hand on his shoulder. “Women are. Relationships are. But boy are they worth it when you get it right. Stick around her. See how she is with you around with no strings attached. Maybe that compass of yours will find north in the end.”

Eddie considered this for a moment until his uncle patted him on the shoulder and woke him up. “Come on. Let’s get that beauty hooked up.”

~080~

Eddie had sat on the couch for as long as he could stand it. Your apology from yesterday and Wayne’s words from that day had been running around in his head all afternoon and evening and they were eating his brain. He had never looked forward to a Monday at school before, but he needed to be around you again. He needed to see you, to hear you, to flash a smile and see if you returned it among all the other people there. He sighed for the millionth time as he stared through the Gunsmoke rerun on the television.

“Jesus, Ed,” his uncle had said, exasperated, “Just go to bed.”

That tore it.

“I’m gonna go for a drive,” Eddie had said, slapping his hands on his knees and getting up. He grabbed his keys and his jacket. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Wayne had given him an evaluating stare. “I’ll be here.”

Eddie had nodded to him and had left with the familiar slap of the screen door echoing behind him. 

He drove aimlessly as the sun set on Hawkins. Normally, his metal music would be blaring, but tonight he hadn’t bothered with any music. He didn’t want to drown out his thoughts, he wanted the drive and the night to take them - and for the most part, it was working. He lit a cigarette at a lonely stop sign and rolled down his window, exhaling smoke into the autumn air. The smell of rotting leaves and burning wood from someone’s fireplace mingled with the cold as he drove off again. The streets were quiet. He wondered when the dance was supposed to begin. He wondered how you looked. He wondered if you were having fun. But he didn’t wonder hard enough to actually drive to the school to find you. That would have been too real.

Street lights gave a hazy yellow glow to the road ahead as he rounded Lover’s Lake. He thought of hanging at Rick’s, but that would only end in a drunken weed haze and not get him back in those couple hours he promised Wayne. Then he’d hear it. Nah. Not worth the struggle.

Night darkened quickly this time of year and he wanted more of the eerie gloom. He chose an unlit back road that led to just above and over the quarry. There was a small patch on the shoulder where he parked his van. He sat there for a minute in the silence and finished his cigarette, willing the thought of you out of his head for the millionth time. He crushed out the butt and flicked it off into the dirt. Passing a hand over his face, he gave a soft groan and, for the sake of his sanity, played radio roulette. He turned the knob and stopped on the first song that caught him. Static crackled and snapped as this announcer voice passed by that commercial and this sugary pop song until Bob Seger sang to him to “Turn the Page”: a song about a lonely musician with long hair out touring away from family and everything familiar. Perfect.

Later in the evenin’ 

As you lie awake in bed

With the echo from the amplifiers

Ringin’ in your head

You smoke the day’s last cigarette

Rememberin’ what she said

He listened to its finish and turned the radio off, allowing the night to swallow him again. He closed his eyes, he saw you in his mind’s eye all apologetic and sad. He remembered his hands rubbing against your upper arms, comforting you. You had called yourself horrible things, but he hadn’t bothered to correct you. He had been too busy holding onto himself emotionally. You weren’t a bad person. But he had been. He should have just accepted your apology and ended your self-torture, but he didn’t.

He turned off the engine and the lights. There was a rusty guard rail running along the edge of the quarry but he easily clambered over it. He moved carefully to the edge, peering over it in the moonlight. The water was dark and still at the bottom. A void that, if he were in any other mindset, he probably could have flung himself into with little thought. He felt like shit about you and what his next steps should be, but he wasn’t feeling that badly. Instead, he sat with his feet dangling over the edge of the drop and took another drag.

To his side was a rock the size of a cantaloupe. He couldn’t resist. He picked it up and, one-handed, shot-put style, chucked it into the void below. There was a space of nothingness where only the breeze in the boughs around him could be heard. Then, with a sad finality, he finally heard the splash he anticipated. Goddamn, that was a long way down. 

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He threw another. This rock was a bit smaller and he tossed it high, outward from his position, his eyes attempting to track its descent futilely because even though the full moonlight was bright, the depth of the quarry swallowed everything visible. Again, the anticipation of the sound was more dreadful than the actual satisfaction of hearing the landing. A small splash echoed back up to him and he breathed again.

Small ripples caressed the shore of the quarry. He heard them more than saw them, although the water’s surface was accessible far below him just off the access road. Due to the angle of the shore he was able to see the soft waves lap gently there in the moonlight until they finally stilled. He threw another rock, watching and waiting for the splash and then seeking out the ripples against the shore far below. He counted elephants to himself: “One-elephant-two-elephant-three….” It was four and a half elephants to hear the splash and another nine until he saw the ripples. The anticipation of both was palpable.

Funny how mere seconds could be so long. Or how days could stretch into years. Sunday still lay before him. All in all, it was about 36 hours by his reckoning before he would be heading off to school. It seemed like 4 million years.

He wished he could touch you again. He wished he could bring you here to sit in the quiet and the stillness. He wished he could apologize to you for being kind of a dick. No. A total dick. The lyrics of the song echoed back to him like the splash from the stones below:

You smoke the day’s last cigarette

Rememberin’ what she said

Lights appeared on the access road below. A car stopped. Someone got out. The lights of the car were on and the car radio echoed tinnily against the carved stone walls. For a moment, Eddie wanted to flee but his legs betrayed him; he never moved. He was frozen. He soon discovered that it was the perfect vantage point. The individual walked in front of the lights completely ignorant of his presence. The figure was small, but they had a massive voice the echoed off of the walls of the quarry, startling some birds in the trees. “Eddie Munson! Get the fuck out of my head!”

He started at the sound of his own name, but then he registered who it was that was below him. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. He looked up at the sky briefly, “Mom, are you seeing this?” before he crushed out his cigarette, got to his feet, and watched you stoop and pick up the first stone skipping it along the water, ripples breaking and mixing in the shine from the headlights. Then another. Then another.

~080~

You really hoped your friends forgave you for ditching them but as you pulled up to the old quarry, you realized that you didn’t care. It was only a stupid dance. A dance that you were going to go to with all your female friends and try and have a good time? Nope. No chance. The radio was playing some soft rock when you put your car in park and turned off the engine, but engaged the ignition to keep power to the radio and lights.

The night was bitter and cold. You had brought your winter coat and wrapped it around yourself as you got out of the car and walked around the dirt road leading up to the water. You were instantly reminded that you were wearing your black stirrup pants under your denim pencil skirt, paired with black flats; your ankles were practically made of ice as soon as you stepped out of the car, but you wanted to feel the bite of it. You wanted to feel small and cold. It was your penance for being a horrible person.

The wind in the trees that surrounded the area, the faint music from your car, and the odd call of a night bird were the only sounds. The lights from your headlights reflected off the water and made shadows against the far quarry wall. It was spooky here all alone. You could see why it was a great make-out spot. Anyone would want to cuddle toward someone else, if only for a sense of security. You let out a deep sigh and watched your breath fog drift away.

Your day of cleaning had moved into running errands with your parents in the afternoon: grocery shopping, dry cleaners, and a trip to the watch maker’s so your dad could get his grandfather’s pocket watch cleaned. The late afternoon had been filled with talk of the dance. You had headed back to your room and called Gail. “Pick up Marie, will you?”

“Why? What happened?”

“I’m not going.”

“No! What? You said you would!” Gail had whined your name and it killed you to hear it.

“Sorry, Gail, but I just can’t. I can’t be happy. Not yet.”

“What is going on between you and Eddie?” she had asked. “Last I knew he kissed you and then ditched school.”

“Yeah. Then I saw him last night and I apologized.”

“For what?”

Gail had had no idea the whole thing was a set up, so of course she was confused. But you hadn’t wanted to explain it to her. She might have thought worse of you if she had known, so you had decided to dodge the bullet. “I didn’t exactly treat him well.” And here you had sighed, guilt still nibbling at your guts. “But he didn’t forgive me, so I guess we’re kind of through.”

“Jesus. That didn’t last long.”

“It’s okay. My relationships never do. S’why everyone thinks I’m this virgin,” you had said.

Gail had grunted in annoyance. “Listen, if Eddie shows up at the dance or any afterparty we go to, I’m going to kill him!” she cried. “Why is he dodging you? You apologized for whatever it was you said or did, so clearly you like him – though God knows why – but he really shouldn’t turn up his nose at you. You’re a hell of a catch – and better than he could ever hope to do. Honestly, he doesn’t deserve you.”

You had brushed off her insult to him/compliment to you. You hadn’t had the strength for that battle. Instead you had decided to refocus her attention. “You were invited to an afterparty?” you had asked, truly curious.

“Well, no,” Gail had admitted. “But there’s still time. My point is: if I see him, he’s dead meat. I’ll claw his eyes out.”

“Don’t do that,” you had said. “I like his eyes. And besides, you might break a nail.” There had been a pause during which you knew she was checking her well-manicured nails.

“True,” she had finally agreed. “Well, anyhow. What are you going to do with your night? Spend it with the ‘rents?”

“Oh God no. I have other plans. But if they ask: I met all of you at the school and had a blast. Okay?”

“Okay,” she had agreed. “See you Monday, mopey.”

You shivered against the cold and wondered why you had bothered to leave your house for this place, but you needed the time by yourself. The gloom only added to your mood.

“EDDIE MUNSON, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!” you screamed and then pierced the night with a genuine shriek of frustration and anger. Your voice was amplified and echoed all over the quarry. Night birds startled in the trees that surrounded you and you were grateful and more than a little fearful that you were in a place where you could scream your brains out and no one was around to hear and call the cops.

Breathing hard, you held your hands to your head and ran them through your hair. “Nothing to be done, girl,” you said to yourself. There were many pieces of flat pieces of shale at your feet. You kicked at them idly, but decided to pick up a few to skip across the still water. The splashes echoed a bit and the ripples glittered waves in the glow from your car’s headlights behind you.

Five skips.

Four.

Six.

Five.

Only the radio kept you company as you wasted your night alone with the water and the stones and your thoughts about Eddie Munson. How could he be so funny and kind and so cruel and cutting toward you all at the same time? It was like he was punishing you for more than the crime you committed. With every rock you threw, you felt a tiny bit better, so you kept at it. You didn’t know how long you’d been there, but you groaned when you felt additional lights on you and heard the sound of another approaching vehicle.

You suspected it was some of the local kids from Hawkins here for a make-out session. If they found you here on your own, they would paint you as a loser and you felt your heart race as the light flashed across your face and the vehicle slowed to a stop next to yours. It was too late to hide. Fuck.

The lights of the car went out and the moonlight took over. Eddie’s van appeared before you, dust from its tires blowing away in the wind behind it. Eddie himself jumped out of the driver’s seat and slammed the van door behind him. He strolled forward toward you, his hands in his jacket pockets, a smile on his face.

“Imagine my surprise, running into you,” he said.

Instantly, you were aware of how alone you two were. That smile of his was disturbing. Instinctively, you backed up a pace. “Yeah,” you laughed nervously. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie read your body language instantly. He held up his hands and stopped moving, saying, “Hey, hey. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You did a good job anyway,” you said, your arms crossing protectively across your chest.

“Sorry,” he said. He meant to add: And while I’m at it, I’m sorry for everything else too, but he didn’t. He just stood there dumbly and waited. 

“I was enjoying my solitude,” you said, turning and picking up another stone to throw. You curled it in your hand, took a step, and threw your arm swinging outward. Six skips that time.

Eddie whistled low. “You’re pretty good.” He looked around his feet and came up with a stone. He threw it. Two skips. “And I suck,” he said with a short laugh.

You didn’t say anything at first. He was the last person you wanted to see. But what was twisting you from the inside was that he was also the only person you wanted to see. You hucked another rock and he paid you another compliment. What was his deal? The last time you saw him, he kissed you and then dropped you like a hot rock when his friends found you both in that compromising position. Something in you boiled over.

“Look, why don’t you go away? Huh?” Your throat was suddenly raw with hurt. “You don’t like me? Fine. I don’t need you to like me any more. I’m done. You win. You get to hate me with the burning passion of a thousand suns. And your plan now is - what? - to torture me? To hang around until guilt chokes me and swallows me whole? What more do you want? Do you want me on my knees begging your forgiveness just so you can stand there and laugh at me with your friends?”

You had no plans to get on your knees for Eddie Munson.

“N-no,” he stuttered as his brain conjured up a totally inappropriate image. “I gave it some thought. You’re driving me nuts, but I was pretty cold to you back at Cosmo’s.” Here you barked a short sarcastic laugh. “And then you were crying and then I knocked you over…and then we, uh. And then I just left you there. It was pretty shitty, you know? So I couldn’t get all of that out of my head. I was just trying to tell you that I’m okay now. That I… forgive you. And that I’m sorry too.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Eddie gave you a sideways look and continued, guarded, “So if you want…,” he began slowly, “…I’d like to make it up to you. But only if you want.”

“Make it up..?” you managed.

“Yeah, you know… dinner, a movie. Real boyfriend shit. Things like that. If you want. I mean, I could make it up to you by staying the fuck away too, but I’ll be honest: I don’t want to do that.”

All you could do was blink and barely breathe as he went on: “I want to hang out with you. You’re funny. And smart. And I like you…?” His voice petered out weakly at the end, his voice lilting up into a question.

In the awkward silence that held dominion over you both in that moment, he held out a stone for you to take. “Here,” he said, “throw this and think it over.”

You were too torn up to see the rock in his hand. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Relief flooded your senses and you felt cracked in half. One side of you wanted to hit him hard. The other wanted to fall into his arms. Mechanically, you reached out your hand. The stone was small and warm from his hand. It was three-sided and fit perfectly into your palm.

“Bit small for a skipping rock,” you whispered.

Eddie shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll make it work. You can do anything.”

“Anything except understand you, Eddie Munson,” you said flatly. You regarded him for some time as he kicked at the shale and avoided your glance.

Eddie could feel your stare and from somewhere deep inside him, he heard Wayne’s words about the complexity of women: …boy are they worth it when you get it right. Stick around her. See how she is with you around with no strings attached. Maybe that compass of yours will find north in the end.

Buoyed by this, he rounded his shoulders in a carefree shrug. “All part of my charm, sweetheart,” he quipped, that trademark grin, the one you had been waiting for for all this time, was right back on his face.

You little shit, you thought. You squeezed the stone in your left fist and moved to him, completely prepared to sucker-punch his smug little face.

The closer you got, the more your heart ached. You wanted to strangle him. But in the end, you just needed to touch him. “You are the single most infuriating person. I swear to God,” you said and wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him with everything you had.

His arms came up around you and held you close. Nearby, the radio DJ decided to put one of your favorite songs on. You always thought it so sad, because you’d never been treated like the woman in the song by anyone, but now, you noticed as your hug broke, Eddie swayed with you in his arms to the beat of it. He reached up and took your right hand in his left and pressed his cheek to yours.

“If that’s a yes, then I think I’ll start by dancing with you, if that’s okay,” he whispered.

You were dizzy, but Eddie’s body braced you, his arm around you supported you, his skin against yours warmed you and you had never felt more cherished. It was breathtaking how gentle he was. He brought your hand to his chest and covered your hand over his heart, warming your fingers as the music and the night surrounded you.

I’ve never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight

I’ve never seen you shine so bright

I’ve never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance

They’re looking for a little romance, given half a chance

And I have never seen that dress you’re wearing

Or the highlights in your hair that catch your eyes

I have been blind

The lady in red is dancing with me (cheek to cheek)

There’s nobody here

It’s just you and me

It’s where I wanna be

But I hardly know this beauty by my side

I’ll never forget the way you look tonight

He pulled away from you when the song faded away. “How was that? I mean, I know it’s not the Sadie Hawkins or anything, but-“

You kissed him.

In the whole of your life, you had never been this frustrated by or been made to feel this helpless by a man. You had never had a man hold you like you were delicate or precious. You had never felt his kiss kill you and give you life all at the same time. But here, on the edge of the black pool of an abandoned quarry in a remote section of Indiana, you felt the universe turn around you and the world shift as your fingertips brushed his jaw.

You were suddenly hyper-aware of him: his taste, warmth, pressure, scent. All of Eddie surrounded you and you wanted more. You wanted to crawl inside of his jacket and hide in his pocket. You wanted him to hold you and dance with you and talk to you. For this night and every night.

Eddie was stunned to his sneakers. He never expected you to kiss him. The hug was already a shock, but this? No way. Even after everything that had already happened between you, he would never have predicted it. In fact, when you had first walked up to him, he could have sworn that you were going to clock him right in the face. But then you didn’t. And then the song came on.

It was a little sappy for his taste, but he had heard it plenty of times in all sorts of places and when he paid attention to the lyrics, he realized that it was perfect for just this moment. After all, you were stunning and he felt so lucky to be here alone with you. And he did rob you of the chance to go to the dance with him. He owed you a dance at least.

And now this. He felt terrified to take more from you, but that’s all he wanted to do. He wanted to usher you into his van and kiss you everywhere. He wanted to spend the rest of the night here, if you’d let him. He felt your chilly fingertips touch his jaw and instinctively, he took your hand and held it. 

Your glassy-eyed stare was all he needed to see. He was sure that his looked the same to you. Holding your gaze, he slowly kissed you again. This time, he let it linger. This time, he didn’t run.

“Eddie,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You really want to date me for real?”

Eddie laughed and his hold on you released. His laugh busted out into a howl. He doubled over with it and stumbled a few paces away.

You watched him cackle and the longer it lasted, the more you found yourself becoming angry. “Edward Munson! Was this all just a trick to get me to kiss you again?”

His eyes flew wide and the laughter stopped immediately. “No no! Nooo! No, sweetheart, no!” He came to you and held both of your hands which you had balled into fists. “I’m not laughing at you at all! I mean it! I really did! It’s just- you asked me if I was for real and you- well, you’re you! You’re you and you’re asking me if I want to date you for real? You do remember that I’m the freak of Hawkins High and that you’re the Unattainable Ice Queen, right?”

“I do,” you said, thoroughly confused. “I mean- I didn’t think you liked me. That’s all.” You looked up into his dark eyes. They held a gentle humor and matched his soft smile.

“I know I gave you that impression in no uncertain terms, but…” He sighed and dropped to one knee. “You are the single most intelligent and beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on and it would be my undying honor to take you out on all the dates ever for as long as you can stand to be around this feeble excuse for a man.”

“Oh.” You wanted to kiss him so damn badly, but it took your stuttering brain too long to put the rest of your body into motion to do it. He stood.

He held up your left hand. “Aren’t you going to throw this?” The stone still lay in your palm, warm and solid.

“What? You want me to throw away your fake-aversary gift to me?”

“Honey, it’s a rock.”

“Yes. It’s a rock shaped like your guitar pic,” you said, flicking the plastic pendant for emphasis. “It’s also sort of heart-shaped, which is nice.” You pocketed the stone.

A slow grin spread across his face and he bowed his head, shaking it slowly. “You know, I think you might be weirder than me.”

“Then that makes us a pretty good match, don’t you think?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he said. For a moment, neither of you spoke and the DJ’s voice came through. “Hey, uh… you may want to shut off your radio and your lights or you won’t have juice in your battery.”

“Oh damn!” You ran to the car and did as he told you.

“Now start it up,” he said, fully prepared to grab his jumper cables if you needed them. “See if she cranks over.”

The engine stuttered but caught and you breathed a sigh of relief. Eddie wandered over to your window. You lowered it. “My knight in shining armor. My parents would have killed me. Especially since they think I’m at the dance,” you said, smiling. “You do know how to save a girl, don’t you, Munson?”

The grin on his face was contagious, but he shrugged modestly. “I do my best for any maiden in distress, but… well…”

“Well?”

You are my maiden to rescue, aren’t you?” he asked, uncertainly. You smiled at him and leaned toward him, making your wordless answer unmistakable. He smiled and leaned in gently, kissing you softly. In the span of time it took for his lips to meet yours and part again, he knew he didn’t want to push you. Everything was too new. It was too delicate. He didn’t want to crush this thing before it had a chance to exist. “Now,” he said, clearing his throat and looking at his watch, “it’s not completely late, but you did lie to your parents. If you’re feeling guilty about it, you may want to head home. Besides, it’s freezing out here. I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”

The clock on the dash said 8:40. That wasn’t late at all. Why was he calling you his maiden, kissing you, and then pushing you away?

Your confused look must have moved him. “You can have my number?” he offered. “Just to let me know you got home okay?”

You nodded dumbly and you exchanged numbers. Eddie wrote yours on his arm with a pen from your purse all the while thinking, baby steps baby steps baby steps…gotta move slow…

As he passed before your headlights again, your stubborn resolute nature found a voice. It was too soon. You didn’t want to do anything but be with him. Plus, your curfew wasn’t until midnight anyway. You easily had just under four hours to burn. You opened your door and with one foot in the car and the other one out, you leaned one hand on the roof and shouted to him: “Hey! Are you hungry? I have pizza money. We could go into town. If you want?”

Eddie stopped short. Your voice was a shock. Are you hungry? He paused, but in the next second he was thinking of where he could take you on the money he had coming to him next Saturday from Rick. He wanted to take you to Clark’s Diner or The Harvester’s, some place that was nice, but not Enzo’s nice. But then he registered what you said after that: pizza? His stomach growled. “Sure,” he said. “Larry’s?”

“Larry’s Pizzeria it is.”

[gravehags]

traduzione

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: dinner "date", a little bit of comedy turns into a whole lot of angst, girl these bitches don't know how to process OR express their feelings, secondo is a real one, terzo's subtle matchmaking hard at work as always

Words: 2,862

Summary: You finally decide to cash in your favor.

a/n: inspired by my quest to find a book for my capstone and only being able to locate a copy in italian. copia, my heroic translator.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“Hey Copia, I–oh!”

You realize a moment too late that you’ve barged into Cardinal Copia’s office without knocking in your eagerness to get to the man in question. Papa Secondo is standing with his arms crossed in his green and black robes (no mitre in sight) looking at you with his brows pulled together in a frown. Copia, looking like a startled version of one of his own rats, stands up hastily.

“I’m so sorry,” you squeak, backing out of the room but Secondo is already moving towards you. Every time you see him in full regalia with his paints you have a hard time equating it to the man who casually made you the best bolognese of your life. When he descends upon you, you feel so small. Out of all the papas, he is easily the most intimidating. You look up into the signature Emeritus gaze and after a beat, his withering expression fades and he gives you a slow, very deliberate wink.

“Cardinale, I will discuss our matter with you later. Piccolina…” he intones ominously before snagging your hand and raising to his lips in a brief kiss, “arrivederci.”

And with that Secondo Emeritus dramatically sweeps from the room, shutting the door behind him. Copia is standing stock-still behind his desk, looking vaguely horrified.

“Copia I am so sorry I forgot to knock, I’ve just been in my head all day and was so anxious to tell you–”

“Tell me what, cara?” He resumes his seat and gestures for you to take the one opposite him.

“Well…I suppose not really tell you. I…er…I would like to cash in my favor.”

The cardinal’s interest is immediately grabbed and he scoots forward in his seat to lean his elbows on the desk and intertwine his fingers. There’s color high on his freckled cheeks and he seems breathless when he finally speaks.

“What–” Copia clears his throat when the word comes out embarrassingly high pitched, “what do you have in mind?”

You take a deep breath. “Okay so. Imperator gave me permission to use Ministry funds to purchase a very rare, very important book for collections research, right?”

Copia nods, unsure of where this is going.

“The thing is…it’s entirely in Italian. And there are quite literally no available translations anywhere so I was wondering if you…could assist.”

The cardinal deflates a little and you’re slightly perplexed.

“Are you…are you sure that’s what you want to use your favor on?”

Oh, you know exactly what you’d really like to use your favor on. Something involving those plump painted lips and gloved hands spreading you open and—

Anyway.

“Yeah well I figured it’s going to be quite an undertaking having you read me this book while I transcribe notes. Not something I’d bother you with under any other circumstances. And if you don’t want to do it that’s fine, I can always ask one of the Italian speaking siblings or–”

“Naturalmente, I’ll do it,” he says quickly, completely banishing the idea of seeking outside help from your mind, “eh…when would you like to begin?”

“Oh the book won’t be here for a couple of weeks still but maybe we could use our Friday game night? You can just read to me until you’re tired of it or we’re both tired of it.”

Copia nods slowly, and you still sense a level of disappointment from him. Odd.

“I’ll um,” you say, fidgeting with a pen on his desk, “I’ll cook for you.”

Your attempt to sweeten the deal earns a snort of laughter from Copia, which causes you to pout.

“What? I can cook!”

“You burned the bruschetta for the dinner we had with the Papas.”

Your cheeks light up as you frown deeply at him.

“Okay, now that you’re such a doubting Thomas about it,” you smirk, leaning back in your chair, “I’ll make you anything you say. Name it.”

Copia looks almost impressed as he considers your offer.

“Eh…alright. Cacio e pepe.”

You smack your palms flat against the worktop of his desk. “Done. Just you wait, you’ll show up and I’ll have dinner, maybe a little chianti…”

“Sounds awfully romantic, cara. Do you perhaps have other intentions?”

His eyes are glittering mischievously, clearly teasing you, but your cheeks heat up all the same. Okay, so maybe you did have other intentions. Yes, you need him to translate this book for you but also…it sounds nice. Just the two of you, sitting on your couch eating pasta and reading about the creation of infernal art in Baroque Rome. When you realize his mismatched gaze has been staring at you for several moments, you laugh nervously.

“Copia, I promise I don’t have any designs on your…uh…virtue.”

He chuckles at this, leaning back and folding his hands over his stomach.

“Cara, I would be a poor Satanic cardinal indeed if I had any virtue left.”

“I don’t know, you’ve been awfully patient with me during this conversation. And you’re so diligent about your work. And incredibly kind. I think you’re still redeemable.”

When he scoffs and waves his hand, cheeks red, you stand up and make for the door.

“I’ll keep you posted about when the book arrives okay?”

“Sì, sì,” he says, straightening in his chair and shuffling paperwork.

“Looking forward to our date,” you say with a smirk, making sure to catch a glimpse of his eyes going wide and face going red as you flounce out the door.

–

Eleven days pass when you delicately unwrap the book from its secure packaging in your office. Holding it in hand, you use your dark red fingernail to trace the embossed title. After a moment, you set it down and pick up your phone to text Copia.

Book’s here. Tomorrow night? 6:00?

Looking forward to it, mia cara.

C

The endearment still makes you warm and fuzzy inside and you take a moment to revel in the feeling before the weight of reality comes crashing down on you.

You have no fucking clue how to make cacio e pepe.

–

Catching Secondo away from his brothers or outside of Ministry duties is a difficult beast. You have one chance to time it right and snag him in his office before his confession duties start and he is waylaid by siblings wishing to share their sins and desires with him. Lurking around the corner, you watch as another cardinal you are unfamiliar with leaves Secondo’s office and once he is out of sight, you bolt for the door. It hasn’t even fully closed yet when you’re knocking rapidly on it, waiting in the threshold. Secondo whirls around behind his desk and when his eyes land on you, he smirks.

“You’ve learned to knock before entering rooms now, I see,” he says, placing his hands on his desk and leaning forward.

“Uh…yeah. Sorry about that. Great to see you and all but I have a big favor to ask of you. Huge.”

Secondo leans back and his face relaxes into a neutral expression.

“Don’t you usually ask il tuo cardinale for favors?”

Your Italian is shit but you pick that up loud and clear. Your cardinal.

“Haha yeah see the favor is sort of about him, you know?” 

When he gestures for you to continue your tale of woe the words spill out of your mouth at an alarming rate, “I promised him I would make him dinner and I can’t cook for shit and he requested cacio e pepe and I was wondering if you could teach me?”

He looks both stunned and impressed by the speed at which you relay your request, but after a moment his face schools into a soft smile.

“Piccolina,” he begins, walking over to you, “I’ll do you one better, I’ll make it for you. Our little secret, no? When is this engagement with the cardinal?”

You want to cry, you're so relieved and thankful and without thinking, you throw your arms around him, squeezing tight. He stumbles backwards a little from the force with which you have flung yourself at him, but he pats you on the back all the same.

“Secondo, I could kiss you right now,” you sigh into his vestments before pulling back. He’s looking at you with a peculiar little knowing half smile.

“Normally I would take you up on that offer but,” he pauses, bringing his hands together, “I am not who you are destined for, sì?”

You start to ask what exactly he means by that little cryptic comment when he’s ushering you out the door and into the hall.

“It’s at six, tomorrow night. Secondo thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re a reputation saver.” 

He steps out too and begins to walk into the direction of the chapel while you blow an abundance of air kisses at him, which he catches with the most stoic of faces.

—

As promised, Secondo delivers the still-hot pasta at 5:45, just in time for you to put the pot on the stove to make it look legitimate. You texted Copia earlier, telling him to dress casual. You’ve put on one of your nicer pairs of black leggings and a cut up shirt from the Ghost project, which you’ve recently acquired from Terzo. The book is resting on your hastily tidied coffee table, along with your laptop. You’ve got the chianti, as promised - a good bottle too - another gift from Terzo. Nervously you uncork the bottle and set it on the counter to let it breathe while you wait for his arrival. When his knocks sound on your door you nearly jump out of your skin before padding over to open it. You fling it open and there he is, il tuo cardinale, and you can’t help but smile at his outfit. You’ve never in all your months at the abbey seen him dress casual, and his version is perfectly delightful. He’s wearing a matching loose red tracksuit with a black t-shirt on underneath, gloves still on his hands and his pristine black dress shoes on his feet. You’re so incredibly charmed by his appearance you forget to move aside to let him in until he makes a nervous noise and gestures into your quarters.

“Hi! Sorry! Please come in!”

You pull away to go “check” on the pasta as he shuffles into your space and closes the door behind him.

“Smells good,” he comments as he moves towards your small kitchen space.

“Doesn’t it?” you preen, pouring a generous amount of wine into his glass before handing it off to him. He swirls it around and leans his perfect pointed nose into the glass to inhale, before pulling back looking impressed.

“Terzo gave it to me,” you comment, pouring yourself a glass, “You like it?”

“Very good,” he says, looking at the bottle, “how kind of Papa Terzo to give you one of my favorites.”

You halt your pouring and look over to him. Once again you are struck by Terzo’s preternatural ability to steer you in Copia’s direction in one way or another. Honestly, it’s getting to the point where you should write him a thank you note every time it happens.

“Please, go take a seat, I’ll dish you up some pasta,” you say, ushering him over to the small living room while he takes both glasses in his hands. Taking two plates from a cabinet you make sure to scoop the pasta and twirl it artfully on the white porcelain. A little sprinkle of pecorino romano, as per Secondo’s instruction, et voila. Perfection. You dish out your portion and grab a couple forks and walk over to the couch, presenting his plate with a flourish.

“Cacio e pepe, as promised,” you murmur, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa and sitting criss-cross. You don’t take a bite until Copia has, watching him slowly chew and contemplate the meal.

“Bellissima,” he finally says as he gathers another forkful, “I take back my unkind words about your cooking skills. Although, I do have to say there is something…familiar about this dish.”

You stop mid chew and look up at him silently with wide eyes before swallowing and laughing nervously.

“Old family recipe,” you comment, before hastily adding, “not my family recipe I mean, but…someone’s certainly. Right?”

You’re not lying to him, technically but you make sure to dodge eye contact with him throughout the rest of the meal. Some time later when the two of you finish and you gather your plates to put them in the sink, you miss Copia smiling to himself knowingly as he sips his wine. You return with the bottle, refilling both your glasses before situating yourself comfortably and pulling your laptop over.

“Ready?” you say, firing up your word processor.

He nods, and picks up the old book, handling it with great care before opening it and settling on the first page. Listening to him is…wonderful. He intersperses his English translation with bits of the original Italian, and the way his tongue wraps around the words and the extra flourish with which he rolls his r’s makes you sigh dreamily. At times, you get so caught up in simply listening to him speak that you forget to type out your notes and have to ask him to pause so you can recalibrate your brain to the task. The bottle of wine goes quickly, and the contents go straight to your head. You can feel your cheeks and chest flush and you know your filter is gone when you interrupt him to speak.

“I love listening to you talk,” you smile, leaning your head onto the back cushion of the couch.

Copia looks flabbergasted, face heating up to match yours and it takes all your willpower to not move your computer aside and climb into his lap. You can think of no one else who deserves to be kissed more than he. Always so patient with you, so kind. You know you’re looking at him funny because he nervously looks away as if he’s afraid of what could happen next.

“Eh…I think I should go,” he says, closing the book and rising from the couch as your smile slips. Now look at what you’ve done, you think bitterly, you’re scaring him off. The liquor is making your head spin and you want to cry at how stupid you’ve been. This is how it always is with the two of you, you always talk a big flirtatious game but when he comes down to it, neither of you will pull the trigger. Imagine how you would have looked trying to kiss him, the voice in your head laughs, your wine-stained lips clumsily searching for his. He’s a satanic Cardinal, get real. You have to dig your fingernails into the meat of your palm to keep yourself from crying as you stand up and follow him to the door.

“Thank you, cara,” he murmurs after you open it for him. “I am…I am very tired all of a sudden. The wine, you see. Very powerful stuff.”

You nod in agreement with a stiff smile, looking past him. He seems to pick up on your shift in mood, and gently takes your hands into his gloved ones.

“Dolcezza,” he begins, gazing at you earnestly, “ragazza meravigliosa. I…”

He falters, unsure of what to say or perhaps, how to say what he wants to tell you. Be brave, you think, be fucking brave and do something for once. Before he can stutter out anything more you place your hand softly on his cheek and hold it there for a moment, content to feel the warmth of his skin. He exhales deeply and shakily as you run your thumb over his freckled cheekbone. Before any other voices inside you can tell you to do otherwise, you lean in and press a sweet, lingering kiss to his cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, you have after all done this exact thing before in a drunken state, but this time feels…different. When you finally pull away, your breath ghosts over his lips and he lets out a miniscule noise. 

“For being you, Copia,” you say, “thank you. For everything, always.”

He looks as if he could burst into tears at any moment and you look away, allowing him time to gather himself. When he clears his throat and claps his hands together, you look back at him with a bright smile. The moment is gone and you both return to playing pretend about your true emotions.

“We can…uh…finish this later, sì? I hope what we’ve done so far helps.”

“It does, thank you Cardinal. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He nods, still wearing the mask he so carefully puts on in moments like this.

“Bene. Goodnight, cara. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Copia,” you say, heart sinking as you watch him walk down the corridor and you shut your door. Sighing, you lower yourself to the floor with your back against it, looking around the small apartment. 

Bravery does not come easily to either of you, it seems. 

But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop trying.

[loserdiaz]

inspiration saturday! 💌🎸

tagged by @prince-buck-diaz @panbuckley @monsterrae1 and @honestlydarkprincess 💗 thanks lovelies

here's a snippet and a moodboard for my exes to lovers musician buck au (i can't remember if i shared this already bc it's been months but im pretty sure i haven't)

Buck and Eddie broke up on a Tuesday night, because of course they did. 

Buck had been on tour for six months at the time and turns out long distance relationships are way harder than they ever gave them credit for— not to mention the constant scrutiny and rumors they had to deal with. 

Honestly, Buck doesn't blame Eddie at all for finishing things off. Eddie was always too good to be true anyway, and he deserves better than whatever Buck could ever offer. Eddie deserves happiness and he deserves being worshiped and adored… and he deserves peace. Something Buck could never give him, no matter how much he wants to. 

Eddie called him after his last concert in London— it had been almost midnight for Buck but Eddie was just getting out of a shift and the sun was hitting his face in just the right way, making his skin look golden and tanned and so tempting. 

But Buck had immediately known something was wrong by the way Eddie's shoulders had been tense and his lips had been pursed in a fine line. 

"I can't do this anymore." Eddie had said and the wind had been knocked out of Buck in the worst way possible. "I'm sorry."

Eddie's voice had sounded controlled and the man had been avoiding eye contact like the plague. Buck had known right then and there it was over. 

Admittedly, the break up has been hard and he's been heartbroken since that video call— they couldn't even do it face to face, for God's sake— and he's been spiraling more than ever. 

Over a decade as a musician, doing this until he could perform an entire concert with his eyes closed, and he’d never once been as homesick as he was after that call. He'd never been nervous before a performance, but his stomach roiled now ominously. He’d been able to distract himself from the devastating blow, the memory of warm brown eyes and soft skin and a fond smile, for the last two days, pushing the tour crew and himself hard, pouring all of himself over his lyrics, writing heartbreaking songs after heart breaking songs, even booking some studio hours in whatever city he was at the time. If he stopped moving or thinking, there Eddie was, and Jesus, Buck'd fucking lost him. 

His jugular ached from supporting his heart. That’s where it sat after the breakup, every minute of the day; having Eddie in his life had been so painfully sweet. So much better than Buck knew life could be.

And it ended. 

Of course it did.

It always ends, Buck thinks bitterly. 

The fans and the magazines and gossip sites have been speculating about the reason like crazy for months, even from way before Eddie actually broke up with him. (Buck can't help but to resent them a little bit for that.) but nothing prepared him for this.

tagging: @buddierights @alyxmastershipper @prettyboybuckley @bigfootsmom @starlingbite @hippolotamus @the-likesofus @spotsandsocks @elvensorceress @ebdaydreamer @bekkachaos @messyhairdiaz @barbiediaz @dijkstraspath @911onabc @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @spaceprincessem @transbuck @transboybuckley @thewolvesof1998 @diazblunt and whoever else wants to do it <33

[swordsonnet]

okay i lied, i am going to be talking spoilers (because i have no self-control, and i've seen other people share spoilers in the magnus protocol tag, so i assume it's fine?). assorted rambling thoughts on the premiere under the cut:

-ngl "rusty quill presents... the magnus protocol" made me so emotional

-ah yes, a civil service data entry job that has you working night shifts for no discernible reason. that's not ominous at all

-i love the new characters already! they all have such interesting personalities and relationships with each other, can't wait to see how they'll be developed in further episodes. colin is probably my favourite so far, we stan a grumpy IT guy

-speaking of colin, i'm glad we've got a scottish character this time! i love TMA to bits, but it had a lamentable lack of scottish accents

-alice is so much fun as well! i love how jonny described her as a "tumblr shitposter par excellence"

-sam is such a sweet guy, but i'm sure he'll be introduced to The Horrors™ soon enough... although maybe he already was! he seemed to be familiar with the magnus institute, and just like the trailer, this episode also hinted at something traumatic in his past that led him to join the OIAR. probably something to do with those dubiously ethical child psychology experiments...

-i hadn't even considered what OIAR would sound like spoken out loud, and it's so awkward lmao. really doesn't roll off the tongue

-i kinda ship alice and gwen now tbh. i'm getting prime "workplace nemeses to lovers" vibes from them

-okay, let's address the thing everyone's probably thinking about: i'm not sure how to feel about jon and martin's - sorry, chester and neil's - involvement in protocol. (i mean, it's not 100% confirmed that it is jon and martin, but it seems pretty likely.) like i've said before, i would have preferred to keep the ambiguity of their original ending, but on the other hand, this could be shaping up to be a really interesting plotline. plus, y'know, i've gotten pretty emotionally attached to these characters (*gestures vaguely at my ao3*), so i wouldn't be opposed to seeing them again!

-i guess the guy alice nicknamed augustus is going to be jonah magnus, then? that idea is just so funny to me. imagine being trapped in a computer with your boyfriend (who stabbed you) and your evil boss (whom you stabbed)

-i really like the vibe of the new "statements"! i particularly enjoyed the forum entries, i always appreciate the use of unique formats to tell a story. it reminds me a little of analogue horror, though of course it's the exact opposite of analogue - you could call it digital horror, i suppose? anyway, much as i loved the more traditional horror story structure of the TMA statements, i think it's super exciting that they're branching out and trying new things with protocol. looking forward to see what else they'll come up with!

[mint-yooxgi]

{8} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on San & Wooyoung)

Words: 4,331

Warnings: Small mention of a burn injury. I think that’s all. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Okay, so I know this chapter and the last might be a little slow or boring to some, but it’s setting up the flow of the rest of the story before it really takes off. There’s going to be a few time skips going forward which will help progress all of their relationships better, but I'm honestly excited for the next chapter. More build up is coming, and then it’s time for the eldest to make a reappearance! Perhaps even a certain hotheaded brother of theirs ehehehe anyways, as always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I do not do tag lists.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Mini Masterlist

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Wooyoung whispers to the male beside him.

“It has to be,” San scrunches his nose as he takes another deep breath in. “It reeks of them.”

“Okay, well,” Wooyoung shoots a look at the elder dragon out of the corner of his eyes, “why don’t you go knock on their door first, and find out?”

“Why can’t you do it?” San counters, eyes sharp as they both continue to crouch in the bush.

“You’re the eldest!” Wooyoung harshly whispers, an exasperated look in his eyes. “I still have my whole life ahead of me; I’m so young!”

“I’m not that much older than you,” San frowns, shooting a pointed look at the dragon beside him. “If anything, the youngest should protect his elder.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

“With how often I have to baby you, it certainly feels like it.”

“You take that back right now, or I’m gonna-“

“Is there a reason the two of you Halas are crouching in our bush?” A voice from behind them startles both San and Wooyoung so much that they both fall onto their asses instantly.

“Oh, we weren’t hiding,” San chuckles sheepishly, the tips of his ears slowly turning red.

“I never said you were,” the male hums, stepping around them and into the yard. “Ten, don’t attack the newbies.”

A rustling from above their heads draws their attention to the branches of the tree they’re currently under. They didn’t even know they were being watched.

“Aw, you ruin all my fun,” said male pouts, hopping down from the tree in the next second. A dull thud is heard before Ten stands back to his full height right before the two Halas, a gleam in his eyes. “So, the two of you want to learn about medicine, huh?”

“Ten, you’re about as intimidating as a mouse,” the other male sighs, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I wouldn’t be if you didn’t keep interrupting!” Ten retorts, turning his head to glare at the other male standing off to the side.

“I’m sorry for him,” the male sighs. “I’m Taeil, but I’m sure you both have probably figured that out by now. I’ve been told you’re in need of instruction?”

This seems to snap the two Hala’s out of their daze.

“Uh… yes,” San clears his throat, being the first to stand back to his feet. Almost immediately, he bows to the two Neos before him, introducing both him and his brother. “Thank you for taking the time to train us.”

Wooyoung, noticing the bow that San gives the two elder males, is quick to follow, mumbling a small ‘thanks’ as well.

“Don’t thank us just yet,” Taeil huffs, turning around and beginning to move around the back of the house. “Come. We have much to do.”

Fifteen minutes later, and both San and Wooyoung are standing behind a table with a bunch of herbs spread out before them. Two cauldrons rest off to the side, empty and ominous, as both Ten and Taeil stand across from the Halas.

“First thing’s first, we need to know what you know so we’re not repeating ourselves,” Taeil comments, eyes briefly darting down to the array of plants spread out before them on the table. “I hate when people talk down to me, so I will not be attempting to do so to you.”

“Name as many of these as you can, and separate them into piles of what you know, what you do not know, and those you think you know but are unsure of.” Ten instructs. “Use whatever means necessary to identify the ones you can.”

This earns Ten a smack upside the head from Taeil before the elder male is turning to face San and Wooyoung once more.

“If you are ever unsure of a herb, do not ingest it.” Taeil’s eyes narrow into slits. “That’s the quickest way to get yourself killed.”

“Aw, Taeil,” Ten whines. “You ruin all the fun.”

“Need I remind you of what happened when you tried that technique on Shotaro.” Taeil’s eyes flash, and they all see Ten visibly stiffen.

“I didn’t think he’d be dumb enough to actually taste the frost berries,” Ten mumbles, subconsciously rubbing at his left forearm.

“He was still a hatchling, he didn’t know any better,” Taeil crosses his arms over his chest, voice firm. “You’re lucky both her and I were here to handle it at the time.”

“I will never forget the wrath in her eyes that day,” Ten shudders.

“You deserved it,” Taeil hums, eyes briefly darting to the male’s left forearm. “Honestly, she didn’t do enough.”

Ten rolls his eyes, “and they say I’m the sadistic one.”

Both San and Wooyoung share a cautious look.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Taeil shifts his gaze to the two Halas once more, an unnerving grin settling onto his features. “Get started.”

An hour later, and after many hushed arguments between Wooyoung and San over which herbs are which, the two dragons finally have three distinct piles before them. Carefully, both Taeil and Ten inspect the pile of plants the two Halas do not know, nodding to themselves all the while.

“Alright, go through the pile you know and tell us everything you know about the identified herbs.” Taeil stands, arms crossed, just opposite San. “We can work with those ones for today and tomorrow.”

Ten quickly clears the table of the other two piles, making sure to keep each separate from the other as he places them in their own holding containers. As soon as he’s standing across from Wooyoung, they begin.

San does most of the talking, Wooyoung chiming in here and there with what he knows. With each herb identified, the plants are once more spread out across the table before all of them. A fact which makes it easier to look them over.

After each herb is properly identified, and both San and Wooyoung tell the two Neos everything they know about it, Ten and Taeil are taking the time to explain any additional medicinal uses of each. Some, they only need to add one or two things to their explanation, and others, San seemingly understands everything there is about them already.

To say that Taeil is mildly impressed would be an understatement.

“Alright, good,” Taeil nods, an approving look shining in his eyes. “Understanding the basics is a key part to any good herbal remedy or tonic. Without knowing what you’re working with, you can severely hurt yourself, or the people you are attempting to help. You cannot build a house without a good foundation.”

Both Wooyoung and San nod eagerly in response.

“Now, for the fun part!” Ten grins, moving over to the edge of the woods. “You’ve successfully identified the plants on the tables, and you now know the fundamental uses of each. To continue, you need to be able to find and curate them in the wild.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Wooyoung frowns lightly, eyes darting between Ten and the vast forest behind him.

At the way San’s brow quirks somewhat amusedly, Taeil sighs. “You cannot rely on growing exactly what you need when you need it all the time. There could be instances where you are unconscious, and your clan needs to revive you. The soil could be infertile, or you may not have the strength left in you to expend such energy to grow such resources. You both need to learn to survive off of the land as if you don’t have the added benefits of growing what you desire every time.”

“I can’t grow things like that,” Wooyoung begins, a slight pout on his face.

“But he can,” Ten points to San.

“How do you know my powers are plant related?” San eyes the two males cautiously, guard raised slightly.

“Well, for one, you have a keen interest in herbs,” Taeil begins. “If you could heal like me, you wouldn’t have had such an intense reaction to the frost berry leaves the other day.”

“That, and you care for plants like Jungwoo does. A dragon with the exact same power as you.” Ten explains.

Just then, a head pops out the backdoor. “I heard my name.”

“Ah, Jungwoo, good timing,” Taeil hums, motioning the younger dragon to join them with his head. “Would you be so kind as to inform these two about your personal training?”

“What about it?” Jungwoo’s brow furrows as he comes to stand beside Ten.

“You weren’t allowed to use your powers at all when she trained you on herbs and remedies. Isn’t that correct?” Taeil shoots the male a knowing look.

“It was a bit of a pain at first, but honestly, it helped me better in the long run.” Jungwoo nods, recalling the memories now. “It’s easier for me to identify and find the proper plants now, without having to expend my energy creating them.”

“How do you expect us to find all of them, then?” San looks between the three Neos in front of them.

“Have you never tracked something before?” Ten’s brow raises, incredulously.

“We never said you couldn’t use your other senses.” Taeil hints, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“How do you expect us to find the plants that have no aroma? Or similar smelling plants?” Wooyoung huffs, frustration beginning to pull on his features.

“Everything in this world has a specific scent, even the things that you think do not. Right there is your hint: what can you sense, and what can you not.” Taeil replies, staring into Wooyoung’s eyes, and then San’s equally. “Train yourself to recognize everything in an area, both organic and not, the moment you either set foot on land, or pass over it in your true form.”

“If nothing is there to sense, how do you expect us to know whether something is there or not?” Wooyoung’s frown deepens, irritation beginning to show on his features as he goes to take a step forward.

San’s hand on the younger male’s shoulder stops him right in his tracks.

“I think I understand what you’re saying,” the dragon nods slowly to himself. “The clue is the missing scent for things that do not have a smell.”

Taeil smiles knowingly, while Ten simply begins to chuckle deeply. The only one who remains calm is Jungwoo, but even he nods his head subtly.

“You have more than just a sensitive nose, boy,” Jungwoo locks gazes with him. “You may not be allowed to expend your powers, but we can do more than just cause plants to bloom.”

San’s brows furrow mildly in confusion as Jungwoo takes this time to head back into the house.

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” he calls over his shoulder. “Just make sure you listen.”

The sound of the backdoor shutting echoes throughout the space soon after. A look of determination spreads across San’s features, while Wooyoung still looks confused.

“I don’t care how long it takes, but find each of those herbs on the table in the wild,” Taeil instructs. “When you’re done, come back here and find us.”

“You know general areas of growth for most of them now, it shouldn’t be that hard.” Ten adds, nodding to each of them. “Good luck.”

Without another word, the two Neos are walking back towards the house, leaving the two Halas to their thoughts.

They share a look.

“Well,” San lets out a low breath, “let’s get searching.”

The task is in no way simple, and it takes the two of them hours to find each and every herb that had been on that table. There had even been a few times where they had to go back and sniff the plants to make sure they were harvesting the correct ones. The scentless ones were a bit of a pain, but San seemed to have a better time finding those after a little while.

Now, as the sun begins to set, hues of orange and red painting the sky, they finally have the collection of herbs ready for inspection.

The backdoor creaks open, light pouring out of the opening as Ten and Taeil step back outside.

“Finished harvesting, are we?” Ten hums, munching on a small roll of bread.

The way both Halas eye that piece of food does not go unnoticed by either Neo.

“Let’s see how you did.” Taeil sighs, stepping up to the table and ignoring how both male’s stomachs begin to growl. A moment later, he nods. “Good. It took you both a few hours, but you’ve successfully managed to pick the proper herbs. Tomorrow, we’ll focus on brewing some tonics with these select plants, as well as what not to mix them with. For now-“

“Here,” two small rolls of bread are tossed into the air, one aimed towards each male. “You two must be starving.”

Catching the bun is easy with their reflexes, and both San and Wooyoung lift their heads to see Renjun standing with his arms crossed beside Ten.

“She’d kill us if we didn’t treat you as proper guests.” Renjun adds, motioning behind him to the open backdoor. “You’re both welcome to eat with us tonight, and every night henceforth until the week of your training has been complete.”

“Thank you for the offer,” Wooyoung inclines his head, along with San. “I’m afraid we’ll have to politely decline tonight.”

“We should probably get back home, anyways.” San replies, a faint, gracious smile on his lips. “Thank you for everything today. Same time tomorrow?”

Taeil nods, eyes glinting beneath the setting sun. “See you then.”

Without another word, the two Halas are turning around and disappearing into the forest. A few seconds later, two dragons are seen taking off into the darkening sky, tails flicking contently behind them as they travel home.

The rest of the week continues on like this. San and Wooyoung always arrive a little early for their lessons, to which both Ten and Taeil enjoy teasing them as much as they can before actually starting for the day.

The second day was spent brewing different mixtures and tonics with the plants they had knowledge of. Then, the next, the two Halas were instructed to go through the pile of herbs they thought they knew, but were unsure of. Both Ten and Taeil either confirmed or corrected their labelling of the plants, again making sure to inform each dragon of the effects of such herbs when necessary. Then, they were instructed to find said plants in the wild using their senses, to which they had a bit of a harder time doing, but it didn’t take them as long the second time around.

The fourth day was spent brewing again, but this time, using the plants they had recently confirmed as such. Wooyoung accidentally added too much sweetgrass to his mixture, which caused his tonic to turn into a strong sleeping tonic instead of a burn remedy. However, San was able to save the mixture, much to both Ten and Taeil’s surprise.

So far, their training is coming along swimmingly.

The fifth and sixth days were, again, repeats of the days before, but now focussing on the pile of plants neither male had any idea about. It took Ten and Taeil a little longer to explain things to them, and they ended up quizzing them once they were done going through all of them, just to be safe. Once both males could confidently identify each plant, they were sent scavenging for them. It was the hardest hunt, but the shortest after falling into a rhythm, and now knowing what to look for.

In fact, both Wooyoung and San started to pick up certain scents easier than others after a few days. Each male soon was able to recognize certain herbal aromas growing in different area, even on their flights to and from the Neo’s house every day. San could even sense the earth beneath his very soul easier, and a few times, he could have sworn he heard whispers on the wind. Though, he tended to ignore those. For now.

Each night when they both got home, they would share everything and anything they could about their learnings from the day to any and all of their brothers who would listen. Jongho, Hongjoong, and Yunho all seemed to be the most attentive, and even Yeosang could not hide his interest when sitting in the same room. However, attempting to convince Mingi or Seonghwa to listen could be a challenge. Yet, both males could not ignore the way they could now sense the eldest listening in on every conversation despite looking irritated the whole time.

The seventh and final day of their training week with Taeil and Ten is spent brewing remedies and mixing salves to any and all scenarios the two Neos can come up with. It’s the perfect way to test Wooyoung’s and San’s knowledge from the past week, or so they’ve been told. Besides, it’s good to go over everything new learned, especially if they’re still not entirely used to brewing certain things yet.

It’s when both San and Wooyoung are working on their fifth tonics for the day when you arrive. You push through the bush, sliding the hood of your cloak from your head as soon as you enter the clearing, a calm demeanour to your gait that instantly spreads through them all.

“Good afternoon,” you greet with a friendly smile, and both San and Wooyoung swear the sun begins to shine just a little bit brighter in that moment.

“We were wondering when you would show up,” Ten hums, arms crossed as he sits on one of the benches by the wooden tables they’ve lined up outside.

“I’ve heard no complaints from either of you so far, so I figured training has been going well,” you reply, shifting the basket you’re carrying to your opposite hand.

Just then, the backdoor slams open, and five males come scrambling out.

“See!” Shotaro elbows Jaemin quite harshly in the ribs. “I told you I heard her voice!”

“Yeah, well, I sensed her first!” Haechan retorts, walking briskly towards where you’re currently standing.

“No, I did,” Jaemin grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest grumpily.

“Oh, no,” Jeno pulls Haechan back by the scruff of his neck. “Like hell I’ll let you be the first to see her before me.”

Only, the next time the four males look over, they see Chenle already practically hanging off of you, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

“You snooze, you lose, fellas.” He chuckles, a cheeky grin pulling onto his lips.

At the way he sense both Halas shooting not-so-subtle glances his way, his eyes begin to shine with mischief. Squeeing your waist a bit tighter, Chenle places a quick peck to your cheek, grinning wildly as he sees San throw the next ingredient rather harshly into his cauldron.

“My Cubs,” you hum affectionately, and content rumbles meet your ears from all around as you ruffle Chenle’s hair. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” Shotaro bounds up to you, immediately falling into step beside you as you begin to walk towards the back door.

“I’m cooking, so I better be,” you chuckle, and the way you see all of their eyes light up has a smile pulling at your features once more. “You boys would eat me out of house and home if you could.”

“Let me carry that for you, then,” Jeno quickly swipes the basket from your hands before you can so much as protest. Of course, you fail to see the way the edge of his lips quirk upwards smugly as he walks right passed both San and Wooyoung who watch him quite sharply out of the corner of their eyes.

“My sweet boys,” your eyes shine with a fondness neither Hala has seen before from you. A fondness which they want to experience more of, but perhaps, directed towards them instead.

A clearing of Taeil’s throat manages to draw them out of their dazes. Each male turns to the elder dragon to see him looking towards them with a quirked brow, only for his gaze to dart down at the cauldrons in the next second.

That’s when the smell of burning pine reaches San’s nostrils.

“My tonic!” The panic that seizes him is instant, and he begins to fret over the bubbling substance, immediately pulling it from over the flames.

Not for long, though, for a loud bang echoes from beside him as Wooyoung’s cauldron explodes. The force is enough to send both Halas stumbling back, the younger of the two clutching his right wrist tenderly in his opposite hand.

Pieces of broken cauldron litter the surrounding area, but luckily, no shards have embedded themselves in anyone’s flesh.

“Ten, did you fucking add dried juniper powder to the ingredients on the table again?” You gaze is sharp, tone somewhat amused as the dragon innocently averts his gaze.

In the next moment, Ten stands from the table he’s sitting at, mumbling something about Hendery and Xiaojun needing his help with something. He disappears inside the house rather quickly after that, whistling innocently all the while.

A sigh escapes you, ushering your cubs inside as well, and telling them to start prepping some of the food before you come inside to cook.

“What am I going to do with you?” You shake your head, mumbling under your breath.

Walking over, you extend your hand out to Wooyoung, who gently places his burnt wrist in your grip.

“I hope he hasn’t been like this the whole week,” you sigh once more, inspecting Wooyoung’s wrist tenderly as Taeil cleans up the remains of the cauldron.

“No, no,” Wooyoung waves your worry off, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as he feels you holding his one hand so carefully in your own. “I just wasn’t paying attention.”

You quirk a brow, meeting his gaze. “Then, would you like me to heal this, or would you like to show me what you’ve learned?”

Immediately, Wooyoung straightens beneath your gaze. Carefully, he steps up once more to the table with the various plants spread out on the surface after reluctantly pulling his hand out of your grip. Confidently, and with little hesitance, he begins to combine herbs in a mortar, grinding them together despite wincing slightly in pain.

Wordlessly, you stand beside San as you watch Wooyoung work, a small smile tugging at your lips. A smile of which has a pride filling the younger’s chest as he finishes creating a paste to spread over his burn.

Of course, once he’s finished mixing the salve, he offers it to you. A giddy smile rests on his features as you nod softly, a somewhat expectant look in your eyes as you push the mortar back towards Wooyoung for the moment.

“I’m not the one who needs this right now,” your voice is soft, nothing more than a tender caress of which Wooyoung is more than happy to get lost in.

Once the paste has been applied, you’re walking over to the garden at the side of the house, and plucking a thick leaf off of a plant.

“Here,” you offer it to Wooyoung. “Press that on top of the paste for five minutes, and you’ll be as good as new. Our healing abilities can only get us so far.”

Accepting the leaf, Wooyoung’s eyes shine with adoration. He can feel his heart racing inside of his chest as you smile gently at him once more, feeling San shoot him a pointed look from behind. Though, with how giddy Wooyoung is feeling in this moment, nothing can bring him down.

“You both have come a long way in just a week,” you nod, and your acknowledgement means more to the both of them than you’ll ever know. “I have heard no complaints, or faults, from Ten or Taeil. I will oversee the rest of your training starting two days from now. Take some time to rest, and hone what you have learned. We’ll start fresh after the weekend has passed.”

San’s breath gets caught in his throat, tears of joy lining the corners of his eyes.

Instantly, both dragons are bowing deeply to you, nothing but gratitude falling from their lips.

You chuckle. “There is no need to thank me. You two have more than proved yourselves this past week. I am proud of what you both have already accomplished.”

The grins that stretch across both San and Wooyoung’s faces are nothing short of giddy. Pure, unfiltered joy causes their eyes to crinkle at the sides, pleased rumbled escaping their chest in pride.

“Now, will the two of you be joining us for dinner?” You smile, and again, each male can feel their hearts pounding in their chests.

“We wouldn’t want to intrude,” San replies, somewhat shyly, despite his inner voice screaming at him to immediately accept your offer.

“Nonsense,” you turn you back to them, and what you fail to see is the way San’s eyes briefly linger on that spot between your shoulder blades, a sort of sadness and regret filling his eyes. “My boys tell me you have refused their invitations every night since you’ve started your training. If it’s because you think you’d be a burden, or unwelcome, you are mistaken.” You turn to look at both of them from over your shoulder. “Come. Join us. Let us celebrate a week well spent.”

Wooyoung clears his throat, swallowing his overjoyed emotions for the moment as he attempts to keep himself from rushing over to you this very second. “Are you sure?”

“If you would rather eat with your own clan, I will not be offended,” you reply with a simple shrug, a small quirk to your lips. “But if you’d like to stay, I’m making stew.”

[cool-person-yey]

I must've rolled a pretty low fucking number bc the number of unfortunate events that happened to make me be late to this is astounding— anyways TMAGP NOTES 9!

you know the drill, spoilers for the new tmagp episode and it is tagged as such bla bla bla

a bit late this time y'all i'm sorry

oh the horrors. nooooo.

as always, ominous music.

as always, office noises

no ones gave you anything? huh

yeah why did you tick that box sir

why sam. why.

that doesnt make sense and im here for it

educational instition

7 being traumatic

what the hell

no one will ever read it

this will come back to bite you in the ass sweetie

hmm hmm

STATEMENT??

MAGNUS INSTITUE??

NOT TOUCHING WHAT

what box

bad luck what

got babies

i do not trust ppl named Gary

why dont you like dnd

MUGGING??? needles maybe? idk opperator guy mentioned a mugging ithink

blood?

i know why now of course. what does that mean.

heavy dice?

you own them??

spooky dice!1!!11!

scars??? ma'am r u alright

always felt like your choice. even if it was a shitty choice. where have i ever seen that.

oh no

nobody ever said no huh. nobody said no. nobody.

like the creep i absolutely was lmaoo

oh. oh. sir you are being very much creepy

abstract?

that seems pretty good actually

honestly that seems pretty fucking cool ngl

dude really started playing the luck ghost role

oh hey gary

The Voice

pay him back oh boy

oh no

oh n o

o h n o

the dice stares back

oh no

OPENING HIS SKULL LIKE AN OVERIPE GRAPE

whoever created this line and the tomato one you are evil

" it's your problem now fuck you"

just once more. just once more.

PARAMEDICS

what must have happened huh

oh Gwen!

first assignment!

a name?

oh no

BONZO!!!!!!!!!!!!

BONZO MENTION1!!11!

Teddy!!

oh those bastards

french revolution c:

That Creature

Alice unronically uses tubular its canon

nnotification

oh hes got a interview yay

i can almost imagine how this gonna hurt later

teddy's gonna die im betting on it]

oh sam!!!!!

Oh MY gOD

" what is it with people today" < says the one who said Sam was in love with celia

abandomnent issues huh

COME TO SOME RUINS

i remember they mentioned ep 10 alice and sam will go to a place

the " going to Manchester to dig thru an old building" stage

yeah they're going

andd see yall next thursday

[vodika-vibes]

Little Red

Summary: You're a detective for Mandalore Police, and your Chief decides to assign you the case file for the long-lost son of Jango Fett, Hound.

Pairing: Devil!Hound x Detective!Reader

Word Count: 5769

Warnings: None

A/N: When I say "Devil" I'm talking about the Pathfinder/DND version of Devil. Not the Christian Version. Also, someday I'll be able to write a story without Lore but it's not today.

Tagging: @the-bad-batch-baroness who suggested Hound and Grizzer

Divider by saradika

You jump when a file is dropped heavily on your desk, sending pages from all of your other active investigations fluttering to the floor. You scramble to gather and sort the fallen pages, and then glare up at your boss. 

“Was that necessary?” You ask.

“Sorry, Little Red.” He jokes, and you roll your eyes at the childish nickname. When you came for your initial interview you had been wearing a red winter jacket and a matching winter hat, and the nickname stuck. “I have a case for you,” He says with a blinding grin.

“You mean on top of the five other cases I’m actively investigating?” You ask dryly, as you sort the files back into their proper places.

“Yeah, but this-” He taps the thick file with one finger, “This is a rite of passage, Little Red. It’s been sitting on my desk for years, and I want you to take a crack at it.”

You quirk a single brow and tilt your head to read the name on the file, and then your other eyebrow shoots up to join the first, “The missing person file on Hound Fett?” You ask.

“Aye.” Your boss drops into the worn seat next to your desk, an amused smile crossing his face as you pick up the file and start flipping through the pages, “Bare bones, Little Red. Before you were born, Hound Fett was kidnapped. For whatever reason, the kidnappers ignored all of his brothers and took him from the middle of the room.”

“Weird,” You reply as you turn your attention away from the file, “Does it have something to do with why King Jango has 2 million identical sons?”

Your boss points at you, “We don’t talk about that, Little Red. Ever.”

You roll your eyes, “Then maybe we should be asking questions about it.”

“No. I did the initial investigation, and that,” He says with a pointed look, “Has nothing to do with anything.”

You huff out a breath, “Alright, alright.” You go back to flipping through the file, “I mean, this looks pretty solid, boss. I can’t imagine I’ll find something that you all missed. Especially as it’s been almost 25 years since Hound vanished.”

“I want you to take a look at it anyway, Little Red.” He leans back and the chair creaks ominously, “You’re smart, much smarter than I am, and you see connections that others might not. Look at it with fresh eyes and see if you can turn up anything new.”

“And the other cases?” You ask.

“I’ll pass them on to some of the others, they won’t mind.” He stands and gathers the file case files off of your desk, “Go ahead and gather the evidence from the locker downstairs, and then you’re free to take off and work from this at home.”

You lean back in your uncomfortable chair, “You really want this to be the only thing I focus on?” You ask, surprised.

Your boss looks troubled, “Missing babies are a bad look, Little Red. I want…I need to know if I missed anything.”

You close the file sharply, and push your chair back, “Okay,” You say as you stand, “I’ll take care of it.” You’re rewarded for your words with a relieved smile.

You pull on your jacket and grab your purse, and you head to the stairs. The building you work in has four floors. The top two floors, the ones above ground, are where the detectives, like yourself, work. The bottom floors are where the labs and the evidence locker are located.

You wave your hand through a magical barrier, and then wait for the misty shroud to verify your identity, and then you continue down to the sublevels. 

The person who watches the evidence locker is a homunculus, and if you’re being honest, you like him more than any of the other detectives that you work with.

“Good afternoon, detective.” He says in his eerily echoing voice, “How may I help you today?”

“Good afternoon, Hyde.” You greet politely, earning you a wide grin from Hyde, “I’ve just been assigned the Hound Case, how many boxes of evidence are there?”

Hyde’s expressive eyes fog over as magic slides over them, and you settle your hip against the counter, waiting. His eyes clear a moment later, “Just the one, detective. Will you be signing it out?”

“If I can, yes.” You reply, as you tap your file against your hand.

“May I see the case file, please?”

You slide the file across the counter, and place your hand on the hand sized obsidian slate next to it, and then you wait. There’s a golden glow, and a simple golden thread twines around your hand and connects you to the case file, and then a third string, from the case file, to a box that you can’t see in the back.

“And done,” Hyde says as the glow fades, “The case file and appropriate evidence are bound to you, detective. Shall I have the evidence sent to your desk?”

“Can you have it sent to my home, actually?” You ask as you pull your hand off of the obsidian plate. 

Hyde’s eyes glow once more, and the case file vanishes off the counter, “It is done, detective. The evidence will remain in your custody for a time span of 2 weeks. After which it will be returned to the locker and you will have to sign it out again.”

“Alright, I understand. Thanks Hyde.”

“You are welcome, Detective. I wish you well in your investigation.”

You favor him with one more smile, and then your turn and leave the small room dedicated to Evidence storage. You only make it halfway up the stairs, heading towards the first floor so you can walk home, when you hear pounding steps behind you.

“D-Detective!” You stop on the landing and turn to stare at the older man who’s huffing and puffing his way up the steps, “Detective!” He finally reaches you and he hunches over, his hands on his knees as he gasps for breath, “I saw that you were assigned the Hound case,” He gasps out.

You raise a brow, “I wasn’t aware that that’s become common knowledge.”

“Oh, it hasn’t. I mean, not yet. But I pay attention to who checks out the evidence.”

You turn to face him fully, your arms folding across your chest, “Do you now?”

“Yes, I do. I-...” He blinks at you, “Oh, it’s not like that, Detective. I’ve been investigating the case in my off time, what little I have, and I just have some theories.”

“Theories you’ve kept to yourself?” You ask.

“Well, no. I’ve tried to share them with the other detectives who caught the Hound case, but none of them were willing to listen to me.” He pauses, “Please, Detective. I’ve been obsessing over this case for 25 years.”

“Okay, Doc. I’m all ears.”

He almost wilts in relief, “Perhaps we can go to the cafe? I’ve yet to eat lunch today.”

“Fine, but you’re paying.”

“Deal!”

Less than half an hour later, you’re comfortably sitting in a booth in a cafe, nursing a cup of caf, while the Doc slides sheets of paper across the table to you. “So, you might know that I was one of the investigators when Hound first went missing.”

“I did see your name in the file,” You agree with a nod, “Because of your magic, right?”

“Yes! Exactly so!” Doc wraps his hands around his tea, “I was young, and was still learning my trade, but even then I noticed something strange.” He flips through several photos, and then slides one across the table. “Here, what do you see?”

You take the picture and lift it to look at it properly, “It looks like a normal nursery.” You finally say, “I don’t see anything unusual, aside, maybe, from how clean it is.”

Doc grins and slides a different picture across to you, “Now what do you see?”

You pick up the second picture and compare it to the first, “They’re the same but…it looks like a burn? Next to the cradle. But the original picture it’s not…” You trail off, your gaze darting between the two pictures, “The carpet was changed between the two pictures.”

“Exactly! They’re nearly identical, but the difference is there.”

“How did you get these pictures?” You ask, “This one,” You held up the picture from the crime scene, “You obviously took, but the other one?”

“I have friends,” Doc explains away with a shrug, “But, Detective, I have a theory.” He leans in, “I think Hound went missing before he was reported. By at least a day.”

“And someone, whoever ran this facility, covered up his disappearance.” You finish slowly.

“Exactly.”

You’re quiet for a long time, and then you lean in, “Doc. I need to know how King Jango has so many kids.” You say, your voice quiet.

He hesitates, and then leans in as well, “It’s a bad story, Little Red.” He whispers.

“Tell me anyway.” It’s not a request.

“Okay.” Doc glances around, and then carefully sets up a ward designed to make your conversation hard to hear, “Okay, you remember what happened to King Jaster?”

“Of course. Betrayed by a friend and murdered by an enemy. They teach that in school.” You reply.

“Right. What they don’t teach is that the friend,” Doc makes a face at the word, “Kidnapped the then Prince Jango and sold him.”

“To who?”

“Kamino.”

You blink at him, Mandalore and Kamino have friendly relations, so far as you’re aware, “If the Kaminoans were holding King Jango as a slave, then why-?”

“The Kamino you know now is not the Kamino of 30 years ago.” Doc says quietly, “30 years ago, a scientist used King Jango as the template of a massive army. 4 years later, he started the mass production of the Clones, and was shut down by a joint operation between Mandalore and Kamino. A year after that, Hound went missing.”

“From Kamino.” You clarify.

“Yes. King Jango was in no position to raise a single child, let alone 2 million, so to keep Mandalore from wiping them from the map, they promised to raise the children until they were five years old.” Doc explains.

You lean back against the booth, your mind is racing. “So you think the Kaminoans are hiding something.”

“I think they were, but after Hound was reported missing, the entirety of Kamino was redone, and it’s not little more than a vassal of Mandalore.” Doc says with a sigh, “Unfortunately that’s a dead end.”

You frown, and look back at the picture with a burn mark, “Okay, so what can cause something like that?”

Doc frowns, “This is going to sound crazy.” He finally says.

“Just…lay it on me.” You sigh.

“I think Hound was kidnapped by a demon or a dragonkin of some kind.”

You blink at him, twice, “Okay. Okay. I don’t have enough evidence to support that one way or another.”

He frowns, “You don’t believe me.”

“I also don’t disbelieve you.” You counter, “Look, I need to go home, look at the evidence. Thank you for this, it’ll help.”

“If you need any help, Detective…”

“I know who to ask.” You finish your caf, and set some credits on the table, “Thank you, Doc.”

And then you leave. You walk the short distance back to your home, check the mail, and then step into your home and make sure the door is locked. And then you move into your back room.

Your back room is sparsely decorated. With several cork boards, a large solid table, and a cozy chair being the only furniture in the room. On the table is the case file and the evidence box.

You peel off your jacket and toss it on the couch, and then you start working.

***********

One day melts into two, which melts into three…and before you know it, it’s been over a week.

Your cork boards are full of notes and pictures, and the evidence is spread across the table neatly.

25 years worth of investigations is a lot, but you finally have a handle on it all. 

The original investigation had been solid. Every I was dotted and every T was crossed. Aside from the burn that Doc added to the evidence, you didn’t see anything that you could learn from the original investigation. 

That, you know, is where the other detectives slipped up. They assumed the Chief made a mistake in the original investigation, and focused their attention there. 

Understandable, perhaps, but ultimately a waste of time.

No. While the original investigation is important, you’re much more focused on the tips gathered by the tip hotline. 

Most of them are useless, and would have been useless even if they were investigated immediately. But there’s one tip that keeps drawing your attention.

25 years ago, just after Hound vanished, an old woman, a hedge wizard, had reported seeing a mysterious figure with a baby in the forest near her home. She even found a baby blanket later that night. But no one ever investigated her claim.

You pull the tip off of the cork board and you frown at it.

25 years is a long time, and according to the note the woman making the report had been in her 80s when she called in. She would be at least 105 years old now…the odds of her still being alive are slim.

But-

And that's the big thing, isn’t it? This is the only new lead in 25 years, you have an obligation to investigate this. 

So you copy the tip into your notebook and slide it into your purse. And then you pull on your winter boots, and winter jacket. And the last thing you grab is your baton, just in case, and you leave your house.

You check the address one last time, and turn to start walking. It’ll take you over an hour to get there on foot, but carriages don’t run in the snow. You stop at the cafe down the street and order a caf to help keep you warm while you walk.

The things you do for your paycheck.

An hour and a half later you stop in front of the house listed on the tip. 25 years has not been kind to the home. The house, which had once been lovingly tended to, had fallen into disrepair. The roof has collapsed in some places, and the door is broken on the hinges.

Still, you’re already here…

You carefully walk up the half rotten steps, and rap your knuckles on the door frame, “Hello?” You call, “I’m with Mandalore Investigations, is there anyone living here?”

The only answer is the sound of the wind. 

“If there is anyone living here, please say something. I’m coming in,” You take a step back and kick the door, causing it to finish falling to the ground. And then you light the small orb that acts as a lantern when an actual lantern is too unwieldy.

You step into the old house, carefully checking each step before you commit to it.

As you thought, the house is empty. Though it simply looks like the owner, likely the old woman from the tip line, ended up moving out and didn’t take any of her stuff with her.

Unfortunate, but not unexpected. You turn to leave the house before you end up getting hurt, when something catches your eye. There, sitting on what used to be a tea table, is a small blue blanket shrouded in magic.

The tip did mention that the old woman was a hedge wizard.

And even the least powerful of hedge wizards have the ability to create stasis fields. You inch over to the table and examine the table, rather than the blanket.

You realize that the table itself is covered in runes to keep the items on top of it in stasis. Clever. You lightly pluck the blanket off the table, and turn to leave the house before it collapses under you.

Once back outside, and a safe distance away from the house, you look at the blanket. It does look like a baby blanket, and it even looks like the blankets that King Jango’s children had been wrapped in when they were infants, but there’s no names, no identifying marks-

You sigh and slide the blanket into an evidence bag, and then stash both in your purse. All of that for, what, a blanket that may or may not belong to Hound? Maybe it really is too late…25 years is a long time.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t realize what you’re hearing right away. You frown and turn towards the forest, and then you flash the smallest of smiles when you see a massiff playing in the snow.

He’s barking and runs right over to you, and you crouch, “Hey there little guy, what are you doing so far from civilization?” You ask as you hold your hand out for him to sniff, he lets out an enthusiastic noise and flops on his side, and then rolls onto his back, and you see a collar, “Let’s see���Grizzer. Where’s your master, hm?” You ask as you rub his belly.

Grizzer barks and scrambles back to his feet, and bounds back towards the forest, and then stops, looking back at you.

You stand and watch it for a moment, your eyebrows creeping up as the massiff runs between you and the forest a couple of times. “Alright, alright.” You sigh, as you step towards the forest, carefully following him through the trees.

He never gets far enough away that you can’t see him. And whenever you stop, he runs around you and encourages you to continue moving forward.

You walk for, well, you don’t know how long. Long enough that you had to pull out your little lantern to see where you’re going. Long enough for the sun to set.

And then Grizzer runs off, “Hey!” You make an offended noise, but slowly, carefully, follow his paw prints.

Eventually you hear a voice, low, male, and the sound of Grizzer barking. His master, you assume. You lift the light orb a little higher and continue walking. Noting, with some bemusement, that the paw prints you’ve been following had grown larger and larger.

And then you step into a well lit clearing. There’s Grizzer, standing nearly two feet taller than you, with three heads. You make a mental note that Grizzer is apparently a cerberus rather than a massiff, but since he hasn’t been hostile to you at all, you decide that it’s barely important.

There’s a house, a cabin really, sitting in the center of the clearing, with a flourishing garden full of fresh fruits and vegetables, in spite of the snow falling from the sky. You can only assume some sort of magic is keeping the plants alive.

And then the door to the cabin opens and a man steps out. He’s tall and broad, with curly hair that stops at his shoulders, and is pulled up in a half-ponytail. 

You frown at him, mentally comparing him to a recent image of Prince Cody. The same nose, jaw, and cheek bones. Identical eye shape, and slope of the forehead. Same skin tone, same eye color. Your eyes narrow at him, his irises are gold, but they’re a burning gold, and he has two horns starting from his temple and laying back over his ears

“Hello,” He says, looking slightly bewildered, politely bewildered even, “I’ve never had a visitor before.”

You move closer to him, “Well, Grizzer was quite insistent.” You say lightly as you scan him with your eyes. He’s…taller than any of his brothers, save, maybe, Alpha-17. And as you get closer you notice delicate golden chains wrapped around his arms, neck, and vanishing under his clothes. Your best guess, they’re also wrapped around his legs. You also can’t help but notice that the skin under the chains is red and inflamed. 

“I apologize for that,” His voice is surprisingly gentle for such a massive man, “Grizzer has a mind of his own, I fear.”

You tilt your head slightly, “It’s alright. Though I am rather far from home now.”

He frowns, “You’ll simply have to spend the night.” He decides, “It’s not safe to travel at night, especially when it’s so cold.” He pauses, and eyes you warily, “I’m sorry, you’ve been staring at me since I came outside. I know I don’t look exactly huma-”

“You’re Hound, aren’t you?” You interrupt.

He stops mid-sentence and his jaw drops, “How can you possibly know that?” He asks, “I mean, yes. That is my name, but how?”

You fold your arms, and introduce yourself, and then offer a small smile, “I work for Mandalore Investigations.” You say gently, “We’ve been looking for you for 25 years. We never stopped.”

He gapes at you, “I…you…you can’t be more than 22.”

“True, I only received the case file a week and a half ago. But every detective has been given the case file at least once, and some of them have taken it multiple times.” Your voice is very gentle, because he looks like he’s about to shatter.

“I thought…I was sure that no one was looking for me.” Hound says quietly, “I…uh…please, come inside.” 

The cabin is cozy, and far too small. He’s essentially living in a studio, and you can’t help but wonder how long he’s been living alone. He pulls out a chair for you and you pull off your jacket and hat before you sit down, hanging both on the back of the chair.

“You’ve been alone for a while, haven’t you Hound?” You ask as he brings you a light dinner.

He sits across from you, “Yeah, it’s been years since I’ve had someone to talk to who isn’t Grizzer.” He motions to the massiff, who is back at the size of a normal dog and is rolling around on his bed.

“Can I ask…what happened? I mean…” You gesture to the horns, “How’d you end up like this?”

He reaches up and lightly touches one of his horns, and then his lips twitch into a wry smile, “Devils don’t like it when you outsmart them.” He says tiredly, “I was 15, and, well, things needed to change. And one thing led to another and the next thing I know I’m tricking a devil, and this is my punishment.”

“What did you get out of it?”

“My crops don’t die, regardless of the weather. And I always have enough to stay alive.” Hound explains. “But there’s also the punishment.” He taps one of the chains, “I’m quite literally chained to this clearing.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe someone had plans for me, once, or maybe they just wanted a child. In either event, it doesn’t matter now.” Hound leans back in his seat, “but…you must think I’m a mannerless oaf.” He says as he gets to his feet, “You’re probably frozen solid. Here-” He moves around the room, and he presses an overly large shirt and a pair of sleep pants into your hands, “The shower is just through there, feel free to use whatever you need to-”

“Hound-”

“I’ll find the cot, and you can sleep on my bed,” He continues, as he gently, very gently, pushes you into the bathroom, and shuts the door behind you.

You sigh quietly, but decide to take him up on his offer. A warm shower does sound nice, after all.

You shower quickly, not wanting to use all of his hot water, and you feel so guilty using his body wash, and shampoo and conditioner (though you wonder if he sends Grizzer to the market to buy this stuff for him), and you stubbornly comb your hair with your fingers rather than use his hair brush after you pull on the shirt and sleep pants that he graciously offered you.

You open the bathroom door, and Hound smiles at you guiltily, “Um, so, my cot is ruined beyond repair, so I’ll just sleep on the floor-”

“Okay, stop.” He stops talking as soon as you interrupt him, a blush crossing his face, “I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well I can’t let you sleep on the floor! It’s not right.” He replies.

“Then we share.” You counter as you fold your arms over your chest.

“I…uh…” Hound’s face flames red, “...if that’s what you want?”

“...have you ever actually met a woman before, Hound?” You ask.

“Yes!” He says defensive, and then he anxiously rubs the back of his neck, “Just not one that looks like you.”

“Well. It’ll be fine. And in the morning, I’ll see if I can get those chains off, because I am not leaving you here.” You say stubbornly.

He stares at you like he’s never met someone like you before, which he probably hasn’t, and something soft crosses his face. “Alright. Um…you can sleep closest to the wall, please.”

You climb into the bed and slide so that you’re nearest the wall, and Hound, carefully, climbs into the bed with you. He’s warm, and even the chains are warm against your skin.

He carefully lays on his side, facing away from you and mumbles a good night. So you, in turn, turn away from him and say the same thing.

********

You wake up the next morning feeling very, very warm. Your eyes slowly flutter open and you glance down, and you very carefully stifle your amusement.

At some point during the night, Hound managed to shift so that his face is pressed against your neck, and his arms are wrapped securely around you and his legs are tangled with your own.

Of course, you managed to tangle your fingers in his hair, so you figure you can’t really say anything about it. You wonder if you should wake him up, because he’s going to be really embarrassed no matter what, but when he mumbles something in his sleep and nuzzles closer to you, you decide to keep your mouth shut.

You must have dozed off a little, because the next thing you remember is Hound carefully, very carefully pulling himself away from you. You squint at him, half asleep, and you notice his face is bright red.

“Sorry,” He whispers, “I didn’t mean to…uh…use you as a pillow.”

You yawn and sit up, “S’okay. You’re warm.” You rub the sleep out of your eyes, and then look up at him properly, “Did you sleep well at least?”

“...better than I have in years,” Hound admits with a shrug, his gaze flicks to your face, and then down your neck, and then he looks away quickly, “Um…so…when did you want to leave?”

“Mm. Later. I want to see these chains first.” You reply as you slide out of the bed.

“How many of the chains do you want to see, mesh’la?” Hound asks, the nickname falling from his lips absently, and quietly.

You raise a single brow, “All of them. Or, well, as many as you’re comfortable with.” You clarify.

“Right, right.” Hound hesitates and then peels his shirt off, and you frown when you see the chains crisscrossing painfully across his chest. And then he hesitates a moment longer, and then, with his face red, he strips off the rest of his clothing, leaving him naked in the middle of the room.

Tension ripples through his frame, “Alright, Hound. I’m not going to touch you unless I have to, alright?” Your face is a little red as well, he is very attractive after all.

You carefully trace the chains with your eyes, they cross his entire body, but…there, in the middle of his back, is one clasp. You hum thoughtfully, and walk over to your purse, removing a small device. It’s something you’ve used on investigations before, to determine if there’s any hostile magic that might harm you. You hold it over the clasp and it takes on a yellow hue.

“Okay. So there’s a clasp in the middle of your back,” You say to Hound, “It’s not hostile, but it’s not…not hostile either.”

“Wait, hold on. If there’s any chance that this might hurt you I don’t want you to touch it.” Hound spins so he’s facing you, “I can live with this, I’m not worth getting hurt over.”

You set the device back into your purse, and then step closer to him, “Hound.” Your voice is very gentle and you keep your gaze locked on his face, his hands twitch and then he settles them on your shoulders, a look of longing on his face. You very gently place your hands on his sides, and he trembles slightly.

He’s so touch starved that it breaks your heart.

“I think you’ve been trapped here long enough,” You whisper to him as you slowly slide your hands around his back and step closer to him, “don’t you?”

You can feel trembling under your light touches, and you’re not surprised when his hands move to your hips and he pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair.

You slide your hands up his back and find the clasp, and then, with deft fingers, you unfasten the chains. Your fingers burn, as though someone just shoved your hand into a fire, but slowly the chains melt away.

There’s the sound of metal falling to the ground, but you’re not paying any attention to the chains anymore. Instead you curl your arms tightly around Hound and you press your face against his collar, “There,” You whisper, “you’re free.”

He pulls away and stares at you, and then looks down at his body. Angry burns cover him where the chains once laid, but there’s not a speck of gold anywhere on his body.

“I…I can’t…” He trails off, at a loss for words, and then he looks at you, “Are you hurt?”

“Hm? Oh…” You offer him your hands, which are covered in angry looking blisters, “They’ll heal eventually.” You say lightly, “And it was worth it.”

Hound stares at your hands for almost a whole minute, and then he reaches out and lightly cups your face with his hands, and he stares at your face for a long moment. And then his lips are on yours, warm and soft, and yet somehow demanding.

And then he pulls away and lightly rests his forehead against yours, his gaze locked with yours, “That was…inappropriate, I suppose. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” You reply, your face red, “Uhm…you should get dressed, and so should I actually, and then we can leave.”

“Uh. Yeah. Right. Yes.” Hound replies, suddenly remembering that he’s totally naked and completely pressed against you, “Sorry, mesh’la! I…uh…” He hurriedly pulls his sleep clothes back on, looking very, very sheepish. “I’ll just…go shower.” And then he bolts to the shower, and you press a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles.

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

One week later, you’re standing next to Hound as some of his brothers, Stone, Thire, Thorn, and Prince Cody move a bedroom set into your guest room. Hound feels more comfortable living with you than he does living with any of his brothers, and you’re grateful for the company, honestly.

More importantly, Hound seems to be incapable of not touching you when you’re within arms length of him. Which works out well for both of you. He’s touch starved, and you are a physically affectionate person, works out best for the both of you.

You aren’t sure how you feel about the actual army of men visiting you at all hours of the day though. You side eye Prince Cody critically as he single handedly shoves a new mattress into Hound’s room. You’ll adjust, you suppose.

You might not adjust to the standing offer to have dinner with the King, though. That’ll take time to get used to. Turns out finding one of his long lost children earns you special privileges.

There’s a knock on your front door, and you hop off the couch (which has been moved into a better location because of Prince Fox and Prince Wolffe who visited yesterday-) and you open the door.

“Hey there, Little Red!” The Chief beams down at you like a favored uncle, “How’s the case going?”

“Oooh. Right. There’s been an update.” You reply.

“Oh? Do tell.”

You hold up a single finger and then turn and vanish into the house, and return a moment later tugging Hound by the wrist, “Chief meet Hound. Hound, this is the man who investigated your disappearance 25 years ago.”

The Chief’s jaw drops, “Holy-...you found him, Little Red?”

Hound glances at you, “Little Red?” He asks, with a slow grin crossing his lips.

“Please don’t.”

Hound’s grin grows, and he offers the chief his hand, “I’m Hound. Thanks for looking for me for so long.”

“You’re quite welcome, young man. I’m sorry it took us so long to find you.” The Chief replies, “I knew Little Red would find you though, she’s one of my best detectives.”

“She is pretty amazing,” Hound agrees.

“Did you want to come in chief?” You ask, “They’re getting Hound’s room set up now.”

“No, no. I have work to do. Oh, but Hyde is mad at you, Little Red. Apparently you left the case file in the evidence box, and now it’s stuck there until you go and claim it.”

“Oh. Shit.” You muttered, “That’s my bad.”

“Deal with it on Monday. I’m also giving you back the five open cases from two weeks ago. I don’t know why I employ those idiots.” The Chief sighs, and then he glances at Hound, “Do you want a job?”

“I…don’t know anything about police work?”

“There are classes.”

“Oh, well sure then, I guess.” Hound replies, bemused, “Hey vod’e, I have a job!” He calls into the house as he heads back to setting up his room.

The Chief lightly touches your shoulder, “A hell of a thing you did, kid. Good job.”

You grin and duck your head, “Thank you, sir.”

You shut the door as he turns away and your grin grows. You’re a damned good detective, and everyone you work with will know that soon enough. And now you actually have friends and a social life. Well, and Hound, who is so much more than just a friend. Things are definitely starting to look up.

[kimium]

Put your Fave playlist on shuffle and post the first five songs that come up!

I was tagged by @m34gs in this post HERE. Thanks for the tag, friend! Like you, I'm making this a separate post just so things don't get too long.

In truth, I don't really have "playlists". It's usually all just thrown into a single playlist that's either My Library or Favourites. So, we're just going to go with my random songs. Also, I'm using my iTunes for this and not Spotify. Besides a few songs missing between them, the playlists are identical.

Also, all my songs ended up being connected to anime somehow. I'm sorry, but that's just how things work with me.

Butterfly 09 - United Forces Airplay Edit by Smile.Dk

Wow, we're starting with a nostalgic song for this list. If you grew up loving anime in the late 90s or early 2000s you could not escape this song. I believe most people were introduce to this song through DDR, but for me it was through AMV edits. I think the first time I heard this song was to a Rurouni Kenshin AMV. That or Sukisho, which according to the rating, at the time I watched it I was too young. In my defense, it's suggestive at best.

Anyways, the reason I have this song on my playlist still is because I like the beat and energy to the song. The lyrics make little sense, but I still adore this song. I don't listen to it often. In fact, I can't remember the last time I listened to it, but every time I do I'm transported back to my childhood days.

Shogeki by Yuko Ando

Going from a nostalgic song to a recent song, Shogeki is the first ending to the Final Season of Attack on Titan. This song is hauntingly beautiful with lyrics that tug at my heart. Even if you're not an Attack on Titan fan, this song is beautiful and tragic at the same time. I highly recommend giving it a listen.

Muspell Theme from Fire Emblem Heroes

This song is mostly instrumental except for the deep masculine voices chanting + the soprano choir nearer to the end. Definitely gives an ominous tone, indicating threat is approaching. Which makes sense as this song is for the Book 2 villains in FEH. Fire Emblem OST songs are always a great time, so even if you think instrumental isn't your thing, check it out.

SKETCH - Kiro Akiyama

Another anime ending song appears on this list! For the one it's the first ending to Season 6 of BNHA (My Hero Academia). I cannot tell you how much I love this song. The lyrics perfectly fits Izuku's character and many themes in the anime. This is also the ending where they changed parts of the anime to reflect the story moments of the episode.

Again, even if you're not an anime fan, this song is fantastic. The regret of the narrator as the lyrics talk about longing to reconnect, regret missing one another, and the desire to correct miscommunications are bittersweet but hopeful to me.

Dearly Beloved - a cover by Amalee but original by Yoko Shimomura

We end our list with another song from a game OST. This version I'm calling out is a cover by Amalee, where there are lyrics. However, the original is the instrumental song that plays in the menu for all Kingdom Hearts games. Amalee's version with the lyrics weaves a tale of love and hope despite distance from each other, fitting perfectly with the themes presents in Kingdom Hearts. So, even if this isn't the original version, give it a listen. Give the original a listen too! It's an amazing song that makes me want to cry every time I listen.

I tag: @a-little-harmed-shinra @someobscurereference @shreedle and anyone else who wants to do this!

[nobodysdaydreams]

My Reaction to Episodes 7-10 of Wolf 359 (But first, an update on my reactions for those who are curious...)

Thank you to everyone for your enthusiasm. I wasn't expecting this much excitement for my reactions/liveblogs, but I love it! 🥰

Shoutout to @commsroom for sending me a list of episodes with post credit scenes which include ep 5 cigarette candy, ep 37 overture, and ep 43 persuasion. Thanks Comms Room!

I did go back and listen to the post credits scene for episode 5 and OH MY GOSH HILBERT. WHAT. What. Why. Why? like dude. You're in space! Of all the places to be conducting highly dangerous and deadly and unethical experiments on human test subjects. I've insulted Curtain (tmbs) and Uncle Andrew (narnia) a lot on this blog but I gotta give them credit: at least neither of them were stupid enough to do their experiments in space. Though in Andrew's case, I think that's mostly because he couldn't get to space in 1900s London even if he wanted to.

I currently have Wolf359 Tags blocked to avoid spoilers and will try my best to react blindly.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs

Anyway on to the actual reactions. I did not intend on feeling ill today, but while I take a late lunch break, perhaps I can give a few episodes a listen.

Episode 7:

Interesting that the AI has her own emotions and can fight with them. I wonder what information she's withholding from the captain?

Wow Hilbert should have been a professional chess player instead. I think that would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.

Oh hush up Hilbert I don't trust you. Um...why do I think that Specimen 34 might have indoctrinated Hilbert in his (her? its? their????) cult?

Eiffel. DO NOT TELL HIM WHERE THE FERTILIZER IS!

Hopefully that lie will buy a little time.

"Soon you will be allowed to surrender to the growth of your biological superior" ... you know, for a "biologically superior" plant, it might want to try being a tad less ominous.

Mincowski, I like you, and I agree thus far, but listen. Hilbert is worshiping a plant now. This is a huge crisis. What if he uses it to cheat at chess?

Hera and Mincowski. Please. I think this is important. I think Hera needs to be more honest, at least for my sake, because I want the tea.

...Seed of life? ...THE OPPRESSOR? What. who is the oppressor?

Eiffel. Please just get to the point. 👏 Hilbert. 👏 Is. 👏 Worshipping. 👏 A. 👏 Plant. 👏

✨Maybe you should do something✨

"Audrey 2 territory" THERE IS A LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS REFERENCE! I KNEW IT!

Oh they're calling him a plant worshipper now. Finally, acknowledging it for what it is.

Oh dear. He's back.

THE BLESSED ETERNAL?

Wait. That can't be the end. The crew was gonna watch Home Alone 2!

Episode 8:

Huh. This is a cool title. "Box953", which is 359 backwards. Hm. You also get 365 if you scramble the numbers and rotate the 9.

Okay. No more about Commander Mincowski. What happened to the plant, oh I'm sorry, "the blessed eternal". That's such a long name. Can I just call him Percival? Percival the plant. Percy for short.

Talent show???

I do not want to know what Dr. Hilbert's talent is. Creating plant monsters?

Yeah. It is scary that you agree with Hilbert. Again, did I skip an episode??? Where did the plant go??? Where is Percy?

How often has Hilbert been knocking people out? I don't like this.

AND WHERE DID PERCY GO?

I'm sorry. You have a room with HUNDREDS of crates that you've never been into? Oh. Godard Futuristics? Corporate sponsor? I sense some backstory.

...Russian dolls???

(wait...Garrison...???)

Oh no eyes, don't like that. That's weird.

Box 239...paper? Santa letters??

Box 56...canon? Yeah I agree what is all this random stuff for?

Oh that's faster. A log that will tell what's in the boxes. 217 has Lego blocks? 300 has pieces for 3 full suits of armor? Is this like an amazon delivery ship?

"Please handle with a vague feeling of existential dread" always a great thing to read.

Box 953- reserved for Douglas Eiffel. Don't open.

What does that mean?

Hilbert. You were worshipping a plant. The commander singing is not a crisis. Oh, pirate costumes! This is shaping up to be quite the performance!

Does everyone else get a box too? And how is a room with hundreds of boxes go unnoticed after a year and a half. Are the boxes not in order?

Hilbert. I would also fire a shot past your head. The captain needs her ice cream! This insubordination will not stand.

Hilbert doesn't scream for ice cream. Hilbert only screams for the blessed eternal.

Oh and apparently ice cream too. Prioritizes.

And where is Hera? Oh Hera is here? Proud of her for getting into theater.

1,000 and something crates?

Oh. The errors and access denies hurt Hera? That's awful.

Wow. That's a big box.

"Keep closed at all times". Very ominous. Don't like the cold.

HUMMING FROM INSIDE THE BOX? That sounds like a heartbeat? Don't like that. Don't like it at all.

Yeah Eiffel. You can go. You can go and figure out why nothing on the ship makes sense.

Okay. Box open. Don't like those noises.

...

...

Oh good he's back. ugh we still don't get to know about the box?

Box 56? OH THE CANON. OH BOY.

WAIT. NO. NO. PLEASE TELL ME WE DIDN'T LOSE THE BOXES. PLEASE. Wait. THEY DID? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO....

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.............................................................................................................................

Hilbert this was the ONE TIME you could have used your evil science talents for good you had ONE JOB.

There...there was a heartbeat in there. It scared me, and it could have been another evil plant, but...but what if it was a little friend? What if they killed him 🥺?

I wanted to know too Eiffel. I want to know too. This is so sad.

What were the boxes for? Why did Douglas have his own? Why couldn't Hera access it?

Well this was frustrating. I hope you all enjoyed it though.

Episode 9:

Yeah Eiffel. Space is dangerous. Maybe you should all just go home. After all, why do you have to stay here?

Yes please define safe. I don't think that's a simple question. I still wanna know about the blessed plant Percy. And the box.

Canaveral? Command? ...okay backstory the command center stopped giving them calls...I feel like they should have questioned that a bit more...

"The golden rose is ready for melting. Proceed with designation alpha. Beware 5: The empty man has awoken."

Nope. Turn around. Go home. Clearly something nefarious is a foot and WHO OR WHAT IS THE EMPTY MAN? Well, there are only two men on this ship that we know of, plus one woman and an AI. Oh, and about a thousand mysterious boxes which could contain alien life capable of surviving in space that just got launched into space, so I suppose one ought to account for that. Oh and the evil plant monster that seems to show up whenever the crew wants to avoid each other.

Godard futuristics again. Yeah they sure do have some explaining to do. TWO WEEKS TO GET A MESSAGE TO EARTH?

TWO WEEKS TO TELL PEOPLE YOU'RE IN DANGER?

Don't like that.

Don't like Hilbert's response either. He said "what? why?" not "no, why?". If the answer is no, just say no.

Oh more info!

"The andromedas are broken. The northern light should be reversed. Alert 4: The empty man approaches."

Um. What do the numbers mean? And are they telling 5 to beware of the empty man, or someone else to beware because 5 is the empty man?

"The frozen pages are blank. Decide what to do with the time that is given to you. Emergency 3: The empty man hungers."

...

Okay. So it looks like the numbers might be an extremely fast countdown.

...

Well at least there haven't been any more messages.

A lockdown is nice. Unless the monster is already inside.

Good idea: don't give Hilbert a gun.

Yep. there comes another message Eiffel. You had to tempt fate...oh shut up Hilbert I don't want to agree with you.

"The broken flower is in the vase. Don't listen to your eyes. Danger 2: The empty man sees you."

Maybe the empty man took the eyes from the Russian dolls.

OH MR. PRECIVAL PLANT AKA THE BLESSED ETERNAL IS STILL HERE????

Why. Why were they having a talent show? Should capturing and killing the plant not be priority one?

"There's no way out. There's no way out. But there is a way in. Danger 1: The empty man shall knock."

Okay so this is the second message with danger. It's an alert and level system. Beware, Alert, Emergency, Danger, with levels 1-5, with 1 being the worst. Okay.

...weird that they are warning them, and yet they seem to know exactly what the empty man is going to do. That doesn't really make sense.

Oh do NOT like that sound.

"0: The empty man is with you. Extreme Danger 0: The empty man is with you. Extreme Danger."

Is...are they the empty man? Or is the empty man...

"The proceeding six pulse beacon relays that you have received have been part of a psychological experiment. Please disregard the content of these messages and return to regular operational activities as soon as possible. Please report and clearly label any unusual crew behavior, deviation from protocol, or undue lack of decorum that resulted due to the transmission of these messages."

...

Sounds exactly like what the empty man would say.

Suspicious.

Also if the "empty man" was with them...and apparently they can't trust their eyes...then theoretically, the seventh message might not say what they think it says. (Conspiracy theory????)

But my wild theories aside, this was extremely unethical. And I think we ALL know who would call that an experiment. HILBERT.

Wait Douglas used to work at pizza hut? Now he works in space? Uh, congrats on the promotion I guess.

Episode 10:

Oh Nitrogen tanks. Eiffel...I think you might have messed up...

✨Yessssssssssss✨

And...boom goes the Nitrogen!

"One of these days I'll actually kill you" I hope you don't. You two need to team up against Hilbert and his crazy-crazy experiments.

Wait...did they just discover a secret room? ONE HERA CAN'T EVEN SEE?

...so they're all working with limited information...

How did they hide such a huge room? Wouldn't they need to account for that while flying through space.

Dark medical lab. Well. That could be where Percy is hiding out.

GENETIC EXPERIMENTS ON SPIDERS TO MAKE THEM BIGGER?

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Don't like it. I agree. Why wall it up?

Elia Selburg? I can't spell but let's see. "mixed results...specimen growth and development promising but extremely high levels of toxicity unintended side effect. Contact with live specimens extremely dangerous as shown with recent exposure trial. Captain Lovelace has ordered termination..."

Hold on. Lovelace? I've heard that name, I've seen that name before I blocked the tags I think.

Why wall it up? PROBABLY FOR YOUR SAFETY.

Maybe it was walled up to keep something in!

Oh no. Looks like Hera agrees with me.

"What has it been eating?"

Probably the other spiders.

Well Eiffel's done for once again. He was a good character while he lasted. 🫡

Why would you not tell the crew about the secret lab with dangerous spiders? Tell them so they know to keep it walled up! WHO is keeping all these secrets and WHY are they keeping all the secrets?

The sneeze of death. Put your finger under your nose. That will do it.

Nice of him to leave Hera in his will.

Aw the spider is cuddling for warmth. Eiffel has a little friend. A poisonous, deadly friend who has killed and will kill again.

Oh no he snapped.

...but was that the only spider...????

At least Eiffel is okay. And it does look like it was just the one...

...I hope they're right. If they really wanted to be terrifying they could have had it be a pregnant spider. You kill one of those things and BAM! All the baby spiders, hundreds of thousands everywhere. Everywhere. Don't ask how I know this. You don't want to know.

Oh...archives and notebooks. Interesting. I hope we get a chance to look through those.

Well I have actual work I need to try to go but this has been fun. I hope I get some more answers soon, but I am enjoying the mysteries. Thanks everyone for reading, and have a great day!

[jess-themess05]

I posted 901 times in 2022

That's 901 more posts than 2021!

117 posts created (13%)

784 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@theohnocorral

@basyacriptid

@lovelymoonmagic

@ice-reblogs

I tagged 778 of my posts in 2022

Only 14% of my posts had no tags

#fnaf sun - 186 posts

#fnaf security breach - 179 posts

#fnaf daycare attendant - 167 posts

#fnaf moon - 159 posts

#fnaf - 123 posts

#beloved mutuals - 69 posts

#mutual shenanigans - 63 posts

#fnaf security breach au - 48 posts

#fnaf au - 38 posts

#fnaf eclipse - 34 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#despite probably putting the fear of god in everyone who came across you admitting to have drunk fire starter and sulfuric acid

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

tehehe yes spider lmao

Actually im shoked I didn't saw anyone draw him like that before, bc he is litteraly

CREATUR CRAWLING ON WALLS AND HIS WIRE IS LITTERALY LIKE SPIDER WEB!!!

hmm

checks out.

53 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

#4

oh hey a finished art piece

wow would ya look at that

in case you’ve never heard of this fanfic tHIS

this is the bug love fanfic! by @theohnocorral respectfully

this is just my interpretation of him, but of course he has a more official design hehe

my next plan of action is moon man!! he’s a gosh darn moth :)

extras down below!

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141 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

#3

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398 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

#2

Favorite fics?

oh geez. i’m gonna try keep it sweet and simple less i go on and make it unbearable to read. also these summaries are gonna be terrible but i think all of these are gonna be fnaf sun and moon fics i’m SORRY ITS IN MY HEAD BUT ANYWAYS- SHORT N SWEET LES GO

A Dose of Sunshine and Starlight - @give-me-your-monsters a slow burn w/ lots of angst and bittersweet-ness aww but you are all mentally ill.

Bug Love - @theohnocorral the boys are now bug-ified gods and take a liking to a mortal who probably apologies to inanimate objects

Universal Jesters - @lovelymoonmagic you accidentally become the handler to pair of bots with memory loss and mystery trauma

it was, in reality, not fine - @bones-of-a-rabbit you, the reader, have the self preservation skills as a bowl of soup. also oblivious to love hehe

Late Night to Early Morning - Loyal_Backstabber reader meets neglected robot clowns and vows to risk their life for them

Solar Lunacy - @bamsara its- ITS SOLAR LUNACY. anyways you meet certified murder robots and say i can fix em, they’re gonna fix u too.

copper cogs rusted through - @paper-lilypie “oh what’s this, one of these jesters tried killing me? eh it’s fine” then you fall in love

Rotating Shifts - LightningTriceratops protag mistakes sun for unconscious, jaundice ridden man and realizes he’s a robot with a not dead brother and separation anxiety

basically ANYTHINGGG by @naffeclipse , but the first story i ever read from them was In Deep Dreams Between the Waves very different fro, eclipse in sleuth jesters cause he’s actually decent. (also poor vanessa girl don’t get a break)

Clowning Around - EngageSage you overcome your anxiety to protect a poor jester, and are fueled by spite to fuck up moon man for being a certified bitch

Celestial hearts in a purple mind - @kabra-malvada *finds ominous object* *touches it* *is shocked to find they are possessed*

Twin Animatronics With Too Much Time on Their Hands - @twinanimatronics & @dana-chan-the-control-brain you fall in love and fight the temptation to resurrect a dead dude and kill him again

The Night Shift - @certified-handler oopsie you now work with a needy jester who sweeps you off your feet, even more oopsie he turns into a psychopath when the lights go out and triple oopsie you fall in love with HIM too

Star Crossed Souls - @faz-friendly-light-up-shoes reader said “god give me a sign i’ll find love.” gets the sign, and ignores it

404: Personal Space Not Found - CrazedAuthor anxiety filled individual thinks they will be fixed by a child supervisor, gets surprised by his stab happy twin

Celestial Syzygy - @echoingkarma you’re like the jack of all trades, including befriending animatronics who may or may not hate you (and want to maim you) you are probably underpaid.

My Neighbor Mr. Roboto - @kagedbird oh what’s this? you think moving into your new apartment will be simple and boring? WRONG there’s a robot in your closet. and everywhere- why are there so many-

Apology Flowers and Blooming Hours - @daunsun you’d think sentient flowers would have no angsty backstory huh? well actually...

Our Orbit is Elliptical - @sycopomp like your intrusive thoughts came to life, and you choose to ignore them

Lost and Found - SmolShampoo technology is so cool right guys? you got ai, and that ai can get traumatized! how cool??

Stare at the Abyss; It Might Look Back - @characcoon reader becomes a human punching bag and finds new rusty robot roommates. once they escape a deteriorating child’s play place they walked into

Ventura Highway - @madamemiz says “hey is anyone gonna take this robot?” and doesn’t wait for an answer.

Repaired Unstable - @blonde-fraumell you decide to work alongside your childhood friend! oh how non threatening he was- hey why’s this man TEN FEET TALL. and why’s this other man so kickable.

also, obligatory mer may fics! even though it’s no longer may these are still being updated :D

Luminescent Charm - @finfiprince reader finds the fishy dudes they saved as a kid in a cage, continues to spite god until they can save them

Celestial Omens (that really like Fishsticks) - @bamsara (again yes) you save two scared bastard fish and feed them in your bathroom, a decade later they see u and go “well they gave us fishsticks no drowning for them”

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441 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

guess who made one of those ask game things :] yknow cause why not

you know the drill

10,538 notes - Posted October 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

hey look it’s

it’s the thing!

i forgot i had this in my drafts

[ao3feed-hitoshi-shinsou]

Ghosts of the Past Haunt the Present

Ghosts of the Past Haunt the Present by Natti

Izuku was honestly very excited for the licensing exam. He's been working in an official capacity under Athena-sensei for months, but under the Daedalus identity as an informant. He's so ready to start operating in a hero capacity as Odysseus - and he's already getting a case lined up, with the help of Nezu-sensei and Shouta-tou, but that's a problem for him after he gets his license officially.

Of course, it's not that simple. His day started to go wrong as soon as a certain green-haired pro-hero decides to get way too close to his dad without consent.

Words: 7647, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 25 of The Art of Learning To Love Yourself

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Fukukado Emi | Ms. Joke, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, Shinsou Hitoshi, Toga Himiko

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku/Shinsou Hitoshi/Todoroki Shouto, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Midoriya Izuku & Toga Himiko, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki & Utsushimi Camie & Yoarashi Inasa

Additional Tags: Tags Contain Spoilers, TAOLTLY Verse, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, This is a heavy one, Sorry Not Sorry, Hero License Exam Arc, Character Development, Bakugou Katsuki Gets Character Development, Bakugou Katsuki Does Not Go to U.A. High School, Shiketsu High Student Bakugou Katsuki, The Ominous Looming Presence of Ms. Joke's Laughter, Protective Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku Needs Therapy, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Break, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have All For One Quirk, Analyst Midoriya Izuku, Smart Midoriya Izuku, Genius Midoriya Izuku, Toga Himiko is Not a Villain, Toga Himiko Works For Midoriya Izuku, Chaotic Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto is Whipped, Shinsou Hitoshi is Whipped, Underground heroes, Reconnaissance, Mentioned Eri, Panic Attacks, Angry Midoriya Izuku, Upset Midoriya Izuku, Dadzawa, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead | Dadzawa, Todoroki Shouto is a Good Significant Other, Midoriya Izuku is a Good Significant Other, Shinsou Hitoshi is in Class 1-A, Shinsou Hitoshi is a Good Significant Other, Todoroki Shouto Has No Impulse Control, Shinsou Hitoshi is along for the ride, Todoroki Shouto is Good at Feelings, Shinsou Hitoshi is Good at Feelings, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Kirishima Eijirou is Bad at Feelings, Fukukado Emi | Ms. Joke is bad at feelings, Fukukado Emi | Ms. Joke is Obsessed, Fukukado Emi | Ms. Joke Bashing, I Have Two Wonderful Beta Readers, They're Both Fantastic, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Beta Read, Thank My Betas For This Being Readable TBH, I Have Betas But We Die Like Men Anyways, Protective Kirishima Eijirou, Out Of Order Tags Because I Can't Change It After I Type It In

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44822374

[gayvillains]

nobody cares but succ thoughts

#succession spoilers i'm not putting it in the tag i don't trust like that

firstly babygirl shiv my girl my number one boy don't you worry baby i am airlifting you out of that haunted house you hear me i'm literally on my way with a helicopter don't even worry we're getting you out of there.... secondly roman.... i feel .... i am not sure. it feels ominous. i'm not sure he won guys. the alcohol. the pills earlier in the season. i'm not sure it's agood thing..... i've always been ambivalent about kendall but it's good he lost and the fucking bodyguard in the background following him the water... it's so over it really is over i'm sorry ken but also it was perfect

the scene of them being happy and giggily and finally all getting along and it's SOOO... IT'S SOOOOOO... siblings... the way when you're getting along sometimes it's because one of you got their way and the others just kind of have to swallow it. actually not even siblings just like families where to get on and be happy it kind of requires someone to fucking sit on a whole bunch of shit that they want to die about for the sake of unity. it's crazy

anyway stewy boykisser i won i literally won i'm ceo. i am a shiv roman stewy girl first and a boyhuman second and i feel on top of da world baaaybyyyyyy. shiv lost. but she had agency of losing her agency. she got to choose that life. she did it to herself. but i will still be rescuing her just so you know

[turianosauruswrex]

🎵 for all three.

Thank you!! Prepare for essays I love my girls so much

Jules McAllister is my Courier Six for all newcomers and long-time followers who may have forgotten! Yes I have other Couriers (hi Miri, hi Faye, hi Sabine). Yes Jules is the one with the massive AU. She's a 5'3" Aries menace and I cherish her so deeply. She's never made a good decision in her life.

Anyways the song I have always, always most strongly associated with her is "When You Were Young" by The Killers.

It's the religious imagery and sense of heartache. It's the man coming in that she thinks will save her-- in the song it's a romantic interest, for Jules it's Caesar, taking the place, in her mind, of the father she didn't have growing up. It's the appearance of salvation from her addiction and her depression and rage at a system that's left her behind, with smooth words that tell her she's special, she's different, she's fit to join the Legion because she's not like the other women. It's the sense in the song, and the knowing in Jules' story, that this ends poorly. It's the heartache and longing for something better, for an escape, for someone to love you, and finding all of that in exactly the wrong way, place and person.

(This is the part where I disclaim that while yes I play and cosplay Legion characters sometimes no I don't think they're right of course not oh my god writing bad guys ain't the same as agreeing with 'em aaaaaaaaaa can you tell how many times people on this hellsite have given me shit for this)

Jules ends up crucified for her efforts in the Legion's victory over New Vegas. My good friend @randamhajile and her OC Lexington took it upon themselves to a) pull her sorry ass off the cross b) try to Redeem Her (questionable results) and c) remember that massive AU I referenced? It's this one! They go on adventures and there's, like, whole fanfics for it, I've put it on my resume. The tag for your perusal!

Sylvie Caron is my new rogue I am playing in a D&D game! She is a grave digger by trade, in a world that heavily frowns upon it, as part of a group called the Tallymen. Post-mortem care, on Papatūānuku, consists of the deceased's body and spirit being taken to the River of Souls to be reincarnated-- the Tallymen disagree with this being the best course of action. They, and Sylvie in turn, believe that it's better to bury bodies far away from the river, and wouldn't hesitate to resurrect someone if asked/hired for it. It is... a bit of a taboo job.

So Sylvie's song is "Bottom of the River" by Delta Rae.

I'll admit, I don't know Sylvie extremely well yet; I just started playing her last Saturday. But the ominous atmosphere, the work-song rhythm, and the river imagery especially, with the River of Souls contrasting with the toxic River Aspic of Sylvie's home city, ring true for her.

Now Katya Fyodorova-- long-time viewers will remember her as Grief, my pandemic game scourge aasimar shadow sorcerer and the love of my life and my icon, literally, here and on Twitter. She's my estranged Russian mafia brat. My chiaroscuro hot mess. My nightmare child sweet cheese light of my life who's going to royally fuck up hers. I hold her so so gently. And then snap her like a glowstick. Long-time viewers may also recall seeing her referred to as Katya Vorakh; the name change is intentional and plot-relevant lol. I started playing her in a game right at the beginning of the pandemic that fizzled out, and me being unreasonably attached to her I continue to play her on my play-by-post Westmarches-style Discord server. She's doing great (?)! Has a cousin, a few friends, a cat, a hot goth jock elf boyfriend, aside from the fact that a devil recently tore apart her apartment and she has two nemesii and her shitty ex-patron she's just recently found out is haranguing a friend and is Fucking Vecna it's great! Don't look at the six-armed angel in the corner.

Anyways I have so, so many songs for Katya, my beloved, but the one that's hitting me hardest lately is "A House In Nebraska" by Ethel Cain.

Yes I've been listening to Preacher's Daughter on a solid loop for like two and a half months. No I'm not okay. Don't worry about it. But for Katya! For Katya, this calls back to a key part of her backstory, the sudden and violent death of her best friend Artemy Vorakh, almost ten years ago at this point in her life. She still blames herself for it-- if he wasn't her friend, he never would have been caught in the mafia crossfire that ended his life-- but at the same time... she's selfish. She's not a great person. She wouldn't change the fact that they were friends. Her mourning him has been a quieter part of herself lately, as she's sloooooowly let down her walls and let herself make friends and fall in love, but it's still very much there. Like, this is the woman who dressed in mourning blacks and a widow's veil and called herself Grief and didn't show her face for years after Artemy's death. They were never romantically involved. There's a lot, a lot to their relationship-- she thought she was in love with him for six or seven years and never said anything, he stuck with her despite how difficult she frankly is, he was the only person in her life she trusted not to manipulate her for a long, long time, and they had loose (very loose) plans to run away from Baldur's Gate together and live anonymously. (Katya would have hated this. Katya was not in love with him. Katya confused love with a whole lot of things and has been terrified, terrified to put any kind of label on how she feels re: aforementioned hot goth jock elf beyond "I'm very fond of him".)

"Family Tree" and "Ptolemaea" also make an appearance on a Katya/Grief-related playlist, but that one's a surprise tool that will help us later :)

Aough okay this took me AN HOUR thank you so so much for asking!!! It was SO fun to write!!!

[currentlyprocrastinating]

hi. stayed up literally all night (on accident) writing angst :3 [<- August 27th; a month later and I finally finished the ending xD]

it's heavily focused on Squirrel and what can happen in her line of work. this... is probably quite the dramatic read, given i wrote this so late at night and thus without any medicine in me lol. emotions ✨️

it was also inspired by my first drawing(s) of Squirrel, which i will put at the end of this post... because spoilers~ [new note: i never finished the drawings and i'm nervous about the quality, so i won't post them after all :'D]

anyways, i hope it's still enjoyable despite the dramatics, and the possibly-but-hopefully-not-OOC-Saeran ^^;;;

Tags: heavy angst, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Warnings: verbal/emotional manipulation // body horror/visual horror // yandere tendencies // knives (switchblade) // dissociative-esque descriptions // homicidal urges // mild su*cidal speech (1 or 2 mentions) // possessiveness // obsession // mania // heavy swearing // visceral/graphic descriptions of pain (read: body horror) // saeran being terrified (i'm sorry)

Pairing: Squirrel x Saeran

Word Count: 6601

==============================

She was floating; she was formless. Nothingness pressed in on her nonexistence, weightless as a feather, yet suffocating her soul. Her thoughts dangled just past her limp fingertips. She didn't see a reason to try too hard.

How did I... get here...?

She didn't know. She didn't need to know. Everything was alright now.

But...

She was comfortable here. Unbothered by the world. Drifting off into space. Nothing would hurt her here. The dark emptiness was her shield against the troubles of outside.

...In the back of her mind, an itch blossomed. Within her blank heart, a seed of urgency emerged.

There was no need for urgency, no need for fear. As she sank further into this warm comfort, she had less and less reason to worry. Her worries were behind her, now. Gone forever.

Something... feels off...

Her body ached... maybe. For a moment, it did, but then it didn't.

But then it did: a dull blow to her stomach (her stomach that wasn't there). Her body (she couldn't see it; where was it?) trembled, then stopped, then strained painfully.

I need to...

...I don't know.

Something's off.

Nothing was off. Nothing was wrong. This place, this darkness, was her safe zone. She would be happy here. She could leave everything behind. She could give up control.

Let someone else take the reins.

She jolted. Even with no form, she could feel it. She could feel a rush of movement, of air — of lurching to the side and succumbing to gravity.

Invisible claws dug into her chest, hooked onto these sensations, and tried to drag them away. She imagined her hands clinging to her shirt, clutching these ties to... to... somewhere else.

Give it all up, something hissed, but it felt like a thought, like words being typed into her mind — like her own internal dialogue. And yet... foreign.

Mine, she shot back, trying to move her mouth. But her mouth was elsewhere.

The claws dug in deeper. Her skin (elsewhere) started to burn. I want you.

A comforting message — and yet, it drifted by on an ominous wave. She tightened her imaginative hold on a sense of physicality. No matter how painful it was starting to feel.

It was a connection to something... something...

Real.

Real. Reality. This was wrong. This darkness was wrong.

This darkness is your home.

The claws were slipping. The crushing pressure of nothingness was starting to lift. (How hadn't she noticed how utterly suffocating it felt?)

No. Reality is mine. There's...

There was someone.

Wasn't there?

A face. She couldn't quite grasp it. In her mind, it was blurred. Evading her hands.

But there was someone.

There's nothing for you out there. You belong here.

Reality is mine. There's someone waiting for me.

The pressure lifted more.

You are calamity. You belong here.

Reality awaits me.

You are lost. I have found you. You are safest with me. You must trust me. The world will hurt you. I will take away your pain forever.

This space was not her own. These words in her mind were an imitation of her internal voice.

It had revealed itself — whatever "it" was. There was more to this than escaping the world.

I like pain. It's better than numbness. I'll endure any pain to keep on living.

Reality was hers. She had a path to walk, still. She couldn't identify a single detail, couldn't see what her life was like or who stood beside her.

But she knew she wanted it.

You know nothing. Child of the Other. You have our blood. You are safest here. If you leave, you shall die by this world.

There's someone out there.

No one awaits you. I am your sole comfort.

No. I see... I hear... There's someone. I...

It dripped into her heart, then trickled in. Not their name, not their features. She didn't even know who they were to her. But she could feel, bit by bit, inklings of how they made her feel.

How... he made her feel.

Everything was muffled, distant, far outside of this ugly pool of cold captivity. But the surges of delight, admiration, awe, mirth, and deep-rooted love... — that was unmistakable.

He's waiting for me.

It is a fantasy. It is lies. There is no one. The devil is tempting your heart. What you feel is not real.

He is real.

Her chest tightened; faintly, her fingertips stung. She felt something against her palm, and then it slipped away.

The claws tightened around her, yet she felt them weakening.

It is not real. It is a trap, child.

Words. A liar speaks in many words.

My efforts are to save you. I shall take you someplace better. You are weak. If you leave your safety, you are declaring your own death.

I'd die for him.

It struck her chest. Her head spun for a moment. The feeling— the feelings. They were flooding her now; she could feel her every thought, her daily thoughts, her past thoughts; her every emotion. Like zipping through a movie, it burst her chest with warmth, shattered it with anxieties, and soothed it with peace. She still couldn't quite grasp the dozens of memories associated with each period of emotion, and yet she somehow understood it all.

But what was strongest, was that initial bundle of feeling.

I'd die for him.

Saeran.

Saeran, Saeran, Saeran.

I'd kill for him.

He is mine.

Reality is mine. He is mine.

I have something out there. Let me go.

I'd kill for him. I'll kill you. You are something. I'll end you mercilessly.

There was no passion behind her loud thoughts, not even anger. It was hard to feel her own emotions right now.

But she said it like a fact.

You cannot do that. I am your protector. He will do you no good.

So you admit he is real.

The claws dug in, but she reacted. Claws of her own lashed out, dug furiously into the large talons, tore into them, tore through bone, yanked them from her empty form, dug her shark-like teeth into them. A brand new fury engulfed her; she ripped them to shreds and kicked the remains down into the abyss.

Despite the nothingness, her vision felt clearer.

A shrill, clicking growl consumed the floating cage.

A bad decision, child. He stands outside, clueless. Your vessel is mine to guide. Its abilities are desirable. It has memorized several ways to handle other vessels. His vessel is undesirable to me.

Another series of guttural clicks.

But your connection to that vessel... would make quite the meal.

She couldn't decipher its exact intent.

But that didn't matter.

It sounded like a threat — a threat to Saeran.

To the first and last love of her life.

The man who had suffered undeservingly for his whole existence. The man who came out kind in spite of it all.

Anger surged in her chest again. Her own anger. Real anger.

I'll fucking tear you limb from limb. If you so much as touch his hair, I'll kill you and I'll fucking enjoy it.

You fucking entity. You baseless piece of shit.

LET ME GO!

Let me go. LET ME GO.

I want him. I need him. HE'S MINE. LET ME GO.

I'll kill you. I'LL KILL YOU.

Pilot. Pilot. Pilot!!! PILOT!

That dull ache was slowly spreading to the rest of her body, but she didn't care. She wanted it. It was deliciously refreshing amidst this terrible numbness.

You will never escape, blood. You—

If you corrupt him, I'll kill him. I'll kill him, I'll kill you, I'll kill myself.

Your logic is crumbling. That is what the world does to you. Fall back. My darkness is peace.

Peace! Kiss my fucking ass, dipshit. PILOT!!

She jolted, trying to feel her form outside. And— there! She felt a lurch. A streak of pain.

More. More.

She kept going, feeling the latches click into place — more, more.

It is futile. Your efforts are your imagination.

Shut up and speak to the FUCKING MIRROR!

Like releasing a coil, she flung herself into it full force — like shattering glass with her head and enduring the shards ripping through her skin. Fire searing through her veins, consumed her organs, blinded her with unending agony. Like a knife digging into her skin, her muscles, and slicing her into ribbons. Her throat — dry, tight, and actively shredding itself to bits. It burned and stung — a broken glass bottle shoving down her throat with inhuman force.

A constant sound, muffled and watery. Layered. Other noises whispered behind it, nearly drowned out.

Her throat was bleeding. Her lungs had collapsed.

Breathing was a foreign concept.

Her heart pounded in her head.

This really was it. This was her death. It was too late for her.

His name lingered in her mind as everything faded out. Her tongue wished to speak it. Her hands wished to hold his.

Her heart, though it was about to burst into gorey pieces, ached only for him.

She choked on a cry, and that loud (loud, loud, loud), lingering, constant sound stopped.

And air filled her lungs.

Her eyes shot open to colour, to shapes. Like emerging from deep waters, the barrier shattered.

Her heavy, wheezing breaths overwhelmed her ears — but it, and the sounds around her, were clear as day.

The white-hot pain was gone, leaving behind patches of aches, stings, and burns — nothing compared to what she just felt.

I was screaming, I think. That was the sound.

Squirrel was on the ground. On wooden planks. On patches of yellow straw. All she could smell was dust and iron and... and that faint scent of burning metal.

The one only she could smell. The one that only entities carried.

She wasn't out of the waters yet.

On your feet, Agent.

She shifted, grunted against some flaring pain, but pushed it all down. It's not your pain. Get to your feet.

Energy coiled up within her. Her palms tingled. She could feel something. It was nearby.

She rolled onto her stomach, pushed herself up, and leapt to her feet. Her head spun briefly, but she stayed steady.

She glared at the dark corner of the barn, just above the hayloft. Where she could sense it. Where she could smell it. Her hand reached behind her for the incapacitator. Her last resort.

Negotiation was off the table. It nearly killed her, after all.

Besides. The entity threatened Saeran. Her mind was made up.

...It was hiding, still. She could sense it, but it was hiding. Like a fucking coward.

"Show your ugly face," she growled.

She crept closer to the hayloft. She could feel its gaze through the darkness. Yet it stayed still and quiet.

Pilot stepped in suddenly and took over their voice, putting a rougher, deeper quality to it.

"We're not going to hurt you," she sang, her intonation telling a different story. "We just want... a bit of revenge. Is that so much to ask~?" A light, bitter laugh fell from her lips.

The air shifted. A metallic breeze. Like bloody air filling her lungs.

You broke it.

A disembodied voice: hissing, shrill, booming. Coming from everywhere at once. A guttural clicking.

You will be mine. Your vessel is most desirable. A vessel that can break those walls is one of strength.

Squirrel curled her lip in a sneer. "What makes you think, then, that you can have me again?"

Because you are weak now. Your energy is depleted. You cannot fight back.

She scoffed a laugh. "Keep telling yourself that."

You deny out of fear.

The darkness shifted stiffly. A shrill whine rose up, soon accompanied by sharp clicks. The metallic taste and smell grew stronger.

Behind her back, Squirrel tightened her grip around the device.

I see through you. You desire another's control. You wish for a shield from hardships. I am—

"Those statements are so vague, they'll fit anyone," she interrupted flatly. She whipped out the gun-like device and aimed it steadily at the shifting darkness. A slight smirk twitched on her lips. "I'm past negotiations, darling. I just want you dead."

...Your kind is amusing.

"Tch. You face death blankly because you think so highly of yo—"

A shriek of metal air; a dark bullet screaming towards her.

SHIT!

She whipped around and bolted.

Idiot! Pilot snapped, and threw their body to the ground, hitting the wood planks hard. The black mass zipped over their head. Pilot scrambled to her feet and stumbled away from the entity's new spot against the nearby wall.

...The gun was gone. Pilot's eyes swiftly darted around the barn.

It was by the doors.

Too far.

She warily eyed the creature. It was showing itself now. A pale purple thing of odd shape: four long, cylindrical limbs, like that of an octopus without its suction cups. A square-ish center with a hideous face: two dark eyes and a simple, disarming smile.

She narrowed her eyes.

Something cold chilled her neck. The entity's smile grew.

Squirrel's heart dropped. Her hand shot to her neck. The thing was already gone. The coldness spread; and then, a layer of warmth. Buzzing warmth. Like she was absorbing dimensional energy itself in its purest, rawest form.

A grin of sorts crossed her face. Pilot yelled something at her, but her voice was buried underneath all that pleasant buzzing.

Power. She was buzzing with power. This was nothing like all those times she had to absorb the dimensional energy of infused objects. This was a million times better. She felt a bit dizzy from the thrill, the pure giddiness.

It feels so wonderful, does it not?

Its voice was in her head now.

She laughed: rough, uncontrolled, brief. "Wonderful?" she rasped. Her throat was burning again. "It's the best damn thing I've ever fucking felt."

Is it? Well, th—

"No, actually," she said with an exhale, lifting her eyes to the slanted ceiling. "I just remembered." Another uncontrolled laugh. "The best damn thing I've felt is Saeran's—"

The door hinges squealed as the old barn door creaked open. The lamps from outside spilled dull yellow light into the already-dimly-lit barn. She could hear the night critters a little better now.

Then he stepped into view — and froze, his terrified eyes on the hideous creature. His fingers retreated from the door. One foot shifted back.

Squirrel felt herself grinning. "Saeran!" she exclaimed, throat sore and voice breathless.

He jolted and his eyes snapped to her. Relief visibly settled his nerves, but he remained tense with obvious apprehension (eyeing the dark entity).

He opened his mouth to speak.

A metallic taste, a black blur, and an artificial breeze. The creature loomed behind her, now, but she paid it no mind.

Saeran hurried closer, but stopped short several feet back, grave concern and a deep fear etching into the lines of his features. He looked painfully helpless as his eyes locked onto hers. Like he might cry. Like he couldn't move.

Her heart twisted, and for a moment, the veil lifted. Her grin fell, her elation dissipated, and she stepped forward, a hand reaching out. She hated seeing that expression on his face. She was supposed to protect him from this! And yet, here they were; and yet, his jaw was bruising from the entity's earlier blow. He was probably bruising elsewhere, too, depending on how he landed.

A knife to her gut — and it twisted its way deeper.

He was never supposed to get involved in these things. This messy line of work.

(And, maybe, she never should've chased this lead on her own. Maybe she should've just left it to the Western Unit, to the agents based here in America.)

"Saeran..." she choked out. Her throat hurt, still.

His expression shifted — a glimpse of hope, perhaps, within those terrified eyes.

And then they slipped past her, behind her, and widened. He yelled her name in warning, pushing himself into motion, and yet barely got a couple steps in before freezing once more.

Primal terror did funny things to people.

Saeran was doing everything he could to keep his focus on this moment. To not drift away. To not run. To not cower. To not do whatever else his instincts were begging him to do.

Which left him standing perfectly still, able only to watch as the edge of the entity's strange eyes glowed red, and black tendrils snaked up the veins in Squirrel's neck, and that glowing, purple-ish hue overtook her green and gold irises once more.

He was losing her again.

He didn't know how to fight something like this.

Her rasping giggle grabbed his attention. Her expression caught him off guard — a too-large grin, eyes brimming with dark adoration — her hand reaching behind her.

"Saeran...!" she exhaled, and her voice was laced with a familiar tone. But given the context, it felt so, so, so different. This wasn't her occasional moments of sane possessiveness. Even in one word — just his name — he could hear how unhinged her mind was right now.

But, he thought, if she was leveraging her attention on him, and her affection for him remained... maybe he could use that.

"No need to be so wary, darling," Squirrel purred. "It's just me. Do you know how much I fucking love you?"

He flinched, brows furrowing a little. He shifted a step back.

She wasn't one to freely swear, especially in such a bright tone.

Hurt flashed in her eyes. "You... don't, do you?"

His mind scrambled for a response. "I— M-my l—"

"That's okay!" she suddenly chirped, grinning at him. "I can fix that." She stepped closer. "I can fix that fear on your face. I can show you how far my love goes for you." Her hand emerged from her back and rose up. A click, and the blade snapped up. Her other hand pressed to her cheek, and the most terrifying expression of pure, blinded obsession darkened her eyes and creased her face. "You're sure to love me when I'm done," she added, voice deceptively soft.

Saeran swallowed hard. He dared to glimpse the entity behind her, and flinched. It had only gotten more horrifying: dark, vein-y strands criss-crossing its limbs; large, hollow abysses for eyes; an unending flow of thick, sludgy blackness dripping from its wide-open mouth.

And when he looked at her again, her eyes were wide with horror.

"I-I..." she strained. "I— c-c..."

"Squirrel!" He found his voice; it gritted against his throat with intensity. "Fight back! I-I know you can—! I— You-you're strong —" his voice broke — "and- and— Please, my..."

The entity's eyes were rimmed with red once more, and its shrill, throaty clicking echoed around the barn. Squirrel gritted her teeth, groaning in her effort. She held her head with her free hand, fingers tangling in her hair; one eye squeezed shut, but she forced the other open as much as she could.

"The... door!" she hissed out. "Device! Use th—" Her shaking hand dropped the switchblade, then dug into her curls.

His eyes darted over to the door, searching anxiously, desperately, for whatever she was talking about.

He saw it. Yellow light glinting off sleek black.

He glanced at her — If he ran, would it hurt her more? Or would he run out of time if he tried to be subtle?

"Argh! GO!" she forced out, squinting heavily at him.

He swallowed. He eyed the device once more.

He ran.

Her swift footsteps followed not two seconds later, hitting the wooden planks like a terrifying promise. He ran faster, reached the door; stumbled to his knees, swiped the device, whipped around — she was close, too close, just a few meters away. He aimed the gun past her, at the faintly-screeching entity, and desperately searched for any indication of which freaking button was the trigger mechanism.

She was nearing — her hands free of any blade, but he knew her bare hands were skilled enough.

He didn't want her suffering any guilt.

Screw it.

He didn't have time to think anymore. He picked the one that looked right and pushed his thumb into it as hard as he could.

Right as she threw herself at him.

The energy palpably charged up within a mere second — and she was in the air, hands reaching out — and the lights around them were pulsing — and the entity's mouth was dripping red — and Saeran couldn't breathe — and, finally, the build-up of energy burst from the gun in a single, concentrated point.

The kickback threw him off balance, but Squirrel's body collided with his before he could fall. Her hands trapped him in an expert grapple, sending them both rolling to the ground.

Her laugh rang in his ears when the dizzying movement stopped; her manic grin hovered over him.

"I've got y—!"

The entity's shrill, agonized shrieking ripped through the air. Squirrel went tense, fingers digging into his shoulders with a painful grip. Saeran's head was throbbing, the entity's awful screams reviving the pain from his earlier hit to the head.

But the mania was absent from Squirrel's tense mien. The inky tendrils on her face and neck were retreating. The glowing purple was fading from her eyes.

Her nails pressed into his skin through his shirt. She began to tremble. Her jaw clenched. Approaching tears dampened her eyes.

She was too paralyzed to express it, but she was suffering absolute agony. The same seering hot fire from her earlier escape purged through her veins, her bones, her muscles, along her skin. Her eyes were melting under the flame; her tongue was boiling; her skin was turning to ash.

All she could do was stare down at her lover, at his pained wince, at his bruised face.

The screeching stopped, the metallic taste left her mouth, its heavy smell cleared from her nose. The entity was gone for good.

Squirrel collapsed.

He felt her limp weight fall onto him, felt her fingers loosen from his shoulders. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her. It wasn't until the lingering throb in his head passed, though, that he could properly acknowledge her.

He exhaled shakily, fingers digging into the back of her shirt.

"I-it's over, right?" he murmured.

She didn't respond. Not a mumble, not a twitch, not even a sigh.

Icy fingers crept up his spine. His throat felt tight. "Squirrel?" he quavered. He clutched her shirt tighter. He couldn't lift or turn his head to see her face, not with how she had fallen, her cheek on his shoulder, her face turned away. "My l-love?" He could barely raise his voice.

He could barely breathe.

Stay— stay calm. Stay... Just feel. For her breathing. J-just...

His fingers released her shirt; his hands rose higher on her back. He held his own breath, and waited.

A faint rise and fall.

Relief swamped him so immensely that he had to shut his eyes for a moment. "Oh, God," he breathed, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He felt like he might cry. He pulled her a bit higher, buried his face in her hair and— a tear slipped down his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Mhn..." She stirred, her hands slowly cupping his upper arms. "S...S...Saer...an?" she rasped, weakly nuzzling his shoulder.

He tried to say her name, but all that came out was a soft sob. Alarmed, she forced herself up (shaking) to look at him. He peered back at her, eyes brimming with quiet tears, and a couple dripping down his face. "S..." Her mouth wasn't cooperating. She lifted her hand to hold his face, but the loss of leverage had her falling again. She caught herself, her palm meeting the hay-strewn boards beside his head, before sinking back down, hiding her face in his neck. He tightened his hold on her again, one hand drifting up to shakily comb through her unkempt hair.

"My love," he whispered finally, sounding choked. "Oh, my love, y-you're okay... you're okay..."

She hummed softly, sinking further into him.

"Y-you're—" Another sob interrupted him as it all settled in. Everything that just happened, everything they had just been through, and everything from the last couple of days. That it was a close call; that it was over now.

That this was the sort of danger she faced regularly.

He didn't like it. He hadn't liked it when she explained it, but he wasn't going to tell her what to do with her life. It was obvious she loved her job, and she handled it all well — and Saeran, more than anyone, understood the importance of freedom in life.

But now that he had faced it himself? Seen the risks? Felt all that fear? Well... he was having second thoughts.

Squirrel shifted again, pushed herself up despite his insistent grip. For a moment, he resisted (wishing she would just hold him back just as tightly; aching for her reassurance that she was alright, that everything was alright), before forcing himself to release her. She moved off him, sat next to him with her legs tucked under her, one knee brushing his flank.

He watched her face closely.

She wasn't looking at him. But her eyes were narrowed, more focused — blanker than ever, and yet that blankness contributed to a hint of irritation. Her jaw was set. Her fingers loosely gripped her thighs.

Her eyes lowered, suddenly, to her lap. To her bruised hands. For the briefest of moments, she paled, a haunted look in her eyes — then it was gone, leaving her looking restrained, closed-off, tense.

...Saeran's hand, resting over her knees, ached to hold her painful-looking hands, or her face, but...

Her eyes glanced over his. She was still silent.

"...Pilot?" he whispered.

She stared at her trembling hands again.

She cleared her throat quietly. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I... don't know what to... do here."

"What do you—?"

"There's no true protocol to follow," she answered hastily. "Everything's... taken care of."

Saeran wasn't sure how to respond. But the fact that he was speaking with Pilot... concerned him.

When he spoke, it was barley above a strained whisper. "She's not okay, is she?"

Pilot's eyes darkened, but she wasn't looking at Saeran. "No. She felt too guilty and overwhelmed. She just... pushed me out here. Am I..." Her eyes flitted over him, over his face. Her hesitant face turned a little pink. "Am I supposed to... comfort you? You look... worried."

"Don't worry about me," Saeran murmured, slowly sitting up and facing her.

"But she is. She's worried. And she pushed me out here, so it's my duty to do something about it."

He cautiously reached his hand out — a gentle request, one she could turn down. "Don't feel forced, Pilot... You suffered through all that, too."

She eyed his hand warily. "I've told you..." Her words died out. She grabbed his hand (in an admittedly uncomfortable grip) and pushed it down quite forcefully — then held it firmly to her lap, her eyes finding his and piercing through his skull. He found his heart in his throat, worrying he had just screwed up.

"My duty is to take over whatever is too much for her. There's no 'feeling forced' here." She leaned back an inch, her grip loosening and her features softening. "...Yeah, of course I was there. I took over here and there, but she kept getting pulled back to the front. I'm used to stuff like that entity... So is she, of course, but it's... different. I'm the one who gets to process everything. She gets to treat it like it happened to someone else."

The compassion and sorrow creasing Saeran's features had her quickly taking her hand off his. "Don't start— d-don't say something nice. I'm supposed to... supposed to comfort you... Argh, what does she do? How do I..." She trailed into mumbles.

"Pilot, please don't ignore your own suffering," Saeran urged. "It was... terrifying to see you go through that..."

"See?" She jolted forward, snatching his hands again. "Exactly! I need to comfort you. My words are no good, clearly, but she has other ways, right? Like, like—" She hesitated, then leaned up and quite literally crashed her lips against his. Startled, he let her, but didn't quite reciprocate.

It hardly lasted a few seconds, anyways.

Her narrowed eyes met his. Her face stayed close, just a few inches away.

"Is that not it?" she mumbled, her eyes searching his. "Or does it not work, because I'm not her?"

"No!" Saeran blurted, squeezing her hands. She leaned back a little. "I- I love you like I love Squi—"

"That's not what I meant," she interrupted, averting her eyes. (He swore her cheeks were a little pink.) "She's better at emotions. That's all I meant."

"Pilot," he said with a sigh. "You don't need to cater to me. But... if you want to comfort me right now, I... I would... I would like to hold you. And, ah... for you to hold me..."

She was a little quiet for a moment, then gave a small nod. "She likes that."

He perked up unintentionally. "She's listening?"

"Of course she is," Pilot almost barked, biting her tone down at the last second.

"Um... but are you okay with it?"

"Obviously. Squirrel's okay with it, so I am too. I just might not be as good at it."

"Right..."

"So?" She rose a brow. "Do I... er... hug you?"

"Ah... I'll show you, my love, here."

Her face flushed a little, but she didn't make any comments. She just let him tug her a bit closer, let him wrap his arms around her... She held him back, rested against his chest, her ear to his heartbeat. She knew that usually calmed Squirrel down.

She felt Squirrel creep up like a kicked puppy; she hesitantly took motor control, adjusting and securing their hold on Saeran, pressing closer to him, bringing one hand up to loosely toy with the hair above his neck.

Hesitation. Even as Saeran sunk into their perfect hold, Pilot and Squirrel were at a standoff. Squirrel was considering her return; Pilot was considering slipping away.

But, a few moment later, Squirrel retreated, the burden of guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders. Leaving Pilot to figure out the rest.

Saeran exhaled shakily, somehow sinking even further into her. Pilot's heart was in her throat as she maintained her hold, as she forced her body to relax and stay that way.

And everything that had just happened — now and earlier — flashed through their mind, from start to end.

...Maybe it was kind of... a lot. Even for Pilot. And maybe Saeran's arms around her did feel good. Maybe his heartbeat was comforting to her, too. Maybe her eyes were slipping shut, and relaxing became easier, and she, too, sunk into him.

Or maybe that was just Squirrel's influence. But did it really matter?

One hand left her back, suddenly, and — naturally — she sensed its movement in the air, until it buried into her hair. She began to stiffen a little, until he took a steadying breath and his hand moved again: his fingers combing through her tangled hair.

She squeezed him— No, that was Squirrel, drawn back in a little from his gesture. She still lingered back, nervous, but her presence was stronger than before.

"My love," he murmured hoarsely, and for some reason, chills spread along Pilot's skin. "We should... go back."

We should. This barn lingers with the taste of metal, Pilot thought.

And the fresh memories, added Squirrel.

Pilot exhaled and all the work to get her body relaxed dissipated. She pulled away. Saeran held her tighter, pulling her back — a choked, panic noise escaping him (and Squirrel's yelling echoing in their mind: "DON'T LEAVE HIM.")

Pilot huffed and tugged against his resistance (ignored Squirrel's pleas). Saeran managed, through a small, stuttering voice (so different from the one he had just spoken in), to speak up: "Ple-please, Pilot, please, I—! I-I need t-to, to, to... to—!" His words jumbled up.

And I need you to stop touching me.

Pilot pulled again, and this time his hands gave away. She moved away from him a few inches, ignoring the pitiful expression he sent her, ignoring Squirrel's internal freak out (if Squirrel was so concerned, why didn't she just come out and do something about it?).

"Pilot..." came his soft, pleading whisper, and she could feel his eyes on her, see in her peripheral his hand half-reach out.

But her skin was crawling, and her chest was tight.

The memories lingered here, indeed.

Did they both forget that Pilot was the one left to deal with these sorts of problems? Ones related to entities and mind-bending? Sure, this time was a bit different (Squirrel would have no choice but to face some of the brunt herself), but that didn't change much for Pilot.

Not that Pilot cared, but she needed her space to properly deal with it.

WHY RIGHT NOW?! Squirrel snapped.

A slump of a body and a rustle of clothes. Pilot glanced over to her left. Saeran had laid back onto the old wooden boards, one hand clutching at his chest, his eyes squeezing shut.

There was a sudden, almost audible growl in Pilot's right ear, and then a nearly palpable pressure around her throat. In their mind's eye, Squirrel was now directly in front of her, a fierce snarl on her face, and her hands wrapped tightly around Pilot's neck.

You're lucky I can't actually FUCKING KILL YOU.

Squirrel threw Pilot out of the driver's seat and loomed over her, leaving them empty for a moment (leaving their body to slump forward like a limp doll).

I THOUGHT I COULD ENTRUST HIM TO YOU. Squirrel's thought-shouting rang around the space.

She whipped around and stalked away to the front.

Pilot dusted herself off, unfazed. She wondered how long Squirrel's instability would last — if it would even become Pilot's problem. For now, Pilot put it on the back burner. She had a job to do.

Squirrel jolted as she came-to, realized she was facing the wrong way, and turned to her left. Without a moment's hesitation, she crawled the short distance and grasped the hand over his chest.

Saeran's eyes flew open. He drew in a sharp breath. "Y-you're back," he breathed, and she was about to let him know they had switched, when—

"Squirrel," squeaked from his mouth in a half-sob, and his other hand reached out to cup her cheek. It guided him to sit up, and she helped him — shifting closer all the while.

When his hand was on her cheek and hers were on his upper arms, he still clutched one side of his chest: a grounding method, she knew, but seeing it dropped another inkling of guilt into her soul.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and tried to say what for, but too many things came to mind. She felt the threat of tears burn her eyes. "...Th-there's so much to... to be s-sorry for... For everything, Saeran. And for Pilot's actions. That wouldn't've happened if I—"

Wasn't such a coward.

But don't say it. Focus on him right now. Don't fall into self-pity.

"You're here now," he whispered, palm lightly rubbing her cheek — the side without the sting, whatever was causing it (a cut, perhaps, or a bruise). His eyes weren't on hers; rather, they seemed to be taking in all the black-and-blue-and-red additions to her face. "None of that was your fault," he added in a hoarse mutter.

Her heart was pounding and she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the way he still seemed a little distant — the way his eyes weren't quite focused. A stone of guilt lodged into her throat.

"Saeran," Squirrel choked out. She cleared her throat. "Saeran. Ray. D-duckie, please..." Her hands slid to his chest, one grasping his shirt and the other resting over his hand. "Are you here... with me?" she rasped.

Slowly, his mint blue hues (gorgeous despite the exhaustion evident within them) drifted to her eyes. "...A little," he said, with what looked like a bit of a struggle.

Idiot. Your fault.

Stop. Now is not the time.

She blinked back tears and lifted her hand on his shirt to the one cupping her cheek. "C-can we leave here? Are you... able? If we stay in here, I..." She didn't know how to finish.

...His eyes cleared suddenly, but not in any way that brought her relief. No, they intensified, as did his hold. "D-don't leave me," he demanded — and then it all slipped away into nerves and anxiety.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she whispered, voice breaking a little. "I'll, uh... carry you. How about that? You'll... you'll be closest to me like that."

Again, his reply took longer than usual. But she swore a brief smile crossed his nigh-haunted expression. "I'd like that..."

"Okay." She pulled his hand off her cheek and held it tight; moved her other hand to his other arm, and with some maneuvering, they both got to their feet.

Another mumbled, "okay," escaped her on a breath as she mentally debated whether to carry him in her arms or on her back. Just as she reached her conclusion, however, his hand squeezed hers. She looked up at him curiously — in time for his hand to fall from his chest and reach for hers. She let go of his upper arm to take his hand.

Saeran was smiling gently at her, but she could see the trouble behind his clear eyes. She swallowed tightly.

"Ah, um... I need my hands t-to carry you," she fumbled out. She didn't want to face her guilt right now.

"I know, darling." He sounded more present, now, too. His smile softened further. "But I think I should carry you instead."

She blinked a couple times. "Um... I'm stronger."

A quiet chuckle, yet his happier features strained. "You... collapsed not long ago, my love. Let me have this..."

Her throat tightened again. She nodded quickly and jerked her gaze away. Her skin tingled with unpleasant warmth. Her teeth gritted together against welling emotions.

Saeran's hands left hers, reappeared at her back, and guided her closer to him.

He was holding her. She shakily held him, too; and he held her tighter and tighter. And his fingers combed her hair. And his murmuring voice filled her head.

I don't deserve this comfort right now.

But Squirrel despised the thought of resistance.

...She was getting dangerously close to tears. She was shaking in his arms. Her breathing was far from steady. He gave her a light squeeze and told her it was okay to let out whatever she was feeling.

It nearly broke her. But, ironically, she was a little too nervous and scattered and paranoid to be pushed over the edge.

"Not here," she managed quietly. "N-not right... now."

"That's okay," he told her, and pulled back to kiss her forehead. She couldn't look up at him — not until his hand brushed her hair from her face, thus drawing her attention. His warm smile felt undeserved, but she appreciated it all the more. "Let's go back," he said, echoing his earlier words. "We'll be okay, Squirrel, my love."

She could believe it, when he said it.