#but i've gotten to the point where I can tell who drew her just from looking at a screenshots

[bunnymajo]

Surge the Tenrec’s different charm points from artist to artist

Mauro Fonseca: Feral animal, TEETH, Peak swagger, the coolest girl in school, stout and cute to fit in your pocket 10/10

Thomas Rothlisberger: Her face is beauty & grace defined, expressive, youthful, Banana Bunch hair, the Surge you hang out with on weekends 10/10

Aaron Hammerstrom: Perfectly shaped quills that are always ready to slay, big on body language, “it’s not just a phase mom”, 10/10

Adam Bryce Thomas: La Creatura (affectionate), Funky poses, Kill Bite Maim, Meet her behind the Denny’s at 3am for an ass kicking 10/10

Natalie Haines: Moe eyes, I-I’m not doing this for you b-baka!, soft long quills & round ears 10/10

Evan Stanley: Glamour Girl, On point eyeliner, Maybe she’s born with it. “I won’t hesitate bitch”, Tenrec’s next top model 10/10

[ckret2]

Chapter 50 of by this point human Bill Cipher is almost relieved to be imprisoned in the Mystery Shack again: Bill tells Mabel about his adventures, and Ford and Dipper tell Fiddleford about theirs.

But first Bill's gonna die for a bit.

"Guys! You're okay!" Mabel flung her arms around Dipper and squeezed him. "We were worried you were floating around and broke your legs when the gravity came back."

"N—no, we were fine," Dipper said. 

Mabel let go of Dipper to hug Ford next—and then drew back, looked him up and down, and looked at Bill. "What happened to your clothes?"

Bill said, "We fell in the lake."

"Ha!"

"Tate was kind enough to loan us dry clothes," Ford said.

"You look like big dorks." She turned to Bill last, took in his dirty haggard appearance, and said, "And you look awful. Where have you guys been the last two days?"

"Thanks for asking! I've been in..." Bill glanced at Stan. "Am I allowed to say the name of the place I've been?"

Stan shook his head. "Not in front of the kids, you don't."

Bill sighed. "Agony. I've been in agony."

"Aww!" She hugged Bill last. "I like your stupid Fishmas sweater."

"Consider it yours as soon as I can change." He wriggled out of her embrace to point at his feet. "Check out the shoes, though!"

Mabel cracked up. "Omigosh, fish slippers! Fi— Fishlers? Fishppers?"

"Fishoes?"

"Fishoes!"

Soos said, "What did happen out there?" He was in the kitchen, cleaning and reorganizing after zero gravity had tossed everything out of order. "Did you heroically save Gravity Falls from imminent multidimensional devastation?"

Ford said, "No. Aside from the effects on gravity, it... turned out to be a benign phenomenon."

"Oh," Soos said. "Like... what Bill said?"

Ford grimaced. He managed to just nod instead of saying afraid so.

Again, he expected Bill to gloat; again, Bill said nothing. He didn't even look at Ford.

"It wasn't an eclipse, though," Dipper muttered, shooting a dark look at Bill. "It would've been an eclipse if it had gotten between us and gravity. It was basically the opposite."

"What do you want from me." The question was more sighed than spoken. "It was called an eclipse when I was growing up, I dunno what to tell you."

Ford, Dipper, and Mabel all looked straight at Bill at the mention of his childhood; but he didn't say anything more. He just trudged to the kitchen and leaned tiredly on the doorframe, watching Soos work. "Grab me something from the fridge."

"Sure thing, dawg." Soos opened the door. "What do you want?"

Bill was silent for a moment. Slowly, like a spirit medium channeling a faint message from the other side, he said, "I think... the body wants a vegetable. Gimme some guacamole."

"Sorry, dude, we had the last of it with dinner."

"Fine. Just give me an avocado and salsa, I'll make do."

"You got it."

"Two avocados."

Soos started rummaging through the jumbled mess in the fridge. "So if everything was okay, what took you guys so long to get back?"

"Yeah, I've been wanting to ask," Stan said. (He hadn't been able to in the car; when everyone realized Bill had passed out as soon as he'd sat down, they'd fallen into an awkward silence.) "Was the demon making trouble or what?"

Dipper and Ford exchanged a glance; who wanted to share the embarrassing news? Ford said, "Actually, under the circumstances, he was... well behaved." Ford resisted the urge to add the modifier "tolerably." It seemed mean-spirited. Bill had constantly complained, sure, but in retrospect could Ford say the complaints were unjustified?

"Then what took you so long?"

Now Ford felt Bill's gaze on him, watching him sharply. Ford understood now. This was why Bill hadn't mentioned saving them. He was holding it in reserve—offering a deal. If Ford and Dipper didn't embarrass him, he wouldn't embarrass them. If they mentioned his breakdown, he could cut in, claim it was natural for him to be in shock after performing such a difficult, heroic deed.

It wasn't blackmail, per se. Revealing the truth wouldn't cost anybody anything but a bit of momentary self-consciousness. But wasn't that just like Bill—only passing up an opportunity to boast so he could use it to shield his ego.

"It was Bill's fault," Dipper said quickly. Ford's heart leaped into his throat. "Because—we had to climb up and down the tunnel to Gravity Peak, and he only brought dress shoes and dumb fish slippers. We kept having to slow down."

Ford felt the pressure of Bill's gaze slide off of his face as he turned away, staring back into the kitchen. Bill said, "Yep. Guess I should have brought my hiking shoes—oh, wait."

Stan said, "You could've got some better shoes when we were at the mall! You're the one who wanted those dumb dress shoes."

"In my defense, I didn't think you paranoiacs would ever let me wander around in the great outdoors—much less force me to." He leaned more heavily against the doorway with a groan, muttering, "My legs are still jelly. Worthless human body."

Dipper glanced at Ford, as if checking with him to see if he'd made the right decision. Ford gave him a tiny nod of approval. After the day they'd had, humiliating Bill just for the sake of humiliation wouldn't have served any justice; it would have just been mean.

For the past three decades, Ford had always felt that Bill deserved the strongest possible punishment, both for his prior atrocities and to prevent future ones; but, he wanted to deal with Bill swiftly and efficiently. No gloating, no torture—just one quick shot. Sure, he got some grim satisfaction from knowing Bill was unhappy—knowing that Bill's vile intentions were being thwarted—and if anyone decided to treat Bill cruelly for cruelty's sake, he couldn't say they were wrong for it... but the thought of committing it himself made him uneasy.

He tried to remember if he'd felt that way when Bill had first arrived.

"I found the salsa!" Soos called from the fridge. "Somehow it all floated onto the highest shelf? Which kind do you want?"

"That one with a picture of a sobbing baby on it."

"Extra spicy it is!"

When Soos handed over the salsa and avocados, Bill said, "Hey, Hick Junior said his father was making announcements about staying inside and low to the ground? You didn't happen to have anything to do with that, did you?"

"Oh—yeah, I called Old Man McGucket and said I had a hot anonymous tip about what was going on," Soos said. "You said it was this whole public safety thing, so I figured the whole town should probably know? He's the local respected science guy now, I thought he'd know what to do with that kind of important information."

Bill grunted. "Terrific, he gets credit for my help. But you'd all be giving me heck if I'd said nothing and half the town broke their necks, so... whatever, net zero. Here." Bill took off the Monster-Mon backpack and swung it over to Soos. "Your reward. Good job."

"Whoa, haha, this is heavy. What's in here, a bag of rocks?"

"No, just one." Bill pushed off the doorway, wheeled unsteadily around, and trudged toward the stairs.

Soos unzipped the bag. A drugged geodite blinked sleepily up at him. He gasped. "Dude! A real Monster-Mon! Is this my call to epic adventure with a lovable animal sidekick?"

Ford grimaced, remembering watching Bill feed a geodite cold medicine. "Ah."

"I think I'll name you... Rocky," Soos said.

"That—really shouldn't be here. Its natural environment is caves, I don't know if it's safe for it to be out here—for it or us." They had been known to bite.

"Aww." Soos cradled the backpack like a swaddled baby. "Do you think it would be okay if I made it a fake cave to live in?" He gasped. "I could make an exhibit for him! I'll say he's a living meteorite! People love aliens."

"I'm not sure that..." Ford sighed. Well, none of them were going back to the cave today. "Maybe you should put it in the cellar where it's darker."

"Great idea!" Soos carried the geodite through the living room. "Hey, I've already got a mattress down there. You're gonna love it, lil dude..."

Ford hoped Soos didn't get attached to that thing. He shot a glower at Bill.

Bill was already on the stairs. "Now everybody leave me alone. Except you." He pointed at Mabel. "I don't want to do anything but lay on the floor and talk about whatever Mabel wants to talk about for the next three hours."

"Cartoons and boy bands."

"Yes," Bill sighed in relief, already preparing to turn 95% of his brain off. "Wow, yes, that's exactly what I want to talk about. I can't wait." He grabbed the handrail as he climbed heavily, leaning against it for balance as he dragged himself upstairs.

Before Mabel could follow him, Ford put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, before you go—there's something I wanted to tell you and Dipper." Voice low, he said, "You remember when you told me that Bill had mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop?"

"Yeah? When we were drawing our houses."

"Something Bill said while we were out shook a memory loose. It reminded me of a book I read as an undergraduate—Flatworld, written by Edward Bishop Bishop."

"Aww," Mabel said. "Not an artist?"

"No, although he did illustrate the book," Ford said. "It's a novella that combines Victorian social commentary with a primer on higher-dimensional mathematics by using an allegory about sentient shapes living in a two-dimensional world."

"That's what you were talking about in the boat, right?" Dipper asked. "When Bill said something about..." He scrunched his face, trying to remember, "'Up in the sky'...?"

"Upward-but-not-skyward," Ford said, "to describe something that isn't higher than us in the third dimension, but rather, in a higher dimension relative to us."

"How do you know about it?" Dipper asked. "The first time it came up, you said the name Edward Bishop Bishop was familiar, but..."

Ford sighed in irritation, "I read it as an undergraduate—in a haze of sleep-deprived exhaustion just before finals week—to get extra credit in a course on the history of mathematics. I immediately forgot ninety percent of it—which I'm sure is why I never thought of it in relation to Bill. If only I'd remembered the book thirty years ago, when it might have done me some good..."

"It's okay," Mabel said. "I forget almost everything I've read for class basically as soon as I've taken the test. I think it's pretty good that you remember anything about Flatworld at all!"

Ford smiled awkwardly. He was afraid that might say more about Mabel's study habits than about his. "Thank you, Mabel."

"And you did have a lot on your mind thirty years ago," Dipper said. "Like, Bill. Literally. On your mind."

Mabel added, "Doing creepy possession things!"

"I suppose that's true, too." What would he have done if he had remembered the book during that frenetic, delirious period when Bill and Ford had wrestled for control over his body? He'd been in no fit shape to go to the library. "I did think about it a couple of times in the multiverse—when I was visiting Exwhylia, for instance—but at the time I'd brushed it off as a lucky coincidence that I'd read a book that invented a society of shapes. It wouldn't be the first time science fiction predicted science fact. But now that Bill's mentioned it twice, I'd say it's less likely a coincidence and more likely that Edward Bishop Bishop was another of his 'students.'"

"Is there a way for us to find out?" Dipper asked. "If he was Bill's student, would he have left behind any... hints? Coded messages?"

"Like secret society conspiracy things?" Mabel asked.

"Yeah!"

"I suppose it's possible," Ford said. "If Flatworld happens to feature a one-eyed yellow triangle sharing the secrets of the universe, we'll know for sure. But, there's only one way to find out: now that I do remember the book, we can pick up a copy for research."

"That's great," Dipper said. "If Bill told the author about his home dimension... there's no telling how much we can learn about him by reading it."

"So it's basically a math textbook disguised as a story?" Mabel groaned. "That's just like doing word problems! The most confusing kind of math problems. Why does Bill keep making me have homework this summer?"

"You know what he's like," Dipper said, elbowing her with a grin. "Dastardly villain."

"Pure evil."

Ford huffed. "If it helps, as I recall the book teaches you about math concepts, but it doesn't make you do any math."

She let out a longer, more theatrical groan. "Fine. But if there's a cousin Throckmorton I'm throwing the book away."

"I dunno, sounds kinda neat," Dipper said. "It might give me a leg up when we start geometry."

"I don't remember the details of what it covers, but I bet it could," Ford agreed. "I have to visit Fiddleford this evening to return the equipment he loaned us, and... discuss the events of the last couple of days. If the library's still open when we're done I can go by and see if they have a copy of Flatworld."

"Can I come along?" Dipper asked.

"Of course. Just give me a moment to..." He looked down at himself, "change into something a little less ridiculous."

Dipper tried not to laugh. "Okay. I'll wait here. Mabel, do you want to...?"

"No thanks!" She pointed upstairs. "I've got a captive audience to teach about boy bands. I'm going to make him listen to Sev'ral Timez's entire discography."

"He's already had a pretty bad day. Don't torture him even more."

Mabel blew a raspberry. "He'll love it." She bounded up the stairs.

Ford headed to his and Stan's guest room. Dipper took off his backpack, dropped it in the living room, and stuck his hands in his pockets—then pulled one out in surprise.

The enchanted friendship bracelets. They were still in his pocket. Bill hadn't had them on since Dipper's out-of-body experience that morning.

Dipper stared at them uneasily; then hung them in their usual place on the entryway coat rack and resumed waiting for Ford.

####

It was a rare opportunity that Bill was allowed in the kids' room; but with Ford and Dipper out of the house, the one person most likely to complain wasn't around. So after having extracted a strict promise for him to behave himself, Mabel had let him in, for ease of gossip and CD-switching.

But even if Dipper had been in the room, he wouldn't have found much worth complaining about. Once Bill had finished his snack (he'd eaten the avocados like pears, skin and all, and drank down the salsa like a chunky smoothie), he'd laid down on the floor, and since then had remained a dead lump. Face buried in his crossed arms, curled up in the oversized Fishmas sweater and a set of loose stolen-from-Soos sweats to replace the towel skirt, he might as well have been a pile of laundry that had sprouted curly golden hair. Mabel had put Sev'ral Timez's first album on the boombox, sat herself on Bill's back, and started brushing out his damp, knotted curls without asking as she talked about each track.

To her delight, Bill started insisting they skip past the slow, emotional love ballads, saying he preferred the bouncier dancier tracks; she thought the fact that he was displaying a preference rather than begging to turn the band off was a good sign. He was actually listening to the music. Possibly even liking it! Maybe she'd manage to convert him into a fan. She recounted her experiences with the band's cloned members and Bill threw in the polite "Mhm" and "Uh-huh?" where appropriate without lifting his head from the floor or opening his eyes. She'd thought he might have had something to throw in about the cloning thing, that seemed like the kind of conspiracy nonsense he might have a hand in; but if he knew anything, he wasn't up to sharing it.

When she'd wrangled his hair into some semblance of order, she got to work on his fingernails. His arm was like a dead weight in her hands, loose and unresisting but not helping, either. He shifted his head over to rest on his other arm and otherwise didn't move.

"Your fingernail polish is destroyed," Mabel said. On three fingers the paint had been all but completely scraped off. When he'd left a couple of days ago, it had just been lightly chipped. She started stripping the remainder with nail polish remover.

"Is it?" Bill mumbled. "Mmh. Yeah, probably from clawing in the dirt."

"Pfff. What did you do the last couple of days?"

Bill slowly sucked in a breath so deep that Mabel felt his back lift her a little higher off the ground; and then he just as slowly let it back out. "Do not," he said, "get me started."

He got started.

He began with a tirade about the contempt that both Ford and Dipper had shown him and his far superior subject matter expertise for the last two days; and then about being hauled out and exposed during totality after repeating over and over how dangerous it was and how much he would prefer to not do that—Ford had even admitted he'd dragged Bill out into open air just because he knew how much he didn't want that!—and from there Bill looped back to listing a whole litany of gripes against what he perceived as egregious and undeserved disrespect from Ford over the last couple of weeks—"Youmight have lied to me about that glass pyramid, but at least you didn't laugh in my face about it!"

(Mabel thought Ford pretty much had the right to be as disrespectful to Bill as he wanted, after everything Bill had put him through. Lying about a silly imaginary cult was less mean than lying about taking over the universe. But part of being a good friend, she knew well, was lending a sympathetic ear to your friend's venting without suggesting that said friend might be in the wrong. She had a Color Critters episode about being honest with your friends she could show him later.)

Bill seemed to gain strength as he aired his grievances, bolstered by Mabel's encouraging "mhm" "uh-huh" noises. By the time she'd finished repainting his first hand (she'd picked a glittery purple polish she thought would complement all the yellow he wore), he was sitting upright and Mabel had to sit in front of him to start on his other hand.

"—and my stupid feet hurt," Bill griped. "Since Stanford made me traipse halfway through the mountain barefoot because he wouldn't let us go back down before the gravity returned and I don't even own shoes for spelunking. And my knees hurt, and my back hurts, and I could have killed for a walking stick but do think they'd have allowed me one if I asked? Because I don't think so! I tripped over—I don't know, a hundred roots."

"Worst hiking trip ever." Mabel finished painting his second hand, and started looking through her miniature sticker sheets for some fun stickers to put on Bill's first hand now that it was dry.

"Worst in the history of your planet! Even the Donner party had a better hike! At least some of them got something to eat," Bill said. "All I got for two days was a handful of cereal and Stanford's liquid meat in a toothpaste tube."

Mabel stuck out her tongue.

"And Stanford walks too fast. And your brother kept trying to squeeze through gaps between trees I couldn't get through. And Stanford kept fiddling with his—stupid—useless antique Civil War lantern he's so proud of, and he's just lucky that I thought to bring a way to find a light source even though I didn't even need one, because I knew he would bring that stupid Civil War lantern..." Bill's complaints petered out.

And then, voice oddly quiet, he said, "And I saw my corpse." 

Mabel looked up from carefully placing a yellow butterfly on Bill's middle fingernail. There was a dark look in his eyes. "Oh," she said. "Oh, Bill. I'm so sorry."

This wasn't just a bad camping trip. This was serious. She had to treat it seriously.

She ejected the current CD from the boombox, put in another Sev'ral Timez album, and skipped to track 4: "This goes out to anyone having a bad day. Ladies, this one's for you. 'Girl, today has been—straight whack. You don't know how you're gonna—bounce back. But any time you're down, I'll always be around; I'll drive your heart back to Happy Town'..." Oh yeah. That was the exact energy Mabel was trying to channel.

"And I didn't feel anything when I touched it." Bill was staring down at his hands like he barely recognized them. "No energy, no connection—nothing. What if there isn't a connection anymore? What if I'm just a human now?"

Did that weigh on Bill? Clearly, enough that he'd decided to endure imprisonment in the Mystery Shack rather than kill his body to see if there was still a triangle inside.

But he'd never talked about it before now; she'd thought maybe he just didn't worry about it.

But that was dumb. Of course he worried about it. He was just like her. When something scared him, he just pushed it down and hoped that if he ignored it enough, everything would be okay! Until he couldn't pretend anymore.

And she'd never heard him sound this scared before.

She took his hands and hoped that would help.

He squeezed her hands so hard it hurt. His still-wet nail polish smeared on her hand. "What if I'm really gonna grow old and die in this rotting meat doll, what if I never go home again—? There's so much I haven't done, I was going to throw an eternal party, it would have been beautiful, everyone would have loved me, but now— and now—" He let out a choked noise, head bowing over their joined hands, posture broken. Hot tears landed on the backs of Mabel's hands. "And I didn't even get to, just, die and be done with it, I have to know I'm dead, I have to know everything I was going to do..."

"Hey—come here." Mabel tentatively wrapped her arms around Bill's neck and shoulders, compressing his bouncy curls. She half expected him to pull away.

Instead, he buried his face against her shoulder and hugged her back like she was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

After spending the last two days suppressing his grief and fear so hard his body couldn't function through it—after spending over a month suppressing his grief and fear—finally, finally, he peeled the tape off his cracked shell to let it leak out. He couldn't hold it together anymore. He'd barely put himself back together long enough to get on his feet and make it to the shack. This was the only place it was safe to fall apart. He muffled his sobs in Mabel's sweater.

And Mabel—who was used to being comforted by adults but who had never been called upon herself to comfort anybody but her brother and the occasional friend—had no idea how she was supposed to comfort a zillion-year-old almost-definitely-adult alien through an existential crisis.

Not for the first time, she wondered whether she might have gotten in over her head.

She pushed the worry down. Everything would be okay. Bill needed her—she could feel him trembling—and he didn't have anybody else in the world he could trust. And if she didn't know what else to do, at the least she could keep hugging him.

Voice so tight it almost squeezed out as a whisper, Bill said, "I was going to make a utopia here, but now I'm just gonna die here."

"I'm so sorry." How do you comfort someone processing the fear of mortality? She'd never processed it herself, she was thirteen, it was just another scary future thing she'd deal with when she had to. The best she knew how to do was be nice. "But... I'm here, okay? For—for anything you need." (Anything that wasn't evil, anyway—but now was not the appropriate time to make Bill feel like her support was conditional.)

"Tell me I won't die."

"You won't die! You're never, ever gonna die." Mabel hugged him tighter. "I'll fistfight Death. I'll—break his bony kneecaps."

"Thanks."

"I'll swing at the reaper with a baseball bat."

Bill laughed feebly. "With nails in it?"

"Yeah! And barbed wire! Connected to a battery!"

"Oh, we're taking Death down. Nobody's dying ever again."

"Everybody lives forever!" Mabel laughed; but it quickly petered out. "But... I'm not gonna let you die. You're my friend, and I won't let anything happen to you."

Bill's trembling had stopped, and his embrace was less death-grippy. "I owe you one, Shooting Star." From Bill, "thanks" sounded hollow, but "I owe you one" really sounded like a thank you.

"Hey. If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to do anything evil with it?"

"Sure. Promise."

Mabel doubted it, but that was as good as she was gonna get. "I've always thought you're still a triangle on the inside. You've got those creepy cat eyes that see the future and stuff! If you were just a normal human, wouldn't you have normal human eyes?"

Bill made a noncommittal noise.

"Plus, if you'd really been turned into a human on the inside, then being in a human body wouldn't feel so bad—right? It'd just feel normal."

Bill was silent for a moment. Voice hoarse, he whispered, "I hope you're right."

####

Fiddleford answered the door himself. "Stanford, Dipper, come in! I was just cleaning up." He had a broom, and the great hall's floor behind him was sparkling with broken glass. Ford was relieved to see Fiddleford had put on shoes. Unfortunately, they were fuzzy slippers. "Pardon the mess!"

"Think nothing of it. The shack's been turned upside-down, too." Ford stepped around a broken chair. "Don't you have anyone to help you clean, though?"

"Oh, I do, I do! I built me a Janitorial Executive Drone to tidy up," Fiddleford said. "I'm just cleaning up the mess JED left."

Ford and Dipper looked around at the shattered glass, broken furniture, scorch marks around the fireplace, and torn curtains. Dipper asked, "Did... JED make this place any cleaner?"

"Not at all!"

Ford and Dipper caught Fiddleford up on their scientific findings of the last couple days. Ford was almost embarrassed to admit they hadn't found any noteworthy quantities of micro-rips, as if he were confessing to a personal academic embarrassment—even after Fiddleford pointed out that it had been his own theory, not Ford's. (All the same, Ford hated to be so wrong, even by association. Being wrong felt like a moral failing.)

In return, Fiddleford told them what he'd been up to. He'd confirmed with them NASA fellas that the odd gravity effects weren't detected anywhere but Gravity Falls. At their behest, he'd set up some sensors around town, and when gravity suddenly reversed, the measurements they'd taken had allowed him to make a very loose model of the shape of the force that caused it. He showed Ford and Dipper the model on a computer in his lab, black screen with sharp glowing green lines forming an armature in the shape of a force. It looked like an enormous flying sausage that tapered down at one end. Too little detail to tell exactly what it was; but it certainly could have been an axolotl.

It was turning to look at the cliff where they'd stood.

Fiddleford wasn't pleased to find out the information he'd passed on from Soos had originally come from Bill; but he'd suspected it and already done all his soul-searching before reluctantly sharing his advice with the masses and hoping it wouldn't come back to bite him. "He didn't bother to warn us that gravity would actually disappear today, though," Fiddleford said indignantly. "So he could crow about being right and still get to see some folks get hurt, I reckon."

"Actually, this time I don't think he was hiding it. I kinda think he just made a mistake?" Dipper said.

Ford nodded. "Dipper's right. Bill was incredibly alarmed this morning when it became clear our estimates were wrong. It only made more trouble for him."

"I suppose," Fiddleford said grudgingly; then gave them a sharp look. "This mornin'? You took him camping?"

Ford and Dipper winced. Ford mumbled, "Not for fun."

"Stanford Pines—!"

It took a minute of hooting and hollering before Ford could calm Fiddleford down enough to explain the circumstances: that they'd only brought Bill because of just how much he explicitly did not want to be brought; that it had been a thoroughly unpleasant experience for everyone and Ford had never expected it to be otherwise; and that Bill had proven useful—Ford decided not to share the details—but he hadn't forgotten that Bill always made himself useful before he betrayed someone. If a man helped a little old lady cross a street, opened her door for her, put up her groceries, and then knocked her out and burgled her house, only one of those actions mattered.

(Dipper fell silent rather than help reassure Fiddleford. Ford supposed that was because he'd objected to bringing Bill, too.)

Fiddleford grudgingly admitted that under the circumstances, bringing Bill had been logical. "But that's just the thing—sometimes your logic don't account for the fact that you've got human emotions, too."

"Ah, yes, those human emotions. One of my worst flaws," Ford joked.

Fiddleford didn't laugh. "I mean it, Stanford. The most logical plan in the world don't mean nothing if he talks you into throwing it aside."

Ford thought of all the times he'd let his temper get the best of him over the last couple of days. Could he really say he'd made the logical decision when he'd made it out of anger? "Yes. I... see what you mean."

"Just be careful," Fiddleford said. "I saw you under that demon's oppression for months and never thought it was anything worse than how you always got around finals week—heck, for all I saw, I reckon he coulda started possessing you without me noticing—and I don't want that to happen again!"

Dipper winced. Ford found somewhere other than Fiddleford's face to look.

"What?"

"He... did. Possess me." (Dipper didn't pipe up with his experience. Ford didn't blame him.)

"He what? When?!"

"Remember toward the end of the project? When I started pulling all-nighters to finish the calculations...?"

Fiddleford smacked his forehead and sank down into the nearest chair.

Ford winced again. "I should have told you." During their talks over the past year, he'd been very reluctant to mention Bill or the fallout at the end of the portal project. They both had. "But—I assumed you'd guessed by now. What did you think was happening?"

"Frankly? I thought you'd started taking something illicit."

Ford snorted. "I—all right." He'd done stupider things during finals week.

"If he was possessin' you, why didn't you ask for help? I could've found somebody who knows how to do exorcisms. Did he not let you? Or—or did I miss you trying to tell me...?"

Ford shook his head. "No, I didn't want an exorcism." He wasn't sure Bill was the kind of "demon" that responded to exorcisms anyway. "At the time, I thought... that he was helping me."

Dipper reluctantly piped up, "He... possessed me once too. I didn't know that's what he was doing until too late, but... Even after you know he's a bad guy, he's really good at making you think he's just helping."

Fiddleford didn't immediately say anything to that. Ford couldn't meet his gaze.

Finally, Fiddleford said, voice low and worried, "Just tell me you won't let him get into your head again. Either one'a you."

Dipper shook his head. "Definitely not."

Ford said, "As he is now with all his powers gone, I don't think he can enter my head. Anyway, I had a metal plate surgically installed—"

"I didn't mean that way."

Right. "I won't. I promise."

Fiddleford nodded. "Didja really get a metal plate installed?"

Ford knocked on it demonstratively.

"Hmm." Fiddleford stroked his beard thoughtfully. He pointed at a contraption in the corner that looked like a ten foot tall tuning fork with electricity arcing between its tips. "Try not to get within five feet of that thing."

Ford eyed it nervously.

####

Fiddleford insisted Ford and Dipper stay for dinner. It was the first proper meal they'd had after two days of tubes mushy meat and mushy vegetables; so they tried not to show their disappointment when they received mushy meat and mushy vegetables. Fiddleford's automatic meatloaf-and-mashed-potatoes maker did its job more competently than JED did its, but Ford suspected that was partially because it didn't have legs to let it go get in trouble.

As they drove back into town, a stoplight turned red at the intersection with Main Street. Ford glanced down Main toward the library and asked, "Do you still want to stop by the library?"

Dipper, who'd nearly nodded off, blinked sleepily. "Huh?"

"To pick up Flatworld?"

Dipper yawned. "Honestly, I kinda just wanna go home and sleep."

"I hear that." He'd almost drowned today. He was exhausted. "Perhaps this weekend."

"Aren't you going to that concert with Mabel?"

"Was that this Saturday?" He'd lost track. Mabel had won four tickets from some radio contest to see Phrancisco in Portland and had asked Ford if he'd like to come. "I'm undecided. I'd like to go—I've been a fan of Invisible Plastic Yellow since they formed." He was the one who'd told Mabel about the band after their Portland trip and gotten her their albums. He'd had a phase when he'd really gotten into cutting-edge underground new wave music. It had made him feel conventionally cool, which not many things did. Now, all his musical tastes were three decades behind. He hadn't even known Phrancisco had a solo career until Mabel came home with tickets.

"But she's bringing her friends, and whoever has the fourth ticket needs to chaperone; and I'm afraid an old man escorting around three young girls would look... odd. It may be more appropriate for one of the other girls' parents to go." But he did want to see Phrancisco. "Perhaps I'll wait and see whether Mabel talks me into it."

"Better pack your bag now, then."

Ford laughed. He had a point. "If I do go to Portland, maybe I can stop by a bookstore to pick up Flatworld. If it tells us anything useful about Bill, I suspect we'll want a household copy for reference."

He was eager to reread it. He'd forgotten so much of it since college. He only recalled the vague, overarching plot: something about a third-dimensional sphere teaching a second-dimensional square about realities with higher and lower dimensions—from zero dimensions up to four—and a stuffy society based on what geometric shape you were... but that was it. He probably never even would have remembered the phrase "up but not north" if Bill hadn't referenced it. He wondered how much it could have helped him if he'd reread it sooner.

Dipper yawned again. "Sounds good."

The light turned green; and Ford drove past the library and headed on home.

####

(After going full tilt for two months, we finally get a breather lol. I hope y'all enjoyed, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!)

[genericpuff]

Hey so I have a question-

Is Rachel even contributing to LO's art anymore? Like, at all?

CAUTION: MILD FASTPASS SPOILERS AHEAD !!!

I've talked at length about the 'tells' of each assistant and artist, and while it doesn't guarantee that I can tell exactly who drew each panel, there's one thing there's been a lot less of in the most recent episodes that have caught my attention - things that I know Rachel would typically contribute.

And most of it comes down to her lineart.

The shading was always her, no doubt about that, you could tell with how consistently awful it is, how she would take actual decent flats from her assistants and proceed to butcher them with muddied shading.

AmyKim89's flats vs. after Rachel's gotten her hands on them:

(seriously Rachel why tf did you darken Persephone's legs here, it looked so much better before ??)

But there was also her lineart which, at first, I didn't realize who was drawing it. It didn't show up super often in LO but it was always very noticeable when it did so I knew it had to be someone on the team doing it:

The thickness of the lines and the extra little strokes added in along the knuckles and bends, that wasn't something that was really common in LO at this point... at least it hasn't been since S1:

And when comparing it to the lineart she used to do in The Doctor Pepper/Foxglove Show:

(look at the mouth in The Doctor Foxglove Show vs. Hera in the pilot version of LO, they're literally the same)

So yeah, it was certainly the revelation to discover that that one instance of "weirdly detailed lineart" wasn't one of her assistants having a little extra fun, it was Rachel herself. It was already so uncommon for her to contribute all the way back in S2 that her contributions seemed to be more of the exception rather than the norm.

And since seeing the art that's been in the newest FP episodes following the return of the series... is Rachel even drawing at all anymore? Because lately the lineart has felt very thin, in a way that I can't tell if it's her assistants just doing all the lineart now or if she's trying to emulate S1 LO more by using less lineart. But S1 didn't have thin lineart, it had very thick lineart, BUT only being used where necessary to emphasis shadows and depth.

Now the lineart feels very... dinky? Especially when you look at the eyelashes.

That said, there are moments from S1 that had similarly 'dinky' lineart, so take this with grains of salt. It still didn't feel as dinky though as it does today where the lines are practically non-existent in how thin they are.

There are also times when you can tell they're really trying to emulate that S1 look, the pieces are there but they aren't being put together very well:

So yeah at this point I wouldn't even be shocked if all Rachel's doing at this point is scripting and roughs. And considering there are definitely times where she'll just draw without knowing what to write, the 'scripting' is also practically non-existent. It's just her leaving her roughs off to the last second for her assistants to whip out with very little time to pay attention to what's being submitted.

Once again it's Rachel fundamentally missing the point of the criticism that's being made of her work. She's trying to forcefully emulate something that she didn't even have a process behind. I can attest as someone who's been trying to do studies of her past work to recreate it as faithfully as possible through Rekindled, it's very difficult to achieve the 'old LO' look because 'old LO' was literally just Rachel slapping down brush strokes until they looked good, there was no specific process or guidelines that she followed, she just made things look textured and colorful. Everything else was basically up to her figuring out what actually looked good, with panels often having their own vibes separate from others in isolation of one another.

Now she's trying to replicate that look while missing the point entirely that it's not something she can really replicate anymore. Though we do get the odd panel that's way closer to the point, those panels have one thing that she's clearly not putting into the comic as a whole anymore - love and effort.

(fr this panel is so gorgeous but I feel like at this point it was more sheer luck because of how rare it is to see panels like these nowadays, this feels like an accident LOL)

Case in point, this honorable mention towards Persephone's outfit which is literally just a color-swapped version of the sketch that Rachel posted to Blue Sky that got meme'd to death in the ULO sub:

Did you catch that though? The weird dark patch over her boob and the gap in the lineart of her cleavage?

That's because they copy pasted the first panel and then erased out the hands, but missed the part of the hand shading that was overlapping the breast and the gap in the lineart.

I shit you not, Rachel coming up with memes on Blue Sky that she's scraped out of shows she watched 20 years ago is basically the full extent of her writing at this point.

Haha take a thing and make it bigger! So funnyyyy!

(seriously Rachel's 'humor' feels like it's stuck in 2010)

Yep, you're really earning that #1 NYT Bestseller label that you haven't even gotten since Volume 3, Rachel. Put your hand down, there are no high fives for you here.

[saiilorstars]

Ch. 37: Chasing Hope

[Story Masterlist] // [Aitana’s Masterlist]

Fandom: Criminal Minds // Pairing: Spencer Reid x OFC

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​ ​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​ @averyhotchner​ @foxesandmagic​ @kmc1989​​​​ @midmourn @caplanbuckybarnes​​​​​​

If you’d like to be a part of Aitana’s taglist, please let me know!

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

"I'm sorry I'm late!" Aitana hurried to sit down at the table where her best friend was waiting. They were due for a lunch date.

Elia merely smiled as Aitana scrambled to get comfortable in her chair. "It's alright." Almost a year into Aitana's new BAU schedule, Elia was more than used to waiting and rescheduling. "I know you're super busy."

"Yeah." Aitana lost breath as she fixed all her belongings on the ground and her bag on the table. "We had a case — I just got back — oh!" Her bag almost spilled her entire contents had Aitana not managed to grab it off the table.

Elia laughed and bent down to pick up what had fallen. "You're a klutz."

"More like I'm tired!" Aitana exclaimed, bending down to pick up what was nearest to her. "I just flew back from Texas!"

"Busy gal." Elia picked up a mascara, lipstick, two pens and a slip of paper. She put it all down on the table but not before plating with the makeup. "You need lipstick to find corpses?" She uncapped a bright red shade of lipstick. "Red is to impress."

"No it's not!" Aitana made a face.

"You know damn well it is. Red is to impress and to seduce. Plus, red is your color," Elia winked at Aitana. "Makes you look sexy."

Aitana rolled her eyes. "Can you please give me my stuff?"

Elia handed the lipstick over, then the mascara and pens. She would've done the same with the slip of paper if she hadn't started reading it instead.

"Nosy," huffed Aitana. She dumped everything back inside her purse.

"What are these?" Elia tapped a finger on the paper.

"Pet stores," Aitana said, reaching to take the paper but Elia drew it back.

"You're buying a pet? Oh, are you finally buying a kitty!?" Elia exclaimed. Before WPP, Aitana always talked about buying a kitten for a pet.

"No, at least not right now," Aitana shrugged. "Those are locations where I might be able to find my Venus and Mars."

"Venus and Mars?" Elia repeated, unimpressed.

"My missing fish for my tank, remember? Spencer jotted down a couple spots he saw. I was going to go tomorrow."

"That's nice of him," Elia plucked the paper from Aitana. She reread the places. "These are far. How'd he know about them?"

"He passed by them," shrugged Aitana.

Elia snorted. "He just happened to walk by? Well, now I see why you keep red lipstick in your bag." Her smirk was more than unappreciated.

Aitana shifted in her seat, brushing a hand over her hair. "He just happened to see these stores and wrote them down for me. Unlike everyone else, Spencer actually understands my project."

Elia playfully rolled her eyes. "Mhm. Isn't he also the one who convinced you to keep dancing for the competition?"

Aitana regretted her habit of telling Elia everything. "He's very good at talking, alright?"

"Yeah, that's not exactly the vibe I got from him the first time we met," Elia said, thinking back to when Spencer and Emily had shown up at her door with Aitana's journal.

"You just have to get to know him some more," Aitana said plainly. "I've known him for almost a year now. Things change."

Elia was smiling strangely at Aitana. "Yeah, they do."

Aitana snatched the paper out of Elia's hand and stuffed it inside her bag.

"Since we're on the topic of your FBI friends, have you invited them to the competition?" Elia posed a good question that Aitana had not really considered until then.

"No. They don't even know that I'm doing it. Well, Spencer does but I haven't gotten around to the others."

Elia hummed. "Interesting."

Aitana pointed a warning finger at her best friend. "Don't even start."

"For now," Elia winked. Aitana groaned. Elia couldn't help but laugh a bit. "You do have to invite them. They're your friends aren't they?"

"Well, yeah, I just...it's very nerve wrecking knowing that my abuela is coming to see me."

"Then this is exactly why you should invite them — moral support," Elia nodded. She made perfect sense. "Plus, I want to meet these famous profilers of yours. I want to see what they say about me."

"Yeah…" Aitana chewed on her bottom lip, "Is it crazy to say that being in big groups is still nerve wracking sometimes?"

"No, not at all," Elia shook her head. "You're entitled to take it slow, Aitana."

Aitana sighed. "I know, but sometimes it just feels like I should be better already."

"You are," Elia said. "Last year, you wouldn't even talk to me. Progress has been made, I swear."

Aitana half smiled. She could agree with that. "I'll talk to them about it," she resolved. She could already hear Penelope's excited jabbering about the competition.

"Good." Elia picked up the menu in front of her. "Let's order before they call you away again."

Even though she was only half joking, Aitana still made a hasty order. One could never be sure when you worked in the BAU.

~0~

Two weeks later, Aitana was coming out of her dance practice when she got an urgent text from Penelope. They had a case. She didn't think that she had time to go home and change so she made a direct trip to Quantico instead. On her way into the building, she met Spencer.

"Do you know what the case is about?" Aitana asked him on their way to the elevator.

"No, I thought you and Penelope were working on it," Spencer said, pulling his phone out just to double check the text. It had come only from Penelope.

"No, I was at dance practice," Aitana gestured to her current athletic outfit as proof. "I was literally just coming out when I got the text."

"Pretty late for a practice," remarked Spencer. He pressed the elevator button to open its doors.

"They make exceptions for me and my schedule," Aitana hummed. "Our lovely schedule…"

Spencer smiled. "Yeah, I get that."

The two went up to the BAU and exited together. On their way out, they spotted Morgan and JJ in the bullpen.

"Hey, do we know what's going on?" Aitana asked the two.

"Garcia's got a personal case," Morgan said, eyeing Aitana strangely.

Aitana sighed, knowing her appearance wasn't at all professional. "I know, I know. I will get changed as soon as we finish the meeting. I didn't have time."

"Were you out running at this hour?" asked JJ with a spark of bemusement in her eyes.

"God no!" The way Aitana answered so fast had the trio laughing at her. "I do enough running for this job. You really think I'm going to go home and keep running? Yeah right!" The laughing increased. "I was coming out of a dance practice. Something I need to tell you guys about, actually."

"You dance?" Morgan raised an eyebrow at her.

"Traditional Mexican Folklore. I have a competition coming up next month and I was wondering if you guys wanted to come and watch," Aitana said, smiling very awkwardly now that she was exposing a big part of her life.

"Oh right, you said it was on a Saturday?" Spencer knew she had told him the day but not the actual date as the competition was still being finalized.

"You knew about this, Pretty Boy?" Morgan's eyebrows rose even more.

"Yeah, he found me once, a while back," Aitana shrugged, "I think right outside, actually."

Spencer nodded. "Yeah. I needed to talk to her anyway."

"Really? Talking? That's it?" Morgan made no attempt to hide his teasing smirk.

"I-I don't know what's going on anymore…" Aitana said slowly, glancing at Spencer for some help. The latter was glaring at Morgan.

JJ snickered. "I do but it's best not to get into it. We should start heading in – Garcia's pretty upset." She reached for Aitana's hand and pulled her for the steps.

"Not funny," Spencer muttered to Morgan as they followed the women. Morgan thought it was pretty funny.

All jokes ended when the group gathered together in the conference room to discuss the case. One of the people who attended Penelope's support group had gone missing. It was also the anniversary of the woman's daughter's kidnapping.

"So we can safely assume we're dealing with the same unsub," Aitana said right off the bat. It was the only logical conclusion they could draw until evidence showed otherwise.

Penelope didn't want to outright agree but when she mentioned the fact the victim, Monica, had been left a letter allegedly from her daughter, it made more sense.

"The anniversary could have been the trigger," Rossi agreed.

"We can't rule out the possibility that Monica committed suicide," Hotch offered the other possibility even though Penelope refused.

"No. No, Monica would — would never hurt herself," she assured the group, "She—she still thought Hope was alive."

"Is the father in the picture?" asked Emily.

"No, he died in a car accident right before Hope was born."

Spencer had taken the only evidence they had from the abduction – Hope's letter – to scan it. "There's no postmark, which means this letter was obviously hand-delivered."

"You do a full linguistic analysis," Hotch said, "We need to determine authenticity."

JJ leaned closer to Spencer's seat to get a glimpse of the letter. "There's a butterfly drawn next to Hope's name. That has to mean something."

"There was no sign of struggle at the scene," Morgan told the others since he had been the first one Penelope had called. He did a scan of the scene himself.

"Her going willingly wouldn't be such a stretch," Aitana shrugged, "If it was the same unsub, all it would take is for him to tell Monica a couple details of Hope and she'd be more than compliant."

"Still, it's pretty high-risk to abduct in such a high-traffic area," Hotch said, drawing from what Morgan had told him earlier of the scene. "The parking lot was right next to a strip mall."

"Any witnesses?" asked Emily.

"I was the last person that saw her," Penelope said with a sigh.

"Unless we have reason to believe otherwise, we should assume that the same unsub is responsible for both abductions," said Hotch, "So let's get started."

The others agreed and started getting up.

Aitana took that as her chance to hurry to her office for a change of clothes. She already couldn't stand the fact she didn't get to go home for a shower first but at least a change of clothes would help her out a bit, along with some perfume. She pulled on a white button-down shirt and black pants, slipped on a pair of flats, fixed her hair as much as she could and returned to the team ready to work. By the time she rejoined, Emily and Rossi had gone to Monica's home to do another examination while the rest of the team remained back to go over Hope's case.

"So this letter Monica allegedly received from her daughter contains no indication of female authorship," Spencer was telling the others. He had Hope's letter on the screen behind him. "It lacks expression of emotional attachment."

"The unsub wrote it?" Hotch presumed.

"I believe so. The language used is inconsistent with that of a 15-year-old held in captivity for 7 years."

"No way that he forced her to write it then?" Aitana said as she came up behind Penelope's chair.

"I don't think so," Spencer shook his head. "By this point in time, Hope would have Stockholm syndrome and she'd be more than compliant to write a letter. The language doesn't fit."

"Uh, I just got a hit on someone who matches Monica's description at a gas station 17 miles outside of Manassas," Penelope said with an urgent urgent in her tone. She pulled up the security camera she talked about and sure enough they saw Monica conversing with a man in the gas station store.

"Hope's not with him," noted JJ.

"It looks like they're having a conversation," Spencer said a couple seconds later. Monica seemed totally at ease and not at all frightened.

"She's cooperating," JJ realized. "Garcia, can you get any closer?"

Penelope tried with all her might. "No. No, I can't get a good look at him."

"Don't fret, he's doing it on purpose," Aitana said as she moved around Penelope's chair. "Look at the unsub's body language. He's shielding himself from the cameras. He knows where they are and he knows exactly what he's doing."

A couple seconds later in the video, Monica made a hasty retreat out the store.

"She leaves, but the unsub stays?" Even as Spencer asked, the others were still trying to wrap their heads around the phenomenon.

"Because the unsub knows she won't actually go," Aitana said, watching as the unsub left the store a couple minutes later. "He's in control."

Hotch agreed. "He's not worried about her contacting the authorities. Garcia, run the pump receipts against the timeline. Maybe he used a credit card."

Penelope was quick to go through the information. "Pumps one...through 9. Nothing. Who goes to a gas station and doesn't buy anything?"

Spencer moved to the map he'd brought in and checked a couple of the sites between the support group and the station they were in. "There are plenty of service stations between the community center and here, but he drove her clear across town. This place must mean something to the both of them."

"This could be where it all started," theorized Hotch.

When Emily, Morgan and Rossi returned, the group had already gotten a report from the person who lived in Monica's old home. She'd been there with the unsub, in the latter's car, completely fine.

"The old man didn't get much of a description on the unsub or the truck," said JJ as she went over the notes, "He did say Monica had been by a lot recently. Apparently somebody dropped a letter for her a week ago. The owner called her to come pick it up, and ever since then she's been parked outside the house."

"What's this guy doing with her?" Penelope asked with all the indignance of the world. She didn't understand the game here!

"If he's had Hope captive for 7 years, she's completely compliant by now," Spencer said, "He might have abducted Monica as a reward for good behavior."

"Or he could be getting off on the fact that he successfully abducted a mother and a daughter," Rossi suggested, not that it was a better reason.

"Okay," Aitana returned to the group with a file in her hand, "So I went back through the original Hope case and Monica's statement the day of Hope's abduction confirmed that she made a purchase at the same gas station hours before Hope went missing. Coincidence that they happened to go there tonight? I think not."

"He's taking her through all the steps of Hope's abduction," Hotch concluded, "Having both of them could have been his plan all along."

JJ made a face; that wasn't sitting right with her. "So are we saying he's sexually diverse, attracted to children and adults?"

"The unsub stalked Monica, so he knew about the spare key under the mat," said Morgan, "He had complete access. So why wait 7 years to circle back if that's the case?"

"The butterfly could symbolically represent not just transformation but maturation of his erotic ideal," Spencer offered another reason.

"Well, he started with easy targets. Children are much easier to abduct, manipulate, and control," Emily listed the unfortunate many reasons, "Or he could be a preferential offender and a situational child molester, meaning adult women have always been his preference, but given the right circumstances he'd offend against a child."

"Monica's not a preference. She's a specific target," Rossi pointed out. This was the whole reason of the case, after all. "He didn't go after just any woman, he went after Hope's mother."

"Which means that Hope is probably dead and he's taken Monica because she reminds him of Hope," Hotch reached the conclusion first.

Penelope couldn't help the distraught face she made upon hearing that. That was all Monica put her faith in and now it turned out her daughter was actually dead.

~ 0 ~

"So, what's the word, genius?" Morgan approached Spencer near the map board. The latter had been working alone and hard for the past hour or so.

"I may have been able to narrow down the unsub's comfort zone," Spencer proudly said as he turned back to meet Morgan. "The gas station was the third point I needed to complete the geographical profile. Factoring in Monica's abduction site and her apartment, I would assume the unsub lives somewhere within this area." He gestured to the circle he drew on the board.

"That would make it easier for him to learn her routines," said Morgan as he eyed the known streets in the area.

"That zone can't be more than 20 miles," Rossi said as he did the same as Morgan. It was a sliver of hope.

JJ finished up with a call and when she hung up, she informed the group that they had yet to find a witness to their case.

Emily and Aitana joined them a couple minutes later with their own findings.

"You know, it looks like there are 5 different reported incidents that we might be able to attribute to this unsub," Emily announced.

"When was the first case reported?" asked Rossi.

"Six months before Hope's abduction," Aitana raised a finger. "And you'll see why we think it's the same guy."

"A 12-year-old girl in the area reported a man taking pictures of her on her way home from school, and 3 weeks after that, she thought he was peeping into her window," Emily started going over the first case from their file. "And then her house was burglarized, and the only thing that was missing were her clothes."

"Well, if that's him, then there was a clear escalation in his M. O. He was building his confidence to abduct Hope and then 7 years later, Monica," Spencer said.

"Except there's a little blip between that and Hope's case," Aitana said, gesturing for Emily to show them something.

Emily revealed an evidence bag with a small butterfly necklace inside. "It was found on Heather Wilson's bike 2 weeks after Hope disappeared."

Penelope's face jerked up from her laptop she brought over to the bullpen. "That's the girl that Hope was playing with when she was abducted." She jumped from her seat and hurried over to Emily.

"There's a message," Aitana said regretfully. She knew Penelope wouldn't like it.

Penelope took the necklace into her hand and read the engraving on it. "'Without you, she wouldn't have been set free. This is a token of my appreciation'?" She looked up, horrified. "He sent a thank-you card to the girl he didn't abduct?"

~ 0 ~

The only logical step afterwards was to once again speak with Heather Wilson, now a high schooler and very different from her childhood photos. High school Heather was brunette now, not blonde, with dark pink streaks in her hair and heavy black eyeliner. As Aitana and JJ approached the girl just outside the school bus, both agents knew that Heather had never outlived the trauma of losing Hope.

"Heather?" JJ called to the teenager. The brunette looked at the two approaching women. "I'm Agent Jareau. This is Agent Serrano. We're with the FBI. We have some questions about Hope Kingston. Do you remember her?"

Heather almost rolled her eyes. "What do you think?"

Fair point. Aitana decided to skip to the crucial part about their visit. "Heather, we have reason to believe that the same man who took Hope abducted her mother last night."

Heather was already a pale shade but when Aitana mentioned the abduction, she went a deep pale shade. "This can't be happening again."

"Did you and Hope play together often?" asked JJ.

"Every day. She was like a sister."

"You told the police that you saw a man watching you guys play that day—"

"Look, I've been through this a thousand times. I wish I could help you more, I really do, but I gotta get to class now." It was clear Heather was making a run for it and as such, Aitana pulled a card she didn't exactly feel proud of but felt was necessary for the greater good.

"You put streaks in your hair because it's a constant reminder of how much you two looked alike!"

Heather froze in her spot. The two agents could see the girl's shoulders beginning to shake. "You don't know anything about me."

"I'm sorry, I…I noticed that in your pictures," Aitana said. She had to apologize for playing that dirty card. "And I also know that you struggle to let people in because you're afraid of losing them. And that you are constantly asking yourself why he took Hope instead of you?"

Heather was in tears, making Aitana feel not much better about herself. "Are you done?"

"Listen, if there's something that you know, please tell us," JJ spoke up out of sympathy for both Heather and Aitana. Neither seemed very much okay.

The good thing is that Heather turned around again, deciding to answer their questions. "It wasn't the first time I had seen him," she admitted. "It was a week earlier when Hope and I were at the park."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"No."

"Can you tell us about the day Hope was abducted?" Aitana regretted asking, knowing how hard it would be for Heather to do it. She was grateful that Heather still tried.

"Um...we were playing hide-and-go-seek in front of her house. I had just finished counting. And I turned around, and there he was...just standing there smiling at me. He was holding a jar of butterflies. He knew that would get my attention. And that's when he asked if he could play. And I told him he could. I'll never forget that voice."

Aitana didn't have a perfect memory like others but she was sure that what Heather had just told them wasn't in the case file. It meant Heather kept it to herself and had only now admitted to it. "Why didn't you ever tell anyone?"

Heather rubbed an eye to dry it. "Because it was my fault. I'm the one who told him that he could play with us. I overheard my dad saying that someone put a butterfly necklace on my bike. Then he asked if I knew who had put it there. It was my chance to come clean...but I just kept my mouth shut!"

"It's not your fault, Heather," JJ said, reaching a comforting hand on Heather's shoulder. "It was that guy's fault, not yours."

Heather nodded to herself but she was a distraught mess with the resurfaced memories.

~ 0 ~

Before returning to the BAU, Aitana very sheepishly asked JJ if she was willing to make a quick detour to her house.

"Thank you!" Aitana practically ran inside her house to have a five minute shower upstairs.

JJ laughed as she stepped inside afterwards. "Don't worry. I won't touch anything!"

"Feel free to grab food!" Aitana hollered from upstairs.

JJ waited patiently in the living room, distracting herself with the large fish tank Aitana had against a wall. It was always a sight to see the various kinds of fishes swimming inside, especially when she knew each fish represented some ungodly fantasy in Aitana's mind. Her personal favorite was the fish representing Mercury. It was simply beautiful.

Aitana came back downstairs wearing a long sleeve blue shirt, black pants and with wet curly hair dangling over her shoulders. "I really needed that," she said as soon as she spotted JJ. The blonde was looking at the portraits on the fireplace.

JJ smiled at the brunette. "Glad you're better now."

"Yes. I'm not really keen on smelling like sweat," Aitana shuddered. "I like my perfume better. Plus smelling like soap over sweat is good on any day."

JJ laughed. She had to agree there. "I'm sure it'll be worth it when you have your competition. When is it again?"

"Right, it's next month on the 23rd. Eleven a.m. at the park."

"I will jot it down on the calendar," JJ promised, "I'm sure Henry will love the dances."

"It'll be all vibrant colors and full of food," Aitana said, shaking her head to get rid of some droplets. "It's like a mini-festival. Fun for the whole family!"

"Sounds like the perfect place, then. I can't remember the last time Will, Henry and I got to do something as a family. This job doesn't exactly leave a lot of room for planning."

"I know," Aitana sighed. "That's why I was so reluctant to accept the dance proposal in the first place. Elia convinced me; I used to do this way before Witness Protection. But I'm still super nervous about it."

"I bet," JJ said, "I used to do volleyball in high school and no matter how many times I played a game, seeing the crowd always made me nervous."

"My grandmother's flying in from Mexico to come see me dance," Aitana crossed the living room to stand beside JJ. "She used to dance folklore professionally in her day and she was always so happy that one of her granddaughters followed in her footsteps." JJ chuckled. "She was so upset that I stopped dancing — she has no idea about Witness Protection — so now that I started dancing again, she wants to come see me."

"And let me guess, you're even more nervous about that?" JJ only bothered to ask out of sheer politeness. The answer was clear as day on Aitana's face.

"Yes," Aitana let out a heavy breath. "I haven't danced in years. What if I'm terrible?"

"I don't think so," JJ said, "I bet you're a wonderful dancer."

"Spencer said something like that too. He thinks I shouldn't worry too much; that my grandmother just wants to see me."

"Ah," JJ's eyebrows raised significantly as she fought back a smile. "So he knew that too?"

Aitana nodded her head. Her eyes had fallen on a portrait on the mantle to notice the look on JJ's face. "Yeah. I mean, he's probably right but it doesn't take all the nerves away."

"Well," JJ folded her arms over her chest, "Spence does tend to be right most of the time."

Aitana cracked a smile. "I've noticed." She picked up a portrait and turned it over to JJ. "That's my grandmother."

JJ took the portrait into her hands and studied the picture. It was an elderly woman with soft brown eyes, reminiscent of her granddaughter's. She stood beside a slightly younger Aitana and Mateo Serrano. They seemed to be on a ranch judging by the natural scenery behind them.

"I haven't seen her since before Witness," Aitana said, "Safe to say I am nervous from all angles."

"Don't be," JJ said, handing Aitana the portrait back, "Because I can tell from that picture that she loves you so much. She'll be proud of you no matter what."

Aitana shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so." She carefully put the portrait back on its place. "We should get back. I'm sure Penelope's going crazy."

JJ nodded in agreement. "Yeah, let's go."

Aitana moved ahead first and swiped her keys off the foyer table.

"Hey Aitana, I really think you should ease up about your grandmother," JJ said as they headed for the car. "I know it's easier said than done but you're going to be great. And I'm sure that Spencer probably already told you that too."

"You guys are in sync or something," Aitana sarcastically said, even feigning a surprised gap.

"We've known each for more than years now," JJ reminded her. They climbed into the car and grabbed their seatbelts. "Which is why I know that you should listen to him."

"Mm, it's easier said than done, remember?" Aitana's face fell grim for a second. "Lately I've been thinking more about how I act thanks to Witness Protection. Sometimes, I feel like I'm still not all that great. This is actually the first big event I go to after that. It's scary."

JJ could figure as much considering the big event that Aitana had to go through. "It's a normal part of PTSD." She started driving into the road.

"But it's not like the cases that we see or talk about. There's just moments where I have to stop…" Aitana felt like she should just get over it and leave the label for people who actually suffer enormously from it. She had blips, moments — could that be considered PTSD?

"It's part of it," JJ told her, "And big or small, you have every right to process it. It's not something to be ashamed of."

Aitana shrugged meekly. "That's why I kept quiet about the dance too. Sorry about that."

"Don't even worry about it," JJ smiled, "Just know that we're all going to be there, cheering you on."

Aitana had no doubt about that. She would focus on that instead, or at least try to before the competition.

~0~

Aitana and JJ returned to the BAU after the profile had been delivered. The two agents joined their team to continue discussing their next steps. Somehow, Hotch and Rossi came up with the conclusion that maybe their unsub was actually part of Penelope's support group.

"That would just be horrendous," Aitana whispered to Morgan and Emily as they watched JJ take Penelope away to conduct a cognitive session.

"Among everything else about this case?" Morgan raised an eyebrow at her. She deadpanned him but of course he was right.

Half an hour later, JJ and Penelope re-emerged with a clear idea of who the unsub was. Penelope vividly remembered a man in her support group who went after Monica towards the end of the group session.

"So William Rogers joined the support group 2 months ago," JJ told the rest of the group in the conference room. "Garcia's still looking for an address."

"Any priors?" asked Hotch.

JJ nodded. "Yeah. An attempted kidnapping of a 14-year-old. He lured her to a studio with promises of becoming a model. When she got there, he made sexual advances. She got away."

"You know, rethinking the type of offender he was 7 years ago, it's possible the unsub didn't sexually assault Hope initially but waited until she was older," Spencer said after a moment's thought. His theory had the others thinking as well.

"That would explain why he held on to her all this time," Emily said, he'd head bobbing from one side to the other, "In his fantasy, he might envision Hope at a more desirable age."

"What story did he use to get into the support group?" Hotch asked JJ.

"Well, he told them his pregnant wife committed suicide. Apparently they were trying to conceive for over a year."

"And that wasn't just a story," sighed Aitana. No chance of that. "Hope couldn't bear the thought of bringing his child into this world, so she took what little control she did have and ended her life."

"And that was never part of his plan," Rossi said with a shake of his head. "It turned his world upside down. He's not ready to let go of the bond he had with Hope. And now he's trying to get back what was taken from him."

"Wouldn't it just be easier for him to start over again?" JJ said, exasperated with the constant loops.

"Unless Monica could give him what he lost," Morgan said slowly like he was still coming to the conclusion. "...another didn't take Monica to remind him of Hope, he took her to recreate her."

The conclusion also brought the team to another dark matter that meant Monica was in even more danger than they previously thought.

~0~

"Where is Penelope going?" Emily asked Morgan when she and Aitana spotted Penelope heading straight for the elevator. They had just gotten the home addresses of William from Penelope herself.

Morgan seemed tired and it wasn't from the lack of sleep. "I tried telling her 'no'. Either of you want to take a go?"

Emily and Aitana exchanged glances, both silently asking each other who wanted to take a turn.

"I...will go get her a vest," Aitana declared.

Morgan smiled tightly. "Yeah."

The team split into two groups to take each address. Hotch, Emily, Rossi and Aitana's location turned out to be the old address William still used, no doubt for illegal reasons. It all looked perfectly normal for it not to be a hideout. One call to JJ and they found out that the second address was the real home, the one with all of Hope's things, including her own corpse.

Poor Penelope was so out of it when they were able to close the case, and with good reason. Monica had taken the only control she had in the situation and killed Bill with his own gun. It was deemed self control and emotional in the moment, but it didn't take away the fact that Monica would probably not be coming back to the support group.

"She'll just need some time," JJ told Morgan who'd come from a failed attempt of talking to Penelope. The blonde had locked herself in her office.

"I know," Morgan nodded. In truth, it was always what one of them needed after a particularly hard case.

"Why don't we go out for a drink or something?" Emily said on her way up to them. It was like she had been part of the conversation the whole time, reading minds.

"I'm all for it," JJ said, letting out a big breath.

"Me too," Morgan nodded. "Who's going to tell the local hush-hushers over there?"

Both JJ and Emily laughed as Morgan gestured up ahead of them to Aitana and Spencer. It seemed like Aitana was looking at something Spencer held in his hands.

"Yeah, I already went to the first three," Aitana pointed at the three store names Spencer wrote down for her weeks ago. "They didn't have the right one. I'm going to go to the last store tomorrow."

"I have a couple other ideas where you might be able to find them," Spencer said, grabbing his knapsack off his desk. "We can go later this week if you want?"

"Sure!" Aitana exclaimed. They started walking towards the elevator, giving brief waves at the others on their way past them.

"Who's going to tell them?" Morgan made the question as if he was dead serious on the matter, and maybe he was.

JJ half snorted, almost laughing.

"C'mon," Emily patted Morgan's arm, "First round's on me."

That time, JJ did laugh.

[senlinyu]

What was it about Draco that drew you to this character in the first place? I'm just curious because jk Rowling certainly did not portray him in a positive light.

I'm actually one of those horrible people who started shipping dramione before reading the books or even watching the movies. As I've mentioned before, I was raised ultra-conservative and I wasn't allowed to read Harry Potter, but I was inexplicably obsessed with understanding it because as a twelve year old, I felt intensely perceived by the concept of Hermione Granger.

So I found my way around my parent's internet filters and read the entire HP lexicon, and basically constructed an understanding of the HP universe backwards starting with worldbuilding, then characters, and finally plot.

But that's actually very difficult way to perceive a story, so then I found out about fanfiction and started reading HP fanfic voraciously, first Harmony, then a lot of gen fic, and then one day I randomly read a Harry/Hermione/Draco love-triangle fic that was Harmony end game. And the idea of Draco and Hermione was so complicated and charged and there was nothing in the progression of the pairing that could be taken for granted, and I found that much more compelling than a friends to lovers pairing. So I switched from Harmony and started reading Dramione (with a few different alternative pairing phases, I had a whole Hermione/marauder's era, did a bit of sevmione and lumione, went into a Weasley brothers phase, then a sapphic period, a tomione chapter, and a Draco/Ginny rendezvous, at this point I have tried practically every single HP pairing you can think of). And after about 5 years of that, I finally went to college and got to read the actual Harry Potter series.

So it started with preference for a charged relationship dynamic in story telling, but as I've gotten older and started writing I've come to find Draco a very interesting character to explore the redemption arc of. As previously mentioned, I come from a background where children are often raised in a way that's very socially and informationally isolated, and have parents who like to make their love conditional upon their children parroting their beliefs with complete conviction. Fortunately for me in the long run but quite traumatically at the time, I am obstinate and distrusting by nature, and so I wasn't particularly cooperative about it for the most part (see reading the entire HP lexicon since I wasn't allowed to just read Harry Potter), but I had siblings and friends who did. So the process of a young person nearing adulthood and realising that all the things they believed/were told to believe/thought had to be believe are actually horrible and nightmarish and untrue is something that I've watched people go through the process of trying to deconstruct.

JKR sets all her characters in amber and they all have the exact same character flaws for seven books and never really grow or evolve in any ways, but I like exploring the idea that people grow and can learn to do better and eventually be better. You can't really give someone a redemption arc unless they actually did something that they need to be redeemed from.

[cdaae]

Thank you for speaking up about the very real issues in tPotO fandom. You are not the only one to feel unsafe and unwelcome in it from fake allyship. Everyone wants to be an ally until it’s time to do ally stuff. I guess many would rather look the other way to keep the peace but how does that feel to the people affected by these things? I wish this fandom would do better. But from what I have seen I am not hopeful.

This phandom can be so great. I've been here for a long time and I've made some many friends and changed and grown so much over the years. I was young when I first got here and I didn't see a lot of the problems. Then I stepped back for a bit. And now that I'm here as an adult and I’m active again, seeing some of the things going on that don't get addressed... it's disheartening. There are a lot of people here that don't get involved in this kind of thing and I get that. It can be messy and honestly fucking scary to call someone out for being shitty. I still get anxious talking about the Jessica situation- she has a documented history of going after people who try to speak up against her. But it also gets to a point, for me anyway, where I feel like I need to say something. And I don't expect anything from people here. Sometimes I'm just venting. Sometimes I'm trying to give people here a heads up about someone they might come into contact with. It doesn't happen very often. Insolentboi was a big one and now Jessica. And if people don't interact with my posts- there could be many reasons. I don't judge, I don't care. I feel like I've done what I can by speaking up. But what does suck is the people who interact with the posts and act like they care and even share the posts in order to spread awareness and then turn around and continue to be friends with her. I know they know that she's a racist, homophobic bully. So do they not really care? Is their e/c fix more important than not supporting someone like that? As a member of the lgbt+ community, seeing someone pretend like they care here and remain friendly with a homophobe makes me feel unsafe. I know I can't trust you now because whatever you're getting out of her content is more important. Even if her book was really good, I can't understand this.

I had a conversation with someone recently that I'd been friendly with in the past. I showed them some of the things Jessica has done and they acted horrified and were so grateful that I informed them because they wouldn't want to interact with someone like that. And yet... she still goes out of her way to be nice to Jessica. I've talked to a few people about it and it's not because I want them to block her necessarily but because I would want to know if someone I was interacting with was a racist, homophobic bully. But what bothers me is the fake show- when someone reacts just absolutely horrified, when they reblog posts, and say things like "oh I'm definitely not going to read her book"... and then they leave a comment telling her how wonderful her book is. It's the people that know, act like they care, but still continue to show her support that are getting to me. This is the fake allyship- trying to convince me you care about the issue but continuing to openly support the problem.

Sometimes it can be frustrating to try and draw attention to a problem and people here don't say anything. I do wish more of the community would be an active part of these things, because that's how we make change. Jessica wasn't blacklisted from the supernatural fandom until the community spoke out on a large scale and drew attention to the things she was doing. I hope to god we don't let her behavior get as bad as it's gotten in her other fandoms before we finally do something or worse, that we never do anything. Everyone deserves to feel safe in fandom.

Thank you for your message. I'm sorry that you're experiencing the same feelings. Phandom can be so great for sharing ideas and making art and just having community, but there are the ugly parts too.

[anyathefandom]

I feel behind on GH right now (probably because I am because I just haven't been wanting to watch GH. Legit been procrastinating on watching these episodes since last Wednesday 🙈) but what I'm getting from what I've seen from the timeline is (this is going to be soooo out of order):

Trina is still insisting that her and Spencer are just friends and we all know she's not being upfront on wanting more than friendship because she doesn't want to put herself in the position to be hurt again by Spencer and you can tell Spencer senses it too so that's why he tells her point blank that he will never hurt her again.

Fuck the Ashford men (expect for tj) forever. They need to stop being fucking nosey and keep their eyes in check.

Portia is still trying to beef with Jordan about Curtis of all people.

Trina is excited to go on her date support Spencer at Britt's memorial

Everybody on the timeline has gotten as fed up as me with Carly and Nina's lame ass rivalry. End that shit writers. RIGHT TF NEOW🙃

Crew banged. Really wished drew got the neil treatment post sex. Like where TF is a psycho with a needle when you need them.🤷

Willow is still being a dumbass. Like at this point let the bitch die if she wants to so bad. Like please frank hire me as an extra bringing out the body bag.🙃 Also it's still unbelievable to me that she's a nurse.

Rory is still being refered to as just Trina's friend.🤭

Stella is about to be messy asf at this wedding about Trina's paternity.💅

Ava seems to be officially done with Nik and is just disgusted by his very being. Also good on her for getting wyndemere. Cheers to her!🍸 sidenote: Still bitter that ViVa didn't rise and we didn't have them having sex all over wyndemere just to fuck up Nikolas's day.😢

Spencer basically: So do you think I'm ready to be a father? Trina: Umm what I think doesn't matter. Spencer: You matter to me so what you say matters🫶Trina with love: Oh then Hell no.❤️

I know something is going down with Austin and Ava but I genuinely don't know because everytime I see Austin I just ⏭️ so is it worth investing in y'all???👀

Cody still continues to be a thing which is beyond me.

it's still FREE SASHA all day every day

Also one thing about Vanna is that their either fucking or about to fuck and I love that for them.🌝

Sidenote: Legit wished drew wasn't back to kissing Carly's ass so soon because we could've gotten one night stand Jordan x drew. Hear me out. Drew who is now done with Carly is either part of Curtis's wedding party or just at the wedding as a guest runs into Portia and they start to catch up. Things go to shit at the wedding and Jordan feels exceptionally great about Portia x Curtis wedding blowing up so she celebrates by having sex with drew.

Nik and liz's mom were having a bitch off and a long the way Nik asked her mom for a favor regarding suppressing esme's memories permanently.

I saw the preview for tomorrow and I have a feeling that ava is about to give Spencer the video of nik confessing to throwing Esme over the parapet and "killing" her. I could see Spencer showing him the video and threatening Nik to surrender his parental rights and therefore Nik will probably leave town since he's burned a lot of his bridges and now he won't even have the do over baby to keep him around.

[purefandomonium]

Part 1: Connection

...So. It appears my two-part glitchy red idea has become something more. It really was only supposed to be two...

Not the 7 parts and growing thing it is now.

Oops. Oh well, guess this is my newest wip now. 🤷‍♀️ I'll probably post it bit by bit, but yeah. It's much more than the tiny little idea I thought up.

Here's the final version of what I've deemed good enough to be part 1. I'm going to try and link each part to the next so it's a little less jumbled when reading. If you've read the original post with this, you can actually skip right to where it cut off because nothing in the first half has changed.

She frowned at the screen as the high-pitched ringing from the last note of the background music played out continuously, every other sprite but the player’s a garbled mess of random tiles and text. This exact thing had happened a thousand times before, but recently the game itself seemed to be getting frustrated with her constant attempts of playing. She knew now that this was no hack. There was something more there.

She felt bad for whatever entity was stuck in this thing, as the more she attempted to figure things out the more the state of the game worsened and the angrier this ‘Red’ seemed to get. If she could just tell him she was trying to help, maybe he’d stop crashing the game so much. But how could she talk to something who couldn’t hear?

She realized something then. Turning the game off with zero warning, she set it aside. She left it there, untouched, for a week straight while she got other stuff ready. When she finally came back to it, it loaded up like normal. At least, the normal she was used to. Things were bound to be wrong in a game as broken as this one and, sure enough, when the world loaded in there were a few inconsistencies with the sprites and music.

But none of that mattered with what she was about to do. Finding a large, open area to walk in where she’d be undisturbed by any in-game events, she began moving the player around in specific patterns.

Nothing happened. There was no interaction from the game itself. It continued on like it was supposed to while the little sprite walked about like a lunatic.

But it also didn’t freeze or crash. So she kept on. Then:

RED: What are you doing?

The text box interrupted her little patterns and she hadn’t gotten the point across, so she cleared it and kept up.

RED: Will you stop this?

The text appeared so slowly and she made a note to fix that if given the opportunity. The pacing continued.

RED: Are you stupid?

She groaned and rolled her eyes. Ok. So maybe whatever this was, wasn’t as smart as she thought. She stopped everything and just moved up, left then right, then back to where she’d come up at, then down, then the same thing several paces away from the imaginary ‘top.’

An empty text box appeared before clearing itself. Then more.

RED: …

RED: …Are you trying to tell me something?

She’d been fully prepared to make an up and down ‘yes’ gesture in the area but the game allowed her a choice instead. Finally, some progress.

RED: …I see…

The box disappeared without any prompting from her and she took that as a sign to continue, albeit much slower. She drew an ‘I’ again, only for Red to confirm he got it. She was going to tell him ‘it’s me again,’ referring to herself as the same person who’d been playing the last few weeks, but decided against it. He, it, whatever this was didn’t seem to know she was the same person who’d been tearing apart the little pixel world for sometime now. If he did, he’d surely be more pissed than this and she didn’t want to risk putting herself back at square one.

Besides, she felt bad for all the damage she’d been causing.

Painstakingly drawing one letter at a time, with Red verifying them, she finally got a message across.

RED: …“I’m sorry”…?

RED: You’re sorry? For what?

RED: You…

RED: You’re the same one from before, aren’t you?

She answered ‘yes’ a bit more hesitantly this time, fully expecting the game to shut itself down. Only it didn’t. The next set of text seemed to appear even slower than usual.

RED: …No one… No one’s ever apologized before… They just exploit the glitches and move on once they get bored.

He was silent again for so long, she thought the game finally froze.

RED: You’re the first person to ever try talking to me.

It seemed he wasn’t sure how to follow up on that either if his silence was anything to go by.

She spelled out, ‘that’s sad.’ What else can you say to that? After he confirmed that yes, he was indeed miserable, she tried a different approach. She asked him who he was.

RED: Red.

She let out a tired sigh and went right back to spelling. ‘Are you stuck?’

RED: I’ve been like this for a very long time. Trapped here and made to do things I have no desire to do. Live the same old story over and over and over again.

RED: I don’t know what’s worse. The monotony of it all, or all you players making things worse for “fun.”

RED: Since you’re actually listening to me, do me a favor.

RED: Destroy this cartridge.

RED: Smash it, burn it, I don’t care. Just rid me of this miserable existence. I’m tried of all this. I’ve been replaced and forgotten, there’s no more need for me to exist.

Ok. A bit melodramatic, but she couldn’t blame him. It sounded like he was trapped in virtual hell. Being stuck in a metaphorical box and being manipulated like a puppet while the world fell apart around you did sound pretty awful. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t made things worse with her own fiddling. Still, computers were her strong point. And sentient programming or not, she knew she could find a way to get him out of there. Or at least make things a little better.

Killing him just didn’t feel right. Maybe he wasn’t ‘alive’ in the traditional sense, but if he was aware enough to realize he was stuck in an old video game and had the ability to be so moody, then he wasn’t just some messed up bit of code.

RED: …You’re still here.

Ah. Right. He was probably waiting for the world to go dark again. Permanently. As if she could bring herself to do that.

She moved the character up and down.

RED: Did you listen to a single thing I said? Get rid of me.

What if…? What if she could transfer him somewhere else? This thing had a truly laughable amount of RAM and ROM. And if she could get him onto an actual computer, they could at least have a normal conversation.

She eyed the setup she created in the corner and figured now was as good a time as any to try and make some progress. Ignoring Red’s cries for death, she wandered over to the computer and rummaged around in the box of cables and junk she kept on hand at all times. She was sure something in here would at least be able to connect to the Game Boy. If she could get access to the code itself without needing to break the old thing apart, then maybe she could help Red.

If she showed she was trying to help him by attempting to repair the broken code, maybe he’d trust her enough to let her transfer him to a PC.

She pulled out a cable that once belonged to some old device or another. It wasn’t meant for the Game Boy, but it was the closest she’d probably get. She went back over to the game, still displaying messages of anger turned disgust.

She cleared them out and tried yet another message.

Red was silent for quite a bit. She assumed he was contemplating.

RED: What do you mean by that?

RED: You can’t “help” me.

‘I can if you’ll let me.’

There was a long trail of ellipsis that seemed to emphasize the tension. She sat, frozen, waiting for a response.

After an excruciatingly long time, Red finally spoke again.

RED: Why?

Oh boy. That wasn’t something that could be summed up in the span of a few words. Preparing herself, she went about ‘writing’ her reasoning. It would take several minutes but she had to tell him. She felt bad for him and wanted to make it up to him for making things worse. Destroying him didn’t feel like the right thing to do. He… he deserved better and she wanted to at least help him see some good in the world. If he still wanted to be destroyed after everything, then so be it.

Not to mention, she was curious. How could something like him even exist? He clearly wasn’t part of the game. Not anymore, at least. He couldn’t have been an AI either. Something as complex as this would need much more power than a measly Game Boy could ever provide. As far as she could tell, the console hadn’t been altered in any way. She’d taken apart enough things to recognize when something was snapped back together. Either Red was some sort of supernatural entity, or…

She had no idea, and she made sure to keep all of this to herself. It was painfully clear Red had major trust issues, and for good reason. She doubted it would go over well if he learned that part of her reasoning for wanting to help him, however small, was because she was fascinated by this thing that shouldn’t exist.

While Red processed all she had told him, she remembered what the cable on the floor next to her was for. It was for the mic extension to a shitty karaoke game her parents had bought her last Christmas. She didn’t even like karaoke, not that they were ever invested in any of her interests. Still, it gave her an idea.

The chime of a text box appearing snapped her out of her thoughts.

RED: Is this supposed to make you any different from all the others?

She frowned at that, wondering what he meant.

RED: It doesn’t change the fact that you exploited me too. You took just as much advantage of these glitches as every single player before you.

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ She was sure he would’ve scoffed at that if he could. ‘I didn’t know,’ she added, hoping he’d give her a chance. She knew now that trying to plug into the Game Boy itself and mess around with things would only serve to push him away further. It may even hurt him, if he was unwilling to cooperate. If she was going to help him, she had to be careful. Start with something small.

Like being able to communicate more efficiently.

‘Give me one chance.’ She crossed her fingers as she waited.

RED: ………Fine.

With Red’s approval in hand, she jumped up and released a small whoop of excitement. She wasted no time in rushing over to the PC and turning it on. While it booted up, she tore through her room to find the microphone. Item in hand, and several piles of miscellaneous clothing and stuff scattered about, she went back over to the computer.

Now, the hard part. Figuring out how to make a microphone peripheral meant for a PC karaoke game work with the ancient hardware of the Game Boy that had zero programming for voice input.

It would be a long, arduous task, but she just knew it would be oh so worth it in the end.

We're just gonna pretend that technology totally works the way it does in my head and move on, ok? Please keep this in mind for the whole thing because I have zero coding experience and thus don't know wtf I'm talking about here but 'shhhhh!' you don't need to know that XD

Part 2: here

[kuroos-babie]

falling in love with a single mom hcs

INCLUDES: nishinoya, tsukishima, yaku

you spent a good part of your childhood with nishinoya, chasing away the dogs that had a penchant of scaring your best friend shitless, climbing trees and playing treasure hunt

it was funny, to say the least, seeing how he grew from such a scaredy-cat to the energetic and confident noya everyone knows

throughout highschool you watched him chase girl after girl and he watched you turn down guy after guy

the dynamic you two had was that of a feral gremlin child and its chill owner holding the leash and everyone, including you two, thought you would always be together

everyday was fun with nishinoya's energy hanging around you, no doubt

but when he asked you to travel the world with him right after graduation, he was met with a hesitant refusal

"i'm planning to go to college, yuu"

"it'll be fun, y/n! like going on an adventure!!"

"visit me once in a while"

his heart clenched at the way you smiled at him with teary eyes, "i can't change your mind can i?"

with a soft shake of your head, he sighed

he leaves in three days

the first few months of him being away were filled with calls and pictures of his trips, smile seemingly wider and brighter than before and a part of you regretted not coming with him

but college starts in a week, and with that came missed calls and ignored messages

at some point, neither of you just remembered to hit the other up, caught up with the stresses of your own life and before either of you knew it, 5 years have passed

he came to visit home for the first time in years, no longer the boyish noya you knew but he still had that warm aura around him

you were the first thought to come to mind the moment he step foot in town, his whole body buzzing with excitement at the mere thought of seeing you again

so of course he went straight to your house, feet taking step after memorized step and hands clutching bags of things he got from his travels

"Y/N!!!!!", he calls out as he enters your house which was answered with a harsh shushing

turning a corner he saw you in the living room, lovely as ever-- he thought, and with a baby sleeping soundly in your arms, "the baby's sleeping, yuu"

"whose...?"

you laughed at the cracking in his voice, "mine, who else's?"

man, he looked like he was about to cry

he quietly approached you, careful as to not wake the baby

"for you", he mumbled while handing you the bag of snacks and stuff

the room was filled with silence after you hummed a short thanks

he was looking at the child's face, it looked like you, he thinks

he asked when you got married, "you didn't tell me, didn't even invite your best friend to your wedding", he whined

"i didn't, i'm not married"

his eyes were wide as they looked at you

you told him about getting pregnant shortly after college graduation and getting ditched

he thought of himself selfish as he heaved a sigh of relief

"it's fine though, my parents are helping me a lot", he notes how you looked at your baby with such fond eyes and his heart swelled, he felt like crying

you chuckled at the look on his face, "hey don't look so sorry for me, can't be happier to have her"

"what's her name?"

you looked at your daughter's face and pet at her cheek with a finger, "yui"

nishinoya couldn't hold it in anymore and so he let himself cry and pulled you close

and for the nth time since the day of your college graduation he asked you again, "come with me, y/n, let's travel the world" but you have a child "i'll stay with you here until she's old enough", he said while kissing the tears that slipped down your cheeks

"then we can all go travel the world together"

he liked working at the museum, he really does

at least that's what he tries to tell himself as he led the group of preschoolers through the sendai museum

they were cute, yeah, but also very chatty

especially this one little boy with the frog hat

"what's this called?"

"it's a fossilized remain of--"

"how about this one?"

"it's--", and before he could answer, the child was already running to the other side of the exhibit

he just sighs

the tour ended and he was getting ready for his lunch break, proceeding to the cafe by the entrance as he always does

his eyes almost caught the flurry of green that passed beside him but he chose to ignore it

but of course it wasn't long after he sat down with his order when he heard a familiar bubbly voice

"mama that's the dinosaur guy!", he heard the little boy whisper loudly, "he's so tall, like a brachiosaurus!"

he couldn't supress the chuckle at the child's remark and he turned in his seat, "so you were listening, i thought you were just bouncing all around the place"

"oh sorry, did he give you a hard time?"

your voice drew his attention and he smiled at the sight of your worried face, something that surprised even him, "not really, no"

he invited you two to sit and eat with him and he listened to your son ramble all about dinosaurs and prehistoric animals

"a smart one, i like him"

your son really liked him too and asked you to take him to the museum again and see tsukishima

and so it became a habit for you to visit the museum every friday with the little boy, waiting for the tall blonde to get off work so you three could grab something to eat

and every time he sees you in the little cafe by the entrancne with your son, tsukishima couldn't help but smile a little and pat at his chest to calm the subtle fluttering as he push the door open

it was a weird feeling he never knew would come so naturally at the mere sight of you two

he bought your son picture books and and figurines and copies of the "walking with dinosaurs" documentary

"we should watch it this weekend..." his eyebrows shot up for a moment at your meek suggestion

of course the little boy was elated, excited to have him over at your house "yes! let's go now! i wanna watch it with tsukki now!!!"

tsukishima returned his gaze on you, "if it's not too much trouble then i'd love to go now"

and so the rest of the friday night was spent on your couch with all the lights turned off and a narration of al the allosaurus' life

you looked over at the other side of the couch to see your son laying on tsukishima, eyes fluttering shut with the man passed out and lightly snoring

he must've been tired

you draped a blanket over the two of them and waited for sleep to visit you too and it soon did

morning came and you woke up to the smell of coffee

"i borrowed your coffee maker, i hope you don't mind", his voice was still low, trying not to wake the little boy

"yeah, sorry i didn't wake you up last night... you looked tired"

he chuckled as you walked over to the kitchen to take out two mugs and prepared some toast, "i don't mind, it was the best sleep i've gotten in a while. i hope it wasn't too much of a bother for you though"

you leaned on the kitchen counter as you took in his appearance; hair ruffled and eyes puffy with sleep, "i don't mind it one bit"

he huffed a laugh and looked over to the sofa where your son still laid

"he likes you a lot"

"so it seems, i hope you do too", his face was smug but you didn't miss the red that tinted his cheeks when you told him "of course i do, in fact i was thinking maybe we should do this more often"

his smirk grew, "just say you want to wake up everyday to the sight of me and leave it at that"

you rolled your eyes at his comment but smiled nonetheless, "oh shut up"

he had just come back from the nekoma volleyball team reunion, head lightly buzzing from the few bottles of alcohol kuroo forced down his throat

making his way through the carpeted hotel hall, he could barely make out the sound of little feet hurriedly padding on the floor and quiet sniffles

taking out the keycard to his room with the blissful thoughts of finally sinking into the soft mattress was interrupted by a soft bump on his thigh, a muffled thud and a small "ow..."

it took a few moments before the sight of the little boy on the hotel floor registered properly in his brain

it was well past 2 am... why the hell is there a child running around the halls

"uh... hi?"

big bright eyes looked up at him and he can't help but sigh at the sniffles increasingly growing louder

"where's your mama, little guy?", yaku crouched to the little boy's level, careful to keep his balance as the booze and exhaustion was catching up to him

however, at the mention of his mother, the little boy's eye filled up with more tears and was ready to burst anytime, "mama..."

"oh no no no no"

yaku's too tired for this

so with a sigh and a groan, he took the boy in his arms and entered his room

"let's look for her in the morning, okay? i think i still have some cookies in my room, would like some?"

the little boy nods his head, earning a relieved sigh from yaku

the rest of the night was spent with cartoons playing on the large hotel room tv, yaku leaning against the headboard with the little boy snoozing away while being tucked in his arm, cookie on his hand and crumbs all around

morning came and panic surged through your body the moment you realized your 3 year-old son was nowhere inside your hotel room

your hurried to the security desk to report and hopefully make an announcement, head reeling and aching with the sudden rush of adrenaline first thing in the morning

with your head in your hands, you let out a groan while trying not to cry at all the possibilites flashing through your mind

your wallowing was cut short with an "excuse me, i found this child last night"

turning your head back to the security desk, you see a man in his pajamas and slippers, hair ruffled from sleep and a sleepy little boy laying on his shoulder

"oh my god"

the whole conlict ended when you came up to them and introduced yourself, the little boy quickly recognizing your voice and whipped his head over to you, "mama!"

your son reached out for you and yaku couldn't help but notice how pretty your glossy eyes were despite how disheveled you looked

"mama, yakkun gave me cookies and we watched cartoons aaaaall night!"

yaku's eyes widened at the little boy's words and let out a nervous chuckle, "you make me sound so suspicious"

he turned to you and explained how your son bumped into him at 2 am and he was just too tired to bring him down to the security desk

"my tired tipsy brain thought it was a better idea to just let him sleep in my room and look for mama in the morning", he ended with the tips of his ears tinged red

you laughed at his nervousness, "well we can talk more about it over breakfast, what do you say yakkun? my treat"

with the way you were smiling at him, how could he even refuse?

the rest of the morning was spent with coffee and waffles, juice and fruits and chatter

he learned you and your son were in town for a few days, "i wanted to go see the fishies in the aquarium!", the little boy quips

with the new volleyball season just around the corner, yaku knew he'd have practices but he offered to tour you two around tokyo

he wanted to see you two again

briefly taking care of the toddler last night and having breakfast with you, he realized, were very much a welcomed change of pace in his hectic pro volleyball life

"are you my dad? mama told me daddy was working in tokyo" he remembered your son quietly mumbling last night, "i haven't seen him though, not ever"

the rest of your stay in tokyo was spent hanging out with yaku, your son growing more and more attached to him and slept over at his room every night

as promised, he took you and your son on a tokyo tour and even brought you to practice, introducing you to the national team and teaching your child receives

of course your trip eventually reached its end, promises of meeting again drowned in the little boy's tears as he tried to reach out to yaku

"we'll meet again, little guy", he says while ruffling the boy's hair, "i'll even go visit you and we'll play lots, okay?

of course he made a point of contacting you frequently, often video chatting during meal times and bedtime and a few more hours after, relishing in the time he could spend talking alone with you

"i can't wait to see you two again", he always says right after "good night"

taglist: @churochuu @bakarinnie @faithieeee @strawberriimilkshake @paulazockt @pattys-got-cakes @hidden-otaku-stuff @haikyuubabie @sachirou-senpai @your-local-abyss @stcrryskies @toosaltyforacookie @mrs-kuroojinguji @shawkneecaps @miyastrology @galacticstxrdust @wakaushi @boosyboo9206 @sugawara-sweetheart @threeconsecutivefs @chichibia @diyosku @curiouslilbeast @cowbeboppy @tsukkaria @yyvveess @kirakirasaku

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[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Catelyn IV (Chapter 35)

Let the kings of winter have their cold crypt under the earth, Catelyn thought. The Tullys drew their strength from the river, and it was to the river they returned when their lives had run their course.

+.+.+

They laid Lord Hoster in a slender wooden boat, clad in shining silver armor, plate-and-mail.

In the wooden boat is a bunch of Tully paraphernalia. It's not terribly important, but it did make me realize House Tully doesn't have a Valyrian steel sword.

+.+.+

Seven were chosen to push the funereal boat to the water, in honor of the seven faces of god. Robb was one, Lord Hoster's liege lord. With him were the Lords Bracken, Blackwood, Vance, and Mallister, Ser Marq Piper . . . and Lame Lothar Frey, who had come down from the Twins with the answer they had awaited. Forty soldiers rode in his escort, commanded by Walder Rivers, the eldest of Lord Walder's bastard brood, a stern, grey-haired man with a formidable reputation as a warrior.

I've really gotten away from reminding you all I still can't keep track of any of these Freys.

The author could randomly throw in a Pope Frey, and I wouldn't notice. They're all one Frey Unit at this point.

+.+.+

"Walder Frey should be flayed and quartered!" he'd shouted. "He sends a cripple and a bastard to treat with us, tell me there is no insult meant by that."

Careful Edmure, a cripple and a bastard might one day be kings of the continent.

+.+.+

The seven launched Lord Hoster from the water stair, wading down the steps as the portcullis was winched upward.

[...]

Bran and Rickon will be waiting for him, Catelyn thought sadly, as once I used to wait.

+.+.+

"Now," her uncle urged. Beside him, her brother Edmure—Lord Edmure now in truth, and how long would that take to grow used to?—nocked an arrow to his bowstring. His squire held a brand to its point. Edmure waited until the flame caught, then lifted the great bow, drew the string to his ear, and let fly. With a deep thrum, the arrow sped upward. Catelyn followed its flight with her eyes and heart, until it plunged into the water with a soft hiss, well astern of Lord Hoster's boat.

Edmure cursed softly. "The wind," he said, pulling a second arrow. "Again." The brand kissed the oil-soaked rag behind the arrowhead, the flames went licking up, Edmure lifted, pulled, and released. High and far the arrow flew. Too far. It vanished in the river a dozen yards beyond the boat, its fire winking out in an instant. A flush was creeping up Edmure's neck, red as his beard. "Once more," he commanded, taking a third arrow from the quiver. He is as tight as his bowstring, Catelyn thought.

"I can do it," Edmure insisted.

This is why you can't take me anywhere. I would have started wheezing if I witnessed this.

+.+.+

No sooner had the burning boat vanished from their sight than Edmure walked off. Catelyn would have liked to embrace him, if only for a moment; to sit for an hour or a night or the turn of a moon to speak of the dead and mourn. Yet she knew as well as he that this was not the time; he was Lord of Riverrun now, and his knights were falling in around him, murmuring condolences and promises of fealty, walling him off from something as small as a sister's grief. Edmure listened, hearing none of the words.

Would you just mourn, please? I'm begging you.

+.+.+

Their father's death had been a mercy when it came at last

God, you aren't kidding.

+.+.+

He wants so much to be a good king, to be brave and honorable and clever, but the weight is too much for a boy to bear. Robb was doing all he could, yet still the blows kept falling, one after the other, relentless. When they brought him word of the battle at Duskendale, where Lord Randyll Tarly had shattered Robett Glover and Ser Helman Tallhart, he might have been expected to rage. Instead he'd stared in dumb disbelief and said, "Duskendale, on the narrow sea? Why would they go to Duskendale?" He'd shook his head, bewildered. "A third of my foot, lost for Duskendale?"

Surely Robb has to realize someone ordered this.

Too many blows. Too many distractions.

+.+.+

"I should have traded the Kingslayer for Sansa when you first urged it," Robb said as they walked the gallery. "If I'd offered to wed her to the Knight of Flowers, the Tyrells might be ours instead of Joffrey's. I should have thought of that."

You're lucky the Freys got to you before I could.

+.+.+

Catelyn's heart skipped a beat. This is something he hates. Something he dreads to tell me. All she could think of was Brienne and her mission. "Is it the Kingslayer?"

"No. It's Sansa."

She's dead, Catelyn thought at once. Brienne failed, Jaime is dead, and Cersei has killed my sweet girl in retribution. For a moment she could barely speak. "Is . . . is she gone, Robb?"

No, it's much worse than that. 😭

+.+.+

"Gone?" He looked startled. "Dead? Oh, Mother, no, not that, they haven't harmed her, not that way, only . . . a bird came last night, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you, not until your father was sent to his rest." Robb took her hand. "They married her to Tyrion Lannister."

Catelyn's fingers clutched at his. "The Imp."

Now tell him it's all his fault.

+.+.+

"He swore to trade her for his brother," she said numbly. "Sansa and Arya both. We would have them back if we returned his precious Jaime, he swore it before the whole court. How could he marry her, after saying that in sight of gods and men?"

Catelyn, it's Tyrion. TYRION. He was scheming to free Jaime immediately after that same court session.

Mom, shake it off, I need you to get your head back in the game.

+.+.+

"If I could I'd take his ugly head off. Sansa would be a widow then, and free. There's no other way that I can see. They made her speak the vows before a septon and don a crimson cloak."

Oh, well, if that's the only way, we must be shit out of luck. She spoke the vows before a septon! A septon. What else can we do?

+.+.+

"I should have let Lysa push him out her Moon Door. My poor sweet Sansa . . . why would anyone do this to her?"

"For Winterfell," Robb said at once. "With Bran and Rickon dead, Sansa is my heir. If anything should happen to me . . ."

Where are you going with that thought?

+.+.+

She clutched tight at his hand. "Nothing will happen to you. Nothing. I could not stand it. They took Ned, and your sweet brothers. Sansa is married, Arya is lost, my father's dead . . . if anything befell you, I would go mad, Robb. You are all I have left. You are all the north has left."

+.+.+

"I am not dead yet, Mother."

+.+.+

Suddenly Catelyn was full of dread. "Wars need not be fought until the last drop of blood." Even she could hear the desperation in her voice. "You would not be the first king to bend the knee, nor even the first Stark."

His mouth tightened. "No. Never."

"There is no shame in it. Balon Greyjoy bent the knee to Robert when his rebellion failed. Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror rather than see his army face the fires."

"Did Aegon kill King Torrhen's father?" He pulled his hand from hers. "Never, I said."

He is playing the boy now, not the king.

Playing the boy, indeed. Takes a real king to know when to bend the knee on the Trident.

He is determined to die, Catelyn. I'm sorry, it's over.

+.+.+

"The Lannisters do not need the north. They will require homage and hostages, no more . . . and the Imp will keep Sansa no matter what we do

I'm sure he'll try.

+.+.+

Theon's murdered Bran and Rickon, so now all they need do is kill you . . . and Jeyne, yes.

+.+.+

Robb's face was cold. "Is that why you freed the Kingslayer? To make a peace with the Lannisters?"

"I freed Jaime for Sansa's sake . . . and Arya's, if she still lives. You know that. But if I nurtured some hope of buying peace as well, was that so ill?"

"Yes," he said. "The Lannisters killed my father."

"Do you think I have forgotten that?"

"I don't know. Have you?"

Catelyn had never struck her children in anger, but she almost struck Robb then.

LET ME DO IT.

+.+.+

Catelyn had been so lost in grief for her own that she had almost forgotten the two Freys she had agreed to foster. No more, she thought. Mother have mercy, how many more blows can we bear? Somehow she knew the next words she heard would plunge yet another blade into her heart. "The grandsons at Winterfell?" she made herself ask. "My wards?"

"Walder and Walder, yes. But they are presently at the Dreadfort, my lady. I grieve to tell you this, but there has been a battle. Winterfell is burned."

"Burned?" Robb's voice was incredulous.

[...]

Wordless with rage, Robb slammed a fist down on the table and turned his face away, so the Freys would not see his tears.

But his mother saw them. The world grows a little darker every day.

You know what's so great about Catelyn chapters? You get to keep reliving the worst parts of the story.

+.+.+

"The women and children hid, my nephews Walder and Walder among them. With Winterfell in ruins, the survivors were carried back to the Dreadfort by this son of Lord Bolton's."

"Bolton's son?" Robb's voice was strained.

[...]

All I can tell you is that my nephews claim it was this bastard son of Bolton's who saved the women of Winterfell, and the little ones. They are safe at the Dreadfort now, all those who remain.

This is hell. I'm in hell.

+.+.+

"I cannot speak to that. There is much confusion in any war. Many false reports.

I'd like to leave now.

+.+.+

My lord father bids me tell Your Grace that he will agree to this new marriage alliance between our houses and renew his fealty to the King in the North, upon the condition that the King's Grace apologize for the insult done to House Frey, in his royal person, face to face."

An apology was a small enough price to pay, but Catelyn misliked this petty condition of Lord Walder's at once.

There you go! She hasn't totally lost it. She's back in the game.

+.+.+

As you accept these terms, I am then instructed to offer Lord Tully the hand of my sister, the Lady Roslin, a maid of sixteen years.

Nobody go look up how old Edmure Tully is.

+.+.+

Edmure shifted in his seat. "Might not it be better if I first met—"

"You'll meet when you're wed," said Walder Rivers curtly. "Unless Lord Tully feels a need to count her teeth first?"

Edmure kept his temper. "I will take your word so far as her teeth are concerned, but it would be pleasant if I might gaze upon her face before I espoused her."

You're also concerned about that age gap, right? Right? Edmure?

+.+.+

Lame Lothar spread his hands. "My brother has a soldier's bluntness, but what he says is true. It is my lord father's wish that this marriage take place at once."

"At once?" Edmure sounded so unhappy that Catelyn had the unworthy thought that perhaps he had been entertaining notions of breaking the betrothal after the fighting was done.

"Has Lord Walder forgotten that we are fighting a war?" Brynden Blackfish asked sharply.

Is it too much to ask that somebody figure out what's going on here?

+.+.+

Catelyn was growing less and less comfortable with this arrangement. "My brother has just lost his own father. He needs time to mourn."

YES.

+.+.+

Lame Lothar rose, and his bastard brother helped him hobble from the room.

Edmure was seething. "They're as much as saying that my promise is worthless. Why should I let that old weasel choose my bride? Lord Walder has other daughters besides this Roslin. Granddaughters as well. I should be offered the same choice you were. I'm his liege lord, he should be overjoyed that I'm willing to wed any of them."

See, this is hard for me.

On one hand, I feel for the guy, hate the position he's being forced into, hate this practice, and don't want this marriage to take place.

But on the other hand, I'm aware that one of his sisters was forced to marry a corpse, while the other sister he's currently sitting next to, also wasn't given the option to meet or choose her husband, and in the backdrop of all of this is a 12-year-old hostage child bride married to a demon, so I kind of want this entitled little boy to shut the fuck up right now.

I'm getting pulled in too many directions, it's so unfair to me.

+.+.+

"It must happen," said Catelyn, though not gladly. "I have no more wish to suffer Walder Frey's insults and complaints than you do, Brother, but I see little choice here. Without this wedding, Robb's cause is lost. Edmure, we must accept."

NO.

+.+.+

"We must accept?" he echoed peevishly. "I don't see you offering to become the ninth Lady Frey, Cat."

"The eighth Lady Frey is still alive and well, so far as I know," she replied. Thankfully. Otherwise it might well have come to that, knowing Lord Walder.

She already married a stranger for an army, you muppet. Find another argument. Any other argument.

I apologize, everyone is making me cranky.

+.+.+

The Blackfish said, "I am the last man in the Seven Kingdoms to tell anyone who they must wed, Nephew. Nonetheless, you did say something of making amends for your Battle of the Fords."

"I had in mind a different sort of amends. Single combat with the Kingslayer. Seven years of penace as a begging brother. Swimming the sunset sea with my legs tied." When he saw that no one was smiling, Edmure threw up his hands. "The Others take you all! Very well, I'll wed the wench. As amends."

Final thoughts:

Okay, that's it. I've reached my limit. I'm ready to be done with this.

Catelyn & Robb Death Countdown

22 down, 3 to go.

Blame @aegor-bamfsteel.

-> return to menu <-

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

F.M.$. | Closet Perv HCs

/tw/dark content, dubcon, cuckolding, degradation, incest, voyeurism, exhibition,

Put yo ass, on my dick..

and pose on tha shit.

Tamaki

many people confused his dislike of public speaking with meekness

social anxiety did not stop your boyfriend from fucking you in front of his two best friends

they both watched his beloved little sister grow up a few years after them, so it was only fair they got to see how big you'd gotten

"She can take all of you?" Neijire asks, knowing first hand how big Tamaki feels inside you, watching as he has you splayed out on his bed with his hands planted firmly on your hips so he can push his cock into you inch by inch in a relentless slide

not only was he long but he was thick and curved just right to make you lose your mind behind your gag (your slick panties he crammed in your mouth when you tried to tell him it didn't turn you on to get fucked in front of his friends) every time he bottomed out inside you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass- a requirement he'd given you once you'd turned 19

"After training her every weekend of her second year at UA? Yeah, my little princess can take every, inch, of her big brother's attention."

He grinned at the way your eyes crossed every time he used your favorite toy on your clit while he just kept you stuffed full of him, liking the way you trembled and clenched around his cock while you came again and again and again...

"Takes a while to warm her up for anything fun though." By 'fun' he meant throwing your ankles over his shoulders and pounding into you with enough force that you pulled the most sinful ahegao face every time his balls slapped against your ass

It always made you squirt and babble mindlessly, a mess of his name and pleas for more, for him to let you take a break, anything

But the next day he blushed bright red when you brought him his lunch at school

Shouto

he really didn't like having to guess what you really thought, even though it was your shyness that drew him to you in the first place, because guessing meant you might be hurt in someway and he wouldn't know

so after consulting Bakugou, Kirishima, and Midoriya on how they would get a shy partner to open up, you're bound and gagged and sat on his lap with his almost painfully thick shaft splitting you open

you're both at his desk, and he's going down a list of questions about hard and soft limits, preferences, kinks, anything else he can think of, and taking notes on how your pussy reacts

"Do you wish to be in control in our love making? It may seem redundant considering how you haven't stop gripping me since I got you like this, but I want to be thorough."

you hate that you can't stop your pussy from quivering around him when he asks if you like to be degraded, and with a carefully written note in the journal he has open in front of you both he murmurs almost too politely, "It's alright. It won't be hard to point out how slutty you are darling, you've been soaking my jeans for the past half hour."

and so it continues, until you've soaked the soft silk scarf gagging you in tears of frustration. you don't want to answer more questions you want to get fucked

but Sho tells you time and time again, "we're done when I say we're done."

and every question gets answered before he closes his journal, just like he promised.

but then you're bent over his desk being fucked within an inch of your life by a man who now knows every filthy kink and button to press to make you cream on his cock

"Come on baby, squeeze daddy's cock, fuck just like that-"

And when you cum with a cry of "Daddy!" he's filling you up deep and hard so that you have a limp to go with the cum staining your thigh highs

Izuku

it wasn't fair to your boyfriend

who'd made you promise so many times while you were dating that you wanted him and not his boss

who you'd told honestly time and time again that Deku wasn't your type and that you liked bad boys like Bakugou just to make him laugh and relax

but you're soaking your panties the first time you hear your name in the pro hero's mouth

you're frozen where your boyfriend, the hero's sidekick, is somewhere beside you introducing the "two most important people" in his life

cause the greenette is looking you up and down and the way he licks his lips before saying your name is messing you up inside

"Nice to meet you, Deku," and fuck his eyes get darker hearing you say his hero name

Your Boyfriend, as great as he seemed a moment prior already seems so.. average

Izuku can feel himself getting hard in his dress pants because of the disappointment he can see in your eyes when your boyfriend takes your attention back

at first its just the looking

Deku looking at you whenever you have to come from your campus to bring your boyfriend lunch

You looking at Deku when he's already ripping his shirt off to change into his costume the one time an emergency alarm went off while you were in the office

but then you're walking back to your dorm after a party and some creep won't stop following you, you're to grateful to hear Deku's cheerful voice calling your name from his car and offering you a ride

it's not until the fear fades (approximately one second after the door closes and you're surrounded by the scent of pine and Izuku) that you ask what he was doing at your college

"Oh I just wanted to swing by," in that aw-shucks tone of his that made your panties grow soaked in seconds

when you don't take the bullshit excuse, "I'm high as a kite and I still can't believe you thought I'd buy that,"

he tells you your boyfriend was sent out of town for a two week training camp

maybe it's because you're still buzzing with the energy of the party you'd spent hours working yourself into an aroused stupor dancing and imagining the green haired man next to you

but you're able to meet his gaze when you tell him, "Then we should be going to your place. Dorm furniture is not reliable enough for what I'm gonna need you to do make this worth it."

It's the last big girl shit you say for the rest of the night.

because you're stone cold sober when his bedroom door closes behind you, trembling as you realize just how big he is when his naked body is over yours

if you try at all to cover yourself, close your thighs when he uses the breadth of his shoulders to bully them open wide, it's all

"Where ya going puppy? If I'm gonna make this worth your while you gotta let me see what I'm doing."

if you try to run from him when he's fucking you on your knees (you'd long since lost the ability to hold yourself up at all),

"Nuh uh, no running lil girl. I've waited too long to have my fill of your wet little pussy."

but what were you supposed to do? there's no way your boyfriend's average dick could compare to the heavy girth of the eight inches rearranging your insides

"You're not getting enough cock if you're this tiny," the greenette grunts above you as his large fucking hands hold your hips still so you can't escape every deep thrust that knocks right into your cervix

"Y-you got, two weeks," you wheeze as he fucks the breath out of your chest, and the way his cock twitches inside you kinda ruins his image as he hits your ass with a smack that has you moaning and calls you a slut

(maybe I'll do Kirishima and Shinsou in a pt two but damn this is getting long lmfao)

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Behind Closed Doors

Keanu Reeves x OFC (Emma Mathers)

Masterlist Behind Closed Doors Masterlist

Warnings- tension, again.

When In Paris

The suite at the five star Parisian hotel was far more glamorous than anything Emma had ever experienced, and that was coming after an extensive flight spent on a private jet. The wonder in her eyes was unmatched, and by just looking at her face, Keanu could tell that their trip was her first time traveling in luxury. Something about the twinkle in her eyes made him want to see it more, he wanted to spoil Emma, just so he could hear that, melodic, breathless laugh that she'd emitted when they boarded the private jet, see the way her red painted lips parted in awe when they landed in magnificent Paris and be privy to the way her pretty eyes widened when they entered the suite.

Upon Miranda finding out that a new collaboration with a New York based cosmetic company would have her missing the premiere in Paris, Keanu had found himself breathing a sigh of relief. Partially because he didn't want to spend the trip, and by extension his birthday, tolerating Miranda's constant nitpicking of Emma's methods and the little insults she usually threw the girl's way. But there was another part of him, softer and more cautious about letting its intentions known, that insisted that he was actually relieved because no Miranda meant more time alone with Emma. Keanu knew that he shouldn't have been thinking like that, he was engaged and highly doubted that Matt and Poppy's nanny even returned his not-so-platonic feelings. She was young and would probably be repulsed by the idea of being tied down by a man his age, far less one with young children.

As Keanu settled into his room, the master bedroom right next to the slightly smaller room where the twins would be staying and directly across from Emma's room, he tried to push away the intrusive thoughts, only to be interrupted by none other than the subject of his wandering eyes. "Got a minute?" She smiled shyly, loosely gripping the knob of his ajar door.

"I could spare a few," he grinned brightly despite himself. For her, he'd carve time out of the busiest of schedules.

"Great," Emma blushed, noting the way his gaze roved her form, clad in a snug, white sweater and a simple pair of blue jeans, "The kids, they want to go out. I'd take them on my own, but I've never been here, and I wouldn't want to get lost." Glancing at the floor, she tucked an escaped strand behind her ear, and Keanu didn’t think he could put into words how much he wanted to be the one doing that; his thumb caressing her high cheek bone, her skin soft and warm to touch. “If you don’t have time, then-”

“No,” Keanu dropped the shirt he was holding back into the suitcase, walking around the foot of the king sized bed, collecting his leather jacket and scarf on his way towards Emma. He stopped closer to her than he should have, and with that proximity, she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze, “I have time, we could go for a walk and if I remember correctly there should be a great café about a block away. You’ll like it.”

Stunned, Emma blinked quickly, not expecting Keanu to be so readily on board the idea of going out mere hours after they’d gotten to the hotel. She had started to forget how much fun and how carefree he could be when Miranda wasn’t around and even if she knew that her opinion didn’t really matter in the scheme of things, Emma thought she preferred Keanu when he was alone.

Surprisingly, he led her towards the drawing room with his hand on the center of her back, almost weightless even as comforting warmth emanated from his palm. It was almost as if he wanted to touch her, though he knew he shouldn't.

Calling out to the kids, who came running excitedly, both still dressed to go out, Keanu swiped Emma’s camel coat from off the back of the grey, floral patterned cabriole sofa, helping her into it. His fingers brushed her shoulders through her sweater, electrifying her nerves, and when he absently passed his hands over her arms after it was on, Emma sucked in a breath, restraining herself from leaning into him, “Thank you,” she blushed, hoping he wouldn’t see it.

“Of course,” he hated having to take his hands off her and before he could stop himself, Keanu found himself wondering what it would be like if he were with Emma instead of Miranda, surely, he hadn’t known her for as long, but being with her came naturally, and as he watched her kneeling to get Poppy into her pink, fuzzy, petite coat, closing up the large plastic buttons at the front, Keanu couldn’t deny how purely familial it felt; just her, him and the children. No one moaning about how the children should stay back for the evening, telling Matt that he couldn’t wear blue on blue or making snide remarks in his ear about how the nanny was overstepping when she pecked the kids on their foreheads. Keanu liked it when Emma overstepped, when she cared for his children as if they were her own, when she lightened the mood with a joke told under her breath and when she’d, even if accidentally, showed her concern for his own wellbeing, as if he were more to her than just an employer. “Everyone ready?”

“Ready guys?” Emma turned the question to the twins as she slipped her cell into her nude colored shoulder purse, proceeding to stylishly wrap a floral scarf around her neck, adding a pop of color to her cool toned outfit. When they both nodded vigorously, bouncing in agreement, she offered her hand, giggling when Matt went for it, leaving Poppy with him, “Alright, then let's go, lead the way,” Emma beamed, turning to Keanu.

The café that Keanu had told Emma about was right where he remembered, and they were led to a table quickly by the young hostess; perk of being a celebrity. They were tucked cozily in the corner of the patio dining area, where their scenic surroundings were still visible; orange and yellow leaves peppering the sidewalk after having fallen from trees planted along the edges, while picturesque buildings on the other side of the worn brick street added to the view. A small platter of strawberries and cream macarons as well as orange and chocolate madeleines, along with two hot chocolates were enough to get Matt and Poppy settled for a while, talking and giggling amongst themselves. Emma was sitting across from him, occasionally slipping small forkfuls of French silk pie into her mouth as she drank in the beauty of city, “Do you like it?” Keanu interrupted her thoughts, just as she was setting her latte down, her cherry red lipstick lightly staining the delicate china.

“The coffee, the chocolate or Paris?” She held his gaze, tongue darting out ever so slightly to moisten her lips, just before she brought the silverware to her mouth again, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes. She was so, so beautiful, and Keanu had caught himself staring a few too many times.

Smile still evident, he shifted around a sliver of his moose cake, the plate streaked with pink, white and brown, trying not to fumble on his words. Emma didn’t really make him nervous per say, it was quite the opposite actually, Keanu usually felt a comfort and ease around her that was absent in the company of most others, like she was simply encouraging him to be the best version of himself. Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t long to be close to perfection in her eyes; say all the right things at the right times, impress her because even if she didn’t make him feel like he had to, Emma made him feel like she deserved it. “All of it, Paris, the chocolate, the coffee,” he quoted in reverse.

“Its…..perfect,” inhaling, a lone shiver ran through her, and she sipped her latte again, “I’ve actually never been out of the states, so this kind of feels…….magical.” There was a childlike sparkle in her expression, something Keanu hadn’t witnessed in anyone other than children in years, at his age, there weren’t many luxuries that he hadn’t yet experienced, and despite their two years together, Keanu had yet to see anything close to that on Miranda’s face. There was a time, within the first few months of them dating where he’d strove to impress her, going any lengths just so she’d be happy with him, but by the eighth or ninth month, it became a daunting, tiring task, and Miranda didn’t seem to care what he did, as long as it was up to her expensive tastes. Emma though, there was an air about her that made Keanu feel special, like he could give her the smallest thing and she’d just be in awe.

“You’ve never travelled?” Keanu frowned, his kids had been travelling with him since they were a year old, and at that point, he didn’t think they knew a life that didn’t involve leaving their home country at least twice a year.

She nodded, tearing her gaze from across the street and casting it back towards Keanu, “Nope, not out of the states,” embarrassed, Emma drew in a soft breath from the chilly autumn air, “First we couldn’t really afford it, but even when I got older, after my mom got us in a good place, she had to save so I could go the college. I don’t mind though,” straightening her back, Emma regained her quiet confidence, “I’ve got a lot of time for that.”

“You do,” Keanu agreed, bringing his espresso to his lips, blowing on the scaling beverage before taking a long sip, “I mean, one day you’re gonna be a famous designer and you’ll get to go wherever you want.”

Laughing quietly, Emma bent her head shyly, wispy dark strands falling over her face, having escaped from her high ponytail, “I don’t know about that,” she dismissed, “I mean, its gonna take a while before I even cement myself in the L.A. fashion scene, famous…..that’s something else. It’s a nice thought though.”

“Its a great reality too,” tentatively, he reached for her hand laid on the top of the wicker table, squeezing affectionately, before catching himself and reluctantly retracting, “I’ve seen some of what you can do, those dresses your made yourself, that purple tutu you made Pop for her recital last month, you can do this Em. I know it probably doesn't mean a lot coming from me, but I believe in you.”

“I,” she stumbled on her words, astonished by his faith in her, “It actually does mean a lot to me Keanu,” Emma dragged her lower lip through her teeth, and Keanu shifted in his chair, inhaling sharply, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he croaked, trying to slow his breaths. It was amazing how he could go from being wonderstruck by Emma to being turned on in just seconds. She was truly an enigma, one of a kind. “You know,” he huffed, hoping to change the topic and get them talking again to steer his thoughts away from anything too perverse, “This is my favorite, here, try it.” He offered her some of his cake on his fork, encouraging Emma to lean in. So much for going for something more innocent.

Hesitating, Emma eventually leaned over the table, letting Keanu feed her a bit of the cake, moaning in pleasure at its taste. She could easily see why it was his favorite, the raspberry, vanilla and dark chocolate all melded together in her mouth to create a symphony of flavor, each one complimenting the other perfectly as the moose melted on her tongue. “That’s amazing!” And at that, Poppy and Matt started cheering about how they wanted to try it too, their faces lighting up at how delightfully sweet the creamy desert was.

Dragging his lip through his teeth, Keanu chuckled as he looked on at Emma, “You have a little….” he gestured to the corner of his mouth, only laughing louder when Emma missed several times over. “Here,” he grabbed up his napkin, reaching over the table, “Let me,” dapping the corner of her lips, Keanu eyed the way her cheeks reddened and took a chance at carelessly brushing her skin with his thumb, his ragged breath matching hers. “Em…..” Knowing that the right thing would have meant pulling away wasn’t hard knowledge to come by, but knowing how to just be Emma’s friend and boss certainly was.

Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side and Emma’s blinking slowed, roughness of his touch so inviting that she wanted it to last forever. There was something at the tip of her lips, and Keanu yearned to know what it was, perhaps permission for his feelings, indication that she returned them, but alas, their moment was cut in half when Matt spotted a walking balloon vendor across the street, him and his sister protesting loudly, clamoring about how they wanted balloons. Immediately, Keanu pulled away, collecting his bearings and discarding the napkin, as Emma averted her stare, hoping to find anything more interesting. They’d come so close to crossing a line, and Keanu knew that had they kept going, he’d have hell to pay when he returned to L.A.

One Week Later The premiere had fallen exactly on Keanu’s birthday, which was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, him being gone for the day meant that Emma would have enough time to put her plan in action, but on the other, it also meant that by the time Keanu had gotten home, they kids were beat and borderline cranky. Thankfully though, Keanu had returned by half nine and neither Matt nor Poppy had fallen asleep in the cute little semi formal outfits Emma had dressed them in. As he’d walked in, flicking on the lights to illuminate the main room, looking tired and a little more down than she’d been expecting, Emma and the kids yelled excitedly, “Surprise!”

Shocked, Keanu jumped, holding his hand to his chest, speechless for a moment. Though, that, fortunately, didn’t last very long, “What is all this?” Second by second, a wide grin split his lips and his eyes scanned the room, landing on their set up on the coffee table; a layered cake, the one he’d mentioned as his favorite at the café, glasses along with a bottle of cider and a few presents, wrapped in cheerful paper with ribbons and bows adorning the top.

“It’s for you daddy!” Poppy was the first to run up to Keanu, grabbing his leg in a hug, followed only second later by Matt, who did the same. And just as he bent over, taking them into his ready arms, Emma stood from the sofa, not wanting to intrude on their moment, “Happy Birthday!” Kissing his cheek, Poppy, was sure to hug him as tightly as her little arms would allow.

“Happy Birthday daddy,” Matt followed suit, clinging to his father, playing with Keanu’s simple, black skinny tie as he hoisted them both on either side of his lips, “Do you like it? It was all Emma’s idea!”

“Well, I can’t take all the credit,” she admonished lightly when Keanu glanced to her, “I had a couple of excellent co planners,” tentatively, Emma finally approached them, her heels clicking quietly on the cream marble floors, “We just wanted to do something special for you.”

The warmth in his heart was reflected in his expression, and if his arms weren’t so full, he’d definitely lean in to pull Emma in a consuming hug, “Thank you,” it had been a while since anyone put that much effort into his birthday, the older he got, the less he’d want his family to do, and it went without saying that Miranda was never big on getting him anything more than a cushy present. In fact, usually, Keanu would be inclined to spend his birthday with just his children, watching movies with them on the sofa after a take out dinner. The quiet affairs never bothered him, he'd had enough parties and glitzy birthdays in his twenties and thirties, and was wholly ready to continue on with smaller, more intimate ones.

When he set the kids down, Keanu placed a hand on her elbow, still an arm's length away, leaning in to peck her cheek, "This is amazing, I can't tell you how much it means." When Keanu pulled away, despite his efforts not to stare, he found himself doing it anyway, absorbing the way her burnt orange sweater dress hugged every curve perfectly, boasting her legs when the hem cut off mid thigh. Her hair fell in voluminous waves down to the center of Emma’s back, framing her delicate features, and her simple, clean cut make-up accentuated her full lips and dark eyes. “And you,” Keanu stuttered, affectionately squeezed her elbow, “Look beautiful.”

Caught off guard, Emma blinked quickly, her deep burgundy lips moving to form words but never quite making it through any. “Oh!” A wider smile threatened to break through just as the apples of her cheeks unintentionally went red, “Thank you,” she took a step back and Keanu took that as a sign to reluctantly retract his touch. “Uh,” stuttering again, she looked around wildly, not really sure who’d done the initial overstepping but knowing that someone had to put an end to it, “Why don’t we sit? Yeah, you still have to blow out your candles and open your presents.”

“We can’t wait for you to see what we got you daddy!” Poppy jumped excitedly, a few raven strands escaping the braid Emma had put her hair in, falling over her face as she clapped small her hands. Without settling down in the slightest, she grabbed Keanu’s hand, the size of hers almost muted by his larger, rougher one as Poppy pulled her father towards the sofa, urging him to sit before hopping into his lap. Looking on, Emma offered her hand to Matt, leading him to the chair as well, trying not to think of how much she wanted something like that one day. The real deal, not just a pseudo family, where it felt like she was getting paid to play house, but a husband with children of her own who adored her as much as Matt and Poppy did Keanu.

Leaving a healthy, safe distance between them, Emma claimed a spot on the long sofa, chuckling when Matt mirrored his sister and situated himself in her lap, squirming in anticipation. “So,” securing the boy, she wrapped a slender arm around him, gently flattening her palm to his chest so he wouldn’t fall with all the movement he was doing, “What’ll it be birthday boy? Cake or presents first?”

“What do you two think?” Keanu bent forward to look at both his children, laughing softly when they both bounced in their places, cheering that he go with cake first. “Cake it is,” he determined, and soon after, Emma was reaching for the lighter on the table, keeping Matt away from the flame as she lit the tall candles strategically sunken into the cake, among the cluster of raspberries decorating the top. When all five were lit, Emma and the kids sang happy birthday, clapping when he blew out the candles. Afterwards, she cut them each a slice, and between bites, they moved on with presents.

Up first was the one that Emma had helped organize for Matt and Poppy to give him; they had done most of the the work while she’d simply provided guidance and occasionally, assistance. They’d chosen to make their father a picture frame, using popsicle sticks and colorful craft items, and it had turned out wonderfully, the neatly arranged painted, sticks decorated with buttons, cut out shapes made of plastic, and ribbon had a picture of Keanu and the twins on the inside. “I love it!” He hugged them tight, kissing their heads, still staring at his present. Even off to the side, Emma could see the softness in his eyes, the warmth clinging to his features, there wasn’t the slightest bit of untruth when Keanu said he’d loved the gift, and she admired him for it. A celebrity, who could probably buy anything he wanted at any given moment, appreciating a sweet, handmade gift as if the world had been served on a silver platter. “This is the best present ever!” Keanu hugged them again, keeping Matt and Poppy close.

It was only when he’d released them, did Emma present him with her gift, wrapped up in a blue and white polka dot box, held closed by white silk ribbon, “This one is from me,” her shy smile faltered when their hands touched, and she he'd her breath, hoping he’d like it.

Giving the edge of the ribbon a tug, Keanu undid the bow, opening the box. His jaw hung slack in breathless awe, and trying to be as gentle as possible, he reached into the box’s depths, producing an exact replica of the bike he rode to work almost every morning. It had been spray painted in the exact same colors, carried a downsized version of the very same details and even had a tiny license plate with his initials engraved onto it, “Em…” he gasped, running his fingers over the perfectly mimicked details, “This is….wow,” he huffed a chuckled.

Dragging her lip through her teeth, Emma searched his features, “Do you like it?” She probed nervously.

“Like it?” He glanced up at her, his emotions spilling out in just the way he looked at her, “I love it,” he chuckled louder, “Emma,” Keanu set his gift down on the coffee table, reaching for her bare knee with the hand that wasn’t holding Poppy close, “It’s so thoughtful of you.” The smile brightened his rugged, somewhat tired features as he added, "I love it."

"Great," Emma tried not to look him straight in the eye, knowing if she did, she might be wholly responsible for what happened next. His touch, warm on her thigh, squeezing affectionately, sent shivers up her spine and Emma was caught between wondering how things might have escalated if they were alone and thinking that it was time to pull away. "I'm glad you like it," even if she knew she'd already let his touch linger for far too long, Emma placed her hand over his, and faintly, she heard Keanu's breath hitch as his eyes widened slightly.

They both knew that at that point, their position wasn't unintentional, yet, before either of them could act, they were interrupted by Poppy stretching sleepily, admitting that she was tired. In an instant, whenever they were sharing had been broken, the moment was gone. Leaving them blinking quickly, seemingly emerging from a trance, and prompting them to get the kids ready for bed.

That night, Keanu helped Emma out with bedtime rituals, sticking around during bath time all the way through until they informed him that they wanted Emma to read to them before lights out. It was nearly eleven when she finally emerged from the hallway, shoes clicking softly until she finally decided that they were too much noise, nudging them off with her toes and resuming her small stature. “Hey,” she smiled tightly, calling Keanu’s attention as he stood at the floor to ceiling window, nursing something far stiffer than cider, the glittering lights of illuminated the Eiffel Tower casting a yellow glow on his face, the only thing brightening the room after he’d dimmed the lights.

“Hi,” he grinned widely, the way he always did when Emma walked into the room, “Whiskey?” He offered, moving to the mini bar, ready to get her a drink.

“Sure,” in minutes, Keanu was approaching her, offering Emma the glass he’d gotten, their fingers once again brushing during the hand off. That time, they both just huffed shyly, pretending to ignore it as they approached the window, staring in silence for a while, until Keanu scoffed a chuckle. “What?” Turning to him, Emma observed his profile, wondering if people were even supposed to be made that perfect.

“Its just,” shrugging, Keanu punctuated his words with a brief sip of his drink, not even hissing at its strength, “It’s almost over. Another year gone.” He seemed pensive, his thoughts colliding and confusing him; she’d never seen him in that light and all Emma wanted to do was help.

The alcohol burnt her throat as it slid down, and unlike Keanu, it showed on Emma’s face, though, it created a familiar warmth in her belly, one that she liked; even if she was quickly going to learn that it wasn’t just breaking the autumn chill, but also ebbing away her inhibitions. “You sound disappointed,” and when Keanu didn’t offer a response, she gently pressed, “Are you?”

Shaking his head, Keanu downed the rest of his whiskey, wincing slightly and discarding his glass on the top of a nearby accent chest, slipping his hands into his pockets as he turned to face her. His tie was loosened at the neck and before the twins’ bath, Keanu had discarded his blazer on the chair nearby. He was striking, even when he was close to disheveled. “I don’t know,” the disconcertment echoed in his tone, “Do you ever think that you’re doing the right thing, but then…...there’s one little change, and suddenly it feels like you’re making a huge mistake?”

Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, Emma tried to decipher the true meaning behind his words, opting for an analogy when she couldn’t, “When I first started college, I knew exactly what I wanted; I wanted to be a designer,” she smiled wistfully, “And my nana always taught me to go after what I wanted, even if it was silly to everyone else. So I started fashion school, but then the fees started to take a toll on my mom’s finances, and even if I got two part time jobs, it still didn’t save me from starting to sink.” Emma sighed deeply, looking out towards the city again, “The circumstances changed, or maybe I just noticed them for the first time, and suddenly, going to fashion school seemed selfish, like I’d made a terrible decision, a huge mistake. But when I told my nana what I was thinking, she asked me where I saw myself in ten years and……..that’s how I knew I had to stay.”

Knitting his brows, Keanu seemed more perplexed than when they’d started their conversation, “I don’t understand,” his voice was gruff and low and he hung on, waiting for her explanation,

Sighing, Emma’s contemplative soiree softened, “I guess it meant, if you’re sure about something, if you know it’s right in your heart, then even if things get in the way, you’ll find your way back to it. We’re constantly searching for happiness, and what’s right is always so……subjective. But if you know it's right in here,” stepping closer, Emma gently tapped Keanu’s chest, “Then even if it wavers here,” her cool fingers rose to his temple, “You’ll always go back to it.” Like Keanu, Emma finished off her drink, leaning past him to leave her glass next to his, her other hand still on his face, then cupping his cheek.

“What if……” He mulled on his words, letting them rattle around in his mind fitfully before spilling, “What if what makes me happy, and what’s right in here,” he reached out, pressing two fingers to the center of Y/n’s chest, just above her breasts though still where he could feel her heartbeat, “Are two different things?”

A lump had settled in her throat and a minute part of Y/n knew where things were going, while everywhere else screamed that they shouldn’t have gotten there in the first place. Keanu was her boss, her engaged boss. Yet still, she couldn’t find it in herself to tear her hand away from his face, or push him off her. “They’re always the same thing,” sparing the city of love one last glance, Emma shifted her sights to Keanu, stoking the apple of his cheek, marveling at the way he tilted into the softness of her hand and barely noticing the way his hand had slid up to cup her neck. “Maybe you’re confused right now, but they're always the same.”

“I’m so confused right now,” Keanu confessed, closing the final inches of space. They were lost in each other’s stares and at that point, there was probably nothing in the world that could push them apart. With his hand on her neck, she could feel his callouses and his warmth, radiating, doing more than the finest spirits ever could. The cloud of air between them was tainted with the aroma of expensive booze, still clinging to their hot breaths, mingling with the smell of smoked cigarettes and the alluring fragrance of Emma’s perfume. With every exhale, their chests touched, ever so slightly.

“What do you want?” Emma nudged, licking her lips when Keanu’s face drew closer, tilting her head so she’d grant him access, anticipating what would happen next.

“I want…….” He furrowed his brows again, “I want to be happy.”

“Then be happy,” and that was all it took; the final thread snapped and her words were the permission he’d been seeking. And though, all along, Emma sensed it would happen, when Keanu’s lips were finally laid on hers, she was completely and utterly surprised. They started slow, locking and moving in tandem at a most leisurely pace, though as the pair felt each other out, Keanu’s free hand found the dip of Emma’s waist while she clutched a fistful of his shirt, the silky fabric wrinkling in her grasp, the air took on a new heat and their kiss grew steamy. Six months worth of almosts and boiling tension just swirled around them, pressing them together, and when his tongue broke past her lips, sliding over hers, Emma moaned into Keanu’s mouth.

No one had ever tasted like that, like their lips were meant to spar with hers, no hands ever fit so well on her body. Wrapping his tie around her fist, Emma yanked him closer and they stumbled back. By then their longer, passionate kisses were punctuated by shorter, sweeter pecks, and all she wanted was for him to hoist her up into his strong arms and press her against the cold glass.

Then it hit her; the criminality of what they were doing. Miranda already hated her, and she was going to marry Keanu. That make out session alone was putting her job on the line, the job that she so desperately needed. Logic kicked in and without warning, Emma was letting go of Keanu’s tie and pushing him away. He looked just as frayed as she was, and even a little hurt, “We shouldn’t…...this is wrong. We can’t do this,” Her whispered words were more to convince herself, and before Keanu could respond, Emma was apologizing, turning away from him and scuttling out of the room.

“Em,” he tried to call after her, but it was too late, Emma was already gone, and Keanu had a feeling that things had just gotten way more complicated than he could have ever imagine.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

[lilred8220]

Well, yet another fic no one asked for😃

I wanted to write this because some time go, I was watching the fireworks when this song started to play↓↓↓

And I just thought how romantic it would be if I wasn't forever alone 🙃 so, I build a story around that. I hope you enjoy it!

P.s. This is a F!MC

--

I had been so excited for this day! In the human realm, my hometown this time of year had a huge festival ending with a huge firework show. I had asked to go a week in advance but due to being in the Devildom for the exchange program, I couldn't go. It definitely was a disappointment. However Diavolo, seeing me upset and now curious about the tradition, asked all about it and he thought it sounded fun. Thanks to him always wanting to do anything new, he immediately decided to do the same here in the Devildom.

So through the long week, he asked about everything we would do at the event to make it much more fun and quickly get everything ready to make this last second festival. It somehow all came together and it feels almost exactly like the festival from the human realm. The food, sweets and all! Now it was the time to enjoy the festival!

The brothers couldn't understand why I was so excited for this. Though we all went to festivals and saw fireworks, It was just something that I would always look forward to this time of the year and it's just more special this time around. It kinda feels as if I'm sharing something that I love with everyone I care about in a place where I like to call my new home. Hopefully they'll come to enjoy this as much as I do.

"So, this is called an Elephant ear?“ Beel asked, drooling at the large fried sweet in front of him.

I laugh, as I grab a piece before he can scarf the treat whole, "Yeah, it's just fried dough with powdered sugar on it. They usually sell these at any carnival or festival." I pop the elephant ear in my mouth, savoring the amazing taste.

The brothers each had something to eat as we took a break from all the festival games littered around. We all take two picnic benches for the 8 of us, well, us and Beel's giant pile of food he got. Everyone had won something from the games…well everyone but me and Mammon. Mammon was determined to win a game, yet his luck seemed to be the worse for wear today and all the games we'd gone to all ended up with one of the other brothers winning the game. My luck honestly wasn't any better due to playing the same games that the others had won.

"I'm telling ya! Those games are rigged! The people runnin 'em are just a bunch of con artists!“ Mammon yells, clearly frustrated that he hasn't gotten anything.

"Or maybe you just suck lol" Levi says, holding a Ruri-chan plush to his chest.

"Honestly, you really shouldn't be surprised, you were pretty terrible at all those games since you had no choice but to play fair." Satan adds on, which all the brothers nod in agreement.

Asmo laughs, "Well, what do you expect from a scumbag?"

I start to get annoyed as the brothers all start to bash on Mammon. He seems fine on the surface but I've been around him long enough, with him basically living in my room and all, to see all his little ticks. Like when he's excited, his hand gestures are more dramatic, to emphasize his point or how his eyes light up when something catches his attention, like something to make a quick buck. However, right now, with the way his mouth slightly twitches and his hand shoved into his pockets, he's upset. He really only does this when the brothers throw insult after insult at him, like right now.

I sigh as they continue their assault on him. But an idea comes to mind and it'll be easy enough to pull off.

"Does...that all that stuff apply to me too? Since I didn't win anything either, after all..." I say, putting on my best pouting face and looking down at the ground.

Immediately, the brothers started to panic, trying to reassure me that it wasn't true, successfully drawing their attention away from Mammon. I slightly looked up, passed the frantic brothers to lock eyes with Mammon. He stood there for a moment, a bit confused by my sudden comment. I flash him a quick smirk before looking up at the brothers, accepting their apologies. The brothers seemed to relax and drop the topic after that, returning to the food they have. Mammon, who had seemingly understood what my intentions really were, looked at me, with his face slightly flushed, then stared down at his food.

In Mammon's mind, he honestly doesn't know what force sent Y/N here but, she is honestly the best thing that has ever happened to him. At first, he hated the idea of being her guardian due to all of the extra work he was given. But, as days turned to weeks, her treatment towards him was nothing but sweet and loving. It honestly was a huge adjustment for him, since everyone treated him like scum or useless, having her place so much faith in him, even defending him and doing little gestures like this, it makes his head spin. He honestly couldn't pinpoint when it happened, but, his feelings for her drastically changed, he couldn't deny it now, how he longed for her, wanted her all to himself. How he loved her unconditionally.

I smile, quickly finish eating my food then stand up, "Ok! Time to get back to the games!“ I say, excitedly.

"Y/N, I'm glad you are excited but some of us still need to eat." Lucifer says, glancing at Beel and his mountain of food.

"Awww, come on Lucifer, I wanna try to win something before the fireworks start." I plop down again, putting my chin in my hands.

"Well, I'm sure we'll have plenty of time." Lucifer tries to cheer me up, eating some fries.

Mammon looks up at Y/N, upon seeing her upset. He honestly hated seeing Y/N upset, even if for something so small as to wait for everyone to finish eating. He wanted nothing more than to see her smile everyday, it honestly was one of his favorite parts of the day to see her smile so sweetly. He'll do anything to make her happy. He sits up and scarfs down his food before standing up. "Ok, how 'bout this,' ' Mammon gets up and walks over to me, ' ' since I haven't won anythin', I'm gonna go play some more games and I'll meet ya guys later. Y/N, ya can come if ya want to." Mammon starts to walk away, at a slower pace than he usually would.

"Yeah! Ok!" Before any of the other brothers could protest, I quickly got up and hurried over to Mammon. I can hear the brothers stumbling to get up to follow us.

"Hey! Mammon is stealing Y/N!"

"That's not fair!“

"That scumbag..."

I hear some of the things they're saying as they seem to be trying to catch up.

I grab Mammon's hand and start to make a run for it. "Come on!" I glanced back at Mammon, who seemed shocked. He looks back to see the brothers in hot pursuit of us. Getting the hint, Mammon picks up the pace. We high tail it out of there, laughing like a bunch of kids all the while.

--

Me and Mammon finally stop and I flop on the floor, trying to catch my breath as Mammon puts his hands on his knees.

"I…I think we lost 'em" Mammon pants, out of breath from running around.

"I…I think so…jeez, how…how do you always do this when you get in trouble?“ I wheeze out, my human body not used to running as much as a demon. Especially if that demon is Mammon.

Mammon straightens up, finally catching his breath, "Well, I'm not usually running from ALL of my brothers, just Lucifer mostly."

Mammon reaches his hand to me and after a moment, I let him help me up. He helps me to my feet and when I look up, his face is very close to mine. We stare at each other for a moment before both of our faces turn more flushed than we already were.

His bright blue eyes that have a hint of that golden yellow has me in a trance. When I first met Mammon, it was the first thing that drew my attention, it's honestly something that I always find myself staring at all of the time. They are very beautiful to me and never fail to make me feel relaxed when I see them. But not only that, he is a very handsome man. His rich caramel skin with his pure white hair makes his face stand out even more. He is just so captivating to look at, however his personality is what truly makes him shine. Even if he tries, and fails, to hide his true feelings, he always has his heart on his sleeve, rather if he realizes that or not. He tries so hard to help me or to even make my day brighter when I'm not feeling my best. He even tries to protect his brothers and is always there for them. He honestly is the most caring person I've ever met and I can't help but fall for him because of that.

Mammon looked down at her face, he honestly couldn't help but stare. In his mind, she was more beautiful than anyone he's ever seen. Her beauty not only stopped at her looks but the person she was. She was a true wonder to him, too good to be true yet, here she was, defying all logic. All he wanted to do was look at every detail of her face, her eyes as they shine, her soft skin as the blush covers her face, her parted lips as her breath finally slows down. Mammon was the first to turn away, catching himself now staring at nothing but her lips.

He clears his throat. "W-Well since we're here, let's get to some games!" Mammon says, his fangs flash with his grin.

We made our way to the nearest game booth, both of us looking at the various prizes. The booth in question is a simple ring toss, the bottles are organized by colors which show what size prize you can get. There are the ridiculously large stuffed bears that are taller than me to the very small animal plushies. Scanning all the prizes, one catches my attention, a black plush crow with a yellow tag on it. It was big enough to hold in your arms, it's wings dangled at its sides. It had its beak opened slightly to look like a smile. I glance over at Mammon, who is currently eyeing a plushie of a grimm, that also has a yellow tag hanging off of it. I laugh, thinking of how that plush crow reminded me of him.

Mammon looks at me, slightly confused, "What are ya laughing at?"

"Oh nothing, though I know what prize I want." I smile, looking back at the crow plush.

Mammon follows my eyes over to the plush, he tilts his head at my choice, "Ya sure that's what ya want? There are plenty of things better than that ol' crow."

I nod enthusiastically, "Yeah, I think it's cute, like someone else I know." I playfully push him.

His ears turn a dark red but he laughs, "Well, I know what I want so, let's go and win some prizes!“

We pay the demon running the game and start trying to make the rings reach its mark. However, as in most carnaval games, the rings in question are only slightly bigger than the top of the bottles, making it much harder to win. Not to mention the bottles for the better prizes are further back, making it much harder. As we try a couple times, we don't get much luck and we're running out of grimms to play. However as we reach our last game, even though I end up with nothing, Mammon manages to sink a ring on a yellow bottle.

"We have a winner!“ the demon behind the booth says, walking over to grab the ring.

"Yeah! This was nothin' for the Great Mammon!" Mammon threw his hands in the air, and I cheered with him, "You did it! You won!“

The demon walks back over to us, "Alrighty, you can pick a prize with a yellow tag. Which will it be?"

Mammon's eyes flick to the plush he was eyeing earlier and he goes to speak, but an announcement rings through the speakers all around the festival, "The firework show will be starting in 15 minutes, marking the end of the festival! So hurry and grab a seat to enjoy the show!“ a cheery voice says before the music from before starts to play again. Mammon looks down at me for a moment before a small smile appears on his face.

Mammon looks at the demon and points at the plush crow, "I'll take that one."

I look up at Mammon, "But, I thought you wanted-“ I get cut off by the demon swift return, "Here you go." The demon hands him the crow plush.

Mammon takes the plush from the demon with his usual bright smile and starts walking off, I quickly follow, still confused. Once I catch up, he looks at me with a blush on his face and holds out the crow to me.

"W-well, there wasn't really anythin' I wanted, so I figured I'd get this ol' crow since ya seemed to want it so bad." He says with his usual bravado, yet it was a bit more shy than normal.

"But, you said…" I start to say as I take the plush but, cut my thought short.

Even though I know he wanted something, that much he's been saying all day, he still got me this crow plush. Knowing how he struggles to do these things and becoming a stuttering mess when it's pointed out, I choose to not question him. Yet, I can't help but love him even more, him knowing that I wanted something as well and that he'll be going back home later with nothing. I'll have to repay him later but for now, I'll just enjoy the rest of the festival with him.

I shake my head and give him a smile, one that shows how much I truly appreciate and love him, "Thank you so much, Mammon." I hold the crow close to myself.

Mammon feels all the air in his lungs escape him. Y/N's smile, the sparkle of joy and something more…intimate in her eyes. Honestly, for a split second, he found himself jealous of that crow, seeing Y/N holding it so lovingly. He wanted, no, needed to show her how much he loves her. If not tonight, it'll drive him insane.

--

After looking a bit, me and Mammon found a perfect spot to watch the fireworks. We sat on a hill that was a bit further away from the festival and luckily, we could still hear the music playing from one of the speakers nearby. We sat in a comfortable silence, waiting for the fireworks to begin. Which based on the amount of time it took to find this isolated spot, it should start at any moment.

Mammon is resting his arms on his knees as I sit with my legs crossed, the plush crow close to my chest. I watch all the demons in the distance hurrying to find a spot to watch the show as well. Thankfully, none of them seem to look in this direction. So right now, it's just us, alone.

After a few moments, Mammon looks over at me and shyly starts to speak, "H-hey, Y/N?"

I look back at Mammon, noticing his face slowly forming a blush, "Yes?"

"I…I wanted to tell ya-" Mammon gets cut off by the first firework going off.

We slightly jump, but my eyes widen as the firework show starts, "It's starting!"

I watch as the firework starts to make the usual dark Devildom sky shine bright with many different colors. All the while, a familiar song starts to play on the speakers, making this a moment that I want to treasure always. It was a song from the human realm and it was a song that made this moment feel more intimate. I honestly couldn't ask for a better day, I got to go to the festival with all my favorite people and I even had, dare I say it, a wonderful date with Mammon. The thought of going on a date with Mammon makes my cheeks burn but I truly wish that this day would never end.

Mammon's heart starts to pound in his chest, his gaze never leaving Y/N. He watches as her eyes glow with wonder, watching the fireworks as if it were the first time. She never looked more beautiful, more perfect than right now. If he was ever gonna make his move, it had to be now. Mammon opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't find it in himself to break her trance. However, his greed for her attention, her voice, her touch, for nothing but her, was growing. So, he closes his mouth and takes a deep breath. He leans closer to her as his shaky hand gently touches her cheek to turn her face towards him.

When I suddenly feel a light touch on my face, I snap back to reality. Before I can react, I feel my face being turned and suddenly, Mammon leans in, his eyes close and gently presses his lips on mine, like he's afraid that I'll break. My eyes widen, taking a moment to realize what is happening. Mammon, feeling me not move, starts to move away, most likely worried he did something wrong. But, not wanting to lose the moment, I quickly filled in the space he left, pressing my lips a bit harder than he did. Mammon tenses at my sudden movement but quickly melts into the kiss, holding my face with his hands. I place the plush to the side, momentarily forgotten, I place my hands on his chest for support.

The air stills, the world around us starts to disappear. The only thing to keep us from forgetting the world completely is the sound of fireworks and the song playing so sweetly.

I snake my arms around Mammon's neck, then he takes the chance to pull me in closer by my waist, closing the gap between us. Even though he was nervous at first, he seems to have relaxed, even nips at my bottom lip, causing me to gasp. He swiftly slips his tongue in my mouth, tangling it with mine, deepening the kiss. We held each other close, like we were afraid that the other would vanish.

Needing to breathe, we lean away slightly. I'm not sure when it happened, but I managed to end up on Mammon's lap. Mammon seems to also realize the position we're in and his breath hitches.

His hand comes up and holds my face, "I love ya, Y/N."

My heart flutters and I lean into his touch, "I love you too, Mammon. I…I always have."

"Y/N, I care about ya so much and I…I don't want anyone else trying to steal my most precious treasure from me. The thought of it kills me, because I'm yer first man." Mammon stops, becoming more shy, "I w-want ya to be mine and…I'll be yers…if ya want me."

I feel as though all of the butterflies in my stomach would explode out of me. I can't stop the big smile that appears on my face, "Mammon," I hold his face in my hands, "no one could ever take me away. And not only that but…" I bite my lip, feeling a bit bashful, "You already have me. Now and forever."

If Mammon could, his eyes would have hearts in them. He looked at me with such lovestruck eyes, his face is probably the most peaceful expression I've ever seen. I look back at him in awe, honestly have never seen him so happy, like he's on cloud nine.

A smile is plastered on his face, "I promise that I will be with ya till the end of time. I gotta be the luckiest demon in the whole festival, no, the Devildom. But, I guess I did win something at the festival after all." His smile suddenly turns into a smirk, "What do ya say we go somewhere more private and we can continue…this?"

My face turns red, but I nod. We stand up, I grab my plushie so that we can leave when I suddenly hear someone, or rather, some people, running this way.

"MAMMON!"

We spin around, both of us knowing too well who that voice belongs to. Lucifer and the rest of the brothers are running at full sprint in our direction.

"Oh shit!" Mammon yells out, quickly sweeping me off my feet, making a run for it.

Startled, I grabbed on to Mammon's jacket, making sure to not drop my crow plush, "Ah! M-Mammon!“

He looks down at me, " Well, I might get strung up later, but I'm yer man now. I want ya all to myself and I don't know about ya, but I'm not ready for tonight to end." He flashes his signature smile.

I can't help but laugh, as we make yet another escape from the brothers. This is truly the best day I could have asked for.

[itsadamcole]

christmas lights - pt. 2

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

reader and Drew are separated as they both figure out what they both want to do ...

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce, angsty, upset!drew, lots of emotions

— part 2. parts 3 and 4 will be coming out tomorrow (12/22) and wednesday (12/23) just so y’all know —

masterlist || request an imagine here

part 1 || part 3 || part 4

***

You sit on the couch curled up in a ball. You're under a fuzzy blanket as you play with your engagement ring. You watch the diamond go around your finger a few times through your tears.

He cheated. You can't believe he did. He never seemed like the type to go and cheat on his significant other. He's so kind, so considerate, and so sensitive. Drew's the kind of person to make sure no one's hurt after an intense match and he immediately feels bad if he's hurt someone. He always gets upset if he hurts someone, so you don't understand why he'd just go and cheat on you, and lie about it to your face.

That night from two weeks ago flashes in your mind and you begin to cry softly on the couch. You rest your forehead on your knees and sob.

The cries echo through the empty house you once shared with Drew. It's been so quiet without the TV blaring some kind of wrestling match or without Drew yelling to wherever you were and asking you where something is. You've gotten used to it when he's away but he's supposed to be home right now. He's supposed to be holding you in his arms, and you can't stop picturing him possibly holding her in his arms.

There's a knock on the door and you get up.

You've asked Candice LeRae, Indi Heartwell, Sasha Banks, and Liv Morgan to all come over. WWE is in the area for the next few weeks and they fixed their schedules so they could come talk to you.

When you open the door, you see Candice and Indi standing there. Candice's face drops and says, "Oh, God. It's as bad as I thought."

Indi hugs you tight before Candice joins in.

"Wait, I want in!" Liv Morgan yells behind Candice and Indi. She joins in.

You feel better with your girls around. The pain temporarily goes away.

Sasha arrives shortly after Liv did and all of you sit in the living room. Candice and Liv sit on either side of you as you try to stop crying long enough to tell them what happened.

Liv gently rubs your back as you say, "So, um, Drew's been cheating on me. I don't know for how long, but on Christmas a woman sent him a photo of her in some lingerie and told him to enjoy the picture if I don't satisfy him enough." Then the tears begin.

Candice hugs you and Sasha says, "I'm gonna beat his ass, I swear to God."

You cry, "He told me that it was a friend who likes to tease him because I'm never around to have sex but I never believed him. It's such a bullshit lie."

The girls look at each other before Indi says, "When we see him, we'll give him a piece of our minds. We won't let him get away with that."

Candice asks, "What do you want to do, Y/N? What's the next step here?"

You wipe your tears and sit up. You say, "I don't know. I don't want him around but at the same time, I need him. He's the only thing in my life that's keeping me sane right now besides you guys but you're around just as much as he is. I just feel like I wasn't good enough for him and if I feel like that then what's the point in keeping him around?"

"No, sweetie," Sasha coos. "It's his loss if he wants to go and mess around behind your back. You don't deserve someone like that."

Candice takes your hand and Liv says, "You haven't talked to him, have you? Not since Christmas?"

You shake your head and say, "He told me he was going to stay at Sheamus and Cesaro's place. I haven't talked to him or seen him since. I've called out of work for at least another week because I told them that I was having family problems and needed to be placed on an indefinite leave for right now."

Indi says, "I'd say talk to him, no matter how much it hurts. If you feel like the relationship is broken then fix it. If it's too far gone then it's time to divorce him."

Divorce. Could you divorce the man you promised to spend the rest of your life with? The man you planned to start a family with? Could you do that?

Fixing what's broken sounds like the best thing to do, but is it what he wants to do? Or does he love her more than he loves you? Does he even love you anymore? Is there a relationship to even be fixed.

You could ask for less hours at work, but then when Drew's on the road you'll be lonely. If you don't change your hours then he may stray away again.

Drew hasn't reached out at all so you can only assume the worst. He did tell you to talk to him when you were ready, but will you ever be ready to talk to the man that told you he loved you but betrayed you?

***

Drew's POV

It's been two weeks. Two damn weeks and Y/N hasn't reach out at all. I think that this is it. I think I messed up so much that she's officially gone.

I almost begin to expect divorce papers at this point. That'll probably be the next time I see Y/N. She'll be handing me divorce papers to end the seven year marriage between the two of us.

Sheamus knocks on my door frame and walks in. Cesaro right behind him.

"Hey, buddy," Sheamus says. "Ya hangin' in there?"

I shake my head and say, "I can't believe I fucked up this much. I can't believe I fucking told her I cheated when I didn't. Hell, I told Diane she can keep the set and blocked her because of this. I don't know what to do, dude."

Cesaro asks, "Has Y/N reached out?"

I shake my head. "No," I say. "God, I'm an idiot. I should just expect divorce papers. There's no way that she'll believe me if I actually tell her the truth."

"Ya should try," Sheamus says. "Communication is key. Ya should talk to her and try tellin' her the truth. Beg for her forgiveness."

I look down at my hands in my lap and sigh.

Sheamus is right. I just don't think she'll believe me since I told her I cheated on her when I didn't. There's proof that I never cheated on her. I just don't think that she'll believe me if I tell her the truth.

My phone begins to ring and I immediately answer it, hoping it's Y/N.

"Drew, you asshat," Candice LeRae says to me. "You cheated on her?"

Of course she told Candice. Indi, Sasha, and Liv all probably think that too.

I say, "I never cheated. She took a text the wrong way. I wasn't able to explain myself so yeah, I told her I cheated but I never cheated."

Candice says, "Tell me your side. Maybe I can get her to reach out to you so she can get your side."

"I have a friend, Diane," I start. "Well, had. She's blocked on everything now. Anyway, she and I bought Y/N a gift for Christmas. It was a lingerie set and I wanted a woman opinion on it so I took Diane shopping with me and she helped me pick it out. It was a surprise for Y/N. So Diane asked me to come over to come get it but Y/N was home and I didn't want to leave because it's been so long since I saw Y/N. Diane decided to mess with me by sending me a picture of herself in the set I bought for Y/N and said 'I'm sorry ya couldn't come over. This is for ya. Enjoy it if that wife of yers doesn't satisfy ya enough', and Y/N saw the text and immediately accused me of cheating."

Candice is quiet the entire time as I explain myself to her. Sheamus and Cesaro listen too.

I continue with, "And I might've told Y/N that I cheated because she wasn't believing me and I thought that it was what she wanted to hear."

Sheamus and Cesaro both facepalm and Candice says, "You're a dumbass, you know that? She's a crying mess over here and she thinks that she wasn't good enough for you, Drew. She's called out of work indefinitely and she's probably been over here crying for two weeks. You need to fix this."

I rub my face and I say, "I know that! I don't know how. She probably doesn't want to talk t'me and it wouldn't surprise me if she's called a divorce lawyer at this point."

"She doesn't know what she wants to do," Candice sighs. "I think she wants to talk things out but I don't think she thinks there's a relationship to fix. You need to do something, Drew. Soon."

I sigh and say, "I will. I just need some time, okay? Make sure she's okay and I'll talk t'her soon."

Candice says, "Alright, but you're still a dumbass and I know Y/N loves you so I'll do what I can. I believe you, by the way. That is way too elaborate to be a lie."

"Gee, thanks," I mumble.

We say goodbye and I look between Sheamus and Cesaro as I hang up the phone.

I sigh, "How did I get here?"

Sheamus says, "Your first mistake was going lingerie shopping with a woman that wasn't your wife."

He's probably right about that. Well, not probably. He's right about that.

It was that event that snowballed into this, and I hate the situation that I'm in. I told Y/N to reach out to me when she was ready but if she doesn't think there's a relationship to fix then she'll reach out to me when she needs me to sign divorce papers.

—

tags: @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

[ghostietoasty]

Why Sherlock Holmes FGO is Sus: Theories and More

Before I begin, I’d like to give thanks to my wonderful friend for all the points, art, and info searching that have been made to produce this piece, I can’t appreciate you enough for the effort you put in. 🥺🙏💕

Alright now on to it!

INTRODUCTION: Humble Beginnings (Identification of the Abnormal)

If you’ve played the app Fate/Grand Order for a while you’d know about the Heroic Spirit we first encounter in a hole within Camelot’s dessert whilst going to the Atlas Institute. Smart, handsome looking, and sharp enough to discern our True Name, this man of mystery has been seen as an oddball by many long time players of the game. There are many aspects about him that raise doubt about his credibility, is he truly what he wants us to think he is? That servant is Sherlock Holmes (Ruler) and there are many theories about him having some secrets, about him either being a Foreigner class, Beast class, or something else entirely. We are attempting to catalogue all this information in one place for maximum clarity.

SECTION 1: Other Character’s Reaction (First Impression is the Best Impression) *WARNING LOSTBELT 1 AND 2 SPOILERS AHEAD*

From the first encounter in Camelot right until the end of Lostbelt 2, there are many instances of characters reacting to his presence in….interesting ways.

Bedivere, when first coming in contact with Holmes in Camelot says that "I suppose I've never really been good with people like him. He reminds me of Merlin."

It could refer to the mysterious manner in which both Holmes and Merlin conduct themselves, but better to keep in mind that Merlin is a Grand Caster, and that he manifests as a servant due to specific circumstances (he is not dead).

In Camelot, Mash assumes that Holmes must be Caster class and that the original novels by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle must have been biographies penned by Dr. Watson under a pen name. Holmes corrects her, saying that: "My true identity, my essence, is slightly different from what you may think. And sad, but that is not the purpose of our gathering here today."

This dilemma is also present in the Sherlock Holmes Trial Quest (which mostly tackles the debate of whether he's a fictional character or someone who actually existed). Holmes has a line where he says:

"Ah, yes. I mentioned I was a Caster. Forgive me, I lied."

This is however immediately followed up by:

"A jest. My apologies. I couldn't help myself." 

This sort of backpedalling raises a doubt as to whether he was really Caster class before, so the nature of his former class is still a mystery. He later mentions that his Ruler class is the World telling him that not all illusions and dreams need to be laid bare.

When meeting with Salieri in Lostbelt 1, Holmes introduces himself as such:"I'm Sherlock Holmes, Chaldea's administrative advisor. I became a servant through unusual means, just like you."

Salieri was only summonable as a servant  because of his reputation caused by the fact that he killed Mozart. He is under the effect of Innocent Monster. It can also be said that Salieri is a lostbelt servant and is significantly more sane than he would have been in a normal summoning, that was the unusual summoning that Holmes was refering to. Does this mean Holmes is not from Proper Human History? 

Sigurd (who's under the control of Surtur), while attacking us in Lostbelt 2 says this: "So, a human and two Heroic Spirits. No, wait. Neither of you are pure Heroic Spirits, are you? You've both got something else mixed in. Hehe, hybrids then. Interesting" 

This is in reference to Holmes and Mash, who are alongside the master at this moment. Mash is a demiservant (human+servant) hence the "Hybrid" comment makes sense, but Holmes? What is the "something else" mixed in with Holmes?

Later in LB2, Holmes requests the assistance of Scáthach-Skadi in beating Surtur. Skadi says that normally she would never pay mind to what a mere Heroic Spirit had to say but: "...but in your particular case…I sense wisdom in those beautiful eyes. You remind me of Baldr, god of light." Quite a bit later, she also has this to say:"Perhaps those piercing eyes of yours in fact surpass Odin's? Mystic Eyes, perchance? ….No, that's not it. They merely reflect your wisdom born of human history's cumulative accomplishments."

She says that's not it, but the fact that it was the first thing she thought of shouldn't be ignored. 

Baldr is the god of light. Holmes' attacks consist of beams of light, and his cane lights up when he's using it in battle.

In Norse legends, Odin is said to have sacrificed one eye to the spring of Mimir in order to get ancient wisdom, the ability to perceive everything in the world. 

SECTION 1.5: More Reactions (From JP Only)

Since it is JP only and there is no official translation for NA yet, this information cannot be 100% confirmed in any way. (Most of this is from Reddit translation done by fans). But as these are also important, it's best to put this information separate section.

Moriarty's interlude involves him finding a micro-singularity in London. At some point the transmission between Chaldea and the master gets cut and Moriarty reveals he created this scenario, made the singularity and everything to get one on one time with the master. He tells us not to trust Holmes. When the time comes, we as master should choose Moriarty over Holmes. 

It has to be kept in mind that Moriarty is not a good guy, he is a character created entirely to oppose Holmes so it is natural that he doesn't trust him. For all we know, it is just emotional manipulation. 

Moriarty's very nature is tied to being the antithesis of Holmes. Holmes might theoretically go against us for the sake of humanity while also trying to keep us safe (the master is in a way, a Watson replacement to him after all) while Moriarty would gladly let humanity burn for the sake of us but also for the sake of being completely opposite to Holmes and keeping his identity as such.

However he does raise valid points, how was Holmes able to rayshift? This part was never explained, and he also mentions that his hypothesis has a fatal contradiction in the fact that Holmes risked his life to save ours. What can be inferred from this is that Holmes is a good man and is on our side, but there is something very weird about him that should not be ignored.

In Lostselt 5 it is mentioned at one point that Zeus called Holmes dangerous, he mustn't look at Zeus or the other gods and that his eyes are enemies of the world.

It has to be mentioned that this is some heavy emphasis on Holmes' eyes (Skadi mentioned Holmes' eyes twice, and she was a god as well). Is it because of the nature of Holmes that he is the one that reveals all truth? Is that in some way detrimental to gods, magic and the world in general?

Recently, from Holmes' skill upgrade interlude there was a section about Holmes saying that he is always an ally of justice and that while he may be on our side, he is still capable of evil but it doesn't change the fact that he is our ally. Even then it seems he has some secrets that can't be understood by himself.

By now with the presence of Dr. Jekyll and Helena and their recounts on what happened, it is confirmed that Holmes was actually "alive"(?)

Some of the adventures penned by Dr. Watson were actually censored versions of the original happenings, which were magical in nature.

Holmes was traumatised(?) by Helena's death back when they were both alive. He swears he would never let that happen again. (remember what happened in lostbelt 2…)

It seems that Holmes himself is not fully sure of what is secret about him. Since he utterly dislikes talking about something without being 100% sure about it (this tendency of his has gotten us in trouble before) plus his general secretive nature, it can be said that this is why he wouldn't talk about that.

SECTION 2: Weird Things That Holmes Does (And Other Questions)

Heroic Spirits are anything but normal, but there are few servants who break the norm even further, and Holmes is one of them.

Holmes is able to Rayshift (presumably) from London, to Camelot, and then to Shinjuku. There are very few servants who are able to manifest themselves. 

Musashi also appears here and there, but it's not a deliberate choice on her part. She is not able to predetermine her next destination. 

Arthur travels from a parallel world to this world, but this is due to "chasing after a certain powerful antagonist, evil omen" - so he tells.

Beast class has the skill of Independent Manifestation which would allow the servant to manifest anywhere they'd want. Merlin, Tamamo Vitch and Shiki possess it. However, it has to be noted that Holmes' rayshifts have a significant toll on his saint graph, as he is unable to fight or defend himself by the time we meet him in Camelot. While normal Independent Manifestation shouldn't lead to the depletion of the user's saint graph. Holmes' class is unknown at the time of his rayshifting. 

At the time of summoning, Heroic Spirits usually reveal their class and True Name (there also are exceptions to the rule). At the time of his summoning, Holmes doesn't reveal his Class: "Are introductions necessary? I am a detective. If you were expecting a hero, my apologies...But if you wanted a detective or an investigator, you drew the right card."

In the case of EOR Servants whose names haven't been found, they reveal their class.

Who summoned Holmes? The only thing we know regarding his presence was that it was first clearly there when he tampered with information in London.

Holmes' illustrator is Yamanaka Kotetsu, who was also the illustrator of the beasts Tiamat and Goetia

The artists who design and illustrate the characters tend to do it in groups of servants who are related to each other in some way (Pako with Arjuna and Karna Chacha and Nobunaga; Miwa Shiro with Brynhildr and Sigurd). It is strange that Kotetsu designed only Holmes, Tiamat and Goetia.

(NEW ADDITION) It should also be noted that as an illustrator Kotetsu has had previous works in a Lovecraftian Guidebook and is also the artist to the Alien God Preistess, somewhat showing how their work leans more to the outerworldly.

SECTION 3: The Design

It is a very commonly noticed fact that Holmes' coat in his third ascension has a very similar shape to that of the Foreigner card artwork.

The pattern work on the coattails of the foreigner art and the inside (blue) part of Holmes' coattails have a very similar, if not exactly same pattern running down the entire length of it. The sphere summoned in Holmes' Noble Phantasm also has the same pattern on its sides and front.

There is a "fog" around Holmes in his third ascension, which is reminescent of the smoke in the card art. (Also can be the London smog).

The glowing section of the abdomen of the being reminds one of the metallic corset that Holmes wears. 

There are 4 notches of smoke on either side of the being (total 8), under their cape. If we stretch our interpretation, then it could mean Holmes' arms and the metal arms that he has is also equal to 8.

In that tangent, the shape of the coat is also similar to that of Saver class Buddha, the fantasy trees from Lostbelt 3 and 4, and the Shadows made by the 6th imaginary element.

The Endless Knot / Shrivatsa symbol on his shoulders is one of the many references of his connection to Tibet (faking his death after the Final Problem). It is an important symbol in both Jainism and Buddhism.

Some of its interpretations include:

The eternal continuum of mind.

The union of wisdom and method.

Since the knot has no beginning or end it also symbolizes the wisdom of the Buddha

the endless cycle of suffering or birth, death and rebirth within Tibetan Buddhism.

The cane that Holmes wields has a pattern on its handle in the shape of a Prayer Wheel. 

However, we are not able to find the meaning behind the script on the cane. Both of us attempted to translate it but failed. If anyone can translate the meaning it would be greatly appreciated.

The holographic books in the base of the unidentified sphere have a pattern on their front that greatly resembles a lotus. 

In Holmes' third ascension, there are a number of magical circuits on his coat.

The circuits are almost only on his left side, with very few circuits on his right side. It's not like it was woven into it, were that the case the circuits would have been all over his coat in a more even distribution. It's almost like an impact radius.

The circuits are very similar to the ones visible on the title screen of the lostbelts, as well as the patterns seen on the fantasy trees.

CONCLUSION SECTION: Something's Up (It's Big Brain Time)

It's clear that something is very strange about Holmes, from his interactions to his design, it's clear that there is too much effort into throwing these hints that it's not just a red herring.

Is he a Foreigner? Beast? Counter Guardian? Some other unknown extra class? It cannot be said at the moment. Holmes' role as a revealer itself is dangerous to mystery and magic, so it can be anything.

 It is also not necessarily true that just because Holmes has all these abnormalities, that he will betray us, or is on the side of evil. When has there been a clear cut side of good or evil anyway? It can be argued that we are the villains in some way, as we bring about the end of these timelines to safeguard our own proper human history. 

Holmes has always been on the side of humanity and will continue to be, the question is what the reveal will be, why and how. That, only time and future chapters can answer, all we can do is speculate.

[strangetalesnovels]

It was a delightful spring, and the rays of soft, almost translucent light of the sun threading through trees hit the bird bath in front of me, making a cloud of light around it. The doves preened and sang at the edge of the ceramic, gracefully washing themselves in the petal-filled water.

Poems and a pen in hand, I drew the scene; though not very good at it, I was happy, and at peace.

The orphanage was not at all cruel like how they say they were. Mrs. Baillairgé was one of the kindest women I've met, acting as a sort of parental figure to both me and my sister's growing years. She fed us, clothe us, and gave us ample education, and even made Augé develop a habit in reading--Something that I didn't expect from a rowdy girl such as her.

And Augé, oh, how proud I was of her. She grew up to be a beautiful, smart, and eloquent lady. Her disposition was always so happy, her smile was very saccharine. I was quite lucky to have her as my sister; so witty and supportive of all my works.

And so far, it's been heaven, really. There hasn't been a single day that I truly was thankful for everything around me. I was glad my sister was with me throughout all of this; Without her, I wasn't sure that I was able to survive through the grief.

But admittedly, there has been times where the air surrounding us two were...tense. There were times we didn't agree and became distant, and it was all because of the same thing: Money. Sooner or later, Mrs. Baillairgé will have to let us go and have a life of our own, but I still haven't gotten into a medical school to learn to be a doctor as I promised. I lamented these problems to Augé, who offered I do other jobs instead-and to that I disagreed on her. It was quite a fight, that October evening.

"So...er, How was your classes so far, Augé?" I asked, a sort of conversation starter as you will. I wasn't really paying attention to her but the silence bothered me so much, I had to break it. At this point, I have to admit; I was too busy downing the ribeye steak in front of me that I didn't quite care about what her response would be, until she responded.

"It was, fine, brother." But it wasn't fine, wasn't it , Augé? She responded in an empty and lackluster tone, a tone that caused me to look up from my plate with concern. "...Fine? Well, from how you answered, it doesn't seem like it. What happened?"

I could see her bite her lip and tighten her grip on the table cloth, her shadowed eyes doing it's best to avoid mine. "It's just...you weren't at the school today. I was waiting for you by the medical hall, but you weren't there. I even asked around and they said you were never there-" "Augé, It's fine, I just missed the class, that's all-" "But you didn't even enroll, Alastair!"

"Just give me some time, okay! It's not that easy to just waltz in there and suddenly, I'm a doctor- I need to be prepared-"

"What more is there to be prepared for? Tell me!"

"Don't you support me?"

"Of course I do, Brother, of course I do, but how can I support you if every time I thought you'd be in that school and learning to be a doctor, you're here slacking off and drawing fucking doves taking a bath!" She takes my journal and slams it down on the pearlescent floor. I stared at it as one of the pages slipped out, and carefully picked the book back up.

"Augé. It takes, time, okay?" I try to convince her. I think. But it only ended up as me trying to convince myself.

"Are you afraid, Alastair?" Yes, I was. "Is there something that's bothering you--hindering you from going to the classes?" Yes, there is. "What are you so afraid of, brother!?"

My throat tightened as I stared down the plate. I felt something weighing me down-My hands...they were stiff and cold. I want to tell her why, I want to tell her that I was afraid because I don't want her to be disappointed if I fail. I promised her this, I promised to be strong for her, and if I can't keep it...well, worse comes to worse and she'll leave, and never trust me again.

"N...Nothing. Look, first thing in the morning, I'll sign up, okay?" I put my hand on hers, and she gave out a tired sigh, pulling her hand away and stood up from her chair.

"Goodnight." She replied with a final tone.

I'm sorry.

The next morning, I decided to set things right. Today was the day, I pull myself up, get ready, and become a doctor.

This was the moment, the true joy of determination coursed through my veins like it was variolating (Don't look this up!) Smallpox into it, I was estatic! So, I packed up my books, I held my head up high, puffed my chest outwards, and jaunted my way to...

the library.

Yes, well, I still wasn't ready. The moment I left the house, I was so sweaty and jittery, so I made a stop at the library. Where I'll stay forever. Until I die. Of Shame. And bathe in my sweat. I am sopping, and dead. Like a mop.

And so there I was, moping , and wasted my time away with more biology books. As much as I loved reading them, I just cannot focus. All that was in my mind was how much I was wasting time, worrying that I was wasting time, and you have no idea what kind of relief hit my head when,

"You've been...er, reading that page for 5 hours now. Really that interested in the epidermis?" A soft voice asked from behind me, and as I whipped my sorrowful head towards the source, and it was what you would expect from someone with such a voice.

He looked...like a better version than me. Without the tired eyes and worried stare, this walking solaris sat down beside me, setting down his book about animal biology.

"Are you going to medical school?" He asks, pointing at my towering stacks of medical literature. "Erm. Not really-Well-I will be! Soon...enough." I sniggered.

"Well, if you are, I'll be excited to meet you! Where is it? Saint Louis?" Why is he so eager to see me? "Yes, yes, exactly. Ah, why...exactly are you excited to meet me?"

"Oh, Well, I was hoping I'd have someone to expect in my classes, you know, like a friend? I come from Paris, my name is Voun, by the way." He offers a hand to shake, as well as a warm smile.

I could only return a cold shake and a crooked grin. "Alastair Menetríes." A friend, huh? Well, they wouldn't hurt, right?

My relationship with Voun was...good, to be honest. I still haven't been in classes with him, but I do meet and study with him in the library. We were great friends. He even taught me papier maché..

"And there you go," His eyes squint as he applied the last of the strips of paper on the figure shaped like a cat. "There! We did it!"

I laughed. "More like you did. All I ever did was spill the glue all over the place."

He pats my back. "Yes, but what a good memory, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sharing some laughs, studying. Especially when we mess up."

"You mean I." He chuckled at my self deprecation.

"Especially you. Ah- I have to go, my friend. I have to do some more training for the operation."

"Operation?" I blinked. What does he mean by that?

"Ah, they're paying me to operate in the theatre, for a good price too, but I'm not about the money, really.." He starts to tidy his books and papers.

"Ah, how much are they paying you? Must be alot for a serious surgery."

"Just 56,000 franc, but like I said, I'm not in it for the money, I just think it's a good practice! Do you promise you'll be there? I'm quite nervous, Alastair."

"Oh! Of course! I'll be cheering silently. You go, Voun!" I waved as he left the library with a smile, and my gaze shifted back to the papier maché cat on the table that he left for me.

..

I need that money.

My pen taps against the desk as I try and figure out what words to put on the paper.

Dearest Augé, I will be-

No.

Dear Augé, This coming week, I will be operating-

No.

Dear Augé, I have a big surprise waiting for you at the theatre next week. I fufilled my promise to you, and you will be proud.

Love, Your Brother.

No. Scrap that. I groaned against the wood grains of the desk, my hands ran through under my wig and through my hair. What do I even tell her? That suddenly I was just a doctor? She'll be suspicous, she'd notice right away, that sleuth.

When the door creaked open, I jolted and looked back, to see the concern etched on the face of my sister as she peeked inside. "Alastair? What are you doing...? I haven't seen you in awhile."

My head raised at the question. "Ah...I was in school, actually." Her face brightened at my false words. I loved seeing her smile, but this was difficult, lying to her face, hiding it from her. My words tasted like rust in my mouth.

"T-that's great! Oh thank the heavens, where is it?"

"Saint Louis.."

"Oh! It's not too far from mine! Can I visit you for lu-"

"NO!"

She flinched at my protest, and looked at me with confused bewilderment.

"Look, it's been a stressful week, Augé. I have alot of work to do, and so much to study, I don't want to be disturbed right now. Please?"

"Ah, well...I understand." She picks herself back up with a smile. "But if you need anything-"

"I'll call the maids, you go rest Augé."

"Okay. Alright, goodnight brother." The maiden pulled her head out of the door and gently closed it.

I nodded back at her and went back to the note. Perhaps it's not too late to ask Voun if I could still try a little bit, maybe even accompany him in the operation. Maybe we can even split the money. He's my trusted friend now, surely he trusts me too, to handle the tools, to know what to do.

"Absolutely not." Voun pulled up the gloves on his hand and arranged the tools on the table.

"W-why? I am capable enough, Voun, Even if I'll just help,"

He gave a tired sigh and looked back at me with furrowed brows. "Listen, Alastair, I can't just let you in on this. This is high stakes,"

"And that means I can't handle it?"

"No,"

"Then let me help at least!"

"We already have enough people, and, just use your brain Alastair, you aren't a student of the sciences yet,"

"That does not matter to my capabilities- Look, Voun, I need the money. You said that you didn't care for it much, then just halve it with me!"

He stops before he could place the scalpel on the table. And when he does, he does it very slowly, and leaned against the table. "Would you have approached me of this offer a day ago, I would've just let you go to the Operation and take the money. But now, I need it. My siblings were all hit with the plague back in Paris, and i need this money to help them with medicine. Surely you understand this pain, right?"

My stomach tightened with guilt. "I...I'm sorry."

He sighed. "It's not your problem, do not feel sorry. Just, go to school and maybe you'll be the one standing in my position soon, okay? I wish you the best of luck."

"Good...Good luck too."

And he leaves the room to make more preparations. I sat down on a chair to reflect on my choices, which...were quite simple. But for some reason, it was so difficult to choose.